Latest Posts by anonymouskiwi - Page 5

Too little, too late

geto who smokes like its his biggest hobby, but you despise it. every time he kisses you, the bitter taste of tobacco leaves you wrinkling your nose and pulling away all too soon. you never say anything about it, but geto can sense your displeasure every time he reaches for a cigarette.

one day, he reaches into his back pocket for a routine smoke, knowing your eyes are trailing his every move. you expect him to shake out a cigarette, but instead he drops the pack to the ground and steps on it, eyes never leaving yours. you open your mouth to say something, but his lips cut off your voice.

he kisses you hard, his fingers tangling in your hair, his teeth pulling at your lips. his mouth moves against yours in such desperation  that you can’t help but gasp. he pulls you against his chest, so close that you don’t know where you end and he begins. he pulls back, violet gaze slipping over your hazed expression.

“i-your cigarettes?”

he runs a thumb over your cheek before he leans down to whisper in your ear. his voice makes you shiver when he says,

“i can only handle one addiction at a time.”

Boyfriend!Eddie Munson Headcanons

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧ He’d always make mixtapes/playlists for you for any occasion, “songs that remind me of us” “we should make out to this rhythm” type of thing.

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧ He’d drag you to every underground metal concert he can find but he would also go to any concert you want.

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧ Following the above, he would do anything to get you tickets for your favourite artist, like anything! Camping the night before to be early in line -modern Eddie would have a laptop, 3 phones and a tablet to get you tickets-

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧ Late night drives with your boy, yup! Blasting music, windows down and taking random turns until you end up in a secluded spot and make out for hours. (Maybe more)

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧ Eddie is definitely a total romantic, he would write you cheesy love notes on scraps of paper, make poems for you, showing up late at night outside your window with a flower he stole from your neighbour yard.

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧ He would try on making breakfast for you, but it’s mostly just burnt toast and half cooked scrambled eggs, he tried tho!

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧ Touchy touchy, this man can’t take his hands off of you, pinching your cheeks, hand on your lower back, on your knees, caressing your arm, kisses on your forehead and neck and so on.

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧ Eddie definitely needs a lot of reassurance, deep inside he always feels like people would eventually leave him, he desperately wants you to reassure him but struggles to ask for it, but once you do it and tell him there’s no one else you’d rather be, he melts instantly!

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧ He’s really into matching tattoos and would love to get one with you but if you’re hesitant about, he’d just draw one on you with a sharpie.

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧ ridiculously overprotective, you stub your toe, he’s like “Who did this to you?” Then proceeds to flip of the chair or hit the couch with his foot and ends up hurting himself too!

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧He’s sooo dramatic when he gets a cold, acts like he’s dying, all tucked acting like he’s on his deathbed holding your hand dramatically “my love…i don’t think I’d make it this time”

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧ He can’t lie and definitely can’t keep secrets from you, if he has planned a surprise for you, he’s going to mess up immediately “Okay but when we get to the… I mean the totally normal thing we're doing! Forget what i said that!”

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧ He would stole your snacks and leftovers, his logic? “What’s yours is mine, love. That’s how love works”

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧ He takes fake offence to everything, if you say you don’t like a band he loves he would act as if you just stabbed him.

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧ He’s genuinely protective of you, if someone upset you he goes full beast mode, “do I need to kick someone’s ass?” He doesn’t play about you or your safety.

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧ if he’s ever mad at you, he would never be mean, he may cross his arms and grumble but the moment you give him puppy eyes he melts “you’re so lucky I love you, you little gremlin”

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧ Our boy is a crybaby but he never had someone to rely on until he found you, he would try to hold his tears but the moment you hug him and whisper “I got you, Eds” it’s over, he buries his face on your shoulder shaking as he sobs.

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧ He loves making gifts for you, he thinks it’s way more romantic, he would spent hours making the perfect necklace, ring for you, love letters, a scrapbook with all the memories you’ve made together, concert tickets, Polaroids.

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧He totally loves your quirks, if you’re into collecting rocks, you better believe he would get you the prettiest rocks!

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧He would give you one of his rings and if it doesn’t fit on your finger because it’s too big he would turn it into a necklace.

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧he would give the most out of place birthday cards “congratulations on your promotion” “yaaaaaaaaay”

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧He gives you his stuff to you for no reason, his jacket? Take it, his favourite band pin? Take it. If you ever mention liking something he has, straight right into your hands “No, really take it, I don’t even need it” he probably does need it.

We’re close to valetine’s day baddies!

Divider: @adornedwithlight

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Being Sukuna’s girlfriend is not always easy. He’s the type to show his love rarely, but when he does, it’s aggressive, to say the least.

You’ll often wake up with his large hand wrapped around your neck, his warm fingers just long enough to reach around your entire throat. At first, it was startling—a demon man you just started dating who shows basically no affection is choking you in your sleep? Was he trying to kill you and just got tired half way through??

All of your questions cease although, the moment you find out why he does this. You decided to pretend to be asleep one night as you were lying in his royal chambers, covered in love bites from moments before when he decided to suckle and nip at your skin—another strange way he shows his love for you. Your eyes flutter shut as soon as you hear him walk out of the bathroom, knowing he’s just finished brushing his teeth and is now ready for bed.

The mattress dips when he lies down next to you, inches away at first, but when you feel his large frame hover over your face to make sure you’re asleep, he moves right up against your back. You’re surprised to feel one of his muscular arms wrap tightly around your waist, the other reaching under your head so that you’re essentially using him as a pillow. His chest rumbles lowly when his hand moves below your chin, fingers carefully wrapping around your throat as usual.

You’re waiting for a squeeze, the tip of one of his nails jutting into your skin, or even a few harsh words in your ear. But all you feel next is his fingers tightening slowly, the tip of his index hovering just above your pulse point, before pressing into your soft, pliant skin. You feel your heart race against the pad of his finger, then another rumble from his chest against your back.

“Mine,” he whispers gently, before running his thumb over the soft edge of your jawline. He then presses one last kiss to the top of your head before lying his head down and closing his eyes.

Let’s just say, you never question his weird, sometimes animalistic, possession over you; because in reality, he’s just a big guy who doesn’t know how to express his unyielding love for you.

It’s givinggggggg tiger!sukuna. Should I…explore the waters of that concept more? I probably will despite the reaction to this💪🏻🫡

“you, stop . . moving,” sukuna prowls, the base of his chin sat on top of your thighs.

you were in your usual spot, waiting for him to return from whatever battle had him occupied for half the day. moments later, you’re now slouched back against sukuna’s throne with a very grumpy, pouty demon lying his head against the center of your lap. before you could even part your lips to ask him what happened this time, sukuna grumbles. “bad. very bad day, little one.”

humming, you strum a few feathery fingers toward the pink roots of his hair before softly digging a path through his tender scalp. “oh. well, wanna talk about it?”

“no,” he replies gruffly with an abrupt quickness, his pout growing the more he remembered about his day. however, as your fingers continued to comb through his silk tresses, sukuna buried his face between your thighs. “i need… to recharge.”

“most people would drink water or eat somet-”

“shut up.”

“…..”

slowly peeking from between the warmth of your glued legs, sukuna notices the pausing halt on your fingers that played with his hair and he scowls. oh, he’s pouting, and with a cute, annoyed grumble, he avoids your gaze.

“i told you to shut up, not . . to stop doing that. go on. hmph.”

rolling your eyes, you gave him a subtle head pat before hearing a loud sigh exit between your thighs. he’s usually never this clingy, and you remained quiet - wondering just what happened in his day for him to behave so … needy.

your fingers resumed its maze through his scalp tenderly, and his long lashes fluttered close - a soft content sigh dragging away from his thinly parted lips. in a way, you had to admit — this looked silly.

a huge, burly thousand-year-old curse of a demon positioned between your thighs. it was merely comical, and yet, sukuna could really care less.

the king of curses didn’t have a weakness - except you.

“mmgh-” he’d grunt, tilting his head to the left before he felt your thumb gingerly scratching behind his ear. for a second, you think you saw his nose twitching too. sukuna’s pink brows were still forcibly furrowed together, perfectly expressing his stubborn frustration before he let off another noise.

this time though - it’s different . .

it’s a subtle, cooing ‘rrrrr’ sound that’s deeply low. the entire sound alone from sukuna makes your thighs shake a bit and you look down at him with a perplexed look.

“ ‘kuna?” you murmured, the swirling circles of your finger stopping once again. a cunning grin gradually creased against your lips before you gasped. “did you just … purr?”

“i don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

“that noise you just made.”

sukuna rolls his eyes, his scratchy voice a bit muffled from how he nearly sank between the arc of your thighs. “pft. i was clearing my throat, obviously. you humans and your delusions-”

“nooo, i heard it,” you cheekily simpered, pinching his cheek. that earned a disgusted glower from him before you brought your fingers back toward behind his ear. “i scratched behind hereeee ‘n then . . you made that sound.”

the demon’s breath hitched once he felt the tip of your stubby thumb leisurely trail its way near behind his ear. instantaneously, his ear even twitched at your delicate touch and his eyes were just whining for more. for once, sukuna doesn’t have a witty remark and he’s just allowing you to toy your fingers against his balmy skin.

