#How to make smoked Cheetos

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Satisfy Your Snack Cravings with Homemade Smoked Cheetos

Introduction: Cheetos are a beloved snack with their irresistible crunch and cheesy flavor. But have you ever thought about taking them to the next level by infusing them with smoky goodness? In this blog post, we’ll show you how to make your own homemade smoked Cheetos for a unique and delicious snack experience. Ingredients: Cheetos (any flavor you prefer) Wood chips for smoking (hickory,…

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CAMGIRL ELLIE

Camgirl Ellie AU: Ellie Williams x Fem! reader

Description: Ellie is a broke college student whose options are either selling weed on campus or doing filthy things on live for her mainly female audience. When another famous camgirl joins one of her lives, she is about to have the collab of a lifetime.

Content / Warnings: Femme camgirl reader, headcannon-style fic, explicit content, Jesse and Dina make cameos woah, Ellie is all cute and nervous for the first half, masturbation on camera, fingering & oral sex, use of strap-ons, reader is on receiving end, feminine reader, use of petnames (baby and mamas), breeding kinks, mult. orgasms. Enjoy the ride.

Word Count: 3.3k

★ Camgirl Ellie who is a sophomore in college, so broke and extremely desperate come with the territory. Like, Taco Bell is a luxury broke, and desperate as in she has applied to every job around campus. She even thought about dealing for a while, but as much as she loves a good smoke sesh, she'd rather not risk getting kicked out of school for something as dumb as selling blunts.

★ Camgirl Ellie who laughed when her friend Jesse suggested her being a camgirl.

"Why the fuck would I give old creepy dudes jerk-off material?"

Jesse laughed, grabbing a handful of cheetos from the bag in her hand. "Dude, you wouldn't be doing it for men. I mean, look at you." Jesse took a good, hard look at his friend; the several silver rings across her five fingers, a short-sleeve blue button up layered over a white wife-pleaser, and for god's sake, a pair of jorts that only Ellie could pull off. "You're clearly not for the male gaze."

After much (15 minutes) contemplation, she decided that maybe it'd be fun to get attention from girls and money at the same time.

★ Camgirl Ellie who is actually rather awkward and quiet around girls in the real world, cursing "fuck" under her breath when she sees a pretty girl but just doesn't know how to impress women in a way that doesn't come off as too forward or weird. That being said, she actually likes having a persona online where she can say anything she wants, and she definitely abuses the fact that she is allowed to say anything she truly feels like saying, and women will go crazy for it.

Sitting on her couch, propping up her iphone 11 on the coffee table with a pop socket she got like, 6 years ago so that the fans have a wonderful view of her stroking a strap-on with cheap lube she picked up from her local Walmart. Her bush is slightly peeking out from the harness, and the fans are getting filthy. Not as filthy as camgirl Ellie, though.

"Fuck, feels so good on my clit.." she groans, throwing her head back dramatically.

dykeluvr69 commented: oh my god y'all her happy trail i'm throbbing

wet4williams commented: i wish i could ride that strap

andersonsabs33 commented: mid💀

Ellie squints, anticipating all the thirsty comments, and scoffs at one, her hand jerking away from the silicone shaft for a moment to tell off some random.

"Suck my dick, andersonabs33."

fairydustonmyclit_2 commented: me next please!!

★ Camgirl Ellie who doesn't always have to be explicit to even get views. She finds that focusing the camera on her fingers while strumming her guitar can work wonders online. If she has had an exhausting day or is feeling anxious about getting naked in front of an overwhelmingly growing audience, she can always just show off her hands or say sweet things to her fans.

★ Camgirl Ellie who is not a virgin. She's had a few past girlfriends, no casual sex, but is pretty experienced from her long-term relationships. That being said, she never once has considered doing actual sex on camera for money. That changes when another famous (and nearby) camgirl joins her livestream.

Ellie's once again on her couch, two fingers doing figure eights on her clit as the view count rises. She's basically man-spreading to give her girls the best view possible, and not holding back from letting out breathy little groans and loud curses. Her fans go crazy when she has her tits out, so her sports bra is hitched up, her perky tits free and her nipples stiff.

"F-Feels so good, holy shit, wanna cum for my girls so bad," she groans, closing her eyes. Ellie doesn't view real masturbation as anything like her online work; if she were actually to be playing with her pussy all alone with no audience, she'd cum by now. But that doesn't make a profit, no. Longer time is important, and the more she ups the antics, teases her fans, the more comments can come in. The more donations arise and all that good shit.

Ellie teases her entrance with her middle finger, and her eyes flutter open as she eases the digit past her puffy folds.

She reads through the chat to hold out from cumming too quickly.

elliessluttygirl commented: i wish that was my hand playing w ur pussy ellie:(

Ellie smiles, curling her finger and moaning. She smiles lazily. "Yeah, slutty girl..wish it was yours, too."

As she adds a second finger upon the majority request in her comment section, she pauses at the feed.

urfavfemme has joined the livestream. Say hi!

Holy fuck. Ellie hasn't seen your videos, but the pink checkmark on your name means you're verified. Suddenly, Ellie is nervous as hell now. How is she supposed to act now, with some famous, probably fine woman watching her? She swallows and continues bucking up into her palm, but her fingers are slightly shaky now.

urfavfemme commented: ur pussy is so pretty.

Ellie laughs nervously at that. What the fuck is happening? But maybe she can use the situation to her advantage.

" 'urfavfemme', huh? Cute username," she coos, a little breathlessly because now she's getting closer to cumming, her nerves dying down as her fingers massage her sensitive walls. Ellie is so fucked up, she thinks to herself. She doesn't even know what you look like yet, why is she getting so crazed by you complimenting her?

urfavfemme commented: i wanna see that pretty pussy squirt please..

Ellie moans and squeezes her eyes shut for a moment, trying to wrap her head around it all. She gets dozens of comments just like these, thirsty ass girls drooling to her playing with herself or showing off a strap-on. Why is it that the idea of you, a self-proclaimed 'femme' making these comments is the thing that makes her belly all hot with the familiar ache of true need?

pixiestickpussy commented: holy shit this is so hot

wet4williams commented: is it just me or is smth going on with ellie and this camgirl chick

imonherefortheporn69 commented: i checked out the girl's content she's super hot dude

Ellie's head is spinning at the whole situation. It's overwhelming and she wants to just turn off the camera, but she's so close and getting desperate to cum. It is just so fucking hard when all of her girls are in an uproar over you.

urfavfemme commented: stretch me out on those fingers.

"Oh- Oh, my fucking god!! 'm cumming-" Ellie can barely keep herself from crying out as the waves shoot through her body throughout, a finger covering her clit to extend the orgasm that hits her so deeply. Her fingers are soaked more than usual, juices trickling down her knuckles. Her other palm is massaging over her tits, and for a moment, she forgets she is on camera. Forgets the thousands of people watching her, probably fingering themselves just like her. The though that is usually so overwhelming is forgotten.

Her body is warm, and if she could describe how this nut feels right about now, she'd say it's hot pink. It's light lightning, and for some reason, all she can repeat in her head is "thank you thank you thank you urfavfemme" because seriously, this has been one of the most insane experiences of her life. When she finally comes down, she has to take a few moments to catch her breath.

The aftermath of it all hits her. She did not just cum like she does in private. The usually dramatic orgasms the viewers got are nothing like that, and for what? Some girl she hasn't even seen yet?

The comments are going off, praising her and thirsting like she's never seen before, but she is still panting and flushed on her couch.

urfavfemme has donated $1000.

urfavfemme has left the livestream. Bye!

Ellie is quickly turning off the stream with a half-assed goodbye, and collapsing back onto her couch. She cannot believe that she just lost control like that. Her mind is processing the huge donation, too. A whole thousand is more than she's ever gotten in donations on a single live. How famous are you?

Ellie can't dwell much, because as her body cools down, she realizes how soaked the towel she is sitting on is. Oh, my god. She actually squirted on live.

★ Camgirl Ellie who searches up your username on google a few days following the squirting contest incident, and is soon brought to a url that hits her like a flashbang as soon as it loads on her ancient ass laptop. Her screen is covered in pink, and a pretty white font with your username is front and center. She then sees your face and nearly nuts. You're fucking gorgeous, definitely out of her league.. How are you the same girl that talked her through an intense orgasm over a livestream the other night?

★ Camgirl Ellie who spends the next few hours watching your videos. She has found a new obsession, that's for sure.

She has hearts in her eyes watching you bounce on a fairly-sized dildo suctioned to your floor, helplessly groaning with a hand down her basketball shorts as your pussy swallows the length of the toy. Your moans are what really gets her. You sound like anything but the pornstars she's heard, instead moaning like you're really getting it. And suddenly, Ellie wants to be the one to give it to you.

★ Camgirl Ellie who types out various messages to send to your gmail so conveniently linked on your website until she finally settles on something not too awkward

To: urfavfemme@gmail.com

From: elliewilliams19@gmail.com

Subject: Collab? Dear urfavfemme,

You were in my livestream the other day. I'm Ellie from the camgirl website, and I wanna know if you'd like to collab? (If you're around my area, of course).

Reading it back after she sent it, she sighs. That looks way too fucking professional for a request to do porn together.

★ Camgirl Ellie who anxiously waits for about an hour, not even Borderlands 3 able to distract her before she finally gets an email back.

To: elliewilliams19@gmail.com

From: urfavfemme@gmail.com

Subject: Collab?

Hi!! I'm in Fairview, WY if you're near? I'd love to collab:)

★ Ellie, who is freaking the fuck out now. She hadn't had sex in two years since Dina traumatized her with the worst break-up possible, and you're one of the hottest girls she's ever seen. Plus, she is only an hour away from you.

Jesse laughs when she rants to him about the whole thing.

"So you've got a fine ass girl offering to have sex with you? What's the problem?"

Ellie scoffs and gives him a glare, but there isn't any true malice. "That's the problem, idiot! She is way hotter than me. Plus, I haven't even had any practice in so long. What if I can't make her cum? What if I embarrass myself on live in front of both of our fan-"

"C'mon man, you gotta get out of your head about this. Does she seem nice?"

Ellie nods.

Jesse sighs, and slightly softens his tough-love look. "Look, she is probably just as nervous as you are. Give yourself a break, and go have fun with the pretty femme girl."

★ Camgirl Ellie who shows up at your apartment a little earlier than she meant to. She didn't mean to speed, but she was nervous on the road, anxiously tapping the steering wheel.

★ Camgirl Ellie who is greeted by you in a robe and what she assumes is going to be either nothing or lingerie underneath. That makes her heart beat even faster. She feels like she's gonna puke from how nervous she is, you're even more gorgeous up close.

★ Camgirl Ellie who takes in your bedroom compared to her own small apartment's bedroom. You've got posters covering your walls of various artists like PinkPantheress and Joan Jett and the Blackhearts; your bedsheets match your whole feminine vibe, and you have a whole camera set up with a stand. There's a box with a harness and different sizes of dildos inside of it. All of this is making Ellie even more nervous, like, shit her pants nervous.

You seem to take notice of her nerves, because you have clear concern on your face as you guide her to sit on your bed.

"You okay, Ellie?" voice so sweet and soothing, it could make her heart stop.

"Yeah..I'm okay.." she sighs, and anxiously chews on her lip, "I'm just like, me.. and you're super hot and all-"

Ellie's self-doubt is choked off when you cup her face, leaning in. "Do you know why I donated?"

"Why?" Ellie sounds shaky, a little confused on where this is going.

You give her a sweet smile, your glossy lips catching the ceiling light. You lean in even closer so that you can speak quietly, intimately. "I thought that you were easily one of the hottest camgirls I've ever seen on the website."

Ellie's eyebrows shoot up at that. "No fuckin' way you think that.."

Your smile doesn't falter, and you lean in even closer. "I do. I want you to fuck me, Ellie."

★ Camgirl Ellie who didn't know how passionately one could eat a pussy until she got a taste of yours. With the camera all set up and the live on, viewers roll in quickly at the promise of a collab between their two favorite lesbian camgirls. Ellie never forgot about the camera when it came to her solo steams, but you just have an effect on her that makes her head dizzy and her pussy throb, and all of a sudden she has her tongue deep in your wet pussy, alternating between tonguing your hole and tasting your clit. You're sprawled out on your bed, completely naked with Ellie between your thighs, and your moans are even louder than usual. They're angelic sounds that make the comments roll in like crazy.

dykeluvr69 commented: ellie eats pussy like a madman and i am so jealous rn

andersonabs33 commented: she's too sloppy with it, slow tf down girl.

This time, Ellie is far too blissed out devouring you to even pull away and tell the troll to fuck off.

"Mmmph, pussy tastes so fuckin' good.." You can't make out her muffled declaration, but the vibrations on your clit have you creaming for her.

Your pussy just sings for her. Three orgasms in, and she hasn't even used the strap she's wearing yet. She wants to savor every soft whimper you make when she nibbles on your neck before making out with you, tongue shoving into your mouth so that you can take your own perfect pussy on her tongue.

★ Camgirl Ellie whose fingers curl inside of you relentlessly, pumping into you, coaxing out orgasms like it's nothing. To her though, it is truly everything. You cry like you're pleading for her to never stop. It feels like hours that she's been tending to the perfect cunt you've got between your legs, and she doesn't know where she even learned half of the shit she's done. It isn't too hard to please you when she craves your sounds, though. She craves the feeling of your thighs squeezing the apples of her cheeks, making her lightheaded.

★ Camgirl Ellie who saves best for last, finally rubbing girthy silicone against your clit, making you whine in the process. That sound goes straight to her clit.

She grins with a newfound confidence, one she think that she has been given from a witchy ritual or something, not lesbian camgirl sex.

"You want me to fuck you good, baby? Fuck you 'till you squirt on my dick like you made me squirt?"

"Please, fuck, Ellie..." You're babbling nonsense at this point, legs spread wide and knees almost to your ears at you nearly sob for her dick.

"C'mon mamas, I wanna hear you beg for me." She taps the tip against your clit repeatedly, holding you down by the back your thighs to keep you from trying to squirm for more.

"Please, Ellie!! Fuck me, make me cum. I want your dick."

Ellie groans as she finally parts your soaked folds with the tip, sinking into your heat slowly as to not hurt you, but she soon finds that your walls are just swallowing her completely. All that foreplay must've really paid off.

★ Camgirl Ellie who practically goes from a nervous wreck to a pornstar in a matter of minutes, because she insists that she can feel how tight you are around her huge dick.

"Fuck, baby. Gonna fuck this pussy so good, gonna make you scream my name." She manhandles your legs around her waist so that she can hold your hips while she pounds into you, creating a whole bonfire of heat in your pussy.

"Feel you so deep in me, Ellie!" You almost break when she starts leaving sloppy, open-mouthed kisses on your neck.

"Yeah? Gonna make you feel me in your tummy, mamas. Gonna put a baby in you." Where in the hell did that come from? You both roll with it, if not getting even more riled up by the idea of Ellie cumming in you and knocking you up.

"Please, Ellie. 'm g-gonna cum for you-" before you can finally have your orgasm, it's ripped away as she pulls out of you. You can't even protest or make a loud whine before Ellie is flipping you onto your stomach, frantic to tuck one of your pink pillows underneath your tummy. She lines back up with your sloppy hole, slamming back into it to earn herself an actual sob from you.

You cry into the pillow, not from pain at all. No, this is probably one of the best fucks you've ever had in your life. Ellie doesn't start slow again but rather pistons her hips into yours, bony hips slamming into the fat of your ass upon each thrust until you finally get the intense orgasm you need.

"Pleaseknockmeup-" you cum with a broken cry, a couple euphoric tears streaming down your face. Your poor bedsheets, all soaked from you and Ellie's pussies and your tears. At this angle with the pillow raising you, you believe you can truly feel Ellie all up in your stomach. The waves are more like knots of a rope being snapped in half deep inside of you, and Ellie only keeps you riding the pleasure with her little sloppy grunts audible behind you.

Ellie groans as the friction to her own clit is vastly more intense with each grind to meet your body, and now she is humping your ass to get herself off. After she cums with a "gonna fucking cum in this pussy", she goes limp on top of you, her sweaty body covering yours, her tits pressed against your back in a way that is more comforting than arousing now.

★ Camgirl Ellie and you who entirely forget about the live and fall asleep in your bed together, snuggled up with you the big spoon, and the cum-coated strap on thrown somewhere across the room. Your bodies are flush against each other and your hands are wrapped around Ellie’s stomach, holding her closely.

fairydustonmyclit_2 commented: aw this is actually kind of cute

pixiestickpussy commented: i wanna be sandwiched between them wtf

limpbizkitsbitch commented: ts gonna be awkward when they wake up

andersonabs33: quit being a miserable bitch

limpbizkitsbitch: ironic coming from you🌝

andersonabs33 has left the live. Bye!

[plasticflowersinahistorycemetery]

always knew

content warning/s & word count: swearing, ben being his own warning as per, canon-level violence, woman scorned, heartbreak, failed relationship, toxic relationship, best friends to lovers, pining, smut (kissing, fingering, unprotected p in v, dirty talk, biting), some canon-level humour too. that's all i believe. 6.7k

You don’t hear the knock at first.

You’re face-down in the couch, half-dressed in an oversized band shirt that smells like old sweat and dryer sheets, the TV still muttering low static where it’s been paused for the past two hours. A congealed carton of lo mein balances precariously on the edge of the coffee table. You haven’t touched it. You haven’t touched much of anything. Except maybe the liquor cabinet.

The curtains are drawn, casting the whole apartment in a greyed-out kind of hush. The kind of quiet that buzzes in your ears. The kind of silence that only comes after begging someone not to leave and watching them do it anyway.

It’s been three days since you told Tyler to get the fuck out of your life. Since you caught him whispering to some twenty-two-year-old blonde on Instagram the same lines he fed you when you first met. Since he told you—coldly, clinically—that you were overreacting. That you were always so emotional. That maybe if you weren’t so suffocating, he wouldn’t need to look elsewhere.

You’re still hearing it. Like an echo under your skin.

The knock comes again—louder this time. You groan, twisting onto your back, eyes dry and gritty in their sockets. You expect it to be a delivery. Or maybe the building manager come to yell about the smell of cigarette smoke and the unpaid rent.

You do not expect to open the door and see Ben Hargrove leaning against the frame like some war-scarred statue in denim and leather, eyes flicking over you with a disgusted sort of concern.

“Jesus Christ,” he says, voice rough like gravel and bad decisions. “You smell like whiskey and bad life choices.”

You blink at him.

He takes in your bare legs, the hair shoved into a limp bun, the hollow smudges beneath your eyes. The dead lo mein. The air of barely-functioning.

Then he pushes past you without being invited.

“Good to see your doorman’s still a useless fuckin’ ghost,” he mutters, eyeing the apartment like it personally offended him. “Place smells like a goddamn frat house after rush week. When’s the last time you opened a window?”

You shut the door behind him slowly. “What do you want, Ben?”

He doesn’t answer right away. He’s pacing, glancing at the takeout boxes and the crumpled hoodie on the floor like they’re evidence in a crime scene. He picks up an empty bottle of Jack with two fingers, sniffs it, and grimaces.

“Classy,” he mutters. Then, louder: “When’s the last time you fuckin’ showered?”

You rub at your face, exhausted. “Don’t know. Yesterday?”

“Bullshit.”

You sit back down on the couch, not looking at him. “Why are you here?”

Ben turns. Looks at you. Really looks at you. Like maybe he didn’t expect it to be this bad. Like maybe seeing you like this makes something in him twist sideways.

Then he softens—only slightly. Just enough that his voice drops half an octave.

“Get dressed.”

You blink. “What?”

“Put something dark on,” he says, digging a cigar out of his coat pocket but not lighting it yet. “Somethin’ comfortable. We’re goin’ for a drive.”

“Ben—”

“Don’t argue with me, sweetheart,” he cuts in, tone brooking no room. “It’s not an intervention, alright? I’m not takin’ you to a fuckin’ group therapy circle. I got somethin’ for you. A surprise.”

You frown. “A surprise.”

He grins. It’s wolfish.

“You trust me?”

You don’t answer. You just stare at him. And he lets the silence stretch for a beat.

Then, quieter—serious:

“You trust me.”

You nod.

“Good girl.”

Ben turns and heads toward the door. “Ten minutes. Or I’m draggin’ you out lookin’ like that, and we’ll see how many paparazzi wanna snap shots of you with your tits out and Cheeto dust on your thighs.”

You roll your eyes. But you stand up.

Something in you—something low and aching and coiled too tight—shifts. And for the first time in days, you don’t feel like crying.

You feel like burning.

The car ride starts in silence, save for the low hum of the engine and the occasional snap of Ben’s cigar as he huffs on it like it’s keeping him alive.

You’re curled against the passenger door, arms folded over your chest, hoodie zipped up to your chin. You smell like soap now, hair still damp from a too-hot shower. But your eyes sting and your chest feels hollow. There’s a guilt curling in your gut that hasn’t loosened since you climbed in beside him.

Ben taps ash out the cracked window, not looking at you.

“You know, the others have been tryin’ to get hold of you for weeks,” he says casually, like he’s commenting on the weather.

You say nothing.

He huffs smoke, jaw tense. “Butcher’s still an asshole. Frenchie’s been drawing up a fuckin’ flowchart of what drugs he needs to bring to your place to drag your ass out. ‘Course, he wanted to lead with acid, but Kimiko voted for ket.”

That earns the tiniest twitch at the corner of your mouth. But still—no words.

Ben glances over, just for a second. “Kimiko’s takin’ it hard,” he says, quieter. “You vanish on her like that… she don’t understand why. She misses you.”

Your throat tightens.

“And me?” He adds, voice softening in a way that makes your stomach twist. “I’ve been learnin’ to sign. Been watchin’ fuckin’ YouTube videos like a goddamn teenager. Pretty sure I flipped off a waitress last week without meanin’ to.”

You finally look at him. “You’re serious?”

He shrugs, eyes forward. “Course I’m serious. You’re not the only one she talks to, you know. You mattered to people. Still fuckin’ do.”

The guilt surges like bile. You pull your knees up to your chest, eyes hot, voice low. “I didn’t mean to push everyone away. I just… I thought I was doing what he needed. What would make him stay.”

Ben snorts, bitter. “Yeah. Tyler. That little fuckin’—”

He cuts himself off, grinding his molars like they owe him money.

“He played you. We all saw it. Slow and subtle, yeah, but it was there. Butcher saw it. Frenchie knew. Hell, even Hughie—fuckin’ Hughie—was ready to break that guy’s kneecaps.”

You close your eyes, breathing in the smoke, the engine rumble, the weight of everything you’ve tried not to feel.

Ben drives in silence for a beat longer, then: “You’ll see. This—this’ll help.”

You open your eyes. “Where are we going?”

His grin returns, slow and dangerous.

“Told you. It’s a surprise.”

You narrow your eyes. “Ben…”

He just chuckles and takes another drag, the cigar glow reflecting sharp in his gaze.

“Trust me. You’re gonna love it.”

The warehouse sits like a scar against the edge of the city—brick walls split and peeling, rust chewing its way through the metal bones of the place. There's no sign. No security. Just a chain-link fence sagging under its own weight and a padlock hanging open like it’s daring someone to wander inside.

Ben kills the engine.

The cigar’s down to a nub between his fingers, smoke curling into the dark like something alive. He glances at you but doesn’t say anything. Just jerks his chin toward the building.

You hesitate.

The guilt���s still there—coiled tight in your ribs—but there’s something heavier now. An unease. A sharpness. Like the air itself is bracing.

“Ben,” you murmur. “What is this?”

He doesn’t answer. Just gets out of the car and slams the door.

You follow. The gravel crunches beneath your boots. The wind stinks of something rotten.

Ben walks ahead, shoulders squared, hand already resting on the holster at his hip even though you know—you know—he’s not expecting trouble. This isn’t a rescue mission.

It’s something else.

He shoulders the rusted door open with a grunt.

And the smell hits you first. Blood. Piss. Sweat. Something acrid and festering. Your eyes water.

The inside of the warehouse is cavernous and gutted—only one hanging bulb near the centre casting shadows like nooses. And there, slouched and zip-tied to a chair in the flickering half-light, is Tyler.

He’s barely recognisable.

Blood crusts over one side of his face, his lower lip split wide. His right eye is swollen shut. He twitches when the light hits him.

Then his head lifts. And he sees you.

“Babe—” he rasps, voice cracked and wet. “Babe, thank God. He’s fuckin’ crazy—he—he grabbed me off the street, he—”

Ben steps in behind you, arms folded, eyes like twin barrels.

“Jesus,” he drawls, like Tyler’s a stain he can’t scrub out. “Didn’t even grab him that hard. Pussy’s just got brittle bones.”

Tyler flinches.

You’re frozen.

He looks at you again. Eyes wide. Pleading. “Baby, you don’t have to do this. You don’t have to—he’s manipulating you. That’s what he does, right? You’re—you’re always so trusting. So forgiving. You don’t have to be like this.”

Ben’s jaw ticks.

You don’t move.

“You remember that night I told you I loved you?” Tyler croaks. “You said you felt safe with me. You said I made you feel seen—”

Ben moves.

Not fast. Not loud.

Just walks past you, slow and deliberate. Stalks up to Tyler, crouches beside him, one hand braced on the arm of the chair.

“Y’know what’s funny?” He murmurs, tone low and lazy. “You’re sittin’ here pissin’ yourself tryin’ to talk your way outta this, and you still think she can be manipulated.”

He pats Tyler’s cheek hard enough to make him wince.

“She ain’t yours. She never was. You just got good at pullin’ strings ‘cause you’re too fuckin’ pathetic to stand on your own.”

Ben stands. Cracks his knuckles. Looks over his shoulder at you.

“Go on,” he says. “He’s all yours.”

And when you don’t move, he adds—softer, but with that same quiet, violent reverence:

“We’ve all been waitin’ for this. Butcher, MM, Frenchie… even Annie. She’s got half a mind to come back and laser this little prick’s balls off herself. Hell, Kimiko’s been workin’ on new signs just for this. I’ve been learnin’ from her, by the way. Not fuckin’ YouTube. She’s teachin’ me herself.”

He pauses. His voice dips.

“I couldn’t sit on my hands anymore, sweetheart. None of us could. You matter too much.”

You swallow. The pain in your chest is shifting. Stretching. Making room for something hotter. You step forward.

And Tyler—finally—goes quiet.

Ben smiles like a goddamn man in church.

You take another step forward.

Tyler lifts his head again, blood smearing wet across his chin, but his voice is steadier now. Like he’s pulling strength from your hesitation. Like he still thinks he knows how to play you.

“Baby, please,” he croaks. “You’re not like this. You’re kind. You’re good. That’s what I loved about you. You see the best in people. Don’t let him turn you into something you’re not.”

Your stomach twists.

“You remember that trip we took to the lake?” He says, eyes locking onto yours, voice rasping like velvet over glass. “The night you fell asleep in my lap? You told me I made you feel safe. Like you could finally breathe again. Like you weren’t carrying the whole world on your back. You meant that. I know you did.”

He coughs, spitting blood, then looks up at you with those same pleading eyes. “You think this is you right now? Watching me bleed? Standing here while he turns you into some... some version of yourself I don’t even recognise? You don’t have to be cruel. You’re better than that.”

You flinch.

Ben sees it.

And he snaps.

His fist flies out, cracking against Tyler’s jaw with a sickening sound. Tyler’s head whips sideways. Blood sprays and dribbles down his chin, onto his shirt, onto the floor.

Ben stands there a moment, chest heaving. Then he turns on you. He grabs your shoulders—not roughly, but firmly enough that the world stops spinning.

His eyes blaze. “Don’t you dare believe a word of that.”

You blink at him, stunned.

“He came in and love-bombed you,” Ben says, voice thick with fury. “Annie explained that shit to me. Said that’s how it starts—over the top affection, big gestures, tells you he’s never felt anything like this before. Makes you feel like you’re special. Like you’re everything. And then, once he got you wrapped around his little fuckin’ finger…”

He inhales sharply, jaw tight.

“Then he gaslit you. Hughie walked me through that one. Said it’s when someone makes you feel like you’re crazy. Like everything’s your fault. Every fight. Every tear. He twisted things ‘til you were apologising for breathing wrong.”

Ben’s hands tremble slightly on your arms. His voice cracks around the edges.

“And he did it so quiet. So clean. Got you cut off from all of us before you even realised it was happenin’. You stopped answerin’ calls. Stopped comin’ around. Started checkin’ with him before you made a single fuckin’ move.”

His grip softens.

“He got you alone. Got you thinkin’ he was all you had. That the rest of us were just jealous, or overprotective, or tryin’ to ruin your happiness.”

Your throat burns.

Ben’s voice lowers. “We all saw it. But we thought... you’d catch on. That you’d see it for what it was.”

He looks at you like it physically hurts to keep going.

“But you didn’t. Not for a long time. And when we tried to pull you back? You pushed harder. Defended him. Told us he was misunderstood. Told us to back off.”

Ben swallows hard. His hands slide from your shoulders to your upper arms, steadying you.

“And we didn’t realise… we were makin’ it worse. That every time we tried to pull you in, we were just pushin’ you further into his fuckin’ trap.”

He leans closer.

“But you’re here now. You see him now. You see what we saw.”

His gaze softens, voice barely above a whisper.

“You’re not heartless for bein’ here. You’re not cruel. You’re healin’. And he doesn’t get to hold you hostage in your own guilt anymore.”

A pause.

“Not now. Not ever again.”

Ben doesn’t let go.

His hands stay on your arms, warm and solid, grounding you there in the blood-drenched quiet. Tyler groans behind him, but Ben doesn’t look back. Doesn’t give him the satisfaction of acknowledgment. Not when you’re standing here, shaking in front of him. Not when you’re still bleeding somewhere inside, even if you’re not sure from where.

His voice breaks the silence first—low, rough, almost reverent.

“I knew you deserved better. From the fuckin’ start.”

You blink at him. Your breath is a tremble in your chest.

“First day Butcher brought me into the safehouse,” Ben murmurs, thumbs brushing the outside of your arms as his eyes roam over your face like he’s trying to memorise you. “You were sittin’ on the arm of the couch with your boots on the coffee table, sharp’nin’ a blade like it was a goddamn religious ritual. Lookin’ like you’d carved yourself outta chaos just to piss off God.”

A breath of laughter escapes him—barely.

“I looked at you and thought, ‘Holy shit. I need to get in her pants.’”

You choke out a weak sound—part gasp, part laugh, part sob.

“But then I got to know you,” Ben says, voice steady now, hands gliding up your arms to your shoulders. “And that was the fuckin’ problem. You weren’t just hot. You were smart. Funny. You didn’t take shit from anyone. Least of all me.”

He steps closer. One hand slides to the back of your neck, the other down to your waist. He’s holding you now—really holding you. Like you might float away if he lets go.

“And you were so fuckin’ beautiful it hurt sometimes. Hurt to look at you. Hurt worse when you’d smile at that asshole like he hung the fuckin’ moon.”

His forehead dips to yours. You feel the heat of his breath. The weight of everything unsaid.

“I thought it’d pass,” he admits, eyes closing. “The want. The ache. Thought I could just hang around, be your buddy, maybe fuck it out of my system.”

His mouth brushes your cheekbone.

“But it never went away.”

Behind you, Tyler lets out a wet, bitter scoff. “Jesus Christ. This is pathetic.”

Ben’s head lifts.

He doesn’t look at Tyler. Doesn’t even flinch.

But you do.

You spin on your heel, eyes blazing.

“Say one more word,” you hiss, voice sharp and cold, “and I will punch you so hard you’ll be shittin’ your own fuckin’ molars for the next three weeks.”

Silence.

Ben howls. Full-bodied, head-thrown-back laughter that echoes off the warehouse walls like gunfire.

“There she is!” He grins, hands gripping your waist as he pulls you flush against him, like he needs to anchor you there. “That’s my fuckin’ girl. You’ve always been this little spitfire, haven’t you?”

He presses his mouth to your temple, voice dropping into something fond and low.

“I don’t know how that prick managed to pull you so far from yourself. But he ain’t ever gonna get to do it again. Not while I’m breathin’.”

Ben’s hands are everywhere now.

Not frantic—possessive. Slow and heavy and reverent, like he’s afraid if he stops touching you, you’ll disappear back into that quiet, brittle version of yourself again.

You stay pressed against him. Shoulder to chest. Hip to hip. His fingers skate down your back, across your ribs, down to your hips where they grip—not hard, but firm. Certain. Like he’s claiming something.

“You tell me what you want,” he mutters, breath hot against your temple. “You want him to cry? I’ll make him cry. You want him beggin’? I’ll get on my knees and make him watch while you laugh.”

You shudder.

“Physical or mental?” Ben says. “Pain’s pain, sweetheart. I just wanna see you choose. Wanna see that fire back in your eyes. Doesn’t matter what it is—I'll do it.”

He draws back just enough to look at you, his thumbs brushing over the hem of your shirt, his palms riding the curve of your waist.

“I’ll do anything for you.”

You suck in a sharp breath.

Your fingers curl into the front of his jacket. His words sink beneath your skin like glass in soft flesh. You stare at him, really stare at him—and something inside you shifts.

Because you’ve never heard him talk like that. Never felt him hold you like this. Never let yourself want to notice.

And maybe it’s been there the whole time—hiding under grief, under confusion, under the bullshit guilt Tyler twisted around your spine like barbed wire.

But right now, with Ben’s hands on you and his mouth an inch from yours, you feel something different.

You stand up on your toes.

And you kiss him.

He growls into it like it’s oxygen.

One hand slides up to cup your jaw, the other wraps tight around your waist, yanking you closer as his mouth crashes into yours, open and hungry. His tongue licks into your mouth like he’s starved. His teeth graze your bottom lip, then your jaw, then the soft curve of your cheek where he mutters against your skin:

“Doll—fuck, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted this.”

He kisses you again. Dirtier. Deeper. Like you’re the last thing on Earth worth believing in.

And Tyler is still bleeding behind you, watching the whole thing.

Ben’s breath is hot against your skin.

He holds you like you’re something he’s fought for—bled for—like you’re the prize at the end of some long, cruel war. His hands are everywhere, rough palms dragging over the small of your back, up your sides, gripping your hips like he’s anchoring himself to the moment.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he growls, voice low and reverent and wrecked. “You got any idea what you’re doin’ to me?”

