#and he bulldozes through everything

[thenotoriousscuttlecliff]

Chibnall really did not think anything through with the Timeless Child. He just wanted to explain the Morbius Doctors and didn't stop to think if this would create a load of inconsistencies elsewhere.

[whatiswrongwithpeople]

Shattered Silence

Jayce Talis x reader

Warnings: none, no spoilers for s2 , not connected to any canon plot

Prompt: An enemies to lovers story; “I didn’t know where else to go.”

Notes: I KNOW some people are absolutely hating this man now but I had this sitting in my notes app and just need to set it free. I hope there aren’t any mistakes , but once again it’s been written in my notes app-

Part 2

Jayce Talis was no stranger to the silence of late nights in the lab. The rhythmic hum of Hextech crystals, the faint flicker of blue light against metal, and the steady scratch of pen against paper were his constant companions. Tonight, like so many nights before, he found himself hunched over blueprints, mind locked in the methodical process of refining designs. It was easier to work late when there were no interruptions, no voices cutting through the quiet—especially not yours.

Jayce had never met someone more infuriating than you.

You were brilliant, there was no question about that. Your intellect had earned you a coveted place alongside him on one of Piltover’s most ambitious projects. But from the moment you two had started working together, it had been like throwing oil onto a flame. You clashed on nearly everything. You were methodical, calculated—always challenging his more instinctive, risk-taking approaches.

“I don’t see why you can’t grasp that stabilizing the core will reduce its volatility,” you had said during one of your many arguments.

“And I don’t see why you insist on slowing down innovation for the sake of caution!” Jayce had shot back.

The entire lab had been forced to endure your bickering. And it wasn’t just the disagreements over schematics that drove the wedge deeper. It was the way you two refused to back down, constantly pushing and challenging each other.

Jayce had always prided himself on being the best. He’d been driven by that mindset ever since he was a child, determined to prove himself worthy of his place in Piltover’s elite society. But you? You were a different kind of competitor. You weren’t driven by arrogance, as he had first assumed, but by a fierce need to prove yourself. You didn’t have his connections, didn’t have the same privileges. You’d clawed your way up through sheer talent and hard work, and you weren’t about to let anyone—even Jayce Talis—make you feel like you didn’t belong.

That realization had hit Jayce like a punch to the gut one night, weeks ago, after one particularly nasty fight.

** flashback a few weeks ago**

“I swear, if you could just stop bulldozing over my ideas for one second, you’d realize we’re trying to solve the same problem!” you snapped, slamming your notebook down on the lab bench. The room was empty save for the two of you, the other engineers having wisely fled after the first thirty minutes of bickering.

Jayce glared at you, jaw tight. “I’m not bulldozing—”

“Don’t.” Your voice was sharp, a warning edge in your tone. “Don’t stand there and pretend like you’re not dismissing everything I say just because you think you know better.”

Jayce’s fists clenched at his sides. It wasn’t that he didn’t respect you; he did. But you constantly pushed him in ways that no one else did, constantly questioned him, and it made his blood boil. He wasn’t used to being challenged like this. Not by someone like you.

“Maybe if you’d explain your ideas instead of acting like you’re the only person in the room with a brain—” he bit out, stepping closer to you, his frustration bleeding into every word.

You met his gaze without flinching, that fire in your eyes blazing hotter than ever. “Maybe if you weren’t so full of yourself, you’d actually hear what I’m saying!”

Jayce had taken a breath to fire back another retort, but then he’d seen something flicker in your expression. For just a moment, the anger cracked, and there was something else underneath. Hurt, maybe. Vulnerability. It was fleeting, but it was there.

He didn’t say anything, and you had turned away, picking up your notebook with a quiet sigh. “Forget it,” you muttered, heading for the door. “I’ll just rework the damn equations on my own.”

Jayce had watched you go, something unfamiliar twisting in his chest. He’d thought about going after you, maybe saying something—anything—to defuse the tension. But his pride had held him back, and instead, he had let you leave.

That had been the first time Jayce had realized that maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t angry with you because you were wrong. Maybe he was angry because you were right, and he hated that someone could challenge him the way you did.

From then on, the tension between you two had only grown. Arguments became sharper, filled with undercurrents neither of you acknowledged. He could see the way others noticed it, the way their eyes darted between you and him whenever a heated discussion threatened to boil over. They weren’t just seeing two colleagues who couldn’t get along. They were seeing the thin line between rivalry and something else.

But that something else was dangerous. It was a fire neither of you were ready to touch.

**end of flashback**

Tonight, Jayce had resigned himself to another long night in the lab, the familiar hum of Hextech energy his only company. That was, until the door burst open with a force that made him jump.

His irritation was immediate. Of course, it would be you, barging in without a second thought. “If you’re here to argue about the core stabilizer again, I’m not in the mood,” Jayce muttered, not even looking up as he continued scribbling on his blueprints.

But then there was silence. No sharp retort. No biting comment.

Frowning, Jayce glanced up—and almost immediately his stomach dropped.

You stood frozen in the doorway, but you weren’t your usual fiery self. Your hair was disheveled, the neat, professional attire you always wore was wrinkled and disordered, as if you had thrown it on in a rush or hadn’t cared enough to fix it and your face... your face was pale, eyes wide and rimmed with unshed tears. Something had happened.

“I... I didn’t know where else to go,” you whispered, your voice cracking in a way so unfamiliar to Jayce’s ears that it almost made him flinch.

“What—” Jayce’s brain stuttered, not understanding, confusion and concern flooding his senses all at once. He had never seen you like this—vulnerable, shaken. You were always the one with sharp retorts, the one who could throw him off balance with a single glance. And now? Now you were standing in front of him, broken, and he didn’t know what to do. But when he turned fully to face you and noticed the sheer panic in your expression, all of his irritation, all of the snide comments he had prepared, dissolved instantly. “What happened?”

In a heartbeat, he was across the room, standing in front of you, his hands hovering just above your arms as if unsure whether to touch you, whether you’d let him.

“They—” you started, then choked on the words, your chest heaving with shallow breaths, hands trembling at your sides. “Someone broke into my apartment. I—I don’t know what they were after. They tore everything apart, Jayce. All of it. All my work... it’s gone.”

Hearing the sheer devastation in your voice, Jayce felt a surge of protectiveness swell inside him, his heart pounding as he imagined the scene. The thought of someone invading your space, of you coming home to find it destroyed... it made his blood boil.

“Did they hurt you?” he asked urgently, his voice tight with barely restrained anger.

You shook your head quickly, wrapping your arms around yourself, as if trying to hold yourself together. “No, I—I wasn’t there when it happened. But... everything was trashed. My work, my research, everything. I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t go back.”

Jayce felt a knot tighten in his chest. You—this person who was always so strong, always so put-together—looked like you were on the verge of breaking. And the fact that you had come to him, him , in this moment of vulnerability left him stunned.

Without thinking, he reached out, pulling you into his arms in a motion that was both instinctive and desperate. You stiffened at first, as if the idea of seeking comfort from him was the last thing you’d ever considered. But something inside you broke the moment his arms wrapped around you, and you let yourself sag against him, your hands clinging desperately to the fabric of his shirt as if it was the only thing keeping you upright.

Jayce tightened his hold, one hand resting on the back of your head as he cradled you against his chest, the other pressing firmly against the small of your back. He rested his chin atop your head, murmuring soft reassurances into your hair. “I’m here. We’ll figure this out.”

Jayce could feel the anger simmering beneath the surface as he thought about what had happened to you. His hand that rested on your back clenched into a fist as he imagined someone rifling through your things, invading your space, and leaving you terrified. Jayce’s anger surged, hot and violent, but he forced it down, knowing that what you needed right now wasn’t fury.

It was comfort.

You sniffled against him, your breath hitching as you tried to calm yourself, and his fist slowly unclenched, his fingers gently tracing soothing circles on your back. He hadn’t realized until now how familiar you felt in his arms, how right it felt to hold you.

For all the biting words and harsh glances the two of you usually shared, this moment was startlingly soft, intimate in a way that left him feeling raw.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured into your hair, his voice rough with emotion. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

You didn’t say anything, but you leaned into him more, your face pressed against his chest, your body shaking as you let out a soft sob. The sound of it cracked something inside Jayce, and he found himself holding you even tighter, as if trying to shield you from everything that had happened.

When you finally pulled back slightly, you looked up at him with tear-filled eyes, and Jayce’s heart ached at the sight of your tear-streaked face.

“Why did you come here?” he asked softly. It wasn’t accusatory—it was genuine curiosity. After all the arguments, the tension, he hadn’t expected you to seek him out in a moment like this. You let out a small, humorless laugh, your voice still trembling. “I don’t know,” you admitted. “I guess... I guess because I knew you’d be here. And... you’re the only one who understands.”

Jayce’s breath caught in his throat. You were right. Despite all the arguments, all the bickering, you and Jayce did understand each other. You were alike in so many ways—both of you driven, both of you fighting to prove something, both of you carrying more weight on your shoulders than you let anyone see.

“I’m glad you came,” he said softly, brushing a loose strand of hair away from your face.

A few hours later the lab was quieter, save for the steady scratching of Jayce's pen as he continued to make adjustments to the prototype in front of him. The tension that had once filled the room seemed to have settled, softened by the rawness of the earlier moments. You sat on the edge of his desk, your legs swinging slightly as you watched him work, the weight of what had happened still heavy on your shoulders.

Jayce had been focused, his brow furrowed in concentration as he scribbled out a few final equations. But every so often, his eyes would flicker up to you, checking if you were still there, still okay. The silence between you was no longer strained or uncomfortable; it felt like an unspoken understanding that neither of you was ready to address fully yet. It was comfortable... for now.

Still, Jayce couldn’t ignore the way you were sitting there, curled inward as if the weight of the night hadn't lifted. The quiet vulnerability that had cracked through your usual armor made something stir in him. And as much as he tried to focus on his work, he couldn't shake the need to do something more for you.

Without saying a word, Jayce rose from his chair, his footsteps soft as he approached you. His mind raced—he wanted to offer more than just reassurances, wanted to do something that would make you feel *better*, something that would let you know that you weren’t alone in this. But what could he do?

Without overthinking it, he took off his jacket and draped it over your shoulders.

The gesture was simple, but it felt significant. The warmth of the fabric enveloped you, and for a moment, you were taken aback. Your eyes lifted to meet his, surprise flickering across your face.

“It’s cold in here,” Jayce said, his voice softer than you had heard it all night. There was no bravado, no teasing edge like before—only sincerity. “You should stay warm.”

You didn’t know how to respond to the unexpected kindness, especially from someone who had always been so frustratingly distant. You had been expecting everything but this. His jacket was heavy, comforting, and as you tugged it around your shoulders, you found yourself grateful, even though you didn’t quite understand why.

“Thanks,” you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. There was something different in your tone now, a softness, something you hadn’t let him see before. You had always been so sharp, so quick to hide any hint of vulnerability. But in this moment, with his jacket around you and his unexpected kindness lingering between you, it felt harder to keep up that armor.

Jayce watched you closely, his eyes softening as you adjusted the jacket. "I mean it," he said gently. "You don’t have to go through this alone. If you need anything, you know where to find me."

You nodded, pulling the jacket tighter around you. It wasn’t just the warmth of the fabric that calmed you—it was the understanding in his voice, the quiet way he was trying to reassure you without making you feel like a burden. The connection between you, so fraught with tension and arguments, felt... different now. Maybe it was because of everything that had happened, or maybe it was because you could finally see a side of Jayce that hadn’t been so guarded.

For the first time, there was no bickering, no cutting remarks, just the two of you in the quiet of the lab, an unspoken understanding hanging in the air.

You glanced up at him, meeting his gaze. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if I hadn’t come here,” you admitted, your voice quiet but steady. Jayce gave a small, knowing smile, his hands slipping into his pockets as he took a step back. “I’m glad you feel safe enough to trust me with this.” he said , voice sincere.

You swallowed, nodding slowly. You didn’t know where things would go from here, whether the fragile peace between you would last. But for now, in this moment, it was enough.

[frigidwife]

palestinian survivors in urgent need of support!

compiling these from my inbox and messages - please please share and donate if you can

alaa mahmoud @alaa-gaza / vetted through association / GFM 5072 / 7000 USD this is such an achievable goal!!! alaa's husband died before her daughter, fatoum, was even born. right now the two of them are living in a tent

doaa jad al-haq @dodoomar12345/ vetted by @/90-ghost / GFM 192,342 / 300,000 SEK [104 SEK = 10 USD] doaa and her 5yo son, omar, managed to escape to egypt. omar is nonverbal and has been severely traumatized by the war. doaa's husband, parents, and siblings are all trapped in gaza. she still needs help to evacuate her husband and support omar in egypt and her family in gaza

falestine jad al-haq @falestine-yousef / vetted campaign #246 / GFM 20,435 / 40,000 USD doaa's sister, falestine, and her husband were displaced by israeli bulldozers and are currently living in a tent in dangerous and unsanitary with their three-month-old son yousef. falestine is struggling to provide essentials like milk, diapers, and medicine

mohammed al-deeb @mohammedaldeeb / vetted camapign #212 / GFM 40,397 / 55,000 euros dr. al-deeb is an ER physician at al-shifa hospital. he and his family were displace and were able to make it to egypt!! however, they still need help covering living expenses in egypt after leaving everything behind

amany ubeid @amnyaburas / unvetted / GFM 1,180 / 68000 CAD amany and her family, including her three children, have been displaced from their home in the north to rafah. her son has an eye injury that could lead to permanent disability if untreated. they have lost everything and need to escape to egypt

lina @lina-gaza / vetted / GFM 39,824 / 45,000 euros lina is seeking to evacuate her family to egypt. she has two young children, saif who is 2, and sidra who is only 2 months. they are approaching their goal!!!

osama al-anqar @osama-family / unvetted / GFM 2,741 / 50,000 pounds omar is seeking to support his wife, their young daughter, his martyred brother's family, and his brother who has lost a leg

mounes al-kafarna @mones1998gaza / unvetted / GFM 623 / 20,000 USD two children in need of food and medical care, living a tent currently

anas al-sharfa @anasalshrofa / vetted #913 butterfly project / GFM 1,627 / 50,000 euros anas's tiktok. anas is trying to evacuate his family. they have been displaced multiple times and struggle to get essentials like water or cooking oil

sohad @kareem-family2 / vetted by @/90-ghost / GFM + paypal 9,626 / 20,000 euros on GFM; 5,783 / 15,000 on paypal very big family that urgently needs to evacuate - sohad's nephew kareem has cerebral palsy and is starving to death

hussein shamiya @husseinshamia / reblogged by @/bilal-salah0 / GFM 35,377 / 40,000 USD hussein has a 4 year old son and his wife, rehab, is pregnant. they are living in a tent with no water or electricity and need to evacuate ASAP

all of these situations are horrific beyond belief. these people are living every day under constant threat of bombing, starvation, lack of shelter, and rapidly spreading disease. the fabric of their daily lives has been completely destroyed. they have lost their homes, seen their loved ones and neighbors slaughtered, had their studies and careers indefinitely suspended. the courage to reach out to absolute strangers for help, in the face of such immense uncertainty, is incredible. in the west we should feel the disproportionate weight of our currency and our attention which has been purchased in blood, and we need to make use of both as best we can. please take a moment and give even 5 dollars or euros to one of these campaigns.

[diejager]

This is omegaverse related so please here me out… What about something different? What about…

A

Feral Omega?

I’m talking like, this omega isn’t your typical omega. This omega is downright dangerous, reports of Omega going feral but causes of harm to them due to some omega discrimination.

So what if, reader who is feral omega, is down right butchering enemies. And doesn’t hesitate to almost maul some alpha recruits if they want to mess with her..

Cw: omegaverse, feral!reader, violence, blood, weird pack dynamic, discrimination, protective behaviour, tell me if I missed any.

You were a ‘one-of-a-kind’ omega —spoken with utmost reverence by them. You were their strong and independent omega, whispered in crowded halls, mumbled in darkest nights, screamed in busy moments, and kissed to in warm and comfortable beds. You were anything but a strong and dedicated and reliable soldier, someone Ghost had grown to respect after a joint Op, then coaxed to rely on by the others when they saw how welcoming Ghost was and simply how skillful you were at your job. 

You were small but spry, less bulky but flexible, weaker but resourceful. You were everything they sought for in an omega. You were so much alike Soap, yet molecularly different. Though it was every alpha’s dream of finding a soft and loving mate to provide and protect for, someone smaller and more fragile than their thick muscles and broad build, there was a thrill in being reminded that they weren’t always at the top, being grounded and brought back down from their high horses. Against all of traditional mating couples, your current age and time had demanded more equal partnering, a relationship where both parties stood on the same ground. 

And Ghost and Price thrived on that, their employment demanded a level of independence from their mates and pack mates, the capability of standing on their own and manage grief and stress. That’s where Soap stood, an omega at it’s finest, strong and independent and emotionally knowledgeable, the glue to their pack, and Gaz, the stabiliser, the soft and gentle hand that reminded them of who they were. 

Then you came bulldozing through their well-built dynamic: feral and wrathful, full of hate and anger for the world who had wronged you. When the military had rejected you for both your sex and gender, you’d worked up the ranks in the CIA with your blood, sweat and tears, starting from a fresh agent - a rookie - to an experienced one. You’d gotten so far that Laswell had eventually reach out to you, acknowledged by someone so powerful and partnered with The Ghost had gotten you the acknowledgment and respect you’d dreamed of. 

It was a rough start with Ghost, but he learned to rely on you as much as you did him, you had formed a mutual understanding that only grew into fondness after meeting the rest of his pack. They were a functioning mix of weird and quirky: a leading alpha that was a big, soft bear, another alpha that was rough on the edge but caring, an overenergetic and fiery omega and a beta that represented everything you liked in one, calm, open-minded and smart. It was odd seeing you join them so often and continuously on Ops that didn’t need much of CIA intervention, but you all made it work.

You’d become a familiar face on base, a blunt and no-nonsense agent to new people, but cracked jokes and smiled with those you knew. Fiercely protective of your pack as much as they were with you. If Soap was a menace, then you were an omen, your deep frown and growling snarl, baring your teeth as a warning before you attacked. The world had taught you to bark and bite —and bite you did, a strong and dangerous one, leaving you bruised and roughed up, but your opponent gasping for life and battered.

Honestly, sometimes you were more trouble than it’s worth, but wouldn’t have it any other way.

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @danielle143 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @randominstake @haven-1307 @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @cod-z @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami @cassiecasluciluce

[pin-k-ink]

nwjwnsjshwuw im thinking abt having a big argument with hoshina and ending in a rough rough smexy love makingg PLS PLS

daredevil // hoshina soshiro

tw ⇢ dub-con, manhandling, threats, mentions of injuries and death, mild objectification, rough sex, hair pulling, biting/marking, cunnilingus, blowjob, asphyxiation, mentions of pregnancy, unprotected sex, power play, degradation/name calling, face-fucking, dacryphilia, dirty-talking, squirting, it’s kinda fluffy halfway through

wc ⇢ 6.9k

a/n: i got emotional halfway through because im not used to writing characters being this mean. i legit cried. i think you can see the moment i switched up T_T

The sharp bark of Soshiro's voice sliced through the ops room like a whip-crack, killing the busy din dead. You felt those clipped syllables punch straight through the chaos and detonate somewhere deep in your gut.

Fingers frozen on the holographic display, you didn't need to turn and verify the sudden tension coiling through the atmosphere. No, you could taste the aura of displeasure rolling off your boyfriend in practically visible waves from here.

"[Y/N]." Soshiro's growl cut through the stifling quiet like a blade, frayed patience and restrained irritation strung so tightly you could practically picture the vein pulsing at his temple. "A word. Now."

You drew in a steadying breath, fighting the tiny reflexive flutter that sparked low in your belly at that display of pure, smoky dominance. Get it together - he's clearly pissed, not putting on a show for your viewing pleasure. Yet.

Squaring your shoulders, you pivoted to face the stormy-eyed glare currently attempting to bore holes straight through your skull. Soshiro filled up the doorway like an imposing sentinel, arms corded with restrained menace, expression thunderous enough to shrivel houseplants at twenty paces. His violet hair stuck up in wild disarray from where he'd no doubt been raking anxious fingers through the tumbled strands.

But it was the scorching intensity blazing in those hooded scarlet eyes that really snared your attention. The crimson irises were near eclipsed into molten rubies framed by a few slivers of hungry violet, all razored focus currently centered on drinking in every subtle micro-expression flickering across your features.

You refused to be cowed so easily, however. Keeping your shoulders rolled back, you arched one brow in studied defiance and allowed your lips to quirk in a subtly smug smirk.

"Oh, hi babe," you greeted with intentional lightness, forcing your tone to remain easy and unbothered as you blinked up at him from beneath your lashes. "Everything okay?"

You allowed a tiny pout to exaggerate your expression into one of affected innocence - the picture-perfect vision of blameless bewilderment. The muscle ticking along Soshiro's jaw was the only warning before he bulldozed straight through your attempted deflection with the subtlety of a wrecking ball through rice paper.

"Cut the innocent act, [Y/N]-chan," he near growled, the unexpected endearment somehow dripping with more menace than sugared intimacy. Soshiro's nostrils flared as he visibly struggled to rein in whatever was quickly fraying his legendary restraint to mere threads. "Ya know damn well why I'm pissed."

Doing your best to smother the tiny thrill that sparked brighter at his thinly veiled anger, you blinked up at Soshiro through your lashes. You made a show of tracing your gaze down the powerful column of his throat, over the broad, heaving expanse of his chest and sleekly-muscled abdomen just to see his jaw tick again before replying.

"Actually, I don't have a clue, Shiro," you drawled, allowing your voice to dip into a lower, slightly breathier register as you emphasized his nickname with just a hint of taunting lilt. "Care to enlighten me?"

The low, subsonic growl that rumbled through Soshiro's frame in response was downright primordial in its blatant aggression. Before you could so much as hitch in another pointed inhalation, he was suddenly looming over you like a tsunami of leashed brute strength and simmering danger.

Powerful hands whipped out to bracket your upper arms, fingers digging into the lean cords of muscle with just enough force to raise a scattering of pinprick tingles across your hyper-aware nerves. You instinctively craned your neck to maintain eye contact, refusing to be cowed by Soshiro overwhelming your personal space so completely.

His chest expanded with a deep inhalation, the steady rise and fall of that broad, hair-roughened expanse practically hypnotic this close. When Soshiro finally spoke, each precisely enunciated word seemed to reverberate straight through your very marrow with tangible menace.

"Don't play dumb, sweetheart," he rumbled in that same tone of deadly, ominous calm somehow more chilling than any shouted epithet could ever be. "Should know better than to try handlin' me with that pretty pouty act by now..."

"Alright, enough with the thinly veiled threats, Soshiro," you snapped, finally allowing your own temper to flare in the face of his brooding menace. "If you've got something to say, then spit it out already."

His eyes flashed with something darker at your blunt challenge, fingers tightening fractionally on your arms. "Ya really wanna go there, baby?" Soshiro practically purred, upper lip curling in a hint of a sneer. "Fine. The off-books recon op your platoon ran yesterday without clearin' it through the proper chains first. Ring any goddamn bells?"

You felt your own jaw tighten as you fought the instinctive urge to look away guiltily. So that was the root of his pissy mood - the intel-gathering mission you'd deemed necessary despite lacking official authorization.

"It was a prime opportunity that required swift action," you countered, struggling to keep your tone even and professional despite the clear fury simmering behind Soshiro's stare. "We got the intel, didn't we? I'd say the results justified—"

"Don't even try justifyin' that bullshit to me," Soshiro snarled, deep timbre pitching even lower and more ominous as his grasp morphed from restraining into something far more purposefully bruising. "Ya went cowboy, leading yer whole squad into an unsanctioned op without backup or oversight!"

Anger sparked bright and hot in your core at having your capabilities and decisions questioned so bluntly, so publicly. Who the hell did Soshiro think he was to dress you down like some disobedient child rather than a respected platoon leader?

"I am more than capable of assessing potential threats to my team, Vice Captain," you bit out, not even trying to mask the distill that saturated his title. You leaned into Soshiro's restraining grip rather than pull away, unwilling to show even an iota of weakness or retreat. "Perhaps if you spent more time actually supporting our efforts rather than lounging around base, you'd see—"

The words cut off in a breathless huff as Soshiro bodily hauled you closer, eliminating what little distance still separated your bristling frames down to mere ionized inches. His free hand whipped up to fist in your hair, wrenching your head back at a sharp angle that robbed your next words of any scathing barb before they could slur free.

"Don't you dare imply I don't have yer back in the field," Soshiro growled, the words seeming to thrum directly into your feverish skin as your gazes locked and held. Pupils blown wide into yawning chasms swallowed up nearly all traces of amethyst, leaving nothing but pools of opalescent darkness consuming his features. "Ya know damn well that's never been the issue, baby."

Something darker and far more insidious than mere confrontation seemed to bleed into his gaze, tempering the naked fury until it scorched like smoldering coals banked and awaiting the right spark to detonate fully. One side of Soshiro's lips peeled back in a hint of an utterly failed attempt at a smile — something feral and cold and utterly devoid of humor.

"No, the real issue here is yer single-minded self-importance and blatant disrespect for the chain of command," he rumbled in a tone of quiet, inescapable certainty. "Yer stubborn refusal to recognize the bigger picture beyond yer own glory-seekin' antics, consequences be damned..."

You opened your mouth on a vehement denial, every fiber of your being thrumming like a livewire at his unflinching accusations. But Soshiro allowed no quarter or deflection, not a single millimeter of mercy. Shifting his weight minutely, he rolled his hips forward to trap yours in an unforgiving vise of solid, unyielding strength.

"I'm done makin' excuses or turning a blind eye every time ya blatantly disregard established protocols just because ya think ya know better or yer pride's been wounded," he growled, words seeming to sear in an unstoppable cadence. "Tonight, we're going to settle this power struggle once and for all, Platoon Leader..."

His free hand fisted tighter in your hair, making you grit your teeth against the stinging pull and tightening your jaw mulishly. Who the hell did he think he was talking to you like some disobedient child?

You bristled at the clear undercurrent of challenge and threat woven through his tone, refusal to back down flaring bright and hot in your veins. "You don't get to dictate anything to me, Vice Captain," you bit out through a tightly clenched jaw, relishing in stabbing him with his own title right back.

"I don't give a fuck about bruised protocol or your oversized ego — we got the intel that could save thousands of civilian lives, and you're pitching a fit over chain of command? You weren’t even here for the past week." You shook your head slowly, allowing your lips to curve into a sneer of derision that you knew would prick at his notoriously thin skin.

"I didn't realize playing by the rules was more important to Hoshina Soshiro than actually accomplishing the mission," you drawled with heavy sarcasm, feeling a flare of vicious satisfaction as his eyes seemed to swell even darker with unbridled fury.

His jawline flexed sharply as he visibly ground his teeth, tendons standing out in harsh definition beneath the stubbled hinge. For a long moment, the air between you seemed to thicken into a smothering fog laced with static and the acidic taste of pure restrained violence.

Then Soshiro began slowly shaking his head in a subtle negation, the tattered threads of his control audibly shredding apart under the strain. When he finally spoke, the words emerged in a gravelly rasp that seemed to bypass your eardrums entirely and reverberate straight into your very bones instead:

"Ya just don't get it, do ya, sweetheart?" He sneered the affectionate nickname with an acidic twist of mockery, the sound of it slicing through your defenses to draw an instinctive flinch.

"This goes so far beyond yer meaningless authority trips or whatever bullshit glory ya think getting some scrap of half-baked intel means in the grand scheme," Soshiro snarled, leaning in until you could taste the earthy, masculine tang of his anger on each raggedly exhaled word.

"What ya clearly fail to comprehend is that yer stubborn selfishness nearly got every last member of your platoon — your people — killed chasin' some suicidal lapse in judgment." His words were measured yet potent, viciously clinical in their precision and impact.

