#I am making this post to put off returning to the page.

[crowsofdarkness]

CamBoy! Bill Skarsgard: First Virtual Meeting

-pic not mine.-

Pairings: CamBoy!Bill Skarsgard x Viewer!Reader

Summary: Bill isn't ashamed of the work he does, showcasing his body online for anyone willing to pay. His number one rule was never to make a connection with anyone who either sent him messages or paid for private one-on-one video sessions. That was until you decided to request a certain private session.

Content Warnings: 18+ smut which includes Bill having an only fans page, masturbation, phone sex, virtual sex, and language.

Authors Note: this is a limited mini-series, just a bunch of blurbs that take place in this universe. i'm not sure exactly how long this will be. tags will be open for this if anyone is interested!

CamBoy!Bill masterlist.

What the hell am I doing? 

I found myself asking that same question more than once ever since I signed up for only fans a few weeks ago. Not as a producer but as someone that watches and enjoys. At first I was extremely nervous, chasting myself for even thinking of subscribing to strange men who do sex work, virtually. But after being single for my entire life, I’d become desperate. I craved some kind of attention whether it be sexual or just a simple conversation. Although, after being subscribed to a few different pages on Only Fans for a few weeks, I had yet to actually talk to anyone. 

I mean, who the fuck subscribes to Only Fans to talk to people?

Again, asking myself what the hell am I doing?

Letting out a deep breath, I eased farther back into my bed with my laptop on my lap as I clicked through the different pages I subbed to, ready to unwind after a long day. I had a date earlier that ended in disaster, further proving that maybe a relationship was not meant for me. It was weird, me finding more comfort doing this rather than dating. 

Even though there were a few accounts I liked, there was one that I had always found myself going back to when I thought I wanted something different. 

Bill with the 70’s porn stache. 

I watched nearly all of his videos with my rose vibrator pressed against my clit or using my dildo while Bill had his hand wrapped around his cock. He never had any special effects or wore masks like a lot of the other creators on here which is why I found myself drawn to him. He also had a tik tok page where he would post videos showing off his defined abs or trying whatever viral sound was trending. I liked every single new video he posted but never commented due to being shy. He had over a million followers, there was no way he’d ever pay attention to one of my comments. 

Earlier today, he posted a Tik Tok saying he’s offering a new type of content on his OF page, one on one virtual meetings. For a certain amount of money, Bill would skype call someone for ten minutes and they could have virtual sex. Only one time. He made it clear that he would never have more than one virtual call with someone. Almost immediately I checked to see if my funds were available for this but then when I actually thought about it, it was weird, right? Having virtual sex with a stranger? 

Then again, how would it be any different than me getting off to old videos he posted? 

He would actually be talking to you. Which is what you want, no? 

Gnawing on my bottom lip, I quickly signed up for this special one on one virtual meeting and after paying the amount that would put a small dent in my bank account, I waited. Bill mentioned earlier that due to how many people would most likely sign up, he would have to set times and dates for everyone. So instead of sitting for a reply, I opted on placing my laptop on the other end of my bed and dragged my feet to the bathroom across the hall in my apartment. When I first sat down with my laptop, my body had been vibrating with the need for a release but now as the nerves began to eat away at me for what I’d just signed up for, I needed to think of something else. 

By the time I returned into my room, towel wrapped around my soaked body, I saw a flashing notification on my laptop making my heart nearly burst out of my chest. I didn’t bother to get dressed, simply sat on the edge of my bed still in my towel and brought my laptop to my lap. 

New message from Porn Stache Bill. 

While his username wasn’t that great, he made up for it with the content he provided. 

Letting out a deep breath, I clicked open the message and nearly choked on my saliva when I saw it was a video message from Bill. 

“Fuck, this is too real,” I muttered under my breath, finger hesitating over the play button before I hit it.

Bill appeared on the screen of my laptop, dressed in only a pair of grey sweats. The muscles of his abs seemed to rippled underneath the light of his bedroom as he leaned back against the dark sheets of his bed. His hair was messy, chest rising and falling with each deep breath he took which only made me wonder what he’d been doing before he recorded this video. My eyes, however, quickly honed in on the mustache. I was a sucker for it with every single one of his videos.

“Hi, Y/N.” His face broke out in a smile followed by a wink and I nearly fell back onto my own bed when I heard my name fall from those full lips. “I wanted to say thank you for signing up for my private one on one video chats. I’ll be calling you tomorrow night at nine p.m. You have me for ten minutes for whatever you want. If there are any limits, please let me know beforehand. I look forward for our time together.”

When the video ended, I couldn’t ignore the way my heart sank at how monotone Bill sounded. But then again, I wouldn’t be surprised if he was recording the same video over and over again, only changing the names for everyone who signed up. 

Closing my laptop, I set it on my desk before stepping into my closet to find something to wear tomorrow night on this video chat. 

“What the actual fuck am I doing?” I yelled at myself while I paced my bedroom. 

It was five minutes to nine and to say I was a nervous wreck was a fucking understatement. I could barely concentrate at work today and when I went out with some friends after work, all I could think about was this video chat that was about to happen. I didn’t dare tell any of my coworkers I signed up to have a sexual video chat with a complete stranger because I knew they would try and talk me out of it. Sex aside, I was doing this for me as terrible as that sounded. I’d been in my own shell for the last 28 years of my life, never branching out or trying anything hence why I’d been single. No one wanted someone who was inexperienced. 

How pathetic. You signed up on a sex website to help a stranger with sexual activities and for them to talk to you. No wonder why you’re single. 

Once again ignoring the criticizing voice in my brain, I stopped pacing in front of the large mirror in my bedroom to give myself one final once over. My hair was pulled back in a tight french braid, I wore very minimal makeup, and the outfit I wore was anything but sexy mostly because I didn’t own any lingerie. I chose to wear a loose white shirt that hung off one of my shoulders and a pair of olive green panties which you couldn’t see due to the length of the shirt. 

My bedroom wasn’t anything fancy or special, and with the way I had my laptop set up, Bill would only be able to see me and the wall behind my bed which had those vine lights hanging against it. 

Just as those thoughts began to creep in again, a noise from my laptop had me turning on my heels; the clock on my nightstand blinking 9:00 pm. Bill was calling me. 

“No turning back now,” I sighed, sitting on my bed. 

I didn’t bother trying to find a sexy position to sit in because I wasn’t that; sexy. I’d always been average and it took me awhile to accept it. With shaky fingers, I accepted the video chat and soon was graced with that mustache and smile. 

“Hi. Y/N, right?” 

I blinked, forcing myself not to gawk too long at his bare chest. Bill wore a pair of red boxers as he sat relaxed on his office chair. Unlike the video he sent me yesterday, his hair was neatly combed to the side. 

“H-hi,” I said. 

Bill smiled. “Nervous, huh?” 

My cheeks burned and I ran my sweaty palms on the comforter of my bed. “A little. I’ve never actually done this before.” 

“Is there anything I could do to ease your nerves?” He asked while easing back into the chair. 

“Uh, maybe if you could take the lead.” 

The corner of Bill’s mouth curved slightly. “I read over the list you sent over. Seems like you don’t really know what you’re into.”

I cast my face down, not wanting him to see the embarrassment that covered me. This was a very bad idea. I shouldn’t have signed up for this. 

“Hey,” Bill’s soft voice from my laptop made me lift my gaze slightly. “It’s alright. There’s no need to be embarrassed. We all have to start somewhere when it comes to sex.”

I bit my bottom lip. “If I’m being honest, I’m not sure why I even signed up for this. I thought maybe it could help break me out of this shell. But now I think maybe it’s only making things worse. Which I know sucks because I already paid for this and there’s no refund so I guess I’ll eat the money. I’m sorry that I wasted your time. I don’t know why I did this.” 

“Seems like you ramble when you’re nervous,” Bill chuckled. 

I cringed at myself. This was something I already knew and the fact this attractive man, who I spent hours watching his tik toks and O.F content, immediately called me out on it made me shrink farther into my bed. The hem of my shirt rode up my thighs when I did, showcasing my panties. Bill’s eyes darkened as he sat straight up in his computer chair to get a closer look at the camera. 

“If you want, we can just talk,” he offered me a smile. 

I thought about it for a moment. While I did start this whole thing to try and find someone to talk to, I also did want this to break me out of this shy shell. 

“No, I want to do more but I don’t know where to start,” I admitted. 

Bill glanced at something off screen for a few beats before looking back at the camera. “We have seven minutes. Would you rather us both do something, just you, or just me?” 

I sighed. “Maybe if you just did something? Since I’m so fucking nervous, I think it would be better if I watched you.”

“You’re kind of cute when you curse,” he winked. “Alright, as long as you're comfortable with it. How about you strip for me?” 

“I don’t know why you would want to see me,” I said. 

“Your shirt is thin, Y/N. The last four minutes of us talking, I’ve been looking at those pretty tits underneath. I bet they’re round and so perky,” Bill’s voice had deepened, his hand starting to leave the armrest of his chair. 

“Oh,” I muttered, glancing down at my chest which was in fact visible through my shirt. 

“Just the shirt for me, Y/N. You can keep those green panties on. That alright?” 

Slowly nodded, I dragged up my shirt over my head, letting it fall to the bed next to me. Bill groaned, pushing his chair back so I could see all of him as he took out his cock from his boxers. 

“I knew it. I knew your tits were perky round.” 

I watched, frozen, as he wrapped his hand around his cock in a grip that had to have hurt but only seemed to bring him more pleasure. This wasn’t anything new for me, I’d watch plenty of videos of him teasing his followers on Tik Tok or posting more intimate videos on his O.F. 

Only this time, this was more private. It was only between us. 

“Lay down on your bed for me and spread your legs. Can you do that?” 

Bill’s hoarse voice made my skin shiver with heat and doing what he did, I slowly laid on my bed with my legs spread wide. The show of him jerking himself off made a small wet spot appear on my panties, something he immediately noticed. 

“The sight of me choking my cock with my hand is making you wet, huh?” 

I nodded, slightly blissed out from the sight on my screen. Bill’s jaw was slack as his hand moved in a fast rhythm. I studied the way his thumb would drag over the beads of precum on the head before using it as lube to make his cock slick with it. Or how he would grip the base of his cock, holding it for a few seconds before choking on a breath. 

My pussy ached with the need to touch myself but I couldn’t move. Too engrossed in the private show he was giving me. No one else. Me. 

“Can you touch your nipples? For me, please.” 

Something flared deep inside of my gut at how he begged me so with another nod, I began playing with my nipples in the way I knew I liked. I arched off the bed slightly when I pinched a little too hard. 

“You like it rough, Y/N? The harder, the better?”

“Yes,” I moaned, watching him through hooded eyes.

Bill licked his lips, tongue grazing over the mustache, and I let out a moan when I watched his hips stilled right as he spilled into his hand. 

“Oh fuck, Y/N. You see that? You see what you do to me?” He groaned, working himself through the aftershocks. 

“Oh my fucking god,” I moaned, letting my head fall back to my pillow and my fingers grazed over my panties. 

I was going to wait to touch myself after the call ended, too embarrassed to do that in front of Bill. But seeing him come apart while he watched me pinch and pull at my nipples nearly tipped me over the edge and I knew I wouldn’t last long. 

Just as I went to slip my fingers inside of my panties, my phone began buzzing when the ten minute timer went off. Feeling the world drop from around me, I sat up in bed to silence the timer and stared at the laptop screen where Bill was slumped in his chair trying to catch his breath. 

“I’ve been doing this for a while but that,” he motioned to his messy cock, “Was so fucking messy.

A red hue covered my entire face and my ears as I avoided my gaze from the screen for a moment. “I bet you say that to everyone” 

Bill reached for the tissues on his desk before he began cleaning himself off. “Well, it seems like our ten minutes are up. I hope it was everything you wanted.” 

Silence filled the air between us for a few beats as I tried to think of what to say. Do I thank him? Do I say see you later? Can’t wait to see the next video you post?

“Uh, yeah. Sure. Thank you for this, for everything you do. It’s always a nice thing to see. You’re a nice thing to see. Not your thing! I mean it’s nice, don’t get me wrong. But-.”

Smooth, Y/N. Real fucking smooth.

Bill let out a deep and hearty laugh, running a clean hand through his hair, and tucked himself back inside of his boxers. 

“You’re fucking adorable when you ramble. Have a good night, Y/N.”

When the screen went black, I let out a long breath and closed the laptop. This was the one and only time we would have a private moment like this, just the two of us. He’d continue to post videos, which I planned on watchling like I had before, but now I couldn’t push away the lingering feeling that it would be different now.  

I originally signed up for this thinking it would break me out of my shell, help me find out more about myself, sex wise, and what I was into for future partners. Hell, the few words I spoke to Bill was enough to fill the empty void in my life, even if it was for a few minutes. But now that it was over, I realized how much of a mistake it was. It wasn't the shame that usually followed after I watched porn but more so the disappointment in myself because the only way I could have a man's attention on me was if I paid for it. 

Clearing my throat, feeling the burn slowly rise, I snatched up my shirt and walked towards my bathroom; Bill’s words clinging to my sweaty skin. 

Oh fuck, Y/N. You see that? You see what you do to me?

[lepidopterium]

Video originally from Bisan Owda's Instagram page, posted on February 10th, 2025

Transcript:

Hi everyone, this is Bisan from Gaza. I am still alive, and it's been a while since the last time I posted.

I was just trying to realize the new reality. You know, there's no bombing, but a lot of restrictions in the movement. No supplies, no Internet, no electricity, massive destruction we need to deal with...yeah, and a lot of things.

But I have a lot of updates, [of course] besides the, you know, the bullshit about the German guy (Donald Trump) meeting the Polish occupier (Benjamin Netanyahu) discussing on a stolen land, the Turtle Island, that Gazans must flee their land so other random rich people can sit in.

Besides all of this, the updates are:

First, the Israeli army withdrew from Netzarim checkpoint. So, actually for 15 months they have been telling the world that this is a strategic step, and they will not withdraw from Netzarim crosspoint, and that they will allow the settlers, the Israeli settlers, to enter to the settlements in Gaza Strip using this road. But Subhanallah, Subhanallah, they withdrew and the landowners got back to their lands in the north and around Netzarim checkpoint. That's the first thing.

The second thing is that, OK, OK… [Like], the world happily celebrated the ceasefire, the moments of joy while Palestinians are returning, are claiming their homes, while we're crying, happiness tears, but now it's time to point again to to the main problem.

Actually, we are still in… We're still facing the same dangerous displacement and, let me say, forcibly immigration, actually. It's not a voluntary immigration because there is no rebuilding. There's not even tents for people to survive this winter, to survive the new getting back to their…to the north, to their areas, but… in other words, displacement, because no homes to get back to.

So we're still living this. It's really hard to survive this.

So now it's time, first, to put Israel, the Israeli regime, the Israeli occupation, accountable for all of this, to put the Polish guy (Benjamin Netanyahu) discussing the fleeing, the emptying of Gaza Strip, in jail because this is his place, because he's a war criminal. This is time to rebuild Gaza. This is time to enter Gaza by foreign workers, by [foreign] journalists, by the people of Gaza who evacuated during the genocide, and now until this moment, they cannot get back to Gaza again.

So this is, yeah, this is time. [Enough]. Enough cheering, enough happiness, because what happened and what's still happening is a genocide, OK? It's not a turn off-turn on mode. No, no, no. It's a genocide. And everyone must be accountable for what they have done.

The occupation, the international organizations, the occupation, the [genocide] supporters... Even the companies that supported the genocide, supported the weapons, supported the the Israeli regime economically. So it's time.

If it's not time now, then it will not be the time to put all of these people, to hold all of them responsible. And another thing, if we didn't do it now, then everything we have done as Palestinians, and you have done as people supporting the Palestinian people, is in vain. Everything is for nothing.

We don't want to just forget what what they have done, what the Israeli army has done, what the Israeli regime, ministers, supporters, what the U.S., what everyone [who] funded the genocide has done, okay?

It's time to hold them responsible to make sure that this will not happen again, and that Gaza and Palestine will just be free and will be rebuilt.

[Let's go], let's continue.

end of transcript

source from Bisan Owda's instagram page

Bisan supports Ela Elna Elak, an on the ground organization providing food, water, and other resources, including temporary classrooms, to rebuild the Gaza Strip.

You can support them and follow their work at this link.

You can follow their work on Instagram as well.

[toushindai]

oh. oh that shot of elmer is downright distressing, 10/10 well done 0/10 does not make me smile at all

[globalrebrand]

An Unexpected Evening

Warnings: Capitano x Reader, not sfw, mutual masturbation, slight coercion

A/N: A piece posted from my Ao3, a gift for @gojoidyll for their stubborn hearts series. Posted here after a request.

