#Sahara Soul

[soulmusicsongs]

Sahara Soul: Soul from the Arab World

15 Sahara Soul songs

Argos Farfish - Sharhabil Ahmed (The King Of Sudanese Jazz, 2020)

Asif Aabas - Idir (Ay Arrac Nneɣ…, 1979)

Autopsie D'un Complot - Ahmed Malek (Musique Originale de Films, 1978)

Abu Ali - Ziad Rahbani (Abu Ali / Prelude (Theme From Mais El Rim), 1979)

Afrah El Mahgreb - Abdou El Omari (Nuits D'ete, 1976)

Alech - Dalton (Soul Brother / Alech, 1968)

Badala Zamana - Zohra (Badala Zamana / Fousse N'Melissa, 1977)

Dag Dagui - Mazouni (Fariza / Dag Dagui, 1973)

Egypt Strut - Cairo Jazz Band (Egypt Strut / Kahn El-Khaleely, 197?).

El Fen - Aït Messlaïne (Yémma / El Fen, 1976)

Forssa Saeeda - The Scorpions & Saif Abu Bakr (Jazz, 1980)

Malak Ya Saly - Sharhabil Ahmed (The King Of Sudanese Jazz, 2020)

Ores Kez Hed Antzav - Adiss Harmandyan (Adiss Harmandyan, 1971)

Sid Redad - Fadaul Et Les Privilèges (Sid Redad / Tayeh, 1975)

Zina - Ouiness (Bahebek Mara / Zina, 1979)

More Soul Songs

African James Brown in 14 songs

African Funk from the Seventies

Ethiopian Grooves

Top Fania Latin Soul Tracks

[choslut]

i’m telling you this RIGHT NOW one day i am going to put out the most delicious beidou x reader fic and when i do you’re gonna love me forever

[magnoliamyrrh]

realized a little while ago for years now ive been largely listening to blues-like things. weather actual american blues, or tuareg music called sahara blues, or romanian doine which ive seen jokingly described by romanians as either the origin of blues, or romanian blues

adding that to the list of things which make it apparent im a deeply melancholic and nostalgic being

[sepostscreencaps]

When someone over the age of 15 says things like "fanum tax skibidi brainrot xddd" """ironically"""

From Soul Eater post chapter 34

[bkgrl]

Wtf?! NO

My precious baby, please Eri for the love of god save him !!

Izuku has lost his arms in the real world

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

Hello. (Bingo) Can you write Dark Clark Kent and plus size female kryptoian reader ?

.⋆｡The Last of His Kind｡⋆.

Dark!Clark Kent x plus size reader

Clark is no stranger to loneliness, but a mysterious ship in the middle of the desert could be just the answer he’s been searching for

Warnings: kryptonian!reader, DARK FIC but more soft than my usual stuff, naive reader, kidnapping?, possessive!clark, no use of Y/N, future isolation and controlling behaviour WC: 1k

6k Follower Celebration Bingo

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

Clark had always been alone in the universe, an unfortunate consequence of his own people’s arrogance and willing ignorance of the happenings of the world around them. He didn’t mind so much as he had never experienced anything different but after Zod and the briefest of hints that he wasn’t the last, Clark felt a deep stirring in his chest.

He often caught himself staring off into the void between stars, wondering if there were others out there. But his duty was to Earth, he couldn’t just leave because of some slim hope that other Kryptonians lived on a far away planet. And even if there were, they could be like Zod- power hungry and cruel. 

But on a cool day in late October, Clark got his chance to find out.

The office was almost empty, everyone having gone home early to beat the autumn storm that was predicted for later that evening, leaving Clark virtually alone in his block of cubicles. His article was almost done but he found himself picking it apart over and over again, like something deep in the recesses of his mind was telling him to delay returning home for as long as he could. Then, he heard it.

A heavy thud of something crashing into the earth, it had to be bigger than a meteor but far smaller than an airplane or weather balloon. Clark’s head tilted as he focused all of his senses to somewhere in the Sahara. The groan and pop of heated metal slowly cooling, the hiss of air escaping a pressurised chamber. He could smell gunpowder and dust that clung to the shell of whatever it was. But he could also hear the steady beat of something within the metal.

With a cautionary glance around the office, which was now absent of anyone save for him, Clark stood. He was careful enough to shut down his computer and gather his things but as soon as his bag was zipped and he was safely in the stairwell, he darted down the stairs, just barely keeping himself restrained enough not to go too fast and give himself away.

He could hear the beating slowly getting faster. He ran out of the building as the hissing ceased and the familiar turning of gears started, just like it had in the ship he discovered in the arctic. Clark stumbled over his work shoes, the buttons of his shirt practically flying off in his struggle to get out of them. If this was another Zod, he wouldn’t have much time to react before they started acclimating to Earth’s healthy sun. 

His glasses were barely off his nose when he finally heard it, a soft groan- delicate, gentle (as much as a groan could be) and Clark’s heart skipped a beat. She let out another soft sound and Clark finally took off. 

This could be it, the answer he needed so badly. Perhaps it was an elder who could really teach him about his home world, a child who had been lost just like him. But some deep part of his soul, a piece he had locked away a long time ago, wondered if it was someone his age, someone who would be his equal, his partner.

The sands of the Sahara quickly revealed a huge slash through the dunes, darkened by the heat of the ship’s dramatic entry. The ship itself was halfway buried in the sand, its black hull a stark contrast against the bright sand. Clark landed in front of its rounded end. 

Steam curled around the dark metal but he barely had time to appraise the vessel before a mechanical clanging began and the sand around its side started to shift. Clark darted forwards as a panel lifted and the earth around it immediately began to spill inside. He grabbed at the open frame and tugged the ship free just as its occupant became visible.

She was beautiful.

Large curves highlighted by tight spandex-like material, the exact same as his suit. The symbol spread over her generous chest consisted of two overlapping circles, one that he didn’t recognise even after his father’s lessons. Clark felt like he couldn’t even breathe as he looked down at her body, everything about her was captivating, hypnotising, everything he had ever wanted. Her hair was pulled back and away from her face, allowing him to observe every blemish and mark of her skin in extraordinary detail. She was a goddess in its truest sense, an ethereal being in mortal form.

And when she finally opened her eyes, he was met with the most brilliant shade of e/c he had ever seen. Panic briefly flashed across her face before she saw his own house symbol and immediately relaxed, her expression more calm than he thought it should be in this situation.

“I’m Kal-El.” Her eyes sparkled in the strong rays of the sun as a small smile crept onto her face.

“Kal.” She repeated his name back to him in a voice far more pleasant than he had ever heard before. Her lips parted again but suddenly her body rocked forwards, as painful coughs rattled through her lungs. Clark swept her into his arms without thinking and pressed her to his chest. She limply clutched at his back as she continued to cough.

He flinched with each of her laboured inhales, his own chest burning with a rage he couldn’t explain. But what he did know was that no one else could know of her. Only god knew what would happen if any government found out about another Kryptonian, especially a female one. Lois and his mother would try to corrupt her mind, encouraging her to leave him.

He wouldn’t let that happen. He would never let himself be alone again.

He could protect her, mould her. She would be safe. No one would know of her existence, not until she knew who exactly she belonged to, the only person that she would ever be able to trust.

Clark smirked as he cupped her head gently, his thumb tracing the apple of her perfect cheek. Oh yes, she was absolutely perfect.

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[jimmybutlrr]

The Love, I Have Longed For

Pairing: Aaron Pierre x Tall Thick brown-skinned Women

Warnings : 18+. Romance, Mature Content (Cursing and Teasing), "drama"

Summary: She came to a realization that Actors can truly act

A/N: This is my first fanfiction, that I have ever wrought. I would really appreciate critical feedback or just feedback in general. I do hope that you enjoy this, as this is based off of a dream I had.

divider from @@uzumaki-rebellion

“Uhh ooh myyy gooood…I'm gonna cum so much” Estella moaned while gripping Aaron's head. Aaron was sucking, licking and eating her pussy like he had been stranded in the Sahara desert and starved for weeks. With his left hand twisting and pulling at her nipple, he slid his tongue between her lips from underneath her hood to her pulsing hole. “Let that shit out” Aaron said into her pussy, adding 2 of his fat, long fingers driving them upwards, hitting her g-spot helping her reach the thing he's been begging for from the past few hours.

