#warnings for gross shit that was just normal back then

[gerardpilled]

if you want to look through old bandom livejournal pages this primer is a good place to start your journey:

[acrowcallstoana]

am i glad for the extra difficulty eating? yeah, kinda

am i pissed about how i got it? very

[forlix]

· . ˚ 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞

— the little mannerisms you pick up from the members of stray kids over the course of your relationship.

words・3.7k / pairings・ot8 x gn!reader / genres・fluff, humor, borderline crack, intentional lowercase, established relationship(s) / warnings・minsung’s are suggestive, touch of anxiety in felix's, jeongin's is lowkey gross LMFAO

a/n・massive shoutout to @/http.dwaekkii on tiktok for their edits about the boys' habits, which i consulted for chan, changbin, seungmin, and jeongin (and to @astraystayyh for beta reading hehe. what would i do without u). these were sooooo fun to write, hope u guys enjoy (｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )

chan + getting shy easily. poor thing gets embarrassed so quickly as it is. throw you into the mix and it’s just critical hit after critical hit. defense lowered. no health potions left. he folds like a lawn chair with a massive smile and a whiny “stooooop” every time you say something even remotely affectionate. the habit is adorable, and you love it to pieces.

but you like poking fun at it even more. “god forbid i find my literal underwear model of a boyfriend attractive,” you’d say, or something along those lines, which of course only triples his embarrassment and on more than one occasion results in him starfishing on your kitchen floor, his hood pulled over his face.

fast forward however many months. he’s still the worst compliment-receiver you know, but you discover one arbitrary afternoon that it’s rubbed off on you.

the two of you are cuddled together on the living room couch in your usual fashion, your legs thrown over his thighs and his hands tracing absently over your shins as you relay to him something you overheard on the subway. the conversation is painfully normal. you’re almost bored. you pause to take a breath, and he murmurs, out of nowhere, in the dreamiest tone: “so damn beautiful.”

“wha—huh? what is?”

“you. your voice, your face, everything. i‘m lucky.”

your expression of bewilderment persists for around ten seconds, and then slowly, so slowly, you begin to sandwich your head between your knees, balling yourself up like a spooked armadillo. chan wonders if he should call an ambulance.

“love?” no response. “what, uh, what’s happening right now, exactly?”

no response. no response. then, hoarsely, “you can’t...say shit like that…randomly.”

he notices two things after that. one, your skin is burning hot enough to fry something upon, and two, you’ve formed a fist in the fabric of his hoodie, which you only do when you’re pretending to be annoyed at him. the puzzle pieces fall into place, and he starts grinning like a madman.

“you’re…embarrassed?”

the guttural groan you emit is more than enough of an answer, and the cute aggression that overcomes chan is fucking debilitating. he wraps his arms around you and hauls you entirely off the couch and onto his lap, littering kisses over your face until it finally resigns into a matching smile. all intent to continue feigning grumpiness erased with the drop of a hat. you drape an arm over his neck.

“you’re so good to me, channie,” you sigh helplessly. “i love you.”

“love you more, baby.” he imprints these words directly upon your lips, then pulls away, giggles. “that was very me of you, by the way.”

“i know, right? i was just about to say.”

minho + butt touching. it’s quite simple, really. if lee minho is within proximity of someone’s buttocks, he will, as he lives and breathes, make it known. will it be a coy little swat or a yelp-eliciting, full-bodied grab? nobody ever knows, not even him. the unpredictability is what makes it exciting.

but it takes a while before this starts applying to you, because the way minho touches you is…different. doting. there’s no other way to describe how he always holds the nape of your neck while kissing you, how he rests a hand against the small of your back whenever he leads you somewhere, how during the nights you can’t sleep he guides you to the place on his chest where he knows his heartbeat is loudest. he even drags you into his trademark headlocks the same way one would hold an invaluable treasure. he’s so obsessed with all of you that he never thinks to pay just your butt special attention (though it is, indeed, a special butt).

you take it into your own hands. literally.

you don’t know what prompts it—maybe you’ve simply seen minho slap his members’ asses one too many times, or maybe you’re still thinking of the specific time minho slapped changbin’s ass in passing and it fucking echoed, or maybe minho just looks especially fine in this practice outfit, a skintight tee and washed sweatpants that hug him in all the right places—but you feel a new urge today as your boyfriend swings his duffel over his shoulder, circles around the kitchen counter.

he puckers up as he nears you, silently requesting his goodbye; you give it to him, relishing for a moment in the familiar, soft plush of his lips beneath yours. then he pulls away and turns to leave, and your hand acquires its target.

“go get ‘em, tiger.” thwack!

minho jumps a foot into the air. clutches his pearls and his left butt cheek. becomes the splitting image of that perplexed blonde lady surrounded by geometry.

but when he turns around to stare at you, the smirk melting across his face betrays how he really feels about what you’ve just done. good. really good.

you, meanwhile, look genuinely confused. “it’s like it moved on its own.”

minho beams. steps towards you daintily, intentionally, like a cat catching sight of a laser beam. brings a hand to your hip, murmurs, “that’s what we’re doing now?” kisses you again, for longer this time.

you fully foresee his fingers wandering to your ass to give it a gentle squeeze, but you reach up to cuff his shoulder when it happens anyways, and his laugh vibrates against your mouth. it seems you’ll be reaping what you’ve sown from now on.

(good luck.)

changbin + the Cackle™. yes, you said something exceptionally funny. yes, you expected changbin to find it funny too. but you couldn’t expect the godforsaken noise that left his mouth as he threw himself straight into the tree planter behind you.

your mind spun with frantic questions as you helped him out of the dirt. had the spirit of spongebob just usurped his vocal cords? were you on a date with the wicked witch of the west? most importantly—

“are you well?” you sputtered, which only made him laugh harder and his laugh so much crazier, so you started laughing, too. and you were goners, falling over each other until you’d been reduced to watery eyes and sore cheeks, your giggling interrupted only by the sound of you slapping his thigh every so often, heartily enough to reverberate around the little park in which you concluded your second date.

that’s how you fall for seo changbin: laughing. with a reckless, breathless abandon you didn’t think possible. stumbling across empty sidewalks, spitting noodles across dining tables, begging for mercy on studio couches. wrestling under tear-stained comforters, starting (and re-starting) silly stories, huffing into beaming kisses. the list goes on.

you never quite get used to that chortle of his, too busy enjoying its insanity to notice how your own chuckles grow shorter and shriller, how they gradually develop an edge like the chittering of a forest dweller.

you complete your transformation on your ninety-eighth date. 

no, changbin doesn’t say anything exceptionally funny. no, he doesn’t expect you to find it exceptionally funny, either. he expects least of all for you to fold over the kitchen island and start cackling like cruella de vil on helium.

jisung turns around from his seat on the couch. chan’s footsteps come to a halt as he emerges from the bathroom. both of them have fear in their eyes as they witness your undoing.

the only thing on changbin’s face, though, is unfettered delight.

“b-baby,” he sputters with a growing smile. “are you—”

you lift your face off the marble surface and turn to face him. the entirety of your forehead and the point of your nose is covered in flour. you blow a cloud of the stuff out of your mouth like a dragon awoken from slumber.

he loses it.

the two of you make your way onto the floor in slow motion, ending in a tangled heap against the side of the counter. changbin tries to clean off the flour and smears it all over your cheeks instead. you are zero help whatsoever, smacking his bicep like that’ll help you catch your breath. your synchronized, diabolical laughter reaches every corner of the apartment. your happiness reaches every nerve ending.

chan and jisung look at each other and sigh. jisung takes a video.

hyunjin + side-eyeing. this man is so god awful at controlling his face, bless him…and DAMN HIM.

on one hand, you love how in tune with his emotions he is, how confidently he puts them on display. and you love your synergy. you come closer to believing in soulmates every time you glance his way and discover your exact feelings written all over his features; it’s a special type of happiness, sharing a brain with your favorite person in the world.

on the other hand, you think there’s a time and place for candor, and he tends, well, not to think at all. during many a precarious situation, you’ll catch him wearing an expression so transparent that he might as well arrange the words THIS IS STUPID AND I HATE ALL OF YOU over his head in neon lights. cue a dig of your heel into his toe, a hiss of pain cut short by your piercing glare. if you’d known ahead of time that dating hwang hyunjin would have you doing so much damage control…you’d still date him, let’s be real. but you do get stressed at times.

the night the tables turn, you’re at a celebratory dinner for your coworker’s birthday. small caveat: you can’t stand her. she’s the type to spontaneously combust if she goes two minutes without talking about herself. certainly doesn’t help that she’s downing champagne like water, and her lips are looser than ever.

hyunjin comes with you, fortunately. or not. he spends the whole evening trying so hard not to laugh: snorting into his bread, excusing himself to “cough.” you think he actually starts doing breathing exercises at some point. you’re so, so grateful that he’s here, but you’re also deathly afraid that he’s gonna bring out those neon lights in front of your entire office.

then, she flirts with him.

from the opposite end of the table. perfectly wasted but still knowing perfectly well that he’s yours. the whole patio goes silent. hyunjin’s jaw hits the table.

your fork clatters to your plate.

FUCK time and place.

the side-eye you give her is devastating. truly masterful. your brow furrows. your eyes turn to slits. your gaze does the up-down-up of unadulterated incredulity. hyunjin recognizes the motions straightaway and starts smiling so hard his whole face hurts.

you take your boyfriend’s wrist and stand up. he follows suit. you don’t say a thing as you leave the restaurant, and you don’t have to. the intensity of your disdain was more than enough; anything more and she might’ve started crying.

once you’re on the curb outside, hyunjin pulls on your interlocked hands, brings you close. his lips brush against the shell of your ear. you hear laughter and his smirk in his voice: “you might be the sexiest person on earth."

jisung + how he applies lip balm. that han jisung is the pioneer of modern day babygirlism is the worst kept secret in the world. that han jisung applies lip balm the riveting way he does, however, is unknown even to you. until one morning.

you pop into the bathroom and make your usual beeline for your toothbrush, only to end up motionless in front of the sink, staring. jisung is a bit off to the side, hair pinned back by a cinnamoroll headband, eyes glued to his phone, hand holding a tube of chapstick that you can actually see getting shorter in real time. he looks so pensive, so concentrated. how long has it been since he last blinked? you’ve half a mind to pull out a stopwatch.

finally, he rubs his lips together, recaps the chapstick, and makes eye contact with you in the mirror. a smile crosses his face, equal parts confused and amused.

“baby, your mouth is open.”

you close it. then you open it again, and your words come out in a barely-contained laugh: “what on earth did you just do?”

“what do you mean?”

“the—” you point at his mouth, then do your best impression of an elementary schooler trying to color inside the lines. “—that.”

jisung looks aghast. “that was LIP BALM.”

“no, i know what it—you’re so—i meant, why do you apply it like that?”

jisung continues to look aghast. “like what?”

“like you’re one of socrates’ prized pupils and the answer to the universe’s formation lies at the bottom of—” you step in close, reach into the pocket of his sweatpants. “—this tube!”

it might be the craziest thing you’ve ever said to him. he bursts into laughter, the kind that leaves him no recollection of what he does with his limbs, and when he can see straight again he discovers he’s pressed you gently against the counter. his fingers latched around the hem of your top, his grin inches away from yours. can’t stay away from you to save his life, this one.

“do i actually?”

“yes! holy shit, it’s so cute.” your arms circle around his neck, also without an ounce of thought, also through a fit of giggles. “no way you’ve always done that, right?”

“i don’t know. i’ve never thought about it.” a pause. a tilt of his head, with purpose. “am i…doing it wrong?”

the question is a trap and you realize it too late. your gaze drops from his eyes to his lips—a ray of sunlight glistens off the pink plush like a paid actor—then back to his eyes. let’s find out.

you lean in. so does he. and his mouth tastes and feels like melted fucking sugar. it’s such a pleasant surprise that you actually moan, and he chuckles against you. lifts you onto the edge of the sink. your mind really goes empty after that, save for one thought. i have to start doing that.

felix + checking his own pulse. you saw it from afar, the first time.

he stood by the stage’s entrance just before curtain up, pointer and middle finger pressed against the side of his neck. eyelids sealed closed, chest heaving. you tilted your head, puzzled. worried. then the concert began, and you pushed the image to the back of your mind.

it returned to the forefront right before bed.

“you do it when you’re nervous?”

“yeah. forces me to ground myself. turns off the world for a bit.” the hand rubbing circles into your back paused. “wanna give it a go?”

“what, checking my pulse?”

“mine.”

you lifted your head off the pillow. felix took your hand from where it sat upon his ribs, isolating two fingers and nestling them over his jugular. his quickened heartbeat pressed into your skin like the world’s gentlest tattoo.

the sixty seconds began and concluded in total silence.

“well?” he whispered.

“ninety-three,” you answered, lightheaded from the sheer intimacy of it all. “you’re nervous right now?”

“something like that,” he hummed. pulled you down, kissed you deeply. there were no more words exchanged that night.

the habit surfaced more than you knew. while driving to visit your parents. after a stupid argument with a bouquet of flowers tucked beneath his free arm. you started doing it for him in the times he couldn’t, and he’d cover your hand with his own and kiss the top of your head silently, gratefully.

two years have passed since, and you’ve vanished from the dinner table.

felix asks the nearest waiter for directions to the restrooms. you don’t notice when the door swings open, unmoving in your spot over the sink, your pointer and middle finger pressed against the side of your neck. 

his hand finds your hip. you let him turn you around and bring you to his chest; he glances at the crystalline droplets studding your lashes and falling from your cheeks. his eyes convey what his mouth doesn’t need to, not anymore.

let me.

you do.

his fingers replace yours the moment you drop them from under your jaw, the movement like clockwork. he counts your every heartbeat with unblinking concentration, his heart growing heavier the higher the number climbs.

the sixty seconds begin and conclude in total silence. 

“well?” you whisper.

“hundred and six,” he answers. to his confusion, a smile pulls at your lips. 

he wonders if it’s a trick of the bathroom lights when he sees the tiny box you pluck from your pocket, but there’s no mistaking the reality of the diamond ring that sits behind its open lid.

the earth slants under his feet.

“crazy.” you giggle through your tears, run your thumb over his cheekbone. “that’s how many years i want with you.”

seungmin + poking eyes(?) he’s hardly touched puppym when your voice is slicing through the living room air like a fucking beyblade. 

“KIM SEUNGMIN, UNHAND HIM THIS INSTANT.”

do you have a sixth sense just for this? he throws his hands up in exasperation. “he’s literally me. i’m allowed to do whatever i want with me.”

“he’s not you, he’s our son.” you pop out of nowhere to swipe the plushie from over your boyfriend’s shoulder. “my son, if you keep this up.”

“just say you hate me and my preferred avenues of self expression.”

upside-down, he watches you dust off puppym’s face and smooch his forehead with a tenderness that makes seungmin unhappier than he lets on. you then tuck him into your jacket pocket. the little shit’s expression looks strangely smug poking out of its cotton capsule.

“i’m asking you to not gauge his eyes out, not to deliver me the holy grail,” you say. “you’ll survive.”

but then he feels your hands on either side of his face, and you lean over him like the mj to his peter, leave a kiss on the space between his eyes, too. he has zero say in the bashful smile this brings to his face.

“but why do you do that, seriously?” you mutter.

“i have no idea,” he replies. “but it’s fun. try it.”

“i’ll think about it.” you lean in again, and he nearly forgets what you were talking about in the first place when you kiss him on the lips this time. “okay, i’ve thought about it. no.”

“hate you,” he says despite the literal hearts in his eyes, and then you’re off to work.

puppym takes strikingly after his father. they have the same bangs. the same compulsively squeezable quality. the same little :3 that can only allude to sinister plottings. you’d be loath to admit that you sort of comprehend seungmin’s poking predisposition.

one night, seungmin falls asleep before you even finish your nighttime routine, and you spot in his peaceful, upturned face an opportunity.

you lie belly-down on your side of the bed. your fingers splay into a peace-sign in the air. your smile stretches further into a cheshire grin the closer you bring your hand. you’re just about to reach the ends of his eyelashes when—

“I KNEW IT!”

you almost catapult into the ceiling. then you try to make a mad dash for the bathroom. but seungmin shoots a hand around your wrist like he’s actually peter parker and pins you down before you so much as take a step. your only remaining option is to sulk about your foiled plans. (and blush, because, well, you’re under him.)

“amateur,” he tsks. “you gotta test my breathing to make sure i’m asleep first. shit’s foolproof.”

you blink at him for a few seconds. his words finally click.

now you almost catapult him into the ceiling.

“HOW MANY TIMES?”

jeongin + eating food in one bite. so you might be an instigator.

“hwuck,” he grumbles around the whole ice cream cone in his mouth, face scrunched up in a brain-freeze-induced wince. “ayee ith waz a bah iyeah.” (translation: fuck, maybe this was a bad idea.)

“you got this. just take it slow,” you urge, except he’s stopped moving and speaking and closed his eyes as if he’s descending into a deep sleep. you’re actually concerned for about two seconds, and then his jaw begins to oscillate leisurely like an elderly cow in his favorite pasture. false alarm.

after some time, he swallows, beams. “so am i the fucking best or what.”

“yeah you are,” you echo, and he swings an arm over your shoulder, plants a chocolatey kiss on your temple. the two of you celebrate his daesangs with less enthusiasm.

“when are you doing that with me, by the way?”

“the one-bite thing?” he nods. “mmm, coaches don’t play.”

“mmm, this one will.”

“doubtful.”

fast forward a few weeks and you, jeongin, and his younger brother are sitting cross-legged on the porch in his backyard. three full-sized oranges rest in the center of your makeshift circle. damn is yoon hard to say no to. (runs in the family.)

“the rules!” he declares. “eat the orange whole! first to swallow it wins! you can’t spit it out!”

you wait. “is that it?”

“yes!”

why was the delivery so grand?

jeongin places a fond hand atop his brother’s head. “i’ve brought you a new loser, yoonie. get excited.”

you feign an indifferent scoff, but jeongin spots the fire that ignites behind your eyes like that of an anime protagonist, the resolute grip with which you palm your orange. he smirks. he’s never known you to take trash talk sitting down. or sitting cross-legged on his porch.

yoon counts you off. “ready…”

“good luck, coach,” jeongin sings.

“shut up, pipsqueak.”

“set…GO!”

in amusing unison, you and yoon try and fail to fasten your teeth around even half of the fruit. jeongin, meanwhile, fits the whole thing into his black hole of an oral cavity and launches into that dumb cow impression again.

desperate times call for desperate measures.

you rip the orange from your lips. “yoon! your brother’s ticklish, right?”

both yang siblings’ eyes widen—the younger’s in growing delight, the older’s in impending horror.

the latter reacts first. “ay, ay, ay, ah ahes eh ooles!” (translation: wait, wait, wait, that’s against the rules!)

but the former moves first, and you’re right behind him.

jeongin weakens when the younger boy assaults his sides, crumples when you target the back of his neck, the sounds leaving his mouth getting progressively louder and somehow even less intelligible.

he eventually has to spit out the orange to avoid death by pulp going down the wrong pipe and spins around in indignation, wiping at his chin with the back of his hand. but his annoyance—

you’re back on the floor, gnawing hopelessly at the the orange again. “ih ih eawahin, ooh.” (translation: this is embarrassing, yoon.)

yoon replies, “huh?” (translation: huh?)

—dissipates, immediately.

🔖 (send an ask to be added)・@astraystayyh・@like-a-diamondinthesky・@fire-08・@starsandrqindrops・@txtxlz・@laylasbunbunny・@strayghibli・@nuronhe・@seungminsapuppy・@vivisoni・@skzms・@moon0fthenight・@sweetpickledjins・@svintsandghosts・@nhyunn ・@ur-boyfiend ・@liknws・@hotgorloikawa・@randomwimp ・ @automaticpersonabatpaper

© forlix (est. 090323) · liked this work? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other writing here. thanks so much for the support!

[priyajoyyy]

Sleepy

(idk how to name fics that aren’t based off a song)

Clarisse la rue x Aphrodite!fem!reader

Reader sneaks into clarisses bed after a nightmare, forgetting that she was wearing short shorts and a tiny bra top, but people definitely remember when she walks back to the Aphrodite cabin wearing clarisses large shirt and what looks like nothing underneath…

Warnings:

Established relationship, implied new relationship, implied friendship to lovers, boys (gross ew) sexualising reader a bit, bad writing sorry, half of these are not warnings

lol sorry 😔 , fluff, poor dialogue because I’m still trying to work out how to properly write dialogue lol.

You couldn’t really remember what happened.

One minute you were gasping out in your cabin, hearing one of your sister grumble at you to be quiet, sitting up with wet cheeks and blurry eyes.

And the next minute you had grabbed your teddy bear and started making your way towards the ares cabin.

And of course you didn’t take notice of what you chose to wear to bed that day, you were half asleep and terrified from the nightmare you’d just had, the dark forest surrounding you not helping at all.

“Claire…” you whispered to the girl, shaking her a little, “can I sleep with you”

You knew you hadn’t woken anybody up in the ares cabin, seeing as they would be a lot more verbal about their annoyance being woken up than most of your own siblings would be.

However you also hadn’t been successful in waking your girlfriend up either, shaking her a little more before giving up.

You figured she wouldn’t mind you just getting to bed, you had slept in her cabin a handful of times before, and you knew she had a long day of practice planned for the next day in preparation for an upcoming quest, so she could deal with not being woken.

You had normally snuck out of the ares cabin before anyone could notice you the previous times you had stayed, though you hardly thought it mattered right now, no one would dare snitch on Clarisse so as long as Chiron didn’t see you you would be fine.

You crawled into the bed and snuck under clarisses arm, her grip tightening around you snuggly, and it didn’t take long to fall asleep in that state.

By the time you woke up. You could hear giggling surrounding you.

You didn’t take much notice, your sisters were often scheming in the early hours of the morning and you had always been a light sleeper, so it wasn’t really their fault it woke you.

It wasn’t till you heard a snapping noise and through your eyelids saw the faint light of a flash going off that you became more aware, your brain waking up and remembering what had happened the night before.

Obviously Clarisse hadn’t woken yet. Like it was proven last night, unlike you, she was a very deep sleeper, and you could still feel her arm around you and you begun to slowly get up in confusion.

“Shit, quick” you heard one of the kids stood by the bed infront of you say before taking another picture, the light momentarily blinding you.

The two ran off quickly, hiding the camera somewhere as you became aware that most of clarisses other siblings were watching you both also, laughing or trying not to.

It wasn’t exactly a normal sight to see Clarisse cuddled up in bed, arms wrapped around her girlfriend and teddy bear laying next to them.

Quickly, turning red, you jumped to get up, still not clocking what you were wearing.

