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missroki · 4 months

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HONEY, I’M HOME! | ONE-SHOT

put the champagne on ice because it’s time for a celebration! your husband knows he won’t be home in time for your anniversary dinner, but surely you can find another way to entertain yourself. speaking of which… what was that noise?

content: female reader x satosugu, reader wears dresses and has acrylic nails, threesome, c*cking, oral (reader receiving), male m*sturbation, cheating, fingering, cum eating, breeding, mention of pregnancy and children, neglectful husband. word count: 2.4k

suguru isn’t surprised, really, when he enters his home to find that the table is already set. tall ivory candles sit half melted in their brass holders, lines of wax hardened on their polished sides. he can tell by the disheveled state of the kitchen that you must have worked hard on dinner tonight. it’s what you always do when he comes home from an overseas trip. today is no exception.

it makes him regret being late again, but not enough to have phoned home, hoping you wouldn't be too angry at him if he showed up with a pretty diamond brooch. he toes off his dress shoes, tosses them recklessly so that they hit the side table. he loosens his tie as he calls out your name.

silence. not even your irritable humming that he’s grown to tolerate.

when he doesn’t hear a response, sugur peers into the coat closet. empty. and walks the few paces into the home to check the guest bathroom. also empty. to his surprise, he doesn’t find you cheekily hiding in it to surprise him. considering the very long text message you’d sent him to remember your anniversary — he expected you to greet him at the door in one of your pretty little dresses and push him into the dining room with a glass of red wine.

ever since the two of you moved into this neighborhood, you’ve played the role of pretty, doting housewife. you mingled frequently with the older more seasoned women, gossiping on brunch dates about your husbands and kids. you even started appeasing the neighborhood watch with baked goods and begged suguru to give hefty donations into the construction of new homes.

you wanted desperately to be accepted, for them to not see the old you under the expensive makeup and designer clothes. of course, your husband knew how important this was for you. how lonely you got when he was away.

you wanted a family, three kids minimum with one big dog and two cats. later, suguru had said, once we settle in and build a life. but you were getting impatient, he could tell. your kisses were getting lighter, your sex life fizzling out after the third time he’d insisted on cumming on your tits instead of in your cunt.

you stopped going to your brunches and would barely get out of bed most days. it’s one of the few reasons why suguru spent so much time working. your sad eyes made him feel guilty, the way you dragged yourself out of bed only to cook and shower made him feel off-kilter. he had tried shopping sprees and fancy dinners but it wasn’t enough for you… until one day it just was.

he couldn’t explain it but you’d recently started going out again, socializing with neighbors and going to barbecues. you’d even let him touch you, practically riding him within an inch of his life after weeks of nothing. with your anniversary now here, suguru was certain he had helped you come to your senses, but where were you?

the man makes his way down the main hall, releasing the upper half of his hair from its confining bun. he hopes you aren’t in bed again, or if you are that you’re laying there bare and prepped. he lifts a hand up to run through his black strands, only to pause midway as he hears a steady… thump.

thump thump thump he hears a few doors down. it seems you are in the bedroom as expected but…

“he’s gonna be home soon! we need to— ah! —we need to s–stop.”

a man’s voice responds to you, one that makes the hair on the back of suguru’s neck stand up. "fuck you’re so tight, don’t think about him, baby. focus on me."

suguru feels his mouth dry out as he moves further down the hallway, eyes widening as he stands outside your bedroom door. the closer he gets, the thumping turns into wet slaps. what he imagines are strong hips colliding against your own as you claw at the bedsheets; an action you had always done with him because you were his. there was no possible way you’d let his best friend fuck you in his own home. you would never.

“t–toru please, i–i need you!"

you wouldn’t.

"yeah, baby?” suguru can hear you gasp, knowing satoru must have found that soft doughy spot inside you. “that’s the spot isn’t it?”

the door is not wide open, but just enough that suguru can see his worst nightmare playing out in front of him.

his eyes zero in on the way your legs are wrapped around satoru’s tapered waist, your arms clinging to his broad shoulders as his strong hips meet yours. you look so blissed out, tilting your head back in ecstasy to give his best friend access to the sensitive skin of your neck. how could he? how could you?

you took your vows with him, it was suguru who took you in when you were nothing but poor trash on a street corner. him who begged satoru to not tell his parents how you really met. the thought of you betraying him this way makes his hands curl into fists.

he can’t help but feel jealous, how could he not? and who were you to make him feel jealous? you’re angry at him for neglecting you; spreading your legs for someone that suguru always felt second best to. you’re punishing him, you must be.

even so, he can’t will himself to intervene. he wants to drag you both out of his house and throw you back on the curb. he wouldn’t even let you grab your clothes — no. he wanted you exposed and cold on the porch so that all your neighbors knew how much of a whore you truly were. would they see his friend’s spend dripping down your supple thighs onto the pavement? see your nipples harden as you tried to cover yourself up?

even with all this anger, suguru can’t tear his eyes away from the sight. he thought he’d heard every whimper and moan from you but… not like this. you were so loud and out of breath, voice cracking as you clawed at satoru’s back with your pretty acrylics. you’d never been so good for him, so pliant.

he's still pissed, furious even. but from his position at the door he can see so much; satoru’s fat cock disappearing into your sloppy pussy; the shake of your tits with each thrust and the way satoru wraps his tongue around your perky nipples. suguru can even see the red crescents in your skin from where he grips the fat of your thighs.

he’d been with you more times than he could count but… suguru has never seen this much of his best friend. maybe in high school he’d had little peeks in locker rooms but right now he can see the muscles of his back vividly, how they turn and flex with each thrust. he can see the way satoru’s sweat drips down onto your body, his hand coming up to push soaked white strands back out of his face.

it’s only when his cock stirs in his slacks that suguru is honest with himself. he was jealous not only of satoru, but of you, too. he wanted to be pressed between the two of you, burying his cock in your hole while satoru plowed into his from behind.

he imagines worshiping your body with his tongue as satoru gripps his dark strands, bangs falling into his eyes as you begged him for more. more.

"you’re so pretty like this," satoru buries his face into your neck, pulling you tighter against his body so that you are chest to chest. "suguru doesn’t make you feel this way, does he?”

"n–no. never!”

“then tell me i’m better.”

“you’re — oh fuck — you’re better! ‘toru, i’m s–so close."

"yeah? can feel you squeezing me, does it feel that good?" he’s teasing you, just the way you like.

"fuck," suguru closes his eyes, his palm rubbing against his slacks, gripping his throbbing cock to the wet sounds of another man pounding into you. it’s so fucked. he knows this. but he can’t stop himself from unbuttoning his pants and tugging his cock out of his boxers. you didn’t know he was there but you both owed it to him. he just wanted a taste of what you had.

his breath hitches when satoru suddenly pulls out, flipping you onto your stomach before slamming back into your cunt. your body is pressed into the mattress, screams muffled as satoru fucks you at a agonizing pace. suguru starts to slowly pump his cock, letting a glob of spit land on his hand as it mixes with his precum.

he tries his best to match satoru’s thrusts, focusing on the way your ass jiggled everytime his hips slammed into the soft flesh. he can already tell from here that your skin will have bruises. how many times have you said no to sex to cover up the marks, satoru’s scent still on your skin? how many times did he find you asleep in bed, just narrowly missing his best friend sneaking out the back door?

“fuck! faster, p–please!”

"shh, it’s alright, baby. i’ve got you."

"i–i love you, ‘toru." suguru can see you push yourself back to meet satoru’s thrusts and he grips his cock harder. “cum inside me.”

god, he’s fucking you raw, isn’t he?

satoru moans out your name, pressing his face into your spine. you bend so prettily for him, force yourself to be smaller so that he can take up all of the room you have left. “i love you, too, sweet girl. gonna get you pregnant, yeah?”

you arch your back even further, looking behind you for the first time only to lock eyes with your husband in the doorway. your makeup is wrecked, your hair in disarray. you can’t help but to shiver at the intrusion, feeling more exposed than you ever have before.

and something about the… way your pleasure filled gaze turns into fear has suguru cumming suddenly, grunting and failing to keep his moans at bay as he shamefully covers the wood floors and the front of his pants.

he doesn’t have time to question why satoru doesn’t seem fazed, the man gently pushing your head back down against the bed and continuing to chase his high. you gasp and try to lift yourself back up.

"hold on! satoru—"

"thought i told you to ignore him?" he says, a sly grin on his face. satoru glances back at his friend and lets out an amused laugh at his disheveled state. “never took you for a voyeur, suguru. isn’t your wife such a good girl?”

you can’t help the way your pussy clenches around him and satoru lifts his hands to squeeze your ass, spreading you open to spit on your hole. “gonna breed this tight little cunt like it deserves. couldn’t wait around for you to do it, right?”

suguru watches with bated breath, a hand lifting to grip the doorframe. he continues rocking his hips into his soiled hand. “be quiet,” he growls, shame traveling up his chest as a blush trickles up his neck and cheeks.

satoru doesn’t slow down and you’ve all but fallen limp in his arms. as he finally cums, satoru makes sure to be loud, making a show out of the final spurts of white that he pushes deep inside your womb. he pulls out slowly, hissing as he watches your pulsing heat fight to keep him inside.

satoru glances back at the doorway.

“i know you’re angry at me or whatever, but i’m all spent and she still hasn’t came.” the white haired man looks at suguru with almost crazed eyes. “help her out, won’t you?”

at first, you look up at him in shock. “satoru–”

“this is what you wanted, right? for him to notice you.” he grabs your hips and flips you onto your back, dragging you to the edge of the bed like you weigh nothing. “seems like a perfect opportunity to me, then.”

suguru watches as the two sets of eyes look at him expectantly, his hand going still as he weighs his options. “this stays between us, satoru” he chastises, making his way over to the bed and dropping to his knees.

“don’t worry, your perversion will be safe with me.” he sends him another dazzling grin, pressing a kiss to your knee. “now, get to work. you’ve neglected her long enough.”

suguru looks at the mess between your legs, salivating at the sight. his cum covered hand grips your thigh, the other spreading you apart to watch the way your pussy pushes satoru’s cum out in buckets. he leans in to lick a long stripe from your hole to your clit, both of your juices coating his tongue in a salty glaze. “so good,” his voice is muffled as he moans, using both hands now to keep your thighs from closing around his head.

“sugu!” you gasp, satoru leaning over to tweak your sensitive nipples with his thumb and forefinger. you struggle against the overwhelming sensations, gripping on your husband’s dark hair as he fucks his tongue into you while simultaneously trying to move away from satoru’s hand.

you know you won’t be able to last long like this, your thighs shaking as suguru begins to thrusts his cum soaked fingers into your cunt. you feel a familiar pressure against your belly but something foreign lies underneath it.

“w–wait i don’t,” you whimper. “i’m gonna–”

a burst of liquid pours out of you, soaking your husband’s face as you spasm against him. “holy shit,” satoru sings, “look at you go!” suguru is drinking you in like a man starved, sucking and nuzzling his face into your cunt.

“sorry!” you whimper as you ride out your high, “‘m so sorry!”

suguru can barely remember his name over the ringing in his ears.

when you start to whine from overstimulation, satoru grips the back of his friend’s head and lifts him away from you. his face is ruined, dripping with both of your juices and his eyes looking even more hooded than usual.

satoru smiles down at him. “isn’t she amazing? put on a good show for you, yeah?”

suguru’s chest heaves as his dark eyes connect with deep blues. “i hate you,” he groans, roughly pushing away the hand in his hair.

satoru laughs, pulling you into his arms so that your back is against his chest. “hey, sweet girl,” you gaze up at him with drooping eyes, his hand gripping your chin. “you got one more for me? i think your hubby is hard again.”

MISSROKI. all original work. do not plagiarize, translate, or repost. this includes feeding my work to ai apps and sites.

#‧₊˚ 🖇️ ۫ ⭒ — sorin writes.#gojo x reader #geto x reader #gojo x female reader #geto x female reader #gojo x black reader #geto x black reader #gojo x geto x reader #satosugu x reader #satosugu smut #gojo smut #geto smut #angelshubnetwork

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prgayfootluvr77 · 8 months

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cloudzoro · 4 months

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Late Nights | jjk men ♡

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

individual reaction/headcanon scenarios on late nights with jjk men

requests for jjk, one piece, haikyuu, fmab & death note (male & female characters) are OPEN!

masterlist

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

characters included: geto, gojo, nanami & toji

cw: suggestive, borderline smut, sex under the influence, dealer!toji, drunk makeout, fem reader

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Suguru Geto

“Sugu” you whined, settling next to your boyfriend on the sofa. Suguru had promised to spend a cosy evening at home with you as an apology for being so busy. He looks down at you with an amused expression, entertained by your attitude. “pay attention to me not the stupid show” you pout, annoyed that he was actually watching the show you put on intending to be background noise. He laughs and turns back to the TV, waiting for you to do something else. You roll your eyes and decide to take matters into your own hands.

You swing a leg over him and adjust so you're straddling him. He simply leans back and takes in the sight of you rolling your hips against him. it's almost midnight, you'd been ‘watching’ the show for almost two hours. It feels good to have physical contact with him.

“You're so pretty, baby,” Suguru says, placing his hands on your hips and encouraging you to roll your hips faster.

“Then why were you looking at the screen instead of me?” you ask.

“I was just waiting to see if you would do something about it” He laughs. You look down at your boyfriend with a disappointed pout on your face, showing him how you felt. He shook his head and leaned up to kiss the pout away. Suguru pushes a hand into your pyjama shorts, rubbing his fingers against your clit “is this what you want?”