“Fuuuucckkkk” as her orgasm starts rippling through her body, causing her pussy to start clenching around his fingers while her clit pulses in his mouth. “Mmmmhmm” Aaron moans on her clit creating a vibration that begins to overstimulate her causing her to push his head away to stop him from continuing to eat her. “Ok I’m done, no more”. Aaron removes his fingers and slides his tongue all over her pussy, taking one last lick between his wife's fat lips.  He sits up and leans back to get a good look at her swollen, pulsing clit and pussy clenching around nothing. He looks up, admiring his wife, seeing that her eye’s are closed and she is out of breath. Estella slowly opens her eye’s to see her husband, staring at her in complete love and awe. 

She grabbed his big ass biceps, pulling him down, licking the inside of his mouth to taste herself. “Let me put the tip in,” Aaron said, mumbling into her mouth, “As much as I would love for you to stretch me out, we have a party to get to and I now have to shower again,” Estella said, savouring their kiss before she pushed him back and got out of bed. As she was walking away, he slapped her ass and he pulled her back, wrapping his arms around her body, kissing up her neck. He whispered in her ear “Alright but as soon as we get back, you better not fall asleep, because we have a long night waiting for us”. She let out a little giggle, pushing her husband away and walking into the bathroom with him following behind her, closing the door as soon as they entered. 

Estella looked at Aaron while he was driving to their destination, she took in how he liked to keep his hair buzzed or how he had barely noticeable scars on his face, that you would only notice if you truly paid attention to the details of his face. She took in note, the sun hitting his eyes, brightening them so that you could see the mix of baby sky blue and coin like grey in his eyes. The beautiful shine from cocoa butter and shea butter baby oil on his beautifully tanned honey coloured skin. Aaron looked to the side to see his beautiful wife truly considering himself as the luckiest man alive. He turned facing the road, picking up his wife's hand kissing the back of it, he said  “I am so in love with you……..Every moment I spend with you, makes me want to get down on my knees, rip my heart out of my chest, plate my heart on a silver platter and make it yours, so that all I could live for is you” he said declaring his love for his one and only true love, his soul mate, his wife Estella Pierre causing his brown skinned wife to start blushing and staring lovingly, leaving them in a comfortable silence.

He pulled into the driveway, parking behind the many cars in the lot, turning off the car, opening his door, then ran to open the door for his wife. “ thank you, big sexy” Aaron smiled, leaning down to kiss her, wrapping his lips with hers, slipping his tongue into her mouth, roaming her mouth, causing her to moan and slightly pull back “Don’t make me pull you into the back of car, and ride you until I can’t no more” she said sliding her hand down his body and ever so slightly over his bulge. “No, let's hurry up and get inside before I change my mind about this party”. Aron closes the door and locks the car before they make their way up the driveway, opening the door to see all the different people of different professions, from judges to actors to authors. “I know that ain’t who I think that is, yawl finally made it”, said Jayme Lawson, Aarons co-worker said. Smiling, they walked up to Jayme, Estella reaching to hug her first “I was trying to get here earlier but unfortunately we got caught up with something important” said Estella moving to the side, allowing Aaron to hug Jayme next. “It’s nice to finally see Aaron, outside of work instead of cooped up in his hotel “ said Jayme, causing a laugh to fall on those around them. “What can I say I love” - “ I know that ain’t my bestfriend I see” said by Amir, Estella’s best friend. “ohh, you just look tooo fabulous, look at your outfit Dora,” Estella said, letting out a loud laugh. “Uh, you talk too much shit, now follow me and let's go talk about the big, orange, racist bitch made man they just allowed in the election”. Estella, Amir shared a laugh, wrapping their arms around together and walking away for the rest of the group. “Babe, you just gon leave me like that” Estella turned pausing her conversation “Yes, Yes I am, go have fun, I'll see you later” Turning back to her best, they shared a look before walking away to the backyard. Where they spent the next few hours conversing about the bitch made, half dead man, gossip and Megan the stallions new twerk video. “I miss my man” Amir looked over at Estella” In the middle of our conversation ho”, “ Yes, I need just one kiss on my lips”, Amir laughed in disbelief  “Do you mean your lower lips?” causing Estella to smirk, “Mind your business” taking Amir’s hand, she dragged him into the house and went searching for her love in the crowd of people.

As they looked through the crowd of people not seeing him, they walked up to kelvin, she asked “ have you seen Aaron, we can’t seem to find him”, “He said he needed to use the washroom, awhile ago, it’s upstairs” Kelvin said yelling over the music, now starting to wonder, what was taking Aaron so long. Estella and Amir shared a confused look, making their way upstairs. As they got further away from the music, they checked the washroom to see it empty. “ You better call him real quick because there's no way that he just disappeared”, Estella picked up her phone, calling Aaron to hear the ringtone he had set for her in the room down the hall. Estella, slowly picked her head up and turned to look at Amir, seeing him stare back at her. She turned back forward, taking long strides to the room down the hall, bracing herself for whatever. Amir, not far behind her, took her hand, stopping her for a second “Babe, I want you to remember that you are an attorney, a black women attorney at that, don’t make no decisions that could affect your career”. Estella nodded, holding her tongue, so that she could hold in the emotions that she was feeling in the moment, she turned, arms locked with Amir’s, they then walked and walked until they reached the room, hearing moaning and groaning. Groans that she could recognize from a mile away, groans that she heard just a few hours ago.

She put her hand on the doorknob, twisted it open to see a sight she thought she would never see….Her husband Aaron Pierre, Fucking his co-worker Jayme Lawson in the mattress, hearing Jayme tell her husband, she loved him…and him saying…it…back. Aaron felt a weird sensation of someone staring at him, he looked towards the door, his heart dropping as he saw his wife and noticed a single tear slide down her face. “Babe, it’s not what it looks like”. Estella paused her crying, turning to look at Amir, they shared a laugh, Estella reached forward and grabbed the doorknob closing the door, all while Aaron pulled himself out of the women on the bed and tried to put on his pants to be able to reach his wife before she left the house, to then try and persuade his wife that he loved her and only her but it was too late.

Estella already walked out the house, coming to the realization that the love of her life, is only the love of HER life … .as she is not his. 

Tags -

@nahimjustfeelingit-writes

@blackgurlnhermoods

@easybrezzy

@planetblaque

@urfavblackbimbo

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[leodette]

And Now My Head Hurts | MV33

fandom: Formula 1

pairing: Max Verstappen x OC (not named)

names/faceclaims: -

summary: too many drinks results in a headache

warning: alcohol consumption mentioned

requested: yes / no (my dear friend @coff33andb00ks asked for some soft Max and a headache)

**********

A loud smack of the door woke her up. The sun was peaking through the curtains of the bedroom, and she groaned, squinting her eyes against the intrusive beams.

“Morning, sweetheart,” a familiar voice resonated from the door, and she buried her face deeper in the fluffy pillows. A small fury body curled against her upper arm, causing her to finally open her eyes and frowning at the familiar cat. Sassy had a look in her eyes that clearly said “and who do you think you are, since there is no breakfast in the bowl?”

No, the cats didn’t care that she was hungover. But her boyfriend seemingly did, because in the next moment the mattress dipped as the Dutch driver sat on its edge, gently patting her hair.

“You’re awfully awake for the amount you drank yesterday,” she murmured, feeling jealous. After Max’s win in Barcelona they took the private jet back, offering lift to McLaren boys as well as Leclerc brothers and their respective partners. She had a great time catching up with Alex and Jade while the five boys had their own debriefing after pretty eventful race. And even though there was still some tension in between Lando and Charles, they both decided to ignore it for the time they were in the plane.

And as usual, Max proposed Jimmy’z as an evening plan. It was their usual schedule, especially during European races - finish race, fly home, go party.