“stupid …. it wasn’t a purr. that’s insulting.”

“oh, my bad. what was it then?”

sukuna glares at you, and you return with a smug expression. damn.

sighing, sukuna’s shoulder slacken. “whatever. anyways,” he grumps, his chin sitting back onto your right leg. crimson eyes flicker up toward you before he pouts. “scratch behind my ear again. see what happens.”

“or what, you’ll purr again? ooh. scary.”

sukuna’s cheeks were so flushed - on the very cusps of shading into a bright hue of vermillion before he scoffs. “ha! do it. you wo- mmmmrr-”

cutting him off, you give him a good scratch behind his ear once more, and again—that sound comes out. a soothing, content purr from sukuna that cutely makes his whole body faintly rumble against your thighs.

it wasn’t just the purring, it was all of his changing body language that occurred too.

whenever your fingers would swiftly dash across the sensitive territory that was located behind his ear, sukuna turned into an entire different person. his eyelids would hang low, his nose would twitch, and his usual grumpy expression would slowly switch to a more… tame one.

it’s like your fingers had some sort of magic, and it irritated him but it also made him . . craving more of your touch. “there there,” you hummed, feeling him relax against your touch. your fingertips were always so gentle, dancing down the outer edge of his ear as the low, purring noise continued.

it only lasted for a few seconds but to sukuna, it felt like many, many hours..

the scratching had him nearly hypnotized - and he was already closing his eyes, forgetting all about his horrible day. you silently watched as the curse’s pink slit brows curled apart from its usual furrow, and you could almost see his pout turning into a tiny smile.

it’s a half-almost smile, and sukuna’s starting to feel himself eventually falling asleep.

“such a cat,” you teasingly mumbled, hearing his ragged breaths suddenly come to a mesmeric slow. sukuna deeply sighs, cool puffs of air from his nostrils falling against your thighs. you weren’t sure if he was fully asleep or not, so you gave him a soft poke.

nothing.

giggling, you laid back against his throne as he remained in his same spot—head laid on your thighs as he was kneeling before you. you don’t think you’ve ever seen sukuna so relaxed. he’s usually so angry - so full of hate and uncontrollable rage but now, he looks finally at peace.

at peace in his favorite spot - between your thighs.

in a soft lulling voice, you gave his head a small pat before leaning down to kiss his forehead. “i love you, ‘kuna. sleep well.”

“hng- i love …. you too, little one.” he’d groggily reply, pressing plush lips against the crevice of your thigh.

“never talk about this again, by the way. or els-”

you interrupt his tiny threat by scratching behind his ear one more time and sukuna purrs even louder than before. it’s more high-pitched this time, and he opens his eyes before a pink tint spreads across his face once he realized he purred again.

“d- damn it..”

the first time you found nanami huddled in your shared room, you almost called an ambulance. huddling wasn’t exactly his thing. was he sick? dying? both? your mind raced through scenarios of him stoically hiding a terminal illness because “it’s not proper to trouble others.” but as you cautiously approached, ready to demand answers, you noticed the makeshift fort he’d built from your shared bedding. not just that—he’d constructed a fortress of books, an outright barricade. he looked up from his current read, glasses perched on his nose, and said, “it’s my day off.” oh. that was... anticlimactic. turns out, nanami decompresses by becoming a literature troll.

the first time you found gojo huddled in your shared room, you didn’t panic—you assumed he was trying to weasel his way out of work. which, frankly, was strange, given how much he adored tormenting his students with nonsensical training exercises. but when you walked in, the room was a battlefield. wrappers. so many wrappers. chocolates, gummies, cookies, things you weren’t even sure were technically edible. gojo lay in the middle of it, like some sugary war general, twirling a lollipop stick between his fingers. “self-care, babe,” he said with a grin, crumbs everywhere. you left him to it, but not before muttering about how cleaning up was also self-care.

the first time you found geto huddled in your shared room, your heart sank. geto huddling was a bad sign. you thought he was doing okay, considering everything—therapy sessions, reconnecting with friends, the works. but then you noticed what he was holding. a single strand of hair. his hair. your brain struggled to compute. “it’s broken,” he muttered, eyes fixed on the offending strand. “this means split ends, doesn’t it?” you blinked. his depression wasn’t back; his vanity was. “great. just great,” he sighed dramatically, retreating further into his silk pillow cave. you left him to mourn in peace.

the first time you found toji huddled in your shared room, it was well past his usual working hours. considering he’d only dragged himself home at 4am the previous night, you figured exhaustion had finally caught up to him. toji was not the type to stop moving. ever. “tired?” you asked gently. he looked up, smirking. “nah. retired.” your jaw dropped. retired? as in permanently? the man who treated work like a full-contact sport? but no joke followed. he was serious. you didn’t think you’d ever been happier in your entire life. toji laughed at your dumbfounded expression before pulling you into his ridiculous bear hug. “you’re stuck with me now, sweetheart.”

the first time you found sukuna huddled in your shared room, you froze. mostly because he was snoring. loudly. like a lion on steroids. the man could bring a house down with his sleep volume. you glanced at the peaceful chaos that was your room: one arm hanging off the bed, his face buried into your pillow like it personally offended him, and faint murmurs of incomprehensible sleep-speak. you made a calculated decision and tiptoed out, because waking sukuna from his hibernation seemed like a bad life choice. whatever ancient curse he was dreaming about could wait. better let the man sleep—who knew what destruction he’d bring when he woke up?

you wouldn’t expect sukuna to take care of you when you’re ill but surprisingly when you answer the doorbell you see your oversized cat — I mean your boyfriend standing there with a bag in his hand.

he tuts, looking at you up and down. runny nose, disheveled hair and tired eyes.

‘Stay away from me if you’re ill’ the tall figure states, coming into your apartment and taking off his shoes.

‘you’re the one who came over kuna.’

‘yeah only because you needed medicine.’

‘I could have gone and got it myself.’

‘fat chance. I also brought soup.’

‘you made some?’

‘no.’ He deadpans, looking at you. ‘who do you think I am? I bought it.’

‘right, sorry for assuming.’

‘why aren’t you in bed?’

you rolled your eyes, ‘I’m answering the door for you idiot.’

‘if you stand near me any longer you’re going to get even more sick. go away.’

that’s code word for ‘get your ass in bed and let me take care of you.’ you’re pretty fluent in the language of your boyfriend.

you say nothing in response and does as he says, disappearing under his sheets.

soon, he approaches you in bed with hot bowl of soup and your medicine. a glass of water is placed on your bedside table and he hovers around, making sure that you eat every last drop.

he doesn’t leave until you’re done, taking your bowl and telling you to sleep.

‘are you going now?’

‘going where?’

‘home.’

‘why would I?’

you shrug your shoulders. your head is heavy from your illness, throbbing from a headache. ‘thought you didn’t want to be around a sick person for too long’

sukuna holds back a scoff, ‘gotta make sure you don’t catch a fever or something as soon as I leave, I know you’ll try to do some work instead of resting.’

‘so you’re guarding me.’

‘If that’s how you want to see it.’

‘romantic.’

he makes a disgusted face, ‘go to sleep.’

Just as he promised he’s there when you awake and sukuna doesn’t leave for the next two days, making sure your illness is gone and that you’ve fully recovered.

spoiler alert: the soup he gave you was homemade but he didn’t want to admit it. :)

gojo calls you every name but your actual name—sweetheart, baby, pookie bear, sometimes even "oi, babe"—but never your actual name. so when he finally did, when he looked at you dead in the eyes and said it, your whole body stiffened. "are you okay?" you asked immediately, squinting at him like he was on his deathbed. "blink twice if you need help." you even reached out to check his forehead for a fever, because surely, this was a medical emergency. gojo just blinked at you, utterly confused, before doubling over in laughter. "you seriously think i'm unwell just 'cause i said your name? that's so messed up—i love it."

nanami calls you every name but your actual name—dear, love, sometimes just a heavy sigh paired with a side glance. so when he actually did, when his voice dropped and he spoke your name with the weight of a thousand bricks, you felt your stomach sink. "is this a breakup?" you blurted out before he could even continue. nanami blinked at you, his brow twitching. "what?" you crossed your arms. "you're using my actual name," you pointed out. "is this a professional resignation from this relationship?" nanami exhaled sharply, rubbing his temples. "no. i was just asking if you wanted coffee." but the damage was done. you spent the rest of the day side-eyeing him, just in case.

geto calls you every name but your actual name—angel, sunshine, princess, even "chipmunk" when you get on his nerves. so when he finally did, when he said your name with a certain weight, you panicked. "oh my god," you gasped. "you found out, didn't you?"

"found out what?" his eyes narrowed. "the shampoo," you admitted, guilt weighing heavy on your conscience. "i've been using your fancy shampoo. that’s why you keep running out so fast." geto just stared at you, eyes unreadable. then, very slowly, he leaned back, crossed his arms, and nodded. "that explains a lot."