Satoru Gojo

You can barely drunkenly stumble through the door of your apartment before Satoru, who is equally as intoxicated, pushes you against the door to close it. His lips roughly collide with yours and wrap your arms around his shoulders to pull him closer into you.

You'd been out with friends, celebrating and having fun, but now that you're home with your boyfriend all you want is to spend as much time pressed against him as possible. Without interruptions from the people around you, Satoru can kiss down your neck, bite at your skin and smooth his hands everywhere on your body he can reach. Fatigue is starting to settle in both from the long night and the alcohol. This is the quietest he's been in a long time, you know it's because he's busy loving you, but you almost miss his voice.

“Toru” you whimper as he sucks a mark into your neck. He hums in response, patiently listening to what his baby has to say. “Maybe we should go to bed, we can cuddle and then tomorrow we can spend more time together”

He removes his face from where it was resting on your shoulder and grins at you. He cups your cheeks like you're the cutest thing he's ever seen in his life and gives you one last peck on the lips.

“that's sounds like a great idea”

Kento Nanami ♡

Kento doesn’t mean to work late, he always tries to get home at a reasonable time but sometimes he doesn't have much of a choice. He had messaged you earlier in the night to let you know he wouldn't be home until after midnight but you still pushed yourself to stay awake to greet him home like you usually do. You're sitting on the couch reading a book when the door to your home opens.

Kento walks in, carefully toeing his shoes off as to not wake you. He still hasn't realised you're awake so you put your bookmark in your book and place it on the table. When you stand up Kento hears the rustle of your pyjamas and peeks around the door frame of the living room, clearly not expecting you to still be awake.

“Baby, what are you doing up?” he asks, walking up to you and pulling you into a kiss, he's holding a carrier bag in his hand and you can smell the takeaway food inside. He drops the bag of food on the coffee table in favour of wrapping his arms tightly around your waist. When he pulls away from the kiss to stare at your face, your finally answer his question.

“I wanted to be awake when you got home, I like spending time with you before we go to bed. it was lonely in there without you”

He sighs, kissing your forehead. His first instinct is to scold you for staying up to this hour just for him but your reasoning is so cute that he simply starts to guide you towards the bedroom, fully intent on forgetting about his takeaway and occupying his mouth somewhere else.

Toji Fushiguro

The joint lays in the ash tray on the table, forgotten as Tojis large hand pulls at your lounge shorts to slide them off your legs.

Toji started dealing as a way to make money, You were once a loyal customer but eventually you evolved from customer to girlfriend. It started with Toji putting extra in your bags and charging you no extra, then he started giving you weed for free on the condition that you let him smoke it with you. Since you started dating him he hasn't let you pay for a single ounce, insisting he would be a terrible boyfriend if he ever made you pay.

Every now and then a smoke session will end with you on Tojis lap, like you are right now, keeping your legs spread while he plays with your pussy. By this point you're completely naked and he's only removed his shirt. Your head lolls back against his shoulder as he pushed two fingers into your slick cunt. You're so sensitive that the action pulls a loud moan out of you and shifts in his seat, pressing his clothed cock against your ass. Every noise you make goes to head, clouding his brain almost as much as the weed has.

You tilt your head and the movement causes Toji to look down at your pretty face, soft smile on his lips before he kisses you. The kiss is dirty and full of saliva but there's a soft affection behind you that makes you grin into the kiss.

“My mouth feels dry, baby, you gonna help me wet it?” he growls, laying you down on your back, ready to dive into you like you're his last meal.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

hope you enjoyed!!!! my requests are open and I'm excited to get back into writing. I was formerly simplysuna/daichisnaps if you remember either of them! :) <3

#jjk x reader #jjk smut #nanami x reader #kento nanami #geto x reader #geto x reader smut #gojo smut #gojo x reader #toji x reader #toji x reader smut #toji smut #☁️.gojo #☁️.nanami #☁️.toji #☁️.geto #☁️.jjk #☁️.smut

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trashmouth-richie · 1 year

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Eddie x fem! Reader [masterlist]

Prev | vol viii

Summary: November 1st, Steve’s birthday celebration, a new friend is brought into the mix, Eddie’s past is revealed.

Trigger Warning: no minors pls, language, drinking, reader wears Eddie’s jacket, fluff, angst.

W/C: 11.5k

@jo-harrington + @ghost-proofbaby for beta reading this a tiny bit for me

The sun is waning through your curtains, blinding your eyes with a light so bright it’s like you’re staring into a flashlight. The ominous whirring of your fan oscillates, sending a chilling breeze across your room

Silently thanking yourself for taking ibuprofen before falling asleep last night, the pounding in your head is minimal, but the scratchy dryness of your throat is a steady reminder of the impromptu karaoke singing and the toe to toe chain smoking contest you bullied Eddie into. Your former drunker self turned cockier with every drink.

“I bet you… this house! This fucking house! That I can smoke more cigarettes than you can at once,” you slurred in a buzzed stupor as you swayed your body with the faint music of REO Speedwagon, your finger pressed into his chest where the fabric v’d open.

Red eyed and already higher than Willie fucking Nelson, Eddie grins wider than the Cheshire Cat, dipping low to your ear to whisper, “game on, sweetheart, but we’re smokin reds not your menthol shit.”

News flash. You couldn’t out smoke Eddie. And your burning croaky throat was proof of that.

Feet on the floor, your cold toes inching towards purchase against the carpet for your slippers. Opening your eyes, you assess the room. The Eddie costume you proudly wore all night, was strewn across your floor, complete with the wig. A rumbly laugh reverberates through your lungs along with a horrendous hacking cough. The memory of Jeff wearing it and imitating Eddie jogs across your mind. The way Eddie pouted and glared through his lashes made you smile sweetly at the memory.

A quick glance at your body in the mirror shows that you’re still wearing the soft black DIO shirt from lastnight, but thankfully you changed into pajama pants.

Another rough barking cough against your already achy throat surrenders it’s vices and begs for water. Opening the door you are met with a freezing chill. Eyes blinking in the bright sun from the windows in the living room, you take note of the heaps of bodies snoring and drooling amongst the floor.

Mike and El are cuddled up like two little kittens against the back corner in the living room, her blonde wig used as a pillow, Mike’s Mad Hatter jacket and his arm draped over her. Finding yourself gawking at the sweetness of seeing them curled into each other, you wonder if you would ever have a great love like they did. Your stomach leaps when the one crossing your mind is Eddie.

It was wrong. You shouldn’t be feeling this way about your brother’s friend, your roommate for fucks sake! He was everything you hated about the male population. Loud, annoying, an absolute pervert. Messy beyond belief, couldn’t boil a goddamn egg. But, he was also gentle, kind, and caring. Your yearning heart ached for his touch like the day he held you close to his chest during your darkest hour.

Not to mention he was cute. Okay, that’s a lie. Eddie was hot, in that rugged ‘I-don’t-give-a-fuck’ kind of way. Different from most guys in Hawkins, who were obsessed with their appearance, their family name. Eddie didn’t care, he was just himself. Always had been, always would be. And something about that cocky demeanor, burying the kindest heart you’ve ever come across, made your heart stutter in your chest.

Would he hold you like Mike was holding El if you were his? Would he cover you in kisses and do cliche things with you like matching couples costumes on Halloween? Something deep inside told you he would.

“Cute aren’t they?”

You jump out of your skin at the low, velvet voice, not realizing he was awake, your hungover mind foregoing the aroma and slow drip of black coffee being made. Too wrapped up in thinking about him to notice that he had approached you on your left, his messy curls swing against your cheek as he had bent down to your ear.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” he says with a chuckle.

You turn and look at him, he’s so close to you your noses almost touch. The tickling shock of nervousness from last night returns and travels up your spine, curling into your hair, igniting every hair follicle, a burning welcomed pleasure against your scalp. A quirked smile on his lips as you take a step back.

Blinking slow, you take him in. His smile could melt the polar ice caps, that goddamn panty dropper grin, you curse yourself silently for feeling the heat on your neck. He’s wearing black sweats, cut above the knee and rolled at the hem from many washes. A horrendously sawed off cut t-shirt adorns his broad shoulders. The same raw hems rolling inward, exposing a silver hoop in his nipple. The sun catching the steel ring and casting a blinding glare against it. He tips the coffee mug he’s holding back to his lips, emptying the contents in one gulp. The smell of potent orange juice fills your nose as you stare at his lips. His tongue poked out to lap up the last spilled drops.

“No, you’re fine—I didn’t realize you were up,” you explain, rubbing sleep from your eyes. Peering around him at the small wooden clock on the wall, it’s only 8:30, “didn’t know you were aware that there was an 8:30 AM on Sundays.”

“Are you always this witty in the morning?”

“It’s a gift,” you say with a smirk, “consider it a blessing, you’re late by the way.”

“Late for what?” The lazy way he smiles at you should be a crime.

A coy smile on your lips, “Sunday Service.”

Eddie snorts a laugh and grabs his side, wincing slightly, “agh, don’t make me laugh,” he groans, “I think I fucked up my back or something from falling down those steps last night.”

“…twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six…”

Gareth turned his head from the spout engulfing deep breaths from the chilled night air. Argyle and Jonathan let his feet back down to the deck. Standing next to Nancy and Ash, you whoop and holler along with everyone else, cheering on the new Keg Stand Champion. Gareth, stands on wobbly legs, taking a deep breath, he shouts, “And that's how it’s d—“

Before he can finish his victory speech, he projectile vomits all over Big D. Covering him shoulders to waist in foamy chunks of party food and the cheap keg beer. Laughter erupts from Eddie, he throws his wild hair back in amusement. Clutching his stomach and choking on the smoke from the joint he had just inhaled. Karma, proving again that she’s a cunt, Eddie leans back just far enough to fall backwards down the five steps to the ground.

“Jesus down, Jesus down!” Eddie exclaimed, roaring with laughter.

Concerned, you delicately reach for his wrist and move his hand away from his ribs. A small splatter of deep purpling color against his alabaster skin suggests that they are more than likely bruised from the fall. The dainty touch of your fingers on his body sends goosebumps against his flesh, and it wasn’t because your hands were cold. He swallows hard, adoration in his brown eyes as he takes in your smell, how messy your hair was, the hum on your lips as you observe him, pressing the pads of your fingers into his skin.

Who would have thought that simple minuscule touches from you could cause a frenzy in his blood. He thought the hair washing would bring him to his knees, but this? He didn’t realize he stopped breathing until you spoke.

The hitch in his throat is dismissed by you, “sorry, my fingers are probably freezing,”

He murmurs, something along the lines of “it’s fine,” but you barely hear it.

His skin is surprisingly smooth. Women spend hundreds of thousands of dollars in their lifetime to have perfect skin, and here Eddie Munson was, baby soft skin on a metal head’s body. You take the time to admire the exposed tattoo on his ribs next to the bruises. Tracing your finger over the triangled black ink outlined in red, angry against his skin. You’ve seen the symbol before but never understood what it was. An eight laying sideways, in the overlapping section is a cross with two lines instead of one.

Seconds fade to minutes of your fingers tracing his skin. Neither you or Eddie have said a word. Unhurried migrations on your fingers skate across the alabaster, feeling for any broken bones, but only feeling the velour cream of his skin beneath your hands.

Clearing your throat, you look into his blown out eyes, “I —um,” the air is thick between you both, making it hard to breath, or it could be the fact that the caramel pools of his eyes are pouring into yours, “ looks like it’s just bruised,” you say, slowly moving your fingers away from his skin. Your nails scratching his skin casually. And a quick intake of breath hisses between his teeth.

Eddie’s voice comes out shakier than he would have liked, he licks his lips, “o-oh good.”

He casts his eyes downwards, his fingers tug gently at the sleeve of the DIO shirt you’re still wearing from last night. His eyes find yours again, the browned oasis beckoning you, “are you still mad at me for winning the costume contest?” he asks in almost a whisper, lips barely moving, his focus full on the way your soft skin under your shirt feels against his calloused fingers.

The jump in your lower belly ignited the flame within you, sending burning hot coals to your core at his ghosting fingers on your arm. You blink rapidly and scoff. Rolling your eyes to extinguish the flames, you force yourself away from him, brushing past him, your shoulder grazing his chest sends more fire through your veins, a last attempt on keeping the heat blazing. “I was never mad,” you explain. Opening the cabinet with shaky hands and grabbing a white mug with tiny yellow flowers on the rim, you take a deep breath to steady your voice, turning it into a makeshift yawn, “who do you think decides who wins the contest anyway?”

Pouring the hot black coffee into the mug the aroma fills the room. Creamer sloshes against the liquid mixing merrily into a toffee colored dream.

Eddie leans against the counter, taking a piece of candy from the plastic jack-o-lantern dish and twisting the ends between his fingers, the orange hardened sugar melting slow on his tongue.

“You voted for me?” he asks earnestly, his head bowed in bashfulness, “you’re going to make me blush, sweetheart,” he coos, swirling the candy around his mouth, clacking against his teeth as he tries to hide a smile.

Sipping the piping hot coffee gingerly between your lips, you shrug, “not every day I get to see you acting so holy, thought we should capitalize on the opportunity, plus, it really was one hell of a costume.”

The bubblegum blush on Eddie’s cheeks make him look like a teenager, twisting his hair as if he just received his first kiss.

“I don’t know, I kinda liked yours,” he said matter of factly.

“That’s cause you’re full of yourself,” you say with a teasing tone, sticking out your tongue, and coughing roughly again.

Eddie’s eyebrows pull inward, a mocked scoff on his lips, “I refuse to take insults from someone who sounds like my Uncle Wayne— told you you couldn’t hang with the big dogs— but no, Tooty doesn’t listen.”