She remembered drinking probably too many Skinny Bitches while dancing her soul out. She also recalled Max’s hands on her hips, pulling her close to him, whispering naughty words in her ear that made her feel things. But sadly, they weren’t able to get to them. Because after that, she remembers nothing. A loud groan escaped from her throat, her face falling back to the cushions.

“Morning regrets?” Max asked, and she just whined in confirmation.

“My mouth feels like Sahara desert. And my head hurts,” she finally looked up at her boyfriend. He was slightly sweaty, dressed in running shorts and tight t-shirt with familiar bull logo on chest.

“Please tell me you didn’t go running,” she whined, earning Max’s chuckle.

“I could tell you I wasn’t, but you don’t want me to lie to you,” he leaned closer and kissed her forehead, his eyes softening when she gave him murderous look.

“How about this - I help you to shower, you will eat some of those packet noodles that you love, then take some painkillers, and we will take a nap together,” Max murmured, each part of his ‘master plan’ earning her a peck on lips.

“Hmmm, that could work,” she nodded and slowly sat down, making sure her balance was on.

“Damn that hurts,” she pressed a ball of her palm to her forehead.

“I know, sweetheart. C’mon, you will feel better soon,” he gently grabbed her by the waist and hoisted her up, his muscles flexing as she wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her face in his neck.

“I love you,” she murmured, earning herself a chuckle.

“I love you too. Even when you stink,” Max smirked and kissed her temple, the comment resulting in her weakly smashing her fist in his upper back.

[m00nchildwrites]

Saying "Daddy" in the bedroom has always made my stomach sour in the worst way. Instantly sucked any and all spicy feels right out of my soul leaving me feeling dryer than the Sahara-

BUT

If this man asked, I'd say it in a heartbeat and mean it.

[soulmusicsongs]

Alikali Adajo - Sahara All Stars Band Jos (Sahara All Stars Band Jos, 1976)

[hwashotcheeto]

𝑫𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒚 𝑳𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝑺𝒆𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒕

Kim Hongjoong X afab!gn!reader

Summary: You and Hongjoong hated each other. At least, that's what you told yourselves, until you ended up in the same bathroom at a party.

WC: 2.1k

Content: Smut, lots of smut, little bit of fluff, little bit of angst

Smut warnings: Dirty talk, kissing, fingering (reader receiving), oral sex (reader receiving), unprotected PIV sex (this is fairly vanilla)

AN: This is in reference to this post, so those of you who were interested, here you go. ;>

And this was originally written for @malldreamprincess but she gave me permission to edit it and post it. 💜

Tag List (Remember: Please send it through the ask box to be added to any tag lists!): @cherrycel @mxnsxngie

“You’re just a fucking bitch,” you spat, exasperated. Hongjoong laughed as he looked at you through the mirror, still more focused on fixing his stupid lipstick.

“Come on, even I say that. Do better, babydoll.” He puckered his lips and made a pop noise, finally satisfied with his application. He capped the tube and spun around to look at you, leaning back on the basin of the sink. His multitudes of rings clinked against the porcelain, and it was enough to make you want to rip your hair out of your skull. 

You clenched your hands into fists as he stared at you. He tilted his head. A taunt. 

You really had nothing except elementary level insults. “You’re not even pretty,” “you’re mean.” What could you say that someone hadn’t said already, that he didn’t already know, that Hongjoong wouldn’t have a smart, sexy retort to spit back at you with his bright red painted lips? 

“Your ex just fucked you because of your ass” is what came out. You didn’t even think about it, but all of a sudden, the words tumbled out and there they were. 

And to your surprise, the color drained from Hongjoong’s face. His smile dropped instantly and his eyes went wide. You felt pride that you’d finally stunned him, and then you were terrified half a second later by his sudden dead eyes that stared through you as you knew he was thinking about how to kill you. 

“I dare you to say that again,” he said slowly, his eyes still wide, but devoid of any and all emotion except for one: Rage. Unbridled, fiery rage. 

Your heart pounded wildly in your chest like a panicked bird, smacking against the sides of your rib cage. For a moment, you really considered staying quiet. 

“Your ex-” 

He threw you up against the wall and pinned your hands above your head. Your head hit the tiles of the bathroom wall and your vision swam for a second. 

When you could see again, all you were met with were Hongjoong’s eyes, staring into your very soul. Your lungs instantly shrunk and your stomach was in your throat. Your mouth was drier than sand in the Sahara. 

“You have no fucking right to say anything like that,” Hongjoong spat, pressing you against the wall harder. His body wasn’t touching yours, but fuck, it was so close, you could feel the heat coming off of him. 

“And what if I’m right?” You breathed. It was such a cheap line, and you knew there was a high chance he’d slap you for it. 

But he didn’t. And deep in his eyes, you saw it. Hestience. Uncertainty. 

Insecurity. 

I’m right, you thought, but you didn’t dare utter the words. 

Hongjoong finally collected himself and blinked. The insecurity disappeared, and the rage was starting to dissipate too. 

“Why did you say that?” He asked, still holding your hands above your head. 

And it was as if you both had a realization moment: What the fuck were you two doing? 

What were you doing here? In this bathroom, at this house party, arguing about a whole bunch of nothing, when you both could’ve ignored each other? It would've been so easy to ignore each other, to ignore Hongjoong, and stay with your friends and talk about everything and anything. 

You two didn’t like each other. You wanted nothing to do with each other. 

You hated each other. 

Right? 

“Because I hate you,” you breathed. 

And Hongjoong called your bluff. 

“No you don’t,” he whispered, and smashed his lips against yours. 

And it was a fiery kiss, of passion, rage, hidden and complex feelings neither of you wanted to confront. All tongue and teeth and spit. 

Hongjoong moved all over your body, groping at everything, your ass, hips, waist, tits, all of it, moaning into the kisses as he did. You gasped as he kissed down your neck feverishly. 

“Feels so good, Hongjoong,” you slurred, clinging onto him. 

“Yeah?” Hongjoong asked, running one of his hands down between your thighs, rubbing your clit through your pants. “Keep telling me that.” 

And you did, letting out all the whiny, desperate moans trapped inside you that Hongjoong forced out. Fire and desire raced through your body, from your head to your feet, your skin was screaming his name. 

Hongjoong groaned seeing your face, your eyes rolled back, feeling your slick all over his fingers, dripping out of you, it was so much. Everything he ever wanted. 

He leaned in and kissed you again, with the same intensity as before, pushing his tongue inside and fighting with yours, twisting and dancing, moving all over your mouth. 

As he pulled back, a string of saliva connecting your lips, you looked at him with half closed, dazed eyes as you mumbled: “Fuck me.” 

“Oh, I'll fuck you.”

Hongjoong helped you get your pants and underwear off before making you hold your own leg up to spread you wide for him. 

“Is this good?” You asked as you looked up at him through your lashes. Hongjoong smirked as he ran his fingers over your slit, gathering up some of your arousal. 

“Yeah, good doll,” he ground out as he pushed two fingers inside you. You’d hardly adjusted to the feeling of being stretched out before he was fucking you hard and fast. 

“Fuck, Hongjoong!” You cried out, clenching down on his fingers, rolling your eyes back into your head. 

“That’s it, keep saying my name, gorgeous.” Hongjoong’s forehead was leaned against yours, his nose pressed against yours, his lips a breath away, feeling his heavy breaths on your lips. 

You obeyed, whining and whimpering out his name while his fingers were slamming into you, pounding against your spot, fucking you wide open. Hongjoong smashed his lips on yours again, the kissy messy, his free hand in your hair, holding you in place so you couldn’t pull away. 

Not that you ever wanted to. 

“So perfect,” he mumbled in between kisses. “Feels so fucking good, all of it.” 

His words went straight to your cunt and you clenched down again, feeling your orgasm creeping up. 

“Hongjoong, I’m gonna come,” you whimpered out. 

She immediately pulled back, making you squeal and whine in disappointment. But you rolled your eyes back as he dropped to his knees and pushed back inside you again. 

“Come on my face, baby,” he whispered before he dove in, sucking on your clit and fucking up into you. And how could you deny him when he was fucking you like that? 

It didn’t take long before your thighs were shaking and your head was going light. One of your hands dropped down to grip onto Hongjoong’s hair, holding him as close as you could. She moaned and smothered his face in, putting his free hand on the small of your back to keep you close. 