Clarisses elder brother, emmet, certainly had however, staring at your boobs as you sat up quickly in bed and laughing along with his brother, and smacking their arm to get him to pay attention.

“Hey y/n, you don’t have to leave just yet” Ben, the other said as you searched around the bed for your phone. (Ik that technically their phones didn’t work in all ways but in my head I imagine them still having them at camp for photos and stuff)

“Yeah, we don’t need Clarisse to have a good time” emmett laughed as they approached you, his eyes resting on your ass as you bent over slightly, searching the bed.

“You could stay around tonight as well if you want…My bunks always free” he said, both of them laughing as though it was the funniest things he’d ever heard.

“Leave her alone” one of the girls said from her bed, adding, “Clarisse will kill you if she finds out anyway”

You turned around to face the two and stumbled back into the bed a little when you noticed them both closer to your body.

“Finds out what?” Clarisse asked in a groggy voice, looking up at her girlfriend’s back from her spot in bed in confusion, not knowing why you were there.

“Nothing clarry it’s fine” you said softly, turning your head round to her and smiling at her nervously, not wanting to cause any issues so early in the morning.

Clarisses younger sister kitty however had no problems causing an argument between the girl and their gross brothers, opting to kill two birds with one stone by telling on them to Clarisse.

“Oh nothing” kitty stated sarcastically, causing Clarisse to turn to her and glare.

“Kitty” she warned, demanding her to explain what’s going on to her in one word.

“They were just being rude to y/n is all” she stated with a smirk, jumping off of her bunk that she had been sat on and walking towards the bathroom as if she didn’t say anything, wanting to tell the girls in there about what was about to happen.

You didn’t know if you were glad she was somewhat standing up for you or annoyed that she was trying to start a fight this early in the morning, something bound to ruin clarisses, and in turn, everyone else’s, mood for the rest of the day.

And as you watched kitty return from the other room with 3 others following her, trying to act inconspicuous, you decided you wanted to kill her. Very

“No it’s fine Clarisse I promise” you attempted to reassure your girlfriend.

“Yeah clarisse, it’s fine” Benjamin added in a mocking voice, sitting on his bed as if he had no cares in the world.

Clarisse started to stand from her bed at that, grabbing your hips from behind, pulling you along with her, “Come here baby”

She guided you across the room, not really giving you a chance to turn until you had both reached your destination.

She bent down to search through the bottom drawer of the cabinet she had lead you to, rummaging through the shirts and tops.

You were weirded out by her sudden dismissal of her brothers, especially given their taunts, but you were glad nonetheless.

You turned back to look at them and caught them both still watching you, Ben still sat on the bed while emmet lent on a cabinet near it, smirking at you.

Eventually Clarisse pulled out an orange camp half blood tshirt, handing it up to you, grabbing your attention again before closing the drawer.

You looked at her in confusion, why was she handing you her, far too big for you, tshirt? Clarisse not yet acknowledging you as she walked back over to the two boys, watching you both from bens bed.

“You two are gonna apologise to my girlfriend right now and the only punishment you’re gonna get is laundry duty for two weeks…” Clarisse told the two in a scarily calm voice, “or, if not, we can go to training and I can beat your asses for thinking it’s ok to disrespect my girlfriend like that”

The two boys looked less amused now, Ben scowling and emmet rolling his eyes like a child about to throw a tantrum.

“And…you can beg 3 weeks of laundry duty” Clarisse added with a smirk, staring them down until they backed down.

“Ok whatever” Ben muttered, giving up first, “sorry y/n”

“I-it’s ok” you replied from the cabinet, clutching onto clarisses shirt.

“No y/n, it’s not ok” Clarisse said sternly, turning to her other half-brother with an expectant look in her eye, “emmet?”

After a slight pause with no response Clarisse stepped forwards raising her eyebrows at her brother, both of you watching his scowl deepen before giving in.

“Sorry” he stated, rolling his eyes.

“Nah that’s not good enough…” Clarisse told him with a grin, “try again”

“Clarisse it’s fine really” you told her, watching her just shake her head in response.

“Fine, I’m sorry y/n…good enough?” He said in annoyance.

“Perfect” Clarisse said stepping back and walking towards you, not turning around to tell them, “might wanna get those clothes to the laundry room…the hampers are looking pretty full”

“You didn’t need to do that” you told her with a pout, still holding onto the shirt she had handed you.

“You ok baby?” She asked.

“Yeah I’m fine, I said that” you reassured, gesturing to her shirt, assuming it was for her to wear, “do you want your shirt back?”

“Baby have you seen what you’re wearing?” Clarisse laughed, “I mean I don’t mind at all but I can’t imagine you’re gonna have fun running back to your cabin in a bra top, tiny shorts and no shoes”

With that she handed you some slippers off of the floor by her bed.

At that you finally realised why she wanted you to wear the top, looking down at your body, as your cheeks began to turn red you shyly looked back up at Clarisse and smiled at her with a giggle.

“Thank you” you told her, throwing the shirt over yourself and slipping the shoes on your feet.

“Now I hate to kick you out baby but I think if you stay any longer Chiron will see you” Clarisse told you, her hands reaching your waist.

“Yeah you’re probably right” you stated, not making any moves to walk away yet.

Clarisse leaned down to kiss you, her grip on your waist tightening slightly as she did.

You both continued to kiss for a moment before you heard laughs behind Clarisse, opening your eyes to see kitty and 3 other girls sat on a bed watching you.

Clarisse glares at the girls and you laugh at her. “Ok I should go then”

“I’ll see you later” Clarisse told you, knowing she’d come find you at lunch if she didn’t see you before then.

“Ok” you replied simply, picking up your teddy from the bed and walking towards the door of the cabin.

You noticed the stares on you as you rushed back to your own cabin, the children already up watching you depart from the Ares cabin wearing barely any clothes holding a teddy bear.

You were as quick as you could be, hoping not to get caught by Chiron and get back before he started making his rounds of the camp.

You heard a whistle from your right, an older boy watching you rush past him, you scowling in reply and raising a middle finger to him and you walked past.

You were just glad Clarisse wasn’t with you to start a fight with him for it.

Haven’t proof read this yet lol 😭

Taglist:

@slaggylemon @yourmom-25s-blog @l0veshellarcelia

[boydepartment]

three strikes - nishimura riki x fem! reader

a/n: HIIIIII this was a request from my 🧈 anon :3 i hope you love it my dear

warnings- jealousy! nothing insane tho, mostly fluff 😋 i added a small inside joke that riki would call ricky from zb1 “discount ricky” all jokes tho (pls don’t kill me)

wc- honestly over 750

MASTERLIST

“here.” you looked over to riki setting your drink down on the table, you looked up at him and smiled as he sat down across from you at the cafe table.

“did you-“

“ask for extra peppermint? yes. even though it’s gross..” riki mumbled, you giggled and sipped your hot coco. it was freezing cold at least to you and so the coco helped a lot.

“when is your project partner arriving?” riki mumbled, sipping his coffee.

you shrugged, “any minute.” setting your coco down riki watched you, he wasn’t necessarily happy over this whole project partner thing. riki knew your project partner, and safe to say he was just irritated by his presence. he didn’t know why, but he was just irked.

so when the OTHER ricky walked in, he just waved and watched as the other boy sat next to you.

“hey y/n!” he smiled, you grinned back at him.

“hey! it’s cold outside are you sure you’re bundled up enough?” you asked, grabbing your books. riki just decided to go on his phone to pass time.

“yeah! it’s crazy how quickly the weather changed huh? are you warm enough?”

you and ricky made small talk which didn’t bother your best friend. that was until one sentence.

“your hands are freezing y/n!”

riki’s eyes shot up to see the discount ricky’s hands on yours. if stares could kill a man, discount ricky would be six feet under.

“oh! yeah that’s why riki, well, my riki got me hot coco.” you let go of his hand and turned to your hot beverage.

nishimura riki would be lying if he said some pride didn’t bubble up inside him, which didn’t go unnoticed by the boy sitting next to you.

riki didn’t take notice and he went back on his phone, he just wanted your project to be over so he could walk back to the car with you and just be away from people. by people he meant discount ricky. this was strike one for his patience.

“i think we should work more on the details of the piece of art itself. like things that normal people look past in monet’s art. there’s a story everywhere.” you suggested, this art project was pretty big for your grade. and you were just relieved that your project partner agreed to do monet.

“that’s such a good idea y/n.” ricky smiled.

oh please riki thought to himself, at that point discount ricky should just get on his hands and knees and beg for your attention. that’d be way less embarrassing than kissing your ass at every little- wait what the hell

to riki’s horror, discount ricky, was readjusting your beanie so your hair didn’t get in your face. this pissed him off, strike two of his patience gone. riki was the one who spent HOURS trying to crochet you that beanie last year and now he’s going to have to make you another one because discount ricky’s grimy hands touched it! riki felt his eye twitch, he ended up making eye contact with the boy next to you. a smirk ghosting his features.

riki wanted to kick his shin under the table or maybe throw his hot coffee-

“i think we should also choose one of monet’s less known works aswe- oh ouch…” you mumbled rubbing your hands, whenever you wrote or sketched too long your hands would hurt. riki always took notice of this so he looked up proper hand massages- safe to say he could be certified- WHAT THE SHIT?

discount ricky grabbed your hands and started massaging them.

strike three

“can you get your hands off her?!” riki finally snapped, “god at this point it’s revolting! i’m right in front of both of you!”

your eyes widened as you watched you best friend actually lose his temper, yeah you’d seen him bicker but this was different.

“what are you two dating?” ricky asked, if you were in a tv show you’d see the angry lightening bolt hit both of them. this was not good, you quickly packed your bags and grabbed your best friend. apologizing to your project partner.

“what’s his fucking problem?!” riki stomped through the fresh snow to your car.

“what’s his problem?! what’s your problem? what the hell was that?! are you okay?!” you had a million questions. and they were flying out.

“i- what- how is this my fault!? he had his grimy discount ricky hands all over you! only i’m allowed to do that as your best friend!”

it was really hard to take him seriously as you finally got to the car laughing. you leaned against the hood trying to catch your breath.

“y/n this isn’t funny!” he stood right next to you.

you finally caught your breath, “i’m sorry where did the nickname discount ricky come from?”

“well obviously i’m the better one way more deserving of, um hello, touching your hair, massaging your hands because im youtube certified, AND THE COLD HANDS THING?! he was flirting with you shamelessly in front of me!” riki swung his arms around like a crazy person trying to explain that the end was near.

your hat fell slightly as you laughed again which riki fixed gently before speaking again, “then he’d smirk at me like he knew he was getting on my nerves! like that discount version of ME KNEW HE WAS MAKING ME ANGRY!”

“should i take my hat off and give you sanitizer? since you touched my discount ricky infected beanie?” you asked, unlocking the car and throwing your backpack in the back. you turned around and bumped into riki.

“actually yeah take off that hat. i will sanitize it and crochet you a new one.” riki grabbed the hat off your head and gave you his own beanie.

“should i sanitize my hands too?” you asked giggling, going to open your door but slipping on black ice.

riki immediately caught you, “um guess who couldn’t catch you- discount ricky. i’m clearly better for you so.”

you started laughing again, hitting his chest playfully, “you’re acting like a jealous boyfriend.”

“is that a bad thing?” riki asked quickly, suddenly unsure of himself.

you shook your head no, “it’s cute.”

riki smiled down at you; it was obvious he was at least a little smug.

“you know what he didn’t contaminate?” you asked, still giggling, your eyes flickered from riki’s eyes to his lips. immediately he got the hint and took his chance.

discount ricky is out and nishimura riki hit a home run

[evilminji]

Oh god :Dc a Danny Summons Contract

No you guys DON'T UNDERSTAND-!

Just. Danny! Only Danny! He fucked up. Some ancient Warring States Ninja fucked up. They BOTH agreed to NEVER talk about it again.

Cause like? That ninja? Was a GROWN ASS MAN. A qualified BAMF of the highest order. He WAS the Danger, thank you very much. So, he? Will NEVER live down being saved by...well...

*holds up wildly struggling, noodle limbed, sad wet raccoon havin a terrible day lookin, meat thresher on legs*

THIS.

It's a BABY. Honestly, his Clan's TODDLERS know how to throw better punch. This scrawny infant baby child is both? His new son. AND an embarrassing trainwreck in motion. FFS kid, that's not how you- No! NO! Don't you DARE bite that opponent! You don't know where they've B-!

Kid they could have BEEN POISONED!!! Spit um OUT! DROP UM! Drop that RIGHT NOW! What are you? A dead Inuzuka? A god forsaken Hatake!? DROP IT!!!

It...sure is An Adventure™.

One of many early "here's how you DON'T make a Summoning contract" experiments, that Clans without seal masters were attempting. He's honestly lucky HIS attempt ended with him still... you know... ALIVE. Problem, though? After bunking for like... a few months? A year? In the command center?

And you know, terrorizing the GIW into complete collapse. Parenting him through some pretty serious life changes. Somehow making Sam MORE terrifying. And a whole host of off screen ninja shenanigans? They figure out? Oh. Only way to send him HOME is to either accept or refuse a Contract.

They gotta make one.

First they head to Frostbite for a recommendation, then? Off to a reputable Ghost Lawyer they go! They have to camp in the waiting room for like... a week. But? Worth it! The contract is AMAZING. And terrifying! Protects them both. Can't be used against EITHER. And that loophole you're thinking off? Ten pages worth of point 4 script, twenty three yards down, for why it's a BAD IDEA and breaks contract~!

Neither of them can make the other do SHIT! Only fully consensual, mutually beneficial, ass kicking here! If we FEEL LIKE IT!

Ninja dad insisted. Never sign a contract with anything less then extreme paranoia, kid! Leave no "implied" or "spirit of the rules"! Loopholes are holes in your armor, with which your enemy stabs you in the back!

Danny, tearfully, sends ninja dad home.

Gross. Emotions all over his armor. If only there wasn't all this sand in his eyes, he'd definitely complain about it. *stoic ninja hug*

Danny? Become a king. One of many. An Ancient. Becomes FUCKING HUUUUUUUUGE. Like? "Aw, your city is so pwecious~☆ n smol~♡! Whats it called again? New York?" Huge. A fuckin LEVIATHAN made of void, stars, and space ice. A Winter corpse, marked by lightning, that became the night sky itself. With a crown of aurora borealis, ever shifting, like flame.

Proportional, in a way, to Summon Bosses. Just as a normal human is to a normal toad, a normal cat, a normal slug. So too, is Danny LARGER then them.

You know... when he feels like it.

The contract? Passes down. Ninja dad does warn his kin. Prooooobably not gonna answer you. He only answers ME cause I'm, well, ME.

Fuckin BET. They declare. And lose. Repeatedly.

Time marches on. The Senju and Uchiha has their Drama. Dear KAMI do they Have Their Drama. Please Stop, says everyone. They... do not. The contract? Fuckin STOLEN. Because of course it is.

It's a HUGE, glowing, death radiating Summons Contract kept in a shrine behind like... SO MANY seals. It makes anyone less then a full grown JOUNIN physically SICK to even touch! Prolonged exposure kills people! Of COURSE it gets fuckin stolen. It's obviously a super, mega, ultra rare AMAZEBALLS Summon Contract... right?

Eeeeeeeeeeeh *so-so hand motion* KINDA!

It IS technically that.

They ain't wrong. Cause Danny IS an Adult now. A King. Connected to the Zone. An ANCIENT. Beyond and Above his mortal origins, even as, by being a Halfa, he is utterly the same. That contract is as close as one could GET to having a contract with the Sage himself.

You know... if he answered you.

Felt like your petty bullshit was worth getting up off the couch for.

Not to MENTION? He can make clones! Like.... billions of them now. Has a skeleton army. Is kinda one of the stronger Ancients. But that's not the point. The POINT? Clones. Don't have to be EQUAL facets of self.

You CAN make a .00001% clone of yourself!

Behold *summons poof noise* Lil Baby Man!

The harbinger of Danny! Here to Test Your VIBEZ™. He sends them each time. To be an adorable menace. Cause problems on purpose. Be gremlins, chew on table legs, maybe. You know, the works! They RADIATE his " I Am Death." Energy. But also his "winter, protection, and starlight" vibes... if you're brave enough to LOOK.

If you don't flinch away from a spirit of the dead. Can embrace the chaotic nature of a Zone ghost. Are kind to something that isn't what you expected, that you can USE, that appears weaker then you. Something that seems dumb. Distractable. Useless in battle.

Can you be kind? Do you immediately give up? To recognize a test when you see one? Is your first impulse cruelty? Distain? It tells Danny a lot. Saves him time.

Which? Is how a young Itachi, freshly Jounin'd, gets thrown through an old and rotting wooden gate into what LOOKS like a vaguely demonic death shrine. Hmmm, concerning. Baby 'tachi has been separated from his teammates. Is having a Bad Time™. The crows can't really help much here.

And, well, that IS a Summoning contract...

He's outnumbered. Low on both weapons and Chakra. Refuses to do anything BUT return home to his family. His baby brother. Is it WISE? No. It is in fact, incredibly, incredibly UNWISE. He has no idea what he'll be agreeing too. But... so long as he live just a bit longer...

He slams an earth wall against the entrance.

Falls back to the Glowing Contract.

Stumbles, as even landing near it makes his insides revolt. His skin prickle and burn. Colder then the nine tails Chakra, emptier, yet somehow endlessly more ABSOLUTE.

It's like the very Chakra in his body screams against it. Rejects it's mere presence. As though all thing alive REFUSE it with desperation and fear. He has no time to muse upon this. It hurt his hand to touch. He does so anyway. Struggling to hold the earthwall against enemy attacks.

He doesn't bother to read the contract. Flings it from the pedestal, to unravel, so he may sign quickly. There. With a practiced motion, he nicks his finger, and scrawls his future away. Whatever demons may come. Whatever monsters this brings. Please... let him live long enough to say goodbye.

The world CRACKS as he summons.

Death and the Shinigami are not the same.

Even those without the ability to sense are battered by the tsunami of... not killing intent. No. There is no intent. No killing. Just... knowing. Heraldry. That Death comes for us all. You can not escape. Foolish and small, is this what you waste your existence on? Ants before a god. Dust before the heavens. He... he can not... breathe...

Frozen. Eyes wide. Sharigan spinning, spinning, spinning. Capturing the delicate lace of nothingness, absence of life, as it drifts by. Unable to move from where he kneels, bloody hand pressed to the ground, in a Summoning.

What Has He Done?

Outside there is panic. Screaming. They flee. He... he wishes he could flee. W...why can't he-? *THHHWAP!* Mmmmph?! Something small and almost bird shaped smacks into his face like a flung ration. Tiny arms spread wide to cling to his bangs and dangle. The deathy power fades... almost... almost as though it were... a threat display?

He focuses on the tiny creature whining and hugging his face. It... is a floating snake toddler? Or is it dragon? They have sharp little claws and stars along their face, a tiny whispy mane of white. Likely a dragon child then. They stick their small tounge out slightly, eyes the blankly trusting stare of small children everywhere.

He clearly want to be carried. Ah. Of course, little one.

Did... did he agree to raise a dragon?

Just?

Itachi, smol. Serious. With lil baby man floped on his head or tucked lovingly in his arms. The TEXTBOOK definition of "he don't bite" "YES HE DO!!!" For everyone but Itachi and Sasuke. To whom he is, of course, an INNOCENT BABY who has NEVER done anything wrong EVER. An angel! Why is everyone being so MEAN to poor innocent baby man? Boo hoo~!

It fucks up SO MANY plans.

Because Itachi. A smol child. INSISTS he is a Father now. What are you going to do? Say he can be? Why? Because he's a CHILD? Which is it? Is he a Jounin or a Dependant? An adult in the eyes of the law or a child to be protected by said law from pushing him off to war? Old enough to die, old enough to parent his dragon son!

And SORRY Father, he CANT join Anbu. Who would be there for his child? Ah, he should join a parenting group. *various competent parent instincts go haywire over this tiny Uchiha child in need of parenting* Danzo? For some reason his son seems to really, REALLY hate him. Better avoid him. His child doesn't know yet not to bite respected elders.

Sasuke? Gets to be an UNCLE! To a DRAGON! He takes his job very seriously.

It's the best PR the clan has ever had.

@hdgnj @babbling-babull @hypewinter @nerdpoe @the-witchhunter @legitimatesatanspawn @lolottes @mutable-manifestation

[sister-lucifer]

can we get gross pervy dom toby content 🙏

Some Gross Pervy Dom Toby Content 

Toby Rogers x Gender Neutral Reader

Genre: NSFW 

Summary: There is really no plot to be summarized, Toby’s just a horndog and he chased you down. good fuckin luck  

Content/Warnings: Dubcon/Noncon elements, implied stalking, horror elements, Toby being creepy, Toby smells you and touches you in the weirdest manner you can possibly imagine, NSFW with minimal (mostly implied) plot, no real sex happens just fucked up shit, no seriously this is nasty as fuck i’m getting put on a list for this 

Like my writing? I take requests! NSFW or SFW for any fandoms in my bio (request rules + masterlist in pinned post)!

Also, please reblog! it’s free, takes two seconds, and really helps me out 

Feedback is encouraged and appreciated:)

Not fully proofread! Let me know if you see any errors!

A/N: Just to avoid confusion, in my headcanon Toby has a stutter as well as but separate from his tourette’s; i’m writing his stutter, not his tics! thankies!

also READ THE FUCKING WARNINGS THIS ONE IS NASTY

Staring down the barrel of a loaded gun would fill you with less dread than staring up at the lanky boy who’s currently towering over you. 

You don’t have to look at him to know there’s a twisted smile filled with crooked, chipped teeth spread across his face, hazel eyes scrunched at the corners as he grins like a madman. You don’t want to look at him, really, but you can’t stop yourself before you’re slowly craning your neck to see. Slowly his face comes into view, and it’s even more unsettling than you could prepare for. 

His messy brown hair flicks up in all directions and partly obscures his eyes, and yet they seem to glow in the dim light of the sunset. One of his arms is above you, folded against the wall, while the other cages you into the corner. Besides his fingers drumming restlessly, he’s not moving, but his entire body is trembling with….excitement? His chest is heaving like he’s struggling to breathe, and the uncomfortable feeling of his warm exhale fanning over your face makes you shudder, and…oh god, is he drooling over you? Shit—

You press yourself hard against the wall, face burning hot against the cool air of the drafty abandoned building. Something tells you you shouldn’t take your eyes off of him for too long, but in your peripheral vision you can see through the broken windows. There’s nothing but trees in all directions, and the sky is rapidly darkening with each passing second. You’re watching any chance you had of escaping in the daylight slip from your fingers. Everything is becoming much too disorienting much too fast, thoughts racing and overlapping and screaming at you to do something, but you can’t. All at once you’re trying to figure out an escape plan, how to appease your captor for long enough to execute an escape plan, and how you even got here in the first place. 

