#its so mind numbing as a course...

[mutecrows]

Taking an HR class as part of my degree is making me realize how incredibly not interested in HR i am...

[ganondoodle]

Regarding Demise: He is an interesting concept, as is the whole eternal cycle, but for that to actually become something worthwhile the games/stories would have to actually DO something with it. So far they are introduced in Skyward Sword and thats it! No other game even references them. And, yes, that cheapens EVERY other game because there is this implication that its all out of the control of the actual characters in the story because of this one asshole that we only ever saw once! Why not have Ganondorf realize that he is possessed/manipulated by this weird old Demon God? How would he react, would he embrace it, would he rebel, would he be broken by the realization that none of his actions were ever *his*? I dont even care which of these options they pick, as long as they pick any of it and do just ANYTHING with the concept.

Or maybe Link or Zelda figures out the Cycle and starts looking into breaking it because endlessly repeating Demon Attacks kinda suck and you dont want that for your descendants.

Or have a game focus on them remembering bits from past lives and having to piece it all together or, again, just ANYTHING!

The closest they ever came to was with BOTW Zelda praying to Hylia, aka HERSELF, to unlock her powers, which is some brutal narrative irony, but not much more.

And regarding the whole Zelda is Hylia thing, I've seen some headcanons about how Skyward Sword Zelda is terrified of herself after learning that, because she now has to assume that everything she did was planned by a version of her that she no longer is. Is Link her friend or is he the useful pawn that Hylia needs to turn into the Hero? Does she even deserve his affection when she probably manipulated him into becoming her champion and fighting, possibly dying for her all her life?

Thats juicy, thats something you can do something with but Nintendo really does like to plan those stories game per game without any care for the larger story.

Which I guess is the Irony of it all. They tried the whole larger connected story/universe thing once: With Skyward Sword. After all that was also the time we got the first Hyrule Historia & "official timeline" as well as "How it all began" in the game itself.

It felt like the start of a new era for Zelda games and stories and then it just... wasn't.

And while I get that they want to focus on gameplay over story, I will never stop mourning the stories we could get/have gotten, if they put a bit more thought into things.

I actually feel like its harder to make the 'cycle' into an interesting plot point when its a .. divine thing that happens, and not perpetuated by the people (though not impossible, given how the series is build up it would need alot of work to not make it worse still..)-

i actually cannot stand the idea that ganondorf is possessed or manipulated, made eviler by demise somehow (demise is dead, leave him beeeeee hes not some evil master mind behind anything aaaaah) bc it STILL takes away ganondorfs agency and character and gives right into the whole hes basically born evil and just pushes the fault tm onto someone else it in turn legitimizes that the kingdom of hyrule and its high rule (heehoo) is right and if only gan wasnt manipulated hed be good tm, aka allied with the goodest guys, hed gladly accept their invitation and join their holy empire of goodness tm if wasnt for da demon

(and i love to say, who decides what is good tm and evil tm? bc hyrules monarchs making every other tribe their subordinate and persecuting shiekah for example isnt what id call good but its fine bc the good holy guys did it in the name of "peace" -what is their idea of peace? everyones under their rule and must worship their god? uh oh- and resistance to it is gonna get you labelled as evil!! (unless you join their holy kingdom and become their vassal of GOOD) what good and evil boils down to in zelda is .. being allied/ruled by the kingdom of hyrule and being opposed to them, even if its only not wanting to be subjugated by them)

i can see the appeal to some degree, but i dont like the idea of ganondorf even being able to be manipulated or possessed, what makes his character, before it got flattened into well he just be demon in the eyes of the average fandom, interesting is his unbreakable will, that drive to keep on living and resisting those that want him dead, its poetic and sad, to the point that (until totk ...) it was really just ONE ganondorf that refused to die and came back over and over (also something i found a compelling thought for botw, that after all this time theres nothing left BUT his will to resist, its a tragic idea that rly spoke to me)

my personal idea of the cycle is that its only a cycle bc they, the kingdom of hyrule and their belief system, keep it going, its not a divine thing that needs to be broken (though the divine surely messes with it, just for the bit i guess) but something that keeps repeating bc hyrule is so soaked into the idea that their princess once was a god and hers is the right to rule it all in light- so anyone who doesnt agree must be of the demons from the darkness seeking to destroy the world, and what means the 'world' could just mean the kingdom of hyrule- in botw even with the calamity people went on and lived, same in windwaker, they dont need the holy kingdom to live- (who is to say the 'monsters' are bad for the land, to me they mostly looked like well adapted territorial beasts, and the bokblins etc clearly arent mindless monsters either, why do they need to be eradicated? they attack you? ok dont go into their territory, or defend yourself, you dont need to exterminate something just bc it could be a threat at some point)

(i do agree that conflict with zelda being interesting but uuuh .. well they never did anythign with that huh)

in the end, demise was just a throw away villain, and if i may get my tin foil hat back here, i feel like the whole creation myth skyward sword does was really just a way for them to get out of the predicament of having to consider a villain to be treated like a person to save themselves from having to think about what they imply and can just go, well this is the evil demons, this is the good gods- ironically enough the attempt to get out of having to consider complicated writing it ends up reversing straight back into the WORST of kinds of implications .. that arent even subtext anymore, if totk is anythign to go by, the most 'simple' or 'easy' narrative to go for might not be actually simple, just a so often retold one that it appears simple if not made aware of its dark maw, the status quo repeated ad nauseam

(and if i may, the whole gameplay over story thing is bs in my eyes, that sounds like the typical attempt of dismissing any critique, just like the stupid, and frankly, offensive "its just for kids" argument, story and gameplay are inherently intertwined, the story influences the gameplay, the gameplay influences the story, especially in a series like zelda that is a futile thing to go for and a reason why the stories themselves lack depth, how are you gonna have an epic adventure that drives you to get through any amount of puzzles and battles if there is no story to motivate you, at this point it feels like the series has set itself up for catastrophic failure bc i imagine, people might just keep buying and playing the games bc its attached to the series, bc they hope to see characters they loved return, new ones that will grab their attention, perhaps be taken away by a world that meant alot to them once before, hope that there will be something exciting-

i am not saying the series has no value or doesnt do anything well (hello who am i) but how many times can you repeat 'this guy good he fight evil guy he get the pretty princess as reward' without any interesting twists or narrative, even the most beloved characters can only keep it passable for so long, even the best gameplay loses its potential if its surrounded by cardboard characters and a story so "simple" as offensive it fits into a single page, i often wonder how a game would be seen if it wasnt titled -the legend of zelda- ..

it hurts especially when looking at its long history, how much estblished thigns it could exploit and expand, the potential the series has is still immense, it hurts to see it be wasted over and over :(

[liinos]

It makes me fucking insane how grad programs are like oh did you not go immediately into a masters? Well you better have a good reason why or we might not think you deserve to get one bc you're not committed 🤭 omg you didn't cure cancer or solve world inequality before applying? Don't even look in our direction 🤮 it's so great you want to further your education it would really be a shame if we made it as hard as possible 👉👈

[alexiroflife]

"trance"

fluff, slight crack, modern!sukuna, whipped & clingy sukuna, itadori family!

ryomen sukuna x reader

Synopsis: sukuna, a man who rarely attempts to keep his thoughts to himself for the sake of others, makes his infatuation with you everyone else's problem when he's high

to sum it up: sukuna's fried, and naturally all he wants is you

WC: 3,258

Warning(s): mentions/use of marijuana, suggestive themes, horny ass sukuna who has no decorum in front of his family

You know Sukuna is no better than any other man who you have caught the attention of in the past. No matter the time of day or the occasion, the salmon-haired man is quick to intrude on your personal space, invading your unsuspecting body with the wander of his large hands over your frame until you find yourself returning to the default state of being at his will.

Sukuna proudly takes ownership of his infatuation with you too. Rather shamelessly, he's got an arm wound over your shoulders and locked around your neck or hands firmly splayed on your waist, bringing yours to his and keeping you there for as long as he deems necessary.

He would never say so out loud, but it is evident by his body language and the way he strays from being more than ten feet away from you that he is attached to you at the hip. Sukuna is an aggressively clingy man, for as long as you belong to him, he is taking advantage of your closeness, of your body, of your time, mind, heart, and soul.

Even so, when Sukuna is in the proper state of mind, he still remains somewhat calm with his actions and how he presses himself to you. He will appear almost angry with affection, but silent save for a few commands to relax your body or to stop stubbornly attempting to push away when you feel crowded, though you never have any luck in that regard anyway. He is more reserved, more contained with his confrontations as though touching you is the easiest, most soothing, and most familiar thing he has ever done. Sukuna has a tendency to skillfully mask his truest emotions with a viel of apathy and air of indifference, despite how his body speaks for the things he fails to verbalize.

And now, of course, while Sukuna is not at all in any realm close to withholding a proper state of mind, or state of sobriety more accurately, his body betrays him tenfold and acts on its own will while his mind is on the backburner, hazily numbing itself with the passionate buzz of the smoke that was dragging from his lips and past his nostrils.

Sukuna often fails to take into account the appropriate time and place to engage in or say certain things, for he feels that if there is something he wants to do or discuss, no company or environment could shift his will to do so. Arrogant with pride, Sukuna operates according to his desires, and all those who know him are quite familiar with his rather inconsiderate antics.

That is why the crimson eyed man is splayed out on his brother's sofa, legs spread dangerously far apart with his arms thrown over the back of the furniture. Blurry lidded eyes stare off in a heavy daze captured solely by you, who are maneuvering about his brother's kitchen alongside Choso, who is helping you locate the baking sheet for the cookies you have been yammering on about baking all day.

You can feel his eyes burning into your skull from a mile away, and you are wildly too accostumed to this routine of his for you to pay the notion any mind. You are far too focused on your own task at hand to meet the fiery, lust consumed gaze that your boyfriend has locked onto you.

His eyes, unfathomably red, trace the outline of your figure slowly as though drinking in the sight of you, savoring it so that he can taste it on his tongue long enough for it to linger until he can get his hands on the true, physical flavor of you.

There's a darkness in the way he checks you out from across the room seated next to Wasuke, who glares angrily ahead of him with a twisted scowl at whatever channel has been randomly flicked to in the stupor of Sukuna's high. It almost feels as though the room is charging with the volcaic tension that Sukuna's body emits from its place in the living room, for his obsession with you manifests into some sort of beast before everyone's eyes when he is under the influence of weed.

And despite being surrounded by family, Sukuna can do nothing but watch you with that hungry glint in those hues of blood red, paying no mind to how easily the room can read him.

Truthfully, Sukuna does not even feel that he should be blamed for the way he is eye fucking you now. You decided upon yourself that it was a good idea to visit the Itadori home with a thick cardigan slipping down the skin of your shoulder to reveal the tank top that hugs your midsection and tits tightly, which you only vurther expose when you decide to strip the outer fabric off with complaints of being warm. Your graceful arms stretch to grab the kitchenware out of Choso's hands to set aside on the counter, your bare neck craning gently with the tilt of your head and a concentrated pinch of your brow as you mix raw ingridients into a bowl with your hands, kneading the thick pasty mixture through your soft fingers. You have to be doing this on purpose, Sukuna decides, for you are far too captivating for him to turn away

Sukuna's lashes flutter with a slow blink and the stroke of his fingers over his mouth and chin. You look practically edible standing there, the overhead light of the kitchen illuminating your frame and epmhasizing your otherwordly, enticing beauty. Of all the many ways he has come to learn he can devour your body, each scenario flitters through his fuzzy brain the longer he stares at you, his pupils expanding with possessive want.

You flicker your eyes upward momentarily when you feel a particular shift in the atmosphere, and when you do, you meet your boyfriend's piercing eyes from afar. Your brows quirk and your lips tug to the side with nervous judgment when you catch that dangerous glimmer that can only mean you will not make it out alive when the two of you end up alone.

With slightly widened eyes, you slowly turn your eyes back to the cookie dough and a curious Choso standing beside you with oil spray for the pan.

"You okay?" the twenty-one year old questions slowly and you shake your head.

"Your uncle looks like he's gonna kill me," you exhale anxiously in response. Choso looks up to find what you are referring to, and his face sours when he catches wind of Sukuna's expression.

"Freak," he mutters under his broth with the clench of his jaw, passing the spray over to you amid his sickened glower.

As if beckoning him subconsciously, the brunette watches in something akin to horror when Sukuna lifts his arms from behind him and pushes himself up gradually to his feet. He appears to move in slow motion, hands tucked into his pockets and eyes still glued permanently to you as he saunters his way into the kitchen with heavy strides.

You keep your gaze down, pretending to be entirely too occupied as the salmon haired man slips into the space directly behind you, the strong scent of weed sinking into his cologne wrapping over you. Sneakily, warm palms snake over your hips. They still there a moment, gripping experimentally before trailing around and over your stomach, opting to cling to you this way as he steps his chest to your back and curves his nose toward you cheek.

He takes in a deep breath, inhaling you graciously as his hands wander over your stomach. You feel the tip of his nose and the whisper of his lips graze your skin as he lenas himself down toward the crook of your jaw and neck. His actions are sluggish, a representation of his current state of mind, and he pulls you into his embrace as though he had been seeking so for years on end.

"Can I help you, Kuna?" you murmur, gripping a ball of dough into your palms and rolling it.

He does not say a word. Only a low grunt escapes his lips and vibrates against you, his eyes falling closed. He seems to crowd into you closer, though you are unsure of how that is possible when he already has you tucked into him so securely.

"Just stand still," his voice rumbles into you, lips pressing to your ear in a soft kiss in between his slow words. "Let me feel on you."

You grunt softly when his lips touch your cheek, veiny hands smoothing over your abdomen in gradual circles, one hand sliding back to sooth down the top of your thigh and back up again. "Sukuna," you hiss as heat pinches your body. "Stop, I'm trying to bake," you lean over to shrug away, but he's following you, chasing your lips to the side and crushing his weight down into you, pecking over your jaw.

"No one told you to stop," he murmurs. "Keep going."

You bite down on your tongue, attempting to hide how flustered you have become by Sukuna's behavior, especially in such an open space. You expect nothing less from him, and neither does his family, but hell, he never knows when to quit and it absolutely kills you.

"Leave her alone," Choso rolls his eyes, shuffling away from Sukuna's bulky figure pushing past him to get to you. "She just said she was doing something."

"Yeah, and get a god damn room!" Grandpa demands bitterling from the couch with the raise of an agitated fist.

"You're scarring your family, Sukuna," you say flatly in between the uproar of hatred toward the salmon haired man, to which he lifts his head from you briefly with a mischievous smirk snaking onto his face.

"They'll live," he grins.

"At this rate, you'll be the very thing to keep that from happening and push me closer to death," Grandpa fumes.

"One could only hope, old man."

"Eat shit."

An amused chuckle rumbles through Sukuna's chest and against your back, practically rattling your ribcage. "Can't you all be nice to each other," you sigh as Sukuna turns his focus back down to you. His arms tighten around you, his caress of your stomach over your tank top ceasing to fasten his arms around your waist and drop his forehead to your shoulder. He sways you slightly back and forth, droopy eyes glazing over at the feel of your plush body against his.

"We can't be nice if we constantly get on each other's nerves, (Y/n)," Choso says tiredly. "Or more specifically, if Sukuna pisses us off."

"But that's damn near every day," you raise your brows with a twitch of an amused smile as you proceed onto rolling the next few balls of cookie dough.

"Exactly."

You shake your head, lifting your arms slightly as Sukuna's burly arms wrap up under yours. "Your family hates you, baby," you comment slyly.

Sukuna clicks his tongue, grumbling as he shifts with you. "I don't give a fuck," he murmurs. "What perfume are you wearing?"

"I'm not wearing any perfurme," you scrunch your brows in confusion at his abrupt shift. "Why?"

"Mm," he hums. "You smell good."

"Okay," you tilt your head away when his lips peck over your neck, his teeth eventually sinking down to nip at you. You flinch. "Get off, weirdo!" a giggle slips into your demand, your face scrunching when a hand comes to cup the side of your face to refrain you from moving away from the invasion of his kisses.

"For fuck's sake," Wasuke hisses under his breath.

"Let's go," Sukuna suddenly mumbles into you.

You turn your head to peek at him over your shoulder quizzically. "What?"

"Let's go, woman," he repeats, speaking directly into your ear. "Want to taste you. Now."

"Woah," your eyes go wide as Sukuna moves to feel you up again, thick fingers brushing the hem of your tanktop and grazing over the sliver of skin beneath. "You can't just say things like that," you scold, eyes darting over the room in panic though your own body is beginning to betray you. "Behave."

"Like hell you actually want me to," you can feel him smirk as the sly words leave his mouth, and you shiver, putting aside the last ball of dough you needed to roll. "Come on, peach," he urges rather gently, tilting his head over your shoulder to find the connection of your gaze with his red eyes. You look back up at him, eyes glassy enough for Sukuna to determine that he is getting to you. "Don't be rude."

"Sukuna, you're distracting me," you groan.

"Relax," he urges, "Enough complaining and relax."

His instructions fall on your ear as though he is attempting to coax you into submission, which he has a keen tendency of doing even when he is fully coherent. "At least have the decency to wait until we go home to act like this."

"I shouldn't have to wait for something I already have."

"Around your family, you should!"

"Quit worrying about them and focus on me."

"You make it impossible not to when you hover me like this."

"Good," he kisses the back of your ear. "Now let's go."

"Later," you smile with the emphasis. "I haven't even washed my hands yet."

Sukuna stretches his arms forward from under you, cupping over your wrists from either side and guiding your hands to the left whre the sink resides as Choso busies himself with tidying up a bit. You watch your boyfriend reach to flip the faucet on, then guide your dough coated hands under the water gingerly.

You inhale sharply, ducking your head to conceal your smile as his thumbs smooth your palms clean with the addition of some soap. You can feel his chest pressing into your shoulderblades and the weighted exhales the spread through his body. His head hovers over your own, eyes turning back to admire you as he mindlessly continues to wash your hands.

"God, is that (Y/n) over there? I hope that idiot isn't clobbering the poor girl," Jin's voice speaks up from behind you all at the front door, which had swung open moments before. You all watch him and Itadori shuffle into the space, the teenager clad in his baseball practice uniform.

"He's washing her hands," Choso deadpans, turning to greet Yuji as he walks into the space. The said boy furrows his brow and looks over at the huddled pair of the two of you.

"Really? Why? That's... oddly nice of him," he tilts his head.

"No the hell it's not," Gramps chimes in from the couch, having tuned into the family conversation with the return of his son and grandson.

Sukuna ignores the comments getting thrown around about him, his mind's only sole focus being you and the way your hands trickle over with water within his own.

"All of you shut up. I'm speeding things up," Sukuna slurs, and all heads turn to him.

"Are you high?" Jin raises an unimpressed brow at his twin.

"Stay out of my business."

The living room and kitchen combined erupt into lively chatter as voices overlap one another and some argument about some sports team ensues after an argument about Sukuna's habits. The cookies long having been tucked into the oven flood the space with an intoxicating scent, and as you move around to make sure the space is tidy when you are done, Sukuna does not let go of you once. He's stuck to you, rolling his hands over your hips and kissing across your shoulder, performing rather uncharacteristically gentle as he handles you as though cherishing you in his senses' heightened yet blurred state.

The red eyed man is especially hot on your tail when you step away to the bathroom. The second you make it into the space to prepare to examine yourself in the mirror, the door is clicking shut behind you and Sukuna is making his way over with a gleam of entranced greed.

You go to press your palm forward to catch his chest before he can completely approach you, but your strength proves inefficient against Sukuna's as he pushes back against your hands, lips curved in a lazy smile.

"You need to calm down," you nod with a nervous smile, squeaking when he flies his hands downward to tightly clasp your waist and pull you into him swiftly. "Seriously! Stop looking at me like that. You're gonna get us in more trouble."

