#i’m gonna try again with tomorrow’s drawing

[michi-chelle]

i’m so sad ‘cause all the clips i recorded today for my apollo speedpaint are horribly shaky :(

[vampstel]

I just finished lineart under an hour oh my god

[lyriumsings]

i have an art idea that doubles as both a study and durge art for my bg3 pc and i can’t wait to do the study now not tomorrow but on wednesday when i start drawing again lol

[floatmeintothesun-2]

Wildfire

pairing; Mark Grayson x f!reader

tags: Smut, aphrodisiacs, , wc 3.9k, doggy style, oral sex (m and f receiving) cream pie, soft mark Grayson, mark gets in there :p, established relationship

tw: none

Quick summary; Mark comes to your place late at night, desperate and needy from the effects of an aphrodisiac (the result is a difficulty to walk afterward)

—

You know there’s something wrong the moment Mark raps desperately at your window. 

It’s been a long week and you had been looking forward to this – pampering yourself with a long everything shower and splurging on soft store-bought gelato while you binge trashy shows off of the internet with your trusty laptop. 

 Mark floats outside, looking agitated, eyes tracking you with unwavering intensity as you draw closer. When you open the window, you can see that he’s unnaturally flushed, sweat beading on his skin despite the chill outside. He looks a little worse for wear, but overall, you can’t see any glaringly obvious injuries.

As soon as you open the window he’s climbing inside clumsily, surging toward you with a desperate sound. 

“Baby, I – shit, got – got hit with something outside,” He stutters, stumbling over his own words and he practically plasters himself to you and goes limp. You nearly go down with him, having not expected to be saddled with 210 pounds of alien boyfriend. “I don’t – feels weird.” Mark looks at you pleadingly and you grow worried. Is he concussed? It takes a lot to actually hurt him, and for a second, you wonder if someone threw a cruise ship at him again.

He’s being pretty handsy too, squeezing at your hips, ghosting his lips over your cheek and forehead. Normally you wouldn’t mind – you’d welcome it, really, but right now, your main concern is whether or not Mark is injured somehow.

“Mark? What’s going on? Are you hurt?” You ask frantically, placing a hand on his cheek and he groans, leaning into your palm. His head tilts down, forehead meeting your shoulder as he trembles minutely, hands smoothing down your ribs and squeezing at your hips. Your breath hitches as he drags the tip of his nose over your neck.

“No, nonono, I just – I feel hot, wanna feel you, s’like it’s burning me up from the inside,” He slurs against your pulse point, lips pressing to your carotid artery, feverish in its temperature. Mark is almost crushing you to his chest as if he can’t live without your skin on his, as if he’s trying to open up his ribs and tuck you into the space next to his heart. His eyes are wide, pupils dilated so much until you can just barely see that gorgeous warm brown you love so much. “Fuck – I’m so hot. Feels better when you touch me.”

Your jaw drops as he nuzzles against you, disbelief and incredulous shock surging up inside you. Are you serious? This sounds like a corny freaking romance novel. Is this really a – 

“Mark did you get shot with a freaking aphrodisiac??” You ask, hardly believing it as Mark pauses in his relentless marking of your neck. God, you’re going to look like a tiger mauled you or something tomorrow. He squints at you.

“Mmaybe. Robot mentioned something like that I think… I wasn’t listening. He told me to go blow off some steam.” He admits slowly with a shrug. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you. “ Mark tries to kiss you again but you put a hand to his lips, making him sigh and lean into your palm.

“Hold up. Is there a way to fix this? Did Robot tell you to do anything else?” You ask and Mark wrinkles his nose

“Probably. Said something about physical touch and uh, sex.” He winces. “By the way, do you..? S’not necessary, I think. I was gonna ask earlier but I got distracted.” You blink at him, and he raises his eyebrows.

Since he's been off doing his usual saving of the world and other worlds in space and other other worlds in even deeper space, etc, you've barely seen him all this week. And here he is now, practically draped over you, stubbornly sticking to you like a barnacle. And while you've made do with your trusty vibrator, it's not comparable to the way he feels. 

Also, you've just really, really, really missed him. 

"I mean. I'm down. If it uh, cures you faster then it's fine with me." You reply, ignoring the way sticky heat pools between your thighs at the thought. God, you don't want to sound like a sex-deprived freak but you've been needing him for a while. Mark frowns.

"I don't want it just to be for me," He says in a clear effort to cut through the haze of incredible horniness that is undoubtedly clouding his mind. "If you're not comfortable– "

"Mark. I don't know how else to say this but if you don't do something in the next three minutes, I might jump your bones. What I'm trying to say is that I am willing. Very willing." You confess and he blinks. You blink back at him. Then he laughs and pulls you close, pressing his lips to yours with a relieved little sigh. You melt into him and Mark closes his eyes.

It starts off sweet, soft and gentle as Mark licks at the soft swell of your bottom lip as if asking for permission. It always does – Mark is, at his core, a wonderfully sweet, gorgeous person. But you’re greedy and he needs more, so you press closer, opening your mouth. He groans, his hands squeezing your hips.

Heat coils into your lower stomach as he swallows your moans and moves his tongue into your mouth. It’s messy and slow and when you press your hips against his, he makes a muted hiss of pleasure, fingers tightening on your skin.

It’s easy to follow his lead as he presses closer, your head growing fuzzy as you belatedly remember that you do eventually have to come up for air. You tap the side of his arm lightly and he pulls back, not even out of breath but looking equally as wrecked as you feel. His eyes rake down your body, taking in your soft skin, your figure covered in nothing but a fluffy white bathrobe, smelling of his body wash — smelling like him.

“Bed?” He asks desperately and you nod. You don’t know if the aphrodisiac affecting Mark is contagious but you feel yourself getting embarrassingly wet after a few kisses and you’re pretty sure Mark’s halfway to just grinding against you like a cat in heat. He scoops you up easily like you weigh a couple of grapes and you blink — only to find yourself nestled in bed a second later. 

Mark is already on top of you, somehow halfway done with taking off that stupidly tight suit that shows off his impressive musculature and toned body. He peels off the legs of the suit quickly, kicking it off and leaning down to kiss you again, and again. The noise of quiet relief he makes when he rips away his jockstrap may very well be the most ridiculously sexy thing you’ve heard.  Your hands are already grasping at his pecs, squeezing and pinching, drawing a muffled whimper from the freaking alien currently in the process of divesting your robes from your body. 

“Shit — baby, take this off, take this off now, please,” he begs, fiddling with the knot you’ve tied at the front of your robe. His hands are clumsy and you reach down to do it yourself, figuring that it’s a little unfair to have Mark be the only one naked here. Once you manage to open it up and toss it away, he’s palming at your tits, leaning down to pop one in his mouth while the other is squeezed gently with his other hand.

It feels like fire, his searing tongue drawing circles around your areola and you whine, eyes squeezing shut as a hand comes down to find your clit. It takes a couple of tries but Mark locates the little bead and uses the pad of his thumb to swipe over it, moaning desperately into your skin. There’s a hot coil of bliss building in your gut, tight and expanding with every moment Mark keeps his mouth on your tit.

“Mark — oh god, I’m gonna — nnshit, I’m gonna cum,” you warn shakily and he whimpers at your words, pulling off your breast so he can kiss you messily. It doesn’t quite land and he ends up kissing the corner of your mouth but it’s fine, you don’t care, not when his thumb is rubbing figure eights on your clit. 

“Cum, then, I wanna see you. Wanna see your pretty face when you cum on these fingers,” he murmurs against your cheek, and you nearly sob when you feel a thick finger press against your cunt. Your hips buck as he drags his sopping finger in and out, curving and hooking against your g-spot, the palm of his hand fixed to your clit. “You feel so — so wet, baby. M’gonna add another, okay?” He says, and you nod frantically.

God he feels so fucking good, the stretch is unimaginably delicious as he adds another finger, pace unrelenting as he pumps his digits into your dripping cunt. It feels so much better than your own fingers, thicker and longer, able to hit that one gummy spot inside of you that makes you keen. It’s almost blinding and you tremble as a tidal wave swamps over you, overwhelming and hot like a freaking supernova.

Mark kisses your stomach, nearly reverent in the way he maps a path of wet open-mouthed kisses down your abdomen. He pulls his fingers free from you and pops them in his mouth absentmindedly like he barely even thinks about the motion even though just the sight of that makes you almost cum a second time. 

“So pretty, so so pretty.” He mumbles, dragging his tongue across your inner thigh. While you blink stars out of your vision, he leans down, gently scooping your juices up with his tongue and swallowing them, tracing the outside of your pussy and cleaning you up with the single-minded focus of a man on a mission. You tremble through the aftershocks as he presses a shaky kiss to the hood of your clit.

“Fuck, Mark.” You breathe, carding a hand through short fluffy black hair and bringing him up so you can kiss him. He tastes like you – faintly tangy, slick and he hums quietly against you before drawing away.

“Good?” He rasps, and you nod, cupping his jaw and cheek with your hands. He closes his eyes briefly; if you didn’t know better, you would’ve thought he was calming down. He’s still sweating though – burning hot and so, so needy even though he’s trying to hide it. 

“C’mere, pretty boy,” You croon, reaching down and gently curling around the base of him. He’s silky to the touch and thick, and no matter how often you do this, you’ll probably never stop wondering how you’ll take it. He whines, bowing his head until his forehead meets your shoulder, hips fucking into your palm as you press your thumb to the head, rolling back the foreskin there. “I got you, took care of me so well, baby. I’m gonna take care of you now. Just relax.”

He makes a ragged sound, shuddering as you pump him slowly, his face screwed up in pure relief and bliss. You push him back gently, guiding him until you’re on your knees and he’s sitting back, legs spread. His cock twitches in your palm, practically dripping like a leaky shampoo bottle. The sounds he’s making are heavenly, and you mentally resolve to keep them locked away in your mind forever.

You kiss his tip, working your way down with teasing little sucks and licks until you’re at the base, hand gently working at his balls. Mark draws in a ragged breath, trembling as you mouth at his cock.

“Stop– Don’t tease me please, baby,” He hisses, his hips bucking up when you drag your tongue along the underside. “Oh fuck –come on, feels so good…” 

You obey, if only because he’s starting to look desperate, and you can tell he’s halfway at his breaking point. He’s wonderfully thick, filling your mouth with a satisfying heaviness and Mark throws his head back with a long, drawn-out moan. A hand settles on the back of your head, thick thighs framing your body as you inhale through your nose and go deeper. 

“God – shit! Oh fuck, fuck, fuuuuuck, keep going, uh huh, just like that. ” He rasps, digging his hands into your lovely bedsheets. It’s a bit rough – his hips keep jerking up into your hot mouth even though he babbles out apologies hastily afterward, and his cock drags a bit too far every so often but fuck, it’s good. You don’t know if you can cum from just sucking dick, but if anything, you know that you’re well on your way to finding out. He sounds so out of it already, his voice quivering as he pushes you down further, just a little bit. “Nn– oh god, oh god, you’re so good for me, so good to me. Shit, is that the back of your throat?”

You take the hint, inhaling and swallowing until you physically can’t anymore, jerking off what you can’t fit in your mouth with your hand. With the other hand, you play with your clit, moaning muffledly and Mark swears, no doubt feeling the vibrations from your voice. You think he’s still talking, having always been pretty vocal while fucking you into the mattress or buried in your cunt, but you can’t really make it out through the sound of you messily choking on him.

You can feel him shift above you, the grip in his hair tightening slightly. 

“Oh fuck are you — “ He cums. A lot. You gag, having not expected it and a strangled, low sound erupts from Mark’s chest. You swallow what you can, astounded by the sheer amount as your boyfriend hisses swears and unintelligible gasps.

You swirl your tongue around the tip one last time to make sure he’s done before pulling off of him with a slight pop. He looks wrecked, hot and sweaty, thighs still spread wide. His fat cock is still hard, flushed at the tip and leaking slightly. God, you’ve never met a man with a prettier dick than Mark. 

While he blinks listlessly at the ceiling, you busy yourself with suckling at his balls, rolling and massaging the skin gently as he finally manages to regain lucidity. 

“Baby. Fuck, so — you’re so good. So good.” He mumbles, and you can feel the embers flickering in your lower stomach at his praise. Two strong hands gently pull you up, and you find yourself situated in Mark’s lap, complete with him peppering feverish kisses to your neck and face.

“How do you feel?” You ask and he closes his eyes.

“Like I just had one of the best orgasms in my life. Also super horny. Like. I just — can I fuck you now? Please?” He asks desperately and you look down at his cock. It’s still hard. You’re not sure if he skipped the refractory period all together or literally just got over it super fast. That’s probably an effect of the aphrodisiac. Also holy fuck.

“Jesus. Yes. Please.” You manage, and he kisses you again, soft and gentle as he lays you out over your bed. It feels like reassurance — a quiet reminder. I love you, I love you, I love you. 

“Gorgeous.” He mumbles, crawling on top of you and wrapping a hand around his swollen cock. Mark braces an elbow over your head, giving himself a few short pumps before grinding the tip of his dick against your clit. You nearly cry as he just keeps rubbing against you, slick and hard and you want him inside now. He is smearing pre cum over your clit and while it feels so freaking good, it’s not what you want. 

“Mark — please.” You whisper and he presses a kiss to your stomach.

“Okay. Okay — I got you. I got you.” He murmurs, notching the head at your pussy and slowly pushing inside. You squeeze your eyes shut and inhale tightly through your teeth as you feel the first inch or two squeeze in. You’re probably wetter than the Niagara Falls right now — courtesy of Mark fingering you and eating you out + whatever slickness that was there beforehand but god, the stretch is still intense.

“Crap. Fuuuck.” You hiss and Mark kisses your brow.

”Need me to stop? Too much?” He asks worriedly but you shake your head immediately. 

“No. No, I’m okay. Feels good. God you feel good, Mark.” You groan, and really you’re not lying. He makes a low sound, deep in his chest, pressing his forehead to yours as he slowly bottoms out. He feels so thick inside of you, hot and right and so utterly addicting that you can feel your eyes roll back into your skull.

“Oh — nnnfuck. Feels so — so fucking tight, so pretty, baby, pretty girl, you’re so s— sweet, god,” Mark babbles senselessly. You feel so warm, almost like you’re molded to the shape of his cock. You’re made for him, he’s made for you, fuck, Mark wants nothing more than to just stay here in this moment, wrapped up in you. You’re whimpering breathy little noises he doesn’t even think you realize you’re making, but they sound so fucking nice.

You open your eyes, grabbing at his arm and squeezing. 

“Mark — please, want more,” You’re looking at him with those big eyes, pleading and he’s not going to say no, he’s never going to say no to you. 

He squeezes his eyes shut. It feels overwhelming — but in a good way. Overwhelming in a way that Mark is addicted to, wholeheartedly. Soft, so soft, warm, your hands are on his shoulders, he can feel your chest rising and falling as you breathe —

Fuck, he has to move. 

Slowly, mind numbingly slowly, he drags his hips back, before fucking back into you. It’s gentle, for now. He doesn’t want to do too much too soon, even though his blood is singing for him to just fuck you, hard and fast, the way he knows you like. It sends burning bliss up the length of his spine and his hands travel down to your hips, hands squeezing at the squishy flesh there. Soft. So soft. 

You shudder beneath him, and your thighs try to close from where Mark is nestled in between them. He holds them open and inhales shakily, praying that whatever self-control he has left will carry him through the night. He keeps his thrusts gentle, no matter how much this goddamn aphrodisiac wants him to fuck you straight into the mattress. It’s slow and sticky, sweat clinging to his body — he doesn’t know if it’s his or yours but honestly, he can’t find it in him to care about it for all that long. 

You can’t really think straight. It’s torturous, this slow pace, but it feels so goddamn good at the same time. His cock is angled perfectly to hit that one soft fleshy part inside of you that makes you see stars. He’s everywhere, lips on your neck, hot and searing. You dig your nails into his biceps as he gives a particularly devastating thrust. 

“More?” He asks breathlessly, and you swallow down a whine, nodding quickly. He leans down to kiss you, long and sloppy. You think you might fucking pass out as he begins a much more punishing pace — it’s unforgiving as bliss spreads and blots out everything you can possibly register. “Look so pretty when you take this cock, huh?”