The last thing you remember is running from him, the branches of the thicket grabbing at your pants and arms as if trying to hold you back. You had no choice but to run into the old hospital, but now you’re wishing you’d simply kept going. 

You must’ve moved too much for Toby’s liking, because he suddenly grabs onto your arm with a grip that feels strong enough to snap the bone in two. You yelp in pain, a second gloved hand quickly clamping over your mouth. The echo of your cry rings loud in your ears, and for a moment you wonder if it’ll ever go quiet again. 

“You…you…” Toby stutters, and your eyes widen at the sound of his voice. You aren’t sure what you were expecting to hear, but he just sounds so…normal, like any other nineteen year old boy, except if it were anyone else in any other scenario a mere couple of syllables wouldn’t strike such fear into you. 

“You ran a loooong t-time…” He scolds, but his grin doesn’t falter. He brings his hand away from your mouth to shake a finger at you, seemingly trusting you not to scream. 

Not like it would matter. You made him chase you pretty far in. 

In an instant his hands are on your waist, slipping under your shirt and eagerly grabbing at the soft flesh he finds beneath. You have to bite your tongue to hold back another yelp. 

“Oh, ooohh but it w-was worth it!” Toby slurs with a drawl, “I’ve f-finally fooouund yooouu, aha…” 

He sounds so proud of himself. Something about his tone is almost childish, deceivingly so. He truly thinks he’s done something amazing. 

Your heart skips a beat when he suddenly freezes, face going void of all emotion, and you wonder if you’ve truly angered him. If you did, would that be the mistake that ended it all? 

Fortunately, it seems he was just changing gears. You panic when you realize he’s leaning in towards you, but he moves past your face to practically bury his nose in your neck, taking a long and deep breath. He lets out a faint laugh as he breathes out, and it feels like a horrible sensation crawling down your spine. The only thing you can do is grab onto his arms, nails digging into the dirty and worn fabric of his hoodie. It’s practically caked with dried mud in some areas and you can feel the dry cracking beneath your hands. 

“I m-missed your…your s-smell…” Toby whispers. You’re confused for a moment, and it takes a few seconds for it all to set in. 

‘Missed?’ 

He’d…smelled you before? 

He ‘missed’ you… 

“I-I should have…should have visited m-more…I-I got ssso busy, b-but I didn’t forget you, I-I promise…” 

He keeps talking, but it starts to fade out. Only a few words matter, anyways. 

There’s an incredibly brief moment of clarity that flashes through your mind, a split second flicker of understanding that you hadn’t just been misplacing or losing things, that you weren’t imagining all those noises or shadows that you told yourself were childish things to be afraid of, and it nearly floods your brain before it disappears as quickly as it appeared. Maybe you purposefully pushed it out, at least for now. There was too much going on to process the past. If you were lucky enough to get out of this alive, you could reflect then. 

You’re frozen for a few moments as Toby’s idle hands begin to wander, as they always do. He’s at least considerate enough to feel you up through your clothes, but that doesn’t stop you from sucking in a harsh breath through your teeth when he roughly gropes your ass. It forces you to push yourself into him as you try to get away from the aggressive grip. You can feel him laugh with his chest pressed flush against yours. 

He takes the opportunity to wrap his arms around you, and it’s become painfully obvious that he’s much stronger than he looks. You’d never expect someone so skinny to be able to manhandle you like this. 

He sways slowly from side to side as he holds you, one unsteady hand toying with your hair in a gesture that, on Toby’s end, seems as though it is meant to be sincere. 

“Th-There’s so much I want t-to do to y— to do with y-you…so little time…” He goes on muttering to himself over something or other, but you can’t understand him as he trails off. 

He seems preoccupied with his own thoughts, distracted enough that you begin to squirm. He doesn’t react, continuing to quietly rant about nothing while stroking your head. You struggle again, a bit bolder this time. Nothing. 

Maybe you actually had a chance, you just had to slip away. Hell, maybe you’d get lucky and run the right way on the first try; for all you know you’re only a mile away from a highway, that could be your lifeline. You just had to slip away— 

“Stop it! Stop doing that!” 

…Easier said than done, it seems. 

Hearing Toby yell, seemingly allowing a genuine flash of anger to overtake him as he slams you back against the wall, chills you to the core. He was unpredictable, bouncing back and forth between the extremes of whatever emotion he was feeling, making it impossible to plan around his potential actions. 

His hand splays out across your chest to keep you pinned to the wall. He’s applying much more pressure than he needs to, and he knows it. His smile twitches as you struggle to recover from having the wind knocked out of you. 

When he reaches back for his pocket, you expect him to pull out a weapon; maybe a knife, or even a small handgun you somehow hadn’t noticed. 

But no. He returns with something much smaller, and your brows furrow in confusion as you struggle to make out the shape among the shadows that have quickly taken over your space. 

“What’s t-the matter?” Toby asks, “Never seen a-a condom before?”

He snickers cruelly at the way your mouth hangs open in reply. 

“Whaaaat? I-I’m trying to be nice…don’t be a bitch.” 

“N…Nice?!” You choke out in reply, and this time Toby’s jaw drops. 

“Oh, it does speak!” He exclaims with genuine excitement. “Good, good…s-so good…” 

He holds the corner of the wrapper in his mouth so that his hand can be free to fumble with his belt. The sound of the buckle clanking as he slips it off makes your stomach flip. Your gaze flicks quickly back and forth from his pants back to his eyes, and he hasn’t stopped staring at you. You haven’t even seen him blink. 

His tongue runs over his glistening teeth as he prepares to speak again: 

“I h-hope you squeal for me, pretty thing…When we’re done here, I’m t-takin’ you with me…” 

[moominsuki]

✎ᝰ BAKUGOU KATSUKI ; — bakugou hates feeling jealous. but you make it worthwhile.

࿄ ! warnings — f!reader. absolutely none. sfw. / note. katsuki is a cutie patootie.

jealous bakugou is something else. he doesn’t think he’s all that possessive of you at all - he doesn’t care if your outfit is skimpy or if you have guy friends. bakugou regards himself as very secure in his relationship with you.

until he hears what guys have to say about you. then he gets a little crazy.

it’s an open day where he’s helping a group of lackies and hero interns with integrating into his agency and it’s pretty innocent at first. kiri and deku are doing most of the heavy lifting with talking with the prospective sidekicks and heroes (katsuki is very content with the extras he has already). he’s already kind of distracted by seeing you this morning - you offered to lift a hand and do some extra work around his agency for today due to the unusual amount of people scoping his place out and why would he pass on an offer to see you around his agency all day?

unfortunately for katsuki, it means that he’s being increasingly more distant than he usually is and the interns can feel the disgusted energy emitting from every fibre in his body. it’s not like he’s trying to hide it though - what a waste to have you come to his workplace and only catch glimpses of your hair and your scent.

“kacch- dynamight? what do you look for in a sidekick who wants to potentially join this agency,” asks izuku, pulling his friend out of his thoughts. katsuki looks at the crowd of young, probably high school kids and they basically cower under his gaze. he recognises a few of them from other, unimportant events he can’t seem to specifically recall. god, he wants to bite back at them but he shrugs in annoyance.

“don’t piss me off and do as you’re told. simple as but it seems like you lot would still f-”, deku quickly interjects katsuki and yells out, “okay! let’s take a quick 10 minute break! just have a look around and we’re free if you have any questions you want to ask!”

ᝰᝰᝰᝰᝰ

“what is with you today, kacchan? you’re more… insolent than usual,” asks izuku slowly, watching the expression on his blond’s face meld into a face of indifference.

“maybe it’s the fact that i don’t care about these idiots who’re just making a goddamn mess of the place. i don’t need more extras to fuck shit up f’me,” bakugou grumbles. kirishima pats his moody friends on the back and goes to speak when-

“well at least the rumours about dynamight are true. that guy is a fucking mood killer,” says some guy standing in the corner of the reception area, who looks to be a sidekick and is accompanied by other unknown up and coming ‘extras’ as Katsuki woukd put it.

“tell me about it. the guys here fucking suck. for once, i’m wishing that we were stuck with the female pros instead. have you seen uravity? she’s sexier in real life,” pipes up some other guy and the rest holler and hoot.

the three pros look at each other, with bakugou looking at kirishima and deku with knowing, smug eyes.

“i’m just going to interrupt their conversation-” says kirishima, attempting to walk over until another lackey pipes up.

“but have you seen y/h/n? what a woman. shame she’s not in her hero suit. what i would do for a woman like that,” grunts some pathetic looking guy. he’s spindly and limp and looks akin to a wet noodle.

it doesn’t stop katsuki from seething though.

kirishima and izuku slowly turn to look at their friend - who’s practically steaming in his hero uniform. all katsuki can see is red and violence - which isn’t really unlike from what he normally sees but it’s different this time. this time it’s about you.

he sees the group of gross, teenage boys point to where you’re standing: you’re leaning over the receptionist desk and just from the behind can katsuki appreciate how beautiful you are. you’re wearing a short black turtleneck dress with orange accents (you told him that you wanted to wear his colours to his agency) and in any other setting would katsuki run his hands over you and compliment and kiss you till you were shying away from him.

bakugou knew that you got unwanted attention, regardless if he was standing by you like a rabid guard dog - you were gorgeous and you knew that. he also knew that you could hold your own against a hoard of horny teenage losers and you would never look twice at them when you had him. still, that logic went out the window when he could see the same group of kids leering and pointing at where your thighs met the bottom of your dress and he wanted to kill them.

kirishima got wind of this just by looking at the blond’s expression, “please don’t blow up the place - they’re just dumb kids! think about how hard we worked for this agency,” pleads kirishima.

“he’s too far gone,” izuku sadly laments as they watch bakugou stride on over to you and ignore both the men’s pleas and bargains. he aggressively pushes past the disgusting collective of eyes and they break apart in shock at his intrusion through them.

you’re, however, too enamoured in your conversation with his assistant and mina- you’re looking at a pinterest board and he wants to bite you for being so cute in front of everyone. it makes him even angrier that those extras would ever think that you would give them more than a side eye and a polite wave.

you feel katsuki before you see him - his uniform-clad arm holds your waist between the desk as he slots himself into your conversation.

“so what’s this about? whatcha talking about?” katsuki asks and mina and his assistant giggle at his intrusion while you roll your eyes and turn yourself sideways to look at him.

“i would tell you but mina and akako might kill me,” you tell your boyfriend, resting a manicured hand on his chest. akako, bakugou’s assistant, laughs and nods her head:

“sorry, dynamight, our conversations are sacred. might i add your timetable tells me that you’re due to take the interns on a practice patrol in less than… 20 minutes?”

katsuki narrows his eyes at this and you chastise akako for poking at him, “leave him alone! i want him here,” before resting a hand on his stubbled jaw and scratching at his face. katsuki’s eyes close at the sensation and he opens them to take a good look at your face. the stupid kids are still a embittering thought in the back of his mind and in any given situation, he would never do this. but sometimes bakugou’s heart goes against his common sense and this was one of those times.

he leans down to slots his lips over yours and presses a gloved hand into the small of your back and you smile into the kiss while a few “awwhs,” emit in the background. bakugou opens an eye slightly to see in his peripheral vision that the gaggle of the limp-faced sidekicks are looking at him in a mixture of shock and fear and embarrassment. he also sees kirishima and izuku grab them up to guide them out of the room.

when you break from the kiss to brush at the hair on the nape of his head, he mumbles, “have i told you how much i love that dress on you?”

you giggle a little and lean up to kiss the corner of his mouth, “a few times. but you can keep telling me if you want. ‘s not like i’ll get tired of hearing it,” you whisper to him and it’s like you’re the only people in the room. he’ll tell you about what spurned this on another day. in the meanwhile, he bask in your attention until he has to go and entertain those useless jerks. it’s not like he’s going to employ any of them.

bakugou would say this is a mission accomplished in his book. yeah, he’s a little jealous and possessive. but with the way you look at him, he finds himself caring less and less about what others have to say about you.

doesn’t mean he won’t try knock them in the side of their head if the time calls for it.

࿄ ! — all rights reserved © moominsuki. please do not copy, translate, repost nor recommend my work outside of tumblr. this is strictly prohibited.

[lees-chaotic-brain]

swapped! (todoroki x reader)

summary: after you get hit with a strange quirk, you swap bodies with your long time crush and hero partner todoroki shouto. somehow, every single thing that could possibly go wrong goes wrong and chaos ensues. idea dump here

genre/content warnings: afab reader, reader has some sort of telekinesis quirk for plot efficiency (i got lazy sorry), suggestive, periods, reader is implied to have a heavy flow but it's really just for the plot to ensure maximal crack, mentions of blood, swearing, fluff, crack, todoroki is a little shit (when is he not)

wc: 5.9k (oopsies this is my longest fic to date)

note: this is for @andypantsx3's pretty boy summer collab! (sorry it's late andie) it is also one of my sponsored fics for @ficsforgaza's fundraiser! i couldn't fit all the scenes i wanted into the fic without ruining the flow, so go check them out and sponsor them if you want to read more! also everyone needs to go say thank you to @thelov3lybookworm for giving me the push i needed to stop making excuses and find solutions so i could post. thanks girl <3

i'm not sure how i feel about the ending, but i think it's as good as it's going to get! since i haven't written in a little while and things have been tough, likes, reblogs, and comments would be so so appreciated, and will help me get the next fic on my list done faster!!!

blog navigation | bhna masterlist | extras!

The first thing you notice when you finally emerge from the depths of your slumber is how comfortable you were. Everything feels just right, your pillows are cool against your neck, and your sheets hold the perfect amount of warmth; enough to keep you cozy, but not so hot that your sweat is creasing the silky sheets and making you feel sticky and gross.

The second thing you notice is the very large, very male hand sprawled on the pillow next to your head. A deep male voice lets out a surprised cry as you jerk back, the hand moving with you.. It takes you several moments to realize that it had come from you. 

Your bare feet thump against the wood paneled floor as you stumble out of bed disoriented and realize where you are for the first time. Namely, not in your bedroom.

Glancing around in confusion, you wonder what the hell happened, and how you ended up somewhere so nice.. The space itself is fairly bare, but you can tell that all of the furniture inhabiting it is expensive. From the sleek wooden dresser to the geometric modern light fixtures to the insanely high thread count of the sheets, everything screams tasteful luxury. 

Where are you? You definitely feel asleep in your own bedroom. Reaching up you rake your hair out of your face and freeze. Instead of the familiar texture and length of your own hair, you’re greeted with short, silky soft strands that definitely did not belong to you.

Mussing your hair to make sure you’re not imagining things, you glance down, and for the first time notice some inexplicable things.For one, the ground is a lot farther away than it normally is, and for two, last time you checked you did not have washboard abs, or a male anatomy.

The entire situation was confusing, and you were still slightly sleep-addled. Despite that you knew that you needed to find a mirror. A quick glance around the room located one in the corner and you hurry over to it. 

Sliding to a stop you grip the edges of the little stand, frost spreading from your right hand to cover the wood while you gaped at your appearance.

Intense heterochromatic eyes stared back at you, shock filling them. Your hair was a unique mess of red and white strands, the two colors mussed with sleep. With those distinctive features, plus high chiseled cheekbones, a jawline that could cut stone and a slim yet unfairly muscular body there was no doubt about it.

You were Todoroki Shouto. At least, that’s whose body you’re currently inhabiting. His very shirtless body. 

BZZZZZT BZZZZZZT

Saved from having to fight your urges to poke at his abs by the noise, you jump, swinging your gaze around in search of the origin.

BZZZZZZT BZZZZZZT

A simple black phone flashes on the otherwise empty nightstand (does he seriously not even have a lamp??), the caller i.d. sending you scrambling across the room to the phone. 

Fumbling in your haste, you manage to swipe and pick up the incoming call from your cell phone.

Your mind is racing a mile a minute. There were only two ways to get into your phone. The first was the password, but even you forgot it most of the time. It sat safely tucked away on a post it in the safe you store all of your important documents in. The second was through face i.d. and the only person who could unlock your phone with their face was you. And since you were in his body, it wouldn’t be unreasonable to assume that he….Lifting the phone to your ear you speak hesitantly.

“Todoroki? Is that you?”

“Y/N?”

It was unnerving to hear your voice saying your name from the other end of the phone,

“What happened?!” You’re a little mortified to hear the hysteria lacing your words, but you can feel the panicked adrenaline flooding your veins as your body goes into fight or flight.

“I believe that the quirk we got hit with yesterday caused us to switch bodies. However, it is highly unlikely that it is permanent so it will be fine.” Even though it’s your voice, something about knowing Todoroki is on the other end was reassuring enough that some of the tension bled from your shoulders.

“That’s good.” You sigh, rubbing your face. There’s a mildly uncomfortable throbbing coming from your lower half, and you absentmindedly reach down to rub at it, forgetting you weren’t in your own body. Brushing against a bump in your gray sweatpants, you shiver as a familiar feeling spreads through your lower stomach and something twitches.

“Todoroki?” Your voice suddenly gets a little higher, the hint of hysteria from before returning to the normally deep monotone. “We have a problem.”

“What is it? Is something wrong?” 

Ignoring his questions, you stare in growing horror at the very obvious tent in the front of the sweatpants you were wearing. You have no idea how you didn’t notice it earlier, but now that you’ve seen what’s going on down there you can’t help but be extremely aware of the uncomfortable pressure. 

“Y/N? Please explain what’s going on. I’m growing concerned.”

“I-” You splutter, unable to form a coherent sentence. Finally you gather your wits enough to say something. “It’s uh, it’s hard.”

“What do you mean? What’s hard? Oh...” He trails off into embarrassed silence.

“OH?” You can’t handle this. “What do you mean ‘oh?!’ Do something!”

“Like what?” He sounds a little defensive. “What am I supposed to do from here?”

“I don’t know!” You’re shouting now. “But you have to do something! How am I supposed to sit here with your massive boner?!”

There’s a loud crash on the other end of the phone, and you jump. “What was that?”

“Nothing.” He answers a little too quickly, but his voice still retains his usual impassivity. “Anyways, returning to the problem at hand. It will go away on its own after a little while. Unless you would rather handle it yourself-”

“No!” You wince as you practically shout into the phone. “I mean, no it's okay. I feel like that would be unprofessional.”

You can hear the amusement in his voice as he responds. “I feel like this entire situation is rather unprofessional. After all, I did see your breasts this morning.”

There must be something wrong with your hearing because there’s no way he just said what you thought he did. In such a nonchalant manner at that. “Wha-What?” Embarrassingly your voice cracks as you rack your brain, frantically searching through your memories of the night before. Then it hits you. 

“You went to bed without pants, a shirt, and a bra last night.” He informs you matter of factly, and you must be going crazy because there’s no way that that’s smugness you’re picking up from him. “Judging from the temperature of your apartment I’d say that your air conditioning is broken. You should probably get that fixed.”

You’ve completely forgotten about the boner you’re currently sporting due to the mortification of it all. Of course the one time the two of you switch bodies it just has to be the day your AC broke and you went to bed in nothing but a pair of striped cotton undies.

A small part of you mourns that you weren’t wearing something sexier, but the larger part of you is screaming that he is your boss. Sure you’ve been friends for years, and you have a not so little crush on him, but you are his subordinate. This was going to make things so awkward in the office. Hopefully once this is all over you can go hunt someone with a memory erasing quirk down to wipe his mind. But maybe not yours. You kind of want to remember the toned planes of his abs and the impressive bulge in his sweats. 

Giving yourself a shake you chastise your internal voice. Absolutely not. That would be an invasion of his privacy. In fact, you should put on a shirt right this second to respect his privacy, not that he didn’t walk around with half of his hero suit burned off from time to time. Wait. A thought suddenly occurs to you.

“Wait. You have a shirt on now, right? You put on a shirt before calling me.” You laugh nervously, because of course he has more common sense than that. It’s not like he would just sit on the phone with you while your tits were hanging out, right? Right??

“Well no.” Your heart falls out of your ass and you accidentally sear a handprint into the edge of his nightstand at his casual answer. “It’s uncomfortably warm in here and without the use of my quirk I am unable to regulate my body's temperature. Aside from that, I don’t know where you keep your shirts so I prioritized calling you to discuss the situation over going through your personal belongings.

That all sounds perfectly reasonable and you would have fallen for it except for one little thing. “Todoroki. I know for a fact that I was too lazy to put my laundry away yesterday and there is a stack of clean t-shirts sitting on the end of my bed right now.” 

You hear rustling -is he still in your bed?!- as he leans forwards to check. “Oh. You’re correct. My apologies.” There’s more rustling and the sound of fabric sliding over skin as he pulls a t-shirt over his head. “It’s on now.”

“Thank you.” You pointedly ignore the fact that he did not sound the tiniest bit apologetic, filing it away to revisit later. For now, the two of you need to discuss what to do next. “I appreciate it. What’s the plan now though? I think we should meet at the agency as soon as possible and go from there.” 

“I agree.” He seems to lack the sense of urgency currently consuming you as he hums in agreement. It’s incredibly annoying. “We should probably give each other directions on what to do, and where to find the things we need.”

On second thought maybe it’s better that he’s calm and thinking clearly because that was an excellent idea. “That’s smart. I keep a pad of paper and a pen on my nightstand to jot down reminders if you want to use that. Where do you keep your paper?”

“Check my bookshelf.” The telltale sound of paper flipping told you that he found the notepad as you crossed the room and stopped in front of the simple wooden bookcase. “Where is it on your bookshelf?”

“I think I keep a notebook and a pad of paper on the middle shelf.” He sounds distracted and a little uncertain, but when you stoop down to check (it’s weird being this tall) you find a simple yellow legal pad and a black pen. “I got it.” 

“Okay.” The sound of a book closing accompanies his words and there’s a hint of some unidentifiable emotion lacing the two-syllables. 

Not thinking much of it you shrug it off, sitting down down at his desk and listening as he tells you where keeps his car keys, hero suit, and other necessities. You ask a few follow up questions, jotting down what cabinet he keeps his cologne and deodorant in, before launching into your own instructions.

“The first thing you need to do is start the coffee machine. Trust me. My body will not be happy unless you give it at least three cups of coffee or like two big energy drinks before 9 am. Next…” After you’re sure he has understood the importance of caffeine, you move on, explaining where you keep your clothes, car keys, and shoes, as well as where you parked your car. 

“Don’t worry about makeup or hair products or anything while you’re getting me ready. I know there’s a lot on my bathroom counter but it’s not necessary. But you do need to go into the first drawer on your left when you’re standing at the sink and grab my anxiety meds. They should be in an orange prescription bottle. Only take one. And please for the love of god do not forget to put a bra on. You got all that?”