You dismiss him with a suggestive middle finger and a smirk as you sip the coffee again, “I can do anything I want, you’re not my babysitter.”

Neither of you knew that Robin and Steve were both awake, listening intently to your light banter, your giggling voices as you teased each other. The way yours pitched in a high squeal when Eddie’s hands tickled your sides and you tried to fight him off with the paper towel row.

The two friends sit side by side on the couch, smiling widely at one another, wondering when you would let eachother in.

It was noon before Gareth woke up, a combination of dried puke and drool on his face. The other four party go-ers had already left and did the sad walk of shame out to their vehicles. Both Robin and Steve give you weird looks and wide glances all morning, you even noticed Steve wiggling his eyebrows.

Yawning and reeking of alcohol. The loud snores from Gareth’s slack mouth could awaken the residents lying 6 feet under in East Hawkins. He’s laying with his head in a popcorn bowl, a poorly drawn sharpie penis crudely coloring his cheek, thanks to Eddie. The cold puke slowly oozing from the bowl onto himself has your stomach lurching.

Eddie finally woke him by shaking his shoulders violently, yelling into his face, “dude! You’re gonna rattle the fucking house off the foundation with that deafening snore, Christ almighty!”

Gareth stirred alive, swinging his arms frantically. “Fuck, man, scare the hell out of me why don’t ya!”

“Oh relax, trust me— it was either this or the Tooty method,” Eddie says with a grin motioning to you standing behind his shoulder holding a cup of cold water, a devilish smirk on your face, “seriously though, get up you smell like two-week-old rotten asshole.”

After Gareth and Eddie argue over why he has a dick drawn on his face, and Eddie swearing it wasn’t him, Gareth bumps his fist into Eddie’s and waves goodbye as he stands at the front door, and addresses you, “helluva party Tooty, hopefully I didn’t make too much of a mess and you’ll invite me again next year,” his easy smile is something you’ve never seen directed at you. Of all Eddie’s bandmates, Gareth was the hardest to read.

“Duh, you’re the reigning keg stand champion, you gotta make a return,” you smile back.

Gareth laughs, his floppy thick hair matted from the habit he wore all night, “think my keg stand days are over.” He looks from you to Eddie, watching the way Eddie smiles at you adoringly, and he starts to finally get it. Understand why his friend acts the way he does around you. You’re easy to talk to, friendly, kind, once you let your guard down. He looks to Eddie again as you turn and walk back to the kitchen, giving him a knowing glance shifting his eyes to you, and nodding his head once in approval, “see ya around dickhead,” he jokes to his oldest friend, his role model, his brother.

“Why the fuck do I have to wear this?” Eddie groans, pulling at the stiff collar on his shirt, buttoned too tight around his neck, not used to material that wasn’t leather or soft cotton, the metalhead was crabby and uncomfortable in the borrowed maroon button down shirt and black skinny tie from Harrington, “I look like a bible salesmen!”

Steve’s birthday was tonight and he requested to have dinner at his favorite restaurant in Indianapolis. He had gotten a big promotion at work the week after Halloween and was in need of a little celebration before the task of being executive director started.

Slotting silver iridescent dangly earrings you had borrowed from Nancy into your ears and adjusting the matching choker against your throat, you take the last curler out from your hair and fluff it with your fingers to give it shape. You holler from closed confinements of your room, “it’s for Steve’s birthday, not your birthday— quit being a big baby!”

Stepping your tights into the borrowed black velvet pointed heels, and smoothed down the black velour mini dress with the spaghetti straps you had bought last week from an ad in the paper about selling prom dresses for cheap. The material was snug against your curves fitting like a glove. Your makeup was darker than you would have normally done on any other given day but since this was such a fancy event for one of your closest friends— you smoked out a brown eyeshadow across your lids and added a heavy coat of mascara to your lashes with a thin line of eyeliner. Your favorite lipstick swiped delicately across your lips.

Looking at yourself in the mirror, you are pleased at your reflection. A patch of doubt trickles up your chest making you question if you should change. Is it too much? Is it over the top? But all that comes to a halt when loud banging is heard on your door. Stopping your spiraling shame cold in its tracks.

“Tooty?” Eddie raps on the door, “Steve just pulled up. You ready or are we leaving your ass at h—”

For the first time in Eddie’s life he is speechless. Not counting the time that his jaw was wired shut for 6 months when he took his skateboard off the roof of Gareth’s house in middle school.

Tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, dry and itchy like eighty grade sandpaper. His eyebrows are lifted, tucked beneath his bangs. It’s as if everything was going in slow motion, he couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, he was stunned by the drop dead gorgeous woman in front of him.

Your beauty wasn’t something that just happened in a movie with you pouncing down the stairs to some cheesy song with your friends clapping at the top and high-fiving over their “miracle makeover”. Eddie just simply wasn’t accustomed to seeing you dressed up like this.

It’s taking everything in him to not spring forward like a rabid dog and close the gap between you. Slot his lips against yours. A desperate, needy kiss so full of urgency that your head would spin. He’d keep you in the spinning wonderland until both of you were seconds from passing out. Dizzy from the floating clouds and blissful euphoria soaring around in his arms. He wants to grab your waist, wants to fist his fingers around the nape of your neck, wants to see the way your mouth would open with a gasp as he kissed your collar bone, so sweetly, so delicately— his name a whisper on your breath. He’d kiss your lips until they were chapped, sore, and tender to match his. Then he’d kiss them better, his lips the antidote, curing your craved pain.

He’d give anything— his van, his guitar, the band whatever it took— just to get a taste. In this dream land he’s everything you wanted, everything you needed. You loved him, adored him. Accepted his flaws, his past, his scars. He’d hold you tight while you slept, your head tucked into the crook of his neck, stealing sleepy kisses on your hair, enamored by the perfume of your hair, intoxicated, drugged by the lust of your skin. He’d learn how to cook, make you delicious meals, clean the house, do the laundry, be the perfect man. All for you.

He wanted to feel your body forming and molding around him. Yearned to know the valleys of your body, each curve, each beauty mark, each scar visible or not. If it weren’t for his heart hammering into his ears he would have thought he had gone deaf for sure.

You’re talking but he can’t hear you.

He’s still in the dream land, dancing on Saturn’s rings, cooling his feet in Jupiter’s springs, holding your hand and taking you higher with him. Your smile taking flight in his chest and ascending you along the majestic sights of the Milky Way. Completely gone from this world. A world where you were his, and he was yours.

The more he fantasizes it— the more the impossibility of this dream increases. His bravado falls, crashing through the sparkly dream with fluffy clouds, falling further down. Away from you. Away from the dream he wanted, craved to be reality.

He fell through the clouds, clinging to your fingers, would you reach out for him? Help him? Save him?

Would you ever want to be his? He was Eyeball’s friend, Prince of the Trailer Park, probably annoyed you more than Eyeball himself did. You were beautiful and put together, and him? He was lint in the dryer, causing house fires when forgotten about. Voted most likely to end up in prison for the graduating class of ‘85 and ‘86. A failure, a crack in the sidewalk you’d avoid to break your mother’s back as a kid.

Avoid the trailer park trash. Avoid Eddie Munson.

So he pushed the thoughts away, the ooey galaxy of cotton candy trees and rainbow lollipops— fading back to black as he fell faster harder, back to reality. The dead, decaying ashen life of shitville Hawkins, Indiana. Where reality came in the form of working long days to barely survive. A name branded to his soul, weathered and tarnished like forgotten silverware in a rich dementia riddled woman’s home.

Nothing. Munson trash. The town freak. Social outcast. Scum in the drain. Bastard child.

“Earth to Eddie!”

A snap of your fingers and the impatient wrinkles between your brow bring his soul back to his body.

“S-sorry,” he stuttered, wiping his clammy palms on the thighs of the cleanest pair of black jeans he owned, “We—uh,” blush creeps to his cheeks, adamant to push it down, to the cobwebbed box in his brain that never opened, he grabs your hand and starts to yank you towards the door, a gruff annoyance in his voice, “let’s go.”

You’re crestfallen.

Oblivious to his inner intergalactic battles of hoping that he was good enough for you but deep down knowing he never would be.

Not anywhere near the suaveness of Casanova he pretends to possess on most days, motor-mouth Munson was all out of gas. Spending his last tank, last drop of fuel taking you to the moon and spinning you amongst the stars.

Steve is wearing a black suit, standing against a new SUV, shiny ink black like the velvet of your dress, and the pretty girl’s hair standing next to him, she’s wearing a purple velour sweetheart neckline dress, with rhinestone straps, her shoulders are bare until the dress continues to cover her arms, into a full sleeve. Robin is hanging out of the back passenger side window, a tie hung loosely around her neck and a white button down tailored shirt adorning her body. Waving a bottle of Boonesfarm around.

“Come on! Let’s party like it’s 1984! Before Steve had this new bitchin’ car and still half of his virgini—“

“Robin!” Steve scolds, threading his fingers through his hair, the girl on his arm shooting Robin a pleasurable laugh, her hand on Steve’s chest.

Eddie is still dragging you along, hurrying you along. In a rush but not saying a word. “Eddie, Jesus Christ, stop, I have to get my purse,” you yank your wrist from his grip and take a step backward. Silent and fuming, your arms crossed over your chest. Looking up at him with water brimmed eyes, corners of your mouth turned downward in a confused frown.

It’s the same expression he had seen during the first few days he had moved in, when he hurt you.

Shaking his head with a huff he descends the concrete steps and stands next to Robin, clutching the Boonesfarm bottle and taking a long hefty swig, wallowing in his own self pity and self doubt of never being good enough for you.

Of course this is how it would be with you. Why would you ever want him when there are people like Steve Harrington in the world. Offering you anything and everything you could ever need. And what could he offer you? Nothing. A tainted name and a ring pop replacing a diamond.

He wasn’t good enough for Chrissy, wasn’t good enough for Trish. How would you be any different? Swallowing his pride with each swig of the sugary Boonesfarm, he tries his hardest to push the idea of you wanting to be with him, wanting anything other than someone to take up space and pay rent on time, out of his mind.

“Tooty,” Steve says, waving you over once you shut the door to the house and locked it, “Eddie, this is Leighanne, my girlfriend.”

A smile breaks on your face, pure unadulterated joy for your friend. The way his face lit up saying girlfriend, the way they’re clutched together, a perfect match, him looking adoringly into her face, staring in wonder and awe as she beams a radiating light back up to him— it’s sugar sweet.

A low ache in your chest fires again, whatever had burned for Eddie was now boiling on high heat but the pot was empty.

You thought that maybe he… hadn’t he? The bitter truth stinging your tongue, not admitting it to yourself. Not allowing yourself to think any further on the subject, you extend your smile to Leighanne. Pleasantries in your voice as you push down your own worrying heart and open it up to hear all about how Leighanne and Steve met.

“Damn, new fancy job and a car to match— never seen one of these in real life before Harrington.”

Steve dives into the story of him trading in his car for the G Wagon, a year old and less than 10,000 miles. Eddie asked questions and walked around the vehicle with Steve as he kicked the tires and inspected the paint job.

The ride to Indianapolis was full of Leighanne’s bright laugh, teasing Steve and joking with Robin. Her fingers never unlaced from his. She was funny, charismatic in a way that complimented Steve. You’re stuffed in the middle in the backseat. Robin on your left and Eddie on your right, preoccupied with staring out the window.

He’s brooding, steeping like a tea bag in the heat of the sun. Only he’s cold, off putting and sulking. Not engaging once in conversation other than. Answering yes or no to Steve’s questions, giving little up.

And you were doing the same, trying hard to focus on what Robin and Leighanne were giggling about but finding Eddie’s bad mood taking you over. His pitch black aura sucking you in and consuming you. Dampening the celebratory night for your friend that hasn’t even begun because he’s irritated by God knows what. It’s the longest ride to Indianapolis you’ve experienced yet.

The restaurant is burnt brick with an old prohibition era feel to it. Low jazz music is playing by a live band in the back corner. Reservations for Harrington bring the five of you to a secluded area low lit with hues of blacks and coppers and mahogany wood filling the space, setting the ambience for a private affair. The round table is set with a cream colored silk cloth that alone probably cost more than the value of your house.

Steve pulls out a chair for Leighanne. A pinky rouge on her cheeks as she sits down delicately. Robin climbs next to her, body angled towards her, her feet on the seat of her chair.

Taking the seat next to Robin, Eddie takes the seat next to you, angling it ever so slightly away from you, his right elbow on the table, head facing away from you.

What the fuck?

Two waiters arrive holding a large round platter filled with various selections of wines, whiskey, and beers in stout glasses. Each one filled to the brim of the finest liquor ranging in black browned ale to lighter amber on one side, the others full of their house made brew, an inch head of foam in each glass, and wine ranging from white to a deep burgundy red.

Before the waiter can even walk away Eddie has two glasses of the dark colored whiskey in front of him, shooting them down like he’s at a high school party and has a curfew. “Shit man, these are for sipping, ya gotta ease into it a little,” Steve says with a chuckle. Eddie grabs another glass from the circle of the platter, sipping it slow between his lips, letting the fervor of the liquor burn his mouth, welcoming the burn.

Eddie hasn’t said a word to you all night. In fact— he’s ignoring you. Usually the first to start joking around, he’s completely sullen, sinking into his bad mood letting the veil of self loathing cover himself like a blanket, choking his insides. He’d converse with everyone but you. “Can you pass the pepper,” you’d asked after laughing obnoxiously with Leighanne about how Steve couldn’t throw a punch to save his life.

Silence.

“Eddie?” You ask again, “can you please pass me the pepper?”

Another ignored moment of silence from the brooding metalhead.

“Eddie! Hello!?”