You felt your eyes widen involuntarily at the blunt accusation, mouth opening to spit some scathing retort and defend your proven capabilities as field commander. But Soshiro barreled on in a tone of thunderous judgment, allowing no room for interruption or deflection.

"You're so caught up in yer own goddamn hubris, always convinced you've got the angles figured out, prepared for everythin'..." His laugh was about as far from humorous as could be imagined — a harsh, barking bark of wry disdain that dripped acid. "Did it ever cross that thick skull exactly how I'd feel getting the call about a squad of glassed corpses thanks to some insubordinate asshole's solo glory play?"

His words sliced straight through to your core, searing their bitter truth across every nerve. Still, you couldn't quite bite back the wounded denial that burst free:

"We made it back clean, no casualties! Your concerns are total unfounded bullshit, Soshiro!"

But that only seemed to be the spark that detonated his final, fraying reserves of patience.

Soshiro moved with liquid grace and unanticipated speed, finally releasing his hold only to redirect his hands in blurring arcs that allowed no counter or evasion. One second you were straining against his restraints, mouth open on another heated rejoinder — the next, you'd been twisted and slammed back against the nearest bulkhead with brutal, jarring force.

The air punched free from your lungs in an explosive gust, leaving you gaping in mute shock at the speed of his assault. Soshiro loomed over you now, forearm braced across your chest in an unbreakable bar of corded muscle and virile strength, one thigh shoved between your splayed ones to lock you in a helpless full-body cage.

"Ya fucking insolent, arrogant brat," he hissed through gritted teeth, trembling with the sheer force of his restrained fury. You could feel every rapacious inhale, every shudder vibrating through him as he struggled to restrain the final dregs of control. "I don't give a damn that ya got lucky, sweetheart..."

Soshiro leaned in closer, eliminating the final precious slivers of personal space until his nose nearly brushed your own, until all that filled your addled senses was the overwhelming musk of his anger surrounding you, consuming you utterly.

"I'm gonna ensure yer willful idiocy never jeopardizes what's mine again," he growled in a tone edged with lethal promise, eyes locked with yours in a final duel of wills. "Startin' by reminding ya exactly who calls the shots around here."

The threat hung heavy between you, tension so thick you could practically choke on it. Your hands were balled into fists, nails digging crescents into your palms with how hard you were clenching them. The urge to lash out, to throw one final barbed insult was almost overwhelming, consequences be damned.

So you gave in, any rational thought consumed by the raging wildfire of anger and adrenaline blazing through your veins. "Fuck you," you spat, putting every ounce of venom and derision you could muster behind the two simple words.

That was it - the final straw that severed his taut grip on control. You saw it in the way his pupils blew wide, swallowing up those blazing crimson irises in a yawning void of heated fury. A harsh breath hissed out between his gritted teeth as his body went taut like a bowstring pulled to its maximum tension.

Then with a feral growl that reverberated straight to your bones, Soshiro surged forward and crashed his mouth against yours in a searing, branding kiss. But it wasn't gentle or tender — no, this was all pent-up aggression and unleashed hunger given free rein.

His teeth nipped at your lips with stinging force, drawing a sharp gasp that his questing tongue instantly occupied. You gave as good as you got, hands fisting in the front of his uniform to yank him closer as you bit at his lower lip hard enough to draw copper on your tongue.

Soshiro's growl transformed into something darker, richer, as your wrestling rapidly devolved into a primal give and take of dominance. Whenever he tried to slant his mouth and deepen the frenzied kiss, you'd buck your hips against his solid weight to throw him off-balance again.

His big hands were everywhere—tangling in your hair to angle your head, skimming over your waist and the flare of your hips, squeezing with possessive force. You could barely draw breath between the slick slide of your joined mouths, harsh pants and lewd smacks mingling in the supercharged air.

This was rawer, messier and infinitely more satisfying than any carefully orchestrated seduction could be. No, this was desire stripped down to its most base, primal core — all pretense and propriety discarded like tattered rags in the wake of you both finally giving in.

When you finally wrenched your mouth free with a gasp, Soshiro's eyes were heavy-lidded and glazed with naked hunger. His lips were reddened and spit-slick, hair awry where your hands had fisted through the strands.

"Ya try that stubborn martyr bullshit one more time, sweetheart," he rasped in that low, gravel-rough tone that never failed to make you shiver. "And next time I won't be playin' so nice..."

Those last three words were practically rolled across his tongue with how much dark, molten promise they contained. You felt a fresh spark of fiery arousal flare brighter at the implicit threat, chest heaving as your lips curved in a smirk of defiant invitation.

"Is that so?" you all but purred, dragging your nails down over the slope of his shoulders deliberately. "I'd pay to see you try keeping that in check..."

The only answer was Soshiro's low, rumbling chuckle as he swooped back in to seal your taunting lips in another searing, messy clash of tongues and teeth and relentless, glorious hunger.

Soshiro didn't waste any more time with words. With a low snarl vibrating against your swollen lips, he banded one powerful arm around your waist and simply lifted, hauling you up against his solid weight effortlessly.

You gasped at the sudden movement, legs instinctively winding around his hips as he pinned you against the nearest bulkhead. Soshiro took full advantage, angling his hips to grind against your clothed pussy with delicious friction that had you keening softly into the heated cavern of his mouth.

"Still runnin' that smart mouth, baby?" he rumbled after dragging his lips away, leaving a hot trail of nipping kisses along the thrumming pulse at your throat. "Need to learn to show some fuckin' respect..."

With that, Soshiro spun on his heel and began forcibly carting you down the corridor like a rutting beast claiming its prize. You didn't bother stifling your breathless laughter at his caveman antics, fingers tunneling through his sweat-dampened hair to yank his head back.

"Put me down this instant, you arrogant, over-muscled—"

The rest of your taunt dissolved into a startled squeak as Soshiro abruptly pivoted and slammed you back-first against the nearest surface. The wind rushed from your lungs in an explosive gust, leaving you blinking stupidly as you refocused on his blazing glare mere inches away.

"You were saying, Platoon Leader?" The way Soshiro all but spat out your title was blatantly mocking. His palm pressed insistently against your sternum as he slowly leaned in, each rasping inhalation gusting across your tingling lips. "Pretty sure it was somethin' about respectin' yer superiors..."

You opened your mouth to fire back a scathing retort, but Soshiro's free hand whipped up to fist in your hair, wrenching your head back at a sharp angle as he sealed his lips over your parted ones in a scorching brand of possession. Any words dissolved into desperate, needy whimpers against the molten slide of his tongue claiming every inch as undisputed territory.

When he finally tore away with a rasping groan, you were left trembling and light-headed from the sheer intensity of it all. Soshiro's lips curved in a slow, predatory slash of dark promise as his free hand skimmed down your side to palm over the curve of your hip with shameless appreciation.

"That's better..." he rumbled in that sinful baritone utterly saturated with sin and naked masculine satisfaction. "Think I prefer having that pretty mouth occupied with better uses for now."

His fingers squeezed purposefully against your flesh in emphasis. You couldn't quite stifle the tiny mewl of purely visceral need that slipped free at the subtle dominance play.

Soshiro tsked softly, somehow managing to layer the simple sound with undisguised derision. "So fuckin' needy, aren't ya baby? Don't worry..."

With that, he ducked his head to rasp the words directly against the heated hollow beneath your ear, sending a cascading shudder of expectant tingles across your hyper-aware nerves.

"I'm gonna take such good care of puttin' that greedy little mouth to proper use once we're somewhere more... private."

The heavy pause and emphasis he placed on that final word resonated straight to your pussy in a thrumming promise-slash-threat. You couldn't even formulate a response before Soshiro's mouth was crashing down over yours once more in a searing, breathtaking conflagration.

This time there was no struggle, no battle for dominance beyond your complete, unconditional surrender. You simply clung to Soshiro with a breathy mewl as he backed you through a doorway, devouring every pleased rumble and husky groan passing between your joined mouths with utter desperation. You caught brief glimpses of passing officers gaping at their Vice Captain brazenly manhandling his girlfriend, but the heat searing through your veins made you utterly uncaring of any scandalized looks.

Something solid bumped against the back of your thighs, not that it slowed Soshiro's relentless advance in the slightest. He simply lifted and deposited you on the awaiting surface without ever breaking the heated exchange.

Then his hands were roaming with purposeful possession — carding through your hair to angle your head for deeper plundering, skimming over the swell of your breasts with sublime friction, palming along the flare of your hipbones to hitch you closer to the edge. You gasped when his questing fingers trailed across the taut fabric straining over your nipples, hips bucking instinctively as his fingertips tweaked and rolled the sensitive buds through the clinging material.

You finally managed to wrench your mouth free with a ragged gasp, struggling to draw a steadying breath. But Soshiro seemed to take that as a challenge, immediately dropping his attention to your throat instead. He latched on to the wildly thrumming pulse point at the curve of your shoulder, his fangs piercing your skin with just enough force to leave a perfect ring of marks.

You couldn't stifle the needy whimper that slipped free at the exquisite combination of pleasure-pain. Soshiro's responding growl sent fresh sparks of tingling heat straight to your aching core, making your hips roll instinctively against the rock-hard bulge of his cock straining his pants.

"You have no fucking clue what that stubborn attitude does to me," he groaned, sounding utterly wrecked already. Soshiro's hips surged against yours with a rough, uncontrolled snap. "No goddamn idea how hard I get hearin' ya mouth off, so fuckin' confident and bratty, like no one could ever dare lay a finger on ya..."

He punctuated the words with a sharp nip at the hinge of your jaw, then a teasing tug on the lobe of your ear. You felt the heat of his smile curve against the heated column of your throat, the bastard.

"Ya like being such a spoiled princess, huh?" Soshiro all but purred, his tone edged with that familiar hint of mocking arrogance that never failed to make your pussy clench in anticipation. "Always gettin' what ya want, how ya want it..."

Before you could even begin formulating a retort, Soshiro had wrenched away and was yanking the zipper down on his pants. You felt your mouth go dry at the sight of his thick, straining cock jutting out proudly from the vee of his open uniform, tip glistening with pearlescent beads of precum.

Your tongue darted out to wet your lips on instinct, and Soshiro's eyes darkened further at the action. His voice emerged in a husky rasp, the sound so deliciously filthy you felt it like a tangible stroke across your skin.

"Well, not this time. I’m about to make good on all those promises to fuck some respect into ya, sweetheart. So go on - open that smart mouth and suck my cock."

His tone was pure sin, dripping with dark promise and filthy intent. You felt your entire body flush with molten arousal, pussy clenching as he fisted a hand in your hair and tugged firmly, hauling you off the desk to kneel at his feet.

"Soshiro, I swear to god, if you think I'm gonna—"

But the rest of your protests died on a strangled gasp as Soshiro all but slapped the heavy length of his cock against your parted lips. The tang of his salty essence flooded your tastebuds, making your mouth water as he gave a shallow roll of his hips and smeared a streak of precum along your cheek.

"Ya can drop the act now, baby," he bit out, voice low and gravelly with raw desire. Soshiro's crimson eyes were nearly eclipsed by the sheer force of his hunger, a muscle ticking along his clenched jawline. "We both know how much of a cockslut you are - ya don’t gotta pretend like you're not dyin' to have this cock stretchin' yer pretty little throat?"

His words sent another surge of arousal through your veins, a rush of liquid heat pooling in your core and leaking from your pussy to stain your panties. You couldn't deny the way your heart stuttered at the way he was looking down at you, the sheer intensity of his gaze searing straight to your soul.

"So go ahead and admit it," he practically growled, giving your hair a yank and thrusting his hips forward to slide his cockhead across your cheek in a humiliatingly obscene display. "You’re nothing but a selfish brat, always needing something to fill up that smart mouth..."

His other hand fisted tighter in the roots, forcing your head back further until your eyes watered and throat worked reflexively. You couldn't suppress the tiny gasp that slipped free at the rough treatment, making his cock twitch against your parted lips in a silent demand.

"Say it, slut," Soshiro ground out, eyes narrowing in warning as they bored into yours. "Ya can’t fool me. Not after I’ve seen exactly how well that pretty little mouth takes my cock..."

The memory of all the times he'd fucked your mouth, the way he'd ruthlessly pinned you down and pumped his cock deep in your throat until tears streamed down your cheeks and you coughed and gasped for air flashed behind your eyes. Just the recollection of how he'd made you choke on his cum was enough to have your thighs clenching instinctively, pussy growing even slicker with each filthy demand.

"Go on, say it." His tone dropped lower, rougher with a hint of warning. "Ya can either do it now, or I'll fuck that disobedient attitude right out of ya the hard way."

With that, Soshiro hauled you up by his grip on your hair until his cockhead bumped against your lips once more, eyes narrowing. A thrill of mingled arousal and trepidation sparked through your veins, sending a rush of molten need straight to your clenching core.

But still, you forced yourself to lift your chin in stubborn defiance, glaring up at him with all the force of your ire.

"Go to hell," you spat with venomous disdain.

You were barely able to smirk in victory before you felt his fingers wrench your jaw open, the sudden movement sending a spike of pain-edged pleasure down your spine. Then Soshiro was slamming his cock between your lips, the force of it nearly choking you with how sudden and brutal the action was.

"That's what I thought," he muttered, but his tone was far from annoyed. If anything, the gravel-rough rasp was laced with a heavy undercurrent of satisfaction and pure, undisguised hunger.

You blinked back the haze of unshed tears as he shoved deeper, not pausing until the swollen tip was nudging the back of your throat and your nose was pressed against the neatly trimmed hairs at the base. Only then did he finally allow himself a ragged groan of pleasure, the sound nearly a sigh of pure relief.

"Ya know, baby, you look so much better like this," he taunted, rolling his hips to slide his cock a fraction deeper before retreating in a slick glide that had you swallowing back a moan. "When you're finally doing what you're best at - taking my cock and shuttin' that smart mouth up..."

Soshiro punctuated his statement by thrusting in again, not pausing as his fingers twisted cruelly in the roots. He kept his pace slow and shallow at first, clearly savoring the way you were struggling to suck him off and breathe around the thick length filling your throat.

He held you there until your vision began to blur and a whine built in the back of your throat, then finally allowed you to suck in a ragged gasp as he drew back. His cockhead was a deep, glistening purple, slick with spit and precum.

You opened your mouth to snark back, but the words died on a breathy gasp as Soshiro fisted his hand in your hair and yanked your head back sharply. A low, husky chuckle rumbled from his chest as he slowly dragged the swollen head along the seam of your lips, his eyes locked with yours.

"So pretty when you cry," he purred, swiping his cock over your lower lip. You couldn't quite stifle the tiny mewl of desperate arousal the action drew, which only seemed to amuse Soshiro even further.

"I could watch ya suck my cock for hours," he mused, eyes flashing darkly as he dragged his free hand over his cock and smeared the precum pooling at the tip across your lips. "But maybe… I'd rather finish in that greedy little pussy, instead..."

Soshiro didn't bother waiting for your reaction, merely tightened his grip on your hair and hauled you up until your legs buckled and you stumbled onto the desk behind you. He crowded in, pushing your thighs wide apart with his own before his hands slid down to yank your uniform down your hips.

You didn't have a chance to even process the fact that he'd stripped you naked in mere seconds, leaving you clad in nothing but the sweat-dampened tank top you wore beneath the uniform. Your mouth went dry as his hands dropped lower, spreading your pussy apart with calloused fingers before ducking his head and pressing his lips against the soaked folds.

"My girl's so ready for my cock, huh?" he purred, the sound almost drowned out by the obscene slurping noise that sounded as his tongue delved into your dripping cunt. You couldn't hold back the whimper of pleasure that escaped at the sensation, and Soshiro responded with a low chuckle.

"Such a sloppy little cunt," he taunted, nipping at the swollen clit until you keened desperately. "All this slick leaking out of you, baby, and I haven't even put a finger inside."

You flushed hotly at the blatant degradation, unable to bite back the instinctive gasp of embarrassment and pleasure. But Soshiro seemed intent on driving the humiliation home, teeth latching onto your clit and sucking hard until you couldn't help bucking against his mouth, desperate for more.

"Fuck," you groaned, tossing your head back as the tension began winding tighter in your core, threatening to snap at any second. "Soshiro, please, I need—"

He pulled back abruptly, the abrupt loss of friction wrenching a strangled whine from the back of your throat. It took all your willpower to peel your eyes open and meet his gaze, and when you did, you felt your core clench at the blatant heat that burned in his gaze.

"Ya think ya deserve my cock after the stunt you pulled today?" he drawled, one eyebrow quirking upward mockingly. "Ya nearly got every member of your squad killed, and yer still so damn cocky about it all. Think ya deserve anything beyond the tip of my finger?"

Soshiro punctuated the question with a single digit, sliding it through your slick folds and teasing it over your hole until you were panting and rolling your hips, desperate for more. "Luckily for you , though, I'm not here to teach you a lesson, baby. No..."

He trailed off as he slowly slid his finger inside, eyes darkening as he watched the way you arched against the desk with a needy whine. He crooked the digit, teasing against your most sensitive spot until your hips bucked and pussy clenched tight, chasing the release he'd so cruelly denied.

"I'm here to fuck some respect into ya."

Soshiro pulled back just as abruptly, and the frustrated cry that left your lips was downright embarrassing. But then his hands were tearing at his uniform, yanking the shirt open and shrugging the material aside until his gorgeous chest was on full display, rippling with each huffing breath.

You watched in mute awe, feeling your pulse skyrocket and pussy clench around the sudden emptiness as he shoved his pants down to pool around his ankles, kicking the clothing aside. He fisted a hand around his cock and tugged, groaning raggedly at the contact.

"I haven’t felt that tight cunt in weeks," he growled, his free hand landing on the table beside your hip with a thud. "Been jerkin' off every night to the memory of this pussy squeezing my cock, but nothing's gonna compare to the real thing..."

He surged forward and sealed his lips over yours in a brutal kiss, swallowing the breathless cry as he lined the fat head up against your entrance and snapped his hips forward. The stretch was delicious, and you couldn't help moaning into his mouth as he bottomed out.

"That's better," Soshiro groaned, breaking away just far enough to speak against your lips. "So much better than my goddamn fist, fuckin' finally..."

He didn't waste any time, pulling back and thrusting in again in a punishing rhythm that had you seeing stars. There was no time for adjustment, no chance to savor the initial feeling of having him buried to the hilt. Instead, Soshiro set a relentless pace, hips pistoning back and forth in a series of deep, measured thrusts.

He broke away from your mouth, and you gasped for breath as his lips blazed a trail down the column of your throat. Soshiro's hands were everywhere, stroking and squeezing and groping at every inch of your body as he fucked you without abandon.

"You’re droolin' all over my cock, sweetheart," he taunted, teeth scraping at the hinge of your jaw. "Bet ya pulled that stunt just to get my attention, huh?"

His voice was a low growl against your throat, lips curving into a smirk against your skin. "Didn't realize ya were so desperate for me, baby..."

"No," you gasped, trying desperately to cling to some semblance of control, some way to regain the upper hand. "I didn't even know you were coming—"

"That's a fuckin' lie," Soshiro spat, snapping his hips harder. His pace was relentless, the thick girth of his cock filling you perfectly with each punishing stroke. "Ya knew I was due back today, knew I'd have no choice but to deal with yer bratty ass myself, and ya pulled that bullshit on purpose..."

He punctuated his point with a particularly sharp thrust, making your breath hitch. Soshiro didn't pause, didn't let you catch a break. He was fucking you into the desk like an animal, and the worst part was — it was working.

"I'm done letting ya pull this shit," he snarled, teeth biting into the slope of your shoulder. The sharp flare of pain sent a fresh surge of liquid heat pulsing from your core. "I'm done letting ya risk your neck every goddamn mission, not knowing if yer gonna come home or wind up in a fuckin' body bag."

His hand landed on your thigh and shoved it wider, the new angle allowing him to sink impossibly deeper. You couldn't choke back the needy moan at the new sensations, the way the heavy slap of his balls against your ass mingled with the lewd squelching noises of his cock slamming into your soaked pussy.

"You became mine the day ya kissed me back," Soshiro ground out, his words a low growl that made your blood run molten in your veins. "And if ya can't keep yourself in line, sweetheart, I'll make sure yer too busy suckin' my cock to go anywhere near the fuckin' field."

His hand tangled in the roots of your hair, twisting to wrench your head back and bare your throat in a helpless arc. Soshiro's fangs descended, the tips digging into the soft flesh beneath your ear as he growled directly against the shell.

"Gonna knock you up if I have to."

You gasped at the filthy words, but they only served to heighten the building sensations. You felt your pussy fluttering around his cock as his hips slapped against yours, his pace growing more uncoordinated as his own peak drew nearer.

"Maybe then ya'll understand exactly why I want to keep you safe, baby." His words were a rasp against your neck, his lips blazing a trail of molten heat against your skin. "Why I can't stand the thought of losing ya, no matter how damn reckless ya are. You're the most stubborn, arrogant, selfish woman I've ever met..."

His free hand dipped between your bodies, teasing along the taut expanse of your belly until it came to rest on your hip. Then he leaned forward, putting his entire weight behind the next thrust, and you cried out as he hit a spot that had sparks dancing behind your eyelids.

"You're also the best — ngh — goddamn thing that's ever happened to me," he finished with a groan, and you were so shocked by the unexpected confession you didn't even have a chance to reply before he was crashing his lips over yours again, stealing your breath and any coherent thoughts along with it.

The next few thrusts had the tension in your core coiling tighter, tighter, until you were practically thrashing against the desk, pinned in place by the force of his strength and the solid weight of his cock stretching your pussy wide. You were close, so fucking close, but Soshiro didn't seem to be showing any signs of slowing down.

In fact, he only seemed to be fucking you harder, with sharper thrusts that were rapidly pushing you toward the edge. You clung to his shoulders, nails biting into the tanned flesh as you whimpered and writhed and struggled to maintain even the slightest scrap of self-control.

"C'mon, baby," he purred, his mouth trailing wet, open-mouthed kisses down the arch of your neck. "I wanna feel that cunt milking my cock, sweetheart... Wanna feel ya gush all over my cock while I'm pumping ya full, just like I promised..."

It was too much, his words and the delicious drag of his cock stroking every sensitive nerve ending inside you. You couldn't bite back the sob that slipped free, couldn't hold out any longer as the coil wound to its breaking point.

"Please," you begged, voice cracking and breaking as the sensations overwhelmed you utterly. "Oh god, Soshiro, please, I'm—"

The rest dissolved into a ragged cry as the tension finally snapped, sending you plummeting over the edge. The orgasm hit you like a wave, flooding through your veins with a rush of searing heat as you shuddered and arched against his chest, spraying his cock with a gush of slick as he fucked you right through the pleasure.

"That’s my girl."

You felt Soshiro's groan reverberate against your lips as he thrust once, twice, three more times. Then his hips slammed forward, pinning you flat against the desk as he bottomed out and came with a hoarse, ragged shout of completion.

His cum spurted against your womb in a rush of hot liquid, filling your pussy so full it leaked out around the straining thickness of his cock. You felt yourself clench and pulse around the sensation, riding the aftershocks of your own peak.

Soshiro finally sagged above you, forehead dropping against your collarbone as he panted for breath. You blinked dazedly, struggling to clear the stars still flashing across your vision.

The two of you remained locked together, unmoving save for the erratic rise and fall of your chests. Gradually, you became aware of Soshiro's fingers carding through your hair, smoothing the sweat-damp strands back from your temple as he pressed a trail of soft, gentle kisses along the slope of your shoulder.

When you finally regained enough energy to lift your head, Soshiro was already waiting, leaning in to press a kiss to your mouth that was achingly tender. It was such a sharp contrast to the way he'd manhandled and fucked you mere minutes ago, and the juxtaposition of it all was almost enough to make you dizzy.

You felt him hook an arm around your shoulder to gently ease you upright, keeping his other arm braced against the desk for balance. The two of you were a complete mess, clothes torn and sweat-soaked, and his cock was still half-hard inside you.

"You okay, sweetheart?"

His tone was low, rough, and so, so tender you felt your heart constrict at the sound. Soshiro's expression was soft, almost vulnerable, and he didn't hesitate to cup your jaw and press a chaste kiss to the corner of your lips.

"I mean, besides the obvious." He gave a slight roll of his hips, making you gasp as his cock twitched and pulsed inside your overstimulated pussy. Soshiro chuckled, the sound edged with dark promise.

"I meant what I said earlier," he added, his tone serious as he met your eyes once more. "I don't think I've ever been more scared in my life than when I heard what happened, and that was before I realized what a stupid, selfish little brat I have for a girlfriend."

Your mouth dropped open, and Soshiro immediately seized the opportunity, claiming your lips in a searing kiss. When he finally pulled back, you couldn't stop the small whine that escaped, and his eyes glittered with mischief and pure masculine satisfaction.

"We're gonna be having another conversation about your behavior, though," he continued, his voice dipping lower as his eyes darkened further. "Preferably with a paddle and my belt around your neck. But for now..."

He pulled back, slipping his softening cock from your abused cunt and drawing a whine of disappointment at the loss. Before you could protest, Soshiro was scooping you into his arms and turning to carry you across the room.

"For now," he murmured, pressing his lips to the crown of your head in a soft kiss, "Let's just get ya cleaned up and tucked into bed. And then..."

He glanced down, the look in his eyes making you shiver in anticipation.

"And then I’ll be waking you up in the morning the way I know you love best."

[ninibeingdelulu]

Three types of kisses ft. leon kennedy

Slow Motion Type:

Leon's lips brushed against yours sending sparks through your body. His rough fingers tilted your chin up, lining you both up before going any further.

Those intense slate eyes stayed locked on you, reading your reactions while he gradually increased the pressure bit by bit.

Savoring how you melted together, eliminating any space between you.

Everything beyond that singular connection faded away as Leon slowly drew you both deeper into that mesmerizing trance binding your very essences as one...

Teasing type :

His lips grazed yours briefly before that signature smirk returned, knowingly pushing your buttons now.

Those strong hands gripped your flushed face steady while your breathing raced from the light tease leaving you desperately craving more that he delighted in controlling.

A mischievous glint sparked in his eyes before he started trailing fleeting licks and nips along your parched skin.

No pattern, just arbitrarily lighting up nerves across any exposed area like he owned you until your whole body throbbed for release from his sublime torture.

Only once you completely surrendered as his plaything did Leon crash his lips back onto yours. The searing reunion making you moan out every ounce of blissful suffering you endured for this exquisite payoff...

French Kiss Type:

Without warning, Leon lunged forward locking you into his intoxicating tractor beam. Those toned arms yanked you flush against his powerful frame, hungry intensity buring straight through you.

No hesitating, his skilled tongue bulldozed past your lips claiming ownership over every inch of your existence in that moment...

His tongue ruthlessly invaded your deepest spaces without mercy, plundering your most sacred places while extracting complete submission through dominating conquest.

Your very essences hemorrhaged together, searing away all boundaries until only unity remained.

Leon's mastery fused you into a higher ascended oneness in that infinite singularity.

Creating an eternal genesis of sublime rapture initiating you into realms beyond this plane through divine communion as one...

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Okay so here, I think, is why I think Red, White and Royal Blue succeeds spectacularly as a romcom, and actually to me is a better-than-average take on the genre.

First, the leads have absolutely scorching chemistry. They are incredibly believable as two men absolutely infatuated with each other. They each kiss like drowning men shown water, right down to how each grabs at the other, at hair or back or neck and face.

They each have developed their character having a specific characteristic even when flirting or kissing. Henry grabs Alex's hair, for example, every single time, in a way that makes it clear he spends serious time thinking about that hair.

Fair enough, Henry.

They also do something even goddamn better.

They are friends. They are believable as two people who could actually get along long enough to fall in love.

They are allowed to become FRIENDS.

They are given time to get to know each other before they get physical. You can feel their interest in each other growing. And, to my opinion, you can tell that Henry is feeling Alex out through texts to see if the interest might be reciprocated even though he thinks it can't possibly be.