You can’t answer.

Can’t think.

The warehouse around you dissolves. The blood. The stench. The broken thing tied to a chair just out of reach. All of it fades beneath the sound of your pulse pounding in your ears, beneath the sensation of Ben’s body pressed to yours like he’s trying to crawl inside your skin.

He kisses you again—rougher this time. Mouth hot and claiming, tongue sliding deep as he growls into it like he’s starved.

“Always knew you had fire in you,” he mutters against your lips. “Always fuckin’ knew it. Could see it in the way you walked, the way you held a blade like it was part of your goddamn hand. Thought about it every night—fuck, the things I’d do to you if you ever gave me the chance.”

His teeth catch your lower lip and tug. You gasp, and he drinks it down like it’s holy.

The air between you shudders. Your thighs squeeze around nothing. The cottony buzz in your ears filters everything but him—his voice, his breath, the sound of his belt creaking as he shifts closer, chest heaving.

He smells like smoke. Like cedar and gunpowder. Like the ghost of war and the promise of something burned. And under it, something warmer. Something his.

Your eyes flutter shut and you see white behind your lids. Not fireworks.

Gunshots.

Ben bites down on your neck—sharp and claiming—and your knees buckle.

“I’ll do anything for you,” he whispers, right into your skin. “Anything you fuckin’ want. Hurt him, humiliate him, leave him here to rot. You say it, and it’s done.”

Your breath catches.

Because of Ben’s words. And his hands are on your hips, your jaw, your back—like he can’t decide what part of you he wants to claim first. He’s panting like he’s been in combat, like he’s just stormed a beach and found you waiting on the other side of the gunfire. His mouth is on yours again, hard and open, tongue sliding deep, like he’s trying to brand you from the inside out.

And you let him, because for the first time in so long, you want to be touched. Not just held, but gripped. Revered. Consumed.

“Seriously,” Ben groans into your mouth, breaking the kiss only to slide his mouth down to your throat. “You got any idea what you do to me?”

You tilt your head back, breath stuttering. The smell of him fills your lungs—smoke and cedar and blood-warm gunmetal, the kind of scent that gets under your nails and never washes out. You breathe him in like he’s oxygen. Like he’s the first clean thing you’ve tasted in months.

“Since day one,” he pants against your skin, “I’ve had to watch you walk around like a goddamn fever dream. Boots on the damn coffee table, sharp little mouth, legs I wanted wrapped around my fuckin’ head.”

You gasp—sharp and involuntary—and he growls, hand fisting in the back of your shirt.

“And now you’re here,” he mutters, kissing your jaw, your cheek, your mouth again. “You’re fuckin’ here, lookin’ at me like that. Takin’ what you want. Givin’ me this. Shit, sweetheart—I think I might blow just from you lookin’ at me like that.”

Tyler’s voice pierces the haze behind you—shouting something bitter, something cruel. You barely register the words.

Your hand drifts down without looking.

You know exactly where Ben keeps it—strapped tight to the inside of his thigh. The throwing knife. Lightweight. Balanced. Yours, now.

You grip it, twist, and without pulling away from Ben—not even a breath’s worth of distance—you hurl it backward.

The blade hits with a thunk, deep into Tyler’s thigh. He screams. A wet, broken thing.

Ben doesn’t even flinch. His eyes go wide. Then darker. His mouth curls into something between awe and depravity.

“Ohhh,” he breathes, licking into your mouth like he’s trying to taste the violence on your tongue. “That’s my fuckin’ girl.”

His hand grabs your ass, hauls you tighter against him, and you feel every inch of how wrecked he is over it.

“Christ, you just made me harder than a fuckin’ Kevlar plate,” he mutters, voice gravel and filth.

You laugh—actually laugh—and it shudders through both of you.

Gunshots or fireworks. Your ears ring with it. You kiss him again anyway. Because for once, the only thing that matters is the way his mouth tastes like smoke and reverence. And the way you’re finally, finally taking something back.

He presses you against the wall, hips grinding into yours, mouth all over your throat, your jaw, your cheek, everywhere.

“Gonna ruin you, sweetheart,” he breathes, voice shaking. “Gonna make you forget he ever existed. Make you scream my name so loud it drowns out every lie that piece’a shit ever fed you.”

And God help you—

you want it.

Ben’s got you pinned to the wall, his thigh wedged between yours, grinding slow and heavy while his mouth devours yours in filthy, desperate pulls. His hands are everywhere—your waist, your ass, your jaw—gripping, guiding, owning. The taste of him is smoke and sin, and you can’t stop drinking it in.

You gasp into his mouth as his hips roll again, harder this time, and your nails dig into his back through the stretched fabric of his jacket.

Then he turns his head, just slightly, over his shoulder.

You see it before you hear it—the grin. That smug, wicked, infuriatingly cocky grin that makes your knees weak and your stomach coil.

He looks back at Tyler, eyes alight with something gleaming and unholy.

“And you,” he says, voice loud and clear enough to cut through the moans and the tension, “get to watch me make her come. You takin’ notes, buddy?”

Your breath punches out of you. You can feel Tyler tense, can sense the venom rising in his throat, the way it always used to—some cruel, manipulative little remark no doubt loading in the chamber.

But you don’t let it fire.

You grab Ben’s jaw. Force his face back to yours.

“He never made me come anyway,” you pant, eyes locked on his. “I faked it. So I wouldn’t hurt his fucking ego.”

Ben’s face changes.

He goes still for a split second—like the weight of your words crashes straight through his spine—and then he growls, low and guttural, like it’s been ripped from somewhere primal.

“Oh, sweetheart…” he hisses, eyes dark and starved. “You kiddin’ me?”

His hands slide down your thighs, lift you like it’s nothing, your legs wrapping around his waist. He pushes you harder into the wall with his hips, breath ragged against your neck.

“You’re not fakin’ a fuckin’ thing with me.”

His mouth drags along your jaw, his voice a filthy snarl.

“I’m gonna put my fingers in you and make you beg. Gonna eat you until you can’t remember your own name. Then I’m gonna fuck you so slow, so deep, you’ll forget that little prick ever touched you.”

You whimper, already trembling, and his grin returns—slower now, reverent.

“You deserve that, y’know,” he whispers, mouth brushing your ear. “To feel good. To feel wanted. To feel like someone’s dyin’ to make you come.”

Then, lower:

“I’ll be that someone. Every fuckin’ time.”

Your breath’s still catching in your throat when you whisper it.

“Take me away from here.”

Ben freezes for a heartbeat—just long enough to make sure you mean it. Then he exhales, hot against your jaw, and grins like a man about to commit a felony for love.

“Sweetheart,” he murmurs, “you don’t gotta tell me twice.”

He sets you down, but barely. Just enough for your feet to hit the floor before he’s grabbing your hand and tugging you toward the exit like you’re a fucking prize he just won at a shooting gallery.

But you stop. Just before the door. Just long enough to look back.

Tyler’s slumped in the chair, bleeding, dazed—but still watching. Still trying to claw his way into your mind with that look. That pathetic, wounded, manipulative look.

Ben notices.

“Don’t worry,” he says, casual as a bomb with a lit fuse. “I’ve got Vicki on standby.”

You blink. “Vicki?”

He flashes a grin. “Yeah. Victoria Neuman. Little head-pop princess. We text.”

You stare. “You and Victoria are friends?”

“Yeah,” he says, all smug pride and devilish charm. “We make a weird fuckin’ duo, but hey—it works. I bring the muscle, she brings the cranial detonation.”

You snort despite yourself. “You are the weirdest man I’ve ever met.”

Tyler groans behind you, trying to speak through the blood.

You turn. Look him in the eye.

“You’re the worst person I’ve ever met,” you say, voice cold and clear. “And I’ve met some right cunts in my day.”

Ben wheezes—an actual bark of laughter.

Then he grabs your face with both hands and kisses you—hard and fast, like he’s starving and you’re the only thing left on Earth. He’s all teeth and heat and possessive growling, and when he pulls back, his eyes are wild with something close to reverence.

“You fuckin’ kill me,” he mutters.

Then he scoops you up like you weigh nothing and barrels through the door of the warehouse, your legs around his waist again, your arms locked behind his neck.

You feel the rumble of his laugh in his chest as he walks, grinding you against him with every heavy step.

He fumbles his phone out of his back pocket one-handed, thumb tapping out something sloppy.

From inside the warehouse—pop.

You blink.

Ben doesn’t even flinch. Just shoves the phone back in his pocket with a satisfied grunt.

“Neuman sends her love.”

You gape at him, breathless with laughter and arousal and holy-shit-what-just-happened adrenaline.

He opens the car door, swings it wide, and all but throws you into the back seat—following a second later with the same reckless energy, already yanking at your clothes.

“I gotcha,” he pants, kissing you like a promise. “You don’t gotta worry about shit anymore. I’m gonna look after you. Gonna make sure no one ever touches you like that again.”

Another kiss, slower this time. Rougher. Deeper.

“You’re mine now, sweetheart.”

He pulls back just long enough to grin.

“And I take real good care of what’s mine.”

Clothes scatter like war wreckage—torn seams, tangled denim, your hoodie halfway across the console like it tried to escape the heat before either of you could.

Ben’s on top of you in the backseat, knees on either side of your thighs, eyes blown black and feral as his hands trace every inch of skin like they’ve been waiting years for clearance. And maybe they have.

He kisses you again—rough and consuming—and when he pulls back, his voice is already ragged.

“You got no fuckin’ idea what this does to me,” he mutters, trailing kisses down your neck, your collarbone, the soft slope of your chest. “Took everything in me not to kill that little cocksucker sooner.”

His hand slides between your thighs, rough palm catching against slick heat, and you gasp, arching.

“Had to get talked down so many times,” he growls, fingers teasing, circling, not giving you nearly enough. “Frenchie, MM, Hughie—fuck, even Annie. They all said ‘wait, let her figure it out.’”

His eyes flash up to yours, savage and shining.

“And I waited. But every time he touched you, every time he said your name like he owned it—God, I wanted to rip his fuckin’ spine out.”

You whimper as his fingers press in—slow, deliberate, claiming.

“And don’t even get me started on Kimiko,” he breathes, smirking as your thighs twitch. “We fought over who’d get the killing blow when the time came. Almost threw hands over it. She wanted to snap his neck like a fuckin’ breadstick. I wanted to peel him apart.”

He curls his fingers and your body jerks, a strangled moan clawing its way out of your throat.

“But now?” He whispers, mouth brushing your ear, voice turned molten. “Now I get to ruin you. Nice and slow. Take my time. Make it count.”

You can’t breathe.

Can’t think.

His fingers work deeper, rhythm turning sharp, filthy, curling just right. His free hand is gripping your thigh like he might bruise it, like he wants to.

“You’re already squeezin’ me so fuckin’ tight,” he groans. “Can’t wait to feel this around my cock. Can’t wait to make you scream so loud no one’ll dare doubt who you belong to.”

You shudder, thighs shaking.

“Ben—”

“Yeah, that’s it,” he pants, forehead against yours, lips brushing yours as he keeps working you open. “Let go for me, sweetheart. Don’t hold back. I’ve got you.”

And you do.

You fall apart with a cry that’s all heat and ash and blessed release, fingers clutching his shoulders like you’ll never let go again. He watches you come undone like it’s the first sunrise after the end of the world.

Then—

He groans, long and wrecked and hungry, as he settles between your legs, already pressing in, hard and heavy and so ready.

“Fuck,” he gasps, biting at your throat. “You feel like heaven. You were made for me, weren’t you?”

You nod, dazed and gasping, and he growls—fucking growls—as he rocks forward, sinking into you with a reverence that borders on holy.

“Gonna make you feel so good, baby. Better than he ever could. Better than anyone could.”

And God help you—

you believe him.

Your back arches off the leather, slick thighs shaking around his waist, and Ben’s fucking into you like he owns every breath you’ll ever take.

And maybe he does.

Because right now—right here—he’s the only thing you know.

You’re gasping, clawing at his shoulders, your mouth open, nothing coming out but stuttered moans and hitched cries. He’s deep, so deep, like he’s trying to fuck the past out of you. Like he’s building a new religion inside your body and praying with every thrust.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he growls, voice low and ragged as his hips snap forward. “You feel that? Huh? That tight little cunt takin’ me like she’s starvin’ for it.”

You whimper, head falling back, dizzy with the stretch and the heat and the obscene pressure building like a goddamn detonation.

“Oh yeah,” Ben grins, bending low, mouth hot against your jaw. “I knew it. Knew it from day fuckin’ one. You needed me.”

He adjusts the angle, cock head pressing into that gummy wreck-you spot, hips rolling just so—deep, exact, perfect—and your eyes fly open, your whole body jolting like you’ve been struck by lightning.

“There,” he pants, breath fanning across your cheek as he watches your reaction like a man possessed. “There it is. Fuck, I knew that spot’d wreck you. You didn’t even have to tell me—I knew.”

Your nails rake down his back. He hisses. Smiles wider.

“You think that little shit knew how to touch you like this?” He taunts, his voice filth and fire. “You think he ever found this spot? Ever made you shake like this?”

You can’t answer. You’re gone.

And he sees it. Feels it.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Ben sneers, snapping his hips forward harder. “You been doin’ kegels and fakin’ it for three fuckin’ years, huh? Christ, sweetheart. That’s criminal. You deserve to be wrecked every goddamn night.”

His hand slides down your belly, between your legs, fingers circling in time with his thrusts. Your body jerks. He groans like he’s the one coming undone.

“You feel that?” He snarls, voice strained. “Soakin’ me. Grippin’ me so tight it’s like your pussy knows who the fuck you belong to.”

You sob his name, raw and breathless.

“Yeah,” he growls, mouth dragging across your cheek, your jaw, your lips. “That’s it. Say it. Say my fuckin’ name while I make you come so hard you forget what that asshole even looked like.”

And God—you do.

You fall to pieces underneath him, every nerve set on fire, every thought shattered. You sob against his mouth, thighs clamping around his waist, body clenching around him like he’s the only thing that’s ever fit. Ever mattered.

Ben loses it.

“Jesus fuck,” he groans, his pace stuttering. “You were made for me. You hear me? Fuckin’ made for me.”

He buries his face in your neck, hips still rolling, slower now, but no less intense. Like he’s drawing it out, savouring every twitch of your body, every aftershock.

You’re trembling.

Eyes wet.

Mouth open in stunned disbelief because this is what it’s supposed to feel like. Not the silence. Not the emptiness. This—this wild, shaking, loved feeling. This obliteration.

And he knows.

He leans back just far enough to look at you, still moving inside you, slow and reverent.

“Yeah,” he mutters, lips brushing your jaw, your cheek, your temple. “Yeah, I fuckin’ knew. Knew no one ever touched you right. Knew he didn’t see you. But I did. Always did.”

Your hands cup his face, thumbs trembling against his cheekbones.

And you realise—you love him.

You’ve loved him longer than you want to admit.

He saved you. Is saving you. Right now, with every breath and every filthy word and every thrust that feels like it’s putting your bones back together.

“I got you,” he whispers again, more serious now. “I’ll always have you. You never gotta fake anything again.”

And you believe him.

God help you—you believe him so hard it makes your whole soul ache.

Ben’s still deep inside you, slow and steady now—fucking you like he has all the time in the world. And maybe this is what forever’s supposed to feel like. Sweat-slick skin, velvet heat, and the sound of his breathless curses breaking in your ear.

You look up at him, dazed and wrecked and so in love you don’t know how to contain it. Your fingers tremble where they curl against the back of his neck, nails digging into sun-warmed skin.

He’s staring down at you, expression dark and raw, mouth parted—but then something shifts. His eyes narrow. That grin tugs at the corner of his lips.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he warns, voice low and tight.

You blink. “Like what?”

“Like you’re in love with me or some shit,” he growls, hips grinding deeper. “You give me those fuckin’ doe eyes again and I swear I’m gonna blow my load right up inside you and make it stick.”

Your eyes roll back.

Ben sees it. Feels it. And loses his mind.

“Oh, you like that,” he breathes, grin feral now. “You fucking like that. You want me to fill you up, don’t you? Want me to stuff you so full you’re drippin’ with it? Fuckin’ knew it.”

His hips move sharper, more precise. Like he’s playing you like an instrument he made himself.

“I knew,” he pants, mouth pressed to your jaw. “Knew exactly how to get you off. Didn’t need directions, didn’t need fuckin’ training wheels. I just knew. You think that’s coincidence, sweetheart?”

You’re already close again. Clenching around him. Writhing beneath him.

Ben sees it. Feels it. Loves it.

“Oh yeah, you’re gonna come again, huh?” He laughs, teeth dragging over your throat. “Gonna come around me like you’re mine.”

You nod, sobbing. Mindless.

“Yeah,” he growls, voice unraveling. “You’re about to milk me fuckin’ dry, baby. Gonna drain my balls with how tight you’re chokin’ my cock.”

The filth. The rhythm. The truth of it—

It snaps something inside you.

You shatter again, coming around him with a broken cry, whole body seizing under the weight of it. And Ben roars, head thrown back, mouth open in a soundless curse before he slams forward and spills deep inside you.

“F-fuckin’ Christ,” he groans, his whole body trembling as he fucks you through it, slowing only when he’s sure there’s nothing left to give.

For a moment, there’s only breath. Sweat. The beat of his heart thudding against your chest like war drums.

Then he slumps forward, arms wrapping around you tight.

“Never lettin’ anyone hurt you again,” he mutters, breath hot against your throat. “You hear me? Not while I’m still breathin’.”

You nod, dazed and melted into him.

He presses a kiss to your shoulder. “Alright, sweetheart. Let’s get you dressed. The others are dyin’ to see you.”

Then, with a smirk against your skin:

“And Frenchie owes me fifty bucks. Bastard bet I’d be the one to break first.”

author note/s: i think i'm getting it back, for sure, i just need some time to write this angsty and painful shit to get my ex out of my system. i would like to thank @0ccvltism for putting this idea into my head with our conversations. seriously, i need a ben to come and take care of me. lord knows my ex never did. i also used a lot of stuff in this that was inspired by my ex, don't know if you can tell lmao. i'm just trying to get back to the smin you all know and love, but new and improved... we'll call her "smin 2.0" or something. until next time, because there will be a next time, i'm signing off. please let me know what y'alls think. all the love.

soldier boy/ben taglist: @losers-clvb @bejeweledinterludes @soldiersgirl @bruisedfig @tinas111 @angelicjackles @lunaleah. @mostlymarvelgirl @itshellfire @drakulana @sl33pylilbunny @suckitands33 @nevercameraready @0ccvltism @lyarr24 @podiumackles @spxideyver @ohgodimgoungtodie @paristheonewhoreads @winchestersbgirl @blossomingorchids @sacr1ficialang3l @kaz-2y5-spn @agoodgirlsguidetomakingmencry @bohoooitsme @n3lly-h3artz @ladykitana90 @deangirlsstuff67 @adoredawn @sunnyfuffly <3

everything taglist: @bejeweledinterludes @angelicjackles @losers-clvb @blossomingorchids @tinas111 @lunaleah @drakulana @sacr1ficialang3l @mostlymarvelgirl @bohoooitsme @n3lly-h3artz @deangirlsstuff67 @ambiguous-avery @deansbeer <3

[anakinsang3l]

9:39 p.m.

Stoner! Anakin Skywalker x Stressed out reader!

Summary: Anakin Skywalker definitely smokes his weight in weed, but he’s got a hobby that keeps him busy every night besides that :O

includes: SMUT!, weed, Anakin is a very lovey boy in this

WC: 5,934

A.N. - holy SHIT it’s here! I would like to include reference vids and stuff but DAMN maybe I’ll have to do twitter link post. Anyways I hope you enjoy!

Finishing up your last few client files, you glanced at your watch. 

9:39 p.m., it read.“Shit.”

The long, grueling day had made you tired and maybe just a tad bit hungry, hangry, honestly. Your best bet was stopping by the corner store just down the hill from your apartment. Why? Bi-weekly pay had you starving by the second week because, god damn, if inflation wasn’t a son of a bitch. After hurriedly packing up your stuff, you headed out and started your car, sighing into the driver’s seat, relieved to be out of the office. Really, on most days, it was too much. 

Peeling out of the parking lot, you started on your way. 15 minutes later, you could just make out the telltale sign of the little corner store. Bright red and orange lights flashed at you, reading “Cigars, Cigarettes, Tobacco, and more!” You always wondered what the “and more!” could possibly mean. 

Then there was Anakin. Tall, lanky ol’ Anakin. Leaning up against the wall just beside the entrance, you could tell he was smoking a joint. He was a regular at the corner store, usually hanging out at night. No sense or idea as to why Anakin was always there; for all you could guess, it was the insomniac in him. You only guessed because you were an insomniac yourself. Though for whatever reason it may be, no matter how many times he tried to weasel his way into your pants when you’d come by, his presence always brought you a sense of calm. Looking at him now, though, you could understand why every woman who walked into the store threw themselves at him first before they entered. He’s a very handsome man, you’ll give him that. His curly, tussled, dirty blonde hair, icy blue eyes, and muscles you couldn’t tell he had until you were standing right next to him (sleeper build much?!). He wore black, loose-fitting slacks, a dark gray sweatshirt, and white crew socks with the original old-school vans. Handsome man indeed.

As you were getting out of your car, Anakin walked up to greet you.

“Hey, Angel Face.”

You nodded your head “Anakin.”

“Awh, what’s the matter, love? Why the ‘tude?”

“Nothing. Could ya stop yapping and let me go inside the store, please?”

“Only because you asked nicely.” Stepping out of the way, he let you make your way into the store.  

Inside the store, you beelined it to the frozen section for ice cream. Ben & Jerry’s Americone Dream never did you wrong. Chip aisle came next. Xxxtra Hot Cheetos and Sabritones never did you wrong, either. On to the candy! Sour Punch Bites and, last but not least, dark chocolate Rolos. As you were walking back from the candy aisle, you stopped by the refrigerated drinks to grab a strawberry banana body armor and a GIANT essential water. After what seemed like a million years (it was 2 minutes) of standing in line for checkout, you set your stuff down on the counter and looked up at the cashier expectantly. As he started to scan the items, you felt the tingling feeling of being watched. You brushed it off because, hello? You were in a corner store; anyone could be staring at you.

You didn’t know that Anakin Skywalker had his eyes on you the entire time from the moment you stepped into the store. Bad intentions? Never. Yes, he knew he could be a bit creepy from time to time, but can you blame him? You’re you, and he’s him. He smokes a lot of weed, and you’re gorgeous; that’s his excuse anyway. You’re intriguing, and he is thoroughly intrigued, to say the least. While every other girl threw themselves at Anakin, you did not. You kept your distance, and that made him wonder about you. So, every night for the last 3 months, Anakin has been coming to the corner store to look at your pretty face and watch you. Again, it's weird, and he knows it, but you’re just too cute not to. When you’d come home from work in your skirts and button-ups or slacks and a pretty blouse, he was on his knees, just begging for a crumb of your attention. Most of the time, he could grab it, but there were a select few moments when he couldn’t, and his mood would plummet to the depths of hell. Whatever it was about you, he was severely attached.

The cashier finished bagging everything up and handed the bag and receipt to you. You took it with excitement and made your way out to your car. Heading home to go snuggle up in bed with your favorite snacks, a joint, a blanket, and your favorite show sounded like a great idea, that was until a certain someone’s slightly scratchy voice called out to you.

“No goodbye? I thought we were closer than that, Angel.”

“Goodbye, Ani.”

“What did you just call me?”

Oh fuck. SHIT. You just let the nickname only you had given Anakin slip right in front of him. He had still been puffing on the joint from when you went inside, but those movements have since stilled.

“Could ya say that again for me, love? I couldn’t quite hear you.”

“I said Goodbye, Anakin.”

“Nice try, baby; that absolutely was not what you said.”

At this point, you had no idea how Anakin had already made it to your driver's side door, where you had been standing and caged against your car.

“Please say it again.”

He was so close that you could feel his breath fanning against your lashes for every word that he spoke, and the smell of weed and peppermints permeated your nostrils. The combination of those two scratched your brain in a way that sentbutterflies straight to your core without a second thought.

“Ani”

“Fuck Angel, can I touch you?”

“Yes, please.”

Anakin’s hands moved from the side of the door to the base of your hips, immediately pulling you flush against him. From there, his hands traveled up the sides of your hips all the way up to your chest and back down again.

He was losing his mind. No way he got to touch you like this AND while he was blazed out of his mind? Fuck yeah. He then moved to say something in your ear, dangerously close to your neck.

“I’m gonna kiss you right here *kiss* and right here *kiss* aaaannnndddddd right here *kiss* mkay Angel?”

“Okay, Ani.”

Under his breath, you heard a quiet fuck after saying that, which may have slightly boosted your ego. He was essentially devouring your neck. Kisses, licks, and bites all over. In the corner store’s parking lot, which, yes, in a way, could be hot, but not right now. 

“Ani”

“Hmm?”

“Can we go somewhere that’s not the parking lot of the corner store? Please”

He lightly chuckled at that and then pulled you around to your passenger door and opened it for you.

“What’re you doing?” 

“I’ll drive us to my place; I imagine it’s much closer than yours.”

“I’m literally like 5 minutes down the road”

“And I’m 2, so who wins?”

“Whatever”

Getting into the passenger seat of your own car felt weird. Never had you EVER let anyone else drive your car, yet here we are with Anakin driving down the road to his apartment. It wasn’t uncomfortable in the slightest, though. Sure, there has always been some sort of tension between you two, but never enough to scare you away. 

Not even 2 whole minutes went by and you guys were already pulling into the parking lot of his apartment.

“You ready?”

There was, however, an excitement in his voice that you were unsure about.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“That’s sir to you, actually.”

“Okay, sir.” 

You had said that with a slight sarcasm and chuckled about it, but Anakin was far from in a laughing mood right now.

“I mean it.”

“Okay, my bad.”

“You’re fine.”

You couldn’t tell if things were fine by the slight annoyance still in his voice, but you brushed it off and got out of the car. He quickly followed suit and came over to grab your hand, leading you along. His apartment was on the second story, but somehow, his apartment was the very top one, so essentially, there is a person below the person who is below him? It's too confusing for you right now.

Anakin fished his keys from his back pocket, his hand just barely trembling. You made him nervous, and now he was bringing you into his space. What the fuck was he thinking?! He wasn’t, well…he was, but you know, definitely not with his brain. Walking in, he quickly flicked on the light to the right to give it some illumination. He had to admire his cleanliness because the look on your face was priceless. You really didn’t expect him to be clean? Heart hurts. Anyways, on to the good stuff.

From what you could see, Anakin was one of the cleanest men you had ever met. The only other man who could possibly be as clean was your father. He had drilled it into you from a young age that a clean space makes for a happy mind.Somehow, that line of his still made it into your daily life, even though he does not. Anyways, the setup of his apartment was cute. He had 2 bedrooms, a living room, a kitchen, and a dining room, all with furniture to his liking, and a washer and dryer were tucked away in his hallway closet. Most of the furniture was either dark gray or dark gray-blue. A select few of his things were a pretty gray-purple hue, but only a couple. From this, you could tell he seemed to like the darker colors of the color wheel. In his living room, there was a beautiful rug that looked like a starry night, and on top of that, the gray-blue couch with a coffee table in front of it. Then, in front of the coffee table, there was a large flatscreenmounted to the wall in the perfect spot. It all flowed so well together; mind you, let’s ignore the sheer amount of bongs and dab rigs he had CRUNCHED together under the coffee table.

“Wow.”

“Huh?”

“Wasn’t expecting you to be this clean.”

“Is that a compliment, Angel?”

“Yeah, you're welcome. Anyway, let me just point out to you that your BONGS are being CRUNCHED under the coffee table. Why are you treating them like that?!”

“Geez, you care more about my bongs than I do. Hold on, do you smoke???”

The question, combined with his tone, had you gasping for air because this was just too good.

“What’s so funny?”

“All this time, and you never had a clue!”

You still couldn’t contain your laughter. For the last 3 months that Anakin had been at the corner store, there were only a select few times where you had shown up sober. The convenience of your penjamin right after work was too good. Plus, everyone had always told you growing up that your eyes immediately gave it away, so how could he not have known? Either way, at this point, you were so down to have a smoke sesh with him.

Anakin was… flabbergasted, to say the least. He couldn’t believe that for the last three months, he had no idea you were a secret smoker. Was he pissed? Absolutely. Why? Because he could’ve had you over here much sooner than this had he known. God. All he knows now is that he has to savor this moment for however long he possibly fucking can.

Anakin headed into the kitchen real quick while you were still recovering from laughing so hard and came back with a lighter and a torch. 

“Dabs, bong, or blunt?”

“Blunt definitely”

“Mmmkay, Angel face, I’ll have to roll it real quick; you alright with waiting?”

“Always”

Ani walked back to his room, and you decided to take your shoes off and plop down on his couch. It was pretty comfy, no lie. He came back not even a whole minute later with his jar of weed, rolling tray, wraps, and grinder. He sat down next to you, lifted your legs up, and placed them in his lap. You didn’t realize till now, but he had taken his shoes off a long timeago and was now just in his socks, pants, and sweater. God did he look sexy. He was focused on grinding the weed, his fingers moving in a fluid motion to break it up and set it in the grinder. Fuck. You wondered what his fingers could possibly feel like inside you. After twisting it a couple of times, he then took the bottom half off of the grinder and started to fill the wraps with weed. Once it was full enough to his liking, he grabbed the wrap and began to lick it. His tongue darted out and started moving it along the wrap, he could’ve just moved the wrap along his tongue, but no. Instead, he moved his tongue against the wrap, purposely being a perv, but could you really blame him. His sexiness cancels it out. His tongue moved first in small circles, but then he started to drag it nastily along the wrap with no shame. He was being a purposeful tease, and you knew it. Was it enjoyable? Incredibly. He knows exactly what he’s doing and has no shame about it.

“You’re staring, you know that right?”

“Yeah, you’re kinda making it hard not to.”

He chuckled at that and proceeded to roll the blunt until it was a perfect cylinder, then grabbed the lighter from the table to seal it. Quickly flicking it with his thumb, the lighter came alight and Anakin, the smooth man he was, had the blunt sealed and ready to light in less than 30 seconds. He turned to you with it and had you hold it in your mouth.

“Here, purse your lips so you don’t get it too wet, not that I mind.”

He said the last part a little quieter, but you still heard him.

Pursing your lips, you now held the blunt in between them, waiting for him to light it.

The familiar flicking sound of the lighter came, and then there was the burn. You had inhaled the moment he set flame to the end of the blunt, knowing it was going to hurt, but you still puffed it quickly. After doing that, Anakin promptly reached over to snatch it from your mouth. Immediately, your coughing fit started, and you felt a hand on your lower back start rubbing soothing circles, and for some reason, it seemed to help. It was Anakin’s hand, of course, and he was not stopping, even though you had stopped coughing a long time ago.

“Hey love, you okay?”

“Yeah I’m good, thanks”

“Okay, is it alright if I try something with you? All you have to do is have your mouth slightly parted and inhale when I tap ya twice, pretty easy. Are you up for it doll?”

“Is it gonna hurt, Ani?”

“No, of course not, Angel, at least it shouldn’t.”

“Okay, let’s do it.”

Anakin watched as you slightly parted your mouth while hitting the blunt. Horrendously seductive that one. He stared and stared real hard, his drag lasting almost 30 seconds. Then he leaned in and grabbed your chin oh so gently and pressed his lips to yours. Tapping you twice, you then followed his instructions and inhaled. Your lungs had felt like there were coalsburning in them at this point, but you just couldn’t get enough of it. His lips were so soft and smooth, you hadn’t noticed earlier, but he also tasted like how he smelled, peppermints and weed.

Anakin pulled away with absolute agony on his part, staring at the obscene amount of saliva connecting the two of your lips just from shotgunning the hit to you, holay. He was losing his marbles. Every single thought that might’ve been rational went out the window, and he dove straight for your lips. His kisses were sloppy and messy at first, then turned into slow, passionate ones with him slowly exploring your mouth with his tongue.

He honestly couldn’t believe what was happening. Every single night he had hoped it would happen and thank the fucking Makers it did. He needed to be inside you, right now that was his tongue in your mouth, and it definitely wasn’t enough.More, so, so, so much more. If he could get this far then indeed he could find ways to slip inside you that wouldn’t be tohard;). 

Truly, Anakin’s dick was so hard, that it is all he could think about. He fully pulled you on to his lap so that you straddledhim. Immediately, he grabbed both of your hips and rolled them towards him, moaning during the process.

“F-fuck.”

He kept up with this motion, starting out slow, waiting on his speed to gauge your reaction. To you, the slow pace felt achingly good on your clit, even if you were still in your slacks. A little bit more speed would’ve been nice, and Anakin picked up on that, starting to move faster.

“H-Hah feels good Ani”

“I’m glad Angel, it f-feels so good for me too”

Was Anakin wrong? Absolutely not. He was a sucker for dry humping, but was he going to blow his load before he even got inside you? Another absolutely not. But, goddamn, you were so fucking beautiful. This was something straight out of his wet dreams, unfolding right in front of him. If it weren’t for the self-discipline he’d built up from edging himself over and over again, he’d be in serious trouble. He picked up the pace, determined to get you there first. Every time you rocked back and forth on his dick, he thrust his hips up in search of your clit, hoping to find that perfect spot. Judging by the gasps and whimpers slipping from your lips, he had to be right. Music to his ears.

“Annnniii—uhnnhh—pleaseee,” you moaned, voice breaking apart as pleasure overtook you.

“Please what, Angel?”

He whispered it so close to your ear that your entire body shuddered. He had no idea you had a voice kink, that his low, teasing murmur so close would send a dangerous jolt straight to your core.

“Please, faster—fuck!”

“Mmmkay.”

He smirked, complying, picking up the rhythm, each thrust punctuated  to push you over the edge while holding himself back. His self-restraint was crumbling, but he didn’t care how desperate he looked right now. He needed you to cum. That was his only mission. 

The rough friction of his cock against your soaked cunt sent shivers up your spine. He was relentless, bucking up at the perfect time, moving in sync with you, hands gripping your hips so tight they’d leave bruises. Then, he pushed you down just a little harder than before, and that was it—you were gone.

