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[hellfire--cult]

Rockstar!Eddie Munson x Best Friend!Fem!Reader

wc: 19.2k (it wasn't intended to be this long)

+18, best friends to lovers, rockstar eddie, mentions of drug usage (not abuse), slight mention of steve x reader, jealousy, self-consciousness, reader feels insecure about her body, mentions of skin texture (cellulite, adiposities, stretchmarks, floppiness, sagginess, etc), smut, love making, p in v (protected), fingering, just pure absolute fluff.

Plot: You've been in love with your best friend ever since you can remember, and the hope of ever confessing vanished slowly as he signed a record deal and became a rockstar. His flings were now models, and singers... how can you even compete? Their perfect and smooth skin against your cellulite and stretchmarks? Their bodies completely perky?...But your rockstar kind of explodes with his feelings, out of jealousy, and shows you just how much you don't have to worry about that.

a/n: absolutely self indulgent. thank you to all the beautiful friends that read this, and were in the middle of me making this happen. i love you @munson-blurbs @andvys @ghost-proofbaby @pastel-pillows @the-unforgivenn @littlesubbyflower !

always reblog, don't be lazy

ORANGE PEEL SKIN

Being best friends with a rockstar was not something you ever thought you’d be. 

But you have been friends even before his fame took off before his songs were known. Before his band got called into a prestigious studio back in L.A to record their first-ever demo album. Before his life got turned into a life of luxury and parties. A life he always didn’t believe he would get, but he worked hard to get it, manifested it, and now he is the leader of his rock band.

Corroded Coffin.

With the same three friends from High School, and he was the shining star of it all. He insisted on his bandmates, Jeff, Gareth and Grant to trust him, and they did, ending up with this record deal, and they will forever be grateful to him. 

Now, you, well, you weren’t in the band, but Eddie invited you on tour sometimes, because that’s what being his best friend got you. You often insisted for him not to waste money on your trips, plane tickets, hotel room, and pleasantries, but he never listened. He showered you with gifts whenever he could.

He got you the latest cellphone, designer bags, and clothes, some perfumes, but he never fails to buy you the one thing you like the most in every country he visits, and it’s tiny, yet he always smiles when he gives it to you. Magnets. 

You collected them in your fridge, amazed to see every place he’s been to, knowing that the boy that lived in the small trailer in Forest Hills now brings you magnets from all around the world. The boy you’ve known since you moved to Hawkins. The boy that tried to teach you DnD in the woods at the back of his trailer, but your fourteen-year-old self didn’t care for games. Yet you loved listening to him.

Because you’ve been in love with Eddie Munson ever since you can remember.

But that love is impossible, now more than ever. He never gave the indication he felt the same, and sure you two were close, mentally, emotionally, and physically. You always sit on his lap so he can play with your hair, or you two would greet each other with kisses on the cheeks, or simply hold hands as you two watch a movie together.

Now Eddie being a rockstar, well, you have no chance whatsoever. He had a fling with Miley Cyrus, and you remember it clearly. It was a simple drunk fuck, but it was enough to make you realize that you are certainly not his type. Then he hooked up with another model, and you found out because you saw it on a gossip instagram page.

Your heart broke in pieces when you saw it, knowing the boy you loved for so long so out of reach, yet so close thanks to your friendship. Even if in pain, you could not let him go, not that easily. You just loved him so much, but even you knew it had to be stopped at some point. It couldn’t go on. You will die from a heartbreak sooner or later, and you have to avoid it.

But he makes it difficult, and even more so now that he is taking a break from tour to visit Hawkins so he can see his old friends and Wayne, including you. It’s been four months since you’ve seen him in person, only talking with him through phone and video calls, but very little. He was always busy or going to parties or meeting other bands and singers.

And even if that hurts you, you will never stop loving him. Not really, not ever.

“You okay?”

Your thoughts got cut off as you shook your head to look at Chrissy who was looking at you with a worried look on her face. Your best friend knew about your feelings for the metalhead, and Chrissy has held you many times on nights where you just cried your eyes out because of every call, of every picture, of every rumor you heard of him. 

“Yeah, I am just nervous I guess.” You responded and Chrissy only nodded in a slow motion towards you. You looked around to see everyone gathered in Steve’s backyard, the sunset giving perfect orange hues as Wayne started the fire for some burgers, and Dustin was getting the cooler with beers alongside Mike. 

You couldn’t believe these boys were almost twenty. You didn’t mind that they drink some beers at this age, because who didn’t drink alcohol being below twenty-one? But did time pass by this quickly? When did it happen?

“If you say so.” Chrissy mumbled as she pressed a hand on your shoulder for reassurance. You couldn’t be more grateful for a friend like Chrissy. You really don’t know where you would be if it weren’t for her. Probably crying in every possible corner Hawkins had to give.

“Will you two stop being lazy asses and get the drinks from inside?” Steve yelled and you just rolled your eyes, while Chrissy flipped him off, Robin and Nancy laughing while putting up some balloons and preparing the music. You and your best friend walked inside to get the glasses and the sodas for the night. 

“He seriously needs to stop acting like a mother.” You groaned as you piled up the red cups in your hands, hearing Chrissy snorting behind you as she took the sodas out of the fridge.

“And yet–” And she suddenly went silent. You started hearing cheering from outside and you shut your eyes very tight, wincing slightly at the impending pain that your heart will feel at seeing him. You could already hear his electric voice, all enthusiastic and happy, and it made your heart jump three feet up.

You heard your name being called by Chrissy and it made you open your eyes so you could take a deep breath in, slowly turning around to finally look out the window to see him, your breath being knocked out in one single glance. 

His hair, tied in a bun, scruff on his chin and jaw, curls falling on the sides of his face as he hugged Dustin tightly, swirling him around while the rest of the band greeted everyone else. You didn’t want to be a bitch to the other three, but your eyes could only see Eddie. Only Eddie. A tight tank top with ripped sleeves reveals tattoos that linger across his arms and hands. Black ripped jeans with chains hanging from his waist, and a piercing on his nose, a hoop that glistened with the orange hue of the sunset.

You took a deep breath trying to calm your accelerating heart, trying to not let the blood go all the way to your cheeks, to your body, as you looked at him. It’s not like when you two talk on video calls, it cannot compare.

Chrissy cleared her throat, making you snap out, looking at him with a wild look on your face. She chuckled softly as she walked outside and you immediately heard Eddie cheerfully yell her name, and she was yelling to be careful with the bottles in her hands. 

“You can do this… You can definitely do this. Just keep pretending, everything will be okay.” This was always what you told yourself before seeing him in person. Even at school. You often wondered if you would ever stop these feelings of yours, but even if there was a possibility of them stopping, how do you reach that?

You took another deep breath, getting hold of the stack of red cups you had bought for today, and you rolled your shoulders, once, twice, and finally stepped out into the garden. His back was towards you, so it gave you time to put the cups on the table as you looked at the back of his head. He was talking with Jonathan as Dustin walked over to hand him a beer. 

You could hear his laughter, and you wanted to stay there, yet you also wanted to run away. So far away. But you couldn’t do that now, not when Dustin told Eddie something and then pointed towards you, making him turn around and his brown eyes finally caught onto yours.

Every thought of running away evaporated because that’s what Eddie does to you. He turns you into putty, into his slave, into a submissive prey that will do whatever he commands. Just with him looking at you, and flashing a smile your way as his eyes light up with yours. A smile was immediately drawn to your lips, not pretending, because you loved him, and you didn’t have to pretend to be happy to see him.

Because you were. Extremely so.

He handed the beer to Dustin in a quick manner as he started rushing towards you, making your legs work as well, meeting him halfway in order for his arms to open wide as his smile worked all the way up, face lighting up as he sees you, and you just can’t help the extreme happiness that invades you and fills you the moment he wraps his arms around your frame.

His perfume, his scent, the smell of the shampoo of his hair, everything was engulfing you as well as his hands pressing all over your back, while your arms wrapped around his shoulders, your nose digging into the crook of his neck. He chuckles when he feels your breath on his skin, and you are unaware of the shiver that runs through his spine at the feel of it.

He pulled away with a grin on his face, and that’s when he finally took notice of how you had a different hair color, you two had talked through video call two weeks ago, so it was a very recent change. He straightened up to grab hold of one strand as he raised a playful eyebrow up.

“A new style, Kitty?” 

That damn nickname. It stuck to you when Eddie and you had a school show back in middle school, and he was spared from acting, but you were disguised as a black cat. He made fun of you, of course, but that’s what made you two grow close to one another. 

You fought the heat that was rising up on your cheeks as you giggled and looked down to the floor, giving him a short nod.

“Yeah, wanted to try something new.” He gave a nod to you and you raised your head up to look back to his eyes once more. He was looking at you with fondness as if you were the only light in his path at the moment.

“You look beautiful.”

It wasn’t the first time Eddie complimented you, but it wasn’t easier each time he did it. Your heart always leaped at his comments, always raising a little bit of hope inside of you that you didn’t know if it was healthy or not. He was just your best friend, and your fantasies are just that. Fantasies.

“T-Thanks Eds… I hope this whole rockstar career didn’t make you a wuss with alcohol.” You tried to lighten the moment and it worked as he laughed wholeheartedly at you, shaking his head.

“You are not going to beat me at chugging beer. Last time you almost puked!”

“We’ll see.”

You did not win. You just wanted to see him have fun and laugh as the foam of the beer got out of your nose as you choked on the drink. 

It was a nice night, warm, and the buzz of the alcohol was not too great, just enough to feel funny but conscious. It was nice having Eddie here, and you could notice it around the whole group. Dustin couldn’t stop nerding with him about DnD, and Robin was telling him about how she managed to get Chrissy on a date.

You were laughing with Mike as he explained to you how Nancy almost caught him and Will in the closet and you couldn’t help but wince because you still saw these two boys as little teenagers, and it was weird imagining them in this situation. 

But it seems someone was bored.

“Now that we are older, can you PLEASE play Never Have I ever with us!?” Everyone’s gazes turned to the redhead that had the beer in her hand, moving it from side to side and everyone couldn’t help but burst out in laughter because ever since these kids tried alcohol at the age of fifteen, they’ve been trying to play these games with all the grown-ups. 

“Okay, you guys are old enough. I don’t want any ews, or ahs, okay?” Steve replied and Dustin rolled his eyes at him.

“Same goes for you, Steve.”

And yeah, he was right, because it was going to be weird listening to these kids talk about their experiences with all of you. But whatever, Eddie doesn’t come often, might as well have fun with it.

You all sat around, and you were in between Chrissy and Jonathan while Eddie sat at front in between Robin and Dustin. Max cleared her throat, signaling that she was about to start, and all of you tried to stop the giggling at the whole situation.

“I’ll start. Never have I ever… kissed someone of the same sex.” 

Steve, Nancy, Jonathan, Dustin, Lucas, and you didn’t drink. Everyone else did. You knew Eddie had kissed guys before, experimenting. The one that everyone turned to look at though, was Steve.

“Seriously Harrington?” Eddie asked, completely surprised and you snorted into your beer as Steve looked at him with an eyebrow raised.

“What? I never had the curiosity.” Eddie shrugged and took a sip of his beer as Robin came next.

“Okay, okay… Never have I ever… done harder drugs than weed.”

“Low blow Buckley.” Eddie said as he took a sip of his drink, Jonathan followed right behind, making Will look at him with his mouth wide open.

“What!?” Will yelled at his brother, who only laughed as he wiped his mouth.

“My best friend is Argyle, what do you expect?” And Will only rolled his eyes as Mike chuckled and patted his boyfriend’s shoulder to calm him down. You cleared your throat as you knew that Eddie had tried many things thanks to the connections he now has with the famous environment he is in. 

You remember when he once video-called you telling you he felt like shit because he took two lines of coke for the very first time. One would think that an ex-dealer would have tried stronger things, but not Eddie. He never was fond of them, yet, he felt pressured to do so that night.

“Okay, my turn. Never have I ever… puked all over a friend.” And the bastard wiggled his eyebrows your way, and you cussed at him on the low, taking a sip of your drink, as well as Robin with an embarrassed look on her face while Steve winced in disgust.

“Not fair Eddie.” You whined at him and he could only laugh. It was the first time you’d ever gotten drunk, and it took two glasses of fireball and coke for you to barf all over your best friend as he tried to get you out of the party. It was humiliating, yet Eddie held you tight and reassured you that everything was okay.

He took care of you the whole morning afterwards, telling your mom that you crashed at his place because you were tired, even if his place and yours were five minutes away. 

“My turn.” Dustin said with a smug look on his face and Steve took a sharp intake of breath, and you could only groan. “I didn’t even say anything.”

“C’mon Henderson, what do you want to know?” Chrissy laughed as she saw Robin rolling her eyes at her but with a small smile on her lips. Dustin smirked and straightened up.

“Never have I ever slept with anyone in this circle.”

Will and Mike groaned as they took sips of their own drinks, same as Max as she flipped Dustin off and Lucas laughing while shaking his head. Jonathan and Nancy also took sips of their drinks, Steve, as well, Robin and Chrissy…

And you.

Causing everyone to look at you in disbelief.

“What?” Your best friend said with a mocking laugh, thinking you were lying, but another person winced in the circle as Dustin let out a victorious laugh, raising his fist up with a pump.

“I FUCKING KNEW IT!” 

“Dustin.” You groaned as you clenched your eyes tightly and Dustin shook his head, while everyone looked at him.

“No, I was right, and you two fucking lied about it!” He screamed and Eddie was looking back and forth between you and Dustin, not knowing what was going on.

“You two?” Jonathan asked and then, everyone’s eyes turned to one of the single males in the group who had his hand running in his hair with an exasperated sigh.

“Yeah Dustin, we lied.” Steve finally responded. 

Everyone, except for Dustin remained silent as the curly-headed guy let out a scoff with a shake of his head.

“And you thought I wouldn’t figure it out.” He said with a smug look on his face and you couldn’t even look up from embarrassment, but a voice made you snap out to finally make you talk.

“Kitty?” 

Shit.

“When did this happen?” Robin asked in disbelief and you sighed, finally looking up from your glass, trying to not look at your best friend who was piercing his gaze through your skull, making a shiver run down your spine.

“A month ago.” Everyone almost screamed at the confession and you sighed with a roll of your eyes.

“HOW!?” Mike now asked and Steve cleared his throat, a chuckle then escaping his mouth.

“We were drunk… blasted off drunk.” Eddie’s mouth was on the floor right now, and you could see the betrayal that was slowly plastering on his face, making you wince inwardly. You didn’t tell him. You didn’t want to tell him, and now he knew, and you felt the lump of guilt forming inside your throat and guts.

“Wait, was it after the barbeque?” Will asked this time and Dustin chuckled with a nod to his head, making you and Steve glare at him.

“Yep. I forgot my phone, and imagine my surprise when I heard moaning throughout the house and her car was still parked outside.” Everyone except for three people gasped at the situation, making Dustin proud of his discovery. “Steve told me it was another girl while she slept in his parent’s bed.”

“It was believable.” Steve retorted, making you scoff at that.

“It was fucking dumb Steve.” At your response, everyone’s heads snapped at you while Steve looked at you with an offended frown on his eyebrows.

“It wasn’t! He is just too nosy! And let me remind you, you jumped my bones first.” Gasps and whistles were now heard in your circle of friends as your mouth dropped to the floor, looking at Steve with anger in your face.

“I did not! You were the one who started it!” And to be honest, you could hardly remember that night, you were depressed and angry, and Steve was pent up. That’s all it was. 

“Okay, I don’t remember who did, we’ll just say we are both to blame.” Steve raised his cup up towards you with a sheepish smile on his face, making you roll your own, but a smile was on your lips as you raised your cup as well and took a sip from it. 

“Well, that’s something I didn’t know.” You almost choked as you looked towards your best friend after the confession you blurted out. He had a piercing gaze towards your way, a glare, anger behind his eyes with his arms crossed over his chest. The air immediately tensed and you weren’t the only one who felt it. 

Everyone else was looking somewhere else than in between the two of you. You knew you were in the wrong for not telling him anything, but you really didn’t want him to know about it. It was a one-time thing that would never happen again, so you really didn’t see the need to do so.

Steve also noticed the tense air, clearing his throat to talk once more.

“Okay, my turn, right?”

 And the game went on, but not with the same cheery atmosphere as before. You were quiet, and Eddie was angry, passing on his turn whenever he had to say something. You barely included yourself in the game, your mind racing with nervousness and guilt from not telling your best friend you slept with Steve. 

Once everyone finally decided the night was done, you helped Robin and Chrissy try to tidy up Steve’s kitchen the best you could. You didn’t want to face Eddie, the alcohol in your system was long gone thanks to the dread of facing him alone at some point in the week. You were washing the cups as Robin and Chrissy started giggling and you sent them a wink as they rushed out and up the stairs to one of Steve’s rooms.

“So they left you on cleaning duty.” Steve entered the kitchen with empty bottles with a groan as he threw them in the trash. You giggled and shrugged, finishing to wash the last cup.

“They are in their honeymoon phase, let them be.” You turned off the water from the sink as you felt Steve stand next to you with his arms over his chest.

“But chicks stain sheets, and I really don’t want to hear them having sex. Why can’t they go to one of their houses?” You rolled your eyes as you dried your hands with one of the hand towels that was hanging from the oven’s handle. 

“Put some headphones on, suck it up like a man.” You giggled and he followed with a chuckle only for the two of you to be interrupted by a clear of throat and some keys jingling.

“Sorry to interrupt. Let’s go home.” Eddie was leaning against the door frame of the kitchen, swinging his keys around his middle finger with a piercing gaze thrown your way. You looked at him in complete confusion, tilting your head.

“I– I came with my car–” 

“Let’s go home.” It was stern, angry, and fed up. It was a command. He wanted to talk, and you knew that. Your heart hammered in your chest as you sighed, giving Steve a look and he gave you a reassuring nod with a worried frown. 

“You’ll pick up your car tomorrow.” The brown-haired man said as the rockstar rolled his eyes, walking out of the kitchen. You gave Steve one last look before following Eddie out and then towards the front door.

The black matte Jeep Wrangler standing at the front in all of its glory, and it sometimes makes you miss his old van. The one the both of you smoked weed in between school periods, after school, and on the weekends. The one where you laid at the top to star gaze, completely high off your minds. 

You heard a click, snapping you out as you saw him lighting a cigarette while walking, opening the passenger’s door for you, but not waiting for you to get in. He rounded the car to go into the driver’s seat, making you gulp thanks to your nervousness, not knowing where the night was headed. 

You slowly got inside the car, closed the door, and buckled your seatbelt properly, trying to keep your heart out of your throat as it threatened to come out. His eyes were unreadable as they stared forward, making the engine of the car roar as he rolled the window down for the smoke to leave the interior. 

And then, it was quiet. Not even music was on.

He was driving, one hand gripped on the wheel while the other stuck out of the window with the cigarette in between his fingers. You didn’t know where to look or what to do as you played with your fingers on top of your lap, looking out the window. 

What were you supposed to say? Should you wait for him to say something? Or is he waiting for you? Is he waiting for a sign so he can start talking? You don’t understand why the air is so tense between the two of you, it’s not like you murdered someone, it was just–

What–

“Hang on, are you not taking me home?” You asked as you looked at the exit that would take you to your apartment complex. You received no response, making you look at him who was still looking ahead of the road, flicking the cigarette out the window as his other one clenched onto the wheel. 

You knew where he was taking you, back to his apartment in Indianapolis. It wasn’t a long ride, but it was half an hour away, meaning you would have to stay silent for the whole ride, and it was making your gut turn uncomfortably. 

Eddie and you never fought, and you for sure never received this kind of treatment from him. The only time you can remember something like this happened, was back in middle school when you didn’t tell him you had your first kiss with Richard Pax. It was in spin the bottle, and you were embarrassed about it. 

He didn’t talk to you for a whole week until he saw you crying and understood that you were just ashamed of it, and you couldn’t even face Richard for how nervous you were. Eddie apologized to you, and held your hand afterwards, telling you to not consider that your first kiss, that it should be special and one you wanted.

You could feel your phone pinging, and you looked down to see Steve messaging you if you were okay, that Eddie didn’t look happy at all. You sighed as you opened your messages to type a reply back only to get a scoff from your partner inside the car.

“You’re with me right now, at least put the phone down.” Your eyebrows pinched together at that answer, looking at him as anger started rising up inside of you.

“You’re not even talking to me, you have no right to ask anything from me right now.” 

“Mmm.”

The air was now filled with anger, you could feel it because you were the one enraged now. Who did he think he was? Acting pissed just cause you didn’t tell him one thing? You were betting he didn’t tell you many things that he does at the parties he attends or the tours he does with his bands. 

Hypocrite. 

You texted Steve back, aiming the screen away from Eddie’s gaze.

And that’s how the thirty minutes passed by till Eddie finally got the jeep inside the underground parking lot of his building. You unbuckle your seatbelt, stepping out of the car at the same time Eddie did. The doors slamming echoed all over the immense space as Eddie headed towards the elevator, pressing the button to call it down. 

You were angry, nervous, anxious, confused, not understanding why Eddie was acting this way at all. You couldn’t even look at him as the elevator finally reached the floor, and he got in. You hesitated for a few seconds, but it was no use as he held the doors open with his broad hand.

You stepped in, and he pressed his floor, the metal doors closing in front of you. The small space was suffocating you. You could hear his angry and heavy breathing. Maybe you can play it off with a joke or something. Make the air a little lighter, trying to make the tense moment go away, but the distant look in his eyes made you think twice about that. 

You were fidgeting in your place with your purse in your hands. The elevator kept going up until it reached the penthouse at the top. It was over the top, but someone who didn’t have anything growing up, wants the best of the best when he has the opportunity to do so. So Eddie wanted the best of the building of course.

The elevator doors opened and he walked out first, walking towards the double doors of his home, typing in the password in his security lock. You heard the beeping of the numbers being punched in, and you groaned, walking out of the elevator as he opened the front door of his home.

You walked in right after him, taking in the scent of his cologne as he walked further in. You closed the door behind you and it automatically locked in place. It wasn’t that big of a penthouse, not really, and he filled it with his own stuff, his mugs, his records, his guitars. It was Eddie, even if it’s not the trailer back at Hawkins.

You waited for him to talk, only to see him walking away towards the hallway, going towards his bedroom, making you frown in anger. You followed him, stomping next to the couch where you dropped your purse, not caring for it anymore.

He was in front of his king-sized bed with black covers, taking his jacket off, not giving you a second glance. You clenched your jaw at how immature he was, all because you didn’t tell him one thing in your life. Just one.

“Are you gonna talk to me now, or are you going to keep being a little child?” His mouth dropped at your words as if he couldn’t believe you were talking to him that way. He slowly looked up at you, standing in the doorway of his room with your arms crossed over your chest.

“Me? Why don’t you talk sweetheart? Why didn’t you tell me about you and Stevie?” And your anger started bubbling up again. 

“Why does it matter!? I was drunk! And it was a while ago!” You answered as you waved your arms around in exclamation. 

“It matters cause you are my best friend, and you didn’t tell me you slept with one of our friends! It’s important shit!” Okay, you could see a little bit as to why he would be mad at you. The difference as to why you would not get mad at him for not telling you stuff like this, was because you would end up hurt if he did.

But he doesn’t end up hurt, because he doesn’t feel the same as you do.

“Eddie–”

“And with Steve! Why the fuck did it have to be him!?” Now this part, you didn’t understand.

“Why does it matter if it was with Steve?” He was pacing now, and you couldn’t help but feel confused by his attitude. Why is he so agitated over this? You didn’t tell him you slept with Steve, while drunk off your mind, big deal. He let out a scoff as his hands ran through his face, completely pissed, his nose flaring as he breathed heavily.

“Fuck Kitty, it’s not fucking fair!” You could see his hands shaking as he grunted at each step, and you were now worried. Did you do something you didn’t have to do? Was there something you didn’t know about Eddie and Steve? Some kind of pact or something of the sort? Did you mess up the friendship?

“What’s not fair!? Eddie, you are not making any fucking sense, and–” Your words were cut off as two strong hands held onto your cheeks, and your best friend’s face was inches away from you as he talked through his teeth.

“It is not fair he got to have you like that. It is not fair he had the chance of having you first. It is not fair he got what I’ve been wanting, for fucking years.”

And your words were knocked out of your lungs, as well as your air. 

There was no way he said that.

Because why would he?

But he just did, didn’t he? You weren’t deaf, you heard it–

“What?” Your voice was so small, and Eddie noticed, wincing slightly as he pulled away from you, letting go of your face and you immediately realized you spoke, and that he might have taken it as rejection but– what is going on?

You were frozen in your place, looking at how he backed away, running his hands all over his face as he started pacing back and forth, not even glancing at you as he took a few breaths in. You on the other hand, felt your heart in your throat, beating constantly, furiously, feeling as if you were going to pop a vein here and there for how strong you felt the pumping of your own blood course through your whole body.

You saw how he started to slow down his pacing, standing in one place, a meter or two away from you, and his eyes found yours. You could feel fear, sadness, and embarrassment in those eyes, all in one place, in those irises. 

“I– I really didn’t want to do this… this way…” He scoffed at his own words and shook his head with a fake chuckle on his lips. “Fuck, I didn’t even know I was ever going to do this.”

You were just speechless, feeling your eyes burning because it all led to what is obvious… But he never showed it in his life, so you don’t understand, it is not processing in your head as it should.

“Do… what?” It was a choked whisper, the best one you could master at this moment because your throat was just closed up, non-working. Your brain was a jumbled mess as it tried to put a puzzle together that you never thought was there to begin with.

His eyes darted towards you and then out the window as he licked his lips, thinking about his next words carefully. 

“You– You are my best friend… The fear of losing you is greater than any other feeling I hold inside.” He was struggling, you noticed the nervousness, the twitching of the tip of his fingers as he scratched his cheek.

“You won’t–”

“You can’t say I won’t lose you. I say these three words, and I won’t be able to go back, and you won’t be able to either. I’ve been holding them back for ten years, I can keep going if it means I get to keep you.” 

Three words. Three. Are those the same three words you hold dear? Those three words you’ve been fighting against for so many years? Three simple words but yet that can cause so much pain if you don’t receive them back? 

Could it be? 

Your mouth opened and closed, and you felt a tear rolling down your cheek, it was inevitable, and you saw how Eddie’s shoulder slumped down, his eyebrows knitting together in the middle in a frown. Sadness.

You had to speak. You have to fight the thrumming of your heart and the warning signs your brain is throwing your way to stop you. But Eddie and you already share one feeling. Fear. So what if there are other feelings you both share? Equal feelings?

“S-Say those words…” You pushed, you needed to make sure, you needed to hear them, you needed that happiness you never thought you would get with him. He shook his head once and twice, biting the inside of his cheek.

“No. I won’t. I can’t lose you Kitty… I can’t.” Your heart was ablaze because of nerves, of impatience, and of hope. You took a shaky breath in, your fist clenching and unclenching in order to hold back your own words.

“I– Please say them…” And as Eddie looked at you, you could see how his features softened and relaxed into a surprised expression, as if looking at you let him solve a riddle in his head. His adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he looked at you, swallowing, and you felt your bottom lip trembling, your eyes burning, your body almost shaking with anticipation.

You saw how his chest moved up and down in a quick manner, giving away how heavy his breathing turned. Your eyes were connected to his, trying to let him know, trying to make him have that courage to make the first step you are not confident enough to take. And then his shoulders relaxed, his features doing the exact same, and as he looked at you with glossy eyes, he opened his mouth to finally take the leap.

“I love you.” 

Silence overtook the two of you as the words sank. He loves you, and not as a friend. He loves you as a woman. He loves you as a partner. He loves you as much as you love him. He loves you. He loves you.

A sob ripped from your chest and you slammed your hand on your mouth, feeling new tears streaming down your face, but a smile was hiding behind your palm as you choked on another sob. Eddie’s face turned into a worried one as he took a step towards you, his hands ready to reach out for you and then you started giggling.