Mark just keeps fucking into you, hard and fast, deep. The small little whimpers and moans spilling from his mouth should not sound that good but god, they do. Sweat beads down his brow and you can actually feel his cock twitch inside of you. It’s hot and sweaty and you’re pretty sure your brain is halfway to leaking out of your ears as molten lava sears pleasantly through your veins like fire. 

Mark just keeps talking, but you can’t make out the words through the sound of your hips slapping against his. You think your bed is rocking with the force of his cock driving you into the goddamn mattress and he hisses a loud swear, pulling out. 

You only have a moment to mourn the loss before he flips you over and slips his cock back inside, bracing his hands on your head besides you. This is how you know whatever self control he was holding onto by a thread has completely snapped. He plants a hand on your hip and drags you back onto him while fucking back into you brutally. 

The way his balls slap against your clit and the feeling of him practically rearranging your insides, you’re not sure you’ll survive this. You think you’re drooling onto your goddamn pillow but you can’t really tell. The only thing you can think about is Mark’s thick cock pounding you into your bed, his hand on your hips, his searing touch. It’s so good, so goddamn good and if you weren’t currently chock drunk, you’d make sure to tell him. 

But your mouth isn’t quite forming words and you can only sob into your pillow, feeling his pelvis smack against your ass. And honestly, Mark isn’t doing much better. The way your tight little pussy clenches around him makes him almost cum on the freaking spot. He knows that he’s not going to last much longer, and judging by the way your thighs tremble, you’re not either. 

“M’gonna make you cum okay? Gonna take care of you, pretty girl, j— just hang in there with me, I got you. Wanna feel that pretty pussy cum on this cock, come on baby,” He whimpers, closing his eyes as the tidal wave of insurmountable pleasure crashes over him and you cry out, arching your back as you cum. 

Mark swears, loudly, as he feels you clamp down on him. He doesn’t even try to stop himself. Doesn’t try to hold anything back or skim off his orgasm by his fucking teeth or something. His hips stutter. 

Hot, sticky cum pulses into you as he groans weakly, his moans growing high and loud. It’s nearly never ending, the soft sweetness of complete bliss overwhelms him, rendering him inconsolable in it’s wake. You can feel him fill you up and you can only gasp quietly. Mark shudders for a second, then pulls out. You wince at the feeling of his cum starting to drip out, pearly beads sliding down your thighs. 

You collapse into bed and Mark lays himself out on top of you, moving slightly to the side as an acknowledgment to your need to breathe. He doesn’t seem like he wants to move any time soon, turning you over so he can see your face. 

“Hi.” He smiles. You smack his arm weakly with a little laugh.

”Hi? That’s the first thing you say to me after you’ve fucked my brains out?” You ask and he shrugs, still glowing, still grinning happily at you. 

“I think — I think I’m good now. Hopefully.” He says and you blink as you remember the whole reason this started. 

”Feel better?” You hum and he kisses your cheek, wrapping an arm around you tightly.

”My metabolism burned through it, I’m pretty sure. Hooray for Viltrumite genes.” Mark mutters and you bury your face into the crook of his neck. He draws the blankets up over you and him, kissing your forehead, then the tip of your nose. 

“We still gotta clean up, Mark.”

”I know. We can take a shower together. For efficiency purposes.”

”…Sure. For efficiency purposes.”

—

guys I swear I’m not abandoning Miguel I’m gonna write for him soon trust 🙏

[rayhalloffame]

Insomnia

Carmen Berzatto x F!Reader

Not to jump right into filth with carmy but I can’t stop thinking about having to ride him until he’s so tired he has to sleep, like insomnia doesn’t hold a candle to you. This got away from me so fast. Anyway, NSFW below the cut, MDNI

You wake up to the sound of a dish clattering. The clock reads 2:38 when you look to the bedside table. The room is cold and dark save for the light from beneath the bedroom door. Carmen should’ve been in bed beside you, but all signs point to it being a tough night. You rub the sleep from your eyes and swing your legs over the side of the bed. Goosebumps raise on your bare thighs almost immediately. The throw blanket at the end of the bed is easy enough to wrap around your shoulders before you go to find Carmy.

The TV is flickering but muted when you pass through the livingroom. A shuffle down the hall and right turn brings you to the kitchen where you find Carmen, back to you and head down in front of the running faucet. He feels you before he sees you, hissing at the chill on your hands that find home beneath his shirt, fists balled around the blanket and pressed to his navel. You rest your chin on his shoulder, cock your neck to look at his face. “Hey, Bear,” you murmur, press a kiss to the curve of his jaw.

Carmen sighs, removes the hand that was pinching the bridge of his nose to rub along your forearm. It’s then that you notice his other hand that he’s holding under the flow of cold water. “Burn yourself?”

As if he forgot himself, he flicks the wetness from his fingers then shuts the water. “Was trying to clean up before bed. Didn’t think the pan would still be so fuckin’ hot.” He dries his hand on the towel that sits in the counter. You press a final kiss to the back of his shoulder before releasing him from your hold, stepping back so he has space to turn around. “Sorry for wakin’ you, baby.” He pulls you into his chest by your shoulders, rubs his hands down your back to deliver some warmth through the blanket.

“It’s late,” you tell him, as if he doesn’t know, and his sigh is enough to solidify that fact. Before he can apologize, you continue. “What’d you make?” You extract yourself to peak into the glass Tupperware on the small island. “Smells yummy.”

You hear him open a drawer and utensils clinking. He pops the top off of a container, sticks the fork inside and twirls. Carmy feeds you, hand held just under your chin to catch any crumbs. He flushes when you groan around the bite. “Ma’s lemon chicken,” he answers. “Want more?”

He’s already reaching back to the container with the fork but you stop him. “It’s late,” you remind him around a swallow. He nods, closes the Tupperware and stores it in the fridge. “We’ll get the dishes tomorrow.” Carm’s hand hovers over the faucet handle before he relents, turns and nods at you. He follows you out of the kitchen, stopping in the living room.

“I’m uh, not too tired yet so uh-,” he jerks his head towards the couch, “gonna just watch tv for a bit. I’ll come to bed soon, yeah?” He’s waiting for you to fight him, tell him he has to sleep, to take care of himself. He’s surprised when you just nod, grabbing his hand to guide him to the couch. Carmen lays back, making space between his legs for you. Your body melts into his, head resting in his neck and throw blanket covering the both of you. You try to wait him out, listening for deeper drawn out breaths that indicate his slumber, but your own tiredness wins.

An hour later you’re awake again. Carmy’s hand is dragging lazily up and down the length of your spine beneath the t-shirt of his you often wear to sleep. “Mm, Bear, still awake?” Your voice is hoarse with sleep.

Carmen looks down his nose at you, hums and it vibrates through his chest. “You can go to bed,” he whispers, “just have a lot on my mind tonight.”

You shake your head, drawing in a deep breath before shuffling up his body. “What can I do?” you ask in earnest, nose tracing slowly against his cheek.

The “Nothin’, baby” that he sighs is expected. You adjust your position, knees sinking into either side of his hips. You drag your nose along the bridge of his, then seal your lips in a slow and tender kiss. His hand flexes on your back. “What’s that for?” he asks. You don’t answer, instead map the inside of his mouth with your tongue. He groans into your mouth minutes later, probes you again.

“Just think about me,” you whisper, dragging your lips across his cheek and to his ear. Your hips roll down into his, a moan ripping through Carmen’s chest.

“Always thinkin’ bout you,” he responds. His large hands find your hips and squeeze. You push down on his shoulders, sitting up in his lap when he tries to flip you under him.

“Let me ease your mind,” you plead. You pull your shirt over your head to reveal your bare chest and the light lacey panties that sit prettily on your waist. He rubs his hand over them, his tattoos a stark contrast to the daintiness.

Carmen’s eyes meet yours. “Yeah,” he says dumbly, breathless, “alright, yeah.” You make quick work of getting his sweats and briefs pulled down enough to reveal his angry red cock that feels so hard it might actually be painful. You’re distracted by it, tracing your fingers up his length delicately, saliva building in your mouth. You lean down to taste him, sucking just the tip behind your lips. Carmen huffs, hand finding your cheek. He begs, something about not teasing him, so you settle yourself back on his hips. Carmy uses his thumb to pull your panties to the side, catching just briefly on your clit, making you gasp. He smirks up at you but says nothing, instead, jaw falling open when he watches you sink down onto him. Slow, like you have to adjust to his size every time he gets inside you, which is partly true.

Hands planted on his chest, you grind against him. Carm’s thumb rubs delicious circles into your throbbing clit. You scratch your nails across his nipples, tummy flipping at the punched out moan it gets from Carmen. You trace his features, look at him adoringly. “You’re so- nghh,” you stutter, finding an angle that has him driving into the spongey spot in your cunt, “beautiful,” you get out in a breathy moan.

Carmen chuckles, squeezing your thigh with the hand not abusing your clit. He feels the way the muscles work under his palm, makes him even more aware of how hard you’re working to please him, to make him feel good. You drive him crazy.

He brings that calloused hand up to rest on your ribs, rubbing the skin just under your bouncing tit, knows how it soothes you, reminds you to calm your thumping heart. “Easy,” he says. You slow your hips to catch your breath. Carmen nods at you, in encouragement or appreciation you can’t tell. He lets his hand wander up further, until he’s gripping the back of your head and forcing you down to his chest. He holds your face mere centimeters from his own, lips brushing each others’ while you pant. Carmen plants his feet on the couch and starts thrusting his hips harshly into yours. You mewl into his mouth. Your hand wraps around his wrist and squeezes, crease deepening between your brows as pleasure builds in your belly. “I love you, you know?” He’s talking to you between pants, kissing your slack mouth.

“Uh-huh,” you whine, “love you, love you.” Carmen burries himself in you, holds your hips down with his forearm across your lower back. He has you pressed as close to him as possible without physically crawling into your skin. “Cum, Carmy, please – fuck, please.” That’s all it takes. He crushes your head into his shoulder, moans into your ear like a wounded animal, like you’re taking everything from him. Or like he’s giving you everything.

And he’s so sensitive but you’re so close, can tell by the way you’re squeezing your velvety walls around him. He picks up the pace. “C’mon, pretty girl, you’re right there, yeah?” He’s murmuring in your ear. With a final harsh push of his hips into yours you’re soaking his dick. He pets a hand down the back of your head, soft, tender, keeps rocking into you slowly while you ride it out. “Atta girl,” he murmurs into the skin of your temple, pressing his lips there.

Carmy’s spent, and you are, too, if the way your body goes limp against him is anything to go by. You both end up dozing right where you are, only moving to the bedroom when you slip off of him because your hip starts to cramp. He sleeps through his alarm in the morning.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Sum of All 13

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of crime, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Steve Rogers

Part of the mob drabbles au

Summary: you are given an unexpected assignment.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You’re tired. Despite your blips into the void, you’re less than rested. You sit back from the table and leave the pencil in the crease of the ledger. You stretch your fingers and yawn. You let your eyes closer and your head wobbles. 

“Sleepy?” Rogers intones. 

You lurch in the chair and glance at him. You don’t remember him returning. He went off to ‘chat with Thor’ but you must’ve been too swept up in the numbers to notice. You nod and fix your posture. 

“A little,” you confess. 

“It’s late,” he stretches his arms as he speaks then rolls his shoulders. “Should probably tuck in soon. You got a lot of work tomorrow. Me too.” 

“Mm, right,” you hum flatly. 

You’re trapped in the tenuous stalemate. Since his confrontation, you’ve been reticent. That’s safest. You still can’t figure out what you did to rile him but you hardly want to do it again. A man like Rogers is not the type you want to goad. If it were up to you, you wouldn’t even be here. Again, that’s just another reminder of his power. You’re here because he says you need to be. 

“I bought you stuff to sleep in,” he goes around the bed and grabs his own bag, flopping it up on the mattress.  

“Oh, thanks, uh,” you slowly close the ledger and stare at the bed.  

Your eyes drift over to the chaise. It’s wide enough for you. It even looks comfy. You get up and approach it, peering into the top of the shopping bags. That looks like pajamas? 

He grunts and draws your attentions again. As he unbuttons his shirt, your eyes widen and your heart spark. Oops! You grab a bag and flee for the bathroom behind him. He doesn’t flinch as you pass by. 

You shut the door and drop the bag. This is going to be so weird. And you thought the hotel room was bad. Him in the bed in just his towel and then you falling out of the shower. It’s a deranged slapstick but you’re the main joke. 

You push open the mouth of the bag and pull out the silk top. The dusty rose fabric is trimmed with black lace. You blink dumbly as you examine the thin straps and fish out the matching bottoms. Okay, are these supposed to be pajamas? 

You search the rest of the bag. It’s much of the same but in various colours. You’re better off sleeping in what you have on. Still, you are entirely unprepared another argument. Just the memory of his chasing you around that room has you jittery. 

You change, reluctantly. How are you supposed to stay warm? You hate being cold. Especially when you’re trying to sleep. You swear, he’s torturing you. For you, he reserved his more sinister practice, you almost envy the man he stomped on the street. At least that was quick. 

You crack open the door and peek out. Rogers lays in bed, one arm bent behind his head, his other hand on his phone as he holds it over his muscled torso. He has no shame as he reclines with his upper half entirely bare. You suppose he has no reason to be embarrassed but you very much do. 

You steel yourself and emerge. You tear your eyes from him and don’t look back. You circle around the bed with one focus in mind. You snatch the pillow from the other side but find it caught on something. Rogers clears your throat and you look up as he stares back. He clings to the corner of the pillow. 

“Whatcha doin’?” He asks coyly. 

You gulp, “oh, I was gonna make up the chaise--” 

“Why?” He prompts. 

“Well, er, I thought--” 

“Bed’s big enough,” he shrugs and yanks, putting the pillow back down. “Unless you think I smell or something.” 

“Oh, no sir, no,” you argue and fold your hands in front of you. The silk brushes your chest and you’re overly aware of how your nipples poke into the cool fabric. “Um...you didn’t happen to grab any sets with pants? My legs are cold.” 

“I dunno. The lady picked it all,” he swipes up his phone again. “Looks like it fits. If you’re cold, get under the blankets.” 

“Right, that’s... smart,” you agree and climb onto the bed. You do just as he says and hide under the blankets. You put your back to him and nestle in. Your body relaxes into the cushy mattress and you yawn again. It’s no big deal. You’re just going to sleep. 

Your head swirls with exhaustion. It doesn’t take much more than a few deep breaths to doze off. You’re grateful for the quick relief. Your body and mind is so addled that the blank void is much preferable. 

You wake to darkness. The kind that blurs like static in your vision. There’s a steady rhythm at your back. Rogers snores lowly between deep breaths. His warmth radiates beneath the blankets and clouds around your legs. 

You peek back at his fuzzy figure. It’s the only time you’ve ever seen him anything less than terrifying, even though you can’t really see him. You move carefully and slide out from under the covers. You tiptoe around to the bathroom and ease the door into the frame. 

You quickly relieve yourself and wash your hands. As you come back out, the snoring continues, assuring you of your successful mission. You climb back into bed and once more roll onto your side. As you pull the blankets up, there’s a dip in the tempo. 

Rogers’ snores fade and catch in his throat. The bed jostles with his movement as he grumbles. You squeak as his arm snakes over you and his heat blazes around your body. He tucks his hand under your waist and nuzzles your hair, puffing hotly into your scalp. 

His arm is like a vice. You can’t dislodge it as you wriggle helplessly. His snores rise again to assure you of oblivion. You clasp onto his wrist but you’re much too weak to fight him. You knew that already but now you feel it completely. 

As you writhe, you let out another high-pitched gasp. What’s that? The bulge flush to your rear has you paralysed as the realisation slowly sinks in. Oh. He’s only human after all, even if to you, he seems immortal. 

You blanch and blink into the dark. The silk isn’t much of a barrier and his own pajama bottoms don’t offer much else. What do you do? You can’t let him wake up like this? You can’t let him know that you felt him. 

Yet if you wake him up by wrench him off of you, that would give it all away. Well, you guess this is your life now. You’re stuck. Trapped with this enigmatic man and his unyielding demands. Even in his sleep, he’s managed to impose his will on you. 