"are you mad?"

"no. just disappointed." ouch.

toji calls you every name but your actual name—doll, sweetheart, brat, depending on his mood. so when he actually did, when he gritted out your name over the phone in the middle of the night, your stomach dropped. "oh my god," you whispered. "are you dying?"

"what?"

"you're out on a job, aren't you? is this a last words kind of call? should i be preparing for the worst?" toji groaned, the sound of gunfire faint in the background. "jesus. i just needed you to grab my extra ammo from the closet."

"oh."

"...but now that you mention it, maybe bring a first aid kit too."

choso calls you every name but your actual name—babe, honey, sometimes just a hum of acknowledgment. so when he actually did, when he uttered your name so carefully, you felt your chest tighten. "you're friendzoning me," you whispered, horror-stricken. "this is the end." choso blinked, his face scrunching up in genuine confusion. "what? no. i was just—"

"it's okay," you sniffed. "you wanted to let me down easy, huh? didn't want to go for the direct breakup."

"babe, i was literally just asking if you wanted extra sauce on your food." but it was too late. you had already started mourning your relationship.

sukuna calls you every name but your actual name—dove, brat, little one, sometimes even "human" when he's particularly irritated. so when he finally did, when his voice wrapped around your name with sharp precision, your survival instincts kicked in immediately. "listen, listen, i didn't do anything," you pleaded, hands raised. "whatever it is, it wasn't me. i swear. please don't kill me." sukuna just stared at you, unimpressed. "i was literally just calling you."

"yeah, exactly," you said, eyes darting for possible escape routes. "why would you use my actual name unless i'm in serious danger? is this a death sentence? am i about to be vaporized?" sukuna rolled his eyes, exhaling sharply. "you're so dramatic."

"says the one who tears people apart for fun!"

Inked forever// Eddie Munson x fem reader.

The low hum of Eddie's favorite heavy metal playlist filled the air, the raspy voice of a singer echoing off the walls of his room. You were curled up on Eddie's bed, one leg draped lazily over his, your fingers absentmindedly tracing the lines of a tattoo that stretched across his forearm. The intricate skull and rose design had always been your favorite.

He smirked, dark brown eyes flickering up from the comic book he was pretending to read. "See something you like, sweetheart?"

"Always," you teased, giving him a soft pinch on the arm. You couldn't help but grin at the boy sprawled out next to you. His wild curls fell messily around his face, his Hellfire Club shirt worn and slightly frayed at the edges. God, you loved him like this—comfortable, content, and completely unfiltered.

"What's going on in that pretty little head of yours?" Eddie asked, setting his comic book aside. His fingers found their way to your hand, playing with your rings as he waited for you to speak.

You hesitated for a moment, biting your lower lip—a habit Eddie found utterly adorable. The two of you had been dating for almost a year now, and it felt like you'd known each other for a lifetime. Eddie knew every inch of you, every tattoo that decorated your skin, and he loved them as much as you did.

"I was thinking..." you began, your voice soft. "Maybe we could get matching tattoos."

The room went silent for a moment, save for the faint crackle of a guitar riff in the background. Eddie's eyes widened, and then he let out a laugh—a soft, joyous sound that made your heart skip a beat.

"Are you serious?" he asked, his voice laced with disbelief. "You, Miss 'I don't need anyone to define me,' want us to get couple tattoos?"

You rolled your eyes, though a smile tugged at your lips. "Yes, Eddie, I'm serious. But I want something that actually means something to us, you know? Not just some cheesy hearts or initials."

Eddie's eyes sparkled with excitement as he sat up, pulling you closer. "You're on, sweetheart. I'm totally game. But..." He tapped a finger against his lips, pretending to think deeply. "What should we get? An upside-down devil? Or a mini guitar? Ooh, what about something D&D themed?"

You laughed, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "I was thinking something simpler, actually. Like... a design that represents us."

Eddie was quiet for a moment, his eyes scanning your face thoughtfully. Then he grinned, that mischievous smile that always made your knees weak. "What about a snake and a dagger? You've got that snake tattoo on your arm, and I've got the dagger on my chest. We could combine them—like two parts of the same whole."

The idea made your heart flutter. You knew how much Eddie loved his tattoos and how much thought he put into each one. To share something like that with him felt incredibly intimate. "I love that," you whispered, cupping his cheek in your hand. "Let's do it."

A few days later, you found yourselves standing in front of your favorite tattoo shop in downtown Hawkins. The familiar scent of antiseptic and ink filled the air as the doorbell chimed behind you. Eddie held your hand tightly, his thumb rubbing soothing circles against your knuckles.

The tattoo artist, a burly guy named Mike, grinned when he saw the two of you walk in. "The power couple is back," he teased, nodding toward your interlocked hands. "What's the plan this time?"

"We want matching tattoos," Eddie announced proudly, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. "A snake and dagger combo. But, you know, something that's badass enough to do us justice."

Mike chuckled, already pulling out his sketchpad. "You two are always full of surprises. Give me a minute—I've got just the thing."

As Mike worked on the design, you leaned into Eddie's side, feeling his arm wrap protectively around your shoulders. "Are you nervous?" he asked, his voice a soft murmur in your ear.

"Not really," you replied. "I trust you. And I love that we're doing this together."

Eddie's eyes softened, and he leaned down to kiss your forehead. "You're the coolest girlfriend ever, you know that? I can't believe you put up with my crazy ideas."

"Crazy is what I signed up for," you teased, pinching his side. "Besides, I think you're the one who puts up with me."

Before Eddie could respond, Mike returned with the sketch: a snake coiled around a dagger, the blade dripping with ink drops like they were blood. It was intricate, dark, and undeniably perfect.

"Holy shit," Eddie breathed, eyes wide. "That's amazing."

You nodded, a smile spreading across your face. "I love it," you said softly. "Let's do it."

Eddie insisted you go first, holding your hand the entire time as Mike brought the design to life on your forearm. The familiar sting of the needle was almost comforting, especially with Eddie's warm gaze locked on yours.

When it was Eddie's turn, he gritted his teeth but never let go of your hand, even when the needle traced over his ribcage where the dagger was placed. You couldn't help but admire him, his jaw clenched, eyes focused on you the entire time.

Once the tattoos were done, you both stood in front of the mirror, admiring the matching ink. The snake and dagger were almost identical, yet each tattoo had its own unique flair—just like the two of you.

Eddie wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder. "Looks like we're officially inked for life, sweetheart," he murmured against your ear, his breath warm and comforting.

You turned in his arms, reaching up to brush a stray curl from his face. "Inked and in love," you whispered, leaning in to kiss him. It was a kiss that tasted like forever—warm, fierce, and filled with all the promises the two of you had yet to make.

"Can't wait to show the Hellfire Club," Eddie said with a mischievous grin. "They're gonna flip when they see how badass my girl is."

You chuckled, your fingers lacing through his. "They better get used to it," you said, your voice soft but firm. "Because you're stuck with me now, Munson."

"Wouldn't have it any other way," Eddie replied, pulling you close for another kiss, the ink still fresh on both your skins, binding you together in more ways than one.

The End.

Summary: To Eddie, his birthday had never been something out of the ordinary. Until the big 4-0, when a little heart-related incident lands him in the hospital, where he receives an unlikely birthday gift in the form of his high school crush being his nurse. / This is my entry to @corrodedcoffinfest's pop-up birthday boy event! Prompts: Age 40; “Seriously? Age is just a number.” | Word Count: 3k | Rating: General audiences | POV: Eddie | Relationships: Eddie Munson x reader/female!reader | CW: Eddie is hospitalized but there’s nothing tragic or graphic going on, it’s described that he has a heart condition, 40 year old!Eddie, nurse!reader, she/her pronouns used to describe the reader, reader is in her late thirties, friends to lovers, mutual pining, sorta meet-cute, meeting again after high school, mentions of Eddie drinking and doing drugs, mentions of his childhood. / HUGE HUGE shoutout to @eddiemunson-reader-shame for beta-reading, an actual lifesaver!!!

“Age?” 

Eddie is barely lucid. His sight is still a white, blurry blob that makes his eyes sting. Lighting in hospitals has always been dreadful to him; way too fucking bright if you ask him – making him feel like he’s in that one scene from Jacob’s Ladder. Now that was a good movie, he thinks. Good one to watch when you’re high; sorta like how he’s feeling at the moment. The doctors must have hooked him up real good. 

This train of thought makes him realize he’s slowly returning to earth, little by little, though he has to squint and loll his head to the side trying to follow the distant sound of a nurse with a pretty voice trying to poke him for info. 

That soft, melodic murmur is soothing the erratic beating of his heart. Earlier the pain felt as if he’d had an iron fist twisting up his heart again and again until he couldn’t breathe. Although the paramedics in the ambulance assured him that his vitals were fine upon their arrival, he swears that if they had taken a second longer, he might have been walking up those steps that Led Zeppelin was talking about. If he was lucky, that is – ‘cause, boy, he’d be pretty bummed if he was sent over to AC/DC’s highway. 