You couldn’t believe this. Were you that blind? Were you this stupid? Or maybe it was the two of you? Why were you the only one to blame when he also held these feelings for so long? You’re best friends for a reason, and this is the greatest example of it all. Pining for eachother since teenagers, evolving into love, and never giving any hints of it to one another. Not even flirty compliments, or insinuations.

You couldn’t help yourself as you kept giggling, eyes closed as one hand was over your mouth while the other gripped your stomach. Eddie was absolutely worried now, thinking you were losing your mind. All these years, you two could have done something about your feelings, but your insecurities fucked up your brains because, if it hadn’t, maybe one of you would have noticed something.

“This is so fucking stupid!” You yelled out loud, still laughing and Eddie only frowned as he straightened up, his arms crossing over his chest.

“Nice to know my love for you is stupid.” That made you stop laughing, only to look at his pissed-off frown and for you to burst into laughter again. The tears never stopped coming down, feeling your heart flying into the sky as you also felt the need to bang your head against a wall, repeatedly.

“I– I promise it’s not that!” You were trying to calm down, taking deep breaths in and out as you kept watching him. He wasn’t laughing, just staring at you with a hint of sadness, anger, and confusion. All together, which only prompted you to snort, another laugh threatening to come out. You raised your hand up to stop Eddie from lashing out. “Sorry!”

“Sorry? I confess my love to you and you laugh in my face. Do you even know how hurtful and disrespectful that is?” You could feel his words holding some truth, but you knew he was also finding the situation kind of comical. You waved your hands in front of you, small giggles escaping you still.

“You don’t understand, I can’t believe we are this stupid.” You snorted at the word and Eddie’s arms uncrossed, tilting his head to the side in wonder, an eyebrow raised up in question.

“Why are we stupid?” And you couldn’t help but start laughing again as new tears rolled down your cheeks, happiness just exploding from every part of your body.

“I mean, we were in love with eachother all these years, and we never knew? We really are fucking stupid Eds!” Your giggles stopped after those words came out of your mouth. Your eyes slowly found his as a ringing in your ears started being really loud, almost hurting you. His eyes were wide, incredulous, his arms dangling on the sides of his body.

“You– You’re in love with me?” His mouth was agape, staring at you with a perplexed expression as you felt your heart about to combust, only for him to start cracking up as well, slamming his hands over his face, his laughter bouncing on every wall of the room, and you couldn’t help but join him in it.

You both now know you are idiots, absolute fucking morons and you cannot believe you wasted all this time being only friends when you could have been more. The feelings were one and the same. The jealousy. The anger. The hopelessness. The yearning. The happiness. The need. The love. 

He let his hands drop from his face, a last shake of his head as he looked back at you. Your giggles slowly stopped, and you wiped the tears away from your eyes. This was real now. This was happening for you, for him, for your future. He took a step forward and the nerves were back all together. 

“Can’t believe we didn’t see it at all… I– honestly didn’t think I would ever have a chance after you signed that contract Eds…” You averted your gaze towards the floor as you took various breaths in, trying to control yourself again, center your mind back into reality, and push the shock away. He sighed at that, shaking his head once more even if you didn’t see him.

“I never thought I had a chance. I just thought and still think you are way too good for me sweetheart…” He cleared his throat as you frowned at that and looked up at him to hear him better. “I honestly… I had a bit of hope when I signed the contract. I thought I would finally be– good for you.” 

Your heart stopped and sunk into a deep sea, going to the darkest bits. Eddie felt that way with you? That he wasn’t good enough for you? That he had to be someone else in order to feel that he had a chance with you?

“Ed–Eddie, I didn’t care for that… I still don’t– I thought that you were the one out of reach… I– What chance would I have had with a rockstar that–” You didn’t want to finish that phrase. It was too embarrassing, but how could you not? How could you not compare yourself to all the women Eddie had after signing that contract? The models, the singers, the influencers… It was impossible not to do so.

He seemed to realize the doubt on your face because his features softened as he took a step closer to you, the tips of your shoes touching as he stood right before you. He scratched his cheek as he tried to find the next words.

“Well… we aren’t out of reach anymore… are we?” And your eyes found his, your heart in your throat as he licked his lips and you knew what was supposed to happen now. But–

“What if it’s weird?” He blinked two times before tilting his head and you wanted to drown in embarrassment.

“What would be weird?” His voice was a tone lower than before and it made you tremble a little, goosebumps rising on your skin.

“Well– We know eachother since we were ten… What if you find it weird to kiss me?” And it almost looked like Eddie could not believe what you were saying. 

“Sweetheart… I’ve been dying to kiss you since I can even remember.” You couldn’t help but feel your cheeks burn up, looking down with a small smile on your face. He bit his bottom lip and cleared his throat, making you look up at him once more. “We’ll just see where it goes, how about that?”

You were afraid of that because what if it really happened that he would back out cause he felt it too weird for him? Or what if you weren’t of his expectations? What if you let him down? But you would never know unless– 

“Okay…” The word ‘nervous’ runs a little short of what you were feeling. You had your own expectations of this moment, but you knew he would fill every single one of them and exceed them. Now for you? You weren’t so sure. 

“Trust me Kitty…” He gave you a nervous, yet charming smile as he finally invaded your space and leaned. You closed your eyes and waited, feeling your whole body about to collapse. You expected his lips on your lips, but you felt them on your cheek. You opened your eyes with confusion plastered in them to see Eddie grinning.

“Eds…?”

“Weird?” You giggled at that, feeling your nerves slowly leaving you.

“Nope.” He smiled as he guided his lips towards your other cheek, placing another kiss there. You two have shared kisses on the face before. Cheeks, foreheads, nose… All innocent, and now, the kisses had a completely different meaning.

“How about that?” You rolled your eyes at him and shook your head, and your heart was already thrumming with impatience instead of nerves. His smile faltered a bit but it never left as he finally leaned towards your lips. You took a deep breath in, closing your eyes at the same time he closed his. 

And finally, your lips touched for the very first time.

It was small, nervous, testing, but it still sent an electric shock down both of your bodies. Simultaneously. Your lips fit perfectly against his, and it felt right. It felt so right. He pulled away too soon, but his lips hovered over yours as he opened his eyes to look at you. You looked at him through your lashes.

“Not weird…” You mumbled and he only hummed, his own heart exploding. He tilted his head to the other side and pressed his lips against yours again, this time a little firmer than before. You felt your body craving to wrap itself around him, but you two were testing this new development. You had to be patient, but from the looks of it, it seemed Eddie was also enjoying it like you were.

And there was no lie in that because Eddie felt like he was combusting from how much he felt his body flush. He felt sweat on his fingertips and he just wanted to hold you in his arms, but just like yourself, he needed your green light. He slowly pulled away from that peck, a soft smack being heard in the room as you two looked at eachother again.

“Weird?” He asked in a whisper, and you shook your head desperately as you felt your eyes becoming glossy with need as you looked at him. 

And he dove in. This kiss was harder, deeper, and his hands finally reached out to hold your waist, pulling you closer, and you responded by raising your arms in order to wrap them around his neck, flushing your chest against his, and finally, your lips moved against eachother’s, and it felt magical. 

It felt like that puzzle piece you thought you would never find, but it was hidden in a very small corner, underneath a carpet. His arms wrapped around you, one palm on the small of your back and the other right in the middle. You felt how hot your body was getting but you couldn’t stop yourself, needing more and more from him.

He deepened the kiss even more, pressing you into him, wanting to feel more of you. Your heads moved from side to side, and he was going to be greedy and ask for more. His tongue darted out to lick your bottom lip, making your heart jump and a small gasp escaped your throat, but you opened your mouth to welcome him in.

And you two sighed in pleasure as your tongues clashed together, having a taste of eachother for the first time. You tasted like strawberries and beer thanks to your lipgloss, mints, and the alcohol you two had earlier in the night. He tasted like you always imagined he would. Tobacco, and this kind of minty taste that must be from the flavor sphere inside the filters of his cigarettes. Beer was also mixed in, and one of your hands couldn’t help but scratch the back of his neck for more grip, making him groan into the kiss.

You were surprised by the noise, but a moan escaped your mouth and into his as your breasts rubbed against his chest and his tongue danced with yours. You felt yourself sweating with anticipation, the track of time disappearing as you two melted more and more into eachother, but air was soon needed and you two broke apart, panting onto one another’s lips. His eyes were staring into yours and he gulped as he spoke again.

“Told you. Not weird.” He sounded breathless, and you could feel his heart thrumming in his chest, in fact, you didn’t even know if it was yours. You chased his lips and gave him a soft peck, your eyes half-lidded in bliss. He gave you a cheeky smile as he talked in a low voice. “Already can’t get enough of me Kitty?”

You were flustered, burning, but you wanted to show him how much you wanted him. So you kissed him again, deep, long, and slow. It was loving and filled with the emotions you wanted to shower him with for the past ten years. You pulled away with a small smile on your face as he stared at you, a little taken aback.

“Never going to get enough of you.” And you could see your best friend, this insane rockstar, blushing a deep red on his cheeks and you couldn’t help but giggle. “You’re red!”

His cheeks lose the color, just slightly, and his eyes squint at you, annoyance displayed in his features. Your smile fell down and before you could even speak, he bent down slightly in order to hook his arm around your waist and throw you over his shoulder as he stood up again. You screamed at that movement, your legs flailing a little bit as he walked towards his room.

“Cocky little shit.” He chuckled and in just one minute you were facing the floor, the other you were facing the ceiling as his mattress hit your back, making you bounce slightly. You felt butterflies flying all around inside your stomach as you raised yourself on your elbows in order to look at him.

His eyes were dark as he scanned your body, the dress you were wearing hitched up a bit on the middle of your thighs and before you could say anything, he leaned forward to help you take your sandals off. His fingers grazed your ankles and a shiver ran from your calf to the top of your head. You saw how he took each boot off with the help of the tips on the heels. He looked at you and then finally got on the bed, crawling on all fours on top of you, prompting you to lean back onto the bed.

Your breathing was fast as you looked up at him. Those brown eyes that have been with you since kids, and now, those eyes were looking at you with hunger, but was it really new? He leaned his body down, a bit closer, still not wanting to press his chest nor hips against yours.

“Kitty… We don’t have to do anything–” And you cut him off there with a shake of your head. He might have gotten the wrong idea because of your possible shocked facial expression.

“No, no… I– I want to…” He tilted his head with doubt as he inspected your face which only became hotter and hotter at the intense stare.

“You don’t sound too sure. We don’t have to do this now–”

“Eddie, I want to… God, I want to– I mean, have you seen you? I have a hidden maxi-size poster of your half-naked rolling stone cover just because your pelvis showed…” He snorted at your bluntness but seriously, it was the hottest you’ve seen Eddie look. The V shape with the happy trail going downwards, just where the edge of the cover ended was enough to make you have so many fantasies in the lapse of a minute.

“Alright. Good to know… So, is it just nerves? Cause, I am nervous too… I mean, it’s you… I built this up in my head a thousand times and it’s finally here and honestly? I am kind of afraid of busting in my pants.” You giggled at that, wholeheartedly too and he just kept smiling at you, brushing some hair off your face. You stopped laughing and gulped as shame crept all over your body.

You can trust him. It’s Eddie, and he loves you… He will understand you, there’s no need to be scared. The nervousness and anxiety of laying yourself out there to him didn’t calm itself down though, but you had to reassure him that it wasn’t him at all, nor the fear of it being weird.

“I– I just… do you mind… having the lights off?”

And that seemed to throw Eddie back. His eyebrows came to the middle in a confused frown as he looked down at you, trying to understand you. You looked away from him and you felt your eyes glossing over as more embarrassment came over your body.

“Kitty, I– Why do you want them off?” He will respect you, always, but he wants the answer out of your lips to make sure he hadn’t done anything to make you think he didn’t think you were at least pretty, but he always complimented you. Obviously, friendly compliments, not telling you the actual amount of things he wanted to say to you.

“Um… I– Well… um… I am different from all the– flings you had in the past two years…” You couldn’t look at him. You sounded so stupid, so little, but you had to be honest with him. You don’t want to have a terrified look on your face just because you pushed yourself to do it with the lights on. Eddie blinked a few times, his head shaking softly.

“Come again?” You cleared your throat, feeling as if it were closing up slowly. You have no smooth skin or toned body.

Adiposities, cellulite, stretchmarks, stretched skin, textured in every place you could look at. 

“I’m… nothing like those girls– those bodies, I don’t–” You didn’t want him to look at your body. You aren’t insecure, not always… but you know who Eddie slept with, and the insecurity with him is on another kind of level.

Eddie was stunned as he looked down at you. You compared yourself… and maybe all this time you had been doing so, and he never noticed. Were you hurting in some kind of way? Was he the reason you weren’t confident enough to talk to him about your feelings towards him? 

You gulped as you looked at him when you didn’t receive any answer. He seemed concerned, deep in thought, and you wondered if you had already driven him away with just your mere words. You opened your mouth to talk but he was faster.

“You think you are inferior to them?” His eyes were filled with confusion and some type of sadness, making you frown with worry, but he kept talking before you could even ask. “Sweetheart… Kitty, oh my god…”

You blinked a few times, trying to understand his facial expressions that were changing every second. From angry, to confused, to incredulous, to sad… you weren’t understanding what was going through his head.

“What is it?”

“What is it? Fuck… I don’t want to be blunt, but I feel like if I’m not you won’t understand one single bit of what’s going on in my head so…” He cleared his throat as a blush spread on his cheeks while looking down at you. “You have no idea how many times I popped a boner with you.”

That was not something you expected to hear, not right now, and certainly not from him.

“What?” He groaned followed by a sigh as he kept hovering over your body. You could feel the heat of his body radiating towards yours, and you could feel your blood rushing to your face, or probably your head.

“What I said. I popped a boner many times, even when we were at your house watching Sleepaway Camp and you had those pajamas on that had kittens all over… I covered my crotch with a pillow.” He chuckled to hide his nervousness but your mind was still trying to work out what he was saying.

“I– Pajamas?” He looked into your eyes and he gave you one slow nod.

“And don’t let me get started on the pool parties. One piece, two piece… Even when you didn’t even take anything off, and fuck– This sundress? I had to tuck myself when a little bit of wind helped me see the back of your thighs… Just the back of your thighs darling!” He was exasperated now, his eyes wild as he rambled but your mind had shut off.

You? You got him worked up? Today? And before? Even when in the most clothed situations? He looked your way? 

“Really…?” Your voice came out smaller than what you intended but you couldn’t help it. You were feeling emotional, this revelation trying to sit in your brain as it tried to push the possibility of Eddie actually being attracted to you after the women he’s been with away. His eyes softened and he moved a hand towards your cheek to caress it in a soft manner.

“Really. You drive me absolutely insane…” His eyes turned slightly darker and you noticed the air around the two of you change, shift into something that made you feel a little light-headed. “Will you let me show you just how insane you make me?”

And your body went limp at his question, a hunger in the eyes of your best friend that you never thought would ever be directed to you. 

But maybe those eyes were always there, just not when you were looking. Glances he stole at you at prom after picking you up himself and going together. His eyes scanning your body when you appeared in a long shimmery dress for one of his first award shows, something that made people speculate you two were dating, but then the paparazzis did their job to dismiss that. 

Feelings mixed with pure desire and lust that felt wrong to even experience. He watched you become a woman right before his own eyes, growing up together, graduating together after two failed attempts on Eddie’s part, and even with the different future paths, you a veterinarian and he a rockstar, you never lost touch.

But now… now there is no need to feel guilt. No restraints because the line was already crossed.

So you gave him a slow nod despite the nervous look on your face. Is there a possibility for Eddie to want you just as much as he says he does? More than Megan Fox? Than that chick from that rock band that opened his shows and that is exactly like him and a better match? How is there even a chance?

Your thoughts came to a halt as you felt his face lowering in order to take your lips with his, your mind short circuiting as the kiss wasn’t shy at all like the previous one. It was instantly deep, passionate, and desperate. Teeth almost knocking with eachother as your heads moved from side to side, your arms wrapping around his shoulders wanting to feel him closer.

He chuckled into the kiss, and he pulled away with a soft smack of the lips, a confused whimper escaping your lips to then gasping when his head ducked even further and his kiss was now on your neck, on your pulse point. 

“You have no idea how much I have wanted to mark you. All the guys that flirted with you, or were your hookups… I just wanted to mark your neck so that they would back off.” He mumbled on your neck and your eyes widened at that, your thighs rubbing against eachother below him for some friction.

And you would be lying if you didn’t think of doing the same. The roaring of the word ‘MINE’ whenever a girl got close to Eddie back in school was insanely big inside your head. But as the years went by, that voice only got softer, slower, until he told you the first fling he had after the contract was signed. That voice said a few last words before disappearing, ‘Maybe he is not mine, and never will be.’.

But now– It’s back, and stronger than ever.

“Then mark me Eds… But–” And it was risky, but you wanted it, you needed it, you needed everyone, absolutely everyone to know he is yours. “Only if you let me mark you back.”

And his kisses stopped, surprised by your boldness, the jeans straining a little more to the point of it being almost painful. Is he going to get yelled at by Joyce and Wayne? His two managers? Most likely. Does he care? Not a fucking chance. Not now, not ever. A smile formed on his lips as he mumbled against your skin.

“Deal.” And his lips pressed again against your pulse point. You were afraid of your sounds, but a moan almost got out when his lips pressed pecks until you felt him sucking on your skin. He was going to make sure to brand you as his. For real. His breath was heavy as he inhaled with his nose, loving the taste of you and how your nails dug into his nape and the other pair onto his shoulder.

He repeated it, three times to be exact, leaving you with deep red marks that went downwards a bit. He pulled away to look at his art, a smile on his lips as he saw how dazed you already looked as you tried to level your breathing back to a normal pace. You looked beautiful like this, and he was opening his mouth in order to ask if you were ready to keep going, but you broke silence first with a giggle.

“It tickled.” His heart only clenched a bit more at you, thinking that you couldn’t look cuter, or more endearing than you were now, but you always surprise him, don’t you? He smirked as he leaned forward, nose touching with yours, making your giggles stop completely.

“Can you stop being adorable for a second? I’m trying to be sexy here.” You really didn’t know if you had a face anymore because you just felt it combust in flames. He chuckled at watching your expression, even if his own matched with yours. “Can I keep going?”

You gulped and slowly nodded, but his eyes started tracing your neck and going downwards. You wondered what was going on and then they finally landed on your sundress. His hand raised to press against your waist and his eyes met with yours once more, pupils completely dilated with desire.

“Eddie?”

“Kitty… Can we keep the lights on?” Your heart stopped at that, your hands clenching on his shoulders and you felt your whole body break into a cold nervous sweat.

“I– I thought we were still going to keep the lights off–” And he shook his head, his eyes looking down towards the top of your sundress, a feral side of him coming to light and that he never thought he wouldn’t be able to control it when it came to you.

“We’ll do whatever you want but– Baby, I want to see the body I’ve been craving all these years. I want to see every detail, even a freckle I might have missed, or a mole in a place that I never thought I would see before…” You saw how his eyes traveled all over your body, the hand on your waist giving a press every now and then when his eyes landed at particular places.

You could feel it, even in the midst of your anxiety, that desire that wants to eat you alive, inch by inch, and your own need grows from it. His eyes are not lying, his body language is not lying, his touches, his words, his overall energy, are not lying to you. He wants you. Eddie wants you and has always wanted you. 

And that brings you an ounce of confidence. Even if small, it was enough to take the first step–

“Okay…” And his eyes snapped back towards yours, his uneasiness overlapping with his excitement.

“No– No, we don’t have to do something you don’t feel comfortable with because of my selfishness sweetheart–” 

“You– You promised you would show me…” And if you didn’t do the lights now, they would be on at some other point, wouldn’t they? You just had to rip the bandaid off. His head started turning, trying to see which was the best way to show you his true feelings, and he decided on a different approach than what he thought would be the most appropriate one.

He got a knee between yours, nudging on them. You looked down in surprise but followed the queue and parted your left leg away, very slowly, afraid of the sundress driving up even more than before. His eyes weren’t leaving your face though, needing to see your reaction as he pressed his knee against your right leg as well.

Your heart rate picked up, and the butterflies in your belly probably ate your stomach up at this point. You swallowed your nerves as you parted your right leg as well, and he was finally able to get his knees between your legs. He took a sharp courageous breath, letting a nervous sigh out, and pressed his hips against yours. 

You gasped and an electric current shot from your core to every single end nerve of your body. His bulge was harshly pressed against your center, and he groaned at finally having some friction against the strain. He was hard. He was rock hard for you.

His lips found yours in a soft peck, only to then kiss the corner of your mouth as he rolled his hips against yours and for the first time in the night, a little moan escaped your lips. The press was delicious on your clit, but it only was building your need for him, slowly, clouding your mind, your sight, your thoughts.

He groaned onto your skin, almost a growl, as his kisses traveled further into the crook of your neck. His hips kept rolling, getting a little lost in it all, drunkenness from finally having you hitting him at full blast. He sucked on places he hadn't before and he nibbled on the soft skin, making another moan escape you which only makes him twitch.

“You are the only one I’ve ever truly wanted… In every single possible way, you can imagine.” It was a low mumble, but it was enough for you to be able to hear it and for your arms to wrap around him, nails digging into his back, grabbing onto the black shirt, pulling on it at every roll of his lower half. 

He pulled away from your neck and raised himself on his knees, making your arms fall back down onto the mattress. He crossed his arms, reaching for the hem of his shirt and immediately ripping it away and throwing it across the room.

Your eyes widened when you saw his torso, his belly, the happy trail you have fantasized about so many times with, after that stupid magazine cover. His chest, which only had that skull and spider back in high school, was now littered with many random pieces, as well as his arms, even his hands. 

He was gorgeous, perfect, and has always been to your eyes, but now he is not only that but shining as if he were polished gold. Your eyes were all over his belly button and the V shape on his hips, not noticing the eyes that were looking at you with a smirk on his lips. Your eyes went downwards to the bulge on his pants and your eyes widened as you propped yourself up on your elbows to look at it better.

“Holy shit, I thought you were bluffing Eddie!” It wasn’t exactly a bulge… His dick was so hard that you could see the outline of his length as it pressed sideways against the restrictive pants. And–

“Whenever I said I was big, I meant it, and I also repeated it so many times to see if you showed any interest!” He almost yelled in a high-pitched voice which only made you giggle only to stop when you noticed his eyes scanning your every inch, making you gulp loudly. His hand reached down, fingers playing with the hem of your dress.

You two had seen eachother’s upper bodies, but in completely different situations. This wasn’t some nice summer’s day at a pool. He will see everything, and he wants to properly scan you, touch you, feel you. But– Fuck, the images of all those women pop in your head again, comparing yourself to them, their bodies, their futures, their ambitions, and their wealth. 

You close your eyes tightly, waiting for the tug of the shirt in order to help him by lifting your upper body from the mattress, but his fingers let go of the dress, and that warm touch suddenly appears on your cheek. You opened your eyes to meet his. He was giving you a small reassured smile as he looked down at your face, pupils that gave you safety and filled you with warmth.

You noticed his fingers were slightly trembling and you realized that Eddie was just as nervous as you were. He leaned down to press a soft kiss on your lips, making you moan in delight at feeling him this close once more. He chuckled in between and pulled away moments after in order to talk again.

“I compared myself with Steve today.” And your eyebrows raised at that in surprise. 

“What? Why?” He couldn’t help but scoff at your question and he kneeled back up in between your legs, letting you prop yourself up on your elbows. He motioned all over himself and then looked back at you as if it were obvious.

“I am not exactly like him, baby. Steve has no tattoos, wears sunshine clothes, rich boy clothes, listens to pop music, and is a tidy guy… I am nothing like that sweetheart.” You were shocked at those words… Eddie? With who he is now, doubting himself?

“B-But… you– you didn’t have to worry–”

“I know that now… so let me show you just how much you don’t have to worry either. Please…” He was looking down at your face, waiting for a response. Your heart soared into the sky at those words, and despite your nervousness, there was a side of you that trusted Eddie blindly, and it was whispering to you that you should let him. Let him show you what he means by all of that.

So you slowly sit up and cross your arms in order to grab the hem of your dress and before you could say anything or stop, you yanked it upwards, throwing it to the side. Your eyes were not looking at him, not wanting to see the reaction to your body. A body he is not used to having anymore. It’s not firm, or perky, or smooth, markless, spotless. It’s full of those.

Instead, you felt fingers on your chin that made you lift your head up so you could look at Eddie once more. He was smiling softly as he leaned and kissed you, softly and gently. You felt yourself being lowered again, back hitting against the mattress, while one of his hands pressed onto your waist and the other helped with the leverage of moving you down.

His lips broke apart from yours and your body was burning from the small interaction only for a cold sweat to invade you as you saw him straighten up again and his eyes locked on your body. The visible part of your breasts above the cups of your bra, your shoulders, your tummy, your hips, and you needed to cover your body, or at least your face to not see his reaction.

But your eyes caught onto the twitch of pain in his eyebrows as he groaned softly into his throat. You could see his jaw clench, and a vein in his neck popping out slightly as he swallowed hard. 

“Eds–?”

“I’m sorry– I can’t hold myself back, I’m sorry.” And his hand quickly went to his jeans, unbuttoning them and zipping them down, a sigh of relief coming out and then, with an almost animalistic growl, he lunged back down on you, his lips taking yours in a ravishing kiss. Hot, rough, deep, moving at a quick desperate pace. You were thrown off at the intensity but quickly reciprocated as the butterflies in your belly exploded in retaliation.

His kiss only made the fire worse and you wrapped your arms around his neck to have something to hold on to as you raised your hips up to meet his, needing some kind of friction. You moaned into the kiss when his bulge rubbed against your clothed pussy. He grunted and bit your bottom lip gently as if to reprimand you for the action. 

His lips traveled south and you expected them back on your neck, but they kept moving, kissing on your collarbone, and then the top of one of your breasts. You gasped and arched your back slightly as his hips kept rutting against yours, slow but still very needy. His lips went to your other breast only to then continue down, kissing your chest and downwards to your tummy, his hips leaving yours as he moved down, sending shivers all over your body and you could feel the goosebumps rising up on your skin.

His hands were now gripping your hips, fingers digging on your skin, dipping into it as if he were clawing into something to keep himself centered. His lips traveled all over your tummy, and your waist, groans leaving his mouth as he bit onto your side, a nibble, causing you to jump. He was being so… needy, and desperate, something you never experienced before. 

He moved upwards again, his lips not leaving your skin, but his body moving up again as one hand traveled all the way towards your back, making you arch it upwards a little bit. You felt his fingers play with the clasp of your bra and he kept kissing over the cups of it, making you mewl a little as you felt yourself clench in anticipation.

“Eddie–”

“Please, let me see more… Please, sweetheart?” His eyes were cloudy in the darkness of lust as he raised his head up, chin resting on your chest with his mouth hanging slightly open. You gulped a bit but you felt a certain power in you that you didn’t think you would feel with him. Some kind of confidence rises up inside your chest. 

“Yeah…” You fully arch your back so he can have more movement to snap your bra open in one movement. You lay back down once he takes his hand out and immediately it grabs onto the strap of your left shoulder to push it down, surprising you by how quickly he was moving, as if he weren’t thinking anymore, just acting.

He makes a cup move out of the way, revealing your perked-up nipple, making you flush a bit in embarrassment but also in arousal, as you feel the cold air hit it a bit. You can’t even think far enough that his lips circle around it, your nipple being sucked into his mouth as his tongue presses on it. His hand was roughly grabbing onto your breast to keep it still and you squirmed beneath him as pleasure filled your senses.

You let a moan out when his teeth grazed the tip of your nipple, and his own satisfaction showed when a groan got stuck in his throat. His hips started moving against you again, the shape of his dick rubbing deliciously against your heat, over and over, destroying your underwear each second it passed but you couldn’t care less. 