[steddieas-shegoes]

you and all of your new perspective

for @steddiesongfics using 'new perspective' by noah kahan

also on ao3

rated m | 3,513 words | no cw | tags: rock star eddie munson, good uncle wayne munson, mutual pining, yearning, post-vecna, love confessions, idiots in love, first kiss, implied sexual content, getting together

🤘🏻🤘🏻🤘🏻🤘🏻🤘🏻🤘🏻🤘🏻🤘🏻🤘🏻🤘🏻🤘🏻

He’s looking down at the letter and wondering how the hell he’s supposed to be normal about Eddie visiting him.

In Hawkins.

Where Eddie swore he’d never come back to the moment he got his ticket out of here.

“Starin’ at it ain’t gonna make him not come,” Wayne says from across the counter. “Surprised he didn’t call ya to tell ya.”

“He…he left a few messages,” Steve explains, setting the letter down and resting his face in his hands. “I just figured he wouldn’t come if I didn’t call him back.”

Wayne raises a brow, gives him a look that Steve’s perfectly familiar with by now. Four years of weekly dinners with a man that’s well aware of your feelings for his nephew leads to some knowing looks and light teasing.

“Only reason he’d ever step foot in this town again is for you and you know that,” Wayne says as he opens another beer. He has three every Friday night, but no longer indulges during the week. Ain’t so young anymore, son, and I gotta stay active to keep up with all your chores, he’d told Steve when he asked. Steve thinks the doctor told him to take it easier. “I don’t think he even told the kids.”

“Don’t see why he would. They’re all over. He’s probably seen them on tour.”

Steve tries not to sound bitter. He woke up in his own bed or whatever the saying is. He can’t blame Eddie for doing exactly what he said he would, following his dreams, getting the hell out of Hawkins the moment he could. The kids did the same, but at least they visited.

“Well, they’ve been houndin’ him to come visit you.”

Steve lifts his head. “They what?”

“They just worry ‘bout ya,” Wayne shrugs. “So do I.”

“I went on a date last week! Robin visited two months ago! I see you every Friday!” Steve stands and starts pacing. “I’m gonna go visit Dustin at school in a month. And Will has his freshman exhibition that we’re all trying to meet up at. It’s not like I’m lonely.”

“Son, I think the only person lonelier than you is Eddie,” Wayne gives him that sad smile he gives whenever they talk about Steve’s social life. It’s like he knows it’s pitiful, and he knows Steve knows it’s pitiful, and he’s making sure Steve knows that he knows. “And he’s stubborn as a mule, but he cares too much about ya to let you suffer.”

“Who said anything about suffering?”

“It’s implied by the way the kids talk about you.”

“How’s that?”

“The word hermit has been used a bunch,” Wayne explains. “Now, I’m gonna finish this beer and you’re gonna stop workin’ yourself up over something that’s still days away.”

Steve rushes over to his calendar, holding up the letter, then checking the calendar.

“He’s gonna be here in three days!” Steve yells. “I can’t be ready by then!”

“What the hell do you need to be ready for? It’s just Eddie,” Wayne is smirking again and Steve’s tired of his teasing, but he’s not gonna say anything because it doesn’t do any good to draw more attention to it. “He ain’t expecting a welcome committee. Maybe a balloon or somethin’; You know he likes the show of it all.”

Steve groans.

He does know. Eddie loves dramatics, that’s what makes him such a good performer on stage. That’s what makes him a great DM.

That’s what made Steve fall in love with him.

“I don’t even know where to get balloons,” Steve says, resting his forehead against the wall.

“The new Wal-Mart should have some,” Wayne pats his shoulder. “We watchin’ the game or standing around havin’ a crisis in your kitchen?”

Steve breathes in. He breathes out.

“I’ll have a crisis tomorrow, I guess.”

“That’s my boy!”

++++

The crisis does come the next day, but this time Wayne isn’t there to make it worse or better. He considers calling Robin, but he knows she’ll just tell him to use his good cologne and try not to be weird. He even thinks about calling Dustin, but immediately shuts that down when he remembers that Dustin is the one who called him a hermit to Eddie’s face.

He finds balloons at the store, and adds streamers to the cart on a whim. He’s sure Eddie will love it. Eddie loves that kind of shit.

He also grabs a pie crust and apples because he remembers Eddie saying how much he loves apple pie with vanilla ice cream one time nearly five years ago.

Okay, maybe it’ll be weird that he remembered that.

He goes to put the apples back when Joyce bumps into him as she’s reaching for a bunch of bananas.

“Sorry honey!” She throws her hands out to catch him, even though she’s the one who almost falls. “I wasn’t paying attention. You doing okay?”

“Yeah, how’re you?” Steve gives her a small smile, trying not to show how panicked he is.

“Sweetie, you look stressed. Is something wrong?”

“No! No, just preparing for a guest,” Steve says, unsure if Eddie’s told anyone else in Hawkins he would be visiting and not wanting to ruin any surprises if he intended on doing that.

He doesn’t even know how long Eddie’s staying; He didn’t say in his letter or voicemails. Wayne hasn’t mentioned it either, which means he probably knows exactly how long he’s staying.

“Oh, is Eddie staying with you?” She asks, brows furrowing. “I assumed he was staying with Wayne. I helped him find an apple pie recipe for his visit.”

Steve looks down at the ingredients in the cart, the evidence of what he’s going to make even more obvious now. Joyce’s gaze follows his and she bites back a knowing smile.

“Ah.”

“Ah?” He asks.

“Uh huh,” she says, nodding. “I would make sure to get the green apples. He likes sour more than sweet when there’s ice cream.”

Steve looks over at the green apples and back at the red apples he was planning on buying. Joyce winks at him before she grabs the bananas and starts to walk away.

“Enjoy the visit!”

Steve doesn’t respond.

He grabs six green apples and shoves them in a plastic produce bag.

He’ll make the damn apple pie and Eddie will love it. Steve will pretend the apple pie isn’t filled with the love he can barely contain for the man, and maybe Eddie will enjoy it and leave as if he never came.

Maybe Steve can make it through this visit with dignity.

****

Eddie shows up at three in the afternoon on a Wednesday. Technically, it’s 3:03, but Steve wasn’t watching the clock or anything. That would be ridiculous.

He looks just like he always did, just like Steve expected. He’s smiling, and playing with the ends of his curls. Steve is never gonna make it through this visit with dignity.

“Stevie!” Eddie rushes in for a hug, and it should be more awkward than it is. Eddie didn’t exactly leave on the best of terms with Steve. They really only spoke a handful of times over the last few years, and most of those were forced by Wayne or Dustin. But it’s like he never left, like he’s been hugging Steve every day for years.

Steve soaks it up, falls into it and doesn’t care how it looks. If Eddie has a problem with it, he doesn’t say so. He holds Steve tighter, his breath warm against his neck.

Eventually, Steve invites him inside and it does start to feel awkward.

Eddie’s a rock star now, and despite how normal he looks, he’s different. He’s here to see Steve, but is he here out of guilt that it took him this long to visit or because he actually wants to?

Steve talks about work, and his dinners with Wayne, and spends more time than he should explaining Robin’s degree program even though he knows Robin already talked to Eddie when she got accepted. He goes on and on about what everyone else is up to because his life is pretty boring in comparison and he doesn’t want to bore Eddie away.

“Sounds like everyone’s doing good, but I already knew that,” Eddie eventually says when Steve’s rambled for much longer than he planned. “How are you?”

“I told you, I’m fine,” Steve says. “Kinda boring around here, honestly. How’s the tour been?”

Eddie laughs and Steve tries not to let it hurt. He doesn’t think he means it in the way Steve’s taking it and that’s a Steve problem, not an Eddie problem.

“I called you 37 times,” Eddie says instead of answering him. “Every city we had a show. The first few I figured you were just busy or asleep. I didn’t think about time zones. But then I started to realize you were avoiding me.”

He isn’t mad, or at least he doesn’t look mad, but Steve feels like he needs to apologize anyway.

“Yeah, sorry. After a while, it kinda…”

“Seemed worse to call since it was so long?” Eddie asks, small smile falling from his face when Steve nods. “It’s never a bad thing to hear from friends, though. You could’ve called the bus phone anytime. Left a message. We got an answering machine because Gareth’s mom always calls when we’re on stage.”

“Right. Good to know,” Steve says. Which, it is good to know, but he doesn’t plan on calling unless there’s an emergency. He can’t look as desperate as he feels and if he calls once, he’ll call twice, and then a hundred times. “What city was your favorite so far?”

Eddie tilts his head, looks him over for a moment before responding. “I liked Boston. All the kids were front row. Except El, she somehow got backstage. Still not sure how. Missed you, though.”

Steve feels his face heat up at the words. Eddie always said things in a flirty way, even though he doesn’t really mean it that way. Steve can’t let himself think that he means it that way.

“It’s a pretty big trip, so. I couldn’t miss work.”

It’s a shit excuse because he absolutely could miss work. It’s a grocery store in a small town, and he doesn’t care that much about it.

“They couldn’t find someone to cover a couple days for you?” Eddie sounds hurt now, and Steve can’t let him think that he’s the problem.

“I didn’t ask. I-” Steve has to be brave now. Wayne’s voice is in his head telling him to just tell Eddie why he’s been so distant, why he hasn’t been the one to reach out. “I was scared to go.”

This seems to throw Eddie off balance. His eyes squint and forehead wrinkles adorably as he tries to do mental gymnastics to find out why Steve of all people would be scared to visit him. Steve is known for throwing himself in the line of fire, being the first one to step in when everyone else is scared. Too bad this type of courage is different.

“Are you scared of flying? I didn’t know, maybe we could have figured out a hired car.”

“No, I don’t mind flying,” Steve admits.

“Then…why were you scared?”

“Because if I let you in, you’ll see how much I miss you and if you see how much I miss you, you’ll see how much I love you. And then you’d never wanna have me around and it would be just like everyone else I love who leaves because I’m not enough to keep them around,” Steve lays his head back against the couch. The Wayne voice in his head is suspiciously quiet.

So is Eddie.

Steve isn’t going to talk anymore; He’s said enough.

Eddie’s hand covers Steve’s. It’s warm and surprisingly soft, and bigger than Steve’s. He never realized that before, not even when he held his hand while he was in the hospital after Vecna or when he watched him play guitar for hours while he was trying to gain his confidence back.

“People don’t leave because you aren’t enough, Steve. They leave because the world is big and they want to be a part of it. Everyone wants you to do that, too,” Eddie says softly, carefully. “I think most of the kids hoped you’d leave Hawkins once they did. Dustin thought you’d come on tour with me.”

“Why would he think that?” Steve doesn’t remember ever having a conversation with Dustin that would make him think that, but his memory isn’t the best.

Eddie’s lips curl up into a smile and he leans forward.

“You know you’re incredibly obvious, right?” Eddie whispers even though they’re alone and there’s no need to be quiet. “You’ve always been easy to read.”

“What does that mean? Read what?”

“You wear your heart on your sleeve and it’s been right there with Eddie written across it since I was in the hospital, sweetheart.” Eddie points to Steve’s arm. He looks down as if he would be able to see the heart Eddie’s talking about. “You’re an open book.”

The timer in the kitchen goes off and Steve jumps up. He rushes to the oven, grateful for the distraction.

“Is that apple pie?” Eddie asks from a few feet away. Steve really should’ve known he would follow him.

“Yes, it’s gotta be perfect.”

“You made apple pie for me?”

Eddie’s right behind him now, and when he turns, there’s no space between them at all. Steve smells the airport on him, the rental car, the cologne he’s worn since Steve bought it for him before he left Hawkins.

He looks up and sees the years that have passed in smile lines on Eddie’s face, in a single gray hair that Eddie’s probably keeping because it makes him look cool. Steve hasn’t found any gray hairs yet, but he’s only 25. Eddie always said Wayne went completely gray by 30, so his genetics wouldn’t be as kind to him. Steve kinda hopes he’s right. Eddie would be beautiful with gray curls.

“Just like I said: heart on your sleeve,” Eddie whispers, leaning in until his lips are just barely brushing against Steve’s.

He’s waiting for Steve, to see if he’ll finally give in after years of near-silence, after whatever flirty and semi-codependent friendship they had before Eddie left to be a rock star.

Steve’s spent enough time waiting, and he thinks Eddie probably has, too.

His lips press against Eddie’s, sure of their movements despite the anxiety crawling through his chest and the unfamiliar taste of him on his tongue.

It’s full of hunger even though it only lasts a few seconds. Steve’s wanted this, wanted him, for so long, he puts everything he has into this moment. If it’s all he gets, he wants it to be perfect.

“You’re kissing me like you’re sending me off to war,” Eddie says when they’ve caught their breath.

“Feels like I am,” Steve admits, corner of his mouth turning up in a sad smile. “At least a little.”

“I think the odds of me dying on stage are probably extremely slim,” Eddie laughs. Steve doesn’t laugh with him. “Steve? What’s wrong?”

Steve pulls himself away, ignoring the way his chest aches at the separation. He’ll have to get used to that when Eddie leaves.

“You have a whole new life. You’re a rock star, Ed. I can’t force my feelings on you now.”

“Who said you forced anything on me?”

“I made you apple pie!” Steve exclaims, pulling away so he can breathe again. Having Eddie in his space alters his brain chemistry, maybe his DNA. “I bought all your favorite things so I could try to convince you I’m worth staying for, even though I can’t compare to going on a world tour with your band. I cleaned out the guest room and made sure I put your favorite shampoo in the shower as if you would even notice that. As if it would be enough to keep you around.”

Eddie steps closer, but Steve steps back.

“Your life is different now. It’s good. I wouldn’t add anything to it, and I don’t know why I even tried to make it seem like I would.”

Eddie steps closer, and there’s nowhere for Steve to go. He’s boxed in against the counter, and Eddie’s face is red with anger. He’s not scared– he could never be scared of Eddie– but he does swallow around a lump in his throat and try to take a deep breath to calm his racing heart.

“My life is different now, you’re right about that. My life doesn’t even feel like mine most days. I belong to fans, and the guys, and the record label. But you know what does feel like mine?” Eddie leans in close enough that his breath is hot against Steve’s face. “How much I love you. How much I have always loved you. You’ve always felt like mine, Steve.”

It’s a hell of a confession, and definitely not what Steve expected from this visit.

The Wayne voice in his head decides to speak again. Except this time, it’s something he’s said to Steve in person before.

He’s surrounded by people, but he seems pretty lonely. Kinda like he still needs a certain someone.

Steve’s brows crinkle as he thinks about the words Wayne said after a phone call with Eddie during the first part of his first tour nearly two years ago. The words were accompanied by a look that Steve has since come to recognize as his sad puppy look.

The same one Eddie’s giving him now.

Steve can’t help it; He laughs.

“You and Wayne could bottle that look and sell it to people who need someone to feel bad for ‘em,” Steve says. He cups Eddie’s cheek in his palm, rubs his thumb against the angry red that turns into a flushed pink. “I don’t know how you could love me-”

“Steve-”

“But!” Steve interrupts. “I know you wouldn’t have said it if you didn’t mean it. And you wouldn’t be here if you didn’t want to be. If you didn’t care, you wouldn’t have taken the time to come back here at all, let alone stay with me. I won’t understand it, but I’ll believe it.”

“That was easier than Wayne said it would be,” Eddie’s smile grows slowly, lighting up his face and the room.

“He’s been buttering me up for years,” Steve shrugs.

“Doing all the hard work, more like,” Eddie leans forward, rests his forehead against Steve’s. “He must’ve been sick of hearing me yearn for your love.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “You know, you could have come back sooner. You didn’t have to wait until I was convinced I’d be alone forever.”

“And you could have called me to let me know I could visit sooner.” Eddie pokes the tip of his nose with his finger, smirking as he leans away to look back at the apple pie on the oven. “Especially if I could’ve been having apple pie on every break.”

“It might not even be good,” Steve says as he wraps his arms around Eddie’s waist.

“Is there vanilla ice cream?” Eddie pecks his lips.

“Mhm,” Steve kisses his cheek. “And you can have some if you promise to sit down and tell me everything about the band.”

“You wanna waste time hearing about Gareth drooling over every woman who looks his way? We could be making love on the couch.”

Steve raises a brow. “We won’t be making love anywhere but my bed. And it won’t be until we’ve talked more.”

“Fiiiine,” Eddie rolls his eyes, but grabs for the pie cutter on the counter. “Cut me a piece of pie and I’ll do my best to resist taking all your clothes off.”

“I never said you couldn’t do that,” Steve grabs the pie cutter.

“So I can take your clothes off?”

“Shirt only. And after pie…we’ll talk.”