One thing that kills me about romcoms is how the leads will have witty "sexy" banter but don't seem to actually like each other. They are enemies who fall into bed but aren't really believable as lovers.

Henry and Alex are believable, because they... Well. They're impossibly silly even when tearing at each other's clothes. They have awkward moments.

They laugh.

Alex laughs in bed. He holds Henry in a way that is romantic, openly so. Henry is overcoming the conditioned hesitation and avoidance he has, his smiles and warmth and laughter come with rare vulnerability - Alex is a man who throws himself head first into life and has no such compunctions in the moment. He laughs because this is awesome and Jesus Christ, Prince Henry is too hot to be real.

They like each other, they stumble, they laugh.

But also, another reason this works so well?

The sex scene isn't scorching.

Watching the sex scene felt realistically intimate. It felt like I had walked in one real people and needed to leave. It was intense in a way that felt like something I maybe wasn't meant to see.

It was filmed so well. So much romanticism and deeply felt adoration in a simple grasping of a hand, the look in soft eyes, a hand pressed against a back. The edge of a knee just in frame. Looking up and looking down.

It felt like we walked into their room during and saw them both laid utterly bare.

Henry's look of vulnerability and nerves and pleasure, Alex looking slowly over his face to take it all in. Moving slowly, then, when everything they do before this is hurried or hidden.

It works as a romcom because you believe 100% these two men could get to like each other, fall in love, and stay that way.

You believe Henry's very real terror of rejection from the public because he already knows his family, beyond his sister, will reject him. You believe that Alex is a headstrong idealist who is sure that you can bulldoze through any wall too tall to climb.

And you believe that between the two of them, they can find a way around the wall entirely.

This movie is a master class on how a movie can get you to suspend so much disbelief if the leads sell their characters. The importance of believable chemistry.

And also... Isn't it nice to see a queer love story in a world that is, in some ways, just a few shades better than our own?

P.S. you cannot tell me Stephen Fry did not chew the goddamn scenery in circles all around everyone during his single scene. That man was having a ball.

[sanjisboyfie]

basketball player ! gojo satoru headcanons

gojo satoru x male reader

warning: short dialogue of homophobia (satoru deals with it swiftly though)

-> HE'S SO BABYGIRL IN THIS PHOTO.

basketball player ! satoru . . . who is even taller than canon because why would he be a professional basketball player and only 6'3 guys c'mon, bro has to be at least 6'6-6'8. but of course, he's not only gotten bigger, his ego did as well. add the fact that he's a good player...yeah, no one is safe from the cocky, lowkey-asshole basketball player gojo satoru. (except for you !!! because he acts like a complete and total sweetheart to you).

basketball player ! satoru . . . being so shamelessly and publically infatuated with you, his lovely, lovely, lovely boyfriend. he is always on top of you anywhere in public, makes sure you're always courtside, he needs to make sure his baby can see him.

during satoru's matches, he's always focused in. he doesn't really look at you that much and you do understand. he's trying to win, he hates losing. so he gives everything for his team to be the ones on top.

his tall figure moves cleanly across the court, making his team win more than 50% of the time. and when he scores that winning shot, he's running over to you first.

he's bulldozing through the people that are running to him because he can give less of a shit about them. his piercing blue eyes are focused in on you and only you. how your eyes are teary from how proud you are of him for making the winning shot, how high your cheeks are from that charming smile, and how your arms are already open and expectingly waiting for him.

he powers through the crowd and takes you into his arms, grinning into the skin of your neck before pulling away and proudly kissing you in front of everything and all the cameras.

the crowd loves it, the deafening screams from the stands are enough to show for that. they love how openly in love satoru is with you, how completely smitten he is.

his arms are bound around your waist and he's easily hold you up in his arms as he spins the two of you around. you're in your own world as you laugh at his antics and hold on tight to his sweaty torso to not lose balance.

"i love you, sweet boy," he whispers into your ear, looking at the cameras that are all around him with nothing but pure euphoria in his eyes. "i love you so much, couldn't have done it without you. it's all for you, all of it,"

the world can't hear him, but they can read his lips. and twitter falls in love with that moment and use it to set their expectations and standards even higher than they already were.

shoutout gojo satoru for being so obviously in love with you.

basketball player ! satoru . . . who is always photographed beside you. if this man ever comes out of his home, it's only because you're also leaving your shared home and he cannot be alone for the life of him (plus, he just wants to be near his boyfriend all the time). the fans love you guys so much because of how lovey-dovey satoru gets with you, and only you. they've never seen him be so soft for anyone else.

satoru was draped over your back, craning his head down so that his face near yours. with your drastic height difference, it definitely made some passerbys look at you two with wide eyes.

an abnormally tall man trying to shrink himself down to the height of his boyfriend. satoru's arms were hanging in front of your torso, holding your shopping bags in his slender fingers with ease.

he was giggling in your ear, watching the tiktok that was playing from your phone. it was a silly comedy video, pressing his finger to the screen to open up the comments.

and then when it was finally your turn to order your drink at the cafe, he took the phone from you and continued on watching as you ordered. you rolled your eyes at his antics, muttering under your breath about how he was just a big, ipad man-baby.

the woman at the counter took your order as calmly as she could, recognizing you and the towering figure behind you. after ordering, you wordlessly took satoru's wallet out from the bag he was holding and dropped a hefty tip into the tip jar.

after pocketing his wallet back into your pocket, you had to physically drag him from where he was standing because he was so immersed in the tiktoks on your fyp that he didn't realize that you were done ordering.

as you waited by the counter, you took note of how there was now a swarm of papparazzi crowding around the exit of the humble cafe you two were in.

taking note of the mass amounts of people, satoru looked at you with a softness he only uses with you, "do you want me to call the guys? they can clear them up for us before we leave,"

you hummed, thinking about it before nodding, "yeah, these people didn't ask for those annoying cameras to be flashing through the window like that. it's so fucking rude," satoru nodded in agreement, taking out his own phone (which looked like a toy in his huge hands) and exchanged some words with his own team of security.

by the time your coffee was finished brewing and served to you, the papparazzi were being held off by a chain of bodyguards and being held at bay so that you two could peacefully leave the cafe.

the next day, pictures of you two leaving were trending on all social media. satoru's hand was around your shoulders in all of the photos, his hand around your shoulder was protectively blocking the side of your face that was being bombarded by the blinding flashes. a scowl was on his face as he walked through the crowd to your car. he opened the door for you first, walking around the front of the expensive vehicle and flipping the cameras off one last time before getting into the driver's side and speeding off.

"i was in the cafe, trying not to freakk out beacuse oh my god gojo satoru and [name] [last name] were right in front of me. and i swear the moment gojo noticed that he was uncomfortable with the people, he called his team or whatever to get all the paps out!!"

"they're so cute, do you see how gojo is holding him so close??? ughh literally goals!"

"seeing what gojo is like on and off court is crazy, thanks [name] for showing us his soft side <3"

basketball player ! satoru . . . uses every chance he gets to talk about you when he does press conferences or interviews. lovingly calls you his "baby," "hubby," or, "handsome boy."

basketball player ! satoru . . . god forbid someone say some sneaky shit to him about his relationship with you aka his sexuality. if someone tries anything with a backhanded comment about satoru's relationship with you, they will be dealt with swiftly and colorfully (as in, he will be cursing them out with zero remorse and no hesitation). because foh with that homophobic shit, satoru has no patience for that.

"so how have you and the mister been doing, gojo? you're nearly hitting the three year mark!" a very enthusiastic reporter asked, a wide grin on their face.

and satoru felt his lips tug up in a grin at the mention of you, holding the mic carefully as he spoke, "we're doing great, yeah, uhm, we got another cat - even though i told him i wanted a dog. it's a cute addition to our little family."

his response made the reporter only more giddy, going on to ask another question regarding your homey life together, before they were cut off by a rude person in the crowd shouting, "how does it feel to be acting like a fucking bitch dating another dude?! top paid player gojo satoru takes it up the ass!? you're fucking disgusting!"

satoru's eyebrows lifted in surprise at the audacity of the person, his blue eyes scanning the crowd for who was responsible for screaming that.

"sorry, whoever that was, could you just stand up?" he asked into the mic, his once cheerful and laid back tone turning into an intimidating rumble, "c'mon, don't be a pussy, where the fuck are you?"

the security grabbed ahold of the guy and satoru visibly blanched at the sight of him.

"say that shit again to my face, let's hear it," satoru goaded the man, who was now sweating bullets. "oh, don't give me that look! do you really think i'd let you say that shit without any consequences?" a sarcastic laugh left satoru's lips, "look into all these cameras, man, you're fucking ruined. no one wants a homophobic, ugly dude representing them and their company. no, because did you really think i'd let you disrespect my man like that?"

there was a hanging silence in the room as satoru glared at the man.

"don't even think about speaking about my relationship with [name] ever again. or else, you're really fucking dead. it's not a threat, it's a promise. i'll bash your head in," satoru said, slamming the mic onto the table and walking out of the grand conference room. he didn't even flinch at the flashes of the cameras, calmly putting his signature sunglasses down to block out the blinding lights.

that day, the only thing that calmed him down was holding you in his arms. his manager had called you to the greenroom since he was giving everyone a bad attitude, unintentionally, and borderline throwing a tantrum.

when he finally got you in his hold again, he apologized for his behavior earlier.

"don't apologize to me, apologize to your team who had to deal with your bullshit before i came," you lightly scolded him, running your hand through his soft locks. "are you feeling better, though?"

"better now that you're here," he squeezed around your waist, burying his head into your neck, "much better, thank you, baby,"

basketball player ! satoru . . . has his entire social media feed just be pictures of you and what you two do together. whether it's your latest, impromptu trip to hawaii or just a picture of you two cuddling in bed, you're all over his feed. his social media just screams how in love with you he is. his fucking profile picture is of you two cuddling in bed with his jersey very subtly seen as the only thing you're wearing. before that, it was just a picture of him and you kissing that he took when you went on your anniversary trip last year. his bio is the team he plays for, his jersey number, and then a white heart next to your username as he blatantly tags you in his bio. underneath that there might be a, "happily married" with the ring emoji next to it even though you two aren't even married yet.

basketball player ! satoru . . . who would spoil you rotten with everything you ever want. why would he have all this money if not to spoil you??? he just wants to make you happy with anything he can provide, and if part of that is him dropping bands on top of bands on whatever it is you want, then so be it. he doesn't care. he's willing to spend however much he needs to keep you happy and content.

satoru's win had encouraged him to treat YOU out to a mall trip .... even though he was the one who should have been celebrated and treated out since he was the winner.

he cheesily denies that offer by saying, "i'm only a winner because i have you, baby boy, c'mon let me treat you," and then he playfully bites the lobe of your ear to distract you from teh mass amounts of money he is going to spend on you.

that day, you walk out of the mall with a whole bunch of bags (gucci, burberry, dior, prada, etc.etc.) that he's easily holding in his large hands. people notice that there is a new chain around your neck with a cute "g" and "s" charm hanging from it, refracting every bit of light that gets caught in its surface with how blinding the diamonds are. he has a matching one as well, with your initials, which he proudly shows the cameras of the papparazzi as they soon swarm you guys. then he's flipping them off again.

-

you and basketball player ! satoru are a power couple that the media and fans love. any homophobic comment that reaches satoru's ears are called out and dealt with by his sharp tongue and scary, blue eyes glaring at whoever was dishing out those comments. he's a complete softy for you too and he is NOT one to shy away from that, loves showing off how happy he is with you and ONLY you.

also last bit before i go: he definitely has two photos of you in his wallet. one of them is a cute polaroid you guys took at his family's house for xmas the other is..............promiscuious.

-> next, drabble <3

[buckevantommy]

Everyone's always telling Buck what he should do. Okay, sometimes he did ask for their advice, but every piece of advice he's followed through on lately has ended badly and everything they tell him to do he doesn't actually want to do.

He should want to do something if it's supposed to make him feel better, if it's supposed to be better for him, right?

Josh told him to bulldoze ahead and tell Tommy what he wanted. Tommy told him to re-enact his Buck 1.0 days and spend time with some indeterminate amount of people until he finds someone forever. Maddie and Chim told him to start dating again and also wait for the universe to bring him someone special; another someone. Hen and Eddie told him not to contact Tommy.

He doesn't want to do any of that! He wants to talk to Tommy, to see him, to get Tommy to talk to him instead of giving up on them and running away because he's scared. He wants to tell Tommy he loves him. He wants Tommy to know first and last aren't mutually exclusive. He wants to yell at Tommy, and kiss him, and hold him. He wants Tommy to apologise for breaking his heart and for being a dumbass. He wants Tommy to believe him when he says he won't do the same; well, he might be a dumbass sometimes - but he would never break Tommy’s heart. He wants to apologise for jumping ahead but also not have to apologise for wanting a life with Tommy or for being too much.

Since that first night Tommy kissed him, he's felt reborn. Not in some starry-eyed way that Tommy seems to think is fake and won't last, but in the way that he's shed the skin of past Buck upgrades and finally grown into his body, become comfortable in who he is instead of trying to fit a facade that other people would accept. Always too big, too much, not enough, never content to just sit in his self and be without his worries and insecurities moulding him into something else, something with a better chance of getting people to like him, love him, stay with him. 

He’s never felt more himself or more at ease in a relationship that meant something to him than he did with Tommy. Never felt more wholly seen - the good, the bad, and the too-much and not enough - by his partner and adored anyway, wanted anyway.

Halfway through making swiss meringue buttercream instead of breakfast, he realises he's thinking about Tommy. His coping skill, as Bobby called it, has stopped working.

There's butter and sugar in the creases of his hands and nailbeds even after he hurriedly wipes them with the dishcloth over his shoulder. He can see it as he scoops up his phone from the charger and thumbs over to his message thread with Tommy, leaving greasy crumby residue on the screen.

i saw you bubbling

After it happened, after the Chief distracted everyone enough for him to grab his phone and retreat somewhere he wouldn't be disturbed, he'd stared at the space where the unsent message had appeared for twenty minutes waiting for the type bubble to reappear. Waiting for Tommy to hit send on whatever he'd backtyped.

Buck's mind had spiralled with all the possibilities and while it spiralled and he stared and waited he never got around to actually calling or texting Tommy himself. And then the bell rang.

He has time, now. He has things he wants to say.

you were going to tell me something an maybe i wont like what it was but just knowing you almost reached out is kinda driving me crazy bc i have a fridge full of baked goods bc everytime i think about calling you i bake and now i havnt cooked a proper meal in my own place in over a week bc i dont have room in my damn fridge to store anything besides chocholate chip bananan bread and baked alaskas

He wants to say: and it's all your fault! but that's not the whole truth. Buck played his part in this, set the wheels in motion that drove Tommy away from him. But how the hell was he supposed to know that? And Tommy should've known by now he doesn't really do 'slow'.

i'm not sorry for being too much bc i shouldnt haveto apologize for being myself

Screw it. Can't get any worse, right? Tommy's getting all of him whether he likes it or not.

i dont see you as some queer life coach or someone to fill space until someon else comes along

thats not who i am

i thought you knew me better than that but whatevr ig

i wanted to live with you bc i want a life with you bc i love you

i love you

i shouldve said that first

Send after send, typing like a man possessed, he gets out everything that's been pent up inside him since the shock wore off a week ago.

His chest is heaving as the adrenaline rushes through his veins. And his eyes sting. He has to blink away tears as he reads over the last message.

He never told Tommy. Tommy doesn't know. Maybe Buck wasn't sure that night Josh asked him, but he knows it now.

i wanted you to be my last

He still does.

i wanna hate you for giving up on us

but i cant seem to hate you

This whole thing would hurt a lot less if he could just hate Tommy for what he did. It would hurt a lot less if they could find a way through this mess, together, and come out the other side stronger because they know each other better and know they want to fight for what they have.

Real love is worth fighting for. Red taught him that. Real love isn’t found, it’s made. Old gay Thomas taught him that.

Well, Buck found Tommy. Or, the universe did. And he’s going to fight, dammit, because he wants to build a future with Tommy. 

His vision has blurred with hot tears. Movement on his screen catches his attention from where his gaze had drifted over to the couch where Tommy had stayed to take care of him through his Billy Boils saga.

Tommy is bubbling him.

Buck’s heart lurches in his chest. His breath catches.

can we talk?

There’s a huff of something like manic laughter as he swipes at his snotty nose.

that’s what i typed

Hope blooms in his chest, sudden and bright and painful in the best way.  

can we?

I think I owe it to you to yell at me in person

There’s a long moment where Buck tries to return his breathing to normal but its bated as he watches three little dots appear, then disappear. 

Then reappear. 

Then disappear.

Then:

I don’t want to give up on us either

Buck’s tears are still making his vision watery, but now they’re tears of joy. He did what he wanted to do - he reached out. And Tommy heard him.

He should take his own advice more often.

[citrustan]

slipping through my fingers [4] (myg)

title: and the hits keep coming 2.0

pairing: min yoongi x reader genre: dilf!yoongi, exes and co-parents au, angst!, fluff, smut summary: just when you thought yoongi couldn't surprise you anymore, it happens again. warnings: [other parts should be read before this one] a lot more feelings of insecurity and sad vibes, yoongi stepping over oc's boundaries, oc being disrespected yet again (nothing new nothing changed same old shit same old fucking shit)

You were tempted to ignore him, but with Nao involved, you couldn’t avoid dealing with him.

“You should go eat. I can just talk to him for you…?” Taehyung suggests as he watches you contemplate your next move.

That would be great help to you. While you couldn’t afford to avoid him forever, maybe a few days wouldn’t hurt. So, with an overwhelming and shaky sigh, you passed the phone to him.

He hurriedly motions for you to leave the room. And you reluctantly do so.

Taehyung scrunches his nose and shuts the door in your face.

Fighting the urge to hold a glass against the door, you forced yourself to wait in the kitchen till he was done.

On the other side of the door, Taehyung angrily exhales, taking his own sweet time to answer your phone. Then the call drops.

Not even a second later, the loud ringtone fills the room once again. It reeks of desperation.

“Hello?”

No response.

He tries again, “Hello?”

“…Taehyung?”

“Yeah, it’s me.”

After another pause, the voice scoffs, “Figures.”

A bit taken aback, Taehyung bit his tongue, “What do you want?”

Taehyung hears nothing back. “Yoongi? Why’d you call?”

“I called _____, not you.”

“Well, she can’t talk now.”

Now it was Yoongi’s turn to bite back. “This has nothing to do with you, Tae. I just need to talk to her.”

“You can’t. You have me instead. What more do you have to say?”

There’s yet another long pause.

“How is she?”

Taehyung almost laughs in disbelief, “You can’t be serious. How do you think, Yoongi? Is the future Mrs. Min okay with you asking about your ex?”  

“Careful, Taehyung-”

“Does everyone else know already?”  

“Of course not, I went straight to _____’s. And nobody can know about it either. We’re not ready. I just…”

Taehyung grew more confused the longer Yoongi took to speak.

“I need to talk to her, Taehyung. I really… I messed up.”

“Did something more happen?”

Another pause.

“No. I just had to check in… Can I come by tomorrow? I still need to drop Mimi off.”

“Uh… right, about that. Listen…” Taehyung thinks for a second, “I think, maybe it’d be better if you just let her breathe for a moment. And I’ll come get Naomi.”

Another pause.

“Did she ask for that?”

Taehyung had half a mind to lie about it but he refrained, deciding that the truth would hurt him more. “You know she’d never. She’s too… stupid-” Stupidly in love with you. “-and you need to stop taking advantage of her; you need to hold back, Yoongi. You can’t go running to her for everything anymore.”

Yoongi knew he was in the wrong, but was annoyed that Taehyung was the one to tell him that.

Still a little in denial, he childishly spits, “Fine, bye. Get here before 7.”

Taehyung wanted to retaliate but he was immediately met with a little digital sound indicating that Yoongi had hung up on him.

A little bemused, Taehyung pulls your purple Samsung away from his ear and stares at it--- “So fucking typical.”

As Taehyung steps out of your room, he almost bulldozes you down.

“Jesus, _____.” Frowning, he asks, “Were you eavesdropping?”

You shook your head and wordlessly waved a jar of tiramisu in front of his nose.

Taehyung eyes you suspiciously, “I’m going to pick Naomi up tomorrow.”

When he says that, your face visibly drops. You didn’t actually expect Yoongi to pull away so fast. Was his girlfriend already keeping him from you now? You almost wanted to smack yourself in the head for thinking like you owned him.

Taehyung debates on whether he should elaborate or wait to see if you ask about it.

But you just gently and nonchalantly nod, “Right, of course. That’s okay. Please bring her here by 7.”

“He didn’t ask for this!” Taehyung blurts.

Your expression doesn’t change.

A little intimidated, he looked straight at his feet and explained, “I offered to pick her up. But Yoongi called because he wanted to talk to you. I just told him that I thought it was a bad idea.”

When he doesn’t hear you react, he slowly looks up at you, suddenly feeling miniscule. And he swore he could see steam coming out of your ears.

Taking a deep breath, you stare into his eyes, “You need to stop overstepping. You’ve done it once already. You need to stop.”

He almost felt the heat radiating from you.  

Almost as if he didn’t actually expect you to react so negatively, he asks, “_____... You’re really mad about this?”

You slam your jar on the coffee table and storm off into the kitchen.

“The first time you meddled, Yoongi left me. The second time, he happened to meet his future wife. What’s it going to be now?”

Taehyung was stunned, “Are you kidding me? Are you just mad that I’m looking out for you in ways you yourself wouldn’t or do you really believe that?”

“I don’t know. Maybe you planned it all,” you glare at him accusingly.

Too stunned to digest what you accused him of, his eyes just widened in bewilderment. “_____. I- Planned what, _____?”

You tip your head forward in mockery, “Planned what? Take a guess.”

The room fills with silence once more.

Taehyung shook his head, “I’m going to ignore all of that. And fine, I’ll ask him to call you back then.”

“No!” – “No?” He parrots.

“I don’t want him to call me.” You almost whine. You don’t even know what you truly want. (Actually, you do.)

“Okay.” Taehyung nodded reassuringly, his hands grasping at your elbows, “He won’t. I’ll bring Naomi back tomorrow. Okay?” But you shook your head obstinately, “No, I want her back now.”

“Right now?” - “Now.”

“_____...” He looked at the grandfather clock on your wall.

Cringing a little, Taehyung attempts to reason with you, “_____, it’s Yoongi’s turn to have her.”

“Yeah, that’s a spoken agreement, not a written and notarized thing. He can’t stop me from wanting to spend time with my daughter.” You’re sure this is evil _____ speaking and it’s as if you can’t control her.  

Taehyung nervously cracks his knuckles. He doesn’t have a counter argument. You are Naomi’s mother and arguably the primary caretaker after all. He figures he owes you this.

“So, will you get her back for me?” You weren’t really giving him an option.

Taehyung knew your word was final. Either way, he wouldn’t police you on being a mother. “Let me give Yoongi a call, okay?”

“You do that. I’ll make you something to eat before you go!” You smile sweetly.

Not quite sure of your strategy here, all you knew was that you wanted your daughter with you. It was your way of gaining some control back in your life. You don’t have it in you to think of whether or not this was ethical or right. You just did not want to spiral.

From the kitchen, you could faintly hear Taehyung on the phone.

You take note of his assertiveness and slap some extra mortadella on his sandwich. He deserved it for putting up with you. You couldn’t think of anyone else who’d still be with you and handle your mood swings.

Was that normal or just sad? You do not want to think.

In your mind, you were satisfied in life. Sometimes you regret bringing up marriage with Yoongi. Maybe if you hadn’t forced the idea on him, you could’ve been in Hyejin’s place now.

The fact that you’re even in this position is ridiculous. Sooner or later you’d have to face… everything. The reason they’re getting married and you aren’t. The fact that they might have Nao be a part of their wedding and you’d just have to smile and nod, that Nao may have another parental figure, that you won’t be Yoongi’s bride or a bride at all, ever, and that maybe you’ve lost Yoongi’s companionship forever.

You had to step out for a bit.

Right at that moment, Taehyung emerges from the living room into the kitchen.

Sighing, he starts, “So, he agreed. He wants to know if everything’s okay. Of course, I know it isn’t but I told him he had nothing to worry about. And he didn’t buy it.” –

You push the little ceramic plate towards him, “Eat your sandwich.”

Taking a large bite out of it, Taehyung thanks you and adds, “--- by the way, your food is on the dining table, I didn’t actually give it away, you know?”

“I saw it,” you confirmed, “Jus’ not hungry.”

Quickly changing the topic back to Nao, you ask, “So, can Nao be back now or…?”

“Yeah. Here’s the thing…” He stalled. “Nao’s coming now.”

A gulp. You think he’s swallowing his food.

“Yoongi’s coming with.”

‘Why do you always bring me bad news?’ is what you wanted to ask. Instead, you squeak out a “When?”

“Twenty minutes? Told me Nao was already dolled up or something.” He finishes his sandwich and washes the plate.

In a soothing tone, Taehyung proposes, “Why don’t you head down to the pâtisserie? I’ll receive them. You don’t have to worry about seeing him, okay?”

You appreciated his offer but chose to decline it, “No. It’s okay. I need to tidy up anyway,” – “_____, I’ll do it for you. I know how you like it. Go take a walk or grab a sweet treat or something, yes?”

“No, it’ll take too long for you to do it by yourself. You can help me though. Just do my bed, please?” You’re already walking off.

Taehyung follows you into your room but doesn’t have a chance to stop you, you’re already stripping down and into your ‘serious cleaning’ clothes. It’s just an old dress and rubber gloves.

Sometimes, Taehyung mourns what you and Yoongi could have been. You’re perfect for each other. The two of you just needed to work on your communication a little. He’s thinking about how much of you Yoongi’s missing out on and can’t help but scoff. In pop culture terms, he really fumbled you.

Suddenly you gasp, “Did you watch me change?” Aimed at the man.

“No!” Vehemently shaking his head, he repeats, “Not intentionally! I was zoned out!”

“Wow, calm down, I don’t mind, you know that.” You smile sweetly once again.

Grabbing a pillow, he sighs. Sometimes, he thinks you toy with him on purpose. He really can’t tell.

 ₊˚ ‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

Forty minutes go by yet there has been no sign of Nao or Yoongi. No calls or messages, no updates whatsoever.

You ought to get Nao a little phone for herself. How had you not thought of this before? It’ll probably be a lot more useful now.

You were nervously readjusting the doilies in a circle over and over again when the doorbell suddenly rang.

Taehyung’s resting figure suddenly snapped upright, “I’ll get it.”

However, you were closer to the door and got to it before he could take two steps.

When you open the door, you wished Taehyung would’ve beaten you to it. You wish you had taken that walk or chosen to buy yourself a sweet drink; because you couldn’t even have guessed what was waiting for you on the other side of the door.

Nothing could have prepared you to see your ex-boyfriend with his current girlfriend and your daughter. Together. All of them. Holding hands. In front of you for the very first time. All of them.

While Yoongi had the decency of looking literally anywhere but in your eyes, you couldn’t say the same about his girlfriend. Fiancée.

Hyejin, placed between your daughter and your ex, exhaled a dreamy smile. “I hope you don’t mind me intruding, _____! Nao-chan wanted to show you our matching hairstyle!”

Bewildered and wordless, all you could do was smile and nod. You mechanically turn your head to look at Nao, who sported a baby pink lock of hair amongst her regular, natural hair identical to Hyejin’s.

You nodded and stepped aside, briefly bumping into Taehyung who looked just as uncomfortable as Yoongi, making space for the lovely family to step into your home. Your eyes were glued to your feet.

Just like always, before you take a drastic step, your daughter grounds you as she runs to you and clings to your lower half. Although, the pink strands of hair brushing against you almost make you lose it all. Almost.

Following which Taehyung breaks the tension by awkwardly, yet warmly greeting the pair, taking a load off of you.

You needed to lie down.