It no longer feels as though his heart has turned to stone, but it still aches when his chest rises and falls with every strained breath; his voice is barely above a whisper as he rasps, “Come again?” 

“Your age, Eddie…” 

The faintest smile tugs at the corner of his lips. 

“The big 4-0, baby,” he croaks; the irony of the situation makes him shake his head with amusement. 

“Turned 40 today and my body decided to give me a little surprise…” 

It was just another day. It was supposed to be just another day. 

Ever since Eddie was a boy, he had never felt like his birthday was something out of the ordinary – never thought it to be special at all. His father certainly never cared, and his childhood is so cloudy from the early years of abuse that he barely remembers how his mother celebrated with him. There was always a homemade cake that was never really as sweet as he would’ve liked. No presents. Only a photograph survives, faded with time, of his mother embracing him from behind while he blows on his three birthday candles; a crooked, iridescent party hat sitting amongst wild curls, with the tip of it poking his mother’s eye and making her laugh.  

Birthdays with Wayne were infinitely better, but he still didn’t think much of the date until Wayne reminded him either during breakfast or on those special occasions when he’d pick him up from school. He’d ask Eddie about what he wanted, and Eddie always replied in the same way: I don’t care for my birthday, I just wanna spend some time with you. Wayne delivered each time. Although he made an effort to have presents despite Eddie’s insistence  – just one – each more meaningful than the last, every year. He knew Wayne slaved away at work for months in advance to be able to afford them, but truly, Eddie was just grateful for his uncle to be there. The cake was still homemade, straight from a box, but a little bit sweeter. Or maybe it just tasted better accompanied by a beer. 

Perhaps it was those little indulgences that started far too early in his teens that brought him here – the drinks and drugs passing his body the bill after all these years. 

“You oughta be careful, son. Your body is keeping up the score,” Wayne would say. 

And it’s not that Eddie was an alcoholic or an addict, not in the least. He swore to himself that he would never ever be like his deadbeat dad, even when he saw more traces of Al Munson each time he looked in the mirror as he got older. Especially now that his curls only grew above his shoulders, sprinkled in with those few pesky little silver hairs.

But he never abused like his dad did. If he had an extra beer bottle on nights he worked late at The Hideout, it was just to numb his aching muscles. If he finished a whole pack of cigarettes by noon it was to ease his anxiety whenever he was contacted for drugs, hoping it wasn’t a set-up by a cop. If he stole some samples from Rick’s stash, it was just to try out the goods, to be a good salesman, know what kind of product he was working with… Sometimes it was just a little hit to drown out the echoes of his mother’s cries that still haunted him from time to time. 

Those habits eased when he was finally able to get out of Hawkins, shoot toward the other end of the country, and land himself a job as a radio host at Rock 105.3 in San Diego. The joyous laughter of his co-workers was a far better dose against those haunting cries swirling through his memories. He could say he was happy now, but his birthday remained just another day.  

Except for his big forty, it seems. He can’t help but chuckle weakly to himself. Wayne was right about the body-keeping-score thing and all that. 

He was going over the set for tomorrow’s Sunday program when, out of nowhere, he started to feel dizzy and short of breath. The cd’s in his hands fell with a loud clank that got the attention of his co-workers rushing just in time to catch him doubled over his desk, face contorted in pain as he gasped for air while desperately pointing to his heart. 

The paramedics quickly stabilized him; he was doing better in the ambulance, and the episode didn’t last as long as he had thought, but it had been terrifying. Spending his fortieth birthday at the hospital was not on his bingo card this year. 

“...Seriously?” the mellow voice of the nurse pulls him away from his reveries. They really must be giving him the good stuff through that goddamn IV. 

“Thought you were supposed to be eternally eighteen.” 

His eyesight is still a bit fucked up but he can hear the smile on his nurse’s voice, which makes his chest feel a little bit fuzzy – and not in the annoying way it had felt earlier before his incident. He blinks a few times to be able to properly look at the nurse with the pretty voice. 

“Well they say age is just a number don’t they?” 

“That, they do…” 

He smirks, feeling some of his charm coming back to him when he notices how pretty his nurse is. So, so pretty it makes him feel a little mesmerized – it’s either that or the haze from the meds. 

“– Wait, what d’ya mean by that? Eternally eighteen?” 

“You don’t recognize me?” 

He frowns and blinks even faster to will his eyesight to goddamn work – he shouldn’t keep putting off that overdue visit to the ophthalmologist, resisting the fact that he needs glasses now. 

“I was a senior at Hawkins High in ‘86.” 

Eddie tilts his head; his grin widens when he spots an Iron Maiden pin on her pale pink scrubs, and when his pretty nurse smiles coyly, that’s when the lightbulb goes off in his brain.

“Wait, wait, wait…I do remember!” he snaps his fingers excitedly. 

Visions of a mysterious girl– sitting all alone on the other side of the cafeteria– flood through his memories all at once. Always alone, with a chunky pair of headphones tuning out the world. Either reading the latest issue of Fangoria magazine or drawing. A strange, alluring halo always seemed to surround her, or so Eddie always thought when he gazed at her shape, bathed by the sunlight filtering in from the cafeteria windows.

One of his biggest regrets is that he never got the balls to approach her. He has never, ever been all that smooth, but he didn’t think himself shy when approaching someone he was interested in. She was the exception. It could have been so easy though, his opening was right there, in the form of the band pins and patches that adorned her backpack, similar to the ones on his battle vest. 

She was intimidating. Yeah, she was a solitary figure, but she seemed to have it all going on: good grades, hanging out with Nancy Wheeler, writing the art columns for the school newspaper… It was probably the only bit of it that Eddie ever read. Her articles were always so eloquently written and intriguing – they’re the reason he searched high and low for a copy of Eraserhead to watch. It makes him more than a little giddy for their paths to cross after all this time, but he’s sorta sad to see her here. 

“Weren’t you all geared up for like – a fancy art school or somethin’?” 

“Being a nurse isn’t fancy?” She giggles softly but tries to downplay her smile by looking down at Eddie’s incomplete file. 

“M’not saying that, it’s just…” He licks his chapped lips, aching for some hydration. Maybe he could play up his illness to get her to give him a sip of water like some bratty king. His heart bailing on him today might just have worked in his favor – a birthday gift in disguise. 

He clears his throat and shakes those mischievous thoughts away, gaze locked on hers.

“I do remember you. My brain had all the lost sheepies in Hawkins mapped out as potential recruits. But you struck me as too fancy to be playing DnD with us nerds,” he chuckles. “You were a Nancy Wheeler-type a nerd.” 

“Well…art school was my goal, yeah…” She uses Eddie’s file as a lifeboat again, but this time, a flash of melancholy passes through her bright eyes. She might be quite schooled in shielding herself, as Eddie recalls from his high school days of pining for her from a distance, but if there’s one thing he’s always been good at is his x-ray vision when it comes to invisible shields. He had enough experience building his own. 

 “But then I guess life just happened,” she shrugs, quickly changing the subject to avoid revealing more. 

She takes a moment, accidentally creating a little dog ear in the corner of Eddie’s file while fiddling with the paper, before smiling.

“But hey! You’re doing well, huh? –  generally, I mean, not, you know…” She laughs and rolls her eyes at herself, gesturing over at Eddie lying down on the hospital bed, to which he snorts and lets out a hearty laugh. He rests his palm atop his chest because it aches a bit, but he doesn’t mind. 

“I listen to the show every morning when I’m getting ready for work.” 

“Yeah? You like it?” He sits up, grinning from ear to ear. The constant beeping of the monitor charts his heartbeat, accelerating just the tiniest bit because of his eagerness. 

“I love it! It’s the highlight of my mornings!” Whatever she was going to say gets abruptly interrupted by the doctor stepping in. She steps to the side, quickly going back to finishing Eddie’s file. 

“ – Edward Munson?” 

Eddie groans at the use of his full name – one of the many reminders that he’s an old man now, even if he maintains that age is just a number. He might have more pronounced crow’s feet on the corners of his eyes and his tattoos need an urgent refresh to keep them from disappearing into his skin, but, his pretty nurse might have been onto something. He still feels eighteen years old. 

Maybe not literally though. So his doctor says, from the few bits and pieces that catch his attention. He’s mostly tuning out the man’s voice, far too distracted with the sight of his long-lost crush handling tools and equipment in the corner of the room before stepping out into the hallway. 

To his relief, Eddie’s condition is not dire; he was instructed to follow-up with a cardiologist, but he’ll be fine as long as he rests and drinks plenty of fluids. They’re just keeping him in for a little while longer as a precaution, but if the heart rate monitor doesn’t present any more irregularities, he’ll be good to go. 

The doctor had already turned off the light and disappeared before Eddie could even protest it. It was his birthday, damnit. Sure, he didn’t care for it, but he didn’t want to spend it stuck in this hell-hole either.

If there was one thing he loathed more than the blinding white hospital light, it was being left there to rest in the sullen, darkened room. 