“Hnnmmmm—Ani—'m cumming!”

“Fuck—just for me,” he groaned, voice wrecked, feeling your body convulse in his arms.

The two of you were panting, bodies still tangled together. His face nuzzled into your neck, his lips soft as they ghosted over your sweat-slicked skin, whispering praise in between kisses.

“Need you inside me. Please.”

He lifted his head just enough to meet your gaze, pupils blown wide, dark with need. “You read my mind.”

Lifting you effortlessly, he made sure your legs were wrapped tight around him as he carried you to his bedroom. The space was dimly lit, dark gray walls adorned with posters and paintings, an organized chaos that somehow suited him perfectly. And then there was his bed. Neatly made, deep gray sheets, a purple comforter—clean and tasteful. Attractive. 

You couldn’t believe this was happening. On a work night, no less. 

He laid you down gently, peeling off his sweatshirt, and—fuck. Even in the dim light, you could see the way his muscles flexed, veins running down his forearms, the defined cuts of his abs tightening under his shirt as he moved. 

Jesus. 

You tried not to stare. Failed.

“Staring again, Angel?”

“You already know the answer.”

He chuckled, low and knowing. “What’s so funny?” you asked, lips curling into a pout.

His smile softened. He leaned in, foreheads nearly touching, his breath warm against your lips. “Because I still can’t believe you’re here with me.”

Your breath hitched as he kissed your forehead, then your nose, then each cheek—slow, tender, reverent. When his lips finally met yours, the kiss was so soft, so unhurried, it made your head spin. He took his time, savoring the way you melted into him. When he nipped at your bottom lip, then dipped his tongue past the seam of your lips, you let him. Let him make a mess of you. 

His hands found your lower back, then dipped beneath the waistband of your slacks. 

“Can I?”

“Mhmm.”

He traced his fingers along the fabric teasingly before gripping your ass with both hands, kneading shamelessly. His touch sent a bolt of heat straight to your core. He made quick work of sliding your slacks down, pausing to tap your thigh as a silent cue to help shimmy them off. When they pooled at your ankles, he rid himself of his own shirt, leaving both of you in just your underwear.

Pulling you into his lap, he rolled his hips against you, cock grinding against your soaked panties. You gasped into his mouth, gripping his shoulders as the pressure built between your legs. 

He pulled away just enough to whisper against your lips, “Are you sure you wanna do this, Angel?”

“Yes, Ani—can we get there already?”

“No.” His smirk was devilish. “I take my time, and you’re going to have to deal with it.”

You huffed, and just as he expected, you tried to glare at him. But before you could open your mouth to protest, he bucked his hips up—hard. A sharp, unexpected thrust that had you choking on your own breath.

“Hnngghh—please—please, Ani—”

“Please what, Princess? Use your words.”

You leaned in close, pressing your lips to the shell of his ear, letting your breath ghost over his skin. His grip on your hips tightened.

“Anakin,” you murmured, voice low, desperate. “If you’re not inside me in the next three minutes, I will leave you here so we both have to suffer. I need you that badly. Please, Ani—put it inside me.”

That was it. That was his breaking point.

He had two choices: let you leave or fuck you into the mattress.

Like there was ever a real choice.

Without hesitation, he flipped you onto your back, his body pressing you into the mattress, caging you in. His mouth trailed down your neck, then your stomach, then lower. He hooked a single finger under the waistband of your panties, pulling the fabric away from your skin before letting it snap back into place. The sharp sting made you gasp. He did it again. Then again, watching the way your thighs trembled beneath him. 

“You like that, huh?” he mused, voice thick with amusement. 

You only whimpered in response. He made a mental note.

Then, with agonizing slowness, he dragged your panties down your legs, fingertips barely grazing your skin as he went. When he finally yanked them off completely, he wasted no time spreading your legs apart. His lips ghosted over the soft skin of your inner thigh, open-mouthed kisses leaving a trail of warmth in their wake. 

The shift in atmosphere was palpable. 

His voice was soft when he spoke. “Angel.”

“Hmmm?”

“Are you alright with me touching you here?”

His fingers skimmed over your slick heat, barely making contact, tapping against your sensitive folds like it was second nature.

“Mhm—yes, please.”

“Whatever you say, pretty girl.”

And then he was gone, diving between your legs like a starved man, making a mess of you with his tongue.

“Fuck, this pussy is so pretty.”

And that was just the beginning.

His kisses were sloppy,spit and some tongue, but boy did it fucking feel good.  Immediately, your hands found his hair, pulling hard, and your breaths became ragged. You started to whimper loudly which was like music to his ears and he had to hear more, needed it really. So, using his tongue, he flattened it against your pussy and licked a stripe up until the tip of his tongue hit your clit. Then came the assault on your clit. Getting straight to it, Anakin circled his tongue over and over and over again, sometimes using a bit of force to press on it with his tongue, and sucking it in between his lips hard.

“H-Huahhh Ani too much”

“Hmm” lifting his head up to look at you, and damn, the image he created was obscene. There was slick all around his mouth and even the tip of his nose. His lips were bright pink and swollen, but fuck did he look hot like this. 

“By the look on your face, doll, it seems you want more.”

With that he went down and used his teeth, just once, to grab your clit gently and that’s what did it for you. 

“Hnngggghhh Ani! mm cumming”

“Fuck give it to me all Angel”

All the built up tension in your core finally released, it wasn’t squirting by any means, but Anakin had just made you cum just by sucking on your clit. You’ve had plenty of men try to please you with that, and they never could, but Anakin? He did it in less than 5 minutes.

“Damn doll, for someone who seems like such a prude, you absolutely don’t sound like one” with that comment he lightly smooched you and started trailing his up and down your sides.

“How are you feeling pretty?”

“So good because of you mister”

“Well how about I make you feel even better, how’s that sound?”

“I could get behind that.”

“Yeah, I’ll be hitting it behind you for sure.”

His snarky little comment made you giggle, which had him cheesing from ear to ear. He was so down bad for you it wasn’t even funny. You were just so beautiful and sweet, he couldn’t help it. And he couldn’t help it even if he wanted to, you’re in his bed halfway naked and begging for more? How could this man say no to you? He can’t.

“Ani you’re staring”

“Not allowed to admire?”

“Absolutely you can, just later. Not when I need you inside of me.”

“Whatever you say baby”

Anakin then grabbed your ankles and pulled you to his crotch. The downfall for him of being somewhat aggressive with it is that when he pulled you to his crotch, you immediately could feel how hard he was. Extremely. Were you proud you could make him that hard? Absolutely. Were you now going to use this information to your benefit? Yep again.

“Fuck Ani pleaseee. I need it inside of me now.”

“Okay okay okay. I’ll put it in Angel since you’re begging so nicely.”

Anakin pulled down his sweats and boxers just below his dick. And the sight of it had you drooling. He wasn’t small by any means,  but he wasn’t too big either, honestly just right. You just knew his dick was gonna feel so good inside you:> 

“Okay baby are you ready”

“Mhmmm”

“Mkay”

He first spit on your pussy and kissed it, then he shifted so that his dick was sitting in between your folds, his tip hitting your clit again, and began humping against you at a decent pace.

“Ahh f-fuck baby, why does your pussy gotta be so wet for me. So.fuckin.good”

Those last three words he made it a point to thrust extra hard against your clit. He could feel you trying to grip down on tosomething, but nothin was filling you up. It’s okay though because that’s what Anakin is here for. To make his pretty girl feel good and to fill her up. Of course, only if she wants him to.

Feeling you clench down on nothing was Anakin’s final straw. Sliding back down to your entrance, he slowly pushed his tip in while thrusting slowly to test the waters.

“Mmgghh faster Ani, need it”

You were too lost in the feeling of him thrusting into you to comprehend anything, other than that you needed to feel more. The drag of his tip along your walls genuinely had you losing your mind. You could feel him just barely abt to slip all the way out, and that’s when you wrapped your legs around his hips and pulled him towards you. He was not expecting that, so he fell forward, catching himself so close that both of your faces could touch. 

“Hhah f-fuck Angel what-“

“Please, I need you to move faster and go deeper.”

“A man can’t take his time?”

“No, not wi-”

Anakin shut you up with a particularly harsh thrust,  so hard you felt it in your throat. And another after that, only this time he went a tiny bit slower, like he was looking for a reaction. The slow and hard thrusts were continuous, knocking the breath out of your lungs so much that all you could do was whimper for him. Eventually, you understood why he had looked like he was looking for a reaction from you because the minute he found it, you screamed, and he became the absolute devil himself. Thrusting in the exact same spot, he did it harder.

“Hhhhhhmnnnnnnnn ANI”

No response. The only thing you heard was skin slapping against skin and fuck was that sound obscene, but so were the sounds coming from your pussy. Anakin was pleasing her oh so good and focusing on that was all that mattered to him right now. You felt his tip hit that spongy spot in your pussy again and fuck it felt amazing

“Hhhuuhh O-Oh ‘mgonna cum soon Ani”

“Huh uh. You will wait for me.”

He still wasn’t stopping his assault on your G-spot. 

“A-Ani, please ‘m so close”

And then all of it stopped.

“NO, no, no, no, Anakin, what th-“

“I told you that you weren’t cumming without me Angel face. Sorry…but not really.”

Your brain was mush at this point, only thinking about cumming for Anakin. You had to listen to him because finishing was all you were focused on right now. 

While he waited for you to calm down, Anakin ran out into the living room, coming back with what you could only assume was the blunt in his mouth. Grabbing the lighter from the nightstand, he lit it, inhaled, climbed on top of you, and blew the smoke in your face.

“Here, something to calm you down, sweets.”

“Hmph”

“Hmmm hmm hmm, we can hmmm all night long, or you can be a good girl and listen to me. Which would you rather?”

“The second one”

“That’s what I thought; now open your mouth, pretty please.”

“Mmkay”

You let your mouth hang open while Anakin fiddled with something in his hands; he then leaned over your face, his messy curls tickling your face, and pressed his lips so gently to yours. 

*Tap *Tap

His indicator was for you to inhale, and you did like his good girl. Then, without any warning, he slid back into you to the base, making you choke on the smoke. Pounding into you with no avail made your brain go back to mush. Fuck why did he have to know exactly where your G-spot was? He kept hitting it over and over, feeling you clench deliciously around him. The sounds coming from your pussy being assaulted with his thrusts was obscene. Wet and sticky slapping sounds and Anakin’s occasional huffs and groans. You had a thing for him, and this position only made it worse. Missionary was all you had been in tonight, but damn was it underrated as fuck. 

“A-Ani hhuh, need you. Need to hear you”

“I h-hah need you too baby, fuck please j-just wait a little longer.”

“Hhah okay”

After hearing your response, as if his thrusts couldn’t be any fucking faster, he went hard. So hard that you had to hold on to him with your legs and his bed frame was hitting the wall horrendously. With your mind occupied fully, your head fell backwards, mouth lolling open, just letting out the most sinful of moans for Anakin to hear. 

Meanwhile, Anakin was trying his best not to cum on the spot from how loud you got just from him going faster. He needed to hear those moans from you, he was already fucking addicted to the sounds your pussy makes for him just from hitting it, now the sounds are coming from your mouth? He’s cooked. He couldn’t help, but let out a couple of moans himself, some high pitched, because Jesus Christ if your pussy wasn’t the best thing he’s ever gotten to experience. You’re so warm and wet, just for him<3 He could feel the familiar tingle in his spine from hitting it so good, he just needed you to finish first. Finding your g-spot once more, he finished his assault right there.”

“HH-hhunnnnngghhh ANI ‘s too much too much too much”

“Huh uh I know it is. not. Angel. You can’t feel her clenching around me/ She just wants me to keep going doll, I assume you do too?

“Huhhhhnnghhh fuck mmhm’

“That’s what I thought”

Continuing his assault, Anakin didn’t know how much longer he could last with the vice grip that your pussy had on him. He surely knew you wouldn’t last much longer because of the way your body kept convulsing to his touch, anywhere. On your tummy, your thighs, or your arms you immediately flinched like he shocked you, and that’s how he knew. Using one hand to lean himself up against the bed frame, he used the other to snake down to your clit and rub tight hard circles.

“Come on baby, I know you’re close’

“H-Hah Ani oh fuckfuckfuckfuck”

“Mhm, let me hear you Angel”

His movements had your tummy feeling so knotted that the second he touched your clit and started making circles, you were done for. You came on his dick with a scream, clenching so hard around Anakin that he damn near was right there with you. He couldn’t help but let you finish because god you looked divine like that. He lost it when your pussy clenched around him so tight that it felt like you were never gonna let go.

“Fffffuuuuuuuccckkkkkkkkk Angel, where do you want it?”

“Inside me please”

“Mmmmkay sweets”

Anakin thrust 3 more times and finished with a guttural groan. His hips were still moving though and he just couldn’t stop, the feeling of overstimulation making him whimper. The sound had you wanting to go again, but your body was too exhausted, your eyes beginning to flutter shut with Anakin still inside of you<3

You awoke to the warmth surrounding you, realizing you were in the bathtub filled with water, leaning up against Anakin’s chest.

“Hey sleepyhead, how do you feel?”

“Hmm good. Real good.”

You snuggled up against him, the warmth of the water and his chest lulling you back into sleep.

“You’re so beautiful. My precious pretty girl.”

And with that, you let yourself fall back asleep into your pretty boy’s arms. :)

[sturnswiftie]

☆. . . YOU SHOW UP like a bad habit. like clockwork.

⤸ 『four』 ⟶ 『six』

the bell above the door jingles, too shrill in the otherwise silent convenience store. matt squints against the too-bright fluorescents, the headache behind his eyes—which he can thank camilla for—beginning to throb. he doesn’t usually let her get to him, but tonight he leaves her place laced with irritation thrumming under his skin. he likes to ease the adrenaline in his system after a fight, bury himself between a pretty set of thighs. it’s the only time he and camilla ever hook up, and it’s good. great, even. so he can’t understand why the fuck she tries to ruin it with anything more.

he’s tense as he heads for the counter, gaze skipping over the half-asleep attendant in favor of the wall of bad habits behind him. he’d given up smoking years ago, it being something he stupidly picked up as a teenager. it took him maturing as an adult to realize the serious shit it does to one’s body, and after slowing down for a few months, he’d finally quit. but every once in a while, like tonight, he finds it hard not to itch that scratch.

matt pats his pockets for his wallet when he hears a voice a few aisles over, the sound clear as day in the quiet of the small store.

“okay, but if i get the hot cheetos, chris is going to whine about how i always pick the spicy ones, and then nicole’s gonna pretend she doesn’t want any and eat half the bag anyway...”

he freezes mid-step at the tingling sensation in his brain, that familiarity pricking at his skin. his fingers curl into a fist before he lets them relax.

of course.

sunny.

for whatever reason, he glances down at himself—hood up, the fabric wrinkled, and his knuckles still bruised. he looks like shit, and it shouldn’t matter, but he thinks about walking out, about pretending he didn’t see you, maybe just for the sake of sparing you the sight of him out and about, fresh off another fight and another fuck.

but before he can make a decision, you round the corner, arms full of snacks, and nearly drop half of them when you see him.

“oh,” you say, blinking. “hey.”

matt nearly grimaces, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck. “hey.”

silence stretches between you, weird and awkward, yet somehow warm, and it irritates him. you’re wearing a big crewneck that looks like it might belong to chris, hair pulled into a loose bun, and your cheeks pink from the cold. he wants to say something—anything—but nothing comes.

“you look awful,” you finally say, lips twitching like you’re trying not to smile. he doesn’t know why, but his shoulders almost immediately relax a little bit at your stupid comment.

“appreciate it.” he nods toward your arms. “dinner?”

you shrug. “nicole’s drunk. chris is drunk. they wanted snacks, so guess who got voted tribute?” you hum, not at all sounding upset about it despite the sarcastic hint to your voice.

matt raises a brow. “they let you come out alone?”

he watches as you roll your eyes and begin heading toward the register. “it’s one block. and i’ve got a mean roundhouse kick.”

it’s obvious you’re trying to lighten whatever mood he’s in, but all matt can do is let out a low “right,” his brows pinched as he follows you to the register. he shoves his hands into the pockets of his sweats, irritation prickling at his skin. chris usually wouldn’t be stupid enough to let one of his friends walk alone so late at night—especially a girl, and especially you—and he knows that it’s probably just because he’s drunk like you’re saying, but he can’t help but allow that annoyance to seep into his skin, settling there uncomfortably at the thought of you being out alone. it’s just stupid.

“i do!” you insist to matt’s flippant response, bringing him out of his own head at the sight of your grin. “i took, like, one kickboxing class last summer. i think i blacked out halfway through, but still. it counts.”

the boxer purses his lips, eyes slightly wide as he side-eyes you for a split second before tossing a pack of cigarettes on the counter beside your pile of snacks. you look at his purchase, then back at him, expression softening just a little despite his face entirely giving away how weird he thinks you are.

“you shouldn’t smoke.”

you’re right, but matt shrugs. “you shouldn’t walk around alone at night.”

a frown tugs at the corners of your mouth, but you don’t say anything more, and he has to fight the urge to smirk at that. instead, he watches as the cashier rings you both up, matt glancing up when you wave your hand around at the sight of him pulling out his wallet.

“i’ve got it.”

he gives you a look, but you just shrug your shoulders, more playful this time. “you look like you’ve had a rough night. my treat.”

matt doesn’t argue, but an odd feeling settles over him. he’s not used to accepting acts of kindness, especially not ones that come without strings attached. it feels... nice. stupidly nice. but he tells himself he’s just too tired to push back.

outside, the air is sharp, and the night too still. it’s a reminder of the fact that you actually walked here alone, and immediately he’s annoyed all over again as he watches you adjust the snacks in your arms like a precarious tower, huffing when a bag of M&M’s slips out and hits the sidewalk.

“you need help?” he asks.

“no,” you say immediately. then, after a beat: “yes.”

he takes half the load without asking, but catches the grateful look you shoot him in the process. the two of you walk in silence for a few steps before he stops abruptly at his car, nearly making you trip over your own two feet.

you frown. “what?”

“i’m driving you,” he answers without missing a beat.

“it’s literally a block—”

“i don’t care.”

you blink at him, frown deepening with confusion. “are you... mad?”

matt inhales through his nose, opening the passenger door. “get in the car, sunny.”

something in his voice must make you listen, because you finally slide into the passenger seat, arms still full of snacks as you watch him circle around to the driver’s side, taking note of the tense edge of his jaw. he doesn’t say anything as he starts the engine, but you notice how white his knuckles are on the wheel, and you shift uncomfortably against the leather of his seat.

“you really don’t have to be weird about this,” you finally say, voice a little softer than when you were arguing with him outside the car.

“’m not bein’ weird.”

“you’re being a little weird.”

he exhales through his nose, heavy and annoyed. “chris should’ve gone.”

you stare at him for a moment, brows lightly pinched as the real cause of his irritation finally hits you. you didn’t realize it bothered him so much when you’d first mentioned it back at the convenience store, but now the signs are all too obvious to you, and you feel something unfamiliar settle in the pit of your stomach.

“he’s... drunk,” you finally respond in an effort to defend the other triplet, but matt doesn’t let up.

“i don’t care.”

“well, i do,” you snap back, that frown on your face never leaving. your arms tighten on the bags of snacks clutched to your stomach, the crinkling of wrapper being the only other sound in the car. “did you want him to drive me up here drunk?”

“no,” matt huffs immediately, the sound of skin against leather filling your ears where his hands tighten around the wheel, “but he could’ve walked with you, or you could have just fuckin’ stayed there. you shouldn’t be out here alone like that. what if somethin’ happened, huh? then what?” he glances over at you once he’s finished, but you’re already faltering, shoulders slumping as you sink further into the passenger seat.

for a long time, neither of you say anything. you can practically feel the heat radiating off matt as he drives, the irritation coming off him in waves. it makes you feel small next to him like this, unsure of what to say or do. it’s not that matt caring about someone else’s wellbeing is surprising, but yours?

something warm swirls inside of you, your cheeks suddenly feeling a little flushed. your gaze shifts from matt’s side profile to the center console between you where your slurpee from the convenience store sits tucked in the cup holder, a small smile twitching at the corners of your mouth.

“wanna try?”

his head turns, blue eyes blinking down at you in confusion. “what?”

“my slushie.” you pick up the cup, holding it toward him. “it’s cherry-lime.”

for a long moment, matt stares at you. then, with a slow shake of his head, he exhales through his nose and takes the cup, maybe just to shut you up. but the straw is still cold from where your lips were previously on it, and for some reason, that awareness makes his grip tighten slightly.

he takes a sip, and almost immediately he grimaces.

you watch him, eyes bright with amusement. “well?”

matt hands the cup back, eyes never leaving the road. “tastes like shit.”

he listens as you laugh, full and unbothered, and something about the sound makes him loosen his grip on the steering wheel despite the way he rolls his eyes.

when he pulls up to chris’s apartment, he doesn’t shut the car off. instead, he puts it in park and turns to you, eyeing you for a moment before he finally speaks.

“don’t do that shit again, yeah?”

you frown softly. “it’s not a big—” but you immediately go quiet at the look he shoots you. it’s not mean, but it leaves no room to argue, causing you to swallow down the rest of your sentence.

finally, you nod. “thanks for the ride,” you offer sincerely as you open the door, maneuvering the junk food in your arms as best you can.

matt leans over the center console, watching you carefully to make sure you don’t drop anything. when he seems satisfied that you’ve got it under control, he nods.

“tell chris i’ll beat his ass if he ever sends a girl out alone like that again,” he tells you seriously.

you flash him a smile as you step out, nodding. “noted.”

for some reason, it almost looks like you want to say something more, but you don’t. instead, you close the door, and he watches as you walk up the steps, arms full and head high, tapping your foot against the front door twice until someone lets you in.

matt stays parked there for another minute. then another.

finally, he drives away without lighting a cigarette.

©sturnswiftie

divider by; @bernardsbendystraws

[satinslut]

smoking w/ jjk guysss

Please this idea has been running through my mind and is literally so fucking self-indulgent but this shit is canon in my mind. idc what you say, I’d do some stupid ass shit to smoke with these dummies. 

a lil nsfw so imma just say NO MINORS plssss

including: Choso, Gojo, Nanami, and Suguru

Choso

Choso is deffffffffffff a heavy smoker idc what you say, tell it to ya mama

Do you see how low his eyes stay???????

Has been smoking for a minute now and usually smokes daily

Keeps a dab pen on him at all times and defff has the full gram and not the half

Def would be a feen and use the lighter and/or sock method to get the last lil bit out 

Mans definitely wakes and bakes, pre-rolls a blunt at night so he can wake up happy

Definitely says some dumb shit like “Thank you for the meal” before lighting up 

The type to be like, “I’m going out to get groceries? Let’s load a bowl real quick.” 

That or he’s smoking while walking to the store

Prefers smoking, specifically bongs, rather than anything else

Tried wax one time and swears he could understand Gojo’s infinity 

Dropped his tray once while he was rolling and just wept in his seat, he didn’t cry he WEPT

You got to witness this atrocity and just pat his shoulder trying to console him

“I’m literally so sorry for your loss.”

Dude was fr tryna get the grinds out the carpet PLEASSSEE

Choso usually likes to smoke by himself, doesn’t really like having other people around when he smokes

Not on any selfish shit, but because mans just doesn’t want to be bothered and is comforted by his own company 

That and he doesn’t like his brothers seeing him smoke

Likes to smoke with you though,

“You make me feel calm. It’s fun with you.” Said by Choso himself after you asked him why there was never anyone else around

Feel like Choso is an acts of service typa love language guy

Expect to NEVER have to roll your own blunts, load your own pipes or bongs, even grind up your own shit bc this man has it COVERED

Can and will stop you if he sees you tryna do anything besides sit there and look pretty

Doesn’t mean he doesn’t appreciate it, loves when you roll his blunts for him,,thinks you look pretty, but he wants to do it for you 

Likes to spoil you ofc so expect to have him buying all your snacks too after the both of y’all got the munchies

Feel like he’s a Green Tea Arizona, hot cheetos, and gummy worm typa guy when it comes to the lil pit-stops

That or some sorta hard candy cause he has an oral fixation and likes to keep his mouth busy so he won’t start chewing at his lips

Loves, loves, LOVES being outside when he’s high

Used to get really anxious cause he thought people could tell he was fucked up, but got over it after you told him that you couldn’t tell because he always seemed as such

He is but that’s besides the point 

That means expect picnic dates in the park on the sunniest and warmest of days

Choso packed the lunch ofc and when he pulled out three of the most beautifully rolled and pearled joints and presented them to you with the most goofiest grin plastered on his face, you only fell deeper in love with him on the spot

Just because he holds an affinity for being outside while high doesn’t mean he dislikes being inside

Choso has the most immaculate music taste, Gege told me so

Source? Trust me bro

But no seriously this man has such a diverse taste in music and the first time he put on the playlist you swear you were in a trance on the first song

Cue him saying some shit like, “Do you wanna listen to music and smoke?”

Y’all fr just got back from smoking at the park, pls choso

Ofc listening to music and smoking turns into Choso straddling you on his lap shotgunning smoke into your mouth, one hand on your ass the other holding the burning blunt,,,,but that’s a story for another time bc lemme fr not get into this right now lmaoooooo

Not necessarily clingy when he’s high but really just wants to be in your presence ??? like don’t leave him pls

Let him rest his head between your thighs and play with his hair or else he’ll start pouting

Baby just wants your undivided attention is all :((((

Gojo 

Now Gojo on the other hand is a social smoker, can handle himself just fine…kinda ??

Like he just gets really fucking quiet when he’s high I feel, not eerie or sad or anything like that, but just…his brain is finally calm!!!

Prefers drinking over smoking anyday, but that don’t mean he’s gonna refuse the blunt when it’s coming his way !!

Especially not if Shoko rolled it, god-tier is this woman, skilled with her fingers (lmao) 

Used to roll her own cigarettes when she first started smoking and that just transferred over into the blunts

But Gojo just gets super quiet and calm when he’s fucked up, he can just relax yk???

Can’t tell if he’s sleep or not bc of his dumbass mask and glasses, so when he yells at you for tryna skip him don’t get upset lmao

Cue Nanami saying some shit like “While I appreciate you being quiet for once, how can we tell if you’re fucking sleep or not?” 

If he’s not quiet then he’s whining in your ear about how hungry he is

His sweet tooth just gets 10x worse when he’s gone and is INSUFFERABLE about it

Has gotten to the point where you’ve just started keeping sweets in your bag for him/have a whole ass cabinet dedicated to snacks for Gojo

Said prior but he’s only a social smoker,,but will ONLY smoke with people he’s comfortable with/know

Only bc the very first time he got high his Six Eyes was freaking him tf out 

“I think I just saw a life in this Infinity where I didn’t have this power” -Gojo after three hits 

He’s so ??not annoying?? When he’s high and you honestly think it’s the weirdest thing cause he’s always so !!!!!! yk??

Definitely clingy so expect to be holding his hand or having him follow you all the way to the bathroom, there’s literally no in between

Likes to stay in when he’s high, going out messes with his head a lil too much and makes him a lil anxious

Definitely schedules when he’s gonna smoke if it’s just you two so expect to have it turn into a lil stay-in date night

Can and will leave his smoking stuff at your place so he has an excuse to come over, or will feign that he’s out so he can come see you

Fr would hit you with some sorta ‘roll me a blunt. i’m otw.’ typa text message

Hates rolling, packing, grinding doing quite literally ANYTHING with his weed, and you’ve only spoiled him with how you do any and all of it 

Loves, loves, lovessss watching you roll for him

Sits next to you and gives you lil kisses of appreciation or hands you things you need

 Will fr interrupt anything you’re doing and just sets the stuff down saying sum bs like ‘but you’re the best at it’

Doesn’t fuck with edibles at ALLLLLL stays the literal fuck away from them cause his anxiety spikes so high and he gets hella paranoid

Prefers smoking cause he can at least somewhat measure out how much he’s intaking

Cause if he eats an edible he WILL eat the whole thing and then another cause ‘this shit isn’t even hitting’

Nanaminnnnn

See, in my head Nanamin gets even more brash when under the influence

Still stoic and coldish demeanor, but definitely not presenting himself as such,,more sarcastic than anything 

Like he already doesn't care what he says, but it’s always so ???formal??? whereas when he’s high it’s not so much

Hence the curse words

Mans would say some of the most offhand, outta pocket shit with the straightest face and then ask why the whole groups laughing at him BAHHAHA

Half of me wants to say he’s a social smoker like Gojo, but the other half of me is like,, mans is overworked and burnt out asf he smokes NIGHTLY 

But no seriously the first time Nanami got high with you was so funny cause him being…him and a literal fucking square had everyone thinking he wouldn’t EVER touch any drugs unless a doctor prescribed them yk??

Nahhh mans had everyone in literal awe over how he came to the sesh fully prepared 

That and surprised he showed up at all 

Had the premium rolling papers, designer fucking tray, and the biggest bag of weed that any of y’all had saw

“I forgot my automatic grinder, did anyone bring one cause I honestly don’t feel like pulling this shit apart.” 

The shit Nanami smokes is honestly some of the best shit you’d ever smoked tbh

Like it’s the highest quality you can get, mans hand picked the nuggets he wanted like it was that typa good quality shit 

It’s such an intensely complex yet satisfying high and the group be tryna mooch off of this man so much but he only ever let’s you get what you want

Smokes you out in his benz daily

Like he’ll literally come pick you up after he gets offa work to like?? Go get some food or something and he’ll be like:

“Pick a spot to eat and we’ll smoke in the parking lot before going in.” 

He’s much more touchy, not like Gojo, but will definitely be keeping a hand on your thigh, lower back

Also think he’s a really light sleeper/it’s hard for him to go to bed so he eats an edible before bed, or will wake up in the middle of the night to smoke

Doesn’t smoke in the house, he’s too bougie for that, but redid his whole balcony so he could smoke out there no matter the weather

Such a smart man

Likes sitting out there with you, especially during the summer nights a blunt passed between the both of you

Like to think he likes smoking more than edibles because of the relaxation of the pull when inhaling, but honestly he holds both to equal standards 

Makes his own infused oil and since he cooks nightly (almost) he’ll sometimes put it in the food 

Suguruuuuuuu

He’s an irregular smoker

A couple times through the week to help with his anxiety and insomnia

That or he just really loves the head high of it all, helps his brain go mute and that’s just amazing

Only takes a couple hits before he’s like ‘i’m good’

Low tolerance ass

But no seriously he just knows his limits and will NOT go past them 

A rule he made for himself after he had hella paranoia after smoking with Gojo

Then again, Gojo was saying some off the wall shit and had dude scared as fuck

On top of that, mans refuses to smoke alone, it’s a no go for him everytime 

Feels weird when he smokes alone, gets too in his head 

Likes to talk about the most randomest of things, definitely sum philosophical and controversial

Type to smoke and then either binge watch a show with half lidded eyes, or knock tf out 

Just know he’s not gonna be moving an INCH

Clingy as well, but like you’re getting suffocated typa clingy 

Expect to be literally engulfed by this man 

Like full body weight on you

Will not let you get up and if you do he’s literally following you with his back pressed against you, dead serious 

Like you were getting up to cook once after yall had smoked and from bedroom to kitchen was Suguru literally attached to your back

Keeps his arms hooked around your waist or hips and face in your neck 

Skin to skin contact is a must so expect his hands to be under your clothes and not even in a sexual way, he just fr finds it comforting 

Favorite is to circle your hips with his hands

Has the patience to grow his own stuff, esp since he barely smokes like that 

Ain’t boutta spend all of that money at the dispo tf and just likes knowing that it’s his

Has names for all of his plants idc

Think he’d like tinctures too tbh

Adds in his morning/nighttime tea sometimes

[cillianhead]

Hey! I was wondering if you could write a little smutty/angsty something for Neil Lewis. Maybe bestfriend!reader, who recently got with some other man, and Neil is incredibly jealous and maybe... possessive. 👀 Some angst heated argument finished with a smut would be lovely. 🤭

Thank you!

Of course, of course!

Thank you for your request!

You're The Only One Who Makes Me Feel Alive || Neil Lewis x Reader

warnings: Smut, angst, best friends to lovers, swearing, slight (?) drug use (marijuana), jealousy, unprotected P in V, Neil is quite obsessed with reader's boobs (because c'mon, NEIL IS A BOOB MAN!!!) like sort of switch!neil but not quite, adult content!

18+ Minors DNI

It was a slow Friday night at Gumshoe Video. You had closed by now, though. You sat between Lucien and Jonathan, a bit stoned, and watched some horrible Horror-Parody film called 'Bad Taste'. You had zoned out, drowning out Jonathan and Lucien's incessant bickering about the film and whether it was good or bad.

"-It's Peter Jackson, for Christ's sake. It's a masterpiece of its time or whatever," Lucien argued. Jonathan just scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "It's supposed to be ridiculous!" Lucien protested.

"Are we watching the same movie?" Jonathan grunted with a hint of amusement. "How the hell did someone see this and think... 'yeah, that's the guy we're getting for Lord of the fucking Rings'!"

Lucien quipped back something particularly witty and sarcastic, but it all turned into one big blur of words to you. You were incredibly bored and stoned that none of what was happening on the TV screen made sense. You looked like a zombie, lips parted and an expression of awe on your face.

"Not this stupid movie," You heard the sound of Neil's voice from behind you. Quickly sitting up and turning to look at him, like an expectant dog when its owner comes home. "I've got the snacks if you guys even care." Lucien and Jonathan grumble their words of appreciation while you just sat and smiled at your best friend.

You all had smoked together, but you hadn't really prepared for the munchies that would come along with it. So you flipped a coin, and poor little Neil was the one who had to go to the nearest convenience store and buy as much junk food as he could carry. Two seafoam green plastic grocery bags were hanging off of Neil's sturdy forearms that said 'Recycle Me!' on them while he stood, smiling back at you.

"What'd you get Neily-poo?" You hummed, standing up and approaching him.

"I hate it when you call me that," Neil grumbled before handing you one of the bags. "I just got all the classic snacks... Cheetos, Twizzlers, Lucien's favorite white chocolate... and of course, I got your favorite..."