“I thought after pie we’d be done talking.”

“How long are you staying?” Steve asks as he puts the slice of pie onto the plate and hands it to Eddie.

“Four days.”

Steve tilts his head side to side, considering what he can accomplish in four days.

In any other situation, he might be worried about how quickly he throws off his shirt. In any other situation, he would probably insist on talking to Robin before throwing his heart on the plate next to the scoop of ice cream Eddie just put next to his steaming slice of pie. In any other situation, he would take things slow and get to know rock star Eddie who left Hawkins to be someone.

But he’s finding that he’s okay with speed-running things.

He’s got a new perspective on Eddie’s visit, and maybe a new perspective on what their future will look like.

Steve drops his pants. Eddie’s eyes widen.

“Eat your pie. We’ll talk while we make love on the couch.”

[mejaemin]

unhappy ending - 7dream

wc: 2.2k

summary: 7dream as angst tropes/plotlines (a.k.a. the dreamies as things that make me sad)

warnings: not proofread, extreme angst, hurt/no comfort (mark: cheating, manipulation, toxicity) (renjun: hospitals, depictions of illness and having an unwell appearance) (jeno: depression, depression related habits) (donghyuck: enlistment, death, murder?) (jaemin: this one kinda has comfort? dystopia, implied death, suggestive/after sex) (chenle: a lot of toxicity, being used) (jisung: getting played, heartbreak, ghosting)

an: who let me do this. i am hurting so bad and im the one that wrote it ?!?! this is why i hate angst guys im never doing this again. gonna write the fluffiest of fluff now

───── ⋆⋅ ⊹ ⁺ 𐔌 ᩧ ຼ ͡ ৯ ♡໒⁀ ᩧຼ ꒱ིྀ ⁺ ⊹ ⋅⋆ ─────

cheating!mark texts you every morning and night, sending sweet messages with the occasional song lyric or spider man quote, be it motivational or romantic. it’s arguably your favorite part of the day, looking forward to the message of the day and the next. it’s quite confusing however, when he texts you one day saying “goodnight angel, sleep well! gonna be in the studio tomorrow, i’ll pick u up on the way <3 love you gorgeous, see you tomorrow minjeong”… when you ask him about it, questioning who this minjeong is, he immediately shuts down any idea of cheating immediately. when you sit in the studio with him the following day, he’s in the booth recording some chords on his guitar when you look at his phone. unsurprisingly, there’s messages from a “minjeong <3”. upon opening them, you see texts and texts that go on for months. of course, you immediately start screaming at mark, sobbing and punching him with frustration at his unfaithfulness. with a big pout and gifts ready, he kisses your tears away, rocking you back and forth in his arms so sweetly, cooing as he convinces you it’s no one, bringing you to stay with him and ignore the many “i knew it” texts from your friends.

memory loss!renjun sits in the hospital bed, skin pale and sickly as he draws in a sketchbook with shaky hands. there’s countless cords and tubes attached to his body, the abundance of technology being the only thing keeping him alive. the nurse standing next to you places a hand on your shoulder, startling you and forcing you to turn away from the hospital door’s window.

“if you’d like, you can try again today. he’s been pretty stable recently.” her smile doesn’t even attempt to reach her eyes, and you know she’s only doing it to try (terribly) to comfort you.

you nod gently, reaching for the door handle. “mm. thank you, i’ll do that.”

when you open the door, he looks up, eyebrows furrowing as he looks at you. “who are you? what are you doing here?”

you sit next to him, reaching for his hand, but he flinches and pulls it to his chest. “renjun… i- i’m sorry. i should have asked. i’m your girlfriend, we’ve been dating for three years, can you remember?”

he looks you up and down judgmentally, though it isn’t too intimidating when he’s as skinny as a twig. “no, i’m sorry, you must be mistaken. i’m very much single.”

just like that, your skin heats up with frustration and you have to fight back tears. turning on your phone, you turn it to him, showing your lock screen of the two of you. he only looks more confused, so you unlock it and begin scrolling through your gallery, swiping through photos upon photos of the memories between you two.

“do you really not remember any of this..? we’ve been dating for the past three years, we met in high school, donghyuck introduced us.. please tell me you remember, any of it.” your voice quivers, the tears falling freely now.

he shakes his head, albeit weakly. “no, i’m sorry i don’t remember any of this. are you sure you know what you’re talking about?”

from your bag, you pull out a small framed piece of canvas paper. on it is a bouquet of your favorite flowers, renjun’s signature in the bottom corner. “junnie, do you remember painting this?” he nods gently. “you made this for me. it’s my favorite flowers, and you gave it to me on my birthday.”

“that.. doesn’t sound right. i create art for myself, not to gift to other people. i wouldn’t do that. how did you get that.”

you can’t even see what’s in front of you, heaps and heaps of tears falling from your eyes. this is the third week in a row, trying to help renjun regain his memories, and the third week it failed. no matter what you say, what you show him, it’s like you never existed. the nurse opens the door, suggesting you leave, and as she helps you out you leave the painting with him, hoping and praying he’ll be able to remember you and all the love you had for each other.

overwhelmed!jeno was the sweetest to you, always being there for you when you needed it. no matter what he was always a call away, if you needed him he was there. he paid attention to your every need, and kept tabs on just about everything relating to you. favorite color, movie, flower, clothing style, everything. he was genuinely the best boyfriend you think you’d ever encounter. he treated you so, so good, rubbing your feet when you were tired, taking care of you when sick, and buying you the cutest of gifts ‘just because’. you were the same way with him too, y’know. whenever he felt overwhelmed, whether it be from the attention of his peers or even his own thoughts, you always knew how to calm him down. he found a home in your arms, as did you with him. everyone around you could see how perfect you two were, saying that love was real because of you. it was like everything was perfect as long as jeno was by your side. however, every couple has a rocky patch, and it just seems that you guys couldn’t make it through. sometimes, jeno got too burnt out taking care of you, despite it being something he enjoyed, and fell into habits of not taking care of himself. he grew eye bags, sleeping all day and didn’t look or act anything like himself. the outside world along with all his responsibilities at home, and his own, nagging, overwhelming, intrusive thoughts became too much, and he found it a struggle to love himself, let alone another person. with all the love in your heart, you had no choice but to part ways with him in hopes of him getting better and finding himself again. you hoped that his future had you in it, but you doubt you can be in the picture when he enters the right state of mind.

bf!donghyuck who spent the past year living his best life with you, taking you out on extravagant dates and vacations to make as many memories as possible before his enlistment. he bought so many gifts, took so many photos, and left so many marks in your shared home to make sure you’d never miss him. despite joking about it all the time, he was scared and upset about it as well. whole writing a letter for every month he was gone, more than half ended up having tear stains on them. tucking the final one into the box and leaving it somewhere for you to find, he grabbed his bags and ran to the car, sitting in the passenger seat while you drove him to the site. the whole ride was filled with tears and pointless arguments, the dread consuming you both. a whole year and a half without your soulmate, the love of your life was something you truly couldn’t bare. once you arrived, you helped him grab his stuff and make his way to the place where you would depart. right before he made his way to the hundreds of other men he would be going with, he dropped his stuff and held you tightly in his arms, kissing all your tears away and blending them with his own, promising that it would go by quickly, like he was never gone. for the first couple months you believed it, uncovering pranks and hidden gifts from him throughout the time he was gone. however, the third month came, and his gift this time wasn’t funny, or cute at all. when you opened your tv that morning, the news channel popped up, the reporter giving a solemn expression as he relayed the news that your lover’s base, the place donghyuck was stationed at, had been attacked, majority of the soldiers there being killed. a list of names was revealed, and with your heart beating out of your chest and nausea waving through you, your eyes trailed down the list until it stopped. lee donghyuck, age 24, was in the list of soldiers who had died. your entire lifeline, the one who owned your entire heart, the man who reminded you of the warm sun, had lied to you. he was gone, and wasn’t coming back.

dystopian bf!jaemin is someone who you admittedly don’t know too well. the world is overheating, on the verge of ending, and the sky is bright orange, air smoky in the mid-day when you meet him. with 30 minutes left on earth, the announcement ringing through all devices and televisions in the world. laying on the hood of his car, watching smoke billow through the sky in the distance, he turns to you with a smile.

“y’know, i’m really happy i met you, girlfriend.” his skin is bare, a dirty blanket covering both of your exposed bodies. at this point, you couldn’t care less about your skin being dirty.. there’s thirty minutes until you die, and with your boyfriend of about five hours, the only thing you’re concerned about is getting all your firsts checked off before everything ends.

you smile back, resting your head on your arm. “me too, boyfriend. this couldn’t have gone any better.” he pulls you in ever so gently, kissing you once again. it’s quite embarrassing, being in your twenties and having never experienced anything romantic, but you and jaemin are in the same boat and you both can agree that it’s really nice.

“touché. say, why don’t we get to know each other with what time we have left, hm?” his hand caresses your hair, putting a strand behind your ear. you can feel his hands shaking against your skin, and you try not to let it but it makes you all the more nervous about what’s to come.

“of course, shoot.” pulling your shirt on, you sit up and he follows suit.

with your last thirty minutes on earth, you share the stories of your parents who succumbed to the wrath of the decaying planet and all the other funny stories of your lives. the end felt so lonely this past month, and as your phone alerts you of there being a minute left, you feel whole again despite your sadness and fear. finding someone so similar to you, relating to him and connecting with him in such terrifying moments makes you feel a lot less empty. as you count down, saying goodbye to your short life, you watch the world around you, including yourself, burn while in the arms of someone you never thought you’d have.

toxic!chenle who always kept you on his arm, yet that’s all he ever did for you. he never addressed you or looked your way, but he never let you create any distance between you and him. if anyone asked, you were “his lovely, beautiful girlfriend”, but as soon as heads turned you were nothing but an annoying pest who kept clinging to him. you asked to be loved, to feel appreciated, and he’d look at you, an unconvincing pout on his face as he held yours lovingly and convinced you he’d change and give you the love you deserve. he’d take you out on a date, spoiling you with every penny just to make a post about it and then kick you to the curb. he didn’t love you, you knew that, but his attention was everything to you. he treated you so well when eyes were on you two that it was all you needed to stick around, giving him all your love when to him you were nothing but a shiny new toy to parade around to his friends.

heartbreaker!jisung who reached out to you one day, saying he was a friend of a friend who wanted to get to know you. you’ve never had that happen to you before, being wanted, so you began talking to him. he was so sweet, a cute, shy boy who’s fails at flirting and romantic gestures were extremely charming. he swept you off your feet quickly, taking you on many dates and buying many gifts for you. this dragged on for a long time, and you were so happy to have someone by your side that you didn’t even think of the fact that he never asked to make it official until your friend brought it up. thinking things were going well, you called him and suggested giving your relationship a title. immediately his line went silent, giving you no response, only being able to hear his hyperventilating, before he hung up. you texted him and called many times, begging him to tell you what was up, but it all fell on deaf ears as he eventually blocked you on everything. you were left heartbroken without closure, only hearing what happened when a friend of his reached out, apologizing on his behalf. allegedly, he said he was too scared to have a real relationship and couldn’t be a boyfriend to you. you couldn’t believe your ears, or, eyes. he made you feel so loved, so seen, all for him to back out because he was too scared to love, too unready.

───── ⋆⋅ ⊹ ⁺ 𐔌 ᩧ ຼ ͡ ৯ ♡໒⁀ ᩧຼ ꒱ིྀ ⁺ ⊹ ⋅⋆ ─────

perm taglist: @chenlezip

[hopelessrromantix]

Miguel having some Unholy ThoughtsTM about venom!reader and the fun they could have with readers new abilities (sub/brat Miguel anyone??)

mmm yes, I whole-heartedly agree

c/w: brat miguel, overstim kinda, Venom!Reader

"C'mon, pretty boy, you can do it." You assured, a wide smirk on your face. A tendril stretched out of your arm, pinning Miguel’s arms behind him. Your chest was flush with his back, sharp teeth grazing his neck.

While you tried to spend the day getting actual work done, Miguel spent it trying to distract you.

He'd unfortunately succeeded more than once, first by grinding himself against you in your lap, then by begging you to fuck him against your desk, then by trying to get under your desk to suck you off.

Eventually you decided it'd be easier to just finish tomorrow, when he was patrolling.

Miguel let out a whine, one that was surely unintentional.

"All you need to do is ask nicely,” You reminded. Your hips were firmly against his, black tendrils pinning him to the bed. While the stretch of having you inside him was nice, it wasn’t enough.

“If you can’t make me cum just say so,” He mumbled, not really expecting you to hear him.

Unfortunately for him, you did.

“You and I both know that’s a lie.” You scoffed. “You want me to prove you wrong?” You questioned, abandoning your effort to make him beg.

He wasn’t sure whether he was happy or terrified at that statement. Regardless, he didn’t have much time to think about it before his brain was overrun by the feeling of your cock slamming into him. He could feel a tendril playing with his chest, only adding to the fuzzy feeling taking over his thoughts.

You thrust hard, grazing his prostate with every thrust and forcing out a high whine.

Your tongue traced his neck, sharp teeth barely grazing his skin.

"Who knew you could make such pretty noises," you chuckled, your teeth sinking in slightly, drawing a few drops of blood that you licked off.

His hands struggled in Venom's grip, a black tendril wrapped around both hands and pinned above him. Your hips slapped against his, two other tendril teasing his chest as he let out another moan.

"Please please please please," Miguel's voice was hushed and high, much different than the Stern, commanding tone you were used to. By how he was trying to move his hips against you, he wanted you to go faster.

"Please what, baby?" You asked. Your hips slowed slightly, the exact opposite of what he wanted.

"Slow down," he whispered under his breath.

You tilted your head, "I couldn't hear that," you smirked. You thrust deep, making his back arch below you.

"Too much! Gonna cummm-"

You chuckled, “Already?” You stopped immediately, causing Miguel to let out a high whine.

“Wh-” He took a deep breath. “Why’d you stop?”

“Well I can’t make you cum, can I?” You smirked.

“No, no…” He mumbled, gasping when you started thrusting again in slow, deep waves. The coiled grip around his arms tightened, and he wasn’t certain if it was you or Venom.

He hesitated, clearly thinking over his answer. He was taking far too long for you though, so you fully stopped, your hips flush against his.

The tendrils on his chest made their way to his neck, wrapping around and squeezing lightly.

Still not receiving an answer, you slapped his ass with one hand, forcing out a whine.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please just let me cum? I’ll be good, just please please go faster.”

“Good boy.” Your hips sped up again, a loud slapping sound echoing throughout your bedroom.

You caught his lips in a kiss, sneaking your tongue down his throat. The second he felt what you were doing he moaned again, hips thrusting toward you.

“I’m gonna cum, please can I cum?” He asked desperately, rutting his hips into yours as fast as he could manage.

“Go ahead.” You agreed, watching as he fell apart immediately after.

Quick, quiet mumbles of “thank you” fell out of his lips before he let himself relax, your thrusts fully stopping and the tendrils around his neck loosening.

“You alright, sweetheart?” You asked as he came down from his high.

“I’m fine, love.” He promised.

“Good.” You leaned down, the squeeze around his neck returning in full force just as you started thrusting.

“I haven’t cum yet, don’t think I’m forgiving you, that easy, pretty boy.”

[djarins-cyare]

WIP Weekend

In my last WIP post, I mentioned I was 18k words into my Secret Relationship fic for the Roll-A-Trope Writing Challenge, and it had turned into something much longer than I intended. Sooo, yeah, um… it’s now reached ~40k words!

I’d planned to start posting it next weekend, but my firm got audited so I lost a couple of weeks due to working overtime, and I still have three chapters left to write. So I think it’s gonna be a Christmas release now. Sorry for the wait.

But over the last few weeks, I’ve been tagged in WIP posts by @burntheedges, @papurgaatika, @almostfoxglove, @djarinmuse, and @the-mandawhor1an (thank you, my lovelies! 💚), and with my excuses comes another snippet to tide you over until I can release it…

Please check out my last two WIP posts for additional snippets from earlier in the fic, here and here.

