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#usually am pretty good about not sounding mean
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Nobody's Girl - Chapter Three.
Check your girl out over here like Oprah. YOU get another chapter, and YOU get another chapter, and so on! I am seriously so flattered by everyone loving the story so far, and watching you all so rabidly consuming it makes me so very happy :)
With the time off work I have had recently, it's meant the story has virtually written itself, I'm up to chapter eleven in the writing, so what I thought would originally be a shorter series has turned into a longer one, meaning I can update more regularly. Well, I can only hope you like this chapter just as much as the previous two, and if you do, remember to leave me a little comment, or a reblog. You would have my eternal gratitude for doing so!
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Previous chapters - One Two
Taglist - In the comments, please DM to be added/removed
Words - 4,300
Warnings - Adult content throughout, minors DNI!
Conversation. With a woman he wasn’t involved with. Truly, Luca couldn’t remember the last time he’d ever enjoyed such, but there he was on an otherwise quiet Thursday night experiencing just that. A soft flurry of snow gently drifted down outside, his apartment the warm cocoon he and Emily sequestered themselves within, sitting on the couch, mostly her sharing stories of her life before she’d literally fallen into his.  
“I remember there was this one time, back when I first got caught up with them, I was taken for a game at this house in Queens. Joey had loaned me to his brother, Giacinto, but of course there was the issue of how he could get me in at the table. So, he made a bet on a bet, I guess you’d call it. Strode in there and announced that he bet each player two hundred bucks they couldn’t beat me in a game of seven card stud.  
“Of course, part of the point of poker is counting cards, but I can do it faster and better, and I did. I won Giacinto five grand in one night, and most of the guys were pissed as hell that I’d beaten them, except for one. He was an older guy, thick glasses, big birthmark on his cheek. He told me I was every man’s worst nightmare, a pretty blonde with a brain, and he respected that.”  
“That’s Jimmy Phelan, Irish mob from Philly,” Luca nodded, quite impressed that she’d grabbed his attention.  
She clicked her fingers in remembrance. “Yeah, Jimmy. That was his name. I’ve met so many wiseguys that it’s hard to keep up with all of the names. I remember the ones who have curious nicknames, like Carmine the Boots, and Duck Foot Silv. I never asked how they got them, though.” 
Luca knew, of course. “Carmine is the boots ‘cuz that’s what he does to those who earn it, fits ‘em with a nice set of concrete boots and sends ‘em off for a swim in the Hudson River. Silvio, they call him duck foot ‘cuz the guy was born with webbed toes.” 
Her eyes widened, leaning forward in her seat. “Have you seen the toes?” 
“I have,” he smirked, scratching his jaw,. “He does this trick, sticks a quarter on his big toe and flicks it about ten feet in the air.” 
She snorted with giggles, sipping her drink and catching an ice cube to chew upon. The sound of her cracking it between her teeth did something to his insides that he couldn’t explain, but was very, very pleasant. “I bet he’s a good swimmer too, huh?” 
“Guy don’t need no flippers, that’s for fuckin’ sure.” 
He looked at her for a long moment, enchanted as usual by her loveliness. It was so easy with her. She knew exactly who and what he was, and she just accepted it without fuss, acting unguarded with him, rather than either trying to work him out or shrink in intimidation. It made a nice change, to simply experience a slice of normality like that, and especially with a woman. Most only wanted him for his money or the association of who he was.  
Or his cock. He was famed for having one hell of a nice cock, after a woman he’d bedded had been very loud in her praise of it one time.  
“So yeah, back to Jimmy being nice to me. He gave me a hundred dollars, said I’d earned it, being such a good card player. I was amazed, and I thought the cash was mine to keep, but not according to Giacinto. Copped a huge beating for that assumption, ended up with this.”  
Hooking her finger into her mouth, she pulled her cheek back to reveal the empty gum space where her back teeth should have sat, Luca feeling caustic within. How hard must he have punched her to knock a both a double and fucking wisdom tooth out, he had to wonder, remembering how tough his own had been to have extracted by a dentist.  
“Bastardo,” he hissed, picking up his drink and knocking it back, refilling it. “Ain’t no big man’s game, sluggin’ a broad. You wanna prove you have cojones? Fuckin’ walk up to the biggest fella in the room and crack him in the mouth. S’what I used to do whenever I got thrown in Sing Sing as a kid, not long after I arrived here from England.”  
“Have you ever done serious time for your endeavours?” she asked, lifting the wool shawl where it had slipped from her shoulders, Luca wishing she’d left it. Any chance he got to view more of her beautiful, lily skin, and he shamelessly took it. It had been gnawing at him for the past fourteen days since she’d been there, chewing away at his resolve like a starving wolf.  
Usually, he’d have made his move by now on somebody he coveted. Hell, his record was ten seconds upon seeing a woman he desired, walking up to her and brashly asking a simple, three worded question. “Wanna fuck me?” No woman ever refused him. With Emily, though, because of her sheer loveliness, as tempting as it would be to corrupt, he held himself back.  
It was a fierce internal conflict he waged war with, his rampant libido dictating he simply take her to bed and bounce her on his cock until she screamed his name, the very little morality left within him castigating such, because of how innocent and sweet the girl was. He couldn’t tarnish something that lovely and pure with the infection of his darkness. Until he could come to some resolve, he supposed he’d have to simply deal with the juxtaposition of wanting to cherish her like a princess and fuck her like a whore.  
She was a billion miles away from the latter, though. Hence the conflict. 
Also, he got the distinct impression that she was still too scared of him. For the most part, she was settled around him, a little shy still, but definitely comfortable enough to open up to him and talk, just like she was doing on that particular evening. If he showed the weight of his desire for her, though, she’d surely bolt. The last thing he wanted was for her to flee.  
“I did a few years for theft, when I was eighteen,” he eventually replied, once he’d managed to finally pull himself back out of his thoughts. “Few times being locked up here and there in the time between, too.”  
“Don’t you mafia guys have the police on payroll, or something?” 
That was another reason why he held himself back. Would she truly want to remain in the world she’d been held prisoner in, should he instigate anything with her? Then again, at least this time she would have a choice. “We do now, yeah. Hence why I ain’t seen a cell in a while.”  
“I think I’d cry if I was ever arrested. Jail sounds scary,” she spoke, sipping her drink, her sweetness making his chest hurt. Why did she have to be the loveliest little thing he’d ever met? It was making him crazy, the want to protect her, the need to fuck her dirty, both colliding with the resolve that he’d solely keep here there until he knew all he wanted about the Calabrese family.  
It was a resolve that seemed to fracture away with every second that passed in her company.
She’d given him very useful information so far, too. Safe house locations his guys had duly gone in and looted, details of deals that she’d been made privy to that he’d been able to scupper before they’d had a chance to come to fruition. Because of Emily, he had the upper hand in the war against the family who – in his mind, at least – needed to show respect and fall back into line.  
What would happen when the well that was her information dried up, though? What, he was simply meant to let this beautiful little creature, this utter mythical princess of a woman unlike any others he’d encountered simply be on her way, and leave his life with a little less pure, iridescent sparkle in her wake? 
He was glad of the distraction when a heavy fist pounding the door below interrupted their evening, Emily nearly jumping out of her skin.  
“S’okay,” he assured her as he stood, resting a hand to her shoulder. “That’s Angelo, he has a habit of knocking like he’s the fuckin’ police.” He headed to the stairs, descending, opening the door but remaining out of her sight as he and Angelo exchanged hushed whispers. Luca appeared again after a few minutes, looking lamentable, but also angry as he pulled himself into his thick, black coat. 
“I have to go out, something I gotta attend to,” he spoke, Emily rising to her feet. 
“Oh, alright. When will you be back?” 
He shrugged, not looking pleased at all. “Hopefully not too long, but don’t wait on me, alright?” 
She nodded, and then completely on blind impulse, reached for his face, pulling him down to her tiny level and kissing his cheek. “Be careful.” 
His heart all but broke the ribs covering it with the force of its rapid thuds. He winked, thumb stroking the apple of her cheek. “I will, doll.”  
As he walked back down the stairs, he could still feel the soft press of her lips against his cheek, his pulse amped up from even the tiniest display of affection from his houseguest. He truly hadn’t expected it, and when he should have left the building with nothing but business on his mind, instead, it was only getting back to Emily again that occupied his thoughts.  
Meanwhile, the girl herself flopped back onto the couch, sighing as she covered her face with her hands. “Oh, god help me. I want that man so badly!” she grimaced, groaning with discomfort. Truly, she didn’t know how the hell to play it, either, feeling so conflicted.
Sometimes, he’d flirt with her, but she was too shy to reciprocate it, meaning he’d pull back and cool down with how he acted around her. Other times, she knew only too well he was trying to wheedle information regarding the Calabrese’s from her, information she found herself giving, getting herself furtherly wrapped up in a world she knew truly wasn’t any good for her.  
How much danger was she in, though, from her place beneath the albatross-like wings of Luca Changretta? Nobody would be fool enough to touch her. However, that was only if she became more to him than whatever she was, she supposed. Then again, he had told her several times already she was safe with him. 
Falling into a silly daydream, she imagined him taking her in his arms, kissing her, those big, tattooed hands laying worship upon her, that sultry voice of his speaking his wants and desires. She let her mind wander for so long that she was still partially in a daze when she heard a rapid knock at the door, followed by the creak of it opening, the music no longer playing.  
“Luca? It’s only me,” a female voice called, her heeled feet alighting the stairs. Before she could speak, a buxom looking redhead appeared, her face surprised as she took Emily in. “Oh, hi! I’m Maggie, and you are?”  
“Hi, Maggie. I’m Emily, and Luca is out,” she spoke, picking up her drink and finishing it. 
“Oh, oh alright. I must’a missed him leaving,” she muttered, holding two large jute bags in her hands. “I was just bringin’ up the takings to him, but I guess I can leave ‘em with you. You’re his new gal, right?” 
She shook her head. “No, just his, uh, his friend.”  
Maggie snorted, placing the takings down on the coffee table. “Luca don’t have gals who are just friends, sweetie pie.” She viewed her carefully, watching the way the young blonde blushed furiously, reaching for the vodka bottle. Only a tiny drizzle remained within.  
“Damn,” Emily pouted, “I drank it all.”  
“Hey, I gotta load of premixed cocktails I’d otherwise throw out. Fancy coming and helping me drink ‘em while I clean up for the night?” Maggie offered, suddenly feeling like she would be being rude to go and pour it all away, and leave the girl upstairs alone, waiting on a man who would likely be gone for hours. Especially too after she’d blatantly embarrassed the hell out of her by her assertion over her boss and his lack of female friends.  
Who was she to judge? Stranger things had happened, she guessed, although she had to admit, she was very curious. If Luca wasn’t giving her a good fucking on the regular, then just what was she doing there? She had noticed her boss not present down in the joint for the last two weeks, with none of his usual rotation of females making their way up to the apartment. Curiosity demanded an answer. 
Smiling, Emily rose to her feet, stuffing them into her shoes. “Sure, that’d be nice.”  Following Maggie back down, she was ushered over to the bar, taking a seat on one of the high stools, the clean up in full effect as people swept, tidied and mopped, the band disassembling their instruments and returning them to their respective cases.  
“Here, I hope you like Manhattan’s,” Maggie spoke, pouring a large measure into a copper mug and passing it over, topping off her own and holding it out. “Cheers, Emily.” 
“Cheers.” She took a swig, the alcohol hitting her throat so hard, she almost coughed, the redhead throwing her head back. 
“Sorry, sugar. I make ‘em potent!” she smirked, taking a soapy cloth and beginning to clean down the bar. “So, you and Luca. What’s the story, darl?”  
Emily didn’t really feel comfortable with revealing the whole truth to a perfect stranger, even though obviously she was a trusted person by the man himself. She wouldn’t have been working in his speakeasy if she wasn’t. “I’m staying with him for a little while.” 
“And you ain’t knockin’ boots with him?” she was then asked. 
“No, definitely not,” she replied, taking another sip of the rocket fuel in her grasp.  
Maggie raised an eyebrow, beginning to pick up liquor bottles from behind the bar and clean the runs and drips away with her cloth. “But you wanna, amirite? Everyone wants to fuck Luca, ‘cept me. I like ‘em a little prettier.”  
Watching her wink as a cute, almost angelic looking blonde saxophone player walked past and waved goodnight, Emily caught her drift immediately. Turning back to Maggie, she shrugged lightly. “I mean, I don’t know. I don’t think I’m his type.” By that point, she’d seen a picture of Filomena, his ex-wife when he’d shown her some photographs of his children. She was dark haired, buxom, Italian and glamorous. Everything she wasn’t.  
“True,” Maggie spoke, pausing to light a cigarette, her cleaning endeavours finished. “But men like somethin’ a lil’ different, they’ll find themselves urging for a taste of the unfamiliar when it’s presented to ‘em. You should give him a go, darl. I hear he’s good with his cock.”  
It was an unfortunate time to take a sip of the lethal Manhattan, Emily half spraying it back into the mug at her brazenness. Maggie couldn’t resist in teasing further. “One of the dancers here was fucking him a while back. Said he was hung like a bull and had the stamina of a guy half his age.”  
Emily felt herself shrinking with every word, Maggie throwing her head back and laughing hoarsely. “Oh, ain’t you a cutie! Gettin’ all shy. Sorry, I know I’m brash. I’ll behave.”  
Perhaps having a female perspective into her predicament might be helpful, she then pondered. Maggie seemed nice, friendly, too. It wasn’t like Emily had a whole lot in the way of friends, either, no gal pals to run her thoughts by. “Okay, so the truth is, I do want to,” she began, Maggie’s face lighting up as she leaned over the bar, huddling close. 
“Tell me more, sugar!” 
Pausing, she took another sip of her drink for courage. “I want to, but I never have before. With any man.”  
The barmaid’s eyes all but fell out of her skull. “Really?” 
She nodded.  
“But... why? Sex is amazing with the right guy!” 
Just then, a door flew open down at the other end of the room, one of the dancers striding out, mid-tirade. “It’s the fuckin’ same with all you fuckin’ Italian jerks!” she screamed, the guy following her looking nonchalant. “All of youse expect us to fuckin’ suck dick, but when it comes to returning it, nadda, nothin’, no sale! Would it fuckin’ kill you to eat me out just once, Luciano?” 
He shrugged, lighting a cigarette. “I ain’t about that.” 
“Yeah, me and my thirsty kitty cat know only too well, you two-bit fuck! We’re done!” She was out of the joint in a blur of sequins and fury, Emily and Maggie sharing a wide-eyed look at having front row seats to such a show. 
“Yeah, he ain’t the right guy,” the latter snorted, jerking her thumb in the direction where Luciano, one of Luca’s street guys had just walked in, softly cussing to himself in Italian.  
“To answer your question, I don’t know, really,” Emily confessed, thinning her lips momentarily. “I’ve never found anyone I like enough to do it with, I guess. It’s like I’m a beacon for shitty guys with bad intentions.”  
Her confidant didn’t truly know how to answer that, since Luca did seem to go through women like they were entering and exiting in a revolving door. However, there was a plus point. “Well, if you decided to, at least it wouldn’t be a lousy first experience for ya. He’s forty-three, the man has heaps of experience, so it wouldn’t be like my first. Two pumps and a squirt, baby. I was so disappointed,” 
The women both snorting laughing, Emily throwing her head back as she truly began to cackle loudly. Oh, she was funny, this brazen woman who had taken her under her wing and plied her with lethally potent cocktails. While she was beginning to relax and find herself making a new friend, the topic of their conversation was walking into a speakeasy in Bushwick, his crew around him.  
“Luca, glad you could join me,” Giacinto Calabrese spoke, leaning back in his seat. “Drink?”  
“No thanks,” he drawled through the chew on his toothpick, “won’t be stayin’ all that long. So, Angelo here tells me you gotta deal for me, huh?” 
His adversary gestured to a chair, Luca taking a seat, his eyes never leaving the man as he felt his mood darkening, looking at his hands. Those were the knuckles that had smashed the teeth out of her mouth. “I do, because you have somethin’ of ours we want returned to us, but I’m a fair man. I’m happy to exchange.” Lifting his chin, he pulled his cigarettes out, lighting one up. “Give me the girl, and I’ll walk away from the warehouses in Yonkers. You have my word.” 
He rolled his tongue against his cheek, chuckling a deadly hiss. “Your word is worth shit, and Emily ain’t for sale, pal.” 
“Oh!” The wise assed man laughed, entertained. “On first name terms with the little puttana now, huh? Wait, I can’t call her that, though. Bitch is more frigid than a fuckin’ nun!”  
Luca remained still, but his eyes moved with all the intent of a predator locking onto its target, slowly pulling the toothpick from between his lips. “The fuck you just call her, stronzo? A bitch?” 
“Yeah,” Giacinto laughed, “I called her a bitch, and...”  
That was as far as he got before the lion that was the head of the Changretta mob pounced, grabbing his collar and pounding his head down onto the table, their respective guys all drawing their weapons. 
“You’re outnumbered, fellas,” Angelo rumbled, tutting. “Put ‘em down.” The men fell back, all watching the scene unfold before them.  
Luca loomed like a shadow of death, his hand holding Giacinto fast against the smooth, dark wood. “Did you call her a bitch when you knocked her fuckin’ teeth out? Did ya? Tell me, how hard does a guy like you have to slug a tiny little thing like her to crack the goddamned teeth from her jaw? This hard?” His fist met his face in a sickeningly strong blow, the piece of shit beneath his grasp grunting in pain. “This hard?” He punched him again, this time loosening one of the teeth he was aiming for, Luca hauling him up and beginning to lay repetitive punches to his face, Giacinto flying back to the floor.  
With his rage pumping like water through a broken dam, Luca loomed over him, pulling a flick knife from his pocket and releasing the blade, holding it so hard against his cheek, his blood began to seep from beneath the press. “You ever speak her name again and I will cut your fuckin’ tongue from your head. The Yonkers warehouses are mine now, too, just for the fuckin’ gall of you. Give your fuckin’ father my goddamned regards, Giacinto.”  
“Fuck you, Luca!” he spat, shame and rage coiling through him.  
“Fuck me, huh?” he laughed, low and deadly. “Nah, kid. Tell me, you right-handed? You are, aren’t ya? It was your right hand you used to beat her, wasn’t it?” Wrenching his arm up, he grasped his wrist, bringing the knife down between his third and fourth fingers, beginning to slice through skin, sinew and tendons. Giacinto screamed, Luca holding the knife towards Angelo, needing both hands to grab the second and third, then fourth and fifth fingers, grasping hard before literally ripping his hand apart.  
“Can’t go punching little girls no longer now, can you?” Standing, he left him screaming on the floor, looking to his guys. “Step down from the warehouses as of tonight, or I do worse to all six of youse.” With that, Luca and his eight cohorts left the speakeasy, heading back to their cars, Brooklyn bound. Entering his apartment just under a half hour later, he made sure he was quiet, not wanting to wake the beauty in his bed.  
Hanging his coat and jacket, he unlaced his shoes, removing his tie as he walked over to the bed, just about able to see her outline there curled up, sleeping soundly. Reaching toward her face, he gently swept the platinum strands of hair that had fallen loose back behind her ear, tenderly stroking the apple of her cheek with the back of his fingers.  
He realised right there that she could never again utter anything about the Calabrese’s, and he wouldn’t care at all. He didn’t need her for information. He just needed her to be safe.  
The twisted irony wasn’t lost on him, though, that the very person she wasn’t safe from was the one whose bed she slept soundly in, but for very different reasons than what the Calabrese’s represented. He lingered there only a moment longer before going to the bathroom and undressing, pulling on his grey and white striped pyjama bottoms, heading for the couch.  
“Luca?”  
He actually jumped a little, hearing her soft voice suddenly sound through the dark. “Yeah, doll?” Turning, he watched her sit up, peeling the bed clothes back as she shuffled over, patting the mattress. “It’s freezing. You can’t keep sleeping on the couch. I don’t mind sharing.”  