You squealed out of delight, lunging on Neil and wrapping your arms around him. "Did you really?" You said, pulling away with your arms still around his neck. Neil hummed while pulling the familiar mouth-watering box of Swedish Fish out of the grocery bag.

You properly pulled away now and snatched it out of his hand greedily. "Hey...! Wait... where's my thanks?" He tilted his head, tapping his pointer finger on the apple of his cheek. You rolled your eyes playfully before placing a grateful peck on his cheek.

You two sat on the spare couch together. You leaned against Neil, as you always do, your head on his chest and his arm wrapped around you. It had always been that way with you two, both very physically affectionate with each other. Though not when Neil was in a relationship, you knew how threatened his girlfriends felt by you, though you never understood why... Neil was always insistent on how you were just a friend, even going as far as to say you were like a sister to him.

When the movie ended and Neil had a bit more to smoke, you all sat around munching on your snacks, thinking of what to do next.

"Do you guys wanna come over to my place, and we can do this again tomorrow night?" Neil asked, scratching at his chin.

"Sure, I'd love that, dude," Jonathan nodded before popping a handful of peanut M&M's into his mouth. "Sounds great." He said with his mouth full.

"Gross!" You scolded, throwing a piece of popcorn at him. "Don't eat with your mouth full..."

"What did you just say?" Lucien laughed.

"I mean... don't talk with your mouth full!" You corrected, and everyone sat around giggling at that. "You knew what I meant!" Your cheeks heated up with embarrassment at your mistake.

"...and yeah, I'll come over tomorrow night." Lucien said to Neil. Neil gave him a thumbs up before turning his head over to you.

"How about you, Y/N?" Neil hummed, sighing as he leaned his head against the couch, cheek smushing a bit as he smiled softly down at you. He's so pretty, I just wanna kiss him, You thought."You wanna come over?" Yikes, you thought. You bit your lip and sucked in a breath. "Well... I... well... actually, I've got plans tomorrow, guys... I'm sorry." You shrugged apologetically.

"What?" Jonathan murmured, mouth still full, chewing obnoxiously loud.

"Since when do you have plans?" Lucien remarked. You gave him a dry smile.

"I'm going on a date... believe it or not," You snorted, looking down at your lap, embarrassed to admit. You never really talked about your love life with the guys, especially not Neil. Things always got awkward. Neil never discussed his with you either; you'd only briefly meet his girlfriends, and then that was it. You didn't understand why it had to be so awkward between you when discussing dating.

The room went silent at that. You looked towards Neil, his arm retracted away from you and tucked back into his side as you noticed the frown on his face. You could see the look on Jonathan and Lucien's faces, eyes flickering between the two of you, trying to gauge some sort of reaction.

"Oh..." Neil mumbled, sounding disappointed, popping a popcorn kernel into his mouth and chewing dryly. "Good for you... congratulations..."

"We're not getting married," You laughed uncomfortably. "Plus, I doubt it's gonna be anything that special... we're going to some downtown dive bar to have drinks and then probably go back to his place or something..." Neil had a visible expression of distaste, fiddling with his thumbs. You didn't get why he was so upset. "What's his name?" He said, voice barely above a whisper.

"Russell."

"Russell." He repeated coldly. Jonathan and Lucien were utterly silent. The tension was thick, and trying to waft through it felt suffocating.

"Why are you upset?" You blurted out. "Can't you at least be happy for me for once that I'm finally fucking going out with somebody?"

""Course I'm happy for you, Y/N, I just don't want you... to get hurt..." Neil muttered. "That's all."

"Right." You scoffed, scooting to the other side of the couch.

The tension was unbearable, and Jonathan shifted uncomfortably on the couch. Things always got weird when you brought up a guy you like or a guy you were seeing. You never got why. Why would Neil be upset that you were seeing somebody? How many girlfriends did you have to sit and watch him be with? How many painful breakups have you comforted him through? How many times had you encouraged him to go over and talk to a girl he thought was pretty? A countless amount of times, that's what. So the fact that the mood visibly shifted as soon as you said you were going on a date... it pissed you off. Neil was never encouraging when it came to putting yourself out there romantically. It was almost like he was jealous, but you knew he had no reason to be.

"How'd you meet?" Lucien cleared his throat, trying to lighten the air.

"Well when I was here alone the other day... he was in the shop-"

"He was in the shop?" Neil interrupted with a whine, eyebrows knitted together.

"Yeah, he was, so what?" You turned and looked at Neil, glaring at him.

"Can't believe you're going out with a customer," Neil muttered. "Thought you were better than that." "What the fuck's that supposed to mean?"

"It... no... nothing, just-" "God forbid I meet someone!" You were standing up now. Lucien and Jonathan had gotten up and wandered over to the other side of the shop, pretending they were browsing the shelves. "How many fucking bimbos have you asked out that had come in here, Neil?" "Y/N-" "I'm leaving." You barked, grabbing your things and rushing out, not before giving Lucien and Jonathan a gentle wave before slamming the door and walking home in the pouring rain.

The walk home was long and treacherous. Usually, Neil would drive you home. But you couldn't stand to be around him right now, not after his hypocritical words. When you got home, you collapsed in bed, still in your wet clothes, and cried your eyes out. Thunder cracked outside, and your windows rattled with the harsh wind. Your phone began to ring, the familiar ringtone you assigned to Neil's contact buzzing through your pocket. You just groaned.

"Go away, Neil." You grunted into your pillow, bickering to no one. "Why can't you just leave me alone?"

Curling up into a ball, the tears continued to fall. You hated the way you felt towards Neil; you hated that you wanted him to be more than just a friend. Your phone kept ringing, and it only made you cry harder.

You remembered freshman year of high school when you first met Neil; you instantly clicked and were in every class together. Everyone always thought you were dating, and you'd both share a round of 'Ew's and 'That's never gonna happen' and then silently look at each other thinking 'What if' (unbeknownst to each other). You always daydreamed about losing your virginity to Neil, the scrawny, awkward pimply boy who was the sweetest guy you'd ever met, though you ended up losing it to some guy called Lloyd over a dare. It wasn't very romantic, nor was it pleasurable. You just laid there and thought about Neil the whole time.

The sleep you got that night was terrible, but you tried to focus on the positives. You were going on a date! Yay! Not with Neil, though. You spent the day mostly picking out an outfit, mentally scolding yourself for not deciding on it sooner since most of your good clothes were dirty and you were feeling incredibly antsy. Your phone had been blowing up all day. Texts from Neil, Jonathan, and Lucien lit up your screen every other second. You didn't reply, you couldn't, you felt entirely too embarrassed.

Meanwhile, Lucien lounged on the couch at Neil's house, and Jonathan watched Neil pace back and forth in his kitchen while making handmade whipped cream. They were going to make a cake.

"I just don't know what to do, man," Neil huffed, stirring the bowl even more aggressively. Jonathan watched, unsure of how to comfort his friend. "What the fuck do I do? What if this guy is like... her soulmate or something cliche like that?"

"Okay," Jonathan laughed, putting his hand in the air. "Russell is not her soulmate." "How do you know? Have you met him?" Neil hissed back.

"No, but... how do we even know this 'Russell' guy even exists? What if she's just trying to make you jealous?"

"That's a good point!" Lucien quipped in from the other room.

"Thanks, Lucien," Jonathan rolls his eyes before looking back at Neil, who has set the bowl aside, melting to the floor with tears. "Look... dude, I think you should go over there and tell her how you feel... the worst she can say is no..."

"The worst she can say is no," Neil mocked, tears streaming down his face. "Yeah fuckin' right! She's gonna..." Neil sobbed, hiding his hands in his face. "I'll go over there, and she'll... never want to speak to me again... she wouldn't feel the same way... it's impossible!"

Jonathan looked exasperated. It was painfully apparent to everyone but you and Neil that you two were soft for each other. You usually spend every day together. The idea of losing you to some other guy was heartbreaking for Neil. Neil cried like a baby, and Jonathan watched, awkwardly leaning against the counter, unsure what to say.

"Just fucking do it, you fucking idiot!" Jonathan blurted out. "I know she likes you... do you really think Y/N would've stuck around this long with us losers if she didn't feel something for you?"

"I don't know, Jonathan..." Neil whimpers, looking up at Jonathan with the most pitiful eyes anyone has ever seen. He looked straight out of a painting.

"And even if she doesn't feel the same for you..." Jonathan continues, crouching down to be at his height on the floor. "You guys have known each other way too damn long to just throw away a good friendship over you liking her. Y/N's a smart girl. She'll learn to accept it if she doesn't feel the same way."

Neil just buried his face further into his knees, continuing to cry. "Gee, you'd think he just got his period or something." Lucien said unhelpfully.

"Shut up, Lucien!" Neil and Jonathan yelled in unison.

"Listen, I think you should just tell her... she ain't responding to any of my texts... and I don't know how it's gonna go with this Russell guy tonight, so I reckon you should head on over there..." Jonathan rambled. Neil still stayed in the same place, with his head in his hands. "Like right now!" Jonathan yelped, and Neil jumped at the sudden shift in volume and tone.

Neil approached your house as you sat in some dive bar, waiting for your date. His key twisted your locked door. Unbeknownst to him, the house was completely empty. And as he walked in, Russell was yet to arrive, over twenty minutes late to your date. At this point, you'd accepted that you had been stood up and patted yourself down, ensuring you had everything you brought.

"Y/N!" Russell's voice greets you, clearly out of breath. "I'm so sorry for being late... traffic was awful." Yeah, right, you thought. But you gave him a small smile and sat back in your booth. "That's alright," You pressed down your skirt that rested uncomfortably high on your thighs, trying to calm your nerves. The leather of the seats stuck to your thighs as Russell began making small talk. How boring. You found yourself zoning out as you downed the drink Russell had bought you just to try and cope with the terribly grim situation you were dealing with. Russell was some sort of accountant. Just the idea of finance lulled your brain into a state of boredom and borderline sleepiness. Russell's voice was monotone, and the way he licked his cracked lips every time he spoke made you feel queasy.

Meanwhile, Neil sat on your couch, spread out and feeling hopeless. No other person could ever compare to you, never ever, ever, ever. The thought of you meeting this guy he didn't know anything about except for his god-awful name and possibly hitting it off... maybe starting a life with him... the jealousy was sickening. Genuinely sickening.

It was festering within him, after all these years of watching men come into the store and flirt with you, the jealousy... the possessiveness... that another man talking to his Y/N... brought on was just too much for poor little Neil to handle. The jealousy was now fuelling the reason he still stayed. As soon as you walked through that door, with Russell or not, he'd get on his hands and knees... and beg you to love him... beg you to love him the way he loves you.

An hour went by... and then another, by now, it was nearing 10:30 PM, and Neil wasn't even sure if you were coming home. He then remembered your words of 'going back to his place afterwards' and felt like the biggest idiot in the whole world. He felt like he had lost you... like he was mourning you. His heart broke silently, and the heavyweight in his chest grew to be too intense, too blue to even cry. So he stood up and sighed, looking around your apartment before saying his goodbyes. I won't be over much now that she has a boyfriend, Neil thought. But as he turned around, about to walk out the door, there you stood with your key still in the lock looking at him like you'd look at an angel.

"Neil?" You asked softly as if it could possibly be anyone else.

"Y/N," He gasped, rushing to you, hands reaching out to you. "Please listen to what-" "Who's this?" Russell asks with a scoff, leaning on the doorway. Neil backed away like he had just entered a cock-fight he knew he couldn't win.

"Russell..." You shifted to look at him. "I think it's better if you just go... we can... we can see each other another time." "Yeah, alright," Russell shrugged, playing it cool but Neil saw the flicker of annoyance flash through the man's eyes. Russell turned back around and left, leaving the two of you alone.

"What are you doing here, Neil?" You chided, closing the door and deadbolting it behind you before walking over to the couch with Neil.

"I... I need to talk to you..." Neil whispered. You sat right beside each other, staring into each other's eyes. A feeling grew in your chest like you knew what he was about to say. "Y/N..."

"Neil..."

"I..." He faltered, his eyes looking down at his lap as he reached out, holding both your hands in his. Your heart did a spin at this, lips parted as you breathed heavily. What is happening? "I.... fuck... I don't know how to do this," Neil pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, clearly about to cry. "I've watched so many goddamn movies you'd think I... you'd think I'd have the right thing to say."

"Neil," You whispered, your voice coming out like a warning. "Just say it."

Neil looked up at you, speechless. The expression on his face was truly indescribable. Almost like a dramatic build-up, the room was silent, giving each other this look. This look you had never openly given to each other before.

"I don't want to kill my time with anybody else," Neil began, taking deep breaths. The sounds of cars passing by and trees swaying in the wind could be heard, along with the pounding of your heart. "You're the only one who makes me feel alive."

"Neil," You warned, looking away from him. "Why now?" You blurted out, quickly smacking your hand over your loose mouth.

"Wha...?" Neil asked, torn completely out of the moment by just those two words.

"Why are you telling me this now?" You questioned. Your hands ran down your face. "Why, Neil, Why?"

"What do you mean?" Neil shook his head, eyebrows knitted together. "What do you mean?!"

You were standing up now, you couldn't be close to him, you felt too dizzy. "After all these years... why are you only telling me this now?"

"I-I... I..." Neil stammered, utterly speechless this time. He wasn't expecting this reaction, he couldn't quite place what you were feeling. "I was afraid, Y/N."

"Of what?" You raised your voice and he flinched and suddenly the guilt hit you like a freight train. Tears fell down your face, ruining your makeup.

"Of losing you! Losing the only person in my life who actually matters!" Neil stood up as well, approaching you. Like a game of cat and mouse, you stepped away while he kept trying to round the coffee table to get to you. "I need you, Y/N. I need you to know how badly," He pleaded with you, but you couldn't find a way to let him further into your heart. He'd hit bone if he went any further into it.

"Neil, I don't know anymore! You're so confusing!" You screeched as he bumped into you, knocking you down onto the couch and he knelt in front of you, pleading eyes staring up at you. "I don't know what you want from me!" You cried.

"I want everything," He whispered, hands placed on both of your thighs. "I want to be yours... I want you to be mine. How do I make this any clearer?"

"I don't... I don't have you," You felt like you were being torn apart. "You don't want me. You just... you're just confused! You don't want me! You want..." You closed your eyes, thinking about the women Neil had dated. You felt like he wouldn't be satisfied with you... you felt like you weren't pretty enough or you were too boring or too familiar. "I don't have you... Neil... and I never will."

"You've always had me. Every second of every day... you've had me. I'm yours." Neil whispered, hands squeezing your thighs. "Please. I need to know."

"Need to know what?" "That you'll take me," His fingers travelled further up your goosebump-covered skin. "That you'll let me in, Y/N."

"How?" Your hands shook as you looked him in the eye again. This time... it felt like you were looking at a completely different man. It was no longer just your best friend you were looking at... but the man pleading with you to love him as if you hadn't been silently loving him from afar... all these years.

"Please let me show you."

Neil used his hands to balanced himself as he slowly and intimately leaned in, lips brushing yours every-so slightly. "Neil..." You whispered.

"Shh...." He hushed.

And your lips joined together. It felt like your body had let him in, like he was rewriting your DNA and letting every part of him consume you. He sat beside you now, cradling you in his arms as you kissed slowly. This was all so new to you, unlike any other kiss you had ever experienced. Every other kiss before this just felt like you were trying to negotiate something... but this... this kiss felt like your body had found its missing limb like it had found what it had been lacking all these years.

A string of spit connects the two of you as Neil softly pulls away, panting for breath. "Am I in yet?" He chuckled.

You tilted your head, squinting and stroking your chin, pretending you were struggling to decide. "Maybe... I don't know yet... think you'll have to try harder..." Your voice was still a bit shaky from crying. "Alright," He snorts before diving back in and kissing you rougher this time but still in that romantic, slow way. One hand placed on your hip and the other guiding the back of your head as you made out. Tongues pawing at each other like they were getting acquainted.

"Please touch me," Neil whimpered into your lips, and oh fuck, that was the most divine noise you had ever heard. "Please." "Only 'cause you asked so nicely..." You hummed, pushing him down and straddling him. You watched as he threw his head back, biting his lip and holding back the noises he so desperately wanted to make at the feeling of you sitting on him. Your fingers fiddled with the buttons on his shirt, watching him writhe underneath you at only the slightest touch. You popped each button out individually and slowly until Neil was groaning with annoyance.

"Don't be such a tease, Y/N," Neil grunted from behind gritted teeth once you had his shirt off. "If you felt how hard my dick was right now-"

"Oh, I do!" You giggled cheekily, slowly rolling your pelvis in a slow circle right over the tent in his trousers that poked into your thigh.

"You fucker-" He groaned, reaching his arms up and grabbing your head roughly and pulling you into a soul-sucking kiss, tongue grappling at yours desperately.

You moaned through dancing lips as you had the most delicious friction going. Neil was being just as loud as you, whimpers vibrating through your sternum and into your soul. Neil bucks his hips up pathetically before he breaks the kiss abruptly.

"You've gotta stop or I'm... I'm gonna..." He buried his muzzle in your neck and moaned. "I'm gonna fuckin cum in my pants." "Oh yeah?" You grinned, grinding your hips even faster.

"That means stop!" He grabs ahold of your wrists and flips you around like you were in a wrestling competition. You gasped out as he had you down against your couch, panting heavily above you with that frustrated-and-horny look. "I knew you'd be a little brat." He spat menacingly before grinning like a puppy, leaning down and kissing you heavily.

You ran your hands up your shirt, trying to pull your shirt off which made Neil pull away slowly when he realized you were taking your top off. "Are you sure?" He said breathily, above you, mouth wide open and his eyes glued on every inch of skin that was slowly being revealed more and more. You just nodded your head and smiled. "Oh fuck, you're showing me your boobs." Neil's eyes lit up like a kid in a candy shop. "Neil," You giggled as you got the top off and out came your tits, and there was Neil sitting there in disbelief at the sight of your boobs. "Neil!" You laughed, hitting him with a cushion; he smacked it away before looking back down at them with this look that almost resembled a look of horror. "Stop looking at me like that!"

"Fucking hell, this is the best thing to ever happen to me," Neil chirped. "Fuck... please, Y/N... please let me squeeze them."

"Go ahead, Neil, touch me," You hummed, raising your arms above your head and leaning back with a Cheshire cat grin as his hands slowly and cautiously cusp your boobs. He let out a soft moan and let his eyes flutter shut as he slid his hands over your breasts, you could hear his breath hitch as his thumb slid over your hard nipples. "You're acting like you haven't touched a boob before," You snickered.

"Oh, believe me, I have..." Neil nodded, eyes open now and staring at your tits like he was high. "Just none as good as these..." He leaned in, hot breath fanning your left breast, lips parted but he doesn't go any further than that.

"Put it in your mouth, pretty boy," You demanded, and like the sub you always thought he was, he obeyed with a smile. "Fuck... that's it." The tops of his cheeks were flushed a gentle pink as he sucked and swirled his tongue around your nipple. "Mmm...." He hummed, eyes closed. His full body weight was resting on you while he sucked on your tits, switching between them. You laid there for quite a while and wondered how long he could do this. You braided your fingers through his hair before tugging it back roughly, and he unwillingly popped off your tit with a loud and whoreish whine.

"Hey!" He complained with eyebrows knitted together as his eyes looked between your eyes and spit-covered tits. He's so spoiled.

"I always knew you'd be a little brat." You said, repeating what he said to you earlier.

Neil drools on you helplessly, groaning as you pull on his hair more until you two are sitting up facing each other. You grin once more and lean in, giving him a sweet little kiss. His hands cupping your tits desperately.

"Carry me to the bedroom." You hummed dramatically, raising your arms in the air, and Neil shook his head and chuckled as he leaned down and wrapped you up in his arms.

"I'm so glad you're my best friend," Neil murmured into your warm shoulder as he padded you guys down to the bedroom he had been in countless times.

"Not just best friends, though," You remarked as he laid you down on the bed with your legs over his shoulders. He reached towards your bedside table.

"Condoms?" He hummed, searching through your drawers, but found nothing.

"Birth control... you should know this you idiot!" You giggled at Neil realizing what you just said.

"Can I...?"

"Yes!"

"Like... inside?" He asked, squinting his eyes.

"Yes!" You nodded your head, laughing wildly.

"Fuck you're gonna be the best girlfriend ever!" Neil grunted happily before leaning in and kissing you like you were his last meal.

Meanwhile, he slid your skirt down and unzipped his trousers. You caught a glimpse of his thick cock straining against his briefs and found yourself growing wetter.

"Let me make you mine, Y/N..." He whispered. "Let me finally make you mine."

"I've been yours," You caressed his face. You were both out of your underwear now. The tip of his prick nudging your clit as you looked up at him with so much love. "Please... Neil... please... I need you so bad."

Neil nodded silently, closing his eyes as he lined up his aching cock with your dripping cunt. The initial push in made your mind go blank and your spine arch even further into his touch, Neil moaned as he pushed himself into you fully.

"I can't believe this is happening..." Neil whispered. "This is so much better than I ever imagined it to be."

"You thought about me?" You grinned idiotically, high on the way he was stretching you out.

"Fuck," He groaned, hair falling over his pretty face. "Every fuckin' night."

"Me too."

His hands were placed firmly on your hips, and as he receded back until it was just the head of his cock in you, his fingers slid up to grope at your tits that his eyes had been practically glued on all night. Neil fucked you nice and slow, relishing in the way your pussy felt around him. Your hands were gripping the sheets, legs still thrown over his shoulders and mouth spewing incoherent words of pleasure.

"Neil... baby... oh my god," Your eyes so desperately wanted to shut but you wanted to enjoy how pretty he looked above you. "I love you."

Those words hung heavy in the air for a moment, Neil's hips never faltering as he leaned down and kissed you. "I love you, Y/N." Neil whispered against your hot mouth.

That was all you needed to hear. His cock slid in and out of you, both groaning and moaning as your bodies finally became one. Neil's mouth hung agape against yours, breathing in each other's air. Neil's face was flushed a bright red, pupils blown wide, and his hair messy from how you ran your fingers through it. Your noses brushed together as his pelvis rutted against your clit, dick still so deep inside you.

"I love you so much," Neil panted, thrusting into you desperately. "I always have..."

"Love you..." You whimpered, eyes fluttering shut and your arms slithering around his neck as the pleasure consumed you from the inside out. "So much... Neil..."

Neil pressed a kiss to your cheek, nuzzling your face as he ground into you. "Fuck, please let me cum inside you."

"I'm so close, Neil..." You whispered. "Just hold on a little longer."

Neil grunted. A pyramid of pleasure building within you, ready to crash down and crumble inside of you. Your orgasm grew like a million tiny vines curling around each individual nerve until you saw colors you had never seen before.

"Squeezing me so tight," Neil whined. "I need to cum... please..."

"Cum," You commanded and he did.

Coming undone together felt like it was truly sealing your fate. You had never felt so close to him; you knew you could and would spend the rest of your life with him. He mewled into the crook of your neck, cum spilling into you as you convulsed, orgasm swallowing you whole and ridding you of all your senses. All you felt was him and the impending pleasure devouring you. Neil's whimpers only further pushed you over the edge.

"Y/N," He moaned like a whore. "Fuck... Y/N..." He whined right into your ear as his cock continued to fill you with his warm cum.

Your brain couldn't conceive a proper thought. You couldn't will yourself to speak as he collapsed on top of you. You smile as you lay there together, skin on skin, hearts pounding in sync. Neil pulled out of you with a quiet hiss, picking you up and curling up with you under the sheets.

You looked at each other silently, both still calming down. Your thumb drew infinity signs onto his cheekbone, slowly blinking at the boy you had always wanted- no, needed.

"That was the best thing to ever happen to me," Neil whispered, sleepy eyes looking at you full of adoration. "You're the best thing to ever happen to me." Neil pecked you softly on the lips. "I can't believe it took me this long to tell you... I... I'm sorry." "Shh..." You hushed. "It's okay... we're together now... that's all that matters."

You lay in silence once more, hearts still pounding in your chests. You took in every detail of him, which you had memorized countless times before, but this time it was different. It felt much more intimate. Every crease, every freckle... every tiny minuscule detail of him was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen.

"Does this mean we're boyfriend-girlfriend now?" Neil chuckled, rolling over onto his back, pulling you into his side.

"Shut up, Neil," You giggled. "You're such a dork."

"You love it." He quipped.

"I do," You agreed. "I love you."

"I love you," Neil smiled sweetly, and as he leaned in to kiss you again, you were quickly interrupted by the sound of Neil's phone ringing. "Fuck me," He grunted, reaching down to grab at his jeans where his phone was. "Hello?" He said with a sour face. "Hi, Jonathan, everything is okay... yes, she's here with me..." Neil looked down at you with a smirk. "Yes, Lucien can borrow my goggles... I don't care... can we talk about this later?" Neil hung up and tossed his phone aside before looking back at you with a sheepish smile.

"What was that about?"

"Well... erm... Jonathan just asked if everything went well... between us..." Neil blushed.

"He knows you're here?"

"He's the reason I came over... he gave me the courage to... y'know... tell you how I feel."

You rolled your eyes and laughed before kissing him deeply. You felt like everything was okay. Now that you had Neil in your arms, you could handle anything that life threw at you. Neil was already planning your wedding in his head as you shared the love between you in a kiss. You wouldn't want it to be anyone else

-

I NEED NEIL LEWIS.... LIKE RIGHT NOW!!! Ugh, I love him so much. Anyway, hope you enjoyed <3

[buzzcutlip]

Cracks and Gaps - The Worst Day (part I) Carmen Berzatto x Fem!Reader Mature (Explicit in the following parts) 7434 words ao3

You meet Carmen in Copenhagen through a mutual friend and bond over shared experiences. After following his rising career from afar, you reconnect in Chicago when he renovates his late brother's restaurant. As an editor, you can't miss an opportunity to find out more about the comeback of this chef prodigy.

A/N: I've started writing this story a looong time ago last year. There will be two more parts. I would like to thank @carmyboobear for being the most incredible beta and helping me out on the rocky journey. They're a very special person to me, and also a fantastic and inspiring writer themselves. Please, check their Carmy stories if you haven't!

THE WORST DAY

The first time you meet Carmen, you are both a little over twenty and in Copenhagen. He is staging at Noma, and you are interning at a design studio where everyone is very “green.” From one of your conversations with Carmen, you learn that Pop-Tarts and Cheetos are illegal here. In Europe. Most of the sodas that stained your tongue crazy colors when you were a kid are banned too. He lectures you on Scandinavian agriculture and food production.

Carmen is skinny and short—still a bit taller than you, though—with sharp, high cheekbones and bulging eyes. You don't know enough about each other to be “friends,” but he is a good companion. Your high school friend Becky knows Carmen’s older sister; that’s how you found each other in Denmark’s capital.

On two rare occasions, you get drunk together, and that happens only when he is stressed from work. Like, stressed STRESSED. You'd think he only drinks special natural wine from Lofoten or something, but his choice of poison is canned Budweiser. Maybe he misses home as much as you do. Maybe that’s what leads you to almost kiss him the second time. Carmen lives on a boat, and he takes you there, where you drink vodka mixed with herbs and licorice that Carmen concocts, his tongue peeking out between his lips as he concentrates. The drink tastes good. Weird. You don't hide your grimace. Neither of you comments on the alcohol ratio. It's more vodka than anything else, that's for sure.

Carmen is not your type, physically or character-wise—you are an introvert yourself, so you need someone to bring you out of your shell. Obviously, doing an internship on a different continent is a huge step, one that is only on you. He also smokes a lot and probably doesn't wash his hair. You've heard about his crazy mother and bonkers family from Becky, so you understand why Carmen is Carmen. Why he’s run off to Europe. It's just—his face—his eyes, when he's telling you about his dream job at Noma or Alchemist—they glow, and he becomes so animated, the quiet excitement seeping to the surface, and there's fondness blooming in your chest. He also knows a thing or two about sports, as you do, the subject bringing you back to Chicago, and the longing for “home” and “familiar” is terribly strong in the moment, enhanced by the alcohol. And Carmen, the boy sitting opposite you, with burns on his hands and ripped jeans, is both of those things put into one.

Nothing happens between you two, but the urge to press your own lips against his lingers after you leave in a taxi, not brave enough to ride a bike under the influence.

You try to stay in touch after Copenhagen, messaging Carmen on his empty Facebook profile, sending a text once in a while, mainly at Christmas, and when you have some terrible junk food, just to make fun of him. When he FaceTimes you, he’s in Paris, and you’re in Dublin. The next time, he’s in California.

He rarely ever answers messages on the phone. Usually, it's an emoji, sometimes a word or two. Soon, there are no answers, and you can't be bothered. You carry on with your life in Chicago, and it doesn’t take long before you start seeing Carmen Berzatto in the paper, on the internet. The young prodigy chef, everyone says. Reluctantly, you read the articles, thinking about the Copenhagen Carmen, smiling at his photos. He's grown up, filled out. His hair is curlier, his shoulders wider, his biceps stronger. He looks good. Good and sad, you think to yourself, and decide not to text him to congratulate him on his star career. Carmen is not one to care about what you think of it.

It's only when you hear from Becky that Mikey Berzatto has died, that you think of Carmen properly, after years full of work in the magazine office, one shitty almost-boyfriend, and summers spent in Europe, writing about sustainable travel and solo adventures. Becky says that he's inherited a restaurant from Michael. You decide against sending him condolences—too personal.

But about ten months later, there's whispering that a fancy restaurant, The Bear, is replacing The Beef of Chicagoland, and it's actually your boss who tells you that you should go check the place out.

You are not into that whole haute cuisine thing, to be honest. You never understood those tiny little portions and strange ingredients and their combinations. You prefer good pasta with Bolognese sauce or roasted chicken with mashed potatoes. Sometimes you wonder if Carmen's strange relationship with his family is what's keeping him away from his Italian roots and forcing him to work in pristine, starched whites in sterile kitchens, cooking intestines and antlers, making it art.

---

Becky gives you Natalie Berzatto’s phone number to get in touch with her to try to schedule an interview for the magazine feature. Your boss, Rob, hopes that Carmen could even make it to the cover soon when The Bear takes off. You’re not sure how you feel about bypassing Carmen completely and going straight to his sister.

So one Thursday, in early May, you decide to walk there, unannounced. You corner the building, passing a big glass window, and before you make it to the main entrance, you nearly collide with a very wonky wooden stepladder. With Carmen Berzatto on top of it, fiddling with a screwdriver or a similar tool, and a signboard.

The second you make contact with the ancient stepladder, Carmen shouts, "Fuck!"

“Sorry,” you yelp, and one glance at the man high up confirms that you are indeed dealing with the Chef himself.

“Could you watch out?” he says angrily as he makes his way down, measuring every step carefully.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize again, waiting anxiously for Carmen to—hopefully—recognize you. To anyone walking by, you must look like an idiot, standing still in the middle of the sidewalk, waiting motionless and stiff for a guy to climb down a ladder.

You don’t know what you had been expecting but definitely not Carmen staring at you with his huge, bloodshot eyes for seconds that feel like minutes. You nearly turn around and walk away, no joke.

He looks—

“You look—” you start. Terrible. But also, like, gorgeous. Terribly tired but hot. Is it awful of you to think that?

“Hi,” Carmen says, one hand going into the big mess of his hair, the other one into his pants pocket. He's avoiding your eyes, which makes you even more nervous, makes you think it was not such a great idea to come here.

“Hi!” you say, probably overly enthusiastically. “You're back in Chicago,” is the first thing you can think of.

He nods. “Yeah, yeah.”

“Well, congrats on the new place,” you say, gesturing to the building behind him, newspaper covering the windows. “I'm really sorry, I thought it was already open,” you explain, tugging on the hem of your lilac sweatshirt nervously. Can he tell you’re lying? “Becky mentioned something about it.”

“No, we’re opening next week,” Carmen says, holding a cigarette between his fingers.

“I'm really curious,” you smile carefully, testing the waters, wondering how he's going to react. You haven't seen each other in more than five years, and Carmen's never been exactly friendly. Not like mean, but definitely not easily approachable. “I work for this magazine, and we would love to do a feature on this,” you say, leaving out that it's you who would be writing it. Who wants to write it. Not only about the place but about Carmen, the enigma, the quiet boy, the excellent chef.

He only nods, clearly not sharing your enthusiasm. “Maybe later,” he taps the cigarette against the palm of his other hand. “When we're ready for this kind of thing.”

“Of course,” you agree quickly.

“Might be a while.”

“So what is the big plan?”

Carmen looks at you, measuring you. Like he thinks you have some ulterior motive. He lights up the cigarette, taking a long drag from it, and you fight not to scrunch your nose in disgust. The older you get, the more you hate the smell. Especially when someone is blowing out the smoke aimlessly—almost—in your face.

“My partner—Sydney, she’s hung up on the stars. So I guess a fine dining kinda place,” Carmen says, flicking the cigarette butt in the general direction of the gutter. The second sentence comes out more like a question than a statement, but you are still processing the first one.

“You run a business with your girlfriend?” you swear you don’t mean it to sound so accusing.

Carmen takes a step back, physically—bumping into the stepladder behind him—and mentally, too. “No! She—Sydney’s my business partner.” The defensive tone tells you exactly how your words sounded though. You wince. “We’ve been working on the new concept together with Nat, and the whole crew, actually. It’s—it’s a family business, I guess—uhm. We had only like three months to finish, and—”

You can see he’s really flustered. He’s starting to stutter, hand nervously scratching his neck. You hate the sight, hate that you’ve made him feel like this.

“I’m sorry!” you interrupt him. “It came out all wrong. I shouldn’t have said that,” you say urgently, hoping to see him relax back to his non-caring, nonchalant, tired-looking self. How could you mess up so quickly? Is that your special ability or a curse?

“‘s fine,” Carmen says, and he does relax a bit, shoulders dropping an inch. He doesn’t look friendly though. Or in the mood for a chat. “I just—she’s a business partner,” he repeats obstinately, face red.

The moment grows awkward. In your coat pocket, you touch a pack of chewing gum and start fiddling with it. “I—my office is nearby so I thought I could come around and see the progress,” you say into the void, trying not to cringe too much. “Maybe I would take a few colleagues for dinner.”