Nothing.

A swift kick from Steve to the shins finally roused him alive, blinking his eyes slowly away from his glass, thumb moving over the condensation. “Dude—Tooty needs the pepper.”

Eddie looks at the pepper shaker with hooded, bored eyes, far from the conversation around the table. Trapped in the black box of dread in his mind. He scoots it closer to you but not enough by far. Scooting your chair back with a screech, you stand and lean across him, fully in his space. Encroaching on his doomed self with your perfume wafting into his nose. Your hairspray stinging his eyes when your hair brushes over your shoulder in front of him. It’s intoxicating. The way your necklace catches the light, as you lean over him hits his chest like a lightning bolt. b

A quick turn of your face and he catches your glare, heated and angry, but his eyes are soft, solemn, sad.

“Thanks, Eddie— really appreciate you helping me out there. Next time I’ll just lay across the table when I need something, or I could simply go fuck myself if that’s easier for you? Don’t want to interrupt whatever the fuck you’ve got going on.” you spit, venom on your lips dripping from your teeth as you aggressively shake the pepper on the salad.

Eddie stands abruptly, “going for a smoke,” he says to nobody in particular, Steve stands and follows him out, with the helping nudge of Leighanne’s elbow in his ribs.

The two guys strut outside, breathing in the night air, a flick of lighters and the burning, crinkling sound of the end of two cigarettes fills the almost barren sidewalk. A minute or so passes before Steve speaks first, “nice night out, considering it’s the middle of November.”

Eddie only nods, inhaling the smoke and trying to relax.

“You alright?”

Again, Eddie only answers with body movements, shrugging his shoulders, blowing smoke through his nose.

Steve inhaled his cigarette slow, “Tooty looks nice tonight.”

Eddie bites his bottom lip and rubs his eyes with this thumb. Smoke curling around him in a makeshift halo. “Yeah,” he finally speaks, nodding his head, a huffed chuckle on his lips, “she does, doesn’t she?”

“What’s going on, man?” Steve questions, “last I knew you were head over heels for her— now you’re ignoring her and acting like a jackass in there.” He says pointing to the door, “you’re gonna fuck this up before you’ve even let it start!”

Eddie shoves himself off the wall, the cobwebs on the box in his mind where he stored his pain, were wiped away, fingerprints on the lid, “oh give it up, Harrington.” Rubbing his hands down his face with a groan, “I’m— fuck, I’m so fucking stupid. Falling for someone like her.”

“What do you mean someone like her?” Steve asks frustrated, “fuck man you really are dumb aren’t you?”

“What?” Eddie asks, his chest puffed out in confusion, “this isn’t like some magic eight ball shaking it to see if your crush likes you Steve! That’s not how shit works!”

“You’re a dumbass! Even I can see that she’s hurt by the way you’re acting!” Steve shouts, stomping out his cigarette.

“Dude I’m not talking about this right now, back off,” Eddie pleads, flicking his cigarette into the street and attempting to walk around Steve.

“Why are you being an asshole and trying to shove her away?” Steve goads.

“I’m not.” Lid is off the box, contents exposed.

“Don’t be a douche fucking tell me!”

“Because she’s too fucking good for me!” Eddie finally screams into the night, throwing his hands up in the air.

The box is dumped out. Contents spilled out in his mind, hurt behind his eyes, for anyone to see.

He hangs his head, shoulders slumped forward, he slides down the wall and sits on the cool concrete, breathing heavily, “She’s— fuck, she’s never gonna want to be with someone like me, man.”

All of his self doubt from earlier tonight, all the pain he’s ever felt from being a neglected child, an outcast in school amongst his peers, being cheated on, lied to— it all came crashing down around him. All the alcohol he consumed wasn’t helping matters either.

He was a failure, in more ways than he could count. Twenty-six and just freshly moved out of his uncle’s place. Twenty-six and still playing in a band at the bar on the weekends. Twenty-six and still alone. Horribly, utterly, bitterly alone. Drowning himself in groupie pussy every night before he moved in with you. He hated himself.

“Has she said that? Did you ever think that maybe she doesn’t care what anyone else thinks? You think it was easy for her to stay in Hawkins after her parents up and left? After Kevin was thrown in prison? After that piece of shit Chad Cunningham hurt her? If there’s anything we know about Tooty it’s that she’s a fighter, she could have left at any time, packed her shit and never looked in the rear view mirror. But you and I know that she’s too damn stubborn to let Hawkins get the best of her.”

Eddie lifts his head, looking at Steve sitting beside him.

“She needs you, man, you’re good for her.”

Mansion dreams on a trailer park budget. He could never afford the things you deserved. He loathed the thought of anyone else being able to give you the things he couldn’t, the pit of his stomach rolling.

“I don’t know, Steve,” Eddie says, timidly throwing his curly head against the brick behind him, “I saw her today all dressed up looking so absolutely gorgeous, and it hit me, I could never give her the life she deserves.”

“Come on, man,” Steve chides, knocking his shoulder to Eddie’s, “you really think I would have told you about her needing a roommate and insisting that you go and look at the house, if I didn’t think you’d be good for each other?”

Eddie shrugs his shoulders again, the self doubt creeping back, putting the box back together.

“After Nancy moved out, I knew she was scared— she’d never say anything about it, but we worried about it. She needed someone around who she could trust. Robin and I couldn’t get out of our lease, but then you told me you were looking for a place, and honestly there isn’t anyone better for her than you.”

Eddie thinks on this for a few seconds. Steve was right, he did fuck this up. “Christ, she’s probably madder than hell at me right now,” he says with a groan.

“Yeah,” Steve agrees, standing and holding out a hand for Eddie, “you’ve got some making up to do.”

“Am I drunk, or is he acting weird as hell tonight, like more weird than usual?” Robin slurs, almost falling out of her seat as she whisper-yells across the table at you the minute Steve follows Eddie out the door.

“Oh, honey,” Leighanne whispers, holding Robin by her arm and guiding her back into the chair, “you’re very drunk, but also I’ve never met him, but he seems sad.”

Stewing in a pot of shame and regret, you try to tune Robin and Leighanne out. A shiver of hatred stirs in your chest, pulling at your heart strings and gnawing on the fleshy stretch cords until they’re rotting, black and withered.

How silly of you to be so nervous about wearing this dress, when Eddie only took one look at you and immediately turned sour. How stupid of you to think that he had somehow turned into a decent human being, a friend, a confidant, a shoulder to cry on when you were desperate and needing consoling. How fucking dumb of you to be so mad in this moment that he was ignoring you, acting like a complete jerk and ruining this nice evening by being a pouty child.

Fuck him, and fuck this.

Reaching for the now warm wine you toss it back, chugging until your throat ached. It’s easier to swallow than the embarrassing way you thought that Eddie was growing to like you. Your mistake.

Won’t happen again.

By the time the guys come back, you were slightly buzzed, feeling giggling with the bubbling of the flutes of champagne that had been brought out after the dinner was cleared from the table.

Steve slaps Eddie on the back and shakes his shoulders a bit, sitting down quickly beside Leighanne and whispering into her ear, she turns scarlet red as he nudges his nose down to kiss her neck. You turn your face away, ashamed again, for wanting a love like that so bad, yet sold short.

“You okay?” Robin asks Eddie. You can feel eyes on you, burning into the side of your face, but you won’t give him the time of day. To hell with him.

He answers her back, making up some lame excuse about not feeling good as to why he was acting like an asshole all night.

“Hmm,” you hum, raising your eyebrows and huffing. Tossing your napkin from your lap onto the table, grabbing another flute of champagne and downing it instantly, crossing your legs and leaning further away from him. “Isn’t that funny?”

“Tooty?” His voice is soft, dipped in butter and spread across a warm croissant. Almost timid the way he’s barely speaking above a whisper, you pretend not to hear him.

A nudge in your side goes unanswered as you turn your face towards an almost passed out Robin. Another poke to the ribs, a ticklish spot for anyone. A tap on your hand, fervent and annoying, your name repeated in high and low tones, as you actively avoid him. He finally stops, and when he does you take a shaky breath, right as your chair is flung backwards on the back legs, and you’re suddenly upside down, peering into Eddie’s face. That cocky Munson grin plastered onto it, the one you haven’t seen all night, sends shock waves to your core, and a burn to your chest.

Goddamn him.

“Put me down,” you emphasize with bitterness behind each word.

Eddie smiles widely, “not until you talk to me, sweetheart,”

“Oh look at that everyone, the pouting child act is over, guess we are blessed after all,” you spit back, crossing your arms and trying to wriggle the chair free.

His smile is pulled back slightly, voice dipped low as he leans forward slightly, “can we talk? Privately?”

You glare back at him, venomous cold eyes peering into his, hoping he understood how annoyed and hurt you were with the bullshit he’d been pulling for hours, “Congratulations on finding your voice Ariel, but if you don’t put my chair down I’ll—“

“What? You’ll do what?” Eddie bickers back with a grin, leaning closer you can smell his musky cologne, and the burnt scent of his cigarette on his breath. He enjoys watching you squirm and get pissed off at him. Something about the way you scold him sends him over the moon.

But, he could never anticipate what you would do next.

His hands on the back of your chair, you turn your head in a swift motion and find his thumb and bite down on it until he squeals and yelps in pain.

“…bite you,”

Instinct taking over Eddie pulls his hands from the back of your chair. And you start tumbling backwards. Falling falling, reaching backwards, you grab onto the first thing you can get your frantic hands on.

It all happens too fast, one minute you’re falling backwards, the next your fingers are gripped tight on the buckle of Eddie’s belt. Your breath hitched in your chest, as you grappled to stay upwards. In a swift motion Eddie grabs under your arms and the chair falls to the ground.

Eddie pulls you up, your body skimming his as he turns you around to face him. “Damn, I’m right here. No need to get so handsy,” he murmurs in a low husky laugh.

You take a deep breath to calm yourself, sudden shock of fear fading from your body as you look into his face. Even though he’s laughing, his pupils are blown and dark, eyebrows twisted inward, and raised, pulled into concern.

“Fuck Munson,” you say, straightening your dress, trying not to melt from the heat of Eddie’s hands on your waist, “trying to kill me?” The room was spinning, you hadn’t hit your head, but maybe the rush of falling backwards mixed with the alcohol you had drank was a combination for a migraine. Definitely not the way he was lazily drinking you in, his lips stretching into a wide, pretty smile.

“Kill you?” He scoffs, hands still heavy on your waist, rubbing slow circles with his thumbs, sending your nerves into a fizzing frenzy of want. “I’m not the one biting others, kitten.”

Of all the nicknames Eddie has called you— princess, sweetheart, baby— kitten was a new one. And you’re ashamed at the pulse in your core and the heat in your cheeks as his eyes twinkle like brown Christmas lights back at you, the flick of his tongue against his lips almost sends you into cardiac arrest.

“Hey—“ Steve interrupts, stepping into your peripheral vision, “—don’t mean to break this up—but we have a problem.”

“Alright guys, good news or bad news?”

Steve steps through the lobby door to the sidewalk, where you, Leighanne, Robin and Eddie were all waiting for him. The chill of the night air is biting through your tights and stinging your cheeks. Even in the cozy musky warmth of Eddie’s leather jacket that he insisted on you wearing, after listening to your chattering teeth for ten minutes, “here,” he announced, stopping abruptly and shucking the jacket off his arms, and wrapping it around your shoulders, “I swear you’re gonna chip your teeth with the way you’re chattering them, it’s annoying,” he said in a faux grumble, his voice mean but his face lighting up when you hurriedly slot your arms through his jacket. Inhaling his smoke musk and cool leather combination as it dizzied your mind.

Ever since the restaurant kicked you all out on account of being too drunk, you’d been walking to a hotel. The restaurant manager had refused to let Steve get his car from the valet because they thought he was too intoxicated to drive. And also denied him from using the phone to hail a cab. There was no other choice.

So that's what led you all here. Walking fifteen blocks— in heels, dresses and fancy shirts, to the nearest hotel. Well technically thirty blocks because the waiter gave Steve the wrong directions. Everyone was freezing, tired and crabby. The drunken happy stage left about twenty blocks back.

“Bad news, Harrington hit me,” Eddie gripes.

Steve brushes his fingers through his hair, “Okay, uhh—bad news… there’s only one room available, with two beds.”

“But, there’s one… two…three..four.. six of us!” Robin counts, hiccuping loudly and letting a giggle escape her slack mouth. Maybe the restaurant wasn’t wrong in kicking you all out after all.

“No— there’s five of us, but there is a chair!” Steve chimes, “that’s the good news!”

You knew what that meant, obviously you would be sharing a bed with Robin or Eddie, and given the fact that Robin was probably a good ten minutes away before she started throwing up like she was notorious for— you were about to share a bed with Eddie.

The room was small but decent. Maroon, itchy bedspreads with pilling fabric sat atop the beds, white linen sheets and overly stuffed pillows with matching cases shoved into the perfectly made beds. A tiny tv sat atop a chestnut dresser complete with channel listings and a remote velcroed to it. Leighanne crosses the room and immediately finds the furnace, cranking it up as high as it will go and shutting the drapes, she sits on the bed furthest from it, and begins taking her earrings out of her ears. Sighing with relief as the heavy dangly bejeweled gems clink onto the bedside table. Steve sits beside her, leaning forward and grabbing her ankle, delicately sliding the strappy heels from her sore feet, rubbing them between his hands and murmuring apologies to her, kissing her shoulder.

Eddie is kicking the toe of his boot into the carpet, hands pushed into his pockets and looking downward. The awkward question of who-will-sleep-where is weighing heavy on your mind, just when you’re about to ask him what he thinks, Robin pushes between you both and makes a mad dash to the bathroom. Like clockwork.