With a ‘pop’ he let go of your left nipple in order to raise up and rip your bra off your body finally. Now, without the elastics of your bra, you know your breasts are not in perfect shape, gravity, changes of weight, and the years doing their job with your skin. The stretch marks pronounced around the nipple area, which made you a little self-conscious only for that thought to be thrown out the window when Eddie talked once more, almost in a whine.

“The most perfect pair of tits I’ve ever seen baby, so fucking perfect, jesus christ…” You felt a wave of embarrassment at the dirty talking. You will have to get used to how it makes you feel coming from your best friend’s mouth. But he sounded so delighted as if he were drunk, staring at them, back and forth, trying to decide if he should go for the other neglected nipple but then his eyes hit your surprised ones, and you see how they widen in realization.

“A– Are they?” And he covered his face with one hand to cover up his reddened cheeks. 

“I uh… Yeah, I just– Fuck, I said that out loud, didn’t I?” And you couldn’t help but giggle, making your breasts jiggle a bit at your laughter, his eyes flickering to them instinctively. 

“Well, glad to know that…” And you honestly were. No one has ever looked at you the way Eddie was doing right now, so desperately, wanting to ravish you but waiting for you to give him the green light to do so. The fire inside of you and all over your body needed to be extinguished, and you also had to show him how eager you were for him, your own patience after ten long years wearing thin.

You sat up, looking up at him as your fingers hooked on his boxers and jeans. He licked his lips nervously, his eyes scanning your face as he gulped harshly, his hands moving to go over yours and help you drag down his clothes. 

Your head slowly moved downwards when you felt his bulge forbidding you to move the boxers even lower, prompting you to stretch the elastic even more and your eyes widened when you finally saw him. His cock slaps against his belly, and your face must be one of awe because Eddie had to clear his throat to center you back to reality.

“Um, you okay there?” He tried to say it with a hint of comedy, humor, but he was nervous, just so fucking nervous. 

You two know eachother since kids, and even with that thought in mind, it doesn’t feel weird to be right here with you like this, knowing what the two of you were about to do. But maybe you don’t think the same. Now seeing him completely naked might make you rethink what the two of you were doing, thinking about the past, about what–

He hissed in surprise when he felt your hand over his shaft, your thumb pressing onto his red leaking tip, causing him to lock eyes with you again. You were smiling up at him, an innocent little grin that stirred the lust inside of him and renewed it. He was big in your hand, that you were slowly moving, lazily, feeling the warmth of it on your palm. 

You wanted to dart your tongue out, feeling like being a little filthy, show him how eager and needy of him you were. You were looking at the tip, your eyes clouded with desire, and your mouth started to open, only for Eddie’s hand to press on your cheek to make you look up at him.

“As much as I would love for you to make one of my many wet dreams about you come true, I don’t want to lose the small bit of dignity I have left.” You tilted your head in confusion at that only to be pushed back onto the mattress, making you bounce on it, opening your eyes after you gasped to see Eddie taking off his clothes, and almost falling off the edge of the bed in the action, making you snort, covering your mouth after he sent a glare your way.

“I’m sorry Eds, but– I think you just lost that dignity you mentioned.” You giggled and he growled as he crawled over you, his finger hooking into the elastic of your underwear, yanking it and letting go so it hit against your skin, making you yelp at the 

little sting.

“Don’t mock me now.” Your giggles stopped when you met his dark eyes, just looking down into yours, his head tilting to the side. “Can I keep going or are you going to keep laughing at me? I am on a mission, Kitty.”

Your eyebrows frowned in confusion as you stirred a bit below him. Before you could ask, his face went back to the crook of your neck where he could continue with the soft featherlight kisses and as you were about to close your eyes, you felt his fingers playing with the elastic of your underwear once more, making your breath hitch.

You felt him nibble on your pulse point at the same time his fingers sneaked in, a little bit of self-consciousness filled you when you realized you hadn’t shaved properly, just trimmed, and maybe those women he slept with had the laser hair removal you cannot afford. You opened your mouth to apologize but the words were stolen away when his index finger grazed your clit softly, yet perfect.

“Eddie–” You breathed out, and he only gave a low humming with satisfaction as he felt how wet you were for him. He was twitching, wanting to rub himself on you to relieve himself a bit, the friction very much needed but– he wanted to do this. He wanted to make you come undone underneath him, show you just how good he could be for you, how eager he is to give you pleasure.

His middle finger pressed on your clit, a little harder now, slow and lazy circles being done as your breathing turned into held in moans, and whimpers as your hands gripped his shoulders, nails digging into his skin. Yeah, mark him. Mark him. He wants you to mark him, just like he always had wanted you to do.

“So fucking perfect for me– I’ve always known but fuck–” You whimpered at his words, trembling underneath him as he kept rubbing you, deliciously so. His mouth left your throat to then peck your collarbone and shift a bit lower, his back arching so his lips could land on your left nipple. 

His middle finger ran through your slit, coating it with your wetness before slowly starting to nudge inside. At the same time, his mouth started sucking and flicking your hardened nipple with his tongue, causing you to throw your head back onto the pillow, a strangled moan escaping your lips, making him smile with victory against your breast as his finger was engulfed by your warmth.

He couldn’t help but groan at the feel of you, reaching deep, his dreams and imagination out of the window as you gave another whimper when he pulled his finger out, only to plunge it inside again, easily. He needed to worship you. He wanted to make you cum on his fingers, on his tongue, many times, putting you first above everything, needing to hear you moan his name repeatedly… but your breathy moans make it hard to be patient.

He pulled out of your cunt in order to rub his ring finger along his middle one now, rubbing fast-paced circles on your clit, making your hips jerk against him. He had to bite his bottom lip as he raised himself a bit to look down at your face. Your eyes were clenched as moans started coming out of your mouth, embarrassment no longer in you about those. He groans at the angry twitch of his dick. 

He licked his lips as he slowly started pressing both his fingers inside of you, stretching you, preparing you. You gasped when he got them inside of you in one move, eyes opening to see him looking down at you with a fucked out look on his face. Your eyes were teary because of the pleasure, face, and body burning up in a thousand degrees. 

“Eds…” You called him out as he pulled his fingers back out and then in again, the palm of his hand slamming against your clit, making your back arch at it as he kept repeating the action, his pace increasing. You could hear the squelching now, making you slightly embarrassed but the pleasure he is giving you right now completely overshadows it.

“Yeah, baby?” You whimpered at the nickname, loving the way it sounded in his mouth, the nickname you always fantasized about. Imagining his voice saying it to you in random moments, but mostly in these kinds of situations, where he was slowly breaking you apart.

“P-Please–” What were you begging for? You didn’t know. You weren’t that talkative during sex, but… you wanted Eddie to know, or hear you, anything. Just let him know you were feeling good. You gasped a moan out when his fingers curled, the squelching becoming even nastier, filthier, but he was hitting that spot that you sometimes have a hard time figuring out. “O-Oh fuck–!”

“Found it.” He said with a smug smirk as he saw how you clenched your eyes again, moaning louder, one of your hands shooting out to grip the sheets while the other dug into his bicep, tightly. Your legs were shaking as he kept going, his fingers just making you clench around him, your pussy being filled and satisfied.

“I’m– more, more!” He was surprised by your words, not knowing if you were normally vocal or not, but fuck if it wasn’t hot. He groaned as he leaned down to your right nipple, engulfing it with his teeth and giving a soft pull, pressing his palm against your clit in order to move his hand up and down. His fingertips rub your G-spot while the heel of his hand rubs against your clit.

Your eyes widen at the new feeling. It was raw, rough, desperate, and he moaned against your skin as you started fluttering around him, the pressure building in your belly like never before. It was going quickly, a fire that was spreading, not letting you run away. You were almost crying out his name as you kept trembling underneath him. He pulled away from your nipple in order to hover over you, his nose nudging yours.

“You close, love?” You whined at the nickname as your hips met the thrust of his fingers. He gave you a soft kiss, the opposite of what he was doing in the lower part of your body. The elastic band was stretching and stretching, your belly contracting at the pressure. Your moans came out in sharp breaths, chest heaving up and down as now both your hands flew to his shoulders as your back arched against him.

“Yes– Yes– Eddie, Eddie, baby–” And the elastic band snapped while Eddie moaned at the nickname, the first time you called him that and not his name. Your walls clenched tightly around his fingers and he moaned with delight as you spasmed underneath him, his dick threatening to finally shoot his seed, not being able to hold it back anymore, but he held back, with all of his strength.

Your moan was loud, satisfaction rushing all over your body as you trembled, legs giving up almost. You felt his fingers still moving, helping you ride it out, until you slowly calmed down, a few twitches of your legs here and there. It was probably the best orgasm you received… for now. He slowed his movements as he stared down at you, a pleased smile on his face as you opened your eyes to look at him, your breaths heavy.

“So? How was that?” He cocked his head to the side as he gave you one more thrust and you whined at the overstimulation, your hips moving away slightly and he got the clue so he pulled his fingers out of you. You looked at how he took his hand out of your underwear, the wet fingers grazing your pelvis slightly and you looked at how he raised his fingers to his mouth and your eyes widened.

“You–” You couldn’t even finish your sentence when his fingers entered his own mouth. No person had ever done that to you. So eager to taste you that they licked their fingers with so much delight. He moaned at the taste and he cursed at himself for not going down on you. But maybe he can have a small taste…

“Couldn’t help myself Kitty. Needed to know, and I am gonna grow addicted to it, I can already tell.” He raised himself back up on his knees and you looked down to see him still hard, and you winced with embarrassment.

“Let me do something Eddie–” He shook his head at you, his fingers digging into the elastic of your underwear, pulling it away. Your face flushed as you raised your hips up and– He will see it. What if it’s not pretty? What if there’s something he doesn’t like? Or too bushy, or maybe–

But as soon as your underwear is off, and you lay bare beneath him, he can’t help but tremble as his hand reaches his length. The number of times he had imagined you like this, there’s not even a way of counting them. It’s years of imagination, of dreams, of songs he wrote about your body. Songs you might not even know they’re about you. 

You didn’t know what to do as he stared down at you, wanting to close your legs but he was in between them. Your eyes widened when he scanned your body and he started to slowly stroke himself, just soft grazes. Was he touching himself by just looking at you? Did he do that before? Were you the protagonist of some dirty dreams he had?

He suddenly moves backwards, just three small movements with his knees, away from you. You tilt your head as you raise yourself on your elbows to look at him. His body bends down and your eyes widen when his eyes cannot leave your center, wetness all around, and he just looks drunk. 

“I’m sorry, can’t help myself…” It was his soft mumble as he gave a pointed lick in between your folds, and you groaned as your hips bucked towards him. He moaned as he gathered some of your juices, gulping them down and straightening again. 

Your eyes locked again, and the need was worse than it ever was before. The desire burning you both alive. It prompted Eddie to move quickly from in between your legs, his knees guiding him slightly to the side so he could reach over and open the drawer of his night table. You turned your head to watch how he took an unopened box of condoms. 

He cursed when he couldn’t open it from how nervous he suddenly got. He was finally going to get what he had always wanted, and now that it’s here… His thoughts were cut off when he felt your soft hands engulfing his, taking the box in your grasp, thumb pressing onto one edge to pop it open. 

He gave you a smile, a fond, caring one, and took the box once more, pulling a foil out. He moved again, his hands gripping your knees that had closed slightly, reopening them with a tut as he placed himself in between. You looked at how he ripped the foil open with his teeth, throwing it somewhere, and then rolled the latex over himself. 

Your heart was on your throat now, knots of nerves inside of your belly, needing to simply detangle or explode. He looked down at you and crawled on top of you, his forearms coming to rest on either side of your head in order to support himself over your body. His nose nudged yours, a hum vibrating in his throat.

“You okay princess?” He asked and you sighed in delight, giving a small nod.

“Yeah… you?”

“I’m fucking nervous.” He admitted, no playfulness in his tone and it surprised you. “But I am also very excited.”

And you decided to be the one to diffuse the tension a little bit this time. You raised your hips and rubbed your center along his shaft, coating it with your wetness, making him groan and raise an eyebrow at you. A smirk played on your lips as you looked at your best friend.

“I can feel that alright.” And Eddie’s lips turned into a smile, his eyes filled with love just as much as yours were. One of his arms left the mattress to get in between you two, grabbing onto his cock, and rubbing the tip of it against your folds and clit, making you whimper. 

“Bratty little shit.” And his hips pressed in, his arm returning to the same position as before, and your mouths fell into an ‘o’ shape, a choked breath in your throats as he slowly thrusts himself inside of you, inch by inch. 

Electricity ran all over your body, on every nerve and artery, from the top of your head to the tip of your toes. You could feel it everywhere, every single thing in the world making sense for some reason. You didn’t care about anything else but him at this moment. Him and how he felt as he slowly filled you, finally, after so long. Your legs raised up, thighs pressing against his sides as the heels of your feet dug into his hips.

He moaned when half of his cock was already inside of you and he cursed when he felt himself twitch. He had to hold it back for a little longer, he needed this to be perfect. He needed to make this last, though, he knew this wouldn’t be the last time. He hoped it would be the first time of many.

His lips desperately pressed against yours as his hips kept pressing in, deeper and deeper and you wondered how much you could possibly take as he stretched you open, your wetness making it all a little easier. There was a small pressure, a little sting at the sudden intrusion but it was still so delicious.

Your arms wrapped around his shoulders as you kissed him back, hands moving to his hair and you remembered the bun he had on. It was a little loose, and you wanted to see his mane all over his face, just like the Eddie you had been pining for since high school. You needed to see him like that as he made you scream his name.

Your fingers dug into his ponytail and started to yank, trying not to rip his hair when doing so. He winced a bit in between the kiss and you giggled, having some trouble in freeing his hair. He groaned and pulled away from the kiss, his hips stopping as his arm reached up and swatted your hand away in order to take the hairband off himself. 

You heard a few hairs being ripped out and you winced at the sound but he didn’t care as his curls fell down. Your eyes softened as you finally saw your Eddie. You loved his hair up, but… his hair down just reminded you of the first time you looked at him with different eyes. It was when it was getting longer after deciding to never let anyone give him a buzz cut ever again.

“Happy?” He asked and you giggled, his hair now all over his face and shoulders, falling on your face as well, making your cheeks tingle. You moved your hands to gather it up and pull it all over to one side only. He shook his head at you, fond eyes and a smile directed your way. “You shouldn’t have taken it off. It will be a little bothersome.”

“I wanted to… Your long hair is one of the things I love the most about you…” He tilted his head to the side as his eyes filled with confusion. 

“My hair?”

“Yeah… When you decided to let it grow, it’s when you turned into… you.” You smiled up at him, eyes filled with love and stars and he could see them all as his heart combusted inside of his chest. 

He can now truly absolutely believe that you were meant for him. No woman could make him feel the way you do. You love him with everything in you, he can see it in your eyes. You have loved him before his fame, and he cannot be more grateful to destiny for bringing you into his life. He will never be able to say thank you enough.

But his feelings made his body twitch, a sudden electric shock sent to his whole body as his hips moved by themselves. Your smile slowly vanished as your mouth fell into a breathless moan, eyes widening as he stared down at your face and how it slowly contorted. He needed to be fully inside of you, his feelings making his body take what it has been craving for so long.

You gasped as your head was thrown back against the pillow when his hips suddenly slammed against yours, making him bottom out and fill you entirely. He was big, a definite stretch, but god it felt wonderful. Right. Meant to be even as your back arched against him, his lips falling to your exposed neck, groaning against your skin as he kept himself from moving, letting you adjust and for his mind to help him not end this as soon as it started.

Your nails were digging into his shoulders for some grounding, your mind and heart racing and you felt everything a little too much. You gave a small groan as you pressed your back against the mattress once more, and his face raised up from your neck in order to look down at you. 

“I love you.” His words were not new, not anymore, yet they made your heart skip many beats now. The butterflies in your stomach exploded and you gave him a small smile. You opened your mouth in order to reply only for a moan of yours to occupy where your words should have been as his hips moved backwards and in again. 

“I– I love you Ed– ah!” You couldn’t even finish it correctly because as the first letter left your mouth, his movement quickened just a bit. His hips swayed back and forth, moving slowly still but you felt the drag of him against your walls. His face lowered, his elbows on each side of your head, his forearms and hands holding onto your head, fingers running through your scalp as he used that hold to keep himself up and for his hips to move faster.

His lips were against your cheek, and now the hit of skin against skin started being heard and you felt your whole body flush in embarrassment, or pleasure, or a mix of it all. Suddenly his breath hit your ear as he groaned at each thrust of his hips. He felt too good, and you felt your mind drifting away, further from consciousness, until you heard his words again.

I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.

He kept repeating them in your ear at each thrust his hips made, his fingers on your scalp as his chest rubbed against yours. You moaned when you felt his tip just graze your g-spot but not quite there yet. Your nails ran from his shoulders and down to his back, scratching him, and your eyes opened when you realized you hadn’t done your part of the deal yet.

So you nuzzled your face in the crook of his neck as your nails dug even deeper into the skin and your mouth opened. Your lips latched onto his skin and he groaned, hips stuttering slightly at your possessiveness of him. He could feel the burning in his back and now, the one on the side of his throat as you marked him in two places of his body.

You knew he liked to get shirtless in his concerts, of course you did… And he can’t wait to show everyone, his fans, his band members, his team, his staff, what you did to him. What you are to him. What he is to you. To finally show everyone who owns him, in body and soul.

He felt you nibble, suck, lick, kiss, and he knew it was going to be a big mark, just like the one he left you. He pulled away from your ear and raised himself up on his hands in order to look down at you. Your eyes were glossy, just like your lips which are also plump from all the kissing you’ve done to his skin. He wants to devour you, a fire that had always been there, but now it was scorching hot, almost painful. 

So why hold back?

His hips draw back and strike against yours in a forceful thrust. It was deep, so fucking deep, that he couldn’t help but groan, almost growl at your tightness. A choked moan escaped you from the surprise and the sudden punch to your spongy spot. Your eyes met his, now clouded in a dark cloud of pleasure, hints of love and devotion here and there, but you could see that he needed to ruin you, take what is his.

Your fingers are on his biceps now as he literally, absolutely, starts railing you into the mattress, like a madman, as if it were his first time ever. Reckless, sloppy, harsh, but still perfected. The bed made the both of you bounce, helping the movements, and your moans turned into whimpers and cries of his name.

“Eddie–!” You didn’t even notice that drool was coming out from the corner of your mouth, not noticing how long you had your lips parted for your moans to come out. You saw how intensely he was looking at you, as if he were to try to remember each trace of your face. Nervousness invaded you as well as some kind of self-consciousness, not knowing if your face was scrunching too much due to the pleasure, making your eyes avert away.

“Oh no, I’m having none of that.” You felt his hand grip your jaw and turn your head so he could look at you once again. Your cheeks were on fire, and you could swear tears were beginning to threaten to leave your eyes. His hair was all over his shoulders, moving at the pace of his hips, sweat on his forehead and tattooed chest. He was gorgeous. He was so beautiful that it hurt.

Your moans were still coming out steadily out of your lips until his hips shifted, just slightly, and his thrusts were now in a more upward direction. Your G-Spot was being punched by the tip of his cock and your belly was turning deliciously at each movement. 

He wanted to prove himself. He wanted to prove to you that he is the only one you will ever need, that he is the only one that can make you feel this good. He took his time fingering you in order to know where your spot was correctly. He has a lot to learn about you, and you about him, but there will be other times for that. 

For now, he just wants to see you come undone underneath him.

“F-Fuck–Fuck!” Your right hand was holding the wrist that held your face, while the left one was still gripping his bicep. You wanted to scream, the pleasure being too much yet not enough, trying to reach that high once more. A smile appeared on his lips, and you dared to say that it looked evil, cheeky, snarky, cocky.

“Weird?” And that bastard– He was mocking you. He was mocking you for ever thinking that this would feel weird for the both of you, considering the years of friendship. You growled a bit at him, a warning which only made him chuckle as he kept pounding into you, a particular drag making him groan.

“S-Shut up!” And oh you sounded so amazing like this. Breathless, needy, frustrated, pleasured… It was a mixture of everything, and he needed more as he felt his dick twitch inside of you. He hasted his movements and you could only whine in question as your confused, glossy eyes looked up at him. 

He groaned with displeasure as he pulled out of you and let go of your face, kneeling up and moving backwards slightly. His hands came to your hips, and he motioned for you to the next position he desired, which made the blood completely leave your body. 

He wanted you on all fours. He would have a perfect view of everything. Every single spot of texture, every stretchmark, all of your cellulite… just everything. And the lights are still on. Fuck they’re still on. Your hands were not fast enough to stop him from using his strength in order to turn you around on the mattress, your legs flailing as you were now on your belly onto the mattress.

You opened your mouth, embarrassment already too deep, afraid of even turning your head to look at him. You didn’t want to see the scrunch on his face when he looked at your skin. You are no professional model, and you certainly don’t have the money for all the treatments they can afford on their skin. 

But what you didn’t expect was the ferocious bite you received on your left ass cheek, making you yelp. He was behind you, his hands digging on your hips in order to pull your ass up, getting you to press your knees on the mattress and finally be in a formal all fours. You were almost shocked at how easily he manhandled you, at how quick he was. You slowly turned your head over your shoulder and you clenched at the sight.

Eddie looked drunk as he looked at your behind. He was even stroking himself as he looked at you, careful to not roll the condom off. You were stunned, hands and knees on the bed as he kneeled behind you. One of his hands came to rub your left ass cheek, to then give it a slap, causing you to whimper and jump at the action. 

“Eddie!” 

“Fuck, look at you…” His hand left his dick, and now both of his palms were engulfing your ass, pressing tightly, digits digging urgently into the skin as his face leaned downwards in order to kiss the small of your back and then one cheek. Your face was on fire, but you didn’t know if it was embarrassment or shame anymore… you felt loved. You felt like a goddess. Eddie was making you feel like an absolute goddess.

A bite landed on your right ass cheek this time, gentle but enough to grab some skin and pull gently. He groaned desperately, needing to swallow you whole. You weren’t aware of the state you put him in. He was feral. You were perfect, so fucking perfect and he was gonna make damn sure you knew this.

“Eddie please…” You whined one more time and he gave a small nibble to your ass cheek. He can bite on them a bit more later on. He straightened up and guided the tip of his cock to your sopping entrance, and pushed right in once more. Not slow, yet not fast, just easily.

The two of you groaned with relief as he thrusted a few times, before fully bottoming out inside of you. He growled into his throat as he took a deep breath in and closed his eyes. He is not going to last long, but he for sure was not going to end this without you clenching around his cock.

His hands are now on your waist, gripping your skin in order to guide himself in and out of you, the smacking of hips now echoing once more around the room. He looked at how your ass jiggled underneath him as his hips hit you. He was smirking, a small smack landing on one of your cheeks, making you yelp in between your moans.

He felt you clench a few times, and he cursed into the sky as he had to get a hold of himself so he wouldn’t spill too fast.

“Shit, you’re so fucking tight Kitty– You gonna cum for me?” A dumb ‘Uh-Huh’ was heard from you as you nodded as best as you could. Your arms and legs were trembling, the squelching of your juices with his thrusts a little too loud. It should shame you, but it’s the whole contrary now. You want him to know just how wet you were for him. How good he is making you feel right now, emotionally and physically.

“Y-Yeah Eds, yeah, please–” And you didn’t have to ask twice. His right hand left your hip and guided it underneath, reaching your clit with his index and middle finger. You gasped as your belly suddenly turned at the attention. “FUCK!” 

“I know baby, I know…” You whimpered at the nickname as his fingers moved on your sensitive nub, while his dick kept hitting your spot in a perfect rhythm. Your mouth was open, sometimes moans came out, sometimes only drool, but you couldn’t close it. Your pussy clenched around him, making him wince and curse under his breath. “Fucking shit…”

“Baby, baby–” You were warning him and he nodded with determination, his dick twitching inside of you until he saw stars at the same time you did. “EDDIE–!” 

Your walls clenched tightly around him, your legs trembling as your belly exploded with bursts of heat. He didn’t stop the rubbing of your clit, making you choke some moans out, wanting to move away from his grip, but he held you tightly in place so you wouldn’t stop the ride of your orgasm.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck– holy shit–!” And he groaned loudly, almost whimpering at how hard he came inside of the condom. He gave a few hard thrusts at each spurt of his cum, making you whine at the last strides of your own climax. Soon, your walls slowly unclenched, legs trembling ever so slightly, and his hand left your clit.

The two of you were panting, completely breathless from the lovemaking that just occurred. He took a sharp intake of breath as he slowly pulled out of you, making him wince and you whimper at the loss of him. You immediately flopped on the bed, face hitting the pillow. He chuckled a bit hoarsely and took off the condom, tying it off and looking around.

You turned your head in order to catch him in time, a frown appearing on your face as you turned to your side so you could point a finger at him.

“Don’t you dare throw it on the floor.” He raised an eyebrow at you and then a fond smile appeared on his lips. The two of you were covered in sweat, your breaths slowly leveling out again, a sight he never thought would occur. 

“You gonna boss me around in my own home Kitty?” You rolled your eyes at him and he smiled, getting up from the bed on wobbly legs. “Woah–” You covered your mouth in order not to laugh, but he only glared at you as he straightened up once more.

“Sorry–”

“Yeah, I wanna see how you get up from the bed. Come on.” You shook your head and immediately crawled underneath his sheets, covering yourself completely, and hiding from him. He chuckled at that and threw the used condom on his trashcan to then almost sprint to the bed and jump on top of it, making you bounce and yelp on the side you were on.

It made the sheets move away slightly, uncovering you from the waist up. Eddie looked down at you. Your hair was a mess, your makeup smudged… but fuck you were so beautiful. All of you. And you were now his.

“You’re mean…” He chuckled at you and got inside the sheets as well, wrapping his arms around you and flipping you on top of him, making you giggle.

“I’m anything but that…” He bit his lip and then cleared his throat as nerves filled his body once more. He was a rockstar, yet you made him more nervous than any concert he ever played in his life. “Kitty… I want– I want you. Like, I want this to be official.”

And that was the other part of this love that you were afraid of. Official? With Eddie? You?

“I–” You gulped as shame coursed through your body. “I am– no one, Eddie… I am not famous or– I mean, you might lose fans if we come out as official…” 

And when you looked at Eddie’s eyes, you saw them become doe-eyed, a sad frown appearing on his eyebrows, as he looked at your face. A hand came up to push a strand of your hair behind your ear, making you sigh. 

“Baby, I’ve been wanting you for god knows how long… I don’t care what happens to my reputation… and if my fans are truly my fans, they should be happy that I finally got the chick I’ve been singing about for the past two years.” 

Your heart felt like it melted with his words. Your eyes were tracing his face, the shape of his eyes, his nose, his lips. Every expression he did out of happiness or excitement, was because of you now. He definitely loves you, doesn’t he?

“You– Will you show me which songs were the ones about me?” You smile cheekily at him, and he raises an eyebrow at you, grips your hip slightly in warning and you can’t help but giggle.

“Yes, only if you’re mine.” 

And this wasn’t the last you’ve seen about the lack of confidence, you knew that. But there is something you are definitely, most certainly, confident about. Eddie Munson loves you, with everything in him, and wants you desperately.

“Deal.” A cheeky smile appears on his lip and you give him a pointed frown. “Apologize to Steve.”

And his smile faded, tilting his nose up.

“Never.”

You’ve got one cocky little rockstar of a boyfriend.

end

a/n: orange peel skin is what we call the skin when it looks pitted, formed by cellulite most of the times.

i hope you all enjoyed this little thing (not so little)

always reblog your artists

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #stranger things #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fics #eddie munson x y/n #fanfiction #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson ficlet #eddie munson smut #rockstar!eddie munson #rockstar!eddie x reader #bestfriend!eddie munson

[seph-ic]

My favorite thing ever?

Nico has a service dog 

Because after Mr. D diagnoses him with PTSD he feels kind of hopeless and overwhelmed (especially after her hears that it can’t be easily fixed with magic or anything) 

So Mr D. Suggests that he get a service animal. 