It had nearly been a month since your impromptu arranged marriage to Capitano. The first of the Lord Harbingers. He was a notoriously aloof and enigmatic figure, and thus far, married life had been far from standard. Not that it bothered you per se. You both agreed to have minimal expectations of one another. However, you weren’t entirely used to your independence being hampered by the proximity that marriage brought. You two now shared a home, a bed, and the occasional bath, and while you didn’t mind, sharing these important spaces made it difficult for you to have much-needed “me time,” especially in light of the fact you and your husband had yet to be intimate. 

It is late, and Capitano is in his office. You’d spent much of the afternoon helping to archive some older documents at his request, and while you were happy to help, you hadn’t been able to be very far from him since his return home last week. He’d often request your company for all manner of tasks and activities. It was evidence that your marriage was going far better than expected, considering it seemed that Capitano really enjoyed your presence or was putting in effort to acclimate to you, but all of this attention is also what has you feeling rather frustrated as of late. 

“Um, my lord. Is it alright if we sleep in separate quarters tonight?” It had taken you all night to gather the courage to make such a request, but you were pent up and desperate for release. 

“Why? Are you unwell?” Capitano's brows furrowed with concern as his hand came to his favorite perch on your chin, tilting your face this way and that as an impromptu medical examination. Gently, you gripped his wrist and pressed forward with your gambit. 

“No, I would. I just like a bit of alone time, just for this evening.”

Your husband's lips pursed. It was clear this was not an acceptable solution to him, so you offered a compromise.  

“I could even come back later in the night if that would be preferable.” 

Capitano's eyes narrowed, before a slight look of epiphany flashed across his features. “Wife, do you intend to touch yourself? 

“What! No, I-” You stuttered, embarrassed he would state things so plainly. Not that it was all too surprising based on what you knew of his character. 

“Do not lie to me. I am your husband, and you needn’t be coy with such matters.” He said sternly. Your eyes snapped to meet his gaze, knowing well that if you didn’t meet his eye, he would simply make you. 

“Yes.” You admitted, shoulders slumping with embarrassment but doing your best not to break eye contact. “I felt it would be rather inconsiderate to do so next to you while you slept.” That and you usually kept the light on to read whatever smut novel you liked from your collection. It was quite a challenge balancing a book, flipping pages while stimulating yourself, but you’d gotten the science down to an art. Capitano’s expression relaxes, and you feel a bit of hope that he’ll grant you what you desire. 

“Thank you for your consideration, wife.”

“Of course, I’ll be right back after-” You eagerly assure him, a light smile settling on your lips, but your excitement is interrupted, by your husband's thunderous voice. 

“You get ahead of yourself, wife.” He raises an eyebrow. “I will not permit you to sleep in the other chambers tonight.”

“Oh…alright.” You sigh. Perhaps he would at least allow you to bathe alone…balancing a book in the tub was tricky, but you’d managed before.

“But do not fret. You are permitted to masturbate in our shared quarters.” You cringe at his phrasing but continue on in desperate need of a bit of clarification on the logistics of exactly how you’ll get off…privately, of course. 

“…and where will you be, my lord?” You question.

“I shall be watching.” Capitano attempts to hide his grin as you gasp at his declaration, and the color drains from your face. 

“Oh no, that’s quite alright.” Touching your tender parts in front of your husband was out of the question. Besides a few kisses and bathing with each on the rare occasion he was home, you and Capitano were nowhere close to consummating your marriage as far as you were concerned, but even so, this ask to touch yourself, to bring yourself to completion in front of his steely eyes, felt like an even more intimate prospect than sex.

Capitano catches your flustered expression, eyes darting back and forth as his piercing stare silently demands your attention.

“While I am home, you will take your pleasure with me or not at all.” His countenance is stern. You instantly understand this is an important rule to follow if you want to stay in your husband's good graces. And to a certain point, you understand his perspective. He is seldom home, and to pleasure yourself without him would be cruel, but you had not yet broached actual intimacy…how would you manage such a task!?

“I promise it’s not an event that would be worth watching.” You try to insist. Eyes quietly pleading with him to just allow you to have your privacy. 

“I shall see for myself.” Capitano peered over your shoulder. “Are those your materials?’” He gestured to the book you had held behind you back. 

Your face threatened to burst into flames, but any further protest would likely only upset your husband, with your glance askance you quietly muttered “yes.”

“I can read it for you, so you may use both hands.”

“No, it’s ok!” You urge politely.

“Then you will read it aloud so I may hear what arouses you.” He suggests instead. 

Fuck. This was certainly not the anticipated or desired turn of events. 

The short novella you’d selected was an absolutely debauched tale about a menage-á-trois, where a married couple corrupts a young, innocent maiden who stays weekend at their country estate in Fontaine. Capitano would certainly think that you were a horribly lewd young woman if he heard this. 

“I’ll pick another selection-“ Capitano interrupts you by abruptly rising from his seat. 

“No, we’ve already wasted enough time on this matter tonight.” With that, Capitano grabbed your arm, his burly hand gently tugging you out of his office and up to your bedroom. If you didn’t know any better you would think he was rather eager to watch your toy with yourself—something you’d never done for an audience. 

Should you try to make it good for him? Being deliberately sexy was not something you were familiar with, any perceived sexiness in your past intimate encounters was just consequence of your desperate arousal. 

Ugh…you were regretting not just trying to figure out a workaround in the bath. Maybe if you’d perched your book on the end of the tub between the faucet and spout, you flip the pages with your toes? And just drape one foot over the side so your toes wouldn’t wet the pages? 

But then again, you’d ruled out that idea because Capitano’s tub was made for a man of his size and stature, the end of the tub was nearly a mile from the back rest-

“Wife. Make yourself comfortable.” Your husband drops your hand as he finished guiding you to your shared chambers. The opulent room is on the top floor of his manor, and while the wooden finishes are beautifully dark and glossed and the windows suitably grand and imposing, the furnishing in the room remained rather spare. 

Thanks to you there was now a plush rug, set of twin wardrobes and a perfectly situated  chaise, oriented to look across the dark forest to the nearby bay. Before the bedroom consisted of  just a bed, a rather cruel looking bearskin rug and one side table with every drawer neatly packed with a variety of state documents. But even with your additions in the dim candle light the room felt cavernous. It would take quite a bit more furniture to make things feel homey in your opinion. 

You glanced at Capitano as he pulled his night clothes from his armoire, without missing a beat you moved to do the same, but you struggled with the the back of your corset. Normally a lady would help you undress for bed but Capitano had seemingly been so impatient for this evenings decided course of events that you were now stuck fumbling with the laces on your back. 

You let out of slight groan as your nail bent crudely as you picked at ribbons, but before you could even register his advance Capitano was at your back. His hands surprisingly deft and focused as he worked you out of the piece of supportive clothing.  

“Thank you. “ You spoke softly but gasped in shock when your husband immediately went to pull you out of your dress and underdress, pulling both layers in one go, leaving you only in your stockings and garters. 

You were too shocked to utter any rebuttal, and it seemed that Capitano interpreted this as consent to strip you entirely.

You felt his course hands glide down your thigh to begin undoing your garter and pulling the stockings down your legs, but his thumb grazed too close to your bare cunt, and you leapt away from the contact. Entirely unprepared for the feeling of his coarse hand against your silky flesh. 

“It’s ok husband I’ll do this part, thank you for your assistance.” With no more than a grunt of  approval Capitano retreated to the bed as you undid your stockings and put them away. You cast a glance over your shoulder only to see your husband reclined on his side of the bed and quickly scanning a fresh stack of documents as he waited for you. Turning back to your wardrobe, you reach for a nightgown, but you are interrupted by your husband’s booming voice.

“You won’t need that until later now come.” He patted your side of the bed.

You hesitated at his command, a bit petrified at the prospect of laying next to Capitano naked, especially when he had the privilege of being clad in silk pants and a matching buttoned top which laid open against the firm planes of his chest and torso, dimly illuminated by lamp light. 

“Okay.” You muttered softly, resigning your yourself to the surprising turn of tonight's events. 

As you climbed into bed, Capitano handed you your book. He must have grabbed it while you were busy undressing. It was already open to the flap with the plot summary. Ugh, archons save you.  You gingerly took the book from him and placed it on you pillow. The poor novella was so accustomed to being used for this nightly ritual that its spine gave absolutely no resistance and fell prone, pages splayed against downy sheets. 

Your nerves were through the roof, so to calm yourself, you decided it would be best just to pretend your husband wasn’t there and that you were alone in your old dark bedroom in the attic, reading by candlelight. 

Your favorite position was a bit unconventional. Turning over in the bed, you got on all fours before sinking to your forearms and leaning back on your heels. Capitano let out a light groan as he watched you prostrate yourself, his hand slowly stroking against his thigh.

“Begin.” He encourages gruffly. 

Like you’ve done hundreds of times in your dark bedroom, you slide your hand under your body and touch your pussy lightly, letting your fingers slide through your folds to gather slickness. To your absolute surprise. You're completely soaked. Usually, you need to read a bit of the story and thumb yourself over your panties before your fingers are damp enough to glide through your plump lips, but tonight, even the creases of your thighs are slick with the evidence of your arousal. 

With a shaky breath, you begin. You skip to the best bits of the story, hoping you can get yourself to come quickly. 

You finger yourself through the plot, reading aloud all the while. Describing in vivid detail, Monsieur Guillaume Berteau secretly fingers the protagonist, Vivienne, in the bathroom. At the same time, his wife entertains the rest of their party guests, then steals her sopping panties, forcing her to parade around sans culotte for the remainder of the evening. 

But you get really close when, later, the couple seduces Vivienne into the swimming pool, and she shares a kiss with both husband and wife as she relishes being the center of their attention. Then Carmen guides Vivienne to spread her legs and welcome her husband's cock with all the enthusiasm of a baker gleefully spooning a first bite of something sweet into a child’s mouth.

You spare a glance at your husband. Capitano has pushed down his pants, leaving his groin exposed as he strokes himself to your words. Something about his arousal spurs you on, making you feel even hotter, even closer to reaching your peak. The headiness of your husband stimulating himself only inches away while you did the same felt empowering. 

Your cunt aches deliciously as your stroke between your folds even faster. Your awareness of Capitano’s arousal is riling you even more than the contents of the story at this point. You turn to look at your husband, and with just a  few more tight circles on your clit, you feel your whole pussy begin to spasm. You accidentally push the novella onto the floor. It's work done as your hole clenches around nothing as you start to cum, your fingers pressing firmly against your nub, working you through what is likely your strongest orgasm in recent memory. 

Capitano catches your eyes as his hand slides fluidly over his shaft while his thumb occasionally teases the head. His cheeks are flushed with pleasure, but his eyes are so frighteningly intense that your natural instinct is to turn away from his predatory gaze. Faintly, you hear him scoff, but your mind and body are too far gone to register what that could even mean. 

You shudder as you come, hips dropping, twitching, and grinding against the quilt of your bed to elongate your pleasure. With a few heaving breaths, you struggle to collect yourself. Eventually, you turn back to face Capitano, only to find him scowling. 

And still hard. 

“Turn over.” He instructs, not quite waiting for you to move of your own accord and flipping your hips. 

You spook slightly as he positions you on your back and spreads your legs. 

Is he going to fuck you!? The thought doesn’t scare you as much as it should, but this definitely wouldn’t be an ideal scenario for you to finally make love to your husband. 

By way of protest, you offer, “Should I get the bo-”

“No.” He cuts you off immediately. 

Capitano hooks your legs over him as he kneels in front of you, his thick thighs keeping your legs parted. 

You tense as he takes his member in hand and begins to stroke himself again. His eyes first trained on your cunt. He groans at the sight, and his other hand steadies itself on your thigh. 

“May I touch you?” He asks, only slightly breathless. 

Silently, you nod, and Capitano takes the invitation to slide his hand higher. He pushes aside the curtains of your hair that have fallen over your breast and takes a soft mound in hand, grasping it with surprising tenderness and swiping his thumb firmly over your stiff nipple. You whimper at his ministrations, and his eyes snap your face. His hand quickly follows his stare as he brings his rough palm to your cheek, not waiting for permission, and presses his thumb between your plush lips. Capitano licks part his lips to offer a command, but you’re already sucking on his thick digit before he can instruct you. 

Your husband hisses and tosses his head back. You take the cue glance down to his member just in time to see the firm planes of his abdomen contract, and with a few more tugs of shaft thick white seed starts to spurt out. Then it is your turn to cry out at the contact of the hot liquid splashing onto your clit and dribbling down between your swollen folds. 

Capitano’s eyes return to your body, his steely orbs now pinned to where his spend clings to your cunt lips. Your frame is tense, but with a few strokes of his strong palm against your side, you begin to relax. 

“Good girl.” he praises as he begins to lower himself over your body. You reach a hand between the two of you and gather some of the semen coating your pussy on your fingers. 

Without thinking, you bring a hand to your mouth and tentatively suck his seed from your digits, tasting the viscous fluid like an adolescent sipping wine for the first time, which was essentially what you were. You didn't hate it as you thought you would, your eyebrows raise as if to say 'not bad.'

“Who taught you such a whorish trick?” He growls, grabbing your wrist. A slight look of awe mixed with a flare of righteous anger.

“I um, just wanted to taste you. I was curious.” You mumble shyly. Honestly. This was the most intimate contact you've had with a man and every physical sensation became new grounds for exploration.  

Capitano glares at you skeptically for a moment before pulling you up into a kiss, far deeper than any you’d shared up to that point. His tongue seeks yours eagerly, his lips surprisingly plush against yours. When you part, he gingerly lays you down and settles atop you, pressing you into the mattress. He lets out an aching sigh into the crux of your shoulder. 

“Beautiful.” He decides.

And your heart races.

[stargirlfics]

So Much Goddamn Talkin’

Joel Miller x Black F!Reader

Summary: Sometimes Joel has to quiet the noise in your head. Luckily he’s quite good at that.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, post outbreak—Jackson era, mutual pining, friends to lovers vibe, established relationship, some mentions of anxiety, feelings and fluff, competency kink, soft dom!joel vibes, smut: oral (both receiving), fingering, soft intense PiV, unprotected sex, praise kink, daddy kink, come marking

*reader is written and described as black but anyone is welcome and encouraged to read!

Word Count: 6k

Currently obsessed with the thought of older, domestic Joel in a relationship and couldn’t stop myself from getting carried away! Enjoy!

It wasn’t like this was the first time you’d ever spoken to Joel.

On the contrary, what had started as a timid friendship became something else entirely with one spontaneous kiss that only the stars bore witness to that night. 

A silly dream of romance had landed right in your lap despite the crumbling of the old world behind you, taking everything with it and yet they took your breath away constantly, like a whirlwind, two grounding anchors were now tethered to your heart and their names were Joel and Ellie. 

So why were you so nervous? 

Sighing softly, you decided to blame it on the watchful glances Joel was giving you from across the yard, distracting you from the book you were reading. Eye contact with him could feel like the most searing heat, spreading like wildfire and at the same time the deepest depths of comfort. 

Not always being a man of many words, the things he could express with a simple look or the weight of a hand fascinated you, made you fall so dangerously hard and with a certainty you’d never felt before. 

Therefore you reasoned it simply couldn’t be your fault for being distracted and wanting him so much right now. Not when he made you feel this way without even having to try very hard. 

You just needed to take a moment to soak it all in, a blooming hope carried in on the breeze now that it was the beginning of spring in Jackson, the wildflowers and planted seeds starting to sprout, and the soil and your own souls teeming with life after so long spent just surviving. Now there was space for healing. 

Space for you to sit in the rocking chair Joel had worked on for months as a birthday present to you, or watch him get around to all the house projects (because once a contractor always a contractor) and strum out the prettiest chords on his guitar late in the evenings out on the porch. 

This felt more like living and you never wasted a moment to covet it. 

“You’re doing an awful lot of staring, Miller.” You looked up from the same page for the fifth time to catch him already looking your way. 

He blinked and put another nail into the wood post he was working on. 

“Hm, well damn right I am when you look the way you do. Now if I told you it’s been at least ten minutes since you’ve turned a page in that book you just might have to admit you’ve been starin’ too.” 

There was that little smirk you knew so well, dancing on his lips as if he knew just how much it would drive you crazy, the confirmation that you hadn’t been subtle in the slightest either. 

“Well, you’re out here giving me a show.” You make a point to turn to the next page then, looking away before he could throw you a look at the sass in your tone. 

He was right of course but what he didn’t know was that reading had started all this to begin with. 

The tattered novel had been a surprise find on a patrol one day and came with an unexpected eroticism, bits of dialogue and tantalizing imagery on the page you were stuck on making your mind wander and wonder. 

It’s why you felt a little nervous, caught off guard, suddenly wishing you were in bed and underneath him. 

He flashes his teeth at you, that smirk widening into a smile at your reply, his attention returning to the tools in his hands but your own continued to linger. Remembering. 

A few nights before in particular, when he was fucking into you so deep you had to bite the sheets to keep your moans down. You could still picture the definition of his arms as they cradled you and kept the headboard from colliding into the wall at the same time. 