“I believe so. Is there a specific outfit you want me to wear or should I just choose?” You stop and think. Left to his own devices there’s no knowing what he might put you in (his first hero costume proof of his abysmal sense of fashion) so it would be best to give him some guidance. “Could you just wear a casual sweater and some jeans?” 

“Yes. Let’s get ready and meet at the agency in about an hour. If that works for you.” There’s not much writing on the yellow legal pad, the black scrawl of your handwriting barely taking up half a page. Okay. It isn’t that much. You can do this. “That sounds good to me.”

“Oh, I also think it might be best if we kept this from the general employees at the agency for the time being just to reduce drama. Is that okay with you?” 

“Of course.” More than okay actually. Some of them were aware of your not-so-little crush on him, so it would spare you some teasing and interrogation.

There’s a couple seconds of awkward silence, and you get the feeling he wants to say something more, the tension crackling through the speaker of his stupidly expensive phone. Opening your mouth, you start to say something then realize you don’t really have anything to say. The awkward silence persists a couple seconds longer before he wishes you goodbye and hangs up.

Click. Click. Click. Clickclickclickclickclickclickclick. You didn’t even realize that you had started clicking the pen open and closed, a nervous habit of yours. Sheepishly you place the pen down on his desk and stand. Sure the vibes were kind of weird at the end there, but it’s not like anything worth making you nervous happened. The situation might not be ideal, but it wasn’t the biggest deal in the world. You could handle it. The worst part was already over. You just had to meet him at the agency, figure out what to do with the rest of the day, and wake up in your own body tomorrow. Piece of cake.

Gaping in horror, you realize that this was not, in fact, going to be a piece of cake. 

Getting ready had been easy enough so you had arrived at the agency a few minutes before your agreed meeting time, which fortunately/unfortunately put you in the perfect position to witness the walking shitshow.

You had been idly sipping at a cup of coffee, marveling at how many packets of sugar it had taken to make it acceptable to his taste buds when he staggered in, catching the eye of pretty much everyone in the lobby.

Hunched over weirdly, he staggered in, wearing a pair of jeans that rode just a little too low to be professional and a very white, very sheer shirt that was meant to be layered over an undershirt. Or, at the very least, with a sturdy, modest bra underneath.

Alas, you can only stare in abject horror at the sight of what everyone else would assume was you stumbling in, your nipples visible from across the room, the bra that should have been on your body clasped in one hand. 

You’re pretty sure you disassociated for a few seconds from sheer mortification, standing there unmoving for several seconds. Once you had processed (and gone through the seven stages of grief multiple times) you were bolting across the floor, seizing his (your?) arm and dragging him down the hall and into the family bathroom where no one could see.

Slamming the door shut behind you, you shove Todoroki/yourself into the small space, wincing as you watch him stumble in your body. Did you always seem this weak and small in his eyes? The sound of the lock clicking as you shut the door reminds you of the current situation and you turn on him, rage emanating from every pore of your being.

“I. Thought. I. Told. You. To. Put. On. A. Bra.” You’re hurt, and seriously pissed off, neatly trimmed nails digging into your thighs as you grip your pants. Humiliation courses through your body, pulsing behind your eyes in tears that you will not let fall, no matter what. “Is this some kind of joke? Are you trying to embarrass me-”

“No.” It’s disconcerting watching yourself speak and move, but subtle mannerisms remind you that it’s Todoroki you’re looking at, not yourself in the mirror. “I wouldn’t do that to you, I swear.”

“Then what is this?” You wave your hand at your body, flinching at what others must be whispering about you. “Do you want people to think I’m some sort of crazy person who goes around practically flashing people at their workplace? Someone who has no sense of decency?”

“Of course not.” His tone is as even as ever, but you can tell that he feels bad. “People here know what type of person you are. I’m sure they’re more concerned than anything.”

The fabric of his blue hero suit unscrunches as your hands drop to your sides, chest heaving as you take a deep breath. “I hope so.”

There’s vulnerability in your voice, and for a second you find peace in the quiet of the moment before he ruins it. “Besides, I’m more worried about my reputation than yours right now.”

You look up indignantly. “Why? I did everything you asked, and I’m fully dressed so I’m not sure why you’re complaining.”

He winces as your voice raises (maybe the coffee hasn’t kicked in yet) but he hides it quickly. “I mean, from their point of view, they just watched me forcibly drag my subordinate off and locked myself in a bathroom with her. They probably have all sorts of unseemly ideas about what I’m doing right now.”

You freeze. Shit. You hadn’t even considered what it would look like to the others. “I’m so sorry. We can explain this to everyone. Like you told me, everyone here also knows you, and that you would never do anything inappropriate.” 

“It’s fine.” He gives you a genuine, yet slightly strained smile. “I’m not too concerned. However, your body doesn’t feel great.”

‘What’s wrong?” You reach out and touch his forehead. “You don’t have a fever.” Glancing down, you sigh. “First things first let's make you decent. You literally brought the bra. Why aren’t you wearing it?”

“The best way I can describe it is it’s similar to the time I accidentally ate Bakugou’s extra spicy curry, except it’s not in my stomach. It’s more in my abdomen. And I meant to wear it, I just couldn’t figure out how to get it on.”

“Okay. I can help with that.” You motion for him to lift his arms. “Take off your shirt.”

He lifts an eyebrow. “Is now really the time?” The bathroom is silent as you give him a death look. “It’s my body. There is quite literally nothing about the body you are currently inhabiting that I do not already know about. Now, shirt. I’ll help put the bra on.”

Understanding that you were not in the mood, he hurriedly pulls the shirt off, and you’re presented with the sight of your bare torso. Ignoring the strange intimacy of the moment (it was literally your own body you had no idea why you felt weird) you help him slip his arms into the straps, then motion for him to turn around. 

He complies, and that’s when you see it. The relatively small, but somewhat noticeable stain on your crotch in the back of your pants. That’s why he wasn’t feeling good. Your body started your period.

The clasp of the bra dangles in your hands as you stare at it, evaluating your choices. One. You could pretend like nothing is happening but chances are he’s going to have to pee at some point during the day so he’ll find out eventually. Plus the stain wasn’t small.

Two. Be the mature, rational adult you are and calmly explain the situation. After all, there was nothing to be ashamed of. It’s a perfectly normal, perfectly natural, biological function that comes with being a female.

And three. Just leave and go crawl into your bed until this nightmare is over. Let him deal with it himself. 

Option number three was looking pretty good there for a moment and you were calculating how fast you could escape the agency without drawing attention when Todoroki spoke. 

“Everything okay? Why aren’t you doing the hook things?” Snapping out of your trance, you clumsily clasp the back, taking several tries to get all the hooks in the same row. Patting it, you tell him to put the shirt back on before taking a deep breath. “Hey, Todoroki?”

Wisps of hair emerge from the neckline of your shirt, followed closely by your head as he pops into your shirt. “Yes?”

“So like, it’s going to be okay and I swear I’ll help you and I’m sorry you have to deal with this but please whatever you do, don’t freak out. Promise?” He tilts his head slightly, regarding you with confusion. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but if you say it’ll be okay I don’t see why I would feel the need to freak out.”

His calm response puts you somewhat at ease, and you just rip the bandaid off. “My body just started it’s period. With you in it. That’s why your abdomen was hurting. It was period cramps. Don’t worry, I’ll get you some advil soon. There’s a small stain on the back of your pants, but it’s not bad yet. However, it’s really heavy on my first day so we’re going to need to get a tampon in and a pad on asap.”

A blank stare is your only response. “What…is a tampon? And what does heavy mean? Also, does it always hurt this bad?” A small furrow appears between his brows, and you can tell he’s overthinking.

“Normally it’s only this bad for a few days, but I’m used to it by now.” You reassure him, grabbing a tampon and pad from the free dispenser on the wall. “And to answer your question, a tampon is basically a fancy roll of material that goes up there and absorbs the blood.”

You’re doing your best to remain calm and unbothered on the outside, but on the inside you’re losing your mind because there was absolutely no way that you were about to teach your crush how to insert a tampon into your cooch because you managed to swap bodies on the worst possible day.

He looks at you pensively as you approach him with the hygiene products. “Okay. What do you want me to do?”

You pause, considering. How did you want to do this? It would be weird for you to put it in yourself, even if it was your body. The packaging crinkles in your hands as you turn the items over in your hand. The easiest route would be to have him just put the pad on, but you also didn’t want him to deal with the mess and discomfort of sitting in a pad. 

“Alright.” You clap your hands, the sharp sound echoing off the clean linoleum floors. “We’ll get a pad on first, then we’ll try the tampon. Ready?”

“Yes. How do I do that?” Okay. You can explain this. It’s not that complicated. “First things first, pull down your pants and underwear and sit on the toilet.”

A rustle of clothing and the click of the toilet seat against the porcelain bowl told you he had complied. “Wait, but like, don’t look okay. Keep your eyes averted.”

“Understood.” You choose to ignore the amusement in his voice, instead grabbing another pad and giving him a demo. Feeling guilty about the waste, you rip open one of the packages and pull out the pad. It’s thick, and made of cheap material like all free pads in public bathrooms tended to be.

Holding it up so he can see you demonstrate peeling the tab and unfolding it before peeling the sticky back off and showing it to him. 

“Basically you just have to remove the covering and stick it to the bottom of your underwear. Make sense?”

He nods, so you pass him the pad and watch him carefully peel back the appropriate backings and smooth it into the center of your panties. His eyes gleam at you hopefully as he looks up, and when you tell him he did a good job you could have sworn he preened. 

“Good job Todoroki.” A subtle frown pulls at his lips. “So for the tampon-”

“Shouto.” He cuts you off, looking disgruntled. “Call me Shouto.”

“I-What?” Thrown off guard by the sudden demand request you blink at him. “I don’t see how that’s relevant to what’s going on right now, but you’re my boss. It doesn’t seem right for me to address you so casually.”

“But you call me Shouto while we’re at work.” He stubbornly refuses to give the point up, clinging to it like a dog with their chew toy. “How is it any different?”

“Because-” You give him an exasperated look. “Some idiot decided to make his hero name his first name, so when he’s at work his co-workers are forced to use it. I don’t call you Shouto as in Todoroki Shouto. I call you Shouto as in Pro-Hero Shouto. That’s the difference.”

“But we’ve known each other for years.” He’s very matter of fact, clearly missing the point. “I would say we’re close enough for first names.”

He’s unbelievable. Of all the things to focus on right now why on earth is he choosing to argue over how you address him? “Of course we’re close. I consider you a good friend. But I wouldn’t say we’re close enough where it’s appropriate for me to address you by your first name when you’re my boss.”

“I’m currently in a bathroom with you right now, in your body, sitting on a toilet with no pants, on your period. I don’t see how we can possibly get any closer.” He had a point, and you just wanted to get this whole disaster sorted out as quickly as possible so you conceded. “Fine. Shouto. Now, will you please listen to me so we can get this over with and go on with our day?”

Using demonstrative hand motions and trying not to show how flustered you were you explained how to put the tampon in. Finally you finish, and hand him a tampon. He unwraps it, then hunches over in an awkward position trying to see what he was doing.

A red flush crawls up your neck as he quite literally examines your pussy, your insecurities running rampant, thoughts you’ve never had before occurring. Like, what if it looks weird? You didn’t exactly have a huge frame of reference, and all of your past experiences were horny hookups so you literally had no idea what it looked like from his point of view. He was probably repulsed by it. If everything that already happened hadn’t ruined any chance you had with him this was the final nail in the coffin.

A quiet splash cuts through the silence of the bathroom, interrupting your downward spiral. Looking up, you lock eyes with Todoroki, who’s frozen guiltily on the toilet.

“What just happened?”

“I, er, well I’m not sure.” Your eyes narrow. “What was the splash?”

“I did my best.” He sounds defensive. “I had a hard time finding…it…and it’s not easy to line it up and I think I did it wrong because as soon as I put it in it kind of just…spat it back out?”

Gaping at him, you’re at a loss for words before a loud, unflattering cackle rips itself out of your chest. The self-consciousness caused by the strangeness of the moment and being in the presence of your crush fading away as you reverted to treating him like you did in high school.

“Oh-Oh my god!” You’re doubled over, almost crying with how hard you’re laughing. “You can’t find it. You can’t even find the hole. You must be so popular with the ladies.”

As you laugh, a strange sensation builds in your stomach, and next thing you know it feels like you’re getting sucked into a vacuum and shot out the other end. Your vision goes black and fuzzy, the fluorescent lighting of the bathroom hurting your eyes when you finally open them.

When you finally open them and find yourself staring into the unimpressed face of one Todoroki Shouto that is. 

Seeing his face again instead of staring at yours is a relief, but it’s also unfortunate because now you are the one perched on the toilet, your pants hanging around your ankles and a tampon floating around in the toilet water beneath you. 

The two of you lock eyes, and you realize that now you’ve both returned to your own bodies it’s even worse that he’s seeing you half naked (don’t ask you why it just is somehow. Maybe it has something to do with him seeing it from his point of view instead of yours?). 

Embarrassment floods your face, and you yell at him to turn around, hurriedly grabbing another tampon and putting it in before using your quirk to retrieve the tampon from the toilet and dumping it into the trash. A rushed tug has your pants back on, and the two of you stand in the bathroom not moving or speaking. Finally you break the silence.

“Uh, well, anyways. I’m glad this all worked out, sorry for the inconvenience and how weird it was. I’m going to head home and enjoy my day off now. Have a nice day!”

Not giving him the chance to respond, you dart past him and out the door, ignoring him as he calls your name. Yeah right. Have a nice day? More like have a nice life. There was no way you could ever show your face around him again. Maybe you could call Kyoka up and ask her if she needed a new hero at the agency she shared with Denki.

Unfortunately, life doesn’t always go as planned, and you wake up the next morning to your phone buzzing. You called in sick the night before, partially because your cramps were really bothering you, and partially because you were avoiding Todoroki. 

Blearily, you roll over, pawing at your phone before lifting it to your ear. “Hello?”

“Good morning.” Immediately recognizing the smooth, deep voice belonging to none other than the one man you were actively trying to avoid, you do the only logical thing and hang up immediately. 

A couple seconds later your phone rings again, and this time you let it go to voicemail. The sharp trill of your ringtone reaches you through the pillow you pressed over your head, alerting you that he called several more times after that. Finally the calls stop, and you emerge from under the pillows, beating back the strange sense of disappointment rising in your chest.

Ping!

The sound of your phone chiming startles you, causing you to drop it. Picking it back up, you check your notifications with bated breath.

(1) New Message From: Todoroki Shouto

Scared to read the message, you hesitate to click on it, having no idea what to expect. Your thumb hovers over the banner, the light washing over your skin as you work up the courage to check it.

Ping!

Your phone lands on your carpet with a plop as you accidentally drop it over the edge of your bed, not expecting it to go off again.

Ping! Ping!

Cautiously, you poke your head over the edge of your bed, glancing down at the illuminated lock screen. You let out an internal screech of horror.

(4) New Messages From: Todoroki Shouto

Unable to deal with the agony of not knowing what he said any longer, you scoop your phone up and tap the notification, scanning the messages, your heart dropping further and further the more you read.

Todoroki Shouto: Did you just hang up on me?

I’ll be at your place in fifteen minutes. Do you want anything?

*image attached*

Also: are these the chocolates you’re fond of? I asked my mother and sister and they told me they enjoy chocolate when they are menstruating. 

Those are, in fact, your favorite chocolates, but as much as you wanted them you wanted him at your apartment in fifteen minutes even less. The sound of aggressive tapping filled your room as you typed out a response at breakneck speed, praying to whatever was out there that he wouldn’t actually come to your place.

You: Good morning Todoroki-San. I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize it was you and hung up because I was half asleep. It’s sweet of you to think of me, but those are expensive. Also, I’m taking the day off today so is there any possible way the matter you have to discuss could wait until tomorrow? Thanks!

A couple seconds after you hit send, the little label beneath the message changed from “delivered” to “read.” Then radio silence. Anxiety bubbles up in the pit of your stomach? What does read mean? Did he agree with you? Is he still coming? Too drained to deal with the emotional turmoil this was causing you, you rolled over and pulled your covers up over your head. This was a problem for future you.

Drifting off, you were awakened a short time later by your phone chiming once, then again a few minutes later, and the sound of your doorbell ringing. Surely it wasn’t…Half-closing your eyes to shield against the harsh glow of your phone, you unlock it.

(2) New Messages From: Todoroki Shouto

Todoroki Shouto: I’m here. Open your door.

I didn’t want to tell you over text, but you aren’t responding. Bakugou says I have romantic feelings for you and I think he is correct. He also said you’ve been “a mooney-eyed moron” for me since we were in high school. If that is true and you do feel the same way, please let me in. I would like to see you and care for you while you are on your cycle.

Three dots appear, signaling that he’s typing. A couple seconds later, your phone chimes again, not even giving you a moment to process the previous messages.

Todoroki Shouto: Our former classmates also unanimously agreed that I am, in fact, popular with the ladies. I’ll forgive your comment if you let me in. The old lady who lives next door to you is giving me suspicious looks. 

You blink. Rub your eyes. Squint closer at your screen. The words didn’t change, and neither did their meaning. And Todoroki wasn’t the type of person to joke around like this. Your mouth suddenly felt dry, and your pulse thundered in your ears as you realized there was only one thing left to do.

You had to get out of bed and let him into your apartment.

taglist: @arlerts-angel @ponderingmoonlight @sunaraii @hotvinimon

as always, please please please let me know if you want to be added to or removed from any of my taglists. tysm for reading, and i hope you enjoyed it!!

[scoonsalicious]

Unbelievable

Pairing: Bucky x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: It's your first Girl's Night since you moved out of the Tower to live with Bucky and a game of Never Have I Ever has been suggested. What could possibly go wrong?

Warnings: Language, drinking, mentions of sex, angst.

Word Count: 5.2k

A/N: More Pocket x Bucky; enjoy!

“How are things?” Nat asked as she refilled your glass of wine. “Barnes behaving himself? Keeping his dick in his pants?”  It was your first Girl’s Night with her, Wanda, and Pepper since you had moved out of the Tower two months ago, and your friends were desperate for some tea. 

“Nat!” Wanda scolded, before turning to you. “I’m sorry, Pocket– we all agreed we weren’t going to bring up Bucky’s… mistakes. We’re just glad you’re happy. …You are happy, right?”

You smiled at your friend as you grabbed another slice of pizza. You knew they had reservations about you getting back together with Bucky– they’d been by your side for the worst of it, after all, but, for the most part, they’d been supportive of your reconciliation. 

“He’s been wonderful,” you assured them, and pointedly, Nat. “His dick has not been kept in his pants, I have to say, but I confess to not being upset about that in the least.”

Pepper choked a little bit on her wine as she tried to stifle her laugh. “So, the makeup sex is good, then?” she asked with a wry grin.

“The makeup sex was phenomenal,” you corrected her. “And the return to normal sex has been fantastic, too. Not a single complaint from me in that department; just the downstairs neighbor!”

“As long as you’re happy,” Nat said, sitting down next to you once she had refilled everyone’s glass. “That’s all that matters, I guess.”

“I am happy, Natty,” you assured her. “He fucked up. He knows he fucked up, and he did the work to make it right– he’s still doing the work to make it right. That’s more than I could have asked for.”

Nat sighed and put an arm around your shoulder. “I know, honey. It’s just hard for me to forgive him for hurting you as badly as he did, that’s all. Don’t worry– I’ll get over it.”

You gave Nat a side hug. “I appreciate you. And I promise, he ever fucks up like that again, you can help me kill him.”

“Who’re ya killin, sweets?” Bucky asked as he entered the room, Sam, Vision, Tony, and Rhodey trailing close behind, Tony and Rhodey passing a basketball back and forth between the two of them.

“Just you, baby,” you said, giving him your most innocent smile and stretching your head up to meet his as he leaned down to kiss you. “You know, if you ever pull shit like last year on me again.”

“I’ll kill myself before I ever let that happen again,” he assured you. He was dressed in a tight black tank and a pair of basketball shorts, and he looked fucking good. 

“How was basketball?” you asked as he sat down next to you. He opened his arms and you climbed happily into his lap.

“Ugh, come on, Pocket!” Nat grumbled. “Don’t welcome him! It’s Girls’ Night!”

“Too late, Natasha,” Tony said with a grin as he sat down next to Pepper, giving her a kiss on her cheek. “We worked up an appetite playing b-ball downstairs, and you cannot separate a man from his pizza!” He reached across the coffee table and grabbed a slice, and you were grateful you’d decided to order extra pies tonight.

“Don’t say ‘b-ball,’ man,” Sam said as he typed away on his phone. “You don’t have the melanin for it.” He slid down on the floor in front of Nat and reached for a pizza slice of his own. 

“Ew, could you not lean against my legs?” Nat exclaimed as she pulled her feet up and tucked them under her. “You’re all sweaty and you stink.”

Sam turned around to grin at her. “That’s the smell of man, Red. You like?”

“Gross,” Nat said, shaking her head. “Remind me to take you out back and hose you down.”

“Do I stink, doll?” Bucky asked, rubbing his sweaty head into the crook of your shoulder. 

“Yes,” you giggled, ruffling his hair, “but I like it. Very sexy. It makes me want to do very dirty things to you.”

Before Bucky could retort, Tony stood up and exclaimed “Alcohol? Anyone else want alcohol so we can get so drunk we forgot we just heard that? Rhodes, Vis, help me out. Please.”

“You sure love giving him heart palpitations, don’t you?” Pepper asked with a smile as Tony, Vision, and Rhodey headed to the bar in the back of the common room, where you assumed they would retrieve some adult beverages.

“Come on, Pep,” you teased as you wrapped Bucky’s arms around your waist, “you and I both know that, for that to happen, Tony Stark would need to have a heart in the first place.”

Those of you still sitting around the coffee table shared a laugh at Tony’s expense, but were cut short when the doors to the common room flung open and Thor and Bruce walked in. 

“Ah, so this is where the party is!” Thor exclaimed, raising a jug that you knew must house some Asgardian liquor in it. “Pocket, Barnes! So good to see you! Barnes, I trust you will join me in a little Asgardian indulgence?”

Bucky looked at you, as though checking to see if you would be alright with him drinking. “Don’t look at me,” you said, laughing. “You’re a big boy, more than old enough to decide if you want to get drunk or not. Besides, I’m not your mom.”

“Thank God for that,” Bucky said, kissing your neck. “I’d have a whole new set of issues to discuss with Raynor. Yeah, Odinson, I’ll take a glass; thanks.” 

“Excellent!” the god exclaimed. “Stark! Fetch tumblers for myself and the metal man! Tonight, we drink like kings!”