Among the shadows, his mind could easily whirl around thoughts that were rather left untouched, like the empty memories of his mother’s embrace on his third birthday. Flashes of his father in and out of his life. The scent of cigarette smoke, clinging to the worn cotton of his uncle Wayne’s uniform, filing his nose each time he hugged him with gratitude for taking the time to be with him each year; how he misses his uncle now that he’s playing at being an adult here in California. Sometimes he thinks that deep inside, he’ll always be that three year old with a crooked birthday hat. Yearning to be cared for, to feel special, if only for one day. 

Thankfully his thoughts halt when his pretty nurse comes into the room, holding a plate with a tiny dome of Jell-O and a lit birthday candle atop it. 

“So, you can’t have any cake right now, doctor’s orders. But I thought this would do.” 

“Awww, you didn’t have to!” He’s got a huge ass grin on his face as he scoots a little to the side so she can sit on the edge of his bed. “I’m not that big on birthdays.” 

“Well, I am. I love birthdays. Make a wish!” 

Eddie leans in when she holds the Jell-O close to his face, grinning so hard that he can’t even properly blow on his candles, only managing after a couple of tries. 

“I wished for a date with a hot nurse I just met,” he wiggles his eyebrows playfully. Not his smoothest line, but what the hell. What’s he got left to lose? Besides, it seemed to work wonders when she laughed and tenderly squeezed his hand. 

“You’re not supposed to say it aloud!” 

“What? The wish? Or the hot nurse bit? Cause it’s true!” 

“You know which bit.” She rolls her eyes and shakes her head; her hand nearly slips away from Eddie’s but he quickly squeezes it more snuggly, keeping her hand in his grip. “I’m so sorry but your wish won’t come true now.” 

“Who says? I might have just turned forty, but a little birdie told me I still maintain my boyish charm.” 

His nurse laughs and looks at their joint hands in a bashful manner, not letting go either.

Eddie’s mentally kicking himself for having let the opportunity to talk to her escape him when they were in high school, now that he realizes that it’s so easy. It feels as though they’d always been friends, and he can’t help but ponder over the whole ‘past lives’ shit he’s read about in some novels. 

“I like your pin…I’ve been waiting like twenty years to say that.” He murmurs, his eyes focusing on her age-worn pin with Iron Maiden’s mascot all wrapped up as a mummy – the one from the Powerslave album. 

“You have?” 

“Yeah…” He leans his head, seeking out her coy, downward gaze. “I always wanted to talk to you in high school, but never had the balls to do so.” 

“Better late than never, huh? What were the odds of us meeting again like this?” 

Eddie nods with a little snort, cause it’s like she read his mind for real. Like past lives, he’s telling ya. 

“Whattaya say, when I get out of here, d’ya wanna maybe go out for a drink or something? I wanna know all about how life got in the way of your fancy art dreams.” 

“Patients with arrhythmia aren’t supposed to be drinking alcohol.” She’s beaming with a little impish twinkle in her eye that reveals more than what she lets on. 

“Coffee, maybe?” 

“Much less caffeine!” she emphasizes with another tender squeeze of his palm. “But I can come by and make you some tea? It’s nothing extraordinary, but…” 

“I’ve never wanted extraordinary for a birthday. To be honest, I’ve only ever wanted good company.” 

“Well, I think it’s been pretty extraordinary to me…” Her gaze is unwavering now, as if she wants to reassure him that he’s special, someone worth celebrating. “I reunited with my high school crush on it, after all.”  

She’s gonna make his heart go haywire again, holy shit. 

"If you do that again, they're gonna keep me here forever..."

The heart monitor starts to beep a little more rapidly again, making the both of them laugh and smile so hard that Eddie’s cheeks hurt most delightfully.

And at the end of the day, his pretty nurse might have been right after all – this turned out to be pretty goddamn extraordinary. Especially when she leans in to give him a tender kiss on his forehead to calm down his heartbeat, only for it to have the opposite effect. 

For the first time in forty years, and from there on out, his birthday was never just another regular day for him.

dividers by the lovely @strangergraphics

JOSEPH QUINN as ARTHUR HAVISHAM Dickensian

ib by this post by @webism. sukuna's version got me thinking a lot..

sukuna’s a biter.

not in any kind of sultry, seductive way — no, he’s far too infuriating for that. it’s more primal, like some oversized cat with too many teeth and too much pride.

he clamps down on you, sometimes your arm, sometimes your shoulder, dragging you into his orbit with a hold that’s firm enough to demand attention but careful enough to leave you unscathed. it’s ridiculous, really — his sharp teeth against your soft skin, a predator playfully toying with prey he’ll never devour.

“careful,” he’ll growl, a smirk tugging at his lips, “or i will eat you.” and somehow, it sounds less like a joke and more like a looming promise.

but you know better. for all his bluster, he won’t — he can’t. not now, not ever. you, in your absurd, fragile humanness, have gnawed your way past his armor, straight into the heart of the beast. the irony isn’t lost on him — how his bites might leave fleeting marks on your skin, but yours have burrowed deep into his very core, stubborn and unyielding.

how bizarre, he thinks, sinking his teeth into you once more, just to feel the proof of you against him. and even more bizarre? how he hopes you never pull away.

You had been moping around the house all day, upset that Satoru left so early in the morning without telling you why.

All you remember is him pressing a sweet kiss to your forehead and telling you he’s going out before hearing the front door shut to your shared apartment. You whined in protest as he pulled away from your sleeping body causing him to giggle quietly when slipping out.

A few hours had passed and now you were really curious to see where your boyfriend had gone. You know he couldn’t have went out on a mission because he would have said something beforehand. No. When he left the house this morning he was dressed in a casual pair of pants and a hoodie with some sneakers so obviously it wasn’t anything important.

You had showered and gotten dressed for the day all so you could lounge around and wait for Satoru. It made you feel a little better about Satoru being gone because at least he’d come home to you somewhat presentable.

The sound of keys jingling and a lock switching out of place catches your attention. You sit up hastily on the couch and see your boyfriend’s large frame come into view. A small pout graces your lips when you see his hood on his face.

“Satoru what have I told you about wearing your hood? It makes you-“ The words cease to come from your mouth as soon as you see him take the hood off.

The reason for him leaving so early in the morning was so he could get a haircut. Now listen; Satoru was handsome with grown out hair of course, but something about his neatly trimmed mop and cleaned up undercut just did something to you.

Your boyfriend flashed his pearly whites at you while prancing over to you like a show pony. “How do I look baby?” Bending down, Satoru presses a kiss on your lips and pulls you up by your wrists to stand in front of him.

Silky white curls twirl in your fingers the second you touch them. Your pinky’s grazed the short hair in the back without a second thought. “Toru!” His name came out as an appreciative whine.

Truth be told it was hard for you to express how much you loved his haircut right away. However, the longer the day carried on Satoru can tell you love his new look because of the way your hands are constantly in his hair.

It’s impossible for him to go anywhere on his own in the house. Going to the bathroom? “Hurry up!” Getting thirsty and wanting a drink? Too bad because you’re gonna be right there behind him with your hands in his hair.

“i don’t get you,” sukuna mutters, arms resting on his knees as he stares at your cat, who sits primly on the floor, tail flicking lazily. “you’re small. your head is tiny. you have no claws worth a damn, and yet you strut around like you own this place.”

your cat blinks at him slowly. the audacity.

“oh, so now you’re being mysterious? yeah, real intimidating, runt,” sukuna scoffs, leaning in. “tell me, why the hell do you scream at five in the morning for no reason?”

your cat meows. sukuna nods, as if that was an actual answer.

“nah, i don’t buy it. i know when someone’s bullshitting me.” he strokes his chin, as if deep in thought. “and what’s with the scratching? you have a whole damn tree to tear up, but no, it’s gotta be the couch, huh? or my chair. my throne in this shitty modern world.”

your cat remains utterly unfazed, licking a paw and dragging it over its ear. sukuna clicks his tongue in frustration.

“you think you’re untouchable. you think you can do whatever you want just ‘cause you’re small and cute?” he narrows his eyes. “you remind me of someone.”

you narrow your eyes right back from your hiding spot behind the doorway. excuse me?

but sukuna is too deep in his investigation to notice. he gestures toward your phone lying face-down on the table. “and what’s with you and cameras huh? every time there’s a flash, you go feral. you act like you’re being dragged to hell.”

your cat’s ears twitch. a clear tell.

“ohhhh,” sukuna smirks, leaning in like he’s caught onto something juicy. “what, you got a dark past? you some kinda criminal? don’t want your face out there ‘cause you’re on a hit list?”

the cat swipes at sukuna’s knee, and he actually pulls back with a scoff. “oi, don’t get violent with me, brat. i asked a simple question.”

you have to bite your lip to keep from laughing.