“The reservations aren't open yet,” Carmen says in a flat voice. You can’t call him out because it’s probably true anyway. Plus, you just lied again—the offices are not close; you had taken the L—and you feel bad about it.

There’s not much left to say, you realize. He’s not giving you any space to turn this “accidental” meeting into a proper conversation. You shuffle your feet nervously, feeling stupid.

“Alright. It was nice seeing you!” you say, as it’s about time to end this. “Hope everything’s gonna work out great!” you add in a cheerful tone, already setting to walk back to the station.

“Yeah. Thanks. Bye.” Carmen says back, lighting a second cigarette.

What a nightmare, you think as you walk through the busy streets.

—

In the following weeks, you almost forget about The Bear. Rob complains about the nonexistent article on the new, already hyped-up restaurant and wasted opportunities, but what can you do? The not-at-all-accidental meeting with Carmen had been a disaster you actively try to erase from your mind. Working on your regular column and material for the website keeps you busy. Then Becky calls out of nowhere, and you two arrange lunch at The Marq. You end up swapping hilarious stories from the last two months you hadn’t seen each other, and you secretly pray she doesn’t ask about Natalie Berzatto or her brother. You're out of luck, because she does—of course she does—and you have to lay the cards on the table.

“You did contact Nat first though?” is the first thing Becky asks.

“I didn’t,” you shake your head. “I didn’t want to exclude Carmen right at the very beginning,” you admit.

“Oh god,” Becky rolls her eyes at you, taking a small bite of her salmon cake sandwich.

“I knooow,” you quickly stop her, feeling like ordering something stronger than the simple soda you’ve been drinking.

“I think you should still call Natalie,” Becky says, pointing at you with a determined frown. “I went to see her and her new baby just last week. She asked about you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” she nods. “Apparently they could really use some help getting the word out about The Bear. A good excuse to talk Carmen into an interview maybe? An exclusive one?” She wiggles her eyebrows, knowing how cool it would be for you to come up with this.

“Maybe,” you muse, playing it cool. Inside, you are already hyped up about the possibility of scoring the first interview with the former best chef in the world. Is he still good at all? Why did he disappear? Why is he back?

—

The anxiety of the following days forces you to actually text Natalie. You’ve been checking online websites and Instagram accounts apprehensively, worried that a medium might publish something about The Bear before you get a chance. Rob isn’t a dick, but you wouldn’t want to look incompetent in his eyes. So far, you’ve been able to steer away from conversations about the new Carmen Berzatto restaurant at work. Your work ethic makes it difficult for you to let The Bear go without a fight.

That’s how you find yourself in front of Natalie’s door. When she opens it, she doesn’t hide her fervor.

“Oh, finally! Hi! Please come in.” She ushers you inside. You’ve never seen her in person, only on Becky’s Instagram, maybe, and even though the exhaustion is apparent on the woman’s face, you can spot the similarities with Carmen in her features right away.

From the dark hallway, she leads you to the sitting room. When you look around, it’s hard to find a clutter-free space. Every surface is covered with baby clothes, baby diapers, baby wipes—clean and dirty—bottles—full and empty.

“Sorry for the mess,” Natalie appears next to you, snatching away a baby muslin from the sofa. “Have a seat, please,” she nods. “The baby’s asleep. Hopefully for the next—” and she checks her watch, “another twenty minutes.”

As you sit down, Natalie collapses into an armchair, not minding what appears to be a pile of freshly washed newborn onesies and other clothes underneath her.

“Thank you so much for stopping by,” she says sincerely, and you notice the many stains on her purple t-shirt.

You smile. “No problem.”

“Becky said that you know stuff about Instagram and social media and marketing and all that?” Natalie’s eyes are wide and hopeful.

“I would say so,” you nod.

“I’m not sure what Becky mentioned already,” Natalie says as she starts pulling the baby clothes from under her and folding them absentmindedly. That definitely says something about the state she’s in, without Becky describing the situation to you—not only with The Bear but also Nat herself. “Carmy’s putting so much into the restaurant—we all are—so much hope,” she babbles, “none of us have slept properly in weeks—months! And now the baby...” Natalie’s gaze becomes unfocused for a moment before she blinks rapidly. “The timing’s not so great,” she forces out a weak laugh, and you smile again, already feeling bad for her, not wanting to make her uncomfortable.

“I understand. It’s hard,” you empathize, feeling genuinely bad—not for The Bear—but for Natalie.

“I’m not a marketing guru, but I can research things,” she carries on, more confident now. “But I can’t be there all the time, y’know? It’s just not possible. If—if someone could help with keeping the place afloat and spreading the word—” she stops talking and folding, looking directly at you. “That would be just so awesome,” she finishes quietly, her bottom lip wobbling.

You know that Nat’s not trying to emotionally blackmail you, even though the situation kinda feels like it, and you do feel for her.

“I can help, yes.”

“I’ll talk to Carm and Sydney, and we’ll figure out how much we can offer you!” The relief and excitement are apparent in the way Nat jumps up from the armchair.

“That’s alright, really,” you say calmly, putting a hand on her arm now that she’s closer. “We can discuss this later,” and you give her another encouraging smile.

The unmistakable sound of a baby crying comes from somewhere in the house. Poor Natalie freezes, her hand going to touch her chest. She takes a deep, steadying breath.

“Thank you. Thank you,” and she takes a hold of your hand, squeezing it. “I’ll tell Sydney to get in touch with you—or you can actually just go to the restaurant; they know about you.”

That makes you slightly uncertain as you remember your first attempt at an unannounced visit to The Bear.

“Alright,” you nod with a polite smile. After all, you’re getting something out of this too.

—

Sydney texts you exactly 22 minutes after you leave worn-out Natalie and her baby behind and invites you to come to The Bear the next day. To make yourself appear more untouchable, you reply that the soonest you’re available is next Monday. Make them wait.

It gets you on edge, though, and more than once you think of Carmen in his tiny Copenhagen kitchen, how things used to be. How easy it is to grow apart. Not that you’d been friends exactly. Hard to be anything like that with a person as closed off as Carmen Berzatto.

On the agreed Monday, you dare to finish early at work and take the train to The Bear. Your stomach is in knots, even though you’ve been pretty brave about the whole thing. It’s just—you’re not sure how Carmen’s gonna react when he sees you, and you’re already thinking about the worst possible scenarios. Just stop! you tell yourself resolutely, forcing yourself to concentrate on the simple but well-thought-out marketing plan you prepared to present. Without being asked. If Carmen sees that you actually KNOW things, he might change his opinion about you. Not that you KNOW his opinion, but—maybe he would actually acknowledge you finally.

It’s just after the family meal when you arrive. A tall man who introduces himself as Richie lets you in instantly, and he’s clearly been informed about your arrivall. As soon as Sydney is notified of your presence, she rushes to you from the kitchen in the back, wiping her hands on her apron. You notice right away that she’s friendly and calm, and it relaxes your nerves. There’s no doubt she loves the restaurant and her job, and you see that she worries as much as Natalie does, or even more.

“We’re opening in two hours, so it’s a bit wild in the back, but maybe you wanna see the kitchen?” Sydney offers as she’s showing you around the newly restored restaurant, opening the heavy door. “A quick peek,” she adds as a loud cracking noise comes out of the exact door.

You’ve been to a couple of kitchens, and you must say that this one’s definitely on the chaotic side of the scale. People in white aprons run here and there, no one’s still, not even for a second. There’s a good amount of shouting and a huge amount of swearing. In the middle of everything, there’s Chef Carmen Berzatto. He looks like a character from Cartoon Network. His wild hair is sticking out in all directions, dark tattoos covering his arms and hands, face sweaty, eyes ready to pop out of his head. He’s shorter than most people you see circling the kitchen, but the loudest one. He shouts orders, and you notice the vein on the side of his neck—it sure is ready to burst. You wonder how far he is from having a heart attack.

“Or maybe next time,” Sydney mutters, gently pushing you out of the way and shutting the door again. She leads you to one of the brown wooden tables where you settle again.

“Is he always like that?” you ask Sydney, actually glad that you’re not in the room where the storm’s currently happening.

“Only when he’s stressed,” Sydney explains shortly, an apologetic smile on her lips.

When it comes to money, it’s obvious The Bear doesn’t have much to spare, that much is clear. Sydney is extremely apologetic and sweet about it.

“There’s a marketing budget—previously non-existent—that we’ve set aside and can offer. It’s just not much, I’m afraid,” she tells you, jittery.

You want to reassure her, to tell her that you're doing it for Carmen, for an old "friend." But from what you've gathered, Sydney doesn't even know that Carmen knows you.

So you just smile and reassure her anyway. "I'll put it on my resume. I can use more cases with social media for hospitality," you lie.

Nodding, Sydney clarifies, "Yes, just Instagram. Please. Carmy doesn't want to put anything in the press. Yet."

When a curious Richie joins you at the table, you present the Instagram plan to both of them. Even though Richie can't help making a few rather stupid remarks that only he finds funny, they both listen carefully. You see a lot of skepticism on Richie's face, probably because he doesn't understand some of the big words, you guess, but Sydney seems to be really into everything from pictures of the food and the weekly specials, to quick reels showing potential customers a little bit of behind-the-scenes action.

"Oh, I'm sure Cousin will be thrilled to have people sticking their noses into his business," Richie says, and you're not sure how serious he is. But Sydney shushes him, and you carry on, showing her the mock-up of the possible Instagram feed to set the mood for the profile.

For the next three weeks, you go to The Bear twice a week to gather some content—photos and videos. You talk to the crew and film those who are okay with it. Your presence is met with mixed emotions, but Sydney's gratitude and kindness make up for every suspicious glare and exasperated sigh when you find yourself in someone's way. Besides the restaurant, you take your neighbor's dog for a long walk every Saturday morning, call your mom and dad to check in, scroll Instagram instead of finally starting an actual book, and often wonder why Carmen is so hostile towards you.

Generally, you try not to hang out in the kitchen directly, especially not when Chef Carmen is present. Being uncomfortable in a new environment makes you positively anxious, causing you to go through a whole pack of your favorite cinnamon Simply Gums a day.

You also remember to always tie your hair up—not that the staff there wear hairnets or anything, but you don't want Carmen to find another reason to frown at you. He's been basically only frowning or ignoring you. Hard to tell which one is worse.

You always clean your hands super thoroughly, like during COVID, singing the "Happy Birthday" song to time it before daring to even stick your finger in the restaurant. Sydney offers you an apron to protect your work clothes, which you refuse. You sense from some people there that you're not entirely welcome.

But the more you avoid Carmen, the more likely you are to bump into him. You know Murphy's Law. So one morning, he just appears from around the corner, carrying a tray of mushrooms.

For a second, you're actually horrified that he's going to introduce himself. Before that can happen, you blurt out, "Uh—do you remember me? Copenhagen?"

Carmen stops and looks at you, wiping his wet hands on the towel attached to the string of his white apron. "Yeah," he confirms, "yeah, I do." He says your name, all soft and correct, along with your surname, and with his eyes fixed on you, you're frozen to the spot, affected whether you like it or not. Then he leaves to taste Tina's roasted peppers.

Obviously, your mind can't let the episode slip away. As you type copy for the upcoming Instagram posts, you pause every so often to cringe at how embarrassing you behaved. Of course, he remembers you, for fuck's sake! You're working in his restaurant—kinda.

"Hey! Copenhagen! You wanna see this?" Carmen yells a bit later from the other side of the kitchen, and you falter, deciding whether you're really going to answer to him calling you that.

You bite your tongue and trail hesitantly to the station where Carmen is with Tina and Ebraheim, gathered around a saucepan.

"Tina, chef, this is excellent. Well done," Carmen says to her as you approach, then turns to you.

"This is what we wanna share with the world. Perfect red pepper sauce. Simple but delicious."

"Okay," you respond, taking in the expectant way all three of them are looking at you. Like you're some kind of magician. Or a fraud.

"Just," Carmen adds before he sets off, "no recipes leave this kitchen," and he waits for you to confirm.

"Right."

Slowly, you start to question why you're helping The Bear. Is it because two years ago you thought of Carmen and what you might have felt for him? What could have been? More than the chef himself, you find yourself growing fond of the place and the employees—some of them! Seeing the Instagram followers number increase fills you with pride and satisfaction. Fuck Carmen.

---

Mornings are usually the only time when Carmen isn’t around, and you try to time your visits so your paths don’t cross.

Wanting to snap photos of the new tableware and make a quick, fun video reel, you head into the kitchen. There's no one around—Sweeps is probably hiding somewhere, and Sydney might be in the office. Not wanting to bother anyone, you set your always-heavy handbag on a chair and start looking for everything you need. There's no reason for you to feel like you're sneaking around, but you can't help feeling nervous. That’s when your clumsiness strikes, and you manage to knock over a glass of water. Rolling your eyes, you get on your hands and knees to wipe the spilled water with a rug that you hope is meant for cleaning, as you’re very aware of every item having its particular function here.

You straighten up and stretch to get one more plate from the shelf. Then you lose your footing on the still-wet tiles. Your foot slips, and the top plate falls to the countertop with a loud cracking noise. You react quickly, trying to break the fall, but there's no use. The plate shatters to pieces.

Of course, it’s Carmen himself who emerges from the door leading to the office, and you wince—both physically and mentally—preparing yourself for a very unpleasant collision.

“What’s going on?” he asks as he approaches you, eyebrows pinched. He’s not wearing his chef whites, just a simple white t-shirt and dark jeans.

“Sorry, I—” you start apologizing as Carmen stands next to you, assessing the damage.

“What—what’re you doing here?” he asks in a very flat voice, staring at the pieces of ceramic.

“I’m sorry, I’m going to tidy this and also pay for the plate, obviously,” you ramble, reaching down for the shards.

“Don’t,” Carmy barks, stopping you by grabbing your shaking hands in his. His hands are big, the tattoos making them look harsh and crude, even though the touch is gentle. “Don’t cut yourself,” he adds quietly, holding you until you relax your arms and then a second longer.

He must sense your nervousness. “It’s fine, I’ll get it,” Carmen assures you, catching your eye. “Hey,” he lays a soft hand on your arm, “step away, I’ll clean this.”

Nodding, you step back and wait patiently, disconcerted, watching as Carmen carefully handles and discards the shards, then checks the floor for any tiny fragments. He turns back to you.

“Are you okay?” he checks.

“Yeah.” And you’re more thrown off balance by having Carmen pay attention to you, all of a sudden, than by damaging the kitchen’s equipment.

He studies you for a moment, his face unreadable, and you’re the one to look away first. Which you hate, by the way.

“You wanna see some stuff I’ve been working on?”

“Sure,” you agree, taking a deep breath to relax further. “I’m sorry. The loud noise—” you wave your hand in the air vaguely, rolling your eyes at yourself. “Just scared the shit out of me, I guess,” you finish with an apologetic smile.

“You’re alright,” Carmen confirms and disappears for a bit. In the meantime, you have a small meltdown, shaking your head at yourself for being so, so very terribly lame. Luckily, before he returns with a tray of different dishes, you pull yourself together.

Carmen sets the tray down, revealing an array of colorful and sophisticated meals that instantly catch your curiosity.

“Any allergies?” he asks.

“Passion fruit—easily avoidable. Sometimes kiwi,” you list. “And grumpy chefs,” you add cheekily, feeling bold.

Carmen pauses. “I’m not grumpy. I’m focused.”

“You weren’t like this in Copenhagen,” you say softly, leaning a bit closer to him, your body language signaling that once you had been comfortable around each other.

“I’m more focused now,” Carmen retorts, stubborn and maybe a bit offended. “Back then I—uhm—I felt comfortable around you. It was easy.”

“And now?” you almost whisper.

But Carmen ignores the question, pushing the first bowl closer to you. “Here, taste this… or take a picture and then taste it.”

And you understand that the re-bonding is over.

---

Soon, you drop the habit of visiting the restaurant only in the mornings. One reason is that spending time with Carmen, talking to him or watching him cook and explain things, makes you late for work twice in a row. That usually never happens as you take pride in being on time at the office. You don’t work at The Bear for money, but you hardly think about it that way. When you decide to pop in during the morning, Carmen shares his deadly strong black coffee that he mills himself with you. It’s bitter but heavenly. Secretly, you like drinking it while chewing your favorite cinnamon gum, which somehow makes the taste even better—smoother and richer.

The second reason—you discover that Carmen is much calmer in the evenings after service. Less jittery, more relaxed. His blood flows slower, you think. His heart pumps with more ease. Sydney and he share thoughts and plans for the restaurant with you while you all sit at an empty table. It’s nice, you think, while watching Carmen’s hands play with a napkin. His hands are especially nice.

It’s Saturday and raining as you find yourself sitting in Gordon Ramsay's Burger. Nothing could’ve surprised you more than Carmen asking you to go out eat together. Had he felt bad for ignoring you at the beginning? You’re watching the rivers of raindrops on the big glass window, waiting for Carmen. As usual, you’re ten minutes early, and after you order a Life’s a Beach, the first thing on your mind is you're just early, he didn't stand you up, and then: this is not a date, babe! Which instantly startles you into sitting up straight and looking around, as if someone could see your embarrassing thoughts. Why are you even thinking about this?? Then Carmen arrives, wet patches on his shoulders and jeans that cling to his thighs. He chooses the Chicago hot dog and three different burgers with a bunch of sides. While he only nibbles on them and writes down notes on his phone, you feel bad for wasting the food and eat more than you should. Carmen studies the buns very carefully and asks you a lot of questions about the food, some of which you find amusing and actually—endearing. When you go to bed that night, your belly’s uncomfortably full. You dream that you’re pregnant and about to go into labor, and you’re pretty sure that Carmen’s the father. And, honestly, do you need a book of dreams to explain the meaning? Fuck.

---

All goes to hell next week when Carmen sees you eating a sandwich from the corner shop down the street. Instead of having your regular lunch with Becky, you’ve chosen to run to The Bear so you could see Marcus unveil his new dessert. But before that, you popped into the nearby deli to order a mozzarella and sundried tomato sandwich. No one at The Bear had ever explicitly invited you to the family meal, and you would never dare to have free food there. But the way Carmen looks at you while you sit on the step by the back exit, eating the rather dry sandwich, is indescribable. The stern look on his face is back, with a closed-off facade. His eyes are cold. Before you take it all in, you wave at him awkwardly, chewing. Carmen retreats back inside wordlessly, leaving you confused and a little hurt.

Unfortunately, the atmosphere surrounding you doesn’t improve when you return to work, the stupid sandwich sitting in your stomach like a heavy stone. You have a big argument in the meeting room while planning the next month's issue. Then one of your co-workers makes a nasty remark about your single life. The afternoon drags on painfully slowly, which forces you to message your cousin—an astrologist extraordinaire—to check what the heck is going on with the universe.

Tuesday morning is rough. The second you wake up, you know you’ve overslept because you never get up without the alarm ringing angrily. A single glance at your phone proves it to be true. Right after, you notice three missed calls from Sydney and two from Nat. There are no text messages, though.

At first, you intend to call Rob to beg for a home office day, something you rarely ever use. But as soon as you check your calendar, you’re reminded of the big conference happening from 11 a.m. until 5 p.m. You rush to work, finishing your makeup on the train, then enter the office building to quickly run through notes with your colleagues. The first time you have a chance to make a quick phone call is when you finally go to the bathroom. It’s Natalie who you manage to reach first, as the lunch rush at The Bear is just unfolding. Over the cries of Natalie’s baby, you hear half-sentences about a recipe, Carmen, and a leak. It’s hard to put it all together. At 4 p.m., Nat finally sends you a text. It says: “Recipe’s published in Taste of Home. Carm’s mad. Says someone leaked it.”

It contains a link to the Taste of Home website, with Carmen’s perfect Berkswell Pudding recipe in the Top Recipes of the Week, marked “Chef’s tip.” You check it again to make sure, and surely—it’s one of the dishes Carmen introduced to you just last week. You didn’t dare to photograph it, much less taste it. You remember concentrating on the way his lips moved when he explained the preparation process, not much on the cooking itself.

What’s clear to you is that the "Someone" from Nat’s message is actually you.

A gloomy dread settles in your stomach as the meeting goes on and on. You barely pay attention, which makes everything even worse. You’re scared of what’s happened in the restaurant, and you’re worried that you’re going to miss something important in the meeting.

When you run for a second quick bathroom break, instead of peeing, you think of your next step. You could try to call everyone in the restaurant, try to find out what the hell is going on. But you don’t want to be seen as hysterical. You check Instagram and possible messages to find traces of a catastrophe. There’s nothing. Again, you open the website with the recipe. The photos are pretty sloppy, definitely not something Carmen would prepare. As you check the ingredients, you notice there are some major differences from Carmen’s dish. All in all, the only thing that stops you from texting Carmen is your pride. And true fear.

Absolutely dreading facing Carmen, you make it to The Bear during dinner time. Which, obviously, is the worst possible timing. You’re only praying that he’s not in the kitchen but hiding in his office, deep in paperwork.

It’s Sydney who you meet first as you sneak into the restaurant through the back door. She grabs your arm.

“Don’t go to talk to him now! He’s in a really, really bad mood. Natalie and I were trying to call you.” There’s genuine worry on Sydney’s face, her eyes big and honest.

“I don’t understand what happened,” you frown. You can feel a headache approaching from the intense day in the office. “I think he should tell me himself if there’s a problem.”

“I’ve been trying to work it out with him, to explain—”

“Explain what?” you question, more sternly than you usually are around Syd.

She falters. “It’s just this stupid thing—and we love having you—don’t let Carmy upset you,” Sydney half-explains. It doesn’t make much sense, and you shake your head, heading to the office. You’re more mad than afraid now.

You don’t wait for an invite after you knock shortly. Closing the door behind you, you find Carmen leaning against the desk, a bottle of water in his hand.

Everything inside of you drops the second he lays his eyes on you. There’s no doubt he’s angry.

“Didn’t Natalie tell you you don’t have to come here again?” Carmen asks curtly. “I’m surprised you think it’s okay to be here.”

Not expecting Carmen to be this harsh from the beginning, you swallow instead of answering.

“I hope that you’re happy now,” he says meanly, putting the bottle down on the desk.

“I don’t—I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you croak out, sincerely meaning it.

Carmen straightens up, watching you like a feline. “The recipe. It’s out. One fucking thing I asked not to get out, and now the whole of America can see and fucking even cook it at home.”

You’re frozen to the spot. From the very beginning, you knew that Carmen is not a person to mess with, hoping that you would never experience his anger directed at you. Now it’s happening.

You want to say something about no one being able to cook the way he does, but it’s pointless. Instead, you’re fighting off the flush on your face from embarrassment. You feel like a child being scolded, but you don’t want to look like one.

The muted but still loud kitchen noises bleed through the closed door. A shout, clattering. Not loud enough to stop Carmen from piercing you through and through with his ice-cold eyes.

“I promise I didn’t do anything like that,” you say, desperately wanting the chef to believe you. “I swear!”

Carmen pinches the bridge of his nose, one hand propped on his waist. You wait, breathless, for his next move, scared to death. The shirt you have on is wet with your sweat. The really badly smelling kind—the one your body produces when you’re stressed or scared. And you’ve been stressed since the very morning. You flinch when you move your arm and the odor hits your nose, hoping that Carmen can’t smell you. You would be mortified. The strap of your tote bag is digging into your shoulder painfully, but you don’t dare to move to put it down to relieve your arm.

“This all doesn’t—it doesn’t make any sense,” Carmen starts pacing, looking down at the floor and not at you anymore. You’re not sure if it’s better this way. “You come here, wanna do a fucking interview with me, or some shit, then you show up again—this time wanting to work here. For free! So, please, tell me—how does it sound, huh?”

Petrified, you realize how exactly it all sounds. When Carmen says it like this, it makes you look like a fraud. Like a terrible, terrible person. A liar. Your mind goes weeks back, back to the moment you actually thought of maybe digging some scoop in here, maybe convincing Carmen to do the interview after all. But it’s far from how he’s making the situation sound.

“Carmen,” you start without knowing what you want to say. Carmen’s stopped walking around the tiny office like a caged animal, and he’s again looking at you. There’s so much tension in his face, back hunched. “It sounds bad, but may I explain—”

“You may not,” he cuts you off briskly. His neck—normally a place you find sexy—is all red, and the thick vein there is getting more and more prominent by the second. “No one fucks with my business, you understand?” Oh—and he’s shouting now.

The natural defense, you didn’t know existed, is to make yourself smaller. Somehow, anyhow. You hang your head, avoiding looking at his face. You just can’t meet his eyes, even though Carmen’s bowing and tilting his head to force you to.

“It’s like I have to start asking the staff to sign an NDA,” he carries on.

Carmen’s getting slowly closer and closer to you, pushing you against the wall by the door. He’s not touching you but only because you’re not allowing it. You’re sick with humiliation. Lost for words, probably for the first time in your life.

“—and Nat fucking leaves me here—us, all of us—and that’s just not fair. I would expect so, so much more from my sister. Not that my brother was much better,” he chuckles humorlessly, but you see it’s more like an effort to catch his breath. “Lousy fuckers… Do you think you do your job well here, chef?”

He’s scaring you now. The hair by his temples and above his forehead is damp, and his gesticulation is wild and weird.

“Do we disgust you here, is that right, hm?” Carmen probably finally sees your frightened expression because he adds, “Why would you buy food somewhere else and then come here to eat it?!” You understand that he’s referring to the day he saw you eating the sandwich by the rear exit. Unsure whether he expects you to reply, you decide to stay quiet. Your knees are starting to shake, from exhaustion after the long day and perhaps, from Carmen’s current behavior.

“It made ME sick,” he says, his face just inches from yours when one of his hands slams into the thin wall right next to your head. The noise echoes in the room, and you’re desperately hoping it’s not loud enough for the others to hear from outside. You would die on the spot if they knew what’s going on here.

“Who do you think you are?” Carmen shouts some more, loud, by your ear. It vibrates through you and never stops. You’re shivering all over, you notice. It’s not okay, not okay!

At last, you raise your head, chin jutting out. “No one’s going to talk to me like this. No one,” you spit out in the chef’s face, taking him by surprise. “Don’t you ever shout at me again,” and you jab him right in the middle of his chest, instead of punching him there like he deserves.

When you’re leaving his office and rushing to the back exit, you hear Carmen yelling.

Everything feels tense and your hands are shaking. Your jaw is set so hard your teeth could crush from the pressure. The fresh air hits your face, and you focus on breathing deeply through your nose. The sounds remind you of a steam engine. You walk for about a minute, mind blank with the shock. Only when you turn a corner do you allow yourself to stop, which causes the first tears to fall. You’re so mad at yourself. Why the fuck are you crying?! There’s so much frustration in the crazy mixture of emotions you’re feeling. You’re completely overwhelmed with it, not knowing what to focus on at first.

Out of habit, you look for your phone in your handbag to check the screen. The fucking heavy bag that’s been killing your shoulder. Frustrated, you let it slide off your arm and down to the sidewalk. You don’t even care if it breaks, as it lands with a noisy, dull sound. It had been years since you got properly yelled at, and you’re angry that it affects you this much. You promise yourself to take a few seconds here, in the middle of an empty street, then call a cab. At home, you can cry.

PART II

[parkaplayboy]

75% || Chapter 4

stylenny x gender neutral reader

You're a senior in college during your final semester, but you find out that you're dangerously close to failing a class that you need to graduate. Lucky for you (or unlucky, depending on how you look at it) you get paired up with a tutor.

a/n: guys i am so sorry for the impromptu hiatus, its midterm season so i had to lock in for a while </3

words: 1.6k

FIRST | PREVIOUS | NEXT

Friday at 8:34 pm

“If there was an award for making things a bigger deal than they are, you’d win every year.” Evan jeered from your doorway. You let your arms fall to your sides, both hands stuffed with a different shirt. “Well, some of us single people need to dress to impress.” You eyed his outfit, noting that he at least opted to wear a non-stained pair of sweats. “Oh, I get it. You’re trying to put on a fashion show and have a little bit of a Cinderella moment, huh?” 

“No,” That’s exactly what you were doing. “I just want to look my best, is that so unbelievable?” Evan snorted and folded his arms skeptically. “Yeah, actually it is. Just last week you went to the store in sweats two times your size and a shirt with a Cheeto stained handprint on it.” Evan’s girlfriend Ciara walked down the hall, joining him in the doorway. “Okay, well to be fair, going to the store and a party are two wildly different scenarios.” You knew you liked her for a reason. ”See! She gets it!” You lifted up the two shirt options to your torso and angled yourself to face her. “Left or right?” Ciara stayed silent, eyes swapping back and forth between the two options. “Right. Oh and you should wear those jeans you wore at my birthday party last month, I think it’ll be a good outfit.” You smiled, internally thanking Evan for dating a fashion design major. “Ev, if you guys ever break up I choose her in the divorce.” Evan raised his hands to his chest in mock offense. “Damn, not even fifty-fifty custody? I’m hurt, Y/N.” 

Ciara pulled her phone out of her pocket to check the time. “It’s about 8:30 right now so we should probably start heading out. Fashionably late is one thing but no one likes the people who show up half-way through.” Right, the party. For a small moment, the anxiety coursing through your veins had dissipated but the time reminder brought it all back. “Alright, let me finish getting dressed and we can go.”

The car rolled down the block filled from wall to wall with some of the shittiest parallel parking jobs you'd ever seen. “Gee, I wonder which house it is.” Ciara commented sarcastically as Bebe’s house came into view, the lawn littered with people and solo cups. Evan pulled into an open spot in front of the house to the right and put the car in part. “Well,” Evan turned around to face, arm slumped over the seat. “We’re here. Anyone who has any objections, speak now or forever hold your peace.” It was clear that he was specifically talking to you, giving you room to change your mind. You took a deep breath and let it out. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door to exit. “Who’s ready to drink some cheap alcohol and listen to spotify’s top 100 hits playlist?” Ciara cheered, scrambling out of the car accompanied by Evan throwing his fist in the air and doing the same. “If you blackout, I’m drawing at least two dicks on your face before you wake up.” “Ha ha. Very funny.” You had intended for that to come out sharper than it did, but settled for the weird shaky tone that came out instead. Your heart thrashed harder and harder in your chest as you approached the house. ‘It’s just a party, Y/N. Very low-stakes. Worst case scenario you end up puking in a bush, which all things considered, it is relatively normal for a college party.’  Before any of you could open the door, it swung open revealing two tipsy women presumably heading out for a smoke. “Oh, ‘scuse us.” The one in the front said as she pulled the other by her wrist. The three of you trailed into the house after they left, quickly getting engulfed in the party’s atmosphere. From where you stood you spotted the makeshift bar station (A fold out table with a sign taped to it that said ‘Bar’) and damn near ran in its direction. During your mission you observed the party go-ers around you. There was a group sitting on and surrounding the couch, two of the men standing had matching letterman jackets; the only difference being their names & corresponding numbers on the back. (Black - 24 & Donovan - 57), Next to them was a brunette guy with a yellow hoodie that was only slightly zipped and crutches strapped to his arms. He seemingly had just told the punchline of a very good joke because the group around him erupted into laughter. The last pair was sitting on the couch, backs turned toward you which meant the only thing you could see was the back of their heads. The slightly taller man had a blue hat on and the person next to him had wild but controlled blonde-hair. 

You finally tore your ever observant gaze from the group to the table that if you hadn’t turned your head sooner, you would’ve ran into.  There were a few large handles of alcohol scattered along the table as well as various two liters of soda (for mixing and/or chasing). You fixed yourself a drink that was about forty-percent  alcohol and sixty-percent soda, promptly taking two fat gulps. “Y/N! Over here!” Ciara called you from your left, she was standing at the beer pong table and waving her hand in a beckoning motion. You squeezed through the crowd of people and stood next to her at the table clearly set up for beer-pong. On the opposite side were two women with contrasting styles. The one on the left had big curly blonde hair with a very short red dress on and the other had long straight jet black hair and she wore a cute yellow and purple pantsuit. “Y/N, this is Bebe. She’s in my design course and that is Wendy, she’s in my business class.” You smiled politely and gave a small wave. “Thank you for coming!” Bebe said, slightly slurred from being tipsy. “Kyle invited you, right?”  The black haired girl asked with a tight but polite smile. You took another sip of your drink before responding. “Yeah, he did. Is he here yet?” Bebe snorted suddenly. “Knowing Stan, he’s probably making them late. I think 

I can count on one hand all the times he was on-time to a date with Wendy,” Your eyes flickered to Wendy. “You guys dated?” She gave Bebe a side eye before her gaze returned to you. “Yeah, but it was a long time ago. We decided we’re just better off as  friends.” It was irrational, yes, but god you couldn’t help but feel some form of jealousy towards her. She wasn’t even dating him. Hell, neither were you! You took one final large gulp of your drink to replace the envy pooling in the pit of your stomach.

Friday at 9:15 pm 

“C’mon Y/N! You got this!” Ciara encouraged you as you eyed your remaining shot. It had been a pretty even game so far, Wendy or Bebe would score a point then Ciara or you would do so as well. At this point each side was on to their final cups and you were sure that if you missed this shot, Bebe would sink-it if she got the chance. You bit the bullet and tossed the ping pong ball into the air which successfully landed into the cup. You cheered and high-fived Ciara. “Damn. Y/N. You’re really good at beer-pong.” A smooth voice spoke from behind you, between how loud it was and the multiple drinks you’ve consumed from beer-pong you couldn’t quite place who it was. To make up for the fact, you turned around. Wrong answer, dumbass. Standing behind you was Kenny, he had a playful smirk on his face and an unlit joining between his fingers. You opened your mouth to speak but Ciara tapped you on the shoulder before you could. “Hey, we’re gonna go to the kitchen to talk. Well, more or less gossip about this annoying girl named Jessica. She’s in two of my classes and- okay well, point is, we’ll be over there if you need us, ‘kay?” Ciara smiles cheerfully before turning to face Bebe. “So, last Tuesday, right? Jessica raised her hand and in the most self absorbed tone I have ever fucking heard went..” The group walked away and their voices became more and more mixed with the rest of the crowd’s chatter. Your attention snapped back to Kenny, who was standing in front of you, his fingers casually fiddling with the joint in his hand.   “So, are you enjoying the party? Or are you just here to show off your killer beer pong skills?” You smiled a little wider and sloppier than you normally would due to the alcohol in your system. “I wasn’t that good. To be honest, if Bebe hadn’t missed two shots in a row  I would’ve been done for.” Kenny shrugged lazily. “I still think you would’ve won anyway.” You hummed in response, metaphorically biting your tongue to prevent yourself from saying the wrong thing. Instead you realized that you hadn’t seen Kyle nor Stan walk in. As if he’d read your mind he spoke. “Stan and Ky are doing Jell-o shots with some of the guys on the patio in the backyard. Well more like, Stan is taking Jell-o shots and Kyle took one but tapped out from the sugar.” Kenny chuckled. “Ten bucks says Clyde’s attempting to do a backflip right now. Once he passes a certain threshold of drinking, he swears he’s a gymnast.” He nodded his head in the direction of the patio doorway in place of a question and grabbed your arm to lead you through the crowd.

