#honestly the crown is the first time it's been a little slow

[thewolfisawake]

So this ended a rough timeline of meeting generals and major plays to take the throne by Balmoral:

Childhood: Balmoral, then called Snowdrop, had been brought to the brothel that Solanine, then called Belladonna, had been for a while. Because of nature of the brothel, older courtesans are like 'big sisters' to the younger. She and Balmoral were not close but they were on friendly terms.

Childhood: After escape and semi-established in the Citadel, Balmoral had traveled via caravans to explore the Unseelie and would've come across Norval in his service to his merchant master. This would be passing meetings considering the transience of caravans

Early Adolescence: Balmoral had managed to pester to some witches to take him on for learning magic. It was during this stint that he first encountered Somairle. Balmoral is a bit older than Somairle, who was brought to get his powers under control.

Early Militia / Early Adolescence: Balmoral joins the militia--formally addressing himself as Balmoral--and begins currying favor to get unusual or higher assignments, no matter how mundane or terrible. He is put on duty to investigate the wake of a massacre. There he encounters the perpetrator and only survivor: Mhoirbheinn.

Early Militia / Mid Adolescence: Balmoral serves as a guard to watch Mhoirbheinn until his execution date. They build a rapport but part when it is expected Mhoirbheinn to be executed soon. Due to a change in regime, Mhoirbheinn is quietly released. He seeks out Balmoral and they begin their friendship. Later becoming lovers. This marks Mhoirbheinn as the first formally recruited of who would be Balmoral's generals.

Early / Mid Militia (Mid Adolescence): Balmoral and Mhoirbheinn infiltrate a trafficking ring that had been stealing fae from their ranks. This was their first major encounter with anyone from Balmoral's list of those was to execute. This is also where they came into possession into a lot of capital that they stole from auctioneer and buyers that they killed in the process.

Early / Mid Militia (Mid/Late Adolescence): Balmoral first ingratiates himself to the gentry of the Unseelie. Furthering Somairle's interest and first gaining Risteard's attention.

Early / Mid Militia (Late Adolescence): Solanine had heard about rising prominence and by chance got to physically see Balmoral to recognize him. In exchange for her silence of his history and a 'favor' from her, Balmoral aids Solanine in her quest to regain her family's debt collections business. This culminates in her murder of her sister to gain control, which she had Balmoral sworn to secrecy. His aid and trading in his favor brings Solanine into his fold.

Early / Mid Militia (Late Adolescence / Young Adult): Balmoral ends his charade with his commander. He challenges him to a duel with the commander's rank on the line. Expecting Balmoral to only be capable of bedding for power, this commander agrees. Balmoral gains ranks since his commander is honor bound.

Mid Militia (Late Adolescence / Young Adult): Balmoral takes a decent amount of the capital that he and Mhoirbheinn hid to invest in what would eventually be Corpsevain Run. This led to an encounter with Norval, who was surprised by Bal's heavy upfront investment. He senses Balmoral knows something he is not seeing and thus invests as well.

Mid Militia (Young Adult): Balmoral searches for a lost soldier in his unit. He discovers them dead and meets their killer, Siubhan. Caring more of his number than whom fills it, wagers with her to take the place of the soldier she killed if he wins a duel against her. Siubhan initially seems to renege on the deal, cursing Bal's hand in the process. Bound to her word, she returns to serve and undoes the curse.

Mid Militia (Young Adult): Balmoral engages the nobility as he needs to get their and the king's rapport if he hopes to further himself. This leads to his initial clashes with Risteard. He also uses his connection with Somairle to get an understanding of the gentry, including and unbeknownst to Risteard.

Mid Militia (Young Adult): Balmoral orchestrates the downfall of a another of those on his list by stoking their idea to have their settlement to secede. This sparks the Unification campaign.

Mid Militia (Young Adult): The Battle at Demilune Spring occurs, breaking Siubhan's trust in Balmoral. By his persuasion and promise of his possible death if he failed, Siubhan goes on to lead a successful counterattack.

Mid Militia (Young Adult): The execution of another perpetrator of Faolan's demise and major traitor to the crown completes the Unification Campaign. This feat gains Balmoral status as general.

Mid Militia / Early Rebellion (Adult): Balmoral uses the Unification Campaign and the shift of rule to start his plans for actual gain of the crown. The gentry, shifting the idle Unseelie, and the strain of supporting his supporters are all factors he considers now.

Mid Militia / Early Rebellion: Balmoral runs into a block with Siubhan on the militia front and Risteard on the gentry front and realizes he has to figure out how to either gain their trust or eliminate them altogether. Siubhan doesn't care about Balmoral's overall goals but would not support him if he cannot support the weight of their forces without the crown's aid.

Early Rebellion: Balmoral seeks out either Dagda's Cauldron or the Hamper of Gwyddno Garanhir. This leads to the encounter with Merlin and Morgan le Fay. He agrees to take on their daughter, Morgan, in exchange for the hamper. As fellow clairvoyants, they were aware Balmoral had potential for something great which is why they sent Morgan with him. Morgan comes to his fold rather easily from this.

Late Militia / Early-Mid Rebellion: Balmoral finds out from Somairle of a betrayal that is going to befall Risteard. He warns Ristead of this with proof. Risteard cedes defeat, bringing him to become a general. Risteard covers the gentry to keep their focus away from the militia and help certain rulings go by.

Late Militia / Mid Rebellion: Balmoral secured land for a base because of 'rezoning' Risteard did that had land technically owned but not cared for nor desirable was taken off mapping. The hamper was used to create food and an accompanying horn dealt with drink. Capital from the expanding and lucrative Corpsevain provides funding for about anything else. After a fight and a very long talk, Siubhan is on board with his plan bringing her in.

Late Militia / Mid Rebellion: Balmoral severs a good portion of the militia from the Unseelie. He makes the declaration that he will either take the crown or they will have his head. This begins the Rising Dusk Campaign.

Mid Rebellion: Balmoral needs to stir the general Unseelie populace from being bystanders in the conflict. For this he looks towards the 'Echo of the Unsung,' a writer whose topics and way with words resonates with them. Investigation carried out by Mhoirbheinn and Solanine brings the conclusion of Norval being this writer. Under threat and able to tell a juicy story when he sees one, Norval agrees to help Balmoral's campaign gain traction.

Late Rebellion: Settlements splinter into whom they are in favor of. Balmoral opts to support any settlements that are in his favor as well as help settlements in conflict over which. Only when he has, essentially, unified the settlements again does he decide to deal with the Citadel, the last stronghold of the ruler.

Late Rebellion: Most if not all gentry threw their hand with the ruler. Both Somairle and Risteard cut their ties with their family to evacuate the castle before the conclusion of the the Rising Dusk Campaign.

Late Rebellion: The Invasion of Dun Foghar occurs, where the royal palace is infiltrated through the bottom that is only guarded by the Abyss. All against the usurpation was eliminated in this battle. Balmoral went and killed the ruler, the final person on his hit list. However he may have let others escape in pursuit of this target. With the death of the previous ruler and all opposition dealt with, the Rising Dusk Campaign concludes.

[shawtuzi]

request: ‘Can you please write a Toji x (blk)fem reader smut but she like one of those earthy girls with all the waist chains/beads and he like obsessed with her style and all the jewelry she wears. boho/earthy girls don’t get enough love.’

i hear you anon and i see you so here you go <333

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི₊ ⊹ cw include: drug usage (weed), oral m receiving, unprotected sex, riding, slight pussyjob, toji likes her sm so a lot of praise, PUSSYDRUNK TOJI!!!, sex outdoors (no one can see them hehe), creampie, an ‘i like you’ confession bc i’ve been watching a lot of rom coms lately///not proofread sorry :(

‘it’s a lot of lust not a lot of love’

you hummed along to the song as you made out with toji, your tongue swirling against his. your bracelets jangled against your wrist as you tugged on his soft locs, a low groan rumbling in his chest as you did so. “slow down toji, s’no rush,” you mumbled against his lips, teeth biting down the tiniest bit on his bottom lip.

toji tried to distract himself by toying with your waist beads, but it just wasn’t working. between the two blunts you both shared, along with a couple sips of wine—courtesy of you, there was just no way you expected him to be in his right mind enough for him to go slow. “i don’t want to go slow though,” he groaned, grabbing a handful of your ass over your skirt.

you kissed your teeth, now pulling away from the pouting man. you pushed him down against the blanket you had crocheted yourself, your hands now resting on his pecs. “you’re so impatient you know that? need my pussy that bad hm?” you giggled cocking your head to the side. toji gulped, his eyes finding it hard to stay locked on yours. eye contact with you was always so intense.

“yes….yes i am impatient and yes i need your pussy that bad.”

you smiled at his words, now leaning down to give him a slow kiss. you kissed your way down his jaw, to his neck, and finally down his chest. “damn….you got this worked up over a little kissing?” you teased, cupping toji over his jeans, earning a deep groan from him. toji didn’t respond, instead he just gave you the finger, too fucked out already to even come up with a proper comeback.

toji hissed when he felt you finally undo the button to his jeans, his leaking dick now free from its confinements. “go slow m’feelin’ a little sensitive,” toji grumbled and all you did was laugh, taking his throbbing dick in your hands. you gave the tip a soft squeeze, licking your lips. “now you wanna go slow? that’s funny,” you snickered, bringing his dick to your mouth, suckling the tip softly.

you ran your tip along the underside of his dick, fighting the urge to laugh again when you felt toji buck his hips up. toji wanted so badly to just push your head down, but you had just gotten your hair done a few days prior and he’d hate to cause you any discomfort. it was your first time getting passion twists and he was absolutely enamored with the way you looked with them.

“deeper—please go deeper y/n,” toji finally lifted his head up, now making eye contact with you but he reallyyyyy wishes he hadn’t. the way you were looking at him with those low, red eyes; eyelashes fluttering shut each time you took more of him in your mouth had him wanting to bust right then and there. toji felt his face flush, cheeks burning hot at the way you looked at him like he was the most precious thing to ever grace this earth—which in his opinion he wasn’t, far from it honestly.

toji’s eyes rolled back when he felt his dick hit the back of your right throat. “mmph fuck yeah—that’s that shit,” he groaned, bringing his hand to rest on the crown of your head. he didn’t grip it or apply any pressure, he just sat there and let you do what do best—suck the soul outta him.

the wind began to pick up, giving toji’s flaming cheeks a nice breeze to cool off. you made him so…so…beside himself. i mean for god sakes you had him fucking in the middle of a field of flowers, blazed out of his mind—it’s safe to say the grip you had on him was the most annoying shit ever.

“keep sucking me like that baby, f-fuck, take it deeper. be a good girl and take it deeper f’me,” you listened without protest, taking the last few inches of him in your mouth. toji was beyond fucked out, praises flying past his lips left n right and it only egged you on to turn him into even bigger pile of mush than he already was.

you pulled off of his dick with lewd pop! now paying attention to his swollen balls. toji’s body jerked, his heavy hand gripping onto your shoulder. “w—hah! w-wait y/n,” toji hissed, his jaw clenching impossibly tight. you lifted your head up, puffing air through your cheeks.

“i’m sorry i—”

“just shush toji.”

you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand before crawling up toji’s body, your lower half hovering over his twitching dick. you pushed toji down gently by his shoulders, humming to yourself at just how damn good he looked beneath you.

“you’re fuckin’ unreal,” toji sounded damn near breathless as he said it, his chest puffing up with each deep breath. his hand reached up to tug down your olive green, cropped tube top; his rough hands immediately latching onto your breasts.

“you really mean that or you jus’ fucked up?” you knew he meant it with all his heart, you just wanted to hear him say it. you blindly reached for the end of your skirt, tugging the soft material up your thighs. just as you pressed your panty clad pussy against toji’s dick he whispered the three words ‘i mean it’ in your ear, his teeth nibbling at your lobe.

the words ‘i like you’ were sitting so heavy on his tongue but he just couldn’t find the courage to tell you how he felt.

toji—a grown ass thirty four year old man who’s literally served time in the slammer was scared to tell you, a twenty something year old woman who was the literal embodiment of a fawn how he felt about you. what a joke.

“what are you thinking about?” you spoke softly, running your thumb over the stubble on toji’s jaw. toji shook his head, bringing his rough hands to your petal soft love handles.

“s’nothin.”

“liar.”

“i said it’s nothing.”

your breath hitched, mouth dropping open slightly at the feeling of toji’s dick pressed against your bare pussy. he felt so hot and soft against you and toji could certainly say the same thing about you. with one harsh tug toji ripped your thong off, tossing the semi soaked material to the side. you rlly should’ve known better with that one—toji hates whenever things are in his way.

“you’re such a liar toji,” your laugh was breathless as you began to slowly grind your pussy against toji’s dick. he sucked his bottom lip between his teeth, his brows furrowing in annoyance but mostly pleasure. he was already so close it was so fucking embarrassing. pre dripped from his throbbing tip and onto his clenching abs, creating an even bigger mess between the two of you.

toji bucked his up, puffing air through his cheeks to silently tell you he was more than ready for you. you gave him a small smile, your tooth gems glistening in the afternoon sun. “can i confess something toji?” you asked, lifting yourself up to balance your weight on your feet. you grabbed toji’s dick, swiping his tip between your folds before slowly inserting it.

you both gasped in unison, toji’s eyes fluttering shut at the warmth that enveloped his cock. “w-what do you need to confess you fu—hucking brat,” he growled, his fingernails digging in the soft flesh of your thighs. in one swift movement you sat all the down, toji’s balls now pressed snugly against your backside.

“i really, really like hanging out with you toji,” your voice was a little high pitched, rightfully so because you practically feel the trembling man below you in your stomach. you pressed your hands against toji’s chest, bouncing on his dick like your life depended on it.

you brushed a stray hair out of toji’s face, cradling his jaw in your palm that still smelled of the shea butter you applied before your outing. “you like hanging out with me too toji? you like me?” your tone was coming off a tad desperate but you could’ve cared less. toji’s adam’s apple bobbed, a pathetic whine bubbling in his throat.

“yes.”

“yes what?”

toji wrapped his arms around your waist, his feet planting into the ground before fucking up into you. “yes i fucking l-like you y/n, could you not—shit! fucking tell? jesus christ your pussy is so good,” toji couldn’t help the drool that slipped past his lips, it was impossible to keep his mouth shut at this point. your hands found themselves in toji’s hair, tugging roughly at the soft strands.

“i knew you did i just wanted to hear you say it. i like you too toji.”

i like you too toji.

toji halted his movements, his dick now in you to the hilt. you suddenly felt a warm sensation in your lower half and knew immediately that toji was in the process of cumming. you circled your hips as best as you could, milking him for all he was worth.

“hah f-fucking shit i can’t stop fucking cumminggg,” he groaned, burying his face in your sweet smelling neck; the scent of vanilla and caramel had him feeling more dizzy than he already was.

after giving toji a few minutes to catch his breath you sat up, his dick still sheathed inside of you. “look how messy,” you spread your lips, giving toji a mouthwatering view of your overly stuffed pussy. toji licked his lips, reaching over to down the rest of the wine that was in your abandoned glass.

“lemme clean you up.”

[plasticferal]

okay so i have a little matt sturniolo request 😚

Basically the reader and matt are best friends and they’re both chilling in matts bed and the reader mentions that she has bad period cramps so matt offers to help her out (makes her 0rg@sm). i’m not sure if that’s too crazy or anything but thank you in advance if you happen to write it :)

kiss it better | matt sturniolo.

authors note: this might not be everyone's thing, it's only a little freaky, but that's what we're here for, right? consider this an apology for disappearing.

warnings: fem!reader, period, slight mention of blood, masturbation, explicit language.

matt has been fast asleep beside you since the sun went down. well, you assumed asleep. he's woken up without your knowledge at least five times due to you tossing and turning.

the sun is starting to peak through his closes blinds, and you're tangled in the sheets trying to get comfortable. you're on your final tether, about to fling up from the mattress when suddenly matt's arm drapes over your stomach, pinning you down.

"please, don't get up" he grumbles, hair covering his eyes, face nuzzled into his own pillow.

"matt," you wince, pulling his arm from where it's putting pressure on, only making it hurt more.

that action alone quickly makes him sit up, still half asleep, rubbing his eyes with concern. first that you didn't call him matty, and second that you sound anguished.

"cramps" is all you let out before curling your body into itself.

"is that why you've kept me up?"

“i’m sorry” you whine, sounding like you’re about to cry, but the tone is coming from your discomfort.

“i was teasing, y/n. i’m sorry” matt sits up as you lay next to him, and gently starts caressing the crown of your head.

he usually plays with your hair whenever he’s in distress, so it being a way of comforting you is a change. matt isn’t touchy feely with anyone beside you.

"want me to kiss it better?" he adds, making you chuckle as you melt into your best friends touch.

“that might help, honestly. nothing else is working” you joke back.

matt, however, was not kidding.

“okay” he replies.

he’s watched you take ibuprofen every two hours, use a heat pack, support yourself with a pillow, contort yourself into unbelievable positions trying to get situated in a spot that makes you ache less. so, if this is the last resort, he’s not taking it lightly.

“what?” you look up at him through your eyelashes, playing with the loose threads of his burgundy silk sheets.

“i will” he reassures.

he shuffles his body further down the bed, sliding past yours. his palm rests on the curve of your knee, over the sheets, and pushes it down, forcing you to lay flat.

“if that’s okay with you” he glides down further, stomach pressed to the mattress as his face nears your stomach.

“i hate seeing you in pain” he adds on.

your lack of rebuttal isn’t enough of a green light, so he looks up at you from your hip, gently grazing the tips of his fingers on the hem of your shirt.

it could be the hormones, but any touch at all from matt feels unorthodox in this moment. you’re clenching through your sweatpants, chills covering your body.

a wave of insecurity rushes over you. it’s not like he hasn’t seen you before, but he hasn’t truly seen you. every emotion and feeling is heightened as you nod, and he lifts up your shirt exposing your naval.

“right here?” he grins, and your chest is rising and falling with worn, deep breaths.

“right there” you watch him intently.

“m’kay” he lowers his mouth onto your exposed skin.

his lips are warm as he presses a slow, short kiss just below your bellybutton. you’re almost positive he can feel the goosebumps rising. he trails another kiss along your lower stomach, narrowly edging your pelvic lines.

unintentionally, your breath hitches, making a small gasp part your lips.

“y’like that, huh?” matt perks up, and your cheeks flush with embarrassment.

“get back up here, oh my god” you erupt into laughter, trying to conceal any hint of shame.

“alright alright” he mumbles almost disgruntled, pushing himself up like he’s doing a push up then dropping back to your side.

“did that help, pumpkin? does your tummy feel better?” he teases, scooting closer to you and taking your head on his lap, so you can use his lower half like a body pillow to curl into.

you slap his leg, telling him to stop being such a smartass.

“it does not, but thank you for trying” you tiredly exhale a yawn, and he starts rubbing the back your neck comfortingly.

“so, what will actually help?” you can envision the sincere concentration on his face when he asks, all the curiosities running through his mind about what’s going on in your body.

matthew doesn’t believe that curiosity killed the cat, he's adamant ignorance did. meaning, he’s on a need-to-know basis for everything about you. anyone else, he couldn’t care less.

“well actually, what you were doing, but, ah” you ramble.

“but?” he pushes.

“but… lower?” you grimace at your choice of words, feeling matt almost stop breathing under you.

“oh” he speak in a “ah-huh” tone.

“maybe not exactly that, but along those lines” you continue.

“d-did you want me to, keep goin-”

“matthew!” you almost screech, sitting up abruptly with shock painted on your face.

“what? you suggested it!” he throws his arms in defence.

“you asked me a question!” you throw back.

“yeah okay and, y’know, you implied…”

“oh no” you shove your hands in your face, then into the pillow, hoping to suffocate in the process.

you could vanish at the thought of looking him in the eye again.

“hey now, don’t be silly” matt grabs your wrists in his strong, much stronger, grasp, restricting you from hiding again.

“i was just trying to educate you” you frown, and he scoffs.

“i’m more of a hands-on learner” he flashes a cocky grin and narrowed eyes, playing into your humiliation.

your jaw slacks open, dumbfounded by his blasé demeanour.

“you wouldn’t know what to do if it was served to you on a silver platter” you wrestle in his grip, and it’s officially war.

“take that back” his eyes are laser focused on yours now, and you’re trying not to crack a smile.

“no” you refuse.

matt grabs your wrists, using his legs to flip you over. he straddles your thighs, pinning you down.

“let me show you then” he sounds slightly out of breath, licking his bottom lip as he looks down at you.

“even if i wanted to entertain that idea, i’m still on my period, in case you forgot”

“what’s the point of having a sword if you can’t get a little blood on it?”

“matthew bernard, that was foul” you kick his stomach lightly, just enough to tackle him out of keeping you held down.

you grab a pillow and start to pelt him with it, and he’s erupting into laughter.

“okay, okay! enough, i’m sorry” he takes control of the pillow and tosses it across the room, knocking into a framed photo on the wall, but he doesn’t care. he’s fixated on you.

“there’s gotta be something we can do to settle this” he adds on as you admit defeat.

"what are you willing to do?" you scrunch your face.

"whatever you want"

your mind has been made up. you sit cross legged next to him, huffing stray hairs from your eyes, probably looking a mess.

“there is one way i can think of” you ponder, trying to see if he’s being serious or just shit-stirring. if he wants to play with your feelings, now is not the time.

“if it’s gonna help you, i will” matt leans against his headboard, putting the ball in your court.

you crawl, slowly, once again next to matt. you mirror his positioning, perched up against the headboard, shoulder to shoulder with him. your breathing slows, and matt raises an eyebrows. he's waiting for you.

“if you mean it, give me your hand” you put your own out, and wait for him to take it.

almost too quickly, he does. you envelop his warm, thick fingers in yours and guide his hand between your legs, over your sweatpants. you can hear matt's breath more prominent in your ear, as his jaw slacks open, and eyes follow your guidance.

he presses his palm into your crotch, and curls his fingers as though to penetrate but is restricted by the fabric. you're trying to be tame, but you feel yourself building up with pressure with every passing second.

"this is gonna work?" matt's voice is soft, curious.

"rub" you exhale sharply, and matt's chin is now resting on your shoulder to get a better position.

he obeys within a second, and focuses on moving the fabric in circles as you jive your hips to sync up with him. you know with the friction alone, and concentrating hard enough, you could probably build up an orgasm.

matt's breath shudders as his index and middle finger manoeuvre around your clothed cunt, trying to wiggle your panties underneath to feel between your slit.

he can tell by the way your eyes flutter shut, that you're relying solely on your own focus to make his touch worth it.

matt stops, making your eyes flash open, but his hand doesn't move very far. he begins to slide underneath your sweatpants, and you're inches away from aborting mission.

"let me, y/n” he persists, using his free hand to wrap around your waist and keep you in place.

“matty, we're gonna make a mess” you worry, but there's not a care in the world from the boy beside you.

“shut up" he breathes out, inching closer to your heat.

he slides under your panties, and your eyes shut again, trying to completely detach. even though you're not bleeding heavy enough, yet, you know how unpredictable it can be.

your muscles tense the second he makes contact between your folds, rubbing gently. you're soaked, clit throbbing, and clenching your walls with a pulsating rhythm.

matt digs his fingers into your hip more, and you're wondering if he's truly getting any enjoyment out of pleasuring you.

the tips of fingers between your legs hover over your entry, and you're clawing into the sheets.

"can i?" matt's lip brushes the curve of your ear, and you nod. matt pushes his index finger inside of you, using his thumb to circle your sensitive clit.

the moment he thrusts in and out of you, his lips attach at your neck making you jolt in shock. you tilt your head to the side to give him more access as he nips and sucks on your neck.

"keep going?" he asks.

you whimper a yes, and feel him smirk.

fucking his fingers in and out of you at an increasingly rapid pace has you arching your back, forcing matt to go along with your movements, trying to keep up.