A few of the guys cheered, and you took the opportunity to lean into Bucky’s ear. “You’re super cute when you’re drunk, anyway,” you told him. “You always want to tell me all your secrets.”

Bucky grinned and squeezed you just a bit. “I don’t have any more secrets from you, doll,” he teased. 

Tony, Rhodey, and Vision returned then, carrying six packs of ice cold beer from the fridge, along with glasses and bottles of liquor from the bar. Tony handed tumblers to Bucky and Thor, who made quick work of pouring healthy servings for the both of them.

“Malibu and pineapple for the Kiddo,” Tony said, handing you a large glass of your favorite mixed drink.

“Thanks, Boss,” you said, happily taking the glass and giving it an experimental sip. “Mmm, delicious! You always get the ratio just right.”

Tony winked at you as he sat down and popped open a beer. “I know my girls,” he said with a grin before handing Pepper a fresh bottle of wine. “And the Bordeaux for my lady love,” he said, to Pepper’s delight.

You noticed curiously that Bruce had sat himself down as far away from Nat as possible, and you wondered if the two were off again. You tried to catch her eye to silently inquire, but she was engrossed with something Wanda and Vision were saying, and not paying you any attention. 

“We should absolutely play a drinking game!” Sam exclaimed to no one in particular. When all eyes turned to him, he elaborated: “Come on! When was the last time we were all together to just have fun?”

“Um, probably when you all showed up at the apartment with Cards Against Humanity to cockblock me and Bucky on our first night there,” you offered with a teasing grin. 

Sam shot you a Look. “Never gonna let me live that foot-in-mouth moment down, are ya, Baby Girl?” he asked.

“Not ever,” you agreed. “I cried that night, Dark Chocolate!” 

“And I felt really bad about it!” he protested. “You gotta let bygones be bygones.”

“Fine, fine,” you conceded with a laugh, not wanting him to feel worse for it than you knew he already did when it wasn’t his fault you still had unresolved trauma. “What game did you have in mind?”

Sam made a thoughtful face, but before he could, the common room door opened again and Steve walked in. When he saw you and Bucky sitting together, he stopped in his tracks, face falling ashen.

“Um…” he began, clearly uncomfortable, “Sam said there was pizza, but I didn’t realize you two… if you’re… I don’t have to… I can leave.”

You sighed and stole a glance at Bucky, each silently seeking out the other’s opinion. You shrugged slightly, as if to say I’d rather not make this awkward. Bucky nodded at you before turning back to Steve.

“Stay, Rogers,” he said, though there was no warmth in his voice. “This is your home; Pocket and I are just visiting. We’re not gonna put you out. I think we can all be civilized for an evening.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Steve said before sitting down next to Nat and grabbing a slice of pizza. The room was filled with awkward silence until Thor stood up. 

“Let me get you a drink, Rogers!” he bellowed as he walked over to the bar to grab another tumbler and fill it with Asgardian liquor. “Tonight, we drink like kings!”

Steve took the cup gratefully, as though happy to have something to focus on other than the company in the room.

“Never Have I Ever!” Nat shouted in her attempt to break the tension. Everyone turned to stare at her. “That’s what we should play,” she said. 

“Wanna run through the rules for the elderly, non-Earthlings, and non-humans among us?” Tony asked.

“Right,” said Nat, taking a sip of her beer. “One person starts by saying ‘Never Have I Ever,’ then you say something you’ve never done before. If you haven’t done that thing, you do nothing, but if you have,” her smile turned sharp, “you take a drink. And then someone else goes.”

“And what’re the parameters for winning?” Vision asked. He had his index fingers pointed together, resting against his lips, as if he were taking the entire thing very seriously.

“Everyone gets drunk, and then everyone wins?” you offered, what you thought was hopefully. 

“Basically,” Nat agreed. “You just learn more about your friends and have a good time,” she added. “It’s not really about winning.”

Vis nodded as if this was revelatory information for him. “I see,” he said with all seriousness. “This sounds like it will be fun!”

“Alright, I’ll go first with an easy one,” Nat said, picking up her beer bottle. “Never have I ever… been able to fly on command.”

Immediately, Tony, Rhodey, Sam, Wanda, Vision, and Thor all took a drink. 

“Pep!” you chastised. “You’ve absolutely worn an Iron Man suit and flow before! Drink up!”

“You know, I completely forgot about that?” she said with a laugh as she drank. “Okay, I’ll go next. Never have ever… punched Tony Stark.” 

The room broke out into groans as each one of you, save Pepper and Tony, himself, drank to that. “Wow,” said Tony as he looked around the room. “I’ve never felt more like a victim than I do at this moment.”

“Tell me you haven’t deserved each and every one of them,” Rhodey teased.

“Yeah, fair. That’s totally fair,” he conceded. “My turn. Never have I ever been poor.” This time, everyone but Tony, Thor, and Vision drank. 

“I have no use for currency,” Vision clarified when Wanda looked at him. “And as such, I have no concept of poverty or wealth, beyond the value I place in you, my dear, and for that, I am most wealthy.”

Everyone made gagging noises at that.

The game continued on, with questions both bland (“Never have I ever been arrested;” though most of you drank) and ridiculous (“Never have I ever fallen off the giant horse Goldfaxi.” “Well obviously, Point Break, none of us have either, because we’ve never been to Asgard.”) and soon you were all, at the very least, pleasantly tipsy. Bucky, in particular, having crossed the line over to drunk several drinks ago. Living as long as he had, he’d done a lot of shit.

“Okay, okay,” Bucky said, stuttering his words a little, which you found adorable, “Never have I ever… made out with more than one person on this team!” He grinned while Nat and Steve took a drink, but frowned when he saw you raise your glass to your lips. Had he forgotten about your… mistake with Steve after your birthday party? God, you wish you could have.

“Well,” said Tony with a cough, not recognizing the dark territory the game was delving into, “Never have I ever made out with more than two people on this team.”

You felt your shoulders sag; this was not going to help you, at all. Bucky watched in disbelief as you took another drink.”

“Seriously?” Tony exclaimed. “Under my very nose?”

“What the fuck, Pocket?” Bucky asked you, no levity in his voice. 

“Nat drank, too,” Steve said, as though that made things perfectly okay.

“No one fucking asked you, Rogers,” Bucky spat back at him, then turned back to you. “Who else have you made out with, Pocket?”

You sighed. You really didn’t want to have this conversation, let alone when Bucky was drunk and in front of all of your friends, but you knew he wouldn’t be able to let it go. “You already know about my birthday,” you told him softly, wishing you were both somewhere else, alone. 

“We made out at a Stark party once,” Nat blurted out. She offered you an apologetic look, but you were grateful to her for not making you say it. 

Every head in the room snapped to look back and forth between you and the assassin. There were surprised shouts of ‘What?’ ‘When?’ ‘How long?’ ‘With tongue?’ and ‘Under my own roof?’ (that one came from Tony). Looks like you were going to have to speak to it, afterall.

“It was years ago,” you clarified, addressing Bucky, and Bucky alone. He was the only one you owed any sort of explanation to, after all. “Nat was working undercover for Fury, kinda… I dunno, would you call it ‘spying,’ Natty?” Your friend shrugged. “Spying on Tony for him, to evaluate him for the Avengers Initiative. She was his assistant. There was a party, we were drunk, and we were both just kind of like ‘You’re hot, I’m hot, should we kiss?’” You looked at your boyfriend, trying to discern what he was thinking. “It just happened the one time. Afterwards, we laughed about it, because we both realized it was stupid, and we decided to become best friends.”

Bucky looked to Nat, as though daring her to contradict you. “That’s all, Barnes, honestly,” she said.

“So, that’s it?” he asked you. “You just kissed Nat the one time, and Steve the one time? No one else?”

“Well,” you said, drawing the word out. Fuck, he was not going to like this, not one bit, but you weren’t going to lie to him.

“Who else, Pocket?” he spat out, standing up abruptly and practically dumping you to the floor in the process.

“Can we please have this conversation somewhere private,” you asked him, standing up, but he just looked at you, arms crossed. “Okay,” you said, “first of all, it was just one time, and it honestly didn’t mean anything, but it wasn’t just a make out…”

“Jesus Christ,” he exclaimed, “You fucked someone else on the team?!”

You gnawed on your lip. You would have told him, one day. You really would have, but you’d honestly never had had the body count conversation before. But you didn’t want it coming out like this. Your eyes subconsciously found Thor’s, and that was all the information Bucky needed to put the pieces together.

“THOR?” he bellowed, the sound making you flinch. “You fucked THOR?!” Around you, your friends gasped. Not even Nat knew about you and the God of Thunder.

“Watch your tone, Barnes!” Thor said, standing up to come to your defense. “The night of love making Lady Pocket and I shared was beautiful, and I will not let you speak to her this way!” Oh, that was not going to help things, Thor, you beautiful idiot!

The room was perfectly still, as if everyone was holding their breath, afraid that breathing would break the delicate balance that was holding your reality in place. Tony’s eyes were wide with shock, while Pepper, Nat, and Wanda gave you subtle looks of surprise and respect.

“Bucky,” you said, trying to diffuse the situation, “seriously, can we talk about this… just you and I? Please?”

“Why?” he asked, glaring at you. “Gotta anymore surprise lovers you want to spring on me?”

“Barnes, that’s enough!” Tony said, standing up now. “You’re drunk, and you’re not thinking straight. You’re not going to talk to Pocket like this.”

“It’s fine, Tony,” you said, putting a hand on his shoulder to reassure him. “I get why he’s mad. I should have told him.”

“You think?” Bucky spat. “Lemme guess– next you’re gonna tell me you actually did fuck Stark for your education!”

He may as well have slapped you with that accusation, his words forcefully taking you aback. “That’s enough, Barnes!” you said, your voice sharp now. You’d had quite enough. “You know what? Sleep here tonight. Don’t come back home until you get your head out of your ass.” 

You stood up and collected your bag. “Thanks for the time, guys,” you said before you stepped out, leaving the room in silence behind you.

“Fuck this!” you heard Bucky shout, and the sound of the common room’s other door slamming behind him as he stormed away. You shook your head as you punched the elevator button repeatedly. You could not believe he had the audacity to be mad at you over something that had happened before you had ever even met. How dare he? After everything he’d done? Everything you’d worked so hard to get over?

“Pocket?” You closed your eyes and sighed at the sound of Steve calling your name. Great. You weren’t in the mood for him to start questioning you on why you’d deemed to sleep with Thor but not him. You really didn’t have the mental resolve for that.

“What do you want, Steve?” you asked, resigned to just get the conversation over with. All you wanted right now was to get into your bed and cry yourself to sleep. 

“Don’t be too hard on him,” Steve said, much to your surprise. You turned to face him. He stood a more than respectable distance away from you, hands shoved awkwardly in his pockets as he looked down at his shoes, as though unable to meet your eye. “I’m not saying what he said was okay, because it’s not, but you know how inadequate he feels when it comes to you. He’s never thought he deserves you, and it’s like he can’t help but latch on to anything that he thinks proves that.”

“That doesn’t give him the right to talk to me like that, Steve,” you said, rubbing at the space between your eyes. You felt a headache coming on, for sure. “I don’t deserve to be slutshamed for things that happened before I ever even met him.”

“I know that,” Steve said, taking his hands out of his pockets and raising them as if in surrender. “And I know that Bucky knows it, too.”

“Why are you telling me this, Steve?” you asked him. After all the work Steve had done last year to try and get you and Bucky to break up, it was almost bordering on suspicious that he’d be speaking in favor of his former friend now.

Steve ran a hand through his hair. “Because you two are real,” he said with a simple shrug of his shoulders. “What you have, that’s real, and it’s rare. I get it now. I’m sorry I ever thought I had the right to decide whether or not it wasn’t.”

You swallowed and nodded at him. You appreciated his words, though you weren’t sure if it was enough to forgive him for everything he’d done. “I’ll take your advice under consideration” was all you said to him instead before you got into the elevator and let the doors close behind you.

*

Sleep proved to be elusive that night. Despite crying to near exhaustion, you found yourself tossing and turning, unable to find rest and knowing that it was from the lack of the warm, familiar body that should be curled up by your side. Your brain had gone into overdrive at imagining worst-case scenarios of what Bucky might be getting up to when he was drunk and so angry at you, and you were trying very hard not to remember what he’d done the last time he thought you’d betrayed him.

A soft chime got your attention, and you picked up your phone. Bucky had texted you, and you held your breath, wondering what more vitriol he was going to spew at you.

Magic Dick🍆🦾: Can I come home? Magic Dick🍆🦾: Please?

You blinked in surprise at your screen. That was not what you had been expecting.

>> Of course you can. It’s still your home, too. >> But as for whether or not you’ll be welcome back in bed… >> Depends on whether or not you got your head out of your ass.

Despite what you’d told him earlier, you’d never actually deny him entrance to your apartment. Not unless you’d ended things with him for good, and you’d fought too long and too hard to be together for that to happen over something like this.

You stared at your phone screen, waiting to see if he would respond, but the text thread remained inactive. You wondered where he was, and what kind of shape he was in. Where he had been, what he had done. Who he had done it with.

“Hey.” Though his voice was soft, its unexpectedness startled you. There he was, standing in the doorway of your bedroom, leaning against the frame, barely illuminated from the ambient light of the city outside. 

“Jesus Christ, Barnes!” you exclaimed, clutching at your chest. “You nearly gave me a heart attack! How’d you even get here so fast?”

“Been sitting in the hall for the last two hours,” he admitted sheepishly. “Working up the courage to ask if I could come back home. Think the only reason I was brave enough to text you was ‘cause I convinced myself you had to be sleepin’ by now. Planned on just spendin’ the night out there.” He offered you a soft half smile before his face turned serious. “I’m so sorry, doll. Ya gotta know, the things I said…”

“Were really uncalled for, Bucky,” you interjected. He visibly flinched before you.

“I know,” he admitted, his voice so low you had to strain to hear it. “I had no right judgin’ you for things that happened ‘fore we ever even met. ‘Specially not after everything I did. It took me by surprise ‘n my ego got bruised. No man’s gonna like hearin’ the love of his life slept with a literal fuckin’ god, but I took it too far, and I’m sorry.”

At hearing him refer to  you as “the love of his life,” your heart warmed in your chest, and you pulled back the blanket and sheets on his side of the bed, silently inviting him in to join you. You very well couldn’t hold his continued insecurities against him when you had just been worried he was off with someone else. It was a process, you reminded yourself.

Bucky looked at you, eyes wide. “You sure, sweets?” he asked hesitantly. 

You nodded at him. “We need to talk,” you told him, “and I’d rather do it with you here next to me than with you all the way over there.”

Bucky swallowed and slowly made his way over to the bed and got ready to climb in… fully clothed.

“Gonna sleep with your clothes on, Barnes?” you asked, raising a brow. 

You could barely make out the flush that came to his cheeks in the low light. “I didn’t wanna just assume…” he began.

“Get undressed and get your ass in bed,” you told him. You watched as he slowly stripped down to his boxer briefs, folding his discarded clothes and putting them in the hamper, always the regimented soldier, before crawling under the covers next to you.

Once he was settled on his back, you curled up against him, your head on his chest and your leg hooked over his torso. You could feel him physically relax into your touch as he wrapped his flesh arm around your shoulders, and you knew he’d been terrified that you wouldn’t let him be close to you after what he’d said.

“So, you and Thor, huh?” he asked, voice strained, and you knew he was doing everything in his power to keep his emotions steady.

“Are you sure that’s something you want to hear about?” you asked him guardedly. You certainly appreciated his willingness to discuss it, but you didn’t want to cause him any additional pain… or cause him to freak out on you again. 

“I think I have to,” he answered. “If I don’t, I’ll just keep on imagining it, and that’ll be worse for me.”

“Fair enough,” you agreed. “But before we get into it, tell me where you’ve been tonight.”

He looked down at you, understanding drawing on his face. “I went down to the gym,” he began. “Punched the bag for a little while, tryn’a get the anger out, but then I started feeling gross from that Asgardian shit, so I went up to my old room and crashed for a couple hours. Woke up with a splitting headache and a hell of a lot of remorse, so I came home and just hung out in the hallway, working up the courage to text you.”

You hummed in acknowledgement, feeling a sense of relief that he hadn’t felt the need to revisit old bad habits. He could have been lying to you, of course, but he knew that you could check the security feed at the Tower to verify his story if you didn’t trust him. Truth was though, you did trust him. 

“Okay,” you began, snuggling further into him. “I won’t lie and pretend like I never thought Thor was hot.”

You felt the laughter rumble through Bucky’s chest. “Yeah, you never made a secret of that,” he said, and it was a relief to hear.

“Yeah, well, it’s an objective fact. That can’t be helped. Anyway, his girlfriend, Jane, had just dumped him. He was devastated. He tried to pretend that he wasn’t phased by it, like it was a mutual decision, but everyone could see he was heartbroken. I guess Tony and Clint convinced him that the best way to get over her was to have some rebound sex with someone else. Granted, I highly doubt Tony ever thought Thor would consider asking me, but I was really the only other single Earth girl he knew at the time. 

“So, one night, after we’d all had a couple of drinks, he just… asked. He was upfront about his reasons, never implied that it would be more than what it was. And I hadn’t been with anyone in a while, and I thought he was good looking, and he was just so sad, I figured ‘what’s the harm in it?’ 

You sighed, thinking back on the night in question. Thor had been a gentle, attentive lover, though you didn’t think Bucky needed to necessarily know that, but there had been no spark of connection, no need. Nothing like what you felt when you were with the man before you.

“Afterwards, he thanked me for helping him get through a tough time, and we left it at that. Never spoke about it again until tonight.”

“He said it was ‘beautiful,’ though,” Bucky said, and you were proud of him for keeping his tone light, when you knew this must be difficult for him.

You chewed on your lip, trying to come up with the right words to express what had happened that night. “It was beautiful in the way that sad things are beautiful,” you told him eventually. “Neither one of us were in great places. He was dealing with losing Jane, and I had just found out that Darren had died in prison.” You could feel Bucky’s questioning stare, so you clarified. “I was thrilled he was dead, don’t get me wrong; it’s just that the news brought up a bunch of old memories I didn’t really want to deal with. Here was this kind, handsome man that wanted to sleep with me, and that felt like a salve. It made me feel like more than what Darren had made me. We were two people who were hurting and found some solace in each other for a little while.”

The hand that was wrapped around your shoulders tightened as Bucky pulled you closer. “I’m so sorry I overreacted,” he said before kissing the crown of your head. “I know we’ve talked about it. I’m scared there’s always going to be a part of me that’s terrified you’re gonna realize you’re too good for me and leave me.”

“That’s never going to happen, Buck,” you assured him. “I’m with you because I want to be with you. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have fought so hard to make this work.”

“I know, doll,” he said. “The part of me that’s Bucky, that’s a man, he knows that. But… the part of me that’s always gonna be the Soldier, the monster, that’s the part that needs convincing. I see guys like Thor, Steve, hell, even Stark– these guys that are just good, heroes, who don’t come with lifetimes of baggage and trauma, and I think ‘that’s the kinda man she’s supposed to be with, not a used up sad excuse of whatever’s left of me.’

You felt your heart squeeze painfully in your chest. “You know I hate it when you talk about yourself like that,” you told him.

He chuckled derisively. “Yeah, yeah,” he said. “Doesn’t stop me from feelin’ it, though.”

“I wish it would,” you sighed. “You’re everything. All I want is for you to see that.”

“Maybe someday,” he said quietly into the dark of the room. “Maybe someday.”

You wished there was something you could say to convince him. To get him to see himself the way you saw him everyday, but that was a battle you weren’t going to win tonight. You did know of something that would probably cheer him up, though.

“Hey,” you said, turning your head and resting your chin on his pectoral so you could look up at him. “If it makes you feel any better, you’re bigger than Thor.”

Bucky snorted a laugh. “Whaddaya talkin’ ‘bout, sweets? The man’s huge. His muscles have muscles, for fucks’ sake!”

“No, baby,” you said, carefully moving your leg so that it rubbed pointedly against his groin. “I mean you’re bigger.”

Bucky’s eyes widened in surprise. “That so?” he asked, his voice gone suddenly husky. 

You nodded. “Yup,” you said, popping your ‘p’. “Longer and thicker. He could never make me feel as good as you do, Buck. No one could. I don’t ever want anyone else to even try.”

Bucky’s smile turned predatory, and you knew you weren’t going to get much sleep tonight. 

[existentialfailure]

Pairing: Touya / Reader

Length: Ficlet, 1105 words. 

Description: Touya's perspective regarding his relationship with reader. Not necessarily positive or negative. Slightly retrospective.

Warnings: Suggestive themes, swearing, Dabi being Dabi.

Notes: Pre-LOV, Dabi definitely doesn't have the villain thing sorted out.

When he first met you, he hadn't joined the league. He was a two-bit thief, and a compulsive liar. He gave you his real name, but his last name is something he pulled out of a shitty article he read in a pornographic magazine. He got a kick out of that- who writes editorials for fuckin’ skin mags? And who the fuck is reading them? Apparently losers like himself.

He gave a weepy little song and dance about a shit childhood and growing up poor. A little bit of truth with enough lies to keep you from thinking too hard about anything. He worked at a convenience store (lie) you’d never have the opportunity to stop at (true, it didn’t exist), and when he wasn’t taking up space using your bed and amenities, he was at his own apartment (half truth, he was squatting).

Your purpose was originally survival. Easy meal, free water, free electricity. You kept his clothes from smelling like mildew, and his stomach from constantly caving in on itself, and he made sure you couldn’t walk straight in the mornings after he spent the night. 

You were a bit of a ditz. You didn’t read too much into things, and he was grateful for the bleeding fuckin’ heart you had for him to take advantage of. It was the perfect matchup; the greatest combination of give-and-take-take-take.

Then as time went on, shit soured somehow somewhere, and he found himself lingering a little longer. When he’d normally leave not long after you left for work in the morning, he caught himself fiddling around your apartment. Picking your shit up and putting it away. Fixing the blankets and pillows on your bed. Putting his excess clothes in a laundry basket instead of left out on the floor for you to deal with later. Cleaning up after himself in the bathroom after he showered. Things he never even blinked at before- it was always your deal, and you never complained about doing it. Now suddenly, he felt compelled to do it for you.

He started spending a little money here and there to leave crap in the fridge. That was usually your job, your problem- it was your fridge to keep stocked to feed you both. Now suddenly he was tucking away ice cream he knew you liked, random specialty drinks from the corner store you made an off handed comment about. Stupid nonsense with what little change he could spare. He’d stand and stare at it as he put your newest addition on the shelf of the fridge, brows furrowed and lips pulled into a frown. He was being fucking weird. He would still leave it there for you.