He hesitated only a second before walking over, climbing in next to her, his heart beginning to race. Her warmth was the most alluring intoxication he’d ever felt near to him, wanting nothing but to wrap himself around her, meld his body to hers, tell her in no uncertain terms that Giacinto Calabrese would never dare touch her again.  
Lying there, Emily could feel the tension radiating from him, not knowing why he was in such a state, but sensing it all the same. Had something happened, while he was out, something to spark his temper, amp his ire? She felt him turn away from her, turning over herself and hesitating a moment before putting the advice she’d had from Maggie to good use. ‘Just move on him. You’re beautiful, sugar. He won’t turn you down.’  
It wasn’t necessarily a sexual advance, as Maggie had been specifically advocating, but it was a step in the right direction. Wrapping her arm around him, she pressed herself against his back, resting her hand to his chest. Her heart almost leapt into her throat when she felt him grasp her hand, thumb stroking, placing a kiss upon her fingers.  
He clutched her hand tight, feeling her breath flutter against his shoulder blades, his heart still hammering. If he turned to her, that would be it. He wouldn’t be able to hang onto the bull within him, goring against the very last of his soft flesh in a bid for freedom. Flesh that had softened for her. 
He remembered how he’d felt, punching Giacinto repeatedly in the face, until he had expelled blood with every groaned breath, all for her, because of her, because no man would ever make the sweet little darling curled against him feel less than all she was ever again.  
But still, he didn’t dare turn over. It’d be like Satan himself defiling the purest of angels. If only Luca knew, though, as he wrestled with the beast within, that the only thing the angel pressed against his back wanted was to feel the burn of his lust against her skin.  
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gregoftom · 11 months
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pretty sure i’ve seen romance movies with scenes like this
#tomgreg#where do i even start with t his horseshit okay here we fucking go.#so tom's first instinct is to go to greg when he's on shaky ground with shiv. the only way  he feels safe is to have GREG with him.#who tf would want greg as an attack dog??!?!? lets be fucking real. when he says that i think he means just a dog. just someone loyal.#who loves him and won't dick him around. i think he's pretty tired of it by now.#he wants an alliance with like. ok in this show who would you pick to ally with. i love greg but he's abso useless in terms of skills that#would keep you safe. if anything TOM would keep HIM safe. in fact tom  himself says who else has taken care of you. literally spells it out.#he even says greg is a joke; will fail; will fuck up; so what use does he have for tom other than companionship. other than love?#a dog might do tricks for you but your main reason for getting one is usually love. right? at least it should be. it would be in tom's case.#and don't even fucking get me STARTED on ''do you wanna come with me? ...sporus?" like girl.#you know what you told him about nero and sporus right. and now you're saying to him; yeah i was talking about you.#you and me. you're my favourite and i wasn't joking when i said i'd marry you.#the whole while tom is asking greg to be his attack dog his fuckin. eyes and expression we get it you're in love with  him. like it's ridic.#and all this coming with phrasing it sounds like they're fucking ELOPING. I HATE IT!!!!!! SHUT UP! stop saying that fucking shit god. god#they are so annoying. anyway#the way tom's voice breaks as he says he has things to do [what things. will i find out later.] and the deal and!!#what am i gonna do with a soul anyways... i have you what do i need it for. and as that paragraph said somewhere. he castrates his soul.#then they giggle and are fucking annoying and greg'S HANDS LOOK LIK EHE'S ABOUT TO IDK. HUG TOM? AROUND THE MIDDLE MAYBE#or do something else. and then they just hug instead and i fucking. ugh. i've had enough tbh good fucking bye
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moinsbienquekaworu · 2 months
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I've gone from insane about the pilot when it dropped and so so into it to mildly interested and kind of cringing at the actual first episode. 4 years's not a lot but I feel like I got old
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westernsunshine · 1 year
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So one of my friends considers herself to be a skeptical and distrustful person but is going to see a medium tonight. Every day God picks new and interesting ways to test me
#the urge to say ‘it’s a fucking SCAM there is no way that a legitimate medium is operating in our small; low income; white trash;#conservative yorkshire town when they could be LITERALLY ANYWHERE ELSE’ was so strong#i only didn’t say it because her sister-in-law passed away.. sunday i think. so that’s an extremely short space of time#the wound is raw and the last thing she probably needs is me saying ‘hey the person who you think is going to talk to your sister in law#is scamming you’ but also like…… the last thing she needs is to be scammed!!!!!!#the best i could do was hint. like ‘that sounds interesting; i’ve thought about going to a medium as well [my dad died] but the fact there’s#no way to know they’re legit put me off. have a good time though 💛’#like i can’t really do more than that#i mean ideally i’d find out the contact details of whatever medium she’s going to and threaten them into cancelling the session#like ‘if you take even one singular penny from my grieving friend i will personally make sure you join her dead loved ones. and i hope they#beat you up even worse than i did’#but she’d never give me the contact details because she knows i’d do that#the whole thing is fucking terrible. it’s fucking terrible that her sister in law died of stage 4 stomach cancer (which would have been#diagnosable and preventable if doctors had just BELIEVED HER when she went to them with her symptoms)#and it’s awful that there are people out there who look at grieving families and see gold#anyway i wish all fake mediums a very die. fake psychics who don’t claim to contact the dead you are on thin ice#i read cards too but i don’t do it for money (in fact i barely do it for other people at all honestly) and i am VERY transparent#about the fact that i don’t claim to be contacting dead people or deities and i don’t know how this works#i know my predictions are usually pretty accurate but i don’t know how#and i’m not saying there are no real mediums out there but they are certainly few and far between#and i HIGHLY doubt they’d be here in my shitty little town. thank you for your time#personal
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i have chosen the flight 666 concert, thank you @the beautiful people that gave input to help my decision 
#me#i also picked it partially because of the setlist which is mostly some older popular songs that might be more recognizable#like i'm pretty sure my boyfriend knows every single song in the setlist but rock in rio has some that aren't that well known#for me it's all the same because i know and love all of them#although i'm sure for somebody that knows even less about them than my boyfriend there will still be some unknown songs on flight 666#yes i overthink everything when trying to put my boys in the best possible light in the eyes of a possible future fan#i also realize that if somebody is used to a different type of music and you just throw them into an iron maiden concert#it might take a while to get used to it#i am the type of person that USUALLY needs to listen to a song many times to get used to it and to really HEAR it for what it is#i will use senjutsu as an example#although everything sounded good#i still needed to listen to them repeatedly for days to really get to know them#some of the songs when i very first heard them were like#they felt weird but not in a bad way#it was just because everything was unknown and i didn't know what to expect#but then a few more listens and everything felt much more normal#hell on earth being an exception#i was just 100% into that immediately and KNEW it was my favorite song on the album#it was love at first hear#okay i was into the entire album but you know what i mean#anyway#flight 666 is the choice and if i get another choice for another day then maybe i'll do rock in rio 01 or maybe one of their older concerts#like live after death or hammersmith or donington 92#because then it'll be like a look at both past and present#even though 2008 is not present but it's closer to it than 80's#i will stop typing now i apologize i am just excited
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Do Something About It - LN
Summary: Lando started to notice he was falling for his best friend but it didn't seem like she returned those feelings. Although she does voice her opinion of his choice of company to hook up with.
Best friend!reader also tattooed!reader (not like head to toe)
No part 2 requests please
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Y/n and Lando have always laughed at anyone who says they resemble anything of a couple. They've grown up together, Lando was certain he was like a brother.
Then something changed a couple months ago, y/n had what can only be described as a second puberty that took her through a transformation. She was never ugly, or unattractive but she sort of changed her fashion style, she had a new glow about her and people noticed. Much to Lando's growing annoyance, a lot of men noticed.
"Christ, who are you trying to impress?" Lando questions as y/n appears from his bathroom.
They're going out tonight in Monaco and y/n looks as amazing as always, dressing herself in heels (which despite her glow up, she'll be crying about later) and a white short dressed that flashes her legs and allows her thigh tattoo to be on show. It's is unreadable to anyone who actually looks at it, but he knows it's a quote from her favourite song.
"A rich man who wants to spontaneously marry me, change is will for everything to go to me and then die mysteriously." Y/n smirks earning an eye roll while Max looks at her.
"You are a dark-minded individual." Max comments shaking his head. "But Lando is right, you look good."
"Thank you, Max." Y/n smiles before looking at Lando pointedly. "Are we ready to go? I know you're just chomping at the bit to tell me you've been waiting for me."
"Well I am meeting Lottie (sorry to any Lottie's, it's just a random name) when we get there." Lando states checking his watch. "And we are late."
"Fashionably late and she'll be there after us. Probably stalks your location." Y/n snorts having never hidden her dislike of Lando's current choice of company when it comes to women in his bed.
Max pulls a face to the others who are having to be a witness to the bickering as Lando jumps to Lottie's defence.
Truth be told everyone knows that y/n doesn't like Lottie because Lottie isn't a very nice person. She's just the only one with the courage to tell Lando. But they also all know Lando is using Lottie as means of trying to distract himself from y/n and his very obvious growing feelings. If y/n wasn't so oblivious it might be easier to be a witness to it.
"Alright, kiddos. Shut up, and let's go." Max finally cuts in while y/n huffs and moves ahead. "You could just tell her how you feel mate."
"I don't know what you're talking about." Lando states with a tone that tells Max to keep himself quiet.
"Alright, if that's how you want to play it." Max shrugs since it's not his problem really, he does wants Lando and y/n to be happy and he thinks they would be if Lando would just stop being a jealous prick.
It also doesn't help that Lottie always seems to be on a mission to provoke y/n a reaction out of y/n in how her and Lando go about with each other. As if she knows that y/n has a protectiveness over Land and as if she knows Lando is using her as a means to forget his feelings for y/n.
-
Lando is usually pretty good at paying attention to other things when it comes to y/n flirting with men on nights out. but there's something different about this one. She's not just flirting, there's something in the way the man is just lightly drawing shapes on her thigh as they talk.
Her lips keep brushing his ear when she leans in to speak to him over the music, she's laughing with him and it looks like every word he says is working a charm to make her eyes sparkle in desire. Lando can't decide if he's going blind, going to be sick or actually shaking with the anger from his jealousy.
"Lando." Lottie snaps making his gaze finally tear from over her shoulder.
"What?" Lando huffs hoping he didn't sound as irritated out loud as he feels.
"I was just saying, do you want to get out of here?" Lottie asks gently stroking up his arm.
"Yeah, I'm done." Lando nods then picking up his drink and managing to down the rest of it, not exactly his ideal of how to finish the night but he can't sit and watch y/n anymore. "You go ahead outside, I'm just going to let Max know."
Lottie thankfully disappears but Lando heads over to y/n, not caring around how rude he's being as he interrupts the conversation.
"It's shit here, we're leaving. Are you coming with us or staying with him?" Lando questions watching her retract back in shock of his attitude.
Lando has been moody with her before but usually alcohol loosens any tension that's built up between them.
"I'm sorry, will you excuse us? I'll be right back." Y/n laughs lightly, trying to remain composed as she places her hand on the man's thigh then standing up with her usual smile but her grip on Lando's wrist with her nails digging into his skin is not quite a poised and calm as she appears.
She tugs them out to the balcony of the club where people tend to go when they want to smoke, though it's empty at the moment.
"What the fuck was that? Are you deranged?" Y/n questions dropping Lando's wrist as she glare at him. "I was getting along with him."
"He was a nonce."
"He's 32 and I am in my 20s, not a child." Y/n scoffs then looking at him. "Not that I even know why that would matter to you."
"So you're allowed to voice your opinion about who I decide to have in my bed but I'm not allowed to voice my opinion about who you have in yours? And you don't save it for when she's not around either." Lando states making her almost laugh.
"I speak up because it's so obvious she's using you for money and fame-that guy would've been one night of fun for fuck sake. Not someone I keep bringing back around for you to have to endure the presence of." Y/n states before Max appears and she turns to him. "Can you put him on a leash? He's acting like a dick."
"I asked if you were coming with us or staying here."
"You marched over and interrupted with no regard at all. I mean seriously, what is wrong with you right now?" Y/n questions laughing through her words in disbelief. "What is happening?" Then she turns to Max. "Do you know what the hell is happening?"
"I..." Max tries feeling that something is about to snap in one of them to meet the tipping point of this conversation, it's just figuring out who.
"See? Not even Max can explain why you're acting this ridiculous."
"Because I'm sick of seeing you with other men!"
That was definitely the last chug of his drink finally kicking into gear.
Y/n is visibly stunned and silent, the shock on her expression doesn't need to be verbalised by her.
"Maybe we should all just get out of here." Max suggests wanting to diffuse the situation that he feels suffocated by, so he can only imagine how it feels for the two of them.
"No. What do you mean you're sick of seeing me with other men? What-What the fuck does that even mean?" Y/n chokes out while Lando feels his mouth dry up. "Lando?"
"You guys shouldn't do this now." Max mumbles earnings a glare from the young woman which almost questions why he's even there. "Sorry. I'll just be inside if you guys need me."
Leaving the two to hash out what Lando just admitted is maybe not the best thing to do when they've been drinking, but it's obvious y/n won't be letting Lando leave.
"Are you doing to explain or just stay quiet?" Y/n questions slightly more softly but there's an edge to her tone that he can read easily enough. Then when she speaks again it's almost desperation. "Please talk to me, Lando."
"I hate seeing you with all those fucking guys. Every single one of them. Every time you bail on me to go home with some random guy, I want to drag you back from leaving with them." Lando admits keeping his gaze trained everywhere but on her.
This is either going to end the way Lando wishes it would or he's going to lose her, he's risking it and he knows it but the better of the outcomes would probably make everything finally feel right between them.
"I don't know really when or why things changed because we've bene friends for so long and I was-it was great being friends, but I started to feel different when it comes to you and every time I see you with another guy, I actually feel like hitting him with a car."
Y/n just looks at Lando in shock for a moment and then...she starts laughing. A hard laugh straight from the bottom of her stomach, she even moves to the edge to hold on to the railing for stability.
"Lando, have you-you've lost it, haven't you? You stand there and you get jealous. You literally hook up with Lottie who is the worst person on the planet then expect me to believe you're secretly holding back feelings for me. Whatever you drank. I need-"
"I sleep with Lottie because I can't stop thinking about you and I need to try and distract myself." Lando snaps the muttering a few more colourful words. "I know Lottie is a bitch, but I chose the easiest person who I could keep on hand for when I needed to try and stop myself from fucking things up with you."
Y/n swallows then biting her lip for a moment as her gaze flicks inside, presumably considering the fact that Max's silhouette is visible through the glass of the doors.
"We should probably go. Max was right, we shouldn't be doing this now."
And if there was ever a point Lando has been tempted to jump off a balcony. It was now.
There's a few beats of silence before she shifts forward and offers her hand, possibly her version of an olive branch to keep the peace for now.
"I just think we need to be sober." Y/n mumbles looking so completely relieved when Lando links his hand to her own allowing her to lead them inside, stopping when she sees Max. "We need to leave."
"Yeah-Yeah, let's go." Max nods pulling out his phone. "I'll just let everyone on the group chat. No point trying to track them down."
Walking out, Lando had forgot about Lottie and when he spots her once they're outside he can't help but curse to himself about it.
"Fuck." Lando mumbles as she walks up to them.
"Where the hell have you been?" Lottie exclaims making y/n's hand drop from his immediately.
"Sorry, we got caught up."
Lottie sadly has to come back with them because Monaco doesn't really have last minute options for hotels. Lando is certain you can't just randomly book for a room on the spot. So it's going to be an awkward night that's for sure.
-
"You could've said something." Y/n mumbles as she moves to climb in bed with Max since they're sharing the spare room.
"It didn't feel like my place to tell you...and you wouldn't have believed me." Max shrugs then pausing. "What are you going to do?"
Y/n doesn't answer. She considers answering. She considers discussing the whole thing for the whole night and forcing Max to stay awake through her every thought process. But she figures she'll save him from enduring that.
"I'm just going to the bathroom." Y/n mumbles since she needs to take off her make up and really get herself cleaned up from the night.
Though as she steps into the bathroom, Lando manages to slide in behind her and close the door.
"I don't want to wait, I'm sober enough to remember this." Lando states making y/n sigh and slump a little. "Y/n...I just want to know if I've completely fucked up and you're going to left here and never talk to me again."
"Lando, that would never happen. Even if you still acted like a dick before spilling your guts." Y/n murmurs using some cleansing balm after removing her false lashes. "I don't know how I feel about you Lando, it's just not as simple for me to say that I feel the same. Because I've always tried to stay away from even letting myself think like that."
"You realise, if you've had to stop yourself, then it means you have." Lando mumbles earning a pointed look. "I'm just saying."
"You've just said a lot tonight. I need...time to process and preferably time to process without alcohol possibly clouding my judgement."
"Well I'll help. Is it clouding your judgement in a way that could...change sleeping arrangements tonight?"
"You are not kicking Max out the spare room to sleep on the sofa." Y/n laughs already knowing exactly what is going to be suggested by him.
"Can I at least squish in with you guys? Lottie keeps trying to get in my pants and I'm not in the mood." Lando tries while she suppress a smile. "Not for her at least."
"I'm using Max as a barrier. He's squished in the middle."
"That's fine with me."
And it is, only because he's had to share a bed with Max and another person before and Max seems to try to get as far from Lando as possible during his own sleep. Which means y/n is like going to regret having Max take the middle spot.
After y/n finishes her skin care the two get out the bathroom and in time for Max to appear, presumably needing the toilet.
"What were you two doing?" Max questions eyeing them suspiciously.
"Lando was just begging to be in our bed, you're in the middle." Y/n smiles brightly, patting his shoulder as she walks past while Max looks at Lando in disbelief.
"Really?" Max huffs since he definitely feels like he's being dragged literally into the middle of something he'd rather not be involved in anymore than he already has been.
"Lottie keeps feeling me up, man."
"So you're going to sleep in bed with me and the girl you just confessed having been jealous about?" Max hums though it's really a rhetorical question but Lando just shrugs and manages a smile.
Eventually he finds himself laid in bed and when Max returns they are all pretty quick to fall asleep.
He does stir enough to hear y/n mumbling something to Max but only get something incoherant back. Then a shift, shuffle and thud a little while later.
"Max!" Y/n hisses making Lando groan while Max is unresponsive with nothing more than a slight grunt of his sleep being disturbed but not enough for him to actually wake up. "You two are the worst people to share a bed with. One o literally pushes me out of bed and Lando, you snore."
"Just come lie over here, he's out." Lando mumbles though he can't help but smile at her tired grumbling about his snoring. "Come on."
Y/n grumbles but seems too tired to argue as she moves around and climbs into the bed next to Lando so he's now in the middle raising the blanket for her to climb in and she drops down. Not even caring that Lando sort of takes the opportunity to cuddle her. Which might sound a little bad, but the two aren't actually strangers to cuddling as friends.
But even with him snoring behind her, she does manage to sleep better than being shoved out the bed by Max.
-
By the time y/n wakes up, she finds herself with her face completely pressed into another body. She's almost ashamed to say she knows for certain who it is purely from the smell and she sort of takes a moment breathing in the soft residue of his aftershave.
"Weirdo." Lando states making her her groan and roll away from him, or at least try to. "No. I'm sorry, I ruined the moment. Keeping sniffing me."
"No. I gotta-Lando." Y/n laughs as she's overpowered and dragged back against him. "Where's Max?"
"I don't know. Not in here with us." Lando mutters then pressing his face into her next as he takes the opportunity to return the favour of breathing in her scent. "You smell good."
"Thanks, the perfume is expensive." Y/n jokes but there's a wobbly nervousness on her tone. "Are you sure about what you said last night?"
"Yes." Lando states in a serious tone making her roll back to face him. "I meant every word and I still mean every word."
"Ok." Y/n nods lightly before swallowing thickly. "Ok."