Or how good you knew it felt when his broad palms swat across your ass, never failing to make you yield to him with such eagerness. 

You wished you could have your hands on him now, petting, feeling, showing him how much he was desired and cared for, how much you wanted to be filled by him, stretched out and aching with nothing but his name in your mind and on the tip of your tongue for hours.

Those stray thoughts had you turning back a page, leaning into the slow burning fire lit underneath you. 

Still unsure of how to initiate these desires, you didn’t want to distract him from something he’d been trying to get around to doing for awhile and at the same time felt a thrill at the idea of tugging him away, leading him to bed. 

With some hesitation you decided to bide your time for a bit longer, getting caught up in words that made you squirm imagining Joel doing and saying them. 

God, you weren’t sure how much more of this you could keep up, feeling the slick pooling of arousal between your thighs, the way you wanted to grind against nothing already. 

Joel finished repairing the post in no time and moved on to patch up a hole in the wall of the old shed, unaware of your internal dilemma. 

Eventually he gathered up his tools and stored them away, told you he was gonna head in and wash up but that you should keep relaxing out here for as long as you wanted and he’d get started on preparing things for dinner later. 

He left you with a kiss to your temple and the lingering familiarity of his touch. Handsome and sweet, he was going to be the death of you. 

Your mind felt too restless to keep sitting but you took him up on the suggestion just for awhile longer, trying to find the right way to move things in the direction you wanted. Family dinner wasn’t for another four hours and Ellie would be here a bit early but there was still time and you wanted to make the most of it. 

So you finished off another chapter and finally closed the novel, ushered inside with the echo of birdsongs and the steady thumping of your heart in your ribs. 

–

Joel had been so sure you hadn’t noticed his repeated stares as much as he’d noticed yours, bowing his head under the warm spray of the shower he could only think of how pretty you looked sitting there while he worked, fond of the fact that you liked to be next to him even if he was occupied.  

At first he couldn’t wrap his head around it and was almost too unnerved and bewildered by the fact that you took such an interest. 

Not at all used to someone touching him or looking at him like he was their entire world but that’s the only way you looked at him and as much as he had tried to be measured, tried not to get attached, he had come around to the idea of a relationship again. 

Loving people was frightening, something he felt he’d lost the ability to do properly after all these years, all the blood staining his hands and his conscience.

He had lost so much, seen too much death and feared he would only bring ruin, that he would lose her too, until you came along and turned everything he thought he knew on its head. 

Oh what secrets and stories of loss he had told you in the quiet of night, when old nightmares and new guilts collided and kept him from sleeping though that was much less these days now that you slept by his side every night. 

It had been a long time since he’d shared his bed and now it made him smile thinking of how natural it felt to wake up next to you, how easy it was to be around you, in the quiet moments he could see how the foundations you’d both built together had been made solid and steadfast over time. 

Silly to think how he fretted over ruining his friendship with you all that time ago, the way everyone was sick of him in the days leading up to when he would finally ask if you were interested because they all knew he had nothing to worry about and those worries in his head were swiftly put to rest when you tugged at his shirt to pull him closer and asked what had taken him so long.

He’d never forget that moment. 

Joel thought then that this was the moment he knew but quickly learned there would actually be a collection of moments–several times a day–that would remind him just how hooked on you he really was.

Like the times he showed his age and your sweet giggles and clever retorts always followed soon after, or how much he’s come to love the summertime because your brown skin basked in the sunlight is like art to him and he relishes every chance he gets to see you exactly as you are.

You brought a fullness and meaning to life here, encouraging him to slow down, to breathe. Taking care of one another made him stronger, nourished in ways he didn’t think were possible.  

“Honey.”

He grits the word out like he’s trying to call you up here, reminded of how lucky he felt to have you, to be so connected.

Watching you walk around batting your eyes acting like you don’t know that it’s the pretty, round edges of your nose, the smile lines, the plush of your hips and that glowing thing inside you beating in your chest that drives him crazy. 

Simply put, he was impressed by you. Constantly. You could handle yourself, skilled in your own right, already handy with weapons long before he was in your life and even more proficient now, deadly, with the things he’d taught you since. 

You were resourceful and calm in tricky situations or when quick medical training was needed and yet none of the carnage of infected and worse terrors ever changed the soft way you tended to people, almost like you couldn’t help but give a little extra love. 

And you had certainly spared many an ounce of that love for him; he’d forgotten how good it felt to smile this much over someone, can’t remember the last time he felt this way and definitely can’t remember the last time he’s seen his Ellie look at someone with such admiration either. 

Everything about you captured his attention and he was grateful to be able to live some sort of life again after so much heartache, after believing he could never have these kinds of things for himself. 

Those hands of his could scorch the Earth but you made him understand they could build things too, could show love and give pleasure just as well and just as fiercely. 

Sometimes he wasn’t sure if he was doing a good job of it. 

All he knew was that he never wanted to let you go and that was enough for him. 

–

When you venture into the bedroom you find him getting dressed, hair tousled from being towel dried, another wave of aching bloomed in your core as you thank yourself for having nudged him into letting it grow out a bit during the colder months. 

He looked so handsome doing nothing at all in particular you were sure you’d implode if you didn’t just come out with it, you just hope he wouldn’t mind doing some undressing again. 

“Hey, honey.” 

His voice was low and gentle, the familiar pet name in his usual smooth rasp made you stride forward, sending you surging into his arms so that you were squished against his chest. He tilted his head at you just slightly in question before you were pressing your lips to his.

Your mouths met so tenderly at first, fingertips bursting with a nervous energy as they reached for his shirt, grasping needily as you lost yourself in the slow ease of the way he kissed you back.

But a little spark of anxiety makes you tense, overthinking the kiss, feeling a little silly for just how turned on you were, how much he could see it written all over you, dripping quite literally in desperation even if you tried to reason with yourself that you knew there wasn’t anything wrong with that. 

“J-Joel…shit,” you whined and huffed through sloppy kisses, slowly finding yourself being walked backwards and held firm against the closest wall, “Oh…we don’t have to do this if-” 

“The hell are you goin’ on about?” Joel grumbled against the column of your neck and all ability to articulate went out the window.

Rationally you knew it was a pretty good indication he wasn’t bothered by the spontaneity from the way those strong hands of his were already underneath your shirt, pinching almost in the haste to grip your flesh but you were already overthinking and it held persistent. 

“Just…if you’re tired, I understand. We can wait till tonight. I don’t want you to feel obligated.” Your words were huffed out in nervous gasps, trying to will your knees not buckle when his scruff teased a swipe across your jaw. 

Joel pulled back then so you’d have to look at him, knowing the anxious flit of your lashes well. 

He knew what to watch for, patient when you needed reassurance that you were free to run wild with your desires, that he was never tired of having you bare and wrapped around him at any hour of the day but this was of no consequence, he’d make sure you knew where he stood.

Shaking his head, he doesn’t give you more than a moment to suck in a breath before his hands leave your waist to hold your face. 

“So much goddamn talkin’, sweetheart,” the words are a heavy growl against your lips in between heavier kisses, “Think I need to remind you of some things and put those thoughts out of your mind, yeah?” 

Your whole body felt hot, flushed with desire and aching for whatever he was going to do to remind you, nodding before your tongue could catch up with your agreeing thoughts. 

“Let me show you.” Joel caged you in against the wall, broad shoulders blocking everything else out. 

The steady rise and fall of his chest became your focal point and new arousal sparked at his attentiveness, so easily able to soothe, to make you unravel for him. 

“Please, I want you so much.” Your softly sighed plea turned into a whine when you were crushed to his chest again and this time there were no reservations to the embrace.

He was so good at this, making you burn for him so often you wondered sometimes how you were able to get anything done.

Hungry fingers pushed the collar of his flannel back, jeans already unbuttoned for your wandering attention to latch onto and he encouraged it with a push of his hips against yours. 

It’s an easy movement, dropping to your knees like you’ve done a hundred times before to see how just a simple kiss already had him stiff and straining against denim, teasing the kind of thickness you so badly wanted to fill your throat with. 

Your mouth watered, fingers outstretched to wrap around hot skin the moment his cock was free, unable to stop yourself now. Joel’s rough sigh following the steady pump of your hands made you glance up, meeting the intensity of his gaze and you held it there for a moment before your tongue was tasting him. 

“Look at you...already have it in your mouth like the quick learner you are,” He hissed through his teeth and you could feel where he throbs against the hollow of your cheek. 

Pride swells in your chest from the praise, knowing the tone of his voice meant the restrained edge of patience from letting you tease him back was slipping.

You could feel it in the flex of muscle underneath your hands where they’re braced on his thighs and you hoped he was proud watching your lips stretch around him, head bobbing nice and easy the way you know he liked it.

You’re unconcerned with being neat about it, slicking him up with your mouth and still trying to take him deeper, trying to take all of him in fact. 

You liked to flirt with dreams of your nose being pressed snug against Joel’s pelvis, wanted to feel him through your entire chest even if burned because there was sweetness in being deprived of oxygen like that. Call it an unwavering trust. 

You gave in to the feeling and kept your eyes focused upwards on him, trying to relax your jaw despite all the anticipation, happy to let him take control. 

“That’s it, that’s my girl. Stay just like that.” 

Listening is hardly even a thought when you’ve hung onto his every word, every movement, not minding the strain in your jaw as he rocked his hips into the wet heat of your mouth. Tongue swirling over his shaft, the thick head of him, desperate to earn it, to make him curse and growl out your name. 

The pressure of his fingers against your jaw and then the back of your head had you moaning, trying to speak while he fucks your mouth. 

“P-please, make me take it.” Your heart lept with each languid thrust of his hips sliding deep so he could feel the softening of your throat.

He’d give you whatever you asked for when you whimpered like that. 

Firm and sweet was his grip, raspy grunts and cursed out praises that flowed from his mouth even sweeter to your ears as your tongue slid over the soft, sensitive head of his cock and back down the length of him. 

You’re insatiable and any anxious thoughts still rattling around in your mind were quickly fading, replaced with his touch, his smell, his taste. The salty smear on your taste buds had you pressing your thighs together, craving relief.

“Good girl, yeah that’s it. Startin’ to understand now, sweetheart?” 

Your head tipped forward and the only response you could give was a heady moan, doing your best to nod knowing how much he’d like seeing that, the tears already welling along your lashes from the effort but you didn’t mind.

Knowing you made him tip his head back, a heavy palm braced against the wall above your head while he grunted out curses and filthier praise made you feel a dozen more times ravenous, encouraging him to keep going with sloppy, wet whimpers that were barely held back from your kiss swollen lips, stretched over every thick inch of him you could take. 

“Love watching you choke on it, honey. Fuck that's good, show me how much you can fit.” 

The sight of him is something you hoped to never forget, searching for and finding the slight snarl of his lips when the tip hits the back of your mouth and the flex of his biceps when you slide your tongue around to lick the underside of him. 

Joel could barely hold himself back, the urge to bury himself in your throat almost overwhelming but he wanted more than that, he wanted to reward you for listening so well, for how much you make him feel.  

It had been building all day and he knew you had to feel it too. He was loath to pull you off his cock, an ache through his chest at your desperate cries from the loss of contact but he was quick to remedy that with a searing kiss.  

You melt and are grateful your knees are already on the floor when your tongue meets his. It was so messy, hungry and neither of you cared. 

“Get on the bed. Go on, darlin’.” Joel’s voice sounded like warm syrup, covering you in adoring instruction, taking you and leading you where he knows is best. 

And god do you love when he was in this mood, nothing but a filthy edge to his affections. 

So you complied, ignoring the twinge in your tummy as you moved to the bed, sprawling out across sheets that smell like the both of you. 

He watches you get comfortable, loosening a few buttons and those jeans finally discarded on the floor before the distance is closed and he’s all over you. 

Every touch and caress was intentional as he undresses like he’s unwrapping a present, greedy for all of you but so passionate, so easily able to steal your breath at the same time, slowing down the tempo now that your legs have fallen open and there’s nothing left covering you. 

“Prettiest fuckin’ pussy…and she’s all mine.” Joel admires you for a moment, firm hands tickling your thighs while his thumbs circled the soft, sensitive junction of your thigh so close to where you wanted him most. 

The praise has you sighing breathlessly, peeking down to see the way he was looking at where you glisten, a sureness to his features that made you feel safe all while the clench of his jaw sent goosebumps across your arms.

You want to echo that he’s right but he doesn’t let you have the chance, a broad palm sliding down over the hair covering your mound, tugging at it gently before two thick fingers are swirling over your folds. 

Muscles jolting, you were rocking up into a touch that is so expert and familiar you are helpless against it.

“Joel, oh! That feels so good,” You’re panting, trying to catch your breath while your body responds to the tight circles he was rubbing against your clit.

“Yeah? ‘Can tell. You’re so slick, honey. Did suckin’ me off get you this worked up?” 

Your nod is pure reflex, hips grinding against his movements needing to chase the pleasure that was slowly oozing its way into your system. 

It’s only something he can do and he’s so steady, so thorough with you even as you squirm, those two fingers now stroking at your entrance eliciting sounds that sparked heat in your cheeks and spread down to your chest. 

You want to be as connected to him as you can, almost pleading for him to sink inside you already just desperate to feel completely surrounded by him. 

And Joel can’t seem to grasp enough of you under his hands, gone for the way you cling to him as he fits his middle finger inside, marveling at the way your walls take him in. 

He would never get over your strangled little cry at being stretched around his knuckles. 

“I asked a question, lemme hear you.” He spoke a little more loosely, his Texan drawl slightly heavier now. 

“Yes, yes,” you’re remembering yourself after a moment, “Fuck, yes I love sucking your dick.” 

The words are shameless, falling from your lips as a promise, a proclamation that you know he feels the weight of when he leans in to kiss you again, muffling your sounds while he slides a second finger in alongside the first that’s filling you so perfectly. 

Any concept of time or day is somewhere in the background muted, far away and suddenly you know you’re right where you should be, right where you belong, no traces of anxious thoughts lurking any longer.   

You could sink into these sensations now, enjoying how his kisses had moved to your neck exploring the sensitive spots and smiling against your skin when a new one is found because he loves feeling you clench around him when he does. 

It’s a gift to Joel, being able to draw out this kind of bliss in you. 

He wanted you to feel good, wanted to be the one to make your world shatter and then piece it back together again when you came down to the ground. 

Your eyes rolled shut when he plunged deeper, the pads of his fingers massaging at your walls in tandem with what his mouth was doing between the valley of your chest and further down to where your stomach fluttered. 

Somewhere in the haze of it all you realize his mouth was at your thighs, the white hot touch of his lips closing around a stretch of supple flesh bringing another wave of heat before he’s licking gently, bruising a mark into your skin that only he will know is there later. 

“I could spend hours like this, you know that? Could have you makin’ such a pretty mess all over my hands, all over our bed…and I know you love when I do this.” Joel husks before he’s finally tasting you properly. 

He starts at your clit, tongue flattened against you in anticipation of the inevitable flex of your legs, determined to keep you right where he wants and you’re already so far gone for him and this moment that your head tilts back against the pillows in a gasp. 

You feel almost weightless as you succumb to the pleasure and how he presses his mouth into your pussy like he wants to devour it. You’re sure you’d let him swallow you whole if it kept feeling like this. 

It’s not even a question really, you know you would, until you’re between sinew and bone and part of him forever. 

The plunge and curl of his fingers combined with the flick of his tongue had you panting, heat skittering across your body while your hips circled on their own accord.

“More! Please, Joel!” It’s a chant and a sob all rolled in one and you don’t care how needy it sounds. 

He keeps going, lapping at your sex greedily until you’re clenching down around his fingers and your toes are curling, crying out for him not to stop as you hurtle towards the cliff’s edge.

Skin dewy and alive, you decide that you don’t want to spare anything, not when he’s watching you as hungrily as he eats. 

You give him all your sounds, all your pleas, handing him your body and your heart at once. 

It’s amazing how it doesn’t take long for him to have you so close, right at the precipice, forgoing his own breaths to keep pace, to give you what your body is singing out for and when you finally let go, when your orgasm is finally coaxed from you he only presses his face into you further, drawing out every bit of pleasure he could in hopes of seeing that soft sweet look in your eyes afterwards.

“Attagirl, doin so well.” The words are a tether. 

He’d take care of you and that’s perhaps what made it so easy to surrender yourself to the passion of the moment knowing it would linger long after you were both spent. 

“Mmm you should see yourself right now,” Joel hummed, licking his lips while you attempted to catch your breath, “I always want you, don’t forget that yeah?” 

The last part catches your attention through the curtain of bliss, a serious shift in his tone telling you that he meant every word; you had no reason to second guess yourself over your desires and he was making sure of that. 

You nodded and sat up to reach for him, nevermind how you still trembled, your desire to be close to him was stronger than ever now. 