With one final suck on your clit, you came with a scream of his name, pulling on his hair, trying your hardest to not let your legs buckle underneath you. 

Hongjoong moaned as he drank up everything that spilled out of you, fucking you through it, then licking at your still pulsing hole. His eyes were rolled back as he happily took it all. 

“Fuck, baby, you’re so hot,” he breathed as he pulled away, leaning back on the floor on his hands. And fuck, he looked irresistible. 

The low lighting of the bathroom barely illuminated the shine of your slick on his face and neck, his hair was a mess, his pupils blown out with that little Cheshire smirk on his lips. 

You dropped to your knees and crawled over, pinning him on his back and kissing him again, and she let you do it. He let you pin him to the floor and kiss him, and have your way with him. 

Your hands went down and struggled with his pants, and he thankfully helped you get them down to give you access to his rock hard cock. You smiled into the kisses as you started stroking him, pulling a gasp out of him. 

“Aww, you’re so hard,” you cooed, sitting up on top of him. Hongjoong’s eyes rolled back as he bit his lip, stifling the noises that were beginning to bubble up in his throat. “I thought you hated me, Hongjoong.” You lined his cock up with your cunt and teased the head, making him buck his hips up and groan. 

“Shut up and fuck me,” he breathed, his nails digging into your hips. You almost wanted to make him beg for everything he ever did to you, but you stopped yourself, and slowly sunk down onto him. 

His mouth dropped open as he gasped, squeezing you tighter, trying to keep his noises quiet. But even as you were struggling to stay composed, you weren’t about to let him stay quiet,oh no. 

Thanks to him fucking you open already, you could set a fast pace from the beginning. Hongjoong let out a choked moan and closed his eyes. He bit down on his lip as a whine slipped out, his eyebrows going together. You were so tight on him, so warm, it was almost burning. His head was already going light from the pleasure in his veins. 

“Come on, Hongjoong, don’t be quiet,” you breathed, putting your hands on his chest, leaning close to his face. “I wanna hear how good it feels.” And at first, nothing changed, and you expected him to stay quiet. He didn’t open his eyes, he didn’t change. So you dropped down on his lap harder than before. 

And after that, all the noises were tumbling from his lips. Whines and whimpers, little broken gasps, all of it. 

“So good,” he whimpered out, his head tilted back against the floor. 

“Yeah?” You couldn’t help but smirk, even when your stomach was churning and twisting, and your thighs were quivering in pleasure. 

“Yeah, don’t stop, baby, please.” 

And you weren’t about to. 

You put your hands on either side of his head, staring down at him as you continued. Your eyes trailed down to his exposed neck, and got an idea. 

You leaned in and bit down, making him yelp in pain, but you began to suck and lick over it, soothing the pain and making a mark where everyone would see it. 

That he was yours now and no one was going to take him from you. 

His thighs began to tremble and his back arched. “I’m close, please don’t stop,” he gasped, his hands going up to grab onto your shoulders, holding you tight against his body. 

You were close too, and it was making it difficult to keep the pace up. But hearing all Hongjoong’s desperate cries and moans gave you the motivation to keep going. 

He could see how you were close, and how you were focusing on him and not yourself. So he took one shaking hand and rubbed your clit to help you along. 

And it was almost instantly that you came all over him, screaming his name, bouncing on him frantically to ride it out. He came when you did, fucking up into you, crying out your name as he dug his nails into your skin. 

“You marked me,” he panted once it was over. You smirked as you crawled up to him and looked at it. A dark mark, right in the middle of his neck, where everyone would see it. 

You looked at him, and he was smiling too. “Good.”

“Good?” You asked, slowly pulling up off of him. 

“Yeah.” He pulled his pants back up and got up off the floor, helping you as well. “This isn’t how I wanted to tell you, but I have to now.” 

You looked at him confused as you began to clean yourself up. He helped you before you got redressed, and he helped you fix your outfit before he continued. 

“I never really hated you. I only ‘hated’ you because I wanted you. But when I did, I was dating my ex. I didn’t know what to do, and it came out at that. I’m sorry.” 

And all the animosity you ever felt towards Hongjoong disappeared, and you threw your arms around him in a tight hug. He froze, not really believing you were hugging him. It took a few seconds before he hugged you back, squeezing you so tightly. 

“You’d really have me?” 

“Yes. Now I know it wasn’t genuine. I’d love to have you.” 

Hongjoong smiled and held you even closer. It wasn’t how he wanted the conversation to go at all, but it ended better than he could’ve hoped. 

No matter what happened now, you'd be with him. Everything would be okay because you were with him.

Thank you for reading! Please reblog if you enjoyed! 💜

This is a work of fiction written by me. This does not represent the idol(s) in any way. Any re-upload is not allowed and will be reported.

[astroboots]

looooooved your steven somno/cockwarming story! it did leave me wishing i could be inside stevens head though.... if u ever wanted to write a little drabble from his perspective about what he was up to while the reader was asleep i certainly would not be opposed...

I Need Some Sleep 2.0

Summary: Mini Drabble companion to I need some sleep from Steven's POV. You've fallen asleep with Steven deep inside you and the poor man tries to hold onto his failing sanity (cockwarming galore).

ASTROBOOT’S MASTERLIST | MOON KNIGHT MASTERLIST

The acrid heat of the desert made the trek across the Sahara desert unbearable and our--

Our-- journey tha-- shit.

The book lands with a thud against the mattress. Steven's eyes squeezes shut as he tries to steady his own breathing. His heart rabbiting away with a punishing pace below his ribs somewhere.

He has to finish. The sooner he finishes... He grits his teeth and picks up the book again. Steven blinks up on the page. The words are blending together. Where was he? What did he read. God, he can't remember-- He's going to have to stop from the top of the page again isn't he...

The acrid heat-- The acri--- fuuuuuuuuuck.

Steven groans, a deep and pained groan torn from the depth of his soul and needy chest as he feels you shift against him, clamped tight and warm and achingly slick around his painfully hard cock.

This is bloody torture.

The heat of you wrapped all around him, and he feels like every nerve in him is strumming with a high-pitched scream, screeching in his blood. Oh fuuuck.

You're squeezing around him again. So blissfully tight he thinks he's going to lose his mind from it.

He wants to move. No, fuck, not want... needs to.

His arm comes to his forehead as he drapes it across his eyes, blocking out the light of the room and all his vision, so that he can just... breathe, for a second. He just -- he needs to focus... finish... fuck that's what you said wasn't it? He just needs to finish and then-- then--- shit, what did you say again?

Why is he doing this again? What is he doing?

His eyes dart to the book in his hand, and the distant memory of it vaguely flashes across the remaining operating brain cell fighting to hold on, between his temples.

'Finish the work' the memory of your voice reminds him, ringing sweet and taunting between his ears. 'You’ve promised Marc and I’m not going to move an inch until you finish.'

Right... Marc... He'd promised Marc.

Marc, who had been adamant that he finished reading this tome of a book tonight, even as you had gotten increasingly cranky for Steven to join you in bed.

Marc who had nagged him from the mirror all bloody evening about finding the location hidden somewhere in the accounts of Hargrave...

Marc who -- the moment you went to sleep, with his cock buried deep inside, dangling as a reward and punishment all wrapped into one blissfully aching and torturous parcel -- conveniently disappeared into smoke. That nagging grump of a man fled the scene, the moment you sank on his cock and left Steven to his own woeful devices.

Rotten traitor. Right arse. Marc's the one who got him in this damned mess in the first place.

You hum in your sleep, soft and sweet. Then you shift again, squeezing and clamping down and ---

shitshitshitshit. This is torture. Oxygen flees from his lungs in a rush. His toes curl into the sheets, and his hips stutters into you, but you're squeezing too hard around him. He can't get deeper, can't work himself into you like this and -- God.

Steven's gonna die. Or cry. Or black out. God this isn't fair.

His grip on the edges of the book tightens, and he can feel the blood leaving his knuckles, until he's gripping so hard he can feel the bones in his fingers pressing up against the leather of the cover.