"Ok means?" Lando nudges making her look at him, gaze caught for a burning moment before she almost twitches forward then back and while Lando has the temptation to finish the action, he just waits knowing not to push her if she's not sure.
But after a couple more moments pass she closes the space and the soft press of her lips on his own feels like she's just triggered an addiction he didn't even know he had. He can't even stop himself when he moves to pull her on top of him, not breaking the kiss.
Neither of them are even sure how long passes, neither of them even want to stop even if sex feels like it might be a step too far too quickly.
"As amazing as you taste-" is she trying to put him into cardiac arrest? "-but my stomach keeps growling...I'm starving."
"Ok, we can get something to eat." Lando laughs while she smiles and hides her face in his chest, laughing herself. "Yeah. We'll get something to eat. I'm hungry too now I think about it."
-
Max must've been polite enough to show Lottie out or she left on her own accord. Lando will have to speak will her to make the situation between them clear.
"You know, I love your tattoos." Lando comments tracing over the curly writing on her thigh, having nudged the borrowed shorts up so he can access it. "Where's the 4 tattoo?"
Y/n had mentioned a while ago that she had a hidden tattoo for Lando's driver number but she told him he'd have to guess where it was or find it since it's not out in the open making it easy to find.
"Where do you think it is?" Y/n asks making him frown.
"The bottom of your foot."
"Oh god...no. But that might've been smarter though." She sighs before slumping down a little from her spot on the sofa, shuffling till she's leaning very much back, then she pushes the shorts down and reveals her hip where the number 4 sits. Actually in the style of the empty space that makes the number in his logo. No LN but the 4 makes him smile. "Don't look it like that. It was for your stupid brands video."
Yes. A Quadrant video that landed her with a tattoo. Max's idea obviously and he thought it was hilarious. But since it's not out yet, y/n said she didn't want to show him.
It was actually filmed pretty far in advance so the tattoo has healed but Lando still hadn't see it.
"That's so cool." Lando grins while she rolls her eyes a little since he's defintiely got some bias. "I'm inked on your forever now."
"Yeah, one of the reason I could never end the friendship." Y/n jokes before sighing and tilting her head. "We're going to be a pretty go couple."
"An improvement on being jealous of each other and constantly giving me a headache." Max comments appearing seemingly from nowhere. "I do like the tattoo though."
"Your idea. If you didn't like it. I'd tattoo it on your forehead."
"That!-is an amazing idea. We should do that." Lando grins looking at Max who fakes a laugh.
"Can you two go back to bickering?" Max questions earning a middle finger from both of them. "I'm just glad one of you did something about it. I thought it'd take y/n getting engaged for Lando to snap."
Y/n wrinkles her nose while Lando's smile drops to a more serious expression before y/n nudges him with her foot after spotting his change of mood just from the thought.
"Stop frowning, it didn't happen." Y/n laughs before sighing as she pulls the shorts back up to cover the tattoo. "I just hope the tattoo curse doesn't hit us in the worst way."
"You're not that lucky to get away from him because of a tattoo." Max comments and though he joking he does have a cushion launched at his head from Lando.
"Aww...don't be mean." Y/n laughs then grinning when Lando flops down against her in a hug. "You're just annoyed that you're the third wheel now."
"I was always the third wheel with the two of you. I wasn't as blind as you or in as much denial as him." Max smiles and though he might sound bitter, he's actually happy to see the two of them finally together. It's been far too long in the waiting. "I'll happily third wheel till P is around again."
Y/n only hums before being caught in another kiss from Lando that she can quite literally feel him smiling into. He's definitely kissing her to prove a point of Max being the third wheel. But she's certainly not going to stop him.
Taglist: @namgification @hiireadstuff @jsjcue @geniusalpaca @itsjustkhaos @llando4norris
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marvelouslizzie · 5 months
Text
Pretty Little Thing - co-written with @notafunkiller
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Summary: Your long-time crush, Bucky Barnes, is a regular at the bar where you work, and tonight, it's impossible to avoid serving him for the first time.
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader
Warnings: +18, alcohol, oral sex (f receiving), rough sex, unprotected sex, dirty talk, pet names, no mention of y/n
Word Count: 3.8K
A/N: @notafunkiller and I merged our separate ideas into one and this is the outcome. It was so much fun to write. We hope it'll me the same while reading too.
All work is ours, please do not repost or translate without our permission.
Every like, comment, and reblog is highly appreciated. Don’t hesitate to message us. Unless it’s hate. That’s never welcome.
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You thought this night would be calm and easy, that nothing significant would happen. All that changed when Bucky Barnes set foot in the bar. It’s not his first time here by any means, but until now you successfully managed to avoid him by asking the other bartender to serve his side. This time, unfortunately, you are working alone. It’s a slow night, so there’s no way you can really avoid him.
You watch him find an empty place and sit down, and you really don’t know what to do. You can feel yourself sweating already. You are so nervous. Not because you are afraid of him or anything. He doesn’t look scary. Not to you. You are afraid to embarrass yourself in front of him, but you should be able to ask for his order and serve it without messing it up. That’s not so hard. 
Just keep it simple, you tell yourself.
“Hey, what can I get you?”
Bucky looks up from his phone straight into your eyes, and you freeze a little.
“Hello, do you... a draft beer, please.”
His answer confuses you. That’s not his usual order. 
“You sure you don’t want something stronger? We have that bourbon.” You curse yourself internally for paying attention and not being able to hold your tongue.
He raises his eyebrow surprised. “How do you know that? There is no way you served me any drinks cause I would remember you.”
He frowns as soon as he finishes speaking. Maybe you helped your colleague or maybe you were informed about what he drinks just in case he showed up. He’s still the Winter Soldier after all.
“I never served you before.” You say with a shy smile. You hope this is enough of an answer for him.
“Do I look like a bourbon man?” He asks playfully before giving you a smile that transforms his face a little, softening his features. 
“You look like you enjoy quality stuff, and between you and me, our draft beer is shitty.”
That comment makes him chuckle. You’re so distracted by his face that you don’t notice how his eyes fall straight to your breasts.
“Thanks for the tip. Normal beer then?”
“If you insist.” You smile and open the small fridge under the bar where you keep some of the beers. You quickly open it and put it right in front of him, not realizing that gesture shows off your bartender skills a little bit.
He doesn’t look away from you as he takes a big sip before placing the bottle on the table quickly.
“For how long have you been working here?”
“For the past year.” You avoid making eye contact while drying some of the freshly washed glasses.
“Oh.” He sounds kind of taken aback. “I’m surprised you never served me. I’ve been coming here for what? Seven months?”
“Eight.” You bite your bottom lip as soon as the word slips out, trying to shut yourself up so you won’t mess up even more. What were you thinking? Well, you weren't…
His eyes immediately glow, and you wonder if you fucked up for good.
“So you’ve been keeping an eye on me?” He brings the bottle to his mouth and before you can say anything, you watch him finishing it in one go.
“I just noticed you.” Of course, you kept an eye on him, but you played it down a little.
“Well, I didn’t notice you,” he says regretfully. “And I wonder how. I am pretty aware of my surroundings... especially if they are full of beautiful people like you.”
You can’t help but blush, yet you try to sound unaffected. You don’t know if you succeed or not, though.
“This place is usually so crowded and full of… people. So it’s normal.”
“Neah,” he denies immediately. “Have you been hiding or something?”
“I was just on the other side of the bar.” And you were trying to hide from him, saving yourself from this embarrassment because you knew if you talked to him you would fuck up. You were right.
“So I was on the wrong side this whole time.” He shakes his head. “Another beer, please, doll.”
“The same?” You ask while trying not to dwell on the pet name he uses.
“Yes, please. And one drink for you. Whatever you want, if you are allowed to drink, of course.”
The way he offers to buy you a drink surprises you. You feel quite nervous, but you try to maintain your calm. He’s probably just being nice, right? 
“I am allowed to drink, but that’s not necessary.”
He pouts. “I didn’t mean you need to talk to me for it, doll. There are no conditions for this drink.”
“Oh.” You didn’t even think he would take it this way. “That’s not why I said it’s not necessary. I wasn’t worried about that.”
“Okay. Whatever you want... I won’t insist.”
“It’s just… I am allowed to drink whatever I want. You don’t need to pay for it.” You try to explain so he won’t take it the wrong way.
“Alright,” he says, a little distant, as you open up another bottle of beer and put it in front of him. 
“I just didn’t want you to pay extra when I can get it for free.” You don’t know why you are explaining yourself like this. It’s normal not to accept drinks from customers.
“It’s fine, I totally understand. Thank you!” He reaches for the bottle immediately.
You take a fancy glass out of the rack and pour yourself one of the ready-to-serve cocktails that your colleague prepared, right in front of him. He doesn’t say anything as he keeps staring at your hands.
“Thanks for the drink.” You say while putting the bottle away.
“Me?” He asks surprised. “Thought this is on the bar.”
“Well, you gave me the idea, and if you really insist on spending your money so unnecessarily, who am I to stop you?”
“That’s a good attitude.” He smiles again before bringing his bottle close to your glass. “Cheers to a good Thursday in a lovely company.”
You clink your glass with a smile on your face. It seems like he finally understood your intention, so you feel relieved. 
“How does that taste?”
“Don’t let the color fool you, it tastes really strong but delicious.” You look at him for a second and notice that got his interest. “Wanna taste it?” You offer your own drink to him, and he contemplates for a few seconds before leaning in.
“Yes, I am curious.”
You hand the glass to him. Your fingers touch for a second, and you get so excited that you worry about dropping the glass. It’s like your heart is in your throat.
“Your hands are cold,” he comments casually before taking a sip right from the spot covered by your lipstick. You gasp. You have no idea if he did it on purpose, but the way he’s drinking it… your body is responding to that so much. You clear your throat, trying to calm yourself down. 
“Delicious.” He smiles, handing back your glass, and you notice a bit of lipstick in the corner of his mouth.
It creates this internal dilemma. Should you just let him know about it or act like nothing happened and let him walk around like this? The second one could cause him a lot of embarrassment, and you don’t wanna be the reason for that. That’s why you suddenly find yourself leaning closer to him, just to wipe the lipstick off. He doesn’t move an inch, not jumping like you would expect, letting you touch him. When you realize what you are doing, you suddenly feel super self-conscious. 
“You…” You gulp down. “You have… lipstick on… just here.” 
You keep rubbing your finger against the corner of his mouth. You feel his stubble and how soft his lips are, but you try not to think about it. He chuckles, covering your hand with his. It surprises you so much that you freeze for a second. Then you look into his eyes, struggling to see if you made him feel uncomfortable or not.
“So considerate of you. Thank you.”
You move your hand away from his mouth but not away from his touch. Somehow you can’t find the strength to do that. 
What he does next, though, makes you completely breathless. He brings your hand to his mouth again, but this time he presses his lips gently against your skin, smiling right after. Your eyes open with surprise, feeling completely speechless, yet you don’t move away. You don’t even realize you are smiling slightly.
“Your hands are still so cold.”
“Yeah…” You try to speak, but it feels like your words are stuck in your throat. “They are always cold.”
“We need to change that.” He places another kiss on your hand.
*
He’s surprisingly nervous as he leads you to the living room. Based on his confidence back in the bar, you didn’t expect him to become so shy all of a sudden.
“Do you want some coffee?”
“No.” You answer quickly. The only thing you want is to feel his lips again but you keep that thought to yourself.
“What do you want then?” 
It’s obvious in his tone and the way he looks at you he doesn’t ask you about drinks.
“You.” You can’t believe you said this out loud, but it’s the truth.
He doesn’t need another push as he comes closer, grabbing you by the chin. Your lips crash together with an almost desperate hunger. He takes the opportunity immediately, getting his tongue inside your mouth in a fervent exploration. The sensation is electrifying.
You let him explore your mouth while you focus on his taste. It’s so unique and tasty, you just can’t get enough of it. Your hands slowly move toward the back of his head, pulling him closer.
“Fuck,” he groans when he feels your touch, breaking the kiss just to move his lips to your neck. 
“Mhmm… James.” His lips feel so good against your neck. It just sends a jolt of arousal through your body.
But then he freezes, with his mouth glued to your neck. You open your eyes confused wanting to ask him what happened, and that’s when you realize what you’ve just said.
“You know who I am?” His voice is a warm whisper against your skin.
“Of course, I know who you are.” You make it sound so natural as if there’s no way you wouldn’t know who he is. “You think I go to the houses of men I don’t know?” You say playfully.
“I didn’t mean that...” He raises his head from the crook of your neck just to look you in the eye. “I didn’t mean it offensively, I just wasn’t sure. I’m just stupid, I didn’t expect it.”
“I know who you are, James Bucky Barnes.”
“Fuck,” he groans, bringing his thumb to your bottom lip. “Say it again.”
“James Bucky Barnes or just James?”
He kisses you more desperately than before, his hands finding your hips as he gently grabs them, pulling you so close that you can feel his erection. You gasp so softly, but he hears it anyway, and you settle on his hard cock so it’s right against where you want it to be.
He moans. “Let’s go to the bedroom, doll.”
“Why?” You ask innocently as if you don’t know what he means. “Isn’t your couch comfortable enough?”
For him? Sure. But for you?
“The bed is better.”
“Okay.” You sound so obedient suddenly as you wrap your legs around his torso.
He immediately lifts you up without effort, and you smile, letting him carry you toward his room. He’s a super soldier after all. He closes the door with his foot as soon as you’re inside, then he gently puts you on the bed, like he’s afraid you might break. The way he’s acting is so endearing, but you want him to let go really badly. Even the manner he starts to take off your pants is too gentle.
You let him undress you the way he wants, though. Then you move closer to him, taking his clothes off, your movements not as gentle as his. You are impatient and needy. You see him holding his breath when you reach to touch his chest, close to where his metal arm begins, so you lean in to leave a kiss right there. You don’t know if you are crossing a line, but you have to. He should know that this is not something that would bother you, on the contrary, it turns you on even more. When he doesn’t move away from you, you keep kissing around his scars and his chest. Your hand is on his shoulder, gently caressing.
 “That feels so good, doll,” he says with a sigh before he grabs your waist. “but it's time for me to eat.”
You find yourself on your back so suddenly that you don’t even have time to react. He quickly settles between your legs and you understand exactly what he meant. He lifts them enough so you can rest them on his shoulders as he gets more comfortable on his tummy. You feel a hole in your stomach immediately. You can’t believe Bucky is between your thighs, about to eat you out.
He’s taking his sweet time at first, kissing down your thighs and even smelling you before he finally brings his tongue to your entrance.
“Come on, James. Don’t tease me.” You look down just to see him smiling.
“Why not? You seem to enjoy it.”
“I would enjoy it more if you stopped teasing and started eating.”
Surprisingly, Bucky doesn’t waste more time and properly starts to fuck you with his tongue. He’s not too quick, nor too slow with his moves, and you’re shocked when he brings his fingers to your mouth. 
“Need you to make them wet for me, please.” Even while saying that, he sounded a little too polite.
“On one condition,” you say, looking directly into his eyes. “Stop acting like I am made of glass.”
“But you kinda are.”
“I am not. Believe me.”
He says nothing, making sure to lick your slit before getting his tongue inside you again, his fingers, glued to your lips. You take it as a silent agreement and you open your mouth, suck his fingers, and let him wet them. When he thinks it’s enough, he gently takes them out and brings them right to your clit. He doesn’t touch it directly at first, teasing around it until you move your hips a little, needing to feel your clit stimulated.
“Please.” The way he’s taking his sweet time is so frustrating.
He lets his hand drop and instead of feeling his fingers on your clit, you feel his tongue at the same time he gets a finger inside you. You moan loudly, finally getting what you wanted from the start.
His other hand reaches for yours when he hears you grabbing the sheet, and you immediately hold it, enjoying how his cold metal feels. When you feel the second finger and he scissors both of them inside you, you’re shocked by how close you suddenly are. You can’t help but arch your back and move your hips, needing it faster.
He reads the signals pretty quickly and lets you use his mouth while he keeps pumping his fingers. It doesn’t take long for you to gasp, moan, and start to shake because of the pleasure he’s giving you. 
“James! Shit. I’m- gonna… ahh… come.”
You moan louder than you expected, dropping your head against his sheets, possessed by a great wave of pleasure. You want to tell him not to stop anything, but you can’t. And you don’t need to as he keeps licking and fingering you while you ride your orgasm out, prolonging it as much as possible.
When it’s done, you are feeling so good yet you are hungry for more. You raise your head a little and see Bucky still between your legs, but this time his beard is covered with your slick. He looks so handsome. His blue eyes are shining and his hair is all messy. It makes you wanna kiss him and that’s exactly what you do. You reach down to him, and he meets you in the middle, kissing you the way he was just eating you out: with passion and hunger.
He’s less gentle than before as you feel his hands grabbing your breasts, but it’s still not enough. You cover his hands with yours and push him to grab them harder than before. You let out a muffled moan while kissing him.
“You’re so fucking beautiful.”
You find yourself blushing like you two aren’t having sex. To mask your reaction, you reach out to his hard cock, gently grabbing it.
“Oh god,” he groans as he instinctively squeeze your breasts harder.
“Mhmm, yes.” You lean into his touch. “Just like that.”
Bucky looks at you as if you said something shocking. Is he not used to communicating during sex?
“What? Did I do something wrong?”
“You’re surprising me for someone so delicate.”
“I told you, I am not.”
He smiles. “Do you wanna help me put on a condom then?”
“I would love to, but…” You smile. “What if I told you I am clean and on the pill?”
“Fuck, I need you.” He kisses you suddenly. “Now.”
“I am right here.” It sounds so calming. “You can take me however you want.”
You’re not only on your back in the next second, but you also have his cock lined up at your entrance.
“Jesus, doll! For a pretty little thing, you’re quite nasty.”
“I just know what I want.” And this is it.
He nods, wrapping your legs around his ass at the same time he pushes inside you. In a second, your head is thrown back while you moan loudly. The way he fills you is so delicious. It makes you feel so full but not uncomfortable.
“You’re taking me so well already.”
“Please…” You raise your hips to create more friction. “Please, move.”
He brings his mouth to your breast a little before he starts thrusting, making sure to leave a small hickey right on top of it. It hurts so good, and you moan without holding back. It is music to Bucky’s ears. He just wants to hear it again, so he does it again.
“You want it rough, don’t you?” He thrusts harder than before. “You’re so needy.”
“Yeah.” Your voice is so shaky already. “I told you already.”
“Told me what?” He teases. “I don’t remember.”
“That I am not made of glass.”
“No, you are made for me.” He brings his hand to your face to move the hair strands that cover your eyes. “For my cock.”
“In that case…” You don’t know where the sudden rush of confidence comes from. “You are made for me. To fill me up.” You move your hips again, trying to fuck yourself on him.
“Oh, god. You’re so fucking wet,” he moans. “I am, I’m gonna fill you up so much.” He kisses you suddenly, your teeth almost crashing together because of the thrusts, but you don’t care.
“Can’t wait.” You tease him. “Don’t hold back, okay?”
He says nothing, letting his head drop a little so he can suck on your neck properly. He’s definitely fucking you harder. He pulls until he’s almost completely out of you before thrusting inside you again. And again. And again. It takes your breath away. The way it makes you feel is indescribable. You lose the little remaining control you had and just turn into a moaning mess. 
“Say my name, baby. C-come on.”
“James?” You sound hesitant even if you don’t mean to because you don’t know which name he wants to hear.
“Again,” he begs, his metal arm on your leg pushing it right against his ass.
“James!” This one comes out so naturally. No questions, no hesitation. You just breathe out his name with a moan.
“God, you look so beautiful. So pretty with my cock inside you.” His thrusts get faster, and you have no idea how he can speak so well while you’re a mess.
“I’m so close,” you can barely say without taking a breath in the middle of the sentence.
“What do you want?”
“Just… harder.”
“Like this?” He asks, suddenly thrusting a little harder than before. “Or like this?”
“This! Yes! Just like this!”
“You just want it hard.” He whispers against your ear. “What a dirty girl.”