[givethemsmut]

Dom Mysterio x Reader

I needed a place to write and this story has been running up the storage on my phone.

Dom X Reader

Friends to Lovers

WWE mixed with real life

All fanfic, I don’t own WWE characters, etc.

Tons of Smut Chapter One | Where it all started…

I had known Dom since I was fourteen, attending the same Catholic school and wearing the same navy blue uniforms that felt too stiff to relax in.

I had been living with his family since it mattered and dating their son was not an option. No matter how much I wanted to.

We were both seventeen when I finally asked Dom to be my first. I didn’t want anyone else and I wanted to get it over with. Nothing about your first time is supposed to be heavenly. They scared us with pain and bleeding as women in health class enough to make anyone dread the first time. And who better than my best friend? 

Dom was eating Cheetos and bothering his mom cooking in the kitchen when I strolled up. 

Texting Dom even though I was right next to him was how we communicated without speaking a lot. A go to for us.

Me: Will you take my virginity?

I had no idea if Dom was a virgin still. He was attractive, wealthy, famous dad, and everything girls chased.

Dom: Are you serious?

Me: Yeah. Who else? I want to get it over with.

Dom had already properly stolen my first kiss and I was more than grateful. Drinking, smoking, every first a teen could have Dom was there for. He was my best friend but he was also a guy and living with him didn’t help those pesky hormones. 

Me: Aren’t you horny?

Dom: I’m a fucking guy and you live here. No relief, mi amore. Are you sure? Can’t take it back.

Me: Yes, I can’t take it anymore. I’m pretty sure your parents can hear my vibrator at night.

Dom: Fuck. That’s not helping.

I touched his leg and made an apologetic face while he winced with his head down. It wasn’t a secret we were attracted to each other. Even his parents made jokes about us spending time together or flirting.

Getting up Dom clasped onto my arm, stopping me, “tonight.”

We had kissed at parties, in his bedroom, even in the shared bathroom but nothing crazy. We hadn’t made out the way you see in movies. 

“Can you come with me? Right now. I need your help.”

Dom said something in Spanish to his mom before he followed behind me up stairs. Their house was lavish, big but modest somehow at the same time. Climbing the stairs he kept asking me what was going on when I kept shutting him up until we were behind doors.

Pushing him into his room I closed the door behind us. “We haven’t even made out yet. I don’t wanna skip anything.” I stood by the door watching Dom trying to calculate anything I was saying. Pulling the hoodie over my head and exposing my red bralette immediately made my nipples hard knowing he was about to look.

“Wait, hermosa. We can’t just rush into this. I don’t even know if I can make out with you and not wanna do more.” He sat on the edge of his bed holding his face in his hands and his elbows digging into his knees. “Okay, so we do more.”

Walking over to him I pushed him back, standing between his legs. “Do you not want to? It’s okay if you don’t.”

He sat back looking down at his crotch in his gym shorts. “Does it look like I don’t want to? I want to. I don’t want you to regret it. Regret me.”

Pushing Dominik back until he was flat against the bed I climbed on top of him, straddling his lap. His hands finally reached out and touched my legs but I could still feel the conflict brewing inside him. 

“Dom, just kiss me already.”

Siting up right his lips snipped at mine and his eyes locked into mine. We both pulled away enough to look at each other. Every nerve in me flared up and suddenly I was aware of my body, arching my back in his hands.

“You don’t have to try, mi armor. You’re already everything…” his hands traced up my sides, fingertips tickling the seam of my bralette. “I’m the lucky one here.”

Those hormones were waging a war between my thighs when I felt how hard he was under me. I wanted to give him all of me but every part of me relied on logic.

No one finds forever at seventeen.

“Are you virgin still?” I asked as he kissed my neck and his thumbs teased my hard nipples.

Smiling against my skin I bit down on my lip trying to hide every emotion. “I haven’t babe. It would be a lot easier right now if I had.”

“You can touch me, Dom.” My voice scratched the surface of a whisper.

Slowly his hands moved to cup my breasts, letting his fingers dig into me enough to make me jump. Immediately he stated apologizing, “I’m sorry, too hard.”

“No, no. It feels really good.”

“My mom is downstairs. We can’t be loud.”

“Just kiss me, Dominik,” I begged him to shut me up. 

Rolling over, he pushed me down, his legs under my thighs and my pussy so wet it was uncomfortable. “Oh my god.”

Our mouths were hungry, nipping and biting between kisses, our tongues wrestling every time our lips parted. Everything felt too good to be true. 

His hands pinned down my wrists when he pulled away. “Fuck. I -“ he couldn’t even say it. I knew he needed me to touch him too.

My hand snaked down between us and I smoothed over his erection when it jerked against me. Kissing his jaw and neck I felt so turned on it was hard to think straight. 

Lowering down into I felt him rock against my hand. “Fuck. I wanna fuck you. I wanna be inside you.”

His words made my body vibrate even more. “Fuck me, Dom. I want it to be you.”

Tugging my bralette down his mouth closed over my nipple, flicking his tongue over me like a professional. Pushing the waist band on my sweats down I let my hips grind against nothing as Dom tossed them behind him. 

“Fuck.” Something followed in his native tongue and I felt myself melt against the mattress.

“What does that mean?”

“You’re turning me on so damn much. Let me taste you baby.” He whispered his words as he slide down the bed. Opening my legs enough to look at me before he kissed down my legs. Pausing before his mouth collided with my pussy.

I felt his tongue lick my folds, pushing inside me, brushing my clit. I tried my hardest not to moan out loud but I couldn’t help it when it tumbled from my lips. Dom’s hand reached up my body covering my mouth while he licked. 

I was soaked, a mess, when I begged him to fuck me. “I can’t take anymore, please, Dom.”

Kneeling up right he pushed down his shorts finally letting me see him. He sprung out hard and angry like. All I wanted to do was touch him and give him relief but I waited. 

Dom’s hand closed around himself before dragging down his length as I gasped at his movements. “Jesus, Dom. You’re huge.”

“Just wait until you feel me baby. Tell me you’re on birth control.” Pulling him down to me I shook my head before kissing him.

We made out until we couldn’t take it anymore. Dom guided himself inside me and I forced myself to be quiet while every part of me stretched for him.

“Oh my god, mi amor. You feel too good. I’m gonna come too quick.” He said those words but I had already came so many times I contemplated how I was going to walk after.

He started thrusting himself inside me, pounding between my legs and trying to chase our moans away with kissing.

Twisting over he said, “Ride me baby. I wanna see you on top, Mami.”

Straddling him again I repositioned myself and shook as I felt him deeper inside me. I nearly came right then when his hands roamed my body so gently. Landing on my hips he guided me forward, swaying and grinding on top of him. 

Neither of us heard anyone coming, not the doorknob or his mom’s voice shout out before she opened the door in her own house. “Dominik, dinner is ready.”

All we heard was the gasp from the door way when Dom flipped us over working his hips slower, painfully slow. “Mami! Por favor!” 

Trying to hide under him I felt mortified. His family took me in, Dom was my best friend. They were going to blame and hate me now.

His mom immediately left, panicked and embarrassed as us I can only assume. “Hey, ignore that. It’s just us. It’s just me.”

Twisting my legs around him I felt my hips begs for more. “I need this, Dom. Every muscle, every smile, it’s torture living with you and not touching you. I touch myself every night just to keep sane but your family took me in. I can’t betray them. It’s just our virginities.”

“Betray them, hermosa. My family has nothing to do with this. You wouldn’t feel this good if it was wrong.”

Kissing me again I tried to push away the negative thoughts when my body was ready to orgasm again. Only this time was around Dom’s cock inside me. Grasping his biceps I felt my body tumble off a cliff. “Dominik, Dom.” I pleaded but for nothing. We gave each other everything tonight. I risked so much and yet none of him left a bad taste in my mouth.

We laid there for a while in silence, Dom still on top of me and kissing my face. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?” 

“I’m okay. Sore but okay.” 

We would have laid there forever but his father’s fist pounded on the door. It was unmistakable, he was stern with us, me included but for reason. We were pushing the boundaries and they trusted us. They trusted me to act like a daughter or perfect house guest not the girl fucking their son.

Scrambling to his feet he yanked on his shorts again and I wrapped the sheet around me. I fled to the shared bathroom and closed the door behind me. Quickly turning on the shower I jumped in before it was hot. Anything to avoid their disappointment. His family raise me since I was fifth-teen, I didn’t want to loose them.

Every touch ran through my mind while I tried to hear Rey scolding Dom. “What are thinking? With your mom right down stairs? Mija, we took her in because she needed familia, not so she could be your friends with benefits.”

“Are you serious right now? You know how I feel. She’s not here to take my virginity and piss you off. We wanted to be each other’s first. That’s special.” Dom’s voice was steady and it was unnerving.

“She can’t live here and you two be sexually active. That’s final.”

“That’s so unfair! How was I supposed to know I would fall in love with her?”

“Dominik, listen to me. You’re a teenager. You are going to find your one at this age.” He was right. I twisted the knob to full blast before I actually showered off my first time. I had to break his heart to keep them as family. We would get over it one day. I knew it.

Getting ready I came down stairs like nothing happened. “I’m so sorry, I’m gonna skip dinner but leave the dishes. I’ll do them when I get back. Blaine asked me out.” I said everything while looking at the floor. Dom’s heart was breaking right in front of me. 

Dom stood up from the table. “Are you fucking serious? After what we just did?”

“Dom. We can talk later, okay?” I pleaded him with my soft voice to drop it. Not in front of his family but I knew better. Dom could be a dog with a bone when he wanted to be.

Swiftly moving around the table he followed me out the front door where my date was picking me up. It was all for show, I had no interest in Blaine but I needed him to understand that we couldn’t cross those lines again. Not anymore. He would forgive me later.

Blaine wasn’t at the end of the driveway the way I planned when Dom grabbed my arm and yanked me back. “What are you doing? We just had sex and now you’re going on a date?”

“I said get it over with. I never agreed to dating or anything else.” It hurt to say.

“Bullshit. I can fucking tell by every goddamn moan that came out of your mouth.” He practically spit the words in my face. We were standing so close I could feel the anger come off him. “Don’t do this. Don’t give me some bullshit about first. We both know what happened in there wasn’t fucking firsts.”

Blaine pulled up in his expensive car just at the right time when I managed to escape Dom’s grip. 

Later that night I came home and cleaned the entire kitchen when his dad came breezing in. “You don’t have to avoid us. I’m not kicking you out. Dom might have other feelings tho. I understand why you did what you did. It’s okay, mija. You’re family now. You don’t have to choose between us and Dominik.”

That was the last time we spoke of it and the start of a five month Cold War before Dom and I made up. 

I even contemplated crawling back to my family but just like my life up that point - nothing went as planned. I had missed my period by two months and I panicked. The only person I had to go to was Dom’s mom who knew I had deflowered her son.

At first she was furious but then she finally came around. She didn’t agree with my termination but I knew being a teenage mom to a boy I couldn’t even admit to loving wasn’t going to be my story.

Dom’s parents agreed to keep it secret from their son until I made the decision to come clean to him. I planned on dying with that secret. 

He was destined for greatness, following in his father’s footsteps while I was practically an orphan. I had no plans and no direction. 

When Dom finally came around it was to tell me he was moving to Florida for training camp and it devastated me just as much as I had done to him. “Dad said it would be a good idea to have someone I knew and trusted by my side. He already got us a condo in Miami. You in?”

I jumped at the invitation, I wanted my best friend back. That was all I wanted actually.

“I’m in. When do we leave?”

Chapter Two coming…

[the-froschamethyst4]

My wife’s the boss

𖤐Pairing: Husband! Price x Wife! Reader

𖤐Pronouns: She/Her

𖤐Warnings: fluff, mentions of smut, language, married couple, mentions of children, drinking, mentions of smoking, jealous, flirting, pregnancy,

𖤐Summary: The Team likes to tease their Captain John Price on how whipped he is for his wife

————

————

"Do you guys think Y/n wears the pants in hers and Price's marriage?" Soap asked as they all looked at Price outside the bar cigar in between his finger and he was talking on the phone to whom?

His wife.

"What do you think they're talking about?" Ghost asked.

"Well, he doesn't seem like he's arguing with her...he seems calm-oh smirking, he's smirking, he's flirting with her," Gaz says, the guys all looked at Gaz on who the hell he knows that. "What? I took some body language classes in college, leave me alone," he says, sipping from his glass.

"I wonder what he's saying to flirt with her?" Soap said.

"You guys are so fucking nosy it's embarrassing," Kate says as she came back from the bathroom.

"Oh yeah, wanna bet?"

"With you? No fucking chance," she says, sipping from her glass.

"Oh shut up, he's coming back."

"No one was talking about him," Ghost says as Price opened the door to the bar placing his phone in his pocket and paying for his tap.

"Gotta head out."

"What why?"

"The missus wants me home," he says as he thanked the bartender.

"What?" Soap groans.

"We just started having fun, Captain."

"Have fun without me, my wife needs me right now," Price says as he called for a cab and went home.

-----

Y/n sat on the nice white couch watching TV a bag of Cheetos between her thighs, a glass of apple juice on the coffee table in front of her, and a bowl of popcorn on her right side.

She was craving every single one of these.

She was also watching a sad romcom.

"I love you...always and forever-" the TV says.

"LIAR!!" She throws popcorn at the TV.

"My love?" She heard Price come in from the front door.

"Oh hi, baby," she said, looking over the couch. She rubs her big belly and looked back at her TV. "What a cheat."

"Huh?" Price sat next to her, he knows not to touch her snacks, so he got his own snacks.

"Oh this prick, he cheated on his wife and claims to love her," Y/n says.

"Haven't you watched this before?"

"Yeah, so?"

"So, don't you know that already?" She just shrugs at him.

"I like this movie," she says, popping a piece of popcorn into her mouth.

"I know, my love," he says, rubbing her belly and placing his head on her stomach, the baby was moving around.

"He's been kicking so much," she says.

"I bet...hey now...stop hurting your mama, she needs to rest, she can't if you keep kicking her in the ribs," Price says. She giggles at him.

"He doesn't listen."

"Yeah, well that just shows he's my son."

"Oh I know that, you are stubborn as a mule," she giggles.

-------

Price held Y/n stomach as she placing dirty clothes in the washing machine. Price was also just naming off some names for the little baby.

"Tony."

"Tony? No," she says.

"Liam."

"Maybe."

"Ian."

"Hm~"

"Well, what do you have in mind?"

"I was thinking...Hudson or Beau."

"I like Beau...Beau Hudson Price," John says.

"I love it," Y/n says, turning and kissing his jawline. Y/n smiled as Price had picked up her belly from behind. She lets out a soft moan as the heavy weight was lifted off from her front.

"Thank you, I need that."

"Anything, for the woman carrying my baby," he says as he then gently brought the weight back on.

She lets out a soft groan.

-------

Price was off to work putting on his favorite bucket hat and making sure he has all of his gear before heading out. He looks at the master bed and saw how peaceful Y/n looked while she was sleeping.

She just have the covers on her body, unfortunately none of her usual pajama fit her so she resorted into wearing either his clothes or half naked.

"Price," she rolls over not feeling him next to her, John stopped and rushed to her side.

"Hey, I'm here, is everything okay?" He says, cupping her face and brushing a piece of her hair from her face.

"Yes, I'm fine," she sits up and the blanket just falls off her shoulder exposing her black bra and he can barely see the matching black panties. "I was just seeing if you were gone."

"Not yet, my love," Price says, kissing her lips. "You look so sexy," he says, kissing her neck and then her chest.

"Price, you need to get going for work."

"It's okay," he says kissing her neck again. "God, if you weren't pregnant I'd take you right here and right now."

"Then why not?"

"Because I don't want to tire yourself out," he says. "I'm off, okay."

"Okay, be safe," he kissed her lips.

-------

As Price left Y/n waddled back to her bathroom, her little baby has been sitting on her bladder all day long. She's been to the bathroom around 13 different times since Price had left.

She at the this point just sits in the bathroom on the edge of the tub just waiting for it to happen.

"Come on, baby, I have things I need to get done around the house. I need to get your nursery ready, can I work?" She asked, rubbing her big belly. She slowly stood up and she didn't feel anything. "Thank you, baby," she mumbles.

Y/n had ordered somethings online without Price's acknowledge and had came in a few weeks ago, she had to hide them so she could be able to put them up.

She likes Price's help and all but sometimes, she wants to do everything for once.

She had order pictures online of cute wild animals, Price and Y/n had gone with a gender neutral themed nursery for the baby, even way before knowing the baby was a boy.

Now that they decided on the name Beau, Y/n was ordering some letters to hang up over Beau's crib.

She grabs a small step ladder and started to hang up the pictures, making sure they're even and straight. She steps off and looks at the photos.

"Perfect," she says.

As she takes her photo off the baby's changing table to take a photo and send it to Price.

My Love: Look what I did

Price: I wish you waited till I got home to help

My Love: It's okay, I got it under control, I also ordered some letters to put above his crib, you can help with that

Price: Okay, I hope you were careful

My Love: I was

"Price you want to come and start training the rookies?" Ghost called.

"I'm coming, just had to see what my love sent me," he says, placing his phone back into his pocket.

"Here we go, whipped Price with his wife."

"Yeah, I love my wife, she's my everything and she is my pride and joy, AND she's carrying my child, of course I'm going to be 'whipped' for her. You'd be too if someone was carrying your child," Price says as Soap, Ghost and Price all stood in front of the new recruits.

Price crossed his arms over his chest as he listened to Ghost yell at the recruits and Soap clapped his hands to get the recruits to move faster through the course.

Price felt his phone buzz and he looks down seeing that Y/n had sent him a new message. He opened it and saw it was her in front of her full body mirror in his old dark green Military shirt with Task Force 141's logo on the front.

Her big belly in view and her hand just under her belly. She wasn't wearing any shorts.

Price: How do you always look so good?

My Love: Because I am 8 months pregnant and I have that pregnancy glow

Price: Yeah, that's true *I do want to kiss your body*

My Love: Maybe when I'm not pregnant, I'm too sensitive

"PRICE!" Ghost yells, Price lifted his head from his phone and looked at Ghost and Soap.

--------

Y/n was back on the couch sliced apples on a plate in her hands, orange juice sitting on the coffee table, and a peanut butter jar sitting on the little table next to the couch.

"God I feel fat-"

"Don't say that, my love."

"Price, you're home too early."

"I know, I wanted to come home early and spend time with you." He drops his gear at the door and placed his bucket hat on the coat rack by the front door.

Y/n placed the plate on the coffee table. She stood up and walked to him. His hands went around her waist and kissed her lips.

"You taste like peanut butter," he chuckles and then down to her belly.

"I was eating apples and peanut butter," she says with a smile.

"Was it good?"

"Yep, the apples were juicy and so sweet," she says.

Price bent down on his knees and kissed her belly. "I can't wait for him to finally be here."

"I can't wait till he stops sitting on my bladder," she says.

"Bet that was fun?"

"I hated every minute of it but I love my baby," she says, her hands went to Price's hair.

-------

After some time, Y/n was sitting in a bubble bath, Price was sitting behind her washing her body or caressing her stomach.

"You do look so fucking gorgeous," he mumbles in her neck, gently kissing her neck. "You wanna know what Ghost and Soap told me today?"

"What?" She asked, leaning back into his touch.

"When we were training the new recruits and when you showed me the photo of you in the full body mirror, they had asked if they wanted to go for drinks afterwards. I told them no because I wanted to get back home to you and spend my time with you. They said that you must be my boss or something because of me always wanting to come home to you, and I was like damn straight," He chuckles. "My wife is the boss and that's why I love her," he kissed her neck.

"Price, you should at least hang out with them at some point."

"I always hung out with them before you got pregnant, I want to spend my time with you before Beau's born," he says, kissing her neck. "And my time will be towards you and Beau, I'll only be able to hang out with the guys every now and then."

Y/n and Price had gotten out of the bath, he wraps her body in a towel and she walks out of the bathroom to Price's closet.

"I like you better when you sleep naked," he smirks. His hands went to her waist and pulling her back against his hard chest. His hands started to unwrap her towel from her chest and letting it fall on the ground.

"As long as you join me?"

"You know, I will," he says, dropping his towel.

--------

A Month Later

Y/n was having a hard time getting out of bed without almost falling because of how weak she felt. Price stayed home ever since she said she could barely move.

Price was by her side taking one step at a time, the doctor had told them both to keep moving around to make sure the baby be ready in time and so Y/n won't be in so much pain.

"W-Wait, hang on," she stops and leans on the back of the couch trying to catch her breath. Price's hand went to her back.

"Deep breaths, my love," Price says, rubbing her back, her eyes closed like she was in more pain than before.

"My knees hurt, my legs hurt, my whole body hurts, this moving around...doesn't feel like it's working," she cries.

"Aww my love, it's okay," he says.

"Price, I just want to go to the hospital already."

"We can, I'll get everything ready you just relax on the couch okay?"

"Okay."

Price was getting the hospital bag ready and getting some fresh new clothes for the both of them, and maybe some baby clothes.

“Price.”

“Hold on, my love, where are the-oh found them.”

“Price.”

“Okay, and that’s all, yes my love?”

“My water broke.”

“What?”

[deja-mew]

Ridiculous Headcanons Pt. 1

Sorry in advance y’all. Okay so I was so bored at work my brain was rotting thinking of TFP characters for so long that I have this. Here’s what I think each character’s favorite cheese would be, if either they were human at some point and tried it, or could taste a big enough chunk as cybertronians; whatever excuse needs to be for them to have any opinion about cheese. (also could just be them as cheeses… idk, I work in Wisconsin, I’m always surrounded by cheese, this is what happens.)

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Autobots

Optimus Prime: Optimus liked Colby Jack. Good, classic Colby Jack. He likes the two distinctive colors and just generally enjoys the flavor.

Arcee: Pepper Jack; well loved, timeless, and packs a punch too. She likes that it’s soft but not sweet. Also, Jack being in the name is a bonus.

Bumblebee: Velveeta. The color is great and it’s a universal, famous cheese; everyone knows it (at least in the USA), just like him. He had it in a mac & cheese and stuck with it as his favorite. (he strikes me as a mac & cheese sort of guy)

Bulkhead: He’d chose brick cheese because it has a good, versatile, underrated taste. Also, just like him, this cheese is softer than its name implies <3

Wheeljack: Cheetos. He didn’t care that they “technically wont count as a cheese”, they’re cheese flavored enough and they’re what he likes. Especially the flamin’ hot ones.

Smokescreen: Cheese curds. Warm, squeaky, proper cheese curds. Specifically the ranch flavored ones are his top pick.

Ultra Magnus: This was how Ultra Magnus found out he was lactose intolerant. He didn’t like any of them, and he won’t be asked to try again.

Ratchet: Ratchet chose blue cheese, purely because the flavor was so distinctive. It’s also a very mature choice of cheese, which just made sense for him. 

Decepticons

Megatron: Monterey Jack. The warlord refused to consume any cheeses but picked Monterey Jack just because to him, it sounded like an evil version of Colby Jack.

Starscream: Cheese whiz..?? When presented with the samples he didn’t bother to try anything, but automatically went for the can of cheese whiz, as if he already knew it..??? (He did what he had to do when he was rogue. Ik it doesnt make sense but its hilarious.)

Soundwave: Mozzarella. Soundwave had already heard of cheese on the internet indirectly throughout his few years of needing to interact with human information in order to serve Megatron. Because he understood mozzarella cheese to be a monumentally important cheese to human society, he internally likened himself to it, being himself monumentally important to the Decepticon cause. No one knew that this was why he chose mozzarella, they were just glad that he responded at all. 

Shockwave: When Shockwave received the cheese samples he did not taste anything and instead just.. Left to his lab and ran some tests.. After a while he decided on feta cheese, saying that it is among the healthiest of cheeses and therefore, for nutritional purposes, is the most logical choice.

Knockout: Camembert. It’s soft and fancy and french and… He hardly tasted much it, but liked pronouncing it, and appreciated that he could spread it on a cracker instead of getting a giant chunk stuck all up in his teeth.

Breakdown: Breakdown chose Parmesan cheese because he had once seen in a movie the grater that is used at restaurants where they just keep cranking it. He said it tasted as good as it looked in the movie.

Dreadwing: Dreadwing thought that Provolone was the ideal cheese. It seemed the most sensible.

St3v3: String cheese was St3v3’s pick, even though it is technically mozzarella. For him, it was a texture thing.

Airachnid: Cazu Marzu. It’s that maggot cheese that can kill you if you eat it. It wasn’t even on the sample plate, she just brought it herself.

Predacons

Predaking: Predaking chose smoked Gouda. He did admit that the smoke added a touch of familiarity to the cheese (seeing as, of course, breathing fire exposes you to plenty of smoky smells). Overall, he thought they were all pretty good, but somehow this was the only smoked one on the plate, so he chose it.

Skylynx: Skylynx thought the aged Swiss wasn’t that bad. The bitterness was enjoyable to him, and he found it best melted.

Darksteel: Limburger. It was the most controversial cheese on the plate, and that just made him think it was the most exciting one. The smell didn’t even bother him much, and he genuinely enjoyed the flavor.

[hippiegoth97]

Into the Fire: An Eddie Munson x Reader Story Pt. 28

Collage by me :)

Master List

Part 27

Tag List: @keikoraven @ar-jupiter @alcielo1438 @cairro-xx @stolen-in-moonlight

@micheledawn1975 @janiejenn @rafeyscurtainbangs @melodymunson @spacedoutdaydreamer

@veemoon @sariahs-stuff @feral-pumpkin-energy @comeonatmebruh @munsoneightysixx

@morgthemagpie @josephquinnsfreckles @jenniquinn @userchai @cometzombie

@spookybabey @daggerdaggerkitten @nina6708 @sanctumdemunson @yourdailymemedelivery

@person-005 @slowandsteddie @gri959 @elegantkoalapaper @letitgoandletlive

@loserboysandlithium @costellation-hunter @leelei1980 @h-ness1944 @pretendthisnameisclever

@ohmeg @stalactitekilla @hellfirenacht @birdysaturne @oneforthemunny

@prettyboyeddiemunson @eddievanmunson @msgexymunson @rattkween86 @violetpixiedust

@bimbobaggins69 @angel-munson @eldermayfield @munsonsbtch @bimbogorewhore

@mediocredreams @xxbimbobunnyxx @taintedcigs @ali-r3n @emxxblog

Content Warning 18+ Only, Minors DNI: swearing, smoking, alcohol use, teasing, fluff, smut, fingering, oral sex, praise/degradation, handcuffs, sex toys, unprotected sex, anal fingering, pegging, choking, role-swapping, squirting, consecutive orgasms, slight overstimulation

Word Count: 14.1k

Divider by @strangergraphics

Part 28.1: I Want You to Rock Me

Friday, July 21st, 1989

"Where are we going, angel?" Eddie asks for the fifth time in the last hour or so. He's sitting in the passenger seat of your car, while you drive him the three hours to Fort Wayne, Indiana. Today, July 21st, is Eddie's twenty-fourth birthday, and you have the perfect surprise planned.

"You'll see, Eds. Just please be patient? It'll be more than worth the wait." You reply, trying your hardest not to break down and tell him already. You've been sitting on this secret for over a month, you're shocked that Eddie never picked up on it whatsoever. But you suppose that could be because he's been ranting and raving about this for God knows how long. Ozzy Osbourne is performing at the Allen County War Memorial Coliseum for his No Rest For the Wicked Tour tonight, as Eddie has told you at least a thousand times. But as much as he's been wanting to go, he's denied himself, claiming it's too expensive and too far away. 

You hated seeing him so down about it, so you did what any good girlfriend would do. You went to your local record store, and made damn sure you could score two tickets to the show. It was much easier than you anticipated to get said tickets, which was quite a relief. With how much Eddie has talked the show up, you'd been worried that they'd sell out fast. You're eternally grateful for the raise you've received at the theater, otherwise they may have been a bit out of your price range. Thirty-three bucks later, and you know the look on Eddie's face will be worth every penny.

"Ugh, fine. I only hope you're not driving me to the middle of nowhere to kill me." Eddie jokes, sulking into his seat. He's finding himself rather bored, and he didn't expect to be riding in the car for hours on end on his birthday.

"Never, love. Now, quit pouting. I brought your favorite snacks, they’re in that bag back there." You say sweetly, pointing to a plastic bag containing Yoo-Hoos and Cheetos.

"I suppose that makes things a little bit better." He grumbles, pulling the items to the front of the car. "Can I at least get a hint?" He begs, popping open a glass bottle of chocolate milk.

"Alright. It is your birthday, after all. All I'll say is that you've been wanting this for a very long time." You say, knowing this hint may be a bit on the nose.

"That doesn't narrow it down, like, at all, Y/N." He says in annoyance, taking a big swig of his drink.

"Sorry, that's all I'm giving you. If I actually tell you, you're gonna be way too hyper in the car." You giggle, recalling the excitable tone of voice and erratic movements of his hands as he's brought up the concert again and again. "And, as much as I love you, I cannot be trapped in such a small space with you flipping out."

"How do you know I'm gonna flip out?" He asks accusingly, munching down some chips now.

You think of a response for a moment, trying to come up with something clever. But nothing comes to mind. Instead, you opt for the slightly seductive approach. "Trust me, Eddie. When you see what I've got planned, you are gonna lose your fuckin' mind." You speak softly, a light rasp in your voice as you look over at him. He swallows hard, before backing down from his interrogation.

"If you say so, sweetheart." He smiles, a light ring of cheese dust caked around his mouth. You giggle at his messiness, and his face falls. "What? Do I have something on my face?" He asks.

"Yes, Eddie. Yes you do. Here." You reply, leaning over to pop open the glove compartment where you keep spare napkins. He reaches for one, wiping away the orange powder from his face.

"Thanks." He says, his cheeks tinging a light pink. He hates being such a messy eater, it makes him feel like a toddler sometimes. He puts the chips away for now, pulling out his smokes. He takes two cigarettes out of the box, lighting them both and handing one off to you.

"Oh, thank you, baby." You say, taking the cig between your fingers. "You wanna put on some music? We've still got two hours to go." You gesture at the stereo, letting Eddie have free reign of it.

"Two hours!" Eddie groans, taking an obscenely long drag of his smoke. He's feeling antsy, all amped up from the festivities earlier. Claudia baked him a cake, even going so far as to draw a guitar and a D20 on it in homemade icing. The Hellfire Club came over to give him a few gifts, some new dice and tapes. Wayne gave him the same thing he does every year, a Hershey bar and a crisp fifty-dollar bill. Your friends in particular got him some guitar picks, a bottle of Drakkar Noir (Steve's pick, though Eddie's cheap stuff smells pretty damn good in your opinion.), and free video rentals for an entire year. And you surprised him with this little overnight getaway.

Though he doesn't know the final destination, he knows that at the very least you get to spend an evening in a hotel, away from Hawkins and everyone in it. Fuck knows the both of you could use it. You have not one, but two trials coming up. One involving Jason and Chrissy, and the other involving Jack and Tommy Hagan. You called Murray Bauman the day after Chief Powell gave you his card, and you have a meeting set up next week. Murray sounded like quite the character on the phone, asking 'how did you get this number?' in a hushed, accusing tone. He also sounded a little drunk, like you could almost smell the booze coming through the phone. But you don't exactly have a lot of options here, fancy lawyers are way out of your price range.

Besides your legal troubles, things have mostly gone back to normal over these last couple of weeks. Wayne is responding well to his medication, and Eddie has returned to work. You still decided to task Dustin and Steve to take shifts checking in on Wayne tonight and in the morning while you're away, just in case. And after the handyman came around to repair the damages the Hagans caused, your house and bedroom are looking good as new. All you need to worry about right now is Eddie's surliness, and you'll gladly take that over everything else you've been through lately.

"Ugh, remind me not to make little road trips like this a regular thing." You chuckle, holding off on becoming upset with him. It's his special day, and you know he isn't fond of being cooped up like this. But no matter how bratty he may get, it'll all be worth it when you pull up to the arena and Eddie sees Ozzy's name in lights.

"Sorry. I promise, I'm not meaning to be ungrateful or anything. I'm sure whatever it is will be awesome, since you planned it." Eddie sighs, putting himself in check. It may be his birthday, but he doesn't need to act up like this. Car rides just...annoy him. Especially in a state like Indiana. There's nothing to really look at out the window, except farms that smell of cow shit, or thick rows of trees. And the radio only picks up static or preachy Christian nonsense on roads like this.

"It's okay, Eds. I know it's kinda boring right now. Did you bring your sketchbook or something? That could help pass the time." You suggest, shrugging your shoulders and bringing your cig to your lips. You breathe in the smoke deeply, relaxing a little after Eddie's slight step on your nerves.

"Nah, I didn't think I'd need it. You got any tapes in here?" He asks, popping open the glovebox again.

"I think so. There might be one in the stereo already. Watch out, though, my mom's 'single mother self-help tape' is in here somewhere. And I do not wanna hear it any more than I've had to for the last nine years." You say with a laugh, drawing one from him as well.

"What does that sound like?" He asks, genuinely curious.

"Oh, you know. Lots of affirmations and repeating phrases. Like, 'You're a strong, capable woman. You are good enough. Your children love you.'" You mimic the tape to the best of your recollection, mocking the overly calm tone of voice that the woman on the cassette puts on.