"m-matt" you toss your hips, feeling your vulnerability increase, about to shatter.

"fuck" his voice drops an octave, concentration at all time high as he focuses completely on your clit again. he rubs fast, consistent motions over and over and over until the build up becomes undeniable.

"i-i'm gonna" you shake, as matt rubs faster, feeling a burning through your core until finally you release.

"sh-shit" you're a mess, mentally and physically.

you've already forgotten the touch is coming from your best friend, who after this, you're unsure he'll fall under that title. if he even wants to stick around after feeling around your insides and watching you moan his name.

you settle after your high falls while matt gently, slowly, pulls his hand from your pants. you slump against his bed again, regaining your concept of reality while matt grabs tissues from his bedside table and cleans off his fingers.

"so?" he asks, a smugness exuding from one single word.

"i feel better" you sound disoriented, but are overly aware that at any moment he could change his feelings.

"i'm sure you do" he kisses your temple, and you're filled with nerves once again.

"how are you so... calm?" you ask, resting your head onto his shoulder, confining in him still being your safe person, even if the topic of concern is himself.

"i told you i wanted to, y/n" he replies, stern.

"we're just not gonna tell anyone about this" your mouth moves fast.

"no, we're not. but i wouldn't mind doing it again" he shrugs, and you're back to being content, snorting inwardly.

that's when you know, there's no part of him that's strayed from being your best friend. he's all about you. even in this critical, brain chemistry altering event.

maybe except for the fact you can definitely see his dick outlining his grey sweats more prominently than before. but that's a topic for another day.

"you're a freak" you laugh softly.

"for you? yeah"

tag list:

@floofparker

@bellaloves-drpepper @recklessmatt @whore4mattsturniolo @mattslolita @mstarniolo @graciesmatt @inveigledvex @emeraldgreenbeautiesstu @sturnibugz @tillies33ssss @fake-sturniolos @sturniololuv08 @courta13 @sxphiee3

[eventualforever]

haven (domestic! hamzah x reader, nsfw) ☁️

summary: y/n and hamzah spend a calm morning, hidden in the sanctuary of their home. y/n braids her hair and it drives hamzah crazy.

mentions: fluff, explicit content

Sunday mornings with Hamzah were your favorite. The two of you cocooned in your bedroom, basking in the kind of peace that came with being free from obligations. Neither of you had any plans to leave and honestly, there wasn’t a reason to. He had no videos to edit, no podcasts to record, and you had no tests to grade or lessons plans to finalize. The rare simplicity of it all made you grateful for your decision to be a first-grade teacher, a job that didn’t usually keep your hands full.

The morning was lazy and full of kisses, slow and warm like the sunlight streaming through the curtains. Occasionally Red and Blue would lay in between you and Hamzah, trying their very best to earn some morning belly rubs. You mentally took a picture of your view— Hamzah and your two cats cuddled in between his biceps— before peeling away to get ready for the day. Hamzah groaned in protest, making you laugh as you slid off the bed and walked toward your vanity. 

You perched on the little stool, gathering your hair into sections to braid it. But staying focused wasn't easy. From the corner of the mirror, you could see Hamzah sprawled out on your bed, shirtless, his tan skin glowing from the rising sun. He was watching some game on TV, beer in hand, occasionally cheering or grumbling at a play. You caught yourself staring, a smile creeping onto your lips. He looked so boyish, so him, and maybe it was the fact that you were ovulating but you'd never wanted to jump his bones more than now.

"Hamzah, can you pass me my hair tie?" you called out, fingers working through one side of your hair. You knew he wasn't the best at finding things. You recalled last week when he called you because he thought he lost his phone. Still, you held out hope.

"Yeah, sure, babe," he replied, setting his beer down on the coffee table as his eyes darted back to the screen for one last glance at the game. 

It took longer than you expected. You'd braided most of your hair by the time you heard him walking back into the room. Glancing down at the delicately patterned, Brandy Melville boxer shorts you'd been lounging in, you thought about what you might wear for the day—though, with Hamzah looking the way he did, staying in seemed like the best option.

"Found it!" he announced, holding up the hair tie like a trophy. His grin was as silly as ever. "Sorry, kinda forgot what hair ties were for a sec." 

You laugh, thinking this is exactly why you fell in love with him. "Thanks, even if it did take you forever," you teased, your eyes meeting his in the mirror. 

He stood behind you now, his hands naturally finding their way to your shoulders. His thumbs began to knead the curve of your neck, and you felt yourself melting under his touch. His reflection in the mirror was all confidence and warmth. Sometimes his eyes were a pool you couldn't help but drown in.

"So... whose braids are these for? Who you tryna impress, missy?" He holds your head as he plants a kiss on the very top of it, gentle and sweet.

"Nobody," you replied with a shrug, trying to keep your blushing smile to a minimum, "Maybe you. Maybe not." 

The crimson of your cheeks only made him want to kiss you more. "Mm... is that so?," he murmured, his lips brushing against the crown of your head again. 

You finished tying off the braid, inspecting the finished product in the mirror. The braids were messy, loose in places, but you liked them that way. Hamzah seemed to, too. His gaze lingered on you, his pupils dark and wide. 

"You're so beautiful," he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. His words sent a warmth spreading through your core, and before you could respond, he tugged you to your feet, his lips meeting yours. 

The kiss was sweet and unhurried, his hum of contentment vibrating against your lips. Tasting a tinge of cherry flavor, he pulled back just enough to murmur, "Fuckin' love that chapstick you use, angel." 

You smiled, leaning into him, your arms wrapping around his shoulders. "Yeah?" 

"Mm-hmm," he muttered, his hands cradling your face now. You couldn't help but notice how much bigger his hands were. You rubbed your thighs together at the thought of them pumping deep inside you. "Taste so sweet," he added, his voice low and full of lust. 

His thumbs brushed your cheekbones, his gaze holding yours with a quiet intensity. Slowly, his lips found yours again, deeper this time, with more hunger. His hands drifted, fingers tracing a line down your shoulders, brushing the thin fabric of your button up shirt. The fabric slipped down effortlessly, pooling at your waist, revealing nothing underneath.

"Jesus Christ," he murmured, breathless, against your lips, looking down at your chest. His voice soft and teasing, "M'so lucky. All this belongs to me."

You rolled your eyes and laughed, though it came out more like a breath, as his hands moved to the hem of your shorts, sliding them down in one smooth motion. His touch was firm and gentle in all the right places.

"Hamzah," you whispered like a prayer, your voice caught between a laugh and something softer, your hands resting on his chest.

"Hmm?" he responded, his eyes lifting to meet yours again.

"Tell me what you need, baby" he asked, your cheeks heating under his gaze.

You feel yourself melt, knees wanting to buckle. "Want you to fuck me,” you pleaded. Your panties were a pool by now— soaked from just a simple kiss. But that was Hamzah. You ached for him without even knowing. He pulled you closer, one hand firm on your waist and the other squeezing the curve of your ass.

"Mm-hm," He hums against your neck, sucking and kissing every spot from your jaw to your collarbone. "M'gonna fuck you so good" he added. A whimper falls out of you, earning a quiet moan from him. He was soon lifting you onto the bed, his touch firm yet impossibly gentle, like you were something he craved of devouring.

Confused, you sit up with your elbows holding you up, "Wanna taste you first, though," For a second you forget you're completely naked, until you watch as his eyes drag down your entire body, holding his gaze at your tits.

He's standing in front of you so you have to look up as you speak. "You sure? I can-" He asks.

His hard-on is apparent in front of you,  it's stiff and the tip is about to peek out from the top of his boxers. "M'sure," You reach out one hand to palm him, slowly, but firm. "I really want it," you're teasing, and you know that he'll punish you for it later, but the thought only makes the hunger more insatiable.

You watch as he throws his head back, lips quivering with need. "Want it so bad, Hamzah," you whine, eyes stuck on his reaction.

Low whimpers escape him with every touch and squeeze. "Can I?" His reddened tip is peeking out and you watch as it begins to dampen his boxers with precum.

"Yes, yes, God, yes" his begs are hurried as he looks down at you. Your eyes lock before you push down his boxers, his cock springing out. Behind him, he holds his hands together, keeping him from losing all control and just grabbing you by the braids as he fucks your mouth.

He shakes the thought, looking down at you as you slowly spit a drool of saliva from your mouth onto his dick. Your hand wraps itself around the base of his cock, pumping up and down. Still looking up to him, you focus on the tip, squeezing until it's swelled up and  leaking.

"Baby..." he grunts, lightly pushing your head forward with one hand.

You hum with curiosity, "Yeah?" The look in your big, brown eyes makes him want to cum on the spot.

"M-mouth, please baby.." He grunts out his request, lightly grabbing a handful of your hair in his fist. You spit on your hand this time before wrapping it back on his cock. You lower your head, kissing his tip with your wet lips before swallowing him whole. Every whine and whimper from him makes you hum with pleasure and the rubbing of your thighs has you craving release. Hamzah's hands have found a permanent home behind your head, pushing you further down his cock with each thrust.

"Mm-hm.... Fuck...." He whines as his eyes roll behind his head, the sight below him being overwhelming. He loves you exactly like this: fucked out and gagging for his cock.

"S'good, angel," he praises. Your mouth is warm and full of him, his tip often hitting the back of your throat. His movements have picked up the pace, using both hands to make you swallow his cock until you gag. It hurt so good and you thought maybe this is how you'd like to spend the rest of your life: making Hamzah cum with your mouth everyday.

He breathes out, "Fuck-" A quivering grunt follows, "M'cumming-" You hum in response, rubbing your clit at the thought. Your eyes hit the back your head as he thrusts into your throat one last time. You're brought back to life when he pulls out, strings of saliva sticking to your tongue and his tip. He grunts, pumping his cock until his cum spills on your tits. You still open your mouth to try to catch some on your tongue.

He reaches down to hold your face, placing a soft kiss on the top of your head. "Fuck, I love you," he sighs out. You close your eyes, too out of breath to say anything. You hum and then lick your lips, trying to taste him.

He kisses your forehead this time, "Good girl," His lips reach for yours as he lays you down on the bed, dragging his hand down your cheek to your neck. He kneels at the edge of the bed in front of you, eyes wandering your exposed body. You hold yourself up with your elbows to lock eyes with him and suddenly you realize he's looking at your dripping cunt.

"Please..." you began, your voice barely above a whisper, earning a low grunt from him, his hands slipping down to caress your thighs. Your core was aching at this point, pulsing for touch— his touch.

"Look at you," His hands spread your legs open, holding them in place.

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest as his hands slid up the bare skin of your legs, his touch as light as a whisper. His lips followed, pressing tender kisses along the inside of your thighs, each one sending a wave of warmth coursing through you. He paused to glance up at you, his eyes soft and full of adoration. 

"So beautiful," he murmured, the words so quiet they almost disappeared into the space between you. "So good for me," he added. His hands spread your thighs wider, his thumbs gently stroking your skin, and then he leaned in, dripping a pool of his saliva onto your clit.

The first touch of his tongue was slow and deliberate, coaxing low whimpers out of you. His movements were careful as if he were savoring every taste. You gasped, your fingers instinctively tangling in his curls, and he hummed against you, the sound low and content.

"Fuck," you breathed, your voice trembling with the intensity of the moment. He glanced up at you, his lips glistening. 

"Taste so good," he said softly, his voice like a balm. His tongue moved with unhurried precision, tracing gentle circles that sent sparks of ecstasy coursing through you. He was teasing, excruciatingly gentle. His hands reached to massage your breast, focusing specifically on your nipples— hard and perked up. Unwillingly, your back arched as every part of you felt on fire.

Your breaths grew shallow, your body arching toward him as he found a rhythm that made everything else fade away.

Your body perched up when he suddenly stopped.

Hamzah pulled back suddenly, his lips glistening, his breath heavy as it ghosted over your skin. The absence of his touch was agonizing, and you squirmed under him, the ache in your core sharpening with every passing second. His hands, still gripping your thighs, tightened possessively, his fingers pressing into your skin like he needed to anchor himself. 

"W-why?," you breathed, your voice trembling, unsure if it was from desperation or frustration. 

He tilted his head up, his dark eyes locking onto yours. They were molten, a smoldering mix of desire and something deeper. His gaze burned with an intensity that made your stomach flip. 

"Can't cum yet, baby," His voice was low, rough, and dripping with authority. He leaned forward suddenly, his body pressing into yours, forcing you to feel the weight of him. His hands slid up your thighs, gripping them firmly before pulling you closer, his strength undeniable yet controlled. 

"Look at you," he growled, his eyes raking over you for the millionth time. His hands roughly roamed your entire body— your hips then your thighs and your ass.

Your eyelids feel heavy, dazed with anticipation for some sort of release. Looking up at him felt like torture— his face and toned stomach followed by his already hard cock springing close to his stomach. Using one hand, he grabbed your wrists, interlocking your fingers with his, his grip firm but not painful. The other hand cupped your jaw, tilting your face up so you couldn't look anywhere but at him. His lips hovered over yours, so close, before locking them with yours.

"Wanna feel you," he pleaded, his voice a rasp against your skin. "Can I?"

You nodded, your body trembling beneath him, your heart pounding so hard it felt like it might burst. His grip on your jaw softened just slightly, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip as his eyes softened, just for a moment, before pushing his thumb past your lips.

You instinctively suction your lips around it, swirling your tongue against his thumb, eyes wide and locked with his.

You let go of it with a pop, coaxing a hum out of him. "You're gonna kill me, baby," he murmured, his voice low, almost vulnerable before the edge crept back in. "Gonna take it good, okay?"

"Yes," you whispered, barely recognizing your own voice. 

His lips crashed into yours then, the kiss rough and claiming, his teeth grazing your lip in a way that made you gasp. He took advantage of the sound, his tongue slipping into your mouth, tangling with yours. All the while, his knee was pressing down on your cunt, reveling in the sensation.

Hamzah's free hand roamed down your body, gripping your waist before sliding up to cup your breast. His touch was firm, possessive, his thumb brushing over your hardened nipple in a way that had your back arching against him. 

"Hamzah...." you whimper, breathless, his lips leaving yours to trail down your neck, his teeth scraping against the sensitive skin there. You whimpered, your body betraying you as you arched again, desperate for more. 

His breath falters and he thinks that saying his name like that was probably going to be the death of him. His lips grazed your collarbone before he kissed it gently.

You shut your eyes, feeling like yourself throb against him. His hand released yours, but only so he could grab your hips, pulling you flush against him. 

"Fuck me, please," you choked out, your voice trembling, tears pricking at your eyes—not from pain but from the sheer intensity of him. 

He grunted, his lips capturing yours again, rough but full of a love so fierce it stole your breath. It was overwhelmingly all-consuming and sweet.

Hamzah's lips pressed against yours, stealing your breath with a kiss that was deep and consuming, a delicate balance of control and reverence. His hands slid down your body, rough and demanding, gripping your waist firmly before moving to your hips. His touch left a trail of fire in its wake, a stark contrast to the tenderness in his gaze. 

"You're so perfect for me," he murmured against your lips, his voice husky with need. His hands moved lower, squeezing your ass with deliberate roughness, making you gasp and arch into him. "Every inch of you."

He didn't wait for a response, tilting your head back to kiss down the column of your neck, his teeth grazing your skin before he sucked gently at the sensitive spot just beneath your jaw. One hand slid up to your breast, palming it firmly, his thumb brushing over your hardened nipple in a way that made your breath hitch. 

"You take everything so well," he said, his voice low and rough in your ear as his hand kneaded your breast. "So good for me." 

You whimpered, your hands tangling in his hair as his lips continued their descent, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your chest. When he took one of your nipples into his mouth, you cried out, your body arching into him as his hand moved to squeeze your other breast. 

"Hamzah—" His name came out as a broken plea, and he chuckled darkly, his teeth grazing your sensitive skin before pulling away. 

"I've got you," he promised, his hands sliding back down to grip your thighs, pulling you closer to him with a force that made you feel the raw strength in his body. "You don't have to do anything but feel me." 

He spread your legs wider, his rough palms gliding over your thighs before delivering a sharp smack to the soft flesh, just enough to make you gasp. “That’s it,” he said, his voice dripping with approval as his hands soothed the sting. “So responsive for me.”

He pressed into you with slow, deliberate movements, watching every flicker of emotion on your face. His hands roamed over your body, squeezing and kneading, his touch leaving no part of you untouched.

"Feel so fuckin’ warm," he growled, his voice low and possessive. "So beautiful. So perfect." He punctuated his words with a sharp thrust that made you cry out, his hands tightening on your hips to hold you in place.

You nodded, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, overwhelmed by the intensity as he stretched you out. You quietly cursed every time he hit that spot deep inside you. He leaned down to kiss them away, his lips brushing against your cheeks. "Doing so well, angel," he said, his voice softening for a moment. "Taking me so perfectly." 

His hands gripped your ass again, pulling you closer as he moved faster, his head rolled back. You tried to keep your eyes open, watching him as he used one hand to rub your cunt. You cried out, back arching, as you held onto his wrists for stability. already being on the edge, you felt like cumming any moment now.

"Hamzah— gonna cum-" you pleaded, trying to hold on for a little longer. He felt you tighten around him, slipping in and out of you quicker with every second.

"Cum for me, angel," He begged, groaning. You feel yourself spilling over the edge, his name tearing from your lips, your body trembling beneath him as he held you through it, his voice low and soothing. He followed short after, shooting spurts of come in you.

"Good girl," he murmured, his lips pressing against your forehead as he followed, his body shuddering as he buried his face in your neck. "So, so good for me." 

Hamzah didn't pull away immediately. His body stayed pressed close to yours, his breathing ragged but already evening out. His hand, which had gripped you so firmly moments ago, softened, his thumb brushing lazily over your hip in soothing circles. He pressed a lingering kiss to the corner of your mouth before letting his forehead rest against yours, his warm breath fanning across your skin. 

Neither of you spoke for a while. The silence wasn't awkward but comforting, filled with the quiet intimacy that only comes with knowing someone completely. His hand slid up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing over your flushed skin. 

"You okay?" he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper. 

You nodded, your lips curving into a small, tired smile. "Mhm," you murmured, your voice still breathless. "Just sleepy."

A small smirk tugged at his lips, and he kissed your forehead before reluctantly rolling off you. He reached down, grabbing the blanket that had been shoved to the side, and draped it over both of you. His arm snaked around your waist, pulling you back against his chest. 

Hamzah buried his face in your hair, inhaling deeply. "You smell like me," he murmured, his voice low and full of satisfaction. 

You chuckled softly, turning your head slightly to glance at him. Sometimes he said things that made you want to marry him. "Good," you smile. "I like smelling like you."

There was a beat of silence. "I love you.” he said simply, his hand slipping under the blanket to rest on your stomach. 

The room was quiet except for the sound of your breathing mingling with his, and you were just beginning to drift off when you felt a light pressure at the foot of the bed. 

You opened your eyes just in time to see one of Hamzah's cats—Red—jump up onto the bed. She made a beeline for you, circling a few times before curling up at your feet. 

Hamzah chuckled softly, his chest vibrating against your back. "Here comes trouble," he teased, his voice warm and affectionate. 

As if on cue, his other cat, Blue, hopped up onto the bed as well. Unlike Red, Blue didn't hesitate to make himself comfortable right on Hamzah's chest, his purring loud and insistent. 

"Seriously, Blue?" Hamzah groaned, though he didn't sound annoyed. He scratched behind the cat's ears, earning an even louder purr. "You couldn't wait, huh?" 

You laughed softly, reaching down to stroke Red's silky fur. "I think they were feeling left out." 

Hamzah sighed dramatically, though the small smile on his lips gave him away. "Guess I have no choice but to share you now," he said, his voice teasing. 

Blue, clearly content, flopped onto his side, his tail flicking against Hamzah's arm. Red stretched out, her paws pressing lightly against your legs as she settled into her spot. 

Hamzah's hand found yours under the blanket, his fingers intertwining with yours as he rested his chin on your shoulder. "Y'know...," he said softly, his tone carrying a hint of suspicious humor.

"What?," you replied, leaning back into him as Red purred softly at your feet. You tried to contain your smile— knowing that when he talked with this tone he was either about to say the most out of pocket shit or tell you something really sweet.

Hamzah kissed your shoulder, his lips lingering for a moment before he rested his head against yours. "It's barely 1 p.m...," he murmured, his voice full of quiet affection. "Wanna go again, angel?"

—————————————————————————

a/n: thank you for reading! im so sorry for the wait i kinda ended up hating everything i wrote like halfway through aaaanddd i did not proofread this bc reading my own writing makes me cringe so i apologize for any grammar mistakes lol. HOPE U LOVE IT or u might hate it idk❤️

let me know what you think or any ideas for the future! im thinking some yellowjackets smut idkidk😏

[evilminji]

Ya'll know our BELOVED? Little Baby Man?

The noodliest ghosty boy?

What if he WAS Baby? It wouldn't be the first time Danny's enemies plotting gave him offspring. Only this time it's not a clone! It's a proper GHOST baby. Like Lunch Box.

Who's the other parent I hear you ask?

Pretty human-centric view point there buddy, to assume Ghosts NEED two participants to make an offspring. OR are limited to two! Just cause Lunch Lady And Boxie are a couple doesn't mean that's the standard!

We lack data here! ASSUME NOTHING. *sciences harder in your direction*

*awkward cough*

*shuffles notes*

ANYWAY! The child! All it would really take is one(1) VERY poorly timed ambush attack. Imagine if you will, a cell. How does it multiply? While not even close, the simplistic images ARE pretty good as an explanation!

But isn't that just an ecto-clone? You say?

Close!

But THOSE? Are hollow bags of GOO!

No CORE! *slaps the chalkboard behind me*

However! If you wanted, say, a precious bundle off joy? Well, nothing can come from perfect void! You must contribute the building blocks of LIFE! And what are those, my students, in ghost biology??!

Two vital pieces! The Ectoplasm aaaaaaand? That's RIGHT!

The CORE!

A critical and ever vital part of ghost biological function.

Which, like every OTHER part of the body, is malleable. One could, say, make it smaller. Create part of a proto core. OR, should one be ALONE in this process, a FULL protocol.

Upon which, ectoplasm latches, builds, develops and grows. Becomes its own soul.

Now! Do Not mistake me! There is a WILDLY vast difference between the formation of a core and a shattered core. Between willing life and untimely second death. It is not, and never WILL be, easy to create the soul of a child. Tampering with your core is PAINFUL, dangerous, and leaves you WILDLY vulnerable.

There is a REASON Neverborn are so precious.

Buuuuut..... *pulls out a book labeled "Curses Though The Ages"* we must ALSO consider the famed Fenton Luck(tm).

Consider! Where would be the "safest" place to practice making clones of yourself? A place that's wide open. No one wearing white likely to take pot shots at you while your attention is divided in multiple places at once. No parents blowing up the basement at a delicate moment and leaving you trying to hide that extra arm for a week...

Maybe you forget... oh yeah... OTHER GHOSTS.

So there Danny floats. In the Zone. DISTRACTED. His core HUGE from all that recently Royal business as it tries to digest it. Feeling bloated. Trying to work off some energy, as it were. Then who should come along? Why, the universes BEST HUNTER of course! To say *gun powering up noise* :) HI :)

Like buddies DO.

Danny doesn't see him.

Danny is mid-split.

At his limit, honestly. Already made as many copies as he usually can. Is trying for ooooone moooooore..... when...

PAIN. Something cracks.

He loses concentration. Tries to curl in on himself.

Both 1.5 of him tries. He loses hold of the "clone's" Ecto. Somethings free floating leaving his chest along with it. Behind him, Skulker is freaking out. That was MEANT to be on opening volley. A gentle little "hey, come fight me". That crack sounded SERIOUS.

Danny can't breathe. It's like the portal all over again. He curls tighter and tighter. Feels the crown, which was not THERE until this moment, press down tight and gripping onto his head. Thrumming. And then... something feels like a muscle releasing.