"Be quiet, gorgeous," he purrs when your body collides to his with a thud. He hums, sliding his fingers past your hair to settle on the back of your neck, his thumb clasping over the front in a soft squeezing motion. Your smile dwindles slightly as he drags your head forward, his lips parted with a toothy, satisfied beam as you melt down before him. "Give me a kiss."

"No," you breathe out as though you had been holding in air.

"Why? What's the matter with you, girl?" his sultry voice questions rather teasingly.

"It's never just a kiss with you," you whimper. "And I'm not doing anything at your family's house with all of them standing twenty feet away."

"Didn't I tell you to stop talking about them? Hm?"

You chew down on the inside of your lip, eyes flickering to Sukuna's lips. "You never listen."

"I'm listening," he murmurs, brushing his mouth against yours. "To that little heartbeat of yours racing whenever I touch you."

"Kuna," you whisper, his hand giving your neck another soft squeeze. His heavy stare envelopes you in its fuzziness, his surroundings an air of buzzing nonsense yet you are the clearest thing that appears before him, your scent, your body, your face.

"Kiss me, peach," he orders lowly again and you shiver.

"Just one kiss-"

"Mhm."

Sukuna captures your lips in his before you can even finish your sentence, his aroma wafting into you so intoxicatingly that you believe that you yourself could get high off of your boyfriend's presence.

He melts into you, smoothing his mouth over yours passionately, firmly, softly. You cling to his back, leaning backward as Sukuna pushes further into you, his hand catching the back of your head so you don't lose balance with his weight. He's lethargic and heavy, slow with the prying of your lips apart and the slip of his tongue against yours, with the tilt of your head and the generous exploration of his hands over your frame. You almost do not think he can breathe, that he is fighting off air to keep his lips connected with yours.

You release a soft moan when his sharp teeth sink into your bottom lip to drag it out, eyes peeled open slightly to watch the blissful expression of your face.

"Sukuna," you mutter his name once more, only this time, you are unsure if it is a plea or another warning.

The salmon haired man bends down to tuck an arm under your butt, wandering you over to the bathroom counter and seating you atop the granite.

He cages you beneath him with his hands planted on other side of you. "That's right," he smirks. "Keep saying my name like that"

He presses back into you, and you wonder to yourself as you succomb to his will why anyone in this house allows Sukuna to smoke around you, knowing the recurrent outcome.

[serawritesthings]

hi! Sorry for any mistakes, english is not my first language. I don't know if you're accepting requests, if you not, just ignore. But I'm wondering how you would write something related to a jealous Arthur Morgan, high honor of course (with smut or without smut sincerely you know what looks best). the way you write is addictive and passionate, i believe anything you write from this would be great.

OUR DEAR, GREEN LITTLE FRIEND

Pairing | Arthur Morgan x Fem! Reader Summary | Oh, jealousy. When the thought of you straying too close to the comfort of Charles, the green monster claws its way into Arthur's head. Tags | sexual content 18+ minors dni, tiny bit of angst, description of violence and wounds, fluffy at times, smut Word Count | 10k A/N | Hi everyone! I just HAD to write this request, hope you like it! Also, thank you dearly anon♡

While many found the biting cold of the climate north of West Grizzlies to be bitter–sharp air seeping into your very bones–you saw it oddly liberating despite the current predicament. The circumstance was dire, indeed, and you pondered many times if this would finally be the end for all of you, thinking of the incredible luck you had managed to have so far. Fate, or an astonishingly fascinating knowledge on how to escape the grappling arms of the law with a suspicious amount of people trashing through the roads in utter, sheer panic.

Glancing around you as you huddled closer to the fire, hands rubbing furiously against the wool of your gloves to gain even the slightest warmth to your biting fingers, you were met with the flushed cheeks of your comrades. The skin that now glistened from the melting snowflakes was caressed by the warm, orange glow from the flames lighting up the small hut you had taken residence in. 

The road leading to here had been long, and the time spent in the wagon that did nothing to shield you from the penetrating wind that howled into the night, your thoughts had been entirely focused on the man who now lay dead a few meters away, tucked in some fabric to shield the paling flesh of a corpse. While the thought might not make you uncomfortable, it did its thing on the others who looked weary at the covered man. 

You had done your best to tend to him amidst the severe trembling of your fingers and numbness spreading through you the longer you rode in the worrying storm, finding his blood still staining the cotton of your gloves–a reminder that you had done what you could to help the poor fellow. Despite not knowing him well enough to shed a tear, death was still a death, and a slight melancholy set its claw in all of you as you tried to regain some warmth. 

“Stupid man.” Glancing beside you, you took notice of the dark-haired woman muttering angrily as she held a sleeping Jack close to her body. 

“What’s wrong?” You inquired quietly, curious of her obvious disdain.

“John Marston is what’s wrong.” Blazing heatedly into the fire, you could almost see the depths of hell through her furious eyes. “He didn’t come back with the rest.” Shifting her eyes to yours for a quick moment that, although short, showed the worry hidden beneath her anger. 

Nodding slowly as you leaned against her slightly in comfort, you realized you hadn’t taken notice of the man’s absence until now. Returning with empty hands and another mouth to feed had instead been the case, no Marston as far as the eyes could see as he probably whirred around in the blizzard somewhere.

“Do you think he…” As you spoke, you trailed off, growing unsure of your words while realizing your comments might be prodded into a sensitive subject. 

“No.” Firmly, she sniveled harshly, shaking her head in protest. “No, he wouldn’t leave again.” Although her words were sure, you still felt a lingering doubt cloud your mind, remembering being told of his earlier departure from the gang that caused more scars in their relationships than good–not that it wasn’t faulty from the very start.

As you were about to let your prying win against your common sense, you were interrupted by the door being audibly slammed open, the noisy winds from outside growing louder as snowflakes whirled inside. Walking inside was the prominent figure of Charles, nodding respectfully to its residents as the door shut behind him, once more letting the warmth settle.

“Folks.” He mumbled quietly, treading through everyone huddling by the fire as he glanced curiously at the new woman before settling beside you. You glanced up at him, taking in his snow-covered self before lingering on his hand that rested motionless on his legs, bandages visible under his gloves.

“It’s not too bad; the cold seems to numb the pain.” A slight smile graced your lips at his observance, finding it unique to the man to be so tentative to everyone around him. Letting out a small laugh, you reach to remove your gloves before taking his hand in yours so you could lay it in your lap, unwrapping the bandages to examine the burns covering his skin.

You had given it a quick look-over before you had to tend to Davey, doing the best you could to ease his pain you were sure would be unavoidable. Although the sight was quite gruesome, it didn’t look as bad as you had expected.

“You’re stronger than me, that’s for sure. I would be a crying mess if I burned my hand like that.” Your voice was gentle as you started to rewrap the fabric around his hand, finding it increasingly irritating you didn’t have the tools you usually did that would indeed do a fine job at lessening his pain.

You had managed to gain a slight smile from the otherwise aloof man, probably finding your words humorous. “Let’s hope it’ll never come to that.” 

Sharing a look, you heard the door open once again, the irritated voice of Uncle damning whoever was letting in the cold for the second time. Both you and Charles laughed slightly, and as you looked up, you were faced with a pair of squinting, blue eyes, the icy cold from the outside seemingly enhancing their sharpness although making a welcomed warmth spread through you as they gazed over you in a quick motion–departing to look at the hand that rested in your lap.

“A sad loss, folks,” Hosea stated as he stepped onto the wooden planks, speaking out loudly in the otherwise calm hut, groaning as he helped Arthur lift Davey’s lifeless body, limp like a ragdoll. 

Glancing subtly, you observed him as Arthur’s bulky form lifted easily, unlike Hosea, admiring how he made it seem so effortless. The others called him the camps workhorse, and you didn’t fail to see why, keeping your eyes firm on the man as he carried him towards the door. 

He shrouded you in uncertainty; he did, and you weren’t sure how to behave in his bold presence. You often felt like a goody two shoes, and even though you weren’t the perfect picture of a law-abiding citizen, you could honestly say you were a wimp compared to Arthur. 

You should be embarrassed, you really should, but there was something in his eyes– something that made your heart race. Utterly shameless, yet desperate to lock gazes again despite contradicting yourself and avoiding them every chance you could. Before you could get caught this time, you directed your eyes, focusing on tightening the bandages so they wouldn’t come loose. 

“Try to be careful, will you, Charles?” You spoke quietly while patting his hand, motioning that he was all set to go, but his hand stayed, giving you a grateful look. 

“Thank you.” His soothing voice was hushed as the loud bang of the door slammed shut not long after, ridding you of the tumult after their departure. 

–

Oh, it burned. It burned so deep in his loins that it felt like he would erupt into flames any second. Despite the cold surrounding him, he was sure it could be possible the more he was left with his thoughts. The hushed whispers, the soft touches, and the ever-so-gentle look in your eyes made him want to empty the little food in his stomach. 

“Sneaky little rat,” Arthur grumbled to himself as he shoveled his way through the deep layers of snow. Here he was, out in the cold, tortured by the howling winds of the snowstorm, while Charles remained inside the warmth of the hut, seated next to you, all because of a slight burn. 

He knew what he was up to–what any man would do if it meant getting your attention–and he wasn’t humored. Taking advantage of your good nature was downright uncalled for, bordering on immoral, which Arthur would probably realize wasn’t Charles’s character if his mind didn’t seek to find faults with the man the more his blood boiled.

He scoffed to himself, stabbing the ground maliciously, imagining your warm hands around his instead, the nimble fingers of yours tending to him as you moved in closer, your sweet smell reaching his nose as you gazed up at him, face blushed from the cold with lips begging him to warm them up with his. The thought did nothing more than cover his whole body in shivers, only to be reminded that it wasn’t him that received that attention from you.

“What are you huffing about over there, Arthur?!” Hosea’s strained voice attempted to shout over the loud winds, standing up to rest momentarily.

“Why don’t we just bury him when the storm has settled?!” Annoyance was apparent in his voice, the green jealous monster still wreaking havoc in his mind.

“I told you, the snow will be too heavy tomorrow, so we need to finish it while we still can!” He groaned, starting to shovel once more. “And I’ll be damned, we are going to give Davey a proper burial. He deserves that much!”

As Hosea blabbered on about justice and other forms of respect Arthur had no intent on listening to, he zoned out, feeling sorry for himself as he imagined you might be keeping close to Charles right this moment, warming yourself to his body in a desperate search of bodily heat. Rubbing the melted snow off his face, Arthur damned the heavens above for making him the unluckiest bastard in the West. 

Despite Arthur seeming dead set on you being lovey-dovey with a man you barely knew, Charles had left you after making some small talk, mentioning that he would try and get some well-deserved rest after the tumultuous past few days. Many others did as well, attempting to ease their minds from the constant threat against their back amidst the terrible cold.

Although, as days passed and John being back rid you of Abigail’s constant muttering, the cold only seemed to take its toll on you, unlike the others who quickly got used to the environment. Furthermore, the days only seem to get longer up in the mountains, and you wondered obsessively when you would get the chance to leave–damning everyone who thought seeking out Colm O’Driscoll in your compromised state a good idea instead of moving forwards.

Despite your dismay, you put yourself to use like the others, preparing to help Pearson in the grim act of cutting through the poor deer that had been brought back. While the sight gladdened you, knowing you would finally get a meal in your stomach, the brooding aura of a chestnut-haired, blue-coated man seemed to rain over you endlessly.

What could you have done to gain his stinging glare? It was almost cutting through you entirely from the burning that resided deep in his eyes, watching you ferociously, making your hair stand on edge. When he had returned with Charles, it had been nothing short of unpleasant ever since, although thankfully–despite his glare–his harsh words were directed towards Pearson instead of you, which you were glad for.

“How’s the cold treating you?” Glancing away from the two men bickering, you laughed slightly at Charles’s innuendo, dressed worse for wear as you pulled the thick, woolen scarf tighter around your neck, hugging yourself to keep warm.

“Could be worse, I guess,” you said, clouds like smoke surrounding you as you talked.

“I suppose. Still, I don’t want you freezing your fingers off.”

“Mhh,” you nodded thoughtfully, speaking up after silence. “Who would look after your hand if that happened?”

He chuckled heartily at your unsuspected joke, and you glanced up at him bashfully, a light smile covering your face at his apparent amusement. While your embarrassment of being so easily swayed by the cold, it felt nice having someone take notice of your obvious discomfort, even though you would say you were pretty good at keeping it to yourself. You couldn’t be surprised, though, well aware you and Charles were both tentative to your surroundings, always knowing but rarely telling.

“Here.” Taking off the large gloves covering his hand, no doubt doing an excellent job keeping him warm, he grabbed your trembling hands in his, rubbing them between his pleasant temperature hand and bandage-covered skin before gliding the fabric over yours. 

“No, Charl-” you protested, trying to stop him from continuing. 

“They’ll do you more good than me, I promise. They’re just in the way.” Stubbornly, he planted your hands back into your lap, petting them like you had done to him some nights ago before raising with a huff. 

“Thanks for the help, Arthur.” Charles nodded at the now grumpy man observing him as he rested against the wood of the wooden wall with arms crossed, seemingly ignoring Mr. Pearson’s lecture about the navy he felt so strongly about, only providing a quick tilt of his hat before heated eyes were set on you.

Your gaze faltered, the blush on your face from the cold only intensifying the spread of warmth you felt from gaining his profound stare–something you rarely took notice of. It wasn’t that he didn’t look at you; he probably looked too much at times, but he was never so ardent with it, scrutinizing you under their heavy weight–making you feel ten times smaller under his towering height. 

“Well, why don’t you skin the deer, Arthur? I’ll help you cut them up in a while, miss.” Mr. Pearson’s words were hasty, and you didn’t miss the bottle glistening under the sunlight as he tried hiding it behind his coat, scurrying away. He would, in fact, not be back; you were sure of that much. 

It wasn’t often you found yourself alone with Arthur, and you never strayed too close, finding his presence somewhat daunting. Not that you’ve had many chances to speak amidst all the chaos surrounding you, and being relatively new to the gang meant the trust lacked significantly from both sides. But, the intrigue was always present in every glance and movement.

You felt his gaze fixed on you a moment longer as you stared heedlessly at your hands, rubbing them together anxiously, having no clue what to do with yourself. While you weren’t one to speak the ears of others, you never had any problem socializing with those around you��but Arthur, he was something else entirely. Finally, though, he moved, approaching the hanging carcass.

“How are ya?” His sudden words surprised you, hanging awkwardly in the air.

“Oh, um. Good?” You cringed at yourself, finding the words stuck in your throat as his voice rumbling was loud and confident.

“Cold?” 

“A bit,” you said softly, staring at his back as he heaved the skin away from the animal, movements rigid and harsh. “Charles gave me his gloves, so it’s a little less chilly now.” You stumbled over your words, admiring his strength unabashedly as he hauled the skinned deer over his shoulder, slamming it down the table with a loud bang. He gave you no answer, instead bringing out the knife in his belt to do the job you were assigned to.

“Oh, let me!” Standing abruptly from your seat, you stepped towards him hurriedly in shame, feeling like you were just lazying around while Arthur was doing all the hard work. 

Grabbing his thick coat to let you take his position, you found him staying right where he was, looking down at you when your hand rested on his bicep. It was unusual for him to be so close, and a blush warmed your cheeks as his towering frame became more apparent when standing a short distance from one another.

“S’alright.” He spoke lowly. “I’ve got it.”

Your breath got caught in your throat as he gazed wholly at you, letting you know he had no problem with helping you. It warmed you, finding his action kind–just like the small acts of kindness he reserved for the other girls. You would sometimes glare after them, intensely jealous that Arthur seemed to have a soft spot for them, yet acting like you didn’t exist.

“Anything else I can do to help since you just did my job for me?” A shy smile found you, peering up at him as he sniveled, glancing at you while you sat on the bench again.

“Well, you’ve already done your charity work for the day, so you’re fine.”

“Charity work?” You wondered, staring at him curiously as he cut through the meat. “What do you mean?”

He only sighed heavily, like you should be able to understand his cryptic words. 

“He won’t die from a small burn; it ain’t enough reason to coddle the man like a child,” he grumbled. 

It took you a while to get the gears turning, but when you did, you felt yourself grow shy from his statement. “Charles? His hand isn’t looking too good…”

“Yeah? Well, you shouldn’t be so forward. You’ll give the poor man false hope.” He scoffed, stabbing the poor carcass harshly.

Staring at his back in disbelief at the sudden hatred, you had trouble understanding where it came from and why he suddenly grew so invested in whom you diverted your attention. You and Arthur rarely spoke, only changing quick words occasionally ever since you found yourself staying with the gang, and for that reason, you had failed to understand the reason for his hatred.

It seems all you ever did was look after everyone else, paying attention to their various troubles and tribulations regarding bodily harm. It wasn’t strange to you, and by no means did you give anyone false hope, merely trying to find your place with these people, an attempt to prove your usefulness.

“False hope?” You questioned, baffled. “I’m trying to help; I fail to understand how that is a problem.” 

“It ain’t a problem!” He grumbled, voice roaring hotly in his chest as he resheathed his knife and began to make his way out, repositioning his hat without glancing at you. You followed him, stopping short by the table as you didn’t want to stray too close to the fuming man.

“Well, it is since you are so angry about it?!” If this was how he carried out every conversation, you were glad the exchange of words wasn’t typical between you, more so the simple fact that your company had never seemed to bring him any enjoyment. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Wha-” He stops short, suddenly turning around and stalking towards you in significant strides. Gasping at suddenly having him so close, you backed away; his sharp eyes penetrated you as the warm blue of his orbs turned ice cold, glaring daggers into your own.

“What’s wrong with me?” He spoke dangerously low as his brows raised, grabbing your upper arms as he hoisted you up the table without an ounce of struggle. “I’m not the one taking every small, insignificant chance to take advantage of your good nature.”

“Charles’s not like that. He’s very kind.” You spoke in his defense, leaning back from his prolonged stare that seemed to cut through you deeper the more he stared. You had always pitied the people who got on Arthur’s lousy side, finding his presence at those times unnerving. 

Now, it seemed you were at the receiving end of it, and while it chilled you to the bones, you weren’t sure if your beating heart were because of fear or the thought of him being the closest to you he’d ever have.

You had never quite got to admire his eyes, always hidden under his furrowed brows and squinting eyes. Now that it wasn’t because of the blazing sun down west, it was from the blaring whiteness of the snow surrounding you as you found his eyes glaring at the current climate more often than not–displeased.

His eyes being dead set on you didn’t help as you could hear his breathing grow heavier, the warmth of his breath hitting your cold cheeks as his broad frame blocked the chilly winds from reaching you.

“Kind, huh?” Although momentarily distracted, you recovered as you heard him speak in a low voice, still finding his assumptions wildly out of reach while insulting you and Charles. Times were hard, and if you couldn’t look after one another, it would surely lead to your doom–Arthur, if anyone, should know that.

“Yes, kind.”

Rubbing his eyes with one hand, he backed away from you, shrugging his shoulders while walking away–like your conversation hadn’t happened in the first place.

“Sure.”

–

It wasn’t like Arthur didn’t know how to restrain himself, for he applauded himself for avoiding his apparent anger when Charles had, yet again, stolen away your attention–not that Arthur had any plans on striking up a conversation with you anyway. 

It became clear to him that when you two were left alone, you almost turned into a living statue, barely responding to him. It was unlike you, for the time he had spent observing you, you had no problem talking to anyone else–and although it was usually calm, it never deterred you from gaining the likes of the others and liking them in return.

Why did you cringe away from him and not Charles, he pondered, glaring at the picture that plagued his mind. The reason he knew, deep down, but his stubbornness didn’t let him justify your actions. In all honesty, Charles was a more reliable man than himself, intentions often apparent with a slight sense of, well, goodness perhaps—something Arthur didn’t possess in the slightest.