“i should make you my disciple,” sukuna suddenly muses, tilting his head as he assesses the feline before him. “you got the attitude down. the little mind games. yeah… you could be something great.”

your cat sneezes.

sukuna frowns, as if personally offended. “...you’re turning down my offer? just like that?”

he sits back with a dramatic sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “unbelievable. you’re worse than your owner.”

excuse me again???

before you can march in and object, your cat gets up, stretches leisurely, and then—just to really assert dominance—turns around and sticks its tail right in sukuna’s face before trotting off.

he stares after it, jaw clenched, eye twitching.

“…i’m gonna eat it.”

you finally lose the battle against your laughter.

another eddie thought.

eddie munson who had to have his head shaved bc his curls were matted so bad when he was younger. as soon as he got taken in to wayne’s care, after spending nearly a year with his dad, his hair was beyond gone. barely brushed, just neglected.

wayne, bless his heart, tried to detangle it. he knew how eddie liked his long hair, he didn’t want to shave it. he even took him to the beauty salon, the beauty school up the road, tried to get them to detangle it. two deep conditions and an hour later, the instructor told him the best they could do was shave it, send him with some product on how to care for it in the future.

eddie was devastated, wayne was guilt ridden, and eddie’s locks were now shaven off right before he had to start at the middle school.

from that point on, eddie was nearly neurotic about brushing his hair every night. getting every single tangle out. ripping through the curls until it’s smooth. frizzy and slightly damaged from the tension, sure, but smooth.

at first, it’s something you try to talk him out of. “you’re ripping your hair out.”

“it’s fine.” eddie grunts, paddle brush tearing through the base of his neck, the most matted and tough curls. “rather lose a little than have to shave it all off again.”

he tells you the story, once, after that. one that leaves your heart aching, despite how he tries to shrug it off. insist it’s not a big deal, that it didn’t bother him- how his father’s neglect hurt him yet again, even after he was taken in with wayne. you know better.

you don’t try to fight him on it anymore. instead, every night, it becomes a ritual that you brush his hair for him. a far gentler touch, more patience to work out each curl and tangled strand. grasping at the base of his head to keep it from tugging and hurting so much.

it’s soft and intimate. leaves eddie’s chest with a warm, gooey thick feeling, and his eyelids fluttering with sleep. trying to keep his head up while you brush his hair, scratching at the scalp, always pressing a kiss to his part when you’re finished.

i LOVE BEING IN BED !!!!!! i love being all cuddly and warm and curling up into a ball and feeling tiny !!!!! this is what life’s about !!!!!!!!!!!

eddie munson, i will always always always always love you.

overworked men ♪

ac: Urielbeaupre15 on twt

maybe in this timeline, he’s a fictional lover. perhaps in another, you were married. no matter what happens, he will find a way to look after you in every universe.

[Stardew Valley] felt compelled to draw some ponies..

Spencer Reid kisses you like he’s been holding his breath under water and you’re oxygen. Like he’s dehydrated and you’re a cold glass of water. He grabs your face, the back of your neck, your waist, whatever he can hold onto and devours your lips. It’s a whole body thing- to be kissed by Spencer. His lips suck on yours, his tongue prodding into your mouth, teeth clashing a little. His nose brushes against yours and he can’t let you go. He can’t get enough of you and he intends to give you that headrush feeling he always does when you kiss. When you pull away, he chases your lips and you have to push at his chest a little- Spencer smiles devilishly, proud to know just how much you love his kisses. Your chest is heaving and your lips are even more plump and red. What Spencer loves most about how you look post make out is how dazed you look- how your eyes track every one of his movements and how you reach back out to him. “We have to go, sweetheart.” Still, he indulges you with one last kiss that cements your being late for the annual FBI conference slash party.

Another little soft mechanic!Sukuna drabble because I love him ;( gets literally a biiit suggestive but it’s not super smutty!

“I don’- thin’- she like- dat.”

You groggily turn around, woke up by your boyfriend’s mumbles. You didn’t really catch what he said, but you just want to sleep, so you don’t pay it no mind. You scoot further on your side of the bed and start to fall asleep again, when he gets back on saying random things.

“Range Rov’r… so small… wan’ marr- ‘her…“

“Sukuna, stop, I’m tired, I can’t sleep with you talking” you respond, giving him a delicate shake. He’s tired too, you know it, and that’s why he’s talking in his sleep: he only does that when he’s exhausted. For the last month he’s been working extra hours at the garage he owns, saying it’s because “you both deserve a great vacation this year”. When you asked why, he rolled his eyes and ignored you. The tips of his ears were red.

He whines, barely waking up. He slightly opens one eye, sees you far away from him on your shared bed and scowls. Lately you haven’t been together a lot, apart from the times you try to study in his office with your headphones on to not hear him curse like a sailor, or, well, like a mechanic. He wraps one of his arms around your naked waist and bumps your body against his own.

“Gotcha,” he hoarsely says. You chuckle lightly then try wiggling away to sleep again, but he doesn’t budge. The long hours he spends under the cars have given him the most amazing muscles you’ve ever seen, but those come with a lot of strength too.

You relax in his hold while he draws random patterns on your skin with his calloused hand. It’s summer, you’re both naked because he says he likes to feel your skin on his. The only time you complained about being sweaty he grinned and said he knew other ways to make you sweaty, so now you only bring out the topic when you want to get dicked down good and fast.

You reach around his body to place your hand on his back, head below his chin. You could kiss his neck if you’d pucker your lips a little, that’s how close you are. You’re starting to fall asleep again when he whispers in your ear something you don’t understand.

“What?” You ask softly.

“… lov’ ya,” he slurs, before beginning to snore a bit. You smile to yourself, getting impossibly closer to him and drifting off to sleep.

Sukuna will make you beg before helping you with things he’s obviously good at.

You’re playing Wii sport with your friends on a Saturday night at your and your boyfriend’s shared home, like you’re used to doing every week. After a round of baseball you and one of them are at a draw. Your friends decide to play with “the boyfriends” for the last round, choosing bowling as the last game.

You turn to Sukuna preparing yourself to convince him to play. He’s the absolute best at bowling, and everyone in the room knows it, but he’s also a stuck up bitch that never wants to play. He says that there’s no fun if everyone is so shit he doesn’t even have to try hard to win.

“Babe, please-“

“No.” He interrupts you.

“But-“

“Nah.”

“Why not?” You whine, putting your left hand on his bicep and shaking his arm. He takes a swig of the beer he’s holding with that arm, muscles bulging, looking down at you with his piercing maroon eyes.

“Because I said so,” he remarks.

“But I can’t play alone, and I’ll be last if I don’t play,” you pout.

“You’ll get over it,” he shrugs. You’re still holding his arm, and despite the way he’s portraying himself, he loves the physical contact you’re having. He’s possessive; if he could crumple you up and keep you in his pocket, he would.

“I hate you.”

“You know you don’t, baby,” he says smirking, finishing up his drink, still looking at you with both his real and tattooed eyes.

“Thought you didn’t want to date a loser,” you say, changing approach. You see a spark in his gaze. Bingo. But he’s not there yet.

“I’ll make an exception,” he continues.

“Oh, okay, I’ll just tell the others that the duo who owns this house will not be playing and therefore will be last,” you provoke him turning around and walking towards your friends.

He grabs your waist and slams your back on his strong chest. You try to hide your smile.

“You minx. If we don’t fucking win, you’re sleeping on the couch,” he whispers aggressively in your ear.

“Sir yes sir.”

That night you snuggle closer to him on your shared bed before falling asleep.

thinking about your older bf!simon that cannot cope with being far from you.

when you’re in the shower, he’s sat on the lid of the toilet on his phone (watching those rug cleaning videos) enjoying your faint singing under the stream of water, the smell of your body wash on the cloud of steam- ready to pass you a towel or get your back.

when you’re at your desk, working from home or studying, he’s just on the other side of it reading the paper with one outstretched leg tangled with both of yours. he’s dead quiet when you’re on a call, just happy to be around.

when you’re doing laundry, collecting the clothes in the hamper and crouching to stuff them into the washer- turning around and accidentally colliding with a thick wall of muscle.

“sorry, love”

he steps aside but you can hear his soft footfalls as he continues to follow you throughout your home.

when you’re both watching something on the couch, what starts as his pinky locked with yours turns into his arm around your waist. that turns into your head on his chest, which culminates with you falling asleep in his lap with his cheek on your head and soft snores emanating from his lips.

when you grocery shop, you push the trolley but his chest is to your back, arms either side of you and hands clasped over yours on the handle. you can thank his military training for his uncanny ability to tell exactly when you’ll stop walking.

when he wakes up in the middle of the night, on a rare occasion when you’ve managed to slip out of bed without him realising, he’s immediately in a panic calling your name.

“in here, my love”

as soon as his heart settles, he realises the bathroom light was probably a dead giveaway. you’re taking a wee, you’ll be back in a minute.

that doesn’t stop a sleepy simon from leaning in the doorframe, shielding his eyes from the big light as he waits for you to finish up.

even on the short walk back to bed, you can feel fingers twisted in the back of your shirt- almost like you’re leading the way.

minute you’re both on the mattress, you’re being wrapped up in his arms, slotting you perfectly into the curve of his front- almost like you’re made for him.