His core is... smaller? He'd been watching its progress, it couldn't have digest so fast... how did it lose so much... mass...

Danny feels all the blood drain from his face.

He nearly died.

Again.

His... his soul... WHERE IS HIS SOUL?? That's a piece of him! A part of his SOU-!

He spins around... only to meet the eyes off a blearly blinking, noodlish, cartoon like gremlin with his color scheme. Who's floating along like they're in zero-g. Just... drifting in a slow circle.

They yawn at him with a mouth full of teeny tiny baby fangs. Then chirp.

That's his Son. He doesn't know how, he doesn't know WHY, but he somehow instinctively... just... KNOWS?

They blep.

Danny looks a Skulker. His eyes hold MURDER.

"You're paying child support."

"......yes sir."

@hdgnj @stealingyourbones

[luvh4nji]

𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐘 𝐊𝐈𝐃𝐒 + 𝐂𝐎𝐂𝐊𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆

warning: afab!reader, honestly probably just fem!reader, chan's refers to reader as "girl", minho being a little mean </3, like...borderline somno in hyunjin's, a little fluffy too tho!

chan ; he loves it, he was in the one to bring it up in the first place. he loves the intimacy that comes along with it really, how close he can be with you. he's the type to invite you to the studio just to pull his pants 'n boxers down just enough so you can sit on his dick and keep him warm <33 definitely the type to praise you and rub your back while you're sitting with him, giving you sweet kisses on the crown of your head and drawing aimless patterns on your back through the thin fabric of your shirt. "my best girl. doing so good for me, sweet thing."

minho ; does it to fuck with you. he'd keep his hands on your waist when you sink down on his lap, keeping you in place and laughing at your whines, hands in balled up fists beating at his chest. "what is it, kitty? you thought you'd get you wanted so easily?" he'd coo, one hand leaving your waist to grab your wrists in one large palm; his words completely disregarding the fact that you'd been begging for his dick, sitting between his legs, before he finally let you on his lap. "tell me how much you want it, honey. tell me how you much you need me."

changbin ; oddly enough, i think he'd love it. definitely the type to just keep his dick in you after he cums inside you. he'd just collapse on top of you, letting his body relax into yours while he catches his breath. and when he tries to get up, you'd hook your legs around his waist, your arms around his neck, pulling him back to you. and poor boy would think something's wrong before you mumble about how you don't want him to move. and he'd just nod, settling himself back down on top of you, propped up on his elbows on either side of your head. "alright, honey, i've got you. jus' lemme get a washcloth to clean you up, okay?" and he'd laugh softly when you whine before letting him go. and when he's done cleaning you up, his touch gentle against your sensitive skin, he'd press a soft kiss to the corner of your lips while sliding back in, telling you how good you are for him <3

hyunjin ; he loves it. most of the time. he seems like the type to think it's comforting to be that close to you, especially after a long day, but sometimes he just wants to fuck with you. he's the type to let you get all comfortable, settling on his lap and resting your head against his chest and letting his heartbeat make you all hazy before shifting under you, letting his cock rub against your walls, ripping a soft moan from the back of your throat. "don't worry, babe, jus' lemme make you feel good." and he'd smooth your hair back, pressing a kiss to your hairline.

jisung ; oh, he hates it. why would you make him do this? at first, he's all for it. hanji loves the idea of cockwarming; the intimacy, the connection, the warmth of your bodies being so close together, but he cannot stand having his dick on you and not doing moving. he's the type to last about five minutes before he's putting his hands on your hips and shallowly rutting his hips up into yours. "i'm sorry- i'm so sorry, baby, but i can't do this." and his lips to be close yo your skin, brushing against the pule point of your neck while he's whispering apologies, his leaking cock digging against your aching walls </3

felix ; his favorite thing in the whole world. felix loves to wrap you up in his arms and keep you as close as possible, and you can't get much closer than having his dick inside you. he's so sweet, pressing kisses to your collarbones and neck and cheeks, murmuring about how much he loves you and how he can't believe how lucky he is to have you in that deep voice. he just gets so sappy every time he gets his dick wet <3 also! he's definitely the type to rub slow, languid circles into your clit while you're just sitting on him; he loves feeling how shaky you get on his lap <//3

seungmin ; he gets so mean <//3 he truly doesn't mean to, but you just look so cute getting all desperate on his lap, eyes getting all glassy, he can't help himself :( he likes to make you work for it, sitting back against the headboard of his bed, watching you try to rut yourself on his cock, but not being able to get a steady rhythm. and he'd just give a mean smile when you whine for him, telling him how you can't do it and you need his help, please. and he just shakes his head, sighing like you're inconveniencing him. "if you can't fuck yourself on my cock on your own, then you're not getting anything, so get to work, baby."

jeongin ; honestly tries his best to keep still. he knows it something you wanted to try out with him and he thinks it's so sweet that you want to be close to him and just be with him, but he cannot do it. like at all. "so, how long do we have to do this?" and he'd sound so impatient, all you can do is laugh and tell him that there isn't necessarily a time limit. so he just starts subtly shifting under you, rutting his hips shallowly into yours, hands hovering just over your waist <//3

[kortsitron]

Comfort

✮ PARING Loki Laufeyson × Gender Neutral! Reader

✮ WARNINGS/TAGS hurt/comfort, drabble, avenger! Loki, unsure!(?) Loki

✮ SUMMARY You came to Loki for comfort

✮ A/N I won't lie, I have been feeling like shit and honestly I would die to go to sleep in Loki's arms while he tells me I'll be alright. I also made it neutral enough that the comfort can be read no matter what your situation is [ao3]

He couldn't quite recall it really happened. He wasn't exactly the nicest nor the cuddliest one, or at least that's how Loki saw himself.

But somehow you ended up at his door in the middle of the night. You were a sobbing mess, not being able to catch your breath, and as much as Loki thought he wasn't the right person to comfort you, he couldn't just let you suffer.

You came specifically to him, so he took you in, even though he believed there were other people who would be able to take better care of you during that situation.

And that's how he invited you to his bed, where the two of you cuddled, as he played with your hair as his chilly fingers of his other hand traced your spine. It seemed like his unusual body temperature calmed you down, even though your breath was still shaky at times and you were catching deep breaths uncontrollably.

He found the sound of your heartbeat quite soothing. At first it was almost furious, making him worry that your heart was going to jump out of your chest. But then started to slow down, until it became nice and steady.

He kept murmuring sweet nothings into your ear. His voice was a little raspy from sleep, but it gave it a nice, soothing effect. He kept giving you little, but meaningful kisses, over your forehead, on the crown of your head, on your cheeks, nose. All over your pretty, tear stained face.

When you finally fell asleep, Loki held you tighter. As much as he wasn't sure for long he wanted to be a part of Avengers, he knew he couldn't just leave you alone with your troubles, especially when you were hurting so much.

[howlettloki]

Less smut, more meaningful words with such eloquence, well executed plot, characterizations and world building.

A Loki (Marvel)/Reader Fic Recommendation

If you’re like me, who loves to read longer fics then this blog post is for you. This list features beautiful books I have read featuring Loki and the reader for the past 5 years. This is long overdue I have been planning to do this for a while now. I’ll do my best to share all of them in one post (might probably edit this once I remember more). One thing, I really love when an author finds a way to not use Y/N. Enjoy the list!

Completed Fics

Frostbite by Maiden_of_Asgard

Synopsis:

Iceland is nice - sure, you probably should’ve picked a time of year when the weather was a little warmer, but it isn’t too bad, and at least you’re away from your desk job, right? It’s a pretty big adventure.

You’ve always said that you wanted more adventure in your life.

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

This one you’ve probably read, if not go check it out. It’s one of the best out there. I mean, need I say more?

The Proposal by BirdsofHermes

Synopsis:

An AU gender-reversal of the 2009 romantic comedy The Proposal. You work for Loki Laufeyson at Asgard International Publishing. He accidentally lets his work Visa expire and is about to be deported back to England, so he blurts out that he's marrying you. Now you have to convince an immigration inspector as well as your own family that you're in love with Loki or he gets deported for life and you face five years jail time.

Review:

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

I have read this more than one can count fingers in their hands.

Broken Crown by Michelleleahhh

Synopsis:

Your betrothal to Thor was convenient - brokered as an alliance between two powerful families.

Your marriage to Loki... is unimaginable.

Review:

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Please proceed with caution and read the tags. When I read this the first time, I was new to this world but I remembered enjoying reading this piece. I just recently re-read this, and I just found some minor stuff I didn’t really enjoy. Overall the story and the plot got me hooked however, there’s just few chapters that I feel could’ve been explored more and executed better. Still, I enjoyed reading this the second time around.

Fǫruneyti by Evaldrynn

Synopsis:

A story in which a herbalist makes a decision that will drastically change her life, and in which a prince begins to realise that there might still be hope for him yet. A tale of danger, adventure, friendship - and, ultimately, love. 

Review:

⭐️⭐️⭐️✨

This one I stopped reading at 70%, I have certain icks when it comes to reading and once I reach that ick jar I’m done. It was still beautifully written, got me hooked and all, loved the progress. What can I say, I love slow burns.

The Devil Inside by Ursus_minor

Synopsis:

You're a free lance artist and just running short of rent money for the month, so when your good buddy Thor offers you a one-off job at his sister's company, you take it - even though helping his little brother out with some paperwork sounds awfully tedious

I always wondered what Loki, Hela and Thor would do if they were 'mere mortals'

Review:

⭐️⭐️⭐️✨

It’s deleted but I was lucky enough to have read this way back 2020. It was one of my favorite back then, because it was hard to find a long fic where Loki is not the God of Mischief but just a mere mortal living amongst us. I honestly forgot most about this story, I only remember bits and pieces, you’re Thor’s best friend and he helped you gain money by working under Loki, like the synopsis said.

A Study In Suit by lowkeyorloki

Synopsis:

You've worked too damn hard to get into Professor Laufeyson's course, and you're not about to let your pesky attraction to him get in the way. Your Professor, however, has other plans.

Review:

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Professor Loki. That’s it.

From the Void, With Love by pilotisms

Synopsis:

Torn from time, you have to navigate the TVA with the one person who singlehandedly tried to conquer NYC. Turns out you & him have a future-past. Time is weird.

Review:

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

This is one of the best I’ve read, this is my second to The Proposal. I fucking love this you have no idea. Wished there was a longer sequel though.

Litklœði by GoldTrimmedSpectacles

Synopsis:

“And the sire promised that he would spend the rest of his days searching for the cure of the flower disease which took his friend. And he did find this cure, but not without a cost,” Frigga explained and stroked Loki’s head as the illusions vanished. “But now, when one is fraught with flowers in their chest, a völva can remove these flowers with seiðr – saving the victim’s life and removing the vines from their lungs.”

The Allmother paused and looked at your small, childish face. Her smile was kind and full, but her eyes lay empty and sad. The knowledge of yet to come lay heavy on her features.

However, be warned my child, that with the removal of lung flowers the feelings of unrequited love will be removed too. As will any remaining trace of friendship. So be careful how you give your heart, my dear. You may never know what you could lose.

Review:

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Hanahaki Disease AU? Anyone? This one is from my previous blog post. Pure feelings. Loved young loki and young reader.

In Progress or Abandoned Gems

Mea Culpa by OlympianWine

Synopsis:

Six years ago yours and Loki's relationship came to an abrupt and messy end, leaving resentment and hurt in its wake. Now you haven't heard a whisper of him in years, until he turns up at his brother's wedding, seemingly changed for the better, and you're thrust into facing both him and the memories you had buried. But a dangerous figure from Loki's past looms overhead, and Thanos is determined to hunt Loki down and make him pay for betraying him.

Review:

💔💔💔💔💔

I mean based on the synopsis who wouldn’t want to read that? Last update was last year, here’s to hoping it’ll update more or I’m gonna have to kms.

Anagapesis by OlympianWine

Synopsis:

You have a perfect life; a loving husband, a beautiful baby. But when it all comes crashing down, you must put survival ahead of sentiment and turn to a darker prince - your husband's brother. Loki is cruel and cold, and he hates you with a burning passion. Or so you think.

Review:

💔💔💔💔

Just when you think you’re falling, he makes you remember what type of person he is. I feel for Loki, but he’s just cruel man. I wish there was more so I could understand him a bit more.

Seiðmaðr by GoldTrimmedSpectacles

Synopsis:

Amidst the fallen brethren of the Vanaheimr war against Muspelheim, the dark prince of Asgard finds himself lost and riddled with amnesia. His words are barbed, his tongue is gilded and his eyes are sharp. He has no recollection of his name or family, but he soon comes to realise that perhaps it is best for the past to be shadowed by the future, and that life as a beloved commoner is better than life as a miserable prince.

Review:

💔💔💔💔💔

I’m a sucker for fantasy and a well executed world building. I love how I’m instantly transported into the world created by the author and I feel alive inside. I wish there was a way to find out what happens next. I just love this so much I wish there was more.

[gojos-thot-patrol]

Please please please please please I actually beg, I need a fluff where Sukuna is cuddling with you, his head on your chest while he tells you about… I don’t know, how this is because he doesn’t love you and you’re only good for being a pillow, knowing that is not the case. (Also HIII I ABSOLUTELY LOVE YOUR CONTENT!!! Thank you very much for reading this and I hope you have a lovely day, whether you choose to respond or not :D 💞💞💞💞💞💞)

I DROPPED EVERYTHING TO WRITE THIS ITS TOO FUCKIN CUTE AH-

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Starring: A battle weary Sukuna

You were never really sure what to do with your nights when Ryomen was away. Normally, you would spend the twilight hours in his room, in his arms, and in his sheets, curled into his side afterwards and falling asleep to the sounds of his heartbeat slowing down. But, that was out of the question tonight, just as it had been for the last week. He was off conquering something somewhere- you honestly didn’t really care. You just wanted your man- your lord back. Luckily, he was due back tomorrow evening. 

Without having many other options, you found yourself curled up on your bed with a book from the palace library. Not a bad way to spend an evening per say, just a lonely one. Ryomen was never a huge fan of cuddling unless it was after he was inside of you- and even then he was more on the take it or leave it side of things. But, his presence was still always appreciated, and on cold nights like these you desperately wanted him home to warm your bed.

You wondered what the fuck was in your tea when you saw him standing in your door way, convinced you were hallucinating. “My lord?” You asked, taking in his battle weary from. “You’re home?”

“Clearly.” He grumbled, death shambling over to your bed and collapsing on it. Admittedly, you were a little put off by it- the metallic smell of blood still clinging to his skin, as if he left the battlefield and went straight to your arms. You didn’t have a lot of time to realize how true that statement was before his arms were wrapped around you, pulling you as close to him as he possibly could and resting his head at the crown of your breast. It almost scared you just how needy he was being. 

“You’re home early…” You pointed out, only for him to roll all four of his eyes at you.

“Refer to my previous statement.”

“I’m asking why my lord.” His jaw ticked at your words. He’d killed nobles for less,what made you think you could take that tone with him? He should cut your disrespectful tongue out for even considering to question him. 

“We were able to slaughter their forces faster than we expected. None of them were higher than grade two.” He explained, closing his eyes to try and relax.

“Oh, that’s great! Another successful battle.” You smiled, running your fingers through his hair. You swore you heard him purr.

“Yeah.” No. No it absolutely was not. Yeah, none of those foot soldiers were higher than a grade two, but that didn’t matter when there was so fucking many of them. A hoard of roaches could kill a snake given the right numbers, and Sukunas entire force was out numbered, for every one soldier he had that asshole had over a hundred grunts. 

It got bleak. Bleak to the point where Sukuna had to really consider the fact he might not be going home. That he might die at the hands of fucking novices of all things. That he might not ever be able to hold you again, to kiss you, to see you. And he didn’t even say a proper goodbye before leaving. For the first time in Ryomen Sukuna’s existence, he was terrified. It wasn��t the first time he had been at deaths door, he was actually a frequent visitor. But this was the first time he made the trip when he had something to live for.

So he pushed through. Unleashed a fourth domain expansion even after the second one took everything he had left out of him, fought harder than he had before, and even felt a black flash. At some point, the enemies stopped flooding in, and it was just him and was was left of his army in the war zone. Yeah, he won, but he would never consider that a successful battle. 

You didn’t need to know that though. All you needed to know was he was home. He watched you read your book, content for what felt like the first time ever as you played absentmindedly with his hair. Moments like these were the ones he dreaded losing the most. Soft moments, where he could actually let his guard down and be at peace, even if it was only for a few seconds. He sighed softly, closing his eyes and snuggling closer to you.

“I missed you too, my lord.” You smiled gently at him. His eyes snapped open. You just had to speak, didn’t you?

“I didn’t miss you.” He scoffed in disgust, but still couldn’t find it in him to move, “Know your place whore.” The “whore” was so half-hearted it was laughable. Normally he was able to put some venom in it, but he was feeling particularly de-fanged right now. 

“Oh of course. That’s why you're clinging to me like this, because you absolutely did not miss me, right? You don’t love me at all.” You teased him.

“I do not.” He snapped, lifting his head up to properly look you in your eyes so you knew you were on thin fucking ice. “You think this is because I love you? Do you think the sky is red too? You’re comfortable wench, that’s all this is. You’re no more valuable to me than a pillow, or a chair. Love is an entirely human emotion, don’t project it onto me.” He lashed out, before dropping his head back on your chest with a limp thud. “You’ll to well to watch your tongue slut, before I cut it out.” He grumbled, managing to find some venom there this time. 

“I’m sorry my lord.” You sighed, returning to your book. A soft, self satisfied smirk did find its way to your lips when you felt him put your hand back in his hair, prompting you to continue playing there. 

“Mmm.” He grumbled. Truth be told, Love was a human emotion. Most curses would never feel anything even adjacent to it in their lifetime. But no matter how much he tried to deny it, Sukuna was human once. Mortal blood once flowed though his veins, and a human heart still pounded in his chest. A human heart you held in soft hands, gently protecting without even knowing. You’d never know how hard he fought just to be by your side tonight, not if he could help it.

You turned off the bedside lamp, settling into bed with him. He gently kissed your forehead, a soft action that was forced to go unnoticed, least he have to make good on any of his threats. Or worse, admit he was a fool in love. 

[muffinpink02]

can we get a small preview of taking your crown 2? 🙏

Of course! 18

“Where's this special room then?” Mapi smirked as she drank from her glass.

You laughed, giving her a wink. “Down the hallway.” 

“Hmm. What room?” Alexia furrowed her eyebrows in confusion as she looked between you and Mapi.

“She has a special room.” Mapi swirled the ice in her glass. 

“Oh.” Alexia’s eyes widened in surprise, suddenly looking a little timid. She gulped before she took another sip of her vodka.

“Do you wanna see it?” 

“Yes!” Mapi shouted excitedly.

You looked at Alexia who still looked a little shy, but the curiosity in her eyes was evident. 

“Sí.” She whispered before taking another sip.

You led them down the corridor to the last door. You turned the handle and turned on the lights. 

Both girls' mouths gaped open as they took in the room in front of them.

“Wow.” Mapi smirked, taking a slow step inside.

The room glowed in a deep shade of purple and red. The decor was a bit different to your room at your place of work, this room had a lot more on show. 

In the middle stood a replica of the king sized bed in the room you first met Alexia in. To the left was a purple leathered rack, with an arrangement of paddle boards attached to the wall. To the side of that wall sat a black leathered table that resembled a massage table, but this particular one had handcuffs attached at the top and bottom. 

To the right of the room stood a floor length mirror that covered the entire wall, red strips of light framed the outside of it, giving it an almost red light district feel. Another wall had an abundant array of different toys, restraints, leashes, collars, and whips. Some for pleasure, some for pain, but even the painful ones were someone's pleasure.

Closets to the door and your most impressive bit of equipment, there stood the St Andrews cross. Even though it looked like a torture device (I mean, it kind of was) it was surprisingly really comfy. Imported from Germany, stitched with real Italian leather, and formed with Canadian wood, it was your most prized possession, a beautiful piece of equipment or some would even say art.

The room was impressive to say the least.

“You have good taste.” Mapi said absently mindedly as she stroked the thick wooden post of the bed.

“Thank you. I’m proud of it.” You said honestly before taking a sip of your drink. 

You looked over at the blonde who still hadn't said anything, but she didn't need to, her face said it all.

Alexia felt a chill run up her spine as her eyes drank in the room. The familiar smell of vanilla instantly brought her back to the first night she had with you and so far the only night. The memories of you and herself flooded her mind, it was as if she could feel the paddle on her skin, the hot wax, your thick strap, your talented tongue.

For the first time she regretted allowing Mapi to join her on the trip. 

Her fingers nervously twitched around her glass, as she imagined her and yourself using the room for its exact purpose. 

You watched Alexia’s thoughtful eyes. You could see the cogs turning in her head. A shy smile crept on her lips as she caught you looking at her. She looked like she had been caught red handed, even though her dirty thoughts were in her head and sadly not being played out right now.  

She nodded and awkwardly cleared her throat. “It's beautiful. I-I like it.” She took a gulp of her drink, you didn't miss the way her cheeks turned a shade of pink.

You felt your own skin heat up, picturing the blonde in all the different positions you could have her in. It was as if you both could see the other's exact thoughts. You didn't realise you were staring until Mapi cleared her throat.

“Aye, come on! I’m only here for two nights. Can you not control yourselves until I leave?” The brunette looked between you and Alexia.

“Did you bring headphones, Mapi?” Alexia asked, but still looking at you.

“Sí?” 

“Good, you'll need them tonight.” 

You couldn't stop the embarrassing noise you made as you choked on your drink.

—------------------

[saltysaltdog]

It's hard to get a grasp on Heket's personality and character voice, largely because she cannot use it. But when she can, what we gather at first glance is...

She's so obnoxiously self centered it is honestly hilarious. If you open Anura before defeating Leshy, she will say this line.

"The Bishops… my family. Have they not suffered enough? Have I not suffered enough? We fought, pathetic vessel. We bled. We grieved. And yet the Red Crown wants more. No more."

Like, genuinely, I can not imagine unironically saying this. Complaining about your struggles, your family suffering... to the last lamb left in the land?!?! You sacrificed them! Girl, time, place, and proper audience, please. Oh, and she can't help but insult you during her pity party. Absolutely top-notch. No notes.

But yes I do have notes. The fact that she's saying this to the lamb implies something more than just simple irony.

She feels she has no-one else she can share this with.

When Leshy has died and after you have your first encounter with Heket in her domain, Shamura comes this sequence of dialogue happens:

Heket: "Shamura! We did not wish to bother you, but-" Kallamar: "Shamura, the Red Crown grows stronger by the day. Already it has succeeded where he has failed before. Leshy has been slain!" Shamura: "Five becomes four becomes three becomes two becomes one becomes nothing." Heket: "...Shamura, rest. We will deal with this. Won't we, Kallamar?"

She is apologetic, a bit surprised, but clearly ready to seek advice before being interrupted.

Perhaps Kallamar thought she was going to be too slow to say it, but in any case, Shamura is in no state to deal with it.

Heket's reaction is not to show her frustration in front of Shamura, but can't help letting a little of it creep in towards Kallamar demanding he agree instead of taking it as a given.

She then turns her anger towards you, an acceptable target.

You there, vessel of the Red Crown! Bow to me, or you will regret it!" [Refuse] Heket: "You will bow, or I will make you!" [Bow] Heket: "Ha! Cowardly vermin. You disgust me."

She demands you bow. Leshy and Kallamar never do the same, so this is something she's doing mainly to copy Shamura and how they behave. She isn't happy no matter what you pick, but instead of inflicting more famine upon you, she changes all the rooms to combat rooms, something closer in line with Shamura's element than her own.

Heket is more or less trapped in the position of needing to be the pillar of support for her siblings. She cannot express her doubts or fears, as when she is less sure of herself, Kallamar cuts her off. Shamura is not in their proper mind. And Leshy...