You hear him, but you can’t respond. You are too busy coming all over his cock, and it feels like you are in heaven. He continues to fuck you as the pleasure fades away, murmuring how pretty you are and how good you make him feel before he comes, too, grabbing the bedpost behind you with his metal arm. It makes a clicking sound, but you don’t care, opening your still foggy eyes just to watch him.
There’s so much come. You can already feel it dripping out of you as he keeps fucking you. You expect it to end soon, but it doesn’t. It goes on and on. The way he loses control as he comes just triggers another orgasm out of you. You would be surprised how quickly you could come again if it didn’t feel overwhelmingly good. You can’t think about anything other than him and the way he makes you feel.
His come is getting all over your thighs and ass, and the bed, as he moans. “Kakaya khoroshaya devochka.” What a good girl.
You can’t help but laugh despite not understanding a word of what he says. “Is that Russian?”
He opens his eyes, and the blue you love is almost completely grey. “Yes.” He sounds confused, too. 
“What does it mean?” Your afterglow can’t overshadow your curiosity. “If you don’t tell me, this isn’t happening again.” You try to make it obvious you aren’t serious with your playful tone. Especially not after those orgasms.
“Look at you, little and feisty, blackmailing me.” He chuckles before leaving a kiss on your lips. “I told you what a good girl you are. I didn’t realize I spoke in Russian.”
You laugh a little. “Say it again.” You give him the cutest look. “Please?”
“Ty moya khoroshaya devochka.” He repeats softly. You’re my good girl.
You don’t even realize how content you look as you keep smiling.
“Now, I can get used to that.”
“Say my name again, please.”
You love the neediness in his voice. “James?” You tilt your head a little. “Or would you prefer Bucky?”
“Fuck, it doesn’t matter.” His thumb is suddenly on your lips. “I can get used to that, too.”
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luvit · 4 months
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part two of reader riding simon when he's tired but it's him making up to her in the morning like he promised 🤭 love ur writing btw!
There's an image in my head of Simon muffling his whimpers in your chest, overstimulating himself inside you but he's so pussy drunk he can't bear stopping, babbling about how good you feel -anon
(gn!reader, mdni 18+)
once again, i am combining these bc i think this is absolutely perfect together??? the timing oml
because when simon wakes up after you've treated him so right the night before? oh, he still so soft and running that high of how you made him feel. he makes sure to make it up to you, just like he promised. doesn't mean he still doesn't feel just as whiny and needy as before. in fact, it might have gotten worse 🥴
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simon who wakes up and, upon immediately feeling the softness of your body against his, gets hard. can't stop thinking about the night before where you rode him. treated him so gently while kissing whispers of love into his skin, thanked him for all that he does for you. even though that was you paying him back for all his care he still wants to give you all he has. so he does.
can't help the way he starts rubbing himself between your thighs as you're still asleep. he hopes this will wake you up, give you a nice surprise. but it's like he's drunk on your body. he starts pawing up and down it in a desperate fashion. he can't stop his hips from moving faster as he drapes his chest over your back. peeks over your shoulder to sleepily watch the way the tip of his cock peeks out between the apex of your thighs.
if it wasn't the way he let out a little grunt, nearly a whimper, into your ear when he saw how slicked up your thighs were getting from his precum then certainly the way he jostles you with his frantic thrusting would. you're shaken awake and can only make out the sounds of the sheets rustling and quiet sighs in your ear.
"mmm, simon?" you sleepily ask, reaching behind to to feel for him. you can't exactly do so with the way your arm is, so you settle it on his hands wrapped around your middle and-- oh. "what you up to, si?"
"mmh," he lets out. it's higher pitched than usual, bordering on the line of pathetic. first thing he is when he wakes up is incredibly horny for you and can't do anything with himself so long as it's being able to fuck you. "wanted... wanted to make it up to you."
you start rolling into him so you can face him, but he only takes it as an easier means to push you flat on your back while he puts himself over you. doesn't stop there as he humps against you, looking down at you with lovesick eyes. you're pretty sure he couldn't stop his hips if he wanted to.
"simon, you're..." you look down between your thighs and see the way his cock drips all over your lower stomach. painting you as his masterpiece. he drags his cock along you so sloppily at it will smear the cum all around you but also take some of that to your aching hole where the tip catches ever so slightly and threatens to just go in.
"makin' a mess. i know, i know, lovie. mm, can't... can't help it," he's babbling to you as he starts kissing up and down your neck and chest. he lets out another needy sigh as he grinds against you like it's all he knows how. "w'nna be inside ya so bad. need to. need to make it up to ya."
you hum and spread your legs open a little wider, trying to give him a visual nudge. since you can't get a word in between all his pleas. when you are able to, you buck your hips back at him with a "go on then, si. y'can fuck me."
"mmh, thank you, thank you, thank you," he rumbles out and finally sinks into you. the both of you let out a long groan when he does. you don't think you've seen him this whiny in a while. but you can't comment on it the way he starts moaning as he leaves open mouthed kisses on your jawline. he's unable to move his head properly, so he kisses mostly one spot and slathers it in his spit.
he keeps plunging into you slowly. his head's empty with nothing but the feeling of you wrapped around his cock and when your hole clenches down on him every now and then, increasing in frequency when he hits those spots you like. you drives you into the bed with his force. even though he claims he was making it up to you, you're confident that he's fucking you for him.
he tries to lift himself up to properly fuck you like he wants, but he's only able to drag his head to your chest where he kisses messily all over your nipples. can barely get a word out besides multiple "feels s'good, feels good, oh you're fuckin' perfect." and "mm, can't stop. i can't stop, love. w'nna cum so bad." and also the countless little groans he lets out with each thrust.
but when you call his name so sweetly? when you let out that drawn out "simon" when you're close? he loses it completely. if there was any ounce of sanity left to him. starts bucking into you wildly so he can make sure you cum. doesn't help since he ends up spilling himself so deep inside of you first. it makes your legs lock up around him as you feel him flooding into you again. but determined to honor his word, he keeps going.
he pants harder when he feels his sensitive cock still stirring inside of you. making such filthy, sticky sounds as he mixes his cum deep in you. "c'mon, baby. c'mon, cum f'me. cum, cum, cum!" he's urging you. pleading with you as if it'll save him from overstimulating himself. but his hips never stop after you do end up cumming for him.
because he claims for every time he cums, he needs to give you twice as many. after all, he wants to make it up to you. no matter how sensitive he is <3
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do not edit or reupload my works elsewhere (reblogs welcome!)
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slayfics · 4 months
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Late night texting with Eijiro.
Warnings: Eijiro aged up | NSFW themes
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Eijiro tossed and turned in bed unable to drift to sleep with the memories of today's spar plaguing his mind. He had been rougher with you than he intended to today and he couldn't help but feel guilty.
Giving in to his worry Eijiro grabbed his phone and decided to message you.
Hey, I just wanted to say I'm really sorry about today's spar. I didn't intend to be so rough. I hope you're alright.
You responded to him almost right away,
Kirishima it's late you should be asleep!
I couldn't help it! I just wanted to make sure you were doing ok.
I'm fine, no need to worry. Look, it isn't even that bad.
You texted and sent over a picture of your injuries from the spar. Eijiro felt his breath catch in his throat as soon as his eyes focused on the image.
You were lying in bed and had pulled your shirt up to show the injuries to your abdomen left from the spar.
He knew you were just trying to ease his mind by showing him the injuries weren't anything to worry about, but he couldn't help his mouth from falling open and his cheeks warmed by an excited blush.
The image showcased your body so perfectly lying delicately in bed. Eijiro couldn't look away from it as badly as he wanted to. This isn't manly at all. He thought as he found himself excited by a picture of your bruised body. Even still knowing it was wrong, his grip tightened on his phone and his heart rate increased the longer he stared.
Just as his hormones shot him nefarious thoughts causing his member to enlarge, you messaged him again.
Hello? You fall asleep on me Kiri?
Fuck, he typed out a response fast.
I'm still up! I guess it's not too bad, but I'm still sorry!
Stop apologizing! Besides, I got you pretty good too right?
Yeah, you did! You did amazing today!
Alright, let's see it then!
Eijiro felt himself freeze for a second time tonight. You- You wanted a picture of him? Eijiro shook all crude thoughts out of his mind. Don't be a perv, he told himself. You were just wanting to make sure his injuries weren't bad.
Eijiro must have been contemplating the meaning of your request for longer than he thought because you texted him again.
Unless you feel uncomfortable then it's totally fine you don't have to!
No no, it's fine! Give me a second!
Eijiro jumped out of bed panicking. You wanted a picture of him! He looked around his room and clumsily stumbled into the restroom deciding that was the best place to do it.
Ok ok, you can do this, he thought trying to hype himself up. Besides he is usually shirtless in his hero costume right? But for some reason, this felt so different. Eijiro struggled to keep his hands from shaking as he ripped off his shirt and nervously took selfies in front of the mirror.
What the hell am I doing, he second-guessed himself as he scrolled through the pictures he took deciding on the best one. Finally settling on one he nervously pressed the send button.
Your response came in minutes but felt like ages as he shakingly waited. Did he show too much skin, he wondered? He hoped his picture didn't look too suggestive. But you asked for one right? So it's fine, he thought, trying to ease himself.
Eijiro's eyes snapped to his phone as soon as it buzzed with a response from you.
Damn.
Was all your message said.
Damn, what?! He thought, running his hands over his face. Maybe you meant his injuries? Of course, right? That is what you two were talking about.
Yeah, you got me pretty good, but don't worry I'm alright!
He responded, commenting on the darkened bruises on his own abdomen that you had given him.
Not the injuries silly. You. You look good.
Eijiro's face burnt red hot reading your message. Do you really think he looked good? Was that the real reason you had asked him for a picture? Were the injuries just an excuse to ask, he wondered.
You look good too.
He typed and sent before thinking, panic caused him to quickly send a follow-up text.
Oh man, that sounded so pervy I'm sorry! I didn't mean for that to be weird or anything!
However, you didn't respond to Eijiro with a text but with another picture instead. This one was more provocative than the last showcasing even more of your body.
Eijiro suddenly felt his sweats become tighter as his excitement grew at the revelation that you were doing this on purpose. You wanted him to look at you with lustful eyes.
Yet again, Eijiro found himself staring too long causing you to send him a follow-up text.
Don't be rude, send one back.
Eijiro dabbed at the blood beginning to leak from his nose, as he realized: this was going to be a long night.
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Tags: @unofficialmuilover @maddietries
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honoredalone · 11 months
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pretty when you cry
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live laugh lana del rey.
*✭˚・゚✧*・゚
all the pretty stars shine for you my love, am i that girl, that you dream of?
he’s dreamed of this, you above him, sitting on his long, hard cock. warm walls suffocating him, making him dizzy, his vision blurring.
“too big, ‘s too much.” you’re whining, shifting your position in his lap to adjust to his large length. he’s mesmerized by you. not just the way you take him, but by the way you praise him, the way you hold him, the way you kiss him and just the way you look at him. it has him in a chokehold. that being said when you’re riding him you have no ounce of control. he’ll guide your hips, bouncing you up and down, thrusting when he grows inpatient, anything.
“just a little more.” he rasps, lifting his hips, pushing himself in further, feet pushed into the plush mattress. “my good fucking girl, you’re so good to me.” he laughs when you whimper, the head of his cock brushing your spot making you rock your hips desperately attempting to cause some friction. “ah ah ah. gotta be patient pretty.” he grasps your hips tightly, the pressure making you let out a sob.
“i wanna- just.. please.” you said exasperated, fed up with his teasing. his hold on your hips becoming softer, his thumbs massaging your hips. his eyes admiring your body. marks covering your skin, red flush to your cheeks, lashes damp.
“please what, my angel?” he says teasingly, hand sliding down, finding your clit. it’s soaked in your arousal, smiling like a jackass when you gasp out another strangled sob when he pinches it, hard. “aw you’re so cute. so needy.” you open your mouth to respond then you make eye contact with him when he brings his fingers, still drenched in your juices, into his mouth. his eyes rolling to the back of his head at your taste, cock twitching and throbbing inside of you. “use your words.” he muses before spitting on his fingers and bringing them back down to your clit, rubbing roughly making your back arch, hips buck and moans falling from your lips.
“please-” you sigh as he slows his pace on your already sore spot. “please take care of me.” he smiles, sharp canines on display.
“all you had to do was ask pretty.” with no warning he retracts his fingers and grips both your thighs holding you down on him, thrusting his hips up with an excruciatingly fast pace. “such a pretty pussy on my pretty little bunny.” he groans, head falling back onto the pillow, continuing the fast pace he’s set. you moan nails scratching down chest to his abs making him spiral. “god you were made for me.” he says almost tearfully, you couldn’t really tell due to the sound of skin slapping skin, heavy breaths, small words and wet squelching.
because i’m pretty when i cry i’m pretty when i cry
he’s not one to cry, even during a sad moment, he keeps his tears in until he’s alone. no one can see him vulnerable, ever. he’s also never been one to cry during sex, usually, he’s the one making his partner cry. although, since being with you, crying while being inside of you has become a repeated occurrence. the first time you had sex with him, he started to sob as he pounded into you nearing his climax. after reaching his peak and cleaning up he laid in bed while you showered, he cringed at the thought of him crying while being inside of a women.
‘you’re such a baby.’ he thinks, when he is snapped back to reality by the spot beside him sinking down meaning you were next to him. “was i too rough with you?” he rolls onto his side to face you, looking into your eyes before they fall to your swollen pink lips.
“no, you were perfect.” you smile tiredly at him, scooting closer to him, cuddling into his warmth.
he never was one for post-sex cuddling, but there was something different about this. it was comfortable, it was soothing, he wanted it.
“it was sweet.” you said, when he moved a piece of hair from your eyes.
“what was sweet?” he asked warily, hoping you wouldn’t bring up his crying. despite his hope you did. “how is that sweet? it’s pathetic.” he whines moving to lay on his back, hands hiding his face, embarrassment coursing through his body.
“i just, i don’t know. i’m glad i made you feel good.” you said nervously, positioning yourself stomach down, head on his chest looking at his hidden face. “don’t be embarrassed, it was cute.”
“cute? that was cute to you?” he said sounding agitated and now even more embarrassed. being described as ‘cute’ is worse than telling him he’s weak. he doesn’t want to be cute.
“i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to offend you.” you said now extremely nervous that you’d upset him, that any progress you’ve made with him now doesn’t matter. leaving your spot on his chest to now your back facing away from him, curled into yourself. trying to give him space so that he doesn’t feel more embarrassed with himself and annoyed with you.
he notices your change in behavior, now more aware that he had made you self-conscious. while he was embarrassed the last thing he’d want is to make you upset. you’ve only been dating for around 5 months but he’s sure that you’ll be his for the rest of eternity. “come here.” he said quietly, wrapping his arms around your waist, his strong arms lifting you effortlessly so you’re laying practically on top of him. he’s thought about it for the past few weeks.
‘what’s so different about you?’ it’s that when you’re together any moment spent together, you could be having a natural conversation but even if it’s completely silent, it’s comfortable. you guys don’t have to talk when you’re together. you know how to be together and just enjoy it without talking or touching. he allows himself to be vulnerable around you. he cries while fucking you and it’s so pretty.
i’m stronger than all my men, except for you
while he nears his high, his thrust become animalistic, his moans become louder and whinier, sobs and pleasure making him shake, body covered in sweat, fat tears falling down his face making his skin shine. he’s so pretty like this. “i’m close, i’m so close.” he cries, his cock throbbing almost painfully waiting for your permission to release. “please,” more cries falling from his pretty lips. “please let me-” he moans loudly, back arching, hips harshly thrusting into your heat. “i’m gonna-” a loud sob escapes his throat as he pushes the head of his cock as deep as he’s able to, his big hands gripping your thighs pushing them down onto the sides of his pelvis while he shoots his cum deep onto your warm walls.
you collapse onto his chest, his length still buried deep inside. his hands still gripping your thighs, chest rising and falling, sweat making your skin stick together. you lift your head looking at his red fucked-out face. you kiss his tear streaked cheeks, before lifting off of him. his and your own release dripping out of your hole, he watches the liquid fall onto the sheets as you struggle to move off of him.
“i love you.” he laughs at the irony. he never believed he’d fall in love, but when he looks at you he knows that this is what love should feel like.
“i love you so much.” you respond, before continuing with a small tease, “you’re pretty when you cry.” he shoots you a dirty look but nonetheless chuckles.
i’ll wait for you, babe it’s all i do, babe
satoru gojo, jean kirstein, tengen uzui, choso, oikawa tooru, ken kaneki, osamu miya and any of your favs of course <33
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goldenlikedayl1ght · 6 months
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dress - m. murdock
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a/n: i am not proud of this in the way that i will not be claiming it when i am judged by god. warnings: SMUT like real sex!!! dom!matt, p in v smut, matt has a thing for talking in bed, MATT BEING A TEASE!!! many nicknames, pining, praise with slight degradation, fluff here and there, tipsy reader and matt, i'm sure i'm missing one or two word count: 3.3k summary: ten months of yearning wears you and matt down to desperation. pairing: matt murdock x fem!reader now playing: dress - taylor swift "say my name and everything just stops/i dont want you like a best friend/only bought this dress so you could take it off."
Foggy is so mad at him.
You’re a good employee, a great employee even! You’re dedicated to your job, and you bake in your free time, so you bring in all sorts of treats—Homemade bagels, donuts, cookies—His favorite are your cinnamon chai sugar cookies you make.
You’re intelligent, well-spoken, and good at explaining the issues that you run into. And you’re funny, Foggy would argue, you have incredible timing and wit. You always buy a round at Josies. You are an amazing employee and friend, and Foggy adores you.
So why, pray tell, must Matt feel the need to have you?
He won’t say it out loud, not to Karen, not to Maggie, not to Foggy, and certainly not you. But he’s entranced by you. He loves the sound of your voice as you explain things, he loves that your heart always skips a beat whenever you’re about to deliver a one liner that will crack everyone else up, he loves that when you bake, you always make things all naturally out of desire to make the best dessert you possibly can. But most of all?
He loves that your heart rate picks up whenever he enters the room.
You, on the other hand, are pretty much fascinated by Matt Murdock. You love the sound of his laughter, you love his hands, you love his charm, you love that you can see a chain around his neck when the day dwindles and he loosens his tie, and Jesus H Christ, you love that baritone.
So, it’s safe to say you’ve both been smitten since the first day you met each other.
Yet, you spend ten months cruelly dancing around your attraction for each other.
He’s hesitant to want you in any context, he’s your boss, he’s fucking Daredevil!
By then you know—Mostly accidentally on purpose. All his usual people are out of town or busy, so when he gets stabbed, he has nowhere else to go. He winds up climbing into your window, scaring the ever-living shit out of you. It’s not how he wanted to tell you about his alter ego, but he knows he can trust you.
And you hate the site of blood and gore, so you struggle to patch him up that night. And it makes your heart ache, all the ways he hurts from his nighttime hobby. And he decides right then and there that he can’t have you, not now. Not knowing how much you would—and really, will—worry about him.
So, he buries his want in other people that have no real meaning to him. He even goes on a second date with some of them. One of them even comes to visit him in the office to have lunch.
It makes you jealous to the point where you need to take a walk to dwindle your desire to go back into the office and beg on your hands and knees for her to leave so you can have him. What happens instead is that you go get a pumpkin chai latte and take it back to the office, sitting and keeping to yourself, even when the girl comes out of his office giggling as he stands in the doorway as she leaves.
He smells the pumpkin from his office, and it drives him wild. Just from how quietly you dwell in your jealousy, as you mask it with your favorite fall flavors.
He breaks up with the girl the next day.
• • •
And a week later, he gets his official invitation to Marci and Foggy’s wedding—A big to do, full of family, friends and coworkers that make it a real party. Matt will be Foggy’s best man. You and Karen aren’t in the wedding party, as you were good friends with both the bride and groom, but Karen wanted to make sure at least one of them was focused on the firm, and you hated to be the center of attention. So, you shared your love from a few aisles back.