"Jesus, that sounds like a cult!" Eddie chuckles, shuffling your loose tapes around to find one he can stomach. Madonna, no. Belinda Carlisle, absolutely not. David Bowie...now we're talkin'. He smirks as he plucks the Bowie album from the bunch, slipping it into the rectangular hole in the stereo.

"It probably would be, if she bought the books that go along with it." You reply as "Five Years" begins to play, taking another drag of your cig.

"Of course there's books, too. What is a cult without its reading material?" He continues cracking jokes, finding this new information rather entertaining.

"Very true, baby. But, I will say it helped Mom a lot. The kind phrases, at least. She was able to keep her head up, even on the tough days." You say, feeling somewhat guilty for making fun of it now. The overall concept of said tape is pretty silly, but the way your mom used it to help herself move on after George left was the exact opposite.

"I didn't think about it like that. I'll stop ragging on it." Eddie says softly, feeling a bit like an asshole again.

"No, no. I started it, and you couldn't have known." You insist that it's not his fault. He nods, not adding anything else. You both continue to smoke, allowing Bowie to tell his tales of Ziggy and the Spiders from Mars to fill the silence. Eddie taps his fingers on his thigh to the beat of each song, the metal of his rings clinking together. You look over at him, finding his head trained to look out the window. You smile at his relaxed demeanor, returning your eyes to the road a second later.

Eddie lights another round of smokes without even thinking about it. He hands you yours again, giving you a kind grin. You reciprocate, gladly taking another dose of nicotine. It passes the time, and keeps you calm before reaching the stadium, which will no doubt be packed with hundreds of rowdy metalheads. "Are we there yet?" He asks, becoming a bit impatient again. He looks over at you, hoping you have a good answer for him.

"Not yet, Eds." You sigh, trying your best not to roll your eyes. You love this man to death, but he has very little capacity for waiting. You've still got one more hour to go, and the signs along the long winding road keep counting down the miles to Fort Wayne. You don't think Eddie's paying much attention to them, he'd surely be putting the pieces together if he did. Forty-five miles left, which gradually turns into thirty, then fifteen, with your love questioning you at every interval. "Just a little longer, I promise." You answer as you finally reach your exit. You pass by the sign welcoming you into town, and make your way to the arena. The show starts in less than an hour, and you still need to find a parking spot, get inside, and purchase any merchandise Eddie might want.

"Okay." He says quietly, slouching further into his seat. He fiddles with his rings, twisting them around his digits over and over as he stares at them. You're kind of glad he's spacing out right now, because it'll make the final reveal so much more impactful when you tell him to look up. You make a few more turns, following the signs and the growing traffic. And then you see it, the massive, octagon-shaped building. Long, stretching lots full of cars surround the structure, and a giant banner advertising Ozzy Osbourne's show is strung along the front face, lit up with huge spotlights.

"You wanna see your surprise, love?" You ask excitedly, nudging Eddie's shoulder with yours as you're slowly corralled into the parking line by a man in a reflective vest.

"Hm?" Eddie hums in questioning, lifting his head from his spaced-out fidgeting to see what you're talking about. His eyes widen immediately, his jaw falling slack as he realizes where you've brought him. "You didn't." He murmurs, in complete shock and disbelief.

"I did. Happy birthday, Eddie." You reply sweetly, absolutely loving the gobsmacked look on his face. He turns to you, suddenly overwhelmed with unbridled joy. A wide smile spreads across his mouth, and you can tell he's ready to explode with happiness.

"Marry me?" He asks, which makes you giggle.

"Sorry, no time. We have a concert to get to." You say in a cheeky tone.

"Someday?" He presses on, and you realize he's serious. You pause for a moment, unsure how to respond to that. You've both made your intentions clear in this relationship, the two of you are all in at this rate. But to actually hear him ask, and over something like this, it's definitely a mind-fucker. You stall the car for a second, waiting for the line to move along. You take hold of Eddie's hands, and the second his flesh meets yours, you remember exactly how you feel about him, and how to answer his question.

"Someday, Eds." You almost whisper, returning his loving gaze.

"Good. And don't worry, you'll get an actual proposal when the time is right. And it's gonna knock your fuckin' socks off." He chuckles, he's been thinking of how and when to ask you to marry him for a very long time, almost your entire relationship. He knows you're the one for him, and he knows that you feel the same.

"Oh, yeah?" You ask coyly, before needing to start driving again. A gap has formed in front of you, and the car at your rear has started honking.

"Oh, yeah." He says, leaning in to speak in your ear. "When you see what I've got planned, you're gonna lose your fuckin' mind." Eddie bites your earlobe after, sending a harsh blush creeping up your neck and across your cheeks.

"You'd better cut that out, baby. Otherwise we're gonna miss the show." You say with a shaky breath, resisting the urge to fan yourself at how hot and bothered Eddie has made you with such a simple move.

"Says you! I'm not missing this for anything!" Eddie exclaims, the anxious excitement is really kicking in now.

"Not even for me, on my knees, giving you the best head of your life?" You ask casually, eyes focused on the road as you continue down the manned pathways.

"Nope!" Eddie chirps, practically bouncing in his seat at the thought of seeing one of his biggest musical heroes in the flesh.

"Not even for my perfect little pussy, that's always so hot, and wet...and tight for you?" You continue, wondering just how well his resolve holds against your seductive charms.

"'Fraid not, sweetheart." He says, trying to ignore your filthy words. He may be a bit preoccupied with wanting to get inside already, but you're still making him a little hard inside his jeans. He adjusts uncomfortably, shimmying his legs a bit to shift himself around.

You're finally directed into a parking spot, and you kill the engine to try one last thing. You turn yourself in your seat, putting your face as close to Eddie's as possible. Your lips are centimeters away from his, and you gaze deep into his eyes. "Not even for anal, Eds? I'm starting to think we made that little trip to the Love Hut for nothing." You purr, poking your tongue out to lick his lips. He tries to hold it back, but you can still hear a very faint moan escape him. You can't help smirking, thinking he'll give in, admit that you drive him absolutely insane.

"Sorry, angel. No dice." He replies, now grinning himself. You pull away, simultaneously surprised and impressed with his level of self-control. Under any other circumstance, he'd already be fucking you into next week by now.

"Damn, maybe you should ask Ozzy to marry you instead." You joke, gathering your purse and keys as you prepare to step outside.

"Don't tempt me, babydoll." He quips back, opening his door. You both stand up, letting out small groans as you stretch your legs. Eddie comes around to your side of the car, taking hold of your hand to pull you towards the arena. "C'mon, Y/N. We don't have all night!" He says hurriedly, getting very ahead of himself.

"Alright, just hold on!" You say with a laugh, slinging your purse over your shoulder to keep up. You join the mass of bodies slowly filing in the front doors. You pull out your tickets from your bag, gripping them firmly as you wait to give them to the ushers.

"Can I hold the tickets?" Eddie asks excitedly, staring at the gray slips of paper in your hands.

"If you want to, just don't drop them." You hand them over, and Eddie's eyes pore over every detail of the tickets. The price, the date, Ozzy's name and the opening acts, all printed right there in black and white.

"I can't believe this is actually happening!" He almost shouts, rapidly tapping his feet like a giddy child. You giggle at his display, your heart swelling at how happy he is to be here. "You are the best girlfriend ever, Y/N." He leans over to plant a big wet kiss on your cheek. You blush at his affections, trying not to trip as you continue through the line.

"I'm glad you're so excited, Eds. You deserve this, and I'm happy that I got to do this for you." You reply, meeting his gaze to tenderly press your lips to his for a moment. He hums lightly against you, wrapping his free arm around your waist to keep you close. It's almost your turn, and you pull away to let him pay attention to the ticket takers. You step forward together, and he gives the tickets over to the staff, getting them back with one end missing.

"Here, we should save these. To remember this special night." Eddie gives you the little stubs back, and you slip them into your purse. You take a moment to look around, noticing how everyone in the building looks. There's men and women of all ages here, with cascading curls, mullets, teased tangles, dressed to the nines in leather, denim, pins, patches, and chains. Eddie certainly fits in, he'd had the forethought to wear his battle vest today, as well as one of his usual metal t-shirts and some tight jeans. You, on the other hand, are a little out of place. You gaze down at your simple blue jeans and blouse, and you suddenly feel very self-conscious.

"Looks like I'm a little underdressed." You comment, drawing your love's eyes to you. He notices your discomfort, taking off his vest to give to you.

"Here. This should help." He smiles at you, and you gladly take it. You slip your arms through the holes, and relax as the scent of him wafts from the denim fabric. It fits a little large on you, but at least you aren't standing here looking like his sister he was forced to drag along or something.

"Thanks, Eds. You're so sweet." You coo, taking his hand again. "Oh, we should get you a shirt before the show. The guy I bought the tickets from said merch sells out pretty quick." You add, gently pulling him along to see what there is to choose from.

"Don't have to tell me twice, sweetheart." He smirks, gazing over the contents of the tables. He picks out a shirt in his size, and you decide to get a matching one for yourself. There's also a patch that he takes a shine to, so you purchase that as well. You notice there's also a small snack bar selling beer, making a quick stop there before heading to the general admission floor. You join the mass of bodies gathering near the front of the stage, still holding tightly onto Eddie's hand along the way. Many loud conversations are taking place all around you, and the both of you take a quick look at the whole arena. Rows and rows of seats go up the back and sides of the structure, with this large pit of open space in the center. There's quite a lot of people that got in before you, so you're about five or six rows of bodies away from the barriers in front of the stage.

"You ever been to a concert before, Eds?" You ask, gazing at his awestruck face. His eyes are full of wonder, and he can't stop smiling. He's surrounded by hundreds of people just like him, he can feel it. An enormous gathering of freaks, weirdos, and misfits, all of which share his love for the music. It's a little overwhelming, to be honest. And a word keeps popping into his head, one that hasn't been evoked very often in his life. Home. A single tear rolls down his cheek, and he snaps out of his trance to return his attention to you.

"No, princess. But I'm glad I get to have my first one with you." Eddie wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you in for a passionate kiss. His plush lips melt against yours, and you place your free hand on his chest. You can feel his heart racing, as if it's pounding itself against his ribs to tell you how meaningful this gift is. He's so goddamn thankful for you doing all this for him, he never thought that he'd be so lucky to experience a live show. And having you here with him makes it a thousand times better. A couple more tears escape him, quickly dissolving onto your own cheeks. He would keep kissing you as if the world has disappeared, when the room is suddenly all filled up, and the first opening act runs onto the stage. Eddie breaks away to look ahead as everyone around you starts cheering.

The first act of the night is a badass female band called Vixen. You've heard some of their stuff, Eddie wanted you to see that women can rock just as hard as the guys. "Edge of A Broken Heart" is definitely your favorite. It's extremely catchy, and you sing along to it with Eddie on a regular basis. The band consists of gorgeous women with extremely teased blonde hair, dramatic makeup, and perfectly skimpy outfits. They take their places with their instruments, and greet the audience before getting into their set.

The band plays six songs, all of which keep the crowd shouting the lyrics and jumping around with intense energy. You and Eddie sing along to the ones you know, holding nothing back as you attempt to dance despite being squished between tons of other people. You guzzle down your beers rather quickly as it's rapidly heating up in here. Eddie holds onto the empty cups until he can toss them away at the end of this set. He doesn't want to lose track of you in all the joyful chaos.

The band ends with your favorite tune, which causes you to be overcome by the power of the music. You grab onto Eddie, pressing your body against his to dance more intimately. He takes hold of your hips, keeping you close. You gaze lovingly at each other, having the time of your lives. You croon the words to one another, and you can't help running your hands up and down his chest and thighs as you move. You're absolutely exhilarated, unable to stop yourself from grazing over the front of his jeans a couple of times. Just a little bit of teasing, a small taste of what's to come once you get back to the hotel.

Eddie's eyes follow your hands as you touch him, and his own travel down to your ass. Only one can give you a firm squeeze as the other is still holding your empty cups, but it's more than enough to compel you to crash your lips onto his again. You find yourself wanting him, the electric energy of this new environment is heightening your senses beyond comprehension. You can tell he wants you just as much, but the time will come for you two to have your favorite kind of fun later. He bites your bottom lip, making you gasp. His tongue slips into your mouth, quickly dominating yours. The taste of beer and cigarettes swirls inside your mouths with every roll of your tongues.

A man next to you in the crowd accidently jostles you apart as the song comes to a close. You suppose it's probably for the best. A couple more seconds of this, and you'd be on the floor doing very inappropriate things. You both let out a shaky breath, trying to put your lustful thoughts aside for the time being. Vixen wishes the crowd a good night, before bowing and exiting the stage. A few crew members come on to start setting up for the next group, and the overhead lights come back on.

"I'll be right back, angel." Eddie shouts over the crowd, before leaving you alone in the sea of people. He carefully pushes his way through to the trash cans at the edge of the arena, and tries to return to you as soon as possible. He takes a good ten minutes, some of the other concert-goers are less than accommodating to someone squeezing past them towards the front. While you're waiting for him to come back, you feel a pinch on your ass. You whip around to see who did it, ready to deck them. But you find no culprit, only the gap where Eddie was before he left. You feel another pinch on the other side, whipping your head in that direction. And you find Eddie this time, giving you his signature devilish grin.

"I thought you were someone else! I was about ready to punch you!" You yell, making sure he can hear.

"Sorry, love. I just can't resist your perfect ass." He chuckles loudly, taking his original spot back.

The second opener of the night comes on, a group neither of you are as fond of. White Lion. They're alright, but they're no Vixen, and they're certainly no Ozzy. You still manage to have fun, moving subtly to the beat to pass the time. You do find their slower tune, "When the Children Cry", to be a bit preachy, though. The crowd seems to enjoy it well enough, so you play along for the sake of enjoying every last second of this. They finish off with "Radar Love", which is their most popular song. You and Eddie dance along again, finding this song far more palatable. It goes by quickly, leaving you a bit sweaty and winded by the end of it. The stage is left empty once more, and it's only a little bit longer until the man you've all come to see takes his turn.

You notice Eddie getting hyper again, rapidly tapping his foot in anticipation, peeking in the wings to see if Ozzy or his bandmates are back there. He's biting his lip slightly, and his grip on your hand tightens. "Doin' okay, Eds?" You shout, and he nods. He decides to give it a rest, knowing time only goes by slower when he stares expectantly like this.

"You want another drink, babydoll?" He asks, his eyes finding yours again.

"Sure!" You reply, digging into your purse for more cash. You hand it off to him, and he goes for a little walk to the snack bar to calm himself down. He returns much quicker this time, employing more assertive methods of wriggling through the impenetrable blob of bodies.

"Here you are, sweetheart. Got a bottle of water in my pocket, too. I'd hate for you to pass out in this heat." Eddie says, giving you your second beer of the night.

"You're so thoughtful, baby." You give him a gentle peck, downing a healthy sip of your drink afterwards. You stand together for a few more minutes, before the overhead lights come down for the third time and the stage lights up. The crowd erupts with cheers, multiple people jump up and down with excitement. Eddie's hand tightens around yours again, and his eyes are glued to the stage. It takes a moment, a little longer than you'd expect, but the members of the band slowly start to come out and take their places with their instruments. Ozzy himself hasn't made an appearance just yet, no doubt he's hyping himself up for this performance.

The audience continues to cheer and clap as the drummer and guitarists fully situate themselves in their places. They begin to play an intro of sorts, working the crowd up even more in preparation for their leader to show himself. The music builds, along with the room's collective anticipation. Time stops for a moment, and then suddenly, Ozzy is running out onto the stage to the mic placed in the dead center of it. The crowd goes absolutely wild, Eddie included. There's screaming, and more jumping, and Ozzy eats up every last bit of it.

"How are we doin' tonight, Fort Wayne?" Ozzy shouts into the mic, gesturing for everyone to make some noise. "Come on! Lemme hear you!" He cries, and the noise only gets louder. You join in the whooping, looking over the man beckoning you all to scream for him. He's dressed in a leather suit with studs and rhinestones all over it, with a tight black tee underneath. He's already coated in sweat, his hair a shaggy, frizzy mess. Thick, black eyeliner circles his bugged-out eyes, making him look insane in the best possible way. Ozzy takes the mic out of the stand, and he begins to pace along the stage, begging for more screams and shouts. "You're not loud enough! Come on!" He shouts, and you all give him exactly what he wants. Satisfied with the amount of excitement now, he takes off his jacket, tossing towards backstage and utters one final phrase to kick off the show. "LET THE MADNESS BEGIN!"

The crowd roars, and the band immediately kicks into "I Don't Know". Ozzy commands you all to 'go crazy' as he sings the lyrics. You're mesmerized at the way he moves about the stage. He's almost like a preacher, rapidly pacing back and forth from end to end, desperately wanting you to hear his words like they're the most important thing in the world. There's so much passion within his voice, and the entire arena mirrors that passion right back to him. Eddie sings along to the words, as do hundreds of others. You aren't as familiar with this song, so you just let Eddie playfully move you around to the music.

Ozzy continues through the song, repeatedly pointing the microphone out to all of you for you to sing along. "LOUDER! I WANNA HEAR YOU!" He shouts with his hand to his ear, still pacing all the way. He returns to the mic stand for a moment as the music slows. "Let me see your hands in the air." He asks, and every single pair of hands go up, unable to refuse his request. He smiles wide, and all of you wave your arms side to side to the music. It's a truly magical moment, everyone is mentally on the same page, engaging as one. You didn't really know what to expect at a show like this, but it's safe to say you feel overwhelmingly welcome here.

The band continues through the set, with Ozzy getting up to his typical antics. He sings song after song like he just released them yesterday, smiling the whole way through. There's head-banging, epic guitar and drum solos that are almost acrobatic, numerous calls for the audience to make even more noise, and he even brings out buckets of ice cold water to toss onto the crowd. You happen to get splashed multiple times, but it's certainly appreciated in this ridiculous heat. You and Eddie sing and dance and totally let loose, you've never seen your boyfriend so happy and excited before. And you can't help loving him even more for being able to see this side of him. You can read it all over his face, he truly feels like he belongs here, and that everyone in this room is just like him. You're overjoyed that you've been able to do this for him, and you're having the time of your life in the process.

About halfway through the show, Ozzy pauses to introduce you all to his amazing band. There's Randy Castillo on the drums, Zakk Wylde on guitar, Geezer Butler on bass, and John Sinclair on the keyboard. They all get a fair amount of cheers and applause, it's nice to see such a legend in the industry show appreciation for his bandmates. They continue through the set, getting into more familiar territory. "War Pigs" is a clear fan-favorite, and you get to see what is probably one of the most epic concert displays in history. Ozzy will sing one line, and then the entire arena sings the next verbatim. They know every single word, not missing a beat. It's like a duet almost, and it's fucking amazing.

The remainder of the show keeps the energy up, rocking hard and fast through "Tattooed Dancer", "Miracle Man", "Suicide Solution", "Iron Man", and "Crazy Train", ending with "Paranoid." Ozzy rips his shirt somewhere during the show, but you don't quite see it. The head of the person in front of you blocks the event from your view. One moment, his shirt is completely intact, then the next, it's almost torn in half. The band slams out the final chords and beats of the song, with Ozzy landing on his knees as this all comes to an end.

"Thank you! Goodnight! We love you all!" Ozzy shouts, bringing the show to a satisfying close. The audience lets out one final round of screams and applause, and the band makes their way to sanctuary backstage. The overhead lights come on one last time, and the mass of sweating bodies slowly files out into the lobby and parking lot of the venue.

"That was amazing!" Eddie shouts, snatching you up into his arms to give you a sloppy kiss. You're both soaked with sweat and water, your clothes sticking uncomfortably to your bodies. But you melt into him all the same, wrapping your legs around his waist as he holds you up. His lips pull away from yours, and he gazes deep into your eyes. "Best birthday ever, princess. This was fuckin' awesome." He says sweetly, giving you another kiss before letting you stand on your own two feet. A decent amount of people have left already, leaving you standing in a large gap of the floor which is littered with crumpled plastic cups and half-eaten boxes of popcorn.

"You're welcome, Eddie. This was so much fun." You reply, and the two of you join the river of people flowing casually outside into the dark of night. You locate the car all in good time, slipping into your seats. You sit here for a little while to let the lot clear out a bit first. Eddie lights a couple cigarettes again, and you take yours as always. "You excited for the second part of your present, baby?" You ask, taking a long drag of your cig.

"There's more?" He asks, raising an eyebrow at you.

"Of course, Eds. I didn't get us a hotel room for no reason." You reply casually, smirking at his eyes widening when he realizes what you're getting at.

"And...what exactly are we gonna do in said hotel room?" He asks darkly, his damp hair brushing against you as he leans into your space.

"Oh...you'll see." You reply in a flirty tone, batting your eyelashes at him.

"Mmm, you're gettin' too good at hiding things from me, love. Should I be worried?" He chuckles, his eyes sparkling with lust.

"Not at all. I only hide fun surprises, I promise." You close the gap between you, roughly biting on Eddie's bottom lip. He groans against you, reaching a hand around to cradle the back of your head. You resist the urge to climb over the seats to straddle him. Instead, you creep your hand along his thigh, moving closer to palm his cock through his jeans. Once you reach it, you feel him grow in your grasp as you give him a light squeeze.

"Don't tease, sweetheart. I'd hate to have to fuck you in the middle of the parking lot." He says breathlessly, lowering his lips to kiss your neck. He nibbles the flesh with his teeth, marking you with a fresh hickey.

"Mmm, it's nothing we haven't done before, Eds." You sigh, tilting your head to give him better access.

"You're not wrong, baby. But I'm sure whatever your filthy mind has planned is much more exciting than having rushed sex in the family car." He speaks lowly in your ear, his hand raising to grab a handful of your breast. You moan quietly, the sound making his dick twitch. "C'mon, angel.  Let's go check in, so I can properly fuck your brains out." He pulls away from you entirely, making you whine at the loss of him.

"Anything for you, love." You turn on the engine, almost speeding out of the parking lot as most of the cars have gone now. You finish your cigarette, relying on the nicotine to keep your head on straight. All you can think about is everything you plan to do to Eddie once you reach the hotel. You've got a few new toys to play with, as well as an extra special surprise to cater to Eddie's tastes. You can't wait to see the look on his face when you show him, it's going to blow his mind.

Part 28.2: Let Me Put My Love Into You

"Ugh, we really got soaked, huh?" Eddie says, shifting uncomfortably in his clothes as you enter your hotel room. You flick on the light, finding a nice large bed and the typical amenities inside.

"Yeah, I wasn't expecting that." You reply with a giggle, tossing your bags onto the floor beside the bed. Eddie closes the door behind you, and you turn to look at him. "How 'bout you lose the clothes, babe?" You suggest, biting your lip.

"Sure thing, sweetheart." He smirks, immediately peeling his shirt up and over his head. It falls to the floor in a damp pile, and the moisture left on his pale skin glistens in the dim light of the room. You keep your own clothes on, for now, sitting in a chair to watch Eddie undress. "Enjoying the show?" He asks cheekily, undoing his belt.

"Mhm. You're so sexy, baby." You devour him with your eyes, resisting the urge to pounce on him right this second. He kicks off his shoes, removing his wet socks with an odd look on his face. He then slides his jeans and boxers down together, stepping out of them to put himself completely nude before you. "Fuck." Your pupils fall to his dick, which has already begun to grow in all the excitement. Eddie chuckles at your hungry stare. You snap yourself out of it, needing to take control here. You've got this whole thing painstakingly planned out, and there's no time to waste. "Lay down on the bed for me, Eds." You say softly, and he obeys. He lays over the covers, his head resting casually on the pillows.

"What are you gonna do to me, princess?" He teases as you purposefully get out of your seat and walk over to him. You stand near the head of the bed, reaching down to caress Eddie's cheek with feather-light pressure. You smile down at him, which he returns.

"Anything you want. I do have some ideas, though..." You answer, backing away from him again. You go around to the other side of the bed to your overnight bag, unzipping it to pull out the first of your 'ideas'. A brand new pair of handcuffs you bought together, stronger and sturdier than Eddie's previous pair. You show them to him, and his smile grows wider.

"Are we using those on you....or me?" He asks, hoping they're meant for him. It seems you've got a concise plan of what you want to do tonight, and he's very eager to let you have your way.

"You, of course." You say matter-of-factly, going to him once more. "Hands up." You say politely, and he gladly obeys your order. Your eyes flick to his length again, noticing he's completely erect now. And you're only getting started. "Good boy." You praise, clicking the cuffs around his wrists. He hisses slightly at the tightness, making you worried that you've overdone them. "Too tight?" You ask, fully prepared to remove them and start over.

"No, love. They're perfect." He grins, waiting for your next move. You set his bound hands down above his head, returning to your bag. You pick it up off the floor, walking towards the bathroom. "Where ya goin', angel?" He asks, hoping you won't leave him all alone for long.

"Just changing into something more comfortable, Eddie. Be patient for me, okay?" You speak seductively, before closing the door so he can't see what you're up to. You set the bag on the counter, digging out the special costume you've been working on for this occasion. You've decided to dress up as Taarna from Heavy Metal, the sexy warrior with skimpy armor and silver-gray hair who defeated the dreaded Loc-Nar. Robin helped you put this ensemble together, sewing and painting and constructing some pieces out of cardboard. It's definitely very DIY, but overall, it looks pretty badass. You know Eddie's going to love this, and you can't help feeling extremely excited yourself.

You happily remove your soiled clothes, letting them pile lazily onto the tile floor for the time being. You put on the strapless black bra and panties first, and then the boots and red covers, the single, arm-length leather glove, and the shoulder piece. You do your best to copy Taarna's makeup, and top everything off with the wig, fixing it atop your head as seamlessly as you can. You give yourself a final once-over, unable to stop staring at your perfect ass as it's totally exposed in these unbelievably revealing underwear. You take a deep breath, oddly nervous as to what Eddie might think of you like this. You turn to the door, deciding to bite the bullet and open it already. You step into the room, putting yourself at the foot of the bed for Eddie to get a good look at you. You pose confidently, setting your gloved hand on your hip.

"Holy shit." Eddie murmurs, completely blown away by you. You're absolutely gorgeous, bringing one of his favorite fantasy characters to life.

"That good, huh?" You ask, failing to fight off a harsh blush. Your eyes lock onto his, and he can't stop staring at you.

"Really good, sweetheart." He replies in disbelief, this has to be a dream or something. "You wanna turn around for me?" He asks, his tongue playing at the edge of his smile.

"Anything for the birthday boy." You rasp. You slowly rotate yourself in a small circle, letting him eat up every morsel of your perfect body.

He whistles when he sees your butt swallowing up the thin material of your panties. "I'll never get enough of that ass, baby."

"You want me to get things going, or are you gonna stare at me all night?" You ask somewhat impatiently, though you don't mind standing here while Eddie admires every inch of you.

"You're in control here, Y/N. I'm at your mercy." Eddie says, sounding a little needy now. His cock is leaking precum, just the thought of what you might do to him tonight is driving him wild.

"That's what I like to hear, baby." You smirk, gingerly placing your hands on the bed to start crawling over to him. He watches you with hungry eyes, and you inch your way over until your body is positioned directly above his. His breath comes out fast and shallow, he's highly anticipating your first real move of the night. Your palms rest on either side of his torso, and your knees sit outside his own. Your wig hangs low, framing your face in silver strands. You lower your head to give him a gentle kiss, though he attempts to deepen it. You pull away, swatting his inner thigh with your hand. "Naughty boy." You scold, and he moans at the sting of your flesh smacking his.

"I'm sorry, love. I just want you so bad." Eddie quickly apologizes, needing you to touch him. All this waiting is taking a serious toll on him.

"Oh, I'm aware. I'll let you off with a warning this time. Consider it a bonus gift." You speak so confidently, completely taking charge of this scenario. You've spent enough time practicing in the mirror, so this shouldn't be difficult to keep up. "But, if you disobey me again, you won't get a damn thing. Understand?" You question, your tone nice and low to hold his attention. He rapidly nods his head, but he has to say the words. "Answer me, Eddie. You have to promise you'll do everything I ask."

"I promise, I'll be good, Y/N. I'm sorry, just...please. I need you, princess." Your pussy throbs at the pleading in his voice, that high-pitched crack that lets you know exactly how much he craves you.

"Oh, alright. Since you asked so nicely." You give him a mischievous grin, dragging your hand over onto his chest. His breath catches at the contact, his eyes following your movements. You trail your fingers down lower and lower, over his abs, his stomach, along his little happy trail. All the way to the very center of him, just barely brushing your fingertips along his length.

"Fuck." He groans, his hips bucking up at the contact.

"Stay still, my love." You order, and he does his best to follow your rules. You ghost your digits over him, up and down in little whispering motions. Eddie lets out the most perfectly tortured noises as you do this, all of which make your cunt extremely wet. Your touch feels so good against him, but it's not nearly enough. "You want more, Eds?" You ask, flicking your eyes to his as you continue to loom over him.

"Yes, Y/N. For the love of God, do something...anything." He whines, nearly on the verge of tears. You've never seen him so worked up, you almost feel a little bad about it. Almost.

"Such a filthy boy, so needy for my hands, my mouth, my pussy. Which would you like, birthday boy?" You ask, bringing your index finger to the head of his cock. You spread the little bead of precum around, making him whimper beneath you. Fuck, he sounds so sexy like this. So fucked for me, desperate and pathetic. I can't get enough, and he's making me so fucking wet.

"Y-Your mouth. Please." Eddie stutters, breathing shakily as your finger continues to circle lightly around his tip.

"You're so polite, Eds. Such a good boy for me." You praise, giving him another kiss before scooting yourself down the bed.

"Wait." Eddie pipes up, making you stop in your tracks. You gaze at him, wondering what the problem is.

"What is it, baby?" You question.

"Can you sit on my face while you do that? I wanna make you feel good, sweetheart." Eddie begs, wanting to taste your sweet nectar and make you scream his name.

"If you insist." You reply simply, standing up off the bed for a moment to remove your panties. You climb back over to position your cunt over his mouth, waiting for him to usher you downwards.

"Shit, you're fuckin' soaked, angel." Eddie moans at the sight of your arousal glistening all around your pussy.

"All for you, baby. You ready?" You ask, peeking between your legs to confirm.

"More than ready." He murmurs, licking his lips expectantly. And with that, you lower yourself to take a seat on his face. He immediately drags his tongue in long, thick stripes along your folds, making you gasp.

"Oh, Eddie." You moan, taking hold of his cock in your hand. He groans against you at your touch, holding back another buck of his hips. You savor the feeling of his tongue flicking your clit and needy hole for a moment, sensing an orgasm starting to build inside your belly. You rest on your elbows to put your mouth right above his dick, letting a long drip of spit fall from your lips. He grunts at the wetness landing on him, and you spread the saliva around with your hollowed fist. You bring your mouth closer to him, blowing cool air on his tip.

"Mmm." He moans against your core, flicking his tongue faster to pay you back for torturing him like this.

"Slow down, love." You order through a groan. He begrudgingly does as you ask, sighing in frustration as he brings down the pace again. He needs you to take him in your mouth already, he's so turned on it almost hurts. "Don't be a brat. I know you can take it." You say in warning. He's on very thin ice now, one disobedient move away from you shutting this whole thing down. You feel him nod, his tongue staying at the sedate speed you've requested. You decide that he's earned some head, and you take all of him in your mouth in one swift motion. He hits deep in the back of your throat, making you gag.

"Mmf." He grunts, relieved to finally have your hot, wet mouth on his cock. He circles around your clit, going just a little bit faster now. You whimper at the sensation, rolling your hips to grind against his face. You bob your head up and down on Eddie's length, savoring the beautiful noises he makes against your cunt. The vibrations feel so good, and every passing second draws a steady trickle of arousal from you. Eddie drinks up every last drop, a sticky mess of your juices forming around his cheeks and chin.

You draw off of his dick for a moment, stroking him with your hand to tide him over. "You're doing so well for me, Eds. Your mouth is fuckin' magic." You praise, returning to your task for the time being. You suck him harder and faster, twirling your tongue around his cock and hollowing your cheeks.

"Mmm." He moans again, there's not much room for words with you riding his face. You keep rolling your hips, meeting his tongue-strokes expertly. You're getting close already, all your teasing, kissing, and dancing earlier has really built you up. But you want Eddie to cum first, it's sure to be a very intense experience for him, and you can't wait to hear the helpless sounds of his orgasm muffled against your silk. You push yourself to speed up, making your eyes water at how far his length is lodged in your esophagus. His thighs have begun to twitch beneath you, you grip them tightly to hold yourself upright as his tongue is unraveling your mind.

Eddie's moans get louder against you, signaling his oncoming release. You pull away one last time, giving him some encouragement. "Cum down my throat, Eds. I fuckin' love the taste of you." You shove yourself down onto him, sucking even harder than before. Your tongue works overtime, trying to make him lose control. And then you feel it, Eddie inhales sharply, before releasing an obscenely loud moan between your thighs.

"Mmm!" His hips jolt upwards, choking you further. His load spills down your throat, the taste so goddamn sweet. You swallow it all, still blowing him through his high. You pull away once he goes soft, letting him fall out of your mouth.

"Good boy, Eds一 fuck." You whimper as Eddie picks up the pace on you now. You allow him to take control in this small way, he did so well for you when you played with him. Plus, you would absolutely love to soak his face. You lay your torso over his lower half, allowing yourself to fully relax into this position. Eddie licks and sucks your clit, drawing whines and moans from your lips. You cry out his name, and call him a good boy over and over. You're getting closer, and he shoves his tongue inside your pussy, stroking your g-spot with ease. "God, Eddie. You feel so good inside me, fuck me harder with your tongue." You plead, pushing yourself closer to his face. He starts darting his tongue in and out of you, using all the force such a flimsy muscle can possess. "Yes, just like that, baby. Such a perfectly filthy boy for me, eating my pussy like your life depends on it. You love how sweet I taste, don't you?" You speak as seductively as you can through your moans.