When he’d come back around you’d make a big deal about it, about his 'surprise for you', and he hated it. You made his stomach hurt.

It was worse when he’d bring take out. You’d act all grateful and excited like he did something special for you, and he’d have to insist he absolutely did not do this for you. He was just in the mood for some greasy fried garbage, he made the decision for himself. It was absolutely not so you didn’t have to cook tonight. No way. Stop looking all sly like that. Seriously.

Don’t mention him cleaning up after you both. He was just getting up and going to the kitchen first is all. Stop being a pain, and stop looking all giddy.

You’d be coiled around him like a snake later that particular night. Face smashed into his chest, and he’d be looking down at you with his chin in his shoulder wondering how the staples weren’t digging permanent pits into the fat of your cheek. Did he tell you before you have a gross taste in men? He thinks he did sometime around the third or fourth run in you had. He’ll brush his fingers beneath your eyes, and under your lips, marveling at the smooth skin and swallow the bile in his throat realizing he needs to get the fuck out of here before he burns you up like Touya Todoroki on Sekoto Peak.

[mollyrolls]

hey cupid! ☆ iwaizumi h. x reader

introductions: threat free for: 0 days

warnings: kys jokes (this is gonna be a consistent one), language

an: this is my first smau please be gentle

mlist. / next

ln yn

☆ yn is a second year college student, still undeclared. she likes writing and loves her diary, but would never make it her career. shes actively choosing to not think about it right now. ☆ shes a "pathetic romantic", which means that she is deeply romantic and wants nothing more than a relationship where the other person just gets them, but talking about that is gross. ☆ extremely bad at talking about her feelings, but she is so emotionally intelligent. the diary knows all. ☆ akaashi is her best friend. they've known each other since high school but got really close freshman year (trauma bonding over an english class).

akaashi keiji

☆ literature and philosophy double major. he's not sure what he wants to do with it but he took exclusively lit, english, and ethics classes for all of the first semester, so when his advisor suggested it he went along with it. kinda regrets it now. ☆ yn changed his twitter bio to that because it made her laugh and he simply does not care enough to change it back. she was so pleased with herself for such a stupid joke. ☆ met bokuto in high school and has nursed a violent crush on him ever since. he knew what it was instantly, sat in silence in his bedroom that whole night, but then came to school the next day completely normal. ☆ he's gotten good at hiding the yearning, but yn always manages to make him crack.

tsukishima kei

☆ political science major, computer science minor. are those meaningful together? don't ask. he doesn't know. ☆ he has complicated feelings about his nickname, but that does not stop the group from calling him that almost exclusively. when his full name gets pulled out he knows he's in trouble. the gc is the only one he lets it slide with. ☆ he made the original trio (akaashi, kenma, and him) because he tried to pick out the smartest-looking kids in their freshman seminar. they all got along too well too fast. terrifying energy.

kenma kozume

☆ has like 800 twitter accounts. meme accounts, rage bait, he even has one of those school drama accounts just for stirring up shit. they're all messy, some have gotten violent. he takes credit for about half of the accounts. ☆ for the meme account, he purposely posts things he thinks are not funny just to see how much engagement he gets. when he posts things that he likes, he gets cancelled. ☆ he claims its ironic but he puts way too much effort into them for it to not be a little bit serious. he has a folder of reaction memes in his camera roll that he refuses to delete. ☆ he's also undeclared but does not care nearly as much as yn.

fun facts!

☆ yn became roommates with them freshman year lowkey hoping it would be a new girl situation.

☆ it was not.

☆ they are all proud members of the little shits community ™.

☆ the gc has never made it past 0 days.

☆ on days when they're all a little too nice, someone will make one just to preserve tradition. (they've never meant it) (they all love each other very deeply)

mlist. / next

[thriftedtchotchkes]

hi ur writing is so so good, makes me go insane ur amazing

okay so could you do a normally dom!joel but one day he has the day off and reader doesn’t, so all he does ALL day is think about her. When she gets home he’s worked himself into a frenzy, desperate asf. So instead of his usual dominant self he’s desperate!joel whining and whimpering for her to touch him, make him cum, moaning in her ear and grinding against her.. all of that fun stuff 🤭

thank u for ur time, pls excuse the depravity 🙏🏾

hi nonie! loooved this request so much. i got a similar one from @luvrxbunny, so i combined them a bit and made it a lil longer. hope you both enjoy!

omg ur so amazing ily pls pls pls pls pls pls pls can i have dom!joel with a praise kink 🙏🏾 he doesn’t even really realize it but reader does and she’s just pummels him with praise while he’s fucking her and he does feral, moaning and grunting in her ear i’m sorry im so feral

way too damn needy

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

warnings: 18+ MDNI, pre-outbreak, language, smut, dom-turned-sub!joel, gentle-dom!reader, praise kink, masturbation, phone sex, blowjobs, face fucking, lil fluff

word count: 2.8k

What a way to spend his only day off in weeks. The weather’s perfect for playing his guitar on the porch, and he thought he’d even squeeze in a swim before getting started on building that new bedside table for Sarah. He had plans. 

But instead, Joel’s stalking around his living room like a caged animal in an endless loop of waiting, waiting, waiting.

It’s like he’s been transported back to his teenage years when every guy in a relationship followed his girl around like a puppy, always at her beck and call. Wondering what she was doing, if she was thinking about him. Except he wasn’t even that guy in high school. Not then, and definitely not now.

There’s really no logical reason for him to be this wound up, totally unable to do a single thing on his to-do list just because you’re not home. Leave it to your company to be the only one in the entire country that doesn’t give their employees Labor Day off.

That’s probably a gross exaggeration, but what does he care? He’s been tragically affected by this clearly personal transgression, and has to wait…two more hours? Seriously? You normally leave around 5:30, which means you’re home by six, and he’s not sure he can wait that long.

The sad fact of it all is that he’s already wasted almost the entire day not enjoying all of those relaxing activities he’d planned for. What’s even sadder is that he’s been half-hard for most of it, intermittently pausing his ridiculous pacing to grind the heel of his hand into his crotch for relief. Petulantly waiting for you to get home and take care of it for him.

Well, another hour’s gone by, it’s 5 pm, and he’s officially past his limit. At this point, he's probably better off handling it himself, at least until you're finally back. Then, you’re all his. 

He’ll fill you up with every last bit of pent-up frustration he’s felt since you left the house this morning, making you regret not just calling in sick. You might have to tomorrow after he’s done with you.

Joel drops onto the couch, laying to face the door so he’s the first thing you see when you walk in. Pulling his boxers and jeans down just enough to get his cock out, he wraps his hand around himself, immediately hissing out a breath through his teeth. Shit, he’s been hard for hours and just that slight touch already has him leaking precum all over his fingers. 

For a moment, he worries that maybe he’s a little too worked up, that he’ll cum way before he gets the chance to make you sorry for making him feel so desperate. So needy. And that makes him mad.

It should be your fingers covered in precum, your plush lips sucking him down to the hilt, and your pretty pussy aching with the need to have him inside you. Funny how you’re always so good for him, except today when he needs you the most.

His hand starts to move languidly before he can stop it, the slide wet and tight, just like he knows you’ll be. But it’s not you, and that makes him even angrier. If he can’t feel you the way he needs to, then maybe your voice will hold him over until he can. 

The phone only rings twice before you pick up.

“Baby, I’m busy right now. What’s up?” you answer, slightly out of breath. 

It’s cruel, but Joel honestly doesn’t give a shit if you’re busy. Not when his mind is this clouded with thoughts of you on your back, breathing much heavier than you are right now. But he manages to keep that to himself.

“You comin’ home soon?” he asks gruffly, still tugging on his cock, head thrown back on the armrest of the couch.

“Uhh, probably leaving in about…a half hour?” Your voice lilts like you had to double-check the time. “Everything okay?”

“Any chance you can leave now?” he tries again, side-stepping your question. 

The desperation in his voice is obvious, and it makes him feel even more pathetic. He wonders if you can hear it. Part of him hopes you can.

“Why, did something happen? Is Sarah okay?” you ask, clearly concerned. 

“S’fine, everythin’s fine. Just miss ya, s’all," he lies shakily.

Of course, he misses you, but nothing here is fine. His angrily weeping cock is a testament to that. He's all but fucking into his own fist now, hips bucking off the couch as he pants into the phone.

“Joel, what—are you touching yourself? Jesus,” you mumble, and he can hear your heels clacking against the floor like you’re walking somewhere. Quickly.

“Been thinkin’ about ya all damn day. Dunno why you went into work on a fuckin’ holiday,” he grunts. “Should’a been here with me, on your back, beggin’ for my cock like a good girl.” 

You inhale sharply and, though muted through the phone, he hears it loud and clear, dribbling more precum down his shaft. Unfamiliar voices start to filter through the speaker, so he’s guessing you can’t say much. 

And that’s okay. He has no problem filling the silence. Joel loves talking to you while he’s getting off.

“Had me feelin’ needy today, babygirl. Y’know I don’t like that,” he says dangerously. Your heels hit the ground faster, and he subconsciously matches his strokes to your pace. “Thought I was losin’ my mind for a while there. Was just about ready to let you do whatever you wanted to me when you got home, s’long as I got to fuck that tight pussy of yours.”

A door slams in the background, then all he can hear is you panting heavily in his ear. But when you finally speak again, your voice sounds different. Less like his good girl, and more like someone who knows they hold all the power.

“Oh, poor baby,” you coo, catching him off guard. “Did I leave you alone too long?”

He can tell you’re mocking him but, for some reason, his resolve starts to slip away more and more with every violent throb of his cock. Maybe it’s desperation. Or maybe he just likes it. 

“I’m so sorry,” you continue, murmuring sweetly in his ear. “I can make it all better…but only if you wait a little longer. Can you do that for me? Be my good boy.”

He bites back a groan, gripping the base of his cock hard to keep from cumming then and there. That's...new. And sexy as hell. He's still frenzied to the point of no return, but you also might've rewired something in his brain because he suddenly realizes he does want to be your good boy. Badly.

Fuck, he hopes you get home soon.

That last half hour of work was torture. You spent the entirety of it, and the car ride afterward, marinating in your soaked underwear, anticipating everything Joel has in store for you when you get home.

You're not sure what came over you on the phone, but it sounded like he enjoyed it. A lot. It’s a dynamic you’d never thought to try in your relationship, not with Joel’s domineering personality. The fact that he went along with it at all must mean he’s going through it, and that’s something you’re a little too excited to see.

The house is quiet when you walk in, save for the sound of your keys dropping into the bowl by the door. You turn to hang your bag on a nearby coat rack, and that's when you see him.

Joel, still lying on the couch exactly where you assume you left him after your call, with his hand squeezed tight around the base of his cock. He looks like a goddamn mess—sweating, hard as a rock, and leaking all over himself. His eyes are a little wild, more so than you've ever seen them. Christ, poor baby. You didn’t think your absence would affect him this much.

“Aw, sweet boy. Is all this for me?" you smile softly. He sucks in a breath, visibly twitching in his hand, and your smile widens. “Sit up, I can’t play with you like this.”

He complies immediately, and it sends a shiver up your spine. You love how well he’s listening, even though he almost looks like he's in pain after being in this state for so long. For that, you think he deserves a reward.

So, you give him one—the one he’s been waiting for all day. You undress for him, maintaining eye contact as you slip off your stuffy business attire, finally ridding yourself of your oppressively sticky underwear. 

Dropping to your knees between his legs, you gaze up at him affectionately, mouth inches away from his drooling cock. 

"Tell me what you want," you lean in, pressing your lips against the smooth, velvety skin. "Still wanna fuck me? Get me on my back, begging for it?"

Your tongue darts out to taste him, and you moan, licking a wide stripe up to wrap your lips around the tip. He's salty and heady, and so fucking delicious, but he still hasn't answered you. Instead, his fingers thread through your hair, guiding you down halfway and back up, shallowly fucking your mouth.

"I—fuck, please...," he's struggling with his words, whimpering around each syllable. "—baby, I waited...been good, did what ya said."

You nod your head understandingly, or at least try to as you continue to let him thrust into the inside of your cheek. His eyes are hyperfocused on the way your skin bulges around him, each stroke sending a shockwave of pleasure straight down his tightening balls.

"Christ, you feel good. Worth waitin' for, so fuckin' worth it," he rasps, his fingers tensing in your hair. "Need ya to—," he repositions your head so he can thrust further, deeper until he's nudging the back of your throat, "—ngh, make me cum. Suck harder, baby, please."

Soft, hiccuped moans escape his parted lips, increasing in volume when you start to drool around him, down your chin and onto your breasts. You can tell he's about to burst, feeling his skin growing taut against your tongue.

"M'gonna—haah, gonna...," desperation clouds his eyes, still dictating his every thought and move. 

But you don't let him because that's not what he said he wanted earlier. He's allowed to buck into you a few more times before you pull off with a loud pop, and the needy, frustrated whine he lets out almost makes you reconsider. Almost.

"I'm gonna make you cum, I promise, but not with my mouth," you tell him, voice tinged with disappointment, wrecked from the force of taking him like that. "You were doing so well for me. Come down here, keep being my good boy and I'll make you feel good."

Plopping down on the carpet, you spread your legs so he can see how wet you are for him. It's only gotten worse since earlier, slick coating your thighs, shiny and all the more inviting. You lay back, trailing your fingers up your belly to your breast to tweak a nipple, sighing as you reach out to him with your other hand.

Again, he obeys, his desire to empty down your throat all but forgotten. His shirt is quickly discarded, followed by everything below his waist, and then he's shifting onto the floor between your legs.

"There's my sweet boy," you coo, running your hands up his chest through a smattering of coarse, dark curls, and it rumbles under your palms as he mewls sweetly at your praise. 

He leans over you, hovering like he's waiting for permission to touch you, but he doesn't need it. The only thing you're trying to do is guide him, not control him. You want to make sure he gets exactly what he was so patient for. 

"Wanna feel you, babygirl. Let me—," he amends what he was about to demand, "...can I touch you?"

You bite your lip nodding as you smile up at him, and he wastes no time dropping down to bury his face into the crook of your neck, sucking wetly as he presses his body flush against yours. You writhe underneath him, just as pent up as he is by now, the realization triggered by how incredible his naked body feels on top of you. 

"Fuckin' hell, you're soft," he moans into your ear, propped up on his forearms. His cock brushes against your inner thigh, and his moan turns guttural, raw like it clawed its way out. "Mmph, I can't—"

He lurches up to crash his lips into yours, kissing you sloppily, hungrily, as his hips finally dip to drag against where you're soaked and aching. But not for nearly as long as he's been, and right now, he comes first. You need him to know he can have you. That he doesn't have to wait anymore.

"Don't...don't fight it. You've been perfect, you deserve it," you gasp out, and his hips jerk, your words forcing a low keen past his lips and into your mouth. "Take, baby. Take what you need."

Joel doesn't take, he seizes, laying claim to every part of you. Like he's afraid he won't get another chance if he doesn't take full advantage of what you've given him right now.

He faintly reminds you of a puppy lacking object permanence, believing the next time you leave, he'll be stuck waiting for you to come back to him forever. God, you're not even sure how you fucked him up so badly, but it's clear by the way he's handling you that he won't let you go again.

He moves quickly. One moment, he's leaning back on his heels, digging his fingers into your waist to yank you up onto his thighs, and the next, he's fucking into you as hard and fast as a bullet train. His cock somehow feels thicker, heavier than it ever has when he breaches your cunt, and the stretch has you clawing at the carpet beneath you.

"Missed you all day, wanted you all goddamn day," he growls, plowing into you forcefully enough to make your brain go fuzzy. "Fuck, babygirl, you got no idea what I've been through."

Christ, that feels—it feels...Christ. He's hitting something. You have no idea what, but it feels ungodly, like if he keeps going just like that, you'll cum without his fingers on you at all. It's happened before with Joel, but it's rare—and it's only when he's deep, lighting up all of your nerve endings at once. Fuck, he's being so good today.

"S'okay, you're okay," you gasp, clenching down around him when he suddenly pounds into the spot dead on. "I...I'm here now. Just keep going there, right there."

He nods frantically, gritting his teeth as you continue to tighten around him.

"Good boy," you mumble deliriously, your back arching completely off the ground as your orgasm rocks you. 

"Shit, you—'m not touchin'...fuck, baby, you cummin'?" 

It hits him all at once, what's happening, and then he's cumming, too. He's loud through his entire release, alternating between drawn-out moans and hiccuped whimpers as he fills you up with a whole day's worth of pent-up frustration.

Thrusting until your aftershocks have subsided, he grinds in deep one last time, letting you milk him completely dry before he pulls out. You're boneless underneath him, your eyes glazed over while his are finally clear for the first time in almost ten hours. 

He lowers your body onto the floor and crawls over next you, pulling your body against his. His embrace is warm and pleasant, and enough to pull you out of your post-orgasm stupor. Wriggling in his arms to get more comfortable, you tilt your head back from where he'd tucked it under his chin to grin up at him.

"So you missed me, huh?"

He rolls his eyes, back to his usual, not-totally-depraved self, but you already know the answer. He just spent the last hour showing you exactly how much.

"Thought I already made that clear," he confirms gruffly, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. "Next time, could ya maybe just use your vacation days? Please?"

"Sure," you laugh, nuzzling into his neck. "I'll save them up just for you." 

You reach up to scratch your fingernails across his beard, your other hand petting the soft curls at the nape of his neck. A soft noise rumbles low in his chest, but he tries to play it off by clearing his throat. Playfully raising an eyebrow, you continue your ministrations and it happens again.

"Baby, quit, 'm not a dog," he deadpans, even as he leans into your touch, his body betraying him.

"You sure about that? Because you sure were needy like one today."

[mmelionsblog]

LIGHT SHOWER [sam golbach x reader]

a/n: this was requested by a special someone in my inbox (tysm for requesting and reading my work!!)

warnings: angst, cheating, mention of slight sex, cussing, fluff

it was another normal tuesday night with the two famous youtubers, sam and colby. you were invited to their house just to hang out with them and some of their other friends of course. though your boyfriend of the time, daniel, had called you for the past 20 minutes and had spammed your phone with too many messages to count.

you rolled your eyes at your phone, deciding to finally answer him. “yes, dan?” sam perked up at the mention of your boyfriend’s name. his eyes glared at nothing for a second, but quickly switched back to normal when a friend of his called him to set up a ping pong game. “please- hic- could you please come pick me up?” you clenched the bridge of your nose, annoyed that you had to leave early due to your douche of a boyfriend. “send me your address.” you heavily sighed.

you walked over to the coat racket, bringing your jacket and placing it on your body. “well. looks like i’m leaving early tonight guys,” you smiled sadly towards your friends. “no.., please don’t tell me it’s because of your douche-y boyfriend daniel?” devyn whined. “i’ll be the only girl here now.” you noticed sam snapped his head a bit rather quickly when you told them the information. “you’ll have tara arrive in a few, you’ll be fine dev.” you gave her a hug, waving to the others and walking to the door.

sam jogged slightly over to you, “are you sure you’re okay to drive? i’m sober and can easily take you home.” you waved him off, “i’m fine really. i only had a drink, barely. plus i’m out to go get daniel. that little piss of shit is already drunk and it isn’t even nine yet.”

sam huffed at that, “i seriously don’t know why you’re still with him.” your heart hammered at that. “we’re… high school sweethearts, sam. even if i ever wanted to leave him, we live in the same apartment.” sam chucked at that, “you can always stay at ours. i’m pretty sure colby wouldn’t mind, we both love you you know.”

you gave him a small smile. “and i really appreciate it, sam. i’ll text you when we arrive home safely. goodnight.” you gave him a side hug, and departed from the party. you walked to your car and put the destination into your phone and it was ten minutes away.

finally arriving there, it looked to be a sketchy apartment building. your face reeked of disgust by the way it looked, ‘must be a 2 star review. or maybe even lower..’ you shudder as you walked in.

your eyes locked to the lady at the front desk who gave you a weird look, “i’ve never seen you around this part of town. who are you here for?” she asked with a thick accent, you sighed. “my boyfriend.” you responded. she awe’d and went back to whatever the generation type of computer looking was on her desk.

you called daniel twice now, but he had declined. he finally sent you a message two minutes later with floor six and room number 665. you groaned, already knowing that it will smell of frat boys in the apartment and that you’ll have to drag daniel all the way down your car. thank goodness the front parking spot was not taken. as you reached the door, something felt odd.

there was no loud, banging music, and there wasn’t usual girls and guys making out in the corridor the party would be held at. you gulped, knocking on the door. you waited for a minute but no one seemed to be home— though you knew daniel was here since you saw his regular blazer out in the front laying dirty on the floor. ‘gross,’ you thought.

your heart hammered loudly enough for you to hear, and without even thinking you decided to slowly open the wooden brown old door in front of you and take a peek into the room. the hallway light was on and you then heard it. moans. daniel’s moans specifically, and a girls one at that too. it smelt disgusting as well with whatever was living in here. almost vomiting, you held it in together and walked towards the living room where the light was on and you could clearly see daniel getting fucked by two blonde complete naked women. and you snapped.

“what the FUCK,” you screamed. the three heads turn towards you, daniel’s mouth wide open as it was being used by a dildo toy from a women sticking it down his throat. “bb-baby,” he struggled to get out, his hand grabbing towards you. “do not EVER, call me baby. don’t even think for a second you can come back to me or the apartment either.”

you look at the two women who seemed to already be in their thirties, and you looked at them disgusted seeing how daniel was only 25. “we’re done. daniel, have a good life.” before you left, you looked around to see if he had the keys to the apartment and you spotted them scattered on the floor. you picked them up with your pinky, careful to try and not to touch it seeing as it was on the dirty nasty floor in the room with them.

as soon as you got into the lobby, the lady only looked at you and sighed. “i should’ve said it sooner baby, but this apartment is only used to for partners to cheat on their significant other’s and mostly— it’s usually threesomes that are in here.” she gave you a sympathetic look but you only looked at her in disgust, quickly leaving the place.

you got into your car, locking the doors seeing as it was now 10 a clock and you did not want any type of stranger trying to get into it. your eyes were blurry, and you didn’t even know if you could even drive back home let alone if you even wanted to go there.

then, you thought of sam. you bit your lip, contemplating if calling him up would be ruining the party for the others too. but you said ‘fuck it, i need him more than they need him.’ so you dialed in sam’s number, and after a second ring he answered. though you could barely hear him, seeing as the party got louder and music was blasting. “sam,” you hiccuped into the phone.

at the other end of the phone, sam’s eyes widen. he ignored the calls for his name, and rushed out to the window to where it was peaceful and quiet enough to hear you. “hey, hey are you okay? what happened? what did douche bag daniel do to you?” sam asked, bombarding you with questions.

you hiccuped even more, tears finally streaming down your face. “please pick me up, i don’t think i can drive right now at a time like this. i don’t feel safe here either.” you asked him, and even though he knew you didn’t see him, he nodded. “yes of course i’ll pick you up. i’ll get colby to drive his car and i’ll drive yours. where’s the address?” and you sent him the address as soon as he asked for it.

you sat there for a good ten minutes till you saw colby’s car pulling up. he parked next to you, and the two men got out. you were drenched in your own tears, shaking so little but they could still see you were a complete wreck. “i’m gonna fuck him up,” colby rolled his shoulder, walking up to the glass doors but sam immediately stopped him and signaled his head to you. “y-you don’t wanna go in there, trust me that place is nothing but filth.” you got out. your face not knowing what to chose, confusion, disgust, anger, sadness.

colby’s face held sympathy for you, giving you a big hug from the front. “alright. well tell me when you two go to your apartment—“ you cut him off there. “i was wondering if i could still attend the party? i don’t think i wanna go back..” you mumbled, your hand softly tugging on colby’s sleeve. he smiled, “of course you can come. and i’m gladly willingly to let you stay here too of course, in my room…” he wiggled his eyebrows, sam glared at him for that. “or sam’s! or sam’s… i guess.” he shrugged. he peaced the two of you out, getting into his car and driving back to their own apartment.