“I need you, Joel! Please, I’ve been so good…” Your words tug at him, you can tell they do by the way he ruts his hips against the edge of the bed. 

He crushed his mouth to yours before you could finish speaking, a much welcome relief, the burning flame inside you quelled for a moment. 

“Sure have been, honey and I think good girls should be rewarded.” He nipped at your ear, stealing your breath with his words. 

And even further when his flannel joined his jeans on the floor, climbing back onto the bed to follow the path of your body with his own, framing your limbs and wrapping you up in his embrace like you were made to fit against his chest. 

Your legs fall open again to wrap around his waist as he settles some of his weight down against your hips, just giving you a taste, calling back memories and reminding you, funnily enough, of that novel you were reading earlier. 

It felt like you were suddenly amongst the pages, chest heaving, your core tender and dripping as the man of your dreams was about to show you how much you’re his in every way.

Fairytales didn’t exist in this world but you felt like you were in one right now.

A giddy and timid smile spread across your face when Joel trailed warm hands down your body, catching on the bend of your elbow, wrapping around your ribcage to settle on the crest of your ass as he puts more of his weight down and uses his shoulders to nudge your legs apart and back towards your chest. 

The air felt thicker but your breathing seemed to even out, everything in your body thrumming with energy and an intensity neither of you could ignore any longer. 

Reaching down between your bodies you wrap a hand around where he’s thick and throbbing, guiding him closer with a soft smile, feeling how heavy he hangs in your hand, fingers pinching his skin when he rocks against your folds, the dirty sounds of his cock gliding through your stickiness. 

Joel groans against your forehead, holding himself steady as your hips buck into his touch, the tip pressing against your entrance and finally, slowly, sinking inside. 

Your moans are twined together in the quiet room. The stretch makes you keen, hands fumbling and grasping at strong shoulders, grateful he lets you have a moment to adjust. 

But it’s not long before you’re squirming again, whining for him to go deeper, to fill you to the hilt and he made good on his promises to do exactly that. 

He keeps your hips tilted up with the press of his palm underneath you, meeting little resistance the more he splits you open and it does something to him to see how much of a mess you are and he’s barely fucked you yet. 

“You can do it, know you can…there you go.” Joel pulls back to give a shallow thrust, lips brushing your temple and a hand coming up to cradle your cheek. 

The drag of his cock against your walls was everything, steady thrusts building up the tension coiling in your belly, fantasies from your novel melding with reality.

You felt like you were floating, your toes pointing when he changed the angle, brushing against a spot that had you crying out, ankles trying to lock around his torso.

Pressing heavier and faster with his hips however, your legs stay spread, the beginnings of a tremble rippling through your muscles now that he’s caught on. 

His pace remained measured and deep, just the way you were begging for it, and he’s content to watch your brows pinch, your jaw slacken, content to hear every gasp of air and pretty sobs  mixed in with your moans driving him crazy every time they slip from clenched teeth. 

“Shit, I love watching you take me like this.” He cooed. 

You can feel the heavy slap of his balls colliding with your ass when he pounds into you again and soon your hands slip from sweaty skin, scratching down his chest to pull at the sheets, so overwhelmed with feeling but never wanting it to stop.

“Daddy...Please, please keep going.”

You’re so caught up in the moment you don’t realize you’ve said it out loud, glassy eyes moving up from where you were trying to peek between your bodies to meet Joel’s careful gaze, only half registering how they widen for a moment. 

He’s taken aback for just a second, almost questioning whether he heard it correctly but something’s been knocked loose within him now, his cock twitching from the reverence and adoration in your tone, bestowing him with a title he suddenly wanted to earn. 

Joel was a grown man and had lived through many hells to be able to have you bare and underneath him like this, he reasoned he deserved to have a little fun in the bedroom especially when he hadn’t expected to be so affected.

“Ah so that’s what you’ve been reading in that book of yours. Just wanted Daddy to fuck you all day is that it, sweetheart? Yeah, I gotcha now.” He rasped low against the crook of your neck and started to fuck you harder. 

His grip on you was less gentle but still just as passionate, the force of his thrusts stealing your ability to think properly. He wanted to make you say it again. 

The burning in your cheeks only subsided a little at his acceptance, more heat flooding you from head to toe at being called out, wondering how he knew it was something you read in your novel, if it had been that obvious. 

It didn’t matter now, you see where his dark eyes have narrowed, ready to make you come again with this newfound discovery. 

So you try and be good for him while you moan and clench down on his length, your pussy swollen and aching but tingling for everything he could give you, “Yes, daddy! Just…oh! I couldn’t help it. Thank you, daddy!” 

He knows you’re close, a familiar frenzy to your breathing, the slick wet sounds between your legs, it’s everything he dreams of and more, torn between watching your face as you come or watching the way his cock shines with your release. 

With a few more strokes and the soft rubbing of his thumb against your clit you shatter, face pressing against the meat of his shoulder while you ride it out, feeling weightless in his embrace. 

It makes you giggle when you can’t keep your head up any longer, neck lolling back against the pillow where he cradles your head in his hands, keeping you in place as he finds his own release swiftly after yours, pulling out to cover your puffy folds in hot ropes of his come. 

You would never tire of being made a mess, even if you knew you’d be sore tomorrow, nothing quite ever beat the feeling of being fucked out like the way Joel could have you.

“Baby…” you’re breathless and bursting with emotion, “Thank you for that. Think I really needed it,” You laugh against his chest and sigh.

You’re almost too nervous still to look at him after your slip of the tongue but you know deep down there’s nothing you have to be worried about. 

“Of course, honey. Anytime, and I mean that.” 

–

You’re not sure how much time has passed, drifting in and out of a dreamy slumber still cradled against Joel, only now you realize you’ve been cleaned up and tucked under the covers but you don’t mind, you know you can simply lay here and soak it all in, he would take care of you. 

Racing thoughts no longer buzz around in your head, all you can feel and see is Joel and you smile to yourself knowing the intimacy you just shared still lingered in your body, love etched in your fingertips where they’re laced in his hand against his stomach. 

His lips press against your temple and you close your eyes again letting yourself be swept away with the sweet drawl of an “I love you.” in your ears and the gentle evening sun warming you both.

—

A/N: This was actually lowkey inspired by that scene where Joel is leading Ellie, Henry and Sam down the street after they come out of the tunnels and Joel just shakes his head and goes “so much goddamn talkin’.’ while looking like an annoyed father because they’re all being too loud…got very hung up on that bit of dialogue and could not let it go so here we are!

Also hope I added the daddy kink bit here in tastefully, it’s a fave of mine and I struggled a bit to think of how to incorporate it in a way that felt real for Joel so I only just dipped my toe in with it here but I hope you liked it! 👀

Thank you for reading <3

some no pressure tags! 💫 @eupheme @ozarkthedog @moreofem @tinydramatist @black-fairy3 @federalchickensoup @fluffyprettykitty @persona-enthusiast @moonstruksandco @ghotifishreads @communism-bitches

[cozage]

Coza!! Congrats on your 2K followers. 🥳🎉🥂

I like your smuts and I’m having a hard time choosing what scenarios to request!! I’m so excited for this event you have no idea. May I request for the Option 1? Reaction of Luffy+ Sanji+ Zoro+ Law+ Eustass Kid + Killer to you reading smuts/hentai please? Thank you!!

A/N: Hi :) I wasn't able to do everyone, but I did a few! Minors…OUT! go on! Get! Scram! Also I won’t lie Zoro’s is based loosely off of the funniest comic I’ve seen in my life that stays living rent free in my head Characters: gn reader x Luffy, Sanji, Zoro, Law Cw: smut and suggestive, NO MINORS ALLOWED ON THIS POST PLS GO AWAY Total word count: 900

Scandalous Reading

Luffy

Luffy’s head rested on your shoulder, his eyes lazily skimming the page that you were reading. 

“Woah!” Luffy grabbed the book out of your hand and put it up to his face to get a better view of the words. “I didn’t even know this was possible!”

“Luffy!” You reached for the book, but he held it just out of your reach, still reading. 

“I didn’t even think about trying-”

“Luffy! Give it back!”

His wide eyes peered over the pages, but he refused to hand it back to you. “Do you like this stuff?”

“I mean-I don’t-I just-” Your face turned beet red at the implication. “It’s just written really well!”

He gave you a mischievous grin and took off back toward his room, book in tow. “Come on!” he called. “I want to see if it really can work this way!”

Oh, you were in for a rough night.

Sanji

“My love, did you-” Sanji stopped, his eyes fixated on the book cover you were reading.

“Sanji?” you prompted, trying to get his attention.

“I know that author,” he mumbled, mostly to himself. “Where do I know that-”

“You probably don’t!” You slammed your book shut and shoved it behind your back. “What did you need?”

“Oh! Right! Would you like gelato or ice cream?”

“Surprise me!” you said, trying to get his mind off the book. “I’m sure whatever you make will be amazing!”

Sanji was in the kitchen when he finally placed it, and he almost collapsed from the realization of what he had caught you reading.

He brought you out the finest gelato he had ever made and set it down next to you. “So, my love,” he said, trying not to sound too excited. “How is your book?”

“It’s good,” you said. You set it down to grab your gelato, and Sanji lunged for it. 

He skimmed the pages, confirming his suspicion, and tried his hardest not to pass out from the filth his eyes found. “You’re reading book porn!” he whispered sharply. “You always get on me for staring at-”

“That’s not the same,” you hissed. “These aren’t real people! It’s different!”

“It is not!”

“What am I supposed to do!?” you snapped back, glaring at him. “You’re busy in the kitchen, I have to entertain myself somehow during the day!”

Oh, that was a bad way of wording things, because the second the words were out, Sanji’s eyes lit up. “Are you telling me you want to do something like this? Because I would love nothing more than to treat you like the royalty I know you are.”

Zoro

“What are you reading?” Zoro asked, looking at your book cover. 

“A book.” You tilted the book slightly to shield him from seeing any of the words.

“What’s it about?” He seemed strangely interested in the cover. “Swordmaking?”

Oh right, there was a sword on the front cover of the book. No wonder he was so interested in it. 

“It’s called Swords and Snakes. It’s a book about…royalty, love, and betrayal.”

He scrunched his face in disgust and went back to resting his eyes. “Not really my kind of book.”

You grinned. "No, I don't think it is." You set your book down and stood up. “Do you want anything? I’m going to go get a snack.”

“Riceballs.”

You nodded and went to the kitchen to grab food. What you hadn’t been expecting was returning to Zoro staring wide-eyed at the page you had dog-earred. 

He looked up at you in amusement, smirking at your anxious body language. “You weren’t joking about love and betrayal.”

“That’s mine!”

“More like love-making and betrayal,” he mumbled. “I didn’t know they wrote books like this. I didn’t know you would read books like this.”

“Well to be fair-” you snatched the book from his hands. “I didn’t know you could read at all!”

“Don’t be too bratty now,” he teased. “Or I’ll give you the same treatment that knight gave the princess.”

Law

You had only left your book laying on the bedside table for a minute while you ran to the bathroom. But damn that Trafalgar Law, he was so nosey. 

“Quite the fantasy world you read about,” he hummed as you walked back into the room.

“What do you-” your words died in your throat, seeing him flip through the pages. “Oh, that.” You gave a nervous laugh, striding back over to your bed. 

“Yes, this.” He slapped the book shut, peering up at you with such a predatory and lustful look that you almost took a step backward. 

“I just picked it up at the last bookstore we went to,” you lied. “I don’t even know what it’s about.”

“Right,” he said, clearly not believing you. 

He handed the book back to you, and you quickly grabbed it. “Thanks,” you whispered, unable to meet his eyes. 

“Sure.” He stood to take his leave, heading back to the lab. He stopped on his way out, leaning in to whisper in your ear. 

“If you ever want to make it a reality, all you have to do is ask.”

[ohcorny]

so! it's been a year since i put never satisfied on hiatus, and 9 years since i started posting it, and rather than make you read everything if all you want to know is "when's it coming back?" the answer is still: don't know! but the answer has also shifted closer to "it isn't" the longer i've spent on break, and i think it's worth being up front about that.

i talked about it a little here a few weeks ago, but the long and short of it is that between taking on better paying work, writing better stories, and looking back at what i'd already done for never satisfied... i just don't think i want to continue it? the year off has been incredibly good for my mental health, and i can't see myself wanting to go back after the two-three years still ahead of me on my current project. that's not to say i never want to return to the characters or the concept, but if i did, i imagine it would be with something completely new, in a different form. after all, i started this comic when i was 21 years old, a lesbian, and a sophomore in college. i am now just shy of 30, a bi man, and overall a completely different person than i was, back when i was writing without a plan and putting all of my insecurities into the comic--insecurities i don't identify with anymore. lord i'm closer to rothart's age than i am to lucy's. hate that

anyway. you have all been extraordinarily kind for following never satisfied for as long as you have, for supporting it as much as you have, and being as patient as you have. whatever form never satisfied takes in the future (god willing, with a more cohesive story structure and A PLAN FOR THE ENDING, WHICH BY THE WAY I NEVER, EVER HAD) i hope to see you there!

in the meantime, as an update on where i'm at with the thing that made me stop working on NS: i finished it! all the pages for Hunger's Bite (if you remember it with a different title: no you don't) have been turned in and now it's just revisions and covers and then........ waiting a year until it can come out. because that's how it is in traditionally published graphic novels! nothing releases for a full year after you finished it! and you're even getting it earlier than was originally planned, because i'm a creature and finished it like three months ahead of schedule. i've also already started thumbnailing the sequel book which i can't talk about whatsoever and will now be working on that for the next two years and then HOPEFULLY the first book will have done well enough that i can sell a third! so you better buy it when it comes out next february!!!!!!

to ease you all into it, i wanted to do a little crossover to introduce the main characters. we have emery, whose design is fully and unintentionally just Seiji Again down to his color palette (but seiji would bully him if they met. like so hard. he's a wimp). then we have neeta, a girl who dreams of travel and cares deeply about worker's rights, and wick, a vampire agent investigating the mysterious and sinister new owner of the 1910s ocean liner emery and neeta call home. he's also gay. but sorry lucy, you aren't his type. you're not mean enough.

the best place to keep up with me these days is probably here, as this first book gets closer to release, i will probably be posting about it a lot. and i will certainly post about it here when there's an official release date and cover reveal! i hope you'll go read it. i really think if you liked never satisfied and its themes, you'll like hunger's bite!

thank you again for reading!!

[buckysegan]

With all my gratitude, hope and returned adoration - Part Two

Summary: John writes back to his friend from home and we hear from our friend across the way. John x She. Word Count: 1.2k. A/N: we are def rolling with some historical inaccuracies in regards to letters here but sue me. he deserves it. pstttt also should we name her? do you all want to send me random john prompts. my baby isn't ok and i'm not ok. Part one linked here. Part three linked here.

John was sure he wasn't sweating a normal amount as he looked down at the piece of paper that Buck had offered him. It had taken two whole days of questions from the man for Bucky to even decide that he was going to reply. He’d been offered the hope, what more could he ask of her. Could he ask more? There had been a return address on the letter which Buck had insisted was there for a reason and she had opened herself out for a reply from him but the Major couldn’t help but be unsure.

It was an odd feeling for him, before the war he hadn't been unsure of anything and since he’d been here? Well he hadn’t been sober enough to doubt anything that he had done. These days though Bucky felt like he doubted every single thing. The thing was, he wasn't sure that he could afford to doubt this, to look past the life line that had been offered to him. Not when each day he could feel his mind draw a little further toward the edge no matter how much he or Buck tried to keep it in check.

With a sigh he pulled the pen into his hand, eyes locked on the page for a moment before he began to scrawl.

Dear Friend From Home 

You’re gunna have to forgive me because I ain’t going to be as good as this as you are. I’ve written so many letters this war you would think that I’d have gotten a handle on it by now but I find myself at a loss when it comes to what to say to you. 

I think the first thing I got to say is thank you. I don’t know if the words I can put on paper are ever going to really tell you how much your letter meant to me. See I was a certain type of man that didn’t think much to pen pals. I figured that I’d be ok, you know, that with my boys I’d have what I needed to make it through the hard days but watching the letters for everyone else roll in has been harder than I thought it might. 

There are things that I can’t tell you cause I don’t know who might read these letters, and where I am I can’t get you no picture but I can tell you that my favorite dish is a meat and potato pie, simple I know but really I’m a simple hearty kind of guy. What makes me laugh, you asked? That’s kind of simple for me too, just good company, myself sometimes, Buck, he’s my best friend, he makes me laugh a lot. What makes you laugh? I’d like to know that. 

May I know where you are? I know that might be a big ask but you said I could ask anything I know and if I get out of here…we get some leave, I’d like to know where I need to ask for me leave to be. Then I can show you what I sound and look like and know that in return. 

If this letter doesn’t reach you for a while, know you’ve been with me the whole time. 