"Mhm." Eddie hums in reply, delighted by your vulgar words. He wishes he could use his hands to pull you even closer, hold you as tight against his mouth as possible. But you're keeping up a steady rhythm, grinding yourself into him mercilessly. It's getting a little hard to breathe, though he can't be bothered to give a shit. He could be completely suffocated between your thighs and die a happy man. He can feel you nearing the edge, all your tells on full display. Your breath coming out hot and labored against his thighs, your nails digging into his skin as you cling to him, the sweet sounds of pleasure spilling from your lips. It won't be long now, if only he had the capacity to egg you on with his velvet-smooth voice. But flicking his tongue harder and faster around your silken folds will have to do.

"Oh, fuck. I'm getting so close, Eddie. You gonna swallow all my cum like a good boy?" You ask, waiting for ecstasy to take you over.

"Mhm." He hums in reply, the vibrations making your walls flutter. Fuck, I'm already getting hard again. She's unbelievable tonight, so dominant over me...I love her like this. Hell, I love her in every conceivable way. But this? This is fantastic... Eddie dwells on his thoughts, working his tongue sore to bring you to bliss. Everything you've been doing tonight is so amazing to him, the concert, this outfit, the bad, bad things you have in store... His head is dizzy with lust, and his heart overflows with more love for you than he ever thought he could possess.

"Fuck, Eds. You're gonna make me cum..." You pant, digging your nails into his legs to hold onto him as you hit your peak. "Fuck!" You cry out, your thighs quaking, hips bucking roughly into Eddie's face. Delicious waves of pleasure spread throughout your body, and you can hear your arousal splashing messily into your love's mouth. He groans at the taste, trying not to waste a single drop. It's a bit difficult, though, as some manages to get into his nose. You slump forwards slightly, allowing him to lift his head up so he doesn't drown. He gasps in air, almost coughing at how much you've drenched him. You ride out your high, still clinging to him the whole way. Heavy breaths escape you, traces of moans and incoherent calls of his name with every exhale. Your eyes fall shut, you're too blinded by stars to see anything anyway. You feel your body slowly relax after a while, your heartbeat following suit.

"Did I do a good job for you, sweetheart?" Eddie asks, licking your juices from his lips. His eyes roll back at the renewed taste.

"Yes, Eds. So fuckin' good. My good boy." You sigh in satisfaction. You carefully get on your knees, lifting your body off of his. You turn to face him, finding his gorgeous face shining with your juices. "Damn, I really did a number on you." You say with a giggle.

"I loved every second of it, babydoll." He gives you a warm smile. "Are you done playing? Or is there more?" He questions, unable to withhold his curiosity.

"Oh, believe me, I am far from done with you." You smirk, putting your face before his. You give him a tantalizing kiss, moaning at the taste of yourself on his plush lips. He follows your lead, twisting his head to meet your languid movements. You slip your tongue into his mouth, tangling with his. Out of habit, he tries to dominate you. But you don't give up the fight, eventually earning a victory. Partially due to your persistence, and partially because Eddie's tongue is pretty tired from eating you out. You pull away, taking his breath with you. You gaze into his eyes, finding deep admiration within his pupils.

"What's next on the agenda, love?" Eddie asks softly. He's very eager to see what your evil genius mind has cooked up.

"I'll show you, and then I'll give you two choices. Okay?" You explain. You know what you have in mind might be a bit too much for him, at least for right now. To be fair, you'd picked out all your new 'props' as a team, ensuring the both of you would be okay with using them, as well as having them used on yourselves. But there's no real telling which option Eddie will be in the mood for, until you ask.

"You got it, angel." He nods, and you step off the bed again to dig around in your bag of tricks. You retrieve a bottle of lube, a silicone dildo, and a strap-on harness. His eyes widen a bit, but you can't tell if he's excited...or afraid. "And what do you plan to do with those, Y/N?" He asks, swallowing hard.

"Well, like I said...you've got two options. I can ride you and put this in my ass at the same time. Or, I can put it in the harness and fuck you instead." You explain casually, holding the objects in your hands like they're the most ordinary things in the world. On the inside, you're a little nervous that he won't go for the idea you truly want. But it's his day, so he gets to make the choice.

"Eager to try out our new toys, huh?" He grins, noticing the small crack in your confidence at his temporary silence. You put out this air of self-assurance, but he can see a glimpse of uncertainty in your eyes. He can tell exactly which option you want him to choose. But even as you stand before him, holding the shiny new items in your hands, you could never bring yourself to directly ask him for it. You know how hard it is for a man to let himself be penetrated, it's honestly pretty unheard of to most. Then again, Eddie did take a certain shine to the strap-on in the store, his eyes sparkling at the possibility of you being inside him for once.

"M-Maybe a little." You stutter, realizing that he sees right through you. He thinks it over for another minute or so, before deciding to say 'fuck it' and make the very most out of this impossibly amazing night.

"You really wanna fuck me, Y/N?" He asks coyly, needing to hear you say it out loud.

"Yes." You reply, gaining a bit of your confidence back with Eddie's reassurance that he would never judge you.

"'Yes', what?" Eddie asks darkly, pushing you to spell it all out for him. You fall into your leading role again, retaking the reins that you temporarily gave to him. You bring yourself over to him again, objects in hand. You climb back up to straddle his thighs, a sinful look spread across your face. You bring your lips just centimeters from his, holding his attention with lust-blown eyes.

"Yes, I want to fuck you, Eddie. I want to be inside you, make you scream my name. I want to make you my slut." You speak nice and low, ending with a breathy chuckle. You feel yourself getting wet again.

"Knock yourself out, sweetheart. I'd love to have you inside me." Eddie replies, absolutely elated at your regained boldness.

"That's what I like to hear, Eds. You wanna spread your legs for me?" You politely order, getting off of him to allow him to move. You kneel before him on the bed, watching him get into position. He tents his knees, his legs spread as open as he can manage. "Perfect." You praise, setting the toys down and clicking open the bottle of lube. You scoot closer to Eddie, while holding up a finger to squirt some of the cool liquid onto it. "I'm gonna loosen you up a little bit first. You okay with that?" You ask, still giving him a chance to back out. You search his expression for any sliver of doubt, but you find none.

"Yes, baby. I'd actually prefer that, as opposed to shoving that big thing in me right away." He laughs, attempting to point at the dildo laying in wait on the mattress from the confines of the handcuffs.

"Oh, it's not that big. You are much bigger than that, and I take you just fine." You retort, focusing on the task at hand. You bring your wetted index finger to his puckered hole. He tenses up slightly, drawing in a sharp breath when the cold liquid meets his flesh. "You okay?" You can't help checking in every step of the way. This is all so new for both of you.

"Yeah." He nods. "Go ahead, love. I'm ready." He adds, anticipating the feeling of you entering him. You decide to just get this over with already, and slowly push through his tight entrance. "Oh, my god." He moans as you carefully slide into his ass, all the way to the knuckle.

"How's that feel, baby?" You ask, your pussy throbbing at his response to your touch.

"Different...but pretty good so far." He says, taking a deep breath. "You can move now, if you want." You do as he suggests, gradually pumping your finger in and out of his tight hole. "Fuck, Y/N. Faster." He groans, noticing there's a particular spot inside him that feels amazing when you brush against it. You follow his request again, picking up the pace. He moans even louder, and a wave of heat washes over you. You're actually doing it. You're inside him, and he likes it.

"Are you enjoying yourself, Eddie? Should I add another?" You ask, thinking a little extra stretch couldn't hurt.

"Yes, please. This feels so fuckin' good." Eddie pants, and you messily squirt some more lube onto your middle finger to join the first one. You push it inside his asshole, and another vulgar noise rips itself from his lungs. His eyes are locked into yours, he can't believe how hot this is.

"You're taking my fingers so well, baby. I think you're almost ready for me." You coo to him, fingering him a bit faster now. His eyes roll back into his head, his mouth falling open to cry out your name. "You're making such pretty noises, Eds. They're getting me so wet." You resist the urge to lower your free hand to rub your clit as you rile him up. The display before you is surely the most attractive Eddie has ever been. Totally at your mercy, allowing you to fill up one of his most sensitive areas.

"I think I'm ready now, Y/N." Eddie says, anxious to feel all five inches of silicone deep inside himself.

"You got it." You reply, slowly removing your fingers now. You wipe the excess lube onto his inner thigh, you'll need to clean up later anyway. You pick up the dildo and harness, carefully maneuvering the toy through the round hole in the leathery fabric. The anticipation is rapidly growing between you, and you hastily slip the harness over yourself like a pair of panties. There's also a little something for you in this particular toy. A bullet vibrator is embedded inside the crotch, powered by a small battery pack that slips into a pouch on the side of the harness. This way, both you and Eddie can get off as you fuck him. You flick on the switch, immediately feeling the strong vibrations against your clit. "Oh, god." You gasp, your hands falling to grip his knees for a second.

"Does it feel good, angel?" Eddie asks cooly. You've never used a vibrator before, and it's definitely a bit intense. You're bound to cum multiple times during this little game.

"Uh-huh. Jesus Christ, this thing is powerful." You laugh awkwardly, trying to keep it together. You scoot yourself forward, and pour a ton of lube onto the dildo that's now attached to your body. It feels a bit odd, to see...something sticking out from your crotch. But it also turns you on beyond belief. You lower your body over his, spreading the lube around with your hand. You then hold the base of the toy in place as you put your pelvis close to his. You bring the tip to his entrance, looking in his eyes for confirmation again.

"Go ahead, baby. I know you want to." He says sweetly, fully prepared to take your fake dick inside of him. You don't waste another second, pressing the rubbery tip through his puckered hole. You go slow, allowing him time to get used to the size before you start thrusting. "Fuck, baby. You're so big." He says through a hiss, his teeth clenching and eyes screwing shut. You know he doesn't mean it as a joke, but his phrase in regards to your 'size' makes you giggle a little bit. He opens his eyes, realizing how that sounded. He chuckles with you, which allows his body to relax and take you in full. You eventually bottom out, completely inserted into Eddie now.

"Look at you, taking me so well like a good boy." You praise seductively, planting a warm kiss on his lips to give him a small breather. The vibrator is doing wonders for you, it won't take long for you to cum again. But you ignore the pleasure for now, focusing on keeping Eddie relaxed.

"You can move now, love. I need you." He pleads, his tone only adding to your pleasure. But you can't give in that easily.

"Beg for it." You order, raising a hand to wrap your fingers around his neck. His pupils widen further, realizing just how in charge you want to be.

"What?" He asks, taken aback by your continued teasing.

"Beg me to fuck you, Eds. Tell me just how much you want it." You command darkly, bringing your other hand up to cup his cheek. You look at him with hooded eyes, patiently waiting for him to do as you ask.

"Please, baby. Fuck my ass, I want you so bad. You feel so good inside me." Eddie whines, the pathetic sound going straight to your head.

"That's a good little slut." You growl through a moan, before pulling your hips away and slamming back into him.

"Oh, god!" Eddie shouts, your thrust stimulates his prostate in the most amazing way. "More, baby...please, fuck...so good." He's overwhelmed by how intense this is, everything feels too fucking good.

"You got it, Eds." You pant, holding back your orgasm as you place your free hand on his hip. You squeeze his throat, cutting off his oxygen. And then you start thrusting your hips as best you can. It's not very easy for you, you're not used to making this type of motion with your body. But it's simple enough once you get the hang of it. You sense your high approaching, however, which is making it difficult to concentrate. "Oh, fuck. I'm gonna cum, baby." You huff, still smacking your pelvis against his ass as your bliss overtakes you. "Shit!" You whine, doing everything in your power to keep your knees from buckling. Your thighs shake regardless of your efforts, which makes your jerk the toy haphazardly inside Eddie's asshole.

"Oh, fuck! Keep doing that. Ah...shit. I'm getting close already, angel." Eddie whimpers, the words barely escaping as you continue to choke him.

You're still riding out your orgasm, rolling your hips into him the whole way. Your arousal soaks through the harness, fluids spilling down your thighs and his. "Don't cum yet, baby. Not until I say you can." You command, though it comes out sounding rather weak and shaky. You're still riding your high, which will undoubtedly build rapidly into another while you fuck Eddie as hard as you can manage. You lessen your grip on his neck, allowing him to speak.

"I'll try, sweetheart. Gonna be pretty difficult, though." Eddie pants, wishing he had his hands free to hold you closer to him.

"I know you can do it, Eddie. You're such a good boy, letting me fuck your ass like this. You like being my little slut, baby?"

"Yes, angel. This feels amazing, you have no idea." He replies breathlessly, the blood rushing back to his head now. You smash your lips onto his, wanting to be closer to him. You keep up your pace, rolling your hips to have the vibrator hit your clit just right. You moan against each other, going wild inside at the overpowering sensations you're both feeling. You break away from his lips, though yours still brush against them. You look deep into his eyes, smiling like the devil herself.

"Tell me you're my little slut." You command playfully, hungry to hear the words from his own mouth.

"I'm your little slut, Y/N. You fuck me so good...holy shit." His eyes fall shut again, you can tell he’s almost there. You squeeze his throat again, stealing his breath away.

"I didn't say you can cum yet, Eds. And I don't think you want to disobey me." You regain his attention, fear in his eyes of what you might do to punish him. His garbled moans and whines push you over the edge again. "Shit..." You gasp, your breath catching in your throat as your third orgasm crashes into you. You buck your hips sloppily again, making Eddie squeal as your grip loosens on his neck. Another dose of arousal spills from you, falling wetly onto the bed.

"I'm tryin' to hold it, angel. Everything just feels so goddamn perfect." He replies, doing his best to listen to your orders. He's coated in sweat, as are you. But as your third orgasm of the evening subsides, you find yourself wanting one more before Eddie completely loses it.

"Just a little longer, baby. You're taking my cock so well. Be a good boy, I'll let you cum soon." You reply, letting go of his neck entirely to grip his other hip. Using his waist as leverage, you proceed to snap your hips as you pound yourself into him.

"Fuck, Y/N! Oh...You're gonna kill me, baby. I can't hold it much longer..." Eddie calls out breathlessly. He's trying to be good, to hold off on losing control. He knows what will happen if he disobeys you, and he refuses to be defeated so easily.

"Almost there一 shit. We can cum together, love. Such a good boy for me, I know how badly you want it." You encourage him to hold on a tiny bit longer, hoping your praise is enough. You're very close to your own high again. Your pussy sparking from the continued stimulation. Just a few more seconds, that's all you need. "Cum for me, baby...oh, fuck! EDDIE!" You scream when you're taken down by bliss yet again. Your thighs jolt violently, which makes you hit all the right angles inside Eddie's asshole, sending him over the edge.

"Y/N! Oh, Jesus...shit一 FUCK!" Eddie's stomach tenses, and he takes in a ragged gasp, before letting out the loudest moan you've ever heard from him. His toes curl, and his sticky load spurts out of his cock and onto his stomach and chest. He tugs against the dildo in his euphoria, extending the pleasure further. You watch his expression twist into beautiful shapes, all of which illustrate just how good you've made him feel.

"Mmm, my good boy. You did so well, my perfect little slut." You coo, stroking his sweat-slicked face with your gloved hand. You're still inside of him, but you flick the switch on the battery pack to turn off the vibrator. You've had more than enough now, and the stimulation is getting to be too much. You both come down from your final highs, exchanging a few loving kisses. "Did you like that, Eddie?" You ask, somehow still unconvinced that he's actually enjoyed himself.

"Yes, sweetheart. It was fuckin' amazing. Did you have fun being in charge?" He asks with a grin.

"Mhm, it was great. I felt so...powerful." You reply, grinning giddily at how fantastic it was to take total control.

"I'm glad, princess. You were phenomenal, I couldn't get enough. You're such a strong, smart, sexy woman. I love you, baby." He speaks lovingly, unable to stop smiling. Tonight has been so fun for the both of you. Playing together, trying new things, it's everything you've dreamed about as a couple.

"I love you too, Eds." You reply warmly, giving him one last kiss before you attempt to pull out. You look down between your legs, thinking over how best to do this. "I'm gonna slowly pull out so we can clean up. Just keep still and relax, okay?" You instruct, looking at him for confirmation.

"Sure thing, love." He says softly, taking a deep breath before you try to move. He nods to give you the go ahead, and you gradually remove the dildo from his tight hole. He groans at the feeling, but he insists you keep going to get it out already. Once you get the toy all the way out, he exhales deeply with puffed cheeks. "Fuckin' A. I'll have to get used to that." He laughs, doing his best to sit up in bed. He brings his bound arms down to his lap. "You mind lettin' me outta these, babydoll?" He asks politely.

"Of course, love." You hop off the bed again, still wearing the strap-on. You dig around in your bag, finding the tiny set of keys. You let his hands free, and he rubs the tender flesh of his wrists. "You bruised at all?" You ask, hoping you didn't go too hard.

"Nah, all good. Just a little sore, but it's to be expected." He reassures you, before dragging his eyes along your body. His pupils settle on your imitation cock, and he chuckles at the sight.

"What?" You ask with a raised eyebrow. You notice his eyes peering downwards, and you follow their direction to see that you're still sporting the purple silicone between your legs. "Oh." You giggle, blushing slightly. You take the harness off, letting it fall beside you on the bed for the time being. "You wanna take a shower, Eds? We've made quite the mess." You say, eyes flicking to the glistening streaks of white on Eddie's torso.

"Yes, please. I'm so goddamn sticky, it's a little gross...even for me." He replies, letting you lead him by the hand to the bathroom. You turn on the water, and strip off the rest of your costume. You take the wig off first, it was getting a little itchy. Next is the armor and boots, ending with the bra. You stand naked before Eddie, his caring eyes eating up your every inch. "My gorgeous girl, you do so much for me." He coos, putting his hand on your waist. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, enjoying this moment of closeness. He brushes a stray hair behind your ear, looking deep into your eyes. "You are the best girlfriend in the entire world, you know that?"

"Only because you tell me so all the time, my love. Which, among other things, makes you the best boyfriend, too." You return his adoring gaze, smiling like the sun. You share a tender kiss, and he leads you backwards into the glass-door shower. He presses your body against the tile wall as the water soaks your bodies, slicking away some of the sweat and cum you've accumulated. He lowers a hand to slip two fingers to your clit, making you moan against his mouth. "Eddie, please. Don't you think we've had enough?" You ask, though the arousal gathering on his digits betrays your protest.

"I can stop if you want, babydoll. But I didn't get a chance to touch you at all, it was driving me insane." He breathes heavily, and you can feel his dick poking into your stomach. You're surprised he's still up for more, and you'd be lying if you said you weren't as well.

"I suppose I didn't get to have your cock inside me, either. If you really have it in you, go nuts, baby." You offer just as his fingers slip inside your pussy. "Eddie." You moan, roughly gripping his shoulders

"Sounds like you've got it in you, too, sweetheart." He chuckles darkly, moving his mouth to suck on your neck.

"Shit, baby...You're so needy tonight." You whimper, allowing him to be in the driver's seat now. You've had your fair share of control, you may as well give Eddie a turn.

"Only for you, and this soaked pussy of yours. You want me to fuck you, angel?" He asks, pumping his digits in and out of you at a steady pace. He's riling you up, it's nothing substantial.

"Yes." You pant, dragging your nails along his back now. He groans at the sting, biting down hard on your throat.

"Then beg me, princess. Beg me to fuck your pretty little brains out." He commands, using his other hand to harshly tweak your nipple.

"Please fuck me, Eddie. I need you inside me, to make me scream your name." You plead, and he immediately removes his fingers from your cunt.

"Turn around, babe." He orders simply, and you do as he asks. Your back is facing him, and he suddenly pushes your front into the wall. You gasp in surprise, your head turned to the side. Eddie presses his body into yours, his hands caressing your hips, back, and ass. You moan quietly at his movements, waiting for him to enter you. "God, you've become such a filthy whore, Y/N. Costumes, toys, calling me a slut? You are an impeccable woman, sweetheart." He speaks lowly in your ear, his tone a breathy growl.

"It's all for you, Eds. I couldn't do all that for anyone else." You reply, telling him exactly how much he means to you, how you truly enjoy everything you do together.

"Good. Because you...are mine." He says as he takes hold of his length. He moves closer to your entrance, shoving his stiff cock into you on his final words.

"Fuck!" You shout, taken by surprise. He immediately starts hammering into you, grunting directly in your ear. It appears he's had enough of the teasing and wants to get right into it, and you're certainly not complaining. You press your hands into the wall, giving yourself a little bit of leverage. But Eddie quickly snatches them, holding them together behind your back. He presses himself into you even more, trapping you against the wall.

"You're so fuckin' wet, baby. Is this all for me, my sweet girl?" He asks, huffing out the words. He's fucking into you so hard, quickly building you up to a fifth orgasm. You want it so bad, the tip of his dick is brushing your g-spot just right, fast and hard exactly the way you like.

"All for you, Eddie. Only for you." You whimper, savoring the sensation of him ramming into you again and again. You can barely think straight, and you've got absolutely no control over your body. Eddie's got you completely pinned to the tiles, you couldn't keep your balance even if you tried. Your feet barely sit flat on the floor of the shower, and if he backs up even a little bit, you're bound to fall over.

"That's right...you're all mine. Such a good girl for me...taking my cock like a perfect little slut." Eddie groans, nearing his end again already. You've taken him to a whole new place tonight, and he can't help replaying the highlights of what transpired a few minutes ago as he rails your slick cunt. His thrusts start to lose focus, his moans coming out harsher than before against your ear. You can tell he's close, and you're not far behind him.

"Fuck me harder, baby. I wanna feel you cum with me." You beg, your walls beginning to flutter around his aching length. He does as you ask, his hips stinging your ass as he thrusts rougher and faster than before. You feel tears pooling in your eyes from the pleasure, it's almost too much. You let out cries and whimpers beyond your control, sprinkling in an occasional utterance of his name.

"Shit, Y/N. I'm gonna make a mess inside this tight little pussy. Let it all go for me, sweetheart. I wanna feel you cum all over my cock...FUCK!" Eddie's stomach tenses, and his pelvis bucks into you hard enough to make your ass sting. His grip on you tightens, and you reach your high as his sticky load spills into you.

"Eddie!" You cry out, your insides clamping down on his length. He groans at the sensation, pushing himself to keep thrusting through your orgasms. Your head falls backwards over Eddie's shoulder, helpless noises tearing themselves from your lungs. Your thighs tremble once again, much more erratic this time around. You feel like you've caught fire from the inside out, and you can't comprehend anything except the intense pleasure coursing through you. You soak Eddie's cock, you can hear your release splashing loudly onto the tiles beneath your feet. His breath hitches at the feeling of you drenching him, his eyes briefly rolling back into his head.

Eddie holds you upright as he becomes still inside you, you've essentially melted into a puddle at this point. He watches as tears roll down your cheeks, your eyes staring widely at the ceiling. Your mouth sits slightly agape, panting heavily. "You okay, angel?" He asks, slowly bringing you back down to earth. You set your head upright, nodding slightly.

"Yeah, I'm alright." You answer, letting him lean your body against his until you can stand up straight. Once your bones solidify again, you both finish up your shower, and clean up your dirty clothes and toys. You put on some pajamas, and cuddle together on the bed. "So, you wanna order some pizza?" You ask, realizing you haven't eaten much at all today.

"Yes, that sounds so fuckin' good right now." Eddie groans, suddenly feeling hungrier than he ever thought possible.

"I'm on it, baby." You say, giving him a light peck before going to the phone. You look up the number for the local pizza place, which is luckily open all night. You place the order, and jump right back into bed once the food is on its way. "All set, love. Happy birthday." You say, settling into Eddie's hold. He squeezes you firmly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

"Thank you, sweetheart. I know I said it already, but I think it's worth repeating. Best. Birthday. Ever." He says softly, the two of you humming in contentment as you wait for your dinner.

To be continued...

[asunsetgrace16]

✧ 18 ⎥ 𝗠𝗧19

Pairing: Matthew Tkachuk x fem!reader

Summary: Matt and Y/N's relationship chronicled by a One Direction song

Warnings: none

Notes: based off of 18 by One Direction. As of whenever the panthers visited the white house grinning ear to ear with the Cheeto man, I will be no longer be writing for Matthew but this fic will remain up.

masterlist ⎥ navigation

Word Count: 1.2k

We made a start be it a false one I know

Baby I don’t want to feel alone

“You want me to what?” Y/N asks incredulously. Her voice is shrill and her eyes are wide, staring at Matthew, “Please tell me I heard you wrong.”

Matthew cringes, hating himself for asking this of her, “I need a fake girlfriend to take the heat off, just for a while, then we can go our separate ways, decided we are better off as friends, y’know. I hate that I have to ask you, but there isn’t anyone else I’d wanna ask.”

Y/N sighs, rubbing a hand across her forehead. She can’t believe what she’s hearing. Of course Matt would ask her, they have been friends forever, but this kinda crosses the friendship line. 

“I don’t know, Matt. I’m not used to that life, the people. I also don’t really want to move my entire life from here to Calgary, for what, three months max.”

“Just think about it, please.”

One Month Later

Y/N walks through the Calgary airport with a carry-on. Matt is waiting by baggage claim. He looks up from his phone, an electric smile moves onto his face. He jogs over to hug her, picking her up off the ground.

“I can’t thank you enough, Y/N.” Matt whispers in her ear. 

“You better be glad that I can work remotely.” Y/N teases, unconsciously hugging him tighter. 

“C’mon, let's get your bags and get you home. The boys can’t wait to meet you, so be prepared for an ambush in a few hours.

Five Months Later

The whole night was charged, something shifting in their relationship. Maybe she was reading too much into the lingering glances Matt sent her way, or how his fingertips trailed in her hand once they made it to Johnny’s. She shook it off and chalked it up to Matt simply wanting to keep their ruse believable.

Matt and Y/N are giggly and warm as they walk through the door. They are holding onto each other, a little more than tipsy after the New Year’s party. Y/N squints at the clock on the wall that says three in the morning. 

“We should eat something.” Y/N murmurs, watching Matt move through the kitchen. She grabs two glasses and fills them with water, fishing out a bottle of Advil before she forgets. 

“How do some cheesy eggs sound?” Matt asks, pulling the eggs from the fridge.

“Amazing.”

A comfortable quiet falls over the kitchen. Matt cracks the eggs, Y/N grates the cheese. She walks around the island to the stove and sets the plate down and wraps her arms around Matt’s waist. One of his hands comes to cover her own, warm and gentle. He turns in her arms, pulling her tight to his chest. They stand in silence before Y/N backs away enough to look at his face. This moment feels inevitable, something that was a long time coming. Y/N’s eyes trace every detail on Matt’s face. He looks at her just as intently, a dreamy look on his face. Her breaking quickens, noticeable enough that Matt’s heart starts racing.

“You know, I never got my real New Year’s kiss.” Y/N says softly. He slowly brings his hand to cradle her face, as if giving her time to change her mind. Her chin dips in subtle nod, and then Matt is there. His lips on hers, her hands in his hair. They kiss like they need it more than oxygen, and everything finally, finally, falls into place. It’s passionate and messy, a testament to both their not-sober state and the feeling of needing to make up for lost time. Y/N smiles into the kiss, nothing has felt more right. Y/N is content to stay here kissing Matt forever, but the not-so-romantic smell of smoke pulls her out of her head.

“Matt! The eggs!”

-

So kiss me where I lay down

My hands pressed to your cheeks

A long way from the playground

“Matty, just come and kiss me already.” Y/N whines playfully from their bed. Matt smiles that cheeky smile from where he stands, leaning against the doorframe of the bathroom. She groans, flopping back into the copious amount of pillows. 

“It’s not fair,” She says, “you standing over there, leaning all sexy against the door, looking like that, and leaving me all alone over here.”

With that, Matt pushes off the doorframe and walks over to the bed. He flops down in a similar manner to Y/N, and right on top of her. She laughs, trying fruitlessly to push him off, but Matt just holds on tighter. He sneakily tickles her ribs, so she tries even more to squirm away from him.

“Matt! That tickles!” She half-shouts, almost out of his grip. Breathless, she wiggles out of his grasp and leans against the headboard. Matt lays on his side and props his head up on one hand, gazing at Y/N with a smile on his face. The soft, genuine one that he saves specially for her. 

“You are such a child. It’s like we are five years old and you are chasing me around the playground again.” She chides, no bite to her words at all. Matt sits up, tugging her ankles so she slides down the bed and he hovers overtop of her. His hand moves to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear, cradling her cheek. She bites her lip before taking his face in her hands and kisses him with such a passion it takes his breath away. With her hands pressed to his cheeks, they kiss until they are breathless, barely breaking apart enough to be able to breathe. 

“We’ve come a long way, baby. It’s been a long time since we were on the playground together.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

-

I have loved you since we were 18

Long before we both thought the same thing

To be loved and to be in love

“And Matt, your vows.” Sasha, the officiant, says to Matt. Y/N’s vows have nearly reduced him to a puddle of mush, but her thumbs softly stroking across the backs of his hands keep him grounded.

“Y/N, you are my best friend, my partner in crime, my better half. You, you are my world, and there is no one I’d rather do life with than you.” Matt pauses, voice thick with emotion, “I promise to stand by you, love you completely, and always spray you with whipped cream.” Their guests and Y/N laugh, remembering that photo from sophomore year. “I have loved you since we were 18, and I promise to love you for the rest of my life.”

Y/N wipes a tear off her cheek, smiling and absolutely radiant. 

Sasha starts, “I now pronounce you husband and wife. Matt you may kiss your–” He is cut off by Matt moving towards you, leaning you backwards into a saucy dip, not wasting a second more. “–bride.”

All the guests clap and cheer and laugh at Matt’s antics, and he stands them upright. Hands clasped, they make their way down the aisle, pausing for another kiss.

“Since we were 18, or how long before?” Y/N whispers against his lips. Matt simply grins and kisses her again.

[strangesmallbard]

bg3 characters if they worked at publix/safeway/your grocery store of choice:

karlach: in charge of anything that involves moving heavy objects between locations, but also works produce. LOVES helping old ladies take their groceries to the car; will accidentally abandon the vegetables at least once per shift. (she does apologize to the vegetables.) also is a pallet stacking master in the most haphazard configurations that, somehow, miraculously never fall over. frequently posts her monstrosities on r/publix, alongside a selfie of her giving a cheeky thumbs up.

wyll: store manager, in his second year of a master’s degree in public policy. optimistic like a sword is optimistic. WILL make sure you take your mandated break and will hand out store giftcards for a job well done. does not suffer customers who behave badly. is roommates and longtime best friends with karlach; the energy they exude while together either makes your shift bearable or unbearable, depending.

shadowheart: works the in-store coffee counter. probably should not because she always looks vaguely disgusted, annoyed, or bored. the dark circles under her eyes are always there no matter how many espresso shots she sips. has anonymously complained to corporate about the store’s music choices. every new employee thinks they have a shot with her until she hits them with the 👁️😐 did you need something? 👁️😐 and they slink away, feeling chastised for reasons unknown.

minthara: works the meat and/or fish counter. smokes seventeen packs per mandated break. always smells a little bit like red meat. has the most insane combat stories but it’s completely unclear whether she’s a veteran or just someone who gets into situations on purpose. every 20-something employee is at least mildly obsessed with her whole thing, but she’ll only humor karlach. no one knows where she lives.

lae’zel: 22-year-old grocery team lead. typically works the 5pm-11pm shift, but still obviously runs that shit like a navy seal base. has encyclopedic knowledge of grocery store codes and also lore. during mandated breaks she can be found doing one-armed pushups, argueflirting with shadowheart, or scribbling poetry in a notebook. she’s also the pitcher on her college’s varsity baseball team; everyone shows up to her big games and she fails at not looking overwhelmed by joy every time.

jaheira: beloved customer service manager, knows literally everything and everyone. taught wyll everything he knows about not suffering customers who behave badly. often goes mountain climbing with her scary 39-year-old girlfriend astele who owns the smoke shop next door. sells the best weed you’ll ever smoke in your life.

gale: day shift manager counterpart to lae’zel, postdoc who needs the job to make rent obviously. constantly gives aisle directions for the store location he worked during undergrad and shelves the soup cans all wrong. WILL show you photos of his cat. constantly recognized by his booktube fans (he also streams sims 4 builds of classic sci fi/fantasy book locations). he does wear his own merch underneath the uniform.

halsin: that customer who’s very polite but frequently and inexplicably barefoot. he also teaches woodworking and pottery at the youth center down the road. sometimes brings his regular kids to the store for a field trip and those little bags of cheetos. grows the weed that jaheira sells.

astarion: does not work at the grocery store. he worked at the grocery store for two weeks, during which he showed up late every day, insulted customers, and generally behaved like a cat ripped away from his ball of yarn. he only lasted those two weeks because gale (roommate/situationship) begged wyll to give him another chance in a different department. he still lives with gale while finishing up a law degree and can be found loitering in the grocery store, bitching about The Circumstances with shadowheart.

[mothiepixie]

I'm being brainwashed into try cuddling Crust, so quick question:

Does he make crunchy sounds when you squeeze him?

Cuz I imagine him laying on the sofa all day playing games and eating whatever he finds in the kitchen (which probably happens to be Popato Chisps), so he's probably full of crumbs.

Also, now that I'm on it, I'm curious if he ever leaves the house? Like, to work?

They can't let him join the Royal Guard after his past as a Royal Scientist, so he's not a sentry. He found Motti (whatever he was doing in the woods alone outside the Ruins) but he could have been anywhere else when she fell...

Ok, now Idk how much lore I've been missing so I'm gonna check if anything I said is right and if not, well I'm too lazy to edit all this again so; love to your boys and love to the queen ✨

If you hug Crust, you're gonna hear crunches because he hardly ever washes that jacket (Boysen has to rip it off him) and you'll get a ploom of cheeto dust and weed smell assualting your nose.

And Crust doesn't do anything for a living right now because he's in a state of deep depression and kinda hard to land a job anywhere when your older brother is the head of the Royal Guards AND you were publicly shamed for treason.

Not many want to employ for the fear of association, so Crust rots all day drinking/smoking, and playing games. But Boysen is basically well off and essentially lets Crust live off of him.

He does patrol around Snowdin just for the hell of it. Gathering gossip and whatnot for his own amusement and so when Boysen comes home he can spill the tea (much to Boysen's dismay). He went to the ruin doors to chat with Asgore like he usually does and found Motti.

Crust is a good guy deep down and although his upbringing and harsh environment; he knows a good person when he sees one and doesn't like someone undeserving being ridicule or hurt.