“I’m never letting her drink again!” Steve says with a huff, “every time, she does this every single time!”

You snort out an exhausted giggle, this night went to hell in a handbasket the minute you left Hawkins. The only thing left to do was laugh about it.

Leaning your body against the wall, you carefully step out of your heels, the dingy carpet a glorious welcome to your aching feet. Stretching your toes out and wiggling them against the carpet brings a sigh to your lips.

Body tired from the constant shivering and cramped calves, you couldn’t wait to get the dress off and feel the warmth of the blanket around you, cocooning yourself like a caterpillar in a chrysalis.

Fuck.

You didn’t have any clothes with you, just the dress you were wearing, tights and a black thong. If it was Eddie you’d be sharing a bed with, what the hell were you supposed to wear? The thought hadn’t even trickled into your mind until this very second as you noticed Eddie unlace his boots.

Panic riddles your body, fuck would you lay naked next to him? Should you keep the dress on?

“Hey,” Eddie whispers into your ear, reigning you back in with his velvet voice, “there’s a vending machine by the elevator, wanna come with me?”

His lips contort into a smirk, and his hair wisps against your cheek, tickling your skin as you turn into him. Still wearing his jacket the neckline covers your mouth and nose as you nod your head yes.

The low pile fibers of the emerald and turquoise hallway carpet feels plush and luxurious against your nylon toes. A welcomed dream to your throbbing feet. You focus on the intricate leaves pattern as you walk the hallway with Eddie, his socked feet thudding along softly in tandem with yours.

The silence is deafening, and you can practically hear your heart beat out of your chest when his knuckles ever so gently, ever so delicately, graze yours as he swings his hand when he walks.

“Think it’s this way,” Eddie says pointing a thick ringed finger down a hallway at a T intersection. “I’m so hungry I’m going to eat the carpet if I don’t find something to eat.”

“Should have ate while we were at the restaurant,” you poke at him, “but you were too busy being an asshole.”

Eddie chokes out a throaty laugh, “I saved your life, Tooty— how am I still an asshole?”

“I wouldn’t exactly call me-falling-because-you-tipped-my-chair-backwards saving my life, but whatever helps you sleep at night, sweetheart,” you barely choke out the last part before you burst into a too-tired giggle, hiding your mouth with the collar of his jacket.

His own nickname on your lips burns his insides, mocking or not he wanted to hear it again and again.

“You fight dirty, I had no idea you were into biting.” Eddie teases, his eyes bright and playful matching his smirk, the vending machine comes into view and his eyes light up even more, “oh fuck yeah, come to daddy!”

The black vending machine is lit with a flickering light over head. Eddie thumbs through his wallet and grabs out ten one dollar bills.

“Alright, sweetheart,” Eddie crooned, “pick your vice.”

Deciding on a package of orange squared crackers with cheese, Eddie buys a bag of chocolate cookies, chips, and two bags of candy.

Carrying five cans of pop from the pop machine and Eddie’s plethora of snacks, both of your arms are full.

“So back to you assaulting me—I’m going to take your dental record down to Hopper— I’m turning you in.”

Laughing harder than anyone should have at midnight, your laugh echoes off he walls and bounces around the hallway. Making Eddie’s heart soar with glee. “Turning me in huh?”

Eddie knocks his shoulder into yours, throwing you off balance slightly, “yeah, I’m turning you in, you could have rabies! And I could start foaming at the mouth in my sleep, you’re dangerous and when I get home I’m taking you to the vet!”

The flirty banter is undeniable between you, his giggles match yours as you pad slowly down the hallway. Cheeks burning, coy smiles filling the empty hallway.

Stopping in the hallway with one hip thrown out and a perfectly placed look of innocence on your face you ask in the sweetest voice you could muster, “I’m dangerous? Me?” Making sure you bat your lashes and pout your bottom lip.

Here it was, his opportunity to show you what you really meant to him. No longer laughing, his face turns very serious. Shuffling the snacks around in his arms so he has a hand free, he reaches up to your face, tracing the outline of your jaw and brushing the pad of his thumb delicately against your cheek.

“Baby,” he whispers, that velvet smooth voice on his tongue, eyes dipped in gold and yearning into your own, “I wouldn’t turn this cute face in even if you murdered that son-of-a-bitch, Mr. Derry.”

Heart rate increases, you’re sure there's a pulse where Eddie’s hand is placed on your cheek. The calloused pads of his thumbs stroking your cheek has you weak in the knees. Tongue stuck to the roof of your mouth.

“Cute?” You exclaim, feigning shock, heat trickling up your neck and planting itself into your cheeks, the warmth spreading below Eddie’s hand.

His eyes are trained on yours, flicking from your lips and back up again, and you know whatever he says next 100%, without a doubt shouldn’t be taken lightly.

“Tooty,” Eddie breathes, his voice melting around you, forming to every cell in your body and holding you tight. “You’re beautiful, and not just tonight…every single day.”

No one.

Not your parents.

Definitely, not Chad.

Nobody.

Has ever uttered those words to you. The final wall around your heart falls, crumbling at the base with Eddie holding a sledge hammer to it, begging to be let in.

This menace, prick, pervert, absolutely disgusting man. Has made you fall for him and without words has made it clear that he’s falling for you too.

Butterflies tickle your stomach the rest of the walk back to the room.

Steve and Leighanne are already asleep by the time you make it back, she’s wrapped tight against his bare chest, a hand threaded at the nape of his neck and through the tufts of his chest hair. His lips lay lazily against her forehead.

Robin took the comforter from the other bed and made a makeshift bed in the tub, Eddie places a can of 7-UP next to her, rustling her hair and making sure she’ll be okay for the night.

Flipping through the channels and leaning your back against the headboard, you find an episode of the Golden Girls, opening your snack crackers and nibbling into them,a can of Pepsi nestled between your knees. Eddie runs and jumps onto the bed beside you and starts ripping open his snacks, starting with the chips, and cracking open a can of Mountain Dew. Chugging the lime colored liquid until it drops down his chin.

He lets out a louder than life belch and wipes his lips with the back of his hand. Looking over at you to see if you’re impressed.

You raise up ten fingers and clap, applauding his behavior.

“I’d like to thank my fans, and the Pepsi company, for encouraging the best of burps, with the help of carbonation.” He bows and waves like he’s at the academy awards and you giggle along with him.

You both stay like that for a while, on top of the blankets, watching the Golden Girls and eating snacks, content with filling your stomachs with crappy food and over carbonated beverages.

The looming idea of sleeping in the same bed with Eddie is no longer something you can avoid, when a loud yawn escapes your body and has you snuggling deeper into his leather jacket.

“I—I can sleep in the chair, or on the floor.” He says quickly.

The idea of him sleeping on the floor or with a strained neck in the office chair is unacceptable to you. “No, you can sleep in the bed with me, we can—“ thinking fast for an easy solution, “we can just use different blankets.”

“Oh good,” Eddie whispers, taking off his already loosened tie, and unbuttoning his shirt, “because I would bet a million dollars that you’re a blanket thief.”

Laughing and unzipping his leather jacket, you smirk, hanging it on the back of the chair, “how do you have the vocabulary of a ten year old and a foul sailor all at the same time?”

Eddie unzips his pants and untangles his legs from the dark denim, sitting on the bed with a groan in just his boxer briefs, “I’m like a poor Peter Pan, who grew up on the wrong side of tracks, I’ll never grow up.”

Foregoing any previous thoughts of keeping the dress on, you decide to take it off, exhausted from the night, the cold seeping into your bones and chilling them made you almost delirious with needing sleep, “Can you—will you close your eyes?” You ask in a hushed voice, “at least until I lay down?”

Eddie yanks hard on the sheet and wraps it around his head in a giant makeshift blindfold. “Will this work?”

This angle gives you free range to see his body. It’s not as if you haven’t seen him like this before, but this time it felt different. Every inch of his creamed colored skin, every inky smoked out line of tattoos, the veins protruding from his muscled arms, the ruddy roughness of his knuckles, ghosting with the silver rings on his fingers and in his nipples. The fading sun colored bruises on his ribs. You could write sonnets on the way his breath expands his chest and falls back flush with the rest of his body.

It’s hard to peel your eyes away, but you manage, grabbing your dress by the bottom hem lifting it off of your body. Sliding the tights down your legs until you are completely naked besides the silk black thong. Covering yourself with the off white cotton threaded blanket on the bed, you wrap it around you and sit delicately on the other side of the bed, facing the window, and the furnace.

“I’m done,” you announce, laying your head onto the goose feather pillow and facing Eddie, curling your legs to your chest. Taking slow breaths through your nose to even out your nerves and settle yourself down, the excitement of laying next to Eddie in a bed with both of you only wearing underwear has your body throbbing.

“Finally!” He exaggerates, “were you wearing a dress from the 1800s with all those fancy layers?”

“I was having some trouble with the zipper,” you lie.

“Funny—“ Eddie preens, “I didn’t see a zipper on your dress.”

The idea of him watching you, eyes stuck on your silhouette all night, through dinner, walking to the hotel, makes you feel less bad about staring at him before you crawled into bed. You clench your thighs together.

“How would you know there wasn’t a zipper? Unless of course— you were gawking.”

Two can play this game, and what Eddie didn’t realize is that you’d gotten pretty good at bantering with him.

“Why would you say your dress had a zipper when it didn’t? Maybe you were the one gawking, I mean I get it sweetheart, I’m funny and sexy. Double whammy.”

“Good night, Eddie.” You say with a final laugh. “And I swear to God, if this bed starts jerking in any way—I’ll shave your head and bleach your eyebrows.”

He lets out a laugh loud enough that it makes Steve roll over, scolding you both, about the time and needing to get some sleep. Always in mom mode.

“Sorry dad,” Eddie whispers, giggling like a little kid as he tucks himself in, and turns off the tv and the light between the two beds.

You close your eyes and breathe deeply, allowing sleep to take over your body. Sleep finds you quickly, a deep dreamless sleep, you aren’t sure if you’re awake or not when you feel a pair of lips on the crown of your hair line, a hand moving your hair away from your face, and a voice whispering to you, “good night, pretty girl.”

The next morning, Steve drops you and Eddie off at your house. The ride home seemed to drag on forever, everyone was hungover and trying to stay awake. Robin having her head out of the window for most of the drive. Still gagging from the night before.

Getting into Hawkins, Eddie turns towards you, a menacing smirk on his lips and a devil gleam in his eyes, “rock, paper scissors for dibs on first shower?”

“You’re on Munson,”

“I just don’t understand how paper beats rock!” Eddie complains as he takes a piss talking to you as you take a shower. The humidtiy from the bathroom moistens his curls, frizzing them into oblivion, “in what fucking universe does a paper lying over a goddamn rock win?”

Placing the razor against the white pillowy peaks of the shaving cream you slide it up your leg, careful to not cut your knee. “Don’t be a sore loser because you chose rock three times in a row.

“It’s the most common way to win!” He whines, slamming the toilet seat down and plopping himself on top of it. “Are you almost done? I feel like I’ve been freezing for 24 hours, I never warmed up lastnight.”

Rinsing the last bit of conditioner from your hair you turn the water off, throwing a hand out from the shower curtain to reach for your robe, wrapping it around you tightly, and opening the shower, you notice that Eddie looks paler than usual.

“Are you getting sick?” You place the back of your hand on his forehead, it’s clammy and abnormally warm. The twinkle he almost always has in his eyes is gone, he looks rundown. “In the nicest way possible, you look like hell.”

“I feel like shit,” Eddie complains.

“Here,” you offer, starting the water for him, “take a hot shower and I’ll go make us some food.”

When Eddie gets out of the shower the kitchen smells of sweet thick batter, sprinkled with a hint of cinnamon. The waffle iron you had bought with Nancy before Halloween worked like a dream, it was in better condition than you had thought.

Two plates are sitting on the counter, as Eddie walks into the kitchen, wearing a hoodie and sweats, he comes behind you, moving your hips gently to the side as he peers over your shoulder to see what you’re making.

“Waffles?!” He squeals into your ear, “I didn’t know we even had a waffle press thing,” he says, messing up your still damp hair with a tousle, “wait is that the thing that’s kept in the bathroom under the sink?”

Racking your brain you try to envision what he’s thinking of, “no Eddie that would be Nancy’s hot rollers, for her hair..”

“Well that’s not edible,” he says walking to the fridge and pulling out his jug of milk.

Hollering over your shoulder and opening the waffle iron to carefully remove the perfect round breakfast delicacy from the iron with a fork, you announce, “that’s why they’re in the bathroom, under the sink. I bought the waffle iron when Nancy and I went shopping a few weeks ago, how are you feeling?”

Taking a big gulp of milk Eddie mutters, “better, much better, I’m just really tired.”

Plating the waffles and getting the syrup from the cabinet you set the plates down at the table, bringing over two glasses and two sets of silverware, “can you grab the orange juice, and the butter?”

Bringing the requested items to the table, Eddie sets them down, next to the napkin holder. Grabbing a knife hastily and spreading the pale yellow butter around the crispy pockets of the waffle, melting into delicious puddles of savory goodness, awaiting the courtship to be reunited with the sticky sweet syrup to combine into heavenly wedded bliss.

Cutting his waffle and diving in, the kitchen is surrounded by sound of Eddie’s satisfied moans, “fuck,” he cries with a mouthful of food, shoveling more in, “this is so fucking good, you’re a saint— no no! Wait, an angel.”

The waffles were good, the perfect amount of crispy and soft. Eddie finished both of his waffles in record time.

“So where did you get this thing?” he asked curiously, pointing to the waffle iron on the counter.