I’m switching it up and giving you one from Din’s POV today; the context is that she’s trying to convince him to come to a show the following night (despite Uncle Karga’s vehement disapproval of them being anywhere near each other)…

Her focus drops to her efforts on his dick as she skilfully adjusts her angle without missing a stroke, but he nudges her chin with his thumb. “Look at me, senaar’ika,” he commands through heavy breaths. When he has her attention again, he breathes, “Tion’jor neliser ni nevore gar?” Her eyes shimmer like starlight whenever he speaks Mando’a to her – like she loves to hear it, even though she doesn’t understand it. It’s why he persists in speaking to her in an almost dead language. Now, though, she answers him as if she knows exactly what he just asked. “Please come, Mando.” She could be talking about right now or tomorrow night, but they’re both foregone conclusions. “Yes, fuck,” he gasps, his mouth spilling his agreement about ten seconds before his cock is due to spill his seed. The heat gathering low in his belly flares lower to engulf his balls, and the inferno of his orgasm brightens as it builds. She stokes him for all he’s worth, soft hand on silken skin, eyes still sparkling like the fuse that sizzles inside him… …and it magnifies and spreads, so fiercely thrilling that the alley falls away, and it’s just him and his senaar’ika and the silent symphony of pleasure she’s conducting… …but in an instant, a door swishes, a footstep sounds, and Din is tearing her hand from his pants, drawing his blaster and moving his body to shield hers. The adrenaline from his impending climax converts into combat readiness, but the low growl that erupts through his vocoder is equal parts anger and anguish. “You two out here?” Yerma’s rich and golden tones dissolve his tension, leaving him with the sullen agony of an orgasm snatched away. The ache in his balls, the sting in his pride, and the regret in his heart all battle for top ranking in his pantheon of displeasure. “What’s up?” his alleyway companion asks with enviable poise, stepping past him and around the stack of crates to stop Yerma from coming any closer. He takes the cue to hastily rearrange his underwear and zip up his pants, his erection deflating rapidly alongside his hope. This was a bad idea. As if to illustrate his thought, the Twi’lek states six concerning words. “Your uncle’s in the cafe, sweetie.”

Poor Din! 😬

Tion’jor neliser ni nevore gar? – Why can’t I say no to you?

If you don’t already know what his name for her (senaar’ika) means, I won’t spoil it because it’s vaguely plot-relevant.

If you’re interested in being tagged when I release this, please raise your hand or let me know in whatever way you prefer to communicate. You can also join my tag list if you like.

In the interests of making new friends and being sociable, I thought I should make an effort to tag more widely in WIP posts. I know that since I only write for Din and not all of you are particularly Din girlies (gn), some of you may not be interested in my fics, but I read other Pedro boy fics sometimes (Joel, mostly), and if I’ve tagged you below, it means I think you’re a fantastic writer 💚

No pressure to do a WIP post, or if you’d like to but don’t have anything to share or you’ve already posted this week, feel free to hold onto this tag for whenever’s convenient (that’s what I do 😆) or share something non-WIP related.

@ace-turned-confused @ak-vintage @alltheirdamn @alltheotps @almostempty

@alwaysmicado @ameerawrites @arcanefox207 @aurorawritestoescape @avastrasposts

@baronessvonglitter @beardedjoel @beefrobeefcal @bitchesuntitled @bluestar22x

@cas-readsandwrites @chiriwritesstuff @chronically-ghosted @clawdee @covetyou

@din-cognito @draculasfavoritewife @firstofficerwiggles @guiltyasdave @hapan-in-exile

@itsokbbygrl @javierpena-inatacvest @jeewrites @jennaispunk @joelstummy

@justagalwhowrites @luxurychristmaspudding @mermaidgirl30 @milla-frenchy @moeswriting

@mothandpidgeon @mrsmando @murder-wife @novemberrain-writes @orcasoul

@ozarkthedog @pedgito @pedrospatch @perotovar @quinnnfabrgay-writes

@sawymredfox @schnarfer @soft-persephone @sweetpascal @thischarmingmandalorian

I’m also tagging my regular tag list since this is a snippet of an upcoming fic and a posting schedule update. Thank you all for your support 💚

@chiyo13 @harriedandharassed @leithatnight @lilac-boo @lucienofthelakes

@pigeonmama @punkygreeny @syd-djarin @wrathkitty

[fluentmoviequoter]

Hold My Hand

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!reader

Summary: When you receive unwanted attention on a weekend staycation with your friends, a knight in a shining navy suit saves you by offering his hand.

Warnings: creepy guy doesn't understand 'no' and continues making unwanted advances, but Tim saves the day. angst to fluff (I guess?)

Word Count: 1.4k+ words

Picture from Pinterest

Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

When your friends invited you out for a girls’ weekend, you were expecting a spa retreat or a cottage at the beach, not a penthouse in Los Angeles. More than that, you didn’t expect them to pick one of the sleaziest restaurants you’ve ever seen to spend their Friday night. Luckily – if there is a ‘luckily’ in this situation – you found a quiet corner on the rooftop. Your friends are downstairs, huddled around the bar as they look for rich, single men. It doesn’t exactly seem like the breeding ground for that type of man, though.

“Good evening, gorgeous,” a deep voice says behind you.

Assuming they’re talking to someone else, you ignore them, keeping your attention on the railing around the roof’s edge.

“Hey, ‘m talking to you,” he adds.

When his hand lands on your upper arm, forcefully turning you toward him, you truly begin regretting coming on this trip.

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim feels like an animal in a zoo enclosure. Wearing a suit that isn’t his, in a place he’d rather never see again, with a few too many pairs of eyes blatantly watching him. 

Two hours ago, he was sitting in the station, minutes away from getting to go home. Now he, Lucy, and Angela are undercover in a known mafia club. While the women in the restaurant stare at Tim, the men try to catch Lucy and Angela’s attention.

Sighing, Tim checks his watch. He’s been in one place too long with no sign of their target.

“I’m gonna go check the roof, see if our target’s up there,” Tim tells Lucy.

“The roof?” she asks.

“Yeah, the bar.”

“There’s a bar on the roof?!” 

“We’re in Los Angeles, boot, of course there’s a bar on the roof. Angela, keep her close.”

Angela nods, and if Lucy wasn’t already a little creeped out by the men standing across the room, she would be offended.

Tim gets in the elevator, leaning against the wall once the doors are closed. The rooftop bar, however, is full of people who are somehow more intimidating than the ones inside. Looking around, Tim doesn’t see the target or any of his known associates. What he does see, though, is a situation that he shouldn’t get involved in, yet he can’t look away.

✯✯✯✯✯

The man beside you cannot take a hint. You slowly back away until his hand falls from your arm, and one of your legs slides off the barstool. When your foot hits the floor, you stand and keep the seat between you.

“C’mon, gorgeous, ‘s jus’ a question,” he slurs. “Yes or no?”

“I said no,” you repeat firmly.

He doesn’t like your answer, though, and you try to hide your flinch when he slams his glass down on the bar.

“You here alone?”

You glance around, hoping you see someone who looks trustworthy enough to hide with. But you don’t see anyone who fits the bill.

“No,” you answer. “My friends are downstairs.”

“Just friends?”

He leans closer, his arm moving to cage you on one side. Inhaling sharply, you try to think of a way to escape this situation without making it worse or drawing more unwanted attention.

✯✯✯✯✯

“We’ve got nothing,” Angela says in Tim’s earpiece. “Anything up there?”

“No,” Tim answers.

“We’re leaving then. Can’t do anything without him here.”

“I’ll, uh, I’ll catch up.”

“What?” Lucy asks.

“I’ve got to do something first. I’ll see you at the station tomorrow. Call if you need anything.”

Tim removes the earpiece, switching it off as he drops it into his blazer pocket. Moving quickly across the rooftop, he doesn’t realize that he doesn’t have a real plan.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Hey,” another voice says beside you. “I was wondering where you got off to. What’s going on here?”

You glance over, and your shoulders drop when you see how clean-cut and trustworthy he looks. Given your current situation, you’re glad to see a man who isn’t clearly a predator, but you try not to think about how low the bar is.

“Hi,” you reply. “I was trying to come back, but, uh, got caught up.”

Widening your eyes slightly, you try to communicate that you are not here by choice.

“Give her some room, man.”

The creep leans back enough that you can move, and you rush to your savior’s side.

“And next time a woman tells you ‘no,’ you’d do well to listen,” he adds darkly, letting you hide behind his shoulder.

“Whatever. She jus’ doesn’t know what she wants.”

A kind hand turns you around, and the man whispers, “I’m Tim.”

You tell him your name, flinching when glass shatters behind you.

“Hold my hand,” Tim says, spreading his fingers between you as he looks over his shoulder.

Without hesitation, you interlace your fingers with his. He pulls you close as the elevator opens. Once you’re alone, neither of you releases your grip on the other’s hand.

“Thank you,” you breathe out. “I didn’t know what else to do.”

“I hate that I had to jump in, but you’re welcome. Are you okay? Did he touch you?”

You shake your head, looking down at your joined hands.

“Do you really have friends downstairs?”

“I have… acquaintances that I will never be going on vacation with again.”

“Vacation? You’re not from here?”

“That’s the funny part. We all live here, so imagine my surprise when the weekend getaway was twenty minutes from my house.”

“Sounds like you need new friends.”

You hum before asking, “Who are you here with?”

“For work.”

At your confused glance, Tim raises his blazer to reveal a badge.

That must be why he helped you.

The door opens, and you pull your hand from his.

“Thanks for helping me, officer. Have a great night.”

Tim watches as you disappear into the crowd, stepping out of the elevator confused and surprisingly upset. Pulling his phone from his pocket, he calls the only person he can think of. 

“No questions, Angela. I helped a girl get away from a guy who didn’t understand ‘no.’ As soon as she saw the badge she disappeared. Something was happening before that-“

“Timothy,” Angela sighs. “She thinks you did it out of duty then let her flirt with you. Find her and ask her out, anything to show that you did it for her and not because of some twisted savior complex.”

“Thanks, Lopez.”

Ending the call, Tim heads toward the bar. He thinks that’s where groups of girls on vacation probably hang out. When the bar comes into view, he has no problem finding you, like the brightest light in a dark room.

“Nothing happened, I just went to the roof for a while,” you insist.

“No, you had that glow thing. You met a guy.”

“Maybe I did but he wasn’t interested.”

“Don’t drag me into this if you’re not going to tell the story right,” Tim says, approaching your side.

“Tim?” you ask, turning toward him.

Your body language with him compared to the man upstairs, even how you interact with the women you're here with, differs vastly. Squared to him and completely open, you’re practically inviting him to do something.

“I didn’t do it because I thought I had to. I was off the clock, not that it matters. My motivation may have been pure, just to help, at first, but then you held my hand and I never wanted to let go.”

“Can we…” you pause as you look around. “Can we please not do this here?”

“As long as we do it now.”

Tim offers his hand, and you nod as you take it. Leading you through the crowd, Tim keeps you close. Exiting onto the noisy Los Angeles street, Tim turns toward you.

“I could tell you needed help, or wanted it at least,” Tim explains. “But I don’t want this to end here. I- your hand fits in mine.”

“Please don’t tell me that means we’re soulmates or something.”

Tim smiles, and you forget why you were upset in the elevator.

“I’m Tim Bradford,” he introduces, shaking your already joined hands. “I am a cop, but not with you. With you, I think I could be the man I’d like to be.”

“Romantic,” you murmur.

“I know. It’s scaring me a little. You can’t tell my friends, okay?”

“As long as we don’t tell mine either.”

“So, you’re willing to try?”

“I mean, where else am I going to find a knight in a shining navy suit?” you ask, leaning closer. “As long as your hand stays in mine, I’m willing to try.”

[redstarwriting]

happy birthday

miles morales x reader

request?: yes

request: “I LOVEDDD THE HC’S OMG OMG WORK OF ART!!! i was wondering if you would write something expanding on getting miles’ doodles tatted as an adult!! i would love to read more abt it, it’s so cutee”

requested by: anon​

word count: 2.2k

genre: fluff

Warnings: language, tattoos, mentions of tattoos and needles, Miles is so sweet it's sick

A/N: GLADLY!! i've been itching to get a new tattoo since the minute i got my first like three years ago and writing this just made me want to get another one so bad LMAO. i hope you enjoy!

also in case you were wondering what hcs anon is talking about, it's my pda/general affection hcs i wrote for hobie and miles! you can check it out here if you haven't already and feel compelled to :)

───────────────────────────────────

“Miles! Baby, can you give me a tattoo?” you ask, and he smiles. This has become a common practice in your relationship. From the time y’all were kids in love to now, you would always ask him for a tattoo. Of course, he didn’t actually give you tattoos, he just drew on your arm. He’s mentioned you, and even urged you, to get a tattoo every now and again. Especially when he offered to design them, but you always say his temporary ones are more special than any other tattoo you could get. He isn’t upset about it. He genuinely loves drawing on you. “Of course, babe. Come here,” he says, motioning you over to him as he grabs his markers he has specifically for your “tattoos.” You go over to him, sitting between his legs and extending your arm. “Can you draw it right next to the uh… elbow pit?” you say, and he laughs. “Elbow pit?”

“Yeah, like the inside of my arm and not on the bicep part or the elbow pit part, but the forearm part by the elbow pit,” you explain, pointing to the area you’re talking about. He chuckles. “Elbow pit.”

“Well, what else would it be called?” you ask, smiling, and he grins, starting to doodle on your arm. “I’ll text and ask my mom what the scientific name for it is after I’m done here,” he says, and you lean your head back against his shoulder. “Oh, god, please don’t tell her I called it an elbow pit.”

“Oh, I’m totally telling her you called it that,” he teases, placing a quick peck on your lips before returning his attention to your arm. He draws a spiderweb, of course, but in the shape of a heart. He adds his Miles touch to it by making it look like the web was spraypainted, and having it pop with black and red. You don’t even look at the tattoo as he draws it, you just stare at his face. You love watching him when he does his art. You assume it’s similar to the way his face looks when he’s swinging around the city as Spider-Man. He’s in his element, laser-focused and yet has an ease about him that mesmerizes you. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” he says, smirking and turning his attention to you. You feel your face heat up but roll your eyes. “Can’t, arm’s a bit preoccupied.”

“You can get creative; I have an idea. Maybe use the one I’m not drawing on?”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say, and he shakes his head. “What do you think, amor?” he asks, and you look. You smile. “I love it, Miles. Thank you,” you say, kissing him on the cheek. He grins, wrapping his arms around your waist as you admire his art. “What time is it?” you ask, and he glances at his phone. “11:15. Why?” 

“Ganke and I are gonna go get some lunch today.”

“Should I be worried?” Miles jokes. “No, dummy. We’re just talking about… something happening soon,” you say, and a sly smile spreads across Miles’ face. “How soon?”

“I’ve said too much,” you say, trying to get up. Unfortunately for you, your boyfriend is Spider-Man and can easily hold you in place. “Nuh uh, how soon is this something happening?” he looks at you with a shit-eating grin, and you roll your eyes. “Wouldn’t you like to know, spider boy?”

“I would. Is it, and this is just a wild guess… something happening tomorrow? A special something happening on a very special day?” he guesses, and you sigh. “Don’t tell Ganke you found out…”

“I knew it!”

“We’re supposed to be planning your birthday party, yes. For tomorrow. On your birthday. Are you happy you spoiled it for yourself now?” you feign annoyance, and he laughs. “I am, actually. Now I know to look good for you tomorrow.” You roll your eyes. “You always look nice, Miles.”

“Only for you,” he grins at you, turning your face to look at him. The two of you share a kiss before it’s interrupted by his police scanner going off. He frowns slightly. “It’s okay, Miles. I gotta go soon anyways,” you give him a quick peck for squeezing out of his arms. He sighs. “Fine, fine. Guess I’ll go save the city. Be the best thing that ever happened to New York and all that.”

“My hero,” you joke, and he grins. “You know it,” he says, slipping his mask on and sliding his everyday clothes off. “I’ll see you later, Miles. Stay safe. Love you.”

“You stay safe, too. Love you more.” He leaps out of the window, and you make sure he’s gone before you call Ganke. “Yo, what’s up?”

“You gotta plan Miles’ birthday party tomorrow.”

“Woah, what?” You sigh. “I already have the roof of our building booked out for it, I ordered the cake already and will pick it up tomorrow and have all the decorations. You just need to invite everyone, okay?”

“You mean I have to reach out to people in different dimensions, tell them to clear their schedules for tomorrow, and hope for the best?” Ganke asks, and you hum into the phone. “Yep! Thanks, Ganke! Also, if Miles asks, we went and got lunch, okay?”