Nico argues that animals hate him because he ‘smells like death’. Mr. D Points out that Mrs O’Leary doesn’t hate him. 

They both go talk to Hades who jumps at the excuse to win back his son by buying him more stuff. 

The dog ends up being a hellhound mix (don’t ask how.) 

The mix is mostly so she is a bit smaller for convenience (so she can fit in places.)

I'd assume she looks something like a Burmese mountain dog mix.

Her names Penelope (Penny) and Nico loves her. 

Nico and Her spend a couple of months doing service dog training with Artemis and the hunters (dogs are one of her patron animals.)

the time he spends with them also gives him a bit of closure and helps him process what happened to his sister.

soon enough she's graduated their honorary service dog school and is fully trained.

She goes with Nico everywhere. Since she is half hellhound she can assist with shadow travel and make it easier for Nico. (To Wills relief) 

She helps Nico with panic attacks and nightmares. 

She grabs things for him (KitKats, sword, water, pillows.) 

she can even open the fridge in the big house.

If Nico is having a really bad episode or a flashback he can’t come out of or if he’s in any physical danger, she knows to go get Will Chiron or MR D. In a heartbeat. 

Again a shadow traveling dog being useful.

Will makes extra sure that everyone at camp is aware of how service animals work. 

He teaches all the campers about what Penny's job is and why they’re not allowed to distract her.

On occasion when she isn't working she'll play fetch or get pets from some of the kids. 

All Nicos freind's and family love her.

Like everyone wants to be a part of this dogs life, Nico has literally never been more popular.

Hazel buys her a sweater for the holidays.

Rachel helps Nico also dye part of her tail at one point (to keep her identifiable) and they give it a cool design.

Annabeth asks if she can make her a cool dog house.

Piper insists that they take her to the groomer and buys her little bandannas.

Percy helps Nico teach her how to swim.

She will also grabs medical supplies for Will sometimes.

Grover also knows how to talk to her and regularly lets her know how Nico is doing (not that she doesn't already know.) 

Nico finds it easier to eat with Penelope.

It kind of forces him to eat on a schedule, since Penny has to be fed three times a day and the two of them can eat at the same time.

Nico also gives her little scraps off his plate sometimes which makes them both happy.

She gets absolutely spoiled. 

At one point Nico gets worried that she might get hurt fighting a monster. Hades assured him she won’t but Leo makes her some extra cool dog armor just in case

She also has a little bag attached to her vest for carrying supplies on quests and long journeys. (list of things these bags might contain: Ambrosia, Dog treats, Water/kitkats, extra weapons, drachmas.)

Nico connects so well with this fucking dog.

Like he always struggled with people and he never really even considered being an animal person.

But he absolutely adores Penny.

He talks to her about things that worry him and just finds her presence so unbelievably comforting.

Will solace (who I think personally would become a vet sooner than a doctor) Has this dog on the best fucking diet you could imagine

you have never seen a more medically healthy dog.

And she ADORES Will

Partially because of how calmer Nico is with him, and partially because he keeps a treat jar in the infirmary now.

The best part! she cannot die (from old age at least) Immortal service dog!

Having a huge fluffy head is great for pressure therapy.

Nico (neurodivergent) likes the texture of her fur and stims by petting her or playing with her ears.

#the best girl ever #pjo #percy jackson #nico di angelo #hoo #percy jackon and the olympians #solangelo #heroes of olympus #pjo hoo toa #percy jackson fanart #nico di angelo fanart #pjo hcs #nico pjo #toa #nico service dog au

[annwe24]

SUGAR DADDY! LUCIFER MORNINGSTAR X READER

Part 2

Summary: Lucifer and you reach a somewhat transactional relationship. However, you find yourself develop feelings for him.

A/N: i just wanted to write something short:)

Sighing, you put one of your rings back into your jewelry box. You have been sitting in front of your makeup mirror for 2 hours, suffering from having too many jewelry options. Well…maybe that's not exactly suffering.

It is a cycle repeating almost every week. The King of Hell takes you out for some fancy dinner date and almost always ends up with you and him making a mess in bed. You don't know how long this relationship will last and you are sure he will soon find another "entertainer" (probably skinnier). That thought makes you recoil when looking at your reflection in the mirror. You have never been comfortable in your own skin. Heck, why would a King of all places dote on someone who looks like they can eat 10 pounds of grilled cheese?

*Circus ringtone*

Shit! You think to yourself. Nervously gripping at your designer hand bag, you inhale and exhale to calm down before finally pressing the accept button. Despite being quite close to the King (maybe too close), he never fails to make you stumble over his every little actions. He commented politely on this once; however, that hasn't improved one bit.

Hey, just wanna check up on you, darling. Are you ready to head out?

His sugar-coated voice makes you shiver a bit. You take a silent glance at your jewelry box before answering:

Yeah, you can pick me up now.

You finally admit defeat and settle down on the (f/c) set of earrings despite his preference being crimson. Sometimes, you just want to add a bit of yourself to the clothes you are wearing as a reminder to not lose yourself when indulging in his gifts. It's scary watching you slowly turn into nothing but a dress-up darling for the King. You feel less alive and more like a doll every time you go out with him. Your messy lines of thoughts are abruptly cut as a portal pops up. Standing straight and dusting the invisible dust off your fancy dress, you watched as Lucifer strides out gracefully. He pridely plants a soft kiss on your knuckles before taking in the most beautiful scenery before him-you. His eyes lingers a bit on your set of earrings before chuckling:

Darling, you look like the finest angel in hell.

Oh, Lucifer… You look away embarrassingly.

Fixing his coat, he opens another portal leading to a fancy-looking restaurant. The meal is going to cost more than all your organs combined. You think quietly to yourself.

…

You know what happens after the date. You and him. On the bed. Your clothes lying on where you don't fucking care because he will just buy you new one anyway. But you’ll be a liar if you don't find yourself enjoying the moment right now. It's your favorite activity. After intense moments, you always find yourself lying on his warm chest. It's addicting and capable of burning you alive. Maybe you do have a thing for him. Does Lucifer have a thing for you? Heaven knows. He tries to present his best version of himself for you. You don't know when the masterful actor will break his role and go off to find another toy. You just hope this lasts longer than you think. But that's enough thinking for today, you decide to focus on his gentle combing of your hair and the rise and fall of his chest instead, slowly drifting away to sleep.

Sleep fails you. It's one of those nights again where your thoughts are too loud.

Feeling a pressure on his chest, Lucifer let out a light grunt before opening his eyes. Your (e/c) ones stare back at him. You have always been… intriguing. That's why he keeps you so close, desperate for this relationship to work. He finds you addicting.

Do you love me?

Taken back by your question given the time and place, he scrambles his brain searching for a reasonable answer. The dinner went out as usual. He also makes sure to be as gentle as possible during the…uh…nevermind. Everything had been normal until now. Until you ask. Smiling sweetly at you, he tries to deliver his sentence as thoughtful as possible:

Of course, honey. You meant the world to me. What makes you question that?

Yeah, what makes you question that? You don't know. What do you even want from him? You don't know. Pushing further could lead to him getting annoyed and dumping you in the process. That reminds you of your old life. It's best to play it safe, maybe you are just confused. Afterall, you didn't have any time to process the relationship when all of this started. Nuzzling your head into his chest, you answered with your usual sweet bimbo voice that you hate so much:

Nothing! Just making sure.

You hear him let out a sign of relief and feel his shoulder relaxed. That night, you slept with a confused mess on your mind, just like any other night with him.

#lucifer morningstar #hazbin lucifer #lucifer magne #lucifer x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer imagine #lucifer morningstar fanfiction #lucifer morningstar imagine #hazbin hotel lucifer #x female reader #x female y/n #lucifer

[luveline]

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐣𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐝 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧

you start to second guess your relationship when eddie doesn't waylay you with his usual abundance of kisses after work. meanwhile, eddie tries to work out what's upsetting you, how to fix it, and most urgently, how to ask you a super important question. fem!reader, 5k

cw: eddie skipping meals at work, suggestive flirting

˚‧꒰ა ✮ ໒꒱‧˚

Eddie's borrowed headphones slip down your head as you dance. Nothing dramatic, a shoulder wiggle as you do the dishes. You can't hear the racket you're making, plates crashing into one another on the drying rack, the hot water pounding the basin, the clip of your sock-clad foot against wooden slats as you tap it. 

Your hands burn at the high temperature. Your fingertips are pruned, palms chapped as you finish washing Eddie's mountain of dishes. His whole apartment was in similar disarray before you arrived, laundry to the eyes and one of his haphazard book towers collapsed in the bedroom. The dishes had been scraped and rinsed but not washed, the laundry designated to one corner of the bathroom; Eddie's not unclean, necessarily, but unfocused. 

You had time. You don't mind coming over to help him out. 

Though if he knew you were here doing this he'd blow a gasket. I don't want you wasting your time doing shit I should've done a week ago, he'd say. 

It isn't time that matters to you. You'd take a couple of days out if it helped him, if it meant he could enjoy the place he lives to the fullest extent. Plus, you spend time here too. And you get to borrow his Walkman the whole time. Eddie has the best tapes. 

You hum along to the finishing line of the song and set the last clean cup upside down on the draining board. Satisfied at a job well done, you wipe the sink basin clean, drain suds from the sponge, and turn off the water. Cool air floats in through the open window, kissing your lightly perspiring skin hello. 

You dry your hands on a cloth and push Eddie's headphones carefully down to your neck, more than careful with his things. He works hard for everything he has, days and nights and any shift they want him to take. Most of it goes into his savings account. His spare change gets dropped into a washed out pasta sauce jar on the sill for a forthcoming rainy day. Ridiculous amounts of it get spent on you, and if you asked Eddie he'd say it was perfectly reasonable, sweetheart. 

You're not asking him. You don't think new clothes and sweet treats nearly every time you see him counts as reasonable, but you'd be a liar if you said you didn't appreciate it. 

Hence your unsanctioned use of his spare key. You buy him treats too, but money can't buy the satisfaction of a clean home. (Well, it could. Hiring a day maid might've been quicker and cleaner in the end, but would a day maid have put their heart and soul into dusting his figurines with a makeup brush for fifteen minutes?)

You turn around with Eddie on your mind, feeling grateful and tired at once. Your thoughts stutter at the warm body standing casually in the doorway, his shoulder pressed to the jam, a rucksack and a carabiner of keys hanging from his curled fingers. 

"Hey," Eddie says. 

You flinch like he's coming at you, startled by his sudden appearance. 

His laugh is apologetic, at least. "Woah! I thought you heard me, where's your head?" 

You slap a hand to your racing heart and huff out a breath that fans up your face. Eddie straightens from his cool guy slouch, dropping his keys on the counter and sliding his bag beside them. 

"It's around here somewhere," you say through a smile, trying and failing to glare at him as he puts his hands on your waist. "You scared me bad." 

"It was accidental." 

He pulls your hips to his and leans back. A close pressure without being particularly sexual. It's obvious that he's looking you over, like you might've miraculously run into harm in the sixteen hours you've been apart. 

"I didn't think you'd be back yet, sorry," you say breathlessly, still recuperating from your scare. 

"I'm the sorry one." 

He brings a hand to your face. If there's one thing you can count on with your boyfriend, it's that he's going to find an excuse to touch your face at least once a day, whether it be with the back of a ring-heavy finger trailing down your cheek lightly, or a flat, hot palm, calluses scratching ever so slightly as he squeezes it into whatever shape he feels like. Never cruel, but melding. 

He's in a mood. 

Not salacious. Teasing at most, he pulls a rough line down from the corner of your eye to your lips. 

"Why are you doing my dishes?" he asks. 

His hands smell like citrus scrub and white vinegar. They must've had him cleaning in the kitchen at work again. 

"So you wouldn't have to. I know you don't mean to let them pile up." 

"I'll find my laundry in the dryer, I'm guessing." 

"Nope. Folded in your dresser, more like."

He pulls your chest to his, the heat of his breath kissing your nose. It smells like the spearmint gum he chews obsessively during his morning shifts. Eddie has a theory that eating in the mornings is breaking a seal —you'll be much hungrier for the rest of the day than you would've been otherwise. Better to wait for lunch. 

You hate his theory (three meals a day plus as many snacks as he needs would be perfect,  if he could find the time) and his gum for what it represents. It reminds you that he likely hasn't eaten today, and you're quick to start brainstorming ideas for dinner from the ingredients you'd seen while cleaning. He has ground beef, enough eggs to make pasta, and a tupperware of frozen soup from last Wednesday. The world's your oyster. 

"What are you thinking about?" he asks. You don't have time to answer. "I wish you didn't do all the laundry, babe. Those stairs are a fucking killer." 

He leans that last inch. A kiss is coming any second now, your pulse capering between your ears. A hundred kisses shared between you and you wait for the next with the same calibre of excitement as you did for the first. 

"I owe you a deep tissue massage, right?" he murmurs. 

You beam at him, pushing the heel of your palm against his chest to widen the distance between you into something a little less heart-pounding. "You haven't eaten today, have you?" 

"I'm pretty hungry," he says, his voice smooth as angora silk. 

He looks, again, like he might kiss you. His eyes dip to your lips, a molten brown shining in the kitchen light. You wait, and you wait, but he doesn't close the gap. 

You push your smile to one side, your eyelashes twined in the corners from the force of it. Your smile isn't entirely genuine. It's cool if he doesn't wanna kiss you… sort of. He can do whatever he likes, of course, you'd never force him to kiss you just to keep you happy or for any other reason, but you're a little down at the idea that he doesn't want to. You love how they feel. You're used to them as both hello and goodbye. 

Eddie might not want to kiss you, but he isn't putting on a show, his amorous smirking a reality you battle with (read: give in to, enjoy, daydream about) on the regular. Perhaps he isn't eager to ravish you after a full day bussing tables. That's more than okay. 

However he might be feeling, you aren't going to let him go hungry a minute longer. "Dinner?" you ask. 

"I was thinking sloppy Joes," he says, his hand running down your arm. He turns for the fridge. You follow. "Brioche buns?" 

You step in front of him, the fridge door a cacophony of glass rattling as you tug it open. "I'm making them." 

Eddie wraps his arms around you, moving you bodily to the side. It's too quick for you to dig your heels in. 

"You used to be a gentleman," you complain. 

"No, I didn't." He taps your ankle with the rubber toe of his converse. 

You make dinner together, to each other's chagrin. Eddie steals spatulas and frying pan handles from your grip. You bump his hip away from the stove grill to toast buns. When you sit down together on the couch, it's at war, elbows digging into soft spots and cups placed out of reach on the coffee table. 

"Dick," you say. 

Eddie takes a bite, says, "You're the dick, dick," and starts shovelling fries onto your plate. "Giving me more fries is ridiculous. We should eat the same portions, we're the same age." 

"But one of us had breakfast and lunch, and one of us didn't," you say, using your fork to give his gifted fries straight back. 

And here's where you get the first inkling that something's making him not want to kiss you, emphasis on you. 

Eddie loves kissing you when he feels loved. For obvious starters, whenever you tell him you love him he makes sure to kiss your lips. When you make him laugh, when you wash his hair in the shower, when you draw stars into his palms, all those things garner a fond peck to the temple. He kisses the space just under your ear so often you're sure there's a contusion in the shape of his mouth there, permanent and purpling, his go-to whenever he's laying on top of you or hugging you from behind. 

You can count on a mildly greasy kiss no matter the meal. Eddie loves eating dinner together. He waits for you to get home, sometimes for hours, to share a plate with you. You've never not indulged him with a kiss. Tonight, he doesn't ask. 

It would be here. Name-calling dripping in affection, you elbow glancing off of his as you cut into your sloppy Joe, and the TV failing to cover the sound of a quick kiss before he digs in. You're gutted at the lack and surprised to have noticed it, but you don't go so far as to mourn the loss: Eddie's likely too hungry to think about kissing, that's all. Right?

Despite attempts to convince you otherwise, he's hungry. He finishes his plate in what feels like five big bites, hair tucked behind his ears, an innocent but far off look about him as he wipes his fingers in a piece of kitchen towel and leans back into the couch cushions with a small groan. 

"We should stop eating on the couch," he says. 

"You told me you wanted to sit here." You're confused. 

"It's like, testing fate. I'm a mess. I'll ruin it and have to get a new one I can't afford." 

You chew on a fry. "I mean," —you put your hand over your mouth, pleased when he turns to you with a ready-made smile, like the act of just looking at you is one he enjoys— "even if you drop something on it, we can Didi Seven it. Or get one of those fancy water vacuum things." 

"It's my couch," he says. "You wouldn't have to clean it." 

"You're my boyfriend," you respond, "so I wouldn't mind." 

"I'm your boyfriend," he says, his head tilted ever so slightly to one side. 

His lips close, his eyes tracking up and along the lines of your features with an unnameable emotion in his gaze. You'd like to say that it's love, but you're starting to think it's something else. 

"Don't say it like that. You sound too unsure," you say.

Amusement dances across his face. "Are you finished?" he asks, opening his hand for your tray. 

"No," you say, faux-stroppy. You take another fry. 

Eddie grabs his tray. He skirts around your legs and stops at your side. In his more dopey moods, he'd take your face into his hand again and hold your head still as he kisses your crown. 

He squeezes your shoulder. "I'm not unsure about anything," he says warmly. "I'll get you a drink, yeah? Ice?" 

A chuck under the chin with his forefinger and he's gone, leaving you sitting there wondering what's wrong with him. Home an hour now and not one single kiss? Is this the end of the honeymoon phase? How do people survive this shit, you think. It's agonising.

Your chewing turns morose. 

You and Eddie go through phases, waxing and waning, as most people do. There's always love there, but sometimes there's so much of it you don't know what to do with yourself besides lavish in it. Only yesterday morning he'd been in your bed, shirtless (as you often wish he'd be), dark ink like bruises in the low light where it climbed the lengths of his arms and his bare chest. You were lax under his touch, his nose and lips pressing to your skin as he kissed you from rib to soft tummy. Slow, kissing you as though he had nowhere else to be but there. As though his next shift wasn't thirty minutes around the corner. 

You were mortified when he blew a raspberry. Now you're thinking you might peel out of your shirt and ask him to do it again if it means he'll kiss you in any definition. 

"What are you thinking about?" he asks as he returns, his hand sliding along from your shoulder to the other while he steps over your legs. 

"What are you thinking about?" you ask. 

"Feeling very repetitive today, are we?" he teases, no consideration for your dinner tray as he collapses into the seat beside you. 

You're expecting his cheek on your shoulder, his hair tickling your upper arm. It doesn't come. Worried he's discouraged by your tray, you place it on the coffee table and sit back. You really want him to kiss you. 

Kissing someone isn't something you thought you'd want to do before you met Eddie. To be kissed, sure. To give a chaste peck, absolutely. But to have someone put their weight on you, to press at the seam of your lips with their own and to wade in like a steady wave, one breath at a time, until you're unsure where the boundary of your mouth begins and his ends, that was all new. Eddie kisses like he loves, loud and brash, rough and eager. Gentle when he needs to be but arduous. 

He makes you feel wanted in a thousand ways and the first is his greedy penchant for stealing a kiss or three at every opportunity. It's weird that he hasn't kissed you yet. He's acting weird. 

"You're being super weird," you say. You feel like a pressure cooker with steam pouring from the release valve. 

Eddie smirks at you. "That so? Any explanation attached to that, or are we name-calling? I have some names for you, if we are." 

"Oh, I have to know." 

"Figured you would." He throws his leg over your thigh. The firm muscle of it tenses as he wiggles his foot. 

"What were you gonna call me?" you prompt impatiently.   

"Sweetheart. Angel." He turns his cheek into the back of the couch, bringing his pinky to your face and drawing a line from the smoothest skin under your eye outward. "Pretty. Very pretty." 

"Says you," you murmur. If he thinks you're so pretty, why won't he kiss you? "I can't work out your angle today." 

"Am I acting differently?" he asks, seemingly unperturbed. 

No. He just hasn't kissed you. There might have been a moment when he first came home where you thought he was hesitating to kiss you, but since then he's acted exactly as he usually does (minus kissing, therefore making it unusual). 

You sigh, half serious and half wanton sadness. "No." His nose twitches. You startle. "What?" 

"Nothing." 

"What, do I have bad breath?" you ask, bringing a hurried palm to your mouth to try and test it. 

Eddie pulls your hand down, admonishing through a laugh, "You obviously don't. You know I'd tell you, babe." 

"Oh." 

"I got gum though, if you want it." 

You bat his chest. "I bet you do… I don't know what it is, then. I give up." 

"What's what?" he asks. He takes a curl of his hair around a painted fingernail. It coils on his finger, where he pinches the end, bringing it up to your chin and drawing a smile under your lips with the tip. 

"I… do I have something in my teeth? A zit? What's the issue?" you ask, lost. 

"There's no issue!" He laughs, and he curves his hand gently around your neck. "Why do you think there's an issue?" he asks. A thread of his voice wavers. Impossible to notice if you didn't know everything about him, down to the stray hair. 

"No, because," —your voice shrinks— "you're being off with me." You won't cry, but it's impossible to stop the doubt that seeps into your voice. "You're not…" 

Eddie strokes your neck with his thumb, growing serious. "I'm not what?" 

"You haven't kissed me." You avoid his eyes. "Not since you saw me." 

"I'm sorry," he says, immediately dipping forward. 

You pull back. "Wait–" 

Eddie waits. "What?" he asks. 

"I don't want you to kiss me just 'cus I asked you to." 

Eddie pushes his hand upward, his index finger shaped to your jawline. He rubs a quarter circle from your chin to your jaw tentatively with his thumb, an awful sorry look in his eyes that he gets whenever you're upset. "Well, I always want to kiss you," he confesses. His eyebrows furrow. "You know that, right?" 

"But you haven't, today." 

Is that pathetic? you panic. Noticing, caring, it feels so, so silly all of a sudden, you can't believe you spilled it that easily. You may as well have written clingy loser across your forehead in glaring pen. 

Eddie sees it. He doesn't cringe at you like you fear he will. 

"Ah," he says, almost humming, his lips barely parted, "that's just not okay, is it? My girl waiting on a kiss." 

He leans in. You shy away, wanting his kiss but wanting the run up more. Eddie follows your lead, keeping space between you, rubbing a diligent and affectionate circle into your cheek. His touch is soft enough to tickle. 

"I'm not trying to act desperate, I just figured– I thought there was a reason you hadn't," you say. 

Eddie asks you in his softest, most genial tones if he can kiss you. 

You don't say yes so much as you lift your chin and close your eyes. Your relief is sharp as he closes the fizzing space between you, as he guides your face to his and holds it there like a treasured pearl cupped in two palms. He makes a sound at the back of his throat that kills any doubts of his affection stone cold dead. Your lips part a millimetre if that, and Eddie slots into the gap, his hands growing less and less careful by the second, the pressure of his touch amping up. He moves back only long enough to turn his head, your noses bumping, another breathy sound slipping past his lips. You smother it gracelessly with a rougher reciprocation. 

It's not your longest kiss, but it works. It's the reassurement you needed. Eddie pulls away to suck in a harsh breath, the feeling foreign against your tingling lips. His face dips, his eyes out of view. His hands move in twin down the slope of your neck, languish, feel along the thin layer of your t-shirt as though he's looking for some secret answer. 

"I'm not trying to act weird around you, I'm just nervous," he says.

You feel your back aching, stiff as a rod. "Nervous?" you ask quietly. 

Eddie rests his forehead on your chin. He whispers a cuss, and then he sits up very tall and looks you in the eye. 

It takes him five seconds to tell you what it is that's making him anxious. In that time, you come up with a handful of things. I lost my job. I don't want to be with you anymore. There's someone else. There's no one else, but you did something that pissed me off/made me uncomfortable/disgusted me. I'm sick. None of your guesses are good, and none prepare you for what he asks next. 

"Would you wanna move in with me?" 

His hand meanders along your thigh. An awkward smile catches his lip like a fish hook, tugging it up on one side. 

"I… what?" 

"I think it's a good idea. I was trying to ask you yesterday, and now today it didn't feel right. I don't want you thinking I'm asking because you did my laundry." His hand warms your thigh, a pervasive heat. Your face is similarly hot. "We could split rent, and you could keep saving. You wouldn't have to deal with your shitty neighbours. You'd be closer to your job, and– and to me. It's a good idea," he repeats. "There's a ton of reasons it would be good for you, but I'm asking 'cus I missed you so bad last night I couldn't sleep. I wanna be with you whenever we can be." 

"You'd really want me to?" you ask. 

"You'd never have to wait for a kiss again," he says hopefully. "I know it's a big move. I get it if you're not ready." 

"I'm ready," you say. You don't know it's true until you've said it aloud. 

Delight sparks and catches like sun-dried tinder. Elation lights his eyes. "Holy shit, yeah? You want to?" 

"Yeah," you say, nodding emphatically, trying not to yell. "Yes, I want to. I'd love to! That would be–" 

"A dream," he finishes, snatching your waist into his grasp, basically yanking you into his arms.

"Amazing," you say, your arms forced over his shoulders. 

You wrap your arms around the back of his head, curls that smell of almond oil and a generous dollop of hair mousse crushed to your face. Your eyes slip closed. You suck in an inconspicuous breath, though your self-indulgent action is interrupted by a groan, Eddie squeezing you hard enough to make the bones in your back click three at a time. 

"I can't believe you, sweetheart. I don't kiss you for an hour and you think there's something wrong?" He laughs.

"I'm spoiled," you say sheepishly. To draw his attention, you add, "I can't believe you, afraid to ask me that! Why would I say no? I love you." 

"I love you, too," he says, pulling the small of your back tighter still so he can dig his nose into the side of your head. 

He kisses you all over the side of your face until you're painted in little warm patches from overexposure. A loved up mess, and dizzy with relief.

Relief and excitement. "How soon do you want me in here?" you ask, sitting back. 

"How soon do you want another kiss?" he asks. 

"Will we be stealing each other's questions all day?" you ask. 

"For the rest of time, if I get my way." 

"That's so corny," you whisper, ecstatic. 

Eddie pushes you down onto the couch cushions. You know before he so much as pulls up a knee that he's going to climb on top of you. You make room for him, your heart feeling like it could breach through your ribs one bone at a time. 

"What are you doing?" you whisper with a smile. 

"Making up for lost kisses."

—

Two Weeks Later

Eddie wakes to a kiss. 

Your arm thrown over his waist, your hand feeling greedily at the trim curve atop his hip, you've well and truly wrapped yourself around him. Like an octopus. He imagines the popping sound of your suckers if he tried to detach you (not that he'd want to). 

You're dotting shy, soft kisses down the column of his throat. "I love you," you say softly between them, a melody that turns him to jelly. "I love you. Love you, love you, love you." 

Your kisses are a compromise —after the general holy fucking shit-ism of your conversation a fortnight ago, Eddie put his foot down. He was out of his mind knowing his apartment was about to become yours, but he was also incredibly unhappy about the faces you'd made before he asked. He remembers your voice, your apprehension as you mumbled, "No, because, you're being off with me."  

Eddie had been totally off trying to figure out how to ask what was potentially the second most important question he could ever ask you; he was distracted enough by it that he totally forgot about kissing you senseless. And your worrying asked a totally new question he hadn't thought of before. Why does Eddie always kiss you first? And why had the lack of a kiss been seen as a bar, and not an invitation? 

Hence Project Kiss Me, Stupid. Or Project Kiss Me Stupid if he's feeling particularly in love (because you aren't stupid at all, but you may have made an unintelligent assumption (Eddie not kissing you for a few hours did not mean even slightly that he isn't gross in love). 

The project was more like a proposal. Eddie decided you should be making the first move more often, so you weren't ever left feeling like something was wrong between you for lack of a kiss again. "If you ever think I'm mad at you, plant one on me. I promise I won't be mad much longer," he told you.

You're passing with flying colours, as far as he's concerned. Eddie thinks your moving in was gift enough, but fuck, all these kisses? He's been a walking vestibule of love, and lust, and sickening fondness for two weeks now. Project Kiss Me Stupid is the best thing that's ever happened to him. He's a genius.