The acrid heat, he recites to himself. That's where he left off... he just needs to finish. He just needs to finish this goddamn book. Just a few more pages, and then --- then...

The slick silken heat of you tightens around his cock, the blinding pressure searing through his spine--- oh god... it's so good, you're so tight.

Sinking his teeth hard against his bottom lip, the blunt pain sharpens his mind long enough that he swears he can taste blood. He could roll you over right now. Have you on your back as he pushes you into the mattress with his body. Wrap your legs around him, thrust into you, you're so wet already. Dripping down the length of him and he can feel it leak down his cock to his stomach.

It wouldn't take much, he's nearly there. Can feel his climax looming like a threat along the tip of his tongue promising him rhapsody if he'd only take it. Maybe he doesn't even need to do that, he could grind himself into you to completion from where he's lying, it'd be so good. You'd feel so good.

But you'd told him to finish this first... Told him you wouldn't move until he's done.

Fuckfuck, he clamps his eyes tightly shut, biting down the sob punching through his throat. Pushing back the tears that are pushing behind his eyelids. His hands at his sides tightens into a fist.

He can wait. He can do as he's told. That's what you wanted...

He can do this... Just... a few more pages, he's a fast reader... Yeah... he can-- he can do this.

Nodding to no one in particular but himself, Steven opens his eyes again, and brings the book up to his face.

The acrid heat of the desert made the trek across the Sahara desert unbearable....

Author's note: gaaaah thank you for this sweetie nonny, I'm so so sorry I've held onto for it as long as I did as I did intend to write a sequel but life has just been a runaway train from me lately.

Follow me on astroboots-writes and turn on notifications for when I post something new!

[seeking-love-poet]

TNT and Falling Sand

TNT and falling sand

Hotguy sighted with Poultry Man

A chicken army 5,000 in number

If they weren’t already, they’d be banned from the Perimeter

TNT and falling sand

Shenanigans make for a merry band

Flint and steel and a purple crown

They built it all up to watch it all fall down, down, down

TNT and falling sand

Doomed to fall by a friend’s hand

Gravity, so inevitably deadly

It’s time for another Hermitgang medley

Sahara and Monopoly Mountain

Hippie Commune and Area 77

A Boatem Pole and a Goatem Hole

Borrowed brain cells and shared souls

Glitching, twitching, furious wings

Butterflies, Buttercups, Dragons, and things

Things unnatural, things that feed

Things that See but are unseen

Look behind you

[mi-i-zori]

I - Retrieval of the Doll

CoD - TF141 (Soap's POV)

SUMMARY : Soap is used to fighting against monsters disguised as humans. But the world has changed. Creatures much more dangerous than humans are now threatening the order of things, and it's become his mission to Secure, Contain, Protect.

WARNINGS : None. Just a post apocalyptic setting.

Author's Note : Never thought I'd be brave enough to post this. But I hyper focused on SCP stuff for a while and was quite satisfied with this, and I thought it would be silly to let it rot in my files. So here you go.

I do not allow anyone to re-publish, re-use and/or translate my work, be it here or on any other platform, including AI.

CoD AUs - Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Next

As a joint, multi-national special operations and counter-terrorism military unit, Task Force 141 has been put in charge of many perilous missions. Its members, considered to be some of the best soldiers in the world, have seen their share of horrors ; a reality nobody could really imagine unless they saw it with their own eyes. Some people never even thought such nightmare-inducing experiences could ever happen. 

Which, in itself, could be seen as some sort of relief.

For it was those soldiers’ job to protect those who only wished to live in peace, away from the souls seeking a path of power and destruction. To get rid of the humans threatening their civilian peers. When you think yourself to be the ultimate predator, it is easy to forget you are not the only one sharing similar thoughts and acting to break their limits ; to achieve a twisted form of perfection, never caring about who they might end up crushing under the foundations of the world you dream of.

Nowadays, Mobile Task Force 141 isn’t too different from what it used to be - except the dangers they are brought to face are far from being human.

The world has changed. The security of this planet has been compromised, thus leading to an international review of every single safety measure made to preserve humanity itself, as well as the many environments it came to conquer, and sometimes lose.

It started with what is now known as the Covid-19 pandemic. When the year 2020 was littered with a seemingly never-ending amount of deaths, with some even trying to compare it to a list of other illnesses that once wrecked havoc around the world, such as the Black Death or the Great Influenza epidemic. It added a twisted dimension of resigned horror to the events everyone was going through. When the pandemic started to slow down, hopes of peace also came to rise.

But it didn’t take long for things to become much worse.

A year later, the global climate had fallen apart, and the world became colder every month. Snow started falling in Africa, covering even the Sahara in a layer of crystallized water. The icy plains covering the poles thickened and spread over miles, now covering an ever-growing surface nobody ever thought to be possible in such a short amount of time. All over the world, autumn and spring started to feel like winter, and summer like spring.

Only a few months were needed for a handful of researchers to find the source of all those changes : our planet had somehow broken out of its orbit, straying further and further away from the Sun. Even more surprising, a few other celestial bodies caught in our solar system, mainly those that circled the further away from our star like Pluto, seemed to be creeping closer at an unimaginable speed. 

It was theorized that these planets and the Sun’s gravitational pulls had changed drastically, leading our solar system to seemingly be thrown upside down ; although it would probably take some time before studies could yield a few reliable results. What was for certain, however, was that many were those who succumbed to the sudden waves of frost that assaulted the Earth. Humans, animals, plants - no one, and nothing, was spared. 

Yet on the other hand, the species that pushed through it all were found to have started to evolve quickly in subtle, unexpected ways. It gave the situation a fascinating, supernatural aspect - one that sparked hope in the hearts of those who tried their best to stay positive.

« Survival of the fittest », was how the situation started to be referred to by many. The media was partially to blame for such a frightening quote ; yet there was no denying the thought crossed everyone’s mind more than once.

But things didn’t stop there. The Frost in itself would have been bearable had humanity’s most important resources not suddenly started to collapse. 

The gargantuan platforms drinking petroleum from the ocean floors were the first to crumble. Waves akin to mountains crushed their pillars, sending gigantic shreds of ruined machinery to the not-so distant shores. The wails of those who ended up being torn apart by unknown forces were swept away by the winds. Some of their shredded silhouettes could also be spotted on the surface of beaches covered in crystals of salt. Areas that were soon to be declared « off-limits ».

Then sudden, violent earthquakes started to shake the entirety of the world. As one of their worst consequences, many underground gaz pockets started rupturing, their contents leaking over the surface ; mixing with the normally breathable air. Things happened too quickly for any previsions to be made, and many were those who succumbed to gaz poisoning or explosions before the most vulnerable areas could be properly evacuated. The gaz exploitations worldwide, as well as their workers, were the principal victims of these devastating events. 

And there was more. Roads, radio towers, internet relays and power lines kept being torn apart by waves upon waves of merciless winds. Tornadoes, hurricanes, blizzards and storms of all kinds unleashed their wrath upon solid ground, shredding rural towns and buzzing cities alike. The survivors were left with nothing, and sometimes no one. Communicating over long distances became a struggle in many places, and over time, repairs could hardly be seen as efficient. While lasting power outages and blocked-off roads became so common people started to learn how to live through them, they also became a source of anguish - for they often tended to be a symptom of imminent destruction.

Theories of all sorts have been shared to try and pinpoint the cause of it all, based on science, myths, urban legends and more - but a real answer has yet to be given.

At least, to the common masses.

A few years have passed since what has quickly been labeled as « the beginning of the end ». Although things seem to have settled a little bit, it doesn’t prevent any kind of chaos from surprising everyone once more. Despite the comfort they manage to preserve, humans are solely focused on survival, constantly building and rehabilitating underground shelters in the hopes they will be enough to protect them against the worst catastrophes. Recording every new event has become a way for people to help understand the origins and functioning of these innumerable changes. A desperate attempt to overcome the disasters they constantly unleash.