“And where are you really going?”

“I’m getting a tattoo to surprise him for his birthday tomorrow,” you say, grabbing your keys and putting some money in your pocket. You put Ganke on speaker, sending a quick text to Hobie. “You need to stop using me as a cover-up, (Y/n).”

“Who else am I supposed to use? Gwen?” you say, and Ganke sighs. “I mean, yeah, you know she would be down to help you with something like this.”

“Ganke she is so bad at keeping secrets like that, and you know it,” you say, admiring the art on your arm again. “Then use Hobie.”

“Wait that’s actually a good idea,” you say, “Especially since he’s the one giving me the tattoo.”

“AND YOU STILL USED ME?!”

“I PANICKED! He was asking questions! Just, listen, invite as many people as you can think of, alright? Please, and thank you.”

“Fine. Go get inked or whatever they say,” Ganke says. The two of you give some quick goodbyes before hanging up. You receive a reply from Hobie, and a portal opens in Miles and your bedroom. You step through it and find yourself in Hobie’s flat. “Can I just say it’s about damn time you got one of ‘is works tattooed onto ya,” Hobie says, motioning to his couch. You sit and he gets his whole get-up ready, all the cleaning wipes and gloves and the tattoo gun all ready to go. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. I’m getting it now and that’s what matters,” you say, and he clicks his tongue. “I can guarantee ya this is just gonna be the beginning. Kinda becomes an addiction,” he says, sitting next to you, and fiddling with his gun. “Then I guess I’ll just need to have Miles draw on me even more.” He chuckles. “Lemme see it.”

You show him the drawing, and Hobie shakes his head. “Your man is corny,” he says, and you shrug. “I like it.”

“I know,” he dips his gun in ink, and looks at you, “Ya ready?” You nod, and he begins tattooing Miles’ art onto your skin. The two of you talk the whole time, really, and you let him know about the party tomorrow. He, of course, agrees to come, and can’t wait to see Miles’ reaction. It takes a few hours, but eventually he finishes up and it looks exactly like Miles just drew it on your skin. Hobie places fake skin over it and gives you the rundown of how to take care of it. He turns away from you to put something away, and you quickly slip $100 under a pillow on the couch. You know he won’t accept any money from you because he’s ‘not a capitalist pig,’ so you have to be sneaky with it. “Thank you so much, Hobie,” you say, and he winks at you. “Anythin’ for my mate’s better ‘alf.”

He opens the portal again, and you two say bye until tomorrow. You’re back home, literally, in no time, and you quickly throw one of the hoodies Miles left lying around on. This way he won’t see the tattoo, and you can play it off like you missed him. Especially since you did kind of miss him and it is sort of a staple in your relationship that you wear his clothes when you do. That’ll make him melt and he’ll forget all about the art on your arm. And you were absolutely right. 

It ended up being a late night for Spider-Man, and when he got home, he saw you curled up on the couch, sleeping with his hoodie on, and all he could think about was that you missed him. He carefully picked you up and carried you to your shared bed. You started to wake up as soon as he was getting in bed after taking a shower and cleaning up, and he began desperately trying to get you to go back to sleep. “What time is it?” you groggily ask. “It’s like 3am, (Y/n/n), I’m here now, we can go to sleep, okay?” he says, slipping into bed next to you and pulling you on top of his chest. “Happy birthday!” you sleepily say, burying your face into his chest. He smiles. “Thank you, amor. Let’s get back to sleep now, yeah?” You make a muffled mmhmm sound and are out like a light almost immediately. Miles smiles to himself, wondering how he got this lucky.

You can imagine his disappointment when he wakes up the next day and you’re not snug against his chest, but he feels better the minute he sees a little note on his chest that explains you’ll be home, you just had to go do something for him. He gets up and decided he can do his Spider-Man duties until you text him and let him know he needs to come home. It may be his birthday, but the city still needs it’s defender. So that’s exactly what he does. He cannot explain how grateful he is that none of the big bads were trying to start anything today, because if he didn’t get to see you and eat a slice of cake, he was going to scream. The day went slower than he wanted but also sped by when eventually he got a text from you saying to come home. He immediately obliges, swinging in through the window and putting on some of his nicest clothes. He walks out of your room and sees you chilling on the couch. “Miss me?” he asks, walking over and bending down to kiss your lips. You giggle. “Obviously. Hey, before we go up to the roof where there totally isn’t a party waiting for you, I wanna show you something, okay?”

“Okay,” he grins, and you grin back. “Cover your eyes.” He does as instructed, and hears you shift slightly. “Okay… open them.” He opens his eyes, and immediately sees his “tattoo” on your arm. Only it was covered in a clear wrap. And it’s real. His eyes get big, and he looks at your face. You give a small smile. “You always encouraged me to get a real tattoo, so… happy birthday.”

“Yo! It looks so good, hold up,” he gently grabs your arm and softly traces it through the saniderm. “When did you get this?”

“Yesterday.”

“You weren’t actually with Ganke, were you?”

“No, I was with Hobie,” you say, and he shakes his head. “I got a little liar on my hands, huh?”

“It wasn’t lying it was covering my ass because you ask too many damn questions,” you say, and he laughs. “I love it, (Y/n/n).” You smile and the two of you share a kiss. “We should probably get up there. Some people are waiting. Oh, and pretend like you haven’t seen it yet. Hobie wants to see your reaction.” Miles laughs. “Alright. Well, I hope he knows I’m not gonna stop drawing on you. And that he fully traced my art,” Miles says, and you shake your head. “I’m sure he knows, Miles. You really like it?”

“Like it? Baby, I told you I love it. I love you; I love this tattoo; I love that this is a birthday present from you… everything about this? I love it. I don’t even need to go up there to make the day better because all I need is you,” he says, and you smile. “Hobie was right. You’re so corny.”

“Nah, hold on, he said that? Forget everything I just said it’ll be a perfect day when I punch him.” You laugh as the two of you make your way up to the party. But the whole time, Miles keeps finding his eyes drifting to your tattoo. Something about having his art on you permanently makes his heart swell with pride and happiness. And he and Hobie were both right.

It’s not the only “tattoo” that will become real.

───────────────────────────────────

[louloulemons-posts]

Missing You

Eddie Munson X Fem!Reader

Summary : Eddie misses his favourite girl.

Word count : 0.7k

Warnings : Toothrotting fluff, Eddie being clingy, pet names, minor mention of sex, minor angst if you squint, a kiss, reader calls Eddie Edward lmao, fluff fluff fluff.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

“See you later Wayne,” Eddie shouted out to his uncle as he headed off to his night shift. He heard the older man speaking to his favourite girl as he went.

“Hey Wayne,” said her sweet voice.

“Hiya Sweetheart, you have a good night okay.”

“You too, don’t work too hard.” Wayne’s soft laugh echoed through lightly and he heard the front door shut again.

Sliding her shoes off and putting her bag down on the couch, she called out for her boy, “Eddie.”

“In here baby.” Soon enough his bedroom door was pushed open and there stood his love.

“Hey pretty girl,” he smiled softly, she was slightly disheveled, hairs sticking out wildly, but still so beautiful. “Whatcha working on?” she motioned to the guitar on his lap. “Just trying to figure out this piece, but it doesn’t matter, come to me.”

He placed the red guitar on the bed next to him, and held out his hands to her. Walking into his space he rested his head on her stomach, wrapping his arms around.

“How was work?” he mumbled.

“Same old, Saturday shift so busy,” she smiled, running her hands through his curls. “Missed you,” he spoke gently.

“You okay?”

“Can’t I miss you?”

“No you can, just wondering. Let me get changed and we can cuddle okay?”

He whined as she pulled herself from his hold. “The sooner I get changed the sooner you can have me back,” instantly he let her go, so fast that she stumbled slightly. “Jesus babe,” she laughed.

Taking her clothes out of her designated draw, Y/N spoke, “What do you want to do tonight? Steve and Robs are heading to the movies after work, we could join them?”

“I thought we could stay here, hang out.”

Popping her head through the shirt she cocked her brow, “Okay what’s up with you?”

“Nothing!”

“Edward,” she sighed, walking back over to him, now in sweats and an old tee, “baby what’s up?”

Taking his face in her hand she met his beautiful chocolate eyes, like a baby cow she’d tease. “I just miss you.”

“Eddie I’m right here. We see each other nearly every day. At school, we hang after school, I come here.”

“But it’s never just us anymore! It’s us and other people : Dustin, Gareth, Robin, Wayne, god damn babe, even Steve Harrington,” he exclaimed, flailing his hands dramatically.

“Are you trying to tell me you’re horny?” and asked, softly rubbing her thumbs on his cheeks, “Babe we can fix that.”

“No! It’s not that, I mean I love doing that, but I just want you .. just us, to spend time together. I miss you,” he closed his eyes, embarrassed by the outburst.

Gently she sat down on his lap, legs wrapping round his waist, pulling his head to rest in her neck. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“What? Eddie no! You have nothing to be sorry for. I can’t think of anything I’d rather do than lay in bed and cuddle with you.”

“Really?” he asked, coming out of her neck to look at her face. Nodding, smiling slightly, “Really, I love spending time with you Eds, you’re my favourite person. Honestly I’ve been missing you too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I feel like with work, and school and friends. We’ve been seeing each other but we’re not really SEEING each other, you know?” she explained.

“Exactly! I just miss us.”

“Hey, you listen to me Edward Munson, we are still us, we just need to be us in private rather than with other people. I have an idea,” she said, as he gently played with the hem of her shirt. “Hm?”

“I’m gonna go call Robs, get her to cover for me, then I’m gonna call my mom and tell her I’m with Robin.”

“Why would you do that?” he asked as she stood up from his lap. “Because we are having a sleepover, and tomorrow we’re gonna hang out all day, and you’ll be so sick of me!” she grinned, kissing his cheek.

Turning around to run to the phone, she was pulled back by Eddie who stood up. Taking her face in his hands he kissed her softly, “I love you so much my sweet girl.”

“I love you Eddie Munson. Now put your guitar away, I’m you to be ready for cuddles when I’m back.”

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

Thank you so much for reading, feel free to leave any requests 🤍

[eddiesvixen]

Dirty Rotten Filthy Stinkin’ Rich - 𝗗.𝗥.𝗙.𝗦.𝗥

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: 𝗳𝗹𝘂𝗳𝗳 (𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗮 𝗹𝗶𝘁𝘁𝗹𝗲 𝗸𝗶𝘀𝘀𝗶𝗻𝗴) , 𝗮𝗻𝗴𝘀𝘁, 𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗼𝗻𝗴 𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗴𝘂𝗮𝗴𝗲, 𝘀𝘂𝗴𝗴𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗴𝘂𝗮𝗴𝗲, 𝘀𝘂𝗯𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗻𝗰𝗲 𝘂𝘀𝗲 (𝗱𝗲𝘃𝗶𝗹’𝘀 𝗹𝗲𝘁𝘁𝘂𝗰𝗲)

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗻𝘁: 𝟱.𝟭𝗸

the sixth and final chapter of Open Til Midnight

The car ride is silent on your way home from the station. You’re sat in the backseat of Hopper’s truck with Eddie as he eats away at the meal Jonathan brought you. You didn’t have an appetite honestly. Nothing filled you mroe right now than the rage you feel for Larry.

That smug face he gave you, the accusatory tone he used against Eddie when those cops showed up. The way he looked at Hopper like he wasn’t worth a wad of gum on the sidewalk. You wanted to make that bastard pay.

Hopper drops you and Eddie off at his apartment.

“You two gonna be okay?” He looks back at the both of you, tired and defeated. You’ve never seen Hopper like this and that hurt’s you more.

“We’ll be fine.” You nod. “See you tomorrow.”

You hop out of the truck and go into Eddie’s apartment with him. He’s been awfully quiet and that worries you given how uncommon it is. You speak up.

“Do you want me to draw you a bath? Help you relax?”

He hesitates, not facing you. He hasn’t said a word since he watched you hand that cash in at the jailhouse for him. “Shower’s fine.” He walks off to the restroom.

You sigh and rub your eyes, fighting off how tired you are. Shutting down the car wash took Robin and Steve forever, leaving Chrissy to work the register alone while Jonathan brought the cash to you guys at the jailhouse. They didn’t count the cash and get Eddie out until 10, and now you’re home late 11.

‘Maybe he’s just tired.’

Bullshit.

You walk to the restroom door. “Eddie.”

There’s a gap of silence before he speaks up, his voice slightly shaky and that alone makes you wish you could break this door down.

“Yeah sweetheart?”

“Baby please let me in.” You place your hand to the knob. “Please.”

After a few seconds you hear the door unlock and when you open it you see him sitting on the lid of the toilet, eyes red and puffy from crying.

“Eddie.” You frown and hold onto him, standing between his legs.

He hugs you tightly and sobs into your shirt. “I’m so sorry.”

You frown and rub his back. “Eddie you have nothing to apologize for, yeah? Larry was a dick. There’s nothing you could’ve done.”

He sobs a bit and you feel that ache in your heart. You haven’t seen Eddie cry this hard since his 18th birthday. He couldn’t stop crying over his mom, he missed her the most that day. And he kept playing that record over and over again. So you rest your hand in his curls.

There are places I remember

All my life though some have changed

Some forever, not for better

Some have gone and some remain

He takes a deep breath and keeps his tight hold on you, his breathing trying to regain strength. You keep rubbing his shoulders and back, feeling the tension fade.

All these places had their moments

With lovers and friends I still can recall

Some are dead and some are living

In my life, I've loved them all

He looks up at you. He sighs and gently grips your hips. “What did I do to deserve you?”

You offer him a sympathetic grin as you move his curls back so you can see his eyes better.

“You’re not perfect, Eddie. You’re a freak, remember? We’re never gonna be accepted by these people. We don’t have to be accepted.. and I know that’s scary.” You sigh. “Eddie, i’m terrified. I’ve been scared out of my mind all week.”

You cup his face. “But Steve and Chrissy, Robin, Jonathan, Hopper.. even that old man at the car wash,” you huff a small laugh, “and especially you, Eddie. That’s why I keep going. Because I have you.”

He eyes dart between your eyes and he speaks in a soft tone, as if he’s afraid to talk. “I love you.”

You feel your heart warm and freeze at the same time. Sure, you’ve said it before, as friends. But you’re not just friends anymore. You answer back in the same soft tone.

“I love you too, Eddie.”

He stands up and cups your face, kissing you as if you’ll fade away if he lets go. You kiss him back and keep your gentle hold on him, given that he’s still trembling a bit.

When he finally pulls back he speaks lowly. “Sweetheart, I promise i’ll make this right.”

You shake your head. “Eddie, there’s nothing we can do. We don’t even know what’s gonna happen tomorrow.”

“I do.” He nods and sighs. “I overheard those officers talking while the clerk was counting my bail. I know where Larry’s gonna be for the opening.”

You raise a brow. “What?”

“He’s having a party with the rest of his big business buddies. Cutting a ribbon and everything, like some kind of ceremony.”

“And how do you know this?”

Eddie moves his hands to rest on your shoulders. “I heard them sweetheart. It’s gonna be a huge event.” He shakes his head. “Turns out I was right about the cops being on his payroll.”

You nod. “Well then we better make sure they know about Larry’s letters.”

“Have a feeling they already do.”

You frown, the weight of his words sinking in. "So what's our play? We can't just sit back and let them sweep this under the rug."

He grins with a mischievous glint in his eyes. The same glint you saw before he punched Larry. "But we wont. If they're so busy making a scene, we'll just have to steal the show."

You had so many questions and yet, that glint in Eddie’s eyes woke you up. All of the anger, sadness, worry, rage and anxiety you felt all week. Play it cool. Wrap things up. You nod.