With all my gratitude, hope and returned adoration

Major John Egan 

“What if she doesn’t get it?” He found himself questioning quietly to Buck as he handed over the letter to make it out of camp. His best friend settled him with a soft look, one that always made Bucky feel like he had some worldly knowledge the rest of them had missed out on, that assured him everything was going to be alright. “You just gotta have hope she will John, she’ll get it.” 

With a huff Bucky nodded, pulling his hat on as he watched his letter vanish from his view all together. “Alright well I can’t sit here and wonder, I’m off to play baseball or something.”

The letter that Bucky had so carefully handed over changed hands many more times, some fingers as rough as the pilots, some dirtier, some softer, but the last set of fingers to slide the letter from her post box had perfectly manicured fingers. Her flicking of her post was greedy as she looked for the same thing that she had every day since she’d posted her own letter.

At first, her hopes of finding what she was looking for had been unrealistic; she knew that, it hadn’t even been long enough for her letter to be received, let alone for him to get one back to her, then the other girls at the centre, they’d gotten letters back, notes, anything. That was when she had allowed her hope to return, for a moment at least. Days without anything had turned into weeks and then weeks had turned into months. Anything could have happened, that was what she tried to tell herself, he might not have gotten her letter, he might have thought it was weird and had chosen not to reply. That thought was enough to miff her, he could have at least said thank you. When she had decided no one could be that mean, her diminishing hope had turned to worry, what if he hadn't been able to receive her letter.

Flicking through each white envelope today, she almost missed it, how she didn't know because it was clearly different from the rest of them, maybe she hadn't wanted to look. "Not…" Trailing off she flicked back to the second to last letter, her eyes taking in the scrawling of her address, her eyes checking the postage before she was taring inside. "It's here, he wrote it's here." She called through the halls to the other girls that she lived with, all of which had been holding their breath with her. "Oh god I can't read it, what if he's telling me I was weird!" She cried, thrusting the unopened letter into the hands of her eager friend.

"Don't be dramatic, he's going to be throwing down his gratitude at you being a doll, you should have attached a picture with it I told you!" Meg beamed easily back at her, the same sense of reservation missing from her actions as she tore into the letter so that it could be read to the group. "Dear Friend From Home. You’re gunna have to forgive me because I ain’t going to be as good as this as you are. I’ve written so many letters this war you would think that I’d have gotten a handle on it by now but I find myself at a loss when it comes to what to say to you." That was enough, pulling the letter from Megs hands she was quick to scramble away from the group once more, locking herself into her room as re-read the opening line herself, the tears in her eyes only welling even further as she continued.

An ache in her chest formed as she read the words once more, taking in each strike of his pen where he had corrected himself or smudge from whatever he'd had on his fingers. The state of the letter was enough to make her wonder, but at least for now, she knew her friend was ok. He was alive, and he wanted to hear more from her. It couldn't have been normal, to feel this level of emotion for a man that she had never met, but she had found herself here regardless and in the middle of so much uncertainty, she wasn't going to question the pull she felt across the way to England.

Pushing from her bed she moved to her desk, paper pulled from her stationary pot, the quicker she could post this the quicker it could get to him.

"Dear Major Egan,

I'm delighted to hear I'm with you. I hope you know, that you've been with me too…"

[hoesoflamentation]

𝖒𝖔𝖗𝖊 𝖙𝖔 𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊 𝖔𝖓 // 𝖍𝖆𝖎𝖐𝖞𝖚𝖚 𝖝 𝖈𝖍𝖚𝖇𝖇𝖞!𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗 // 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI //

feat !! tsukishima kei, hinata shoyo, kuroo tetsuro, iwaizumi hajime

warnings !! reader is afab & written as gn as possible but please proceed with caution. individual warnings are listed for each blorbo. leave a shitty, fatphobic comment only if you want to be publicly shamed to all 1600 of my followers <3

a/n: hello fellow sluts, your overlord has returned. as a fellow chubby!reader, i am so happy & heartened that this won the poll. and don't think that my choice of boys was pointed at all; it was literally just self-indulgence... every hq boy would love the hell out of a chubby!reader >:(

// 𝖓𝖔 𝖙𝖔𝖚𝖈𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖌 //

FEAT. TSUKISHIMA

warnings !! cam!reader/sex work, toys (on reader), just a lot of jacking off tbh

…is bored, so bored, of all the models who look the same, that the weekend he finds your Onlyfans page, he locks himself in his room and dedicates his weekend to watching you pound your plump pussy with every toy in your arsenal. For nearly 48 hours, he milks himself to your videos, until the craving becomes too intense to resist: You’re advertising a special livestream for your highest-paying fans, and Tsukishima knows he has to be one of them. His hand is still wrapped around his veiny shaft as he hastily types in his credit card information to send you an exorbitant tip. The day of the livestream, Tsukishima promises himself he will only look, not touch… but the sound of your fucked-out face whining “Thank you for the tip, Kei!” leaves him pumping his throbbing cock until it’s spurting hot, creamy white all over his stomach. Soon, Tsukishima is typing into the chat with his one free hand: "I'll give you $200 to say that again."

// 𝖑𝖔𝖘𝖙 𝖆𝖎𝖗 //

FEAT. HINATA

warnings !! chubbychaser!hinata, face riding, alcohol use

…isn’t one for locker room talk, but it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to notice the particularities of his taste. Shoyo Hinata can’t help it if he fantasizes about spending hours sandwiched between a pair of thick thighs, too pussy drunk to even consider coming up for air. So, when he meets you out at the bar where MSBY is having their post-game celebration, his rowdy teammates notice that you’re Hinata’s type even before he does. “That one’s yours, Shoyo!” one player calls out. “Yeah, they got Shoyo's name written all over them!” Hinata, of course, blushes and apologizes for their behavior, offering to buy you a drink. Little did he realize that those very same drinks would lead to him slipping a hotel key into your back pocket and stuffing his face in your needy cunt. You’re nervous to ride his tongue at first, worried he’ll suffocate beneath you… but Hinata laps up your juices so eagerly that soon, you’re the one who’s forgotten how to breathe.

// 𝖕𝖗𝖊𝖙𝖙𝖞 𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘 //

FEAT. KUROO

warnings !! possessive!kuroo, established relationship, lingerie, accidental exhibitionism (if that's what you call it lol)

…will listen to you talk for hours about anything on your mind, so you wouldn’t blame him for zoning out every once in awhile. Hence why you didn’t expect him to remember the time you complained about the difficulty of finding lingerie in your size at the store. The next thing you know, so many packages are arriving outside your apartment that the doorman calls upstairs and asks you to stop ordering things. Little does he know that it’s your boyfriend Tetsuro showering you in pretty little matching sets from expensive specialty stores you would normally never be able to afford. To thank him, you put on the number you know he’ll love most — a lacy thonged bodysuit in lipstick red — and video call him at the office. “So, Tetsu, what do you think?” you ask, striking a flirty pose that shows off all your best assets. Kuroo blushes… and you quickly realize why, as his coworkers cat call and wolf whistle at your display from off screen. “Baby, you know I love it... but next time, make sure I’m the only one who gets to see you!”

// 𝖌𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖙 𝖋𝖔𝖗𝖒 //

FEAT. IWAIZUMI

warnings !! iwa-chan the ass man, rimming (mention), spanking (mention)

…has worked out with some of Japan’s most talented athletes, but none of them ever made him as nervous as his personal training sessions with you. Because how is he supposed to tell you, his childhood best friend, that ever since he saw the way you stretched out those leggings while you were doing deadlifts, he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about you? To stop imagining your bare ass cheeks jiggling in his face as he eagerly traces circles around your rim with his tongue? “One… two… three…” Your voice strains as you count reps. Meanwhile, Iwaizumi feels beads of sweat forming on his forehead, and not from the workout. With every squat, your perfect ass comes so close he can almost touch it. It’s all he can do not to let spotting you turn into spanking you. By the end of your reps, he’s gotten so desperate that his cock twitches just from you smiling at him. “Like what you see, Haji?” you tease. Iwaizumi clears his throat, turning to hide his hard-on against the climbing wall. “Y-yeah. Great form, Y/n.”

[spectoo]

tuna mayo ! miya osamu

chapter two – another atsumu?

wc 1419

MDNI.

if you'd like to join the taglist , please fill out this form !

15:11.

You were currently 7 hours and 11 minutes into your 8 hour shift. 

Earlier in the day, Miya Atsumu went on the MSBY Black Jackals official Instagram account (with over 7 million followers, mind you), and posted a picture of a meme of Seong Gi-hun on the account's story.

Even though it was only up for 3 minutes, a few news pages, including TMZ Japan, posted about it on their accounts, basically making fun of the whole ordeal.

MSBY’s social media supervisor, Suzuki Dai, called an emergency meeting for everybody who worked in public relations to “talk” about this situation.

Earlier, 08:29.

You, and your coworkers were all sitting in your respective chairs, with a white table in the middle. “Who even let this happen?! Do you all not understand how embarrassing this is for us, as a professional volleyball team?!?!” 

You gave one of your coworkers, Yamamoto Akane, a ‘whatthefuck’ look, but that didn’t go unnoticed by Suzuki. “Is there something funny, [L/N]?!” Returning your focus to him, you respond with a shrug, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, don’t act dumb! I saw you give a look to Yamamoto!” He retorted. “If you want to say something, then say it now.” 

You already knew this was going to be a long day, and this yelling just wasn’t helping anything.

“What’s your deal, Suzuki? Can you stop aiming your anger at me?” You hissed back, crossing your arms. “Everybody who’s talking about this situation isn't insulting our professionalism. If anything, it’s making our social media more popular.”

He put both of his hands on his desk. “I don’t CARE if it’s making us popular, we are still getting made fun of!” 

You raised an eyebrow, and tilted your head a little bit to the right. “You– huh?” You pause for a second. “You don’t care if it’s making us–” You cut yourself off, and leaned back in your seat. 

You knew better than to continue a conversation with stupid person.

Present time.

‘Ramen… no. Maybe yakisoba?’ You were in the middle of thought. Specifically about what to eat when your shift ends.

After the whole ordeal that happened, plus an apology, MSBY’s instagram account was up 15 thousand followers, which was very good in terms of gaining new fans. This caused you to become pretty carefree, well at least for the time being.

ding!

You’re snapped out of your thoughts as you pick up your phone and see who texted you.

You put your phone down, and wondered. ‘Am I even craving onigiri? … There’s another Atsumu?’ You visibly cringed.

15:59.

As you were walking to the employee room to clock out, you quickly texted Atsumu to tell him you’re on your way.

After swiping your badge, you headed outside and got in your car, letting out a really big sigh of relief. Today wasn’t the best day, but there’s always worse. 

After a few moments of silence, you picked your phone up, and quickly went on Atsumu’s Instagram to see what his brother looked like. 

Curiosity began to kill the cat. 

You slid through some of his posts, containing MSBY pics, sponsorships, and finally, a picture of him and his brother from 8 months ago.

As you inspected that specific picture, you began to feel kind of… weird.

The picture was clearly taken after an MSBY game, with sweaty Atsumu on the left, and his brother, wearing a matching jersey, on the right. They were both smiling, while giving each other a side hug.

They looked extremely similar, but different at the same time. You just couldn’t put your finger on it. 

You avert your eyes to your carplay screen.

16:05.

“Woops.” you muttered to yourself as you began typing in the directions to Onigiri Miya.

16:18.

You pull into the plaza where Onigiri Miya is located, and since the lunch rush was over, it wasn’t terribly crowded inside the shop. As you get closer to the store, you can see Atsumu and Hinata sitting at a table by the window, with the ginger wearing a white beanie, and the blondie wearing a brown snapback, backwards.

You park in a spot almost directly in front of the store, catching the attention of your friends. They begin to wave to you, and you can see Atsumu turn his head towards the kitchen, probably yelling something to someone.

As you exit your car and lock it, you immediately feel a sense of nervousness. Why were you feeling this? Was it due to being in a new place? Was it because you were about to meet Atsumu’s brother?

You quickly composed yourself and walked inside the door.

“Waddup, shawty?” Atsumu smiled as he got up from his chair, along with Hinata, and dapped you up.

“Hey, [L/N], how are you feeling?” Hinata gave you a side hug.

You let out a small giggle. “I told you earlier that I was fine, right? That basically means I’m also doing fine now.”

“Yeah, I know, but I felt b–” “‘SAMU! COME HERE AND MEET MY FRIEND!” Atsumu interrupted, turning his head to the kitchen once more. The small number of customers that were inside turned to your group, with weird looks.

As Atsumu grabbed both of your shoulders and dragged you to the counter, you gave Hinata an apologetic look, while he quickly dismissed it with a small wave.

“That was rude.” You pointed out to Atsumu, as he put an arm around your shoulder. He responded with a shrug. “‘SA–” 

“‘Tsumu, stop. You’re gonna scare my customers away.”

You turn your head to see a tall, broad man walking towards the both of you. He was wearing a black compression shirt with a small onigiri symbol in the corner, black joggers, a gold waist apron, and a black baseball cap.

You took one look at this man, and immediately thought: ‘Oh. My. God.’ On the outside, you looked completely normal, just watching as Osamu walked towards you. On the inside, you’re lowkey kinda not really but in a way freaking the fuck out.

“Took ya long enough, damn it.” Atsumu grumbled to his twin as you were snapped out of your thoughts.

“Did ya forget I have a business ta’ run?” Osamu counters. After a small scoff was released, he averted his eyes to meet yours.

That’s when all of Osamu’s thoughts instantly shut down. This had never happened to him before. Of course he thinks some girls are very good looking, but he thought you were one of the prettiest girls he’s ever seen in his life. 

His face somewhat softens as the both of you stare at each other with that same look in your eyes.

“Man, I don’t care!” Atsumu groans. “This is one of my friends–”

“I can introduce myself, Atsumu.” You say calmly as you remove his arm from your shoulder. You can still feel the gaze of the other Miya on you.

“I’m [Y/N] [L/N], nice to meet you.” You say as you bow politely. As you look up from the bow, you see him bowing to you, while his lips curve into a very small smile.

“Miya Osamu, nice to meet ya as well.”

As you both stand up straight, you catch a glimpse of Atsumu giving you a look. He knows how you act when you meet a really cute boy — relaxed, and (in your own words) as ‘cool as a cucumber.’

You avert your eyes to the menu, as both brothers continue to keep their eyes on you. “So uh…” You nudge Atsumu with a small mischievous grin growing, “You’re still paying for me, right?”

“Yep, whatcha’ gonna get?” he says, not catching on with what you’re about to do.

‘Umeboshi, Takana, Salmon… ah-ha.’

You look back at Osamu. “Ten tuna mayo onigiri, please.”

While Osamu raises his eyebrow in curiosity, Atsumu gives you one of the most disgusted looks ever. “What the HELL are ya gonna do with ten onigiri?!” He yells.

As you look back to Atsumu, you let out a sigh. “You’re right, my bad.” When you look over at Osamu again, you give him your updated order. “Fifteen tuna mayo onigiri, please.”

“FIFTEEN–” Atsumu stops himself from speaking as he begins to walk away from the register, with hands over his mouth and wide eyes. As you begin to laugh, you can hear Osamu let out a few small chuckles.

Damn, even his laugh was attractive.

authors notes !

𐙚 osamu is so sexy like literalllyyyy imagine him wearing a compression shirt , like wow . mind blown .

𐙚 reblogs are always appreciated 🫶🏼

𐙚 hope you enjoyed the chapter , reader-chan !

[jomiddlemarch]

cheating a person of their premeditated contempt

“Might I make a confession?” Elizabeth said.

A husband of nearly a year, Fitzwilliam Darcy considered himself an expert in the subject of his wife, her predilections and foibles, her tone of voice and how it correlated to her setting, nuances and subtleties that he had missed entirely when she had been merely Miss Elizabeth Bennet of Longbourn.

At the moment, Mrs. Darcy sat in the morning room of their London townhouse, her fine dark eyes set off by the primrose draperies she had ordered after he’d first given her the instruction to make the place suitable for them. A cup of China tea rested on the table beside her, an uneaten biscuit perched in the saucer. There was something provocative in her expression, but it was not her intention to invite his more amorous address, though the color in her cheeks and the curve of her lip told him she would give him the merest token of protest should he act upon any such urge. He put aside the book he was reading, marking the page with one of her cast-off silk ribbons; he had insisted, quite rightly, that no one but her lady’s maid would know it had been used to tie her garters.

“You are well aware that I am not a man of the cloth and may not absolve you, so you must proceed with the confidence that my judgment would not be severe, should I choose to render it,” he said.

“You would tease me, but I am serious,” she replied.

“If you are serious, I shall not dare to tease you again, madam. What would you tell me?”

“All the time I lived at Longbourn and when we were at Pemberley, I thought calling cards were a tremendous affectation, twice as silly as the silliest mob-cap, and that anyone who would say they were not at home when they were sitting cozily in their library was the epitome of pomposity,” she said.