“With Nancy—oh! I completely forgot!” you say excitedly, “I got a record too, it’s by the rest of them near your record player, I didn’t want to use it and break it.”

Eddie pads over to the record player and thumbs through the stack on the shelf.

He had already been staring at the record for over a minute before you spoke again, saying his name asking if he wanted another waffle.

“Damn,” he interrupts you sniffing loudly, “I haven’t heard this since…”

He carefully pulls the sleeve from the record and slots it in place, putting the needle in place. The soft twang of Bobbie Gentry’s guitar plays as she plucks the strings, a few beats in and her sultry, smoky voice begins singing, retelling the story of the day she found out the fate of Billie Joe.

Eddie sits cross legged on the floor next to the record player, staring in awe. His socked feet tucked under his thighs. Elbows digging into his legs.

His mind drifts to a small house on the outskirts of Hawkins, the paint peeling and chipping away, a dog named Ruby running alongside him as he pedals his bike up the dirt lane.

She was standing in the kitchen, her soft brown curls waving behind her as she ashed a cigarette and cut his ham sandwich into squares, taking the crust off. She hummed along to the waning wonky tunes of the radio as Bobbie Gentry sang about Billie Joe. Her smile fading in his memory.

He never allowed himself to think of her. Despite what Uncle Wayne and the therapist at the stuffy office with the seafoam green painted walls, the cheerful posters with kids and their perfect families staring at him as he glared at the floor, toe of his converse trying to dig a hole through the tile. It only brought him sadness. It was something he couldn’t talk about, not to anyone. The panic attacks in the night when he dreamt of the day she was taken from him, right in front of his big doe eyes, would send Wayne into a frenzy. Helping Eddie breath, making the small child ground himself with his surroundings. So he moved on, throwing himself into music, and his friends. Anything to keep his mind from thinking of that day. But here in your living room, twenty years later, it was all he could think of.

Her perfume, hints of jasmine and lilac a tinge of cigarette smoke underneath. The way her glasses were perched on her head as she read through the paper. Her light brown eyes, like caramel apples you’d see at the fair. Her long fingers always thumping along to whatever song she heard. The gift of a piano player. The way she would dance with him in the living room, barefoot and giggly as she swung him around and around. Those were the good memories, the ones before she was ripped away from him.

The song finishes and Eddie leans up onto his knees, placing the needle to replay it again, this time the warm tears are flowing freely, running down his cheeks. He no longer cared if you saw him cry like a baby.

You’re standing at the edge of the kitchen watching him. You figured his mom was dead by the way he never mentioned her. Chrissy once asked him about his parents after he mentioned his Uncle Wayne, and he blew it off, like he blew off lots of things, “shit, think she joined the circus, married the world’s strongest man.” You wonder if the fib was easier for him to tell himself. Rather have her still around, happy and breathing than what she actually was. You’ve only seen him like this one other time and that was after you saw Chad at the grocery store.

Steve had told you how concerned he was when he came in to talk with you. How scared he was, how bad he felt that he wasn’t around to protect you when you needed it. And just like he did for you, you’d do for him.

Walking gently towards him you stand behind him, not sure if lightly touching his shoulder would cross a boundary but wanting to reassure him, you do it anyway. The pads of your fingers daintily skim his shoulders, running soft figure eight patterns. His face is hidden by his curtain of hair but you can hear him sniffling softly. A soft squeeze of his shoulder and he wraps an arm around your bare calf, holding onto dear life as you pull him into you. His death grip on your leg almost has you falling over. You find yourself threading your fingers through his wet hair. Rubbing along his scalp, his shoulders jump and shake with a deep sigh as the song finishes again. Eddie peels himself from you and turns the record player off. Standing and looking at the ground. Toeing the carpet with his sock.

“I have…,” he says, clearing his throat, trying like hell to gain composure, “I haven’t heard that song in years… it was her favorite.”

Reaching for his hand your fingers find their way into the spaces between his. Squeezing and rubbing his pointer figure with the pad of your thumb. “Eddie,” you whisper to him, your small soft voice reaching out to him beckoning him.

His eyes turn to you, tear filled and red, his body shaking with a light sob. Instincts kick in and you don’t realize what’s happening before it does, you drag him down the hallway, into your room. The same room where he comforted you in the warmth of his arms, you sit down on your bed, your back to the headboard and bring him down with you, his head in your lap. his arms wrapped tight around your bare thighs. Brushing his hair away from his face with your fingers, his body is racked with sobs, the tops of your thighs wet with his tears. You rub his back, comforting him and whispering to him that you’re sorry, that it’s okay, that you’re here for him.

The dishes would have to wait.

When you wake, you’re snuggled down into the confinements of your bed. Blankets covering both you and Eddie, his arms wrapped tightly around your middle like a child with a balloon at the fair, afraid to let go. His body is curved with yours, his light snores tickling your hair. Not waking him, you gently fall back asleep, the thought that he was right, skids across your mind.

Eddie was the first guy to sleep in your bed— and your heart leaped when you selfishly hoped he never wanted to leave it.

A/N: SEE YOU IN VOL: VIII HOPE YOU ALL ENJOYED

[this message is for read more —, you big nasty, smelling bitch. Why you took me off the mf schedule with your trifflin’ dirty ass. Big bitch Oompa Loompa body ass bitch, I’m comin up there and I’m gonna beat the fuck …… (it’s a reference from TikTok) BUT TRY ME READMORE TRY ME]

#eddie munson #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #stranger things #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fan fiction

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paulsfoot · 10 months

Text

#killian #hotman #feet #hotfeet #beauty #hairy

#hot male feet #bare male feet #celebrity #handsome male #celebrity feet #male toes and soles #feet

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8ttached · 5 months

Text

pretty laced dress

pairings - fontaine x blk woman

warnings - 18+ smut minors dni!! bathroom + mirror sex, oral (fem receiving) overstimulation, not proof read, aave mentioned in story.

word count - 830

a/n: hey guys!! i just wanna say thank you for 100+ followers?! i feel so honored to have so many people enjoy my writing thank you thank youu!! im trying to ease my way back to being more active on this account and having you guys know a little more about me but just know my reqs are definitely open right now so help a sister out with recommending some writing prompts (smut or not id be glad to write them) but dont hold it over my head i still have a life yall (T0T)

summary: it's your anniversary night with Fontaine and as you guys are getting ready to hit the road, your boyfriend couldn't get enough of the black lacy dress you slipped on. after seeing your boyfriend get needier by the minute he realizes you two have a little time to spare.

(reblogs and comments are most definitely appreciated!!)

“Hey baby, can you help me with this dress?”

Today marked your 2nd year anniversary with fontaine and what better way to celebrate than a nice dinner between the two of you. This was your second time trying on this dress. the black, thin, tight dress that complimented you in every way. From your deep skin tone to your delicate curves, that dress had your name written all over it. There was one problem though, the zipper. The cheap zipper on the back of your dress. Not only was it hard to zip up yourself, but when you tired, the zipper would never budge. Which is why you called fontaine into the shared bathroom

You were too focused on the zipper to notice your observant boyfriend standing by the door, quietly admiring you from head to toes. By time you got impatient you turned to the door getting ready to yell out for him again only to get startled by the tall, male figure leaning on the door frame.

“Holy shit Fontaine don't scare me like that!” your freshly done nails laid on your chest while you catch your breath. “My bad ma, whatchu need help with?” Fontaine asks, his hands slowly wondering on your hips. “Can you zip the zipper in the back?” ignoring your boyfriend's rough hands wondering from your hips up to your waist. “Mhm” he lightly nods, his hand not leaving your waist. The zipper started from the bottom to the middle of your back and Fontaine loved it. He loved how well it complemented you. Your glistening, defined back, the gold necklace clasp that hung down the back of your neck, he loved Everything. Sure, he was quiet, but his thoughts were sure loud as hell and It took everything in him not to blow your back out right then and there.

He took his time zipping up your dress, admiring what everyone else wanted but definitely couldn't have. He hums quietly. “You so beautiful baby.” you cheese at the compliment. “Thank you baby.” you smile looking towards him through the mirror, noticing his eyes glued on your back. “I could blow your back out right now.” he whispers in his raspy voice. You gasp. “Fontaine!” you yell out. “what, I can't admire you right now..” he trails off as he gets distracted. He observed how your dress hugged your curves, how it shaped your ass perfectly. He really could stare at you for hours. “Ya think we got a lil' time to spare?” you feel his warm breath on the crook of your neck before you feel light kisses from his thick dark lips. The only thing he did was breathe on your neck and already he has your ass under his spell. You take a deep breath eagerly nodding your head. “Uh huh.. but we have to be quick” You take a deep sigh.

“Then lemme not take this time for granted.” you feel his light grin against your sensitive neck

There you were, bent over the bathroom sink getting your pussy eaten by the starved man behind you. The bathroom was filled with muffled moans and high-pitched whimpers. “fuck taine!” your spread legs caused the dress to stretch from the floor. “Mhm, my perfect lady, you’re so sexy” Fontaine mumbles against your soaked pussy as he grips your ass tightly earning a shaken hum from you. “Mm- I'm gonna-”

“Mhm, There you go, let it out, baby.”

his vibrated praise sends you through your 1st orgasm. after what felt like only minutes you were losing your mind. From the Hickeys and bite marks all over your neck and collar bone, your ass stinging from each smack and passionate grip, to your man eating your sloppy pussy as if he hasn't eaten in days. all of it was becoming overwhelming. “t-too much taine please..” you whimper as you grip the bathroom counter, desperate for support. Throughout the orgasms you’ve given out, he didn't let you catch a break, let alone your breath.

“Mm mm, i know you can take a baby, i know you can.” he slips his middle and ring finger inside your sloppy cunt.

Everything felt intense but so good. Everything Fontaine was saying was going out one ear and right out the other until you felt a smack against your ass.

“Taine- gonna cum again!” you yelled out. Arching your back, pleading for more.

“Thats right ma, let it all out mhm i got you”

was all you could hear before you clashed into yet another orgasm.

the ringer on your phone interrupted causing you to fall back into consciousness. “Just in time” Fontaine whispers as he pulls your lacy black panties back up and your dress back down over your ass. You look up at the mirror noticing his obvious boner in his pants. “Wait, taine what about-”

“i can wait till later tonight” he kisses your temple, grinning at you.

“Now fix ya self up, we gon be late.” and so you did.

#they cloned tyrone #fontaine #fontaine x black reader #fontaine x reader #tct #black reader #fontaine smut #john boyega #x black reader #x black fem reader #x reader #they cloned tyrone x reader #tyrone x black!reader

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tiyoin · 1 month

Note

So I personally like to imagine that their eyesight is kinda poor. Mainly because it’s darker under water than above, yknow? But their other senses like hearing and smell are twice as good. What do you think? (I wanted to tell someone but I didn’t know who but I love your version of them so I figured why not!)

i’ve been hoarding this post like a dragon for far too long

AND TYSM FOR SHARING WITH ME!!! I LOVE IT MEAH MWAH

i immediately thought of them waking up at butt fuck whenever because you accidentally woke them up when you were going to use the bathroom. and they try to look for you but because of the darkness of the room, them literally just waking up, and their shitty human eyes-

EEP!! them reaching over for you but all they’re met with is a warm, empty comforter 😿😿

i wasss gonna make that into another post but i couldn’t think of anything else and really liked it 🙈

i immediately thought of them waking up at butt fuck whenever because you accidentally woke them up when you were going to use the bathroom

EEP!! them reaching over for you but all they’re met with is a warm, empty comforter 😿😿

i’m imaging floyd sleeping star fish (you were originally curled in at his side) and he’s all moany groany cause 1. you woke him up 2. YOURE NOT WHERE YOURE SUPPOSED TO BE- GET YO ASS OVER HERE

i can imagine him bleary eyed waking up and squinting, trying to look for you through the crusties in his eyes- but that doesn’t work because all he sees is nothing. at most he sees a horribly mangled mosaic of blues on the wall that would normally make anyone nauseous. but to the eel, it felt just like home.