“We’ll steal the show.”

~~~~~

“Are you out of your mind?” Steve says from behind Hopper’s desk.

“Just hear me out.” Eddie sits up in his chair. “Those assholes are about to drink and party up in their fancy suits while our family ship sinks. There’s gonna be an orange slip on the door and a big ass sign hanging over our store tonight. Do you really want that?”

“Of course not.” Steve sighs.

“So let us do this, just once.” You look at Steve with pleading eyes.

“You just got out of jail.” Steve points at Eddie, then you. “And you’re not even on the schedule today.”

“And yet here we are. Home.” Eddie sits back in his chair.

“Look… I hate this, okay? I’m losing my mind knowing this’ll be the last time I step foot in here. But Hopper left me in charge.”

“So,” Eddie shrugs, “where is he? We’ll distract him while you give us the paperwork.”

“Downtown.”

You both look at Steve and he regrets saying it as soon as he does.

“Why’s he downtown?” You sit up and Steve swallows a bit because he knows from the look in your eye and the bounce of Eddie’s knee, that you both already know.

He sighs. “Signing off the lease.”

There’s a moments silence before Eddie speaks up.

“How long?”

Steve looks confused. “What?”

“How long do we have until the lease has to be in?”

“He said ten.”

You and Eddie look at each other. “The ribbon cutting.”

“The what?”

“At the party, Steve.” You sit up, hands on the desk. “Larry’s gonna cut a ribbon and that’s when those signatures count. That’s when it’s final.”

Steve looks at the clock. “It’s 3pm, why’d you come here just now?” He stands up with Hopper’s store keys as you all walk over to his closet.

Eddie hides a smrik and shrugs. “Traffic.”

You shake your head and look away so Steve doesn’t see the laughter you’re hiding but it’s late. “You guys are gross.”

“Not letting my girl leave the house stressed and untouched, Harrington. Take my advice.”

“Eddie.” You blank stare him and he sighs.

“Right, time and place. Sorry sweetheart.” He wiggles his fingers and takes the folder from Steve.

“Look, let’s maybe not tell Hop about this? In case it all goes to shit?” Steve looks between you and Eddie.

“Scouts honor.” Eddie quips as the three of you sit and look through the folders.

They’re all here. 5 years of letters, contracts, signatures from Hopper and Larry. You had a wave of hope swarm in you that you hope won’t die out.

“If there’s gonna be that many people at this party you need to move now.” Steve holds up his car keys.

Eddie raises a brow. “And what are these for?”

“Drives faster.”

Eddie scoffs. “My van is faster than lightning.”

“Okay? My car looks better-“

You cut off Steve before the boys can waste any more time. “Save it. We’ll take your car Steve. Beisdes, we have to make a stop on the way.”

“We do?” Eddie gives you a contemplative look.

“Come on.” You grab his hand.

Steve yells. “Don’t scratch my car!”

“No promises!” Eddie yells back as he lets you pull him out to the car.

~~~~

“This is bullshit.” Eddie groans as he drives Steve’s car along the road.

“Come on it’s not so bad.”

“His car’s so small.” He huffs and looks over at you as you hide a laugh. “Oh this is funny?”

You smile. “We are on the mission of a lifetime and you’re worried about driving Steve’s bmw. This is the richest car we’ve ever been in.”

“Are you really disrespecting the van while she sits in the lot away from me?” He looks at you like you called him ugly.

“Babe all im saying is… this is kinda nice. Admit it, Steve’s car does drive very smoothly.”

“No shit, he can actually afford the best engine and his dad didn’t fuck the motor when he owned it.”

You grab Eddie’s hand and rest it on your knee. “Al left you a gift. She is the golden ride, the safe haven, okay?”

He grins and nods, squeezing your hand before resting his palm over yours on yours on your thigh. “Say it again, baby.”

You laugh. “Shut up.”

“Just wanna hear you say it again. You know how much it would mean to her.” He smirks and you sigh.

“She is the safe haven.”

“Damn sweetheart. You keep talking like that and all I hear is wedding bells.”

Your eyes widen and you look at him. He can’t believe he said it too but you grin. “Wow.”

“Is that a good wow?” His adam’s apple bobs and he shifts in the driver’s seat, his other hand tightening on the wheel.

You grin and squeeze the one resting on your thigh. “The best wow.”

He snorts. “Sap.”

You gasp and smile. “Asshole. Says the guy who wouldn’t let go of my hand at the Manowar show in ‘85.”

“Oh you’re bringing that up again? Didn’t want us to get separated by that mosh.” The tinge in his cheeks shows you that he’s lying.

“You’re the sap, Munson.”

“And what does that make you?” He quips back.

“The girl in love with you, idiot.” You smile and tilt your head to look at him.

“You can’t say things like that. Not today, okay? Can’t focus if my girl is consistently flirting with me.”

“Fine, but we’ll finish this talk later.” You nod and point. “There’s our exit.”

He takes the exit and drives into the lot of the strip mall. If you were going to crash a rich asshole’s party, you needed to get in first. And if you were gonna get in, you needed to look the part. Jewelry to your hair to your clothes and shoes.

But you’re not rich assholes, you’re record shop workers. Record shop workers with a left over thousand dollars from your hard work this past week. You walk into the shop with Eddie and you look around for anything that will suit your style the best it can.

You found the prettiest black dress that slits up to your thigh and you picked out some jewelry to fit in with the other trophy wives bound to be at the party. You’d fixes your hair up and touched up your makeup to a soft glam. The black stilettos on your feet made you feel like you were actually rich, but damn did you miss your boots.

Any worries about your outfit goes out the window when you walk out of the dressing room and see Eddie. The black button up with the top two unbuttoned, he had on these black slacks that made you see him in a different light.

He manages to speak after his jaw falls slack. “Oh baby..”

You smile. “Look at you.”

“Me? Sweetheart, you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.” He reaches his hand out and you take it, allowing him to pull you closer, your hands resting on his shoulders.

“You brush your hair down?” You grin, eyeing over the low bun he managed to fit his curls into.

“Well I can’t show up with a giant mane, they’ll never let us in.” He hesitates. “It’s not bad is it?”

“It’s fine.” You grin as he cups your face.

“You’re like a princess. They’ll never see you coming baby, all sophisticated and sexy.” His hands rest on your ass and you giggle.

“Thought you said no distractions.”

“We can spare a minute.” He puckers his lips and you laugh.

“Nerd.”

He smirks. “59, 58, 57…”

You cut him off by pulling him in for a kiss. He smiles and squeezes your ass, humming as he feels you lick into his mouth. He shuts the door of the fitting room and grips your body closer.

You murmur against his lips. “Watch the dress.”

He hums and carefully loosens his grip on your ass. He kisses you for a bit longer before pulling back with a smile on his face. “Are you wearing that damn lip tint?”

That lip tint you wear to every concert, the one that left the cherry scent on his cheek after you kissed it in the photobooth after graduation senior year. He loves it so much and you love how his eyes widen when he licks his lips to taste it again.

“It is!”

You laugh and before you can respond, he kisses you again, tongue delving out to taste the cherry from your lips.

You laugh and pull back. “Stop, you’re gonna smear it.”

“Oh, too late for that.” He pokes his tongue out and you laugh.

You wipe the corners of your lips. “Minute’s over.”

He groans and sighs. “Right.” He pulls out the envelope of cash from his slacks. “I’ll pay and you start the car.”

You take the keys from him. “Okay.”

You walk separate ways but before he gets too far you pull him in and kiss him and smile, speaking in that sultry tone he loves so much.

“It’s called cherry bomb.” You grin.

“Cherry bomb. I will bulk these, just so you know.” He smirks and licks his lips again. “Go, before you make us late.”

~~~~~

City lights, busy streets and almost twenty parking lots later you and Eddie found yourselves in the elevator of the Languard suites. You stand there a bit nervous. There was bound to be so many people in rich suits and dresses, the people who would determine what happens to Empire tonight.

Eddie holds your hand. “I just want you to know.. if this goes south,” he sighs and gives your hand a gentle squeeze, “night shifts are open at the diner, and Jeffrey says we’re welcome.”

You wish you didn’t have to hear those words from Eddie’s lips. You nod and squeeze his hand in return. “Okay.”

You share a look. “And if it doesn’t go south,” you grin, “we’ll go back to Empire and party all night.”

He smiles. “After some alone time?”

You laugh at his eagerness. “After some alone time.”

The elevator dings and opens, you wrap your arm around his as you walk off and see into the main hall where the party takes place.

It’s very lively and full of rich people in the fanciest clothes. There’s a fountain and music played by a live orchestra. Waiters standing in every corner and everyone has a glass of their desired drinks in their hands.

Eddie leans in and murmurs in your ear. “Fancy was an understatement.”

You grin and speak back. “I think i’m gonna be sick.”

He laughs and your eyes scan the party. “That asshole’s gotta be somewhere in here.”

“Hors d'oeuvres?” A waiter says as he holds up a platter of.. fish bites?

“No thanks.” Eddie says and he grabs two glasses of champagne from the table. When the waiter leaves he looks are you with a disgusted expression. “The hell was that?”

“Fish, mushrooms? I can’t tell.” You both cringe.

You look at the clock. “It’s 7:29. Think they’ll cut the ribbon soon?”

Eddie looks across the room where the dark blue ribbon lies near the performers. “Maybe, but we made it in time.”

“So what now?” You look at him.

“Lets try to find something actually edible.” He tugs you along.

You don’t find much and of course you don’t go unnoticed. It seems everyone at this party knows each other and have businesses, so you and Eddie play along to your best attempts.

You two actually had a pretty solid story. A lovely young couple with a family business passed down from your lovely late Uncle Jim, with a successful rise in vinyl sales and bigger rise in production. Simple, typical, rich. The story sells for a while.

Unfortunately for you and Eddie, rich people talk and they talk fast. As the two of you mingle you hear someone approach you. You smell him, actually. That disturbing scent of old cedar and the smell that the dry cleaning leaves on his suits.

“Rest poor Uncle Jim’s soul.” Larry fixes his hair and looks over the both of you.

“Thought I heard slithering, sweetheart there is a snake in here.” Eddie wraps an arm around your waist.

“Nice party, Larry.” You hold onto Eddie.

“Do I need to call security? This is a private event.”

“Oh, but it’s a business event and until midnight we are business partners, right baby?” You look at Eddie and he smirks, proud to see his girl standing up to an ass like Larry.

“Oh absolutely. Even have it right here.” Eddie pulls out an envelope from his slacks and Larry’s face drops as the company around him sees his mood change.

“Have you lost your mind?” He glares at you both, “I will not be threatened by a bunch of little rebels from some pathetic small music store.”

“Pathetic?” You tilt your head, “and so which one of your properties got you enough money to afford an event like this?”

“Certainly not yours.” He glares at you both.

Eddie pulls out the paper from the envelope and smiles. “How about a little toast? Little speech?” He clears his throat before Larry can even speak. “It is with great pleasure that I sign into agreement with Jim Hopper as partners in ownership of lot 387-“

“That’s enough.” Larry demands as a few people around us catch focus.

Eddie keeps reading. “On the present date February 16, 1981 all rights of personal sales, clientele and ownership of the land belong to the persons arranged on any legal form.”

Eddie drops the paper at Larry’s feet and a lot more people focus in, murmuring to themselves.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“We know our rights.” You unfold another paper from the envelope as you walk around now. The music has stopped and everyone is focused in on you and Eddie.

“See this? This is the first certificate of full ownership for lot 387, where a community music store has rested for the past 8 years.” You hold up the certificate, “and your friend Larry here has scammed me and my family.”

You hold it up and a lot of people can’t believe their eyes. Larry grits his teeth before he speaks up. “No such thing has happened, the lot is not made for personal ownership.”

“Then why sell it to us?” Eddie speaks up.

Larry's face twitches but he quickly recovers as straightens his tie. "That was a leasing agreement not a purchase," he tries to talk smoothly but he falters at the feeling of everyone’s eyes on him. "There's a difference."

You wave the certificate for the crowd to see. “The difference is Larry here, has had my boss, the most cooperative and honest man sign these fake certificates. Otherwise known as an incomplete certificate.”

“This ribbon.” Eddie says now standing in front of it, “will kill the past 8 years that me and my girlfriend and my friends have built up. The community it’s raised and the sales that have gotten you all to this very room. All gone and for what? A bookstore? Something special to so many kids and families. Gone.”

Larry clenches his jaw, his face turning red.

"This isn't some charity case. Business is business and I have done my part."

"Business?" Eddie scoff. "Scamming hard working people and kicking them to the curb is business to you?"

“How much?” A woman in a fancy dress speaks up.

You look at her a bit confused so she rephrases. “Larry never told us how much he’d be making once he made his big sell tonight so how much is it?”

“Ten thousand.” You look at the woman then Larry. “And we almost had it too. Until we saw that the licenses were actually all in his name.”

Another man speaks up. “That’s just ridiculous.”

You nod. “And yet here we are, being ever so kind to you Larry. Not asking for money or land or anything from you.”

“Then why are you here?” If looks could kill you and Eddie would be melted and six feet under.

“We want our home.” Eddie says simply, tossing all of the papers to the floor. The crowd of business owners in the room watch closely as you and Eddie face Larry.

“No more business agreements, no certificates, no partnerships. We want it to ourselves. The land, the lot, the building. Where it’s always been, but ours.”

There’s moments silence before Larry take a step closer. “And if I say no?”

You tilt your head, meeting his cold stare. "Then we take this to court. Every little trick, every fake contract, every loophole you exploited." You take a step forward standing by Eddie. "You might win, the man always wins right? But it'll cost you. Reputation, clients, everything you worked so hard for. Everyone here who’s celebrating, do you think they’ll have your back when it all goes away?”

The room falls into the silence. For every man, there’s a man he must answer to. And as you look around the room you know you’re right. No one would risk all of this for anyone else, not me or Larry or anyone.

Eddie chimes in in a kinder tone. "Or... you sign it over. No lawsuits, no bad press. Just a clean break. We walk away with what's ours and you’ll never see us again. Nobody needs to know.”

You nod and look around the room. Nobody needs to know. You don’t know much about rich people or what deals they make and you don’t know how far this will get you and Eddie as he extends his hand.

So many eyes on the three of you. You can feel your heart pounding in your chest and your head swirling with thoughts. You can’t believe your eyes when you see Larry shake Eddie’s hand.

“Nobody needs to know.”

~~~~

You can’t stop staring at the papers in front of you. You’ve been reading them since they got here. The font, the title after your name. The amount of money following it.

Certificate of ownership, Jim Hopper.

Your name lies underneath with the title Co Owner.

Certificates and licenses under your names. The ownership of Empire Records is one hundred percent yours. You had people making offers at the party after finding out about Empire and how much money the store had brought for Larry’s career but you wanted it as your own. And now you look at the papers, rightfully yours.

“It’s not going anywhere you know.” Eddie smirks from behind you, smiling as he brings in your coffee.

You share a quick kiss, smirking when you pull away. “I just can’t believe it.”

“Yeah? Well, I told you you’re the favorite.” He lifts your lanyard, the title of assistant manager underneath your name.

“You’re my favorite.” You reach up from your seat and kiss him.

He murmurs against your lips. “Sap.”

You smile. “Shut up.”

You keep kissing until you hear the fake gags at the door from Steve and Chrissy. You both flip them off before pulling back.

“Can you two please keep that at home, it’s like watching two snakes slither into each other’s mouths.” Steve cringes dramatically.

You smile. “Technically this is my office, my rules.”

“Besides,” Eddie kisses you one last time before standing straight. “If I can’t kiss my girlfriend here i’ll think of somewhere else. Bathroom, back room, the van..”

Your eyes widen. “Eddie!”

Chrissy gasps. “You said those pillows were in the back for sleeping!”

“They are.” He smirks. “After we eat, have a little joint, then-“

“Eddie.” You give him that look and he shuts up.

“Anyways,” Steve pipes up, “customers are outside. Are the doors ready to open?”

Everyone looks at you. You smile. “We’re all set.”

The customers flood in and the store is in great business. There’s people coming in to listen to music, but records and even some acknowledge your help wanted sign. Now that you’re co owner, there’s more help needed on the sales floor. And you’re relieved to see so many people come in.

You order new deliveries for more records and check the booths. Managerly duties come easy to you since you’ve been here for so long, and you can’t help but admire all of your own hard work.

All of the money you raised, how determined you were to keep this place. Shutting down the corporate and keeping your families home. There’s a gentle hand on your shoulder.

Robin smirks. “Miss boss manager lady.”

You groan. “Rob come on. No big titles okay, im still me.”

“Someone needs your help.”

You raise a brow. “They asked for a manager?”

“Mhm. Right in the back room.” She nods, feigning seriousness.

“Okay um, ill be right back.” You walk down the stairs from the booths to the back room and you smile at the sight in front of you.

Eddie stands by the sofa, a rose in his mouth and a cupcake on the table. The room is dark and lit by a few tea candles. He smiles and wiggles his brows, whatever he’s trying to say to you is muffled by the rose.