"Good morning," you say into his neck, a hint of teeth scratching him with the greeting. Eddie cups the back of your head with a weak, tired groan as your lips close over his pulse.

"Morning," he says. His voice is thick with the grit of sleep. 

"This is okay?" you ask, pausing in your kiss. 

Eddie tips his head back heavily into plush pillows, your pillows, fresh with new bedding to match the nightstands you'd decided on together. "Please," he says. His arm slides behind your back to belt you in. "I'm gonna think you don't like me anymore if you take any longer." 

"Very funny," you murmur. 

He knows he's forgiven for teasing when your face dives back into the crook of his neck. His eyes shutter closed, blissed, thinking, God, I could get used to this, when you nip him. 

"You didn't like my joke, I take it?" 

"It was funny," you say, giving him a scratching kiss.

"That's counter-intuitive," he warns. "I like it rough." 

You fall away from him to cover your face with both hands. He knows he's rubbing off on you at the sight, your head shaking a theatrical side to side that fails to hide real embarrassment beneath it. You look especially tortured. 

Eddie knows exactly how to fix it. 

˚‧꒰ა ✮ ໒꒱‧˚

thanks so much for reading! I really hope you enjoyed!

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson scenario #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader

[mariespen]

Apology ༊*·˚

Protective!Rafe x Fem!Reader ༊*· Summary: “Don’t need people seein’ what’s mine, a’ight?” Warnings: mild sexual implications

based on this request!

︵‿︵‿༊*·˚୧‿︵‿︵

You tapped around Tannyhill in your perfect little pink heels, trying to fix your hair before your boyfriend, Rafe Cameron, decided that it was too far past the time to leave. He had offered to take you shopping today as a half apology for being home at 2am last night on ‘private business.’ You’re sure that you would get the other half of the apology tonight.

“Princess..” Rafe called, warning you of his incoming annoyance.

Admittedly, you were pushing it by delaying the trip by about 2 hours in the first place. You quickly put on a thin layer of tinted lipstick and covered it with a thicker layer of gloss. Looking in the mirror and making sure your hair was even across your shoulders, you finally gave in and decided to make your way downstairs.

Rafe made you feel like you were meeting him for prom whenever you walked down the arching staircase. He looked at you with his eyes wide, a proud smile on his face.

“Gorgeous as always.” He said with a smile, spinning you around and grinning when you giggled at the small gesture.

You planted a soft kiss to his neck, pulling back and realizing that you had left a mark from your glossy lips. Your eyes widened while you tried to stifle any laughter that could slip.

“Hm?” Rafe asked, looking down at you with a love-coated look of confusion.

“Sorry, Rafe..” You moved your hand to start to wipe the faint and glossy red lip stain from his neck.

Your actions clicked in his head and he grinned down at you, pulling your hand away and shrugging casually.

“S’okay.” He said, proudly wearing your lips on his neck and brushing hair from your face before walking away to grab his keys, leaving you with blush erupting across your cheeks.

The small, pink purse that held your most important shopping necessities (lip gloss, mascara, and your pink digital camera) was strung up on his shoulder. Rafe gestured for you to walk out of the door next to him, waiting patiently as you smiled and bit your lip.

“What’s all that for?” He asked with a cocky smile, watching your ass sway with you as you walked out of the door.

“Nothin’..” You said with a giggle, holding his hand as the two of you walked to the car. 

Taking you shopping at expensive designer stores was something that Rafe had always taken pride in doing. His Prada sunglasses sat perched on his nose while he had your arm linked with his, keeping you close to him. Rafe was never good at telling you how much you meant to him, so he figured he would try and show you by buying everything you could ever want. After all, his most prized possession was practically skipping next to him, giving him a smile that melted his entire heart.

Rafe was never bored, trying his best to take mental notes of everything that you touched with any interest at all. Watching his girl thrive with happiness because of the small things that he was doing for you made him smile right along with you.

Every time that you would buy something, you instantly started to carry it in the oversized bags. You still weren’t fully used to this luxurious treatment, even after two years, so through muscle memory you always held your own bags. “Here baby, let me.” Rafe would insist every time without missing a beat.

At the end of your trip, his arms were filled to the brim with different bags from every different shop that you strolled into.

“I can take some, Rafe.” You said with a giddy smile, feeling guilty that your only baggage was the pink purse that you had insisted on carrying yourself.

It took you by surprise when he glared at you, almost as a warning. You were confused, not realizing how much he was against you doing the things that he wanted to do for you. Putting everything in the back of his sports car, you helped yourself into the passenger seat and waited patiently as he got into the driver’s seat. Without any hesitation, his hand was resting on your thigh the moment he got in.

“Thank you, Rafe.” You said with a smile, kissing him and letting him deepen it, feeling butterflies flutter in your stomach as your head went to the hazy place it always did when he kissed you like that.

The drive home was always his favorite part, your excited and rushed voice as you tried to tell him about everything you had gotten all at once. He let out a breathy chuckle as you stuttered over your words, smiling bigger when you laughed with him. 

Back at Tannyhill, Rafe had pulled in all of the bags and lined them up in the corner of your shared room. Out of excitement, you started to film a quick haul of your favorite items for your friends. Leaning the camera on a windowsill and preparing everything was easy enough, but being able to actually film anything was the bigger obstacle.

Rafe stood to the side, moving into the frame whenever you turned around or even to the side with the intention to block out your ass. 

“Rafe!” You whined, a pout showing across your face.

He raised his eyebrows at you, cocking his head in a look of warning.

When you finally cut the video and watched the whole thing back, you realized it was no good in the first place. Most of the video was Rafe’s leg blocking any view that the camera could have of absolutely anything. You let out an angry sigh as he watched over your shoulder.

“M’sorry baby..” He said, trying to hide his smug smile as he hugged you from behind and breathed in the Chanel perfume on your neck, “Don’t need people seein’ what’s mine, a’ight?”

You rolled your eyes but it was hard to be mad at him when you already felt his lips on your shoulder. 

“I forgive you..” You said, pretending to be annoyed as he flipped you around gently and kissed you again, this time on the lips.

“No baby.. let me show you how sorry I really am.” Rafe said with a smile, deepening the kiss and letting his hand run down from your back to your ass.

You let Rafe take control, knowing that the second part of your apology was playing out perfectly.

(lmk if anyone wants a pt 2!)

︵‿︵‿༊*·˚୧‿︵‿︵

#mariespen #outer banks #rafe cameron #obx fic #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron imagine #rafe x reader #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe obx #rafe drabble #rafe fanfiction #rafe imagine #protective!rafe #protective rafe cameron #rafe outer banks #obx fanfiction #obx cast #outer banks imagine #obx #drew starkey #protective boyfriend #rafe smut

[blkkizzat]

JJK Men x Black!Reader Bonnet Headcanons - fluff, 18+ only

Nanami is thoughtful. He would make sure his sweet girl would never have to worry about protecting her hair. 

Once you explain to him why you wear a bonnet to bed Nanami is the type to surprise you by sewing (of course Mr. Domestic can sew!) silk into the lining all your hats, caps and beanies. He makes sure the sheets and pillowcases are silk as well. 

Nanami also starts lounging in silk PJs (that hang low on his hips showing off his deep cut v-line) because he also knows how much you like laying your head in his lap when the two of you relax in front of the TV just in case you don't actually feel like putting your bonnet on just yet.

Choso is an insomniac so when he can't sleep he watches over you. 

Like a protector, if he notices you shifting and a braid, lock, coil or curl escapes your bonnet he will reach over to gently tuck it back in before giving you a chaste kiss on your forehead or nose. In fact, if he can manage without waking you up, Choso will even tighten or re-tie your bonnet as well. 

And if your hair is straightened, on hot nights when you start to sweat he will turn on the fan, turning off oscillation in favor of directing it all to cool you instead. Choso knows you hate sweating out your new silk press.

You don’t know any of this though, you just know ever since you started sleeping over at Choso's you’ve never woken up with your bonnet off or your hair sweat-out.

Suguru is practical about it. He is the type that once you explain why you wear your bonnet and how it keeps your hair healthy and protected he starts wearing bonnets too so his long locks can stay smooth. 

Not only does he wear bonnets with you he buys matching ones for you for the both of you to wear to bed. You never worry about forgetting your bonnet now when packing an overnight bag to stay at Suguru's because he always has dozens of them for you to chose from. 

Suguru even has dedicated an entire drawer for you in his closet for all your collective bonnets. In fact, best to just leave yours at home because he will pout hella bad if y'all ain’t going to bed matching.

Toji is a bit of an asshole. If you’re mad and ignoring him he will definitely snatch your bonnet off when you brush past him just to get your attention. Toji would much rather have you cussing at him than the silent treatment. 

You could try to take it back from him but n!gga is big as fuck and if he plays 'keep away' you know you ain’t getting that shit back until he's ready. You sigh relenting and stand on your tippy toes to give him a kiss, the silent treatment finally broken.

Satisfied, Toji immediately returns your bonnet. He places it back on your head and adjusts it to as it was before. He kisses you again and apologizes for upsetting his 'sexy mamas'.  

You would have made him work for it a bit more before giving into him so easily, snatched bonnet or not but you don’t trust him alone with your bonnets. You once walked in the bedroom to find him jack!ng off into your favorite bonnet because 'all your panties were in the dryer'.

Gojo is over the top about it. He goes out of his way to order you designer bonnets. Fendi doesn't make actual bonnets? Well they do the fuck now. 

Money is absolutely no object and only the best quality silk goes on his baby girl's head. Gojo once even flew you to Paris so Chanel could take your actual head measurements in their showroom (which he shutdown just for you ❤︎).

All of this is fine and all but you do still love your trusty $2 beauty supply store bonnets. Gojo know's this and tbh he loves them on you just as much too. You know he does because once in a while you will come back home and instead of his blindfold he will be wearing one of your beauty supply bonnets pulled down over his eyes.

Gojo whines that he missed you all day and this helped him feel closer to you.

Sukuna appears indifferent to your bonnet. In fact you might even be a bit self conscious at first that he doesn’t like when you wear one. 

However, all those worries dissipate when you start to notice how attentive he is to the fact of making sure you actually do wear one. You binging your fav Netflix drama and decide to lay down on the sofa without putting on your bonnet first? Nah.

Your vision will be blocked when Sukuna drops a fresh bonnet on your face. A simple order to 'put it on brat' is given before he leaves the room. He does this often. If you question him why he does this? Sukuna will grumble and say he wont want you bitching or taking longer to get ready later because you forgot to wear your bonnet and now your hair is too messed up. 

Although Sukuna truly couldn't give a fuck if you didn't do your hair and just wore your bonnet when you both do go out. You look fucking hot to him either way. One time Sukuna even laid a n!gga out flat on his back in the streets. Some random dude made a comment about you being 'ratchet' under his breath for wearing your bonnet outside the house and learned to mind their fucking business that day. Safe to say Sukuna is very much pro-bonnet.  

blkkizzat © 2024 - do not steal/repost.

a/n: I said I would write drabbles but these headcanons popped into my mind and I had to share. Hope y'all enjoyed!

*runs back to the fifty-leven fics i am currently procrastinating on*

Reblog (because tumblr isnt showing this for some reason 😭) and let me know which one was your fav but likes and comments are just as appreciated!

#♋︎kizzatcooks #♋︎kizzatcookedthat #jjk x black reader #jujutsu kaisen x black reader #gojo x reader #toji x reader #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujustsu kaisen x reader #sukuna x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #geto x reader #satoru x reader #nanami x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #choso x reader #jujutsu kaisen #toji fushiguro #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen fluff #gojo fluff #geto fluff #nanami fluff #sukuna fluff #toji fluff

[syoddeye]

reminiscent

my entry to @glitterypirateduck's ghost challenge. ~8k.

prompts used: #83 caught in the rain/#54 omegaverse/brother's best friend replaced with #100 you are soap's sister

tags: two POVs, societal bullshit (omegaverse), brief mentions of Catholicism, angst, vomit, hurt/comfort, negative self-talk re: asexuality and medical condition, medical inaccuracies, crass/mean Simon then protective Simon, Simon in glasses, kind of being someone's beard, brief mention of suicidal ideation, sibling loss, grief

one line summary: When your brother Johnny dies, a man named Simon buys your life out from underneath you.

a/n: this jumps around throughout time. i gloss over some a/b/o elements. banner from @/cafekitsune. ✨

A nudge to the toe of his boot, and Simon flexes his fingers over his sidearm. The vest’s buckle dangles, unfastened and limp. There is no grip to pull, no trigger to squeeze, just the painfully blue eyes of his superior, dim and unflinching.

“Ghost,” Price glances at the empty holster. “We’re back. You have ten minutes.”

It takes a second. Simon shoots a look at Soap to silently convey incredulity, but he might as well take a blade to the neck. The seat across from him is empty. Before memory strikes, he’s on his feet, bursting through the van’s doors and parting the reception committee. He doesn’t register faces or sounds, shutting out all distractions to carve an efficient path to his target.

God help anyone bold enough to try and stop him. Ten minutes is a courtesy, not for him, but for whatever unlucky officers tasked with the cleanup.

The walk eats three minutes.

Beneath a percentile of pressure, the rake pushes in place and the lock yields. He catches the door before it slams, and the moment it clicks shut, his nose twitches. The room reeks of damp earth and pine, a hearth in a lonely, snowed-in cabin. It gathers the force of an avalanche, pummeling into him and stealing his breath. It settles an invisible weight on his chest and limbs. Buried to his neck in memory, he forces himself to move. He’s dug himself out of the ground before. He’ll do it again.

There is no time for reverence. The proper personnel will arrive shortly. Price can only distract them for so long. Simon empties the contents of the bedside cabinet onto the neatly made bed and takes what he’s looking for—the spare dog tags, a sketchbook, and any traces of them. A photograph flutters out, dated two years earlier. Johnny and a slightly younger woman with the same grin in front of a Christmas tree. He hears his sergeant’s lilt as he pockets the picture and other goods.

“Come to mine for the holidays. I don’t want you to be alone.”

Simon doesn’t think of himself when he slips into his quarters. He thinks about the sister, and his own family. 

The days pass, surreal yet sharp and excruciating, as if he’s a surgical patient and the anesthesia didn’t take. Attends the debrief. Doesn’t hear it. Shrugs off the offers and orders for assistance and counseling. They’re given a week to sleep and heal, time Simon spends studying Soap’s sketchbooks and scouring public and private records to learn more about the younger MacTavish. It strikes him on the drive to the cliffs, Johnny’s ashes in his bag, that he’ll never see him again. That the sister will never see him again.

He goes for a drink alone, walking across town to avoid Price and Gaz, and plants himself at the end of the bar. A few beers in, and a vaguely woodsy smell turns his head. The ghost of Johnny at the edge of his vision dissipates, leaving some scruffy man in his sights. He finishes his drink, eyes locked with the stranger. His designation doesn’t matter. He’ll do.

Until he doesn’t. 

Simon barely touches the man on the walk to the park. Doesn’t bother committing his name to memory or looking at his face. One thing leads to another, and eventually, the man’s on his back in the grass. He paws at Simon’s chest and whines, baring his neck pathetically. It turns Simon’s stomach, and before anything really happens, he retches into the bushes. The stranger sputters and stumbles into the dark.

He sits beside his mess until dew forms. 

The following day, he beats Price to his office. The old man doesn’t insult him by walking on eggshells, he listens. Asks if Simon is sure.

“That isn’t what we heard in his will.”

“No, but it’s what he would’ve wanted.”

Price stares long and hard, then acquiesces. “I suppose you’d know.” He raps his knuckles on the desk with a heavy sigh. “I’ll start the paperwork.”

In hindsight, it is a mistake to believe your teacher when he says the forms are anonymous. How feeling nervous or scared is okay and that the answers will guide discussion in the coming weeks. You faithfully believe him and answer honestly. When he turns up for a home visit, you’re shocked, and your parents are mortified.

The three of them quickly align. They emphasize how normal this is, that they all took the test when they turned sixteen, and that you still have a few years to learn more about it and to come to terms. Pamphlets are shoved into your hands before you’re excused to your room so the adults can speak privately.

Whatever he tells your parents lands you in a stale, uncomfortable counselor’s office. This time, you know better when she tells you the sessions are confidential. It takes three months of careful lying to mollify your parents adequately.

At a family gathering, your aunt proudly announces that an older cousin finally completed presentation, a whole three years after her test. A year later, that same cousin shyly admits she dropped out of university, a hand on her round belly and a baby on her hip. It’s only then you start truly seeing your omega relatives. How they stick to the sidelines, huddle in the kitchen, and fuss over everyone else’s comfort. Docile and pliant.

For years, you pray to God to turn out differently. To be nothing. And if not nothing, please, make you a beta like your father or an alpha like your mother or brother. Amen.

You cry for hours after your results. Your parents do their best to convince you it’s a blessing, but you see the results for what they are—a countdown. 

School automatically splits your class into new health electives, fracturing years of relationships in one fell swoop. New social hierarchies form over the course of an afternoon, and you find yourself on the outside of old circles. It gnaws and bites like flies to see former friends turn their noses up at you. Cracks and shifts your insides, uncovering anger as old and boiling as a deep-sea vent. You let your grades slip to the bare minimum because what’s the point? Won’t some alpha take care of you anyway? Barf.

Your parents weather the fallout. They invite that cousin for tea with all four whelps in tow. It’s hard to hear her proclaim the wonders of life as an omega through shrill cries and fussing. That night, your mother’s patience snaps after you declare your life over. The fight goes nuclear, ending with your banishment to your room when she asks if your cousin’s life is over, and you say ‘yes’. While you may be sorry, you don’t regret it.

The next morning, you find Johnny at breakfast. Just like the test, you see his sudden, surprise visit for what it is—an olive branch. You wonder when your parents called and begged him to request a short leave. Parents know their children’s weaknesses. You’re thick as thieves. Before your results, the last time you cried was when he left for basic.

Johnny drags you around town to tackle a list of your favorites, dismantling the defensive wall you're hellbent on building. Anger festers under your skin, begging him to say the wrong thing.

Yet, if anything, your hissing and snapping amuse him. He ruffles your hair and dodges your fists, and you find chances to throw an elbow into his ribs. However, you're both far from the even playing fields of childhood, and punching him is punching stone.

"What's eatin' you? Somethin' happen?" He jeers, goading you on the walk home.

"You know what happened."

"Yeah," he admits with the sharp edge of a laugh. "You turned into a thin-skinned cretin just 'cause of a test."

You see red, and Johnny humors you. Takes a few desperate kicks and slaps before grabbing you by the forehead and stiff-arming. Stocky, but a reach longer than yours. You’re hissing and spitting when tears spring to your eyes, and a frustrated sound heralds a break in your voice.

It all comes out. How it’s like your future is a foregone conclusion. That you don’t want to undergo presentation, bonding, or, most of all, have an alpha dictate the rest of your life.

For perhaps the first time, your loudmouth brother shuts his trap. Doesn’t say a word. No snarky comments or unserious answers. He just lets you wail. In retrospect, it’s clear that he swapped a cudgel for a knife. Dissected your rage with a mind trained to defuse explosives.

That Sunday after mass, he hugs you and makes a promise before he leaves. Years later, half-listening to an officer who asks if there’s anyone they can call for you, you wish you remembered what it was.

In the hours following the officer’s departure, you go through the motions—numb and shell-shocked. The tide’s out, and you stand on shore, waiting for the crushing grief.

Aunt Marion sits on the sofa, going through the address book to inform people, one by one, of Johnny’s passing.

You’re in the kitchen fixing her supper and creating a mental to-do list when you overhear her tell someone, “I’m filing for change in guardianship in the morning. John never did have the time to find that girl a proper mate. You still have that matchmaker’s number, right?”

There’s no time to process the first loss with a second snapping at its heels.

Your brother’s headstone is not standing for more than an afternoon when a suitor shows interest. He circles like a vulture, the disgusting creature. You wish you could say you weren’t expecting it.

The portrait of your best friend bears witness from atop the mantle. In uniform with a buzzed head and a serious expression, it’s him, yet nothing like him. The Johnny you know—knew—would be grinning ear-to-ear, greeting folks, lightening the mood, and scolding your relatives for not footing the bill for a proper venue. He’d be angry they’d put it on your shoulders or invite this many people.

You hadn’t wanted any of this, either. You knew him best, but nobody listens to you. As Johnny followed your parents into death, you’re left alone, subject to the whims and mercies of an aunt who sees only your designation. 

The court swiftly transfers power to your aunt. Omegas cannot roam about without anyone to account for them, after all. Johnny was declared your ‘guardian’ following the crash that took your parents. Didn’t matter if you were an adult, a whole twenty years old. The title always amused you with its inherent pompousness.

Guardian. You don’t find the archaic term funny anymore, not when a neighbor cuts through the room, intentions clear. Your nostrils flare at his vinegariness, the feeler he sends to test the waters. It sets your teeth on edge, encouraging the oncoming migraine. Why the foulest-smelling alphas think they can go without scent blockers, you don’t know.

God grant you the audacity.

“I’m sorry for your loss, Johnny was a good man.”

“John,” You swiftly correct. ‘Johnny’ is reserved for family. “John was a good man. Who are you?”

The man smiles, and his pupils unnervingly dilate. “Alan. I live three down.” His gaze briefly flits to your neck.

You bristle. This is why you opted for a turtleneck that morning. The awful gut feeling some boorish idiot would seek you out now that you changed hands. To act so bold at a funeral reception. “Well, Alan, from three down, you can–”

“You can find refreshments through there.” Aunt Marion interjects, the older woman floating into view, reeking of powdery florals. She does not need to posture. A slight tilt of her head and intrusion into your personal bubble banishes the man into the next room, with her eyes fixed on him until he disappears.

"Good riddance," she mutters. “Alan Findlay. The gall. Like I’d let that cur have you or this house.” She sniffs, grimacing. “Go take another blocker. Now. You’re distracting the guests.” 

You knew your aunt’s intervention was not for your well-being, but you still wilt. This is how things are and always have been. Johnny simply shielded you from it. Unbonded omegas are bargaining chips. Hares set loose in front of sighthounds. How foolish, thinking you could outrun centuries of tradition and deny nature. Aunt Marion is entitled to the house, your future, and the money that comes with both.

You trudge upstairs, and on the landing, you swallow a hard lump in your throat. Steady now. You start toward the bathroom but freeze at the sight of Johnny's door. There's a sliver of light beneath it.

No one should be in there. No one has been in there since he last deployed. Your heart lurches against your ribcage, anger curling your fingers into fists as you reroute automatically, marching to catch the trespasser. Another greedy relative with sticky fingers, no doubt. You turn the knob and push, and the curse on the tip of your tongue promptly fizzles.

A colossus stands in front of Johnny’s wardrobe, clutching one of his shirts. You do not so much as enter your brother’s room as you run face-first into the wall of the man’s scent. It bludgeons the olfactory with leather polish and tobacco, cedar and amber. Familiar, somehow, and powerful.

“You’re the sister.” His free hand hovers beside a cloth mask tucked beneath his chin. He’s clad in black like a mourner, though you don’t recall him. The deep voice prickles, snagging on something sharp in your chest. Pink and pale scars etch over his chin and mouth. You briefly study them before your eyes dart to the shirt and then his face.

“Yeah,” The hairs on your neck rise at how his scent and facial muscles relax in tandem. 

“Were you smelling John’s shirt?”

“Yes.” He says without hesitation or a shred of shame.

And it’s the lack of shame, the nerve to enter a dead man’s room, that does you in. The last straw. You flatten against the open door and gesture into the hallway. “Right, okay. Get the fuck out. Now.”

To his credit, he complies. The shirt remains clenched in a fist. 

“Leave it,” You snap, but he closes in. Citrus wrinkles your nose, beckoning you to relax. What have you accomplished by antagonizing a man this size? An alpha? This is not your brother, not someone likely to entertain your irritation. Your neck cranes, head hitting the door with a quiet thunk, and you stare into eyes the color of pitch, ringed by dark circles. Instincts like cicadas, buried to avoid that which would exploit them, dig their way out of the ground. “Stop–”

“Your aunt. She’s in charge of the house and you, yeah?”

Your mouth dries. You don’t answer.

His nostrils flare, and a chill runs down your spine. Apparently, he finds whatever trace of your pheromones agreeable enough to hum. Then he hooks a finger in the mask and drags it into place over his nose and mouth. 

“You don’t smell like him at all. Blockers or no.” He tosses the shirt onto Johnny’s desk as he lumbers past.

You’re left adrift, clutching the door for dear life. The earthy smell lingers. How long had the stranger been in here that he’d gone and stunk up the room? Your hands shake hanging up the shirt, and you avoid looking at anything else as you slink out, proverbial tail tucked.

In the bathroom, you knock back a second blocker and a pain reliever, drinking sink water cupped in your hands. You glance at the prescriptions on the shelf. Blockers and suppressants. They look different, equally distressing, and comforting now that you’re alone. You close the medicine cabinet, and something slips into the sink. A frown forms instantly at the sight of the stupid, ugly Kevlar bite guard. Johnny brought it home one leave, swearing up and down it was safer than commercial. An extra layer of protection to be worn during the weeks bookending your seasonal heats. Humiliation accessorized. Downstairs you go.

Aunt Marion waits in the living room, flitting about, excitedly chittering to her husband. The moment she sees you, she brightens further, aglow with a sense of accomplishment. Dread calcifies your stomach.

“What have you done?” 

Undeterred, your aunt smiles and pats your hand. “Only what John would’ve wanted.”

Cedar and myrrh, stone and soil—a burst potent enough to cow the eldest member of your family, forcing her to retreat a step. You feel a presence at your back and slowly turn to face a wall of muscle wrapped in black. This close, your nose finds the word it was looking for. Sepulchral.

“This is Mr. Simon Riley. He served with John,” Aunt Marion nervously chirps. “He’s made a generous offer for both the house and your bonding price, pending the validation of his bloodline and such.”

It’s a knife to the gut.

As far as you know, the various blood work and lineage reports come back satisfactory. However, their contents are a mystery, as you’re not allowed to request copies without his permission, and you’re not about to ask. You don’t even know how to reach him. He said a dozen words to you at the house, then vanished after speaking to your aunt.

The following week, you nearly wear a track on the floor with your pacing. No announcement regarding an impending bonding appears in the paper. It isn’t required, but it isn’t out of fashion. You suppose more modern rituals are exclusive to immediate family nowadays, without the need for public acknowledgment. You shudder at the thought. If you’re to be humiliated, you’d rather have as few witnesses as possible.

Another week passes. You receive letters and packages in his name, ‘S. Riley’. Hard proof that despite his absence, this is his home, not yours. Then, a deposit appears in the house account Johnny opened. You don’t touch it. You won’t legitimize a thing if you can help it.

You return to work. Everyone expresses their sympathies, and you call the omega representative in human resources to apprise them of your status. Their smile is tight on the screen when you dodge their questions and ask to simply update the paperwork from ‘J. MacTavish’ to ‘S. Riley’. Every day, you listen for his return and wonder if you’ll find him sitting in Johnny’s chair. It sets your teeth on edge.

A month turns over in limbo. You briefly wonder if you’re the sibling who died, now cursed to languish where you only glimpse your brother in the periphery, with a monster stalking the fenceline.

Christmas is a date that happens. You refuse an obligatory invitation to your aunt’s home and donate the gifts you already purchased. New Year passes the same way; miserable and isolated like any other. And then, thirty-three days after he buys your life from underneath you, Simon reappears on the second day of the year.

“Gonna let me in?” Simon grunts, toting two bags and car keys.

“Not gonna command it?” You sneer, confused over the delay, certain of his tricks. He’s going to try and bond you, sooner or later.

Simon stares. There’s no malice, only exhaustion. Sweat and musk batter your nose, acrid and disgusting, masking his usual spoor. It’s strange. Perhaps you’re noseblind to him already. You step aside.

Simon removes his shoes and jacket, rolling his shoulders with audible albeit muffled pops. He grunts at the packages, turning one over in a single broad hand before evidently deciding to deal with them later. He starts upstairs.