₊˚.🎧 ✩｡ how to disappear completely by radiohead ₊˚.🎧 ✩｡

note: sorry! it probably gets better! i think this one has a few edits pending but i couldn't waitttt

[revehae]

warnings: noncon, drugging

wc. 837

repost. i found this in my docs accidentally (which is silly because when i intentionally looked for it i couldn’t find it…?)

the night feels mistier than it looks, the moon marveling down at itself as it reflects in the water and a bridge of light gleams gently across the still lake. jeno’s car isn’t parked too far. if you tried to walk there in this state, it wouldn’t feel that way, but it’s just shy of the edge.

mark and jeno would never let you make that journey though, not without their support. you never used to think that you were a lightweight, but considering mark and jeno have to nurse you every time you drink together, it was safe to say that you couldn’t hold your liquor.

they’re such good friends, you always tell yourself the morning after, helping you take care of yourself and still inviting you back the next time. you tried to tell them that you wouldn’t be upset if they didn’t want you to come, you wouldn’t want to babysit a drunk grown woman either, but the two insist that you are far from a nuisance.

tonight is no different from any other friday night that you spend getting drunk with your trustworthy friends. you each have a couple of drinks, downing shots in between laughter and chatter. nothing’s out of the blue, really. until it is. until that strange, familiarly unfamiliar feeling creeps up on you, the isolation of your debilitated senses, the lack of control altogether.

it always goes like this. a few shots, some jokes, some stumbling around. mark and jeno crack the jokes now, laughing at how drunk you are, but nevertheless holding onto you. jeno’s holding onto your left while mark’s got your right, their distinct touches peculiarly familiar to you for whatever reason. you know mark’s calloused hands and hardened palms when you feel them, as you do jeno’s strong grip, because he never not fails to remember his strength.

they guide you to the car, assuring you that they’re going to sober you up with some water mark brought to jeno’s car but for whatever reason didn’t think to bring out with the the drinks. and then it’s blank, foggy and unclear.

you don’t remember jeno’s unforgiving hold on your wrists, his merciless pace as if he’s trying to squeeze you into his leather seat. you don’t remember his degrading little words as he breaks character, going on about how you’re so, so stupid. so trusting. too trusting. you don’t remember mark’s toughened hands on your hips as he bulldozes your pussy, nothing but, “fuck,” leaving his mouth.

hell, you don’t even remember hearing them play rock paper scissors to decide who gets to have their wicked way with you before the other, mark being the lucky guy tonight.

because when your senses are restored, the sun is up and you aren’t at the lake anymore nor are you inside of jeno’s car. given that mark’s place is closest, they took you there for the night, and it’s his spare room that you wake up inside of.

when you meet mark and jeno in the morning, they even have breakfast going, and everything’s so overwhelmingly normal in spite of the strange feeling that possesses you.

because when mark wraps his arm around you in a sweet hug, his hand brushes a sliver of your exposed skin even though you’re fully dressed, and it feels strange. when jeno whispers something in your ear about mark’s cooking skills or lack thereof, his tone and the little chuckle that follows is too familiar.

and it starts to occur to you, the memories of what happened the night before, through a thick, blurry haze. mark’s mangling weight on top of your body and rough fingers. jeno’s harsh words that are hardly jokes, violent and sweaty skin sticking to yours.

it’s so distant that you can’t tell if it’s a dream or a memory, but to your horror, it feels so real. it explains the stinging around your wrists and the bruising at your hips, the sticky stuff in your underwear.

but you don’t want to believe that mark and jeno are capable of hurting you. not when they take care of you so much more than they have to, not when they’re always so sweet and kind, so loving.

you ask mark and jeno if anything happened last night a couple of moments into breakfast, an unsettling feeling like bile in your throat. it’s different than an average hangover, it spreads all over and wrecks through your whole being like an implacable virus.

mark and jeno play dumb, as if they’re totally oblivious to what you’re implying, even if they remember in detail what you would never be able to recall as descriptively as they do amongst each other. they say that you passed out in the car, and it’s so convenient, almost too convenient, but that’s their story and they stick to it.

and really, you don’t press for the truth, because you wouldn’t know how to accept your friends being anybody but who you think they are anyway.

[starry-bi-sky]

mmmmmm read a disciple shen yuan/shizun luo binghe fanfic about two days ago where the first chapter was the Immortal Conference arc, and SQQ was the one who had to be pushed into the abyss (he was still the villain) except Luo Binghe was refusing and was like, lowkey losing his mind about SQQ being so close to the edge. SQQ ended up having to be the one to fall in himself because of the system's punishment system. The rest of the fic is leading up to that moment. But like, MMM i've been obsessively thinking about that first chapter for DAYS ever since.

now i've been in svsss for a grand total of *checks watch* a week. but god obsessed with that. I want to write/read a fic where disciple SQQ goes a little nuts down there. Like keep all of the things that make SQQ, SQQ, but just. Throw in a little bit more trauma in there. A little bit of a mental break. Let him go a little nuts as a treat. Just a tad unhinged. I wanna see him go, just a little, "god fuck it, i've tried so hard to change this shitty story's outcome and it feels like everything i've done has been for nothing. I'm going to die in this world no matter what I do, I've been doomed from the start, so might as well die the way I want to." and he just, breaks a little! Under all the stress.

He still retains the traits that makes shen yuan, shen yuan, like his overwhelming kindness. But he's just! yk. A little less patient. Paranoid. Jumpy. Colder. A little more aloof and closed off. A little more Shen Jiu. He's no asshole child abuser, but he was a Number One Hater in his past life and he's leaning into that old habit a little more now.

(On a totally coincidental not-at-all related note, there's not enough SJ-and-SY-are-the-same-people fics out there that i've found. This is totally unrelated...)

The Endless Abyss turns the mind into an over-sharpened blade, and SQQ is both fascinated and perhaps a little excited to explore a place that doesn't have a lot of info on it in the mortal realm, but still terrified out of his mind. And he's no Luo Binghe, he doesn't have the sheer brute strength and power to just bulldoze his way through, so he has to be a lot more sneaky and cunning if he wants to survive.

The fic itself role-swapped LBH and SQQ so that SQQ was the half-demon (which lowkey fucks) and LBH the human, but I'm equally-if-not-more obsessed with the idea that LBH remains the half-heavenly demon and SQQ the human. If only because I keep thinking about SQQ befriending some demons (particularly and specifically a group of succubi) and they grow very attached to this Human Cultivator so through magic plot stuff they create some kind of seal/illusion/talisman that makes SQQ appear as a demon because a human cultivator in the endless abyss may as well be the equivalent of putting a giant neon target on your back.

And iirc Shen Jiu was taught demonic cultivation by that one guy(?? i've only been here a week so im not caught up in ALL of the lore yet) so that could totally happen here.

(On the other end of the realms, poor Shizun Luo Binghe is just. losing his fucking mind over losing his most precious and beloved disciple. About .5 seconds from burning down the peaks himself. somebody sedate him.)

The Endless Abyss sucks and SQQ is having a really terrible time and can feel himself going lowkey mad, but also holy shit look at all this WORLD-BUILDING. look at all this flora and fauna, and oh if he had the equipment for it he'd be writing all of this down. ALL OF IT. He was kinda-sorta-already planning on never leaving the Abyss as some sort of fucked up self-exile and self-preservation thing, but now he might? actually just?? never leave if he can help it, like he lowkey likes it down here.

anyways the next time anyone ever sees SQQ again he's got hair so long its almost touching the ground and he's either in rags and half-feral or he's been completely dolled up by his adoptive succubi sisters and still about three seconds from biting anyone who tries to touch him. (he's also lowkey trying to book it back down to the abyss even if he has desperately missed all of his friends and shizun)

[beenbaanbuun]

romance tropes i associate w/ ateez:

this is not proofread or formatted because i was supposed to start getting ready to leave my apartment half an hour ago and now i’m rushing lmaooo. i’ll proofread and format it when i get back from the knocked loose gig 🫶

seonghwa -bridesmaid and bestman

it’s your sisters wedding and everything is going great, except for the fact that you haven’t spoken to a single person for the past 45 minutes

you can’t help but feel a little lonely as you sit in the corner and bulldoze your way through the bottle of wine you’ve been left alone with

and then you feel a soft tap on your shoulder, and the familiar sound of a chair being dragged against the wooden floor rings through the room

you spin around just in time to see the groom’s best friend sitting down beside you, empty wine glass in hand

“nice ceremony, wasn’t it?” he says as he grabs the wine bottle and begins to pour himself a generous helping

you hum in response as you tilt your own glass towards him - he takes the hint and fills it for you

“my sister looks so pretty,” you say, and the man in front of you nods along

“not as pretty as the maid of honour, though,” he responds, “i couldn’t quite believe it when i spotted her all alone in the corner with no one taking care of her.”

you giggle in response to his obvious flirting - two can play at that game

“so you decided to come and snatch me up for yourself, did you?”

he nods with a straight face, but you can see the teasing glint in his eye

“of course,” he responds, “i’m not leaving your side until i’ve either got a dance from you, or i have your number in my phone.”

he smiles wide at you, and you can’t help but smile back

“well you’re handsome enough for me to consider giving you both,” he chuckles at your words, “but the question is which one do you want first?”

he offers you his hand

“i think i’ll take the dance.”

hongjoong - blind date

it seems your mum has finally grown fed up of you showing up to every family event empty handed

which is precisely how you end up standing outside one of the most notoriously expensive restaurants in your neighbourhood

it’s where your blind date suggested, and despite your incessant denial, your mother had accepted on your behalf

you walk inside, a sour look on your face as the host steps forward to ask for your reservation

“i think his name was hongjoong?” you sigh, “he told me to meet him here at 8 for a blind date…”

the woman’s eyes go wide and she smiles at you, the words ‘lucky bitch’ falling from her tongue before she can even stop them

“hardly,” you respond as she guides you through the fancy place, “i don’t even want to be here…”

your voice trails off as she slows down and stops at a table with a man already seated on one of the chairs

you thank the woman as you sit down; she sends you a quick wink in return before darting off to no doubt gossip with the other staff members

and then you turn your attention to the man before you to see he’s already looking at you with wide eyes

“you’re my date?” he asks, to which you nod in response, “shit! when my friend set this up i wasn’t expecting someone so pretty.”

your face heats up at his compliment

“oh, uh, thank you,” you stutter out, “likewise, i guess. my mum organised it on my behalf; i thought it would be some stiff-necked guy that thinks too highly of himself.”

“you’re happy with me, then?” he smiles

“very happy…”

yunho - brothers best friend

“i don’t care that he’s here, i’m just asking why?” you whisper to your mum as you watch yunho and your brother mess around in the pool

it’s spring break, and whilst you certainly don’t mind the addition of the tall dancer, you hadn’t been allowed to bring a friend of your own

“it was last minute honey,” you mum replies, “his parents are half-way through a divorce and i wanted to help take his mind off of it!”

you suppose that’s as good of a reason as any, but that still feel cheated

suddenly you hear a yell from the water, and a whole load of splashing; you turn your attention to the pool to see yunho swimming to your brother who has a hand covering his nose

“nosebleed?” your mum called over to the boys; they nod, “i know where the first aid kit is. come on!”

your brother climbs out of the pool and follows your mum inside, leaving the pool area in an awkward silence

“you know you’re never going to get a tan sitting in the shake like that,” yunho breaks it with a laugh, “you should move to this subbed over here.”

you quirk your brow at him as you see him point to the one right by the pool

“you mean the one that gives you access to stare at me?”

he shrugs, “i’m just looking out for you, kiddo.”

you scoff at the nickname; he’s always called you that despite the age gap being almost non-existent

“don’t call me that when you’re flirting with me, yun.”

“why?” he says with a smirk, “would you rather i called you baby?”

yeosang - soulmates

it had been a slow morning in the cafe, which isn’t necessarily unusual, but it had given you a lot of time to think about your soulmate mark which is burning where it sits on your wrist

KYS, it reads, which you would find funny if it was scrawled on someone else’s wrist

the subreddit you’d spent most of your morning surreptitiously scrolling through says it means you’ll meet your soulmate soon

you’ll believe that when you see it…

“‘scuse me?” a voice rips you out of your mindless doomscrolling and you quickly put a smile on your face and look up at the man at the counter

your sure your smile looks more like a grimace with how bad the mark has started burning on your wrist

“welcome,” you stutter out, “what can i get for you?”

he studies the menu which gives you the perfect opportunity to study the pretty man in front of you

you can’t help but notice his hand gripping at his opposite wrist in the exact same place your own soul mark it hurting

“an americano,” he eventually stutters out, “iced and medium, please.”

you nod, grabbing a cup and a marker pen, “can i take a name?”

“yeosang,” he replies and your soul mark burns even more, “but you can just write KYS if it’s easier.”

you pause for a second; was the subreddit right?

“KYS?” you mutter to yourself, “this sounds crazy, but can i show you something?”

he shrugs and you take it as an ‘okay’, so you tug up your sleeve to reveal the three letters on your arm

san - strangers-to-lovers

the gym, also known as your own personal hell; it’s funny that you’ve somehow ended up there in a saturday morning

you’re not even sure how in all honesty, and as you stare into the vast space filled with nothing but men and metal, you feel a little intimidated

still, it’s too late to turn back now so you take a few unsure steps into the room, halting at a piece of equipment that looks more like a torture device

“how the-” you mutter to yourself, but get cut off when a tall man walks up beside you

“are you using this thing?” he asks, and you turn your attention to him, “it’s just its next in my routine, but i don’t mind waiting if you’re already using it.”

you shake your head as you stare at him, feeling a little more than slightly intimidated

he’s tall, buff and hot, not to mention that he clearly knows what he’s doing in the gym

“you can go,” you stutter, “i, uh, i’m not too sure how to use it myself; i’m new to all this.”

his face light up at your confession, the stoic expression melting into something sweeter, more excited

“you’re serious?” he beams at you, “that’s so cool! i’m proud of you for starting your gym journey.”

you shrug, not really knowing how to reply; the man seems to have no issue carrying on the conversation for you, though

“my names san,” he sticks out a hand which you take out of politeness, “if you want you can take my number; i’m here most days so if you ever want someone to work out with…”

you think it over for a few seconds before deciding ‘what the hell?’ the man is attractive and seems genuinely enthusiastic to get to know you

might as well get something positive out of this whole gym thing, right?

mingi - fake boyfriend

you’d always spend winter break alone, which was never a pleasant thing when spending the season with your family

this year, however, you decided things would be different

it turns out a friend of a friend wasn’t actually going home for the holidays

and with the promise of free food he was actually pretty easy to convince to be your pretend boyfriend for the season

you spent days upon days creating some sort of believable story to tell your family, as well as learning everything there is to know about eachother

the plan was seamless, and on your first evening in your family home, the two of you had done a spectacular job at convincing your entire family

but there was just one little detail the two of you hadn’t foreseen, and now as you stand in your room it finally sinks in

“i can sleep on the floor,” you suggest, “you take the bed; you’re the guest, afterall.”

mingi shakes his head

“i might be a guest, but i’m still a gentleman,” he refuses, and you can’t help but laugh

“i’ve learned enough about you to know that you are anything but a gentleman, mingi.”

“well you’re hardly a perfect little princess yourself,” he can’t help but chuckle in response

you hum in agreement, but soon fall back into silence as you try and work out some sort of solution to the one-bed problem

“we could just share?” you suggest after a second or two

he cocks his brow at you

“you’d be okay with that?” you just shrug in response before crawling into your bed and patting the mattress next to you

“come on in before i change my mind.”

wooyoung - rivals-to-lovers

you stare at the F at the top of your page, a flurry of emotions rushing through you

you’d never gotten anything below a C before and now all of a sudden you’ve failed?

sure you’d taken a little bit of a backseat when you were studying for this exam, but you were almost certain you knew enough of the material to at least get a B

yet you’d failed

you feel a presence walk up behind you and you sigh; you’d recognise the sound of those cocky little footsteps anywhere

“i’m not in the mood, wooyoung,” you grumble, hoping it would deter your rival for just a little while

“why not?” he teases as he walks up beside you, “are you really that sure i’ve beaten you?”

you don’t reply, but by the way he gasps, you can tell he’s already caught sight of your failure; you sigh, waiting for what’s about to come

“you… failed?” his voice is soft, not an ounce of teasing in his tone, “dude, that’s- i- are you alright?”

perhaps it’s the lack of cruelness in his voice, you’re not sure, but you feel the need to be vulnerable with him

“not really,” you shake your head, “i don’t know what happened.”

an awkward hand finds its way to your shoulder, fingers lightly tapping a pattern against your back

“i can help you if you want?” he suggests, “like, i don’t know, tutor you or something?”

you finally look at him, purely to check whether or not he’s joking

his face is serious though, and that kind of stumps you

“why would you do that for me?” he just shrugs

“i like our little rivalry,” if you look closely you can see a dusting of pink over his cheeks, “i think it’s cute when you get all angry at me for beating you, or when you’re all smug when you do better… we can’t have that if you’re getting F’s.”

jongho - friends-to-lovers

you walk out of your exam with a frown on your face; saying that it went bad would be an understatement

all you want to do is crawl up into a ball and forget about life for a while, but then you spot him

“jongho,” you yell, pulling his attention away from his phone

with a grin he slides it into his back pocket, opening his arms for you to give him a running hug

you take the opportunity, slamming into his chest at full force; he wastes no time in folding his arms around you

“how’d it go?” he asks as he begins to sway your conjoined bodies from side to side

“oh, it went horribly,” you admit, “i’m going to go home and eat an obscene amount of ice cream to make me feel better.”

he nods at your suggestion

“you could,” he agrees, “or we could go to that one cafe and pretend to get engaged so we get free desert?”

you can’t help but look up at him with furrowed brows

“engaged?” you cant lie that the idea makes your heart flutter, “what happened to the birthday meta?”

it’s a valid question; the two of you normally go to a cafe and tell the staff it’s your birthday so you can share the desert

engagement is a new one, but you’re willing to hear him out

“well,” he begins, face falling into full seriousness, “if you think about it, we only get one desert when we use the birthday meta; my hypothesis is that we get two deserts if we claim we’re engaged.”

you consider his reply for a few seconds

“fair argument,” you hum, “counterpoint; do you not think they’ll give us just the one desert for ‘romantic’ purposes? you know, feed each other with a spoon, type shit.”

jongho just shrugs

“i’m fine with that if you are.”

[loganlermanstanaccount]

Rigor Mortis (part 6)

College roommate!Miguel O'Hara x reader

(AO3 Mirror) (Wattpad) Series Masterlist, Main Masterlist,

Part 5, Part 7

summary: Everything unravels. You teach Miguel a lesson.

warnings: soooo much smut. mutual masturbation, grinding, slight femdom, Miguel is a submissive switch cuz I said so, m! masturbation. very very 18+ Minors DNI (ageless blogs will be blocked, thanks!)

a/n: yeah...so. ya.

Thank you to my beta readers, @tianyhi and @urgonnaneedabiggership (they also write Miguel fics, I highly recommend! my favourite is this series), I couldn't have done it without you guys <3

Join my taglists here

wc: 8k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

in your half-hearted hubris,

Miguel is not a jealous man. Jealousy implies something he thought was shed long ago: a second skin of something green-eyed and crooked. 

One minute, he's watching you kiss someone else. And when you sigh into it; imperceptibly, but he notices because he always sees these things about you; he's biting the inside of his cheek and drawing blood. The guy you danced with, and now your lips are on his. Is… Is that your type? Jun is slender and charming; a pretty boy, through and through . There's a hand on your thigh, he notices, milky white and willowy. It has Miguel looking at his own, rough and tan, the ghost of soft skin and pillowy thighs on his fingertips. The illicit foray of one night, one night with you , and he's second guessing himself. 

Insecure. 

His hands are rough and calloused. He picks at hangnails, the skin is raw from rubber gloves and mystery chemicals, and knuckles creaky because he cracks them too often. Is that what you like? The kind of thing you touch yourself to; his hands, pawing at flesh. Jun cups your chin, slender fingers pulling you closer, and your own come up to wrap around them. You seem desperate for it, panting and pretty lashes fluttering when you separate. 

And you look at Jun like… like he wants you to look at him. 

There's blood in his mouth when you finally do. He looks away, quick and furtive, like you've caught him doing something wrong. It's not right or wrong, he supposes, just tripping over a muddle of thoughts – still stuck on the image of your hand on Jun's.  

He was a late bloomer, awkwardly proportioned and too tall for his limbs. Clumsy, if you can believe it. He's always been a bit of a bull in a China shop; bulldozing and brutish and still growing into a body that pools at his ankles and is tight around his wrists. Like an ill-fitting suit; the kind he wore to Fernanda's quince, skirting the rental hall with a bottle of j2o. In and out of conversations, tripping and stuttering over words in stiff dress shoes and a waistcoat . Gabi took a lot of photos: peace signs and pointer finger looped into coat pockets.

Point is; he's not felt this way in years . Tongue-tied, hot and cold, heart-pounding. Jun decidedly isn't; able to talk to you like a normal person, making you smile and laugh. Curling fingers into the crest of a wide palm, he digs his nails into the flesh: producing a sting that makes it crystal clear. Oh. Oh. 

Fuck.  

One minute, he's nursing a warm beer and trying not to take a chunk out the inside of his mouth. The next, he's on the floor of Lyla's living room, blinking up at bright lights. 

There's soft hands all over him. Holding his own, cupping his cheek, moving his head this way and that as he tries to focus. He's looking at your pretty lips, pert and pressed into the lean line of a frown. There are… people talking over the other; strained and hushed in a quiet corner. 

He recognises Lyla's voice, distinctive despite the ringing in his ears. 

"A-All over a drink…. pushing past 'em, Jess…. he threw the first punch…"

~~~

The drive home is terse, air thick with something. Stewing, you've got your arms crossed and head turned to the windows. You're watching the streaky lights of the city zip past, lips pursed. Head on the glass, you're making a point not to turn back or utter a word to Miguel. 

"You picked a fight." You swipe a finger on the condensation, finally ready to talk. 

He shrugs limply. A beat passes. 

"....this is the part where you explain what happened, Miguel."

"I picked a fight."

"...that's it?" Your brows shoot up. "You just… there was no build up? Why? "

"Wanted to give 'em something to bond over in the morning." He deadpans, glancing over to the passenger seat. "Matching black eyes."

You shake your head slightly. "Don't believe you." 

You see something flash in his gaze, and then it's gone. He smooths over features, and that Miguel is back: lifeless and blank. Steadfast, he doesn't turn to look at you. 

"Okay." He says simply. 

"All that Ophelia shit from a couple of weeks ago, and you still won't –" It's under your breath as you clamp down anger. If Miguel hears, he doesn't indicate. "I just want to understand."

He purses his lips. "Nothing to understand. I'm an insecure piece of shit, and I picked a fight. I ruined Jess' birthday, and fucked it up for everyone else. I know. Can we… Can we speed this bit up? I'm exhausted. "

"No-one… I didn't say that." Your voice is hoarse. He's being mean. He's never been all that nice; sarcastic and smug, for sure, but never cruel. It feels spiteful. You're blinking away a hot tear before you can stop it. And then they become angry tears, ones that sting your cheeks on the way down. 

You're not good with fights. Never have been. And it's not even the confrontation that scares you, it's the apathy. Sifting through your guts and begging someone to care, when they don't. It's like screaming at a brick wall and expecting the mortar to shift; a pointless exercise in delusion. You'd grown sick of it with Jamie; the hand-waving and the what do you want me to do about it of it all. It's the one thing you've grown to like about Miguel, about all your little fights. He's rarely the bigger person, petty, and able to get down in the shit and stink with you; because, on some small level at least, he gives a fuck. He cares . 

You're embarrassed that you even thought he would be any different. Disappointed, but not with him: with yourself for getting caught up in all of this. 

You're sniffling, wiping up and flattening out of sheer spite; refusing to let him see how a stupid thing like this affects you. The tears well up in your eyes, hot and blurry and you're focusing on holding yourself together by the seams before you get home. 

You don't notice him pull into a side road and park the car. It rolls to a stop, and he's reaching over to the backseat; and pulling out a box of tissues. The box is floral and tissues scented; rosy and sweet in a way you wouldn't expect from him. 

When he nudges you with the box, apologetic, you're still not looking at him; not even flicking over to give him a dirty look. 

"Chula. " It rolls off his tongue so softly, but you jut your chin in the air. "Please. I'm sorry." 

You purse your lips. 

"I'm a dick."

"Yep." You manage. 

"I picked a fight. I'm an insecure piece of shit–" 

"No, no." You're turning back, quickly. "Stop saying that. Why are you saying that?" 

He shrugs again, and you flop into your seat. You notice, he's gripping the steering wheel so tight his knuckles are white. 

"Relax , Miguel." You wrap a hand around his, and watch him visibly melt. His gaze softens. "M'not trying to push, I'm sorry."

You take his hand off the wheel, inspecting the purple and blue that spreads across taught skin. His palm is rough, knuckles bony and bruised. 

"When we get home–" Home. You sigh, bringing it up to the little car lights. "I've got a first aid kit, somewhere. We need to clean this up, or it might get infec–" 

Looking up, you catch Miguel staring , stars in his eyes, and it… it knocks the breath out of your lungs. All of a sudden, you're flustered and letting go of his hand in a hurry. 

All he does is nod, starting the car. He runs a hand through his hair, pulling away with a palm on the flat of the wheel. In the light of street lamps, shadow cutting his cheekbones just so. He's beat up, he's tired, but even then; Miguel is so, so pretty. 

~~~

You end up in the bathroom, first aid kit splayed on the countertop. He insists on standing, despite a slight limp he tries to downplay, and so you're sitting on the faux marble with Miguel between your legs. Your dress rides up but you're too tired to care, ripping open gauze and tapping disinfectant on a little pad. At least he has the decency to be still and quiet, with his palms on the counter top and kissing bare thigh. 

Miguel is tall, still having to bend over when you pat the peak of a split lip; hand on his chin ever so gently. 

"Where'd you get all of this from?" He asks because your first aid kit is comprehensive : micropore, gauze and antiseptic with a name that sounds like sleeping pills. 

You're swatting him gently, trying to keep his jaw still. "My ex was a med student."

He smothers a smile, like he's trying not to laugh. 

"...what?"

"...is he the one that couldn't make you cum?"

You stop tending to his wounds, hand on his shoulder to steady yourself. Never have I ever faked an orgasm – the words start ringing in your head. You're not a blushing virgin, but his crass word choice makes you flush. 

"None of your business." 

He smirks. "So that's a yes. "

"I faked it once or twice , sue me. But… I mean, the sex wasn't bad. It was even good, sometimes."

"Sure." He cringes, and you bat his shoulder. 

"Don't want to hear it."

He hums, pressing a little closer to your front. 

"What was he like, then?" He seems nonchalant; but his tone is unusual, sending shivers down your spine. 

"He was… nice."

"Nice?"

"Yep." Four years, and that's the best you can come up with. It's all you can verbalise, at least. How does one describe the feeling of getting hit by a metaphorical train? One that leaves you on the tracks, thinking of picnic dates and IOUs and diner coffee? They'd describe it as poorly as you do, most likely. A moment passes. "I loved him, I think." 

You don't know why you said that, but the melancholy of the night starts to sink in. 

"Then why'd you break up?" 

You shrug. "Wasn't enough." 

He looks surprised, eyebrows drawn up momentarily, as if that's the last thing he thought you'd say. You strike him as a romantic; ditzy and dopey when you have feelings for someone, a love conquers all type of person. 

The mood sours, air heaving in that little bathroom. You finish up in silence, applying strips to a gash above his brow. It takes some time for him to speak, as if he's been building up the confidence. 

"Is that your type?" He asks, finally puncturing that pressure. 

You shake your head, a little confused. 

"Nice? Like that guy you were talking to."

"...Jun?" You hesitate, sensing something else behind his words. "I mean… I just wanted to get laid."

He doesn't really react, thumb grazing the silk of your slip dress. The skin his hand brushes past feels a little hotter. 