“What?” You smile.

He chuckles and holds his hand out for you to take. Once you do he pulls you into his body and grins as you take the rose.

“Where’s your shirt?”

He rolls his eyes playfully. “That’s your first question, really?”

You smile. “Well someone could walk in.”

“Thought you liked pda.” He challenges you, pulling you onto his lap on the sofa as you sit on his left thigh.

“I do, but this is our first solo opening.”

“Exactly.” He smiles and hands you the cupcake. “Congratulations baby.”

You take the cupcake from his hand, feeling the warmth of his body beneath you. The dim lighting from the candles casts a soft glow around you both making the moment feel even more intimate.

"Congratulations to you too," you grin before taking a small bite of the cupcake. "Mmm, did you pick these out?"

He smirks, running a hand down your back. "Of course. You like it?”

You smile. “Try for yourself.” You drag your finger in the frosting, spreading a bit onto his nose.

He blinks in surprise before letting out a low chuckle. "Oh you think you're funny huh?"

You giggle, leaning back slightly as he pretends to be offended. "Just wanted to share." You say it in one but Eddie’s no dummy.

He swipes his thumb across his nose, licking the frosting off with a slow smirk. "Cute. But now you owe me."

You raise a brow and before you can react his fingers graze your chin, tilting your face as he kisses you soft and slow at first, then deeper as he tastes the sugar on your lips from his. Your fingers curl against his bare shoulder, the warmth of his skin grounding you in the moment.

When he pulls back his eyes gleam with mischief. "Definitely sweeter that way."

You smile. “Teasing me while were in the middle of our first shift?”

“Teasing? Sweetheart it’s like 8pm, I should at least get ten minutes.”

You play at his curls and kiss him one last time. “I could fire you now.”

He clutches his chest. “Maliciously cruel princess how you break my heart.”

You giggle at his dramatic attitude and tap his chest. “Something I could never do.”

He holds your hand to his chest and speaks softly. “Always knew you’d find a way.”

You speak in a tone to match his own. “Couldn’t have done it without you all.”

His thumb brushes over your knuckles, his smirk softening into something more sincere. "Well i'm not going anywhere so you're stuck with me."

"Good," you murmur, giving his hand before finally pulling away. "Now get back to work before I actually fire you."

He sighs dramatically but stands, stretching before shooting you a wink. "Yes boss."

He pulls on his shirt and heads toward the front, you take a moment to glance around the reality of the night settling in. Your first solo opening. Something you've dreamed of for so long and somehow it feels even better sharing it with him.

With Steve and Jonathan and the girls, for Hopper, for your customers. You saved Empire from hell and woth the help of everyone you did it for including yourself, you knew that everyday would feel like today and even better.

taglist: @pupwrites @sheneedsrocknroll92 @koshkahhh @kthomps914 @definitionwanderlust @veravee-blog @losingmygrasponreality @ironmusictrash @littlemissholy @bastardstevie

author’s note: thank you so much for reading Open Til Midnight. this has been fun to write and i hope its been fun to read. please reblog or share with a friend, zoe ♥️

[francixoxoxo]

⋆.˚✩ Bloodlust 𓆩𓆪

𝐕𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐞!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐁𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐊𝐢𝐝

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧’𝐭 𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬, 𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐤. 𝐁𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝, 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐦.

@milliesfishes 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐰𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬!!!

Billy knew what was wrong the moment he called your name, unbuckling his gun belt and expecting a warm welcome home after a tiring day. All he got was a weak mumble from some room in the small house.

“Honey?” He called, hanging his hat on the coat rack, his boots thumping on the wood floor. Billy’s forehead was creasing. Well, he wasn’t expecting a king’s welcome, no red carpet or nothing, but he was a bit spoiled by you to expect a hug and kiss hello.

Billy realized your voice was coming from the bedroom, “Here,” you croaked. When he stepped into the doorway, he stopped in his tracks a moment.

There you laid, ever-beautiful, on your side with both hands tucked between your thighs. Your cheek was in the pillow, your usually entrancing eyes hollow as they lifted to meet Billy’s. “Hi.” You murmured, watching as Billy crossed the floor and sat on the edge of the bed. He twisted to look at you, his calloused hand smoothing back your silky hair.

“Hey, baby doll..” Billy cooed, brows slightly lowered. His azure eyes darted over you almost frantically. “You okay?”

He knew the answer. He knew you were lying as you nodded that pretty little head of yours. He felt a bit sick looking down at your state.

“When’s the last time you ate, huh pretty girl?” Billy hummed, trying to keep his tone as lilted and cheery as he could manage, like he was talking to a sick kid. His expression betrayed his worry for you.

You shrugged lamely. Your lips moved silently for a moment, eyebrows pinching, before you spoke, defeated. “A few days.”

“How many’s a few?” Now, Billy couldn’t keep the distress from his voice.

“Five.” You breathed, you let your eyes flutter shut. You hear Billy click his tongue against his teeth, open your eye a crack to see him shaking his head at the window across from the bed. He sighed your name.

“What? I didn’t want to go out and— and hurt anybody, so I just put it off. I’ll go hunt when—“ Billy cut you off firmly.

“When y’cant move?” Billy hissed, the hand on your head moving down to the outer cusp of your shoulder. You opened your eyes, making eye contact as he told you off. You knew he had good intentions, he always did, but you were defiant above all else. “Or is that already happenin’? You were just gonna wait ‘till you’re too weak to even fix your lips to ask for some help?”

“I don’t need help. I’ll go tomorrow.” You huff, and Billy shakes his head. You had to admit— he was hot when he was angry with you. His nostrils flaring, brows thick and drawn low, eyes intense.

“No. No, you ain’t puttin’ this off any longer.” Billy fumed, breathing out like a bull through his nose. He shakes his head again as he makes quick and messy work of the bandana around his collar.

Only Billy could get mad that you weren’t taking care of yourself the way he would.

Your brows draw together, your hand moving to his forearm in a moot attempt to stop him. “Billy, no.”

“Yes.” Billy’s tone was firm, his expression serious. He wouldn’t budge on this, would he? But you wouldn’t let him win.

“I’m not feeding off you.” You hiss, but you can’t stop him from tossing aside his neck scarf and unbuttoning his collar. He clocks the way you swallow hard. Fuck all, he just smells so good.

The moment he walked through the door you were reminded of the dull, aching pang of hunger in your stomach. Billy’s scent was intense, overpowering, tempting. Even when you weren’t so starved. So unbelievably difficult to refuse, and he was just making things harder for you.

Billy gently took hold of both your forearms, lifting you to sit upright beside him. You were so weak that you leaned against him, his arm curling around your torso and holding you upright. “C’mere, c’mon.. Up y’go, baby girl.” You bury your nose in his shoulder, feeling awfully dizzy— dizzy with weakness, dizzy with that awful, gnawing hunger, dizzy with the smell of Billy.

“C’mon, baby.” Billy cooed, his hand not supporting you gently cradling your head and bringing it closer to his neck. He hoped you didn’t clock the way he swallowed hard. “You need it.”

“I won’t.” You breathed, but your voice wasn’t very assured. You sounded more like you were convincing yourself as much as him.

Billy wouldn’t have denied his nerves. You’d never fed from him. You swore you never would. But he was asking you to, he knew that you needed blood now. You were his top priority. So he disregarded the wavering of his hand as he stroked your hair, feeling your nose against his neck. “C’mon. Just a little. Just so y’can have energy t’hunt.” Billy assured you. “Please, baby, you’re scarin’ me.”

You squeezed your eyes shut. Oh, you’d never forgive yourself. But you gently rubbed your nose to his neck, letting out a shudders breath. “Just a little.” You murmured. Billy nodded. But he knew he’d let you suck him dry if that’s what you needed.

He’d do anything for you.

You opened your mouth, your pearly fangs sinking into his neck and piercing the skin. Oh, the moment you tasted him, you were a goner. You could hardly think. Your mind was him, fully and utterly him, no room for anything but him.

Billy groaned in pain, his face screwing up and his hand tensing in your hair, but not pulling. It was such a strange feeling, such a draining and achy sensation. But it was helping you. You gained the strength to reach your hand up to tangle in his dark hair, your free hand resting gently over the opposite side of his neck. He tasted delicious, like a drug you couldn’t get off.

A grotesquely intimate thing, it was. A macabre, romantic thing, that Billy trusted you to take only what you needed. A morbid pleasure in drinking him in, the taste of his blood like crimson ambrosia on your tongue. More intimate than an ‘I love you,’ he’d dare say, though he knew he wouldn’t ever stop saying those words. More intimate than sex, though you knew you’d never get tired of his touch.

You were lost in it. His pained grunts and whimpers were the only way you could pull away from him, the only thing that could permeate your bloodlust-hazed mind. He grunted your name in a wavering, low and pleading voice.

You were careful to lick over the puncture wounds, sealing the wound and staunching the blood flow. Your hunger was barely satiated, but it was enough to feel alive again. You rested your forehead on his shoulder, licking your lips and wiping your chin with your knuckles.

“God.” Billy breathed, a hesitant hand coming to brush over the marks you’d left in his neck.

“There wasn’t anything holy about that.” You murmured bitterly, panting against his shirt, watching as the blood dribbling down your chin dripped onto the bed sheets. Billy turned his cheek, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head.

“Don’t care.” Billy says into your hair, his voice low, gravelly and masculine. “You feel better, baby girl?”

You couldn’t deny that you did. Oh, you hated yourself for it as you nodded against his shoulder. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” You whispered, your voice meek and broken.

With surprising strength for a man whose mind was reeling from blood loss, Billy wrapped his other arm around your middle and pulled you into his lap, your legs across his. He looked up at you, those blue eyes filled with something you dared to name worshipping. “Don’t say sorry. I wanted you to, remember?” Billy pressed a kiss to your jaw, letting you thump your forehead against his.

Delicately, he swipes his calloused thumb across your chin, wiping up his own blood. “I love you, Billy, I love you.” You murmur, your brows drawing together in guilt. He simply couldn’t have that.

“I love you.” Billy cooed, his nose nudging yours affectionately. He pulls you into a loving yet chaste kiss, not torturing you with another taste of him. You were infinitely grateful, your fingers gently massaging his scalp. He leaned into the touch. “I’d do it again. If you wanted me to.”

“I wouldn’t.” Your reply was firm and instant. Billy nodded after a lingering moment, nosing your cheek. His eyelashes brushed against your skin and tickled you.

“I ‘least taste good?” Billy let out a breathy chuckle, trying to lighten the mood, as always. A faint smile crosses your lips.

“Delicious.”

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Hello, I wanted to ask you for a smut of Ethan Landry, that the reader discovers that he is a ghostface when they are about to fuck but she does not care and they do it anyway.

I have not posted for Scream in a while, my apologies

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

When Tara called you about the attack at the bodega, you felt a thrill of excitement.

You had seen pictures of past Ghostfaces online and some of them made you want to welcome them with open legs. Sam’s father was a total hottie when he committed the first murders in 1996. There was something about a man with a knife that made your panties dampen.

‘’Are you and Sam okay?’’

‘’Yeah. It was…brutal. And terrifying,’’ Tara said on the other side of the line, her voice still shaky. ‘’I’ve just gotten a normal life back, I don’t want to go through this again. And Sam—’’

A knock on your door stirred you from your phone call. ‘’Sorry, Tara. Eh, there’s someone at the door.’’ You glanced at the door and felt your heart race in your chest. ‘’I’m not expecting anyone though…’’

Tara’s breathing changed, getting traumatic flashes of her first attack. ‘’Don’t open! That’s how I was attacked last year.’’

The chances that she was right were slim, but not impossible. Since you were close friends with Tara, it made you part of the friend group…therefore a possible target. Ghostface could very well be standing on the other side.

You bit your tongue and held back from asking ‘who’s there?’, knowing it was a free ticket to your death. Instead, you check through the peep-hole.

‘’It’s Ethan,’’ you reassured Tara, seeing a curly haired awkward boy instead of the classic halloween mask. ‘’I’ll see you tomorrow before class, okay?’’

You hung up and unlocked your door, letting Ethan in.

‘’What are you doing here? I thought you had a late class tonight,’’ you said, drawing your eyebrows together. ‘’And why are you dressed like you’re going to a funeral?’’ You nodded your head at his unusual all black outfit.

‘’It finished twenty minutes ago.’’ Ethan slung off his backpack and put it down on the floor. It looked very full, how many books did he carry in there? ‘’My class. Not the funeral,’’ he felt the need to precise.

You chuckled, the soft sound echoing in the small apartment.

‘’I can’t stay long, I have an early class in the morning.’’

‘’Are we still having lunch together?’’

Ethan hummed and a rosy blush covered his cheeks as his eyes fell on your nightgown. He had spent the night over a few times, but very little clothes had been worn to bed. This satin number? He had never seen it before. Your breasts were free underneath and falling perfectly and your nipples were slightly poking through the thin fabric. It made his cock instantly swell.

‘’You sleep in that?’’ he asked, pointing at your nightgown.

‘’Yes, I sleep in that.’’

‘’Isn’t it a little dressed up for sleeping?’’

You rolled your eyes at his ‘men’ comment. ‘’Wearing nice pajamas is part of self-care.’’

‘’You wear that every night?’’ You nodded and Ethan fought a whine, jealously beaming at your bed attire. ‘’And the only pictures you send me are your face?’’

‘’If you want ‘goodnight’ nudes, you’re gonna have to earn them,’’ you challenged, crossing your arms over your chest and cocking an eyebrow. ‘’What’s your deal, Landry? I’m listening.’’

After a few propositions, you decided that getting railed into your mattress was a good enough deal...for one picture. Ethan’s dick was good, but you weren’t a fool. If he wants more nudes, he’ll have to offer more.

You tilted your head to the side as he kissed and nipped at your neck. No matter how many times you’ve been naked with him, it still shocked you how desperate Ethan was for you and your body. His hands slid up the backs of your thighs, right below the hem of your nightgown. A part of him wanted to tear it off your body, but the other wanted to fuck you with it on. 

You left him to his dilemma and reached for the back of his shirt, trying to yank it off, but Ethan hissed in pain when he lifted his shoulder. He tried to cover it with a cough, but you had already seen the bruise the size of a grapefruit on your boyfriend’s side.

Sitting up and pausing your activities, you looked at him in concern. ‘’How did that happen?’’ You ghosted your finger over the purple-y red skin. 

Did he get into a fight? Did he get jumped after a late class? Campus is not safe at night, which is why you always carry something to defend yourself. But Ethan's not small or weak, the muscles underneath his polos can fight back.

‘’I…’’ Ethan drew his eyebrows, trying to come up with an explanation. ‘’It's nothing. I got hurt doing something stupid at the gym with Chad.’’

Last week? His explanation not making sense. The timeline didn’t add up. 

‘’You didn't have it three days ago when we rudely got interrupted in your dorm.’’

‘’I did,’’ he insisted. ‘’You…you must not have noticed it.’’ 

‘’But it’s so dark. It looks recent.’’ 

Ethan moved so the bruise was out of your sight, then sighed. ‘’Can we go back to kissing? I don't want to talk about this.’’ 

Instead of calming your worries, his words flared them up. ‘’Did someone do this to you? Oh my god, did he attack you too?’’

 ‘’No. It's not Ghostface. I wasn't at the bodega.’’ He took your hands in his to reassure you, but there was a flaw in his statement. 

‘’What do you know about the bodega?’’ you asked cautiously, remembering Mindy's words to be cautious about the love interest. 

His backpack was in the living room. If you went and checked its content, would you find a black robe and a mask, or just books?

‘’Sam and Tara got attacked tonight after leaving the police office, right? You told me while I was in class.’’

You shook your head, slipping your hand from his. You never mentioned the bodega to Ethan.

‘’I did not. I was on the phone with Tara when you arrived here. She was telling me what happened.’’

Ethan's heart raced, realizing he had spoken too much. Panic surged through his veins, urging him to flee, to hide, to deny any involvement, but he knew deep down that it was futile. You knew. 

‘’Was...was it you at the bodega? Did you attack Sam and Tara?’’ 

Your questions were simple, but terrifying from Ethan's shoes. He had been caught, unmasked. There was no escaping the haunting truth. His world would never be the same again. You would never see him the same.

He grabbed his shirt, about to leave, but you pulled him back by his belt and looked up at him with pleading eyes. ‘’Please fuck me, Mr. Ghostface.’’

—

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