On his own smaller scale, Sergeant John « Soap » MacTavish quickly started to do the same, detailing them in a special notebook himself. Combining them with his own experiences, analysis and thoughts, he finds some comfort in the way it makes him feel grounded, standing on his feet despite the way reality keeps being thrown upside-down, the potential conflicts between what his job forces him to do and the new kinds of horrors he sees. Helps me stay sane, he repeats over and over when his teammates ask him what he is doing. Even though he lost count of how many times he has been caught off guard by how big the moon sometimes seems to be.

In his eyes, Mother Nature has officially labeled humanity as its target, and seems to do everything in its power to destroy it - piece by piece.

He is not the only one nurturing such thoughts. When his busy schedule allows him to turn on the TV standing in the common room of his barracks, the screen seems to constantly hold images of riots, interviews of crying faces and angry social media feeds - people blaming the biggest companies, governments or whatever name they can find to unleash their frustrations on. Fear, panic and despair spread everywhere in the world as people struggle to understand the cause of everything. Inside the military bases he is stationed on, keeping the morale up has become increasingly difficult. Tensions arise between those who dare voice their thoughts and the others who, usually coming back from deployment, only wish to find even the smallest ounce of peace, away from the exhausting violence of it all.

This is our reality now, is what every single person worldwide thinks as they are submitted to constant security measures on the daily - safety protocols meant both to protect their health, and keep any form of potential terrorism at bay. For many are those who try to take advantage of the chaos, finding power and satisfaction among the seemingly never-ending confusion.

Yet none of them knows anything about the real threat looming above their heads. 

Most of the time, Soap struggles to grasp what he sees. As a soldier, he has been trained to never question the orders he receives - and although his team has already gone rogue once or twice, which ended up being beneficial for many people, he makes sure to follow his Captain’s words. Yet he can’t deny the fact that his mind has a will of its own, constantly running over miles of thoughts whenever its owner takes a break. And when facing the things that now seem to crawl all over the world, he is unable to stop the questions from flowing.

Night had already fallen when the Researchers arrived to the military base. When they went to bed a few hours later, the soldiers of the 141 could hardly believe what they’d heard : detailed explanations about a new kind of intensive training to face otherworldy beings - some so powerful they became the real cause behind many of the current catastrophic events. They were sent off with a new schedule and bewildered thoughts about anomalies that have been roaming the surface of the Earth long before humanity came to exist. Creatures that have found a place among them all. Unimaginable threats a secret organisation had been dealing with for decades - perhaps even longer. 

And the terrifying knowledge that some of these creatures had « breached containment », as the lead researcher said.

Secure. Contain. Protect. 

Such is the mantra every single member of the SCP Foundation has engraved onto their very bones. The one that every single soldier now also has to follow.

Not so long ago, Soap went through a very different routine than the one he pushes himself through every day now that the Foundation has started working directly with the international forces. The daily list of questions he has to answer frequently changes, probably to prevent his brain from settling into a potentially dangerous pattern ; one that could easily be copied by an entity. And, for now, his answers remain practically the same every time. He can only pray it stays that way.

Even though he doesn’t really know who he should dedicate his prayers to anymore.

The thought has him curse lowly under his head-gear. He takes a second to readjust his mask, groaning as the rough edges carve trails of reddish discomfort on his cheeks. The unknown fumes that now litter the surface of certain areas of the world distort his surroundings like an intense heat would do the air. A part of him is grateful for how quickly the new generation of air-filters has been developed, allowing people like him to do their job without inhaling a lethal amount of poison in the span of a few minutes ; but the protection still weighs heavy on his jaw, held tightly by a series of straps that scrape against his scalp with each careful move of his head. Ignoring it isn’t easy, especially when the warmth of his own breath keeps wafting against his skin. He stopped counting the times his tongue darted out to wet his lips, the delicate skin tightening even more every time it dries up.

Secure. Contain. Protect.

Right.

And how are they supposed to do so when they barely have any idea of what exactly they have been sent to face ?

The sarcasm of his thoughts is cut abruptly when his Captain’s voice echoes through his earpiece.

« Soap, Ghost, how copy ? » 

« All ah can say is it’s been a while since ah’ve seen so much green in a city. » 

« Green that could hide our target. Stay sharp. »

« Aye, Sir. »

« Gaz, you still in position ? »

« Affirmative, Sir. Got your back. »

Treading through the ruins of what once was a small French town, now partially swallowed by the forest lining its borders, has proven to be quite the experience - one as fascinating as it is tense and tiring. Initially, the two areas did not share a border. They slowly grew to do so, until massive roots tore the concrete roads apart, and various - possibly mutated - plants greedily devoured both fields and buildings.

Johnny feels the mnestic drugs he took before the mission steel his mind from the potential antimemetic entity they’re chasing. He notices their effect in the way the details of his surroundings stay clear in a corner of his thoughts, as if he was constantly looking at them. The medicine reinforces his memory, preventing it from being erased should it be their target’s ability. 

In full honesty, they are not sure of its nature. They have have been led to take such precautions because of a few sightings that all seemed to circle around places with lots of information, such as computer stores, book stores, or other similar environments. Said environments being literal playgrounds for antimemetic entities.

What they are sure of, however, is that their target is far from being human, and could be extremely dangerous. And although they have been trained to face any kind of supernatural being, Soap can’t deny that this is far from the military operations they used to deal with. 

Sometimes, he misses the horrors of the past.

« Went around the electronics stores o’ the west central block, » says the gravelly voice of his lieutenant, both through the comms and behind him. « Didn’t see, hear or feel a thing. » 

« Copy that, Ghost, » Price answers. « Got nothin’ on our end either. Keep searching. »

Soap points to a grand building standing at the end of the street. Not far from him, Ghost nods, holding a finger to his earpiece.

« Found the library, » he announces.

« You goin’ in then ? »

« Affirmative. »

« Roger that. Be careful. »

« Aye, » Soap says, ending the conversation.

Like all the other buildings in this town, the library’s white walls and columns, built as a modern mimicry of the Ancient Greek temples, are being swallowed by countless strands of ivy. The small garden surrounding it has long gone haywire, nature reclaiming its rights with a series of colorful flowers and overgrown greenery. It gives the whole setting an undeniable charm, and Johnny wishes he could capture it in his sketchbook.

But they’re not here to play tourists.

« Ghost an’ Soap, goin’ dark. »

Next

CoD AUs - Masterlist

Main Masterlist

[fabdante]

@zutaraweek day 6, forge: it's 1994. you are at a party. and then you see a girl. and your soul remembers something: listen here (17 songs, 1 hour 9 minutes)

i've been thinking a lot about older internet. namely, old 8tracks playlists. and i thought it'd be fun to harvest a little of that nostalgia to make an old school fandom playlist meant to be listened to in order with a storyline and annotations!

song list with links and annotations under the cut (and if you liked this one, you can check out my longer zk playlist here)

~House of Metal by Chelsea Wolfe (You put your love inside the metal/You build the metal for your house): Tui and La. Moon and Ocean. Yin and yang. An eternal dance.

~Here She Comes by Slowdive (It's so lonely in this place): It’s 1994. He’s at a party. He doesn’t want to be. He looks up. And there she is.

~Home Soon by Vagabon (I’ll be home soon): Something remembers.

~Cinnamon by Jome (It’s a slow cinnamon summer/Your spell is pulling me under): It’s the last year of the 100 year war. The summer air is thick. Her smile’s the same. And something is happening that's far too sweet as they tumble towards the end of the world.

~First Light by Hozier (Could this be how every day begins?): A realization. A secret. A wish.

~Flaws by Daughter: She holds him after the lighting tore through him, after she saved him, as they watch the sky turn blue. What do you say after that? Besides what you want to, of course.

~Neptune by Sleeping at Last (I'm only honest when it rains/If I time it right, the thunder breaks/When I open my mouth/I wanna love you but I don’t know how): A realization. A horror. A little dream.

~Country Rain by Slowdive (I know I shouldn’t care/But I wish you were mine): They part. Not for the first time. Not for the last time.

~Spanish Sahara by Foals (I’m the ghost in the back of your head): Even after years, that summer won’t let go. Even after the years, she's as familiar as breathing.

~Lullabies by Yuna (Though you weren’t mine/You were my first love): A confession. A soft one.