"He's pretty, though." You're careful not to make eye contact, getting to work cleaning the cuts on his knuckles. You smile to yourself. "And yeah, he's nice. More than nice, actually. "

Jun works with computers. Jun is good with his hands. And you really were going to fuck him. Until… until… 

…until Miguel got into a fight. After watching you kiss someone else. The gears turn in your head, creaky and lumbering because you haven't had to navigate a shitty pseudo-situationship in forever. You're wrapping up his hand with gauze, mouth moving quicker than you can think. 

"Are you jealous?" 

He splutters, flashing pearly whites in indignation. 

"No… No . You can fuck whoever you want." He says it too quickly. "I don't care."

He looks a mess; a gash above one eye, a nasty cut glancing the side of his lip, and knuckles bruised. Suspecting more hiding beneath his shirt, you look at him, gaze heavy. You're worried, even when you shouldn't be, even when he doesn't deserve it. 

"Oh my God." You're connecting dots, and your stomach churns with the realisation. "What the fuck ?" 

" M-not -" 

"Just because you don't want to fuck me– " 

"I never said I didn't want to–" 

"You didn't have to, you just refused to acknowledge how we almost did for two weeks. "

"Neither did you!" 

"I wanted to… after. And you said we couldn't, because I had a lecture." 

"You did have a lecture, and you were high! That doesn't mean anything… I need you to mean it when you say it."

"So you resort to sabotage? I was gonna get laid, you fucking asshole."

"You kissed him."

" So? "

"You didn't kiss me."

That one takes the wind out of your sails, and you're stammering with the amount of brainpower it takes to wrap your head around it. You slip off the counter, putting some space between you both. 

"...I have no idea what you're talking about."

"I'm not saying you can't kiss him… o-or you're not allowed to, or some crap. I just don't get it. I don't understand."

He's holding your hands in his,

"You just met the guy, and you kiss him on a stupid dare–"

" –he kissed me." You correct him, voice hoarse. 

"He kissed you . Cool. Whatever. You kissed him back.  But when I tried to kiss you, after… " He trails off. 

"I dodged one kiss . Maybe I wasn't feeling it."

"And that's fine. I respect that, and I respect you. But it wasn't just one kiss. It's all the time , around here. I say something, then you say something, and then… we have a moment. Time just stops. Can't you feel it? I-I feel like I'm going crazy."

You keep quiet, only the sound of your heart racing to punctuate thoughts. 

"Miguel… "

He gets even closer, pressing you against the counter, his bandaged hand migrating to your waist, and then the small of your back. Your knees are weak as you swallow roughly, with Miguel; strong, annoyingly handsome, perceptive Miguel; resting his forehead on yours. You come together, intimate, even allowing your eyes to flutter shut, waiting for the press of lips on yours. 

It never comes. Wrenching yourself away at the last minute, you're standing in the doorway; arms folded, because you don't know what to do with your limbs anymore. 

He doesn't look disappointed. Just deflated. 

"Do you want to fuck me?" He asks. Yes , you answer, but he can't hear it. 

"Do you want to kiss me?" Do you want me? Do you want me in a way no-one else can have me? 

This feels different. Not as simple as a yes or no.

Your face must say it all for you, because he sighs. "I just want to know why."

His behaviour has been erratic, to say the least. You've spent a good month and a half terrorising each other, before coming to an uneasy truce – and he fucked it up. All that talk like he knows you, that he sees you, and it all feels for naught. 

"After all the shit you've pulled… what gives you the right? I was so worried about you–" Your voice is barely above a whisper. " Fuck this. M'going to bed."

Slipping into the gloom of the hallway, and then into your room, leaving Miguel there. 

It's different, why can't he see that it's different? A one night stand, with Jun, with someone else; kissing a guy in a dare doesn't have consequences. You get off, you go home. Simple, clinical, no need for niceties. With Miguel, as you've come to realise, there are other things to navigate. Even when high, you knew ; with someone like him, it's too intimate – the possible consequences too dire. He's your roommate, for God's sake. 

You can hear him now, turning off the bathrooms lights and padding into his room. For once, there's nothing to be heard from behind the wall. The dim light spills in, warm yellow pooling around the door. Your window is open, moonlight and the city below to keep you company. 

And you want him to stew in that room, to punish him for all the shit he's put you through in the past week; hell, the past few months you've been here. But you can't. If you're sick of the mind games, you can't keep this game of chicken going – you're both careening towards the edge faster than you can say the words: Yes, Miguel; I want to sit on your face. If you could get rid of the attitude, that would be great, too .

So you're knocking on his door, still in your dress, tugging down its hem when he opens. He's in that shirt and slacks, bloodied front and all.

Deep breath. You straighten your back, and make sure you're heard, loud and clear. 

"I don't like it when you bring over girls to fuck them in your room. The walls are too thin, and I can't sleep because I hear everything. Everything, Miggy."

He's stony-faced, unreadable as ever. Still, you continue. 

"I don't like it when you look at me… like that, and then pretend it never happened. You're inconsistent, sarcastic, you freak out whenever there's a sock out of place and it drives me fucking crazy–" 

" I don't –"

"I'm not finished. You're a prick. You don't tell people you love them enough, when… when you do. You so clearly do. Lyla was worried when you took so long to get to Jess' – just give her a call, sometimes. Let people know what's going on."

His face is stuck somewhere between abject horror and plain old shock. For Miguel, that means his eyebrow is raised a half-inch higher than usual. 

"...you finished?" He strains. 

"One more.. ." Another breath. "...your poker face needs work. Because you look like you need a shit half the time."

His jaw shifts. You maintain eye contact; despite everything screaming that you should run with your tail between your legs. 

"I fucking hate you , Miguel."

"I know." He softens, running a hand through his hair. Leaning against the frame, he steps a little closer; and imperceptibly, you're both pulled by the gravity of the other. All of a sudden, your head is on his chest, blood-spattered cotton that smells like him, arms wrapped around his middle. Hesitant, he pulls you even closer, slotting into the crook of your neck as best he can. 

Wordlessly, you separate. You knit your eyebrows together, looking up at him. With your hand on his cheek, he leans into your touch. You graze a thumb on his lips, eyes fluttering at the broken skin: plump and messy and pretty. 

"Sit down." You say it so softly, he convinces himself he didn't hear it. 

You go again. "Sit down."

Your tone makes him flush, and then he's sitting on the edge of the bed. He leans back, you step forward; legs brushing his knees splayed atop the sheets. 

"Do you want me?"

He's nodding before he even hears the end of the sentence, eyes locked onto yours. 

You shrug. 

"Prove it. "

And it goes straight to his cock: the way you say it, blasé and casual, like you haven't put words to the way he's been feeling for weeks. Usually, he'd start to spiral, endlessly loop around what you mean. Want , strong and heady; and to him that means a hungering that leaves his throat dry and innards bare. 

Do you want me? Do you want me in a way no-one else can have me? 

And yet, he doesn't quite know the answer. Instead, he shows you; hoping and praying  he hasn't read this wrong. 

Barely breathing, studying your every move, he takes your other hand. You hinge slightly at the hip, coming closer, eyes still locked onto his and he places your little palm onto his crotch. It spans his whole length, quickly hardening. When you don't react, he panics, trying to move your hand away… 

…and then you squeeze . 

Miguel keens, bucking into the pressure you apply with the heel of your palm. He starts a slow roll of hips, other hand wrapped around yours on his cheek; melting into it, in a way that brings heat to that sweet spot between your legs. And then he stutters to a stop, lips parted and panting. 

"Why'd you stop?" 

"G-Got carried away. Sorry ." 

His brows are knitted, shoulders hunched, and when you slide your hand down to the corded muscles of his neck, he tenses. He always seems so stressed, but you've never seen him like this: desperate and falling apart at the seams. 

"You're okay, Miguel. Relax. " 

You shift your wrist, rolling around that growing tent in your palm. He hisses, palms flat by his side and head thrown back. With a little smile, you watch his shoulders melt, satisfied. 

"Does it feel good?" 

"Y-Yes." He groans. Despite your quickening pace, he seems to clamp down instinct; biting his cheek to muffle wanton moans. 

"How about you get more comfortable for me?" 

At first he doesn't understand, grumbling when you take your hand away from his clothed cock. Pulling him upwards, you make a start with his buttons, helping slide the fabric off of his shoulders. He slips his slacks off, and then he's left in black boxers; it's band hanging dangerously low. 

They're tented, sporting a wet patch of precum around the fat tip of his dick. And he is large, its outline clear under the thin fabric. 

You wrap a hand around his waist, other hand tracing up to his chest. 

"What about you, chula? " 

You look up. Miguel looks down at you, eyes low, large hand splayed between your shoulder blades. 

"You don't like what I'm wearing?" Doe eyed, you don't really expect him to take you seriously. 

"N-No, no. " He's stuttering, now. "You look beautiful. Always do. I just… I want to see more ."

You click your tongue with faux disapproval. "Don't be selfish, baby. You wanted my attention, right?" 

He nods, with the self-awareness to be  hesitant at your tone. 

"Then," You start, slipping a hand into his boxers. You wrap a dainty hand around his length; thick and slanted and weeping at the tip. "Learn to be grateful."

"Ayy-" He wraps around you, head bowed to dip into your shoulder. 

You pump his cock, other hand around his neck; eyes sparkling as you force him to look to his side, at you. 

"F-Fuck–" He's breathing heavily, mouth open into a pretty little O , and you clamp a hand down to his jaw. 

"What do you want?" 

"R-Rapido, mas rapido por favor -" 

[Faster, faster, please-] 

Surprisingly vocal, he loses it as you press your thumb onto his slit; flushed and pouring with precum. You rub his wetness along the length of his shaft, squeezing and turning your wrist as you get to his tip. He likes that; hips bucking to fuck into the ring you make with your hand. 

You want to savour this moment: Miguel stripped down to his boxers, beautifully tanned skin pressed up against yours. And of course, that look on his face; a lusty haze, even stronger than the one you were under when high, all those nights ago. 

His lashes flutter, and you watch as his core tenses; watching and waiting for just the right moment to… stop. 

You pull away, and he chases it, bucking into thin air. You're pushing him back onto the bed, with a hand to his chest. Eyes blown , he leans back onto his forearms; unable to tear himself away. There's a certain glow about you, a glint in your eye, one that takes his breath away. Something smug , a little smile as you drag a black thong down your pretty thighs. It's long forgotten when you chuck it onto the bed; Miguel still can't get over the sight of legs and a flash of your cunt, committing it to memory. 

Sidling up to his chest, you kick a leg over and seat yourself onto his lap. Flush against the fabric, you settle onto your knees. The look in Miguel's eyes almost bowls you over; stunning and windswept, as he runs a hand over your thigh. Eyes wide at the way the fabric pools around your body: the swell of tits cupped by silk, how good it looks against your skin. 

He's staring at where you meet, that spot between your thighs when it happens; when you guide his hand to the apex of your pussy. His thumb slots against your clit like it belongs there, rough pads applying just the right amount of pressure.

"Oh f-fuuuck," You sigh into it, pressing your tits to his chest in a way that makes him hump into the pocket left by your body and the smooth fabric of your dress. 

Even in his haze, Miguel is hyperfocused on your pleasure, obsessed with the noises he can pull from you. With a big hand on your waist, he pulls you closer to slot you against his front. It's your turn to moan, the prettiest thing he thinks he's ever heard, slipping his cock between your lower lips with a swirling intensity. 

You're drunk with the pleasure, hands on his shoulders to angle him towards your clit. He thinks you look like an angel, head tilted back to expose the expanse of your neck. Bringing his teeth to that slight vein, he's a killer; sucking rough hickeys to the skin. 

"M'close, fuck –" 

"Damelo, hermosa, " He places two palms at the globes of your ass, squeezing and pressing into you even closer. 

[Give it to me, beautiful.]

"Miguel…shit–b-baby, think I'm–" 

You cum, gushing and clamping down around nothing. Miguel is more interested in the way you transform ; fine lines and deep furrows of your face softening, the pure bliss written into the gentle arch of your body. He did that. It makes his chest warm, it makes his cock swell; and with the feeling of slipping through your pretty folds, he gets so, so close to that biting edge. 

You stop, slipping off of his lap and he whines at the loss of you. Tugging down your dress, you make your way out of the room and he's reeling , clutching at your arm so you don't leave. 

"Chula ," He's babbling, tucked back into his boxers, but on his knees for you. "I'm sorry, please. Do you want me to beg? Because I will , baby, I w–" 

Helping him up, you give him a little smile that he's too pussy-drunk to realise its true nature. Dangerous, you cup his face with both hands, brows pressed together and large, sparkling eyes. Not quite sympathy, but it's enough to make him think you'll wrap a hand around his cock out of pity, press those pretty tits against him and–

On your tiptoes, you give him a chaste kiss between his brows. You flash him a stunning smile, bottom lip hooked under your teeth. 

"Goodnight , Miguel." 

And then you're out the door, down the little hallway and into your bedroom. Miguel runs a shaky hand through his hair, unsure whether to laugh or cry. And he knows, still rock hard, body burning with the memory of you: he's fucked. 

~~~

When morning comes, Miguel wrenches open his eyes, bloodshot and sore. He feels like shit , barely able to sit up without feeling like his chest will collapse. 

It feels like he was ran over in a headfirst collision; and he was, essentially, wincing at the memory of that fight. He can feel strike one and two; between his ribs, to the side of his navel; but the real knockout punch was you – a deadly, calculated assault that he almost hates you for. 

Almost. 

He came harder than he has in months last night; bent over his cock, pumping shakily. It had only taken a couple of rough tugs until he spilled all over himself; embarrassingly quick. He lasted longer the second time, unable to help himself.

In his defence, the black thong you had slipped off was right there ; rumpled amongst the sheets. He had pressed it to his nose and then wrapped them around his shaft; eyes closed as he imagined being buried in your plush pussy. All his fantasies; quickies in the shower spent jerking off to the thought of you, where he'd hold onto the feeling of brushing past you in the kitchen, or little touches on the couch. You've surpassed them, well and truly. 

Now, he stumbles into the shower, stripping on the tiles. Inspecting himself in the mirror, he pokes at flesh; purple bruises stretching over brown and tan muscle. Turning around and craning his head, he follows them all the way to his back and then… oh. He can see them: scratchy-sharp lines, spanning the width of his shoulder blades. You did that, he thinks. 

Fuck . He's hard again, sighing heavily as he clambers into the shower. It sputters to life, ice cold, but he grits his teeth and takes it , trying to free his mind of cotton and cobwebs. As the water warms up, he presses both hands flat on the tile, head down and eyes closed. The water washes over him, down his back, and like a flash of lightning he's imagining you pressed up against him, bent in half over his cock. He'd press a thumb to your clit, slamming into your ass; fucking you hard, like you deserve. You'd like that , he thinks, from what he's heard of you in your room, the filth that spills from your mouth and to his side of the wall. 

"Miguel?" It's a little muffled over the shower, but you get closer to the door. 

"Yes?" He shouts over the rush of water. He shouldn't . He really shouldn't. 

"You've got a call!" 

He hums. With the way you say his name he caves, making a tight ring around his length. 

"It's Lyla, and-" Something clatters. " Fuck , sorry."

Your voice is breathy, little groans as you pick up whatever's dropped to the floor. Miguel feels like a perv, turning the water pressure down to listen to your voice properly. All the while, he keeps a steady pace on his cock. 

"Should I just let it ring? Keep it going?" 

Keep going is what he hears, and then he  speeds up, wondering what it would be like to have your thighs shake underneath him. What would it would it take to have you babbling and begging for more? How would he break you? Maybe on his cock, where he'd watch you squirm as you take his length.

"Miguel?" 

Or maybe you'd be on your knees, choking around him and licking up his cum. Or, God , thighs wrapped around his head, riding out your high with his mouth sealed on your clit, crying for him slow down, for him to-

H-Harder, please–

That's how you would ask him, clawing at his back, and he'd capture those pleas in a searing kiss.

"–Miguel!" 

He releases, sudden and intense, spilling white ropes onto the tiles. He fucks his fist through it, overstimulated from the way you say his name. It feels like the only way it should be said; spilling from your mouth, haphazard and desperate. Like honey, like treacle; sweet things he didn't know he had the capacity for. He lets that feeling wash over him, panting, bringing his forehead to rest on cool tile. 

"Just take a message," He strains, panting as you say something in response. He doesn't quite catch it, of course, too busy reeling from the aftershock. 

The shower croaks and gurgles, spluttering to a stop. He listens as your footsteps recede beyond the door, moving away. 

Shit. It's going to be a long day. 

~~~

You sleep like a baby. Lulled into blissful sleep, after practically floating into bed. That orgasm does wonders; and you sleep better than you have in months. You dream of cotton candy clouds, flowing green grass, and tanned, muscled men on their knees; in the kind of sleep that wraps around you like a blanket. 

Surprisingly fresh in the morning, you wake up before Miguel does. You're milling about the hallway when he barrels into the bathroom, and on the couch when he leaves. 

"Mig?" You poke your head towards the door, and he almost jumps half a foot into the air. 

Eyes wide, and he can barely manage a weak smile. 

"Lyla called."

"Yeah, you…" He sighs, clutching the towel slung around his waist a little tighter. "You mentioned it."

In the light of the morning, you're able to assess him a lot better. To put it plainly, he looks rough ; blinking at you oddly, shifting when you come closer. You don't touch him, Miguel seems much too antsy for that, but you get closer to inspect the bruises that bloom across his side. It looks even worse than yesterday, purple and blue across taut muscle. You reach for it and he flinches, so you pull away. 

"...you okay?" 

" Yep. " He grits it through a plasticky smile; and the fact that it reaches his eyes is a red flag in of itself for the usual grump. 

The side-eye you respond with isn't quite enough to chip at it, so he continues.

"M'just fine."

" O–kay . Lyla said something about a debrief , earlier." 

"At the usual place?" 

"...uhhh. She said at HQ? In about an hour."

"Okay… okay. Nonono, that's fine… okay." He's muttering to himself and about to turn around when something catches his eye. Your lips; pretty gloss and freshly done. In fact, you're fully dressed to go out; in a display that has him confused. 

You answer the question he posits with a slightly raised eyebrow. 

"She invited me, Mig." 

His eyebrows shoot up. "Of c.. of course she did." 

Distracted and haphazard, Miguel gets dressed; squeezing into the car with a flask of coffee to-go. It scares you; the way he barely flinches while taking sips of the bitter liquid you know must be piping hot. He's acting weird, even weirder than usual; but you let it wash over you and move on. 

Eventually, you pull up to HQ ; a shitty dive bar that is inexplicably serving breakfast and other miscellaneous items at 12pm. At least, that's what it looks like, arriving to see one overcrowded table and a sea of pancakes and coffee. Jess sports a croissant and orange juice, whilst Peter scoffs down a burger almost as big as his face.

"Miguel!" He says it with a mouthful of pickles, beef and patty, slapping the man in question heartily on the back. 

He winces, batting Peter away before sliding into the seat next to you. For barely a second, your legs brush together and he's shifting away. Okay. That's… odd. 

You're sifting through menus when you glance over to the counter and you see her : a pretty woman of about 25, tucking red hair away behind her ear. Your heart stops, and then you're tapping Miguel. 

" Look, " You hiss quietly, nodding towards the counter. " Isn't that…? " 

June McGinnity, the premier main character in the hit tv soap, And Everyday Before The Last; The Final Season. It's the very same show you've been bingeing for the past 6 months. 18 seasons, 3 spinoffs, and a revival currently in the works; you're obsessed with the show that's gotten you through your last breakup – and the one before that, and a couple of rocky moments with your parents. 

She's been a staple for the last couple of seasons, quickly skyrocketing to popularity in her minor role, and now , in The Final Season, she's got her well-deserved spot as a season regular. June is tenacious, smart, absolutely hilarious, and–

" –she's coming over here . Shit, Miggy, she's coming over," You whisper to him and for the first time this morning; he smiles, wide and genuine. It takes you back; not just because he looks so pretty when he smiles, but because you have no idea what's so funny. 

June slips into the seat besides Peter, and your eyes almost fall out of their sockets. She gives him a kiss on the cheek , as Peter brushes away blunt bangs. Frantic, you turn to Miguel, who's trying not to piss himself laughing. 

He's borderline howling, and you put a hand around his arm to get him to keep quiet – to stop embarrassing you in front of June – but he's too busy wiping away tears. 

Peter turns to the scene, clearly confused. He says something to June, and then he's turning to you, saying your name. 

"Hey, I don't think I've introduced you to– Miguel, please shut the fuck up– this is–" 

"MJ." She smiles, brilliant and sparkling, with her hand outstretched and you think you might pass out. 

"I'm–" You're stumbling over your words, grasping her hand before you can overthink it. Maybe it comes off as overzealous, but you're desperately trying to shut out Miguel's laughing. "I'm a massive fan, you're so incredibly talented ; as June – I always cry at that one scene when you meet your long-lost sister... a-and when you find out that Jackie is actually your Mom, I swear, I get chills–" 

The man besides you splutters, hunched over and gripping onto the table for support. It's getting egregious, now, and you make it known as best you can with a dirty look. 

"I'm, oh fuck, no… I'm done, I promise." He clamps down a smile, hands up in surrender. 

"Was that… too much?" You gain some semblance of perspective, and then you're falling over yourself to apologise. " Shit , I'm really, really sor–" 

" – No, no. You're good, it's nice to get recognised for that show! Most of the demographic is old people and pensioners, honestly. Not a lot of IRL interaction with fans, if you know what I mean." She flashes you that smile, again, and you melt. She turns to the man beside you. "Don't be a dick, Miguel." 

"Yeah, Miguel." Peter continues to inhale what you think is his second burger, wagging a sauce covered finger. "What she said."

Miguel rolls his eyes so hard you think they might rattle about in his skull, and you give him a rough shove for good measure. Down the other side of the table, you spot Lyla; downing a brightly coloured drink and massaging her temples. 

"Shit , Lyla. You want to slow it down?" Jess says, and then her eyes are flicking over to yours. She does a double take, giving you a wide smile. " Hey , y'all! When did you get here?" 

"Not long!" You call back, and she gives you a thumbs up in response. Lyla coughs beside her, sporting a nasty grimace; and then she's up and looking around the table, as if taking a headcount. At least, you think she does, as it's hard to see her eyes between pink tinted shades. They slip down her nose and she brings a fork to the empty glass; silencing the rabble. 

"M-Morning…" She stills, hand on her chest like she's got heartburn; throat bobbing as she gags slightly. "Morning, everyone. First off, hope you all feel as shitty as I do." 

And then there's cheers and good-natured elbowing, especially towards Ben and Miguel. Apparently , if you're to believe the whispers and rumour mill; Ben took to bar-hopping across town, ending the night without a shoe and someone else's shirt. He gives a rueful smile, holding up a mug to scattered laughter. And Miguel… well, he's Miguel , sitting back in his seat with folded arms. 

"Second," She pauses, for dramatic effect. "Someone's volunteered to pay for the next round of food to apologise for last night… everyone say Thank you, Miguel."

She starts a limp round of applause with a flourish, and sits down. There's only about a dozen people there: most you recognise, and some you don't. There was no attempt to explain what exactly a debrief was; so you're left disorientated in the mash of voices. Miguel picks at waffles besides you, in his own world. Without a word, you get up, making your way towards neon bathroom signs in the corner. 

It's some peace and quiet, a moment to think as you look at your reflection in the mirror. You look lighter , as if a weight was lifted off of your shoulders last night. Your skin looks a little brighter, eyes sharper and even your hair falls differently, today. You feel good, and it seems to translate to the person looking back it you. Wow. You're practically–

" -glowing. Shit , you look good." Lyla calls out from behind you, entering the little bathroom with Jess. 

Jess gives you a warm hug, and Lyla follows before pushing up heart shaped glasses. 

" Damn, girl." Jess gives a low whistle, hands on her shoulders to turn you this way and that. 

They make you giggle, with a warmth that blooms at your chest. 

"Was it that cute guy from last night?" 

Lyla interrupts. " Jun! Did he send you a little something after you got home?" 

"Did you ditch Miguel to get some?" 

"God, did you invite Jun over? " 

Jess gasps, before quickly adding. "No judgement, of course. Once upon a time, we probably would've done the same thing." 

It's a back and forth that gives you whiplash, dodging fastballs that get hit into the tiles. Not trusting yourself to speak, you shake your head, demurely. 

"...are you telling us you didn't have sex last night? Because that glow says something different."

You clamp down any words that might give you away, but Jess' sharp eyes latch onto the cracks: a little smile tugging at the sides of your lips. 

"So not Jun … but someone else? Last night…? " 

The penny drops and then she's grabbing at you and Lyla. When realisation hits the mousy brunette to your side, she's flinging off pink shades to look you in the eye. 

"You fucked Miguel?" 

"No!" You're hissing, trying to calm raucous behaviour. "Technically, not… yet."

"Not yet? " Lyla repeats, astonished. "I mean, I thought you two were already–" 

"It makes sense! Could've sworn I saw his knees shakin' today…"

"Okay, okay…" You're laughing, finally understanding the magnitude of the grenade you've just lobbed at them. "It wasn't like that . It's not a thing."

"...do you want it to be a thing?" 

You tilt your head, pretending to think on it. Yes , you want to ride him till something breaks; but Miguel is a walking red flag. You know, deep down, nothing good can come out of it. 

"Don't… don't say it like that."

"Look, Ly, she wants it to be a thing. "

" Definitely. It's basically already a thing ." Lyla concurs, nodding firmly. 

"Fuck you guys." It's not said with spite, leaving your mouth with a smile. 

"Oh, no. You like 'em tall, and tan, and a little grumpy. You mean: Fuck me, Miguel. "

You're swatting her away, whilst Jess is doubled over in laughter; hand on the ceramic to steady herself. They're good fun; raucous and boisterous and making you feel welcome, when you know they really don't have to. 

The laughter dies down, and they're leading you out of the bathroom to their side of the table, chattering away. Jess digs into another pancake, rock hard, and all of a sudden you're telling her about the waffles at Pam's Diner, and all the interesting characters you've met there. Lyla nurses another sweet cocktail, chattering on about a pre-game she's got in a couple of hours; and then you're exchanging stories about hangovers and missed lectures. 

From their conversation, you slowly learn what a debrief entails: the remnants of a tradition they'd started when 19 and spotty. All of them, friends of friends, roommates, classmates; growing to know each other in the dinky bar across the street from their dorms. Tending to hangovers in the morning from an all night rager, or pre-gaming before the biggest events of the year: it's something that trickled down to every so often later in their adulthoods. It's something else Miguel started, surprising you yet again. 

So absorbed in their heart-to-heart, time flies by; and late breakfast turns to brunch. You're exchanging phone numbers, and left smiling from lots of little tete-a-tetes, before Miguel tries to drag you to the car. One last goodbye had turned into two, which had turned into four; and then he's grumbling alone in the car for a dire couple of minutes. 

You open the door, glowing. Your mood dampens immediately as you sit down; soured by Miguel's own swirling dark cloud. He seems worse than before, somehow. It leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, the air thick with something. Where you would've bit your tongue before, pushed down difficult-to-say words, now, you find a surge of confidence. 

"Miguel," You start, and he turns; key still in the ignition. 

You look around at the parking lot, mostly empty, except for you two. 

"Can we talk?" 

"...sure." His tone seems anything but sure; which feels like a first, for him. 

"About last night."

"Oh." And then he's gone again, eyes flicking around the cab of the car. All of a sudden the mirror needs fixing, and he's fiddling with some buttons on the dash. 

You place a hand on his to still him. He doesn't flinch. 

"Are you okay?" 

"Yeah." He shrugs. You don't believe him. 

"Did you like it?" 

He pauses, chewing his lip. " Yes ."

You believe that . 

"Good." You hum. "I liked it. But you made me feel like shit, too."

He softens. "I did?"

"You did. You only wanted me after you saw me with someone else. After I kissed Jun."

You wait to see if he admits it, and his hand curls into a fist, tight. His grip relaxes, and then his voice comes out in a whisper. 

"Y-Yeah… I was jealous." He seems remorseful, at least. 