Goodness, in all honesty, wasn’t something he was too familiar with, and he didn’t doubt one second that you found his character to be callous, seeing as the dirty work no one wanted to do fell upon him; work everyone else found to be too cruel to do themselves. He could almost feel your disapproving gaze when he picked up his slack from Mr. Strauss’s poor victims that he always tried to prolong, and while it wasn’t his most favorable way of lending a hand, sometimes he did it out of spite. 

If that’s what you thought about him, then he couldn’t do much to sway your opinion, finding it much easier to continue with his ways than realize that your sudden carefulness off him wounded him more profoundly than he let on.

And, he was indeed a harsh man in your eyes, and although his company wasn’t entirely unwished for, he was still grim–ignoring your presence like you weren’t there most of the time. It made you wildly unsure of him, but the allure he had kept bringing you back, always wondering when you would see a glimpse of him again. You chastised yourself for it, more so now that you got a taste of his famously sullen mood that pestered everyone around him, but your eyes were still drawn to him when he was nearby. 

Maybe it wasn’t what everyone else would describe him as, but you thought of him as mysterious. Gods, you have stayed with this group for quite some time now. Not once had he spoken to you more than the standard greeting, and you didn’t know much about him besides the sharp-shooting, brutal force of a man who had no problem letting his thoughts be voiced, even though the listeners might be less inclined to its harsh deliverance.

He had been cruel, sure, but you couldn’t help but remember how close you had been before when he spewed words that clung so viciously from his tongue. Faintly, you remembered the deep scent of gunpowder and smoke, something you were certain probably penetrated his skin by now, but also the slightly musky scent hidden underneath. Your head raced in curiosity, wondering how his hands would grab you if it wasn’t in anger. Was he even capable of that, you pondered.

It’s ridiculous you knew those thoughts were born from misconceptions and assumptions. You had heard how he behaved amongst the camp women, forever gentle and careful, and you had sharpened your ear when you’d been told timidly about his earlier flings. He could be more heartfelt than your head let you acknowledge, and the thought made your head spin even more with your endless imagination.

Despite the inner turmoil that filled you from your earlier argument, you had avoided him for some days now, and it seemed to grow easier the colder you got, huddling close to the fire with every chance. It was the only thing keeping your thoughts occupied, wondering when you would get to leave this desolated mining town that grew more covered in snow the longer you chose to stay.

“Do you need help, Hosea?” Just after you spoke, heavy blankets were handed to you, the fabric made from a thick wool that looked heavenly. “Yes, thank you. I take one step outside; I fear that it will be the end of me.” You only stared warmly at Hosea, who patted you on the back. “Don’t you worry, miss. We found more blankets we thought had been lost in that dreadful storm, so we all will sleep warmer tonight.”

“Oh, of course, I’ll help-” Despite the whistling winds that had picked up as the sun shone its last tendrils, you didn’t oppose the idea, but you were interrupted by a mischievous look handed to you by the older man.

“Make sure Arthur grabs one, too; you know how he gets.” Before you could question his meaning, he slunk away, pulling the warm fabric tighter around his shoulders without a glance at you, chuckling merrily. You chose not to ponder too hard on his strange ways, instead making your way to the door, shivering badly as you stepped outside.

Smiles were all you were greeted with as you handed them off, and it was no surprise as it was a welcome sight to everyone to gain some extra warmth to wrap around themselves. Although feeling content by being of help, you couldn’t help but wonder where Arthur could be, a single blanket now left in your hands.

Grumbling to yourself, you stepped out from the hut Dutch and Molly resided in, glancing at a smaller building some paces away, finding the orange glow of a candle lighting up the smaller barn where the horses were kept. A small smile found you, finding it very fitting for him to be where there were fewer people. 

Although slightly fearing what could come to be an awkward encounter, you found yourself being too forgiving many times, and you damned yourself for it. What he said hurt you deeply, making you ponder if you had given Charles other signals than intended. It could be a possibility, yet you had never had too many romantic dealings with men to presume that that was the case, but his eyes held something tender the last few times you spoke as you recalled it.

“Arthur…” As you stepped inside after pulsing through the thick snow, you searched for the blue coat you had grown familiar with in this weather. “Are you here?” You asked quietly, wondering if he could hear you.

You cautiously stepped further into the barn, placing your feet steadily on the ground before you so you didn’t slip and embarrass yourself. It was friendly out here, you could admit, the snow muting every sound and almost making every slight sound caress your ears. 

As you stepped further inside, it turned out he was here, and he took no notice of you as you rounded the corner to gaze at his seated form, seemingly writing something in his journal. It was an unusual sight. Sometimes, you observed him as he wrote in his journal back at camp, yet you didn’t make a habit of it, too shy to question him at the time.

How he didn’t freeze to death in this climate was beyond you, his fingers bare as he scribbled, fingertips red from the cold and dirty from the chalk. You made a motion to speak up once again but found yourself tongue-tied as you took him in, and as you did, the thought struck you that he wasn’t writing but drawing.

How unlike him, you thought, watching his brows furrowed from time to time, fingers moving expertly while the soft glow of the candle beside him almost softened his features. Your presumptions might be harsh, but you had never found him to be a man well-versed in the creative aspect of life, and while the brutal ways of his life spoke for him, you found it to make him slightly more approachable. 

“I didn’t know you draw.” You stated fondly, his eyes fitting into yours the moment the first word left your mouth, growing visibly stressed as the journal was planted into his coat pocket. A rough cough left him as he did, eyes faltering when he saw your observant gaze linger on him unabashedly.

“I don’t.” A small laugh left you at his abrupt words, not teasingly but perhaps warmly, choosing not to bug him since he grew uncomfortable before your questioning eyes. 

You were given an expectant look that reminded you of your actual business here as you stepped inside the building, closing the barn door behind you to shut out the wind that somehow managed to find its way through the cracks in the walls. 

“Here, we found some more blankets. Hosea asked me to bring you one.” You met his eyes briefly as you stretched out your arms for him to take the blanket, eyes faltering to it at his piercing gaze.

“Hosea, huh?” A scoff left him, resuming his arms to cross over his chest, shaking his head slightly. “You keep it.”

“No, I-” 

“Nah, you chattering your teeth keeps us up at night. Take it.”

His words should have taken you back since his voice was stinging, but a light laugh left you, knowing he was right. Wrapping yourself in the soft, warm blanket, you surprised Arthur by sitting beside him, heavily clad shoulders touching each other as you did. 

“I don’t understand.” You stated, staring at the large shadows that flickered on the wooden wall before you. “How can you not be cold? I feel like if I spend one more day out here, I’ll freeze to death.”

You turned your head towards him, caught off guard when you felt his gaze already set intensely on you. Your eyes faltered to his chest, growing shy as you always did when you had his attention on you. It wasn’t unwanted, but you didn’t know what to do with yourself in moments like that, unused to the fire that always burned so deep in his eyes.

“Used to it, I guess.” His voice rumbled hotly in his chest, fingers flexing against his will as he took the chance to observe you. He had never had the opportunity to see your face this close. Your wet lashes clung together as you blinked, undoubtedly from the heavy snowfall outside, framing your eyes that Arthur always noticed were so very easy to read, yet at many moments also locked away.

“I don’t believe you.” How could anyone possibly get used to this? It was raw, pure torture. 

You didn’t get an answer, and as you returned your gaze towards the wall, Arthur’s eyes found your features again. He had indeed been cold before you came, but it was his only chance to find a moment of peace; the thought of spending another night in that god-forsaken hut with his dear friend and his lover giggling the night away grew incredibly distasteful.

Here, he could finally hear his thoughts, the solitude of the snow muting every sound heavenly; the only noise was the familiar scribbling in his journal as he wrote about the past few days. Though his head was calmer than before, he still dreamt of your fingers encasing his like they had done Charles, the small, elegant touches rising his arms slowly, making him shiver wildly as the scene flashed before his eyes. 

He knew he shouldn’t think of you like that, and he certainly had no right to be angry at Charles since he felt so unabashedly filthy things about you, but he couldn’t help it. Your every scent, every motion set his blood afire; small deeds of good you always found yourself doing so harshly contrasted his actions he couldn’t help the fact that you intrigued his whole being. 

So good, so… soft and warm. As he stared at you, all he wanted was to reach out and pull you closer to him so he could feel your shivering body close to him, knowing many ways to warm you up. Sighing, he removed his hat, running his fingers through his hair as the thoughts took a turn he always hated himself for.

“Hey, I uh…” Arthur trailed off, finding the words he wanted to speak stuck in his throat. “I shouldn’t have spoken to you that way, like I did back then.” He stared before him, yet he felt your eyes heavy on his.

He did feel bad, and it had been the reason for his brooding temper since then, not coming to terms with his wrongdoings until now. He had probably scared you, he concluded, and could only assume he was right as you had done your utmost to avoid him as of late.

“Don’t be,” you said with a light smile, not expecting his apology, even though he didn’t say sorry directly. “It’s a lot right now, I understand. But I still don’t understand why you’re so angry at Charles.” You were briefly met with a light sigh, eyes flickering to yours before diverting the flickering candle. 

“Nah, forget it. Just me being stupid is all.”

“I don’t think you’re stupid. Maybe you’re mean sometimes and grumpy,” you said, giving him a teasing glance. “But not stupid.”

A scoff left him at your words, yet you could see the corners of his mouth chirp up lightly. “You’d be surprised.”

As your snickering died down, you rested your head on the wall behind you, not wanting to leave the quiet comfort you found yourself in nor the conversation that panned on longer than you had anticipated, much to your surprise.

“Why are you out here if you are so cold, girl?” He questioned you, catching a glimpse of your almost blue lips. “Go on inside; you’ll freeze to death if you stay here.” It would be best for you to return because he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if his thoughts progressed like they did before in your presence. As he placed the hat on his head again, he glanced down quickly, doing a double take as he found you staring at him. 

Was the cold finally getting to your head, or was it simply being in the presence of the man you were so unsure of but wildly intrigued by? You couldn’t tell, but the warmth spreading in your stomach as he glanced down at you spread ferociously through your stomach, almost warming you to your fingertips. 

Suddenly, Arthur moved his arm slightly, and the motion made you jump, leaning away from him as you unconsciously drew closer to him. You couldn’t tell, but it almost felt like your body sometimes contradicted your mind, defying your sense of morality.

“Are you afraid of me?” He questioned, gazing at you unexplainably. Both of your breaths were audible in the quiet night, blowing like smoke out your mouths as the world around you blurred. It wasn’t like Arthur couldn’t contain himself around women, but you were something else entirely. Only in his wildest dreams did you stare at him like that, like you were expecting–waiting– for him to do something. 

Yet, you looked guarded, like a cornered lam, waiting for the right moment to sprint away. You pulled away, only to lean in further, the cogs in your head turning something so awful in your mind, observing his every move yet not registering your own that reached out to him.

And gods, did he want to do the same; his internal battle proved to be more difficult as your hand gripped his coat tightly, only wanting to warm your blue lips with his own and show you how he could warm you up better than Charles’s damned gloves ever could.

“Sometimes.” You let on, voice shaking from both anticipation and uncertainty.

Leaning down towards you hesitantly, he felt hot all over when he realized you didn’t shy away from him like expected, mouth only parting further as he drew closer. As you did, you felt your breath hitch when a hand was placed on your upper back, Arthur’s weight only making you glide further down the wall until your head was resting in the crook of his elbow.

“Arthur…” He was so close now you could almost feel his heartbeat through the vast amount of clothing, breath hitting your cold, blushing cheeks as he leaned closer, the calling of his name only drawing him in. He was sure you had bewitched him, for not a single thought in his mind was about anything but the woman in front of him, entirely and utterly overtaken by what was solely you.

And through those few moments between frustration and desperation, all senses of logic disappeared as the skin of your lips conjoined, drawn together like magnets that snapped together like they never wanted to be apart again. Eyes grew shut, the only sound now the deep humming in Arthur’s chest as your hands found his cheeks, caressing the chilly skin under your palm with your thumbs.

It was ragged and scarred, a deep contrast to your own that had never tasted the metal of a gun and the blood of a foe, and the thought made a gasp rise in your throat as his weight fell heavier onto yours, pressing you into the hay-filled, snowy ground. 

“Tell me to stop.” He grunted against your now wet lips, only taking a second before joining them again. He was covering your entire body as he lay above you, resting his weight on his elbows as your head rested on his arm. 

“No…” You mumbled, words almost not audible against his desperate mouth, feeling just as affected by the desire as he did. You felt his face scrunch up almost painfully before he took the hand that rested on your back to glide under your coat, resting it on the side of your waist as he stroked gently, feeling the curves that hid underneath the damned fabric.

It was torture. It was an unexplainable torture that you would freeze to death if he removed the clothes that covered you, and he would surely go insane if he couldn’t feel the skin he imagined would be so very soft under his rough fingers. Just a taste, he thought sinfully to himself, slowly lifting the fabric of your shirt from under your skirt’s waistband, worming a freezing hand inside to feel the warmth that hid underneath.

You gasped at the sudden sensation but were quickly silenced as his tongue massaged your own, and the slight moan that left you only made a groan rumble loudly in his chest. The feeling of his cold hand rose your skin, stroking every bit it came across as if memorizing it to his brain, mapping out every single inch. 

It was too much for you, the sheer desperation and want, not knowing what to do with yourself or how to dampen the intense feelings that nailed your firm to the ground. Every bit of you grew into static, and every touch from Arthur sent shockwaves through your body as his fingers caressed you.

“Come here.” Opening your eyes, you found his, although lidded with desire, gentle eyes gazing into yours, pulling his hand reluctantly from your waist to help you sit up. “I won’t let you lay on the ground.” 

You only stared at him as he seated you on his lap, chest flush against his as his hands stroked along your arms as if to warm you up, tightening the blanket around your shoulders. You felt your heartbeat pick up at his actions, your stomach fluttering fiercely as he ensured you stayed warm.

You could tell he grew wildly unsure as you remained silent, clearing his throat as if he had been in a daze before speaking. 

“If you’ll have me, that is.” You didn’t give him a chance to say more, hands finding sanction in his hair as the motion knocked off his hat, exposing the sandy locks he always kept hidden underneath it.

“Stupid question.” You mumbled softly against his mouth, pressing yourself closer to him as your fingers started fiddling with the buttons on his coat. You could already feel the heat emitting, and your fingers grew hasty as you tried to move faster, the motion of your lips faltering against his eager ones.

You would have been ashamed if it weren’t for Arthur being just as stressed about getting the buttons of your coat loose, hands wounding their way around your waist and pressing you closer to him the moment they became undone. Likewise, you wormed your arms under his shoulder, gasping as you felt the heat buried underneath the fabric, hugging him close as you placed your face into the crook of his neck. 

Breathing in your scent, Arthur revealed in the way you nuzzled against him, feeling a warmth spread in his groin when the thick coat didn’t keep the pressure of your middle away from him any longer. It was heaven, he concluded, trailing his hands down to your backside as he caressed the curves, pushing you flush against his.

Oh, how he reveled in it. He was selfish; there was no denying it any longer, but he craved you so profoundly it would eat him up bit by bit if he couldn’t have you. It wasn’t about Charles any longer; it was about the fact that you had never spared him a glance, almost bordering on fearing him, deciding that everyone else company had been much safer than his own. 

He knew it and had seen it in your eyes countless times. Arthur wasn’t unfamiliar with the look of utter horror plastered on people’s faces, for he faced it every day, and he wanted nothing more than to show you that you had no reason to feel that way with him, for he would never put a single finger that was unwished for on you.

And he couldn’t possibly hold it against you, for he wasn’t a good man, quite the opposite actually, and every lingering touch made him hate himself even more, wishing you would find it in you to push away from him–let him know that if he ever touched you again, you would kill him. 

But, he would find that you didn’t, instead only pressing yourself even harder against him in the cold of the night, breath shaking something so terribly as he moved your lower region against his in a gentle movement. It only fueled his want for you, hands struggling their way up your skirt, caressing your stocking-clad legs as he did, reaching your undergarments with a content sigh. 

His touch lighted a path up your legs, the cold nothing but a memory now even though the brisk air found its way underneath your skirt, following his hands that caressed your inner thighs in soft motions.

It was suspenseful, waiting for the skin to touch the skin, for his strong hands to wound around you as he had already wormed himself around your heart. And as he did, the coil in your stomach grew so incredibly tight you felt like it was too much like his touch alone wounded your every fiber, but instead of hurt, it was an undeniable pleasure that hit you tenfold.

The hand that had crawled its way inside your undergarments stroked alongside your tender parts, never touching you where you wanted him the most–the place that longed for his touch. He had to be teasing you; there was no other explanation as he smiled softly at your expression, gasping for air as you gripped the sides of his arms, trying to push against his fingers. 

“Ah, sweetheart.” He only cooed at you, gripping your wrists with one hand as his other finally glided over the wetness of your heat, gazing directly into your eyes with his sharp gaze, admiring your pleasure-filled face that begged him to give you more, to provide you with his all. And, as he spread your folds with his fingers, the filthiest whimper of pleasure left you, laying its noise into the quiet night with no worry about anyone hearing, only fools deciding to stray outside in this bleak, frigid night. 

Falling into his arms yet again, you let him enter a finger into your warm cavern, gasping desperately for air as the unfamiliar stretch widened you, dragging wonderfully against your clenching walls. It was vile, the way Arthur reveled in how tight you felt against his finger, and as he pondered on how you would feel when he pushed it you. The thought made a striking, white pleasure shoot through him, making him grunt out against your neck.

“That good?” He spoke out, adding another finger into you while placing wet, hot kisses against your blazing neck, wanting nothing more than to hear your heavenly sound of approval. 

You attempted to nod, but the motion was interrupted by the increasingly more extensive stretch from both of his fingers; gasping like a madwoman as you moved against his hands, wishing to pull his fingers even deeper into you, dissatisfied when you realized it didn’t do the job.

He could only groan when he realized your intention, slipping his coated finger from your warm heat, bringing them to his mouth quickly while his other hand found the zipper of his jeans, fumbling in a stressed fashion to get rid of the constraint.

A dissatisfied moan left you as he did, wishing for nothing more than to feel the delicious stretch yet again carry alongside your walls. But, as he fumbled with his zipper, you quickly got your senses together. You helped him undo his suspenders, then slipped underneath the fabric to trail your hand alongside the apparent bulge that stretched underneath, finding his groans to fuel your actions. 

For a short while, your eyes met amidst the hurry your bodies experienced, and the moment slowed down to a halt as your lips found each other once more, moving against one another like starved men. You couldn’t be closer to him, and he couldn’t possibly be closer to you, and while you earlier had pondered that this was a good idea, you couldn’t imagine anything else at this moment.

And, as your hand wrapped around him momentarily, Arthur could feel his brain’s short circuit, like he had never been able to hold a single thought in his mind his entire life. You had to have bewitched him, for he complied to your every touch, body moving against your every move like your hand was glued to his body.

“God,” he mumbled against your lips that massaged his own, thrusting against your hand as you stroked him tenderly, gasping against him quietly. It wasn’t hurried but warm and slow, basking in each other’s presence like you had never before discovered the feeling of another’s touch against your own.

“That good?” You replied teasingly, mimicking his earlier words as you smiled a toothy smile, feeling him chuckle lowly at your apparent teasing, giving you a playful slap on your behind as his breathing picked up.

Suddenly, you felt a hand encase your own. As he removed it from his throbbing member, he only grabbed you closer, wounding his arms around your back as he pulled you into a hug, the feeling of him underneath you wonderful as you glided along it–moaning wantonly as the friction shot sharp streaks of pleasure up your body.

“Come on, sweetheart. I’ll warm you up.” As he spoke, he could feel himself shudder as your wet lips encased his tip, groaning audibly as he thought you rubbing against him. You were illegal, he concluded, for nothing could ever be allowed to feel this good–it wasn’t possible.

“Please,” you gasped against his lips, moving your hips slightly as you felt his hands circle your waist. “Please, Arthur.” 

He hushed you quietly, finally feeling you wrap your lips around him as he slowly entered your warm cavern, the walls fitting him snugly as a grunt left him unexpectedly, lost in the pleasure you brought him. 