You had gone shopping with Marci for your dress, Karen too. You enjoyed spending time with them—While you had made friends with them easily, prior friends had never really come easy to you.
It was nice to be wanted.
But they had insisted on you trying to find different dresses that made you look amazing. And for the most part, the dresses made you sort of uncomfortable. They revealed too much or revealed too little.
And then you came across this red satin dress. It hugs your curves in all the right way, and it makes you look good. It makes you feel good. You have these perfect black heels to wear with them, and then Karen says it.
“You know, Matt kind of has a thing about textures. He loves silk and satin.” Your face burns. Of course, he does. Why wouldn’t he? He can hear people's heartbeats, tell when they’re lying, why wouldn’t he be keen on nice textures?
“Karen Page, are you insisting I should by this dress to impress a man?” You laugh just to escape your nerves.
“No! But it can’t hurt! It’s not like he’s bringing a date—” She turns to Marci. “He’s not bringing a date, right?” she asks quickly. It makes her laugh.
“No, Murdock RVSP’ed for one.”  You look at yourself in the mirror again, thinking it over. And over. And over. Then you turn to your friends again, and nod.
“Alright. Alright, I’ll get it.” You grin, “And y’know.. Karen’s right, It can’t make the situation any worse.”
“You know what you need now? Good lingerie for after—” Your face is red again at your friend’s comment.
“Shut up, Marci!” You whine, heading back to the dressing room to get changed.
• • •
Matt is sitting with Foggy and his brothers, enjoying a glass of scotch before the ceremony when someone knocks on the door.
And somehow, he’s not shocked to hear your nervous heartbeat when the door opens.
“Hey Fog, Karen said you had scissors—Can I borrow ‘em quick? There’s a tag on this dress I forgot to take off and it’s impossible to reach—”
“Yes, Absolutely, and you know who would be great at helping you? Matt. An incredible knack for… Cutting things.” It’s a poor attempt to get the two of you alone, yet Foggy hands you the scissors and pushes you and Matt outside the room.
“My rooms only two doors down.” He explains, taking your hand in his and leading you there.
After finding out about his super senses, it became clear that he was more than capable of finding his way through places he’s stayed, and that he’s privy to a lot more information than people would give him credit for.
So here you are. In Matt Murdock’s hotel room. A tag itching at your back, with you unable to grab it.
“I’m just gonna—” He awkwardly reaches to the top of your dress, and you just move the hair from your neck and try to ease his anxiety.
“Just go for it, Matt. I don’t care, it’s just annoying.” You promise. And he does.
He folds the top of your dress the best he can and its only enough for the scissors to almost grab the tag without him sticking his hand down your dress. He hesitates for a second before exhaling deeply.
Then, he leans down towards your back, and scrunches the material enough so that he can reach the tag and bites the tag off.
You can feel his other hand on your hip. His hot breath on your back. He hears your heart jump as your breath becomes shaky. He wonders how bad it would be for him to skip the wedding and take you right here, in this room.
He plucks the tag from his teeth and smooths out your dress, as you let go of your hair. He feels this raw need for you.
And you feel it too. Yet he pulls away, taking a step back from you.
“We should get to the ceremony.” he said, trying to catch his breath. He yearns for you, in a way that anyone else would laugh at. It’s the type of yearning you read about in Jane Austen novels. That is the level that Matt longs to touch you. It’s desperation.
“Yeah...” You say softly, trying to recover from what just happened. You drop him back off at Foggy’s suite and head back to the hall, hoping to find Karen and put the moment behind you. And that’s just what happens. You watch the ceremony, and it’s gorgeous. You’re thrilled for Marci and Foggy, and it elates you that they put together such a beautiful ceremony.
And yet, you can’t take your eyes off Matt and how good he looks. He stands tall, and he really does look good. It makes it kind of hard to focus. It makes it really hard to focus. And you think about this all the way through their first dance song, through dinner, through cake and through all the cheesy wedding traditions Foggy insisted on.
You have a few drinks but eventually it all becomes too much, and you take a minute outside of the hall and into the cold air. And you’re thinking about Matt.
“You’re gonna catch a cold out here.”
Speak of the devil.
You turn back to him and smile.
“I’ve been thinking about you.” You say, and he hums. It’s the alcohol in both of your systems, it’s why neither of you run when you say it.
“Same goes for you, sweetheart.” He takes off his coat and wraps it around your shoulders. You note the silky texture of the inside of the jacket. It pushes you further.
“Why do we insist on playing this game? Why do we watch each other go after people who we don’t want when all we want is each other?”
He takes a moment to answer. Because in truth, he’s sure he could tell you why, he could discuss all of the horrible things that have happened to him, and you could share the same sort of stories about your own life. You could sit there and dissect past traumas for hours.
But that’s not really what you’re asking.
“I don’t know...” He says softly. His hands find themselves on your hips, and he rubs small circles into the fabric. “Satin?” You hum, melting at his touch. “Words, pretty girl. You know I like hearing your voice.”
“Satin.” You confirm, your breath catching.
“There she is...” He hums, and leans in. You feel his breath against your lip, and you take it upon yourself to close the gap between the two of you.
It’s soft, full of this hesitation because despite all the flirting, you’re still unsure of yourself. He quickly eases these fears as his hands move and you find his arms wrapped around your torso. He deepens the kiss, and you both lean into it. It becomes more desperate after that.
Your hands find their way to his hair, and you fiddle with the ends, unwilling to break the kiss, even if it means air. He breaks the kiss for a second, only to come back to your lips with more passion, biting your bottom lip, before slipping his tongue into your mouth, taking the more aggressive approach.
And you can’t take it anymore. You need him. You pull away from him, pant softly before kissing his jaw gently.
“Take me to your room.” You request. He obliges.
You find yourself taking off your heels as soon as you get in, your feet aching as you walk further into the room. The context is much different than it was this afternoon—And it makes you nervous.
Matt comes up from behind you and places his hands on your arms, rubbing them gently, before kissing your shoulder.
“You don’t have to be nervous. I’ll be gentle with you...” He says softly. You hum before he continues, “Or do you... want me to be rough with you?” he asks teasingly, landing a quick bite onto your shoulder. You make a noise of surprise and turn to him.
“You’re a tease, has anyone ever told you that?”
“Once or twice.” He begins to loosen his tie, eventually forcing it off and then starting to unbutton his shirt. You begin to help him with this task, eventually getting it all the way unbuttoned. Then you gently push him back against the bed and he laughs, falling onto it.
He thinks it’s cute. Until you sit above him, your dress hiking a bit. You lean down to kiss him as his hands find their way to the back of your thighs, and begin to move up and down, just being the tease, he is.
You whine into the kiss, and it just makes him chuckle further, before flipping the pair of you over, then planting a kiss on your neck.
“What’s the matter, sweetheart? Needy from just a few kisses?” He slips off his shirt as he continues to kiss you. One hand remains on your thigh, travelling up your thigh, eventually finding your panties.
“Mhm...” You hum, your hands wrapping around his neck again to play with his hair.
“Talk to me, sweet girl...” he says softly before he continues his assault on your neck.
“Matt…” You hum. “You know, I only—” Then his fingers find your clit and begin rubbing gentle circles, just teasing you with his fingers. It turns him from tease to cruel. You let out a moan, and he only tuts in disappointment.
“Keep talking or you won’t get anything from me.” He tells you, before continuing to tease you. His fingers begin to work on your folds. You try your best to focus. He takes off your panties and throws them on the ground somewhere.
“Only bought this dress for you... Thought you might like it...” You gasp again as he slips a finger into you, “Fuck—Thought it would make you do something about it.” In fairness, it got the reaction you had only hoped for in your wildest dreams. It makes him chuckle against your skin.
“Only got this pretty little dress for me to touch you like this?” He adds another finger and starts to move. When you don’t answer, too busy getting lost in his fingers, he bites your shoulder again. “Answer me, sweetheart.”
“Yes! God, yes…” You respond. He hums in approval, continuing to curl his fingers inside of you. It only takes a few minutes before you can feel yourself near the edge of an orgasm. “Matt… Baby, please...”
“C’mon, sweet girl... I’ve got you, let go...” And it’s enough to make you, cumming all over his fingers. He lets you ride out your high, out of breath. He kisses your neck again before bringing his fingers up to his lips, tasting your juices. “Sweet girl, still.” He smirks. Your heart skips a beat. He chuckles. Then he continues, “Did so good for me, sweetheart... Wanna keep going?” He asks.
“Yes, please... Wanna feel you inside me...” you confess.
“You want me to fill you up and stretch you out, pretty girl?” You should know better by now, but you just hum in response, gaining another bite to your shoulder. “Try again.”
“Yes... I want you so badly, Matt, please... I’ve been dreaming about it for months now,” You confess, “Need you...”  He seems satisfied by this, and moves back, helping you sit up.
“Well then, we’ll need to get this pretty dress off you.” He says, his fingers working to take off his belt. Your fingers run over his chest. It’s all he can do not to rip the dress off, but he knows how much it means to you and how much it could’ve cost. So, instead, he slips the dress off you and feels you shiver against him. Still so nervous. He tosses the dress in the general direction of his suitcase, so it doesn’t sit on the floor. He leans in and starts pressing kisses to your chest, his hands reaching up to your bra and unclasping it. He throws it with much less care than the dress.
He keeps kissing down your torso as he lays you back on the bed, your hands going again to his hair.
“How come it’s fair that I’m fully naked, and you still have pants on?” You ask. It makes him laugh, and he stands straight again.
“Fair enough,” he says, taking them off. And then goes his boxers. Before you can stare at him, he’s on top of you again, kissing you deeply. You can feel his cock resting against your fold and it makes you moan into the kiss. He pulls away for just a second before asking, “Is this, okay? You’ll stop me if it’s too much?”
“Yeah, I’ll tell you.” You respond. He smiles at your words.
“Perfect. Perfect, pretty girl...” He hums as he begins to kiss your shoulders and the top of your chest, before slipping inside of you. You let out a moan, and he groans as well, taking a few minutes to take all of you in. It feels amazing. He begins to move inside of you as he brings you in for another kiss. When he pulls away, he’s talking, “Been thinking about this for... Fuck, so long...” He groans. “Been dreaming of this perfect pussy and how good it would feel around me…” He says, and it elicits a shaky moan from you.
“Faster, please...” You request, and he obliges, picking up the pace. You’ve been thinking about this for a long time too. You never imagined he’d be so controlling about the whole thing. It works you up almost as much as how vocal he is.
He leaves bites and marks down your chest as he pulls you closer to him, knowing he won’t last much longer. He feels you tighten around him and makes another demand, “Tell me how badly you want to cum, and I’ll let you.” He says this before planting a rather contrasting soft kiss to your ear.
“Please... Please, Matt, Fuck... I need to cum all over your cock... Wanna feel so good, baby...” You moan, your fingers pulling on his hair. It excites you when he moans. “And I want you to cum inside me... Fill me up, Baby, please...” You beg. He’s happy with it for now, but he knows he’ll want to hear more another time.
“C’mon, sweet girl. Cum for me…” He pants, and it’s all you need before you let yourself come undone around his cock. He continues thrusting for a few minutes, letting you ride out your high, before cumming himself, and you moan at the feeling. He lays against you for a few minutes, trying to recover, and it’s then that you notice he’s shaking.
“Are you okay?” You ask softly, brushing his hair out of his face. He looks at you with those gorgeous brown eyes. He laughs at your question.
“I’m great... You’re just... amazing...” he says honestly, kissing your shoulder one more time. “Perfect, pretty girl...” He praises. “My perfect girl...” It makes you shudder. He stays like this for a moment more before kissing you softly. Then, he sits up and goes to get a towel to clean the both of you up. And then, he’s back in bed with you. He pulls you close as you both recover from what just happened.
“I wasn’t lying,” You start, “I’ve been thinking about you for months. You’re all I’ve wanted for so long...” You confess. He kisses your head and pulls you closer.
“Me too... I was too much of an idiot to tell you though. Almost let you get away.”
“You got me.” You affirm. He hums and begins to rub all too familiar circles into your hips with his thumbs.
“And now I just want you more.”
The feeling is mutual.
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halfvalid · 6 months
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Hey! Since your requests are open, may I request opla!Zoro x reader (established relationship) where the reader has a lot of self doubt (not only in their looks, but their abilities and their place in the crew) since it’s, unfortunately, been shoved done their throat by pretty much eveyone they knew, even their parents, that they would never be good enough? Maybe Zoro figures out that they have sort of been spiralling lately and they have a talk about the readers past and the problems they’re facing and he comforts them? Maybe it ends sort of spicy or turns out full on spicy, if you’re comfortable with that!
daybreak
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ABOUT
alternate title: some fluffy established relationship hurt/comfort to save my soul
rating: teen & up
characters: live action!roronoa zoro | fem!reader
pairing: live action!roronoa zoro x fem!reader
word count: 2.9k (short; sorry!)
description: zoro notices you've been seeming off recently, and you confide in him your insecure feelings of self-worth. he comforts you.
tags: strawhat!reader, established relationship, fluff, emotional hurt/comfort, kissing, no use of ‘y/n’, soft zoro, ridiculously stupidly absolutely horrifyingly fluffy. 
author’s note: thank you so much for the very lovely request! i hope i did your prompt justice; i ended up not writing any spice at the end (just slightly suggestive) since i didn't think it fit the story but i hope you like it anyway ^^
it feels slightly ooc, but i also wrote it in the span of two hours at 1:00 am so can you really blame me. 
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It was morning on the Going Merry, and you were cleaning up the wreckage that had been scattered along the deck in your last battle. The crew had gone up against some other pirates; it’d been late at night, and the attack had come suddenly, what you’d thought would be a peaceful docking turning combative quickly. 
You barely remembered the fight. One moment, the warning bell had sounded, and the next Zoro was rolling out of bed beside you, grabbing his swords and darting out of your bedroom before you could even register what was happening. The fight had gone in the Straw Hats’ favor, thankfully; Zoro, Luffy, and Sanji had fended off most of the threat, and you were back on the open sea, safe from enemies for at least a little while now. 
You let out a sigh as you swept shattered glass into a dustpan, shaking out the collected trash into a nearby empty barrel. None of the men usually bothered to start cleaning up—typical—so you’d pulled yourself out of bed as early as possible to get the ship looking a little more like normal. 
Zoro had left some corpses on the deck for you to deal with, and you’d had to toss them overboard, a grimace tugging at your lips as blood stained the white of your blouse. No matter. You’d finished sweeping, at least; all you had left to do was mop, right as everyone else was waking up. 
You filled a bucket with warm water and soap, and were just grabbing the mop from the closet when you heard footsteps. You glanced up, surprised to see Zoro heading towards you, one hand grasped loosely around his sword handle as always. “You’re up early,” he said, casual as ever. “Woke up and you were gone.” 
“Figured I should get a head start on cleaning,” you answered quickly, not meeting Zoro’s eyes as you dunked the mop into the bucket. His brows creased as he watched you start mopping, pushing the handle along the deck to wipe it clear of bloodstains. 
“How long have you been doing this?” Zoro asked, after a few seconds of delayed silence. You shrugged, dunking your mop again before going for another few swipes. “We can help clean too, you know.” 
“It’s the least I can do,” you protested. You moved past him, trying very hard not to meet his eyes—but Zoro didn’t let you pass, one hand going out to grab the mop rod and stopping you in your tracks. “What?” 
“What do you mean, least you could do?” Zoro asked blankly. 
“I mean—” you shrugged, muscles limp like your entire body was sagging you down. “You and the others were the ones to deal with the pirates, so I figured I could at least—”
Zoro still looked confused, brows pulled together, forehead taut with a frown. “I distinctly recall you throwing a pirate twice your size overboard. Unless I was imagining things.” 
You sighed. “Not what I meant.” You tried to push past Zoro again, but he didn’t let you, hand still tightly grasped around your mop handle. 
“Okay, what did you mean, then?” 
“Nothing. Will you just let me finish cleaning so there aren't blood stains all over Luffy’s ship?” You sighed again, even as you attempted to keep the sound inside—but you couldn’t help it. It was like there was an anchor stuck inside of you, pulling everything from your feelings to your body down, the weight of gravity tugging at your features. 
“Luffy’s ship?” 
You shrugged. “The Straw Hats’ ship. Whatever.” 
“Our ship,” Zoro said. There was a certain twinge of something in his words; still blankness, but laced with a dawning realization that you weren’t sure you liked. “You’re upset.” 
“Nope.” This time you really did manage to get free of Zoro’s grasp, yanking your mop out of his grip and starting back on cleaning the deck. The acrid smell of iron hit your nose as you scrubbed the dried blood off—you’d have to go back in later with a sponge to get all the cracks and crevices, but for now this would be okay. 
Zoro followed you, unceasing with his interrogation. “Yes, you are. I know when you’re upset, and you’re upset. What happened.” It was more of a statement than a question—Zoro didn’t often doubt himself, really, which was one of the many things that’d helped make you stumble into falling for him. “Was it about last night? You know the cook's just making fun when he keeps a counter, right? It doesn’t matter if he brought two or five more men down than you.” 
“It’s not about that,” you insisted. 
“So you admit you are upset.” 
You groaned, finally turning to look Zoro in the eye. He’d stopped walking, the dawning sun glinting hazey gold onto his skin in the early hour. There was still an overcast of blue from the night in the sky, and it made the heavens look ethereal, watery and glittering. 
“Come on,” he urged. “Just tell me what’s wrong.” 
“It’s really nothing you need to be concerned about,” you attempted, but your voice was weak now. Zoro stepped closer to you, gently pulling the mop out of your hands. Your fingers let go easily. “It’s silly.” 
Zoro gave you a look. “Out with it.” 
“I don’t know, I just—” your fingers clenched, like your hand was trying to find something to do now that Zoro had rid you of your mop. “Comparatively I just don’t do much. So I want to help out as much as possible.” 
“Who said you don’t do much?” 
“What?” 
“I don’t think I need to repeat myself,” Zoro said. He let the mop fall to the ground, arms crossing over his chest as he watched you. “Who said you don’t do much?”
“I mean, nobody. It’s just true.” You shrugged, distinctly uncomfortable with the way Zoro was looking at you—all attentive, like he was trying to strip you raw with his eyes, uncover whatever secrets might be hiding in the pores of your skin and the gaps of your teeth. “Luffy’s the captain, we wouldn’t be able to do anything without Nami, you and Sanji are the fighters, and Usopp’s everyone’s favorite. I’m just kind of… filler?” 
The more you spoke, the worse your words got, your tone turning more desperate as the sentences fumbled out of your mouth. Zoro’s eyebrows raised higher as you went on, and you flushed, red prickling all over your skin. 
“First of all,” he started, “Usopp is not my favorite. That’d be you. And—where are you getting this from?” 
You shook your head, trying to backtrack. “Nothing. Nowhere. It’s not that import—”
“Yes, it is, and we’re talking about it.” Zoro pulled a nearby barrel by the side of the ship, plopping himself down atop it and gesturing for you to sit. You didn’t, but you did move over to the railing, hands curling around the painted wood. “Speak.” 
“I have nothing to say,” you tried. Zoro just shot you an unimpressed look, and you squirmed. “Fine. I don’t know. I joined last, so I just figured… you were all kind of already set without me, right?” 
Zoro shook his head. “We’re a crew,” he said, voice strong but somehow still gentle. “You’re part of us for a reason. What, this entire time did you think you were—expendable?” 
You fidgeted uncomfortably, weight shifting from one leg to the other. “No.” 
“Don’t lie.” 
“Yes. No. I don’t know. Last night—I only got, like what, two guys? And you reacted way faster to the situation than I did,” you started, words flailing around on your tongue as they rushed out. It was indelicate, for certain, and you yourself couldn’t make sense of most of the words—but once you started, you couldn’t stop, even as they slurred together. “I was still getting out of bed and grabbing my weapon when you’d already dealt with half the enemy crew.” 