You sigh. "I don't want a relationship with you, or anything. But it made me feel like… an object. A conquest, another notch on your belt because you only want me when you can't have me. It made me feel shitty, Miguel."

"I fucked up," He pinches the bridge of his nose. "Wasn't really thinking, chula. I'm sorry."

"It's okay, Miguel. I like fucking around with you." You say it with a small smile. "I want… more ."

"Me too." He's smiling back, shy, brushing against you with fingers stretched out.  

"That's fine, more than fine. We can do this because I make you feel good, and you make me feel good, and somehow… this works . But we need to keep this," Gently, you push away his hand, gesturing between you both. "...and us separate. My heart can't take the possibility of this blowing up. And… And it's probably going to be me; 'cuz I seem to like getting my heart broken."

You give a watery laugh, but he doesn't laugh with you; instead, boring into your soul with red-brown eyes. 

"If we're going to do this, it means I can't kiss you, properly ; it means no cuddling after sex, or staying the night in your bed." It's why you couldn't kiss him before, and you hope he understands. "You can say no… you probably should say no. But that's what I want, right now. And those are my terms."

It takes a moment before he respond, mulling it over, and you barely breath in the interim. 

"I want you ." He nods slowly, and then more firmly as he turns the key in the ignition. The engine rumbles to life, as Miguel turns to you with as best a smile he can manage. Lip cut, hair smattered across his forehead, and thick brows softening; he says, firmly, " Yeah, I'd like that."

_

_

_

Miguel taglist: @d1lf-loverrr, @afro-hispwriter @ilovemiguelohara @weedxgirlx420 @ladydovahkiin180 @aaliyuh3 @sweetanimebakery @vvitcxen @rosecoloredlenses708 @daikondal @magikmina @impettywhenyouare @alonelygirlsuicidenote @plushyplants @javi0ca @rheeves @starrfruit @nikirikii @marsbars09 @foxglove-grove @mimooyi @crosshairclown @dead-by-light @kynamitedessert @naarra @wanderlustingcastaway @sagejin @cookielovesbook-akie @tangerineloverrr @gobblegluckgluckgod @wolfiepirate @jxxey3 @ebrysteria @elliemm @manchuria @youngghostpeachslime @weasleybuns

@ilovemuppets @vauriz @bonbyon @aimno256 @ancientbeing10 @tvije @venus1224idkpleaze @neteyamsbulletwound @chickenjefferson-blog @maki-z @jasjasthings @aiyaaayei @hyp-oh-critical @tea-earl-grey-thot @sunset-euphoria @moonsio @akiras-key@szaplsdropthealbum@levanneisdumb @naiya-patel17 @Serostapesweat @strawberrymiguel @yumeeesss @errorundyne-exe @spear-bitch @redsoleily @marsissoswag @slezhara @ye4gerzz @adlct515 @nanam1 @indigocookie @cincocosas-blog @starguiders @path0logicalpeoplepleaser@funkyfishy@whoreloll@eugeab@tarjapearce@maddielikesmoths@egotaestical

[hellfire--cult]

Edit of Eddie: pitifulbaby

Chapters: Masterlist (Go here to see list of chapters, plotline and general warnings.)

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Tropes: Enemies to Lovers, Non-Traditional Omegaverse, Slow burn, Modern!AU, Mechanic!Eddie

⚠️18+: sexual tension, slight drinking, pining, smut. yes. smut. loads of it. i won't spoil it, but yes, everything. (no omegaverse)

wc: 16K

A/N: roe finished a new chapter of baring teeth and it didnt take her 6 months? lets call that progress! i hope yall enjoy this one...

Anyways, Enjoy! ❤️ And don't forget to always support me by hitting the reblog button or leave a comment!

Taglist is closed

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CHAPTER 17

Bang.

Bang.

Bang.

You are dying. You are absolutely certain you are fucking dying. You were regaining consciousness and you wanted anything but that. Why be alive when you feel like this? Your stomach is messed up, your head is banging tremendously and you feel as if a bulldozer ran over your entire body.

You mustered a small whine, and you tried to stretch your limbs but everything was painful. Everything hurt and you wondered what you did to deserve to feel like this. Well, you could not have drank as much as you did the day before, so maybe you do deserve it a little for not having any self-control. 

You didn’t want to open your eyes. 

You could already feel the light burning your pupils through your eyelids. It was an orange hue, and you couldn’t manage to even open a bit of your eye. You just want to rot in bed until you actually die. What impulsed you to drink that much yesterday? And how did you even get home? How did you manage to get in bed if you knew you couldn’t stand by yourself?

You whimpered in pain as you tossed on the bed. You could smell the smoke of the club on you, probably still wearing the same clothes as yesterday. You could feel the tightness of the shirt and the elastic of the pants. You could also smell cologne, one that is quite familiar if you had to be honest. It was wooden, kind of, but it was very penetrating.

You whined this time as you received another pang on your head, the more conscious you became, the more you were aware of your headache. The more your stomach turns. The more you grew uncomfortable in every position you turned, making your distressed noises louder.

“Can you shut the fuck up?”

Now, that made the headache leave for just a second because your eyes snapped open like plates as you lay on your side. And there, looking at his profile, was Eddie, with an arm over his eyes in order to cover them. Your heart stopped completely, and then you could hear the blood rushing to your face, to your ears, even behind your eyes. 

You, where were you? Why is Eddie next to you? Why is he here? Why? Oh, god. Did you two… Oh fuck, oh no, you would remember it, wouldn’t you? You definitely would… But what if you didn’t?

You felt a cold sweat invade your body as you quickly sat up on the bed, opening your mouth to talk, but the sudden movement was a bad idea, because as soon as you did it, your stomach betrayed you. It swirled around, the nausea unbearable and soon you realized you were in Eddie’s home.

You could worry about the reason for being here later, you need to run to the bathroom, quick. You haven’t been to his room, ever, and you quickly got up from the bed, ignoring the ache that your body felt, and rushed out of the room, leaving Eddie on the bed.

He was in his own hell as well. Probably not as bad as yours, but he still felt pretty horrible. His head wasn’t the problem, it was mostly his stomach, and hearing you emptying your own on the toilet from across the hall was making it all worse. He groaned as he slowly got up from the bed, feet hitting the floor and– 

“Fuck.” Was his only response as his stomach yelled for attention. He quickly got up and rushed down the spiral steel staircase, his feet clinking and rattling it all as he rushed to the secondary bathroom below, right next to the kitchen.

You were hugging the toilet seat now, your throat burning from the intensity of the emptying of your stomach. You hated vomit. You hated to puke… But sometimes it was what your body needed, and as minutes passed and you were sure there was nothing else, you did feel slightly better. Your stomach was a bit more settled than before, not swirling as much.

You flushed the toilet, and with a groan, you got up on wobbly legs. You felt disgusting, wearing the same clothes as the night before, but you weren’t going to ask Eddie for clothes. No. What were you doing here anyways? How did you even get here?

The clothes were a clear indicator that nothing happened the night before. You can barely remember the club. The last thing you remember was the champagne you were taking, and then beer? You had flashes of dancing with Robin and Nancy, then with Steve… Why are you here with Eddie?

You looked around the bathroom, and it was dark, industrial style, just like his whole house. Black walls, or bricked, with steel and wood furniture. You walked to the sink and you almost screamed at the reflection. Your makeup was all over your face, your hair was a mess, your lips were swollen, and you’re pretty sure you had dried drool from the corner of your mouth to your ear.

You looked like a monster. You wanted to shower, you wanted to wash yourself, take everything off, and take care of the fucking headache you were suffering. You looked around and decided to open the cabinet of his mirror. You found some face lotion, and it might help with the removal of your makeup, but something else caught your attention.

A pill bottle, with Eddie’s name on it. You reached towards it, wanting to know the name of the medicine he was taking as your curiosity picked up. Your hand stopped when you heard the clinking of the stairs, signaling he was coming back up. You put a bit of lotion in your hand before putting it back inside the cabinet, closing it.

You put your hair behind your ears with the hand you had no lotion on, and then began to clean your eyes with the cream. You then rubbed it all over in rushed motions, feeling dirty all over. You turned on the water, letting it warm up as you kept rubbing the lotion into your skin. You then bent over to wash your face, rubbing your hands and taking off the cream and makeup as best as you could.

You straightened up, looked into the mirror again and rubbed underneath your bottom waterline to take the last bit of mascara off. It wasn’t completely clean, but at least it was better than before and you felt tidier. You grabbed the toothpaste and put a bit on your finger to then try to brush your teeth with it. You gurgled some water with it, making it foam in your mouth before spitting on the sink.

You wiped your mouth and you groaned as you felt the headache hit again. You looked at the door and dread came over you as you knew you had to face the owner of the house. You took a deep breath in and walked out of the bathroom and then took steps into Eddie’s room, only to find him shirtless, looking through his drawer, his back turned towards you.

Your eyes were transfixed onto the ink on his back, finally being able to see it. He had a demon, an imp, on his right shoulder and moving down, and then some kind of markings, or symbols, followed by other drawings on his other side. You couldn’t help but stare at him, your head tilted to the side as you studied him, but the panging in your head made you snap out completely. 

“Fuck…” You whimpered and that made Eddie finally turn around, tiredness in his features, his hair down. He felt his stomach turn in anticipation of seeing you after last night, wondering what conversation would be presented today.

“Morning.” You only grunted at his response as you held your head. He gave a nod as he rapidly threw a shirt over himself and then looked inside his dresser again, taking another shirt out and throwing it on the bed, as well as some pair of sweatpants on a drawer below. “Here, wear these. Yours smell like alcohol and smoke.” 

You rolled your eyes at him which only made you wince. You gave him a nod as you walked towards the clothing on the bed and he was expectantly looking at you. If you were faking you didn’t remember, you were a great actress. You were acting almost normal, but probably it was the fact you couldn’t even think. You looked horribly sick if he was being honest.

“Thanks… You have any advil? Ibuprofen? Just anything, a gun works too.” You joked with a raspy voice and he chuckled, rubbing his own head.

“Yeah, I’ll wait for you downstairs.” He left the room, going back towards the stairs to try to prepare the ibuprofen and some breakfast for the two of you. He was gonna wait until you were a little more focused, but what if you actually didn’t remember anything from yesterday night? He remembered it all. 

He remembered the way your lips felt on his, the way you were desperately eating him whole, your tongue, your taste, your scent… He remembered it all despite the haziness of the drinks. He remembered how his hands wrapped around you, gripping your body and pulling you to him. How you pressed yourself on him, moaning into his mouth and–

If he doesn’t stop thinking about it he is going to get a hard on and he won’t be able to either hide it or control himself with you here.

You looked towards the clothes on the bed, and your gut turned at the idea of wearing something of his, but the night clothes were a little too much already. The elastics were killing you and you really wanted to wear something comfortable for your headache and overall state.

You gulped as you slowly took off your clothes, wobbling a bit due to the dizziness the headache provoked. First, the top. You realized quickly that you had no bra on, the cups of the top having pads on for support. You felt heat spread on your face as you pondered on putting the shirt on or not. 

But being comfortable won over embarrassment, and you quickly put it on. A little loose, which helped with the lack of bra look. Then, you took off your pants and you felt so relieved to toss those constricting, yet really nice, pants away. You quickly put on his sweatpants, tying up the knot on the waist so they wouldn’t fall. You looked down at your bare feet and you looked around his room for the first time.

You saw pictures hanging on the wall, posters, vinyls in frames, and then a guitar. It was red, and it was certainly from the 90’s or 80’s. That must be Eddie’s most precious guitar. Then you turned towards the pictures that were on a corkboard, all pinned up. You saw him with Steve, then a picture of him with Nancy, and you smiled as you saw a picture of him in a green graduation gown, holding a diploma with his uncle next to him.

Your smile faltered a bit at seeing his uncle. He had shown you pictures of him, but never ones that were when he was completely healthy. He looked like another man. You took a deep breath in, about to look for something to wear on your feet, but then a picture caught your attention. 

It was a picture of you two. It was a picture Steve had taken while sitting in Jonathan’s bar. You were looking at eachother, drinks in hand, smiling. You felt your heart start to beat rapidly the more you looked at it because you two looked like a couple. Steve had uploaded the story on Instagram and more than one person had asked if you two were dating.

Why couldn’t they understand you two were friends?

Why can’t you understand that?

Just friends. 

You snapped out of your thoughts as you looked on the floor, seeing a pair of slippers. You put them on, giggling at the size difference, but you didn’t want to catch a cold for going barefoot on cold floors. 

You walked out of the room and headed downstairs, the clinking announcing your appearance to the man who was cooking some grilled sandwiches for the two of you. You grimaced at the smell, your stomach turning at the idea of eating something. Could you even get anything down?

“As much as I appreciate the food, I don’t think I can eat anything Munson.” You sighed as you walked towards the kitchen stools to sit at the island counter. His back was towards you, his hair up in a bun this time, much to your dismay. You shook that thought away, closing your eyes as you felt another pang of pain thanks to your headache.

He turned around and the air got knocked out of his lungs as he saw you with his clothes on. Maybe giving you something else to wear was a bad idea. It was worse than seeing you in your club clothes. Way worse. He felt heat run all over his body as he stared at you while you rubbed your temple. 

How are you able to get him riled up by just wearing his Limp Biskit shirt?

“You’re gonna eat because it will make you feel better.” He went towards his fridge to get his jar of water out, placing it on the island counter where he had already put two glasses for both of you and a pill of ibuprofen.

You immediately lunged forward, filling both glasses with water and grabbing the pill. You threw it into your mouth and chugged the entire glass in a matter of seconds, realizing how dehydrated you were. He was stunned, wide eyed, looking at your display. He already had some water and his own medicine, but he grabbed the glass either way and took a sip from it.

“Shit…” You moaned with delight at the cold liquid running down your dry throat. Eddie’s grip on his glass tightened at the sound as he quickly turned around, trying to think of anything but you. You, who was sitting in his house in his clothes and did you think that he didn’t notice you didn’t have a bra on?

He put the glass on the counter and flipped both sandwiches from the pan to the two plates he had prepared. He grabbed them and turned again to put a plate in front of you and then one for himself, sitting across. He grabbed his glass and sat down with a groan, which caught your attention.

You felt your body becoming hot as you side-eyed him. You wanted to kill him for looking so good, even with a hangover. You probably looked like a wet raccoon that was kicked multiple times out of a Chuck E. Cheese.

“So…” He started, wondering if you showed any kind of nervousness, any at all, but he didn’t see any of that, perplexing him. Just a pained face after taking the first bite of your sandwich, making him frown. “Hey, it’s not that bad.”

“It’s not, I just feel like I have a war in my stomach.” You forced yourself to eat another bite as he took a bite from his. It was silent for a second, your stomach turning in nerves as you looked at him. “How uh… How did I end up here?”

And now Eddie knew you didn’t remember shit. He couldn’t help but laugh in disbelief at the situation. You two finally crossed the line and you didn’t remember it at all. You tilted your head as an angry frown came to your eyebrows at the lack of response. He cleared his throat as he took a sip of his water and then looked at you.

“Argyle. You were too smashed to go home alone.” He stated and looked back down at his sandwich, taking another bite from it. You read his expression, noticing a certain frustration behind his tone.

“Did I… was I a burden? Did I cause trouble for you?” And he looked up at you, realizing how he came across, and shook his head, your shoulders losing the tension you didn’t know you were holding. You suddenly noticed that he had his TV on, music playing in low.

“No, you weren’t. It’s just my hangover face, Peach.” He cleared his throat as you nodded and took a bite of your sandwich, noticing the more you ate, the easier it was to gulp food down. He licked his lips as his eyes kept looking at your face. “I’m guessing you don’t remember shit from last night?”

And you rubbed your temples in embarrassment. It was all foggy. Absolutely everything. Flashes of the night coming to you, but it was just you dancing, or drinking, or grinding against Robin. 

“Not most of it, no… I drank too much. That first bucket of champagne was a mistake.” You giggled and looked up, connecting your eyes to his. He was looking at you with a serious face on, but you felt yourself sinking into the brown irises, your smile faltering as you felt those stupid butterflies in your stomach. 

There was silence between the two of you and then you heard it in the background. A song. “Pray for me” by The Weeknd started playing. 

More flashes.

Someone. You made out with someone. 

You remember the cologne.

It was the same cologne–

Your eyes widened like plates as you almost fell out of your stool, gasping as the memory became clearer the more you listened to the song. No, no, it cannot be. No, it was someone alike. Eddie only smirked as he sat back on the stool and took a slow sip of his water, realizing you had remembered.

“No… We didn’t. Right? We–”

“Made out? Yeah. Glad you could remember Peach.”

Your body froze, and your blood went cold as you sat there. You felt it draining from your body, not knowing where it was ending at, but that was the least of your problems. You started remembering it vividly.

The intensity of it, his tongue, his smell, his taste, the way he pressed himself into you, how he devoured you and you didn’t hesitate to return the favor. You slowly placed your elbows on the counter and you grabbed onto your head, running your fingers through your hair as you clenched your eyes tightly.

“Oh god…” Eddie only chuckled at your response, taking a bite out of his sandwich.

“And you were the one that came onto me. Didn’t think you’d be that bold.” He was mocking you, but the embarrassment washed over you as you remembered how you pressed your ass against him on purpose, trying to rile him up. He even warned you that you were crossing a line. 

Not only that, but you remembered that you were the one who kissed him. You were the one who made all the first moves yesterday night. All the flirting, all the innuendos. It was all you. You fucked up. You fucked it up. 

“Shut up… Goddamnit Eddie, shut up.” He grinned at your words, looking over at you as he raised his eyebrows.

“That’s the same thing you said before you kissed me–” And you slammed your hands on the counter, glaring up at him as you felt your body burning with anger, embarrassment, shame, and also arousal. You couldn’t deny how good it felt. How amazing he was. How perfectly you two molded together. 

“We’re gonna forget it happened.” That was your response, making Eddie’s smile fall completely. Were you serious? Forget it? After weeks of dancing around the line you two didn’t know if it was worth crossing? A line that was crossed already?

“Humor me. Why?” His voice was low, a bit threatening as if he was warning you to choose your words carefully. You straightened up, clearing your throat as you held your head high, showing him your word was final.

“Because… It was the alcohol. We’re friends, just that.” And oh, that made him mad. So you think you can rile him up, kiss him, give him the idea something more can happen, only to then say this? He felt played with. Even he never fell that low. He was always honest with his needs, with his wants. Girls he hooked up with and got attached, he cut them off to spare them from heartbreak. 

“Right. Friends.” He chuckled humorlessly at that, shaking his head as he looked down at his glass of water, taking a sip from it, hoping the cold drink would simmer the flames down a bit. You frowned at his response, crossing your arms over your chest.

“What is that supposed to mean?” He shook his head as he looked back at you.

“Are you always that touchy with your friends?” Your breathing stopped at his question. The air around the two of you grew tense and heavy. You felt it pushing you down onto the floor, like an elephant’s foot. He was staring at you with a piercing gaze, and you felt a shiver running down your spine as you saw how he was inspecting you.

You clenched your legs together as you moved in your stool, trying to ignore the ache that was forming between them. It was just a stupid crush, a crush that had to pass. But he couldn’t help the small chuckle that escaped his lips as he stared at you, as if he had figured out something from you. 

“Maybe. I made out with Robin once.” You admitted, and honestly, you did. And Eddie knew it, he was there when it happened. A guy was not leaving Robin alone, not understanding the word no. So you did what a good friend does. Pretend you are their partner. 

“That was situational. Ours was a little different, don’t you think?” His voice was low, angry. You understood him, you truly did. You’ve been following this game of flirting with him, you are to blame for this one, but now you know that it cannot happen again. You are not satisfied with just one kiss, but nothing else can happen between you two.

You can’t lose Eddie. You are too fond of the friendship you have.

“And it won’t happen again. Like I said, I was– driven by alcohol, and you were drunk too.” You tried justifying it, and it only fueled Eddie’s irritation. He wanted to kill you right now, or rather, bend you over the counter so he could fuck your brains out until you forgot your name. Show you everything he could do to you, ruin you for everyone else.

You two were looking at eachother, the air completely charged, the sparks flying all over the place. You felt your heart beating in your throat and you saw him opening his mouth, only to then chuckle and shake his head, making you frown. 

“Right. Let’s pretend it didn’t happen.” And his gaze went back to his sandwich, finishing it in three bites. You blinked once, not expecting it. Why did you feel disappointed? He agreed with you, didn’t he? What else were you expecting? It’s not like he was gonna force you… or convince you… or punish you for what you did the night before.

You opened your mouth to talk to him again, only for a ringing to interrupt you. He looked over to his phone, answering it with one swipe. You heard Steve’s voice on the other side, making you tilt your head. You whispered to him, a frown on your eyebrows.

“Is that Steve?” Eddie shushed you with a swat of his hand, continuing to talk to his friend.

“I can’t understand shit Steve.” Again, you heard Steve on the other side, almost yelling at him. Eddie clenched his eyes as he looked up at the ceiling. “Yeah, I forgot, but I have a hangover, can you blame me?” More talking on Steve’s end as Eddie nodded. “Alright man, stop yelling at me, the ibuprofen didn’t kick in yet, and I’m a little… irritated at the moment.” A glare was sent your way and your mouth dropped in disbelief.

Why is he irritated? You were just being civil, rational, a good friend that doesn’t want to throw the friendship away for a simple fuck. Were you wrong for doing that? Were you an evil person for it? You scrunched your nose at him, anger now fueling you at his attitude and you stood up from the stool as he watched you while talking on the phone.

You walked towards the couch, seeing your shoes sitting on the side. You winced at the idea of wearing the heels again, but it was your only footwear to go home. Eddie hung up and stared at your figure as you scratched your head, not turning to look at him. He felt your irritation, as well as your nervousness, or uncertainty. He wasn’t sure. 

“I need to call a cab and go home. I just want to lay down and rot.” He wanted to go towards you and kiss you senseless again so you realized how hard it would be to forget about it. How stupid is it to even try to forget about it, like you are doing right now. Wanting to change the subject, pretending you hadn’t just remembered everything from last night.

But he understood as well. The mixed feelings of crossing a line that maybe you were afraid of doing so. He closed his eyes, coming to terms that maybe that was it. He won’t be able to taste you again, nor taste you fully. He won’t be able to know your body, to know what you like. He won’t be able to have you the way he wants to, because you value his friendship.

So, he will accept your decision.

“I’ll take you home. I have to go to Steve’s anyway.” His voice startled you, making you turn to look at him. He had to make up for his irritation from before, probably telling you some of his truth. “I get touchy when drunk too. I made out with Nancy once. Kissed Argyle on the mouth, as well as Robin. I received a punch from her though.”

You blinked at his comment, confusion and– disappointment filling your core once more. What? Wasn’t he angry before? You felt the air lose its tension, and the hotness you felt around you left, only making you yearn for it again. 

“Oh…” Is all you muttered, not knowing what else to say. He sighed, getting up from the stool, and pointing a finger at you with a serious look in his eyes.

“You though, you owe me.” You were startled by the statement, tilting your head with a squint of your eyes.

“What? Why!?” You raised your hands up in a motion of ‘What did I do?’, making him chuckle.

“Because I had to deal with your drunken ass yesterday. I couldn’t leave you alone, what if you choked on your own vomit Peach? Also, I cooked for you and saved you from a headache.” He gave a few taps to his temple and you rolled your eyes at him, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Oh, so you being a good friend means I owe you?” And that comment was not liked. Neither of you liked that. You didn’t like calling him that… but he cannot be more than that. Eddie’s eyebrow twitched, but he masqueraded it with a grin on his face.

“Me being a good friend doesn't come for free.” 

And him saying it… only made you even more annoyed.

Things returned to normal after it and you didn’t like it one bit. It was your decision, it was your say. It was you the one who told him you two were just that. Friends. Friends who send eachother tik toks, memes, joke about what happened at work to both of you that day.

Just like before. Before the bantering. Before you– Before you broke up with Billy. Those first days of friendship, those first weeks and months where it was just you two having fun. Sure, you have noticed his instagram stories before, but you hadn’t paid attention to them. You never lingered more than one second on the story. Now, you lingered five… maybe ten. Maybe you even took a screenshot here and there. 

You had to stop. You had to, but as the days passed, you remember the kiss more and more. You remembered the heat of his body, the way your fingers ran through his hair, the way you wanted his leg to press in between your thighs, and how he gripped your waist and held you tight. 

It was intense and you wanted that intensity once more. You wanted to feel him again and even more. It wasn’t enough, and you told him it was, lying to him as well as yourself. You weren’t an idiot… you knew he was pissed about your decision, but he still respected it. It was just a crush. It was just that and you two had to leave it behind.

But can you?

Can you really put it behind you? How? How when you hadn’t tried him the way you wanted to? How when you touch yourself to thoughts of him? How when you still hadn’t returned his shirt and sweatpants from a week ago and you still use them to sleep?

And how can you put it behind you when the bastard looks fucking great in a goddamn short-sleeved black turtle neck, showing off his tattoos as he pours drinks for him and Steve in the kitchen of his house. 

You were standing on a corner, next to Jonathan as you two watched the people all around you. You had greeted Jeff and Gareth, Eddie’s coworkers, or well… workers since he is the boss of the shop. Then all your friends were here too but then… there were also strangers. 

“I think they’re friends from clubs? Or– I don’t know who the fuck these people are.” Jonathan comments while you take a sip of your beer, promising yourself to not drink much tonight. Who knows what you might do if you have more than what you can take?

“I have no clue… maybe it’s friends from friends from friends…” You tried to pitch in but– You couldn’t help to look at all the girls that were in his home. You heard the doorbell ring, even through the music and Eddie patted Steve’s shoulder before going to get it. He opened the door and you took a sharp inhale of breath as you saw a blonde greeting him with two other girls behind her.

Eddie smiled at them and the grip on your can tightened. You felt your stomach flipping, and you tried to push it away as best as you could. They’re just friends. Absolutely. Of course, just like you are, or Nancy or Robin. Just friends.

But you couldn’t help but wonder if he fucked one of the girls here… or a few.

You didn’t believe Eddie would be stupid enough to put girls he fucked in the same place, well, unless he planned to fuck more than one. That thought made you take a large sip of your can. You had tried to set your eyes on someone else but you couldn’t. Your eyes drifted to the same dark-haired man with tattoos showing. 

You realized you ran out of beer and saw Steve sauntering over. You excused yourself to get another can, moving through the people that laughed and drank. It wasn’t a big party, but there were many people, probably twenty, or a bit more. You reached the kitchen and opened his fridge to take a can out, only to feel another presence next to you.

“Now, don’t overdo it tonight Peach. Don’t want to take care of you again.” You closed your eyes as you felt irritation bubble inside of you, turning to look at him. His eyes scanned your face, his eyes moving down your body as you turned to put the can on the island counter behind you, opening it.

You were wearing a small simple black dress with straps, heels on your feet. It wasn’t too much, but it wasn’t casual. Your perfume was a tad stronger than other times, knowing you sprayed yourself a few more times than you usually did. He stood next to you, grunting when he realized the drink he prepared before was gone, grabbing another red cup for himself to start preparing himself another one.

“Don’t worry Munson, not planning to. It’s my second one of the night, and we have been here for two hours already.” You say as you take a sip of your can. His eyebrow raised up in question at the hint of anger behind your voice. The irritated tone you delivered that phrase with.

“Damn, if you are getting bored you can leave Peach.” He says as he rolls his eyes, pouring rum into his cup. You side glare at him, looking at all the people around you.

“Who are all of these people anyway?” You asked and he looked at you and then at the people around him.

“Friends I met, some were clients from my shop, and then it’s just friends of friends.” And that was that. Before you could even process it, the next question was out of your lips with so much venom that you didn’t even recognize it yourself.

“And I bet you fucked more than two of the women here, right?” He was shocked at your question and before he could say anything you were gone. 

And now, Eddie Munson was angry.

He was fucking pissed, and as he took the first sip of his drink, he knew you weren’t going to leave his home tonight. Not without answering the many questions he has. Why were you playing hard to get? Why tell him to be just friends and then say stuff like this? Why tell him to forget it all when you clearly didn’t want to either?