(and you are)

In love with you - Gojo Satoru

Word Count: 313

Pairing: Lovestruck! Gojo Satoru x Female! Reader

Content: Fluff, Female Reader (AFAB), Gojo being absolutely smitten by reader

Lovestruck! Gojo who thinks of you a 24/7. You're always on his mind no matter what he's going. Going to the store? He's immediately asking himself if you'd like the sweets he's planning on buying. Out on a dangerous mission, fighting off curses? - He's wondering what you're doing right now. Were you also perhaps thinking about him? He certainly hopes so.

Lovestruck! Gojo who can't wait to return home to you. He doesn't know how he'd managed to survive for so long without having someone to look forward to when coming back home from an exhausting mission. But there you always were. Patiently waiting for him to come back, and then greeting him with gentle and loving kisses.

Lovestruck! Gojo who loves to cuddle up into your petite figure whenever the two of you are sprayed out on the couch, watching one of your favorite shows. He doesn't even pay attention to the show you seem to be so invested in, much rather preferring to look at your pretty face. He swears no sight is as beautiful as it.

Lovestruck! Gojo who lives for the sleepy, and oh-so-gentle morning kisses the two of you share each and every day once the two of you wake up from your slumber. The feeling of your soft lips pressed against his own has his heart fluttering like a smitten teenager.

Lovestruck! Gojo who loves everything about you. From your adorable smile, to the way his name rolls off your tongue with practiced ease. He just has so much love inside him and wants nothing more that to give it all to you. His love is all yours after all, and so is he. Both body and soul.

Lovestruck! Gojo who knows that he's made the right decision when he kneels down in front of you on one knee and asks for your hand in marriage.

Author Note:

Just finished reading way too much angst and needed some fluff to get my spirits back up, and so we're here- YvY

Anyways- I hope you enjoyed reading this one-shot as much as I enjoyed writing it!

I just really need best friend!Eddie to have that rom-com moment of clarity where he realizes he’s in love with me, runs to my house in the pouring rain, and kisses me so deeply that I my soul leaves my body.

Thinking about going to a carnival with Eddie.

His hand holding yours, fingers laced together as you walk around playing all of the games. He’s persistent in winning you at least one giant stuffed animal, the smile on his face when he wins a giant husky is contagious.

You have a tight hold on his hand and an arm wrapped around your prize while walking around, eating all of the foods. Fingers coated in powdered sugar from the funnel cake.

The night ends with you riding the Ferris Wheel, watching the fireworks flash across the night sky as you feed each other pieces of blue cotton candy. He nips your fingertips playfully with a look of pure love in his eyes.

SIGH

scorch & magic

you're a little embarrassed about one of your interests, but Eddie puts your mind at ease.

Contains: Eddie x Reader, fluff, Beanie Babies, reader collects stuffed animals and is a little embarrassed about it, but of course Eddie doesn't care. No description of reader's appearance, no use of y/n, pet names but no specific pronouns. Warnings: None! Pure, absolutely SFW fluff. Word Count: ~2,100 NEVERMIND ME I AM BEING SILLY AND SELF-INDULGENT AGAIN! here's the beanie baby fic no one asked for. this one goes out to all my fellow adult plushie collectors. inspired by this post and this post. and also this post.

“That’s cute.”

Eddie’s voice snaps you out of your reverie. You look up from the jewelry box sitting on your dresser, fingers halting in the middle of their search for your missing earring.

Eddie’s eyes are trained on the faded armchair tucked away in the corner of your room. It’s an old thing, a relic from your parents’ house, the style a tad dated for your taste — not to mention that the earth-toned plaid doesn’t really match anything else in your bedroom, and if you had money to spare on some re-upholstery work, you would. But it’s not the ugliness of the furniture that causes the squirm of embarrassment in your belly.

It’s the giant pile of stuffed animals that are stacked precariously on the cushion that makes you feel just the tiniest bit mortified.

“Oh, that’s just, um…” you trail off uncertainly, flustered at being caught with a hoard of children’s toys in your adult bedroom. “I’ve had them for a long time.” It’s not a total lie; a good number of them were acquired during your childhood, but the truth is, you’re actually an avid collector. You can’t help it — if you’re out shopping somewhere, and you happen to see something cute and soft and cuddly that’s on sale…well, why shouldn’t you buy it? You’re grown. You can do whatever you like. 

At least, that’s what you usually tell yourself. But it’s harder to hold on to that rationale in the face of your new, intimidating, metalhead boyfriend.

Eddie stalks over to the chair to take a closer look. Amusement pulls the corners of his lips up, and your cheeks burn with embarrassment. He selects one of your oldest and most favorite toys, a faded pink teddy bear with a rattle encased in its round little body that sounds when he picks it up. It looks funny in his rough hand, at total odds with the bulky silver rings and dark ink.

“I’ve had that since I was a baby,” you tell him quickly, now searching for your elusive earring with a little more urgency. When Eddie came to pick you up for your date, you asked him to wait in the living room while you finished getting ready, but he followed you in here anyway — this is the first time he’s set foot in your bedroom.

You had hoped to find a good hiding spot for all your little guys before that happened. Because you could imagine how someone like Eddie — with all his leather and chains and tattoos — would react to such a hobby. He might stifle his laughter on your behalf, if he decided to be kind. Or he might go so far as to sneer openly at them, put off by his partner engaging in something that others tend to see as so…juvenile.

Too late to do anything about it now, though.

“There’s a lot of them,” he muses, setting the bear down in favor of a small white mouse with brown whiskers and large teeth.

Finally you manage to pick out the matching stud, and poke it through your earlobe. Struggling to push the back into place, you tell him, “I…wasn’t much for Barbies as a kid.” Jewelry secured, you spin on your heel and edge towards the door. “Okay! Are you ready to go?

Eddie puts your mouse back in its place — snug on the lap of another, bigger teddy — and shrugs, still looking far too entertained by the plushie collection for your liking. “Yeah, I’m ready.” Is he smiling or smirking?

You grab his hand and lead him out of the room.

A week later, the topic comes up again when you’re out running errands together. Eddie asked you to tag along while he bought some things for Wayne’s upcoming birthday, so you’re ambling through the shop in search of party supplies. As he pushes the shopping cart down the card aisle, intent on purchasing a goofy note for his uncle — something with googly eyes that sings and has a terrible pun written inside — a display rack near the envelopes catches his eye:

Beanie Babies.

“Hey,” he suddenly pats your back to grab your attention, “do you have any of those?”

You look to where he’s pointing. “Oh!” Those are new. Teeny and understuffed, but realistically cute, with little eyes and —

You shake your head, playing it cool. “No, I don’t,” you answer with as much nonchalance as you can muster.

Eddie gives you a half-smile, and again, you can’t tell if he’s teasing you or not. “You wanna check ‘em out?”

You shake your head, and attempt to twist your face into the most casual expression possible. “Oh, that’s okay. Like I said, most of the ones I have are from when I was a kid, anyway, I-I don’t really buy them anymore. Honestly, the only reason they’re even out is because I haven’t found a good place to put them yet. Or, actually, I’ve been meaning to donate a lot of them.”

Eddie simply listens while you ramble, totally impassive. When you’re finished, he asks, “Even the ones you keep on your bed, that you clearly still sleep with?”

You bite the inside of your cheek and don’t respond. Eddie cracks a smile.

“Are you embarrassed about your stuffed animals?”

Deny, deny, deny. “...no.”

Eddie laughs, and rests both his hands on your shoulders. “Sweetheart, it’s fine,” he promises. “I told you, it’s cute.”

You stare at the floor. “You don’t think it’s like, too babyish or something?” you ask him in a small voice.

Eddie scoffs. “No, of course not. Not if it’s something that makes you happy.” He steers you towards the table with these Beanie Babies, and wraps an arm around your waist. “C’mon, pick one out. It’s on me.”

You glance at him, eyes wide. “Really?”

He nods. “Of course. My treat.”

Hesitantly, you lean in to peruse your options. It’s a little overwhelming. There are bears of all colors, with satin ribbons tied around their necks; some classic farm animals, and more exotic ones, too, like elephants and monkeys; there are even a number of tie-dyed reptiles and sea critters. 

You give Eddie an awed look, unsure of how to narrow it down. He smiles encouragingly. “Whatever you want.”

You start to sort through them, and pick them up one at a time to examine them thoroughly. You weigh them in your hands, and run the pads of your fingers along the fabric, enjoying how soft and pliant they are, while Eddie watches you with interest. Some part of you understands that you’re taking way too long, and maybe you’re even being kind of weird about it, but mostly, you’re caught up in the sensation of how these little friends feel when you hold them. It’s very soothing.

“Hmmm,” you hum quietly, picking up a magenta platypus, laying her flat in your palm.

Eddie rubs your lower back with a firm hand. “So, what are we thinking?”

“I’m not sure yet…” You set the platypus back down, and when you move to pick up a rainbow-striped worm, you pause. A flash of white-pink light catches your eye; you snake a hand deep into the plush pile, chasing the miniscule scrap of iridescent fabric, barely visible amongst the other toys.