“And now?”

“And now, I know myself to have been the greatest fool, for the tray is overflowing with cards and we have at least three invitations for any hour of any day, teas and routs and Venetian breakfasts when I have yet to divine the characteristic that confers any salient reference to Venice or breakfast,” she said brightly, but he could hear her consternation and distress concealed within her humor.

“It is not bad thing to discover you were mistaken. Nor that Mrs. Darcy of Pemberley is much in demand,” he said. “I agree a Venetian breakfast remains a mystery, unless there is risi e bisi served alongside bread and butter.”

“But how shall we decide who to see?” Elizabeth said, leafing through the pile of calling cards.

“Is there anyone you recognize who you’d like to see?” he replied.

“There’s a card from Mrs. George Knightley,” she said. “She is quite good humored and amiable—”

“Then we shall call upon her and after I shall take you for a ride through the park in the barouche in lieu of a walk through the countryside,” he said.

“I’ve only to do what I like? That doesn’t seem proper—surely I will offend someone important,” she said.

“All London is not like my Aunt Catherine, Elizabeth. And you had little trouble letting her know how you felt about her perspective,” he said.

“You were more important that a Venetian breakfast, Fitzwilliam!” 

“I should hope so,” he replied. “Though the one tomorrow is hosted by a duchess.”

“Prinny himself might host and it would not come to account,” she replied.

“And for that, we’ll stop at Gunter’s for ices before we return here and are very definitely not at home for anyone,” he said. 

Written for Janeuary 2025 @janeuary-month, posted a day late for Day 18 prompt: calling cards

[selfaware-bungou-stray-dogs]

How are you doing? I hope you are feeling well.

Is it possible for a teen power or denji like reader? And if you would like maybe the reader also has the same past as denji or power from chainsaw man. You can choose whoever you want to do. I also really enjoy your posts! Thank you! And reminder for you to not overwork yourself. Please take care of yourself and make sure to take breaks. Stay safe :)

I am doing well, thanks for asking. I am glad, that you liked my posts. Enjoy ☺️

Denji! Teen! Reader

Self-Aware! Platonic! BSD Characters x GN! Platonic! Denji! Teen! Reader

Description: There was something strange with Their Guiding Light.

Warning: OOC. Slight-Spoilers to Chainsaw Man (Denji's Past, Fate's of some Characters, Makima mentioned, No Nayuta). English is my second language.

_______

You put your finished homework in your bag, trying not to damage notebook pages. Your handwriting became better, your reading skills proved and, recently, your math teacher praised for all the progress you have made.

Life became... normal.

As normal as a devil hybrid's life could be. Especially, if said hybrid had to take care of a cat and seven dogs, go to school and safe people from devils at their spare time.

Your fingers brushed against a chainsaw cord.

Pochita... Aki... Power...

Would your life ever be normal again?

If someone asked you if you blamed your father, for what has happened, you would say "I dunno"

If it wasn't for his debt, you won't become Devil Hunter, worked with Yakuza, had your heart fused with Pochita... Won't meet your friends. And Makima...

This situation was complex.

Really complex.

And you didn't want to think about it.

Not now. Maybe, later.

For now, you have some reading exercises.

You stand up and took new Bungou stray dogs manga volume.

With your phone near (to look a meaning of words you don't know), you start reading it.

________

🐾Their Guiding Light was really emotional and kind. And each time Guiding Light decided to say something good about them...

"Kunikida is so serious! It's cool and funny at the same time. I wonder if he could help me with math homework." Little Light was practically vibrating, rubbing against Kunikida's cheek.

"I would like to make some bombs with Kajii! Sounds cool!" Little Light was purring, curled on Kajii's head.

"Oh! Fyodor is so smart! I wanna be as smart, as him, one day!" Everyone try to hold back their laughter, looking at Little Light, who were "hugging" Fyodor's face.

🐾 But there was something, that makes them worried. They guessed, that you were a teen. And, for some reason, you have some troubles with reading. You were slow, re-reading some words, and taking your time.

🐾 They were worried, because they were afraid, that Their Guiding Light were bullied because of their reading habits. It was another reason for them to get to the real world faster. To protect you from bullies.

______

You were having lunch on a school rooftop. It's not like you can't eat at the school's cafeteria.

But, if Chainsaw Devil Hunter are needed, you need an easy way to get to the battle. Without being noticed.

You were ready to take a first bite of your food, when the school building started to shake.

Another Devil (you really didn't care about what kind of devil it was), was on a run. You put your lunch box down. Time to get to business.

You didn't notice, how your phone screen became white.

You pull the chainsaw's cord and jumped.

---------

When you returned to the roof, you saw a group of shocked BSD Characters.

______

🐾 Yosano checked fifteen minutes, checking your face and arms, making sure, that you weren't hurt. During check-ups, BSD Cast explained everything to you.

🐾 Your life became even stranger.

_________

🐾 You have a huge family right now. And a protective one.

🐾 When you were moving into the new house, some Devil Hunters (who knew about your Chainsaws) tried to stop them. It took one "F*** off, they are my kid now" from Fukuchi to stop them.

🐾 Chuuya became a second owner for your dogs. Fukuzawa became a second owner of your cat.

🐾 Kunikida and Poe are tutoring you. You wanted to improve your math, writing and reading skills.

🐾 Mori and Yosano will always run a medical check-ups on you, after your transformations.

🐾 Fitzgerald bought every merch with your Devil Form he can find.

🐾 You told Ango, Ranpo and Ayatsuji and Power's last request. They try to help you find a new Incarnation of Blood Devil.

🐾 Kids now attending the same school as you. After you defend them from bullies, they created a fan club of you. Not to Chainsaw Devil Hunter. No, to [Y/N] [L/N].

🐾 Life didn't become less chaotic. But, it became warmer. And more homey.

[pointycorgiears]

Caught Between The Swells

Here's some quick and light angsty bughawk before I get on a plane today! :D

***********************

Ever since Mihawk returned to Karai Bari from a recent trip, Buggy knew something was up. The swordsman was always quiet and brooding, but since coming home a few days ago, it was like a little black cloud followed the man wherever he would go.

Mihawk snapped at Buggy after dinner last night. That would not usually be nothing new, but this particular outburst had more teeth than what Mihawk normally bothered with. Hell, he even snapped at Crocodile when he was asked what was wrong, causing the taller warlord to stammer out an uncharacteristic apology. The two just decided to let him be, as Mihawk clearly did not want to talk about it. He was barely sleeping. He was eating lightly. He didn't want to be bothered. His bad mood was palpable, and yet still, Buggy wondered why.

Buggy doubted he was ever going to get an answer. So he sat in bed in his personal tent, having just finished brushing his hair and clearing the make up from his face. He was dozing off with a book in his lap, his head beginning to lilt to the side. He jerked halfway upright when he thought he heard soft footsteps outside his canvas door, but relaxed again when nothing but silence followed. He was aware enough to mark his page and put the book away, one hand floating to turn out the light near the bed...

knock knock

...and he paused at the quiet knock on the wooden post that made up his doorway. "Uhh...yes?" he called out. The thick canvas that covered the entryway ruffled a bit before it was gently pulled back and two yellow eyes pierced through the dark on the other side.

Buggy swallowed and raised his brow. "Hawkeyes?" This was unusual. Mihawk never came to Buggy's tent. In fact, he always gave the clown the widest berth possible, especially the past few days. Buggy felt a little on edge. "Is there something you need?"

Mihawk took that as permission to enter. There were two things Buggy immediately noticed about him. One, he was dressed in what Buggy guessed was his sleepwear: a loose white shirt and maroon floral printed sweatpants, which Buggy had never him dressed in until now. And second, Mihawk's eyes darted away from his the second he walked in the tent. They stared at the ground, brow furrowed like something was troubling him. He walked silently into the room, barefoot, his steps hardly audible. He stopped at the bedside, continuing to stare at the floor. Buggy got the feeling that Mihawk did not want to look at him.

"Umm," Buggy murmured, if only to break the awkward silence. He tried asking again, "Hawk, do you need something?"

There was a strange shaky breath before Mihawk finally spoke. "I need to apologize. My behavior was inappropriate earlier. I am sorry."

Silence again. Buggy waited a moment, confused by everything, until he replied. "Huh? It's okay! You were stressed out about, uhh, something. I understand!"

"No, you do not," Mihawk muttered.

"Uhhh," Buggy remained confused. "It's okay, Hawk. Really!"

Mihawk finally raised his eyes. Buggy blinked in shock at what he thought was a flash of despair in the usually sharp golden stare. Like a crack marring the hardened gaze. Mihawk looked away again and his body shifted as if to turn to leave, but Buggy stopped him.

"Mihawk! Sit down here!"

Mihawk twitched his head at the order, but obeyed after some fidgeting. He sat on the edge of the bed, legs hanging over and wound tight, ready to spring up and dash away if necessary. His hands folded over and wrung each other between his knees. Just as it was the last few days, Mihawk would just not relax. But now Buggy had an opportunity to find out why.

"Hawk, what happened out there while you were gone? You haven't been yourself since you came back! What's got into you?"

Mihawk gave a heavy sigh. "Buggy...if I hadn't returned, what would you have done?"

"Wha-if you hadn't...What do you mean if you hadn't returned? Of course you would return! You always come back."

"But what if this time I did not?"

"..."

Mihawk turned his slightly to look at him. "Would you have noticed?"

Buggy blinked, incredulous. "Are you crazy? Of course I would have noticed! It'd be hard to not notice having only Croc breathing down my neck everyday! Though, not being worried about getting sliced up everyday might be nice and take some adjustment, heh! Oh.."

Buggy immediately knew he said the wrong thing when Mihawk glanced away from him. He looked...hurt. As if the man had any right to be hurt by his statement in the first place, Buggy inwardly scoffed. But still, it was strange.

"Hawk. Seriously. If you hadn't come back, we would try to contact you. If that failed, we would send a search party. You know Croc has eyes and ears everywhere. We would find you! And we would help you if you needed it!"

Mihawk stared off into space. "Really?"

"Yes, really!" Buggy was losing his patience. He also just wanted to go to bed already. "That's what we would do! We're Cross Guild! We need you here! The Navy better watch their backs if they ever try anything against you, although I'm sure you could handle them in the first place, so I don't know why you're so worried-"

"It wasn't the Navy."

"Huh?" Buggy looked at him. "What are you talking about?"

Mihawk sighed again. "I ran into a massive storm on the way back from Kuraigana. One that wasn't predicted. It was the Grand Line simply raging in its fury. I had no choice but to ride it out. The wind tore my sail and as I tried to preserve what was left, I was knocked from my boat. I was caught between the swells and realized in my urgency to tie my sails, I had forgotten the safety line. I was in the water, and my vessel was being carried away from me..."

Buggy stared at him wide-eyed. This was the most Mihawk had talked since returning, and the story was frightening. He knew Mihawk sailed alone, on a tiny boat, with no one else to help him. To be caught in a storm must be terrifying for anyone else. "How-How did you get out of it?"

"A giant wave came up behind me. I aligned myself with it and let it carry me as close to my vessel as possible, enough that I could swim my way back to it. I chased it and I fought the water until felt like I couldn't breathe anymore. By some miracle, a rope drifted into my hand and I pulled myself aboard. I secured myself to the deck and the next thing I remember is waking up to a blue sky and a calm sea. I made it through."

He turned to Buggy again and that same despair was still present. "But what if I didn't? What if I was lost at sea? I would have failed Cross Guild. I would have failed myself. I would have failed Roronoa. I would have failed you, Emperor Buggy. All because of a stupid mistake of forgetting my safety line. You would have been justified not to search for me."

Buggy suddenly knew what was wrong. He knew why Mihawk was in such a foul mood, he knew why he was hurting. He knew that look on the swordsman's face. Mihawk was scared. And not just from the idea of failure, but from the fact that Death had laced its icy grip on his soul for a short moment and had nearly dragged him down under the waves. Completely out of his control, with no one to rescue him. Pure hopelessness. Sheer terror. Buggy knew what that felt like. Impel Down had made sure he would never forget that feeling.

Somehow, he was sitting closer to Mihawk than he remembered being, and he took the swordsman in a tight hug. He held him from behind for a moment, leaning his head on Mihawk's shoulders. He could feel Mihawk tense at the touch, but eventually relax and sag into Buggy's embrace.

"We would have searched for you. You're part of the crew now," Buggy muttered into the white shirt. "You're part of my crew. I am so happy you made it home safe. Everyone is."

"I feel so ashamed," Mihawk said under a shaky breath. "I am better than this!"

"But you are not better than the ocean," Buggy quickly countered. "The Sea rules all of us in the end. Sometimes she reminds us of that, as Roger used to say. It's nothing to be ashamed about. I'm just glad you're safe."

"That is...comforting to know, I guess."

Buggy raised his head, releasing him. He stared at Mihawk for a moment, who gazed sadly at him before darting his eyes away. This poor wretch really thinks no one cares about him, Buggy pitied. He sighed and scooted back across the bed. He pulled the covers back and disconnected an arm to tug at Mihawk's own. "Come here," he ordered.

Mihawk didn't put up a fight. Buggy wasn't sure he currently had the strength to. He pulled Mihawk into bed with him, motioning him to lay down. Buggy settled in close beside, positioning his arms around him, wrapping him tight against his side and pushing Mihawk's head diwn on top of his chest. He stroked his hair with one floating hand and rubbed his back with the other.

Mihawk was frozen against him, every muscle tense and unsure. "It's okay to lie like this? Here with you?"

"You're part of my crew. It's alright to cuddle a little bit." Buggy pressed his cheek into the top of his head to drive his point further, squeezing him tighter.

The tension slowly eased and Buggy felt him sink into the bed and his side. The shallow breaths became deeper and Buggy closed his eyes to the soft repetitive sound. He felt himself begin to drift.

Then Mihawk shuttered with a sad whimper.

Buggy found himself alert again from the odd noise. Odd in that he'd never heard such a thing emanate from the swordsman before. Buggy ran his fingers through the black hair, gently scratching the scalp. He nuzzled Mihawk with his nose as he whispered, "It's okay, you're safe now. You're home. You don't have to go anywhere alone again."

He didn't hear any other strange noises after that and his hand floated over to turn the light out...

...In the morning, he let Mihawk sleep as he quietly got ready for the day. He made sure the other remained safely tucked in the blankets of his bed before heading out.

[lo-reads]

All I Need

Hello, good morning, good afternoon, good evening. 🙂‍↔️ I am addicted to this Tik Tok trend. God is amazing. Never skip a video.

I can’t link the video, rude. His page is jittadump if you wanna see 🙂‍↕️

The way I could see all my daddies doing this trend to be fucking teases. The Uso’s, JUSTIN, Roman, CeeDee, Ja’Marr????? I don’t want no puppy, I need a BIG DAWGGGGGGG. #needdat

Kinda based off me and needing to be slutted out. Sigh, I should call him

tw: sweet baby tee then not so sweet baby tee, SMUTTTTYYYYYYY

All I Need by Lloyd has been on replay for about 10 minutes. Except it’s a certain part of the song that keeps repeating and has you frozen. Your man has posted multiple videos of himself and his friends showing off their tattoos. All of them being tatted was not a surprise. Tattoos was a way you bonded as you were also tatted.

What has you frozen is how sluty your man looked in said videos. Tattoos on both arms, entire torso, both legs, low cut Cesars with the deep waves, do y’all hear something purring?! The feeling you felt deep in your belly, you could spend the rest of the night licking every single tattoo on that man’s body and that is what you intended on doing.

You decided to share your reaction to the video of just Tee. No acting needed, that’s how you felt looking at him and others in the trend, but we won’t tell Tee that part. As soon as you post the video, captioning it #needdat, you texted him.

You are such a sluttttttttt! Why would you post that?!

He haha’d your text.

Sweet Baby Tee 💕: you liked it didn’t you?

I loved it, you know that 🙄

Hurry up and come home so I can show you how much I liked it

He sent a omw gif which you laughed at. Even in horny moments, y’all would find a way to make jokes.

**********

While waiting for your man to return home from a day with his friends, you watched fan edits of him then decided to something different. Normally you’d post Day In My Life videos, vlogs, our just sit on lives and have girl talk. People who know you, know your intrusive thoughts are going to win every single time. You decided to film a “Get Ready With Me To Slut My Man Out 🙂‍↕️” video. The wig had to be extra secured because it would be getting pulled. Makeup had to be transfer proof because he will be pushing your face down while giving backshots. And the outfit? Well the outfit had to be easily accessible.

Tracking his location, he was pulling into the neighborhood, giving you 5 minutes give or take for him to pull into the garage. You propped your phone up just in time to catch you jumping into his arms as soon as he walked through the door. He put you down and just looked at you, spinning you around. “I get this for posting some videos showing my tattoos?”