He clenched his jaw as he walked towards Leslie, an old worker at his shop before she got married. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders as he talked, a smile on his face as he did.

“And George stayed home tonight, playing with his own friends. I just needed a night out by myself you know?” She says and Eddie nods at that as Gareth chuckles, shaking his head.

“I can’t believe you are married still. I remember when you told us you didn’t believe in such things as marriage and shit.” Eddie smiled as Leslie started bantering with Gareth, but he caught something in the corner of his eye. 

You.

You were looking his way. It was a mixture of a glare and a squint as Nancy talked with Robin. You straightened up and pretended to look around you instead of him and directed your eyes back to your two friends. His jaw clenched once more as he realized what you were looking at. He wasn’t a fucking idiot, and you were pissing him off.

He had been civil, not letting the kiss ruin the friendship you two had before, just like you wanted. He had been sending you memes all week, talking about your car and even making fun of you still about how old it is. No flirty remarks like before, but now you do this. 

Why do you care if he fucked any of the girls here? Why do you have to make those kinds of comments to him? Why would you glare his way because he had his arm around another girl’s arm? Why would you tell him to forget about the kiss and stay friends and just that, and you act like this?

And you, you don’t want to be obvious, but you can’t help yourself. You are watching the girls that talk to Eddie throughout the night, see with whom he acts differently. Maybe see if seeing him flirting with someone else makes you realize that your decision was correct. That your decision of staying just friends was the good one. You know it is. You know it is for the entire group dynamic, not just the two of you.

But why do you have this sensation of regret? Of knowing you might be missing a chance? You want to shake off the feeling, the nauseous-like feeling swirling around in your stomach. Maybe it’s time to stop drinking for the night. You place the half-empty can on the small table next to the couch and see Eddie leading the girl he had his arm around up the stairs, where his room was.

Your stomach twisted and you closed your eyes because you were being dumb. You and he didn’t do anything, you just made out, nothing special. He is just a friend, you wanted this, you have to keep your word. You have to–

“You okay?” You’re startled by Robin, looking at you worriedly. You blink a few times to center yourself back to the present and turn to look at her, a fake smile spreading on your lips as you nod at her.

“Yeah, just kind of spaced out.” You try for your voice to not sound strained, as if you didn’t feel your heart hammering, pounding to come out of your chest. Suddenly, you hear the stairs again as Eddie talks to the woman who follows him. A sense of relief washes over you when it was only a minute since they went upstairs, nothing could have happened.

You shouldn’t feel relief. You shouldn’t be feeling anything at all, but all you fucking remember is that kiss.

You stayed with Steve, telling him to take you home afterwards while Robin and Nancy left a bit early, as well as Argyle. One hour later all the strangers left one by one, and not a girl in sight that stayed behind. You were pitiful. You knew it. But you couldn’t help yourself.

“Ready to go?” Jonathan asked and you nodded, walking over to the coat hanger to look for your coat, only to find that it was gone. Dread filled you as you thought someone mistakenly took it, or worse, stole it. You didn’t know more than half the people in here so–

“Peach, I left your coat upstairs in my room. It was getting a little crowded in that hanger.” His voice startled you, turning to face him. He was towering over you, a look in his eyes that you couldn’t pinpoint what it was. A smile was on his lips as he kept talking, “Plus, you are staying behind.”

You frown in confusion at that, your eyes still connected with his. You tilted your head in question as Steve grabbed his coat alongside Jonathan’s jacket.

“Why? You need help cleaning?” He asks and Eddie chuckles as he looks at his best friend.

“Yeah, and she owes me. Isn’t that right… sweetheart?” He tilted his head at your nickname and you knew that it wasn’t that. He doesn’t want to clean the mess that is his living room and kitchen. Jonathan whistles as he puts on his jacket.

“Well shit, I’m glad I’m not you.” He comments and you turn around to look at them, your face still stunned at the turn of your night. Your nerves were breaking you from the inside out. Was he going to yell at you? Break the relationship for how you acted tonight?

“You’ll take her home later on?” Steve asks and Eddie’s hand presses on your right shoulder, and you notice the slight pressure on it, more than needed.

“Sure.” Steve only gives Eddie a pointed look and you didn’t want them to leave, but you couldn’t stop them. There was no excuse to make them stay, or to wait for you since you and Eddie are on good terms. They waved at the two of you and finally walked out of the door. You felt the hand on your shoulder leave you as Eddie passed by you, grabbing the keys from the small key holder next to the door and locking it.

Your heart was running wild, feeling the hot air all around you, the pressure of it, the tension. It came right at you like a punch to the gut. His head slowly turned to face you and you could now see the fire in his eyes. Eyes you never saw before. Eyes that make your knees quiver, threatening to give out on you. 

“Ed–”

“What the fuck are you doing?” 

His voice was deep, demanding, and authoritative. You felt a shiver run down your spine, sweat starting to form throughout your body, from the tip of your fingers to your toes. His eyes were piercing you, making you bleed. His jaw was clenched tightly and you knew you had to stand your ground here, so you crossed your arms over your chest.

“Well, helping you clean, so it seems?” You tried not to make your voice sound small, but how his body language reacted made you even more nervous. His body turned to face you completely as one step was taken towards you.

“Oh, you know very damn well you’re not staying to fucking clean.” Your heart was beating rapidly as you looked at him, feeling like a small rabbit being hunted by a wolf. You managed to gulp as you stood your ground. 

“Then I don’t know what the hell you mean.” He laughed dryly, not believing your attitude right now. Better be straightforward with you before he loses his patience.

“Cut the fucking crap Peach. What the hell was that comment about the girls here? Why the fuck would you care?” You winced a bit at it, feeling ashamed and embarrassed about the outburst, but it was out of your own control.

“It was… It was just a question!” His eyes widened in disbelief for a second as he shook his head at you.

“Was it? Was it really? Because you didn’t even give me a chance to answer, so it felt more like a complaint.” He wanted to rip you apart right now. His anger and his pent-up attraction towards you were making him get way too riled up. He couldn’t believe how much you could affect him, but here he was.

“A complaint? No, it was just me wondering if there were any girls you fucked in the party, that was all.” And he only responded in a low voice.

“And so what if there were?” Your stomach flipped. He was right and you didn’t want to admit it. Not for a second. You turned around and started walking towards the stairs, needing to leave as soon as possible.

“Can’t a friend simply ask something out of curiosity?” And Eddie’s patience was about to spill out of its glass, all it needs is a few more drops. He groans, no, growls at your words as you start walking up the stairs, him following right behind, his steps louder than yours.

“A friend? A fucking friend? As far as I remember friends don’t glare at one another when they’re with someone else. As far as I fucking remember Peach, friends don’t flirt with eachother–” His voice was annoying you, your pent-up arousal towards him, your anger towards the situation, all of it was overwhelming you. “-- where the fuck are you going!?”

“Home! I’m getting the stupid coat you purposely put in your room to make me stay behind!” You reached his hallway, and you heard the quick clinking of his shoes catching up to you. You were about to turn to go into his room when suddenly you felt your shoulder being grabbed, forcing you to turn around as he slammed you against the wall, not enough to hurt you, but enough to keep you in place.

His chest was moving up and down rapidly, as much as yours was, and then, his other hand came to wrap itself around your throat, not putting any pressure on it. You were about to talk, taking a breath, but you were interrupted when his lips crashed into yours. His body pressed against you, and your breath got knocked out of your lungs.

He moved forcefully, with purpose, as his lips slotted with yours, sometimes teeth knocking by the desperation of his kiss. You were stunned still, your lips being taken by his, making them move the way he wanted them to. The hand that was on your shoulder pressed on your waist now, and the smacking of lips vibrated throughout the small hallway.

Your heart hammered in your chest, your blood rushed to your ears as you felt a hot sweat, a hot wave that ran all over your body. You flushed all over as your breathing quickened. You pressed your hands on his chest and you pushed, separating him from your lips, his hands ripping away from your body as he slammed on the other side of the narrow hallway, in front of you.

You were breathing heavily just as much as he was, staring at one another with glares, with defiance, with a challenge. You were sober, and so was he. There is no excuse this time, no playing games, no lies. He waited, knowing the cards were on your side now.

And fuck the stupid invisible line.

You went forward, hands slamming on his chest to push him into the wall as you raised up to clash your lips against his, roughly, messily, your body showing him just how much you want this, how much you have been wanting this. He groaned into the kiss, delight filling him all over as you reciprocated the kiss, the neediness, the attraction.

His hand flew towards the back of your neck, pulling you into the kiss, his tongue parting your lips and you willingly let him, needing to taste the tobacco on him, just like a week ago. You needed to feel him, completely, and you just had to promise yourself one thing. One small yet enormous thing. 

This has to be a one-time thing.

His other arm wrapped around your waist and your hands traveled north, towards a place that had been there a week before. Your nails went towards his hair, his half bun still holding his hair up. You wanted to rip it off, but you knew it would be a nuisance for him. His scruff tickled you as your tongues danced together, desperately, as if your time was running out somewhere in the universe.

You pressed your body against his, your belly coming in touch with the bulge that resides inside his pants, making you gasp in surprise. You felt your pussy throb in need like it always did whenever he looked better than usual. You felt your blood rushing to your head at the overwhelming feelings of it all, at how your skin was burning you, like a raging fire.

He groaned into your mouth as he devoured your lips, his tongue ravishing yours, fighting for dominance. Goosebumps raised on his skin as he felt your nails graze his nape, and he needed you. He needed you. He fucking needed you. He had to taste you, he had to make you scream, show you what you have been missing, what he has been missing. 

He moved, lifting you two from the wall and slamming you back to the other side, just like you were minutes before. He begrudgingly pulled away from the kiss, but instantly clashed his lips on your neck, making a moan get stuck in your throat as you felt his teeth nipping at your skin. You felt his hand desperately reaching down towards the hem of your dress, grabbing onto it and yanking it upwards and over your ass, leaving you on your thong out in the open.

Your eyes were wide at this intensity of his, but you didn’t dislike it. No, on the contrary, you were loving it. You wanted more. You wanted to feel him more. Wanted to know what else he can give you as you felt him suck on your neck, drunk on your perfume, drunk off of you.

The hand that lifted your dress went towards your ass, cupping it with his large hand, and you felt his digits digging into your skin. He moaned into your neck and then his warmth was gone as he dropped to his knees right in front of you. Your eyes snapped down towards him, your belly contracting in need, your stomach just doing overwhelming flips. 

You felt a tad self-conscious, but it was quickly wiped away when he leaned forward to press a kiss to your right thigh, his hands running from the back of it towards your calf. He kissed your knee before lifting it up so you hooked it over his left shoulder. The position familiar to you, but you couldn’t bother remembering it. Not when he was looking at your clothed center as if it were his last meal.

He bit your inner thigh gently as your scent worsened his state of arousal. His dick twitched in his pants as he raised his hands, his left one going over your thigh, and grabbed the elastic of your thong, the small strap that was on the left side of your hip. His eyes locked with yours and you knew he was asking one last time for permission, for approval.

You could back out. You could tell him to better not do anything… but where would that lead you? To feel disappointed again? To yearn for him? To want him more than before? No… You don’t want that again. You need to try him. You need to experience him, or else this crush might never go away.

So you nod as your body flushes all over, and then, a snap.

You gasp as the thong uncovers you right in front of his face, still hooked on your right leg. He was grinning as he leaned forward, kissing right at the top of your clit, on your belly. Your hands were pressed against the wall behind you, looking down at him with pleading eyes. He gave you one last look and then he dove in.

His left hand went to your ass while the other gripped your hip. His lips gave a teasing kiss to your clit, making you shiver on top of him which only urged him on. His tongue darted out next, licking a strip through your cunt, savoring your juices and he swears you were the most delicious one. 

He knew you were. It must be the pent-up anger and sexual frustration he had with you that probably makes you delectable right now. He just needed the taste, that’s all. But fuck if you weren’t delicious.

And then your eyes widened when he started licking, no, devouring you. And you raised your hand to your mouth, throwing your head back as you muffled your moans into your knuckles. You were being consumed in a way you never experienced before. You felt his tongue all over, his lips enclosed on your folds so he could run it back and forth. The noises were filthy, but he was determined to break you with his mouth.

He noticed how you were holding back your moans, making a growl vibrate in his throat, his mouth unlatching from your pussy so he could bite, a little hard, on your right inner thigh. You yelped at the feeling, your hand moving away from your mouth as you glared down at him with glossy eyes.

“Moan. Let me fucking hear you, friend.” He mocked you and your mouth fell open, stunned, ready to go at him with words, only for those to fall dead in your throat. His tongue was back on you. The tip of it flicked your clit before it went back down to your folds, and then, you felt it enter you.

You finally let a moan out of your lips, your left hand coming to grip the back of his head to hold onto something, anything at all. And the sound of your moan made him groan in need against you, wanting more, wanting to make you fall apart even further. He wanted his name on your lips, he needed you to scream for him.

He felt your warmth all over his tongue as you gripped his hair, sending jolts of electricity down his body, reaching the tip of his cock. He’s sure he is already leaking precum, knowing he is riled up to no measures. Your mouth was still open as moans left it, soft yet sharp breaths as your eyes rolled to the back of your head, leaning against the wall behind you.

You felt him licking, sucking, kissing, flicking, you just felt him all over you, leaving no place untouched. His digits dug into your skin, your legs trembling at each strike of pleasure he gave you. This was new. Completely. You felt good, way too fucking good. After these months of bland hookups, Eddie eating you out, and just doing that, made all of those burn in shame. 

“Fuck…” Was a small little word that fell from your mouth and it urged him to continue, to break you further. His fire for you made him grow impatient with the need to taste your climax, making his muscles tense, clench and unclench, just as your pussy was doing on his tongue.

He pulled away reluctantly with a pop and a slurp in his mouth, moaning softly at your taste. He was eating you but it was not enough, he needed to go deeper, harsher. He needed to brand himself into your memory, claim a small part of your brain that you won’t be able to erase. 

“Trust me.” You were panting as you looked down, about to tell him to shut up and keep going, only for a squeal of surprise to leave your mouth. His right hand was urging you to lift your other leg up, to put it over his other shoulder. Your hands pressed against the wall behind you as you grew unsure about the new position.

“Eddie, you won’t be able to–” His eyes connected with yours, a glare in them, something that told you to not defy him at this moment. You felt the need to comply with his request so you braced yourself on the wall and your eyes widened when his left hand went to hold your waist, pinning you to the wall, while his other hand hooked on the back of your left knee and hoisted it up over his right shoulder.

Then his hand joined his other around your waist, holding you up with his strength and you hooked your ankles together behind him, biting your bottom lip, afraid of falling to the floor, your fingernails digging into the wall behind you. You opened your mouth to tell him that you weren’t sure again, only for it to be silenced by him going in once more. 

He ripped a moan out of your throat as his tongue licked from your entrance to your clit, filthy sounds of his saliva and your juices mixing together, slurping, squelch, everything sounding absolutely dirty and erotic that your senses were overloading. 

He was pussy drunk, his pupils dilated as he ravished you, as he tore you apart with each lick. You couldn’t even care that he was holding you up all by himself, you were looking at the ceiling, your body already flushed, feeling as if you were burning up with a fever. You couldn’t believe you heard moans coming from him doing this to you.

He held your waist, not even feeling your weight, only caring for your taste, only caring for the taste of your impending climax, wanting you to yell his name which you have yet to do. His nose hit your clit each time his tongue dove into you, the tip of it flicking against your walls which made you mewl, your back trying to arch only for his grip to keep you stuck to the wall behind you.

Your climax started to build up, your belly burning and contracting in itself as you panted on top of him. Your senses were overloading, your rational mind was all over the place. For one, you knew you shouldn’t do this, but on the other hand, you couldn’t stop it, not even if you wanted to. You couldn’t find it in you to care anymore, at least not for now.

“Eddie, Eddie–” His name came out of your lips as you felt the coil turning and turning in your belly, everytime he flicked your clit with his tongue. At the sound of his name, he opened his eyes and he realized he won’t be able to see your face when you cum, and he won’t have that. He preferred to see you than taste you, after all, he could lick his fingers afterwards.

He pulled away from your pussy, chin glistening, a string of saliva in between his lips and your clit. You whined as you looked down at him with a pained frown. What the hell? Why? Why did he stop? He made you take your right leg off him, and the moment your heel pressed onto the ground again you felt like you were gonna tumble to the side, but he kept you up thanks to your left leg still on his shoulder.

He tapped on your leg for you to move it off him and you groaned in disdain, wanting to curse at him for stopping, for edging you the way he just did. Was he probably regretting it? Did he come to his senses maybe? You felt your heart beat rapidly as you saw him getting up from the floor, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, once you set your other foot down. 

He towers over you once more, his eyes clashing against your cloudy ones as you feel your legs about to give in on you. His pupils were dilated, the brown of his irises was gone. You gulped as you opened your mouth to say something only for his lips to clash into yours once more. 

You tasted yourself in his mouth, moaning into the kiss as his lips moved on yours. Your hands were about to move from the wall but you stopped your movements when you felt his hand rub your belly as it went further down. You jolted, making you pull away from the kiss with a gasp when his middle finger touched your sensitive clit, making the coil return to your belly once again as if it had never left.

Your gaze went downwards, looking at how he coated his fingers in your juices, a trembling sigh escaping you. You felt his other hand pressing underneath your chin with his index finger, and he made you look back up at him at the same time he teased your entrance with his fingers.

“I’m gonna watch you cum around my fingers Peach.” Your mouth fell open at his words, only for then to feel your eyes roll to the back of your head when his middle finger entered you. He groaned at the feeling of your warmth, the sensation going straight to his dick, which was now hurting from how hard it was, and the pants were too constricting on him. You were so warm, so fucking perfect, and he knew he had to prep you for what he was going to do in a matter of minutes.

You felt his fingers grab onto the sides of your chin, making you pucker your lips slightly as you looked at him again. His gaze was intense as his finger started pumping in and out of you. Your moans were breathy, hot and he could feel them in his face. He saw how a sheen of sweat was over your forehead now, and he could feel your body temperature burning as his finger picked up a pace, your legs spreading a little wider for easier access, making him chuckle. 

“Eager.” He mumbled and you whined at how he was making fun of you, only for a moan to escape you, this time throaty, his ring finger joining his middle one. Your knees started shaking as you felt him go in and out of you. You could feel the thickness of his fingers, rubbing perfectly against your walls as your fingers dug into the wall behind you, trying to keep you up.

“Fuck–” You cursed as you felt him curl his fingers inside of you and your belly started screaming and turning into itself as he hit that spongy part inside of you. He smiled as he looked down at your wrecked face, your eyes being filled with tears of pleasure as your mouth never closed. 

He immediately started a rapid and brutal pace, the squelching of your pussy with his fingers filling both of your ears. You were drenched for him and he was in love with the feeling of it. He pressed his palm over your clit, keeping the pace of his fingers and your eyes widened when you started thrashing underneath him, the pleasure becoming too much as you felt your climax threatening to destroy you.

“Cum.” And that order was low, and you felt it vibrate in the deepest part of your brain. He felt your body start shaking and he ripped his hand off your chin in order to press his entire forearm over your torso, keeping you stuck to the wall. 

Your vision went white, your pussy clenching around him like a vice, throbbing, as your climax hit you like a fucking truck. It was earth-shattering. Your hips tried to move away from him, but also against him. Your moans were all over the place, not even knowing if you were saying anything or just crying out. 

You could see his delighted smile through the fog, as he saw you squirm, helping you ride your orgasm. His pace slowed down as you slowly got some clarity back into your body. You twitched as you breathed heavily, whimpering at the sudden overstimulation. His arm left your torso, grabbing onto your waist to help you stand steady on your heels again. 

He pulled his fingers out of you, and you felt so empty all of a sudden and you let a sigh escape you as your body felt like plummeting to the floor. It was one of the biggest orgasms you had in your life, and you didn’t know he could do this. You couldn’t believe he had this power all along. Your eyes followed his fingers as he smirked at you, darting his tongue out.

“What–” He closed his eyes as he licked his fingers and then put them in his mouth, sucking on your juices, on the awaited climax and he didn’t contain the pleased moan. He felt his dick twitch at your taste. Sweet. Very sweet. Like a peach.

That action made your entire self burn up once again, the shakiness slowly stopping as he opened his eyes again to look at you. Your chest was going up and down as you caught your breath, and he tilted his head in question at you.

“What’s wrong, friend?” Your eyes widened as anger rose from deep within once again. It gave you the needed strength to pull yourself from the wall, feeling your juices running down your inner thighs, and your hand found the back of his head so you could pull him down and kiss him again, ferociously, bruisingly.

He groaned into the kiss, wrapping his arms around you as he took a step back, and guided you into his room, his foot hooking onto the edge of the door and pushing it closed with a slam. You weren’t even phased at the sound of it, you just kept kissing him as one of his hands was splayed on your back while the other was kneading your ass, fondling it. In that small walk, your broken thong fell down your leg, and naturally stepped out of it.

Your hands found purchase on his biceps, running towards his chest and then downwards to the hem of his shirt. You tugged on it, and he broke away from your lips, desperately, his breath hitting you as he ripped his shirt off his body, throwing it somewhere in the room and then slamming his mouth against yours again.

You wanted to look at him, see the body you saw on the instagram stories, the one you took a screenshot of and resides in the gallery of your phone. But you cannot stop kissing him, it’s too addictive and he feels the same with you. He was eating you whole as if he were trying to suck the soul out of your body and maybe he was. 

His hands moved towards your shoulders and he quickly put them underneath your straps, pushing them down your arms. While he did that, your hands went towards his belt, unbuckling him, but he stopped you, pulling away from the kiss. His eyes opened the same time yours did and your pupils clashed together, but before you could think, his hands pressed on your chest and you were pushed backwards, making you yelp.

Your back bounced against his soft mattress, and your breathing was quick, elaborated, and you raised yourself up on your elbows to see him intensely looking at you, ripping his belt away from him. Your mouth filled with saliva as you saw his body, the tattoos that scattered all over his chest, tummy, arms, and part of his neck and you just wanted to reach out, run your hands all over, and lick and trace each patch of ink.

He quickly unbuttoned his pants and unzipped them before pulling them down his legs with a harsh push, and when he straightened up, your eyes almost bulged out of your skull. Your eyes were trained on the bulge that was strained in his boxers as he looked down at you. 

He was huge. The biggest you’ve ever seen.

He knew his size, and he knew how this would go, just like all the times that he had sex, he knew it was going to be too much. But that wasn’t going to stop him from having you, not at all. He stepped out from his pants and boots, and he reached down towards you, his hands dipping into the top of your dress and tugging it down from your body. You helped by raising your upper body off the mattress, and then your hips as he undressed you from your last garment of clothing. 

He threw the dress to the side and unclasped your heels, and you shook them off, your eyes never leaving his bulge, your cunt throbbing at the thought of having it. He dove in again, crawling on top of you, guiding the two of you to the middle of the bed, his right knee hooking underneath the back of your left one, and he pushed it upwards, spreading your legs for him to slot himself in between them. And then, you felt him.

You threw your head back at the feeling of him against your pussy. You knew your juices were drenching the fabric of his boxers but you didn’t care and he didn’t either. The only thing the two of you could think of right now was to fuck like rabbits, fuck eachother into oblivion, fuck eachother until one of you simply passes out.

His lips found your neck as he rubbed himself against your wet cunt, finally moaning into your skin as he got some friction on his cock. He heard your moans, your arms wrapping around him and then the feel of your nails on his back, scratching as his thrusts were a little harsher. His patience was running thin as he felt a sweat all over his body. His chest felt as if it were on fire and he knew that if he didn’t have you now he was going to go crazy.

Your hips moved against his and nothing felt more delicious than this. You barely recognized yourself. This felt too good and you weren’t ashamed of your actions, of showing just how turned on you were.

But you wanted a taste first.

Your hands moved to his shoulders and you used your strength to push him away and rolled the two of you over so you would be on top of him. He bounced underneath you, a little startled at the change of position. You were looking down at him and he finally saw how much lust your eyes were holding for him, and it probably matched his.

You dipped down, and your lips kissed his neck, making him close his eyes at the feeling while your hips were rubbing against his bulge. You moaned into his skin, feeling your clit being hit just right. You sighed as you started moving downwards, your lips kissing his torso, his eyes opening to look down at you. 

No one did this for him. He didn’t mind that they never did but now he realizes what it feels to be truly desired. It felt like you were worshiping him and fuck if he didn’t love it. Your kisses found way towards his stomach, his small formed abs as you kept crawling backwards and then a bit of panic set in him as you held the hem of his boxers.

You bit your bottom lip as you pulled away, hooked your fingers and pulled those boxers down, and the moment his dick sprung out, your eyes widened at the sight. It was longer than average, thick, and you never saw anything like it before. You were awestruck, but Eddie thought otherwise.

He thought you were hesitating, wondering if you would feel pain. It was always the same for him. They would retreat slightly at the sight of it and he would promise to not go all the way, and he always kept that promise. He opened his mouth to say something, to tell you that you didn’t need to do anything, but then he felt something he hadn’t felt in a while.

You leaned down, your tongue lolling out of your mouth, and licked over his tip. He held in a whimper as he raised himself up on his elbows to watch you. You were on all fours, ass in the air as your upper body leaned down so that you could lick him, with the flat of your tongue, from base to tip. 

He shuddered at the feeling, and he could see how hypnotized you were with him, and that made his dick twitch. A smile broke on your face as your hand wrapped around it, letting the other one rest on his thigh. He then saw you let a drop of saliva fall out of your mouth and onto the tip. Your hand went upwards and you lubricated it with your saliva and then you moved it back downwards, starting to slowly stroke it.

He groaned into his throat, throwing his head back at the feeling, only for his eyes to snap open again and look back down to you. Your mouth closed on his tip, sucking on it and his mouth dropped open at how you looked. He felt his stomach turn as you took more of him into your mouth and you moaned, sending vibrations all around him.

Oh, you were fucking perfect. He hasn’t been inside you yet and you are already the best he’s ever had. Your eyes were closed as you started to slowly bob your head up and down, helping yourself with your hand to reach the rest of his cock you know you won’t be able to fit into your mouth. 

You were getting wetter as you sucked him off, his moans filling your ears as you slurped on his cock. You’ve never felt this hungry for a dick before, like, you’ve never had this intense need of tasting it before. But Eddie… Eddie you needed a taste of. It’s not even about reciprocation of him eating you out, it’s pure desire. Your own desire.

You needed to know how far you could take him, so you unwrapped your hand from around him and relaxed your throat. You breathed through your nose as you bobbed downwards, taking more than before and his eyes widened as you kept going. You almost made it, a little more than half in your throat, but then you gagged, knowing it was your limit.

He whimpered, and it was the most delightful sound you heard from him yet. Eddie Munson whimpering. You should record it. You moved upwards and your hand wrapped around him again, as you continued bobbing your head. You moaned when you started tasting the precum in your tongue, and it was tangy, a little bitter, but it was still good. 

Eddie was breathing heavily as he saw you pulling away with a ‘pop’ only for your tongue to dart out and dip the tip of it on his slit. 

“Oh, fuck me.” He threw his head back as he closed his eyes, feeling them rolling to the back of his head. You smiled with satisfaction as you kissed his tip before getting it into your mouth again and swirling your tongue all around it. His eyes snapped wide open and his hips jerked when you rubbed his frenulum with the tip of your forsaken tongue. 

You took him back in and you quickened the pace of your head bobbing and your hand. You heard yourself slurping, your saliva all over his dick, and your hand helping the movements. His belly tightened and you saw it as his hips jerked slightly when you, once more, teased his frenulum. You pulled away with a pop and smirked as you looked at him with half-lidded eyes, saliva running down your chin.

“Someone is liking this a bit too much, isn’t he?” It was time to be cocky with him and his eyebrows met in the middle, as if he were angry, and he glared at you as you looked back down on his dick. Your pussy throbbed as your smile faded from your face.