“Don’t compare yourself to me,” Zoro said with a shake of his head. “That’s not fair. I’ve been training since I was eight. It’s different.” 
You huffed out an exasperated breath, trying not to let your frustration get the best of you. “I can't help it sometimes. It’s a bad habit.” You loosened your grip on the ship railing, staring out at the golden clouds hovering over the sky.  “Sorry.” 
“Don’t apologize,” Zoro answered. He didn’t say anything after that—giving you a space to talk, you supposed, in case you wanted to. But his hand did reach up to press against yours, pinky brushing against your finger as he held onto the railing beside you. 
“I guess I just always had these standards back at the village,” you managed out eventually. Your island had always been one of the more traditional places in the East Blue, and there were plenty rules and guidelines abound. One of the many reasons you’d left the place in favor for Luffy and the Going Merry, really. “So I just… always want to do more. It’s not that bad.” 
“Right.” Zoro’s pinky looped around your finger, now, holding it close in a soft kiss of the hands. You sighed. 
“My parents were kind of rough on me, I guess,” you tried, sneaking a glance over at Zoro’s face to see if it satiated his curiosity at all. His expression remained as steel as ever, so you just continued. “They wanted me to be the best I could. But their standards were too high, even when I was little.” You found yourself rubbing circles into the back of Zoro’s hand with your finger, more so to comfort yourself than for any other reason. “Just normal stuff, like being upset about my school grades or my combat training levels being too low. Nothing that terrible.” 
“But…?” Zoro asked, tilting his head up to look at you. You smiled, but the action didn’t reach your eyes—it was all mouth and jaw, cheeks lifting but eyes glinting with the same glazed stare. 
“It just affected me a lot, I suppose,” you answered. “Always trying to get better. Never satisfied. And I guess now—I don’t know. I don’t think I’ll ever be good enough.” 
“For?” Zoro asked. His voice was low, soft, all hollow and empty inside. There was a tinge of roughness lacing it, like he’d forgotten to clear his throat, and the scratch of his vocal chords had surfaced up along with the words. 
“Myself. My parents. Luffy. You.” Your lips tightened into a line. Vaguely, you could feel the warm pinpricks of tears starting at your waterline, and you tried to will them back, letting out a little laugh. “Everyone, I guess.” 
Zoro’s hand had come to hold yours fully, fingers woven in between yours, thumb pressed firmly against the joint of your thumb. Somehow, that one motion managed to force the last of the words out of you—all wet and soft, eyes glued fiercely to the horizon in fear of seeing what was etched on Zoro’s face. 
“We do arranged marriages back at home,” you started, trying very hard to keep your voice from trembling. it worked only marginally—there was a tiny quaver in your tone, but it was soft, not noticeable unless you were really listening hard. “And my mom used to tell me I’d die alone. Because I wasn’t pretty enough, or smart enough, or anything enough for any of the boys there.” 
“Oh,” Zoro said. It was quiet; barely a whisper. You tried for a wry smile. 
“I like helping, though. I don’t mind cleaning up or whatever. It makes me feel more useful.” You tried to tug your hand out of Zoro’s grip, but his fingers tightened, keeping you in place. A nervous laugh escaped your throat. “And I know I’m part of the crew and all of this is just silly. So it’s really fine—”
Zoro tugged your intertwined hands to his chest, causing you to stumble and glance down at him in surprise. His expression was nearly unreadable. It’d darkened, and there was a contemplative gaze in his eyes, lips parted with invisible words perched on his tongue. “Don’t do that,” he whispered, and your stomach dropped, the nervousness that had gathered inside during the conversation tightening up into a hall. “Don’t say it’s okay or that it’s not important. If it’s making you upset, then it matters.” 
“I guess,” you tried, and Zoro’s gaze lifted to fix you with a glare. “Sorry.” 
“It’s okay, I just…” Zoro shook his head. “Look, whatever your parents used to tell you, whatever you have ingrained in your head—it’s not true. And there’s nothing wrong with wanting to do more, but… you don’t have to do it. You’re enough already.” 
Your gaze softened, lips falling open to say something, but Zoro wasn’t finished yet. “You shouldn’t come out here and force yourself to clean up just to make up for your—waste of space, or something. You’re not a servant. And you’re not wasting up any space. I think everyone would agree that you’re a very important and vital part of the crew.” 
“Thanks,” you whispered. Zoro’s hand was warm around yours, and you felt the threatening droplets of tears start to rise up at your waterline, ready to fall at any moment now. Zoro just nodded. 
“You’re a great fighter, and way smarter than what you give yourself credit for,” he said firmly. He raised your hand to his mouth, then, leaning over to press a feather-light kiss to your knuckles. “And the boys on your island have to be blind, because you’re pretty enough. You’re more than pretty enough.”
He whispered the last words, all soft and sacred on his tongue. “You’re beautiful.” 
That was enough to drive your tears over the edge. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to stop the flow as the warm sensation of liquid streaking down your cheeks began. Droplets caught in the crevice of your lips, and at the hinge of your jaw—Zoro brought a hand up to wipe them away. “Are you okay?” he whispered. 
“Yeah, I just, um.” You shook your head, sniffing. “Thank you. That… helped. I think.” 
Zoro bummed out his response. “Of course,” he said easily. “You’re my girl. It’s my job to cheer you up.” He kissed your knuckles again. “And you can talk to any of us. I’m not really the best at this, but everyone else…” he shrugged. 
“You’re doing just fine,” you assured him. Zoro nodded, tugging you down until you finally took a seat on a crate beside him. “I think it’s just been worse lately.” 
“If it makes you feel any better, I think you’re better than the waiter,” Zoro said. You just laughed. 
“I think you’re biased, but thank you,” you said. “Here, I, um, I promise I’ll let you know if I’m feeling down, I guess. If you don’t mind.” 
“Definitely don’t mind,” Zoro answered. This time he placed a gentle kiss on your neck, somewhere at the bottom near the back. “Leave the mopping for someone else. You’ve already done a lot.” 
“Okay,” you whispered, eyes fluttering closed as Zoro kissed the rest of the way up the back of your neck. He placed a final one right below your earlobe. With that, Zoro stood up, sweeping one arm under your legs and hoisting you up. You cracked open an eye to regard him with a blank look. “What are you doing?” 
“Bringing you back to my room,” Zoro answered. “You didn’t get much sleep tonight. And I doubt anyone wants to watch me kissing you on the main deck anyway.” 
That was fair enough reasoning, so you didn’t complain, letting him carry you all the way to his cabin and gently lay you down onto his bed. He leaned over to press a gentle kiss to your lips—you could still taste the saltwater from your tears from before. “Want me to stay?” Zoro asked. 
“You don’t have to,” you said automatically, and Zoro raised both his eyebrows. You let out a sigh. “Okay, I get it. Yes. Please stay.” 
“All you had to say,” Zoro said, shedding himself of his shoes and swords before leaning over the bed to watch you. He didn’t slip under the covers or anything, just propped an arm up on the mattress, kneeling beside the bed. There was tender silence for a few moments before Zoro spoke again. 
“I love you,” he said abruptly, voice rough but somehow still soft. Your heart beat too fast in your chest, ribcage squeezing in on the organ and making it skip. His hand slid along the mattress to find yours, and you took the offer, fingers clasping around his palm. 
“I love you too,” you whispered back. Zoe leaned over, then, the hand not intertwined with yours tilting your jaw over just so to allow him better access to your mouth. He kissed you full-on, tender but firm, mouth working against yours in a way that unraveled you entirely. Your grip on his hand tightened as he deepened the kiss, a soft sound emitting from low in your throat. Finally you broke apart, heaving for breath, exhales mixing together midair. An exchange of souls, you’d heard once, somewhere. 
“Come on,” you murmured, tugging Zoro closer to the bed so he got the hint. He slipped beside you onto it, turning your head again to meet you in another kiss. His hand drifted down to your waist, holding you securely in place.  
“I don’t think anyone should need us for a few more hours, right?” Zoro asked, and you laughed. He swallowed up the sounds with his mouth, tongue licking languidly into you as he rubbed delicate circles into the skin of your waist. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered, and then he was kissing you again. 
You let him siphon the soul out of your lungs, knowing you were getting his right back. 
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© halfvalid 2023
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lovebugism · 8 months
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What about Eddie with shy!reader who still gets shy & flustered when he compliments/praises her even after being together for months now 🥺
hi love! this is such a sweet lil scenario! thanks sm for your request!! — the one where eddie is super good at making you feel pretty (but only because you make it so easy)
bug's summer fic fest ♡
“Does this look okay?” you ask for the hundredth time. Maybe millionth.
Eddie doesn’t shrug you off, though. He never does — not even when you’ve repeated the same question to him a thousand times.
The boy eyes your outfit like he’s really analyzing it, just like you wanted him to. In its fourth iteration, it looks only slightly different than the one before it, but he’ll take any opportunity to look at you that comes his way.
Most of the time, you can’t stand it when he stares at you for too long. Now he can do it all he wants because you’re asking him to. He feels a little like the luckiest guy on the planet.
“The skirt’s really pretty,” Eddie affirms with a nod. He’d argue that you’ve looked pretty in everything you’ve shown him, but he knows that’s not the answer you’re looking for. “I think I like it better than the jeans, actually.”
Even though you could wear almost anything and drive him insane, nothing beats seeing you in skirts. Something about your legs has always worked him wild — maybe because you keep them covered so often. 
It isn’t every day he gets to see you in these shorter bottoms. Those are only reserved for real special occasions. And, for some strange reason, you’ve decided that’s what Steve’s party is.
You look over your shoulder at the boy sprawled out on the edge of your bed. His wild hair and all black get-up looks much more jarring than usual against your baby pink comforter.
He’s dreadfully out of place in your girlish bedroom. You never want him to leave.
“You think so?” you wonder aloud, toying nervously with the hem of your white skater skirt. It’s not super short, stopping just below mid-thigh, but you’re nervous that it might be anyway.
Eddie scoffs like the answer’s obvious. “Totally. You look killer, babe. I’m gonna have to walk behind you all night to keep everyone from staring at you.”
Your nose scrunches at the crude compliment. Sometimes you wonder if Eddie thinks you’re prettier than you really are — like one of those funky carnival mirrors, but with the opposite effect. 
He’s under some sort of spell, you figure. He must be. 
You don’t deserve to be loved on as much as he loves on you.
“I’m being serious, Eds,” you argue halfheartedly as you turn back to the mirror. You tug at the bottom of your snug crop top when a sliver of your stomach starts to show.
The bed squeaks under his weight when he rises from his lounged position. He laughs and it sounds like sunshine. “I am being serious. You look amazing.”
“You always think I look amazing,” you murmur, flashing him a weak glare from beneath your lashes through the mirror. You’re not as annoyed as you seem. Embarrassed and a little undeserving, sure — but not annoyed.
“How’s that my fault?” Eddie scoffs with a chuckle. His chunky sneakers thud, thud, thud against your carpeted floor as he walks over to you. “If you didn’t look so pretty all the time, I wouldn’t have to compliment you, so… Checkmate.”
“Stop it…” you protest, mousy and only half-joking.
Eddie’s almost certain that none of his words ever get through to you. Every time he tells you something nice, you think he’s joking. He doesn’t know if it’s because he’s never been serious about anything in his life — other than you, of course — or if you don’t think you’re worthy of praise.
Maybe it’s a healthy mixture of both. 
It breaks his heart all the same.
Your back meets his chest when he stands behind you. His deep, musky cologne engulfs you like a fuzzy blanket. His ringed fingers are warm as they splay along your hips.
Even when he’s barely touching you, he makes you feel so held. 
“I mean it,” Eddie assures. His voice is soft, quiet, and serious — a stern sort of coo. His button-eyed gaze pierces your own as he stares at you in the mirror. He squeezes softly at your sides. “You look really pretty, babe. I think you should go with this one.”
Grateful that the attention is less on you and more on your outfit, you get less sheepish. “You don’t think it’s too much for a party?”
“No,” he answers with a curt shake of his wild head. “’S perfect. Honestly.”
You huff and lean back against him — not relaxed, exactly, just wanting to feel more of him. Eddie’s chin rests on your shoulder as your arms cross over your stomach. You look almost like you’re hugging yourself.
“Do you think they’ll like me?” you wonder, so quietly it sounds like a bunch of mumbles.
Eddie’s practically developed super-hearing after being with you for so long. 
He scoffs in response. “They’re gonna love you,” he promises, brows raised beneath his frizzy bangs. A pink smile tugs at his mouth. “Like, seriously. They’re gonna be obsessed with you. Henderson, especially. Him and Robin are gonna talk your ear off the whole night.”
You’re smiling before you realize it.
You love that he can imagine you so perfectly meshing with all the people he cares about. Your heart swells at the thought. You love fitting into his world.
“Really?”
“Really,” he nods with a scrunched nose. “And then I’m gonna have to share you with them and… You know what? Maybe this is a terrible idea.”
You exhale sharply through your nose in place of a laugh. You purse your lips to the side when you feel like you’re smiling too big. It takes over your whole mouth anyway.
Eddie watches your gaze duck towards the floor where his dirty sneakers stand alongside your shiny Mary Janes. He smiles at you like he’s just heard his favorite song on the radio — like he’s watching happiness incarnate and holding her in his hands.
“There it is,” he singsongs quietly. “I’ve been waiting to see you smile all night.”
Your face heats like a stove eye. You think you might actually burn him if he touched your cheeks just now.
“Stop,” you whine as if he’s hurt you in some way. You writhe in his arms to escape his grip, but he only holds you tighter.
“Sorry, babe,” Eddie apologizes, mostly insincere. He tucks his face into your shoulder and mumbles his words there. “You can’t escape me.”
He sprinkles tiny kisses on your neck. You raise your shoulders, not because you want him to stop, but because the softness of his touch tickles you there. You’d rather feel his lips against your own, anyway.
“You’re such a sap,” you tease as your head turns to peer up at him. The words leave your mouth so softly you might as well be telling him ‘I love you.’ In some ways, you are.
“I mean it, though,” he confesses. He seals his promise with a barely-there peck to the tip of your nose. His lips just barely brush your skin before he’s pulling away again. “You look pretty. Beautiful, even.”
You trap your smile between your teeth as you twist in his hold. Your arms stay pressed between your bodies while his arms embrace you wholly. “Beautiful, huh?” you echo with a sarcastic lilt.
“Uh-huh. Beautiful with a capital B.”
Despite how desperately you want to look away from his intent gaze — so full of love that they’re twinkling with it — you force yourself to keep his stare. “Well, I think you’re Beautiful with a capital B, too, Eds…”
Eddie beams at you, taking your compliment in stride. You wish you could do that, too.
“Thank you, baby,” he hums before smacking a kiss to your waiting mouth. He tastes like nicotine and spearmint and strawberry chapstick.
It’s over far quicker than you’d like it to be. He doesn’t seem as grieved by it as you do.
“Alright, babe. Let’s go,” he announces with a boyish grin when he parts from you. You smile as he heads out of your bedroom, picking up the purse on your desk as he goes. He knew you’d forget it otherwise. 
His voice comes muffled from the hallway, “Your chariot awaits!” 
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igotanidea · 2 months
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Weekend came early: Jason Todd x reader
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WARNING: SMUT MDNI!
A/N: I wish you all happy, evenful weekend ;)
***
It was just teasing. Nothing more. She really didn’t plan for it to end up like this.
Or—
Given how good she knew Jason’s tendency to get jealous easily--
Maybe she actually did?
***
It was Friday evening, the best day of the week, since there was two free out-of-work days on the horizon. Days Jason and Y/N were supposed to spend together for the first time in forever. He promised her that – no fighting, no blood, no patching up injuries and no vigilante bullshit.
But.
His promise only encompassed Saturday and Sunday, never including Friday.
Friday was the day when – as usual he was going to go on patrol and beat the shit out of some thugs, while playing the anti-hero.
And that left Y/N forced to tend to herself. To take care of herself in every possible meaning  of the word.
“What are you up to?” he peeked into the bedroom, observing his girlfriend, who was currently sitting in front of the mirror putting on her makeup and doing her hair, which was surprising to say the least. Ever since they met each other, years ago, dolling up and Y/N were two words that had rarely fitted in one sentence. Of course, since she was a woman, mascara, eyeshadows, lipstick and all other  make-up stuff Jason didn’t know the name of, was coming in handy sometimes, but--!. What the hell was she doing dressing up while he was about to go out?! Why was her hair shiny and flowing down her shoulders and back like a waterfall giving away the most intoxicating smell of her shampoo? Why were her lips red and her eyes so fucking seductive, highlighted by the distinct make up he never saw her wearing before!? And that look she gave him upon hearing his words? That teasing smile that adorned her face?!
WHO THE FUCK WAS SHE DOLLING UP FOR?!
What?” she teased turning towards him with a glint in the eyes. “Can’t a girl look good for herself? Am I supposed to wear sweatpants and have tear stains on my face just because you are out red hooding?”
“YES!” he had to put a hell lot of effort to prevent himself from bursting out with all the rage boiling inside him. Instead he settled on clenching his fist as a substitute for punching the wall. “Yes, you’re supposed to be pretty only for me!” Jason couldn’t care less that he was sounding like a male chauvinist.
“Now that’s a little mean, don’t you think?” she grinned innocently, batting her eyelashes freshly mascara-painted “I thought I was pretty all the time, not only when—“
“DO NOT FUCKING PLAY WITH ME Y/N!” it was so hard to hold back all that rage, jealousy, fear and the sudden feeling of betrayal. Almost as if the upcoming taking on the role of the Red Hood was influencing his behaviour as Jason Todd, the boyfriend¸ who was  always caring and gentle and loving.
Huh, apparently not anymore…..
Y/N only rolled her eyes in response, absolutely unfazed by the sudden change of tone, quickly putting finishing touches and getting up from behind the dressing table. Allowing Jason to see her fucking dress for the first time.
“WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU GOING IN THIS!?”
That piece of material was barely covering her, but perfectly accentuated her body, all those ideally shaped curves in all the right places.
His curves.
Fuck, he could already feel himself growing, the tactical pants becoming tight in the places they were not supposed to at the moment. She was doing it on purpose cause it was impossible that after all those years together she was oblivious and this stupid.
“Something wrong, baby?” her hips swayed when she took a few steps forward and put her hand on his bare shoulder. Right, cause he was only wearing his pants and no chest armour and jacket when her unusual preparations caught his attention, causing him to emerge from the bathroom.
“Where the hell are you going?!” he hissed  moving away from her touch despite all the instincts telling him otherwise.
“Oh, you know it’s nothing, just—“
“I told you to not play with me.”
“And I told you repeatedly that I am not intimidated by –“
‘Well maybe you should be.”  Just one move of his almost got her cornered. Almost, being the key word here, since the girl saw right through him, capably sneaking away.
“Don’t act crazy Jason. I’m just going out to have some fun.”
“FUN?!”
“Yeah.” she said in a completely innocent tone reaching for her coat “with my other boyfriend”
Jason froze.
Only for a second though.
And then his blood boiled.
She said other boyfriend.
“What did you just say?” the atmosphere in the apartment turned from playful and teasing into serious and heavy in a blink of an eye. “How many other boys do you have?!”
“Three, currently. “
“THREE?!”
“Had more, but cut down when we started dating. Besides you’re still my favourite so I don’t understand why you’re so angry about it. You’re the best in bed and -“
“WHAT?!!”  Was she even serious!  If Jason was the best that meant she had something to compare. Which could have only indicated that Y/N-. “You slept with someone else other than me!?”
Just the thought of other man kissing her in a way only he was allowed to, was too much. And there was a clear indication that there was more than just kissing. Other man- men- touched her. Traced her body, felt her moving underneath him, heard her calling- moaning- his name, had her hands all over him. Tasted her in a way that was reserved only for him. For Jason Peter Todd. Her fucking boyfriend.  