~Fire in the Water by Feist (Nobody should see this/The freeness of the light): Knowledge that is learned cannot be unlearned. But things are seldom simple for them. It's never been simple for them.

~Cherry Tree by The National (Can we show/A little discipline?): What do we do with it? What have we ever done with it? The tangle of their lives, ever so complicated, and ever so woven. Maybe it's dangerous.

~Earth by Sleeping at Last (But I put it out of my mind/Long enough to call it courage): Wrong place, wrong time. That’s what it is.

~Good Day Sunshine by Slowdive: It’s 1994-It’s the dawn of time-It’s the 100 years war-It’s a cave between two cities-It’s-It’s-It’s-

~Samson by Regina Spektor (I loved you first/I loved you first): At least they’ll know. In the knot of his scar. In the tips of her fingers. In the glances, the letters, the comfortable silences side by side. At least they’ll know.

~Welcome Home (Reprise) by Radical Face: Maybe…maybe. Maybe now.

~When the Sun Hits by Slowdive (As the sun hits, she’ll be waiting/With her cool things and her heaven/Hey hey, lover, you still burn me/You’re a sun): It’s 1994. She’s at a party. She doesn’t want to be. She looks up. And there he is.

[vintagehellfire]

Life Eternal | E.M

summary: You'd promised each other your souls forever, that you'd be with each other forever...

warnings: angst, hurt/no comfort, grief, major character death, graves, death, no seriously there is no comfort... okay maybe mayyyyyybe if you squint, but tbh just pure hurt, based on Life Eternal by Ghost

18+ MDNI

There was no denying the pain that came with having someone ripped from you far too soon, but what was worse was being unable even to have one last goodbye, being unable to see their face one last time before their soul departed from their body and before the rot settled in. There was something akin to a knife being driven through one's chest repeatedly when the devastating news of a loved one taking their last breath was delivered, and it was made much worse when the two parties touched each other’s souls in a way that no other had been able to. 

Tears fell onto the dampened earth, the lot still fresh, disturbed. The cold granite of the headstone felt glacial and yet unreal. It was a physical manifestation of devastation and yet its existence felt completely ersatz. Not only because the stone was clean for the most part - barring the red spray paint that refused to be removed, another permanent mark on the memories of that which is lost - but also because stuck out like a sore thumb in the old and run-down cemetery, a symbol of the young loss. 

Sobs wracked your body and your breathing uneven, but how could it ever be even again? It wouldn’t be, not as you sat at your kitchen table to receive the news, not as you received the devastating emotional blow of finding out that there wasn’t a body to be recovered, and not when you were in front of his grave, knowing that he wasn’t even beneath the earth below your feet. How nobody was able to find him left your mouth drier than the Sahara - you weren’t able to hold his hand one last time, no matter how cold they would be, unable to see his button nose or hug his dying body to you as you lost him for what felt like the second time in the span of a week. You choked on your breath for what was probably the hundredth time, the hundredth time you breathed your soul out through earth-shattering devastation. 

With nobody but the sodden cemetery ground to turn to, you fisted the earth and let out a heart-shattering sob into the open air, nobody to hear you or to console you through the pain. The one person you wanted most was the one person you would never see again. The lump in your throat silenced your voice, vocal cords worn thin from the sleepless nights that you sobbed into the infamous Hellfire shirt he wore. His scent was quickly fading from it and once you had realised that you were left an even bigger wreck than you could have imagined - the last tether to him slowly fraying, the last little fibres unravelling themselves in tune to your own emotional demise. 

Your whole body shook with anger and heartbreak - you wanted to get out of this god-forsaken town, but he haunted you and this cursed place was the only thing keeping him alive. You could swear that you’d feel his hands on your shoulders while you tried to cook - the first time it happened, you called his name before the sensation disappeared into thin air, leaving you heaving for oxygen. Your food was forgotten and left to burn while your wails carried through your apartment and your eyes stung from the tears. That night you sobbed until there was no longer any breath left in your lungs, until the walls of your home felt cold and unwelcoming. 

The second time it happened, you were walking past the arcade and you could have sworn you felt his hands on your hips and a laughter-filled call of your name. That time you spun around so quickly you nearly lost your balance, head whipping around to see who it was behind you, but his voice haunted you and so you pushed past everyone in your way, trying to hold yourself together enough to break down the moment you reached your car. You didn’t make it and instead, you found yourself sitting by your car’s front tire as you bawled, your body wracked with tremors. They felt never-ending – the tremors – terrorising you when you would least expect them. You longed for his arms around you again, to hear his laugh, to dance with him in your little kitchen as you did on the first night you had moved into your place. The memory only served as a painful reminder of that which you no longer had. Your body had memorised the way he held you to him, his quivering voice that told you that you’d touched his soul forever before leaning in for the most gentle kiss. The way his kiss seared into your skin was like a burn that would flare up when you least expected it, and it was clear that he too had touched your soul in a more permanent way than you had ever expected him to. 

“Eddie…” You sniffled, managing to find the capacity to croak out his name for the first time in months but the assault of tears that came immediately after you breathed life back into his name was too painful, your chest seizing, lungs collapsing on themselves as if you’d just been plummeted a thousand leagues under the dark ocean. Your life certainly felt much darker with him gone. You longed for him, even while he was around, you longed to spend time in his arms, to hear him ramble about his campaigns, about his little sheep, but now that he was gone you couldn’t help but yearn for all that you used to have with him. 

It had been months of this, of showing up to his gravestone and having to clean it from the obscenities that adorned it, a painful reminder of how little love he received for how much of it he had in his heart. You spent agonising hours scrubbing the red paint off with cleaning products and salty tears, leaving flowers and letters to him in hopes that they would somehow reach him on the other side, and yet with each passing day, the fire that lit your soul grew darker, and the yearning only grew stronger. Your jaw was in a state of constant pain from how much you were trying to hold yourself together, clenching it in both your waking hours and the moment sleep consumed you, trying to keep your very being from shattering. 

“Can you hear me say your name? Can you see me longing for you?” Your voice was hoarse, unused for far too long. You barely recognised it yourself, as if it was a third party speaking for you, projecting your thoughts for you. The moment you realised you had spoken, another wave hit you, knocking you down further than you had been before. You dug your hands into the graveyard dirt and let out a shaky breath, unable to fathom the reality that wrapped itself like a noose around your neck, slowly suffocating you. You wanted nothing more than to scream but the cry never came - your last breath was spent, it seemed, and all you could muster was a weak whimper. How could he be gone? You wondered to yourself, unable to come to terms with the devastating passing of your boyfriend. You refused to believe it, the lack of a body, he couldn’t be gone, could he? But as the days passed, your hope dwindled, and you had to resign yourself to the reality that he was gone. You had to just let go… Or so everyone seemed to preach. 

The promises you both whispered to each other in the dead of night, when the witching hour struck, and you had nothing but each other, haunted you. Sometimes you swore that you could hear whispers of his voice when you couldn’t fall asleep but ultimately it was most likely your delirious conscience that plagued you, making you hear things in the dead of night. 

“You promised…” Your sobs wracked your body, shuddering the more you tried to contain your tears, your voice completely breaking as you let go of the last ounce of strength that held you together. Your mind wandered to the sweet nothings that Eddie would shower you with, and that is what they amounted to in the end, wasn’t it? Nothing. With him gone, you didn’t have any options but to let go of those feelings, those sweet words, those promises of being yours forever. His romantic monologues and ramblings of being yours forever, and if death chose to do you part, how he’d find your soul once again from the afterlife, you had to let them go for they found themselves amounting to nothing. Death did you part, except it didn’t take you as well. 

You danced slowly in the candlelight, your hand on his shoulder, his on your waist, and his soft lips right beside your ear. He pulled you close to his body and while he was warm, his hands were cold against yours, as if he’d just come in from a cold winter’s night, but all he had done was share a joint with you, something that loosened you both up after your long day. His wild curls tickled your soft face and you giggled at some ridiculous line he was feeding you but soon the suave facade fell and his voice dropped to a low murmur. 