You wanted it. You needed it. Maybe it is what you have been needing all this time. Maybe this– Maybe you could finally feel full. You bit your bottom lips as you desperately tugged on the hem of his boxers to pull them all the way down. He caught on and raised his hips to help you remove them. You wiped your mouth afterwards with the back of your hand. 

You raised your head to look at him, to ask him where the condoms were but he was already stretching to the side, opening his drawer. You bit your lip as he took out a black foil condom, getting himself back in the middle of the bed. He sat up and looked at you as he ripped the foil open with his teeth. Your hands instantly flew to grab the condom from his hand before he could react. 

He closed his eyes as his jaw clenched when he felt you rolling the condom down on his cock. He needed to fuck you like… yesterday. He opened his eyes again, ready to throw you to the side so he could get on top, but his eyes expressed confusion when you threw one leg on the other side of his hip and you pressed your hands on his chest, urging him to lay back down. 

You could literally have hearts in your eyes from how cock drunk you felt, without the cock being inside you yet. You rubbed yourself along the shaft, letting your juices lubricate it. Eddie winced, loving it, but he had to warn you, he had to tell you he had to change positions.

“Sweetheart– Peach– Listen–” You glared down at him as he talked, and his eyebrows were knitted into a worried frown as your hand got in between them and you raised your hips upwards.

“You regretting this Munson?” Your voice was low, challenging, and fuck no. He would never regret any of this. Ever. His hands gripped your hips, trying to warn you not to move.

“No, fuck no Peach, but I have to warn you–” He choked in surprise when he felt his tip go inside of you, and fuck you were so warm, but he had to stay focused. He could hurt you if he didn’t. “Sweetheart– It won’t–”

“Shut up Eddie, for fuck sake–” Your hands gripped on his chest as you sank lower and lower and his eyes were wide as he saw himself disappear in you, his fingers digging into your skin as he felt you engulf him more and more, and you were reaching the area that he knows would be painful if you tried any further. He gasped out, looking back up at you.

“Shit– Shit–!” He was trying, but you were deaf to his words. He felt himself burning inside out but you, your eyes were going wide as you threw your head back. There was more and more, and it never stopped. The stretch was insane, and Eddie– Eddie wasn’t shutting up.

“Munson–!” It was your last warning before you slammed down on him.

His eyes went wide as he choked a gasp, his head thrown back onto the pillow as he felt you engulf him completely. As he felt someone taking him all for the first time. Covering that area that no other girl could ever take. He was choking on his breaths, the sensations sending vibrations and shocks all over his body. He had to check if you were okay, first and foremost. He looked back at you, his eyes still wide as he breathed heavily.

Your head was thrown back with blown eyes, and you were trying to regain your breath that was knocked out of you. You felt… you felt– Full. You were filled. Fuck, it feels good. He feels so fucking good. A shiver ran down your spine as your senses started to kick in from the initial shock. With your head thrown back, you raised your hips back up and Eddie’s gaze turned down to where the two of you were connected and then–

You slammed back down again, knocking a loud groan from him and a delighted moan from you.

Oh, how good it felt. He was so deep, so deep inside you and you needed to feel it even more. More. More. More. You were primal, and it was a new feeling that you didn’t want to stop. You were oblivious to how Eddie was feeling, not knowing that he had never bottomed out before.

So, you weren’t aware of how he was staring at you. How his eyes were wide and his chest was bright red. How he trembled every other second. And now, he saw you raise yourself up again, your hands on his chest to use as leverage before you slammed back down once more, knocking another moan out of his lips.

You were adjusting, and you rutted your hips on him, back and forth, and you moaned loudly as you felt the tip of him just abusing your g-spot in each hip thrust. He was speechless as he looked at you. You weren’t in pain, you were enjoying this. You were moaning, and he could hear the squelching your juices made against his pelvis.

Against his fucking pelvis.

You smiled with delight, and you closed your eyes as you finally let your head fall forward, and Eddie saw your contorted face of pleasure. His mouth was open in awe as he stared at you, and then you raised your hips back up and that’s when you started a slow pace. A slow, but deep pace.

His hands were gripping tightly onto your hips, and he felt his body becoming hotter and hotter, his mind becoming hazier as if something was trying to take control of him. Your pace started catching more rhythm and you started bouncing on him, choking moans out of your lips as you felt him hit the deepest parts within you.

“Fuck– Fuck– It feels so fucking good, what the fuck–” You were spouting nonsense, yet it was still the truth. You were confused, not recognizing yourself, your voice, your desperate movements, and how your mind was being rendered stupid. You never felt this, with anybody, not even with Billy.

He twitched inside of you, everytime your walls rubbed over the base of his cock made him choke. How the fuck were you able to do this? Maybe there were in fact people made for him, and you are just one of them. His pupils dilated, his breathing heavy as he started groaning through his teeth at each bounce you did on him. 

Your nails dug into his chest as you kept going and then your eyes opened to look down at him. His hips raised up from the bed and his grip on your hips tightened. You could see his jaw clenching as a vein popped out from his neck. His nose flared and you thought you were seeing an animal for a second there and then–

Your mouth fell open as he started thrusting in and out of you, wildly, keeping you in place so you wouldn’t bounce down on him. He was abusing your insides and it was so good, so fucking good. You heard the slapping of skin, the squelches, and your choked moans as you looked down at him, but you weren’t really seeing. You couldn’t focus your sight, feeling a pleasure you’ve never felt before.

He was taking and taking, letting himself go wild for the first time in his life. It was an ecstasy he never felt before, and he just felt– so feral. The moment he noticed your cockdrunk face, he knew that you weren’t in pain. He knows you are loving it just as much as he is. 

He kept going, abusing your cervix in the most amazing of ways, your g-spot being rubbed over and over. Your belly burned, your climax slowly building up, and his eyes were trained on your body as it shook from how fast he was pumping himself in and out of you. He saw you leaning down as your back arched upwards, your mouth open in a constant ‘o’ as your eyebrows met in the middle.

One of his hands shot from your hip to the back of your neck, his thrusts never stopping, not even feeling the slightest bit tired. His touch made your eyes clash with his. You couldn’t even formulate a word, just choked moans as he kept going. He growled as he pulled you down, making your face dive in the crook of his neck while his other hand moved and his whole arm wrapped around your waist.

Your eyes widened when you felt your spongy part being stimulated more than before. The bending forward, helping his cock reach it. Your nails dug into his chest as you moaned into his neck, a babbling mess, drool coming out of your mouth.

“Fuck– Baby–” He moaned your name as he gave one sharp thrust, sitting deep inside you, making you gasp, your breath knocked out as the two of you breathed heavily. Your heart was hammering in your chest, and you felt like your whole body was up in flames. You were growing tired, but you didn’t want this to end. No. Your hips instinctively moved on him, back and forth and he cursed under his breath.

Your world turned, and now you were looking at the ceiling, your chest going up and down as you tried to catch your breath. He was on top of you, his dick still deep inside of you, both his elbows on each side of your head. You looked beautiful like this, wrecked by him, drooling, tears slipping out of your eyes. Good.

He leaned down to take your lips with his, and his hips started to slowly move against you, and your arms wrapped around his shoulders as you parted your legs even farther for him. You moaned into the kiss as he rolled his hips, meditated thrusts that were smoothly deep, and all too delicious.

His tongue invaded your mouth when a moan left you, and you felt his base rubbing against your clit at each push forward. You could hardly focus on the kiss. Your mind a hazy mess, the only thought process being, ‘I need more’.

You were intoxicating, poisonous, and yet addictive. He won’t be able to get enough of you, he knows it. This won’t be enough and he hopes it won’t be either. He will make sure it won’t. He’ll make sure you will still want this afterwards. He’ll make sure you remember how he felt, what he made you feel, how he made you scream.

He pulled away from the kiss and raised his upper body up, looking down at your disheveled form. One of his hands went behind your left knee, holding your leg as he started moving a little faster than before. Your hands gripped the sheet beneath you as you stared at his form, at his eyes looking down at you. 

It felt like an out-of-body experience, for the both of you, forgetting who the two of you were, or what relationship you had before this. He does remember the amount of times, the mouth that is now crying out his name at each thrust said mean things to him, and it prompted him to slam his hips harder into you.

“Eddie–!” You choked out, your belly turning, coiling all around as your climax kept growing and growing. His harsh thrusts making you jerk upwards, the bed slightly swaying back and forth at the movement. He smirked through his breaths, the sweat on his forehead and chest glistening with the soft and bright moonlight coming through his windows.

He looked down at where the two of you were connecting over and over again and he still could not believe he was bottoming out, that all of him was being engulfed by someone, by you of all people. He groaned as he felt your walls fluttering around him and you started choking on your own moans.

He looked back at you, leaning downwards again, his arms cradling your head, his breath on your ear as his thrusts turned short and fast. Your eyes widened, your hands finding his back, nails dipping into his flesh. It was a perfect rhythm, rubbing you in all the right places, the feeling of his pubic hair creating friction on your clit. 

“You take me so well Peach… fuck– you take me so fucking well–” He moaned out with nothing but the whole truth but it was enough for your walls to start clenching as your back started to arch towards him, your belly burning, turning into itself.

“Oh– Fuck, I’m– I’m gonna–” And he let go of you so he could kneel back up, his thrusts still short and fast but he pressed his right hand on your knee, while his left one pressed on your belly. He darted his thumb out and pressed it on your clit as he pressed down with his palm as well, pushing your belly down. 

You gasped, arch arching as your hands were now gripping the pillow under your head, moans, grunts, groans, whines, whimpers and his name. His name was on your lips like a prayer, like a worship. His thumb rubbed circles as he watched intensely, his curiosity and his need for you to cum around him, for him to feel it for the first time making him go insane.

You took a sharp intake of breath as you felt yourself break, coming undone, vision seeing stars as you clenched all around him, with a death grjp. Your climax hit you once again, whimpering and squealing at the intensity of it, and Eddie… Eddie was grunting through his teeth as he felt you clench around him, around his cock, from tip to base. It felt too good. Way too fucking great. 

He didn’t want you to stop climaxing, he couldn’t. He needed it again, he needed you to keep clenching on him like this. He whimpered at the feel of you, looking down at his dick going in and out of you still, with a bit of restraint that felt incredible. Your body fell on the bed again, your walls unclenching after a few seconds and his hands moved towards your hips, his thrusts unrelenting, not letting you rest up.

“You– You’re gonna give me one more Peach.” Your eyes were watery at the overstimulation, but fuck if you didn’t want it to stop. His chest was ignited with newfound fire, his balls starting to tighten, but no, he wasn’t going to cum until he felt you around his dick again, until you cum around him once more. This new experience was just too great for him.

“I– I don’t know– Fuck– I don’t know if I can–” You mumbled, bouncing at his mercy as he kept railing into you. He only chuckled through his moans, and you could hear a low growl coming from deep within his chest. He guided your hips to meet his thrusts and your hands flew to the headboard, trying to ground yourself into a hard surface as it started slamming against the wall thanks to how hard he was thrusting into you. 

“Yeah, you fucking can. I won’t stop until you give me another.” He was demanding, ordering you to do something you didn’t know if you even could, but he did indeed not let you rest. He didn’t let you ride the orgasm out. He didn’t let you take a breather. Your G-Spot never stopped throbbing, and you could feel the coil in your belly start to alarmingly turn again. When your eyes widened as he felt your pussy flutter, he only smirked, “There she is.”

His pace quickened, sweaty skin snapping against yours, SLAP, SLAP, SLAP. It was echoing all over the room, just as loud as your moans, your cries, feeling your whole body burning up, tensing, your muscles trembling now and then as you were on the edge of falling off the cliff.

“Shit, shit, shit, Eddie– Oh god– Oh fuck–” You cried out, almost sobbing as tears of pleasure rolled down the side of your face, throwing your head back onto the pillow as your walls started clenching and unclenching around him and he moaned over you, his fingers digging into the skin of your waist now.

“Fuck yes baby, cum around my cock. I need to feel it again– Please, please–” And you cried his name out as you arched your back off the bed, and he groaned in pleasure, your name tumbling out his lips as you tightened all around his cock. This orgasm was the biggest of them all, of the last two you had. You’ve never had a multiple orgasm before, and it felt so good. 

He was breathing heavily, his chest red all over, and he clenched his teeth as if baring them. His vision went white and he clenched his eyes, tightly, relishing in the feeling of you around him. All it took was two more pumps into your tight heat and then– He came.

He grunted loudly as he shook all over, a whimper mixing in the middle of his breaths as he felt his seed shooting into the condom, spurt after spurt. This was the hardest he’d ever cum in his entire life. You whined as you felt him seething inside of you as he came, and amid your post orgasm, you could see his contorted face. A face that showed pleasure.

The last shot came, and he sighed out with trembling breaths, his heavy panting mixing with yours. He slowly opened his eyes to find you lying before him, eyes now closed as you tried to stop your legs from shaking. The overstimulation was now painful, and all you wanted was to rest. You were drained and so was he.

He groaned and you whined when he slowly pulled out from you, his eyes slightly widening at the amount of cum that was at the tip of the condom. He saw how spent you were, and he leaned down, kissing your cheek softly, his voice low, almost a whisper.

“Rest Peach, I’ll clean you up.” You mumbled something, your brain slowly shutting off, your energy gone. Your conscious mind was already squashed, can’t even think of what had just happened. 

Eddie crawled backwards, his legs trembling as he got on his own two feet, huffing as he felt them wanting to give up on him. He shook his head to center himself again, tying the condom and walking out of his room to go into his bathroom. He threw the condom in the trash and turned to look at himself in the mirror.

He was still breathing heavily, less than before, but still pretty heavy. He saw his face, flushed and then his neck and chest were red. His pupils were still dilated and he took a deep breath in to calm himself down, making numbers in his head to figure out if he missed any of his pills. But he didn’t. 

His body reacted to you in ways it never did with other girls. He’ll have to ask if it could be possible, but in the meantime… His hands went to the sink, washing them, growling when he remembered– He shook his thoughts away. He can’t think like that. He sounds possessive and he is not like that. He can’t be like that.

He brushed his teeth and washed his face. He grabbed a small towel and drenched it in warm water. He cracked his neck as he walked out of the bathroom again and entered his room, to see you in the same position, but he now knows you had fallen asleep. He walked towards you and he pressed the towel on your inner thigh, making you flinch but you didn’t wake. He cleaned you up, being extra careful when he passed over your puffed up pussy. 

He smirked in victory at the sight of it, at how much of your own climax he gathered in the towel. He flipped it inside out and with it he cleaned the drool and tears off your face. You started mumbling something as he held your face in his hand, looking down at you.

“Eddie…” You breathed out. He felt a tug somewhere in his body, but he didn’t know where. He clenched his jaw as he pulled away, putting the towel on the night table. He knew the two of you would talk the next day. He was excited about it, wondering what is going to happen between the two of you after this. 

He wrapped you in his blankets and then got into bed next to you. Your body instantly felt his, and you moved to cuddle his arm. He chuckled at you, his gaze looking up at the ceiling as he realized his energy was too spent, too drained. His eyelids started to drop, the images of you flashing behind them.

He had so many questions, but maybe there were just no answers to them. It was simply that way. But out of all the girls he’s been with… you, being the only one… He had to stop thinking about it, maybe he was just trying to look for something that had no explanation. He gulped as a smile broke on his face. One thing is for certain.

It will happen again… and again… and again. 

end of chapter 17

a/n: after 17 chapters, now that's slowburning at its finest.

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[charnelhouse]

press the gas and ride

gif by @riley-keoughs pairing: Joel Miller x f!Reader (nicknamed Dolly) word count: 2.4k+ summary: comfort in a car warnings: hurt/comfort. smut. angst. A/N: this takes place a month after teacups, but no need to read. tlou ep 3 spoilers. this is really just trash smut. Joel Miller Masterlist

She watched Joel's expression buckle as he read the letter. His brow furrowed, the muscle in his jaw tensing. She looked away, suddenly feeling intrusive. She'd never come here with Joel. His trips to Bill were semi-frequent, but this was the first time he’d brought her. Of course, he hadn't expected this. He hadn't thought they'd be walking into a dead house. 

The fresh air through the open front door bullied the stench of rotten meat and vegetables. The dinner on the table buzzed with flies. There were starched, ironed napkins folded in triangles with lovely patterns of woodland creatures. She traced the tiny squirrel sewed into the fabric before studying the label on the wine bottle. She was intent on busying herself. She wanted to give Joel space, but he'd been more paranoid than usual since the attack a month ago. 

I don't want you out of my sight.

She hadn't stopped aching. Brutal. Horrible. She'd slaughtered two people, and her mind continued to spin with the memories of it. She was unable to remove the taste of blood from her tongue. She could not unhear the shuddering death rattle or unfeel the way the man beneath her had wriggled and then spasmed like an electrocuted rodent.  

Joel had also seemingly lost his cool that night. After he'd tucked her into bed, she'd heard him smashing up the first floor. In the morning, he'd refused to let her see what he had done and when she fell apart again (in the safety of their QZ apartment), Joel wouldn't have it.

He'd crouched so they could be eye-level, large hand cupping the back of her skull. "They got what they deserved. Nothin' more than that."

He was right, but teaching her head to stop was easier said than done. 

She scanned the dining room before settling on the mahogany cabinet full of delicate china. When she noticed the powder blue and white teacups, she winced. She couldn't escape it. Everything triggered her. She needed to learn to grow up and out of her pain because it wouldn't serve her and certainly not Joel. He bulldozed through everything, and she had to follow suit. 

Joel cleared his throat. He had stopped reading and was staring out the window, far away. She intended to bring him back to shore. 

"They have a car?" she asked, and Joel's eyes swept toward her. Inscrutable. 

"Yeah." He scraped a hand over his mouth. "Yeah."

***

Joel guided her to a guest room, instructing her to clean up and be ready in an hour.

He'd found her a box of women's clothes that she happily dug through. The very idea of new outfits felt celebratory- even if they smelled a bit stale.

The musty fabric reminded her of her grandmother's closets. She'd used to hide behind the wool coats and leather shoes, toes snug in the sea-green carpet. She'd get light-headed on mothballs. 

Her family was gone. A long time gone.

She supposed Joel was the only person who really gave a shit about her well-being. If she died, he’d have the memory of her, at least. She wouldn’t be dust.

After she showered, she yanked on a sundress and sneakers. Joel would undoubtedly say something, but she was past caring. She stared at herself in the mirror, petting the floral-print bodice. She twisted side to side, the breeze from the open window licking between her legs and under her arms. 

She thought of Bill and Frank in the next room and abruptly stopped. Morbid. Strange to be so fine rummaging through a house when two dead men were feet away. Their window was open, too, and she wondered if the sweet brush of cool air had cradled them into the next life. She stepped forward, pressing her ear against the wood. She listened, tapping her fingertips over the wallpaper. 

Silence. She tapped again. Waiting.

"What are you doing?"

She whirled around to find Joel standing in the doorway with a towel around his waist. He'd combed his wet hair back, but a single strand boyishly drifted over his forehead. The scars across his torso gleamed white under the naked afternoon sun.

"Nothing." She shifted her weight, the dress swishing with her. 

He frowned as he scrutinized her outfit. "You can't wear that."

"Because?"

"Because you can't do shit in a dress that short," he replied flatly. 

She put her hands on her hips. "Can I just wear this today? It's-fuck-it's the prettiest thing I've worn since-since I don't know." She averted her eyes, feeling childish at her reasoning.

Because I want to be beautiful for once. I want to look beautiful for you and not covered in grime, blood, and jeans, two sizes too big. 

The expression on Joel's face flickered between irritated and puzzled. She thought he might stride across the room and tear it off her. 

Once in a while, he'd give her shit about things like this-pecking at her for enjoying luxuries that didn't exist anymore. He'd call her a spoiled brat when he really wanted to tick her off. Instinctively, she knew he was doing it, so she'd snap at him, deal him back with a rough hand. 

He always won and she assumed he’d win here, as well.

She expected him to say no, but he took a breath instead. Running his hand across his chest, he massaged an old bullet wound hidden in the sparse hair before turning back into the hall. White flag. 

Then, his voice pitched so low it grazed the floor. "Fine."

***

The letter must have softened him. Repeatedly punched him until he was a tender, pliant piece of meat. He hadn't even twitched when she snatched two guns too massive for her off the basement wall or smuggled a box of wine into the car.

His hands scraped over the steering wheel when he slid into the front seat. He stared blankly at the dash and then the manicured driveway. The grass was just beginning to creep away from the lawn, encroaching onto the asphalt. 

She wasn't sure how to deal with this. He usually seemed to take death in stride. His grief was like a chalky, oversized pill, but he swallowed it nonetheless. He'd made it clear that he didn't even like Bill yet...

"I'm sorry," she offered.

"Take your feet off the dash," he ordered stiffly.

She scowled but did as she was told, figuring she didn't need to push Joel Miller’s buttons again today. She settled into her seat, hands prim in her lap as she waited for him to begin driving.

He didn't. 

He continued to sit silently, seemingly unable to turn the car on. The hand around the steering wheel tightened, his scabbed knuckles flexing and paling beneath the windshield. His nostrils flared, and she suddenly knew:

He was going to crack. He was going to burst down the middle, and he needed her. 

Abruptly, she crawled over the console, gripping him by the lapels of his button-up to balance her weight. The fresh clothes looked good on him-the plaid green shirt fit his broad frame like a glove. She nearly toppled into the door before he grasped her wrist roughly. “What are you-"

"Shh," she murmured, straddling his lap. He stared at her. 

Joel wore his grief in the creases of his face. His pain. His anger. He was beautiful to her. Sexy in a way that couldn't be understood. Older, too. Older than any man she'd ever had before, but it wasn't like she'd had that many men, to begin with. 

"I'm here," she whispered, her thighs squeezing around his own. His mouth parted, exhaling. 

She wondered what undercurrents ran beneath his skin-his armor. What did he think about? How did he see her? 

She lifted herself onto her knees, and Joel's hands automatically seized her hips. Unbuttoning his jeans, she tugged the zipper down, and his eyes found hers. Good. Coyly, she licked her palm before gripping his half-hard cock. She stroked him slow, glancing down to watch the blush-red head disappear in the circle of her fist. He shuddered, hips lifting a few inches off the leather seat. 

She intended to be fast about this. Pleasurable consolation was a language she knew Joel understood. 

“I’m going to fuck you,” she said and he shivered under her touch. He remained silent as the grave though his eyes never left hers. Perhaps, he was struck dumb by her forwardness.

She clutched his shoulder as she braced herself before sinking down and guiding him into the heat of her cunt. She'd worn the sun dress for a reason. 

Joel made a gritty, strangled noise as she took him to the hilt, lowering herself until his thighs were flush with her ass. The band of his jeans grazed her skin, the metal of the zipper catching flesh. His nostrils flared as she tightened, walls spasming because he was always a little too big. 

Wordlessly, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, forcing his face against her chest. He sighed deeply as she rocked forward, his fingers biting into her waist. It could hardly be called a fuck, just her grinding down and him pushing his cock upward until he couldn't claim another centimeter. 

She cradled the back of his skull, rooting her nose around his damp hair that smelled like clover and a scent she recalled from before - something generic and artificial like Irish Spring. 

Finding leverage was proving difficult, but she did her best. She rose up, keeping him halfway inside her before sliding down. Repeat. In her defense, she’d never fucked anyone in a car before.

One of her hands snuck out the open window to grasp the top of the car. It was dusty, and she had this ridiculous worry that maybe someone would crawl into the garage and bite her hand. She ripped it back to cup the side of Joel's face instead. His mouth twitched, his lids heavy like he was drunk and dazed. He didn't even care she had smeared old car dust into his beard. He'd have to shower again. She would, too, and she wanted to laugh at the strange coincidence of paving new roads in their relationship through hot showers. After all, he'd wrenched her away from a panic attack in that house outside Boston. He'd held her in the shower, mouth brushing her ear.

"You did a hell of a job."

"You did so fuckin' well, sweetheart."

She swelled from the memory of Joel's praise. She wanted to pay him back.

"I've got you," she murmured against his temple, nails tracing a line across his scalp through his thick damp grays. "I've got you, Joel."

He nodded-or she thought he did. His gestures were always so vague. Sometimes he'd hold her down and fuck her brains out while telling her how much he wanted to kill her for being stupid and acting recklessly. It would then always end with him possessively clutching her body to his.

You send mixed signals, Joel. 

What?

You said you wanted to kill me, and now you won't let me go.

I never said that. 

She felt him twitch inside her, his mouth dragging across her clavicle before he abruptly shoved the top of her dress down and latched to her nipple. He sucked it, tongue darting over the nub and causing her pussy to clench around his length.

"Sweetheart," he mumbled. 

"I know," she said. 

Their grief sat between them - a weight strung about their ankles, dragging them down to the deepest parts of whatever was left. She knew blips of his pain as he knew hers. He comforted her in the ways he understood, not necessarily with words but with actions. She could do that for him now, remind him that he had her.

She rolled her hips, and he groaned, his breath puffing against her sternum. She snagged him tighter and dug her grip into his skin like she was holding fast to a rock in a riptide. The car was so small, the steering wheel bumping against her lower back, and you could hear everything.

The rustle of fabric. The squelch of her sex and slap of skin. 

Finally, Joel planted his feet and began to drive up into her. Short, fast strokes that hit just right. It almost hurt. It gave her a belly ache, but everything else fell away. The car filled with his low, subdued grunts and her whimpers. 

He secured his arms around her waist, one hand sneaking to the base of her scalp to embed his thumb into the muscle beneath her ear. They were tangled in such a way that it would have looked like anything - they could be devouring each other, feasting on the other's throats as they fucked fast and sad.

Somewhere along the way, Joel tilted his head and demanded her mouth.

He kissed her fiercely, tongue hot and aggressive as it wrestled with hers. Exploring. "Baby," he sighed against her slippery teeth. "Fuck."

Joel, her man of few words, but just the right ones. She still didn't call him anything but his name. Nothing else fit him.

"Shit," she gasped as he delivered a harsh thrust. Stay with me. Stay focused.

Her climax paraded around her belly, kicking up dirt and shouting out toward a faceless crowd. It was turning in circles, unable to find the finish line. He was screwing her tectonic plate deep, but the friction wasn't enough for her to get off. It didn't matter. This was about him. Not her. 

He gripped her hip and shoved her down before spearing up, grinding in slow, determined circles. He left her mouth to find her throat, sucking methodically at her pulse. 

It didn't take too long after that. He grumbled something into her jaw (maybe, Dolly) before his hips stuttered beneath her. She felt him fill her, warmth blooming outward. She'd have to deal with that, but for now, she worshiped him. He lifted his face, flushed from exertion - golden, bright, and devastating as his dark eyes searched hers.

“You’re good,” she praised, pressing her lips to his chin.

When she crawled off his lap, she was sticky between her legs. He huffed, tugging at the edge of her dress as if trying to hide her modesty. 

No one's around here, Joel.

No one. It's you, and it's me. It's us. 

She was sore as fuck, like she'd been smacked in the crotch. Her orgasm was lost somewhere, hanging by a few threads, but she didn't want it. Instead, she craved the longing-the lingering frustration of her missed pleasure. She brushed her hair out of her face and smoothed her dress.

"That was-"

She was hauled back over to him. Their brows bumped, noses jamming together before Joel kissed her hard. When he finally pulled away, he asked, "You feel safe with me?"

"What kind of question-

"You feel safe with me?" he urged, hands seizing her cheeks. She wondered if it had something to do with what had happened at that house a month ago. The teacup house. Or was this because of what had been written in that letter beyond Bill and Frank's goodbyes?

She felt that if she probed, he would splinter. It wasn't her business. She told him the truth. 

Smiling, she placed her hand over his. "Yes," she assured him. "I always feel safe with you."

Joel took a breath, nodding once, before pulling away. He stabbed the keys into the ignition, twisting them north, and the car rumbled to life.

When they left the garage, she watched the walls creep over him again.