"We are far older and more powerful than dear brother Leshy was."

Leshy is her baby brother.

And you can tell Heket is the main pillar for the bishops because if you kill her no two bishops are ever seen in the same room again.

Thus, before she has a true reason to hate you, the lamb is the only person she feels safe enough to talk to.

She needs to be strong for her siblings and followers, but you? You're already a heretic. It doesn't matter what she tells you. Her followers know not to listen to heretics. It's safe.

And thus, how you get the line about her family having suffered enough.

In fact, this one moment is the only time outside of threatening you that she uses "I" terms instead of "We".

"Before us stands the last of its kind. All others we have hunted down and put to the blade."

"We need not bother Shamura with this. Deal with it, brother"

[..]"You have felled the youngest of us. We are the Bishops of the Old Faith. We protect against heresies such as yours. We are the guardians of the true word, and we will not tolerate such blasphemy."

"[..]we cast out the Red Crown."

"The one you serve, that monster we have put in chains, will not be satisfied until you have killed all four of us."

Vs

"I will not suffer the same fate as Leshy... Find me in my temple. You will join your kin in slaughter!"

"Finally. I have been looking forward to this. Make your peace, creature. You will not be leaving this temple."

"If you insist I suffer, so shall you."

So at the very least she recognises why you might be trying to kill her, since she mentions your kin.

But it's obvious Heket hasn't really had time to be herself and that her duties, aside from gratuitous violence, don't really allow her to express herself. That makes finding her character so much harder, since until the update all we had was that one melancholic line to define her by.

Before we go on to her quest line, we do have one more bit of dialogue to go over.

"It was not so long ago that we cast out the Red Crown. A mere thousand or so years. The heresy it preached could not be tolerated.

Such noxious ideals... it could not be allowed."

That pause after noxious ideals, that is Heket burying her emotions. She does it once before when she realises Shamura can't help her.

So why the pause here? Does she think that the ideals honestly weren't worth the sacrifice, could have been worked with? That everything was for nothing and now she has to live with it? Or does she truly feel such deep rage and disgust she has to force herself to calm down.

Perhaps she simply misses her brother in that moment, and hates that this is what had to be done.

Again, she redirects her anger onto you, but this time as herself.

For this most damning of sins, the retribution must be slow and painful. I cast a famine upon your Cult!

--

Onto her post relic quest, Heket still has difficulty speaking, but what she does say shows us some of her character growth.

"...we were happy... once. Surprised, Lamb? Monsters like us..."

Instead of referring to Narinder alone as a monster ("The one you serve, that monster we have put in chains,") She can now see how the bishops looked to you and everyone not in the old faith.

You might see our misery as justice... fool. There is no justice in this world. No matter how... how loudly you demand... urge... beg..."

"...Let us leave... Anura... is no longer mine."

This is also not about you. She's not thinking of you when she says this.

You have just made the choice to free her from suffering. You had the choice to not give her throat back, and yet you did.

If you don't

... my punishment... continues. Wounds to externally... fester.

"Fate is for God's to dictate... I would have done the same."

She admits that she wouldn't have shown you the same mercy. But now that she's mortal, she can't see things the same way anymore. She's had time to live outside her doctrine and power. Consider a different perspective. She knows she's been unfair.

She's speaking of herself and her rule.

"No matter how... how(..)"

This is the first time she's ever doubled up her words. The concept of justice is very important to her as the previous arbiter of it. And now she's empathising with the mortals who were under her care. Under her sibling's care.

She's never had to reckon with the idea that her choice to follow the old faith doctrine was wrong. Or with the idea that she herself is no longer a god and that basic rights to her own body can be denied to her. (Assuming you've been a gentle cult leader, as the return of the relic implies.) The kindness she overlooked is becoming very clear to her, and she can't help faltering.

She's still too prideful and self absorbed to thank you, or give any indication she understands this, as she's still processing it as she's talking. But this mid sentence realisation makes her... embarrassed? Ashamed? Regretful? At the very least, a lot more conflicted than when you first gave it back.

To only visit where I once ruled... to only borrow powers I once commanded." [...] "There is no justice in this world."

Vs

"...Let us leave... Anura... is no longer mine."

She speaks haltingly when emotional, and while you can say she's just having difficulty speaking for so long, two things can be true.

And the truth is Heket is a very melancholic character under all the hotheaded violence and power. This is perhaps because she's based so much of herself upon it that without it she's lost.

-

She's usually the most grandiose speaker, discounting Shamura's poetic leanings. So it's probably from her and not Shamura that Leshy has been copying all his ambitious words and turns of phrase from. Yet, when she speaks of things outside the old faith and its teachings, her dogmatic and not-quite use of the Royal "We" disappears into much more casual speech.

And in spite of only speaking about herself in terms of her relationship to her family, she still feels like she can't connect or open up to them.

Technically in your cult if you spy on her thoughts she IS getting better at using I statements and expressing her personal desires, alcohol, food, missing anura, etc.

So here's hoping for more of the frog in the future so I can understand what her deal is.

[runningupthatvecna]

the law of seat partners | part 4

masterlist

a/n: so this is part four, probably the last and final part to bring this little something to an end. it's a bit of a dive into eddie's emotional state and self-esteem issues and it just might sting you a little reading. this whole story has honestly been a wild ride from start to finish and i want to thank every single one of you for giving it so much love! hope you enjoy this last part just as much, if not more. all i can say is that i poured my entire heart into this and it's my first time writing spice, so go easy on me please. my requests are, however, open in case anyone wants me to write more. for this, i'm planning a little sequel part, so keep an eye out for that if you like.

summary: after some intense flower crown binding and a few more intense days at the camp, things are finally getting real between you and eddie. you make him your prince and he makes you his own. read for yourself ;)

word count: 13,5k (lol don't ask i got carried away it seems)

warnings/tags: slow burn, mutual pining, idiots in love kinda, not too detailed description of reader's appearance, very close physical closeness, sharing a bed, eddie being touch starved and a very wholesome and caring bean, mentions of eddie's dad being a piece of shit, lots of petnames, shitlots of fluff, a tad bit of angst, abandonment issues & performance anxiety, smut (minors go away!), softdom!eddie, kissing, oral (m and f receiving), fingering, a bit of edging if you squint, dirty talk, unprotected p in v, pulling out, basically just hot and steamy lovemaking filth. ok BYE

-----

Roses, magnolias, tulips, daisies, sunflowers, yarrows, peonies and lots of twigs with green leaves. For the base. To balance out the colours.

The day had finally come.

You placed the crown of flowers which you had spent an hour assembling and braiding and binding together on your head, intending to wear it with a sense of pride.

A sunflower as the yellow centerpiece, two light purple peonies on each side, some yarrow and white roses here and there.

You guessed that Jonathan would shoot another roll of film full today, measured by the enthusiasm he was displaying just now while directing the postures of the four of you, assigning you poses and giving you instructions on which way to turn so you would be lit in the best way possible.

Robin, Nancy, Max and you were stood in one line, and if it weren't for the fact that you found yourselves on the path leading from the cabins to the little square of the fireplace, surrounded by trees, the view of the lake in the background and framed by a row of tall pines, you would think you were posing for graduation photos.

It was a nice rehearsal, at least.

Anyone else except Will, Eddie and the photographer himself were busy occupying themselves elsewhere.

The younger Byers boy enthusiastically fumbling around with flowers for his own crown – the artist in his element –, Jonathan capturing your precious moments and Eddie, ... well Eddie was honestly just watching the four of you, admiring the scene and being grateful that no one had shoo'ed him away yet, because that meant he'd certainly have to get involved in the yoga-slash-stretching workshop Steve Harrington was trying to attend in the meantime.

Also he was wondering where you took the patience for your magnificent wonder of floral composition from, when he unsuccessfully tried to merely string a bunch of leafy twigs and yarrow together himself.

The teachers had made you all spent the majority of the day in the next bigger town, admiring the contents and exhibits of the local museum, dedicated to bring the regional history, geography specifics and culture closer to its visitors. And the only time the longhaired metalhead had left your side (under protest) was those two times you needed to use the women's restroom.

The younger middle school kids had been an absolute menace to the nerves of Mr Clarke all day, their lack of patience and ability to stay focused on the exhibits getting the best of him.

Eddie's presence made everything better though (for you at least) and the obnoxious children forgotten. You know that feeling when you're on a trip with your friends and your crush is there too and that fact just lifts your entire mood and whatever you guys are doing doesn't matter because they are there with you because their presence is solely enough to make your heart blossom?

Yeah. That.

"Come here", you sat down next to Eddie on the tree trunk that was laid flat to act as a bench, taking and trying to fix whatever attempt of a flower crown he was occupying his fingers with. You would guess that he'd be quite skilled with them as a guitarist, but seeing him drop stuff here and there with his tongue stuck out – a telltale sign that he was focussing super hard – also had you guessing that the skill of binding flower crowns and playing guitar were two different pairs of shoes.

Legs touching, you felt Eddie's gaze wander from the top of your knee over the skin on the plushness of your bare thighs up to the hem of your white flowy linen dress.

Oh, what they would feel like under his gentle touch.

His eyes paused their little journey on your hands, the softness of your skin, how you (just like him) always wore your rings, thin golden bands delicately adorning your index and middle fingers plus the one on your right thumb. He took in the tiny wrinkles stretched over your knuckles, the way your fingertips were readjusting the wire he sloppily had bound the twigs and stems together with, lightly brushing over the even softer petals of the flowers.

Secretly he wished they would lightly brush over his own hands too.

Brush over his neck, his hair, his cheeks, telling him that there was absolutely nothing wrong with him and that he could and would be accepted – and maybe even loved – just the way he was in his truest form.

As if you could be someone with the capability to show him just that. Convince his silly brain that he wasn't the fuck up his father made him believe to be. The unlovable freak his hometown condemned him as.

A feeling he was so desperately yearning for, deep down below the surface where usually no ray of light would ever reach the bottom.

Mainly because he wouldn't let the light through. The waves were and had just always been too high.

Gaze continuing its journey further up, lingering on your chest for a fleeting second, before scanning over the expanse of your neck.

Eddie mentally thanked Nancy for braiding your hair out of the way today.

He took in your jawline, the way your small and delicate earrings decorated the lobes of your ears, a small strand of hair on the side of your head separating your ear from your face, your nose which Eddie found to be very cute, a few freckles spread over the apples of your cheeks, eyes as deep as the ocean, currently focused on not cutting yourself on the garden scissors as clumsy as you could be, and then the pinkish red plushness of your rounded lips.

Eddie was certain they would feel like lying on a cloud in heaven against his own. Giving him a glimpse of something big and meaningful, and very very dear to him, something crawling through every vein of his body making the goosebumps erupt on his bare arms, something he craved to his core.

He wanted to touch. Needed to. More of you.

And he felt an all too familiar warmth spread through his abdomen, just like yesterday after the swimming, when his goodnight hug had ended up a bit too tightly for his own good, and he'd had to excuse himself awkwardly in order to take care of the semi slowly causing his damp shorts to become painfully tight.

He took in the way your eyes lit up and the corners of your mouth curled upwards at your successful fix of his poor attempt to impress you, watched you getting up and moving in front of him in a twirl, making the hem of your dress bounce a little.

Of course he noticed that. You were the pretty much only thing occupying the space in his brain.

The light was you.

"Now here you go, Prince of Metal", you chuckled as you placed the crown on his head softly, him blinking up at you through his thick black lashes with a wide smile that was forming on his face slowly at your affectionate gesture and – especially – the title.

It was very modest, just white yarrow and the green of the leaves, an analogy to Eddie's mindset of cherishing simplicity.

A "thank you, darling" escaped his chest in a low, soft tone right before he stood up, still grinning at you as if you had just told him you'd won the lottery. Or he'd won it.

He was certainly feeling like he had. You had done this, something nice, for him. It made his cheeks flush pink. A delightful addition to the white and green.

Jonathan had just finished taking a few close-ups of Max' half-heartedly composed circle of tulips and daisies, and when he noticed you and Eddie in the middle of half empty buckets of leftover flowers and the splutter of twigs and fallen petals, he wasted no time in calling you over to his makeshift photo set.

-----

For the rest of the trip, you couldn't help but think of Eddie's newfound interest in flower arrangements, the way he had selflessly fought with the stubborn wire and unruly twigs just to spend more time with you (and selflessly escape yoga with Steve).

The time at camp was almost coming to an end already. You had two nights left before the bus would roll up again, forcing you to leave the little serene oasis to take you home.

A whole bunch of polaroids was stacked up on your little nightstand by now, one of them showing you alongside the Prince of Metal, proudly posing with flower crown heads held high, and if you didn't know better you would say that the pose you both had taken made the impression of one of a royal couple. Eddie had put his hands on his hips, facing the camera diagonally, your back towards his chest in the same direction as him. Serious expressions, since you were royalty.

Another showed you in between Steve, Robin and Eddie on another hike, all of you well-lit by the bright sun, blue sky and vast lake with the deep green of trees in the background, on top of the hill you had attempted to climb on the first day. Robin was pulling a silly face, while Eddie poked his index finger into the dimple that always formed on Steve's cheek whenever he put on his toothy grin. And you? You were just looking, smiling, gazing at your seat partner.

More of them had been taken during further swimming activities, recreations of the acrobatic performance which Eddie and Max had displayed that first time in the lake, and since Jonathan knew how obsessed with photos you really were, he thought he might as well give you all the others he had taken.

For safekeeping.

Not to mention the one of Eddie and you on the bus.

And then, your personal favourite you had decided, showed Eddie in the white framed rectangle with closed eyes, his crown of flowers decorating the top of his head, the widest grin spread across his face.

He looked angelic.

You wished you could make a thousand copies of it and tape it to every single lamp post and throw it into every single mail box in all of Hawkins.

You wanted to look at it forever.

As you were lying there in the darkness of your shared cabin, you made a mental note to yourself to definitely pay Jonathan back for the film.

Eyes closed, you let your mind wander through all the memories you'd been making these past days. Not just with Prince Metal, but also with everyone else. It was nice and wholesome getting to spend time with the gang outside of Hawkins.

The very vivid memories of the past days flooded your brain. It was easy getting lost in them. So lost, that you audibly gasped as a light knock on the glass of the window pulled you out of conscious dreamland.

Practically shooting up from the mattress, you turned your head towards the window.

The more than familiar wild mane of your favourite Hawkins local satanist stood out from between the ends of the bushes growing beneath that window, and the person it belonged to was intently gesturing towards the wooden door of your cabin.

Eddie was wearing his signature grin when you rolled your eyes at him and the idea of sneaking around in the waking hour that was two in the night.

You mouthed a "fine" at him, nodding towards the door, before you silently tried to get up without triggering an avalanche of your roommates awaking.

The sight that offered itself to you as you crook open the cabin door was something you were certain you were going to burn into the core memories of your life.

Eddie Munson on the first of two steps in front of your door, the pathway with the other cabins in the background, in a black tank top, from the darkness you made the colours of his boxers out to be dark blue, his white sneakers but no socks. The scene in your periphery lit only by the low glow of the moon casting its reflection down onto him and his surroundings through the crowns of the pine trees.

A bunch of tattoos were visibly spread over his arms, guitar pick on a chain around his neck, curtained by his luscious curls. A messy bunch of random forest flowers and grass in his tight fist.

What on earth was he thinking he was doing out here? At this hour?

His expression told you.

"Hi", he almost whispered, a sly smile playing on his lips, eyes searching yours, stretching his arm straight and holding the makeshift flower bouquet out under your nose.

As if it was the most normal thing, showing up at someone's cabin in the middle of the night. In the woods. With random flowers he must have picked on the way here?

You snorted at his gesture and the incredible sweetness of it, it was making you blush hard and your heart combust in your ribcage at the thought of him even thinking of bringing you something. At him even being here right now. The innocence of it juxtaposing with his reputation back at home.

"Jesus Christ, what on earth are you doing out here?", you whispered back in the same tone, leaning in the doorframe in your usual sleep shirt and – of course, since you were surrounded by girls and you all were comfortable enough with each other – panties only.

Eddie took the next logical step, the one above the one he was currently standing on, getting closer to where you were leaning and recreating the usual height difference between you two.

"I can't fall asleep with Steve snoring", still in a hushed tone, and he paused before a small smile formed on his lips again, "and a bird just told me that the extension of the law, remember when I told you about that? Yeah, well, it got approved, so", he paused again, finding your eyes again with his best impression of a puppy, "could I maybe, you know uh, come in and be rescued from my eternal misery?"

You were very well aware that you'd be sent home immediately if anyone caught sight of you letting a male breathing creature past your doorstep, but since it was 2 am, it was also Eddie Munson gazing at you in the moonlight as if you were the most beautiful thing he ever had laid his eyes on, and you couldn't deny that you most definitely wanted this, the possible consequences of your little spontaneous rendezvous, nagging at your brain like alarm bells, were thrown overboard in an instant.

Grabbing one of Eddie's wrists, you pulled him towards you and inside, trying to close and lock the cabin door as silently as possible.

His presence alone and familiar warmth radiating from his body was already soothing the light rush of adrenaline in your veins from doing something that could get the both of you into quite the trouble, and it didn't take him long to take a step forward, moving his arm that you were still holding on to around you, so you were forced to turn your back towards him while his other snuck around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest.

He squeezed you to himself for a brief second, acting as a silent thank you, before he let go of you with a wide grin that you were only able to see thanks to the dim light of the moon flooding through the one window between the two bunks.

There was a small sparkle in his eye, a glint of serenity, comfort and endless affection. And relief. So much relief from how you were letting him in, weren't rejecting him like he was used to.

Peaceful breathing was filling the room, a light snore coming from the top bunk that wasn't above yours, and Eddie followed you.

You couldn't believe that you were about to share your small mattress and covers with the one guy you'd been harbouring feelings for over the time span of several months.

Eddie couldn't believe it either.

Mere seconds later, you found yourself caged in by the wall, the bed frame and Eddie's body.

It was the most natural thing. Everything fell into place, the way the two of you were lying there, facing each other, inhaling each others breaths from the close proximity, the covers draped over your bodies, hiding the details of Eddie sneaking an arm around your waist again to pull you impossibly closer, his hand carefully exploring more of the territory he already had started to discover on the bus, calloused yet somewhat soft fingertips almost ghosting up the warm skin over your bare spine.

"You're so pretty."

An inaudible whisper of admission.

You heard it.

An invasion of goosebumps spread over every inch of your skin like a wildfire.

Eddie felt it.

"So are you."

The arm you weren't lying on found its way up, tucking a wisp of his curls that had fallen over his now beet red cheek away behind his ear.

Neither of you wanted to ever stop smiling.

He moved his entire being down a little so his eyes were the same level with your jawline, a low hum escaping his throat at the tip of his nose brushing over the skin on your neck in an upward motion, just like that time in the lake.

It was beyond overwhelming to feel him this close. In your bed.

And for Eddie, feeling you this close was so much better than the countless times he had imagined this happening. He'd imagined what it would feel like, your light illuminating all of him.

You let him use your arm as a pillow, before he nuzzled his forehead against the same spot on your neck, his cheek lightly pressed against your clavicle.

And just when you thought you couldn't get physically closer to him than in this moment, bellies touching, legs wordlessly intertwined and all, he pulled you against him some more. Squeezed you tightly and tenderly, letting you know that this was right where he wanted to be. Where he needed to be.

And yeah, it felt quite right to you as well.

Your other arm that wasn't occupied by Eddie's head found its way around his torso, hand rubbing softly over the expanse of his back, and you wondered how much of muscle and softness your fingertips would be encountering if your hand would just cheekily sneak its way underneath his tank top.

Resting your cheek on Eddie's forehead, the warmth, the comfort of wrapping your arms around something to hold onto at night, his steady and satisfied breathing against your own, made you easily drift off into a deep slumber.

Eddie had already passed out the minute you had allowed him to rest his head in the crook of your neck and had draped your arm over him, encasing him in the embrace he so badly needed in order to find his own sleep.

You'd known him long enough to know that he cared about the few people in his life who hadn't let him down, he took care of people that took care of him.

And you wanted to take care of him. In every way you could and in every way he would let you.

Silence filled the single room, steady breaths being in- and exhaled, and you hoped no one had yet woken up to notice your charming little intruder existing in the sacred four walls of the flower cabin.

-----

A ray of sunlight made the shadows of tree leaves dance over the landscape of your face through the window.

You woke up from it, eyelids slowly blinking and then squinting shut again from the sudden invasion of too much light at once.

It took you a few seconds to realize where you were, namely in the small cabin that you were to call home for the week, with Max still snoozing in the bunk above you, a light snore still coming from Robin's side of the room, and Nancy having probably already left to go for her daily morning jog.

The weight of a semi-tattooed arm was resting on your torso diagonally like a seat belt, indicating that Eddie was even in his sleep very concerned for your safety. He had moved upwards, now a head above yours on your actual pillow and on his side, making his chest slowly rise and fall against your head.

It was peaceful, so peaceful waking up next to him, and it felt like the most natural thing. A very easy morning. As if this wasn't the first time ever.

You rubbed the back of your hand over your eye, the movement causing Eddie's hand to give the exposed skin over your waist, until where your shirt had ridden up, another gentle squeeze, making it known to you that he was, in fact, awake as well.

Craning your head towards the head of the bed, your still sleepy eyes found the warm brown of his for a moment, along with a wide stretched smile playing on his lips, dark stubble running down his cheeks and chin and neck before stopping halfway down, since he had forgotten to shave.

Eyelids fell shut again, but the smile stayed. Just for a moment longer, before he relaxed every muscle in his stupidly beautiful face, allowing your eyes to start their own journey of curious wandering.

You took in the way his nostrils flared a little whenever he exhaled, the tiny wrinkles on the outsides of his big doe eyes, a bunch of light freckles scattered over the bridge of his nose and the apples of his cheeks, the way they were being pushed up by the corners of his mouth whenever he gave you that smile, the slightly glowing softness of his skin generally, the way his wild unruly dark mane framed his face so perfectly, the way his cupid's bow sat on the plushness of his pink lips, ...

And oh, you were certain they would feel like lying on a cloud in heaven against your own.

You were also certain you were still dreaming, that this entire moment of Eddie knocking on your window and letting him into your bed and him lightly fanning your face with his breath right now was just a dream and you were about to wake up any second to the sound of pesky middle schoolers screaming their way from their cabins to the pergola where you'd usually have breakfast.

But no. This was real. Eddie was real. And he was just so pretty, lying there peacefully snoozing, the expanses of soft bellies still touching, and that wasn't because your mattress didn't stretch wide enough.

"Are you watching me sleeping?", Eddie mumbled, lightly flexing his jaw, eyes staying shut, the smile returning slowly.

If there wasn't a fire in your lower belly burning from all his touches and sweetness already, it damn certainly was now, ignited by the rasp in his low morning voice.

Oh Jesus Christ.

The absolute heat was spreading into two directions, using your heart as its origin. Once again your cheeks heated up, and you felt your thighs clench together involuntarily at the way in which he said those words.

"What if I was?", you mumbled back in a similar tone, trying your best to not let on too much about the effect he was having on you.

Eddie's eyebrows disappeared behind his frizzy bangs. Still refusing to open his eyes.

"Then I'd say you're being a little creep."

He let out a low chuckle while pulling you into his embrace, savouring the moment of having you this close once more and letting you know for certain that he was just joking.

"Pfff, says the guy who literally creeps around my cabin at two in the night."

You could not for the life of you recall a time when his face ever was closer to yours than it was right now, noses almost touching.

"Hey, that was a necessity. We only obeyed the law and I am eternally grateful for your gracious salvation from me meeting my impending doom."

The underlying layer of heaviness of his words was disregarded for now, since you wanted to desperately keep the bliss that came with being so close around him for just a moment longer.

Eddie made you feel like you were the most important person in the entire world, mainly due to his ever prominent abandonment issues. Meaning he never once had really left your side during the entirety of this trip (except for when you had to use the bathroom and, well, sleep – until now), always making sure you were taken care of.