You come up with a perfect, snow-white dragon, with shiny wings and pink stitching. Eddie lets out a low whistle.

“I think that’s a winner, babe.”

You turn to him and grin, cheeks feeling warm. “I think so, too.”

The white tag on the bottom, along with a tiny red heart, reads: Magic.

Eddie comes home with you later that night. You perch the new dragon proudly on the edge of your dresser, as opposed to the chair with all the others — you feel she deserves her own special place, being a present from Eddie.

While you position her just right, Eddie flops down onto the mattress and curls around the stuffed bunny you sleep with every night, closing his eyes. He looks so out of place — this metalhead with his heavy combat boots still on, nestled serenely amongst your silk pillows, cuddling with your various teddies.

“Hey,” you scold him playfully. “If you’re spending the night, I hope you don’t plan on sleeping in the middle of the bed like that.”

Eddie lets out an exaggerated sigh in response, but doesn’t open his eyes.

You cross the room, bare feet padding against the carpeted floor. You climb onto the bed and drape your body over his, so you’re laying flat on top of him. Purposefully, you let your knees squish into his legs as you get situated, but he still doesn’t move.

Giving in, you let yourself slump over him, and your head falls into the crook of his neck. Nosing into his curls, you press a small kiss to the pale skin underneath his ear. “Thank you for my gift,” you mumble against him.

He reaches one arm behind him, hand landing on your thigh; he gives it an affectionate squeeze. “You’re welcome.”

Three years pass, and Magic the Dragon remains in your possession all that time. She went from your original apartment to the next one, and then to the house you live in now, which you share with Eddie. She’s still in her place of honor on the bedroom dresser.

The Beanie Baby craze that’s occurred since he bought her for you was truly something to behold (personally, you couldn’t really get into all that mess — the competition gave you far too much anxiety). Both of you shook your heads in disbelief at the utter chaos created by these toys, but it also made you feel a sort of triumph, in a way; you had one of them, but it wasn’t an investment, or some wild fad you had fallen into. 

It was a token of Eddie’s love.

At the time, you didn’t quite make this connection. Your relationship was too green, too new for either of you to throw the word love around casually, or attribute grand feelings to small gestures. But, as Magic’s presence continued to stand the test of time, you started to see the gift for what it really was.

It was Eddie, perceptive Eddie, sensing your insecurity and going out of his way to put your mind at ease. He was reassuring you. It was his way of letting you know that he understood this part of you — however inconsequential that part may be — and that he accepted it.

And he would do this many, many times over, with every single part of yourself that you revealed to him. And everytime you looked at that silly little thing on your dresser, you remembered.

So it seems only fitting that now, in the exact same store three years later, you find Magic’s counterpart in Scorch. Brown scales, red iridescent wings, with green spikes and forked tongue. He’s absolutely perfect.

You know exactly what to do. It’s time to return the favor.

Immediately, you drop him in your shopping basket and hurry on, eager to get home and show Eddie what you’ve found.

You burst through the front door and into the kitchen, practically bouncing with excitement. “Eddie!” 

He’s making dinner, preoccupied with a pot on the stove. Still stirring whatever’s inside, Eddie looks back at you over his shoulder, and his face splits into a wide smile. “Hi, baby.”

“I have something for you!” you tell him in a singsong voice, sauntering over and wrapping your arms around his trim waist, the shopping bag hanging from the crook of your elbow. 

“Oh yeah? What’s that?”

You release him and start rifling through the bag’s contents, while Eddie lays the spoon down and turns to face you in full.

Beaming, you fish out the small stuffed dragon and present it to him with a flourish. “Ta-da!”

Taking it in, Eddie lets out a loud laugh that reverberates around the kitchen. “Oh my God!”

You smile at him happily, and Eddie takes Scorch from you gingerly, looking delighted. “No way.” 

“Yes, way. They’re gonna look so good together.”

And they do. Eddie places Scorch next to Magic, so they’re both perched on the edge of the dresser, facing the room. Then, thinking better of it, he turns them so that they face one another, snouts touching in a tiny dragon kiss.

Satisfied with the positioning, Eddie joins you where you sit at the edge of the bed. Looping an arm around your shoulder, he pulls you close to his side, and presses his lips to yours. 

“Look at that. They’re just like us.”

if you actually read this then thank you that's sweet <3 lmao idk how this ended up being 2k words

So... Request.. or recommendations request.. I'm all in my feelings and need some Eddie comfort while you're dealing with a bad time of the month.

Aww, period comfort always warm my heart! Thanks so much for the request, lovely!

Eddie x fem!reader

cw: mention of reader’s period

You never considered your periods to be bad, but this month’s definitely was. The pain was almost unbearable as you laid in your bed, curled up with a heating pad while your favorite comfort movies played on your TV on repeat.

You didn’t want to bother Eddie with your problems, but he had insisted on coming over with your favorite snacks along with some pain reliever and some movies he had rented from Family Video that he knew you liked. Your relationship was still fairly new so he was still trying to figure out the whole how to be a boyfriend thing.

Once he got to your room, he laid behind you and rubbed soft circles around where your cramps were, trying to relieve any pain and it helped to some degree, but not much. You were honestly just happy to have Eddie there, knowing that he was right beside you, bringing you comfort.

He rested his head on your shoulder and moved his hands to your sides, knowing that that was there you got your worst cramps and you turned around his arms, wanting to face him. He just gave you a sympathetic smile before pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose.

“It hurts, Eds,” you whined and he nodded, not completely understanding what it felt like but sympathized because he knew that you had a high pain tolerance.

It was times like those where he wished he could take your pain and give it to himself so you wouldn’t have to endure it anymore. He hated seeing you like that, so unlike yourself, so fragile. He almost felt helpless, unsure if he was actually doing anything that was making your feel better, but trying his best.

“I know, baby,” he cooed. “What do you need? How can I help?” Those were always his questions during that time of the month, being nothing but caring and helpful. He wanted to do whatever he could to make you feel better even if what you wanted from him didn’t necessarily work.

Eddie flipped onto his back and took you with him, causing you to straddle his waist, knowing that sitting like that was always helpful to your cramps. His hands rubbed up and down your back as you laid your head on his chest, resting your hands on each side of your head.

The position wasn’t the most comfortable, but it was definitely preferable to the almost debilitating pains you were feeling all over your body. Especially your stomach. Having it pressed against Eddie’s relieved a lot of the pressure that you were feeling laying on your side and you wondered how he always knew what you needed before you did.

“Better?” He asked, resting his chin on top of your head.

“Much, thank you.” You let out a contented hum and you snuggled closer to him, finally feeling comfortable enough to fall asleep. You drifted pretty quickly and Eddie continued to lazily draw patterns along your back as you slept, knowing that it always helped you sleep.

You woke up from your nap, unsure of what time it was, but considering that it was now dark outside, you knew it was night time. How long had you slept? And why didn’t Eddie wake you? Apparently he thought you needed the sleep.

You removed your head from Eddie’s chest to see that he had fallen asleep as well, soft snores falling from his lips. You watched him for a second, admiring how at peace he looked and wondered if you looked that cute when you slept.

His eyes slowly opened and he gave you a smile, which you returned. He then pulled you in for a kiss before resting his forehead against your own, his eyes boring into yours.

“I love waking up and seeing you here.” Your heart melted at his words, loving that he was able to just say what he was feeling, not holding anything back.

“Me too,” you nodded. You could see it all, the two of you getting married and buying your first home together. Feeling so in love with each other that you decide to start a family, two kids who race into your room in fits of giggles as they climb onto your bed, snuggling up with you and Eddie. It sounded so perfect, like a dream.

“Think I could do it every morning and never get tired of it.” You felt the exact same way.

“Eddie, are you asking me to marry you?” You joked, but he wasn’t laughing.

“So what if I am?” What were you going to do? Say no?

“Then I’d have to accept.” You pressed a kiss to his lips them laid your head on his shoulder, hoping and praying that he’d buy you a ring to make the proposal real.

I see your over dramatic and needy Eddie and raise you this; Eddie who's been hyper independent since he was a kid and never had anyone to lean in for emotional support. Eddie who's clumsy in a relationship because he can absolutely give you attention when you ask for it, but has no idea how to ask for it himself.

Eddie, who you have to have a talk about emotional needs and that sometimes you'd like some attention without asking, and Eddie has no idea how to do that. He barely knows how attention works outside of being loud and playing music and telling stories.

Eddie doesn't know how to ask for attention like this. He doesn't even know what kind of attention he WANTS in a relationship.

He starts asking if you want him to hold your hand. He asks if you want to go out to get food. He asks you if you want to cuddle, or watch TV or do anything with him.

At first, you think it's him putting emotional labor on you. But then you realize what's going on; Eddie has been so severely emotionally neglected, this is his only way of asking for attention. He's so used to being told no, to being blown off, to having his needs ignored. Asking if YOU want to him to hold your hand is easier than asking to hold your hand and getting shot down.