“You know what that does to me….”

“And you know what you do to me” Tee closed the gap between the two of you. “You are so beautiful mamas, you are everything I could ever want” thank God you’re still recording, that will be replayed at least 100 times every time you’re missing him.

Wrapping your arms around his, you replied, “I love my sweet baby Tee so much, but right now, I need rough, dom Tee,” his eyes instantly darkened, licking his lips. Next thing you know, he had you tossed over his shoulder and carried you upstairs to your shared bedroom.

Once in the room, you pushed Tee onto the bed. You kissed and licked on his tattoos before working your way to his lips. This kiss was different. It was full of hunger, full of excitement, full of you need to fuck NEOWWWWWWW.

Tee hovered over you, just looking into your eyes. “Baby you know I love you right?” You nodded. “Good, because I’m about to fuck you like I don’t,” Tee immediately got off you and the bed, dragged you off by your ankle and propped you squatting on the wall.

“I want to see you be a good girl and take the whole thing. No hands allowed,” you nodded, pulling down his shorts and briefs. He completely removed his clothes, leaving his rock hard dick, sticking straight up. Tee grabbed it, putting it close to your mouth. You moved so you could catch it.

Slowly, he started moving his hips to face fuck you. You opened wide, sticking your tongue out so it could glide along the base. As his momentum started getting faster, you didn’t kept your momentum. You’re not a punk, you could take it all. You maintained eye contact while he lost it at the spit bubbles forming and seeing his entire dick down your throat. He snatched his dick away, bending down to sloppy kiss you before putting his dick back in your mouth. He used your mouth as a toy, fucking it while you just sat there and let him. Anything for daddy.

“Use your hands now” you wrapped both hands around to stroke him while sucking on the tip. Every time he deep throat, you’d play with his balls. Tee was like putty in your hands. His moans kept rolling off his lips and it only made you wetter.

“Fuuuuuuck. If you keep going, I’m gonna nut and as much as I wanna want to, I wanna save it for that pretty face,” Tee moved, you releasing him with a pop. He helped you stand up and pushed you towards the bed, slapping your ass. “Lay back and open those legs.”

You were gonna take control but at this point, you were the sub tonight. Tee could ask for your one no, anal, and you’d say yes. Is that all it took? A damn video of his tattoos has you with your legs behind your head getting eaten alive. Tee could quit playing football and only post thirst traps if this is how every night was gonna end.

Tee devoured you, he ate you as if he’d hadn’t eaten today. His tongue wasn’t enough, he had to add 3 thick ass fingers which had you screaming and squirting. As you tried catching your breath, he pulled his fingers out, admiring the glistening from your juices. “Gah damn baby, I love that shit” he sucked his fingers then put them in your mouth while he stuck that delicious dick in you. Your tongue swirled around his fingers, cleaning them off while he slowly pumped into you. You maintained eye contact, his mouth open, memorized by the sight.

At this point, you had lost count at how many times he made you cum. You squirted when he folded you up on the side of the bed. You came when you were bent over, getting fucked in front of the mirror. Now here you were, face pressed down by one hand into the sheets, the other hand was either slapping your ass or holding onto your hips, while he pounded into. He showed no mercy, your whimpers turning him on. You were such a good girl for him. You let this not so gentle giant completely slut you out. He was yours, you were his. Neither of you were going nowhere. Ever.

“Daddy I’m about to cum,” you mumbled, unable to take more.

“Me too baby, give me this last one like a good girl” the angle of his strokes never changed, he slowed it to the right speed to get you there, “that’s it’s beautiful, I got you, you did so good for me, I’m so proud of you baby,” you crumbled under him. Even in the rough moments, he’s always taking care of you and your needs.

“Look at the fucking cream baby FUCKKKKKK, get down here now,” he pulled out of you, you quickly turning so you could be directly under his dick. Sticking your tongue out, he jerked himself a few times before thick ropes of his warm nut landed on your face and in your mouth. You wrapped your lips around his dick, sucking it clean. Watching you do so completed the soul snatching orgasm he just had.

“Dirty fucking bitch, come here,” he didn’t even care about the taste from his seed, you were getting tongued down after that.

************

Your voice was playing off Tee’s phone. You laid on his chest, watching his phone with him. Your grwm voice over was ending with “Byeeeeee, time for me to get slutted out insteadddddddd!” Tee started laughing.

“What do you think?”

“What happened to you slutting me out?”

“I saw how good you looked coming in the house and wanted to cater to you instead,”

“And did, you defffff did. Mmmmph,” he is so sassy

“Oh my God Tamaurice”

[stealingyourbones]

Question! I have been getting into DC comics cuz of dpxdc, and I saw your tags on frank Miller on a recent post. One of my irl friends told me to read the dark knight returns and while it was occasionally hard to follow I assumed that was a result of when it was written rather than who wrote it? But I did overall enjoy it.

I guess what I'm asking is why you say frank Miller is a bad writer when it seems like the dark knight returns was so acclaimed?

(I saw the nazi thing too but that's something I can google so while it's news to me it's not my main question)

ok so. A lot of this is my personal opinion and I'm not too equipped to say shit about this because I'm not very political but I'm going to give it my best shot. Put under a cut so folks who don't want to hear about comic ranting can simply scroll past

I’m just gonna write a quick thing for the Nazi stuff, He isn't exactly a Nazi but boy oh boY does he set off many warning flags. Frank Miller is also the writer of the comic 300, if that sounds familiar that's because the movie you're probably thinking of is indeed based off these comics. The Spartan's ideology helped create the baselines of Fascism. Fascism is a pretty leading cause of commentary in Frank Millers work. In Batman: The Dark Knight he is a fascist. In Hard Boiled there's swastikas in the background every so often. (I even went back to reread it just to make sure and yep. they definitely were there) In 300 there's a shitton of Fascism... I could go on but still. His comics are incredibly gorey, have a discussion about a world gone wrong that can only be changed using force and weaponry (the whole Dark Knight "I am a surgeon" monologue for example), and the fact that he has Fascism as the main point of nearly all of the comics he's written... it doesn't sit right with me and it's a consistent pattern.

Now, onto the bad writing. I must firstly preface that these are my own opinions and that I didn't grow up reading Frank Miller's work. I think he was a good writer but isn't one anymore. His writing did incredible things for DC and you can see his influence in Batman even today. Works I've read and enjoyed of his are: Daredevil, Batman Year One, and Dark Knight. Nowadays you'll see many folks like myself talk about how Frank Miller has fallen off the deep end. A vast majority of Frank Miller's comics have reoccurring themes: politics, fascism, extreme violence, and so so much weaponry. Politics is in every comic book. There is no unpolitical comic, there ARE comics that are batshit wild with their politics and that's what I'm talking about. I'll get back to this later. He wrote many good comics, ones that first come to mind are Daredevil , Wolverine, Batman: Dark Knight, Batman: Year One, Sin City, Ronin, and 300. All of these comics are still credited by folks as amazing comics and hell, I recommend folks to read them go and check them out. Then 9/11 happened. That along with rampant alcoholism. Those reoccurring themes I mentioned? They become exponentially more blatant in his works. Especially on the political angle. You can see the difference between his works from pre and post 9/11. If you read Dark Knight and Dark Knight 2 back to back. It's night and day. He even made a comic during the post 9/11 panic called Holy Terror. The comic's title was originally pitched as Holy Terror, Batman! with the Gotham hero himself as the main character but it swiftly denied by DC, denied being published by DC, and changed to what it is now. The basic plot of this comic: A Vigilante named The Fixer fights Al-Qaeda after attacking Empire City. He doesn't even mention the word Al-Qaeda until 80 pages into a 150 page comic. The comic is some INCREDIBLY blatant post 9/11 propaganda that's ridiculously Islamophobic and anti-muslim. That isn't even my opinion, Frank Miller has said that's what this comic was. It is scattered with a ridiculous amount of hate speech written by a hate fueled man in 2007. Now onto comics that you'd more likely read. All Star Batman and Robin (2005). Oh boy. Let's compare shall we? Batman Dark Knight Returns (1986)

All Star Batman & Robin, The Boy Wonder #1 (2005)

mind you this is as Dick is being driven to GCPD for questioning RIGHT AFTER HIS PARENTS DIED. He gets kidnapped by Bruce out of the police car. Not calmed in his arms after the murder and brought to the manor. Kidnapped. All Star Batman & Robin, The Boy Wonder #2 (2005)

( a brief intermission of this sickass pose of a shirtless Alfred Pennyworth comforting Vicky Vale)

now back to the kidnapping:

[Skipping Bruce getting chased by the GCPD, Jumping the Batmobile ONTOP of a GCPD car, and laughing and talking to his car all the while Dick is absolutely terrified. They then use boosters that propel the Batmobile into the sky.]

Smashcut to #4 where they actually enter the Batcave.

I don't even think I need to explain myself. This is Spider-Man: One More Day levels of mischaracterization. Like seriously. Bruce kidnapping Dick after his parents were killed? Calling him a retard and hitting him during the aftermath (we can go on about how in 2005, the r slur was used commonly but this was just out of pocket), Leaving him in the cold batcave and told to eat rats? Frank Miller used to write some incredible works. Nowadays his writing is as decent as Rob Liefeld's art.

[trashmouth-richie]

𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: escaping Hawkins was impossible, but he did it. when a ghost from your past shows up unexpectedly, bringing with him old memories and holding up a mirror to the train wreck life you’re living… you find it hard to trust him again.

𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 18+ no minors, depictions of poverty, child neglect/ endangerment, drug use/abuse, alcohol use/abuse, endangerment, 18+ sex working, 18+stripping, violence, smut. no use of y/n reader has a name that’s introduced in the first chapter, and another “nickname” that is lightly used throughout this series. eddie also has a nickname given by reader.

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: memories flood back of when you were younger, Eddie wants to talk but silence holds merit.

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐞: here i come, but i ain’t the same

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐰𝐨: cold before the warm

masterlist

The nub end of graphite scrawls against a crinkled back page of paper. Ripped haphazardly from a composition book labeled: Language Arts—E.M.

The yellow pencil was pocked with teeth marks, having been between a pair of teeth that weren’t yours, mind not even gathering the germs that could be harbored in the pressed wood. 

Your tongue had been poked out for nearly three minutes according to the watch on Eddie’s wrist. Your brain working overtime trying to find the best phrase that would stump your friend in the game of Hangman. 

The alphabet was written in a hurry on the left side of the page, parallel to the hanging post. Beneath that were evenly scratched dashes on the blue printed line, waiting for their companion of letters to be filled by Eddie’s correct guesses. 

Putting the pencil down with a satisfying smack, you look up from your masterpiece confidently.

“Okay, I’m ready!” 

Eddie chomps a piece of Big Red loud between his teeth, unhooking his tangled feet from underneath himself and stretching out his skinny legs, jeans from the previous school year hacked into shorts for the summer, “took long enough.”

You make a face and flip him a suggestive finger, the nail chipped and painted pink from the last time your neighbor Michelle let you play with her nail polish, and in return you listened to her gab about her boyfriend while she combed her hair like Marcia Brady. 

“Don’t be a poor loser because you’ve lost the last four games, Clove.” 

He laughs when your eyebrows turn into a pout, the heel of your worn sneaker kicking into his. The same black pair of converse, yours a few sizes smaller, faded and tattered, fitting your feet in a way that was uncomfortable for the arch of your foot, years of wear accustomed to another’s foot print that belonged to the boy across from you. 

Letters are guessed and lines filled in. Eddie insists that you make the hangman have a face complete with nose, mouth and eyes realizing that he is close to eating his words from earlier. 

“Would you like the hangman to be wearing socks and a hat?” You ask honestly, hiding a smirk behind the paper. 

Eddie scoffs, working a bite mark into his bottom lip as he racks his brain for what kind of dumb phrase you conjured up, “I quit on terms that you’re a cheater.” 

The insult was harsh, not worse than the words that you heard around your kitchen table or ones that ricocheted off the thin walls when you were on the cusp of dreaming. No, this word hurt. Stung into your skin like a wasp, repeating its terror until you were swollen and skin ached of heat. 

Tears sprung to your eyes, clinging to your lashes ready to drop. The paper clenched in your fist as you shoved it under Eddie’s nose, proving your innocence. 

“I am not!” 

“Sure you are,” he takes the paper from you, folding it roughly into an uneven shape and shoving it between the couch cushions behind him, “Cheatin’ Clove. Has a nice little ring to it doesn’t it?” 

Before Eddie can say anymore, a can of Coca Cola is thrown at his head hitting him with a thud, followed by your whimpers and the sound of your feet clapping against the dirty linoleum. 

“Clove! ow! Wait!” 

The screen door scratched your palms as you twisted it open. Jumping from the stairs and landing hard in the dirt, you didn’t bother bringing your bike home. Choosing to run the short distance instance instead, shutting the front door with a heavy slam. 

Tears soaked your pillowcase before you drifted to sleep, curled up on top of the patchwork quilt on your bed. 

Eddie. 

His name was trapped in your mouth, dry along your tongue, unable to force its way out. 

He was a ghost to you, memories that were buried and dormant were now flooding back at full speed, pinging around your brain firing each nerve tucked away deep, landing you a migraine behind your eyes. 

Seven years. 

Seven fucking years, since you had seen those doe shaped eyes, brown muddied colors still lost in a child’s innocence and wonderment— barely aged from the last time you had seen him. That memory burned into your retinas, like fuel to a pained flame. 

His hair was longer, well past his shoulders now, fringe of his bangs still thick on his forehead. His knuckles were covered in tattoos, the little you can see of his neck is also full of dark wisps of ink.

He says your nickname, the one only he knew. A joke between best friends. 

You try to open your mouth, fighting like hell to will anything to come out, but nothing does, the words choke against your throat, caught against each other in a tangled string of sharp edges.

“uh— I—E..”  

His eyes grew bigger than they already were, waiting for you to say something, anything. It was as if time stood still, all the pain from years prior coming back.

Images of Eddie, his smile, the bloody gash on his knee from his longboard, small memories, painful ones that could bring someone less strong to their knees: all flash behind your eyes.  

The pain from all those years ago was searing through you like a knife. Memories that you kept buried away were suddenly throttling you like they had just happened, the wounds that were licked clean were now fresh and open, blood flowing freely.

Before hot tears can spill down your face, you spin wildly on your heel, walking fast and turning back to the bar. The tray slamming onto the back counter with a loud bang, snapping.  

Your breath was erratic, heart racing. Whatever lingering high you had was gone. Emotions you hadn’t felt in years coursing through you demanding to be felt. 

Why was he back? 

You didn’t know the purpose of his return to Hawkins, only registering how hurt you felt that he was. The day he left still stung your spine, sending shivers all over your body. 

Did he ever think of you? In the seven years he had been gone did you bleep on his radar even once?

Hanging your head your fingers tap nervously on the lacquered wood, trying to calm yourself down before you work yourself up anymore than you already were. 

“Be right back,” you called over your shoulder to Jolene, head down walking fast to the cooler. 

The chilled air made your skin prick with goosebumps but you couldn’t care, the only thing you could feel was your heart shattering to pieces all over again. 

The floor was cold under your body, shelves and beer boxes held you up as you fell apart. Deep shuddering breaths in and winded ones out, you don’t wipe the tears as they free fall down the apples of your cheeks—dragging black eyeliner and mascara with them til they trickle from your chin. 

The callus of your life made it hard to feel, even harder to cry. But once the gate was open, it was challenging to close. A dam of pent up emotions broke free out of you like an angry flood, full of irreparable damage, forgotten feelings and an exploding heart. Taking with it years of questions, hopes and dreams. 

Scenery wasn’t the only thing that was altered in his time away. You evolved, having to peel off layers of naivety and fear. Would he care if he knew? 

Wiping another sludge of wet makeup from under your eyes you catch the tattoo on your hand. 

It burned on your skin. Prickling like it hadn’t been ten years since you’d gotten it.  Years that seemed like a different lifetime ago.

It practically was.

The boy who did them was long gone, and the man in his place was someone you didn’t even know. 

—

It was you. 

The only person in all of Hawkins who made it bearable. What should have been a joyful reunion was clouded over with painful memories. Of course there were good ones, but mostly the bad out weighed anything happy. 

You had always been the little bit of sunshine that broke through on a cloudy day, the only person he trusted with silly secrets, trusted with anything.

He couldn’t believe it. Couldn’t believe that you were here. Not just in Hawkins. But working here. 

A surge of rage filled his stomach but was quickly washed out by pain as you stomped away, looking as if you had seen a ghost, a part of your past that you didn’t want to remember. 

Was that what he was to you? A painful memory, one that was more sour than everything else that happened? 

Jeff’s voice is muffled in his ears, as if he’s trying to speak underwater. He can’t wrap his head around this whole thing. The guilt eating him alive. 