It melted you.

And you didn't mind his clinginess at all. Male validation wasn't something you had to run from in order to save yourself from drowning in it. The opposite was more of the case, you were soaking it up like the roots of a flower that hadn't seen rain in years.

Oh wait, flowers decay at some point if they don't get watered? Well, yeah. You'd almost been there at some point in the past.

"You're such a dork", you remarked his theatrics with a chuckle, before burying your face in the crook of his neck, cheek pressed to his clavicle and nose dipping into the soft skin where neck and shoulder met, "but a very cute one."

A hint of shyness overcame you.

Awaiting his reaction was unbearable.

Eddie's cheeks flushed a bright red at your admission and the fact that you were so very obviously trying to hide your fluster between his shoulder and neck? You going all sweetly shy on him simply made his brain short circuit.

Did you just call him cute?

While your – your – lips (!!!) were so close to his skin, barely brushing over one of his sensitive spots?

No, Eddie Munson was almost certain he was still in dreamland.

Only now he dared to open his eyes, just to make sure he hadn't dreamt the sneaking-into-your-cabin-last-night part either, and let out a sigh at the conscious feeling of your skin that had collided with his palm, your nose at his pulse point, hair tickling his chin.

Then, the realization of that meaning behind your latest words kicked in.

Meanwhile, you didn't dare to lift your head to see his reaction for yourself.

He made you feel it though, when a boost of confidence helped one of his hands find a home on one of your butt cheeks, the arm which your head was still resting on wrapping around your shoulder so his arms were fully engulfing your figure, and his own head dipped down to where your neck was slightly craned.

Tip of the nose brushing up along the expanse of your neck in a singular swift motion of his head, since he already had found out a while ago that you didn't dislike that one, and then?

Then he buried his nose in the hair coming down behind your ear, while his lips slowly, almost carefully placed a peck to where your jaw met your neck, followed by another low hum at the feeling of you not backing away. Of you staying with him.

At first you weren't so sure if you had registered that correctly, but at the same time, judging from the way you could feel a familiar warmth pool between your legs, you were pretty sure he'd just kissed your neck.

Neckneckneck.

Thank fuck he couldn't see the way your eyes were rolling into the back of your skull at the sensation of his warm lips on your warmer skin.

Months over months of yearning for him, for this, for lying in his tight embrace, against the warmth of his body, longing glances you had directed at him, his innocent arm around your shoulder practically burning through whatever shirt you were wearing on those days, the now occurring realization that his sly remarks and jokes had literally been his way of subtly flirting with you, painting all his glances that had been thrown back at you in a similarly wistful light.

It was all so much at once, yet you already couldn't possibly get enough of him.

You nuzzled closer (if that was even physically possible), your arm squished between your bodies, the arm you weren't lying on wrapped around his torso, hand still underneath his tank top, running your fingertips along the smooth skin over his spine.

Giving back.

A nice concept.

A little less shy now, still cautious though, your lips pressed against the slightly stubbly side of his neck as you craned your head further up.

Eddie couldn't believe his fucking luck.

"Mhm, baby."

His almost whispering voice didn't have to travel far from how close his lips were to your ear. Because they still were lingering on your neck, where he countered your admission with another chaste kiss, trying not to overwhelm you.

It was too much. You couldn't take it any longer.

Lifting your head away from his skin, the warmth radiating from his neck engulfing your face, you softly dropped the weight back on Eddie's arm.

A wide smile decorated his face, letting you know that everything was alright with you and him in his book, and in his big brown chocolate orbs you only found affection.

You hoped he could spot the same in yours.

Oh, a surge of confidence erupted inside of you.

"Would it be okay if I kissed you?"

Eddie's fingers occupied themselves with a soft dig into the plushy flesh of your ass, while the smile dancing on his lips slowly turned into a cheeky grin, dimples denting his skin adorably, and his other hand craned around your head, thumb bending far enough to run the length of it down your cheek.

"Mhm, darling. Why do you think I've been touching you this entire time?"

Without another moment of hesitation you closed the distance between your faces, lips colliding with his own in the softest way.

You both were now lying on a cloud in heaven.

It was passionate from the beginning, yet not too wild, a fuzzy feeling of warmth spreading through your entire system at the sensation.

The low hums that Eddie let out at the feeling of your lips softly moving against his own was sending your sense of time and space into the void, and the fact that you initiated this was making his head spin like the ceiling fans in Hawkins High's cafeteria.

Slow slow slow movements, your hands wandered up to cup his cheeks, while he pulled your hips impossibly closer to his own, humming against the endless softness of your lips dancing over his.

Each kiss lasted for a few seconds, it was like you were both trying so hard to feel every line and ridge and texture of each other, and also neither of you seem to waste a single care in the world about hurrying up.

"Oh lord Jesus Christ!", Robin's loud voice ripped you out of your little trance as it went echoing through the room.

Right, you almost forgot you weren't existing in your cabin all by your twosomeness.

Despite being caught in the act by just a mutual friend of yours (and not Ms Kelley), the metalhead and you still broke apart hastily.

A hint of panic overcame Eddie at the sudden intrusion, making him let go of you, grabbing the pillow underneath his head and shoving it into the now existent gap in between your bodies, since you had discarded the sheets a while ago. Why need a blanket if you have a perfectly functioning Eddie Munson to keep you warm at night?

It surprised you that he didn't fall off the bed entirely with how close to the edge of it he now was.

A relieved sigh escaped his lungs when he realised who really caught him stealing affectionate gestures from you.

Ms Robin Buckley had no problem with the both of you, she just wasn't expecting to find Eddie lying in your bed (slowly kissing you into oblivion) in her periphery while she was digging for her bathroom utensils so she could make sure she'd look less like a corpse for breakfast.

With "whatever this is, I didn't see it" and a loud open and close of the door, she excused herself, leaving you in your solitude.

With Max Mayfield. In the top bunk above you two, which she loudly made you remember as soon as Eddie got up to follow Robin's trace outside with a quick "uh, see you in a bit, sweetness", still clutching your pillow over his front while waddling his way over to the safety of his own cabin in which Dustin was probably still snoring into the next millenium.

"Soooo, what did I just wake up to? Hm?", you heard Max say with the most curious undertone after the door closed behind Eddie, as you rolled onto your back, already finding the emptiness and lack of warmth caused by Prince Metal's exit rather unpleasant.

Your only response was a groan as you pulled the sheets up and all the way over your head.

The pathetic attempt to hide wasn't meant as a long-term solution since your lungs unfortunately started craving oxygen at some point.

"Go away!"

It came out more as a mumble than a yell, mainly due to the muffling effect of the layer of fabric between your head and Max' ears, and as you pulled your head out from under the blanket covering your entire figure only to see Max' head poking out from the bunk above you, her long red mane dangling down towards the ground, you felt the heat rushing to your cheeks.

You had kinda seen it coming already, the struggle with having to explain yourself in the morning when your roommates would find Eddie snoozing peacefully in your arms.

But now it really hit.

You had just slept next to him. Literally kissed your crush. Who wasn't really a crush anymore. To you, Eddie was a lot more than that already.

Max just giggled at your response, jumping out of her bunk and continuing her teasing for the rest of the morning.

Well, at least until you joined the rest of the gang for breakfast.

Today was your last full day, and that meant going on another sweaty (yet beautiful) hike, a heated and intense capture the flag session in which Eddie didn't leave your side once, claiming that as your seat partner he also had the obligation to protect you from potentially evil forest spirits, and you also filled out the day by attending a cooking workshop, pairing up with Nancy.

Eddie – having to detach his everlingering hand on some part of your body throughout the day now – spent time with Max, Dustin and Steve, still successfully avoiding being dragged to the yoga session by the latter.

You guessed they were attending a class about forest herbs and survival tipps, an absolute necessity should they ever get lost in the vastness of a random national park one day.

Peeling potatoes at the counter of the outdoor kitchen, you peered over to the pathway as the group of students including your friends walked past, trying to spot your favourite out of them.

Eddie found your longing glance and returned it, along with the widest grin and a little bashful wave of his ringed hand.

You felt your heart jump at the vision, absentmindedly waving back with the hand that held the potato by two fingers, smiling like the most lovedrunk idiot.

The moment was fleeting, because he collided mere milliseconds later with Dustin's backside, giving the kid a gentle slap on the back of his head for stopping unexpectedly just to inspect the shape of a leaf from the tree next to him, making him look silly and like a total dork in front of you.

Your smile turned into a full on giggle when Eddie gave you a sheepishly yearning last look before the little gathering lead by Mr Clarke continued on the pathway, leading further into the forest and out of your periphery.

God, you loved him.

The day in its entirety was peaceful despite the doom of having to pack up and make sure not to forget anything that might have slipped underneath the beds. You were supposed to leave early in the morning just to be back in Hawkins before nightfall.

Even though you were growing tired of mosquito bites and flies viewing your meals as theirs, you couldn't be bothered to come up with feelings of homesickness. Not when you were surrounded by your loving friend group, Prince Metal and the serene oasis in the forest.

-----

The sun was about to set, casting a golden glow over the crowns of the pine trees swallowing the camp, light breezes of wind making the arms and twigs of the more leafy trees rustle softly every now and then.

Eddie got up from the couch he was lounging on, taking a semi nap in the presence of Dustin, Max and Jonathan after the intense workshop and stuffing himself at the surprisingly rich buffet your teachers had organised for your last evening.

He'd been subtly eyeing you from underneath the tall pergola, chatting and laughing with Steve and Robin by the bonfire which was already rising tall into the sky in the clearing of trees between pergola and pathway to the cabins.

The perfect way your clothes hugged your curves, the thin fabric of your shirt and adding its absolute nothing to hide the hardness of your nipples (also maybe due to you not finding it necessary to wear a bra), the stunning way your hair was shining in the start of golden hour, face illuminated by the fire in front of you, the enchanting way you curled your lips at a joke Steve had made (he even felt a tinge of jealousy creep into the center of his stomach), the entirely dazzling way your shirt had ridden up a little, showing skin between the waistband of your shorts and the hem of it.

And it was giving him ideas.

To anyone else these little things and details didn't seem too worthy to pay attention to, but Eddie noticed. He noticed you stealing wistful glances, making their way over to him here and there (and after the night he had, he was sure they weren't meant for Dustin), he noticed every inch of your skin that would unintentionally reveal itself to him from the ways in which you moved, he noticed the way your smile changed into something so astonishing when directed at him. Special.

You never looked at Steve like that. Or anyone else, for that matter.

Being as chronically touch starved as a metalhead outcast town freak could be, Eddie decided that it was too much. He couldn't not be near you any longer.

Your breath hitched in your throat just as you saw him get up and make his way over to you, a mix of confidence and shyness combined in his strut, before he came to a stop at the end of the log you were seated on, right next to your side.

"M'lady? May I ask her grace to walk with me?", you heard his voice say softly, a distinctly hopeful tone, warm and filled with the bashfulness from earlier in the day. Eddie met your smile with one equally wide.

A hand with ringed fingers was held out to you and you took it.

He lead you away from the group, away from everyone else, down the path towards the cabins where no one was at this hour, after he had intertwined your fingers with his own, the metal of his rings giving your fingers a little extra squeeze.

"It's nice to be sitting with the others and all, and I really enjoyed Dustin's ideas for Hellfire's next campaign, but", Eddie paused as he came to a still in his walk down to where your sleeping quarters were located, turning around to face you as his hand refused to let go of yours, right before continuing in the softest voice, barely audible, "I was hoping we could just leave them for a bit and enjoy the last evening a little more .. in private?"

Eddie leaned in a little closer with every word jumping over his lips.

Until he was inches away from yours, finding your eyes and you noticed the slight change of tone in the warm brown ocean of his. It had turned a shade or two darker as you reciprocated his beguiling gaze.

Oh, how easy it was for you to get entirely lost in it.

"I think that's an intriguing idea, Eddie", you replied with a smile, hoping he'd see and sense the same thing in your own eyes that was so clearly reflected in his. For you and for this reason, it was never difficult to look into them for long. Especially when he was so intently watching you.

A hand snuck around your waist, pulling you closer so your bellies would touch, the hand previously attached to yours now cupping your cheek, thumb softly running over the apple of it, head leaning in even further. Eddie's gaze flicked from your eyes to your lips and back in a matter of seconds, letting you know exactly what he was about to do.

Your hands found the little hairs at the nape of his neck, curling around the sides of it, lightly pulling as the plushness of his lips reunited with yours.

He hummed at the feeling, the moment filled with so much familiarity already. Without breaking contact, he gently cupped the other side of your face with his other hand, holding you there, needing you there.

Ever so softly, your lips moved against his, a moment you wished would last forever.

"I've been thinking about you all day", he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck as he wrapped his arms around you, lips landing on your pulse point. Breathing warmly against the skin there as he mumbled something along the lines of "they kept me away from my cute seat partner for way too long" before letting out a warm chuckle.

You felt your cheeks heat up at his words, still getting flustered by the directness of his flirting attempts. They were effective though, because you couldn't help but squeeze the back of his neck lightly with one hand while your other sneaked around his waist and underneath the hem of his shirt, reconnecting with its favourite place, the warmth and softness of skin on Eddie's back.

"It is an incredible atrocity indeed", you said with a giggle, making him raise his head back to face you, and the spark in his eyes gave you enough of a confidence rush, "I think we should make up for lost time then."

Waisting not a second longer, Eddie grabbed your hand again, and before you knew it, he had you affectionately pressed between the inside of his cabin's door and his body in a whimpering mess.

His kisses were getting hungrier, more demanding, yet there was a gentleness to it that let you know that you could stop this any second if you didn't want it.

"Is this okay, baby? We don't have to do anything if you don't want–", he asked in between sloppy pecks over your cheeks, jaw, down your neck that made you giggle lightly at his manners. It's not like his hands were all over you already, yet he was wondering if anything he was doing was alright with you.

"I can't get enough of you if I'm honest", you cut him off quietly, feeling the heat pooling in your underwear from the sensation of just about everything right now.

You were very well aware of the thing you were about to do. Crossing a line that could never be uncrossed, letting Eddie see you for all that you were, and giving him the freedom to choose.

Spoiler – he chose you.

Had done so since the moment you stepped onto the bus on that parking lot back home.

"Fuck, sweetness, you can't just say stuff like that", Eddie's voice came out huskily, he clearly was getting worked up over your response to his actions since he had you pinned to the door by the hips, his thigh in between yours, while his fingertips explored the skin of your waist underneath your shirt, lips still hovering over the expanse of your neck, brushing his nose upwards along the column of it, but this time a lot more slowly than the previous times.

He seemed to want to savour every single second he was granted access to your body like this, dragging each movement out as far as possible.

His wide, dark brown doe eyes returned to yours as he exhaled, "and expect me to be normal about it."

You didn't waste another second without your lips on his, pulling him back towards you by the chain which was holding his favourite guitar pick around his neck, eliciting a moan against your mouth out of him.

The only thing on Eddie's mind was you you you, the warmth of your perfect skin under his palms, the feeling of your pretty pink lips against his own, even the smell of you alluring him to no end.

Breaking away to catch your breath with eyes still closed, your lips curled into a smile when Eddie's hands wandered higher and higher while leaving goosebumps on the way, thumbs softly catching the underside of your tits, making you let out a content little sigh, as if his hands had just found their home, belonging right there.

His lips reunited with the skin on your neck, a moan escaping them as his thumbs reached your hard nipples, your neck vibrating lightly against his mouth when a moan of your own forced itself out of your lungs and your back arched away from the door for a second.

It had been a long time since anyone had touched you there, never in this way before though, which amplified every little touch Eddie practically worshipped you with.

A shudder ripped through you at the overwhelming sensation, it made you dizzy with want.

"It's so fucking hot when you twitch under my touch", Eddie almost whispered against your neck, and you were certain his voice couldn't drop any lower as he slowly rolled one of your nipples between his thumb and index finger, before raising his head just to watch your reaction even more closely.

"Yeah?"

His actions made you swallow hard, well aware of being at his mercy at the moment.

And yes, Eddie Munson continued the torture he was teasing you with.

"Yeah baby", he lightly poked his nose into your cheek for a second, "so what if I told you", he paused again, then kissed the corner of your mouth, "that I actually felt those little twitches", he tenderly kissed his way down over your cheek to your jaw, "throughout the whole week?"

One of his hands now left your chest, only to drop south.

He made it his mission to find out exactly what you liked. Find out what did it for you, what you wanted from him. What you needed from him.

"I'm curious to know what would happen if I touched you", he paused, lips millimeters away from the skin right beneath your ear, "here?"

A hand snaked around your figure, cupping one of your buttcheeks, the need for you heavily evident in the urgency of the touch.

You responded with another moan through closed lips, eyes closed, your hands finding the back of Eddie's neck again, lightly caressing his skin and tugging at the baby hairs there.

"Yeah, you like that baby, don't you? When I touch you here?"

A light spank.

Taking a deep breath, you nodded with a hum and another moan, cheek rubbing slowly and gently against his scruffy own as your hips involuntarily bucked up against his thigh.

Every movement was slow and gentle right now, yet heavy with hunger for each other.

Eddie noticed. Yet, he decided to take his sweeeeet time and drive you insane just a little longer.

"What about", he paused again, and you felt him smile against your neck as his hand still cupping your chest started kneading a little, rolling the nipple harder just to make sure you actually felt it, "here?"

The back of your head landed against the door with a thud as you moaned and whimpered a little louder this time, the shiteating grin on Eddie's face widening even more, obviously taking pride in his effects on you.

"You're making such pretty sounds for me, sweetheart. Would you maybe also like me to touch you", another pause, in which he moved his hand around your hips, boldly cupping the space between your legs through the thinness of your shorts, "here?"

His breath was tickling the skin on your neck, the last word nothing more than an almost inaudible whisper, traveling all the way down from your jaw to your collarbone.

"Fuck, Eddie", you whimpered out his name, completely lost in him, moving your own hands downtown to where his hellfire shirt was tucked into the waistband of his light blue jeans, just when you suddenly remembered you had a pair of your own.

Hearing you say his name made Eddie shamelessly buck his hips into yours, failing pathetically at hiding the fact that what he was doing to you was also more than enjoyable for him, since you could clearly make out the heavy bulge straining against his pants, pressed against your hip.

"Mhm yeah, such a good girl for me", Eddie chuckled watching you for another second before reuniting your lips with his own, this time with a force of need, almost greedily taking your lower lip between his own for a second, swiping his tongue along, causing your breath to hitch in your throat.

From slow and gentle to a feverish fumble of hands everywhere, it didn't take the both of you long to start freeing each other from the confines of your clothes.

Eddie had lifted your shirt off of you, finally freeing what he'd been dying to get his eyes (and hands) on, and you'd done the same to him, only to take a second to admire the few more tattoos that had until now been hiding from your gaze.

You noticed he was holding his breath, wild mane falling into the sides of his face from your ruffling during heated kisses, and the room suddenly felt a lot warmer.

The only thought in your mind was Eddie in front of you, just a small step away, now in nothing but his boxers, looking at you with an intensity you'd never seen before in him, and your fingers twitched with the desire to just touch.

You had run your hand just over the buckle of his handcuff belt, the movement of his pants against his erection already making him hiss a little. You'd run it over the fabric of the black jeans he was wearing, right where he wanted you most.

Because yeah, you could do that, too.

Eddie had found the pace in which you'd opened his belt to be way too slow, but he'd let you go with it anyway, being so lost in you and so lovedrunk (and straight up horny) that he hadn't dared to intervene.

Your slowness-slash-hesitation had a reason. The anxiety and intrusive thoughts of not being good enough, being too inexperienced decided to jump out of its dark corner inside your brain in just the right moment, causing you to back away from him, giving him a second to have his gaze wander over you.

It wasn't that you'd never done this before, there had been a guy you'd more or less been with, but this right here and now was just so different. More serious? Eddie wasn't just a guy. He was your Eddie at this point.

And however this trip would end, things would inevitably be changed between the two of you. And ultimately affect the dynamics of your friend group.

Eddie was a sensitive person. He was able to read the room, sense your hesitation. He closed the gap between you, his hand landing on your hip, bellies touching, hardness pressing against your thigh.

"Everything alright, darling?"

Cupping your cheek with his free hand, he tilted his head to find your eyes, the look in his filled with concern now, wondering if this was still okay for you.

Your arms snaked around his torso, fingertips lingering on his waist. He felt them burn through his skin.

A train of seemingly endless thoughts ran through your head, not knowing how to proceed from your lack of having done this enough times to just know, paired with the expectations you believed Eddie to have of this situation, and therefore, of you.

"Yeah, yeah", you assured him. The last thing you wanted was for him to believe he'd done anything wrong.

"It's just that", you paused, struggling to find the words to explain yourself and the rise of your performance anxiety while trying your best to avoid his puppy doe eye gaze, "I haven't really–"

A warm thumb on your lips cut you off, its hand directing your face towards his, the hand on your hip now lightly digging into the flesh there.

"I know baby, I know", Eddie said, referring to his wisdom with unknown origin to you, exhaling deeply before pressing an open mouthed kiss to your plush cheek, the gesture intending to let you know that you could be utterly honest and vulnerable with him. "Would you like me to show you", another pause, his gaze back on your face, thumb now lightly pulling down your lower lip, "what I like?"

Opening your mouth as a response, the tip of your tongue was briefly met with the tip of Eddie's thumb, causing him to twitch lightly and let out a groan through closed lips.

Everything you did and everything you were in your essence was driving him to the edge of insanity, not surprising after the months and months of thirsting after you in his desperate silence.

And his gentleness with you was making the dark imposter syndrome clouds in your head melt away like Lindor chocolate in mild temperatures.

His eyes bored into yours intently as you stuck your tongue out to meet the base of his thumb, just to drag it all the way up to the tip, before closing your lips around it and suck lightly.

"Mhhm, fuck", you heard him mutter, the effect your actions seemed to have on him giving you enough confidence to let his thumb go with a small pop, your hands still lingering on his waist pushing him a step away from you so you'd have enough space to drop to your knees, hooking your fingers into the waistband of his boxers, slowly pulling them towards gravity to finally free him.

With precum leaking from the tip, you took a second to admire Eddie's girth and length with wide eyes, and it made your mouth water and your panties even more soaked than they already were.

Taking him in your hand, you smeared the precum down to the base where a light thatch of dark curls sat, leading up to his happy trail which you'd already gotten to lay sight on on the bus, and that time frankly hadn't been the first of you imagining what the place to where that trail was leading looked like.

Leaning upwards, you kept ahold of him, kissing the soft skin of his lower belly right above his curls as his hand buried itself in your hair at the back of your head, letting out a guttural moan when you let your tongue run through the tiny hairs leading up to his navel, just to kiss your way back down again, slowly, gently, all the way over the soft expanse, taking another second to bury your nose in his skin, inhaling everything he was willing to offer you.

He was about to ask you if you could pinch him just to make sure this was reality happening right in front of him, you kneeling all pretty with your hand wrapped around his cock, now slowly lifting it and flattening your tongue at the base to lick a broad stripe up along the underside, making you feel each little vein on the way to his pink tip.

"Jesus, fuuuck, that's it baby", you just heard him encourage you, indeed letting you know what he liked, his grip on your hair tightening lightly.

The fact that you could feel him throb and twitch and hear him whimper slurred renditions of your name alongside small curses gave you a significant ego boost, causing you to find enough confidence to lock eyes with him from underneath your lashes.

"Fuck, and you were worried that you wouldn't be good at this?", Eddie chuckled as he looked down at you in disbelief, his free hand not tangled up in the strands of hair cupping your cheek to affectionately brush his thumb over it, unable to ever get the image in front of him out of his brain.

"Fucking hell, you're being soooo good for me baby, oh my god, yeah, just like that", he mumbled when you started swirling your tongue around the head, softly rubbing the tip of it over the underside every now and then, until you decided to close your lips around him, letting him feel your wet warmth.