While it felt too good to imagine, you could only keep your mouth open at the sensation, wondering how something could ever fill you up quite as good as this. Without a single thought, you sat down entirely, feeling him stretch you wonderfully as you wrapped around all of him, wounding your hands around his neck. 

You didn’t need to move much, for he thrust up into you when you had gotten used to his size, feeling yourself being hitched up to his body as the motion made your whole body rise to then fall back down on him, once more filled to the brim. His grunting in your ears filled your senses, and while the slight consciousness entered your mind, wondering what you were doing, you pushed it far back, relishing in how your body responded to his.

Despite the cold that was surely creeping into your bones the more you stayed out here, the sound of skin against skin filling the empty spaces around you made you feel more connected to each other than you had ever felt with anyone else. 

You started to move with him, bringing down your hips to meet his while he thrusts into you, growing more desperate by the minute. You found the hands hugging your waist, circling their arms around it, pushing you even further against him as you rested your hands on his cheeks, having no choice but to stare into his lidded eyes as he grunted roughly underneath you. 

God, how he wanted to push you down onto the ground and drive into you, damning the snow that covered the ground. Instead, he glided down further from the wall, feeling your weight press against him more as your head found sanction in his neck, feeling his thrusts grow more in power as he pistoned into you harder from the new position.

“Arthur.” You breathed out, feeling the stretch of him grow as the position made him reach even deeper inside you, one arm reaching down to grab your bottom so he could hold you firmer against him.

“I know, honey.” He murmured, head growing dizzy as you clenched around him so wonderfully, mewling sweetly into his ears as you let him take control. 

Did it make him an evil man for reveling in what he knew Charles would never gain from you? Maybe it did, but those thoughts were placed far back in his mind as your lips found his, small moans now muted as you grew desperate for his affection, growing insatiable to once more feel the fondness that laid in his every touch.

He had been so angry that someone else had gained the courage to do what he couldn’t, realizing he had been too late. Yet now, as you remain unknowing above him, it only made his lips plant themself firmer against yours, determined to make you understand that nobody could make you feel this way except him.

Grabbing the blanket off your shoulders, he threw it down towards the ground as you gasped, stroking your waist tenderly before slowing his movements. 

Your breath heaved something so terrible, your voice shaking as you spoke. “Don’t stop, Arthur. Please.” He felt his stomach coil at your words, throbbing inside you as he moved to a seated position.

“I ain’t stopping, sweetheart,” he let on, leaning you backwards lightly. “Lay back for me, okay?” You did as he said without a protest, the cold now gone as your legs spread from him.

He almost groaned from the sight, taking a moment to observe you as you stared at him through lidded eyes, blushed cheeks so wonderfully red against the whiteness of the snow you almost looked like an angel–your hair spread like a halo around your head where you laid on the blanket.

Crawling over you quickly, he grunted as he felt your hand encasing itself around him, stroking slowly as you guided it to your clenching hole. For a moment, he felt a relief spread through him at the feeling of your walls surrounding him before the sheer and utter desperation set in, beginning to move into you at a faster pace than before. 

Your breath hitched at the sudden movement, yet you gripped his arms to keep him there, not baring the thought of him stopping again. Being over you gave him more control, and his primal instincts set in as the coil in his stomach shot burning flashes throughout his body, wanting nothing more than to feel your warm walls around him forever. Maybe it was the desire talking, but he swore that the thought of you being like this with any other man than him would make him heave.

Encasing his arms around you as your hands found his hair, he felt your legs wrap around his waist, now so close he was grounding into you relentlessly. Rough yet tender, he moved into you with care, but you could feel that he was holding back as he panted above you.

“Don’t stop!” You begged him once more amidst his thrusts, pulling on his strands as his lips found the softness of your neck. Why you were begging, you couldn’t say, oblivious to the words leaving your mouth in utter bliss.

“Hm?” He mumbled, smiling lightly from hearing your ruined voice beg him. He felt like a sick man gaining pleasure from it, but his mind was too hazy to take notice, longing to hear those words leave your sweet mouth once more. “What was that?”

“Don’t stop,” you voiced breathlessly as his hand found your breast, rolling the nub softly between his rough fingers. Despite your begging, for his own sickly twisted pleasure his hips ceased their movements, moving torturously slow as he raised his elbows to stare at your tear-filled eyes.

They shot open as he slowed his pace, displeased he didn’t listen as you already felt shameful for sounding so desperate. You couldn’t help it, for it felt too good, and now that he had stopped, you wished he never had. Was he teasing you? The thought made you blush from embarrassment and annoyance, pleading with your eyes.

“No…” You mumbled, trying to move against him, yet his hands held you firm against the ground.

“Say it.” Arthur’s voice was coarse as he spoke, grabbing your hand to place tender kisses on it as your displeased sounds reached his ears. He only got a confused look, smirking slightly at the longing and apparent dissatisfaction plastered on your face. A biting shadowed lust replaced his usually sharp eyes as he watched you, carnal written deeply in his eyes.

“My name, sweetheart. Let me hear you say it.” Suddenly, he pistoned his hips against you, driving up your wet walls as a mewl left you from the sudden force. You felt his intense eyes on you as your eyes shut momentarily, and through your blurred vision, they didn’t stay open for long.

“Arthur,” you moaned, eye-rolling into the back of your head as your back arched, a wave of pleasure shooting through you at his demands. He held the same controlled yet sensual pace, knowing he’d slip out of you if he went any harder. Still, his accuracy was wicked–hitting the right spot with every move.

“That’s it,” he praised you, placing another kiss on your palm as his thrusts increased, grunting roughly as your walls squeezed him tightly. You break into sobs as you reach out to grasp his arms, tilting his head up just enough to let you know he’s watching you, his hazy gaze roving over the devastation on your face. 

The snow around you mutes the sound of skin hitting skin as he sets a brutal pace. “I didn’t tell you to stop, sweetheart.” The deep rumble in his chest as he spoke the words laced with possessiveness made your heartbeat pick up faster than it already was, the light ringing in your ears increasing as your body was hoisted up with each of his thrusts.

You call his name like a prayer amidst the pleasure, and satisfaction at hearing his name come so sinfully from your mouth made his eyes roll back, knuckles turning white from gripping the ground so harshly. Oh, you had no idea that every noise you let out from his advances made his heart soar with pride, feeling the softness of your skin under the palm of his hands.

Arthur feels the abrupt stop of movements from your hand, gripping tightly on his arms as you spasm around his cock, clenching tightly as the pads of his fingers come down to rub at your swollen nub as your orgasmed, a loud whine leaving you at the contact. It’s too much for you, the sensation too unfamiliar yet devastatingly addictive–not knowing if you wanted to drive your hips away from his brutal assault or enjoy him even more profoundly. 

Even if you had decided on the prior, he didn’t let you, pushing you firm against the ground as he twitched inside you at the noises you let out, groaning lowly as he came inside your warm walls, planting himself deep inside you. 

“Christ-” He grunts out, teeth clenched as you feel his cock throb inside you, cum gathering at the base of him as his hips slow to deep thrusts, grinding into you in sheer pleasure as the knot in his stomach unleashed, feeling you placing small kissed on his neck.

The slight motion made him smile amidst his pleasure-filled mind, caressing the curves of your waist as he nestled his head into your neck, still panting heavily. As you both calmed down, it didn’t take long for your hand to find his, fingers wounding themselves around the others in the blissful aftermath.

As you opened your eyes after catching your breath, you found a pair of blue ones already gazing at you. You didn’t speak for a while, both of you trying to digest the situation as tiny snowflakes could be seen falling from the sky through the cracks in the walls. It reminded you of how cold you should have been, but with Arthurs’s broad chest covering you, it felt like you were clinging to a furnace.

“Shit, you must be freezing.” He suddenly let out, shaking his head slightly as if in a daze before rising to pull you with him. As he pulled your skirt down your legs, rubbing them between his hands to warm you up, you could only stare at him in quiet wonder.

“What?” He grumbled out, sniveling lightly as he glanced at you. Had you not wanted this, he wondered, doubt starting to fill his mind. You were too quiet for his liking, only staring at him as he tried to prolong touching your soft skin, fearful of the hurtful words that were sure to come. 

“Are you jealous of Charles?” 

If crickets had been this far north, they would surely be the only thing audible as Arthur stopped. Bear of a man, hardy and stubborn to many, yet a faint blush could be seen rising to his cheeks as his face lowered–wishing so dearly he could find his hat that had seemingly disappeared so he could hide.

If he had been looking at you, he would have seen the toothy smile covering your face, a tender laugh leaving you as your assumptions became reality. You had to give him credit, though, for he had you completely and utterly fooled. 

“No.” He stated firmly, rising on his legs to pull up his pants. He found himself unable to, though, your hand grabbing his suspenders to pull him back down. The same heat that had lessened in his stomach came back as he felt your nimble touch caress him through his pants, gaining a mischievous look from you as you widened your legs. 

“Don’t worry, Arthur. I’ll give Charles his gloves back if you stay here and keep me warm.” 

Oh dear, that would do it. Whatever thoughts that filled his mind flew out the window, wholly consumed by you as your hands caressed his back, staring expectantly up at him. 

“Only me, right?”

“Only you, stupid.”

[with-my-calamitous-love]

HE SAW FOREVER SO HE SMASHED IT UP

katsuki bakugou x reader

the times bakugou broke your heart

heavily inspired by mbobhft

1) the denial

“are we breaking up?”

“…yeah.”

“oh.”

his reasons made sense. he had a job, a goal, a burning drive to prove himself as the best. he was burnt out, his fingers worked to the bones. he couldn’t give you not just what you wanted, but what you needed. and that killed him more than it did you.

it made sense. the gears turned. the writing was on paper. like almost everything he did, it worked out. of course it worked out for katsuki bakugou- he’s the best.

it wasn’t all that set in stone for you, however.

he could have given you a million more reasons before the tears spilled. “i’m an asshole.” true. “i don’t treat you right.” fair. “you deserve so much fuckin’ better, [y/n.]” yeah, he was right.

but you always liked to challenge the acceptable.

at first, it didn’t hit you as hard as you thought it would. you walked through your room, too numb to pay mind to the tears that rolled down your cheeks, and silently packed up his sweaters into a box. the necklace he gave you, the ‘k’ pendant, came off your neck like a butterfly lands on a branch, knowing that its death is inevitable and doing nothing to stop it.

at night, you cried, and cried, and cried. you called him about 27 times. he never answered. he texted you to make sure you were okay, but your tear-blurred eyes kept you from seeing the keyboard clearly. you left him on seen and prayed that he was worried, prayed that his heart would explode at your lack of an answer, prayed to god that he would come over just to check on. suffice to say your prayers were left unanswered.

you thought he’d call. but he didn’t. but your soul remained devoted, eyes glued to your phone screen and hands shaking. he has to call. he has to tell you goodnight. he has to tell you that you’re an idiot. he has to tell you he loves you. he’s going too, idiot.

right?

2) the anger

if he wanted you dead, why didn’t he just say?

your heart burned for anger. for salvation. for revenge. you knew katsuki bakugou knew anger well, but he had no idea the way your soul flared like a whole new depth of hell.

you laid in bed, awake, eyes excruciatingly drive from crying your tear ducts may as well have been burnt off. memories of him haunted your brain while your fists tightened.

you regretted giving him your heart. your love. your late nights and early mornings. your fights, your passions, your 2ams and your smiles. you hated the way you let him draw the laughter out of you, how he showed parts of himself to you he had never shown anyone.

and those little things that made up your love, he was going to use on someone else. you knew it.

he was going to cook them his special fried rice his mom taught him how to do. he was going to teach them how to punch because he doesn’t want them to get hurt- something he did for you. he was going kiss them how he kissed you, love them in a way that should have only been you.

but he shouldn’t. in fact, he should look back at what you had, and regret every. single. thing. he did to let is end. he should regret everything he didn’t do to keep you. he should burn alive from guilt. scream. cry. fight for his life while his body is doused in gasoline. attempt miserably to tear the fire off his skin while it burned him to a crisp. he should die screaming.

he should deserved it, after all. because he heard your screams, and put his headphones on.

3) the bargaining

please. you wailed. who do i have to talk to? what do i have to do to get him back!?

you suddenly thought of so many scenarios in your head, scenarios fuelled by false hope. things you’d do to kiss him one last time, to hold him, to love him and be loved by him. you’d dry the ocean water. you’d turn stones into gold. you’d bring him to heaven and back. you’d get out of bed. you’d compromise more. you wouldn’t forget to kiss him. you’d love him. you’d love him so much harder. please.

suddenly everything seemed possible. if someone answered your calls, if someone made a deal with you, you’d offer up everything. you were sure you’d place everything on the line for him. you want it all back- his yelling, his snark, his nicknames, his attitude, his everything- no, your everything. you’d pluck out your own eyes for his red ones, or your heart for his heroic soul that loved you brighter than anyone else. being loved by katsuki bakugou was something you wouldn’t trade for anything- turns out you couldn’t trade it either.

4) the depression

everything smelled like him. your sheets blossomed into his sweet, burnt scent, the one that he’d leave behind whenever he slept over simply because he left you. all your jackets felt like his chiseled arms, wrapped around you as if you’d be gone in a moments notice. his voice was everywhere. the songs on the radio, the words you read on your phone, and the memories that played like your favourite movie soundtrack.

you wondered if he knew you couldn’t get out of bed. sometimes you imagined him calling your ass lazy, and then dragging you out of bed with a kiss to your forehead and a breakfast he cooked for you. maybe then you’d rip off the sheets and face the day. but right now, your bed was the only place you could mourn.

it was cruel, in a sense. letting you fall in love with him only to leave. letting you fall in love with his stupid smug smirk, his laugh, his teasing, his anger, his unreasonable handsomeness, his millions of pet peeves and trigger words, his clinginess, his distance, his days and nights, ups and downs, his hate and love all tied into one. he made you love him, knowing you would never get to love another katsuki bakugou.

5) the acceptance

acceptance was bakugou realizing how badly he fucked up.

part 2 soon!

[thexsilentxwordsmith]

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!reader

Part 2 to Truth or Dare

Fandom: Call of Duty

Character(s): Simon Riley, Reader

Summary: After a game of Truth or Dare leaves you and your lieutenant breathless and yearning for more, will you both be able to leave things alone or will one of you not be able to hold out? And what happens when you meet again?

Word Count: 5 k

Part 3: READ HERE

So many questions are left on Lt. Riley’s tongue as he finishes another cigarette and leaves the group of officers behind in the rec to make his way back to his quarter, the spectre's touch of your full lips still causing the skin on his mouth to tingle from the sudden lack of all that delicious pressure. There is so much he wants to make clear, even more he wants to do, but where to begin? It’s all so confusing.

As he lays down in his empty bed staring up at the ceiling, struggling to relax his feverish limbs as it still feels like he has been struck by a live wire, he fails to keep his wandering mind focused on his breathing to ignore the gnawing emptiness that is filling his chest from the absence of your presence. That’s when the questions start to roll in.

Did you feel something too? Maybe it was all just an act? Does that even matter if it was?

“No,” Simon mutters to himself through the silence to stop his train of thought from running rampant. He’s allowing himself to get distracted worrying about the unknown and that is something that will only cause more problems, but he is in turmoil.

Unsuccessfully he tosses and turns in the darkness that fills the space, his thoughts drifting back to that feeling of heat from the proximity of your bodies, the residual pressure from your mouth plastered to his, the look of pure lust in your gaze, and the gnawing compulsion of his fingers to get at your curves. 

But this isn’t a lover’s island, there is a job to be done here and he has seniority. Maybe it is better to leave this alone where it stands; who knows what disaster could come from getting involved with another officer in such a capacity. And yet…

There is no stopping his mind from wandering ceaselessly back to those breathless moments where his lips fought yours for dominance with the mind-numbing electricity flowing between you, the attraction so strong it did not seem possible for you both to pull from it. 

He has a problem and it isn’t going away.

Across base, laying in the dark in your own bed, your heartbeat pounding heavily in your chest, an ache runs its course throughout your limbs. There is a need for something to ease this overwhelming desire to be craved in a desperate, debilitating way, though you really don’t want to admit it. No, you don’t need something…you need someone. You need him.

You hadn’t been ready to admit it then, but there was a spark between you that is no longer possible to ignore now that you are alone, but you don’t know how to handle things any other way than to just ignore and move on; maybe the desire to have him again will die away if you just let it be. Even as the thought enters your mind you know it’s pure bullshit. There is no denying that things became complicated the second your lips met, that it was like igniting gasoline with a blowtorch. What was once mere infatuation that you could handle, has now grown into an untamed beast inside that leaves you feeling delirious and out of control. 

Rolling onto your side, you convince yourself to leave all these questions alone and focus on something else, anything to get your mind off of what you would be doing with the lieutenant at this moment if you both had not been interrupted. As you close your eyes to force sleep to come, visions of a bare and glistening officer thrusting between your legs fills your subconscious and you hope the morning comes soon enough because sleep is going to be short tonight.

Luckily, life around base rarely stands still long enough for anything other than work to get tended to. Any hopes of exploring that tension and ecstasy has to be put on the back burner as life in the taskforce resumes its usual chaos. Daily operations keep your schedule packed completely full all week so that certain thoughts get pushed to the back of your mind. And yet, during those slower moments of the day, they come creeping back up just like they never left. 

“ ‘ello?” Soap says as he waves his hand in front of your blank face. “Ye in there, lass?”

Your fork hangs limply from your hand, teetering over your plate lunch and threatening to fall with a clatter as you realize that you drifted off again. This is the third time this week that you have gotten so lost in thought trying to recall that feeling of the lieutenant’s lips that it’s becoming apparent to your fellow sergeant that something is off. Blinking a few times, you shake your head to clear your mind.

“What?” you shoot back at him as you stab the food and push it around the plate, pretending to eat even though you aren’t hungry.

“I’ve been talkin’ for a good five minutes and ye ain’t heard a word,” he says with a hint of agitation. His steady glare gives you the once over as he tries to read your face. “Where ye at these last few days, hmm?” 

You mask your face behind your customary smile. “Maybe I’m just trying to imagine a more engaging conversation than the one I’m currently in,” you pick, but Johnny isn’t letting this drop.

His eyes are still on you, scrutinizing your body language even as you stare down into your food to avoid his gaze. From the corner of your eye you can see the gears turning in that mind of his as if he is trying to put things together. You let it go on a few more seconds before you speak up.

“You got a problem or something?”

“It’s just strange,” he chuckles and you raise an eyebrow as you tilt your head to the side. “It’s just…I was speakin’ to Gaz yesterday and he mentioned that the lieutenant seems…distracted…as well lately. Same vacant look ye got goin’ on. Ye wouldn’t happen ta know why, would ye?”

Your heart leaps with a strong thud in your chest. Just what the hell is he implying? You had been certain that Johnny knew nothing, but now you aren’t so sure. Maybe you aren’t being as convincing as you think. “Why the fuck would I know that?” you play it off as you swallow down the lump in your throat. “Do I just know everything that goes on with everyone around here? I’ve got enough on my mind then to worry about the rest of you lot.”

Johnny leans in a bit closer over his plate and lowers his voice as he says the next part, making your blood run cold. “Must be a coincidence then, that both a ye just happen ta be actin’ different at the same time, ay? Ye know, on account a tha other night.”

The heel of your boot immediately connects with his foot only hard enough to make him yelp and pop back upright in surprise. You always forget that Johnny is smarter than he lets on and it’s clear he has been paying attention. Too bad you will never give him the satisfaction of admitting anything. With a laugh he sits back in his seat as you stare him down before rolling your eyes. 

“Why are you so worried about the lieutenant? Seems like someone’s a bit too obsessed and that can be a problem. You should probably talk to someone about that.”

He shakes his head. “Whatever ye say, lass,” he says, punctuating it with another chuckle as he tucks back into his lunch. “Whatever ye say.”