JVIALELF IMAGINE HIM SHOOTING UP WHEN HE SEES YOU CAUSE HE DOESNT RECOGNIZE YOU THROUGH HIS SLEEPY HAZE BAHAHS. all it takes is a little ‘floyd?’ for him to chillax and sink back into bed. groaning about… whatever.

you can faintly hear a ‘what time is it’ from your boyfriend, his voice a lower timbre than his usual higher crow. you laugh softly, clearing you throat gently as you give him some made up time. it seems to satiate the male though as he slowly sinks back down into messy covers.

one hand raises to cover his eyes and his other hand slowly raises like the dead until your warm human flesh meets his cold merman hand, prompting him to you back into bed. where you belong this time he’ll make sure you don’t escape 😉

and the LOML JADEEE

he definitely starts off all prim and proper when sleeping. you know the saying ‘snug like a bug in a rug?’ that’s jade (i want him to wear a sleep cap but i don’t think he does unfortunately 😔)

i can imagine jade slowly shifting his position to sleeping on his stomach. some how he still manages to keep a tight grip on you like a handlebar in a roller coaster, so it takes some squirming to get out of the eel’s iron clad grip.

but nonetheless you quietly patter over to the bathroom

oh boy goes jade have a mean look on his face cause 1. never wake a sleeping eel, especially jade and 2. whys the bed exactly ___ pounds lighter 🤨

i think jade is more of a light sleeper than floyd so the moment the door to his dorm closes he’s peeling his golden eye open while softly kicking his leg (phantom movement cause he was trying to kick his tail 🙈)

i can imagine jade actually growling when he realizes you’re not there. refusing to get up, jade turns his head towards the door as he tries to make out the shapes of his room. but to no luck cause everything is just pitch black.

he’s waiting, sinking himself in deeper to the bed as he opens his other eye. just in time, the door creaks open and the light from the hallways splits through the opened door.

softly, you tip toe in and close the door.

alls fine and well until your in arms length of the bed, silently celebrating on not waking up your boyfriend until a cold, deathly hand seizes your shoulder and drags you into the cavern of blankets and pillows.

jades now on his side glaring,,, squinting? as he puts an arm around you with a low throaty grunt. once your nestled in his arms to his exact liking, the eel will slip back to sleep- he’s a liar, i’m a liar.

both of the twins don’t fall asleep immediately. even though they’re both blind as a bat they’re listening. listening to the slowing of your breathe with their grey eye peeled open.

they’re feeling the once rapid fire of your heart even out into a steady rhythm of beats.

it’s not until you’re dead asleep do they both shift your position slowly, lazily onto their chest. legs intertwined with yours and strong arms wrapped tightly around your waist, like a child hugging a stuffed animal, afraid of the deep shadows that linger in the corners of their room.

not until they’re certain you’re not getting up and out of their poor eyesight do their muscle relax and bodies sink into the mattress, ready to slip off into dream land with their little shrimpy🤭

#sorry this took so long babes 😔#i kept it for myself ngl 🙈#when i got this ask i felt like a kid in a candy store ngl- i was giggling n shit🙈#AHHH JADE N FLOYD CUDDLING YOU WHILE SLEEPING EHEHEHEH #their merman instincats come out more when they’re low on energy #tiyoin’s cuties 。　 ඞ 。#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #floyd leech x reader #jade leech x reader #twst x reader #tiyoin 🔎#floyd x reader #jade x reader #floyd twst #jade twst

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queenie-avenue · 2 months

Text

This is a man's world, but she rules it.

💌 ⤻ THE MAFIA BOSS, VITTORIA COSTANZA ft. THE COVER

—> the devil wears prada.

⤻ reader is female (i really needed some delulu), kidnapping, typical mafia activities, toxic behaviour, posesseive and obsessive behaviour, mentions of misogyny, conversion therapy and homophobia, death, non-consensual kissing

notes: thank you to @ciaheyhimm for allowing me to use this character! isabella was originally a character from a mafia roleplay set in the 1940s to 50s. please go check that blog out, they are a historical blog and i believe that she is writing a book at the moment!

💌 ⤻ archives.

"Thank you for your help in locating down my dearest [y/n]." The woman in the shadows spoke. That accent, that strong accent and overbearing smell of perfume... you found yourself thinking of one single person that came to your mind. Even her heels, branded with her own fashion brand 'Costanza' confirmed to you who this person was.

"Of course, I am a bit disappointed that you — how do you say? — compromised their location and safety to me, even as their bodyguard." She spoke, your body still laying paralysed against the lush bed that Vittoria had no doubt prepared for you. Ribbons of the finest silk bound your hands together, even as the drug forced you to stay put. It seemed she wanted to be very very sure that you wouldn't escape her, again.

Even the dress you were wearing, it was designed by her. Her brand's ribbons were on your body, a mark of her.

Your Father had disapproved of your relationship, with both of you two being girls and all... but you hadn't expected her to go this far.

"I can't trust someone like that out of the field. Who knows, if someone offers you some money, if you'd spill the beans on this little stunt of mine." You heard something click, and your head snapped over, eyes widened.

Then a gunshot sounded, causing you to scream before a body slumped to the ground, blood bleeding out from the shadows.

"Ay, aye, my Belleza, you should have told me you were awake." Her hips swayed as she emerged from the shadows. Her beautiful crimson red dress showed off the body you loved so much.

"Vitta, what the hell." You muttered as your attempted to raise yourself out of bed, only to be held down by the drugs in your system and the silk ribbons restraining you.

Slowly, she stalked towards you, like you were a prey she was ready to kill and feast on. But then, she simply sits on the edge of 'your' bed and begins to undress herself, slipping her zipper down as it revealed a petticoat underneath, and a corset that held her curved body together like a contorted doll, laced too tightly. You were so happy to get her out of it at one point, but when she stripped this time, it was intimidating.

"Darling." She whispered as she leaned in to caress your cheek. "I had to." She smiled, and that smile was so wicked, like the demoness Lilith had come to life in front of you.

✧ Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ ✧

When you first met Vittoria, it was at a gala. A gala meant to celebrate Vittoria Costanzo's newest fashion collection, based on something you didn't bother listening to. You dressed in whatever your Father wanted you to dress in, which was most of the time, dresses that appealed to the male gaze in hopes of finding you a catch of a husband he could give you away to.

"Ah... Mister [l/n], what a pleasure to meet you." The woman that approached you was stunning. Her strawberry blonde hair was tossed into victory curls, showing off her gorgeous neckline and strong collarbone. She was dressed head to toe in red, the colour of blood. Even her lips, so delicate and beautifully shaped, were stained in that perfect shade of crimson that seemed to draw in attention to her and only her. You wondered whether she had informed everyone that she was the only one allowed to wear red on that day.

"And who might this cute little lady be?" Little lady? You were about the same age as her.

"Ah, this is my daughter, I don't believe you've met." Grinned your Father as he pat you forward, introducing you to the woman.

"A pleasure to meet you." You curtsied quaintly.

Instead of returning the curtsey, Vittoria snatched your gloved hand and planted a kiss there. Like a gentleman would to a lady. The red lipstick stained your gloves, marking you as her own.

"The pleasure is all mine." Her eyes glinted and you felt your cheeks heat up, as if she could see right through you. "As much as I'd love to stay here and chat with the both of you, I have to go entertain the rest of my sponsors." Vittoria grinned charmingly, "I'm sure you understand, Mister [l/n]." She waved goodbye to the two of you and you swore you saw her wink in your direction.

Before you could compose yourself, you heard your father groan and gag. "I cannot believe a woman like her would dare show her face and intentions like that."

"What do you mean?" You turned to him. Your father was never a pleasant man, but he would never say something so outright.

He narrowed his eyes at you and leaned down. "That woman is rumoured to be queer." He spat out the word like it was the worst thing he could say. "Of course, a working woman would be something like that. She has no man in her life, so she wants to prey on innocent girls." Laughed your Father, which made you cringe.

"I will go get a cup of lemonade." You said to him as you flitted away like a butterfly as he went to talk to some other influential man.

Just as you picked out a drink, one of the waiters came over to you. "Madam Costanza has told me to deliver this message to you." You tilted your head as you looked at the tray he was carrying, a small card placed on it. You hesitantly took it and flipped it over, only reading it when you saw that no one was looking in your direction.

"That dress looks amazing on you. Perhaps if you come to my studio one of these days, I could design an even better dress for you." The card was sealed with a kiss from her red lipstick. Your gloved fingers smeared over the stain as you let out a sharp breath. The card wasn't signed, but you knew who had written it to tempt you.

Thus was the start of your affair with Vittoria Constanza, the most skilled fashion designer in Italy.

So how in the world did it end up this way? Your Father had figured out that you were having an affair with the lady and barred you from leaving your room, trying different forms of 'therapy' on you to convert you back into a normal woman. But nothing worked. He grew angrier day by day because of that. Not to mention, an illusive crime syndicate had decided to ruin his business with backstreet dealings. They exposed his tax fraud and more, which caused your Father to grow bankrupt and yet still, he did not allow you out of his grasp.

Then, that same mafia that ruined your family's business stormed your house. It was too obvious, not at all like the subtle actions the mafia normally acted out. It was chaotic and messy as they slaughtered any and all bodyguards that tried to fight back.

You felt strong arms behind you, force-feeding you some spill that you almost puked out. But the man simply shoved it in.

The last thing you saw was your Father's head being blown open by the a gun that Isabella held. She had pulled the trigger, and you screamed weakly before collapsing in the arms of the man.

✧ Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ ✧

Vittoria leaned over. "Are you feeling better? You've been out for a bit." She said in such a sweet tone, cooing at you like she had done when she cradled you in her arms inside of her fashion studio.

"Who are you?"

"I'm Vitta, Darling. Your Vittoria." She smiled. "Don't tell me those drugs changed your memory, my dear!" She chuckled. "I would have to kill the scientists that gave it to me."

"That's not what I meant!" You tried to get up, but you were restrained. Thank god the drug was starting to wear off, though, at least you could use your hands now. "You- you're part of the mafia." You said, terrified of the woman seated over you.

"Oh dear, I'm not just part of the mafia. When I join something, I make sure that I'm always at the top of it." Overconfidence dripped from her tongue as she rolled her eyes, "I rule the mafia. And I've taken you in to be a Queen by my side."

"Are you fucking crazy!" You yelled at her.

"Crazy in love, yes." She leaned in to press a chaste kiss to your lips. "I understand that you don't want to forgive me right now, but this is just a spat between lovers. You'll forgive me eventually." She smiled softly, pressing yet another kiss to your restrained form.

You weren't sure of what lay ahead this odd fate God had thrust you into but you were sure you would never forgive Vittoria.

"I love you." She whispered, pressing yet another kiss, this time to your forehead.

"In this world of shadows, you're the only light in my life. So I won't let you escape."

#yandere oc #yandere blog #yandere imagines #yandere drabble #yandere x reader #yandere female x reader #female yandere #female yandere x reader #yandere female #yandere fic #yandere #let's go lesbians #yandere mafia

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thel0v3hashira143 · 2 months

Text

❝ 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔 ❞

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ a husband you never met and a runaway bride. what could go wrong? prince!suguru x princess!reader au

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⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ warnings: fem!black coded!reader but anyone can read, flufff and a lil angst, povs are lowk all over the place, aranged marriage trope, i totally thought of charlotte's dress from princess and the frog for reader, def not inspired by that queen charlotte scene, reader isn't like other girls, suguru just gives off such prince energy ahhhh :3

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ notes: my first fic omgg!! this was the poll winner from the other day and i will be releasing the others soon! as always reqs are open ♡ stay hot!! 🎀💕

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ 3.6k words, 20.4k characters

There were whispers in the Geto castle.

The news of Prince Suguru's betrothal, whispered in the hallowed halls of the castle, reaching everyone's ears like a chilling wind. Geto was used to the stares and hushed whispers, due to being the prince of the most successful kingdom in the land...but this was different.

He stood silently looking down at his kingdom, the vast sky, resembling an infinite canvas, adorned with shades of blue, purple, and gold, filtered through the window which cast a golden shadow over his features.

It was as if the gods smiled down on the land, offering love and tenderness throughout the whole kingdom which was preparing for a celebration. As the sun tickled his skin a conflicted look cast over his features, and his eyes, usually sharp and calculating, flitted around as he looked down at his people. His fingers traced the intricate patterns on the parchment, reading it over and over in hopes it would finally sink in.

Ever since the elders announced he was to be betrothed they seemed more over joyed than he was, finally finding a wife for him to wed and strengthen the kingdom. He had initially dismissed it as insignificant, firmly believing he would discover a solution, a way out, but now he found himself here. On the day he was to be married.

The kingdom was adorned in colorful decorations from head to toe, and Suguru almost felt guilty but he saw all the effort being put in for his wedding were not in vain. Every decoration was clearly placed with care; to celebrate the union of their prince and this mystery woman. Nevertheless, even with the stunning scenery around him, he couldn't shake the desire for it all to be over.

"Yo! Suguru!" A large hand clasped on his shoulder which pulled him out of his thoughts as Satoru's blindfold and snow white hair came into view. The tall man had a nervous grin and his face and he reached up to scratch the back of his head suspiciously, as Suguru looked up at him incredulously.

"Ah, Satoru. What's wrong?" Something was clearly going on, as Gojo wore his emotions on his sleeve. Before he could even get a chance to answer, all of the worst case scenarios were running through Suguru's head. He already felt a headache incoming.

"Oh, it's nothing...just your future wifey!" Suguru's eyebrows furrowed at his words as Satoru cringed slightly, knowing that wasn't even the whole of the news. After a awkward pause Suguru patiently asked, "Yes?" urging Satoru to continue while trying to contain his frustration.

Satoru let out a laugh and threw his arm over Suguru as the later let out a sigh and pushed him off. "Oh trust me, you're gonna laugh! We're all gonna look back on this an-" "Spill it, Satoru."

The white haired male tensed up as a bead of sweat formed on his brow. "...I may have...lost...her?"

Another awkward silence filled the room as the handsome prince's features contorted into one of disbelief. How do you lose a grown adult? This was new low for Satoru.

His first instinct was to look for her. After all, Satoru wasn't the most thorough when it came to these things. Perhaps she left her room only for a moment to speak to a maid, or maybe she wasn't spotted in her room...right? As much as he tried to distract himself his mind wandered to a worse outcome. Abduction or an assassination attempt. But what if she was just like him? Hesitant and perhaps she got cold feet? If she had spoken to the elders like they had him, there's no doubt they intimidated her.

The raven haired prince let out a sigh and ran a hand over his face as he began calculating all possible strategies to find her before the ceremony. He turned to Satoru who let out a sigh of relief at his words. "Alert our best trackers. We need to devise a plan to cover all the areas she might have gone."

Satoru nodded and both men began to stride out of the room. As he made his way into the long, winding hallways of his castle, the words of the elders rang in his mind.

You will learn to love her.

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1 DAY PRIOR

You were certain your life was ending.

You sat on the edge of your bed as you dramatically leaned against the post of your bed, eyed wide and face blank despite the whirlwinds of emotions inside you. Dozens of servants scurried around your room, packing trunk after trunk for your move. To your new home.