It gave Eddie a great idea of a similar place he was dying to discover. Itching.

And it took every little ounce of willpower in him to keep his hips away from giving into the urge to thrust his entire length into the confines of your mouth, so out of respect for you, he channelled his impulses into a symphony of soft moans, quiet mutters of oh, fuck and oh my god, and whimpers of your name as you took him deeper with every bob of your head.

Every little sound escaping him only turned you on even more. You couldn't possibly get enough of seeing him all blissed out and soft for you like this, causing the vibrations of your own moans to make Eddie shudder.

However, he didn't give himself too much time to enjoy the feeling of your mouth taking him, since he was already bending down a little to lift you back up to your feet, before capturing your lips in a hot and heavy kiss while pulling you tightly into his embrace, both of his hands sliding down from your lower back and underneath the fabric of your panties, just to end their journey on your ass and roughly pull you against him.

"I'm gonna cum on the spot if you keep doing that", he'd declared, sinking his teeth into the flesh of your neck, nibbling softly at the skin, making your cheeks flush with heat.

No one had ever said that to you.

You winced at the roller coaster he put you on, his back and forth between rough and demanding and gentle and soft, but you were eating it up.

He was hypnotizing you with every touch and every grunt and every move you felt against your lips.

Not even when the backs of your knees hit the bed frame did he let go of you, resulting in him burying you into his mattress under his weight, commented with a giggle from the both of you.

Moving to your side, he reconnected his lips to your neck and you craned your head up, giving him better access while one of his hands slowly moved around to your front, cupping you through your panties, his middle finger lightly pressing into that very damp spot in the fabric, eliciting a moan out of you.

It was his turn now.

"Wanna make you feel good too, sweetness. Gonna let me, yeah?", his sultry voice didn't even wait for a response, impatient fingers moving the lace to the side before running the middle through your folds, tip of it catching your clit briefly.

"Oh fuck yes!" There it was. You breathed the words out in a whiny tone, your hand reaching down to give his still rock hard cock a few sloppy strokes in return, earning another soft moan against the junction of your jaw meeting your throat.

If the situation wasn't this hot, if Eddie's finger didn't make the room spin, you think you'd be embarrassed to no end with how pathetic your moans were sounding, but the pleasure you were experiencing and the metalhead's tender endearments you were receiving just didn't leave any space for any other feeling.

You just couldn't bring yourself to care.

Eddie didn't care either. In fact, he was bathing in your responsiveness, feeling every single one of your touches in the endings of his tiniest nerve branches. Being the touch starved, crucified town freak and all.

Your neediness for him made his insides turn and his head spin, he was still having a hard time wrapping his head around the fact that you'd let him come this close and do this to you, and your cute little whimpers made him want to give you everything you'd ever silently (or not so silently) request from him.

He felt this entire moment after moment to be a haze, a fever dream he'd wake up from at some point, and for this reason, he didn't waste a single thought on anything else but you.

How infatuated with you he was.

"Mhhm fuck, so needy for me baby, aren't you?", he remarked the way you were bucking your hips against his hand, "drives me fucking nuts."

He lifted his head just so he could watch the way your face crinkled with every slow up-and-down stroke of his finger, gathering your evident arousal on the way before gently pushing it in, indulging the way your eyes rolled into the back of your head for just a second before they opened and found the warm deep dark brown of his own.

"Mhh yes Eddie, need you so bad", you managed to get out as he added his ring finger, stretching you open a bit more under slick sounds of his hand against your cunt.

His face was so close. So close that if you turned your head just a little, your kiss swollen lips could be back on his, giving him one more confirmation that the way his fingers were curling inside of you were doing just the right job. In fact, he was finding spots you could only dream to reach on your own.

You felt more precum leak from the tip of his cock which was resting against your thigh, the slow rut of his hips against yours smearing it between your bodies, causing your brain to short-circuit at the realisation that it was you being the reason for him to act this way.

Only making you spread your legs wider.

"God baby, you're so fucking wet", he trailed off, continuing to slowly fuck his two fingers into your tight entrance, completely enticed with the way you were giving yourself to him, "is that all because of me?"

He just needed to hear you say it.

"Mhh fuck yes Eddie, all for you. For you only."

No idea how you got that out, with the way his fingers felt and the way he was looking at you, all lovedrunk and ready to give you the world.

"You gonna let me have a taste?"

Pulling his hand away and leaving you empty under a protesting whimper, he sucked the two fingers into his mouth, moaning against them without breaking eye contact and it was driving you mad. You nodded with a dazed smile.

He got up just to drop his weight between your legs, spreading them by planting his palms on the backs of your thighs firmly and pushing them up, panties still to the side.

You held your legs there when he moved his hands down, taking both thumbs to open you up for him, taking just a second to get his first actual look at your pussy and watch it glisten in the dim light of the sun casting its last rays of the day through the denseness of trees and into the room.

Eddie had fantasized plenty for literal months about the way you'd possibly look, but nothing prepared him for the actual sight in front of him.

It made you feel the most vulnerable you'd ever felt, letting him see and touch you this way, yet there was a naturalness to it that made it just so easy to give yourself to him.

Building trust with him seemed to be the easiest thing for you. Surprising yourself there, aren't ya?

And when his tongue shyly took its first swirl around your clit? Nothing was ever easier than Eddie.

Waves of pleasure took over your brain with every lap of his mouth, taking you between his lips, licking, sucking, swirling, slurping, making your thighs twitch with every single one of his moves, and he was (quite literally) eating your responsiveness up, each of his moans against the most sensitive part of your body becoming deeper in sound.

He noticed he could cum just from tasting you as he found his hips inconsistently humping the mattress, hearing your sweet chants as one of your hands found its way back into his unruly mane, encouraging him further in his actions.

"Fuuuck baby, I need you. Need all of you, please?", you whimpered just when the heat in your lower stomach was about to reach its peak, raising your head as your eyes encountered the way he was watching you from underneath his bangs sticking to his forehead, the hand not entangled in his hair busy fisting his bedsheets.

That was the only thing he needed to hear.

You could feel him smile, continuing to do so as he pushed himself up on his knees and crawling a few inches forward to be eye to eye hovering over you, chin, lips and tip of his nose glistening with your juices, the ends of his dark curls tickling your cheeks. He helped you wriggle out of your panties swiftly, discarding them on the cabin floor to join the rest of your clothes, hands resting on the softness of your thighs as he knelt back to sit on his heels.

He felt his dick twitch between his legs, seeing you lying and spread out underneath in front of him, in all your glory, ready to let him take you where you wanted to be most.

The vision tugging at his heartstrings, knowing how much trust you were instilling in him in order for you to let him go this far with you.

"Eddie, please."

You pushed yourself up to meet his lips, planting one hand on the back of his neck, the other hooked a finger into the chain dangling down like a collar, and without breaking away you pulled him back down with you.

"Yeah? Wanna feel me fill your pretty little pussy?", he breathed out, hands back on your thighs, digging into their plushness.

You believed to hear Eddie's voice to drop an octave, now leaning back again to let the underside of his cock slowly glide through your soaked folds, the head catching on your clit deliciously, making your head spin from having him do this to you.

"God, yes", you moaned out, watching him through heavy eyelids.

Eddie smiled his dimpled smile down at your face, reveling in the sight as he let the tip breach your sopping entrance, giving him an idea of how tightly his cock would be sitting inside of you.

His eyes were fixated on the spot where your bodies were now joined, slowly pushing another inch in as you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist, wanting him closer.

"Eyes on me, baby", Eddie mouthed at your jawline as he leaned back down to place a quick kiss there, right when he noticed you zoning out, focusing on taking him as best as you possibly could.

Once again your eyes found the warm gaze he was observing your every move with, and soon you felt his lips back on your own, kissing you softly as he slowly pushed all the way in, forcing a gasp out of your lungs at the feeling of utter fullness.

For a moment, the world stopped.

Eddie blinked at you through half-lidded eyes now, nudging his nose against your own before capturing your lips in another heated kiss, sending both of your tongues dancing and a moan from the pit of his lungs vibrated through your system.

Your hands moved up to cup his face, holding him close to you as his trailed up the underside of your thighs, before pushing your knees towards your chest, practically bending you in half and slowly starting to move his hips against your own when he felt you adjust to him.

"Oh fuck, fuuuck you're so tight", Eddie sighed, eyes falling shut at the feeling of your cunt sucking him in like that, and his words ringing through your ears, and hearing him admit to you what you were making him feel? It made you clench around him briefly, goosebumps spread over every inch of your body at the words forming on his tongue.

You were just so warm and wet and soft and so so tight, completely fucked out for him and him only.

"Eyes on me, baby", you repeated his own words back to him with a smile and glassy eyes, completely stunned to feel him like this, slowly filling and leaving you again.

Opening his eyes again to meet your gaze, his lips curled into a wide smile at your sentiment, "gonna be soft with you, unless you want me not to be, yeah?", he leaned down to plant a kiss on the corner of your mouth, forearms now resting on each side of your head, before his last words were nuzzled against your ear, "just tell me, sweetnose."

With his announcement he gave you a few more slow and gentle thrusts, getting both of you used to the feeling, before he moved back up again, holding your thighs spread out against your chest, his eyes glued to where his heavy cock slid in and out of your sopping slick hole.

Heat was spreading through his body, an excessive amount of endorphines circulating through his veins, transporting the desire and hunger for you into the tiniest endings of his nerves, causing his entire system to be in the moment with you.

Same thing applied to you.

It didn't take long for him to pick up the pace, right after he moved a pillow under your hips, with the aim to hit your sweet spot at just the right angle, slide his entire length in even deeper, making the tip kiss your cervix repeatedly.

Moans and whimpers and grunts and groans from both your mouths where conjuring a whole opera of beautiful sounds you both were reveling in equally as you moved your hips to meet his repeated thrusting, tip of his cock brushing over that spot inside of you each time he moved in to fill the space between your drenched walls.

His entire weight was on you, since he wanted to sink his teeth back into the soft flesh of your neck, nibbling and sucking at the skin there. Your hands found a home in his hair, gently scratching his scalp, sending his eyes rolling into the back of his head, and you felt a puddle slowly take its form on the cover of the pillow tucked underneath your ass.

He was so deep, so so deep inside of you, his eyes bored themselves through yours straight into your soul, foreheads touching.

"Fuck, fuck, Eddie, feels so good", you babbled and moaned against his stubbly cheek, your heavy breath tickling down his own neck, "need more."

The knot in your lower abdomen was already tightening, getting ready to snap from just his feral thrusts and the beguiling way he was eyeing you.

"Yeah baby? Wanna cum for me?"

Your neediness made him chuckle, raising himself up and back on his heels, a strong arm wrapping around your torso and pulling you up with him, into his lap, letting one of his hands rest on and dig into your plush thigh.

He let himself drop on his butt, the hand on your thigh slowly trailing up up up, fingertips and palm climbing softly all the way over your back to come and stay on the back of your neck, encasing you fully and pressing you against his chest, letting you know he needed you just as close as you needed him.

Without even thinking about it your hips started moving against his as you straddled him, your kiss swollen lips finding his own again, panting into each others mouths, and soon enough the knot between your legs came close to snapping, from the change of position, the length of his cock now gliding smoothly against your clit with each rock of your hips, creating the delicious friction you so desperately craved.

"Yes baby, that's it, lose it for me, oh god fuck!", Eddie panted as he felt your hips starting to stutter, his words sending you over the edge, cunt spasming and clenching around him, your frantic breaths hitting his face as your head was thrown back.

He was soaking you up with all the sweet sounds you were making for him, helping you ride out your high, hands moving down to your ass to lift you, just after announcing his own release through a sickeningly deep moan and mumbles of "oh fuck baby, so close, gonna make me– oh shit", hot and sticky saltiness joining your sweet juices, landing in the tight space between your bellies, painting undefinable patterns onto the heated skin.

For another eternity you held each other close, felt his breathing against your shoulder and collarbone as he dipped his head to place a kiss to your throat, moving his hands away from your back to cup your face, pressing his lips to yours, not wanting to let the moment go just yet.

And then, he dropped the bomb.

"Say that you're mine", he still panted, forehead leaning against yours, noses touching as your hands cupped his on top of your cheeks.

It made you chuckle, the fact he was asking this now after fucking you into another dimension, and it made your thumbs brush over the backs of his palms.

You sensed the tension still present in every fiber of his being with the way he was holding onto your face, still needing you close, and since you knew about his abandonment issues to some extent, seeing him all vulnerable like this was tugging at your heartstrings to no end.

None of his usual slightly cocky tone, just pure softness and an open heart was what presented itself to you.

Say that you're mine.

Of course you were his.

Your facial expression softened endlessly, you felt all your insides melt into one big puddle, mouth forming into a small pout, one hand coming down to rest on his own cheek, closing the gap and slotting your lower lip in between his.

You wanted him to feel the amount of affection you had for him, in your eyes, in your kiss, in your touch.

He was supposed to feel loved. Like he should always have felt that he was loved.

"I'm all yours, Eddie. But only if you're all mine."

The look in your eyes said it all. The one in his, too.

Yeah. He was your Eddie. Your seat partner. Your magnet.

Eddie pulled you into him, as if hearing the words come out of your mouth and the way you were looking at him all soft and gooey made all his angst about being dropped and left again slowly vanish.

"I'll need some time to get used to this", he paused, not daring to meet your eye, "I mean, to someone that doesn't just leave after a while."

Since being this close to someone emotionally was about equally far away from any routine for you as well, you met him with utmost understanding.

"That's okay. We're in no rush, right?", you kissed the corner of his mouth, small pecks over the stubbly cheek opposite of where your hand was placed.

You were able to watch him get too much into his head as you spoke.

"You sure about that? I don't think the law of seat partners extends to–"

Your lips pressed to his own cut him off, "you don't need a silly law to make me wanna spend time with you, Munson."

A quick journey of your eyes over his beautiful face, his eyes widened, eyebrows raised, lips curled into a pretty smile, cheeks all rosy and forehead bangs sticking to his forehead from your most recent activities.

"Actually, I've been dreaming of you – and this – since I met you at Steve's for the first time and Dustin introduced you to me as his ultra handsome dungeon master, you remember?", you continued, hoping it would give him an idea how how much you'd been wistfully pining after him, an idea about how wanted he was.

Of course Eddie remembered.

It was the night he had left way earlier than usual because he just couldn't stand being around you without making a colossal fool out of himself for already wanting to be close to you after just thirty minutes of being in the same room, afraid to be coming on way too strong for his reputation and, speaking from experience, ultimately scare you away.

His hands dropped from your face, two strong arms wrapping themselves back around your figure as he breathed in your sweat-sticky scent, desperately trying one more time to glue this memory into the long-term department of his brain.

"Wait, does that mean I could have .. could've had you .. all this time?"

A chuckle escaped your lips, before leaning into him once more, planting another sweet kiss to his mouth.

"Yeah silly, ... all this time."

-----

Home was calling you back into the bleak reality of trying to graduate high school, and you were far from missing it.

Nancy using her famous organizational talents had made sure that Robin wouldn't leave her special pillow behind, and instructed you to look extra carefully for any items that might have flown behind the bedframe.

And she was correct. You'd blindly reached for a little white framed polaroid, only to discover that it was the one of Eddie with his flower crown, eyes squeezed shut, grinning like an absolute idiot.

He still, maybe even more so now, looked angelic.

You'd never forgive yourself if you'd leave that one here.

The ride home was spent with your head on Prince Metal's shoulder for the most part, your back practically lying on his chest, huddled up against him.

And it did take all the strength in the both of you to not constantly be all over each other, especially under the scrutinizing eyes of your teachers.

A few pecks were stolen here and there, the feeling of being entirely lovedrunk making it hard to separate. Thankfully, for the foreseeable future, you didn't have to.

The group had just shot you knowing looks at breakfast, Max, Robin and the older guys who had seen you wrapped (and very covered up, Eddie had made sure of that) in Eddie's sheets in the morning responsible for not being able to keep their beaks shut.

For the long hours you'd be spending on the road, Eddie had organized a restock of snacks at the only supermarket in the first town you'd stopped at on the way.

"As your designated seat partner, it is so hard to keep my hands to myself", you mumbled into the fabric of the dark and washed out Metallica shirt covering his shoulder with a sheepish grin, as your hand slowly disappeared into the bag on his lap, pulling out whatever box of cookies he'd chosen.

Eddie couldn't help but snort at your innuendo and the way you were using his own joke on him in return.

Lowering his head, planting his cheek against your temple, whispers.

"Oh baby, just wait until we're home."

-----

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if you're on this taglist, please consider reblogging as it helps and is greatly appreciated. thank you for reading!

[skywalking-through-life]

Much delayed, but for the truth-or-dare ask game: 🍓🥑🥤🧃 (🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷)

My friend! 💙💙💙💙💙

These are such good ones, omg. Sorry in advance for the word vomit, lolol

🍓 - How did you get into writing fanfiction?

Okay, so I've kind of been writing fic in my head (and sometimes in notebooks/random word documents) since I was about 8 years old, and I first realized that 'writing stories' was 1) a thing ANYONE could do, and also, sometimes, 2) a job that required refined skills, lol. When you're a kid you're told (if you're lucky) that you can do anything that you put your mind to, and little Sky loved stories more than most other things, so I couldn't imagine doing something with the rest of my life that didn't involve them! So I started practicing. The first fanfic I ever wrote was in a journal, and it was only a few pages long because I did not have great penmanship and was impatient with own slowness, lol. I'm fairly certain I was embarrassed by my efforts and threw them out. For a long time I wrote elaborate stories in my head instead, and didn't start actually doing the (MUCH harder) work of putting them on paper until high school. But I was also having a complex at that point in my life around acceptability/popularity and anxiety around being perceived as a nerd, so I was way too terrified to tell anyone I was writing it. And then I was so disillusioned by the meanness that I saw in online fandom spaces that it still took years before I got up the courage to post any of it publicly! I've had an ao3 account for the past decade, and was a lurker for a good five years before that, but I didn't start posting my own work until just under two years ago. That ought to say something, I think. 💀

🥑 - you accidentally killed someone, which mutal(s) do you text for help?

LOL, heaven forbid I ever find myself in this situation, but if so...honestly probably you, lmao, and some other folks on here that I don't think have ever been involved in crimes, but are otherwise competent, functioning adults who don't shy away from difficult/grey situations - at least in fiction, lol. @60sec400 @darkmagyk @phykios @deerlie-main , I hope you are not insulted by this. 💀

🥤- recommend an author or fanfic you love

I just did this the other week - and apparently y'all really needed recs, wow! - so I'm kind of wracking my brain here to rec something I haven't already recommended recently...there are a LOT of good options to choose from! I guess I'll go with 'percy jackson and the scrutiny of his coworkers', which is an absolutely BRILLIANT outsider pov fic by pqrker on ao3. It's popular for a reason, and the reason being that it is perfect. 🥹

🧃- share some personal lore you've never posted about before

Ooooo, hmm, what to pick, what to pick...hmm, okay, I'll go with this. A segue from my first answer, lol. I was nominated for Homecoming Queen in high school, and was the first runner up, so - hilariously - became the Homecoming Princess. It was my teen movie Cinderella-story moment, because I had always been the shy nerd in the back of the classroom, but then all of a sudden was in a fancy dress on the football field getting a crown and wondering what parallel universe and/or Taylor Swift song I'd just fallen into. And weirdly enough, knowing that I hadn't done anything special to be nominated - that people had just liked me - went a long way towards me being able to accept myself more holistically. Maybe if they liked me enough for that, I could like me enough to try and see what they saw, you know? It was years ago now, but it is a fond and bizarre memory, and was very helpful to a confused and anxious 17 year old! 😅

You may have gotten more than you planned with this ask, lol, but thank you for asking, my friend. 💙

[bishops-of-the-old-faith]

I've been wondering how you do your animations?

i animated them on clip studio paint! they are 17-18 or so frames, give or take, so to make a little gif like them you don't need ex

i don't think i'm completely qualified to explain how to animate in clip studio paint (and honestly. you do not need clip studio paint for this), but i wish to point out that every separate moving part, if you want them to move differently from the body, needs its own folder to be independent. in the case of the talk sprites, it's their eyes, mouth, crowns, as well as extra appendages (i'm using shamura's as an example, so their pedipalps)

i animated the blink on 7s. it's a bit of an odd frame rate, but it works

for the blink, simply drawing an open eye and closed eye works, but we can add some extra frames in between to make it more interesting. i will go over what i did to do so

it consists of 5 unique frames

first is the wide open eyes. just draw them how you normally do

next is this about to close eye. i have put onion skin on so you can compare the previous (blue) and next (green) frames

frame 3 is the actual close. you don't need to animate every step of closing, because that will make the movement feel slow. i'm not an animation student but from what i have picked up as a hobbyist, less frames in between makes the action look faster because your brain can fill in the rest!

frame 4 is still closed-eyed, but extended down a bit. this will make the part where their eyes open squish a bit before they bounce. it adds tension to the movement and makes it more interesting

and the last unique frame is this half-lidded look. just opening their eyes again. this movement is a bit slower, so we add another frame

from here, i insert frame 2 and frame 1 to the end to make the full blink! if you want another reference, look at this drawing made by crowne prince. this image comes from a video that goes into a lot more detail, as well as including eyelashes

the mouth i animated on 5s. i needed motions that always looked like talking so i am sure there are better lip sync guides out there. the mouth does not need to move quickly, so the frames change little by little as they move, opposed to the blink

you can also see it in action in this gif i made of my sona. though in this gif, there is an extra frame between the starting eye and the lidded eye, an extra bounce after opening. i did not do this for the bishops but if you want a little more oomf in your blink, you can add the extra frame

the blink is not on loop. for the entire animation, they blink once. because constant blinking is a bit unnatural, unless they got something in their eyes! but each of the bishops blinks at a different time :)

frame 1, i referenced the original game sprite because that's an easy starting out point

for frame 2, the mouth is wider, again bringing the tension and bounce properties into this movement

frame 3 is smaller than frame 1, it is getting ready to close

frame 4 gets closer

and frame 5 closes!

and this animation is on a consistent loop. 1>2>3>4>5>4>3>2>1 and repeat

and each of their extra appendages (if applicable) are different. but in general they had 3 unique frames. a resting position, an inbetween of going up, and a high point. then it would come back down. depending on the swiftness of the movement, i might skip a frame (kallamer's ears, for example). but since shamura is generally more relaxed, they move slower and more consistently

again i am not an animation student but i hope this was insightful

[chronic-ghost]

Chapter 5 of Recovery Road

chapter rating: E (18+)

pairing: dieter bravo x f!reader

word count: 7483

chapter summary: Chloe comes home to him, just in time to face you again at the movie’s wrap party. But it seems nothing can stop the inevitable.  

chapter warnings/tags: SMUT (finally), officially infidelity, cheating, accusations of drug use, insecurity

a/n: this is what I imagined Dieter and reader wearing to the party.

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For the first time in a very, very, very long time, one of Dieter’s projects ends on time and within budget. No psychopathic directors, no nitpicking changes to the script, no reshoots because the studio had a stick up its ass.

And – he can proudly say – no trouble-filled, cocaine-fueled hysterical breakdowns from the talent. He’s on the other side, uncomfortable with the silence– the peace – and waits for the other shoe to drop. It never comes. Scott even gives him a specific call out on the last day of shooting for being (and this is a direct quote) “a upstanding leader and insightful character actor, whose commitment to the craft ensured the success of this film.” 

Scott also gave you a glowing review as well, but whatever. 

On top of all that, Chloe comes home two days later. 