Eddie clears his throat and takes a generous sip of beer, trying to stop his hands from shaking, chilled sweat creeping down his back. He fiddles with a napkin, ripping the end into small shreds and rolling them up like a kid would for a spit wad. 

He could map out every scar on your arms and legs, tell anyone the exact color of your eyes, in sunlight and in a dark room. He knew your favorite song, that you were afraid of the dark and that your front teeth didn’t come in for almost three months after he had helped you pull them out.

You had taught him how to hang upside down on the monkey bars behind the trailer park. He taught you how to play his guitar, and if he thought hard enough he could remember the smell of your shampoo. 

You were everything to him.

Bestfriends since the cradle, made up handshakes and secrets sworn to the grave. But years, tear spilled miles and the guilt of broken promises wedged a distance between you. 

One that couldn’t be made better by the letters he sent that went unanswered. And it definitely wouldn’t get fixed in one random night when fate lead him to this fucking dump, back under your nose.

It hurt not seeing the sparkle in your eyes, but he could only blame himself. 

“Sorry, what was that?” 

Jeff motions for Eddie to lean in, doing so he jerks his head to the bar where you are standing stone-still hovering over a counter with your back turned to them. “She looked familiar, right? Did she go to school with us?” 

“Yeah,” he admitted, trying to shove down his emotions with another gulp of beer, “she did.” 

Jeff leans back, “Chloe? Cassie, Chasity… no. Claire? Shit what was her name?” 

Eddie’s eyes fell to the smudgy tattoo, he rubs his thumb over the ink, “Clove.”

“That’s right!” clapping his hands together, “knew it was something weird.” 

Eddie let himself smile. Small and weak, his lip ticking up on one side. He rubbed the tattoo again, remembering that day like it was yesterday. 

—

The summer breeze blows hotly through the makeshift curtains, sending the loose paper on the dresser scattering like desert tumbleweeds across Eddie’s bedroom floor, joining the litter of car magazines and unwashed clothes taking up space in the tiny room. 

“gotta sit still Slick, or this won’t work.” 

You were biting through your lip, trying to muffle a cry from breaking out, “ow..it hurts!” 

It was your idea to get matching tattoos with your best friend, and it was Eddie who said he could do them no problem. He had already tattooed a heart on Dave with his girlfriend's name through the center last month—never mind that she dumped him a week later. The sobs coming from trailer 11 didn’t ever seem to end. 

“Well yeah,” Eddie chuckles, clearing his throat and puffing behind a cigarette, “what did you expect it would be done with? A marker?”

Your right hand rested on his bent knee for precision. The other was clamped tight over your eyes in hopes that if you didn’t see how it was done, it wouldn’t hurt so bad. 

The warmth of your sweaty nervous palm on his jeans felt hot, as if you were being burnt alive. But, despite the pain from the needle going in and out of your skin, Eddie was gentle. 

His shoulder provided comfort as you leaned your head onto it, slowly wetting his shirt with your tears. You curl your body into his side, knees stabbing into his ribs, head pressed tight to the side of his neck, hand fisting the sleeve of his shirt for support as you intake a sharp breath when he finishes the curve of the dainty heart. 

“Need a break?” he asks, setting the needle down on the carpet, rubbing a pattern with his thumb on your hand. “I made some Kool-Aid yesterday, your favorite kind.” 

Lynyrd Skynyrd plays softly in the background and Eddie strums along on your palm to the guitar solo. 

Muffled against his cotton shirt, your voice is hoarse from the tears, “orange?” 

He chuckles around a cloud of smoke, “hell yeah, picked some up yesterday morning before my shift, got a few packets for your place too, I know how much Lolly likes it.” 

“Speaking of,” you uncross your legs to stand, “I gotta go check on her.” 

Eddie stands up with you, a whole head taller than you were, you pluck the cigarette from his mouth and slot it into your own, inhaling the tobacco expertly into your lungs as you examine the small tattoo on your skin.

“‘m not done yet, but what do ya think?” 

Blood and ink were smeared around it messily, but it looked identical to the one he had on his left hand, yours only missing the clover. 

A smile stretches across your lips and you feel the burn of tears from in your eyes, “it’s perfect, Eddie.”  

He opens his bedroom door, grabbing the cigarette from your mouth and squishing it into the heaping ashtray on his nightstand. “you really think so?” he whispers.

“Are you kidding? It’s amazing!” 

He blows his lips in a raspberry, long legs walking down the dingy carpet hallway to the kitchen, “let those prissy bitches try to pick on you now… nobody wants to fight someone with tattoos.” 

The girls at school weren’t nice in elementary school and they somehow got nastier with every year. You went from being “stinky girl” to “trailer skank” overnight. 

A far cry from any sort of originality, but that’s how Hawkins was, ruled by the dim and dumb, daddy’s bank account used as a hierarchy status. 

You always brushed them off, keeping mostly to yourself and to your best friend. Eddie took it upon himself to conjure up a frenzied retort that would have them scoffing in disgust. 

With Eddie, nothing else mattered, he didn’t care if your clothes didn’t fit right, or if your ponytail looked scraggly. He didn’t give a shit what people thought of him. You were just two neglected trailer park kids, but to him, you were important. 

“You're an artist Eddie, could probably make a lot of money doing this someday.” 

The idea fell silent between you, both knowing in your hearts what path your life would lead you down. Stuck in the nightmare of what went on behind the thin walls in the trailer park.

Peering over the counter you can see Lolly. Sleeping just as soundly as she had when you laid her down. The stolen playpen from the yard sale on Cornwalis turned out to be worth the uncomfortable bike ride back to Forest Hills with Eddie standing on his pedals and you on the handlebars holding onto dear life as he raced back home. 

Her chubby cheeks were pressed against the yellow floral sheet, little curls twisted into two tiny pigtails, milk dribbling slow from her puckered lips. 

You smile at the sight of such innocence, wishing that you too were unaware of what life was actually like, and knowing that you would do anything to keep your little sister safe from this reality for as long as possible. 

“Can’t believe she cried that long, usually she loves pb&j’s..” Eddie points to your head, trying not to laugh, “you still have peanut butter in your hair by the way.” 

Lolly had thrown every last bit of her sandwich in a temper tantrum fueled by a lack of sleep. Her aim being perfect with you as her target. 

Twenty minutes with your head under the bathroom sink and Eddie cackling as he squeezed shampoo on your head apparently wasn’t enough to get the sticky treat out.  

“Little shit,” you huff, a smirk on your lips, turning to the fridge, and reaching for the sugary orange drink from the shelf, shutting the door with your hip, “think she might be cuttin’ some teeth at least that’s what Patty said last time she babysat.” 

Eddie reached for the plastic cups that were nabbed from Benny’s after one of his busboy shifts, holding them steady as you poured the juice.

Only spilling a little, you lifted the end of your shirt to mop the counter up. “Kids are weird,” Eddie says, smacking his lips with an orange mustache after a long swig, “remind me never to have ‘em.” 

Snorting through your nose you swallow harshly, a quirk to your eyebrow, “having kids is totally normal, all of our neighbors do.”

He thought quietly before speaking again, “yeah, and nobody is ever around..” he shakes his head. “We’re gonna leave here someday, you and me.” 

You roll your eyes, “sure thing, Slim.” 

Eddie talked crazy like this sometimes. Always dreaming bigger than you could even fathom. Head permanently stuck in the clouds, wishing, hoping for something better than the cards you were both dealt. But you on the other hand, your feet, in hand-me-down shoes, never left the ground. 

His voice was stern when he spoke to you, eyes pleading, and you had never heard him like that before. 

“I’m serious, I’ll die before I stay here,” he moves forward, holding your biceps as he looks down at you, dark eyes wide, almost wild, “I promise you, we won’t end up like this...okay?” 

—

He couldn’t blame you for the way you reacted when your eyes met his. Seeing you tonight hurt more than he could have ever imagined it too. To be honest, he didn’t expect you to still be in Hawkins, but then again— where would you have gone? 

“…you still there dude?” 

Eddie’s eyes shift to Jeff, plastering a smirk to his lips to hide the pain etched so evidently on his face, “yeah, I just uh— tired I guess.” 

He scanned the bar for you, still seeing your frame behind the counter, this time turned around handing a round of beers to a couple of college punks. 

“How far is the drive?” 

Bless Jeff for trying to keep this conversation alive, but Eddie’s mind was anywhere but here at this table. 

Questions he never thought to ask, suddenly poured into his mind. Did you finish high school? Where were you living? How’s Lolly? How old is she now? How have you been? 

He felt sick that he didn’t know the answer to any of them. Guilt devouring away at him like a flesh eating amoeba. 

“Six—no, probably seven hundred miles.. give or take.” 

Had you applied to college? Were you still living in the trailer park?  

“Damn,” Jeff said, scrubbing his hands down his face, “gonna have to visit you sometime, show me around all the cool places… you ever been out to LA? My girlfriend, well ex now, we went a year ago around Christmas time she really loved...”

Although Eddie didn’t know the answers, he figured maybe Jeff would. 

He shakes his head, interrupting his friend, hand raised in apology, “hey, uh wh— whatever happened to her?” He hooks a thumb in your direction in the most nonchalant way he could, even though his entire body was fidgeting in anticipation. 

Jeff raises an eyebrow, “Clove? Oh umm, shit… well I think, no.. yeah no, she didn’t graduate. I remember hearing that she had dropped out, and now she works here apparently.” 

A smirk forms on his lips and he points behind him to the back corner, “forgot to tell you, rumor has it this place is more than just a strip joint,” his dark eyebrows wiggle, “if y'know what I mean.” 

For the first time tonight, Eddie noticed girls coming and going from the beaded doorway, vacant expressions on their smudged faces. Trailing behind were drunk men with glazed eyes and sweaty foreheads, readjusting the threads of their belts and slacks. 

He scans the bar with wild eyes in search of you. Hoping and praying to whoever would listen that you weren’t a part of this. You couldn’t be. 

Who is he kidding? 

If you were still in Hawkins, still under the weight and scrutiny of the inner dealings that started in the trailer park, you were very much involved. 

Realization hit him like a freight train. His stomach clenched and warped with the dreaded grief and guilt he still carried. Deep down he had figured this was what your life had come to. Lying to himself in thinking that you had gotten away from all of this. But seeing it firsthand, in the flesh—he couldn’t bear the thought of it. 

Choking back vomit, he slides from the booth hastily, practically spilling his beer all over the table in his desperate attempt to find you. 

“shit!” Jeff shouted, “dude, you alright?” 

He wasn’t. 

He stumbles from the table, tripping over his own boots and knocking into one of the burly bearded men at the bar, sending his drink tumbling to the ground. Glass and liquor covering the floor like the sparkle of a fresh snow. 

“What’s your problem asshole!?” 

His fiery red hair matched his temper, and the weathered roughness of his cheeks, “ever been inside a bar, tough guy?”  

Before Eddie can whip up a witty retort, Mr. Big Red comes back for more, grabbing him by the arm and shoving him into the high counter of the bar, “hey honey, better stop serving this prick, he can’t handle his liquor like a real man.” 

The swinging doors open and there you are again, struggling beneath the keg you’re carrying. He wanted to jump up and grab it from you, but Eddie was still pinned to the bar by the guy's hand on his bicep, tightening more and more. 

Your eyes reach his and it’s like you don’t even see him. 

“Agh, c’mon Mick,” you say, a warm smile on your lips, “I like ‘em nice and drunk, that’s when they tip the best.”

You set the keg down with a metallic thud on the floor, grabbing a bottle of Jameson and two shot glasses. The mahogany liquid pours smoothly, much like the dark eyes watching you, and heat crawls up your neck. 

Sliding one towards Mick, you hold the other up by your black painted fingers, Clinking them together with a ‘cheers’ and bringing the glass to your lips, allowing your eyes to finally glance towards Eddie. 

He was taller now. His shoulders, more broad, filling in the teenage lithe muscles that fit his frame then. His baby face disappeared entirely, now his chin was stretched with a sharp jaw, which was currently clenched like he was holding back anger, his throat bobbing in a dance of tattooed skin. 

You swallow the liquor in one gulp, relishing the burn as it slips down your throat, the same fire that’s staring from across the counter. Eddie hadn’t taken his eyes from yours.

A twitch forms in your eyelid and you blink it away, setting the glass down hard on the wooden countertop.

You lean your body across the bar, collecting the glassware that’s accumulated since you had been hiding in the cooler. Placing them gently into the warm sudsy sink to wash before filling the small dishwasher below. 

Mickey was already turned back around, talking loudly to Wendy and trying to get her to sit on his lap for five bucks. His grip on Eddie’s arm turns limp when you slide him another shot, just for good measure. 

The bar is chaotic, loud and boisterous, but the air between you and Eddie is quiet, stagnant, no warmth from you. Icicles could form from your frigid silence. 

He knocks his knuckles against the bar, big gaudy rings clacking along, keeping in rhythm to the music playing overhead, but you don’t give in. Don’t humor him by asking how or why he knew Rock Me Amadeus.

“Hey V,” you call out to your work partner, “get this stranger a drink before he gets a parking ticket.” 

Swiveling away from him, you squat down to maneuver the keg to where it needed to go, rocking it on its rounded edge and swiveling it into place. 

Veronica’s voice is cheery and dripping with sex appeal as she asks Eddie what he wants to drink, and you can’t misplace the deepness of his voice, and the polite way he tells her that he’s fine for the evening. 

Cracking the top of the keg, you hook it up to the correct tap, shoving with all your might to get it in under the cabinet and slotted in properly. 

Spending more time than necessary below the bar, you avoid the warm chocolate eyes waiting for you up above. 

What were you supposed to say to him? Thank God you’re home? What the hell did he even want?  

An ant is huddled around a spilled drop of grenadine, you watch as it collects the sticky treat—what you wouldn’t give to switch places with the insect for a few hours. 

If one thing was certain you would need a little encouragement to make it through tonight and the haunting memories that shuddered through you every time you looked at Eddie.

Your purse was in the cubby over to the right, nimble fingers find the familiar plastic of the bottle, screwing off the top and clicking three pills into your hand. 

A greedy palm finds your lips, your eager tongue accepting the drugged gift. Swallowing without any liquid, your spit was more than enough to coat the tablets, watering upon knowing the relief you’ll be met with. 

More shouts and hollers boom through your ears, this time in celebration. 

“Where’d you go sweet cheeks? Need a round, Bobby just found out his girl isn’t pregnant!” 

Duty called, and you knew those dark eyes were still waiting for you, hide and seek was done for now, and in a few short minutes, you’d feel like you were flying. 

Boots planted firm on the sticky tiles, you push yourself up, fully expecting a litter of questions. But when you face him, he’s quiet. Silently watching your every move. 

Not in a way you’re watched by every other slimeball in this town, his eyes never once flicking over your curves or the deep v of your shirt. 

Eddie was admiring the woman you’d become. The shy girl he once knew was replaced by a force to be reckoned with. Did you become that way because he left? No longer having him around to stick up for you?

He pushed out those thoughts, thoughts of you alone. 

The way you fleetingly moved from drunk to drunk, collecting tips and pouring drinks, you were a natural. no longer the girl that was afraid of spiders and slept with a nightlight. What should have been a comfort in his heart stretched into an angry bruise against his soul. 

Warmth riddled your face into a smirk as you dug jabs back at the guys, making them pay up front before they tried to slink away to the back rooms. 

Eddie couldn’t miss how the smile never reached your eyes, that glassy lost look couldn’t fool him, another ping of guilt cutting through him like a knife. 

You were elbow deep in the warm water now, fingers pruned and slicked with soap when he finally speaks. The counter had cleared up enough that he wasn’t squashed between some greasy assholes, the regulars fighting to get to the best seats closest to the stage.  Tiffany on her second set of the night, her shiny heels spinning in the air to Girls, Girls, Girls. 

“So I’m a stranger now?”

Your fingers slip on the smooth surface of a glass and it hits the bottom of the sink with a thud at the sound of his voice, thankfully not breaking. Looking up, the smile fades as you stare back at him, fully allowing yourself to take him all in.  “what else would you be?” 

“Gee, I don’t know, Slick,” his hands twirl the rings on his left hand, “a friend.” 

Your laugh is filled without humor, sheer mockery as you shake your hands above the sink ridding them of suds and water. 

“Friend…” the scoff is thick in your throat, swallowing a ball of vomit before you continue, “that’s rich isn’t it?” 

“Clove..”

“…y’know…I had one of those once,” you say, eyes dead behind your irises, moving to the spouts of the draft beer, “at least I thought he was.” 

“Can we talk?” he pleads. 

“..think I’ve heard more than enough…” slapping down two heavy beers in front of him, you glare into muddy brown eyes, trying not to let yourself feel the pain in your chest, “these two are on the house.” 

Without a second glance or even a fuck you, you stomp towards the dressing room, leaving him sitting alone to sit alone at the bar, and for a split second you allow yourself to feel good it. His turn to be left in the dust this time. 

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