You flopped back on the bed with a 'omph' as the mindless chatter of the maids sounded like static in your ears. The gauzy silks and beautiful furniture of your childhood room began to close in on you, the weight of tradition and duty bearing down on your fragile shoulders. The room, once a sanctuary of comfort, now felt like a confining fortress.

Your trembling fingers traced the intricate patterns of a silver necklace, a cherished token your mother gave to you as a child. The impending marriage felt like the beginning of the end of all of your freedom. You would hardly ever see your beautiful gardens, your castle, or your parents ever again.

Despite this, everyone except you seemed to be convinced this was the best thing that could've ever happened to you. You remembered the elders words as you rolled you eyes.

This is a great honor for your family. You were chosen, out of all the kingdoms, out of all the princesses in the land, to marry the eldest son of the Shibuya kingdom.

Just as you let out a defeated sigh, a gentle knock on the chamber door disrupted you thoughts, and your mother came into view and your heart sunk. As she approached your bed she ushered all the maids out of the room before striding over to you gracefully. You sat up and sent her a glare through the corner of your eye.

"[name]. What's troubling you my daughter?", she said gently as she sat beside you. You whipped your head around with bated breath. "Mother," You began hesitantly. After one word, it was as if all your confidence was knocked out of you and your gaze was now fixed on the intricate patterns of the carpet.

"I...I don't want to marry Suguru Geto. I fear what life awaits me if I am bound to him. Besides, what if I don't love him? What if we are not compatible like the elders say?"

Your mother sighed, her eyes filled with a sense of understanding. "My dear, the union with Suguru is not solely about personal desires and it has nothing to do with love. Think of the kingdom, and our people. Arranged marriages have been a longstanding tradition that have proven to be good for us. Just look at your father and I, who also had an arranged marriage and have found joy in each other's company."

You let out a small scoff and you turn your head away from your mother. She just didn't understand...None of them did. Sensing your frustration your mother smoothed out her skirts before standing with a small exhale. "You'll depart later tonight and arrive in the morning, just in time for the ceremony." You didn't respond and a pregnant pause fell over the room. Just as your mother was about to depart she looked back at you sadly as she held the door open. "Give Suguru a chance. You will learn to love him my dear." She said softly before closing the large door with a soft click.

Now you were truly all alone, in your large room with near maddening silence. "Give him a chance...yeah right." you muttered to yourself with a furrowed brow. You made your way to the balcony and gazed down upon your kingdom as your mind wandered to your unknown prince.

Was he kind? Handsome? Cruel? Stupid? Ugly?

A breeze swept through, lifting the tendrils your hair. With every passing moment, you fell deeper and deeper within your pit of despair. You couldn't resign to a life dictated by others.

It just wasn't you.

The union, this man, this wedding felt like a betrayal of your essence. As tears welled up in your eyes, your decision became clear. It was daunting, yes, but who would want to be bound to a destiny they didn't choose? As you picked up your gown with new determination, your mind was made.

You were going to flee the wedding.

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Suguru was just about fed up.

It had been nearly 3 hours since the word of his bride's escape and despite him and the guard's best efforts, she was still nowhere to be found. He huffed exasperatedly as he wiped the sweat off his brow

He could just imagine the disappointed faces of the elders, his parents the kindgom...He couldn't be that repulsive to be wed to. Could he? As the sun hung high above the velevety sky, Suguru sat on a nearby bench carved out of the finest marble.

The raven haired prince placed his head in his hands as the sun beat down on the back of his neck. This is what he wanted after all he supposed, to not be married. But as he sat surrounded by winding paths and blooming flora stretched before him he wondered what it would be like. Could he have learned to love this woman?

Just as he got up to leave, he saw a flash of white from behind the foliage. An eyebrow quirked up as he got up to investige and as he slowly walked forward to investigate a soft murmur of hushed grunts and rustles of leaves reached his ears.

There, beneath a canopy of wisteria, Suguru spotted a lone figure. A young woman who her back turned to him and an lavish dress draped over her figure. A large array of lace, floral details and extravagantly large petticoats made into an over the top gown.

One that only could have been reserved for a princess.

Curiosity piqued, Suguru approached quietly, the crunch of gravel beneath his shoes masked by the soft rustling leaves. As he drew closer, he noticed the princess immersed trying (and failing) to scale the wall despite your nearly comically large dress, unaware of his presence.

Clearing his throat, Suguru spoke, his voice a velvety whisper that mingled with the silence of the garden. "Excuse me, are you needing some assistance, princess?" You turned with a bewildered look on your face, and a small gasp was let out at the sight of the man before you. As she studied the stranger who had interrupted your escape, you smoothed your skirts and tried to play it off.

"Uhm- No? No. I'm quite fine sir. Thank you." You responded annoyedly as you hiked up your dress and squinted your eyes at the man. He was handsome- there was no doubt about that, but you certainly didn't plan on getting caught. Where did he come from and why did he bother you? He might have recognized you because of your fancy appearance, but who was he?

"You can go and wait with the rest of those..gawkers for the ceremony. I know the prince must've sent you, but trust me. I'm perfectly fine."

Suguru's lips began to curl into a soft, amused smile as he took a step closer to you as you took one back. "I never doubted you were alright. You look perfectly determined and capable. But, do indulge me. What are you doing?" He asks with an entertained smile as he gestures to the wall.

Your eyebrows raised slightly and you took a sharp breath inwards. "I just told you. I'm not doing anything." You said exasperatedly as your hands balled into fist. This man was really messing with your escape (not that you were making that much progress in the first place).

The man raised an eyebrow at your words and you looked around before sighing and throwing your head back. "Fine. If you must know, I'm trying to climb this wall. And I can see you clearly find my failure amusing so I hope you're satisfied."

A pregnant pause fell over the two of you, and you hoped in revealing your purpose, he’d then mind his business and go away. "Climb...whatever for?" he questioned, genuinely intrigued by your confession.

"I-I..." You were getting more and more frustrated by the minute, and now you feared you revealed too much. "I...I'm escaping. I've heard rumors...he's cruel, and a monster! I would rather be alone for the rest of my than spend it with a demon I know nothing about."

Suguru's eyebrows flew to his hairline in bewilderment at your words. You couldn't've been talking about him...could you? He cleared his throat, obviously bewildered before inquiring further: "I-I'm sorry, but who are you talking about, princess?"

"I suppose that was rude..." you mumbled to yourself, as Suguru still stood bewildered before you awaiting an answer. You looked up at him, sensing he was wanting an honest answer before sighing. "The Prince! Suguru Geto...I know nothing of him and yet everyone expects me to give my life away to him...they turned their backs on me and my future...so I'm doing the same."

Realization dawned upon him as he nodded, absorbing your words. As your words sunk in a wave of sympathy washed over him. You were not as different from him as he had thought. You had dreams, aspirations, and hopes for your future.

As he stood with his solace you hoisted your skirts and turned back to the wall, putting your mind back on your escape and formulating a plan. “You know, if I grab there… yes!” you looked back to him over your shoulder, “You could assist me by lifting me up, you know." You say breathlessly as you prepared to scale the wall again.

He stared puzzled as he contemplated your ask. "But, marrying a prince couldn't be that bad? Besides, not all rumors are true...what if he's handsome?"

You rolled your eyes. "He could be the most handsome man ever and I wouldn't care. Looks have nothing to do with it and neither does personality. I just...want my own life. Now, here- come on. If you grab me here and hoist me up I could make it over the rocks and reach a carriage."

He considered your words as he watched you struggle, pondering the consequences. "But what will you do when people realize you're missing? And what about the prince- I'm sure he cares about your wellbeing." He says with a small smile as his eyes soften.

“I seriously doubt that, and besides I can worry about all of that later. Now, if you please…” you turned your back to him, still determined to proceed with your mission. “I just need a little help. Come. Hurry up.”

He licked his lips, caught in his own contemplation, before taking two slow steps forward. “I have absolutely no intention of helping you,” he declared, surprising you with his refusal.

At your surprise, you lost your grip on the vine and fell to the ground with a small grunt at the man's feet. Once you were untangled from your mass of petticoats you glared up at him, nostrils flared as you sat breathing heavily, almost as if you were giving him a moment to correct his words.

You marched towards him with sure steps, closing the gap between your bodies. "I am not a mere woman, I am a princess! Who is in need of help and you refuse? I ask- no demand you assist me in getting over the wall." you confronted him, your voice tinged with disbelief.

The man let out a laugh as he closed his eyes and shook his head in disbelief, or was it amusement? And after a moment of silence he replied, his voice filled with a twinge of playfulness.

"I only refuse when that princess is trying to climb over the wall to escape an arranged marriage with me." He declared, his words lingering in the atmosphere, exposing a reality that took you by surprise.

Shock rippled though through you, and you put your gloved hands up to your mouth and gasped. It felt as if all of your air had been knocked out of you as your eyes locked onto his onyx ones. This couldn't have been true...All the things you heard from your handmaidens, and your friends back home didn't describe this man at all. Yet here he was in front of you, a picturesque version of a prince every woman could've wished for. He was beautiful, with his dark hair and smoldering eyes, but you had noticed this when you first laid eyes on him. Back then he was just a random man, but now it all felt surreal. You eyelashes fluttered and your breath hitched and he closed the gap to grab your hands tenderly and press a kiss to the back of your glove.

He wore a smirk on his lips, a glimmer of mischief dancing in his gaze. He knew this whole time. “Hello, [name],” He said with a beaming smile. "I'm Suguru, the demon."

You stared up at him horrified, as he let out a small chuckle seemingly finding this whole situation funny. Standing there, trapped between amazement and doubt, your tongue seemed to have lost its purpose. You let out a noise akin to a squeal in embarrassment as he continued to laugh as you bowed deeply before him, your head nearly touching the grass of the garden.

"I-I'm deeply sorry," you said shakily as you slowly raised your head towards him. "please forgive me."

He lent his hand out from the ground and you stared at it bewildered, even wondering if it would be wise to take it after how much you disrespected him. Not sensing you would take it, he bent down to grab your hand and hoisted your mass of lace and flowers from the ground as you wobbled uncertainly in front of him.

"My Prince" you stammered, attempting to bow once more but he intercepted your actions smoothly. His hands gently caught your arms and as you stood up straighter his hands slowly guided themselves to your own, as your fingers intertwined. he gently guided your hand downwards with elegance, uniting your hands. The touch of his hand on yours captured your attention, as the sound of your heartbeat echoed in your ears.

"No, no. Please, I'm just Suguru to you. Nothing more." he corrected you in a soft-spoken manner, withdrawing his hand as he placed it on his chest.

"Suguru, I'm so sorry..." you began, but the words dying on your tongue in shame. "Please, you have to understand if I had known it was you-"

He interrupted you, his gaze unwavering. “You would have what? Not told me that you were trying to escape?”

“Well, yes. I mean…” Your words stumbled over each other, attempting to form a coherent defense. He laughed again, a sound you could get used to, but now it filled you with embarrassment.

"I apologize my prince." You said lowering your gaze in shame with a soft voice.

"Suguru." he corrected you once again, a gentle reminder. “Just Suguru.”

You smiled softly as you looked away in embarrassment as the weight of everything that had happened and all unspoken emotions lingered in the air. As he put a gentle hand on your shoulder, he leaned in close and whispered in you ear, a solemn promise to just you and him.

"I know what people say, and I know you don't wish to be wed to me...but perhaps if you'll have me as your husband, we could ignore all that and I could be just Suguru to you."

You gazed at him, your heart fluttering with newfound affection. The weight of his words sank in, and you found yourself captivated by the vulnerability he revealed.

You promptly defended yourself, asserting, "I never said that!," with a genuine tone in your voice.

He emphasized, "Oh, but you did," his eyes now sparkling mischievously.

You insisted, your tone slightly anxious, "I absolutely did not."

He persisted, his smile growing wider, "You definitely did."

You admitted, your voice becoming softer as you revealed your uncertainties and hesitations, "Well, I'm not sure… I don't really know you."

In a theatrical gesture, he pulled you close and straddled your back, "I don't know you either," his smile widening even further, "Except for the fact that you're terrible at climbing."

You smiled and smacked his chest playfully. "Hey! You try planning an escape in this." You said as you gestured to your elaborately made dress. As you looked up to meet his gaze once more, you found him already watching you, a broad smile adorning his face and a dreamy glint in his eyes. It was a contagious expression that tugged at your lips, and you couldn’t help but smile in response.

“What?” you asked softly, your curiosity piqued.

He opened his mouth, then closed it again, contemplating his words. Finally, he spoke, his voice filled with a sincere and gentle admiration. “You are incomparable. No one told me my bride would be this beautiful."

You felt your cheeks heat up as you laid you head on his chest and you felt him lay his chin atop you intricately styled hair, not caring about how it looks. The sun was setting and it began to cast a golden glow over you and Suguru's silhouette's as love began to grow within the atmosphere.

Wedding long forgotten, you two basked in the desire within the garden, all doubts and fears left behind. Perhaps this wouldn't be this bad after all. With your Suguru, you had no doubts everything would be alright.

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⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ notes: OMFGG Y'ALL SHE'S HEREEE MY BRAINCHILD ik she's like a week late but i'm actually so proud of how this came out and i hope you guys like it!! i'll probably drop some hc's later this week but reqs are open!

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ tags: @delicatelycraftedbambi @darious

𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐲 ♡

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𝙧𝙚𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙜 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚!

𝙘𝙤𝙥𝙮𝙧𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙡0𝙫3𝙝𝙖𝙨𝙝𝙞𝙧𝙖143 2024

#words of the love hashira 💗#jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #geto x reader #geto suguru x reader #suguru x reader #suguru geto x reader #x black fem reader #black writers on tumblr

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