Firearms and ammunition is on the schedule for the rest of your day. It is your job to take inventory of all the munitions you’ll need for tomorrow’s end of week training. At least the repetitious task will keep you busy enough that hopefully you won’t be thinking about a certain lieutenant and what he could be up to right now.

At least that is the plan that you start with, but just as every other day this week soon that hulking officer begins to creep his way into your mind. Has Johnny been lying about how distracted the lieutenant seems lately? Could it be about what happened the other night or could it be something that has nothing to do with you? Little by little, it chips away at your calm until that is all you can focus on, even as you try and get through counting and gathering all the materials you’ll be needing for tomorrow. 

There is no way for you to know, but at that exact moment there is someone coming your way with a burning question that needs answering. 

All week Lt. Riley has gone about his days as usual, except try as he might to focus only on the tasks given to him, all he can do is mull over the same question in his mind: did you feel something in the kiss the way he did? It is eating him alive to know the answer and no matter where he is, who is speaking with, or what he is doing, the question is there to make him restless.

Until finally he has had enough. Just as the question overwhelms his mind again he throws down the work on his desk, shoves his chair back to get out, and leaves his office in a flurry. He doesn’t know where he’s going, but as he walks he passes by Captain Price’s office, the one person that would know where you are stationed today. Quickly he steps inside the doorway to ask. 

Price checks his computer screen that has all that information already pulled up. “She has firearm trainin’ tomorrow with the newer recruits, so she will be takin’ inventory in munitions today,” the captain relays the information, curious as to why his lieutenant seems tense and sounds a little out of breath. 

Before the captain can ask any more probing questions or mention to his officer that he will need to speak with him in a bit, the lieutenant heads off in a rush towards the munitions depot. No matter, the captain will let him conduct his business with you and send a messenger in a bit to bring him back.    

Lt. Riley crosses the base with nothing else on his mind but to get to you and when he does he finds you are completely lost in your work, none the wiser that you aren’t alone anymore until it’s too late. You don’t hear that signature click that means the main door is opening, nor the careful, but heavily booted footsteps padding across the floor in your direction. Just a few feet from you he stops and stares silently, waiting to see if you notice his presence. 

It doesn’t take long for you to feel a pair of eyes on you and looking up you come face to face with the person that was just on your mind. You can’t stop the way you hold your breath the moment your eyes connect as every involuntary process in your body gets interrupted by his sudden appearance. Desperately you try to regain composure and shake off that initial surprise; there is no need to make this awkward, it will only make things worse for yourself in the long run. 

Clearing your throat, you shoot him a smile. “Sir,” you greet him with a nod and a slight tremor in your voice that you quickly swallow back down. “Sorry, I wasn't expecting anyone else to be here. Did you need something?”

The adrenaline makes your limbs tingle and instead of just standing there awkwardly as you wait for him to respond, you put your hands back to the task before you hoping to cause your nervousness to settle. If you have to stand looking into his face in the stillness of the room for much longer, you might combust and the risk of looking like a fool is enough to make you act out being too busy to give him your full attention. 

Standing this close with the lingering feelings from the reaction that happened the last time you were together, the lieutenant is overwhelmed and it makes him pause. That same magnetism that he had felt that night is already pulling him to you, until his composure falls apart faster than he can calm it. Still, there is a question on the tip of his tongue that he is choking to ask; it’s the whole reason he’s here and he’s not leaving without an answer no matter what.

“I need ya to stop and look at me,” he says as he steps in towards you. You discreetly take a deep breath as you set your things down to turn your face back to look up at him. 

He’s already scrutinizing your body language, focusing on any sign that might give him an idea of where your thoughts are at this moment. Those brown eyes catch how tense your shoulders are through your t-shirt, how your pupils seem dilated as you meet his gaze, and finally the way your hands tremble as they hang at your sides.  

“I want ya to tell me the truth, yeah?” he says with a nod.

You stare back at him, big doe-eyes sparkling in the overhead lights as your pulse runs fiery hot through your limbs with the growing anxiety from wondering what the hell is going on. “Yes, sir?”

The mask covering his face clings a little too tightly and the clothing on his chest traps in the heat rising in his body, making his skin clammy as he struggles to vocalize that loaded question he’s had swirling in his mind for days. Lt. Riley clears his throat; he thought he’d come up with something better than this, but thinking clearly has long gone now. All he can do is just spit it out. 

“Mactavish’s stupid fuckin’ dare, ya remember it? I keep thinkin’ ‘bout it and I need ya to tell me somethin’: was it all an act, the way we kissed?”

Fuck, how are you supposed to answer this?

There is warmth blossoming in your cheeks as the thumping grows stronger in your chest. His question is simple enough, yet there isn’t a simple way for you to answer. Tell the truth? Could you actually go through with something that risky? For all you know he could be asking just to tell you that the kiss is to mean nothing because it will never happen again, that he wants you to let it all go to clear the air of any misconceptions. You pray that that is not what he’s about to say, but as you silently think about how to answer, he pushes for you to stop avoiding the question.

“I need ya to answer me,” he says firmly, eyes never leaving yours. “Were ya pretendin’ or did ya not want it to fuckin’ end?” 

A sharp inhale of air does nothing in helping to calm your nerves; you just have to get on with it. “I-it…wasn’t an act,” you say. 

The lieutenant has his answer, that’s what he wanted, right? Just to hear you say that the spark ignited between you in those few ecstasy-fueled minutes were genuine; that is it, isn’t it? His curiosity is sated and he should be able to move on, but he can’t. With your confession comes something more, something that he can’t let go of, and that is now that he knows it was real he wants it again. It consumes him to the point that he cannot move away and instead steps in closer as he grabs your biceps, forcing you to move backwards until you find yourself against the wall directly behind you.

“Sir?” you ask to get his attention as he continues to stand there staring intensely into your face without so much as a sound. You hadn’t felt this overwhelmed by his presence since the night you two kissed, but now it is back to cloud your mind and set your pulse pounding through your limbs. 

Your furrow-browed stare wavers as you clear your throat and repeat your question again. “Sir?”

Consequences are an inconceivable concept right now; the only thing playing in his mind are how fucking soft your lips look and how he desperately wants to get lost in them again. The sensations of reliving that experience from that night in the rec consumes every molecule in his body until there is nothing left inside him except for you. 

He needs it, he needs it now, and as that deep, longing ache settles itself in his chest to cause his heart to pound so hard that he can hear the beat in his ears, he throws sensibility away as he moves to grab your hips firmly in his gloved hands. 

“We really shouldn’t be doin’ this,” he says, his body pressing against yours as he draws you in. “Ya know it’s trouble.”

His actions don’t match his words and the contradiction causes your mind to falter on what you should do. Did he want this to end or not? Does he even really know?  

“Do you want to stop, sir?” you ask timidly as your body begins to vibrate with the sudden, intense pleasure of his hands as they are back on you again. “You know we can just forget it; it’s really fine.”

One of his hands leaves the curve of your hip and travels upwards so that those long, covered fingers can string themselves through the strands of hair at the back of your head. “Who said I wanted ta forget, hmm?” he admits with his eyes firmly on your lips, watching as they part slightly so you can take quick, short breaths in and out. “Do ya think I wasn’t there, that I didn’t feel what was happenin’ between us that night? Ya think I could just forget all that? Do ya think I want to?”

His gloved thumb wraps around your face so that he can brush it over your bottom lip, letting the electricity pass through the fabric from his fingertips into your mouth. You gasp from the ache his touch leaves behind and he exhales heavily at your reaction. “Do ya know the fuckin’ power ya have over me after that? Shit, I’m riskin’ a lot just ta be here like this with ya again, knowing what could happen when we’re alone. All because ‘a one fuckin’ kiss.”

You swear if he doesn’t do something soon you are going to pass out; your mind is spinning in circles as the warm tension gathering between your bodies becomes unbearable. Only a small swatch of fabric covering his face keeps you both apart and yet you can still sense the heated air from his mouth as it sweeps across the delicate skin of your lips the closer he lowers his head.

He can’t do it, he can’t stop the way he craves you to the point of insanity right now. No, if he was going to stop it should have been long before now. As his hands cling to your body, there isn’t any chance that he is going to let you get away. He needs you, he has to have you, and it has to be right this fucking second to ease the painful longing that has kept him up all week.

Lt. Riley is gone; in his place is a depraved being that only yearns to feel that overwhelming passion that you gave him once again.

“I need more of the way it felt,” he groans adamantly. “I need ya, now.”

Before you can properly react to his heart-stopping statement, the lieutenant frantically wrenches his mask up and completely off his face, not wanting to be hindered at all from you anymore. All you catch is a crown of short blonde hair as he lets the cloth fall to the floor, closes his eyes, and leans in without another word to harshly smash his juicy lips together with yours in a reckless abandon that makes your knees buckle. 

Fucking hell it’s everything that he remembered and so much more; you taste like the best type of sin and he is ready to pay everything for it.

The force of his advance shoves your head backward into the wall as he takes your mouth with dizzying harshness, not hesitating to shove in his tongue to fill the cavity behind your lips to capacity. The tip of that wet muscle strokes across the roof of your mouth and the sensation causes your eyes to roll back into your head. If there was any doubt left in your mind, it has all dissipated now that his mouth is back on yours.

“Stop callin’ me sir. Say my name,” he forcefully demands in that husky, breathless tone, a yearning in his voice that makes your soul burn as he speaks those desperate words onto your skin. “Call me Simon.” 

You break from his mouth, your lips instantly desperate to form the word and say it aloud. “Simon,” you moan and it breathes new life into his name that he could never have predicted he needed.

Pining you tighter to the wall, he overtakes you rougher and rougher until the harshness of his movements abrades the skin of your mouth to make it swell and bruise. Relentlessly he siphones the breath from you to keep him going. That moist air fills his mouth so that he can speak. “Say it again,” he orders in a growl.   

It’s like honey as it rolls off your tongue and you can’t help but want to repeat it. “Mmm, Simon,” you whimper onto his mouth and goddamn the euphoria of having to swallow down the desperation in your voice suddenly awakens an insatiable ache that will need more to quench.

His gloves have to go, now, as his bare hands are burning to get their fill of your curves. Those thin pieces of fabric are hindering him from being able to connect with all that silky skin so that he can know what it feels like against his calloused palms. It is torment to be kept from all that ecstasy. Struggling to peel them off his fingers as he cannot pry his mouth away from yours at all, he finally frees those long, brawny digits and they waste no time in pawing wildly at your body. 

Greedy fingers recklessly claw and tear at your clothing, searching for an opening where he can penetrate to find enough balmy skin available to fill his hands until he cannot hold anymore. Deliriously and without looking he rips the pieces of your uniform up until he can get underneath them and let his fingertips get that first touch he has craved nonstop since the second he had pulled away from you that night. Those hungry lips continue to overwhelm your own as Simon is able to grab the hem and his hands have finally found their prize.

Laborious panting breaths fill up the space between you as the roughness of his hands grip into your hips and square them up against his own, pelvis’ grinding together in search of as much friction as they can find. Only a few layers of clothing keep your bodies apart, but that doesn’t stop Simon from rutting against you and you matching his movements. There is nothing else inside your head except the overwhelming euphoria of his touch along the lines of your body and the growing bulge in his pants that drills into you harder and harder the more it grows. 

No immediate danger is there to keep you both tame, no time limit looms over your heads that will force you to stop, and when two desperate things have nothing to lose, they simply let go. 

Every single one of his senses is overflowing with all of you: the feeling of your lips against his, the taste of your sweet breath in his mouth, the warmth of your skin brushing over his, the beat of your heart that he can feel through his fingertips, the sound of your quiet whimpers making his head spin. Goddammit you are eager, so willing to meet his advancements with everything you have; there is no question about what you want. And he cannot lie that he wants it too. You’ve both started down this path and there is no turning back; he knows it’s wrong, he knows he should stop, but he won’t.

You are in his veins, circling inside his mind, part of the very air he breathes; whatever risk comes with this could never outweigh the reward of getting to sate the hunger that has been driving him insane.

“Fuck it all,” he growls and suddenly his hands are under your arms and you are being hoisted up off the ground. 

Your body reacts from pure instinct by spreading your legs wide and wrapping them around his broad hips, securing yourself to him with a clench of your thighs together. Simon knocks a gasp out of you as he slams your back up against the wall to use it for leverage, his body crushing yours as he begins to grind up into you with that throbbing, engorged cock that is straining to break the zipper of his pants. 

Through your clothes he thrusts up into you with powerful strikes, hips rolling into yours over and over with desperation as he tries to get just a little bit more friction between your bodies. You use your thighs to help push yourself up off of him, bouncing over his crotch in response to mimic the way you’d fuck him. 

Simon knows he shouldn’t go any further, that he should slow things down because this isn’t the place, but he won’t. Everything is already so close, but still not close enough. He needs the real thing, not this cheap imitation. Even in the haze of this delirious union, there is only one thing he knows he has to do.

He has to get you both naked. 

Feverish fingers claw into the negative space between your bodies at the bottom of your shirt until Simon can find the hem. The cooler air outside of your clothing hits your skin with a tingle to make goosebumps appear as he pulls it up off your stomach and over the swell of your breasts.

“Lift up your arms,” he says quickly and your eyes flutter open so that you can follow the demand. 

In one swift motion the shirt is off and Simon doesn’t waste any time in ripping off his shirt as well. The feeling of skin to skin sends shivers of ecstasy down his spine as he presses against you. So soft, so warm, fucking hell is he in over his head. He leans in, bending forward so that he can kiss the tops of your breasts through your bra as he hands wander again between your bodies to the clasp on your pants.

Just as his fingers loop through the waistband, you hear the tail end of it. There is no mistaking it, it’s the signature sound of the door to the armory closing shut. You have no time to act as a private with a message from Captain Price enters in a hurry, not paying attention, and stumbles upon something he shouldn’t have under no fault of his own. 

“Lt. Riley, Price needs to see y–” the messenger says as he finally looks up, immediately stopping dead in his tracks as his cheeks flush bright red at coming face to face with the two of you half naked and twined together. 

The private is tripping over his words as an exasperated growl shuts him right up. “Outside; now,” Simon barks harshly through a heavy pant as he turns his head enough to lock eyes with the now terrified private. Quickly the young man turns tail and bolts for the door, stumbling over his feet to get out as fast as he physically can. Once the click from the door closing shut is heard, those brown eyes turn back to you.

Simon draws in a deep breath before his head falls forward to rest up against yours, foreheads pressed together as he just holds onto you for a moment. “Goddammit,” he curses under his breath in disappointment. 

Carefully he untangles his body from yours and sets you back down onto your feet. “Times up,” he repeats the phrase that ended your encounter the last time, though his tone is markedly more miserable this time, and you can’t help the way your stomach knots tightly. 

Simon grabs all your clothing back up off the ground, handing you your shirt back as he goes to put his own back on. You immediately redress and straighten your uniform as best you can with your unsteady hands. Everything gets tucked back in place once again as you wait for him to head out without a word, since this seems to be following a certain pattern now. 

But instead of simply walking away leaving you to agonize about if you will ever get a chance like this again, his arm reaches out and those long gloved fingers wrap around your belt buckle, gripping it tight in his hand so that he can drag you back against him. The other hand finds its way under your chin to force you to maintain eye contact with him; he needs you to hear him and make no mistake about what he is saying. 

“This isn’t over,” he murmurs as he guides your head forward to place one last, lingering kiss on your lips before he breaks away to situate his mask back down over his face. 

With that he turns and heads outside to the private patiently waiting to finish giving him the message from the captain. You let your eyes follow him the entire way out the door and only when he’s gone do you finally release the breath you didn’t know you’d been holding. 

This isn’t over. The words repeat on a loop in your mind. Fuck, you sure hope so.

Now the question is: when?

Tagging: @spooky-pomegranate

[ozzgin]

Some more dick-related brain rot…😘

We take the self serve dick bar and use monsters for the monster hotel. We are going to have that full “continental breakfast.” So we have a forest entity cumming maple syrup, a Minotaur cumming milk/creme, a yeti who cums slushies, a slime who cums various jams depending on whatever fruit we feed it, and any more monsters who we can utilize ☺️

When you were talking about your rats, it made me think of some rat-hybrid monster where reader can steer him via. his dick, like a reverse Ratatouille scenario 🐀

Having a robot/android partner, I could use his dick as a literal joy stick when playing video games. Also, if I have to charge robot/android, do you think his dick acts like a giant extension cord I could just plug into the outlet in the wall? Also does that mean he technically “eats” with his dick? I assume when traveling with him internationally, I gotta get a lot of compatible adapters so he can get plugged in successfully🕹️

A Hydra monster would be kinda funny to have sex with, cause maybe if you cut its “head” down south, two more will grow back 🤔

I think that’s all for now. Tell your man that he is very much appreciated, and it’s nice he’s in this club of debauchery 😉

-👘

This amount of thirst and depravity is exactly what the monster guests would come up with just to have Reader employee touch them. 😭 Content: gender neutral reader, rancid NSFW!!! (more white sauce I’m afraid), monster smut

The latest fad your centaur manager has been into is food cooked with bodily fluids. This has had several implications, all of them regrettably involving you.

While the idea has been gripping at his mind like a great plague, he can't possibly ask you to just...let go over his breakfast toast. He can already see how exhausted you return after being used by the starved guests. They stuff you just enough for you to wonder if you'll survive it, then make sure to clean up their mess, politely aiding your speedy recovery, almost as if they weren't the cause of destruction to begin with. The manager has heard it one too many times that your nether regions are numb from all the monstrous tongues and appendages.

Maybe a change of scenery will help.

"Kitchen staff? I thought I'm supposed to clean the rooms", you inquire, somewhat confused by the sudden proposal.

"It's not quite...kitchen duties, per se. We need someone to help with the hotel's breakfast. We have a new experimental menu, though not enough...hands."

You should've expected it. How bad could it possibly be, you told yourself, pouring some orange juice for the seated guests? You had your first suspicions from the big, flashy sign now propped outside the room: service provided by our esteemed and loved human employee. You didn't need to ponder much on its meaning. Once inside, your task became painfully clear. You were to milk the guests for the required ingredients.

Having their way with you is a treat in itself, but seeing you struggle with your small, human hands, trying to figure them out? Priceless. Well, for them, anyways. Despite your protests, you have left your morning shifts with a ridiculous number of tips. Maybe it's the way you look up through your lashes as you explain: "Of course I know your weak spot. You're one of my- our regulars." Or maybe it's the way you tease your favorites, wondering out loud, with a grin, if you should have some of the generous release for your own lunch later.

Your hard work has not gone unnoticed. The centaur head manager recently made the sheepish suggestion of having you at the receiving end of this new service, trying his best to sound convincing, and hiding the fact it’s been his most ardent wish for the past couple of weeks. Maybe he will get his breakfast topping, after all.

[Monster Hotel] | [More Monsters]

[justmeinadaze]

A Love That Will Survive (Eddie Munson X You)

A/N: I seriously have no idea where this came from but I worked really hard on it and I think it's the longest story I've ever written.

Please enjoy <3

Warnings: Husband Eddie & Fem Wife Y/N, The timeframes shift from young to older with 20 years of Marriage between them, SMUT, lose of virginity, dirty talk, lots of needy energy but all of it is with the love these two have. FLUFF, dad Eddie loves his kiddo and wife and vice versa.

ANGST, reader has an unexpected pregnancy her senior year of high school, she's from the richer side of Hawkins so her parents hate Eddie causing problems multiple times, Eddie and Y/N are in therapy, reader feels Eddie pulling away, Flashbacks with fights between the two of them (verbally), Eddie gets into a fight defending Y/N when some asshole grabs her arm. Y/N defends her husband against her parents. Eddie talking about fears of becoming his dad.

More than anything this is about a couple who's struggled with trials and tribulations of life and marriage but still love each other immensely.