“First on the right”

He pauses halfway.

“My old room. It’s for guests now, but you can have it. Just. Don’t go into John’s room.”

He grunts again, but he listens.

Simon cloisters for two days. His scent returns to normal, slowly rolling over the house like a thick fog. It doesn’t seem to be an early rut, as he’s made no noise or sudden moves. Nothing to suggest a return to a bestial nature. You force yourself to continue your routine.

One morning, you find dishes in the drying rack and the paper on the table. Outside the back door, a half-smoked cigarette. It’s him, obviously, apparently skulking about in the small hours. As if the house needs another ghost. 

His presence, no matter how spectral, frays your poor nerves. You forget a quarter of the shopping list one day, cursing through the door with arms full of bags. 

“You didn’t use the money.”

You whip around to find Simon with a book tucked under an arm. He moves practically undetected between his light feet and pervasive scent.

The deposit. Right. Simon is joint owner of your accounts now.

You return to the groceries, jaw working at the irritating flatness of his tone. “I don’t need it. I earn my own wages, and I intend to continue working.”

“Didn’t tell you to quit. I said you didn’t use the money.”

“I don’t want it.”

The floor creaks under his foot, but he stops the second you tense. “It’s for you. For bills and expenses.”

“I don’t. Want it.”

“Johnny said you’d be difficult.”

“And he never fuckin’ mentioned you.” Regret immediately rises in your throat, demanding that you apologize, but you choke it down. You do not know this man. Law or not, he is a trespasser.

You do not hear him leave, but he gives you a wide berth. The next day, he’s gone again, but he leaves a note with his number.

Back to work. Use the money. - S

A couple of weeks later, after running out to collect your holds at the library, you return to Simon’s car in the parking space, a pair of mud-caked boots inside the door and a hastily half-unpacked bag on the table. The previously weak musk of Simon’s is refreshed and intense, drifting through the house. Begrudgingly, you put your stack aside and tidy a little. You pluck a knit hat beside the bag and squeak at the smell of rust and iron. The garment plops into the bag, unfolding into a skull-print balaclava, the bulk of which carries a red stain. Dry, thank the Lord.

You heave his bag to the floor with a huff and find another note.

Went out. Back late. - S

‘Late’ is generous. Hours pass. You fix dinner, stow the leftovers, finish your laundry (in case he needs the machines), reorder suppressants, and cozy up to crack the spine of the latest installment of a horror series. The patter of rain against the windows and the mountain of blankets ensconces you into a state of languor.

The key turning the lock startles you from sleep. Bleary-eyed, the back of your hand wipes drool from your lip, and the other leverages you off the sofa. Your vision gradually clears to reveal Simon’s hulking shape, filling the front door. Dripping and soaking wet, a puddle of rainwater pools at his feet. Without a word or acknowledgment of your presence, he peels off the paper mask adhered to his nose and chin and drops it alongside his flooded shoes. His socks and anorak go next, and before he discards any more articles of clothing, you make yourself useful.

You march past, movements automatic, into the kitchen to put the kettle on. 

A minute later, he shuffles in, dressed in sweats and a dry shirt. You deduce he swapped clothes with whatever’s in his bag. An aborted ‘welcome home’ sits on your tongue, but your nose catches something metallic. Blood.

Simon leans over the sink and promptly shoves a hand under the running water. From what you can see, his knuckles look bad, but he doesn’t appear injured elsewhere. You grab a bag of frozen peas.

“Pat it dry and give it here,” you grumble, dropping a towel by his arm and wrapping the peas in another.

His hand is a mess—knuckles raw and bloody, skin torn in places where he clearly punched something or someone. It’s ice-cold but not actively bleeding. You hold the makeshift cold compress in place and apply pressure. Another stilted silence passes, and you catch a whiff of citrus.

“Were you drinking? Are you drunk?” It sounds more accusatory than you intend.

“Yeah.”

“So this isn’t from work?”

“No.”

“Is it from–” 

“Scrap.” 

“Oh.” You squint. “So you got in from a work trip. Went for a pint. Made a new friend.“

Simon’s eyes snap to you. “She’s cracked the case,” his hand creeps toward yours, giving you time to let go before he steals the compress and pulls away. “Needed to blow off steam.”

“That’s idiotic,” You snap, traipsing behind him to the living room.

In response, he chuffs once like a warning shot. You keep your distance as he sinks into Johnny’s chair, groaning, and throws a heel onto the ottoman to drag it closer. Head rolling against the high back, his eyes flutter close as he relaxes into the cushion. He grinds his molars as he appears to forcibly unclench his muscles. You fetch the first aid kit. 

The slight curl of his lip makes you almost regret being nice. You set the tea and the kit on the side table, perking at the sound of him mumbling something suspiciously close to ‘thanks’.

Part of you considers retreating to give him space and go to bed. Johnny always spent the first several hours of leave decompressing alone. Yet you return to the blankets and book. This is still your house, even if your name will never appear on the deed.

Simon breaks the not-quite-companionable silence by dropping the wrapped peas on the table and exchanging them for the kit. Over your book, you grimace at how he uses his teeth to tear open an antiseptic wipe, then silently gag at the sharp bite of isopropyl in the air.

“You didn’t use the money. Again.” Simon finally says, smearing antibiotics into his split skin. 

“I told you–”

“It’s not my charity, if that’s what’s keepin’ you. It’s the survivor’s grant.”

The tension in your jaw could crack a tooth. Labdanum and firewood billow from the armchair. Scowling, you slap the book shut. “Stop.”

His face is expressionless, voice goading. “What? Not doin’ it for you? That not a nest for me?”

You straighten, shoulders rising to your ears and lip pulling into a sneer. He’s saying it to get under your skin, and it fucking works. 

“No, it’s not a fucking nest and no, I don’t find your stench comforting, thanks.”

Simon tosses the ointment and leans forward to drape his thick forearms over his thighs. The purpling bruises on his knuckles glisten in the lamplight. His studying agitates, his pupils like needles on your face. Then he asks the question that makes you hit the ceiling.

“You broken?”

At nineteen, you go to bed on Beltane and wake to a bombardment: sharp, needling botanicals of lemongrass and mint tempered by frankincense and lavender. Eye-watering and suffocating. You slip out to the nearest clinic, and the sickly-sweet smelling nurse beckons you to sit so she may deliver a killing blow.

“Hyperosmia is uncommon during early presentation, but it should mellow.”

Her words run together, drowned out by an internal doomsday clock striking midnight. Milennia’s worth of inherited horror and fear knitted into marrow catch up all at once. She holds your hair while you vomit and updates your chart as you wash up. She tells you to return if it doesn’t resolve in a month or two.

It doesn’t. It never does.

Hours of appointments, dozens of scans and tests, and enough paperwork to rival the holy book. You know the ENT by name, but she never provides a conclusive answer beyond ‘genetic lottery’. Certainly doesn’t feel like a win.

It’s a cruel twist to be repulsed twice over.

“What’s wrong? Are you broken or somethin’?” A greasy-haired man sneers, chest puffed out with a hand planted above your head. Of course, a nitwit corners you the one time you leave the house. All the scent blockers in the world cannot deter the repugnant or unscrupulous. His proximity pushes a pungent, sulfuric acid reminiscent of a leaking battery on you, flaring in offense when you visibly recoil. He repeats himself, teeth bared and foul.

The bastard assumes you’ll fawn. Assumes you’re alone.

It’s difficult to keep a straight face as Johnny scruffs the stranger, bringing him to heel. Your brother compels the miscreant to apologize and then sets him loose, satisfied he’s neutered the man. He scolds you all the way home and curses himself for letting his sister out of sight.

On his next leave, he brings a bite guard. You cringe at the ugly device, but Johnny insists. Spouts some nonsense about not always being around to save your hide, reminding you that you can’t arm yourself. His near-mythic anger leaks into every word. He forgets you’re a mirror.

“I’m not wearing this. This is fucking medieval.”

“Just when, y’know, ‘round those times. ‘Til you find someone–”

“I won’t find someone. I don’t want to find someone. I don’t want anyone.” The admission slips out so quietly you don’t think he hears it.

“–I can try to smuggle some of the blockers they give us, but ‘til then, when it’s, y’know–” “Christ, Johnny, save it, I’m not gonna listen to my brother–”

“Then fuckin’ listen to your guardian, because I’m only gonna say this once.”

It stops you like a slap to the face. He’s never lorded his appointment over you. Never.

“So you don’t want a mate. That’s fine. I’ll support you, like I always fuckin’ have. I’ll sing it out in the streets if you’d like. Hang a sign on the gate. But has it ever occurred to you that I might want someone? That maybe this isn’t just about your life? That being saddled with you isn’t easy?”

The two of you putter on the corner in silence. He rakes his nails over the stubble on his cheek. He murmurs a c’mon and herds you home, cutting his leave short by absconding the next morning.

“You broken?”

Two words to dredge up the ugliest parts of your life, your twin irregularities. You suppose you could distill it simply as you’ve had to counselors and doctors throughout the years. Yes, actually. My nose makes it difficult to leave the house without a migraine, and nobody’s ever stirred my loins. Aren’t you lucky? A terrible two-for-one special you handsomely overpaid for.

“Coulda just said that.”

Embarrassment shrivels your tongue. Of course, you spoke aloud. The impulse to apologize and flee attempts to puppet you, limbs twitching involuntarily at the idea of running for hills and leaving civilization altogether.

Simon rises before you formulate a response and takes the makeshift compress to the kitchen. On his way back, he fishes something out of his bag. The floor creaks when he stops to loom over you, offering a closed fist.

Your palm opens, and he rewards your compliance with a flash of steel. A single dog tag threaded with a thin ball chain. Your brother’s name reflects the light, and you grind the heel of your hand into an eye socket.

“They told me there was nothing left.”

“There isn’t. Found that lyin’ around.”

Your throat constricts, and a weak ‘thank you’ sputters out. The shadow of a massive hand lifts your head, and you press into the cushions, away from Simon’s reach. 

“I just told you I’m not into that.” You hiss, brow furrowing.

He pauses. The smirk on his face doesn’t match the ​​doleful look in his eyes. “You’re not my type.”

“Been thinkin’, Lt, what if after this, we take leave together?”

Simon rolls off the mattress and grabs his shirt off the floor. Should’ve known it’d come up again. Soap’s a glutton for punishment. The drama. The angry, desperate make-up sex. No other reason he’d keep stirring the pot. The man’s piss-poor pillow-talk and refusal to keep things simple detract some, but not enough to make Simon move on. Knows the other alpha too well for that, got him living in his head and bedroom most nights.

“Could go to mine, meet my sister. Told you she’s a bit like you, remember? Surly, introverted, a menace.” Soap sprawls into the forfeited space. “She’s an omega, but—”

Simon pokes through the shirt, face blank and mouth shut. The way ‘omega’ comes out of Soap’s mouth, a letter at a time—the reluctance, the glint in his blue eyes—he’s sharing something special. He’s talked about this sister before, but this is different. Despite all the times he’s had Soap on his back, it’s rare for the mutt to willingly show his underbelly. It’s too intimate, incongruent with his nature. Simon course corrects.

“Yeah? Tryin’ to set me up with your sister? Dirty dog.”

The effect is instant. Soap pushes upright to sit at the edge of his bed, posture shifting to broaden his shoulders, chin tucking a fraction. His lips pull back as he barks something like ‘not a fuckin’ joke’ and that Simon is a ‘disgusting bastard’. Touchy subject, this sister.

He goes to leave, swiping his balaclava from the desk.

Soap staggers after him with one leg in a pair of shorts and grabs him. He’s got tenacity, but Simon’s all mass. In seconds, he removes his sergeant.

Simon listens to Soap’s ragged breathing, studying the flicker of genuine anger in his eyes. Storm clouds over the ocean, barely restrained. He shouldn’t rile Soap like this, not with everything else going on.

He doesn’t apologize.

“Gonna tell me she’s special?”  

“No, she’s not—she’s normal. Different, but normal. Sensitive, is all.”

Simon releases him, unimpressed. “If she’s half as sensitive as you, she must be a crybaby.“

“Not like that.” Soap taps his nose. “Chronic pheromonal olfactory acuity. Rare genetic thing. Could pick you out of a crowd.”

“Shame. Laswell could’ve recruited her.” Conditions like that have their uses, but with her designation, it must be hell on earth. He says as much.

“Aye. It is. I’m careful about who I introduce.”

There it is, Soap skirting the issue again. Thinking if he meets the rest of the MacTavishes, it’ll legitimize their screwing. Convince him to throw their careers into the shredder. The brass looks the other way when alphas relieve stress; it prevents incidents, but they care if it becomes something else.

“Think about it?”

He does.

Soap’s chewing on something. Rather, something’s chewing Soap. Could be anything. Mexico. Graves. Hassan. Well and out of danger, his good knee bounces incessantly, the tap of his boot louder than the radio.

“Soap.”

“Lt?”

“Out with it.”

Soap opens. It doesn’t take much these days. The stress of the last couple weeks is still burning off, especially with Shepherd in the wind. Their world’s constricted, pressurized, a few bad days from implosion. People like his sergeant need talking space to alleviate it, among other things. 

“I put in for leave,” He starts. “Goin’ home in a week.”

Simon glances at the men playing cards on the other side of the room, then jerks his head to the door. Soap falls into step, tea abandoned, and waits until they’re outside Simon’s quarters to continue. 

“Said you’d think about it.”

“I did.”

“And?”

“Inside.”

He’s got him trained. In Soap goes, shirt halfway off before the door’s locked. 

“Ghost–”

“Not Ghost right now,” Simon tosses the balaclava across the room and reaches for Johnny. He cuffs him by the nape of his neck and reels him in. Soap shudders into the kiss, holding Simon’s hand in place with his own, almost giving in, but—

“Simon,” He pulls away. “Don’t do that.”

“Not doin’ it for you?”

“No, you’re shutting me out. Goin’ away.”

“‘I’m right here.”

Soap frowns tiredly. “Why don’t you want to come? Meet my sister?”

“Couldn't possibly intrude.”

He slowly shakes his head. “I’m askin’. I want you to meet her. She’s all I got left. Besides you.”

Simon’s nose twitches. Could make this easier on himself and enforce the pecking order like old times. But he doesn’t. What he does is worse. Meaner.

“And what am I?” Simon closes in, crowding him to the wall. He roughly reclaims Soap’s throat, chest rumbling at how perfectly it slots into his grip. He knew Johnny was his the first time he took him apart. Saw how the other alpha leaned into it. Offered his neck. Renounced nature itself in the heat of the most natural act.

“You know what you are.”

Simon tuts. “I know what you want me to be, and I told you my answer before, didn't I?” He adjusts to cup Soap’s face and drags his nose over the other cheek. “Say it. Tell me what I told you.”

“We aren’t–”

“Go on.”

Soap slackens in his hold. “We aren’t mates. Can’t be.” 

“Can’t be,” Simon repeats, grazing his teeth over the thrum of his sergeant’s carotid. A pulse like gunfire. “That’s right.” 

“I want to be.” It’s not a whine; it’s hardly a complaint. It’s a statement of fact delivered with resignation.

So do I, he admits privately, before pressing his lips to Soap’s neck, then sinking to his knees.

Soap tries again after the dam, persistent as a dog after a bone. Simon lets him crawl into bed, thinking they’ll celebrate Graves and Shepherd eating each other alive, getting one in while they can. Instead, he receives a tired earful.

“It’s fucked, sir.”

He toys with the brown hair flopped over his shoulder and breathes deeply and slowly. Relishing the subtle undertones of the man on his chest, he grunts. “Gonna need to be more specific.”

“Could’ve wasted the bastard years ago. Now we’re stuck chasing him.”

“It’s the job.”

Soap’s stubbly cheek presses to Simon’s pec, eyes closed. “Haven’t been home in months.”

“This about the runt MacTavish?”

“Don’t call ‘er that.” He slaps Simon’s stomach. “She’d bite your head off.”

He snorts. “Sounds like a ray of sunshine.” His gaze slips to the door. They’ll need to dress soon. Laswell works fast. “Miss her?”

“Missed her birthday. Way things are going, I’ll miss Christmas, too.”

Simon shifts beneath Soap’s weight. Here it is, the shit pillow-talk. Another blatant attempt to manipulate the impossible. He huffs dismissively. “Put in for leave anyway. Makarov’ll be down for a dirt nap within the week.”

“You’re confident, Lt.”

“Gloves off, Johnny. Old man won’t stop you this time.”

That seems to do the trick. For a few easy minutes, his sergeant remains silent. Simon admires the droop of Soap’s dark eyelashes on his skin and even breathing. Closest thing to heaven he’ll ever see, he thinks. 

Soap’s arm tightens its hold as he slightly flares his scent, a plume of woodfire as inviting as his words. “Come to mine for the holidays. I don’t want you to be alone.” His eyes open as he drags his chin to rest it on Simon’s pec. Soap can’t pin him on the sparring mat, but he can with a look. “Doesn’t have to mean anything.”

To you. Doesn’t have to mean anything to you.

“Think about it?” 

A faint waft of tobacco and musk leaks into the room, and Simon nudges Soap off as Price pounds on the door.

“Kate’s got something. Briefing room, three minutes.”

By the time Soap pries himself off the bed, Simon’s half-dressed. He avoids the mirror. Knows what he’ll see. Disappointment.

“You’re not my type.”

It’s maddening, the Escher staircases his admission builds in your head, each step a question that may go nowhere. He’s been anything but forthcoming. Didn’t introduce himself at Johnny’s funeral, didn’t explain a thing.

Before you can interrogate him, he disappears. It’s past midnight when you lumber to your bedroom, and out of habit, you glance at Simon’s door. It’s shut, not a flicker of light beyond, but Johnny’s is open a crack. You hesitate. It’s different this time. Simon is no longer a trespasser. He’s not doing anything illegal. Just wrong.

You tiptoe and peer inside. It’s difficult to see in the dark, but you smell him. Leather and tobacco. Cedar and amber. Myrrh, tilled soil, and poppies. How on the nose for a soldier to smell like death itself. But poking through the thick, funereal brume is juniper and pine. The hours preceding heavy snowfall. It’s an odd combination, grounding and sharp, petrous and serene. A graveyard in the dead of winter.

His breathing is too controlled for him to be asleep. It’s a standoff, and you’re not keen to see it through, so you turn around and go to bed. Between four and five in the morning, realization strikes. You knew Simon long before you met him.

“Has it ever occurred to you that I might want someone?”

The wool is hooked from your eyes. For years, your brother marched home reeking of blood, iron, and something else. Someone else. From what little he shared, you knew his task force was small and covert, close quarters a given. You assumed the military dispensed provisions for their alpha-dominant population. It didn’t occur to you that their solution was in-house.

You grimace in revulsion, but the feeling drops away into guilt.

“Maybe this isn’t just about your life? That being saddled with you isn’t easy?”

A near decade under your brother’s custodianship, and you thought you made it easy by becoming a near-recluse. You weren’t so naive to think it’d last forever. You were adults, for Christ’s sake. Eventually, Johnny would’ve co-signed a lease, and you’d start the quasi-independent life you dreamed of. He’d have the space to start his own family. All planned out. You didn’t want to be a lifelong burden, but with his early death, that’s all you ended up being.

Now you’re somebody else's problem, assumed out of pity.

Your gaze wanders to Simon in the living room. There is no delicate way to ask. He probably wouldn’t appreciate beating about the bush.

“So you and Johnny, you were, uh, an item?”

Simon’s focus breaks from the book in his lap, peering over a pair of wireframe glasses. His cheek bulges, seemingly chewing his response before spitting it out. “Yes and no.”

Insufferable man. Patience isn’t something you’ve historically possessed in spades, and with him, less so. “I’m assuming ‘no’, considering your neck.”

He snorts and slaps the book shut. “Like I’d let that mutt bite me.”

“Jesus wept,” you drop the baking tin onto the counter, head shaking. “You’re incapable of holding a serious conversation.”

You fiddle with the baking paper, face heating in frustration. All you want is honesty. To get to the bottom of your situation, to his situation with Johnny. You stew in exasperation and pour the lemon filling. You don’t notice Simon until he’s at the edge of the kitchen.

“Johnny said you were all he had left.”

The bowl nearly slips from your hands.

“And Johnny was all I had left.”

“So you—”

“So I did what needed doing. You need looking after,” he says, working his scarred lip and continuing, his voice a hair thicker. “And Johnny’s gone. It’s that simple. Nothing more.”

You need looking after. You noisily set the emptied bowl on the counter and disregard the instinct to make nice. Comfort him. “I don’t need a babysitter.”

Simon coughs. “Law says you do. I reckon I’m the best suited for the job.”

The confidence startles an incredulous laugh out of you. “I must’ve missed that in his will, the one where it states my aunt ought to be the one ‘looking after me’.”

His eyes narrow. “Want me to return you? You’d prefer her to match you with the nearest alpha with half a brain? Bonded, wed, and bred by Spring?” 

You angrily sweep the dirty dishes into the sink, a blistering anger coursing through your veins. “You’re disgusting.”

The mirth bleeds from his eyes. “No, I’m realistic. Something funny in the MacTavish line. Fucking dreamers, the two of you. Wanting things you can’t have.”

The remark causes your invisible, primordial hackles to rise. “What is that supposed to mean–”

Simon cuts you off with a single step into the kitchen. “Fuckin’ hell, do I need to spell it out?” He closes in, pointing a finger. “You aren’t interested in nobody, and I’m not interested in nobody but Johnny.” 

He towers, chest expanding, using every bit of his mass to intimidate and keep you listening. To pacify you. “You can’t do a whit without a guardian’s or alpha’s say so, and I happen to be in the business of not giving a shit.”

You lock into a brief staring contest, and the beep of the oven breaks it. He wordlessly moves so you can slide the lemon bars into the heat. You inhale deeply, drinking in the tart citrus as a palate cleanser, and shut the door.

“So, what, I’m your cover story?” You ask carefully.

“Whatever gets it through that thick skull of yours.” 

It’s not enough to stop the alarm bells ringing in your ears, but it quiets them. “And you’re not going to—You don’t want—”

“Already had a mate, not interested in another.”

There it is. “So you and Johnny were mates.”

Simon swallows, his thick neck contracting. He rubs his neck, hand skimming the slight protuberance on his neck. “Need a smoke. C’mon.” He turns, apparently certain you’ll follow.

You do.

A tiny ember lights his crooked features, and bluish-gray smoke curls into the air. He settles against a bare patch of stone some paces away downwind. It tests your self-control to not spout a line of questions. His silence obliges you to settle beside the frame, arms crossed in thinly-veiled agitation. 

The paper’s half-charred, a neat cluster of ash in the tray when he finally speaks. He clears his throat, dipping his chin to gaze into the garden. Each word pushed out grudgingly as if evicted from some deep part of himself. “Johnny and me…We didn’t bite or bond. Surefire way to get discharged.”

You do him a mercy and stare into the cloud-heavy sky. “So when you said me and him wanted things we can’t have, that mean he wanted it? To be official?”

“She’s cracked the case.”

It’s stupid, his selective sentimentality. Still. It crowbars a smile out of you. Reminds you of Johnny. “He was always strong-willed.”

“That’s a generous way to put it.”

“How long were you together?”

“Off and on, four years.”

Thick as thieves, your foot. It eats you, your brother’s lack of faith. Your emotions must plume because Simon’s head swivels in your periphery. You need to increase your dosage, regardless of his claims.

“Can’t blame him for not tellin’ you. Probably thought it was for the best. You, however,” Simon stubs the cigarette with a dry cough. “Couldn’t shut up about you. Called you the ‘runt MacTavish’.”

“No he fuckin’ didn’t.” You wheel instantly, and his shoulders shake in a laugh. It looks almost wrong coming from him, yet you snicker. Your nose lifts in the air mid-giggle, and the breeze carries a clean scent. You relish it while you can.

It doesn’t escape Simon’s notice. 

“He told me about your condition.”

You frown. “You knew and made me say it anyway? Prick. What else did he tell you? I’d like to set the record straight.”

“Once told me when you were twelve, you stuffed the neighbor’s postbox with garlic because you thought he was a vampire.”

Through time and space, your mother’s bony hand pinches your ear. She had dragged you, sputtering and whimpering, over to Mr. Stewart’s doorstep to apologize all those years ago. 

You defend yourself, a smile tugging at your lips. “Because Johnny said he’d shave my head in the middle of the night if I didn’t!”

Simon chuckles. “I’m sure she had it coming. Don’t need to justify it to me.”

But you do. You explain how, to your childish mind, someone who only ventured out of their house at night and a severe widow’s peak was a bloodsucker. Johnny took the idea and ran with it, convinced you the garlic was a foolproof test. ‘Course he’d tricked you,

The cold evening air moves you indoors. The pair of you settle into your respective places, Simon in the armchair with a glass of bourbon and you nose-deep into a cup of chamomile. The night passes through swapped stories, mainly about Johnny but some about the rest of the MacTavishes and, reluctantly, yourself. With no alcohol in your cup, you can’t blame your unburdening on a drink.  

It’s not lost on you how Simon pointedly avoids the openings you leave for him to talk about his family. It leaves your brain to hatch all sorts of theories, yet for the first time since he arrived, you don’t feel inclined to grill him. 

On the landing, when you both wander to bed, you stop him. “You can move into Johnny’s, if you’d like. I imagine it’s, ah, comforting.”

He exhales. “You sure?”

“I was gonna sort out his things eventually, but that’s probably best left to his mate.” The words rush out in an embarrassed rush. Humiliatingly mushy. You don’t make it a footstep before a giant mitt ruffles your hair. The animal in you freezes, then jerkily flees. “Yeah, yeah, big oaf.” You mutter as you duck into your room, listening to him chuckle, then do the same.

“She gonna show or what?” Garrick asks, craning in his seat, subtly sniffing. “Came all the way here to pay our respects.”

“She’s just late.”

“Like Soap, then.” Price‘s posture is confident and easy. He’s handling this better than the sergeant.

“Better.”

“And you’re sure she’s alright with us paying a visit?”

“She trusts I’m careful about who I introduce.”

Price hums. “Trust’s good. Been nearly a year. It get easier?”

Easier’s a choice word. Things are smoother, Simon guesses. He and Runt got a good routine going, a decent dynamic. She’s no longer petrified whenever he’s within arms reach, doesn’t stare at him like she’s expecting the worst. She uses the money, cooks for two, and puts him to work on leave, keeping up the house. 

The night in the park, he thought about eating lead for breakfast. He trudged back to base with the intention to do it but clapped eyes on that stupid photograph. Heard Johnny’s voice again. I don’t want you to be alone.

Even in death, his sergeant’s a solid bridge. The foundation of a fucked up home. 

A familiar blend of heather and rain draws his attention to the entrance. In his chest, something settles.

“It’s what he would’ve wanted.”

#Ghost Challenge #GhostChallenge #mind the tags #punny title #ghost #ghost & reader #ghost & f!reader #simon ghost riley #posting this before i lose my mind #running away byeeeee

[ltash]

Make a wish

You celebrated your birthday with Ghost and TaskForce and you wished for nothing but him.

"To love is nothing. To be loved is something. But to love and be loved, that’s everything."

After Captain Price and his team finished breakfast, you settled in the living room. You brought the tea trolley over and made them tea, handing a cup and saucer to everyone.

"Thank you, kid," Captain Price said as you served him.

You gave tea to Soap and Gaz too. "Ghost, you want tea?" you asked.

"Sure," he replied.

You handed him a cup as well. "Yer hoose is braw, and it's right lavish an aw." Soap admired.

"English Mctavish." Ghost facepalmed.

"I said your house is lavish and its nice." Soap explained.

"Thank you. My father built it. I'll give you a home tour once you guys finish your tea," you offered.

"She is a master in archery aye. She has horses too. She can shoot an arrow right at the aim while riding a horse," Ghost added.

"That is impressive, Nora," Gaz admired.

"Thanks. I will show you how I do it," you promised.