“Sweetheart, I love you.” His voice rattled, rattled like old windows in a summer storm, sturdy, protective, and yet stable, protecting that on the inside. “I would rip the heavens apart to find you again. I’d search for you in the afterlife if it meant I could be with you in lifetimes to come.” And while this sounded like standard Munson drivel, there was a certain intonation that inclined you to believe him. 

“I don’t think God would be too happy with you, Munson, nor the devil himself for that matter.” You tried to joke with him but it fell on deaf ears. Eddie was unrelenting with his honesty. His voice was earnest and thick with emotion when he answered you, a conviction you’d never heard before lacing itself into every word. 

“I don’t care, sweetheart, I’d fight Gods and devils alike… I’d fight Satan himself for you if it meant getting to be with you in the next life.” You couldn’t do anything but hold him closer in this moment, your words dying on your tongue. How were you to answer him when his emotions were so raw? How could you even muster up something as eloquent to say to him when he opened his heart up to you in such a vulnerable way?

“I’d raise armies to rip hell apart to find you, Eddie. I’d be longing for you forever…” You whispered to him as you both slowly danced together, the candles flickering softly, illuminating both your features in a warm glow - there was nothing more beautiful than the love you both shared, nothing more pure. 

Your forehead fell to the dank earth, lungs set ablaze by your dry heaving. You couldn’t find it in you to make this the moment you just let it go. Your soul called out for him as you longed painfully for his touch, his soft words of reassurance, but you wouldn’t get them, never again. The most you had was the little love notes he left you, his DnD notebooks… There wasn’t all too much that was left of your boyfriend, and you cherished every last thing that you had in your possession. He had touched your soul forever, whether he knew it or not. 

Your eyes burned painfully as sobs tore through your raw throat, your fingers digging further into the fresh dirt of the uprooted grave. The further you stuck your hands in, the more you prayed you’d hit something, anything, but you never would. Your hands would grow cold, and there would be a story in your heart - yours and Eddie’s - but your hands would never again find his body, never again hold him to you. They would never run through his tangled curls, or feel the plush of his lips, no, instead they’d feel the humidity seep into their bones and devour them from the inside out the longer you kept them buried, and the dirt would surely cake your fingernails to the point you wouldn’t be able to get it out from underneath them. The scent of petrichor would overtake the smell of weed, cigarettes, and his cheap musky cologne. You’d never feel his callouses graze across your soft skin again, and that small detail, the one that made Eddie so… so him, would in a year escape you, fading into nothingness as you were forced to let go of him. 

You wanted to dance with him once again, to feel the chill of his long fingers against yours but that was something that wouldn’t ever come back. Not even in the ghostings of touches, the whispers and bumps that came in the night. No matter how much those moments shattered you, no matter how much pain they brought on, the most painful would be the moment you forget the feeling of his lips or the way his hands splayed across the small of your back - those moments would disappear one day… or one day until someone came along that made you remember it, and that day would be one that would make every other touch but Eddie’s feel wrong. Nobody would have the honour to touch you in the same ways as he did. 

As you bawled into the graveyard dirt, you could have sworn there was a weight on your upper back and while it wasn’t pushing you into the dirt itself, it might as well have been. Part of you hoped it would be Eddie’s arm around you but when you turned, your body was violently assaulted by an onslaught of sobs at the realisation that your boyfriend wasn’t there to hold you while you cried. You were choking on each short breath, unable to calm yourself down. The one time you needed him more than anyone, he wasn’t present. 

I’m here. Just breathe, sweetheart, thassit, I’ve got you. 

There was something so off about the whole situation, about how clinically everything was treated, about how none of his “friends” seemed to show up. The funeral was quick and dirty, arranged by Wayne and yourself in the best way you both knew and after everything was said and done, you hid away, isolating yourself from the world itself. You barely left the house. The only time you breathed the fresh Hawkins air was when you went to visit his grave or the once-a-month trip to get groceries. You should have gone to see Wayne but he reminded you too much of everything that was ripped away from you and while you yearned to visit the man and sit down with him, to speak Eddie back into existence through memories and laughter, you couldn’t bring yourself to do so. You couldn’t bring yourself to break your heart over and over again even though you knew that in some capacity you both needed each other in order to sew together your broken hearts. 

“P-please Eds…” You choked out, your emotions were getting away from you, the more you thought about it, about him, the more you felt like you lost your family. He was your rock, the love of your life, in your own ways you’d sworn yourselves over to each other, sworn yourselves to life eternal with one another, and so having him ripped from you so suddenly left a dark pit in your chest, deeper than the ninth circle of hell would ever reach. You didn’t think it would have been possible for 

I’m right here with you, sweetheart.

The wind blew colder and you shivered, but you didn’t dare move, not an inch, because it meant moving from the grave you’d come to memorise - your muscles, your fingers, your heart, even your nose, all of you had come to memorise his grave - it was ingrained in you, and the epitaph was one that burned across your vision every single time your eyes closed – another ghost haunting you as you tried desperately to soothe your aching heart. People who say breakups would be easier are liars, you decided in this moment. 

They’re not… I promise you they’re not easy. At least nobody can compete with the dead.

They’d be easier because maybe on the off chance you’d get to have the person in your life, in your heart, you wouldn’t lose all the meaningful quirks the person had, you wouldn’t forget them in due time. You wouldn’t have a dead-end trail left of them, and yet… and yet it wouldn’t be easy either. Part of you wished you could have been the one to see the light disappear from his eyes, to have this confirmation of his departure from the mortal realm, another part of you didn’t even want to think of the darkness taking over his eyes, the reflection of the light fading to nothing, his breath stopping, and his brain giving out. You simultaneously wanted and did not want to be the one to witness his last breath, you did and didn’t want to be the one to watch the light behind his eyes disappear as he croaked, you did and did not want him gone because you weren’t sure which would wind up being easier to deal with. 

Neither would be easy, sweetheart.

“I wish you were here, Eds.” You sniffled the moment your sobs slowed, your body taking too much stock into keeping you alive and warm. You had exhausted yourself and cried every last tear you had in you for today, leaving a dry husk - a shell of a human – until tomorrow when you’d replenished your tear ducks.  

I’m right here with you always. I’m not going anywhere, I promised you that not even death could do us part.A cold gust of air pushed your hair from your face and you couldn’t contain your shiver, the cold was becoming as unbearable as your boyfriend’s passing, every waking hour haunted by memories of him, every corner of Hawkins harbouring his ghost, and every unconscious moment plagued by nightmares of his last moments, twisting memories, contorting them into grotesque scenes of abject horror. With a deep breath, you pushed yourself up to your knees and swallowed down any emotions you had, bringing your soiled sleeve to your face and wiping away the tears that threatened to spill. You were sure you looked like you had just crawled out of the grave due to the amount of dirt that caked your body and yet you couldn’t bring yourself to care, not when he was gone.

With a shaky breath, you leaned over and kissed his gravestone, your eyes fluttering shut, and at that moment you swore you heard his voice calling to you, you swore you felt the warmth of his hand on your puffy cheek, his thumb brushing across the damp valley of your eye. You kept your eyes shut for just a moment longer, longing to feel this small moment of reprieve despite the fact that it probably did far more harm than it did good. 

“I’m with you always, sweetheart.” Your eyes snapped open and your head dropped against the headstone, lip trembling as you tried to bite into it from the inside of your mouth - you couldn’t stop the heavy squeezing around your heart nor the feeling of a dark pit opening itself up in your stomach. When you lost your boyfriend a chasm had ripped itself through your chest, leaving you empty and numb to everything but the onslaught of pain that each waking moment brought you. Each waking moment was plagued with the knowledge that Eddie was gone before you were even aware of it. You hadn’t even been in town when the manhunt had begun, having been away to visit your mother’s side of the family, only to come home to find out he was in hiding - ripped away from you once, then twice. 

The fresh torrential downpour of tears was unexpected but they kept you at his grave, they kept you closer to him, they kept him alive even by some fucked up means. If crying for him meant that his memory was kept alive then you’d cry for him into the next lifetime, and while you thought you’d cried them all away, it seemed that neither love nor grief had limits.

tags: @munson-blurbs @rip-quizilla @the-unforgivenn @littlesubbyflower @hellfire--cult