Word Count: 12,541

Eddie Masterlist/ Donate to Me

1986

“Dooooo you love me more thaaan Henderson?”

“Yes. That was the easiest question you’ve ever asked me.”, Eddie chuckles as he blows the smoke from his cigarette towards the window. 

“Do you love me moooore than D&D?”

“Uh oh. They’re getting harder now. Of course, baby.”, he smirks as he kisses your forehead.

“More than your guitar?”, you giggle as he heavily sighs and tosses the stick between his fingers out the window before flipping you onto your back as he nuzzles his nose into your neck. 

“How dare you bring my guitar into this!”, he lightly scolds as he nibbles at your skin making you laugh harder as you wrap your arms around him. “Y/N, I fell in love you the moment I met you. I was waitin’ for a girl like you…” Your eyes roll as he laughs through his teeth before singing, “…to come into my life.”

“You’re such a dork.”

“I love you to.”

***

2006

“So…how have things been this past week?”, the therapist asks as her gaze shifts between the two of you. 

Neither you nor Eddie says a word as his eyes penetrate into the floor as if hoping it would open and swallow him up. You two had been married for almost 20 years and to some that would be an incredible milestone of love but little did the people around you know how mind-numbing marriage had become. 

When you two met there was a fire within him that you absolutely adored. He was always so animated about things he enjoyed like playing guitar or D & D. Even when he spoke about you, his hands would flail as he desperately tried to get the words to leave his brain to accurately describe how perfect you were to him. 

You weren’t sure when it happened but at some point that light and the romance just…disappeared. When Eddie came home from work smelling like motor oil and beer, he barely said two words to you before showering and crashing in bed. If he didn’t promptly fall asleep, he would pound his feet against the mobile home floors in his sweats and slight beer gut with his bare, tattooed heavy chest on display as he headed out front again to smoke a cigarette. You still thought he was incredibly attractive with scruff along his chin and the way his lose strands of hair hung around his face when he pulled it back for work. Unfortunately, the two of you hadn’t been intimate in quite some time, barely even holding hands anymore when you went out somewhere. 

The few times you did have sex, you both only took off the clothing required and he thrust into you with barely if any foreplay until you both came. Afterwards, there was no cuddles or soft kiss. You two would roll over and just go to sleep.

“Y/N?”

“Huh?”

“How’s this week been?”, the therapist asked again but softer as if treading water.

“Oh, uh, it’s been alright. Caleb went back to school on Sunday so that was hard. I miss him when he’s away.”

“I can imagine. Having any child away from home is hard but when its your only child…oof.”, she chuckles. “How about you, Eddie? How did you feel when your son left?”

“Um, I mean…it’s fine. I miss him to but I’m proud of him for going to school so…”

“Neither of us got to.”

His eyes close slightly before focusing on the woman in front of him. 

“Why did you say that just then, Y/N?”, she asks in her inquiring high pitch voice that tells you, you just stepped into a “lesson”.

“I just meant that I’m proud of him to.”

“Because he got into college or because you two didn’t?”

“What’s the difference?”

“That’s what I’m asking you.”

“Jesus fucking Christ.”, you growl. “I’m proud that my son doesn’t have to struggle like we did. He can go out, live his life, and do whatever he wants. That’s all I ever wanted for him.”

“Because of me you weren’t able to.”, Eddie grumbles.

“That’s not what I said.”

“Not in so many words but—”

“Do you blame him?”

Everything became silent as your husband leaned back on the couch and heavily sighed. 

“No, I don’t.”, you responded sternly as you folded your arms. “Me getting pregnant wasn’t his fault.”

“But you resent him a bit?”

Without waiting to hear your answer, Eddie got up and stomped out of the office.

##############

1986

The metalhead paces back and forth with his hands on his hips as you sit silently on his bed with your head hung. 

“I don’t understand. We were so careful and we used protection. How could this have happened?”

“The nurse suggested that the condom may have broken.”

“It didn’t look that way.”

“Oh, because you checked it thoroughly before throwing it in the garbage?”, you respond sassily as he angrily glares your way. “What are we going to do, Eddie?”

Hearing the pain in your voice breaks his heart and he promptly places himself beside you to pull you to his side. 

“Everything’s going to be alright, sweetheart. We can do this. We graduate in a couple of months and then I can get a job at the shop over here. I know cars so it shouldn’t be a problem. You, of course, can stay here till we find a house and then we can—”

Your lips cut him off as you cup his face in your hands to hold him to you. When you pull away, his palm laces around the back of your neck to keep your forehead on his.

“Will you marry me?” When you giggle through your tears, he can’t help but laugh as well. “I’m serious. I can take care of you, babe. Plus, you know I’ve wanted to marry you since I first met you. We’re just kind of…skipping a few steps here…”

Your eyes watch him as he yanks off one of his rings and kneels down on one knee in front of you with your hand in his. 

“I’m gonna get you a better ring, princess, I promise but like you this is special to me and I mean it when I say I want you to be my wife forever.”

Smiling, you kiss him again as you slide his ring on your finger. 

“Of course, I’ll marry you, Eddie Munson. 

***

The entire ride back home he didn’t say a word; chain smoking his cigarettes along the way. 

“Eddie, wait. Can we talk?”, you plead as soon as you enter the front door.

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

 “I don’t resent you or the life we have!”, you scream as he tried to disappear down the hallway. 

“Oh, great. Thanks, sweetheart. Now that I know that I can fucking sleep tonight.”, he responded with a tone that had you huffing as you ran after him into your bedroom. 

"What I resent is this!" His intense, brown eyes follow your hands as you gesture absently between the two of you. “When did you stop fucking caring?!”

“I do care.”

“Do you?! You barely talk to me anymore, we don’t spend time together, and when you are here physically you seem gone mentally. You always have a cigarette or a fucking beer in your hand… I mean we don’t even really fight anymore. It’s always me shouting at you while you stare at me like you are now!”

“What do you want from me, Y/N?”

 “I just want you to show some kind of emotion! You used to be so animated, Eddie, and now you just…I don’t know. You’re not as passionate as you used to be.”

“I’m not in my 20s anymore, babe. I’m sorry I’m not as spry as before.”

“Like you would know. You don’t even try or anything. We aren’t old, Eddie, and now’s our time to do everything we wanted.”

“Because I ruined our youth by knocking you up?”

Your eyebrows furrow together as you blink back tears that try to push forth. 

“No, you asshole. Because you said, you wanted to spend forever with me.”

With that, you turn around and stomp out the back door. 

##############

1988

“Every rose has its thorn Just like every night has its dawn Just like every cowboy sings his sad, sad song Every rose has its thorn Yeah it does, Caleb.”

 Eddie softly smiles as his son’s tiny palm taps the guitar his fingers were strumming on. Your own grin paints your lips as you watch him pet his unruly curls before continuing to play. His voice was a bit more rugid than normal but you assumed that was because he had been at work all day and had yet to rest. Even now his jumpsuit hung around his waist and he had patches of dirt clinging to his skin but he missed Caleb a lot when he was away. 

Eddie as a father made you fall even more in love with him as you watched them play or do anything together. He had been working back-to-back shifts to help pay for certain things your son needed and you missed him every day. 

“Hey, baby?”

“Hey, princess?”, he cooed back making you giggle. 

“How was your day?”

“It was alright. Angry customers and stupid people so ya know…Hawkins.”, he beams your way as you come over to sit beside him and pick up the baby to sit on your lap.

“You know you don’t have to work so hard, right?”

“I know, sweetheart. I just want to make sure you both have everything you need and to get us out of this fucking trailer.”

“It’s technically a mobile home…a bit bigger.”, you smirk as he leans forward to kiss your forehead. 

“But you both deserve a house and I still haven’t gotten you a proper engagement ring.”, he sighs. 

“Eddie, I love this ring. It was a part of you and it feels like you’re holding my hand throughout the day.” 

“I don’t deserve you.”, he murmurs with a smile as he kisses your lips before Caleb swats at his cheek. “Hey, hey, dude. She was mine first. Don’t get jealous.”

***

2006

His boots bang along the wood of the back porch as Eddie steps outside to find you laying on the trampoline you had gotten Caleb for his 8th birthday. His son was so ecstatic when he opened the box, begging his father to put it together right that moment. They both spent the evening working as a team to put it together and they laughed the entire time. 

The metal clanked against his belt buckle as he awkwardly climbed up to lay beside you, your eyes closing as you listened to the lighter shut as he lit a cigarette and breathed out the smoke. You would always associate that smell with him. The smell of smoke mixed with his breath that smelled the way he used to taste, intoxicating. The scent of gasoline and his leather jacket when he came home from work. 

Eddie. 

“Do you remember when Caleb broke his arm jumping on this thing and he didn’t even cry?”

The trampoline underneath him shook slightly at your laughter. 

“Yeah, he came in holding his wrist and said ‘Mom, I think we need to go to the doctor.’ Scared the crap out of me.”

“When I showed up at the hospital, he showed me his cast like it was an award or something. He said he was going to be the coolest kid in class.”, he chuckled as you both continued to look up at the sky. “He didn’t need an injury to be cool. Kid was always badass.”

“Do you still love me?”

Taken aback by your question, his head snaps in your direction. 

“Of course, Y/N.”

“It doesn’t feel like it sometimes. For a while I thought maybe this was normal, that we would grow distant as the years passed but…” Your eyes turn to meet his. “…this doesn’t feel normal.”

“What are you trying to say to me right now?”

“Caleb’s an adult now and like you said… you knocked me up. You…you don’t have a reason to stay.”

Eddie blinked as his jaw tightened and you watched his anger flow through his facial features. Rolling off the trampoline, he tosses his cigarette and stomps back into the house, slamming the door for emphasis. 

################

1992

You gnaw on your thumb as you glance towards the kitchen wall clock. Your husband was supposed to be home at 8pm and it was now 11. You had an absolute shit day and wanted to crash early after a long bath but you needed to talk to him about something important. The longer you waited the angrier you became. 

At 11:30pm, the door slowly squeaked open as Eddie tried to quietly sneak in.

“Where have you been?”, you ask sternly eliciting a heavy sigh from him as he shuts the door loudly. “You were supposed to be home four hours ago.”

“I worked late and then Steve invited me out for a beer.”

“It smells like it was more than a beer.”, you sneer as you roll your eyes. “I needed to talk to you about something important but fuck me, right?”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Y/N. What do you want? What’s so goddamn important you can’t wait till tomorrow.” Without saying a word, you try to head towards your bedroom but he quickly reaches forward to grab your arm. “No, hey, I want to hear it because obviously it’s a big fucking deal.”

Furiously, you smack the paper in your hand into his chest. 

“Your son needs school supplies and other things for next week. I get a discount at my store but I still don’t have enough for that and our mortgage payment.”

“Ok.”, Eddie sighs as he scratches the scruff on his face and looks at the list. “Ok, this isn’t too bad. We can—”

“It’s not just this. He’s going to need money for lunches and his teacher said they are going on a field trip in October and he needs to pay for the ticket. How are we going to afford that?!”

“Y/N, calm down. It’s August. We can cross that bridge when we get there.” Again, you try to leave but he tugs you once more. “What? What is it now?!”

“Eddie, it’s like you don’t care! We need to think of these things!”

“Just because I’m not flipping out like you are doesn’t mean I don’t care!”

“You always do this! You always make me the bad guy!”

“That’s not what I said, Y/N!”

“You don’t think I want to go out and have fun with my friends to?! I wish I could have a beer with Nancy and Robin after work but I can’t because I have to do EVERYTHING around here! And that includes figuring out how our son is going to be able to eat, have the things he needs, and also be allowed to have fun with his friends by going on that field trip!”

“When did you get so fucking uptight?”, he grumbled. 

“When I married you, apparently!”

“Yeah. Well—”

“Daddy?” Caleb’s tiny, sleepy voice cut through your argument as you both turned to face him as he rubbed his little eyes. “Mommy? Why so loud?”

“I’m sorry, baby. Were we being too loud?”

“Uh huh.”

As you step towards him, your son automatically extends his arms so you can lift him and he rests his head on your shoulder. 

“Hey, kid.”, Eddie smiled his way as he lightly tickled the boy’s neck with his finger making him giggle as he keened into you more. “Come on. Let’s get you back in bed.”

The metalhead followed close behind as you head for Caleb’s room and place him under his covers. 

“Mommy? Were you guys fighting because of me?”

Tilting your head to the side, you sat by his legs as you turned to face him. 

“No, baby. Daddy and I weren’t fighting. We were…”, you pause looking at your husband for help. 

“We were…talking incredibly excitedly. LIKE THIS!”, Eddie shouts causing his son to laugh. “Sometimes adults forget to use there inside voice.”

“Like—like Jackie’s parents?”, he asks, you and your husband exchanging a knowing look. 

Jackie was the little girl in the mobile home across the street and who Caleb played with on the weekends. At night, occasionally, you three would hear her parent’s fighting and sometimes she would come over for dinner just to get away. 

“Um, yeah, buddy.”

“Except not as mean. No mean names.”

“Pfft yeah. No mean names. Mommy would kill me if I called her something mean.”, Eddie jokes as he makes a slicing motion with his finger and pretends to fall to the floor dead.

“I would.”, you widen your eyes playfully as he beams your way and you bend down to kiss his forehead. “Alright, go to sleep. I love you.”

“I love you to, mommy. Love you, daddy!”

“Love you to, freak. Ow!”, he chuckles when you lightly slap his chest before winking Caleb’s way. 

After closing his door and heading to your own bedroom, Eddie tugs you into his arms and hugs you to his chest. 

“I’m sorry I was late and made you feel that way. I do care. We’ll get him everything he needs and I’d be more than happy to watch him while you hang out with the girls. He’s a cool kid and I know Wayne has been dying to see him.”

Pushing up on your toes, you tenderly kiss his lips. 

####################

2006

“So, tonight is the night, right?”, your therapist asked during your next session.

It had been a week since your conversation with Eddie on the trampoline and he had barely been home that entire time. You knew where he was because you passed the mechanic shop to get to work and his head was always stuck under the hood of a car he was repairing.  

“Yeah, my parents are doing their annual charity thing and we’re forced to be there.”, you sigh as your whole body deflates. 

“No one is really forcing you, Y/N. You’re a grown woman who can tell her parents no.” The therapists head ticked to the side as your own hung. “Why are you still afraid to stand up to them?”

“I…I don’t know how.”, you whisper causing your husband’s eyes to scan over you before glancing towards the therapist. 

“She did it once and it didn’t end well.”, Eddie explained as he straightened his jacket and sat up a bit. “When she told her mom she was pregnant and marrying me, they told her she wasn’t allowed and how ‘unbecoming’ it was for young ladies or some shit. She told her mom to fuck off and her dad got so pissed.”

You can’t help but smile when he chuckles. 

“I didn’t actually say ‘fuck off’ but I did stand up for you. I just hated the things they were saying about how you were beneath us. Oh my God and then he came towards you like he was going to hit you.”

“You jumped in front of me. I was so pissed off when we got home because you put yourself in harms way.”, he shakes his head before his eyes lock with yours. 

“I’d do it again.”

When his toothy grin softened to a smirk, for a moment, you felt that spark again that ignited within you when you two first met. Did he feel it to?

“What happened after that? Why do you go to this event every year then?”, the therapist asks and the moment passes. 

“Huh? Oh, appearances mostly. Since we got married, I wasn’t viewed as much of a slut as some other single mothers in town. It was fucking stupid but…I wanted Caleb to have his grandparents and at least they were good at that”

“Mhmm. But Caleb is 19 and in college…so why do you keep going?”

You blinked as you took in her words as if she just told you the weirdest thing you had ever heard. You genuinely hadn’t thought about it, pretty much going on impulse at this point. 

“I go for her.”, Eddie answers as he exhales and leans back on the couch. “I wasn’t going to allow her to face that chaos by herself.”

“You’ve always been very protective over Y/N. It’s definitely something I admire about your relationship.”

Your husband shrugs as his gaze shifts to the window behind her. 

“She’s my wife and the love of my life. I’d do anything for her…even leave…if that’s what she wants.”

To your therapist that seemed random but you understood. It was Eddie’s way of telling you that he didn’t want a divorce but if you did, he’d understand. 

“I don’t want you to leave. I want you to fight.”

***

1997

“Hey Grandma!”, Caleb shouts after you take off his jacket and hand it to the man your parents hired to work for the evening. 

“Shhhhhh. Now Caleb, how do we speak when at a social function?”

“We use our inside voice and manners.”, he recited, your son smiling as your mother beams at him and leans down to kiss his cheek. 

“Good boy! Oh my goodness look at you in your little suit. You look so handsome.”

“Thank you ma’am. My dad and I went to the store together.”

“Oh? You never would have been able to guess with the ensemble he’s currently wearing.”

“Mom.”, you scold as Eddie’s fingers twitch slightly around your waist. 

“Always good to see you, Angela. Would you look at that? Steve is by the bar. Excuse me.”

“Mom, they both spent over an hour getting ready for this. Can you please be kind?”

“Hm, I can’t make any promises. Oh, Y/N, it’s Michael and his mother. Didn’t you go to school with him?”

Pointing at something in the distance, you grab your son’s hand and hastily make a getaway to where Steve, Nancy, and Eddie were gathering in a corner. 

“Hey, dude.”

“Hi, Uncle Steve and Aunt Nancy.”, he grins as he leans in to give her a hug around her waist. 

“Are your parents here to, Steve?”, you ask.

“Of course. Wouldn’t miss a chance to show off their wealth for the world.”, the man sasses as he points to where they were mingling with other guests. 

As the night wore on, you saw how it affected your husband as he continually either adjusted his uncomfortable clothes or did whatever he could to maintain a conversation with someone even though anyone that passed by usually only wanted to speak to Steve. 

“Y/N, you need to go talk to Michael before he leaves.”, your mom commands as she tries to pull on your arm. 

“Mom, no. Michael and I aren’t friends nor will we ever be or anything else you try to push on me.”

Narrowing her eyes, she succeeds in pulling you away but instead of towards the other man, she guides you into your old bedroom. 

“Y/N, I’m trying to help you here.”

“How can Michael Wescott help me? I don’t need anything from him.”

“You need a better husband and father for that child.”

Your mouth falls open as her insult pierces your heart. 

“Mom, Eddie is a good husband and a wonderful father. He works hard for us both and I love him. I’m sorry you can’t see what an amazing man he is.”

“No but I can see my only child living in a trailer with barely enough means to get by. Honey, he still hasn’t even gotten you a proper engagement ring and it’s been 10 years!”

“I’m taking them both out of here right now! You never took the time to get to know him like I did. If you had you would see why I love him with all my heart!”

As you open the door, you were met with your husband chugging back the last of the liquid in his glass before tossing it onto the floor where it shattered. 

“Eddie…”

Without saying a word, he grabbed your hand and collected his son so the three of you could leave. 

######################

2006

“What do you think?”, you ask as you step into the living room and display your blue, spaghetti strap evening dress with your hair pulled up and away from your face.

Eddie tore his eyes from the mirror where he had been straightening his tie and when they landed on you, he felt his heart skip a beat. 

“I think…wow, you look fucking amazing, princess.”

It had been so long since you heard him call you that and a heavy sigh left your lips at the sound.

“Th-Thank you, baby.”

Smiling softly, he extended his arm for you to take and guided you to your car. The entire drive to your parent’s house, you took an opportunity you hadn’t in a long time and rested your head on his shoulder. His chest heaved but he leaned his head on your own as his palm rested on your thigh. 

“I think you look handsome to by the way.”, you grin as he pulls into the driveway, flashing you a nervous smile with a little chuckle. 

“Thanks. Let’s see what sarcastic comment your parents have to say. I’m guessing something about me not trying or maybe I’ve gotten too fat to wear a suit.”

“Eddie…you’re not…don’t say it like that.”

“Like what? It’s true, I mean I’m not as scrawny as I was 20 years ago.”