"Oh, I forgot," you said, suddenly remembering. "I did some shopping and the bags are still in the car. Let me fetch them."

As you made your way to your car, Ghost followed you. "The guns you bought, let me take them inside," he offered.

You opened the car doors and took out the bags while Ghost grabbed the gun cases. Together, you walked back inside.

You handed over the bags to each one of them. "Soap, this is for you. Kyle, that's one for you. This one's for Simon and Captain Price," you said, distributing the gifts.

"Thank you so much, lass," Soap said rummaging through the bag.

"Are ye pullin' ma leg? how much did ye spend on thae things?" He asked.

"Well! That is none of your business. Gifts don't come with a price tag." You folded your arms on your chest.

"Thanks, Nora, but you didn't have to put in so much effort," Kyle added, looking genuinely touched.

"Thanks, kid," Captain Price mentioned, nodding appreciatively.

"Don't mention it. I went shopping and thought, why not grab something for you guys?"

Ghost placed the gun cases down on the table. "She bought these too," he added.

Ghost opened the gun and sniper cases in front of everyone, revealing the impressive weapons inside.

"Whoa! A sniper! Are you kiddin' me?" Soap exclaimed, eyes wide with excitement. "Whit will ye dae wi' a sniper?"

"I like snipers, plus Ghost is here. He’ll teach me before he goes back. He taught me a couple of days ago," you explained with a grin.

"Wow! This is one o' the best snipers in the world," Soap said, admiring the sleek design. "Thank ye so much."

"Yeah, Ghost recommended it to me, so I got it," you said, glancing at Ghost.

Soap looked over at Ghost in disbelief. "Weel, LT himself disnae hae a sniper like this. It's much better than the ones he's got."

You smiled. "Well, now he has it."

Ghost shook his head. "No, I don't. And I don't want it anyway," he said quietly.

Soap chuckled. "Yer loss, LT. This is a beauty."

Ghost simply shrugged, the rare softness in his eyes replaced by his usual stoic expression.

"Why? It's a gift from me to you," you said, looking at Ghost.

"If you had mentioned it when you were buying it, I would have never let you get it in the first place," Ghost replied. "It's too expensive."

You shook your head. "Gifts don't come with a price tag. Captain Price, please make him understand."

"Take it, Ghost," Captain Price said, nodding.

"I can't, Price," Ghost insisted, shaking his head in disapproval.

"Okay, then throw it in the garbage, will you?" You snapped, shutting the sniper case with a bang. Your lower lip started quivering, and tears welled up in your eyes as you ran upstairs.

"You broke her heart, LT," Soap said, his voice filled with disappointment.

You closed the door and fell face-first onto the pillow, tears streaming down your face. It was so embarrassing and disappointing at the same time. Your sobs filled the room, muffled by the pillow.

A soft knock on the door interrupted your crying. "Open the door, love," Ghost said in a gentle tone.

For a moment, you hesitated, your emotions swirling inside you, but then you slowly got up and walked to the door.

You opened the door, still feeling annoyed and hurt. "What do you want?" You said, your voice tinged with frustration.

Ghost came inside and closed the door behind him. He walked over to your bed and sat down, he pat his thigh and opened his arms for you gesturing for you to come sit on his lap.

For a moment, you stood there, conflicted, but then you slowly walked over and allowed yourself to be enveloped in his comforting arms.

"You cryin', love?" Ghost asked softly.

You wiped your tears hastily. "No," you replied, trying to regain your composure.

"Hmm, I see," he said, his gaze understanding.

"Why did you embarrass me in front of your team?" You asked, your voice tinged with hurt.

"You got it for yourself, love. That's why," he replied simply.

"I can get another one for myself," You insisted.

"Okay, I'll take it, but only on one condition," he said.

"What condition exactly?" You asked, curious.

"You'll have to take mine. I'll teach you how to use it. It's smooth in my hands," he explained.

"Okay, deal!" You agreed, offering your hand to shake, but he surprised you by kissing your knuckles.

"Come, let's go downstairs," he said, taking your hand gently.

"Ghost!" You called out as he turned to leave.

He looked back at you. "Yes?"

"Do you still have your navy blue uniform, the one you wore when I saw you for the first time?" You asked, still holding his hand.

"Yes, but why do you ask?" he inquired.

"Will you wear it for me on my birthday? You look so good in that. I'll unwrap you as my gift," you said, giggling at the thought.

"Yeah, sure, but get ready to explain why I'm wearing it to my team, especially Price," he chuckled.

"Leave it to me. No worries," you assured him, and you made your way downstairs.

"Did you change your mind, LT?" Soap asked as you entered the room.

"Yes," Ghost replied, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Good," Soap said, nodding in approval.

Meanwhile, you glanced into Captain Price's eyes, seeing a mixture of curiosity and intrigue reflecting back at you.

You led them to the back of the house where your horses were stabled.

"Meet Arther and Elfie," You introduced Soap to your beloved companions.

"Such bonnie horses," Soap remarked, admiring their beauty.

Next, you demonstrated your archery skills, drawing back the bowstring with precision and releasing it with practiced ease. Captain Price watched intently, a glint of admiration in his eyes.

"Remarkable," he exclaimed, genuinely impressed by your proficiency.

Ghost retrieved his sniper rifle and handed it to you. "Try it," he encouraged.

You hesitated, feeling the weight of the weapon in your hands. With his guidance, you took aim, your finger hovering over the trigger. The rifle trembled slightly as you pulled, but you managed to hit the target, albeit not as accurately as you had hoped.

"It's not easy," you admitted, feeling a twinge of disappointment.

"But you did well, considering," Ghost reassured you, his tone encouraging.

You smiled gratefully, grateful for his support.

As the evening descended, the cake was delivered, marking the beginning of your birthday celebration. Your house help had meticulously arranged all the decorations and table settings before bidding you farewell for the night.

Meanwhile, Captain Price took the opportunity to discuss their upcoming mission with his team, their voices low and serious as they strategized.

Feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness, you retreated to your room to change into your birthday dress. The corset that came with it proved to be a challenge as you struggled to zip it up on your own. Frustrated, you knocked on Ghost's door, hoping for assistance.

He opened the door, and your jaw dropped at the sight before you. He had changed into the navy blue uniform, looking incredibly attractive in it.

"What happened?" he asked, noticing your expression.

You entered his room and closed the door behind you. "Simon, can you please help me zip my dress? I can't reach it," you requested, feeling a rush of embarrassment.

Standing in front of the mirror, you were almost ready, the dress clinging to your figure. He stepped behind you, his presence towering over yours. The corset accentuated your petite frame, making you feel even smaller in comparison.

His gloved hand brushed against the bare skin of your back as he took hold of the zipper, and you sucked in a breath at the unexpected sensation. Your heart raced as you felt the warmth of his touch, his closeness sending shivers down your spine.

He zipped up your dress smoothly, his voice breaking the silence. "You're good now," he said softly, his words lingering in the air between you.

"Thank you," you murmured gratefully as you turned around. He put his index finger beneath your chin and tilted your head up meeting his gaze.

"Ready to be be my good girl tonight. Will ya?" His masked lips touched your cheek.

You blushed and ran towards the door. Standing at the doorway you peaked a last glance at him. You exited Ghost's room and returned to your own.

As Ghost stepped out of his room, he encountered Soap making his way upstairs.

"Going on a mission, LT?" Soap teased, noting Ghost's uniform.

"Yes, birthday mission," Ghost quipped in response.

"Seriously! Why are you wearing your uniform?" Soap inquired, his curiosity piqued.

"Because she asked me to wear it," Ghost explained simply.

"Hmm, I see. She likes you in it," Soap remarked before continuing downstairs, leaving Ghost to ponder his words.

They all waited for you downstairs, their anticipation palpable in the air. With a final glance in the mirror, you made sure everything was perfect before slipping on your heels and descending the staircase.

As you reached the bottom step, you were greeted by their warm smiles.

"Here she is," Captain Price announced, his voice carrying a note of pride.

"Wow! Lass, you're looking so beautiful," Soap complimented, his eyes twinkling with admiration.

"Thank you," you replied, feeling a blush creeping up your cheeks at his kind words.

You couldn't help but notice Ghost's gaze fixed on you, practically staring. His intense scrutiny made you feel vulnerable, as if he was seeing right through you. Yet, amidst the intensity, there was a glimmer of admiration in his stare, a silent acknowledgment that spoke volumes.

"Make a wish, lass," Soap chuckled, gesturing towards the candles on the cake.

Closing your eyes, you made a silent wish. A wish for Simon to be yours forever, for his safety, and for him to return to you unscathed from every mission.

With a deep breath, you blew out the candles, the room erupting into cheers and the chorus of "Happy Birthday."

As you opened your eyes, you felt a rush of warmth and gratitude wash over you. It truly was the best day of your life after your father's death.

Captain Price stepped forward, presenting you with a small box. You opened it eagerly to reveal a beautiful, delicate metallic quartz watch nestled inside.

"Thank you! It's so precious," you exclaimed, touched by the thoughtful gift.

As you all enjoyed the cake and then indulged in dinner, Captain Price suddenly cleared his throat, directing his attention to Ghost. "Simon, why are you wearing your uniform?" His question caught Ghost off guard, but before he could respond, you jumped in to explain.

"Actually, I asked him to wear that for my birthday. I was curious to see him in uniform," you said, offering Ghost a reassuring smile. His eyes crinkled from behind the balaclava he was wearing, a silent acknowledgment of his amusement.

"Alright, gentlemen, want something to drink? Please, help yourselves," you announced, rising from your seat and making your way to the bar. You took out the glasses, giving them a moment to process the exchange.

Soap and Ghost then took the dishes to the kitchen while the rest of you settled in the garden, enjoying the pleasant evening. Soap, with his characteristic sense of humor, regaled you all with his silly jokes, eliciting laughter from all of you.

"Hey LT, what has five toes and is not your foot?" Soap said.

"What?" Ghost asked.

"My foot!." Soap said and burst out laughing.

You couldn't control your laughter too. Soap was so funny.

"Your turn LT". Soap pointed towards Ghost.

"What do we call the fish who wears a bow tie?" Ghost asked.

You looked at each other's faces.

"Sofishticated." Ghost said.

Nobody laughed.

"What? Wasn't it funny?" Ghost said.

He was met with silence.

As the night grew late, you found myself sitting beside Ghost. His hand resting on the small of your back while everybody was busy talking.

He turned to look at you. Your blue eyes met with his caramel ones.

You stood up and went to stand at the door, feeling a wave of exhaustion wash over you.

"Aye! Come join us," Ghost called out, noticing your presence.

"No, you enjoy yourself. I'm going to bed now," you replied, turning around to head upstairs.

But before you could take another step, Ghost approached you and grabbed your wrist. "Hi, Lieutenant," you teased, your voice soft and playful.

You placed your hands on his chest, tilting your chin up to look at him. "Hell, if you put a bullet through my heart, I will spare you my life," you retorted, a smile playing on your lips.

You took the whiskey glass from his hand and placed your lips at the same spot he drank from and chug it at once.

You turned to go upstairs, but Ghost surprised you by grabbing you around the waist, causing you to squeak in surprise.

"Is everything alright there?" Captain Price's voice rang out from the garden.

"Yes, everything is fine, Price," Ghost replied calmly, his gaze locked on yours.

With a swift motion, Ghost lifted you into his arms and carried you upstairs, his strength both surprising and comforting.

"Your room or mine?" he asked with a playful smirk, his eyes dancing with mischief.

Pic credit:

IG: Vehenan Virabelasan

#cod ghost #ghost call of duty #ghost cod #simon ghost riley #simon riley #call of duty #modern warfare #modern warfare 2 #ghost x reader #ghost x y/n #task force 141 #task force x reader

[confidential-couture]

Four Must Haves in Your Wardrobe | Confidential Couture | Luxury Bag C...

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[urarakasdiary]

-LILY OF THE VALLEY

Jjk men as your lover!

GOJO

He's head over heels for you and isn't ashamed of showing it.

Protective but not so much so that you feel controlled. He knows the limits.

Always picking/dropping you off. When you're out somewhere: spending time with friends, clubbing, etc. it doesn't matter, he's always beside you, looking over your shoulder. Staying alert.

Definitely spoils you with wayy too many expensive gifts and if not gifts, date nights, picnics and movies are his thing.

Might be a bit too cocky and touchy but will stop when you ask him to.

GETO

Public show of affection is not his first preference but if you like it, he'll do it.

I can see him being overprotective. He knows it's wrong so he tries not to show it.

Is always on the lookout for bad company you have, and will warn you about them.

Doesn't necessarily spoil you but he'll buy you anything you ask him to.

He can be a bit manipulative sometimes, but he knows his flaws and tries fixing them for your sake.

NANAMI

He's an old money guy. Flowers and chocolates every week. Showers you with affection.

Covers you with his jacket when it's cold, and never lets you open any doors, that's his responsibility. And trips to your dream places every month.

Also a big spoiler, more on the high-end stuff. Designer bags, jewelry, coats, clothes whatever you have an interest in. If you're not interested in stuff like that he'll buy/make anything you like.

Acts cold, more so if his work is stressing him out. Random bursts of anger that surpriseur you, but he would never, ever hurt you.

MEGUMI

Also a guy who does not like public display of affection. Will try his best to avoid it. But at the end of the day, if you do show affection in public, he'll gladly accept it.

I don't see him spoiling you. Quality time with you is more important than giving gifts.

He would never admit it but he loves it when you play with his hair.

It takes a bit for him to open up to you and express himself freely, but you'll get there sometime.

SUKUNA

I have no words.

This dude will not let you breathe. Hyperfixated on you and you alone.

Going out? where? when? with whom? what are you gonna eat? why? you already have me, why do you need anything else?

Possessive, over-protective, ANGER ISSUES.

Loves you more than you could imagine tho.

CHOSO

He's definitely very shy. Even with you.

Wants you all for himself. If someone even looks at you a bit too much, he's picking up a fight.

Doesn't really know how to express his love so he does everything. Acts of service, Gift giving, Quality time, and maybe even physical touch (sometimes).

Gets upset very quickly but he knows how to handle his temper.

I wrote this in a single day because I want to revive my blog 🥲 Very very sorry if it did not meet your expectations Im trying to get back to writing and English being my second language doesn't help either 😭 Requests are now open :) <3

If you want a part 2 just let me know. I'll try to respond as soon as possible 💗

#urarakasdiary #jjk #jjk men #jujutsu kaisen #gojo x reader #satoru x reader #gojo headcanons #satorugojo #gojo saturo x reader #geto suguru #suguru #geto x reader #geto suguru x reader #geto headcanons #suguru headcanons #jujutsu gojo #jujutsu geto #jujutsu nanami #jujutsu choso #jujutsu sukuna #nanami #nanami x reader #nanami headcanons #head canons #choso x reader #choso kamo #choso head canons #megumi fushiguro #jjk x reader #jjk megumi

[jisungsdaydreamer]

Dress

«GENERAL M.LIST» · «NAVIGATION» · «TALK TO ME» · «TAGLIST»

SYNOPSIS When Minho buys a really ugly dress for you, but you don't want to hurt his feelings.

Pairing: Lee Know x fem!reader Genre: established relationship, fluff Warnings: none :) Word Count: 1.4k

P.S. ♡ If you like my work, please consider giving me feedback in the form of reblogs, comments, and asks! ♡

“Honey, I got you a surprise!”

You immediately toss aside the book you were reading and practically leap off the couch at the sound of Minho’s voice. You love surprises. Your husband enters the room with a tired look on his face, but nevertheless, he smiles lovingly at you, holding out a cute beige-colored shopping bag to you.

“I stopped by the store after work,” Minho explains, sitting down next to you as he loosens his tie.

You pause while pulling out the sparkly tissue paper at the top of the bag, touched. You know how busy Minho is these days, and the fact that he took time out of his day to get you something made you melt. “Aw, Min. You’re so sweet.”

The tips of Minho’s ears turn pink, like they always did whenever you praise him. “Look inside the bag!”

You tear through the wrapping paper, your fingertips meeting something soft. Intrigued, you pull the mystery item out excitedly, only to realize that it is the absolutely ugliest dress that you have ever set eyes on. For a moment, you just stare at it, surprised in the worst possible way.

“So? What do you think?” 

Minho’s eager voice snaps you out of your mini reverie. You gulp, racking your head for something to say. “Oh! Urm…”

His face falls. “Do you not like it?”

You shake your head vigorously. “No! I’m just so… amazed! You normally never buy clothes for me.”

Minho grins. “I know. But hey, maybe there can be two fashionistas in the family now.”

“Yeah, definitely!” You swallow, hoping he doesn’t see right through you.

Satisfied, he tilts his head towards your bedroom. “You should try it on!”

Defeated, you turn and trudge to your bedroom. Once you’re inside, you quickly pull off your favorite pajamas and change into the dress. Minho enters the room as you step into the mirror, and you truly have to clench your jaw to keep the horrified gasp that nearly escapes you.

The dress is an insult to fashion, if you’re being honest. The geometric pattern sporting an unflattering shade of orange makes you feel like a pumpkin. It looks like a shapeless blob on you, the swaths of fabric pooling unflatteringly at your waist. The knitted design is scratchy on your skin, making it incredibly uncomfortable. And to make everything worse, you catch the number on the price tag, and you want to faint.

Clearing your throat, you glance to your side over at Minho, who gazes wordlessly into the mirror at your reflection. “How do I look?”

He shakes his head softly, genuinely awestruck. “Beautiful. Just beautiful.”

You have an idea or two of what you really think you look like, but you plaster on a fake smile, hoping you’re selling it. “You’re the best husband ever.”

“I saw it in the store, and thought it would look so pretty on you.” Minho beams proudly, and he looks so innocent that you feel your heart break a little in guilt.

“Minho, baby.” You place a hand on his shoulder. “You really didn’t have to.”

He pouts. “But Changbin is hosting dinner tomorrow, and I wanted you to have something nice to wear.”

So what other option do you have than to thank him and give him a little kiss? You would wear that god-awful dress to Chanbin’s party for everyone to see, rather than hurt Minho’s feelings, right? Definitely.

“Y/N, Minho! Come on in!” Changbin opens the door, welcoming you into his home.

You don’t miss his expression of shock as he lets you in, but ever the gracious host, Changbin smoothly covers it up with a smile and hugs you both. As you and Minho walk into the living room, where all of the guests are mingling over cocktails. You get similar looks from the others, but you glance over at Minho worriedly, hoping he doesn’t notice. Luckily, he doesn’t seem to, joining in on the conversation and laughing at someone’s joke.

You inhale and let yourself relax, searching the crowd for Hyunjin and Jisung, your two good friends. You spy Jisung loitering by the dessert table, discreetly piling brownies into napkins and tucking them into his pockets for later.

“Sneaking extra brownies, are we?” You creep up behind him, making him yelp and nearly drop his brownie. 

“Seriously—” Jisung looks over at you, prepared to shoot a comeback at you when he halts. “What in the world are you wearing?”

You roll your eyes. “A dress, okay? Minho got it for me.”

“Oh.” 

“Is there something you want to say, Jisung?”

He stuffs the brownie into his mouth to obviously conceal his laughter, but you don’t miss the faint smirk on his face. “Nothing.”

You give up. “Where’s Hyunjin?”

“Late, as usual.” Jisung swallows his brownie before eyeing the mini pizza bagels at the end of the table. “I’ll be right back.”

You turn and look for Minho, finding him chatting with Seungmin. Seungmin finishes refilling his wine glass and exits the kitchen, and Minho takes the chance to slip his arms around your waist, pulling you close.

“Enjoying the party?” He asks, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

You nod, taking a sip of Minho’s drink. “Mhm.”

Minho looks down at you. “I’ll bet you’re getting a lot of compliments on your dress.”

“So many.” You flick an imaginary piece of lint off of said dress. You hate lying to him. 

Minho frowns, noticing how you’re avoiding his eyes, and opens his mouth to say something, but before he can, Hyunjin waltzes in, two hours after the party began.

You take the opportunity to change the subject. “Fashionably late, Hyunjin?”

“Yes, but I can’t say the same for you, Y/N.” Hyunjin bursts into laughter. “Where did you get that dress? It’s actually hideous.”

Usually, you wouldn’t mind such a comment coming from Hyunjin, because this kind of teasing banter was a normal exchange between you both. However, this time, Minho is the one who is responsible for your outfit.

And from the way the smile fades from Minho’s face, he is also listening. “What?”

You glare at Hyunjin. “No, it’s not.”

Hyunjin snickers, still not getting the hint. “You know damn well—”

“Y/N said she loved it.” Minho steps in, looking equal parts confused and upset. “I bought it for her yesterday.”

Hyunjin shuts up at last, finally realizing why you are shooting daggers at him with your eyes. “Ohhh. I was just kidding, Minho. Please don’t murder me.”

With that, Hyunjin quickly bolts out of the kitchen, leaving you and Minho alone. You peek over at Minho, only to see him sadly looking down at the floor. 

“Min…”

“I knew you hated it.” Minho puts his glass in the sink and walks out. With a frustrated groan, you follow after him, only to catch him in a very deep one-way conversation with Jisung, who just chews on his food while watching Minho rapidly ramble about cars. You understand that Minho is mortified and doesn’t want to talk to you, so you go back to Hyunjin, who has wandered into Changbin’s home gym and is messing with the weights. 

For the rest of the evening, there’s this tension you can’t name between you and Minho, and you both don’t exchange any words. When it’s time to leave, you both say goodbye to everyone before getting into your car. For a few minutes, there’s an awkward silence as Minho drives and stares straight ahead, not looking at you even once. Once you arrive at home, Minho parks, and you prepare to get down out of the car, but Minho speaks up. 

“I wish you just told me that you didn’t like the dress. Then I wouldn’t have been so embarrassed,” Minho says softly.

You sigh. “I just didn’t want to hurt your feelings, and you were so excited.”

“You should have been honest.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” 

Minho stays quiet for a moment, and you think he’s still disappointed, but then he looks over at you, a small grin on his face. “I’m sorry too. When you opened it I realized it really was so ugly, but I was too stubborn to admit it.”

You chuckle, relieved. “Maybe leave clothes shopping to me. You’re good at so many other things.”

“I agree. I can’t be too perfect, after all.” Minho winks at you playfully.

With an amused smile, you lean over and kiss your husband. His fashion sense may not be incredible, but you love him just the way he is.

«GENERAL M.LIST» · «NAVIGATION» · «TALK TO ME» · «TAGLIST»

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©jisungsdaydreamer 2023 | All rights reserved. I do not condone translations or transfers of my work onto other platforms such as Wattpad, AO3, etc. Tumblr is my only platform. Acts of plagiarism are strictly prohibited.

#kpop imagines #lee know x you #kflixnet #k-labels #straykidsland #stray kids lee know #skz scenarios #lee know imagines #stray kids imagines #lee know scenarios #lee know fluff #lee know x reader #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #stray kids #lee know x y/n #stray kids recs #stray kids angst #stray kids headcanons #stray kids x you #skz lee know #skz x y/n #lee minho #skz imagines #straykids

[berryhobii]

Baby Girl: Show Out (ksj x reader)

Pairing: SugarDaddy!Kim Seokjin x SugarBaby!Brat!Reader

Word Count: 2.7K+

Warnings: established relationship(reader and Seokjin are technically together), smut (18+ but I don’t control what you consume, oral(m and f receiving), orgasms(f receiving), exhibitionism, getting caught but not caring, mentions of ruining furniture from s*x😝, reader’s definitely a bitch in this but I love it, Seokjin’s also violating so many company policies but remember this is fiction.

A/N: Hi hi! Here’s another one shot for my BabyGirl couple. I feel like I don’t read enough fics where reader is a mondo bitch so here’s my contribution🫣reader is in fact dark skinned in this and their style is Y2K and AaliyahCore if you didn’t know already. It’s just something about bad bitches in tiny skirts that I absolutely love😭anyway, please enjoy and stay safe🩵🩵

~

Blowing a bubble with your fruity flavored gum and then popping it, you strutted down the clean and spacious hallways, only the thought of that new Sanrio pop up that just opened downtown on your mind. You had seen an Instagram post about it earlier and your eyes could have bursted with rainbows and glitter. A Cinnamoroll plush in a bear costume? Yes! You needed it!

The only problem was you had spent the last of your allowance on a new Telfar purse and every color of those Bailey Bow UGG boots. Why exactly did you need every color? Obviously because the company made every color, duh. Why make multiple colors if they didn’t want people buying all of them? It was a smart business tactic that you’d fall for every time.

With those packages on the way and that Cinnamoroll calling your name, it was time for you to do what you do best.

Flutter your lashes and sweet talk your sugar daddy into giving you his credit card.

And deepthroating. You were good at that too. Maybe you could do both.

As your bright red MoonBoots(gotta get into the holiday spirit!) carried you down the hallways, you could feel the loathing stares and hear the gossiping whispers of each person you passed in the halls.

Unlike most sugar daddies and sugar babies, you and Seokjin didn’t hide your relationship at all. Everyone knew who you were and what your relationship entailed. Initially, Seokjin kept you under wraps; only coming to see you in the dead of night, renting out places for your dates so that no one would see you together. Sometimes, he’d make you wear masks and sunglasses when you’d enter and exit his condo. It was going pretty well.

However, after an employee at a restaurant he brought you to secretly snapped a photo of the both of you and posted it online, the secret could no longer be hidden. So after suing that employee and addressing multiple news outlets out his secret relationship, you were allowed to parade around freely. With the news of South Korea’s biggest bachelor having a sugar baby, you had to be more careful in public. Seokjin assigned you a driver and he tried to get you a security guard but you insisted that would pull more attention to you. He wasn’t sure but after giving him a blowjob and signing up for self defense classes, he relented.

Since you didn’t have to hide yourself anymore, you waltzed into Seokjin’s office like you owned it. Always dressed loudly and fashionably, a designer bag swinging on your arm and Tiffany studs in your ears(never less than 18 carats), you were the head bitch. New York would be so proud of you!

And every jealous woman’s stare only stroked your ego further.

You reached the desk of Seokjin’s personal secretary. While you didn’t have to stop to talk to her, you got a kick out of pissing her off. No one knew except you and Seokjin but he told you that Rina had confessed her feelings to him a little bit after you two had initially started your relationship. He had politely rejected her and there was no awkwardness from his side. He still treated her kindly and relied on her as his secretary.

Then the news of you came to the light and all of those bitter feelings of rejection evolved into pure anger and transferred right to you.

She lifted her eyes from her computer, face immediately dropping at the sight of your wide smile.

“Good afternoon, Rina. How are you today?”

Rolling her eyes, she let out a frustrated sigh before gritting out a, “fine.” She wanted nothing more but to tell you to get the hell out of her face but everyone knew you had Seokjin wrapped around your finger. Any disrespect towards you was practically asking to get fired. And Rina liked this job and it’s benefits too much to let you ruin it.

And you knew that.

“Do you like my new purse?” You held up the bag in her face. “It’s from the new Marc Jacobs collection.”

Her lips formed a sneer, eyebrow twitching slightly. “Is it? I couldn’t tell.”

“Yeah. It’s probably not in your price range so I get it.” You shot back with a bitchy smirk. Smoke could have came out of her ears from how red her face became. “Anyway, is Seokjin in?”

Swallowing down the rising insult in her throat, she gritted out, “he’s busy right now.”

Checking your nails, totally ignoring what she just said. “Alright then I’ll go in. Oh do me a favor?”

She watched you take the gum out of your mouth and stick it right on the pad of sticky notes on her desk. You shot her a quick wink before walking by her, leaving her jaw dropped and blood boiling.

Opening the door, you strutted inside the spacious room. You spotted the new leather couches off to the right. Those were your idea; leather was easier to clean. You and Seokjin absolutely destroyed those fabric sofas he had with your antics. Did furniture warranty’s cover acts of kinky sex that would make a nun faint? They should.

That aside, your focus went to the objective of this visit.