She smells like sharp, warm spices, he remembers when he buries his nose in her hair. She walks through the door and she’s in his arms, close to his chest, against that burning knot he can’t seem to shake. He carries her – her suitcases still by the front door – all the way up to their bedroom and, delicately at first, proceeds to ravage her. This body is familiar, he thinks, as he doesn’t even take off her underwear before thrusting his fingers inside of her. He watches her eyes roll back with deep, deep satisfaction and he closes his eyes, committing the sound of her cries to memory, if they weren’t already there. He needed them to paper the inside walls of his brain so he could pluck them down whenever he wanted. His brain needed a renovation. 

“Dieter, slow down, baby,” she mewls, pushing on his shoulder only to tighten her grip on him, twisting his shirt. He wants to beg her to do that to his hair. “I still smell like airport. Lemme take a shower first.”

To prove her wrong, he yanks off her underwear – a little lace thing that he wants to put in his pocket – and dives, tongue-first, in between her legs. He moans as her talons latch onto the crown of his head and he laps at her clit. 

“I don’t give a shit, baby. You taste so fucking good. I need you.” 

And he did. Despite where his fingers and his tongue and eventually his cock went, she made him whole. She smoothed out his rough edges, stroking down this frantic energy he had been carrying for days like wired hair on the back of his neck. He poured so much of him into her that when he came inside of her, this immeasurable weight was gone. 

“What the fuck was that, Dieter?” Chloe pants when they were done. They are both dripping in sweat, skin blisteringly hot, and gasping for painful breaths. “I’m not complaining exactly, but my God, where did that come from?”

He looks up at her, his head on her chest. She’s absently playing with his sweat-streaked hair so he thinks she might not be really mad. He shrugs, his heart still pounding as if it were inside of a drum, and presses a kiss on her shoulder.

“I just fucking missed you.” 

“Yeah, I got that . . .” 

He feels like he loves too strong sometimes. Too much. He squeezes his eyes shut in shame. 

“Did I hurt you? I wasn’t too rough, was I?”

“Honestly, Dee, just a little. I just got a seven hour flight and you come in like a horny tornado–,”

“I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to – I just –,”

“Dieter, stop. It’s fine.” She kisses him and his anxiety falters.

“Let me make you dinner, while you take a shower. I’ll rub your feet later, if you want.”

She laughs and he feels things shift, return to normal. “Okay, baby, okay. And, you know, I missed you too.”

He shifts onto his elbows, trapping her below him before she can shimmy off the bed. Her eyes are bright and she’s smiling at him. 

Why would I risk this? Why would I risk her for you?

She strokes a damp curl behind his ear. “What? What are you so smile-y about?”

“You mean the world to me, you know that, right?” He kisses her gently, quickly because there’s more he has to say. “I don’t know who I am without you. I want to be the person you want me to be.”

“Dieter–,”

“I’m serious.” He swallows, shaking his head, suddenly fearful of what he almost lost. “I can’t do any of this without you.” 

It’s late evening and the shadows are long and he thinks he sees one pass over her face for a moment, but then she’s smiling again. 

“Of course, baby. I love you too.”

   The following morning, an invitation for a cast-and-crew screening of the film at Scott Manley’s home comes through the mail. It’s on nice cardstock and everything. With the press circuit coming soon that would take them on the road for weeks, Dieter is inclined to throw the damn thing in the garbage. But Chloe insists. 

“Oh, c’mon, Dieter, don’t be like that,” she says as she rifles through the mail while they wait for coffee to finish brewing. “I wanna meet your co-stars. And from what you’ve said about the director, I think it’ll be lots of fun.”

He crowds behind her with one hand on the island, the other wrapping around her waist, his pinkie digging beneath the fantastic green leggings she’s got on. 

“I can think of something that would be even more fun.” He noses the back of her ear. 

“Dieter, stop. You know I don’t like sex before yoga.”

The coffee pot beeps and she slides out of his arms. 

“Wait, yoga? Now? It’s eight in the morning.”

“I go every Tuesday with Marlene. This isn’t anything new.” She pours in MUD and the smell reminds him of fertilizer. 

He swallows. “But you just got back. I thought we could spend the day together. There’s a new art exhibit that I thought you’d like to –,”

“Dieter, I’ve just spent three months deeply entrenched in the art world.” She glances at him as she pours the sludge-y mix into a travel mug. “I think I’d rather do literally anything else.”

“Okay, then you pick. We can do whatever you want, but I’d–,”

She puts a hand on his chest and kisses his cheek. “We’ll talk when I get back. And we’re going to that party, okay? It’ll be good for us.”

He nods vaguely as she picks up her keys, yoga mat, and coffee and heads out the door without another word. 

Us. Okay. That’s good news. 

Thirty minutes later, he’s out running Griffith park until his knees buckled, sweat soaking the front and back of his shirt, and he’s overworked himself so much he thinks he might puke. 

God, he fucking hates running. 

She does come back, as promised, and they go see a movie. It’s dark and he holds her hand. 

He gets her door for her before the valet can, but his eyes are scanning the grounds, unsure what he’s looking for, but highly aware of an encroaching something. Maybe it was the storm above. If there was any luck, Scott planned for the viewing to be outside and with bad weather, he’ll have to cancel the whole thing. Frowning darkly, he takes Chloe by the hand, tossing the keys to the Jaguar to the boy in a red vest, and starts up the steps of the Tudor-style home two at a time. 

Fuck, he forgot he hates this shirt. The orange color is all wrong and the collar always itches the skin on his neck and–

“Dieter, honey, slow down!” Chloe demands. He freezes and she’s still two steps down, trying to balance up the stairs in heels and a chiffon, plated dress. “You’re running like something’s on fire.”

Immediately, he relents. He helps her up the stairs and rubs her elbow. 

“Sorry, sorry, I think I’m just nervous.”

“Oh, sweetie, why?” She tucks up a fly-away curl across his forehead and he kisses her knuckles, still frowning. “You used to love these.”

Above the slate-gray sky grumbles and the wind rushes the trees surrounding the property. 

“I dunno. I just feel like there’s going to be too much . . .”

He trails off and swallows. There’s not enough words to manifest exactly what he’s so afraid of.

“There’ll be too much temptation, right?” 

His eyes snap to hers. 

She’s frowning sympathetically. “There’s all kinds of alcohol at things like this. And God knows what other shit people are bringing. It brings back bad memories, right?”

It feels like he’s choking. He can only nod. 

“I know, baby. But you’ll get through this. You got through that party at that hotel, right? We’ll just do it again.”

He suddenly wishes she isn’t touching him, isn’t so close with her hand on his cheek. She kisses him on the lips but he doesn’t react. 

“C’mon. We won’t even go near the drinks.” 

He lets her pull him up the stairs. He catches one more glance at the rolling sky. He doesn’t like the tense smell of ozone that’s building. There is too much electricity in the air.

There is a brief moment of reprieve when he sees the inside of Scott’s home for the first time. The tall, cream walls hover in fixed arches over the doorways. The wainscotting is crisp, fine, matching the black edgings and black and white tiled floors in all but color. The furniture and tables are held up by beautiful copper pipes, made soft by wood accents in the knick-knacks and artwork. Splashes of green plants highlight the corners and shadows. The windows are wide and striking, coaxing in every thread of light. The house opens to a long foyer that disappears into the bowels of the house, with a thick stack of white stairs on the right that shrink up to another level. To the immediate left is an immaculate black-and-cream dining set of tables and chairs, and further down the hall, faint music and laughter creeps over the dark hardwood floor.

This is the house of a real, big-time, actual adult. Not exactly his first impression of Scott Manley. 

“Dieter, you were so mean when you talked about this man,” Chloe hisses as she shuts the door behind them. “This place is gorgeous. There’s no Star Wars anywhere. Does his wife work?”

Dieter shrugs, awestruck. He cranes his neck up to try and see where the second floor disappeared to. 

“I have no idea. I never even heard him mention his wife.” 

“He must be a pretty successful director to have a place like this in LA.”

“We’re on the outskirts, sweetheart, don’t sound so impressed.” 

Chloe opens her mouth to respond, when someone down the hall calls his name. “Dieter!”

It’s Scott. Dressed exactly like he did during the entirety of production, with the exception of a black blazer. That is new. He’s a bit pink-faced and there’s a glass of something amber in his hand. He’s smiling and it makes Dieter weirdly uncomfortable. 

“So glad you could make it! These things always go over better when you’ve got your stars!”

He turns to Chloe, but Dieter jumps first. “Natalie’s here?”

Scott’s wet mouth opens and closes. “Erm, well, yes. Why wouldn’t she be?”

He forcefully unclenches his face. “Why does she do anything?” 

Chloe and Scott watch him with uncertainty for a moment, then Scott beams at her. 

“And you must be Mrs. Bravo!”

“Chloe works just fine,” she laughs sweetly and lets him take her hand. 

“I’d say it’s a pleasure to meet you, but Dieter here talked about you so much I feel like I know you like a close friend.” 

He relaxes when her hand slides over his forearm. She stares up at him with her big eyes, her pink mouth grinning. She feels solid next to him, more solid than he is. 

“Did he now?”

So what if you are here? Chloe is here instead and she’s here to stay. He smirks at her and presses a kiss to the arc of her cheek.

“Of course, baby, all good things.” He glances at Scott again, who shifts back and forth on his feet, unflappably uncomfortable with displays of human affection. “Is Heidi here yet?”

“Oh, they didn’t tell you? She can’t come. Production on her other shoot got extended by three weeks.”

“Oh.”

It stings more than he thought it would. Her last email, because that has been the only way to get in touch with her lately, said she’d probably be able to make the wrap party.

“Well, if you’d like to see it,” Scott says, swaying on his feet, “the party is back here.”

And that’s how he enters the wrap party of his most successful project to date. With a beautiful woman at his side and a confidence that oozes. Scott leads them out to a square courtyard, with a single lemon tree in the center. There’s a relaxed beat playing from somewhere in the bushes. The night is cool and there’s a breeze. Everything’s glowing warm. People laugh and drink, peacefully. The waiters slide around offering canapes and champagne. In the garden beyond, there’s a screen and chairs. 

This is it. This is the moment he’s back. Back on top. Everything is right in the world. Everything is exactly as it’s supposed to be. He is where he is supposed to be. 

And then he sees you. 

And you’re still not wearing any fucking pants.

 “Dieter, honey, what’s wrong? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”

He blinks, his brain not connected to any part of his body. He feels hollow. Smooth on the inside. 

“Dieter. Dieter!”

Her nails dig into his chin as Chloe yanks his focus down to her. There’s something cloudy about the way she looks at him.

“Dieter, what are you looking at?” She doesn’t quite laugh but she tries.

“Nothing, baby, nothing.” He rubs his thumb over her shoulder. He can feel the tension in her neck. “It’s nothing. Just surprised to see this many people. It’s no big deal.”

She frowns, no longer committing to the charade. 

“I’ve never seen you make that face before. It was . . . I don’t know. It . . . scared me. I’ve never seen you look like that.” She repeats. 

He makes sure he’s not trembling when he runs his fingers from her shoulder down to her elbow. “Like I said, I’m nervous about being here, baby. It’s nothing.”

“That’s not–,”

“Dieter Bravo, as I fuckin’ live and breathe!” 

Mark Bronson in a crisp white shirt and black slacks climbs the stairs to the pavilion, his beard tinged with gray and braided down the center. He’s grinning when he yanks Dieter into a hug. He smells faintly like cheap vodka and cigars, but it’s not unpleasant.

A woman follows up behind him, with hair redder than the sunset and a matching red flush. The waitress, who’s name is . . .

“Molly, hey, how are you?” He leans forward and kisses her on the cheek. “It’s been too long.” 

“Hey, you said, you were gonna bring your wife to this,” Mark said, frowning with his hands on his hips. And then he takes Chloe’s hand and spins her. “Now, I know this beautiful creature cannot be your wife. She’s way outta your league...”

“Don’t I know it?” Dieter chuckles as Chloe laughs. Molly hands them both a drink as Mark bows in front of her. His is ice water. 

“Chloe Bravo, you are magnificent.”

“Chloe, this is Mark and his wife, Molly. Mark and I met a few years ago. I’ve only had the pleasure of meeting Molly once.”

Mark snorts as his wife winds her short arms around his long slender waist. “A few years ago? Dieter, it’s been a bit longer than that.” 

“Okay, well, who have you known longer? Me or Molly?” 

Chloe tucks her arms up into his chest and lays her head on his collarbone. He wraps his arms over her back. His grin teases Mark.

“Hey, man, what are you trying to do to me? Get me in trouble?”

“How long have you two been married?” Chloe asks sweetly. She smells like peach tea and, in his pants, his cock twitches. 

“Oh, ‘bout fifteen years.” Mark glances down to Molly. “Is that right, darling?”

“Fifteen this April.”

“Wow! So you must have been through it all. All the crazy celebrity gigs, right?”

Molly smiles and Mark kisses the top of her forehead. 

“Oh, yeah. All the press circuits, red carpets, premieres. I thought the worst was over and then Instagram came along.”

“The studio makes me have an account, darling, I’m helpless to stop them,” Mark laments pitifully and the rest laugh.

“Well, you might have to give this one here some pointers,” Dieter nods to Chloe in his arms, “she’s coming with us on the circuit for Recovery.” 

“What? No, I’m not.” Chloe lifts her head from his collarbone, her arms suddenly like weights against his chest. 

“What’d you mean? Of course you are. That was the plan.” 

“No, it wasn’t.” She pulls out of his grip and crosses her arms. “I told you months ago that my father has a gallery opening this month.”

“A gallery opening? The thing your dad always has going on?”

Chloe swallows as several on-lookers turn as his voice raises. “Dieter, let’s not do this right now.”

“We never talked about this. When did this happen? Were you going to say anything or just leave?” 

The crowd around them goes silent. She glances around, shame thinning her mouth. 

He doesn’t care. He’s not so much angry as he is . . . petrified. He was telling the truth earlier; he can’t do this without her. 

“Dieter, calm down, you’re making a scene.” 

“No! When were you going to tell me?” 

He’s not going to grab her – he’s not his father – but his stomach squeezes like a fist. His heartbeat is somewhere in his wrist and his head and his knees. The wind is suddenly too loud, the chatter is too loud. What is that smell? There are pennies in his mouth, rattling against his teeth. 

“Chloe, can’t you just do this one thing for me?”

“Jesus Christ,” she hisses suddenly with real malice, “everything I do is for you.” 

Her mouth snaps shut when she realizes just how many people were staring. 

The lightning is thick in the air, a spark running in circles against a tinder. 

“Oh, yeah? Then where the fuck have you been the last three months?” 

“Don’t be ridiculous. And lower your voice.”

“Is this what it takes for you to have a conversation with me? For you to actually look at me for five fucking seconds? I can barely get you on the phone for more than a minute, if at all!”

“Dieter, you’re being irrational.” Chloe’s eyes are scorching, fierce. She’s threatening him. She’s going to use her most powerful weapon against him. He knows exactly what she’s going to say a second before it comes out of her mouth. “Are you using again?”

Inside of him something breaks. 

He can feel the bend, the crack, the bleed. It wavers in agony.

Whether or not she actually means it is beyond the point. Beyond the pale. He’s trying – he’s been trying – so hard – so fucking hard – and it doesn’t fucking matter to her. His weakest point is her party trick. 

It comes in a rushing wave, overtakes him, drowns him. This is how the spiral hurts. 

He shoves Mark aside, going back towards the house. Back into the heart of this living thing that’s trying to eat him alive. Behind him, he thinks he hears your laugh. High and loud. 

He comes to the first door he finds on the second floor and nearly kicks it open. 

It’s up to his eyes. He can’t see straight. There’s pain over his eyebrow, in his shoulder, his fingers. It concentrates in his chest – he unbuttons his collar all the way down – he’s shaking – he’s shaking so badly — 

Count down from ten, the nice lady at the rehab center told him. 

You’re having a panic attack, darling. Don’t worry. It’ll pass. Count down and focus on what you can see, hear, touch, taste, and smell. Ground yourself in the space.

10. 9. 8 – 

He gulps down air, hand on his chest to keep his heart from bursting out through his ribs.

7. 6. 5 –

It’s an office, he realizes, when the room stops spinning. The walls are dark, much darker than the rest of the house. This is where the moss has grown, away from the ivory. 

Here, there is no noise from the party. He can still taste copper in his mouth. It smells like tobacco and mint here.

4. 3. 2 — 

The settee is a dark teal and the short, squat lamps on the oak desk hum orange. Walnut brown bookcases line the walls. 

And there in the corner, behind the desk and leather-backed chair, is a cabinet. Low to the ground. With gold tumblers and a mirror on top. 

On shaky legs, he goes and opens the square doors. 

His mouth goes wet with wanting. 

Whisky.

Rum.

Vodka.

All of it. 

Just one. He needs only one. 

The bottle is cool, smooth. He takes out the corked lid and the aroma fogs up his brain like condensation on glass.

Are you using again?

No. But he could be. The door opens behind him.

“Dieter, what the hell are you doing in here?” 

Of course.

Of course, it was you. 

Maybe it always was. 

“What? Did your wife put you in time out?” You smirk when he doesn’t answer and you shut the door behind you. “Or was it Scott? The night’s still young, Dee, so many other things to fuck up and –,”

“Natalie.” His voice is rough. It rumbles out of his chest on his last breath. “Don’t. Please . . . just, don’t. Not tonight.” 

His hand shaking, he puts back the bottle of whisky. You narrow your eyes at him.

“Shit, what the hell happened to you? You look terrible.” You say, frowning as though confused, as if this is some convoluted plot to fuck with you. “I saw you run off and I thought, this would be a great time to remind him what a piece of shit he is . . . but you look like someone beat me to it.”

You stay firmly planted in front of the door, arms crossed, as he comes to the front of the desk and leans back against it. He feels cold sweat stick to his lower back.

“Seriously, Dieter, are you sick?” 

He shakes his head. His stomach always feels hollow after one of those episodes. “No, just a bad night.”

“Like bad crabs or found out your aunt died bad?”

“Natalie—,”

“Just tell me. What happened?”

He lifts his gaze to you. It’s hard to believe that less than a month ago, he felt like he could tell you anything. In that golden house on the hill. When you were different people. You look genuinely concerned.

“Dieter, I’m going to go get a doctor unless you—,”

“Look, I have these . . . episodes, alright? My head gets all foggy and I can’t stop shaking and I can’t breathe right. I just need some space.” He adds pointedly because the expression on your face has changed. 

“You get panic attacks?” You take a step forward, hand reaching forward before you let it drop, as if remembering you can’t touch. “I, uh, I know what that’s like. I . . . I have them too.”

“C’mon, don’t do that. Don’t make fun of me.”

“I’m not — I’m serious!” Your brow furrows as your eyes flash hotly with anger. “They started after I moved away from my mom. And now, I just . . . manage the symptoms.”

“Yeah, how?”

You give him a look and he frowns.

“You know what’s not good for panic attacks?” He playfully glances to the ceiling as he lists them off on his fingers. “Bennys. Cocaine. LSD. I could keep going.” 

You put your hands on your hips, scowling. “Fine but waiting to get fucked raw by life isn’t the way to handle it either.”  

He bites his cheek, crossing his arms across his chest. “So, then we’ll just wait it out and see who survives the longest. Then we’ll know who’s right.”

Another dare in your eyes. He meets the challenge. But this time, you swerve first.

You drop his gaze.

“It’s a coin flip, right? Only a matter of time . . . before we both fucking lose it.” 

He doesn’t like how that truth sits in the back of his mouth. As usual, you’ve rattled in him something he didn’t know was loose.

“So, then go for it.” He opens his arms wide. “Say whatever has been stewing away in your head for weeks now. I’m an easy target.”

Your mouth rolls, pouting like an eight year old. You narrow your eyes at him. “Nah, you’re too pathetic right now. When I tell you what’s been on my mind, I want you to burst into tears. It’s no fun if you’re already like this . . . what happened?”

It didn’t feel like pity coming from you, even if he knew you had been picturing his balls in a vice grip since filming wrapped. 

He sighs, and picks at the skin on his left thumb. 

“You’ll be thrilled to know I just made an ass of myself in front of half our colleagues and coworkers. And then my wife asked, very publicly, if I was using again . . . I feel like I can’t fucking win.”

“Well, you’re not, right? Using?” In those knee-high black suede heels, you stretch across the room and take the place next to him. Just like you had at the pool. You crossed your arms too. A concession— another white flag amongst the bitterness.

He shakes his head. 

“So then fuck that. And fuck her for doubting you. Why did she ask that?”

He rubs the back of his neck. “I thought — hoped — she was coming on the press tour for Recovery.” He rolls his jaw from side to side. “I’m getting sick and tired of spending my nights in a hotel room by myself.”

He catches the corner of your eye and his neck warms. 

“Not like that . . . I mean, fuck, maybe a bit like that. I don’t know. I’m trying everything I can to keep this marriage alive and she just feels . . . ambivalent.” He swallows. “Last time, I gave her an out. After the arrest and before rehab. I told her I’d sign the divorce papers, whatever she wanted. She could have my money, my house, my car. I just didn’t want her to have to live with the embarrassment of being married to me. And, instead, she told me, ‘the money isn’t important to me’. I was so grateful at the time, I didn’t question it. But now . . . I sometimes wonder if this is how she punishes me. She didn’t want a divorce until she broke my heart first.”

You’re uncharacteristically silent. The white ruffles around your wrists flutter as you put your hands on the other side of your hips, fingertips drumming the desk. 

“Did you ever think maybe the problem isn’t you? Or her for that matter?”

“What do you mean?”

You sigh, an exasperated smile on your face. “Take a look at where we are, Dee. Normal people don’t live like this. Normal people don’t do what we do. No one else will take us so we congregate amongst ourselves to establish a new baseline of crazy.”

“And, what? Anyone who enters our orbit is doomed to be fucked in the head?”

“We’re all fucked in the head, Dieter. You. Me. Scott. Hell, even your pretty little wife out there.” You glance at him. “This whole place is a fucking breeding ground. A breeding ground for the worst parts of ourselves. It’s nasty and terrible but we don’t have to be nasty and terrible and alone. So, if she made you think that you’re the fucked one, that you’re the unlovable one, then . . . she’s wrong. She’s so fucking wrong.” 

Outside, thunder rumbles and the orange lamps flicker, casting shadows like heartbeats, but neither of you care. 

Your lips are a dark purple tonight, matched by mauve smears over your eyelids. You look . . . ethereal. 

He doesn’t know he’s falling, tipping forward into the plush cup of your mouth until he feels your breath rush against his lips. 

Purple, like bruises, he thinks as he watches your eyelids flutter shut. He wants to keep his open, to watch the moment your mouths finally connect, but you overwhelm him. He’s not strong enough to fight back anymore, to pretend like he doesn’t feel anything for you.And, oh, he does feel something. He feels it so strong— wants it so badly— it feels like a physical weight in his chest. 

He wants you. God, he wants this and he’s wanted it for so long. 

Just this one thing. This one thing. 

The throbbing of the broken thing inside of him is quiet. 

His hand winds up into your hair as he finally takes you by the neck and open-mouth kisses you. You shudder as if surprised, as if this wasn’t an inevitable conclusion. His other hand presses against your jaw to steady you, steady him. 

The kisses aren’t light. They don’t hesitate. They are wet, and they bite, and it’s a little bit of teeth and tongue and spit. He licks the corner of your mouth and your tongue batters into his. His tongue rides the valleys of your mouth tasting like sweet champagne. That talented, fucking legendary Dieter tongue —

Both of his hands grip you by your jaw as yours burrow into the fabric of his shirt just below his ribs. He pulls back slightly to nip your bottom lip and he tastes that familiar caustic burn of whiskey. The first sip of alcohol he’s had in years and he smears it off your wet mouth.

“Fuck, baby—,” Mouth still sealed to yours again, he slips his hands down your sides as he glides to his feet. The rings on his fingers make indentations in that maddening bare patch of thigh. He goes further and swipes his pinkies under the backs of your knees as he grips your thigh from underneath. “C’mere—,”

You bite his lip in retaliation when he swings you both into a clear spot of wall. The nearby paintings shudder in the resounding thud but, short of God stopping by, there’s nothing that would pry him off you now.