“I like the way you look.”, you sigh before turning to open the car door but his hand on your bicep stops you and your eyes meet his. “We can go back home if you want. Steve and Nancy can’t make it and Caleb isn’t here so—”

“So it’s ok for me to leave you to handle your parents alone while they talk shit about me?”

“Ugh, nevermind.”, you huff as you step out and saunter towards the front door. 

“Y/N, wait. I didn’t mean it like—”

“Y/N! There’s my little girl.”, your father grins wide as he wraps his arms around you. “Where is my grandson?”

“He went back to school a couple of weeks ok, dad.”

“Aw that’s too bad.” Ignoring Eddie’s extended hand, your dad drags you further into the house to find your mother who also ignores your husband as she gives you a hug.

“Oh, baby, you look so beautiful.”

“Thank you. Eddie looks really good as well tonight don’t you think?”

“Edward, oh my. Didn’t even see you there, honey, which is shocking given how much weight you’ve gained since we last saw you.”

“MOM!”

“What!? I’m just saying—”

“No, no, sweetheart. It’s alright. I have put on a couple of pounds but in all the right places. I mean, I’m not just slouching forward because I’m lazy. You know what I mean, Norman.”, Eddie winks as he pats your dad on the arm while you try to contain your smile and for added effect he reaches down to adjust the bulge in his slacks. “Excuse me while I go mingle.”

####################

1984

“I think this is the best Halloween I’ve ever had.”, you beam as Eddie chuckles beside you, continuing to slowly turn the merry go round you two were sitting on with his foot. “I think this is the first year I haven’t dressed up like a princess.”

“Well, Sarah Conner, you’re still a princess to me.”, he grins as he hands you another piece of candy. “Are you cold? You can wear my jacket if you want to.”

“No, Kyle Reese. I think I’m alright.”

His smile widens as you lay back and he does the same, placing his bag of treats and fake rifle that rounded out his ensemble above your heads. 

“My parent’s always do that masquerade thing for Halloween and I always hated it.”

“I can imagine. Being stuck inside with stuffy adults in those Victorian costumes would drive me crazy to. Then again being stuck inside with Wayne in a trailer watching reruns of Stephen King movies isn’t exactly thrilling either.”

Eddie grins when you laugh before it tapers off and you both just lay there in each other’s presence. You had been dating this metalhead for about a month and you appreciated him taking things slow with you but as your eyes scanned him over you suddenly wanted more. 

“Thank you for taking me out tonight and showing me a good time.”

“Of course, sweetheart. I like spending time with you.”

“I was wondering…could you…show me something else?”

Eddie’s foot drags along the ground forcing the merry go round to jerk to a stop as he pushes up onto his elbow to look down at you. 

“W-What, um, what would you like me to, uh, show you?”, he stuttered nervously making you giggle a bit. 

“Could you…show me how to…kiss a boy?”

“I mean, I’ve never kissed a boy myself but…”, he laughs through his teeth and your smile grows. “Yeah, I can show you.”

Your eyes remained locked on his as his palm comes down to cup one of your cheeks and he gradually lowers himself till his lips are hovering just above your own. His breath smells like chocolate and nicotine but there’s also a hint of something else you desperately wanted to identify. As his thumb tenderly caressed your skin, his mouth finally connected to yours and as soon as they did you felt your entire body come to life. 

It was a soft kiss at first but soon grew bolder when you figured out what that additional something else was, Eddie. That was the best way to describe it and it tasted so good that your hand snuck just below his ear to hold him closer. 

Your hips twisted to be closer to him and he didn’t miss a beat as his palm slid down you back to press your lower half harder against him. 

“Eddie.”, you whimper involuntarily as his mouth released yours long enough to catch his breath before diving back in just as eagerly. “Eddie, Eddie, wait.”

At your firm command, his hand came back up to cup your cheek. 

“Are you alright? Did I…Did I go too far?”

“No, no. I just…this is all new to me. I want to go slow.”

“I…I understand. I understand.”, he panted as he wiped your spit from his lips and winced slightly as he rolled over back onto his back. 

It took you a moment but when your eyes glanced along his body, you noticed the large bulge pressing uncomfortably against his jeans. 

“I’m sorry.”, you whisper with a slight crack in your tone that has his head shooting up to look your way before following your eyeline. 

“Hey, sweetheart, no. No reason to be sorry. I’ll be ok. Trust me, I’m a guy with all the hormones. I’ve gotten boners in pretty uncomfortable scenarios believe me.”, he laughs hoping to make you laugh as well. “Don’t ever be sorry about this kind of stuff. I can go as slow as you need me to and I’ll be here, babe. I, um, I really like you…a lot.”

Taking ahold of you, he maneuvers you by his side with your head on his chest. 

“I like you a lot to.”

##############################

2006

You watch with a small smile on your face as your husband talks with some of the other guests at the party and you couldn’t help but think of your therapist’s question as you sipped your drink. 

Why did you keep coming here? 

Habit maybe? Until you met Eddie you really did do everything they wanted completely unsure of what else you should be doing. You went to all their events, smiled, and spoke to anyone they told you to, even wearing clothes they suggested because you had yet to really find your sense of self. When you met the metalhead, he showed you a completely different world that you absolutely enjoyed and loved experiencing with him. 

Even when you both got married and had Caleb, you couldn’t picture anyone else you wanted that life with other than him. Sometimes you wondered what life would be like if you hadn’t met Eddie. You pictured an unhappy girl married to an equally unhappy man who was incredibly vain and never home to see his children. 

Your husband was a wonderful father and a good man to you both. Even now with your marital problems, he still came to therapy with you and never once cheated or hurt you. 

“Y/N!”, you mother called interrupting your thoughts. “Baby, look who I found.”

You didn’t even try to hide your sigh when she pushed Michael forward to shake your hand. 

“Michael. How have you been?”

“Oh, I’ve been good. I just closed a big case and made partner at my firm.”

Your eyes widened sarcastically as you nodded while your mom got a bit too excited, clapping her hands and congratulating him. 

“That’s so amazing! Isn’t it amazing, Y/N?”

“Super. I’m, um, I’m just going to…” As you point towards the balcony, your mother grabs your wrist.

“Y/N, be polite and take him with you.”, she whispers.

“I don’t want to be polite.”, you growl as you pull your arm out of her grasp. “I’m married mom. I have been for 20 years to the man I love and have a son with. Stop pushing Michael on me which by the way is super weird that he’s still single after all this time. Didn’t that thought ever occur to you?”

“No because all I thought about was how my daughter deserves better than a man she was forced to marry because he got her pregnant.”

Rolling your eyes, you hurry outside onto the balcony by the pool and inhale the night air as you try to calm down. 

“Hey Y/N.” Sighing, you turn to face Michael who was slowly walking towards you with his hands in the air. “I just wanted to come and apologize for all that back there. I’ve never been the one to ask your mom to introduce me. She does that on her own.”

“Yeah, she does that.” Your eyes scan him over before giving him a polite smile. “Thank you for coming over to apologize. I really appreciate that.”

“It’s no problem. My own mom is a bit pushy to so I get it then again I haven’t gotten married yet so that could be the problem.”, he chuckles and you can’t help but laugh with him. 

***

2002

Eddie storms into the house after work and slams his keys loudly down on the table before heading to the fridge to pop open a bottle of beer. Slowly getting up from the couch you meet him halfway as his fury filled eyes meet yours. 

“So are you going to tell me why you’re upset or…”

“Doesn’t matter.”, he grumps as he stalks towards the sofa and hurls his body onto it. 

“Obviously it does so why don’t you quit with the foreplay and just tell me.”

When he doesn’t answer, you shrug and head for your bedroom, smirking to yourself slightly when you hear his boots bang against the floor as he follows. 

“I came to visit you at work today. Thought maybe we could have lunch or something.”

“Ok…and you didn’t because…?”

“Because when I got there you were flirting with some asshole.”

“I’m sorry what?”, you ask genuinely confused with a hint of sarcasm. 

“Oh, you don’t know who I’m talking about? Tall, black hair, young, looks like Johnny Depp in Nightmare on Elm Street.” When you giggle, his eyes darken. “Don’t laugh at me.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to but I just can’t believe you’re actually fucking jealous of a twenty-year-old who has a girlfriend by the way. What the fuck is wrong with you? After all this time why would you think I would cheat on you now with some kid from work?”, you reply sarcastically.

“Well, Y/N, you’re not fucking me! So…”

Your eyes widen in shock and you wonder if he can see your heart break. Controlling any tears from escaping, your jaw tightens as you tilt your head.

“You’re right I’m not. Maybe I should fuck him. Wouldn’t be the first time I slept with someone who was beneath me.”

It was an automatic reaction that had Eddie moving before he could stop himself. His hands were around your biceps and suddenly you were against the wall with his nose just inches from your own. His chest rose and fell as angry breaths escaped his nose. 

As quickly as it came, it left with a blink as you saw the darkness recede and the man you fell in love with take over again. His mouth fell open as his eyes continued to run up and down your body as if he was trying to figure out what just happened.

“Mom?” 

Both your heads turned to see your teenage son leaning in the doorway with a concerned look painted on his features. 

“Is everything ok?”

“Yeah, baby, I’m fine. I just had the worst day and your dad was trying to make me feel better. Are you hungry, Caleb? Do you want something to eat?”

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Eddie fold himself as he took a few steps away from you. 

“Um, yeah, but I can make myself something—”

“Oh, don’t be silly. Just give me one moment, ok?”

Nodding, he turned to head towards the kitchen but when you swiveled around to face your husband, he had already disappeared into the bathroom and locked the door.

***

2006

Eddie loved watching you interact with people. He knew who you were before he even introduced himself having seen you skip happily around the school with your books close to your chest like Molly Ringwald in any John Hughes movie. You spoke with your hands and smiled as you nodded your head as you seemingly absorbed what people were saying to take a piece of it with you. 

You had always made him feel heard. 

The metalhead thought he didn’t have a chance with a girl like you but when your beautiful eyes landed on him after bumping into him in the library, he knew he had to try. 

Over the past twenty years, he felt like he slowly watched that light leave you and he knew it was his fault. Just like his dad did with his mother, it was unavoidable. 

Going outside to get away from the people in your parent’s house, he leaned over the rail wishing he could smoke but knew if your mom smelled it on him she would have something to say and he didn’t want to deal with all that right now. 

Suddenly, Eddie heard a sigh in the air and as he peaked around the corner, he saw you exhaling into the night sky. 

The way the wind moved your hair had him smitten all over again as he remembered cold nights of you two sitting on his bed with the window open after making love and you in one of his shirts as you leaned your head outside to feel the breeze while he smoked. 

You would smile and he would randomly reach out to touch your face wondering what the fuck you were doing with him. 

Eddie couldn’t help but huff when another man came out to talk to you. 

Michael; the asshole your mom kept pushing your way. 

You seemed annoyed at first but then you laughed. God, he adored that sound more than anything in the world. The first time Caleb laughed he silently thanked the heavens it sounded exactly like yours. 

“I said no.”, you shouted sternly with eyes filled with anger. 

Pushing at his chest, you tried to walk away but Michael grabbed your forearm to turn you around and Eddie saw red.

#########################

1986

As Eddie starts to take off his suit jacket, he notices you staring at yourself in the mirror above his dresser as you carefully untangle your hair from the veil you had clipped into it. 

An idea crosses his mind and he digs through his records before popping in a cassette and waiting for it to play. 

Meeting his eyes in your reflection, you giggle as the synth fills the room and he reaches for your palm that you eagerly take. Wrapping his arms around your waist, you do the same around his neck as you both begin to sway to the music. 

“When you love someone It feels so right, so warm and true I need to know if you feel it too Maybe I'm wrong Won't you tell me if I'm coming on too strong?”

As he sings along, your smile grows and at the chorus he scrunches his face as he obnoxious belts out the lyrics.

“I've been waiting for a girl like you to come into my life I've been waiting for a girl like you, you're a love that will survive I've been waiting for someone new to make me feel alive Yeah, waiting for a girl like you to come into my life”

“You’re such a dork, Eddie Munson.”

“Yeah, but I’m your dork, Y/N Munson.” At the use of your new name, you tilt up on your toes to kiss his lips and lean your head against his chest. “What’s wrong, princess? Thinking about your parents?”

You nod as you continue to sway to the music. 

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I’m sure this isn’t exactly how you pictured your wedding day but—”

“Shhhhh.”, you shush as you tilt back and place a finger over his mouth. “I had a great day, baby. Yeah, I wish my mom and dad could accept us but I love you so much. I can’t wait to see what our future holds.”

He sighs as he kisses you again and holds you to him once more. 

“I love you to, sweetheart. You’re safe with me and I promise I’ll do whatever it takes to give you a happy life.”

“As long as I have you, I’m happy.”

***

2006

“Excuse me?”, you ask the man beside you hoping you didn’t hear him correctly.

“Come on. You heard me. You deserve better than the life you have and you we both know people like us aren’t trailer trash.”

“Define ‘people like me’.”

Gesturing towards your parent’s house, he raises an eyebrow as if to signal it should be obvious.

“Wow, no wonder my mother chose you. You’re a fucking asshole.”

“That may be but why don’t you let me take you out to dinner and show you what you’re missing out on.”

“Um, no thanks. I’ll pass.”

As you stand, Michael suddenly blocks you with his body.

“Come on, baby.”

“I said no.”

While trying to walk away, the man grabs your forearm and turns you around, pulling you to his chest.

“I’m not a man you say no to, Y/N.”

“And I’m not a woman you grab. Now let me go.”

When he doesn’t release you, you raise your hand and hit him hard in the face causing him to let you go. You expected and braced to fall onto the concrete so when strong palms catch you, you’re surprised. 

After making sure you’re on both feet and ok, Eddie turns to shove the man hard backward. 

“Don’t ever put your hands on my wife.”

“Or what?”, the man challenges and your husband accepts as he steps forward before you grip his arm to stop him. 

Placing a protective arm around you, Eddie guides you towards the house to head towards the front door. 

“She could have had a good life, Munson! A big house, fancy jewelry, and anything she could want and more. She wouldn’t even have to ask. With my last name things would be handed to her willingly.” 

You saw his jaw tighten as Michael spoke but he continued to ignore him as he grabbed your coat and held it open for you to put your arms through.  

“What’s going on?”, your father asked as he came up from the side. 

“I’m a respected member of Hawkins whose parents helped mold this town. You were just a trailer trash, burn out whose own parents were scum.”

Right as his palm touched the door, he froze and you both listened as the other man stepped closer behind you. 

“Guys like you, Munson, are meant to be the ‘good time’ before women like her marry respectable men like me. Jesus… Your dad was a failure, you’re a failure, and if the accidental pregnancy is any indication so will Caleb. His whole fucking conception was a mistake.”

It was abrupt to everyone in the room except you when Eddie’s fist flew hitting Michael square in the jaw. You didn’t even try to stop him as he headed towards him to hit him more before your parents intervened. 

“That is enough! I will not have this behavior in front of my quests in my own house.”, your mother scolded as she pointed her boney finger at your husband.

“I put up with a lot of bullshit. For over twenty years, I’ve let you ridicule and insult me, put down me and my family, and listen to you whisper in my wife’s ear that she can do better. I have put myself through the ringer including getting on my hands and knees to beg you people to come to our wedding…”

Your eyes scanned him over as tears began to fall from your eyes and your mouth fell open. 

“…yet I’m still just fucking trailer trash that ruined her life? Fuck. You. Yeah, you heard me. We may have had a son and gotten married a bit faster than ‘normal people’ but I always loved your daughter. You think she doesn’t deserve a man like me but over 22 years I’ve learned that she never deserved you as parents. We may have our problems but thank GOD we are nothing like you.” 

“Get out NOW before I call the police! You are no longer welcome here.” Your father shouts as Eddie searches for you, thankful when your hand intertwines with his. “Y/N Y/L/N. If you leave with this man, you will not be welcome back into this house or this family. Any inheritance will be spread elsewhere.”

Chuckling under your breath, you turn to face them still holding the man you love. 

“Honestly, you can take my inheritance and shove it up your ass.” People around the room gasp at your comment as your parents take a step back. “I haven’t been a part of this family since I got pregnant and the only reason we’ve put up with you is because of Caleb.”

“Y/N—”

“No! Jesus, mom, think about it. Eddie may not come from money but at least he doesn’t call my son a mistake.”, you growl towards Michael. “He’s a good man but you can’t look past your own selfishness to see that. If you want to apologize to me and my husband you know where we are. Until then, fuck you.”

As you both turn to leave, you pause to face them one more time. 

“Oh, and it’s Y/N Munson, not Y/L/N.”

##############

1985

“I have a confession to make.”, Eddie breathily laughs as he holds the condom between his fingers. “I’ve never done this before…sex…like actual sex. I’ve done stuff but not like…fuck I’m coming off like an ass.”

You smile as you sit up with his blanket wrapped around your naked body and lean your cheek on his shoulder. 

“No, baby, you’re not. I’ve never…you’re going to be my first to.”

Swallowing, he tilts forward to kiss your forehead. 

“I just don’t want you to be disappointed.”, he whispers.

“As long as I’m with you, I won’t be. I trust you, Eddie.”

Reaching over him, you take the condom from his hand and tear it open like they showed students in health class before sliding it onto his hard, leaking cock. The metalhead hisses slightly at your touch, holding his breath as your palm rubs along his shaft through the rubber barrier. 

“How does that feel?”, you murmur as your eyes watch his face. 

“Feels…good.” When he finally opens his own eyes and sees your smile, he realizes you were asking about the condom. “Oh, I mean, yeah. That feels good to. It’s on there correctly. I’m just going to stop talking.”

Shaking your head, you take hold of his biceps and pull him on top of you, adjusting the blanket over you both. 

“Don’t you dare. I need to hear you.”

“O-Okay.”

Opening your legs wider for him, Eddie reaches between your bodies to take hold of himself and run the head of his length between your folds.

You jump slightly, licking your lips as he occasionally grazes your clit. 

“I’m—fuck—I’m gonna lean back on my knees. Is that ok? I feel like I’ll have more control so I don’t…I don’t hurt you as much.”

After getting your ok, he pushes up onto his knees and continues to run himself between your pussy lips while his free hand massages your thigh.

“You’re so beautiful, sweetheart. I’m going to push in now, ok? If you want me to stop just let me know.”

Before this moment, Eddie had asked Steve a ton of questions about what he should do and how best to not hurt you. Nothing, however, prepared him for the immense pleasure he felt when he gradually began guiding his cock inside of you.

“Oh—Oh my God.”

“Are you alright?”

“Y-Yeah, baby. Just—fuck—you feel so fucking good.”

“I do?”

When he aggressively nods his head, you both feel your pussy flutter around him making you both moan; him much louder than you. You were doing all right as he continued, the stretch of him burning but not enough to want to stop. It wasn’t until he had half his cock inside you that you sucked in a breath and his eyes shot up to see yours squeeze closed as your face scrunched in pain.

“Do you need me to stop?”

“N-No. No. Just hang on a minute.”

Nodding, he remembered something his friend told him and you listened as he licked his thumb and gently rubbed slow circles against your clit. 

“Oh f-fuck, Eddie.”

“Yeah, honey? Does that feel good? Fuck me. I’m gonna thrust a bit but I won’t go deeper till you tell me.”

You allowed him to do that till you felt the pain subside and pleasure begin to take over again. Reaching for his arms, you brought him down till he was hovering over you once more and you wrapped your legs around his waist. 

“More.”

“You want more?”, Eddie whispered against your lips before placing a tender kiss against them as he pushed deeper inside of you. “Fuck, Y/N. You are so tight around my dick. I’m almost all the way in.”

“Give it to me, baby, please.”

“Oh my god.”, he mewled as his lips attached to your neck and your arms wrapped around his shoulders. With a rough roll of his hips, you felt the head of his cock nudge something only his fingers had ever touched and your nails dug into his skin as he grunted into yours. 

“Jus—Just like that, Eddie.”

“Like that? Can I take over, baby? Is that ok?”