“i told you, colby wouldn’t have minded.” sam smiled at you. the two of you outside of the side door to your car. “thank you sam really, this means a lot to me.” you hugged him tightly, not wanting to let go. but a cough made you jump from it being so quiet outside at night. “the fuck are you doing with sam?” daniel slurred, staggering left and right. “i told you were done, daniel.” you glared at him. sam felt the tension and placed you behind him, his arm wrapped around your waist carefully. “please leave her alone.” sam spoke

daniel looked at him with wide eyes, “don’t tell me what to fucking do with my girlfriend,” he spat, another stagger towards sam. “get in the car,” he whispered into your ear. your eyes widen at when he told you that, but you listened nonetheless. “the fuck are you doing with her?!” daniel shouted, shoving sam. your eyes looked to daniel in horror when he tried to open your door, but sam of course sam pushed him back. “she’s not yours anymore, you fucked up.” sam shouted back, “and you known what? i’m glad you did. she never deserved you. you’re a fucking asshole!” sam shoved him all the way back to the doors and the last push had daniel flat to the floor.

“you’re a dead man when i get to you, samuel.” daniel sneered out, “you’ve done fucked up.” sam started off, “and i am so glad you did. now,” sam looked back at you who was looking through the windows down at them.

“i have her all to my self. and i will treat her so much more better than you ever have and ever will, she’s a queen and you and i both know that. but you fucked up.” sam pushed harshly onto daniel’s chest, his eyes glaring deep into daniel’s green ones. “she isn’t yours anymore.” sam sneered, walking away from the drunk man and getting into the car.

he huffed out, blowing his hair. “well tonight has been crazy.” you didn’t pay attention to him, more to daniel the way how he looked at sam as if he was the devil. you grinned slightly to sam, “what the hell did you say to him?” you laughed lightly.

sam side eyed you with a gaping smile, pulling out of the parking lot and driving back to his apartment “you don’t wanna know sweetheart.” at the mention of that nick name, your heart beat raced up and your cheeks were a bit red but you thanked it was late because if it wasn’t, sam definitely would’ve seen.

by the time you to got to sam and colby’s place, colby texted sam that he threw the party out for you. your heart ached, “you didn’t have to do that colby.” you said as you entered the kitchen where he was, already cleaning up the mess. “they’d be as confused to why you returned with tears down your face. i didn’t want them to bombared you with everything while you’re still trying to comprehend it all.” he smiled at you. you gave him a smile back, hugging him tightly.

“i don’t have any clothes to change to,” you spoke. you were in jeans and a silky sphageti silver top, so you felt uncomfortable in the outfit you picked tonight. “i got some clothes, go ahead and go take a shower if you want too,” sam ruffled your hair and you flipped him off, but thanked him and walked towards the shower.

after your nightly shower routine, you got out and called sam over. “i need underwear,” you breathed out awkwardly, embarrassment all over your face. sam’s face had reddened at that, “uh- uhm, well we don’t have any here… uh i can- hand you over some of my boxers?” he squeaked out. you chuckled nervously, “thanks sam. and a pair of tshirt and some basketball shorts maybe?” he nodded and left you, but came back a minute later. “here you go.” you thanked him once more and got dressed.

you walked out, dressed all in sam’s clothes and colby had spotted you. “wow, now look at that. sam is finally getting the girl,” your eyebrow raised. his face looked in horror as sam looked from behind him with a ‘she doesn’t know yet!’ look. “oh er— you know, kidding! kidding,” he laughed off. “i can help you clean,” you suggested. colby shrugged, “nah sam and i both got it. where are you sleeping by the way?” he asked you.

you totally forgot about that. “sam if you don’t mind…” you trailed off, your eyes towards his room. “of course! you can always use my room if you want. i’ll sleep in the living room.” your heart hammered. “oh! uhm, okay,” you gave him a small smile, then walked into his room.

colby looked at his best friend with a straight face. “dude. she clearly wanted you in there,” he spoke. sam looked at him, “it’s just—, i want to give her some time. as long as she needs. just because as soon as she’s off the market, doesn’t mean she probably wants to date just now.” he mumbled. “yeah but, you could at least comfort her more.” colby smirked. sam rolled his eyes at him, and flipped him off. “i’m gonna go talk to her,” sam spoke. “hey! you need to clean too.” sam waved him off once more.

he knocked slightly on his own white door, opening a crack. he saw you on his bed, comfy with your phone out. “sam,” you smiled. he smiled back. “hi,” he spoke. he closed the door behind him, and sat on his bed next to you. “you know you can sleep here too, it is your bed after all.” you said. sam’s eyes widen, “are you sure? i don’t wanna push you a bit overboard.” you giggled at that, “sam i’m inviting you too. this is YOUR bed.” and so he climbed, he was already in his pajamas and got comfy into the bed.

“i’m sorry about your ex.” he mumbled, playing with his thumbs. “it was bound to happen. he was getting rather annoying this past couple of months, and being such a dick to my friends, and especially to you more often. which i never got,” you scoffed. but you could feel the moment sam froze. “do you want to know what i said to him, when we were fighting?” he asked you.

you looked at him and nodded. “i’ve been thinking about that since we’ve got here.” sam took a deep breath and breathed. “we started fighting about you. i told him how he fucked up, you deserved better. that you are a queen, and he lost the only good queen he’d ever find in this life..” he mumbled, “and that i was glad he lost you.” you looked at him confused, and he looked at you right back.

“i was so glad to hear you finally had broken up with him, because ive liked you for too long.” sam breathed. your breathing came to a halt, shock was written all over your face. “it’s okay if you don’t wanna be a thing or a thing at this moment,” he reassured you. “or if you don’t even like me—“ he was cut off from you, when he felt lips on his.

his eyes widen at that, but soon closed softly. “we can take it slow.” you spoke after you broke the kiss, “please let’s take it both slow. daniel was my ever fist everything, seeing as he was my high school sweetheart. so sam, if you do wish to date me, i want to do it the right way with you.” sam nodded, his head softly placed on yours. “it’s okay if we cuddle though, tonight?” he asked sheepishly, you smiled brightly and giggled just a little bit, “i suppose it’s okay.”

and after a bit more talking, the two of you got into a cute night position. you as the little spoon, and sam as the big spoon, protecting you from anything that would happen.

A/N: it has been MONTHSS since i’ve uploaded a fic, but here is one that was requested! thanks to the one and only anon! tysm :) (even if it took two months because i felt unmotivated and a bit busy at the time)

[pretty-little-mind33]

Dave Lizewski x fem!reader

Summary: Dave helps you when you're on your period.

Genre: Fluff, kinda hurt & comfort

Warnings: mentions of blood (obviously)

~ @lavieenvalentina I hope you like this, lovie! ~

DAVE LIZEWSKI MASTERLIST

You and Dave haven't been dating for very long. 

Sure, you'd been friends since you were in diapers, but dating is a different territory that you haven't completely explored yet—a scary unknown especially when you wake up from an afternoon nap in your boyfriend's room and realize your time of the month had snuck up on you early and you're now laying in a pool of blood that's most definitely soaking through his sheets.

Embarrassment floods your cheeks and you turn onto your side, pressing your head in Dave's chest as you muffle out a groan. Why now? Your stomach cramps as an answer (or a taunt) and frustrated tears brim at your eyelashes.

You don't want to move. You don't even want to wake up, or wake your poor boyfriend and have him help you—knowing him, he's most likely to find it gross. 

You had only a few months earlier accidentally overheard him, Marty, and Todd talking about how disgusting they found the concept of periods. You'd wanted to smack them all over the heads, the idiots. However, now that this situation has loomed over you, you feel shitty. 

Was Dave really gonna find this disgusting—like he'd said?

Shit, there is blood everywhere! 

Reluctantly, you move the blankets away from your body and stare in disbelief at the blood patch under your bum. Dave's boxers, the ones you'd borrowed to sleep, are drenched in blood as well and you wince.  

Your stirring causes your boyfriend to wake up. "Y/n?" he mumbles, sitting up and running a hand in his dark curly hair. You want to sink deeper into the mattress, your back to the wall, chest heaving as you stare at him like a deer in headlights. Dave rubs his eyes and pats his nightstand for his glasses. Once he has them on, he blinks and looks down to where the blankets are uncovering you. 

His face suddenly pales and his voice comes out high-pitched and distressed when he sees the blood. "Shit, shit, shit, baby, are you hurt?" he says and he's fully sitting up now as he shifts to cup your cheeks in his hands, looking you over with worry.

Your stomach cramps as if to say yes but you shake your head no. 

Realization dawns on Dave when he looks down at the amount of blood again and the stains on his boxers you're wearing. He panics even more. "Oh—oh! Shit, shit, what do I do?" he asks, mostly to himself, and quickly stands up from the bed as if the mattress has burnt him. 

You stare at him, your throat dry as you also sit up higher now. "I'm sorry," you mumble and avoid his gaze.

You're so embarrassed.

Dave instantly frowns at your tone and rushes back to your side, his movements hasty and clumsy as he desperately tries to reassures you. "Hey, hey, why are you sorry? It's okay! I- It happens—right? This is normal, yeah? I just don't want you to be hurt," he explains breathlessly and runs his thumb under your eyes where he wipes away your stray tears.

"I'm not mad at you, baby, it's not your fault at all. H-here do you wanna take a shower? A bath? I- I can run to the store and grab you some chocolates—Mom always said chocolate helps the pain when this happens." 

At the mention of his mom, your heart sinks and you look up at him, eyes round. Your heart feels a little warmer at how hard he's trying. "So, you don't find this all—gross?" 

Dave's nose scrunches and his glasses rest crooked on his nose. "What?"

"Todd and Marty—"

Immediately, Dave waves his hand and doesn't let you finish, "Pshh, whatever I might have said with those idiots around means absolutely nothing," he dismisses, his tone stern, "Periods aren't gross—especially when they happen to you. I could never find you gross. Promise."

You hear the honesty in his tone and you smile. Dave rarely lies to you—not that he could anyway. You knew him too well for something as trivial as a lie to work on you. Hell, you'd found out he was Kick-Ass the moment you saw him on the news, he's that bad at keeping secrets from you.

"Okay," you whisper and look down between your legs at the crimson blood that still sticks to your skin. "Can I wash up?" 

Dave nods and helps you up, his hand under your arm as he helps you walk to the bathroom like you're an injured puppy. You laugh internally at how careful he's being with you. You don't make a peep, having him dote on you like this is really nice and you don't want it to end.

"Here," he whispers and sits you on the side of the tub. He kisses your forehead and then kneels next to the sink. He starts to chaotically rummage through all the drawers in the bathroom until he finds some of his mom's old pads and tampons. "Dad hasn't cleaned this out in years—I don't think these go bad, do they?"

You chuckle and take one from him, looking it over, "It should be fine, thanks."

"Of course, baby," Dave beams and stands. As if a light bulb suddenly turns on over his head, he runs back into his room and then returns with your jeans and sweatshirt for after your shower. 

He walks to you and tilts your head with his index finger under your chin as he kisses you on the lips this time, a deep blush adorning his cheeks when he pulls away. "You can throw your bloody clothes in the laundry basket, okay? I can start a wash later. I'll wait for you in my room, take your time!" he calls and then shuts the door behind him. 

Once you're showered and clean, you return to his room to find him emptying his snack drawer onto his desk. What falls out is a bunch of stale chips, old candy, and an ungodly amount of used wrappers.

You hold in a laugh as you lean against the doorway. When Dave turns and sees you, shame seeps into his cheeks and he stutters, "I wanted to go to the store but I didn't want to leave you alone in case you came back in—I- this is all I have—I don't have any chocolate. I'm sorry."

You walk over and kiss his cheek, "Don't stress over nothing, silly. Thank you for taking care of me so well," you whisper, meaning every word. 

Although Dave thinks he's doing a shitty job at taking care of you, he takes the compliment with a bashful blush and holds you closer.

  Would he ever tell you he'd bought a bunch of teenage girl guides to womanhood for this exact reason and had been reading them periodically for around a year—even when you were both still just friends?

Never.

Because if he did, then he'd sound creepy and that wasn't his intention at all. 

Dave just wanted to be prepared so he could care for you properly when the time came—which, even with his initial panic, he hopes he did. 

[trashmouth-richie]

[vol i] [vol ii] [vol iii]

Eddie x fem!reader

Summary: Eddie is slowly becoming easier to live with you’re not sure if you’re just used to his disgusting behavior or if he’s truly trying to change. You make a schedule for chores and when/who/what time showers will be taken, chaos ensues on both Eddie and you. Eddie reveals a side of him that reader hasn’t seen/ noticed before.

W/C: 6.4k

A/N: if you were looking for some disgusting! Eddie smut this is the chapter for you babe.

Warnings: NO MINORS! Smut, blow jobs, rough sexual acts, degrading, daddy!kink, vomit, crude language (as if any of my fics don’t have this)

S/O: @agentmarvel @sweetsweetjellybean @boomhauer @mopeymopeymouse @chestylarouxx @banished-big-ope-vibes @carolmunson @newlips for helping me beta read, come up with dialogue, pacing, letting me insert them throughout the fic, helping me breakdown how this disgusting little mf would act in certain situations + everything in between! You guys are the best! If you aren’t already— follow them.

/

You couldn’t deny that things had gotten better with having Eddie as a roommate (not that you would ever express that to him) but living with the overgrown child was slightly very slightly, like a teeny tiny bit, better than it was before.

After living in his disgusting cluster fuck of a room for a week, Eddie finally sat down amongst his heap of mixed dirty and clean clothes and organized it. The disaster made your eye twitch every time you walked past his room in the morning and got a whiff of his stench, reeking of weed and Doritos, you finally convinced him to get it done, and in typical Eddie fashion— it came with a price.

After bargaining for days and nearly pulling your hair out because all he wanted was a single pair of your panties—

“Why? So you can hold them up like that dork in Sixteen Candles to show all your nerd friends?”

“Babe, the ladies I fuck don’t wear panties.”

He finally settled on a six pack of Busch Light, and for you to do his laundry for a week.

“Remember to separate my delicates, sweetheart.”

Fucking pig.

The only thing delicate about Eddie was his ego when you told him his hair was thinning out on top, (it definitely wasn’t, he had more hair than cousin It) but you needed the upper hand, and criticizing his hair was the way to do just that.

His bed frame and the oak dressers he had ordered, finally arrived. Allowing him to put away his never ending collection of band tee’s and holy jeans. Clearing a path for his floor.

“Holy shit, is that the carpet?” You ask, standing in the door frame before your shift at the salon, toothbrush in your hand, minty dollop of toothpaste atop it.

He’s elbow deep in the dresser, foregoing folding anything but instead shoving the clothes haphazardly into the shallow drawers and slamming them shut with his legs, or his hip.

“Wow, Tooty, you’re hilarious,” Eddie says, rolling his eyes, “but since you asked, yes, it does, match the drapes.”

A smile spreads across his lips. Another normal conversation turning into a sexual innuendo. He couldn’t be prouder of the way you walked right into that. Since you told him what happened to Eyeball he really has been holding back his usual gross behavior, but sometimes it was just a slip of the tongue for him. Involuntary action.

You turn to leave but he stops you, crossing the room at record speed and placing a ringed hand on your wrist, the surprising warmth from his hand burning your skin.

“Hey, uh, can I get your opinion quick?”

“I’ve already told you, I don’t think the groupies give a shit what color boxers you wear.”

“Wow, okay— that’s the wrong answer! But I’m talking about this.”

He points to the shelf crammed full of his odd knick knacks. It originally belonged to Nancy, but she had left it behind. Inside of it were a hoard of books. Lord of the Rings, something that looked like manuals for Dungeons & Dragons—of course he’s still playing that— a plethora of Stephen King books, and a full— more than likely sticky— stack of playboys. Go figure.

“What about it?”

“Do you think it looks good here or should I move it under the window?” Eddie asks, hands out wide measuring and comparing in arms length the distance under the window and the width of the book shelf.

You take a step into his room, every square inch of wall was covered in posters, your former bed sheets graffitied with his band, hung on one wall, the opposite held a kitchen knife stabbed through the drywall.

“What are you trying to do, feng shui?”

“Bless you.”

“What?”

He shrugs, “You sneezed, and me, being the pinnacle Christian son that I am, I blessed you, now should I keep this here?”

It took you a minute to comprehend what the hell just happened and why.

“Blessed by Eddie Munson— that’s the biggest oxymoron I’ve ever heard,” you snort, a smile twisted on your lips as you look at the overgrown man child huff about where to put his shelf, shoving your toothbrush into your mouth, “looks fine there.”

-

He did start cleaning up after himself, even offering to vacuum the living room in exchange for you making supper most nights. Begging you to make the lasagna again after he ate almost the entire pan the last time. He even decided to get take out on his one night a week to cook. Thank God because you couldn’t handle one more night of burnt, made-in-the-toaster, grilled cheese or using orange juice as a replacement when the milk was gone for cereal.

You learned the hard way that you needed to buy two separate gallons of milk, after watching Eddie drink straight from the jug, a dripping white mustache formed on his upper lip as he licked it suggestively, “Got milk?” He’d ask before roaring with laughter.

-

The next few weeks with Eddie as your roommate went rather smoothly. With you working at the salon and him working long hours at Boom’s Auto shop, you two came home at almost the same time every night. He would show up covered in grease and reeking of motor oil. His work coveralls, branding a white and red labeled patch with his name on them, had the sleeves cut off, showcasing his muscled arms and the wide array of tattoos prickling up and down them, shoulder to wrist. He wore a sweaty bandana wrapped around his head, rotating between a black or a red one, depending on the day.

You didn’t mind doing his laundry since his pockets were always full of either loose bills or the occasional joint, which you would keep, and smoke later with Robin and Steve, giggling watching the stars as you laid out on blankets in the backyard.

On Saturday nights, he usually played with the band, scoring a gig at the Hideout or working at the bar til closing time, helping Tom bartend a little until Walt got back from vacation. He stumbled in at night knocking over a lamp and almost falling backwards down the basement steps. He’d pass out for a greater half of the next day, waking in the afternoon with a raspy voice and smelling like cheap cologne.

One particular Sunday morning, he stumbled out of his room, wearing black boxer briefs, and a sleepy grin, rubbing his eyes like a little kid.

“Mornin’” he grumbled opening the fridge and diving in for his notorious pickles, tilting it to his lips and drinking straight from the jar.

You shake your head, sitting at the table and sorting through the mail. Your hair in a clip and wearing an oversized crew neck sweater, your mauve fingernails flicking through the envelope flaps, jotting down what’s due and when. “It’s 1 in the afternoon, Eddie.”

He smacks his lips loudly and faces you, fishing a pickle from the jar with his bare hands, “metal has no time limits, Tooty, we play until the bar shuts down.” He makes his way towards you, wearing one sock and chomping on his pickle.

You notice something on his stomach, a new tattoo? Maybe? Riding low on his waist and almost dipping below his underwear. The closer he gets you can make out the writing, a permanent marker phone number from a groupie written on his lower abs.

You point your pen towards his stomach, “gonna get that thing tattooed on, make it official, that Eddie the freak Munson has at least one adoring fan?”

He looks down, a smile pressing on his lips, “aww no need to be sad sweetheart,” he says lowering himself into a chair beside you, “there’s plenty of me to go around, and besides, I thought good little nuns couldn’t fuck, saving themselves for God.. or are you one of the dirty ones, showing your tits for cash so you can gamble?” He winks and laughs as you shove his shoulder trying to throw him out of the chair.

“You’re so gross!”

“And yet, I’m still here.” the Cheshire Cat smile planted on his lips.

Still. You had to admit, no matter how nasty his jokes were or how annoying he could be— having Eddie around wasn’t that bad.

-

“Tooty!” Eddie yells through the bathroom door bouncing from one foot to another, banging on the door with an open palm, “I’m going to piss my pants if you don’t hurry up!”

You had only been in the shower for ten minutes. When you walked past his room this morning with sleepy eyes and a deep yawn, metal music blared from his bedroom along with the annoying beep of his alarm clock, but the prince of filth was fast asleep.

“The schedule that you made says I get the bathroom first on Fridays, which is today!”

The schedule you had designed for Eddie and yourself consisted of 7 vertical columns one for each day of the week, and 5 horizontal columns: showering, laundry day, dishes, cooking, garbage. You had more days in the cooking column than Eddie, just like he had more days in the garbage column than you did. It evened out.

“Wrong— you were supposed to get the bathroom at 7, it’s now past 7:30 so it’s my turn,” you correct, putting a generous amount of body wash on your loofah and foaming it up, white suds cleansing your skin, “not my fault you can’t wake up to your alarm.”

“Christ, seriously just open the door! I’m fuckin’ dancing around out here like a little kid!”

“Can’t hear you,” you sing out to him, laughing silently beneath the spray of water.

You hear the feverish jiggle of the brass handle on the door and heavy footsteps as he stomps away. Oh the joys of victory. You bask in the delight of getting a one up on Eddie. Something that rarely happened in the few weeks he has been living with you. Slathering conditioner in your hair and rinsing, you exit the shower, feeling refreshed and ready to start the day.

Opening the bathroom door you expected Eddie to barrel through you to get to the bathroom, you’re taken aback when you hear faint yelling coming from outside.

“… piss in the front yard of my own house— I will! Go back to trimming your hedges with your toddler sized shorts and mind your own goddamn—,”

“Eddie!”