 “No.” he hissed grabbing her wrist and spinning her to him before she reached the door. “No.” Y/N met with eyes filled with lust and rage.
“What are you--?” she stuttered feeling him press her into the wall, not doing anything explicit, yet, but observing her like a prey, leaving minimum space between their bodies, once again trying to intimidate her and making it work this time.
“You won’t allow anyone to do what I do to you.” He leaned to whisper in her ear, hot breath laced with possessiveness hit her face “You understand me princess?” the unexpected grip and caress on her hips caused a little shiver to run through her body. “You’re mine. M-I-N-E, baby…” 
“You’re—You’re not the boss of me—“ she whimpered making it a little less firm than intended.
“Oh, I am not the boss?” he smirked tightening the grip on her, running fingers over her side, hooking over the hem of her short dress, tracing over her smooth thigh. “Maybe I should show you otherwise then?”
“I’m going—“ Y/N squirmed reaching for the doorknob
“Oh baby, I’m not really letting you.” Her wrist was gripped and pinned back to the wall next to her side stopping her from any movement.
“Good luck stopping me-“
There was really no space for her to fight him anymore, with those vigilante eyes tuned in on the slightest change in her expression, but she was trying nonetheless.
“You really want me to let you go, baby?” his lips brushed her cheek, his body pressing more into her. “Let another man touch you? Kiss you? See what belongs to me?” Jason’s thigh pressed between her legs causing her instinctive reaction in the form of grinding on it. “are you going to sleep with him?” he lifted the hem of her dress, reaching fingers to the inside of her thigh getting the exact shiver he craved.
“Yes!” she squealed even though her behaviour didn’t match the words at all.
“No, baby.”  He smiled softly, but his eyes were brutal and it wasn’t hard to guess what was coming for her if she kept on pushing and defying any longer.
“Ye-“
She never finished that sentence, getting pressed into the wall as Jason’s strong body claimed hers. He was done being gentle, biting her bottom lip, lifting her dress all the way up, instantly tearing off her little fancy panties, grabbing the back of her thighs wrapping her legs around him.
Grinding into her heat with the urgency and power of a predator brought to extreme.
The kiss was brutal to say the least. Almost violent. Boosted by the thought of her in the arms of another man. He won’t ever let it happen. She was his.
His, his, his. Only his.
And he was not going to share.
“Jason—“ she whimpered, but he didn’t listen. He was already ripping the upper part of her dress of, biting her neck, moving lips over her collarbone, kissing the part of her breast that weren’t covered by the bra. Marking the soft skin, making sure to leave a reminder who she belonged to. In case she forgot.
“Shit…” she moaned pulling at his hair, tightening her legs on him, leaving a wet trail on the pants he still had on.
Those actions only spurred him on, pushing him to rip off her bra, not caring whether it might have been expensive or her favourite, it had to go. Her breasts and those already stiff, pebbled nipples being the main object of his interest at the moment.
“Mine.” He hissed with voice hoarse, deep, full of uncontrollable lust for her body, grabbing onto the soft bosom, palming it and squeezing mercilessly in primal need to see the hand-shaped bruises all over it. “mine”. The other breast was devoured with his lips and tongue that was capably tasting her nipple, flicking and licking in that perfect way that never failed to make her melt into him. He knew exactly where and how to touch to elicit the perfect sounds and turn them both on to the extreme. For example, he was fully aware that tracing one finger at her sensitive spot, just at the swell of her chest, close to the side would make her cry out in pleasure and get even more wet. Making it so much easier to slid inside later.
“Jason!!” she grinded on him, raking nails down his back, scratching and leaving red marks in their wakes. Her back arched to him, wanting rather to feel his warm, broad bare chest rather than cold hard wall he was relentlessly pressing her into, getting possessive, dominant in the need to trap her.
His mind was screaming with simple thoughts: Possess her. Own her. Devour her.  Fuck her brains out.
They were already high, not even getting to the best part yet. And damn, she was dripping from the need of him.
“Jason—“
“Yeah?” he gasped pulling back only to resume his touches, tracing over her thigh getting another string of desperate mewls, smirking in complacency. “what did you want to say princess….?”
“I—“
“I’m listening….” His lips moved higher, brushing over her breast, neck, jaw, moving towards her earlobe, which he bit lightly. “You have my whole attention…”
“Mhm…” she tried to reach to his zipper, but Jason couldn’t let her have what she wanted just yet. She need to be taught what exclusivity meant. “Need you—“
“I know baby…” he smirked again, grinding his hardness more into her. Her sobbing and pleading didn’t do much to change his mind
“Please!” she sobbed, trying once more to free him, but ending up with hands pinned above her head completely helpless and at his mercy. She awoken the animal.
“Say my name princess.”
“Jason!”
“who do you belong to!?”
“You!” she moaned through the tears of need, burning from the desire to feel him, touch him, aching for the sensation only he could bring her.
“That’s fucking right. ME.”
One movement and one scream later she finally got what she wanted. It was just so easy for him to claim her given the fact she was already dripping with arousal.
At this point control was out the window.
Pushing, pulling, moving.
Lips clashing, teeth biting, hands exploring each other's bodies like they were meeting the soft skin and defined muscles all over again. Building the intensity and pleasure as never before.
Pain and pleasure.
Possessiveness and softness.
Her.
His.
Yes.
Almost there!
She was so soft, so warm, so fucking delicious and wet.
He was covered with sweat unable to hold back grunts and squeezing her body, hurting her and adoring all at once.
So close...
Yes....
Yes, yes, yes!
When she screamed his name one more time, digging nails into his back with the force she didn’t know she had, he had no choice but to follow right after.
Never ever before falling into the bottomless pit were so good.
Becoming one.
***
“Was I too rough?”
They vaguely remembered the moment when Jason, with the last of his strength, filled with care and bliss, cradled her in his arms carrying to the bed.
Silkiness of the sheets, gentle kisses and caresses, devoid of rush and voracity were the most stark and the most welcomed contrast to what they did against the wall some time earlier.
“No.” she smiled at him, their blissful eyes meeting. ‘I mean, maybe a little, but no.”
“Well in my defence—“ he started, the guilt upon seeing all her bruises and bite marks taking hold on him.
“There’s no one else but you.” Her soft voice and subtle touch on his cheek cut him off.
“But-“
“I lied.” She sighed, not apologising about it.
 “What? Why?”
“I don’t even know now.” Y/N rolled on her back, stretching herself without covering her body testing Jason’s self-control once more.
“Is there a possibility you missed me that much it forced you to push me past my limits?” he smirked, tracing one finger over her exposed belly in a very suggestive manner.
“You’re such a prick Jason Todd. I’m not adding to your blown up ego…”
“Maybe not with words—“ he laughed not stopping his actions, enjoying the Goosebumps that covered her body. “Admit it. You did miss me.”
“Mh. It’s impossible to wait till Saturday and Sunday to have you all to myself” She muttered
“Well I suppose the weekend came early for you baby.” He rolled on top of her starting another round.
Red hood, duties and that little dent in the wall that would cause them to say goodbye to the deposit money, has just became meaningless for the upcoming two and a half days.
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sujikuna · 1 year
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[ 18+ ] DILF IN QUESTION! — TOJI FUSHIGURO
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"so, want to date an old man with a kid?"
SUMMARY. in which you learn toji’s rightful secret . . .
DILF COLLECTION. guide . . .
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"annoying ass old man!"
you hate him. you really hate him. he's egoistic, self centered, narcissistic asshole.  you have been in a situationship or so they call it with toji. even if it's one you both knew that you both had something special. it was never a joke.
now toji fushiguro left you hanging. he ghosted you.
your friend told you to make it simple, "then text him, tell him that it's done and dump his ass," but she doesn't get it; none of them do.  "i can't! he'll hate me!" sure, you're younger than him. but you're not stupid. you know that it wasn't just a fling. you were aware of this.
"[name] he's a grown man, no surprise if he sleeps with other girls other than you." she starts, "guys his age usually use girls for sex." continuing, "just a reminder."
that's not how toji is. sure toji loves sex. but it isn't really like that.
he's crude for most times but he can be refined in his own manner. he loves you, he tells you that. and you can see it. how mornings are when you wake up with food beside you that he prepared. how he baths you after long nights. how he picks you up in uni after your class. how he leaves work for your call. or how sweet he is when he plants kisses all over your body.
you recall the last time you saw him, it was about three weeks ago.
you feel pure bliss after sex, cause it's that time where you and toji pretermit the mean and nasty words said earlier the night. the big man turns soft. to your surprise.
sounding exhausted, he questioned, "still with me?" with his remaining energy, toji pulls you closer to him so that your legs are on top of his and his head is resting on top of yours. a familiar position for the two of you. you too reply with a worn-out "mhm, very exhausted."  
"you like it when it's rough, don't you?" you laugh at his words. he's helping of you sleep with his sweet words.
"you're really pretty. so pretty. wanna stay like this forever baby." he whispers, "you're my woman, only for me."
"you're so sweet after sex, toji. be like this all the time," you chuckle.
"can you blame me? have I told you that your pussy so good it made me change my life ma." he continues to whisper kissing the side of your face as you laugh at his words, "quit playin' let's sleep baby."
it was the last time, and it was too sweet for you. did he act that way because he had intended to ghost you alone all along?
you [9:38 am] are we ok?
toji [10:45 pm] tomorrow, come to my apartment
you [10:50 pm] huh
you [10:50 pm] what time?
toji [10:55 pm] whenever you want, we're staying home all day
you expect to see toji as the door opens, but no, you're met with an unfamiliar kid looking at you. a boy. you assume from how he looks he's 7-8 years old.
"is . . . toji here?"
the kid blankly look at you, "yeah, why?"
he's blunt you thought, "um ... can i see him?"
"are you the friend he's talking about?" he asked questioning himself rather you. "dad's in the shower, come and wait inside." he says continuing. dad? dad? toji's a dad? he guides you inside like you don't know the place. you continue to follow him until he sat at one of the living room's sofa which cue you to sit too. what should you say?
"do you like him? dad?" he asked.
you can see now. how he's like toji. so blunt. straightforward. crude. even his eyes are like toji's. should you ask about her mother? is toji married that's why ghosted you? what do you answer him? is yes a safe answer.
"he's a nice guy." this is the safest way.
then he laughs, out loud. "nice guy, that's new. he's rude, my dad, but if he really likes you he'll be the best man you'll ever meet." adding he says, "i can see why now, you're exactly he's type."
lost for words you get interrupted by heavy steps coming from the side. toji's arrival. he comes in with his hair still dripping of water and a towel wrap around his waist. "oh, you're here. earlier than i expected." he says and you simply smile at him in response.
"you met each other. Y/N this is megumi my kid, megs this Y/N" toji sat beside you gripping the side of your waist. "hi megumi." you say a little smile forming on your lips.
"kid, go to your room and give us alone time."
megumi stands up, "she's nice, dad. nice choice." leaves his lips before he walked away and his words made toji laugh. "takes after me, can u see it doll."
"... you're really a dilf?" you started, "why didn't you tell me sooner? that's why you ghosted me?" you say questioning the man beside you.
"was scared, that's why. don't wanna scare you away if i say it. i already hate our situation." toji says, "don't wanna just sleep with you, wanna make you my mine." finding his right words, "takes courage even for a guy like me, you know."
finally a smirk curves his lips, "so, want to date an old man with a kid?"
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6K notes · View notes
corroded-hellfire · 1 year
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Love Comes Walking In - Eddie Munson x Reader
Summary: Eddie didn’t want to go to prom, until he wanted to go with Chrissy. You wanted to go to prom, but not if Eddie is going to go with Chrissy. But above everything, you want Eddie to be happy.
Note: this whole thing mostly came about because I wanted to write the one scene with Dustin. You’ll know the one.
Words: 6k
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Eddie teasing you was nothing new. His lighthearted jabs about your skirt making you look preppy or having sleepy eye boogers first thing in the morning roll off your back, occasionally even making you laugh along. But when he teases you about wanting to go to prom, that gets under your skin. 
Wanting one special night to wear a pretty gown with glowing makeup and neatly styled hair didn’t sound stupid to you. To your best friend, it seemed like torture. The whole school year Eddie would rag on you about buying into the whole conformist commercialism that you thought of as a rite of passage. That makes it even worse when he suddenly changes his tune just a week before the dance. 
“You’re being ridiculous,” Jeff complains. 
Eddie rolls his eyes and crosses his arms over his chest.
“Just because I changed my mind doesn’t mean I’m ridiculous,” he argues.
“You changed your mind because of a girl!” Gareth shouts. 
Jabbing your green beans with your plastic fork, you stay silent as the boys bicker back and forth. Part of you was also afraid to open your mouth, unsure of what would come out.
“You say that like I’d go to prom with any girl,” Eddie snaps. “I’m not saying I’m going, I’m saying I would go with Chrissy.”
The fork is clutched so hard in your hand that you think it’s going to snap in half. 
“What’s wrong with wanting to go with anyone?” Jeff asks.
Eddie waves a dismissive hand at him and wrinkles his face up in distaste, not bothering to give a verbal response. 
“Hypocrite,” you mumble under your breath.
“I am not.” Eddie stares at you and your head jerks up in surprise that he heard you. 
“Yes, you are,” you say. “You’ve made fun of me all year for wanting to go and now because you have a crush, it’s different? Bullshit.”
“I changed my mind,” Eddie reiterates. 
“Fine,” you say with a huff. It’s not worth arguing with him over. 
“Maybe you should apologize,” Dustin suggests softly.
“What?” Eddie asks.
“Come on, you have been on her ass about it all year,” Dustin says. 
“Thanks, Dustin,” you say. “But it’s fine.”
Eddie opens his mouth, but you don’t give him a chance to speak. Chair legs scraping against the floor, you push your seat back and stand up from the table. The guys all watch as you leave, dumping your tray in the trash before stalking out of the cafeteria. 
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Arguments with Eddie rarely happened. They’re so rare that neither of you know how to react when you next see each other. Are you still fighting? Has it been long enough where you both can pretend like nothing ever happened? There’s no chance to talk to one another in your shared algebra class the next day, so it wasn’t until lunch that you really came face to face. Eddie’s at the table before you, and you plop down in your usual seat next to him. 
“We cool?” Eddie asks as you’re in the middle of lifting a forkful of mac and cheese to your open mouth. 
“Uh, yeah,” you say, eyeing him over your full fork. “I guess.” 
“Good.” He slouches down in his seat, as if he can relax now that he knows you’re on good terms. “Oh shit, here I got you something.” Eddie reaches into his metal lunchbox and pulls out a Three Musketeers bar. “Band kids are selling candy, so I bought your favorite for you. Hide it before Henderson gets here or he’ll steal it.”
“Thanks,” you say with a grin. This was exactly the reason why your feelings for Eddie would never go away. Just when he pisses you off to the point where you swear you’re never going to sit with him at lunch again, he turns around and does something sweet and thoughtful without expecting anything in return. 
“Breaking news, losers,” Gareth says as he drops his tray on the table. “I have a prom date.”
“Well shit, I guess hell has frozen over,” Mike says as he and Dustin join the rest of you. 
“You’re not a senior,” Jeff points out.
“No, but my date is.” Gareth’s smirk is enough to earn an eye roll from both you and Eddie. 
“Who’s that desperate?” 
Gareth throws a French fry at you - which you dodge - before he answers. 
“Calling Kel desperate?” 
“What?” you almost screech. “How are you going with one of the sweetest girls at school?”
“I’m super cool,” he says, making the rest of you bust out in laughter. 
“But seriously,” Jeff says.
“You’re all assholes,” Gareth says before digging into his food. “At least I have a date.” 
Eddie goes to reply, but you’re afraid of what he’s going to say, so you scoop up your backpack and excuse yourself to the bathroom. Once you step out of the cafeteria, you roll out your neck and shoulders, trying not to think of Eddie back in there talking about prom with the guys. You push the girl’s bathroom door open and breathe a sigh of relief when you’re the only one in there. Dropping your bag on the floor between your feet, you lean forward on one of the sinks and look at yourself in the mirror. A few deep breaths later, you feel your body relax. It’s short lived, however, when the door squeaks open on old hinges and two cheerleaders step in. 
You feel bad for the guttural reaction you have to seeing Chrissy’s blonde ponytail swinging behind you in the mirror. She is a complete sweetheart who wouldn’t hurt a fly, but the jealous green-eyed monster rears its ugly head and your fingers dig into the cool porcelain. 
“It really sucks,” the other cheerleader says to Chrissy. You know you’ve seen her around, but you don’t know her name. Both cheerleaders park at the sinks next to you to touch up their makeup. Chrissy throws you a bright smile and a friendly wave before taking her lip gloss out and turning back towards her friend. 
“I know,” Chrissy says. “I knew we were going to break up, but I was hoping for it to be after prom. How am I supposed to find a new date in a week?”
“I’m sure you’ll have no problem with that,” her friend assures her.
“I don’t know,” Chrissy says with a sigh. “Everyone probably has their dates by now.”
You squeeze your eyes shut. Your pulse is raging in your ears and sweat is starting to make your hands slip against the sink. The internal debate rages inside of you. Do you let your jealousy get in the way of something that will make Eddie happy? It would throw away any shot you had of going to prom with Eddie yourself - but you know that was a long shot anyway. 
Still undecided, you take a step back from the sink, and your backpack falls over. You bend down to pick it up and the Three Musketeer bar falls out. It feels like your gaze should melt the chocolate that’s laying before you. Damn Eddie and his thoughtfulness at buying you the stupid candy. You toss it back in your bag, wincing as you prepare self-destruction. 
“Hey, Chrissy,” you say.
She turns to you with a smile, putting the top back on her lip gloss.
“Hey! What’s up?”
“I, uh, didn’t mean to eavesdrop,” you say as you slide your backpack on. You can’t manage to look her in the eyes as you speak. “But I know someone who doesn’t have a date yet.”
“You do?” She perks up in interest and the souring of your stomach almost keeps you from going further. 
“Yeah.” It sounds painful coming out of your mouth and you hope neither cheerleader notices. “Um, Eddie? Eddie Munson.”
“Really?” her friend asks. She crosses her arms over her chest and juts a hip out. You’re two seconds away from smacking the snotty look off her face when Chrissy speaks up.
“Eddie is great,” Chrissy says, looking over her shoulder at her friend before looking back at you. “Yeah, that sounds nice. Think he’ll say yes if I ask him?”
“I do.” Those two words were almost the hardest to get out. It was killing you how much of an understatement it was. 
“Okay!” The eagerness in her voice makes you want to cry. There’s no way you’ll be able to face Eddie back in there. 
“You can, um, ask him now if you want,” you say with a shrug. With a deep breath, you head towards the bathroom door. You stop halfway out the door and turn back around. “Oh, if Eddie asks,” you say, doubting he would because he’d be too consumed by the fact that his dreams were coming true, “can you just tell him I wasn’t feeling well and left?”
“No problem.” Her brow furrows in concern and she takes a step towards you. “Are you okay?”
“Fine.” It’s the biggest lie you’ve told in a while. “Cramps.” You put your hand to your lower abdomen and Chrissy gives you a sympathetic nod.
“Feel better!”
Without answering her, you walk out of the bathroom and down the hall, to the school exit. As soon as you slide into your car, the tears start. They start pouring so heavily and your hands shake so badly that you can’t put your key in the ignition. Momentarily giving up, you drop the keys in your lap and drop your head down to the steering wheel. 
Giving yourself enough time to get the worst of it out, you pull back and use your sleeves to wipe down your face. With a deep breath, you close your eyes and try to center yourself. After a few breaths in and out, in and out, you’re able to get the keys in the ignition on the first try. You pull your car out of the parking lot and head towards your house. The conversation you had with Chrissy keeps going through your head and you can’t keep from picturing the euphoric look that will be on Eddie’s face when she asks him. The saving grace you’re holding on to is the fact that Chrissy immediately defended Eddie to her friend. There aren’t many people in the school who would do that. 