Now that he has those hips under his palms. He balances you on his thigh, the wall at your back, giving his hands and mouth the freedom to explore. He wants to kiss you so hard you vibrate through the wall. 

He can feel his lips swell from the force of your kissing. They sting and ache but fuck if it wasn’t a brand new vice he could torture himself over. He is so lost in the relief of it — this is what you taste like, what you smell like so close, this is what you sound like — this is what awaited him for days in New Mexico, if he had just taken it — that he leaves his waistband very open. 

His fingers around the sides of your neck, he nearly barks out when you slide your hand down to his crotch and stroke. The angle isn’t right to give you full access, but your half-lidded, blurry desert eyes are begging him for more. 

“Fuck me,” you gasp into his teeth. “Fuck me, Dieter, please. That’s all I want. Please, fuck me.”

He’s too taken by the wet patch, dragged up and down his thigh, to argue. You roll your hips, eyes never leaving his, and he groans, deep and anguished. 

Your cunt is already warm. 

He pulls away from you against the wall and nearly stumbles back to the desk. He doesn’t know exactly what he shoves to the floor but there is sound, perhaps glass breaking, before he lunges forward, snags you by the hand, and pulls you into his chest. The force of his tug draws you up into his arms, knees digging into his sides, his mouth again inches from yours. 

Broken open, he finally opens his mouth to the stream of filth that has been rotting his brain for months. 

“I want you on that desk. I’m gonna fuck you on it every way I want to and then when you’re so cock-drunk you can’t see straight, I’ll ask you how you want it. You want it on top?” He grabs the hinges of your thighs, and grinds his hips against the front seam of your shorts, right into your clit. You sway against him, eyes fluttering, mouth open. “Or will you let me fuck you from behind? So I can watch this perfect fucking ass bounce.” 

“Whatever — whichever way— you want,” you say breathlessly, your tongue thick, as you lean your weight forward and he stumbles back onto the desk. 

The desk groans when his back smacks against the wood, your tongue and teeth fighting back against his. You’re straddling him, knees on both sides of his slim hips, and you’re chasing that crackle, that spark in your crotch. You rub yourself against him and air is expelled from his nose.

“Ngh— Shit—,” he pulls back to look at you. Your hair is a knot spawned from pulling and jerking. The purple eyeshadow still glows in the dark but the lipstick — oh fuck — is smeared across your mouth as though you had tried to take it off with your forearm. Because he’s fucked up, his already hard cock twitches. 

Panting to let oxygen return to your brains, he takes his time trailing his hand down from the dip where your shoulder meets your neck, down to the first button of that ridiculous, flowy blouse. The vest seemed like an accessory and he was grateful he didn’t have to pick that apart too. You watch his deft fingers open the first button, and then the second, and the third, all the way down to the end. 

He groans when he waves back the curtain of fabric around your torso and exposes the soft curves of your tits. You are surprisingly still and annoyingly quiet as he drags a finger, featherlight over the rise of your lilac lace bra. He dips his finger across your other breast and sighs.

“Wanna take my time with you,” he slurs. His thighs flex and you bite your lip. “Wanna open you up, bit by bit, so I can just slide right into your pussy. Want it to soak my pants.”

“I want that too. I want that so much.” You lean forward, letting your warm cunt settle over where he’s rock solid. He moans against your lips and you grin. When you open your eyes, he’s glancing at the door. It’s unlocked. 

“Anybody could walk in at any second.” You don’t want to give him ideas as to who specifically could, lest he be overcome with stupid guilt. If you didn’t rail Dieter Bravo tonight, houses were going to be burnt down. “We’d better make this quick.” 

Quicker is better, he agrees as he slides you off him and begins unbuckling his belt. You undo your own shorts and somehow manage to wriggle them off your legs while still in those heels. He can see the dampness on your inner thigh and he works faster. 

He shucks his pants down just off his hips. Quicker is better, he agrees as he positions you back on the desk, those audacious black boots hugging his waist. 

Quicker is better, he thinks when he looks into your eyes, your hand cups the back of his neck and your back arches to give him better access. Your other hand is around his cock, as he balances one hand on your hip and the other flat on the desk. 

Quicker is better. 

Because those feelings you both share, those soft gentle feelings that want to make love and not just fuck — are wiped clean from existence when he slides into you. Your face crumples from the first stretch of pain, roasted with pleasure.

“Oh, goddamn it, Dieter. You’re so big.” 

“I know, baby, just— breathe.” He kneads your hip in his hand, huffing and struggling to fight firing back with his hips, and lets you adjust. He’s only got a bit more than the tip in and sweat cracks your brow line. 

You swallow and shift your hips forward. Your pussy swallows up more of him and you both groan.

“You’re doing so well, t-taking me like this. When I haven’t gotten you ready.” He kisses your jaw. Your skin is fire hot. You inch your hips closer to the edge of the desk.��

“C‘mon, baby, just a bit more.”

He pushes the last bit of the way, his pelvic bone pressed up against your clit, and you wail, your head dropping back. The front of his lap is soaking.

He smirks at you, a wildfire cooking every sensation, every thought, every autonomous function that wasn’t required for fucking clean out of his body. He puts a wide hand up to your cheek and kisses your skin between his knuckles. 

Your voice is breathless in his ears, and it gives him pause for a minute. Your cheeks are flushed, mouth puffy and kissed-out. You need a hickey on your neck, or several, he muses to himself. This thing he’s been holding onto since he walked onto the studio lot months ago is rusting, creaking, and for once, he doesn’t want to push it onto someone else. He doesn’t want you to have it because he knows you already do. His affection is corrosive sometimes, but you’re just alkaline; salty, burning, acrid. He wants to melt into you. His eyes half-lidded to watch your face, his hand cradling your head, he pulls out an inch only to thrust right back in. 

“You’re ruining my life, you know that?” 

Flint flashes in your eyes as you nearly snarl, your hair fisting into his hair and tightening. It makes his neck arch back and the moan gets caught in the back of his throat. 

“You wanted your life ruined. You’re just using me as an excuse.”

Hissing, his hold around the back of your neck roughens and he pulls you into his mouth. You’re met with teeth and tongue and a press of his hips that stretches you out completely. With your teeth around his bottom lip, you whimper just like you did on the couch and he can’t hold back any more. 

He starts fucking you in earnest. 

Every brutal stroke is rewarded with a high, sharp cry — he makes himself go deeper, the nails at his shoulder dig deeper into his skin, and it sparks pleasure down his back. 

His hand at your face slides down to your waist to hold you as his hips thrust and pump and scorch the inside of your pussy with his cock. He brushes something devastating inside of you and you naturally arch, naturally bend to take even more of him. 

“Oh, fuck, Dieter— Jesus Christ, Dieter—,”

“Keep talking, baby,” he huffs, “you’re grabbing me so tight I think I’m seeing spots.” He reaches between the open materials of your shirt to mold and shape and squeeze your breasts. His thumb brushes over your clothed nipple, and you hum. The thought of his mouth on them drags his eyes shut. 

He pounds you, he chases that pressure behind his eyes, in his gut, he wants you to always remember who you make these sounds for. You wail again and his cock pulsates. 

He ducks his head and catches your mouth as he lifts up. It’s sloppy and messy and neither of you can stay locked like that with the way your bodies wobble. He aims and drops a kiss on the corner of your mouth. The hand on his bicep trails up to the back of his neck and digs into his hair. You hold him close, and your foreheads naturally fall together. 

He jerks you closer, grinding into you instead of thrusting, just to watch you shake.

“Dieter, please—,”

“Hush, baby, I’m gonna take care of you. Such good care of you and this pussy. Squeezing me so tight. This pretty pussy needed someone to take care of her.” 

“You’re filthy.” 

“Yeah, and you like to listen to it.” He’ll keep running his mouth as long as it takes to clear out the mess in his heart, in his head. He’ll probably never apologize for what happened in New Mexico and neither will you. 

He mouths your ear before rocking back, building back up to his earlier pace, the sound of the wet slap of his hips into your thighs implanting itself into his memory. The desk where he dragged you shines and he half-wants to stop and lick the wood grain. He shudders at the idea your cunt would taste like your mouth – whiskey-soaked and salty. 

You’re drowning in the taste of his hot breath. Sweat grows on his spine and under your breasts. A look passed between you and him that can only be given when fucking wants to give way to something more — when there’s a crescendo of feeling building just by looking into someone’s eyes as they enter you again and again. It’s intoxicating. You feel drunk.

He kisses your mouth again briefly before arching up, moaning. His hips stutter — less focused, but harsh in their need. Your cunt flutters around him and he drives in that much faster, rougher. He can feel your skin break out in goose bumps under the palm of his hand.  

“G’ –n’ think I’m gonna come,” he grunts, his breathing uneven and ragged. His eyes are squeezed shut and he knows if he looks at you again, if you give him that look of naked vulnerability, he’s going to cream for at least ten minutes. 

You nod frantically, pleasure bobbing up from the pit of your stomach to your aching clit. Words are near impossible now.

“Put your thumb — there! Ah!”

He watches you almost recoil in the electric jolt you experience as he brushes your bundle of nerves with this thumb — anything harder would be too much —  the pace only slightly faster than the pounding of his hips.

“That’s it, Dieter, you’re so good– you feel so good.” His knees buckle at the praise, at the strain in your voice. 

“Tell me, baby, I need to hear it–,”

You lean closer to him, breath mixing with his, and you press up against where his fingers press into your clit. “You fill me up so well— I’m—I’m so full— of you. You’re so thick.”

He pinches you and in seconds, your cunt is smothering him.

“Ah — oh God — Dieter!”

You’re milking him and he clenches your thigh as you finally tumble over the edge with a shout. The instant his restraint to make sure you came first is lifted, he comes, coating your pussy and emptying his balls completely of his spend.

His shoulders slump, the aftershocks of his orgasm making his spine tingle.

He’s got his head buried in the curve of your neck, a pleasant hum everywhere in his body. Your cheek rests against his damp temple. 

He’s not going to think about his cum leaking out of you and staining what is presumably his director’s desk. 

You laugh, almost deliriously, fighting to catch your breath. His chest heaves as his lungs gasp for air. 

“Fuck. I mean– wow– fuck– I– wow.”

He grins at that. He kisses your collarbone.

“Now, what to do about the crowd outside the door . . .”

He glances at you, questioning. You huff, trying weakly to unstick your tongue from the roof of your mouth, still struggling for a normal breath. 

“There’s no way every person in this house didn’t hear that. Fuck, I bet the audio is on YouTube already.”

He chuckles and finally has enough feeling in his legs to stand up straight. He noses your cheek.

“Look out the window.”

You do and are met with a torrential downpour. White lighting clashing, thunder roaring, rain slapping the glass. You hadn’t even noticed it started raining.

“No one heard a thing. And no one’s going to notice two people gone from a party of dozens of people.” He cups the back of your head and kisses you soundly. “They don’t know a fucking thing. We’re safe.”

You take his word for it and wrap your arms over his shoulders. You kiss him back.

You kiss him and kiss him and kiss him.

[dreamerlucifer]

My little Char Char... My Archangel, My Greatest Creation, My soul, My heart, My Ever so Brilliant, Bright light in the Dark!!!!!....

This AU is still under construction ♥ I'll clean and polish this post at some point, and depending on the poll Results... Is how I'll continue going forward ♥ Feedback, as always, DEEPLY appreciated......

Ohh, and I plan on making art to go along with this, if it's tolerable for people, as honestly, this was just a part of my Lucifer's AU. Here's an art wip:

In a hurry to well, Ditch The OHHH SOOO boring, MANDATORY Court Appearances for yet another day.... ;;>>

Lucifer Decided to walk down the streets of Pride... He had been meaning to return a Very Special... BORING AS HELL AND FRUSTRATINGLY HARD TO UNDERSTAND with The Short King's SUPERIORLY, Neurodivergent, ADHD to the 10th power brain, Star shaped, Spanish, Accelerated Teaching Method Book...

The Interesting Goetia Who had lent it to him was memorable to him, he thought back to meeting him a few times... Man did he have some sweet Shades on....

Lucifer's mind was in a completely different space and time as his short, yet toned little legs, kept him up with some of the fastest and tallest of Hell's Citizens...

His phone began to vibrate, but try as he may, all he could find throughout his pockets were different ducks from his favourite collection ><;;;;

He Moaned Aloud, Frustratingly, So!!! When--

OHH NO, Char Charrr !!!! WAIIIIIIT!!!

His voice Rang out, Much louder than he had anticipated!!! BUT NO MATTER, he a desperate man on a mission now!!!!

In a flutter of Feathers, His wings burst free at their master's, eager command!!

He shot forward faster than the wind, itself, Diving down ANY TIME the PRECIOUS, Secretly comforting Item, came within reach of him...

ButUnfortunately for the Short King... Ones grasping armlength was typically quite a bit longer...

HE REACHED WITH ALL HIS MIGHT amidst his next dive... His Sinnfully Tainted Arm colour forcing forth yet another tear to glisten in the wind as he flapped harder to reach the, seemingly, lighter than air creation.....

He flew right by the gates to the Goetia's home to which he was returning the borrowed book, but that was currently not a single care to him... Right now, all that mattered, was his ABSOLUTELY, MOST CHERISHED POSSESSION, the..., NO, he thought to himself as he scrambled to catch it before landing in what seemed to be a fresh pool of spilled blood.....

Lucifer was DISGUSTED... Reminded instantaniously of his banishment... Of his heinous crimes committed in the garden of Eden...

Noo... He whispered under his breath.... HEAVEN HELP ME, I can't lose her AGAIN!!!!

The precious, hand carved duckling slowing as the wind began to die down... DIVINE FATE, That the Very FIRST Prototype duckling he had ever modeled...Which of course, had been completed mere hours too late........

Lilith Had ripped the ONE TRUE APPLE of his eye, The same, one bright and beautiful eyes, that now narrowed, Their red glow a signature reflection, and constant reminder of his Fall from Grace.....

His glowing, red eyes welled with tears of sorrow and regret, as they now streamed tears freely, Glistening as they as they streaked by in the undying red light that illuminated his Prison... His Shame... His own... Personal.. HELL..

It was just beyond his DESPERATE grasp!!!

PLEASE. GOD, Please SERA....

He yelped, Exasperated, and outstretched beyond his very breaking point.....

Sera....

he whispered, voice breaking just as the scarred cracks of his Shattered heart...

I can't bare to live, to breathe, or to exist andbe forced to live without what little I have of herrrrrrr!!!!!!

HE saw the inevitable, and gave up, Feathers falling down once again... Being forced to wear his independence like a crown......

He hit hard into the streets of Pride, it's citizens scattering in every which direction in order to avoid harm from such an impact as that!!!! He skid across the cobblestone, Revealing, and Spilling his one last trace of heaven's grace....

Golden blood began to pool around him... But he cared not....

Instead, his lost, Neurodivergent mind forcing him to relive those final moments once more...

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

She was BEAUTIFUL, his eyes welling with the happiest of tears as he held his very... own.. creation.... The product of a Love so deep and...true....

But it wasn't to last.... And The Darkest of Days neared with impressively increasing speeds....

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

Charliiiiie....

His voice a mere echo of its Normal, Booming tone.... He was losing a lot of blood......

When he attempted to move, he could both see, and feel the hot, thick fluid soaking deeply into his Absolute FAVOURITE, Hand tailored, tailed Overcoat....

The one Overcoat he never went a day without freshly prepping, and wearing....

The One and the same Overcoat he had been wearing on the day of Charlie's birth.... He let his mind fade from the scene once more, in hopes of seeing his baby girl, perhaps, heaven help him, just one more time?....

He drifted out of consciousness once more......

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

When she was just a small tot, Still His, to cherish, and to hold..... He would teach her of heaven....... Of the sheer power of good.... And with his magic, he would teach her of the Seraphim in heaven..... Showing her their vast beauty, kindness, and the value of compassion.... and of Empathy....

Against ALL of Lilith's wishes... He would sneak time to be with Charlie, as he and Lilith's ideals slowly drifted apart..... His Cherished little Angel, Charlie... was HIS Salvation!!!!!!!

While Mandatorily listening to Court case after Court case, hearing nothing but the billions of lies that most of Hell's sinners, cast down into his Realm from the small, blue orb of Earth..... God Himself's Precious work, He would begin learning to whittle...

And as time went by, and Charlie was born.... His Overwhelming Joy made him focus less and less on the workings of Hell... Thinking less and less about Those who were beyond Damnation.... And more about his feeble attempts at creation... Of Art, Expression, And MOST IMPORTANTLY, to him, a very, VERY SPECIAL gift for his little Char Char...

It was nearing completion... His focus had been on Charlie for some time now... His appearances to his thrown and to the trials growing farther from his mind by the day.... Allowing Wrath.... To begin taking over the thrown....

But he didn't care at the time.... He had Charlie ♥♥

And he had finally, just nearly completed... Creation..... REAL... Creation, with the power of his long, once soft and supple fingers, Now rough and calloused, covered in blisters...

But, By God in heaven and the remaining Archangel's above, he was going to finish this!!!!

Finally... The time had almost arrived... The big reveal to Charlie, herself.... Of the little duckling representative of her... Yet, where charlie, herself, had never manifested any wings, as she was Hellborn...

But ohhhh did she love Lucifer's red stained feathers... and the stories of Archangels in heaven... Of which... he formerly was ... Where he had once despised his newly Fallen, bloodstained, crimson feathers... His Char Char... So young and innocent..... A saint amidst all of Hell itself!!! Her love of them, from the moment she could grip one in her tiny hand.... Not even open an eye yet to see them...HIS... ugly, unholy feathers... it gave him a very new perspective on them..... He stopped plucking them near to the down itself, blood feathers and all......

And By Charlie's Beautiful light alone, it Shone a light onto his dark, Dark path.... One so bright, that it would reignite his very own... And so, hours later, Lilith walked in on him, to find that he had began to preen once again... ... .

Something he hadn't done since his fall from grace....

He began to smile again...

And when back into full plumage once more... That was the moment, that he took charlie for.... The First flight of her so very young life!!!!

He would soar with her, tightly clutched in his loving arms, and brighten even her darkest days with it!!!!!!!!!!

Though there was a deep sadness with this exchange... For all she would ask, constantly to him..... Was when her wings would come in...

It broke Lucifer's heart to Billions of tiny fragments, all of which loved her from the bottom of his heaven born soul, a love that could challenge the Heaven's Gates itself..... But he had trouble picking up, and putting back together the pieces... For his Beautiful Angel of a daughter, would never once feel the true freedom of true flight under ones own wings..... Secretly, once she had gone to bed, he wept for her.......

How cruel of Heaven to send such a selfless little angel, made from the Overwhelming love between two individuals who never meant harm.... His tears would flow long into the hours of dawn........ And yet... He still set back to work on his SECOND, greatest creation... As Charlie would always and forever become the first love of his heart...

Lilith was livid... Her anger grew daily with her once, brilliant, shining lover....

But now, She couldn't stand to hear a word about heaven..... And she knew Lucifer was still teaching her the Heavenly Virtues, Going DIRECTLY against her wishes..... STILL taking her out to fly within his arms.... And she watched closely, and angrily... As Wrath moved in on Lucifer's thrown... ON HER vision of Hell, and HER accomplishments... He made HER look the fool..... The laughing stock of all the seven Realms and Rings of Hell......... .. .

Lucifer was smiling brightly on that.. that ... that day.... Which would shatter his broken and wounded soul for good.... But... he was completely unaware of what was in store......

Instead, he could be found within his workshop, a small, eager Char Char jumping at his side to get even just a little glimpse at what made her father smile so....

Because you see.... Lucifer had Finished it!!!! FINALLY!!!!... After all this time, he had finally created it....

He sent His young Char Char off to get her supper... Completely blinded to what was going on.........

His eyes welled with tears of happiness as he thought of what GRAND reaction his Char Char may have... HIS soft, sweet, Virtuous in every way, Grateful, little Angel... Born and raised in Hell, of all places, with more Values, Compassion, and Empathy than ALL the Seraphim Put together!!!!!!

She was his PRIDE.... His--- A DEEPLY disconcerting, CHILLING, Feeling suddenly Ran up his spine.......

my....

Pride.... MYYY, PRIDE......

My Deadly Sin....

He clutched his face in his hands as his mind raced with Unsettling thoughts .... He was barely able to bto take a breath....

He looked down at the Phoenix of a duck, it's magic finally, completely, and stabily infused deep within every molecule he had created in Charlie's image, from deep within him.....

Falling to his knees to weep......

Was she destined to be the TRUE Archangel he sees within her???? Only to have her wings and freedom ripped from her for her FATHER'S SINS?????????????????!!!!!

Could Heaven TRULY be SO CRUEL?????????!!!!

He felt himself subconsciously rip a bloodfeather out.... His HOT, Golden Blood spilling onto the floor as he realized he had drifted so far into dark thoughts.....

He pulled himself together, utilizing a rag from his workshop's desk...

NO.....

He said, eyes glowing through the darkness of the onset evening...

I won't let these thoughts RUIN this DAY!!!!!

His horns protruded as he inhaled deeply, Looking towards the heavens with Anger filling his small, petite frame.... HE SHOUTED, ECHOING Across all the rings of Hell itself.....

......DO YOU HEAR ME UP THERE ??????!!!! YOU CAN'T RIP THIS DAY AWAY FROM ME!!!!!!!!!!!!! For today, if for only a BRIEF MOMENT's TIME, My Archangel of a daughter... WILL FINALLY... finally....

Tears ran down his red cheeks as he finished Yelling....

SHE WILL FINALLY FEEL, with the help of my creation.... WHAT ITS TRULY LIKE......

He voice boomed.... Echoing throughout the city...

....TO TAKE FLIGHT ...........

he inhaled deeply, one last time....

....AS THE TRUE ARCHANGEL I KNOW SHE IS !!!!!!!!!!

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

An hour later......

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

Just as always,

Lucifer smiles to himself, warmly, as he came into his home office for her normal lessons in kindness, in understanding human emotions, and Deep, DEEP COMPASSION...........

But no... Not today, Char Char.... Because you see, little one,

he booped her lightly, and lovingly on the nose, as his smile grew to a proportion Young Charlie Had Never witnessed before....

She was SO VERY EXCITED !!!!

So once he calmed her enough to.. well, sort of sit still, he began his story about the first flight of an Archangel.....

For the first time.... Though not ever with the intent on revealing, that.... That the First Archangel to taste flight... for the very first time, under guidance from God, himself... Was none other than HER own father, Lucifer himself........

He began the story...... And she gazed into his magic like she never had before.... Swaying with the ups and downs of the swirling Phoenix like Duckling he associated with his Greatest little joy, his love, the only thing left that still kept his heart beating, kept his heart ALIVE..........

And after the tale...... Just as he was pulling his creation from his Jacket's inner pocket.... Lilith walked in....

He turned to share the joy with his lost love.... .. Who had grown so cold and distant in recent years.....

But he saw it reflected in her glassy eyes.... NO... PLEASE....... LILITH... But he was only mouthing the words... As his throat was suddenly too tight to edge even the slightest of words from his paralyzed lips.......

But without Hesitation, she reached forward, gently ripping Charlie from his Grasp.... Silently BREAKING his heart ALL OVER AGAIN.......

Please No.......... Please let it be a nightmare, just please, don't leave him alone.... In the Vast VAST DARNESS OF HELL.................

.

.

One day... ONE DAY, even only for a brief moment in time, SHE WILL TRULY FEEL THE EXILLERATION OF FLIGHT... As Lucifer... Finally, For the First time...... Lets go, to let her soar to her own, GREATEST HEIGHTS!!!!!

And yet, Even though you've set her free of the guilded cage of uncertainty.......

SHE WILLLL....

Return to you, her gratitude insurmountable..... Her heart, still your reason for living, for her soul lights up your world with its unimaginable brilliance, and light!!!!!!!!