He’s standing barefoot in the middle of the lawn, his navy boxer briefs the only clothing he has on. Double middle fingers raised in the early morning sky aimed towards your neighbor across the street, Mr. Derry, the neighborhood watch dog. He was an older man, no kids, no wife. Retired. And a grade A pain in the ass.

Eddie turns and looks to you, pink blush creeping over his cheeks, “…business.” Eyes wide in innocence as if he hasn’t done anything wrong.

You’re still in your towel, hair soaking wet down your back, watching as this crazed lunatic you have as a roommate terrorizes the neighborhood, one flash of his dick at a time.

“What the hell are you doing?!” You ask, grabbing him by the arm and dragging him towards the front door.

“Gracing the common folk of Cherry Lane with my morning wood, yeah take a picture and frame it you fuckin’ perv!”

Yanking harder you get him inside and slam the door. Your cheeks are flushed with embarrassment.

You open your mouth to speak but Eddie has already started explaining.

“Listen, I had to piss bad, like really bad. You could have just unlocked the door but no, Ms. Uptight-independent Tooty with your rules and schedules—” he stops and takes a breath. After your conversation a few weeks ago about the downfall of Eyeball and your own family abandoning you, Eddie had been trying to be more reasonable about things, more cautious about the way he worded things. Not trying to twist the knife lodged into your chest that had been driven there years ago.

“So I made up my own rule! If you’re gonna take forever shaving your legs or…other things…” his eyes cast down your body. The white towel snug against your form, you clutch it tighter around you as his eyes stare through the towel, begging to catch a glimpse of your wet, smooth skin. Water droplets taunting him as they fall down the slick of your hair. He shakes his head to clear his gutter mind. “I’m going to take matters into my own hands, and believe me princess, it was a handful.”

That’s about as dialed back as Eddie could be.

“You can’t just piss in the front yard! This neighborhood is not like the trailer park, that asshole you called a perv—“

“He was! He was looking right at my dick!”

“— once called the cops on Nancy because she parked by his curb when we were having her bridal shower.”

“Wa-wait, Nancy fucking Wheeler got the cops called on her?”

“Yeah, Hop wasn’t too happy to find out what it was for, calling Derry a waste of space.”

Eddie laughs, “Oh I’m not surprised— him and I go way back, remember?”

Of course you did, he busted Eddie too many times driving higher than the Empire State Building while bringing you, Dustin, Will and Mike back to the Wheeler’s. It was almost a running joke between him and Hopper. Eddie would slip him a joint while in the back of his patrol vehicle and away he went, no ticket, no charge, nothing.

“Anyway,” you jeer, pointing a finger into his bare chest, the tip of your nail making a half moon indent into the head of the bloody demon inked on his left pec, “he’s a fucking asshole so don’t piss him off, he’ll make our lives hell.”

“Fine,” Eddie groans, running his hands down his face “but he was gawking!”

You roll your eyes and grab your hair dryer from your room. An adjustment you’ve had to do since Eddie moved in, getting ready partly in your room and in the bathroom. After your hair is dried and styled, you opt for a pair of light wash overall shorts, and a thick strapped, high neck tank top underneath. You finish your makeup by applying a coat of Revlon’s Toast of New York on your lips. Sliding on your knock off Doc Marten sandals, you grab your purse and head for the door.

Eddie’s sitting at the kitchen table, chair pulled out as he laces up his black work boots, body bent over his knee as he jerks his hand side to side, lazily working the laces through the hook eyelets.

“Still getting groceries tomorrow?” He asks, shoving his white cotton covered foot into his other boot, repeating the process. “I added some essentials to the grocery list.” He gestures to the pad and paper with a tilt of his chin.

Scanning the list you laugh, “Dunkaroos are not essential.”

“Don’t you dare cross them off!” Eddie fake shouts, a grin stretching across his lips, showing off his straight teeth.

“I’m off tomorrow and don’t have many clients today— I know it’s your night to cook, but I was thinking of making tater tot casserole for supper, I’ll just have to stop and get some ground beef from Bradley’s before I come home.”

“Oh shit,” Eddie lamented, “I have a gig tonight instead of tomorrow at the Hideout,” he says standing, running his hands down his legs to shake down his coveralls. “It’s probably going to be late, so don’t worry about making anything.”

Ripping the grocery list from the pad and stuffing it into your purse, you think back to how long it has been since you’d seen them play. You went along to support Chrissy and since Eddie was Kev’s longtime best friend and basically your chauffeur, you at least owed it to him to go with. A memory of you head banging and holding Chrissy’s hand tight as you both screamed for Corroded Coffin clouded your mind.

Threading your purse straps through your fingers and casting your eyes downward you have to know, “… you guys still play Lady Evil?”

Eddie grins again, “wouldn’t be a Corroded Coffin gig if we didn’t play some Sabbath, Jeff would probably throw a hissy fit.”

-

Friday evenings were usually busy in the shop. Boom ran a tight ship and paid better than any auto shop in a thirty mile radius. Eddie was lucky to get hired on using his street smarts and the fact that he was the unpaid mechanic of the trailer park for every banged up old sedan that his neighbors had since he was sixteen.

The old radio crackled and fussed as Hank Williams Jr sang about the survival rate of country boys. Boom whistled along with the tune. Running his tanned fingers through his blonde hair, a Mr. Pibb and a ham sandwich in front of him.

“So Eddie,” he says leaning back in his plastic chair, “I heard from the boys that you moved into a house on Cherry Lane. Damn boy, I thought that trailer park ran deep in your blood.”

Eddie throws his empty Mt. Dew can into the trash, missing by a mile. “Ahh Boom, you know I’m the prince of the park. Just stretching my city legs, helping out a friend.”

“Didn’t know you and Eyeball’s sister were close.” Aaron sneered, lighting up a cigarette with a strike of a match against his boot.

Eddie’s light hearted demeanor immediately changed, smile fading and eyebrows pulling together, “what the hell does that mean?”

“Helping out a friend?” Sean spat, his wiry mustache shriveled into a snarl, “what are you Mother Teresa? The only help that bitch needs is a fucking lobotomy.”

“Hey,” Eddie interjects, pointing a greased finger into Sean’s face, “don’t fucking talk about her like that, man.”

Aaron talks around his cigarette, blowing smoke across the table, “It’s true, she’s smokin’ fuckin’ hot but crazier than a shit house rat.”

The pair laugh, choking on smoke and bits of crusty bread.

“Remember what Chad said about her?” Aaron laughed..

“Fuck yeah how did he put that? Don’t marry the girls with the daddy issues, even if they let you put it in their a—”

Eddie slams his fists into Sean’s shirt, grabbing him by the collar and throwing him against the wall, “another word, about her— and I’ll break your fuckin’ nose.”

“You threatenin’ me Munson?” Sean chokes out.

Eddies eyes are crazed as he glares in Sean’s, “never a threat, pencil dick, it’s a promise.”

“Fellas,” Boom hollers, shoving his chair back with an eerie scratch, metal legs scraping on broken tile, “I’ll send ya both home for the day with no pay if y’all don’t knock it the fuck off.”

Eddie shoves Sean into the wall hard once more, releasing his grip on his shirt and adjusting his rings. He cracks his knuckles as he stomps back through the bay doors and out to the Buick he had been working on.

Ducking under the hood his breathing is erratic and his fists are shaking.

He never asked what happened with you and Chad but by the sounds of it, it sure as hell didn’t end on good terms.

It was fine if he teased you, but hearing it from anyone else wasn’t gonna fly with him. Not today, not ever. But something about the way you opened up to him, showed him your vulnerable side, it made him almost protective of you, like he needed to shield you from the ugliest parts of the world.

He never would have thought that Eyeball’s little sister, tough little Tooty, the same girl who punched Billy Hargrove in the face after pinching her ass one night, would make him care so much.

-

“Told ya he’s cool,” Steve slurs over his Bloody Mary, clinking the ice in the glass as he tips it back into his mouth, “he’s like a wild animal, but once you get to know him— he’s just a tattooed teddy bear.”

You, Robin and Steve were out for dinner and drinks at Louie’s, the newer sports bar in Hawkins, sitting under an emerald and white striped umbrella in the hot humid summer air. A monthly ritual you started ages ago when you all worked at Family Video. Only back then you went to Benny’s to get burgers and concrete thick milkshakes, racing to see who could finish first which ultimately ended in Robin getting a stomach ache, every time.

“I could have killed him the first few days,” you say, sipping your Malibu and Diet Coke through two neon straws, “honestly, still debating it.”

Robin steals the pickle spear and celery stick from Steve’s drink, munching away and talking with a mouthful, Steve simply rolls his eyes and reaches for another mozzarella stick, “wait, I thought you guys were getting along better now.”

“They are!” Steve interjects, pointing the mozzarella stick around like he was directing an orchestra, “I asked him myself when I brought my car to Boom’s yesterday for an oil change.”

The thought of your friends asking your roommate, who just so happens to also be their friend, how things were going between you both, made your stomach lurch.

“Well,” Robin began, twirling her pina colada and biting into the yellow flesh of the pineapple , “I’m just glad you aren’t by yourself anymore. It freaked me out knowing you were there alone.”

She wasn’t the only one.

Before Eddie had moved in, Steve gave you his prized nail bat to keep by your bed. So far you haven’t had to use it. And with Eddie in the house, it was stored in your closet.

“Alright, I’ll admit,” you say, taking a long drink, feeling the warmth of the coconut flavored alcohol mix with the Diet Coke bubbles, a frenzy on your tongue, “he’s come a long way,” you admit, dunking a fry into the mayo ketchup concoction, “finally house broke.”

It was the truth, you really didn’t mind him being around.

-

“Shh, gotta be quiet girls, daddy’s gonna take real good care of you, but seriously, you need to shut up.”

The girls laugh, drunk off bottom shelf liquor and Jell-O shots from the Hideout. Three pairs of tangled legs stumble through the front door as Eddie hurriedly works his keys into the lock.

The two of them giggle and hush one another, planting kisses on either side of his neck and stepping out of their shoes. His leather jacket hits the floor, the shirt he was wearing was ripped to shreds from the collar down. Carol’s fingers feverishly tore at his clothing before the three of them even made it to the van.

Foregoing the zipper on the tight leather mini dress she’s wearing, Eddie shoves it down her hips, giving her ass a firm squeeze, toying with the fishnet tights, “these stay on,” he demands, slapping her ass and unzipping his jeans, a parade of cheap lingerie, and leather studded clothing start from the front door and end in Eddie’s bedroom.

Your car wasn’t home which was odd but maybe it was parked in the garage. He wasn't sure where you were but if you were sleeping he didn’t want to wake you up. You had never discussed any boundaries about him bringing someone home, but what kind of rockstar would he be if he turned down hot twins?

They had approached him after the show, twisting their evil tongues into his mouth and groping him as soon as he got backstage.

Jeff was in the back room with his long time girlfriend Ash, they were holding each other tight as he kissed her neck and she squealed into his ear.

The girl who showed up to every gig, Marissa, wearing her signature “here for the drummer” shirt, was currently bent over the bathroom sink, Gareth buried deep inside her.

Even Big D was getting some action, the waitress from Benny’s, Emily, was currently bobbing along on his dick.

All of them were getting lucky, a win for Corroded Coffin. The girls were screaming for them, bras and panties tossed on stage, Gareth sporting multiple pairs around his neck. The old bar flies drunk off beer on tap were singing along to the requested songs.

Cece’s pink floral dress is brought over her head as Eddie sucks her nipple into his mouth, teasing and biting as Carol kneels at his feet and works her palm into his boxers, gasping at the hardened length in her grip.

A monster lies beneath the cotton. Almost as thick as her forearm, her dainty fingers unable to reach fully around his girth. She pumps him slow, releasing his throbbing cock.

His fingers twist into their hair as he shoves Cece down to her knees, joining Carol in the worship of Eddie Munson’s dick. Their greedy mouths take him in, one popping his balls into her mouth the other choking on his fat cock.

Eddie wasn’t gentle when he fucked groupies. He took what he wanted and didn’t leave any room for complaints or questions. Shut off from the gentle loving side sex can bring and only seeing red, it was like he was a mad man. A different person entirely. Truly the horns of satan poked through his forehead and his eyes clouded over revealing a black veil of sin.

Demon eyed.

He was pissed from what happened earlier at work. Fucking insane with rage at Sean and Aaron talking shit about you.

Not you, not Tooty.

His frustration builds as the sound of lungs gasping for air fills his ears.

“Fuck,” Eddie groans, “Jesus Christ— don’t you wanna be good for daddy? Open that fuckin’ throat up and take what I give to you.”

He grabs Cece’s hair and thrusts himself in her mouth, ignoring her tears as she gags and swallows him whole. “Are you crying? Poor fucking baby, what a shame, on the bed now.” He grabs her up by the throat and tosses her onto the bed.

He’d kill Chad if he ever saw him again. Still had no idea what he did or why you two broke up but hearing his mantra spill from those asshat’s mouths today was enough to make his skin crawl.

The vulgar shit they were saying. The way they non chalantly said it like they were reciting their McDonald’s order. Fuck that bothered him.

Cock swinging, Eddie pinches Carol’s nipples until she’s standing, he flips her upside down, fucking into her open mouth as he bites her fishnet tights open and spits on her pussy. Tossing her on the bed like discarded trash he slaps both of their asses.

He tries to blur you away from his mind, separate you from his brain for a while to release this pent up anger. But all he can see are the small tears falling from your eyes when you tell him the truth about your family.

The Grinch’s small heart grew three sizes that day.

Shaking his head he bounds to his bed, trying like hell to focus on his task at hand.

“Are my little whores ready? Think you can handle this without tearing up?”

-

When Steve drops you off you’ve already puked in his car, twice. When he announced that drinks were on him tonight, you may have been double fisting Jack and Cokes with Robin, and taking vodka shots, racing to see who could finish first.

Robin passed out in the back of his car, snuggled up with the cold leather on her cheek.

“Steeb, I’m fine, seriously! Look how good I’m walking.”

“That’s because I’m carrying you.” Steve huffs as he opens the front door.

You’re slurring your words and talking in a volume that could raise the dead, “You’re such a good friend Stephen, why? Why why why are you single?” You hiccup, the remnants of your vomit lingering on your breath, “You need a wife!”

“Tooty, we can talk about my failed love life another day,” Steve grunts, carrying you into the house, stepping over boots and skimpy clothing, “for now let’s get you to the bathroom so you can get cleaned up and maybe puke in the toilet this time!”

“I just wanna go to bed. I’m tired,” you whine, “Stoven bring me to my room, let me go to sleep!”

Ignoring you, Steve brings you to the bathroom and plops you down on the floor, opening the toilet lids just in time for you to blow chunks all over.

“Ooh that one looks like a mozzarella stick.”

“Jesus, I’m never letting you two idiots drink again! I’m always your goddamn babysitter, it’s so annoying.” Steve laughs, riddling your hair. Ever since you stepped foot into Family Video at fifteen, looking for a job, the three of you were inseparable. “You think you’re gonna be okay? I gotta get that other shit head home before she pukes in the backseat, I already have to clean the front.”

“Oh no! I didn’t know you threw up!”

Steve rolls his eyes, dragging his hands down his face.

“See you tomorrow, I’ll call you okay?” His face is pulled into concern, eyebrows raised and pinched together

You salute him and wave, laughing at his mop of hair flopping around as he turns to leave. Struggling for at least ten minutes to get your denim overall shorts unbuckled, cursing and giggling at your own drunken stupor. You finally manage to get them un done shucking them off your legs, leaving your upper body covered by your tank top, the black panties you were wearing still on. Sliding your arms around your back you manage to unhook your bra and thread it through your shirt, tossing it into the shower beside you. Exhausted, you rest your head on the toilet bowl— falling into a dizzy sleep.

-

“Cece, come here!” Carol whispers loudly. She’s standing in the doorway of the bathroom, mouth agape at the sight of the slumped over figure hugging the toilet bowl.

“Holy shit!” She says, emerging from Eddie’s bedroom. “Is that? No fucking way.”

“I didn’t know he was screwing her too!” Carol breathes jealousy spewing from her lips.

“You really think he’d want to fuck that? Look at her! She’s a walking basket case. I heard that her family moved away because she wigged out and tried to kill her own mom.”

“Actually, the rumor is that I killed them all,” you add, raising your sleepy drunk face from the toilet, seeing double and trying not to puke on the spot, you try to stand, using the toilet to support your weight as you push off from it, wobbling horrifically.

“Get the fuck out,” you say, vision dancing as you try to point to the front door, holding onto the sink to stabilize yourself wiping the corner of your mouth with the back of your hand, “now.”

“Yeah?” Cece spits, folding her arms across her chest, “you gonna make us? Last I checked we were guests—“

“Not anymore,” Eddie hissed, adjusting the waist of his sweatpants as he looks into the bathroom at your disheveled appearance. Your makeup is smeared from throwing up, you’re half naked and barefoot, clutching onto the sink. Your overalls are covered in puke, and in a heap of vomit on the floor, a purple bra hangs over the edge of the tub. He wedges himself into the bathroom between you and the two girls, covering you with his tall frame from their view. His nostrils are flared and his chest is puffed out, “you heard her, get the fuck out.”

“What the fuck Eddie?!” Carol gripes, looking into his mad eyes.

He glares back, bored with her, “Did you really think you were gonna stay the night?” He prods, “Please, you can’t be that fucking stupid. Get your shit and go.”

“We live across town!” Cece squeaks, face pulled into shock and humiliation.

“Don’t care.”

Carol crosses her arms and glares into his eyes, “It’s late!”

“And?” He asks glaring back, and pushing through them, “Here let me help.”

Eddie takes their purses and shoes, tossing them out the front door into the yard. Pointing to the open door and fuming, he spits, “Out.”

The girls leave screeching ‘fuck you’s’ as they walk down the sidewalk, disappearing into the night.

He turns back to the bathroom, hearing you vomit again, one small glance and he can tell you hit the sink at least, puke splattering all over— the same reaction if you held a spoon under running water.

He turns around and comes back with the cleaner and a roll of paper towels, gagging with each wipe of the sink as he cleans it up.

Your crumbled body is slumped over the toilet again.

“Gonna live? Or should I call the coroner.” He says leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed and a look of worry on his face.

“ ‘s Robin’s fault,” you mumble, voice echoing in the toilet bowl, “woulda been fine if it wasn’t for the sh—,” you gag thinking of the vodka, “—shots, I’m usually not like this.”

Eddie sits on the side of the tub. You’re wasted and half dressed. He was a lot of things but taking advantage of a drunk girl wasn’t him. He finds your robe hanging in its designated spot, and drapes it across your bare shoulders.

“Sit up a bit,” he instructs. With great effort you sit up, almost falling backwards but Eddie catches you, careful of his hand placements not wanting to graze you in your inebriated state. He helps you sit and you put your arms through the holes of the robe. He reaches gently around your middle to tie it. Putting delicate pressure on your back as he leans you forward towards the toilet. You hum with satisfaction as your face feels the cool plastic of the toilet seat. Fighting the urge to rub your back.

“I’m dying, you can have the house when I’m gone, scatter my ashes in the rose bushes out back.” You say with a whine. Groaning as your stomach churns again, puking up more and more of the mixed alcohol you drank earlier in the night.

“Need some water?” Eddie guesses.

You nod your head, feeling like it weighs a hundred pounds you set it back down.

He leaves and comes back from the kitchen with a glass of water, swirly straw included. Tapping your shoulder he hands you the Disney cup, taking a long pull from the straw, you set the cup down on the linoleum floor.

“Thanks.”

“Agh, you’ll be alright. The porcelain Gods and I are great friends— well we used to be back in high school. I haven’t prayed to them in a while,” he says with a chuckle. Sliding down against the wall behind you, sitting on the cold floor.

“Don’t forget the time you and Kev ate those shrooms and puked all night in the basement of our house.” You mutter, wiping your mouth with your sleeve and flushing the toilet.

That was a night Eddie would never forget, he was only sixteen, and he somehow scored some homemade brownies and shrooms from one of the seniors. Being young and dumb, him and Eyeball each ate three brownies and an entire bag of shrooms. The high was insane, but the aftermath was death. He hasn’t touched shrooms since.

“Shit,” Eddie exclaims, “how old were you? Ten?”

“ ‘leven,” you say, holding your elbows on the toilet seat and your head in your palms, “old enough to know you and Kev didn’t magically get the flu at the same time.”

“Man we were dumb,” he says with a laugh, rubbing his chin with his hand.

“Were?” you say slyly.

“Easy, I’m not the one who can’t hold their liquor, Princess.”

“Oh Jesus please no more mention of it or I will barf—again.”

He stands to leave, laughing and stretching his arms out over his head as a small yawn escapes him. Exhausted from the day's events: work, concert, threesome— ain’t no way he’d be up before noon tomorrow— you either.

“Think I’m gonna go to bed, you going to be okay?”

Sitting up and looking at Eddie for the first time tonight, you aren’t sure if it’s because you’re drunk, but it’s almost as if it’s the very first time you’ve seen him. His amber colored eyes are surrounded by a forest of black eyelashes, his mop of curly hair hanging in them slightly, smooth pink lips, surprisingly full, a sharp jaw with a days worth of stubble, his veiny neck dances as he swallows, adam’s apple bobbing up and down. His shoulders are thick snaking down to muscled forearms, veins protruding from them, his hands are easily double the size of yours, thick fingers adorned with the same chunky stupid rings he’s worn forever. His broad chest stretches across his ribs, nipples pierced since the 80’s. He stands with confidence. His slender waist with the tiniest patch of hair ducking into the gray waistband of his hanes boxer briefs. And the prettiest alabaster skin peeking out from his collection of black tattoos.

Mouth suddenly dry, you stutter, “I—I’m done throwing up, gonna go to my bed.”

You stand on Bambi’s legs, hitting the wall hard with your shoulder. “Jesus Christ,” Eddie laughs and scoops you up making sure he’s holding under your bent knees and around your upper arms. He carries you to your bed, his skin burning hot against your cheek. He lays you down, throwing the blankets over your head for good measure, trying like hell to ignore the flutter in his stomach as you huff and pout pulling your eyebrows inward and frowning as you place your blankets to your liking.

“Get some sleep Tooty.” Eddie says all too softly. Pushing your cute sleepy face from his mind, rocking back on his heels as he starts to leave your room.

“Eddie?” You call after him, your small voice ripping through him like a knife. “Thank you, seriously. For everything.”

Shaking his head back and forth, his wild hair flows like a curtain around him in the dark as he leaves your room, “you owe me,” he says with a small grin, shutting the door behind him.

//

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SEE YOU IN VOLUME: V

[volume: 5]

putting random symbols in hopes that read more will eat this instead of the last paragraph 😩

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