Luckily, no one is home when you get to your house and you’re able to go inside and sulk in peace in your bed. More tears leak out as you hug your pillow to your chest. You must end up falling asleep because the persistent ringing of your doorbell jolts you awake sometime later. Heart racing from the adrenaline, you pull yourself out of bed and drag yourself to the front door. 
Eddie’s standing on the other side and it’s the first time his smile has ever broken your heart. 
“You are the best!” He swoops into your house and wraps you up in his arms. “Oh shit, sorry. I forgot, Chrissy said you’re having some girl pains.”
Right. 
“They’re better now that I’ve rested,” you say. “And you don’t have to thank me. Just doing what a good friend would do, right?”
“The best friend in the world!” He takes your head in his hands and presses a loud smacking kiss to your forehead. His happiness is infectious and despite your foul mood, a small smile curls on your mouth. 
“Now,” he says, taking both of his hands in yours. “We have to find a date for you.”
“Oh.” Your face drops and you shake your head. “I’m not going to go.”
It hadn’t occurred to you that Eddie would still be thinking about how you wanted to attend prom. The idea of his own perfect date should’ve been occupying his whole brain, but damn Eddie and his thoughtfulness. 
“What?” Eddie immediately frowns and it tugs at your heart. It tempts you to tell him you’ll go, but the mental image of Eddie dressed up and dancing with a flawless-as-usual Chrissy makes you bite your tongue. 
“You were right before,” you tell him. “It’s dumb and there’s shitty music. Plus, the dresses are way too expensive.” The dress you planned on wearing was already in your closet, but Eddie didn’t need to know that. 
“Are you sure?” Eddie dips his head down to meet your eyes. He raises an eyebrow at you questioningly. 
“Yeah,” you tell him. 
“I’m going to miss you there,” he says, and you almost slip up and laugh out loud at his statement. 
“Oh please, you’ll be having way too much fun to notice I’m not there.” 
“Like that could happen,” Eddie says with a skeptical look. 
You don’t bother arguing with him, even though you know he’s wrong. 
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On your way to the cafeteria the next day, you can’t bring yourself to walk in. You know if you do then you’re just going to be hearing about plans for prom and you don’t trust yourself not to break down in tears in front of everyone. There was no way you could avoid the guys entirely until prom, but you couldn’t face them today. Eddie doesn’t want to be with you. He wants to be with Chrissy. And you have to make yourself seem okay with that somehow. Just not today. 
There’s a vending machine on the way to the gym, so you pick up a bag of crackers and a bottle of coke. The gymnasium is empty, so you take a seat on the bottom row of bleachers and start to eat your sad little lunch. It’s easy to let your mind wander, so you try to redirect it away from where it wants to go. Usual calming fantasies revolve around Eddie in some way, but that’s out of the question right now. 
Your mind can’t stray far from Eddie though, so you let your mind divulge in a little dark fantasy as you eat. What would happen if you just ran away? What would happen if you just threw some clothes in a bag and bolted? You would never actually do it, but imagining Eddie being sad over you leaving brings you a sick sort of comfort. Because he would miss you. You know he loves you, it’s just not in the same way that you wish. 
As you crumble up your wrapper in your hand, the gym door opens and a familiar hat over tousled curls walks in. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even look at you, as he walks your way with his hands in his pockets. Sneakers squeak across the shiny floor and come to a sudden halt as he stops in front of you. 
Dustin dips his chin down and raises his eyes to look at you. He takes one hand out of his pocket and holds it out to you.
“Yes?” you ask, looking between his eyes and his hand. 
“I know what you did for Eddie,” he says. “We all know. Except for him, he’s an idiot. But it really was a nice thing to do. I never could’ve done it.”
“Thanks,” you say skeptically, unsure of where he was going with this. 
“He told us you said you don’t want to go to prom. I know that’s bullshit. So,” he says, bringing his hand back and extending it to you again, “I am asking you if I may take you to the prom.”
Your eyes immediately well with tears as you look up at the boy in front of you. Dustin was always one of the sweetest people you knew, but this was taking it to a whole other level. 
“Oh, Dustin,” you say. You take his hand and tug his arm until he’s sitting on the bleacher next to you. “That is the sweetest offer I’ve gotten in my entire life. But I can’t go to prom.”
Dustin sighs and nods his head.
“Can’t see them together?” he asks.
“Correct.”
He wraps his arm around you, and you rest your head on his shoulder.
“So, everyone knows, huh?” you ask. 
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but you stare at Eddie a lot.”
The laughter that bubbles out of you is so unexpected that you bring your hand up to cover your mouth. 
“I know,” you admit. “I do.”
“And you look at him differently than you look at anyone else,” he says. 
“Like he’s an idiot?” you ask and Dustin chuckles. 
“No, I think we all look at him that way.”
You sigh and pick your head up from Dustin’s shoulder. You pat his arm and give him a grateful smile.
“Dustin Henderson, you are the best. And if I were going to go to the prom with anybody at all, it would be you.” 
“Well, when I go to my senior prom, I hope I go with someone half as awesome as you.”
That makes the tears spill over and you hastily wipe them off your cheeks. 
“God, I love you.” You throw your arms around his neck and give him the tightest hug you’ve given anyone in a while. He chuckles as he hugs you back.
“Who doesn’t?”
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The night of prom comes, and you stand in your kitchen, alone in the house and in your comfiest sweats, making cookie dough. Screw warnings of not eating raw eggs, you were making this dough to eat, not cook. The last few days at school you went back to eat lunch with the guys but used a fake sore throat as an excuse for staying quiet and distant. You really only needed to fool Eddie though, since the other guys knew what was really going on with you. 
You take the bowl of cookie dough into the living room and set it down as you flip through the VHS tapes you’d rented earlier in the day. Steve had known about you not going to prom because, of course he did, Dustin tells him everything. You assured him it wasn’t a big deal, just wanting to get out with your movies. 
Settling on The Outsiders because you could stare at Rob Lowe all day, you pop the tape in and settle on the couch with your favorite blankets and your bowl of cookie dough. You can only eat about a quarter of the dough before your stomach has had enough. It sits on the table in front of you as you watch the rest of the movie. It’s not even eleven by the time the movie’s over but you don’t feel up to sitting through another one. You take the bowl of cookie dough back into the kitchen and stick it in the refrigerator. Thoughts of what’s happening at the prom have been trying to jam their way into your brain all night, but without the movie to distract you, those thoughts finally break in. Is there a slow song playing right now? Are Eddie’s hands on her hips or is one wrapped around her back while the other holds her hand? Is he having a good time? Are they playing any music that he likes? What did he end up wearing? You know you’ll end up seeing pictures but you’re not looking forward to seeing how pristine Chrissy is all dolled up when she’s naturally so beautiful on her own. Right now, you can imagine she’s wearing a garbage bag and her hair is all rolled up in curlers and her makeup looks like a clown’s. But once you see pictures, that illusion you’ve clung to will burst like a bubble in your heart. 
You press the heels of your palms to your eyes to try and stop the impending tears from falling. A few deep breaths and you get it under control. This heartbreak shit sucks. 
Before heading up to your room, you grab a water bottle from the fridge and your blanket off the couch. On your nightstand is a small radio and you click it on so you won’t be alone in silence with just your thoughts for company. The sheets feel cold and crisp as you slide into them. Putting your blanket back on top of you, you curl up on your side and nuzzle your face into your pillow. The light’s still on in your room, but you didn’t feel like getting up to turn it off.
The dial on your radio must’ve gotten knocked at some point - which happened often as you fumbled with things on your nightstand constantly - because smooth jazz starts playing and you huff a laugh into your pillow. You weren’t moving to fix that, either. When your parents come home, if you’ve already fallen asleep, your mom will turn both the radio and light off for you. 
But the jazz is actually more soothing the longer it plays. It calms your frayed nerves and helps you start to doze off, body finally giving in to the exhaustion you’ve been feeling from all the stress lately. 
In your half-asleep state, you hear your parents come home. They’re not exactly quiet walking around downstairs, but they also probably didn’t expect you to be sleeping this early. The thudding of your mom’s heels coming up the stairs echoes in the quiet hallway, drifting into you even over the radio. The footsteps keep coming towards your room and you’re looking forward to the sweet darkness you’ve craved when your mom gets to your room. But the lights don’t turn off. Instead, the bed dips next to you and you feel someone lay down beside you. 
She means well, you know, because she knew that you were bummed to miss prom, even if she didn’t know why. But the last thing you wanted right now was to have her try and talk to you about how you’re feeling. You know you’ll lose it and end up crying yet again. She stays quiet beside you though and you’re thankful for it. 
“I know you’re not asleep.”
The deep voice startles you and your eyes snap open. Eddie’s laying down on his side, facing you, head propped up on his arm. He’s smiling at you. It’s the first thing you notice before your eyes travel down, taking in the suit he’s wearing. Partially a suit, anyway. He’s wearing nice black slacks, which you didn’t even know he owned, with a maroon button up shirt. No jacket, but you’re not sure if he had one on earlier or not. He’s still your Eddie though, because he has his pick necklace on and his many rings adorning his fingers. 
“Look at you.” Your voice sounds a bit froggy between almost being asleep and all the crying you’ve done. “Not a stitch of denim in sight.”
Eddie chuckles. It sounds so nice. He leans over and presses a kiss to the top of your head.
“What’re you doing here?” you ask.
“Came by to see my best girl,” he says. Maybe he still says it out of habit, but you’re pretty sure you’ll be losing that title shortly. 
“But prom,” you say, whinier than you intended to. 
“It’s over,” he says.
You frown and crane your neck to see the clock on your dresser. The neon green tells you that it’s just after one in the morning. You must’ve dozed longer than you thought.
“How was it?” you ask, bracing yourself for the answer. 
“Pretty much how I expected it to be.”
“Oh yeah?” The fake smile on your face is starting to feel second nature, and you hate it. “Everything you’d hoped?”
“No,” he says with a laugh. He shakes his head and twirls the ring on one of his middle fingers with his thumb. “I was right the first time. Shitty music. Horrible punch - which Principal Higgins was guarding like he was trying to keep the Huns from invading China. People at our school can’t dance for shit, myself included. And to top it all off, my favorite person wasn’t there.”
Your brow scrunches together and you sit up in bed.
“She stood you up?” 
“What?” Eddie asks. When he realizes what you mean, he closes his eyes and smiles. “No, you dork. I meant you. You weren’t there.”
“Me?” you ask. The skepticism in your voice cuts right to Eddie’s heart. He frowns and scoots forward on the bed so he can rest his hand on your hip. 
“Yes, you. You’re doubting that you’re my favorite person?”
“Well, kind of,” you say quietly. 
“Why?” he asks, and his frown makes your heart plummet into your stomach. 
“It’s just, you were so excited to go with Chrissy.”
“I was,” he admits. “But just because I had a crush on a girl doesn’t mean that you’re not still my number one.”
Had. The one word sticks in your mind and you know there are other things you should say, better things, but the question is burning your tongue so it has to come out.
“Had a crush?” you ask. 
Eddie nods and rubs his thumb over your hip bone.
“Turns out a lot of crushes can go away quickly if you actually spend time with the person.”
“Did she say something? Do something?” you ask.
“No,” he says simply. “She’s great. There was just nothing to talk about after the first twenty minutes or so. She knows nothing about my interests, and I know nothing about hers.”
“Just didn’t click?” you ask.
“Yeah, exactly,” he says. He’s silent for a moment, mouth pursed in thought. “This is a horrible analogy, but it’s what came to mind. It’s like when a present is sitting there in front of you, and it’s wrapped beautifully. Ribbons and bows and all that jazz. You just stare at it and want it, imagining what kind of fun thing could be inside. Then, you finally get it, you can hold it in your hands. You open it and it’s a new shirt. It’s nice, but not what you were expecting. You don’t dislike the shirt, it’s just not the present you wanted.” 
“Look at you with the metaphors,” you say with a smirk. “Senior English three times and you’re a full-on scholar now.”
He rolls his eyes at you and playfully squeezes the skin at your hip.
“I was being serious,” he says.
“I know. And I get it. You kissed a frog who didn’t turn into a princess.”
“And you thought I had an odd way of putting it,” Eddie says with a laugh. “But I didn’t even kiss her before I knew there was nothing there. Once the excitement wore off it was pretty boring, actually.” 
“I’m sorry it wasn’t what you wanted,” you tell him honestly. 
“I’ve always known the prom itself would suck. Just thought it might be fun with the right date. And it might’ve been, but I didn’t have that.” He takes a deep breath and looks into your eyes. “I should’ve brought you.”
The tears are coming but you force them to hold their position. It’s hard not to yell at him that that’s what you’ve wanted all along. But there’s no point. Any begging or pleading before the prom wouldn’t have gotten him to agree to take you. So, instead of living in the ‘if you realized this sooner I could have gotten to go to my prom’, you let it go by and just appreciate the fact that he wishes he had gone with you instead of Chrissy. 
“But I’ve had an idea,” Eddie says as he pushes himself off your bed. 
“And what’s that?”
“Well,” he says as he walks over to your closet. “First things first, I’ve got to see what we’re working with here.” 
“Why?” You scoot down to the foot of the bed to see what he’s doing more clearly. He’s going through your clothes, inspecting every piece, and deeming them unfit for whatever scheme he’s cooked up in his brain. 
“You’ll see. Wait. Are you kidding me?” He reaches into the back of your closet and pulls out the gold dress that you had bought for prom. “You told me you didn’t get a dress!”
“How do you know I haven’t had that dress for a while?” But your blush won’t let you get away with the lie.
“Well for starters, the tag is still on it.” He brandishes it to you and you huff.
“Okay, yeah, yeah, I had a dress. But I didn’t want to go, and I didn’t think you’d end up riling through my closet anyway.” 
“Put it on,” he says, tossing its hanger into your lap.
“I’m sorry, what?” The dress tries to slide from your lap to the floor, so you pull it up and lay it down on the bed next to you.”
“Put it on,” he says slower this time, as if that should clear up everything. 
“Why?” 
“Because I want to dance with you,” he says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “I mean, I’d dance with you in your sweats, but I thought you might want to get all dolled up like me.” He smirks and runs his hands down the buttons of his maroon shirt. 
“You want to dance with me?” Maybe you’re still asleep and this is all a dream. 
“Yeah.” Again, he says it as if it’s something you do every day. His casual tone is making you think you’re the one who’s not making sense. 
“Okay,” you say as you stand. “I guess I’ll go change.”
“This is your room,” Eddie says, heading to the door. “Change here, I’ll wait out here.” He walks into the hallway, closing your bedroom door behind him. 
You slip the sweatpants down your legs and tug the sweatshirt off over your head. The single strapless bra you own is at the bottom of the drawer and you have to dig your way down to find it. The gold dress has a halter neckline so there’s no way you could wear a regular bra underneath. You squeeze the bra on, and even change your panties from blue ones with butterflies on it, to one of the few lace ones you own. 
The dress unzips easily and glides down your body as you get situated. You can’t zip it yourself, but Eddie can do that for you. Most of the makeup you own is in the bathroom, but you can make do with the little bit sitting over on your dresser. Looking in the mirror, you do a soft layer of makeup and then inspect your hair. It strikes you as funny when you see yourself in a golden dress with makeup on, but total bedhead up on top. You yank the scrunchie out of your hair and shake your head to toss your hair around. It looks better but not great. Your eyes land on a silver hair clip dotted with pearls and you reach up to tuck some of your hair back and secure it with the pin. There. The look is done. 
When you open your bedroom door you expect Eddie to be waiting there but you don’t see him. You stick your head into the hall and look both ways but see no metal head. 
“Eddie?” you call.
“Coming!”
He jogs out of your dad’s office a few doors down, carrying a few sheets of paper. Eddie comes to a halt as he takes in your appearance. Heat blooms in your face as you watch Eddie scan every last detail of this ensemble. 
“You look gorgeous,” he says. It’s enough to make you pass out, but you somehow stay standing firm.
“Thank you,” you say. “You look very handsome. Did I tell you that when you first got here?”
“No,” he says with a chuckle. “Just a remark about me not wearing any denim.”
“Which is truly a miracle. But you do look handsome. Very handsome.”
He smiles and takes steps towards you, paper still in his hands.
“What’s this?” you ask.
“I’m not very good at origami, but I did my best to turn this sheet of paper into a corsage.”
Your heart leaps at his words and it’s another battle of wills with your tears when Eddie slips his improvised flower on your wrist. Some tears win the battle, and they trail down your face. Luckily, you were smart enough to apply waterproof makeup. 
“Eddie, this is…” you trail off, not having the words to express how you’re feeling. 
“You wanted prom, so I’m giving you prom.” He takes both of your hands in his and guides you back into your bedroom. He closes the door behind him with his foot, his eyes never leaving your face. 
“Can you zip me up?” you ask. He nods and you turn around. His hands against your back sends a shiver up your spine and goosebumps break out over your arms. You hear him chuckle and he trails the tips of his fingers over your shoulders as you turn back around.
“What’s with the smooth jazz?” Eddie can’t help but laugh at the saxophone solo coming in over the speakers. 
“I hit the dial again.”
“Well, let’s fix that.” He bends down and turns the dial to find a good station. The static goes in and out, some songs coming through in pieces, or sounding like they’re underwater. It finally lands on a clear station and Eddie grins in triumph. “Perfect. Love Comes Walking In.”
“You know I love Van Halen.”
Eddie stands up straight and takes the few steps over to you. He bows in classic dramatic Eddie fashion, and he comes back up with a frown on his face.
“You’re not wearing heels. Or shoes at all.”
“Eddie, I would’ve kicked them off the moment I got there anyway,” you tell him with a laugh. “Barefoot is fine.”
“Just checking. Want this to be an authentic impromptu prom for you.”
You giggle and Eddie reaches his hand out to you. You take it and he instantly pulls you in and holds you against his body. It would be a miracle if he couldn’t feel or hear your heart beating so fast it’s like someone is dribbling a basketball beneath your ribs. His right hand takes your left and he twines your fingers together. His other hand snakes around your waist until it settles warmly on your back. You place your other hand on his shoulder and smile up at him.
“This is already better than actual prom,” he says. “Good music. Perfect date.”
Red rises to your cheeks and you duck your head shyly. 
The pair of you sway to the beat of the song, bodies moving along with the rhythm. Eddie spins you and it makes you let out a giddy peal of laughter. He pulls you back into him and you wrap both arms around his neck. He places his hands firmly on your waist as you start to sway again. 
“Thank you,” you say.
“For what?”
“You brought all the best parts of prom to me. I didn’t have to suffer through the shitty parts. I’ve got my dress, my music, my favorite person. It’s perfect, Eddie.” 
“I’ll dance like this with you anytime,” he says. “All you have to do is ask.”
The way he’s looking at you stirs some butterflies up that have been dormant until this point. He’s never looked at you this way and you’re not sure what it is. You know every Eddie facial expression and what they mean, but this one is new. His face is soft, and his eyes are wide, as usual. The brown irises are twinkling and there’s the barest smile on the left side of his mouth. 
“What are you thinking about?” you ask. 
“You,” he says. No further explanation, which leads your mind to grasping for answers as usual. 
“What about me?”
“Just…you.”
“Okay, I take back what I said about being a scholar now. You’ve lost the ability to words,” you say and wrinkle up your nose playfully at him. He catches you by surprise, though, when he leans forward and presses a kiss to the very tip of your nose. 
The blush you had before was nothing to the one now gracing your features. Eddie chuckles when he sees it and leans forward to rest his forehead against yours. 
“Do you want to have another prom tomorrow?” he asks.
“What’s that entail? Dancing with you?”
“Yes.”
“Good music?”
“Of course.”
“Can I wear comfy clothes?”
“I’ll be wearing mine.”
“Hmm,” you hum, pretending to consider it. “Can we get food too?”
“Whatever you want.”
“I like the sound of that,” you say with a smirk.
“Is that a yes?” Eddie asks.
“Eddie, I’d have this kind of prom with you every single day.”
“Don’t tempt me, sweetheart.”
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