Posture slightly hunched and deft fingers typing over his keyboard, Seokjin was absorbed in whatever work was in front of him. At the sound of the door opening and closing, he lifted his gaze. His eyes immediately brightened at the sight of you, thick lips stretching across beautiful straight teeth. You reciprocated his cheesy grin, happily skipping over to his desk with a newfound pep in your step. Placing your purse on the corner of the desk, you leaned both of your palms on the wood.

He pushed down the screen of his laptop, his spine straightening as his mood immediately improved. “Baby girl. What a surprise.” He couldn’t stop himself from taking a glance at your cleavage that was on display in the red bra you wore, a black mesh long sleeved distressed shirt under it which just barely helped hide your pebbled nipples. He always thought you looked cute but this look was just on the edge of sexy. As if the black mini skirt and garter belt wasn’t enough, the red choker around your throat made him go crazy.

His stare didn’t go unnoticed by you.

“Am I interrupting anything?” If you were, you didn’t really care but you weren’t anything if not a polite baby girl.

“Of course not. I was just sending a few emails. I was about to take a break anyway.” He moved his chair back a little, patting a hand on his lap. You smiled, rounding his desk to take your rightful place on his lap.

He wrapped his arms around you, leaning in nose at your shoulder and press a few kisses there.

“You look beautiful today.”

You cupped his cheek to lift his head, rubbing your nose against his. “Thank you. So do you.” Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pulled him into a hot and lip gloss sticky kiss. He sighed contentedly against your mouth, his fingers squeezing at your hip and thighs. Taking the initiative, you tilted his head back to kiss him deeper and to play for dominance just a little bit.

Seokjin smirked into the lip lock. He’d never admit it but he loved when you took control. You were submissive through and through—his good girl. However you had your few moments where you could get a little bratty, a little brave and he couldn’t deny the small thrill it sent through him. It sparked his own inner dom and made him want to gently push you back into that submissive state.

Then again, this was pretty hot too.

He let you kiss him how you wanted for a little bit, just relaxing and letting himself melt into you and your affection.

After a little making out, you parted from him, giggling at his slightly flushed cheeks and pouty lips. Your thumb swiped over his spit slicked bottom lip.

“I’ve missed you.”

“Mhmm. How much do you need?”

Welp, guess that deepthroating was off the table.

Dramatically gasping, you held a hand to your chest in faux shock. “How dare you? I came here to have an engaging conversation with you.”

He rolled his eyes, not believing you for a second. While you two have been together for a while and have shared many intimate and romantic times together, the sugar daddy/baby dynamic still remained at the base of all of that. You visited him at work every often, normally for lunch dates or to show him a new outfit but you only had that bounce in your step when you came to ask for something.

He also had never seen that purse before which probably meant you had spent your allowance.

Ugh. You were spoiled and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Fine then. Start the conversation.”

You opened your mouth but no words came out.

Damn it. He got you.

Slumping in defeat, you sighed, jutting out your bottom lip. “Okay fine. I spent my allowance and I want to go to the Sanrio pop up downtown.”

His grin was as endearing as it was heart fluttering. Either way, it was dangerous for your heart. Why did he have to be so damn handsome? How could you charm the pants off a man that had you like putty in his hands just from a simple smile?

“What if I told you I was already planning on taking you there tomorrow?”

Your smile was so wide you could have sponsored Colgate. A squeal of glee came from your throat, your arms yanking him into a hug as you bounced on his lap.

He laughed at your reaction, returning the embrace with the arm that was behind your back.

“Really?! Oh my goodness!” You pressed multiple pecks across his cheeks and nose, covering every inch of his face in your gloss.

“But while you’re here, why don’t we have lunch together? There’s a nice buffet that just opened not too far from here. I think I have a meeting in a little while but we can go when I’m done.”

“That sounds amazing.” You hummed, sweetly kissing his lips again.

Hands began feeling, kisses began getting a little more desperate, and eventually, your panties were soaked.

What could you say? Money made you horny. Quoting the wise words of your president Yung Miami and her vice president JT: “don’t nothing but a bag make this pussy talk.” Ah, you should get that framed and hung on your wall.

Your acrylics scratched at the nape of his neck, your tongues swirling around each others in a battle for dominance. He won, of course but only because you let him.

You pulled away, tugging on his bottom lip with your teeth and biting just a little before releasing it.

“What do you say?” He started for you, eyes hypnotic and luscious lips slightly parted. You wanted to kiss all the air out of his lungs.

That seductive glint in your eye paired with that coy smirk…..

“Thank you, daddy.”

You drove him fucking insane.

Boisterous giggles came from your mouth as he hauled you onto his desk before sitting back down in his chair. You instinctively spread your legs for him, giving him a front row seat to your pussy lips.

He groaned, erection beginning to strain against his dress pants.

“No panties? You bad girl.” His thumb ran across your folds, smearing your wetness to your clit. “What if someone would have seen?”

You bit your lip. “I might have flashed a man downstairs….”

That confession warranted a light slap to your clit making you jump.

Seokjin’s eyes were dark and his smirk was smug, cocky almost because he knew that only he could touch you.

“Naughty girl. Will daddy need to punish you? Flashing what’s mine to people.” He scolded with a tut, both thumbs moving to spread your puffy lips apart so he could see your winking hole.

You whined, wiggling your bottom. “I’m sorry, daddy. It was an accident. I’m a good girl, I swear.”

His hot breath blew over your clit, tongue flicking out to tease it.

“That’s right. Your daddy’s good girl.”

The licks to your clit were calculated and firm, your head falling back as you were finally getting some much needed relief. You hadn’t seen Seokjin for 3 days and the strict No Touching rule he gave you meant that your pussy was feeling a little neglected.

But now he was about to give you exactly what you needed.

When his plush lips wrapped around your precious little clit, your back arched and you let a whiny moan out into the air. That same sinfully flexible tongue trailed down to your gushing hole, digging further to all the splits he could reach. Your arms couldn’t hold you anymore, your back meeting his desk and your head hanging over the side.

Your viscous arousal tasted so god damn good on his tongue. He couldn’t control his own moans as his mouth worked you higher and higher.

And you were making the prettiest noises; your gasps for air and whiny squeaks whenever he’d give you a deep suck to your clit. They just made him want to absolutely devour you, just to pull more of those delightful sounds from you. His arms wrapped around your thighs to pull you closer, loud slurps and licks filling the space next to your moans.

He felt your hand loop through his hair, letting you take over a little and chase your high. Not that he needed any help getting you there, you always got lost in pleasure, desperate to climb that mountain and tumble off of it.

Seokjin was so absorbed in your juicy cunt that he didn’t even hear the knock on his office door.

Through your hazy and half lidded eyes, you noticed the door open, a familiar face peeking inside.

Rina.

“Sir, are you-“

Her body froze at the sight of you laid out across the rich mahogany desk, her boss’s face buried between your legs. She knew you two weren’t very secretive about what went down. Hell, even she wasn’t dense enough to think you two didn’t get frisky in multiple parts of this office. The main gossip during lunchtime was about people hearing you and Seokjin having sex in places like bathrooms, private conference rooms, even the break room that one time. She didn’t care about it considering she didn’t like you very much and hated giving you the satisfaction that you irked her soul.

Actually catching you two in the act was not in her Bingo card this year.

It was in yours though.

Smirking, you let out a pornographic moan.

“Oh my god, daddy! You’re gonna make me cum!”

Rina watched stunned, your eyes locked with hers in a display of dominance and arrogance that could only come from someone like you.

Pampered. Pretty. And a spoiled bitch.

You loved your life.

Seokjin hummed, lips wrapping around your clit again. “Cum in my mouth, baby girl.”

“Yes daddy!” Your back arched as the waves came crashing down on you, the hand tangled in his air keeping him in place against your clit. He stayed where you wanted him, delivering little kitten licks to your bud to help you ride it out. He greedily slurped up every sticky drip of wetness you had, more pouring from your hole.

When you released him, he sat up, your juices dripping down his chin and his kissable lips cherry red from all their hard work.

Your chest rose and fell with deep breaths as you lifted yourself from his desk. Grabbing his chin with one hand, you bent down to capture his lips in a kiss.

“Thank you daddy.” You whispered against his pout. “Why don’t I repay the favor?”

“Get on your knees, baby girl.”

“Yes daddy. I also think Rina wants to talk to you.”

Slipping down from his desk, your knees hit the floor and your hands went for his belt.

That’s when Seokjin finally took notice of his secretary. Running a hand through his messy hair, he acknowledged her. “Yes Rina?”

As if his call of her name pressed the play button on her universal remote, she broke from her state of shock.

“I-I….uh….you-your m-meeting is in 10 minutes.” She stammered out.

Nodding, he looked down at you who had already began slobbering all over his cock, your hand pumping at his shaft.

“Heard that baby girl? 10 minutes.”

“That’s all I need.”

#bts #bts x black reader #bts smut #bts fic #bts imagines #seokjin smut

[sashaisready]

This Must Be The Place: Chapter 1 - Home is where I want to be

Biker!Bucky x Femme Reader

Back at your beloved late grandmother's home to pack up her house, you have a run-in with the town's biker gang 'The Howling Commandos' and find yourself entangled with the metal armed President.

Series Masterlist

Warnings for: death of a loved one, grief, angst (it gonna be angsty!), Bucky not always being a good guy.

You sighed heavily as you pulled up to the house in your beaten-up Mustang. Hard to believe you were back, but life certainly has a sense of humour.

You parked up and leaned against the driver’s door, looking up at your new home.

Well, old home.

Granny’s place.

Once the centre of your world – a place of home baked cookies and tyre swings, of blanket forts and climbed trees. Of carefully tended to scraped knees and long hugs on the couch in front of Granny’s favourite shows. Sitcom reruns and Murder She Wrote, more lemonade than you could ever feasibly drink.

You came to visit every summer and they were the best summers of your life. But of course, you got older. As you grew, you wanted to spend your summers with friends, to kiss boys and go to the diner with Stacey and Monique. Granny’s place would always hold a large piece of your heart, but you grew up. You looked back now with a sense of sadness, wishing you’d gone for one more summer. Maybe two.

Granny understood. She was always telling you to spread your wings and live. ‘Don’t tread water, Cub’, she’d tell you. ‘Go out there and enjoy yourself’.

And you did. Maybe a little too hard.

You stayed close with Granny despite the physical distance between you as you moved across the state for school. Plenty of phone calls and letters were shared, and she’d send you novelty postcards she found at gas stations and thought you’d find funny. You still had a pile stored in a shoebox, now shoved into your car’s trunk with all your other worldly possessions.

You still visited occasionally, always telling yourself you needed to come more – she needed someone to clear out the attic, to sort out her paperwork, fix the old fence. You should sort that. The town was nice enough, but the biker gang that owned the local dive bar and auto shop gave you a bad feeling. You’d hear the roar of their motorcycles late at night, feeling grateful that was Granny was safe on the outskirts of town.

A few months ago, just as you were looking at your calendar to arrange your next visit, she suffered a sudden, huge heart attack. The hospital staff told you on the phone that it was quick, mercifully. She was in front of the TV, sipping a cup of tea. It would’ve been exactly how she wanted to go, quick and comfortable in her castle. No long, drawn-out illness. No forgetting her own name or wasting away in a bed. She often told you her worst nightmare was to become a burden and forget the life she’d lived.

But you couldn’t shed the guilt that she died alone. If you’d been there…

Your parents meant well but weren’t particularly distraught. You and Granny were closer than anyone else in the family. Still, ever the pragmatists, they arranged the funeral and filed the paperwork while you pulled yourself together. Granny was organised enough to have a will, and even had a document in her bureau with details of her finances and who to contact for every possible loose end that might need tying up in the event of her death.

Despite your closeness, it was still a huge shock when you found out she’d left the house solely to you, and nobody else in the family. Her few savings were divided between her children and other grandchildren. But you got the house.

‘Cub’, read the note in the will. ‘You loved this place, so it’s yours. I don’t care what you do with it. You can sell up and use the proceeds to take a vacation for all I care. Buy a fancy car or a designer bag or even invest in something dumb. You can stay here and lay down roots. Whatever you want. It’s all yours. Just fix that damn fence before you do anything’.

Nobody in the family quibbled it. The property wasn’t worth much, and nobody wanted to sort through Granny’s things, so here you were. Still mourning, but trying to move forward.

You didn’t really have a plan. You weren’t exactly set up in life, even flailing, some might say. Flitting between bullshit jobs and bullshittier boyfriends. No real roots or ambitions. You decided to move in for a while and sort the house out. Maybe get a temp part time job in town to keep you afloat. At least you didn’t have to pay rent. Then you’d sort Granny’s things, give the place a lick of paint, fix the aforementioned damn fence, then you’d decide. But you’d probably sell up. I mean, what would keep you here?

*

You spent a few hours getting your own stuff moved in and sizing up the task ahead. Granny’s place was clean, spotless in fact, but she was a bit of a hoarder. There were endless Rubbermaid tubs of clothes and blankets, spices in the pantry older than you were, and cardboard boxes of seemingly every birthday and Christmas card she’d ever received.

You also weren’t prepared for the emotional impact. Every corner held a childhood memory, you could practically hear the radio she used to play as she cooked, smell whatever mouthwatering dish she’d be whipping up that day.

You channelled your energy into the work and made some calls. There was a Goodwill store in town and a women’s refuge a few miles away, and they were very keen to take some of Granny’s things off your hands. You made plans to do some drop-offs over the coming weeks. You arranged to have wifi installed and took some time getting utility bills moved into your name.

You sat at the dining room table with a glass of water, exhausted, when your phone buzzed with a text notification.

“Hey! Are you here? How about we catch up with drinks tonight?”

Wanda. The one person you knew in this town apart from Granny. You’d played together as kids and hung out every summer. As you got older, you stayed in touch on social media and would go for coffee when you visited Granny. You liked her a lot. She had reached out to you when Granny died (as apparently everyone knows everyone here) and you’d thanked her. You kept her updated with your plans with the move. She’d always stayed here in this town, getting serious with her boyfriend Vis and settling down.

Part of you wanted to keep your head down, but you knew you’d benefit from some company, especially Wanda’s. You didn’t want to be the weird recluse living in her dead grandmother’s house who only ventured outside to buy groceries. Besides, it would be nice to reconnect with her.

“Hey!”, you replied. “Sure am. Just getting comfortable. Okay, sure. I could use a drink. Where we going?”

She responded seconds later. “The Snake Pit. Yeah, I know it sounds scary but it’s okay, really! The Howling Commandos own it, but they’re cool when you get to know them. Vis and I will pick you up at 8?”

You sighed. Great. Drinking in some biker gang’s sleazy dive bar. This was your life now. Well, you’d had worse Saturday nights.

“Alright. See you then” you fired back before you could talk yourself out of it.

*

Wanda was right. The Snake Pit was okay. A little dark and dingy inside, but a more varied clientele than you’d expected. There was everyone from excitable college girls to the old geezers nursing a single bottle of Bud for over an hour. You had worked in bars; you knew the types well. It wasn’t the rowdy biker gang hangout you expected, but you guessed options are limited for drinkers when there’s only one drinking hole in town.

The bartender was a little all over the place, messing up a few orders and rushing to get everything done. He seemed to be serving people haphazardly with little regard for who was there first. Fine. Whatever.

Splayed across barstools and were the Howling Commandos themselves. All clad in heavy leather and denim, they joked and drank beer with each other while keeping a close eye on the customers. You got the impression they weren’t necessarily looking for trouble but wouldn’t hesitate to deal with it should some occur. A broad blonde with a thick beard seemed to be in charge, you could see in the way the others hovered around him that he held some sort of authority. They were quite intimidating in their matching kuttes and big boots, but you supposed that was the point.

The blonde man locked eyes with you and watched you, a mix of curiosity and wariness on his face. His eyes were blue and strong, the intensity of his glare causing you to turn away as you went back to nodding at the story Wanda was telling. You had a strange feeling of dread in your stomach, but maybe that was just the anxiety of being somewhere new.

“You wanna play pool?” she asked, nodding towards the corner.

There were a couple of pool tables and the back of the room, with a dartboard nailed to the wall not far from them.

“Sure,” you smiled as you stood up and grabbed your drink, “I’m a little rusty…it’s been a while”.

“Modesty I’m sure,” Vis grinned as they followed you over. “I bet you’re secretly a dark horse”.

You winked jokingly as the three of you laughed and moved towards the table. It was nice to catch up with them, you settled in so comfortably together that it was as if you did this every week.

As you set up the balls and chalked your cue, you felt the presence of a group moving behind you. The Commandos group had moved from the bar and headed to the dart board, jeering and laughing as they lined up to take their turn. A striking redhead, the sole woman in the group, was busting their balls about their darts ability (or lack thereof).

“Hey” you heard Wanda say softly as you moved around the table, and a few of them murmured greetings back at her.

They were being loud and obnoxious as they ragged on each other for their poor aim, and you suppressed an eyeroll as you leaned over the table to take your shot.

The laughter got louder as you pulled your cue back and aimed, they were practically shouting, you pushed your cue forward through your fingers and moved to the ball and-

Pain.

PAIN.

You flinched and your legs buckled as the cue clipped the ball and sent it flying in the wrong direction. You felt a pressure and a sting as your brain tried to catch up with what had happened. You could hear Wanda gasping and Vis talking to you calmly as another voice interrupted.

“Ohmygod…Ohmygodsorry…I didn’t…oh my god, FUCK” they said, the panic evident.

You turned and looked, to your horror, to discover one of the darts embedded in one of your ass cheeks. This surely couldn’t be happening??

As you turned back towards the panicking voice in front of you, it became immediately evident who was the perpetrator.

He was young, chocolate brown hair slicked back to reveal a baby face. Wide, horrified chestnut eyes stared at you. Despite the kutte and motorcycle boots, he looked like a scared little boy. Behind him stood members of the gang, some smirking, some rolling their eyes and nudging each other. They didn’t intervene, just enjoyed the show. You felt your face flush with mortification.

“What…what the fuck is wrong with you?” you spat, furious as well as in pain. You noticed the entire bar had stopped to watch. You gripped the dart but couldn’t quite build up the courage to pull it out.

“Are you stupid...?” you continued as he just stared at you, his mouth flapping like a fish as he tried and failed to explain himself.

Wanda said your name in a wary tone and Vis told you it was okay. Even through your angry haze you could tell they were nervous about where this was going.

“Hey…come on now,” said someone else. “You all shut up”.

The group quickly parted and quietened as the blonde man from earlier appeared in front of you. “Parker…” he sighed under his breath.

“Look…it was an accident, okay?” he told you sternly. “I’m sorry…look, I’m Steve, I’m the co-owner and-”

“I don’t care!” you hissed. “What the fuck kinda place are you running here?”

You knew you sounded shrill, but you were upset and embarrassed. And it hurt! You were half aware of the group suddenly tensing up, the atmosphere in the air shifting to something a bit darker.

The man raised a brow in annoyance and went to speak again when you suddenly yelped, feeling a hard sting in your bottom half and then an immediate loss of pressure.

Someone had yanked the dart out.

You turned, aghast, to a man who had suddenly appeared behind you.

“What the fu-,” you exclaimed as you looked at him.

Your words died on your tongue as you were greeted by the face of the most beautiful man you’d ever seen. Long, coffee-coloured waves of hair sat at his well-chiselled jawline. Big, broad shoulders stretched out a clinging white t-shirt beneath his kutte. He had a metal arm that moved robotically, but mostly you were caught in the depths of the cerulean pools of his eyes. The others all seemed to straighten up and go quiet in a way they hadn’t even done with Steve. This must be the other owner, then.

He smirked and waved the dart in front of you. “Fixed it”.

You furrowed your brows. “Ow…” you said monotonously.

“You want some ice for that or…?” he smiled a wide bright smile, and you did your best to ignore something igniting deep within you.

“It’s funny, is it?” you scowled. “I could sue for this…”

Could you? You didn’t know if you could. But you were too mad to stop.

The man sighed.

“Look…we’re sorry. Parker’s sorry. Steve’s sorry, and I, Bucky, am sorry,” he told you, his voice softening. “Parker can’t play darts for shit but he’s never been a safety hazard until now. It was bad luck. He sure as hell won’t be playing again. Now, how about we get you and your friends a round of drinks on the house to apologise? And if you still wanna stay after that, you can get as much beer and pool as you want – no charge.”

You looked at Parker who was still visibly panicking but not quite as much, then Steve who watched you curiously. Wanda and Vis were nodding effusively as if encouraging you to accept his offer. You were still angry but didn’t really want to piss off the local motorcycle gang on your first night here. You were grateful for this de-escalation, even if you were still mad. You could practically see the room start to relax again.

“Fine” you sighed with defeat, rubbing the sore spot on your backside. “But a warning you were about to do that would’ve been nice”.

He laughed, “Yeah…but I didn’t want you to freak out”.

Ugh. His laugh. His perfect laugh.

You rolled your eyes, annoyed that he was right, you would’ve freaked out if you’d known. You felt yourself mellowing, then became irritated at yourself for folding so easily for a handsome man. Habit of a lifetime, huh?

“Maybe you should still ask before getting that close to someone” you muttered.

“Point taken”.

He smiled with amusement and gestured you towards the bar and you followed, nodding to Wanda and Vis that you’d be right back. The rest of the bar’s patrons went back to their drinks and conversations as if nothing had happened. The darts game continued, with Parker noticeably sitting down away from anything sharp and pointy.

“He means well…he’s new at all this,” Bucky explained as he watched your eyes follow Parker. “He gets ahead of himself when they rile him up”.

“Well, your friends thought it was hilarious”.

“Trust me, they were laughing at him. Not at you. But yeah, it was kinda funny”.

You huffed and leaned on the bar, giving him a side eye and only replying with your drink order. Bucky signalled to the bartender who nodded and looked flustered as tried to speed up serving his customer.

“Your bartender sucks” you muttered.

“I mean he’s a little slow but-,”

“No. He sucks. Why is he doing a Guinness now? You pour a Guinness first and let it settle, do the rest of the drinks, then come back and top it off,” you explained as you pointed to the sloppily poured lager he’d put on the bar. “And does your customer want any beer with that foam?”

Bucky laughed again. “Well, okay. Point taken, Sugar. Are you saying you could do better?”

“Sure. A monkey could do better…”

He laughed again, turning to look at you as he smiled and watched you with curious eyes. “What did you say your name was again…?”

*

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #james bucky barnes #this must be the place fic #biker!bucky #motorcycle club au bucky

[christinarowie332]

stoner chris and reader hc !!!

@lividnity literally fully inspired me for this and helped me cook last night !! creds to her 🤍🤍🤍🤍

(things u need to know) -

1. i am british!! so if i don’t understand any of the slang i use just dm me lmao i’ll explain it !!

2. i will not be writing smut !! i leave that to my talented writers like @daddyslilchickenfingers2 @daddyslilchickenfingers and @jcwrites-blog !!!

3. this is just for fun !!! i love the idea of a sarcastic jokey relationship with a side of droogs !! this is FICTION

4. I LOVE YOU SM - millz

——-

-reader met matt first at a party and smoked with him and nick , chris joined half way , became friends with “y/n” and the rest is history !!!

-chris gets his weed from matt , matt’s gf grows

-the moment you get irritated with him he just pulls out a bag and walks away, gesturing you to follow him . argument over , sesh starts !!!

-late night talks with him after smoking , he’s the best at them . constantly giggling at his stupid ass shit he says . little kisses cuz you just love his wierd annoying ass .

-has a tin for his joints , his brand logo sticker on the lid , has a polaroid of u and him in it and a hair tie for u . along with a condom lmao.

——-

-when reader gets kinda talkitive when she’s high , he don’t , he just wants to fuck . he’ll half listen for five mins “y/n bro . please shut up” grabs your face and immediately starts a heavy sloppy makeout .

-sat in his lap , he is the #1 shotgun(sharing smoke) lover

-u guys obviously have a shared playlist with songs u both love while u chill , but to be honest it’s mostly chris’s music

-loves a good group sesh with the whole group , and finds it absolutely hilarious to tease the fuck out of u and try not to get caught - you all go sit around your designated smoke table , after shotgunning you allways just stay on his lap and talk to the group . he then takes his chance to tease u as usual by putting his hand on your inner thigh , stroking it with his thumb before moving it over your *you know what* and gently stroking it like he did your thigh .

“cant sleep wanna smoke and chill” 3am texts constantly, you know exactly what chill means so your sprinting to your car everytime.

“STOP BEING SUCH A HOGGER AND SHARE BRO!!” “one drag baby , ……PLEASE BRO?!?” absolute fein for nicotine and steals your vapes after a joint . which usually leads to you just buying him his own. which he loses in about 30 seconds .

he talked u into smoking in the hot tub once but u managed to drop the entire joint in the water and had to roll him another , now they’re a fave place to smoke with him , claiming it “gets the brain juices flowing , y/n , im telling you!”

——

“can u fucking pass it over chris”

“chris bro i’ve barley had any”

“CHRISTOPHER !!! GIVE ME THE FUCKING JOINT U PRICK?!?!”

as much as he loves you , he loves the za more and will hog it on accident “hold on “y/n/n ,lemme just finish my sentence first hold on !”.

_______________

tags 🤍🤍

@lividnity @mangosrar @jcwrites-blog @sturnphilia

#chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #christopher sturniolo #milkietalks #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo x reader #milkie is down bad #sturniolo stoner

[boydepartment]

can you write smth about jay just spoiling you cause he loves u so much 🥹

spoiled rotten- park jongseong headcanons

a/n: i am so sorry this is late, i got back from my trip, got sad, had to do hw, and then i had errands to run with people. here it is tho!!!!

description: headcanons of jay spoiling you rotten <3 fluff, cute, hee hoho haha yaknow. lowercase intended

warnings- none

MASTERLIST

wc- dawg idk like 300???

oh mr. park… given an allowance AND having idol income. at first it would all go to his savings, like if he wanted to take a class, or if the rockstar wanted to buy more things for his guitar. however….. when you came into the picture 1/3 of his savings just seemed to vanish. well, not vanish jay knew exactly where it was going. and soon it became 2/3rds of his savings.

jay loved to spoil you rotten, he loved seeing your eyes light up at the new bag he got you. the way you’d let your fingers glide against the material of the leather strap. how you’d talk excitedly about the history of the bag design. he loved it.

jay’s favorite part of spoiling you was how you’d geek out over whatever item he bought you. like the one time he bought you a piece of jewelry from a movie you liked. you started to go on and on about the movie and the details of said movie.

he loved every second of spoiling you because he got to hear you happily talk.

buying you things was great and all, but seeing you smile and give an excited giggle unwrapping what he got you was the best part. jay had never felt such adrenaline unless he was performing.

you always get so giddy when jay comes home from tour or whatever business trip he was on. for starters, because you get to see the love of your life again. and because you get to see the excited look on his face when he pulls a present out from behind his back.

you loved his reactions to giving you things just as much as the actual gift. you made sure to always show him how grateful you are of him. you may be spoiled rotten but you’d never in your life take advantage of his kindness.

jay would do anything for you, if you wanted a trip to the moon and back he’d plan it for years so you could have that trip.

and trust me, with as much as he buys you, he probably could take that total and fly you to the moon.

jay can’t help it, he loves you way too much for his bank account’s good. the bleeding of the numbers didn’t really matter anyways, your attention and your company, the fact you chose him over anyone else on earth is his idea of getting spoiled by you.

oh and ps…. he’d definitely spoil you with random trips to places you’ve always wanted to go to. or let you pick out ANYTHING you wanted in any store you’d want. jay loves seeing you prance around places. you’re just so precious to him

#jay park imagines #jay park comfort #jay park x reader #jay park #jay park fluff #jay park enhypen #enhypen jay park #enha park jongseung #park jongseong imagines #park jongseong x reader #park jongseong fluff #park jongseong #enhypen imagines #enha imagines #enha scenarios #enhypen scenarios #enhypen jay #enhypen #enha #enhypen park jongseong #park jongseung #kpop #enhypen x reader #enha x reader #enha fluff #enhypen fluff #enhypen comfort #enha confort #lee heeseung imagines #yang jungwon