When you nod, his entire body falls flat against your own with his hand snaking behind your head to hold to him as your own hands slid to his lower back as if to guide his movements. His rhythm hastened and the grunts that were echoing in your ears were the most beautiful sound you had ever heard. 

He seemed to get almost lost in the experience as his hips were hitting you so hard his bed underneath you began to shake. That familiar feeling built up in your stomach but much intensely than you had ever felt before. 

“Eddie…I think I’m…about to cum.”

As your cunt clung tightly to him, you shuttered against him as the coil snapped. 

“Oh my God…Y/N…” His pace sputtered as he a bit aggressively slammed his hips against your own as a strangled moan fell from his lips and his full body weight collapsed on top of you. 

You both panted as you tried to catch your breathes, him gently kissing your cheek before carefully pushing up onto his palms. 

“Ow.”, you groaned as your hand abruptly flew to his back to stop him. “Go slow.”

Nodding, he kissed your forehead and allowed you to guide him as you pressed your palm to the lower half of his tummy while he gradually removed his now soft cock from your extremely sore entrance.

After removing and tying off the condom, he threw it in the trash and rose to his feet. 

“Do you think you can walk to the shower?”

“I…don’t think so…it really hurts.”

Eddie blinks as he almost haphazardly picks you up and quickly scurries to the bathroom. 

“Oh, Y/N. Fuck. I was too rough wasn’t I? Fuck!”

Following his eyeline, you see the light blood that was attached to your thigh and you can’t help but smile as you grab his wrist to bring him to you. 

“Eddie, baby, that’s normal. Or at least that’s what the sex ed teacher says after girls lose their virginity.”

Relief paints his face before he guides you into the shower and stands with you under the hot water. 

“Was I…to rough? I just…I tried to do everything so it didn’t hurt you but I think near the end there—”

“I love when you get all nervous and stutter.”, you giggle as you tilt up to kiss his lips. “You weren’t too rough. I have a feeling I’m going to feel you the next couple of days and…I don’t mind.” You smile when his breathing hiccups a bit at your admission. “Did you…was I…did you like being with me?”

Eddie chuckled a bit under his breath as if you had asked him the most ridiculous question he had ever heard. 

“Y/N, I loved being with you. I love you…so much, pretty girl.”

Circling your arms around him, you held him tightly as he does the same. 

“I love you to.”

#################

2006

Silently, you both entered your home and Eddie’s eyes followed you as you disappeared before reappearing with the first aid kit you kept in the bathroom. After taking off his jacket, he rolled up his sleeves and automatically held his hand out for you so you could clean the cuts on his knuckles. 

When he hissed loudly, you jumped as panic flooded your face before you realized he was playing with you and you lightly hit his chest with the back of your hand as he laughed through his teeth. 

“Dork.”

“I never stopped.”

“Being a dork? I know.”

“No, loving you.” When your gaze shifted to meet his, he continued. “You asked me that night on the trampoline if I still loved you. I’ve never stopped loving you.”

Swallowing your tears, you threw the cotton ball onto the table at your side and reached for the gauze to tape around his cuts. 

“Why didn’t you say that at the time? You just left.”

“I hated that I made you think for one minute that I didn’t. That I made you…question it.”

Biting your cheek, you wonder if you should tell him what’s on your mind but since he’s being so open, you wanted to return the favor.

“I’ve been wondering for a while. I just feel like we aren’t the same, you know? I’ve spent so much time going over our marriage wondering what happened. Wondering…what I did wrong.”

When your voice cracked, Eddie scooted closer to you and took his hand out of your grasp to lift your face.

“You did nothing wrong, Y/N. Do you hear me?”, he replied sternly as his thumb tried to catch any lingering tears that fell. “If anything, I did. There were times I saw myself becoming my father and—”

“Eddie Munson, what the fuck are you talking about? You are nothing like your dad.”

Shaking his head, he released you from his hold as his eyes searched through the void, trying to find the words to express what he was feeling properly. 

“Your parents and people in this town always said I was ruining your life especially after I got you pregnant. No, hey. Let me get this out.”, he scolded as your mouth opened to interrupt him. “Please. I told myself they were fucking stupid because no one knew and understood you like I did. I loved my life with you. The first time I heard my last name attached to your first, I felt like the luckiest guy in the world. The first time I held Caleb in my arms, all my fears of being dad just melted away.

It wasn’t until I tried to find us a house but all we could afford and get approved for was this mobile piece of shit.”, he sighs as he gestures around you two. “That was the first time I felt like I failed you but I pushed it down, you know? Then our 5-year anniversary rolled around and I still hadn’t gotten you a proper ring. 10 years and we still couldn’t get a house. When Caleb was nine and you wanted the three of us to go on vacation but that storm blew in and damaged the car so we couldn’t afford it. With every fight and every sad look on your face, I blamed myself but I pushed it away until…”

“Until what?”, you encouraged. 

“There was that night I came home and accused you of cheating. I said those things… and then I pushed you… listened to you cover for me with Caleb. I just saw my own childhood and everything my mom went through before she died… I didn’t know how to…”

“Eddie why didn’t you say anything? We could have talked about it. You…”, you sigh as you close your eyes and try to think. “We both said some things that night and…you’re nothing like him, honey. You’ve always been such an amazing father and husband. God…I felt you pulling away and I didn’t know how to get you back. Eddie, if for one moment I thought you were like him I never would have married you.”

“I just didn’t want to hurt you again. I didn’t realize by doing that and keeping my distance so to speak I was anyway. I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

You wrap your arms around him, hugging him close to your chest. 

“I’m sorry to.”, you whimper into his shoulder before pulling back to run your fingers through his hair. “I don’t care about the…house and the ring by the way. As long as I’m with you none of that matters.”

His chocolate eyes search your features before Eddie slightly nods and rises to his feet. You listen to him scrounge around your shared bedroom before he suddenly reappears and places himself beside you again. 

“I was going to give this to you on our actual anniversary but I think now is the right time.”, he smiles and hands you a tiny box with purple bow on top. 

Smirking his way, you remove the wrapping and time seems to stop as you open the box to see a beautiful ring inside. The red diamond stone was nestled into its nook making it look like a rose with vines circling around the silver band and skulls on either side. Your husband’s gaze continually scanned over your face trying to gage if you liked it or not. 

“I, um, it took me a while to save for this but when Caleb got that scholarship for his college I felt more comfortable putting more and more money away for this. I-I-I wanted to make sure it had the skulls since you like my ring so much and then I got the—the red stone because you were always such a welcome contrast to my dark, nerdy lifestyle growing up.”, he chuckles as he watches you slide it slowly onto your finger. “Do you like it? If-If not, I can return it and maybe we can go together—”

Your lips cut him off as they crash to his own. 

“It’s perfect, Eddie. I love it. I love you.”

#############

2005

“Oh, mom, don’t cry. I’m not going away forever.”, Caleb teases as he tries to calm you while you cling to him with your arms circled around his waist. 

“I can’t help it. I’m just so proud of you.”

Your husband laughs behind you as he steps forward and delicately pries you away from your son. 

“Come on, Y/N. Kid has a plane to catch.”

Nodding, you release him fully before tilting up to kiss his cheek. 

“Now remember if you need anything—”

“I know, mom! I know. Just call.”, he giggles making you smile. 

After taking a step back, Eddie takes a step forward and pulls his son into his embrace. It always amazed you how similar they both looked especially as Caleb got older. Even though your son kept his hair short, the brown waves had a mind of their own making styling a nightmare when he was smaller. As a teenager, he just decided to leave it be and let it run wild on his head. He seemed to have your laugh and nose but his smile and eyes were all Eddie. 

“Let us know when you land and tell us how your first day goes. I’m still curious what one does in analytical ethics.”, your husband laughs as Caleb smiles. “I love you, son. I’m so proud of you.”

“I love you to, dad.”

Saying goodbye one last time, you lean into Eddie’s side as you both watch your only child head towards security.

“Are you alright?”

“I don’t know.”, you answer honestly. “You?”

“I don’t know either. I know I’m going to miss him but I think we did a good job raising him into an adult.”

Turning fully into his chest, he held you tightly to him and gently pet your head as he listened to you cry. 

***

Your back hits the hallway wall hard as both your lips refuse to detach from the other. There was a needy, feverish energy between you and Eddie that had spent years building and was now exploding in a flurry of heated touches. 

Your hand slid down his chest to the prominent bulge in his slacks and you both groaned as he rolled his hips against your palm. 

“Fuck, Eddie, please. Let me…let me taste you. It’s been so long.”

His lips don’t leave yours but you hear the clanking of his belt as he unbuckles it and pushes down his pants. Leaving tender little kisses on his skin along your path down to your knees, your husband exhales heavily when your fingers wrap around him and your tongue licks the little droplets of precum that lingered on the tip. 

“Shit, sweetheart. I’ve missed your mouth.”

Pulling your hair into a makeshift ponytail, you feel his eyes on you as he mewls and watches you take him all the way to the back of your throat. You bob your head up and down, relishing the sounds of him falling apart as he gradually thrusts his hips against your movements. 

Your eyes lock as you glance up, knowing what you’re about to do will drive him crazy. Clinging to his thighs, you descend lower onto his cock, and freeze allowing your throat to constrict around him as you slightly gag. 

“FUCK, baby! That’s…That’s it.” When you pull back, you stroke your spit with your hand along his shaft before doing it again and feeling giddy when you see his eyes squeeze shut. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. Come…come here, pretty girl.”

Pulling you up by your bicep, you still continue to stroke him while he licks two of his fingers and reaches down to rub your clit as his forehead falls on yours. 

“Jesus, you’re so fucking wet. Listen to how—mmph—how fucking wet she is.”, he whispers as he guides two of his fingers into your entrance. “You’re so fucking beautiful like this, Y/N. Your—fuck—your little pussy just tightened around my fingers. Do you like hearing me talk to you while my fingers are inside you?”

“Y-Yes. Fuck, yes Eddie. I missed it so much.”

Pressing his body against yours, his arm locked at the elbow as his rhythm hastened. 

“Cum for me, princess. I want you to drench my hand so I can smell you. I love the way you smell, taste, and feel. I—oh my God—I love that you’re mine.”

Your arms circle around his shoulders as you cling to him tightly. 

“S-Say it again.”

His sexy chuckle has your eyes rolling as he tilts down to kiss the shell of your ear. 

“You’re mine, Y/N. You’ve always been mine. You’re my everything, sweetheart.”

Your body trembles as the coil snaps and you grind your hips against his digits to elongate your high. 

“More.”

Eddie didn’t waste a second as he lifted you into his arms and carried you to your bedroom causing you to giggle when he light-heartedly tossed you onto the bed. After pulling off your dress and removing the rest of his own attire, he kissed up your back as you laid on your tummy waiting for him. 

“I’m not too heavy right?”, he asks as he lays some of his weight against you. 

Pressing your back up against his chest, you twist your head to reach his lips. 

“No, baby. You feel good.” Smiling, he reaches between your bodies and guides his cock into your cunt. “F-Fuck, Eddie.”

“I know, sweetie, I know.”, he murmurs as his hand intertwines with yours by your head. “Still so fucking tight.”, he babbles as he does little thrusts to help you get reaccustomed to his size. 

You never needed much time; you loved the stretch and the slight delicious burn that followed before pleasure fully took over. 

“Please, baby. I need you.”

“You need me, Y/N?”

“Always.”

Trying to keep as much of his weight on his elbows, Eddie began pumping his hips and you both moaned at the feeling of each other again. Throughout the last few years of your marriage, there had been quickies with no real thought behind it, just the need for a release. The last year and a half you two hadn’t done anything at all and it killed you. 

Feeling him this close to you as he moaned and whispered in your ear was everything to you and more. 

“Hey. Hey, hey, hey.”, Eddie cooed as he brushed some of your hair away from your face. “What’s wrong, honey? Why are you crying?”

“I just…I missed you so much. I know…you’ve been here but…you haven’t really been…here.”

“I know, baby. I’m so sorry. That’s never going to happen again because you know how… I was always waiting for a girl like you…” Your husband grins widely at the sound of your laugh as he lightly continues to sing. “…to come into my life. I love you, Y/N.”

After kissing the back of his hand, Eddie starts thrusting into you again, leaving little pecks below your ear as you moan his name encouragingly. Laying his full weight against your back, he rolls his hips pushing his length so deep inside you, your eyes practically roll out of your skull. 

“Fuck, Ed-Eddie. Just like that. So—so deep.”

Tattooed arms wrap around you and your husband brings you with him as he falls onto his side, his palm digging into your thigh as he lifts your leg in the air. 

“Cum for me, pretty girl. Cum on my dick.” Licking your fingers, you bring them down to rub your clit in fast circles, matching his pace as he pounds into you. “Atta girl. You got it, sweetheart.”

When he felt your body begin to shake, he dropped your leg, hugging you flat against his chest and stomach as he slammed his cock roughly into that sensitive spot inside till you both felt the coil snap once more.

“Ah my God. Good girl. Good girl, baby. I’m gonna cum to.”

“Mmph—please, baby. Cum inside me. Please, Eddie.”

A strangled string of grunts left his lips as he rutted against you till his limbs squeezed you tightly and you felt him warm your insides. 

###################

1984

“Oof, Jesus fucking shit!”, Eddie shouted as something hard bumped into his back. 

“Edward Munson!”, the librarian whisper screeched his way as he held up his palm to silently apologize. 

When he turned around to see what asshole hit him, his intense eyes landed on your worried ones. 

“I am so sorry. I was trying to get that book up there but I tripped. I’m so sorry.”

Time seemed to freeze as the metalhead visually took you in. He had seen you around before talking with other members of the student body. You were in a school ran club like Student Council so you seemed to easily flow through each clique even going to the ones your ‘friends’ never seemed to want to talk to. 

He remembered Gareth talking about you in passing saying that you were incredibly sweet for a ‘preppy, rich girl’. Looking at you now, he couldn’t help but wonder if there was more to you than what was on the surface. 

“Um, again. I’m sorry. I hope I didn’t hurt you.”

“Huh? Oh, no, excuse me. I’m being an asshole. I’m fine. No, physical damage.”

“But there’s emotional damage?”, you tease eliciting a soft smile from him. 

“Of course. It’s not every day a beautiful girl pushes me. I’m going to be expecting that all the time and my hearts going to get broken when it doesn’t.”

“Hm, well, there are plenty of beautiful girls at this school so I promise it will happen again.”

“None of them are as beautiful as you.”

You blinked, taken aback by his confidence as you blushed and smirked his way. Eddie would later tell you he had no idea where that confidence came from but it was always the truth. 

The older boy smiled as he reached above you effortlessly to grab the book you had been trying to get before holding it out for you to take. 

“I’m Eddie. Eddie Munson.”

After taking the book, you reach into your bag and grab a pen before taking a hold of his arm. When your fingers touched his skin, an electricity ignited through him that he had never felt before and he had to control the urge to hug you to his chest.

“That’s my phone number, Eddie Munson. You should call me some time. I’ll be home after school today… around 4.”

“O-Okay. I’ll, um, I mean I should be free around that time.”

Eddie flushed with embarrassment as he tried to come off as nonchalant as you giggle lightheartedly at him stuttering over his words. He learned in that moment he adored the sound of your laugh. 

“I can’t wait. I’m Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N.”

***

You stirred at the sound of your phone ringing, reaching over to grab the cordless from the receiver. 

“Hello?”

“Shit. Hey, mom. Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“No, baby. It’s alright. Is everything ok?”

“Yeah, I just wanted to check in since I know last night was grandma and grandpa’s charity thing. Everything go alright or were they rude as usual?”

“Rude as usual.”, you sigh as you roll onto your back and grin at Eddie’s completely knocked out frame. “Your father punched somebody.”

“Oh, go dad.”, he laughed. “I’m sure that person deserved it knowing him. I’m really sorry. Grandma and Grandpa are old fashioned, you know? Maybe one day they’ll catch up with the times.”

“Yeah but if not that’s ok. I have you both.”

“Yeah…I love you, mom. I loved my childhood and I’m proud to be your son; you and dad. Fuck, Hawkins.”

“Caleb…you’re going to make me cry.”, you start to hiccup before he giggles again. “Did you want to talk to Eddie?”

“Naw, let him sleep and I’ll talk to him later. I’d text him but he hasn’t quite figured that part of technology out yet.”

“Oh yeah no. When it comes to technology, he turns into Wayne. ‘Why are the buttons so small? Why do I have to push it four times to get to one letter!’”, you mimic as you and your son laugh. 

“You two are rude.”, Eddie responds groggily as he rubs his eyes with his hands. 

“Uh oh, Caleb. We got caught.”, you tease. “Alright, baby. Have fun and we’ll talk to you later. I love you.”

“Love ya, kid.”, your husband mumbles as you try to tilt the phone closer to him. 

“Love you guys to.”

After hanging up the phone, you roll onto your side and curl up into his chest as his fingers start to play with your hair. 

“What did the butthead want?”

“He was calling to check in about the charity thing last night. I told him you fought for my honor.”

“Hm, yeah I did.”, he smiles. “And so did you. ‘It’s Y/N Munson.’”, Eddie mimes in a high-pitched voice with his grin growing as you laugh. 

As he settles, your eyes trace over his tattoos on his chest and the man softly sighs when your fingers trace over yours and your son’s name.

“I love you, Edward Munson. I know we’ve had our bumps but I don’t resent my life with you. Every day with you and Caleb has been an adventure. I’m excited to see where we go from here.”

His eyes that had previously been closed fluttered open when you finished speaking and he carefully rolled onto his side to face you. 

“I love you to, Y/N Y/L/N. I meant what I said last night. I promise to be more open with my feelings and talk to you. I don’t want us to go back to how things have been. We have the rest of our lives to be together and we’re going to make the most of it.”

You smile as you press your body to his chest and nuzzle your nose into his neck. 

“From the moment I wake up 'til deep in the night. There's nowhere on earth that I'd rather be than holding you tenderly.”

Eddie chuckles in his throat as you sing, tilting your head back so he can kiss your lips again before whispering, “I've been waiting for a girl like you to come into my life. I've been waiting for a girl like you, you're a love that will survive.”

####################

@myherometalhead @dashingdeb16 @micheledawn1975 @hardladyheart

[rene-darling]

TAKING- advantage of the strongest

He's been having a hard time lately, he's lost Suguru, his one and only, of course- you on the other hand are overjoyed at that fact.

It's annoying, after all, you've done for him, he calls out his name instead of yours, it's time you taught him a permanent lesson on manners.

P.s I TOLD YOU ITS NEVER GOJOVERRR RAHHH- [credits- __3aem on insta]

Also, follow my insta r3xni3 n text me, let's talk, im bored!!

...gojo Satoru...

Seeing Gojo with his head in his hands sitting at the edge of the school stairs wasn't a new sight for you, in fact for the past week you've been seeing him sitting there.

Crying, sobbing, or simply sitting in misery. He's always thinking of that damned suguru. Honestly, it was hard to get him to show you any affection with suguru around, and now that he's gone it's gotten even harder!

It's not that you hate suguru, you just love gojo, and seeing your gojo in pain annoys you, but. It also makes for the perfect opportunity to shove yourself in his life, when he's most vulnerable and make him rely on you

"what up 'toru?" Sitting down next to him gently touching his shoulder, you can't be too forward now. "..mhm, it's nothing." Hmm, well you knew it wouldn't be that easy, of course he wouldn't open up to you just yet! So you'll just keep trying- "come on satoru, this isn't like you, you're the strongest-"

"Can you leave? I'm not in the mood y/n." Running his hands through his hair he groaned as he hid his face. You got up without a word, it's fine, if he pushes you away you have many more ways to push back harder.

The continuing weeks during classes you would always make small talk, distracting his mind from geto. Then you'd buy him sweets saying that there was some buy one get one free offer, which is why you had brought one over for him there wasn't

You occupied him on the missions he'd usually go to alone, keeping him from feeling lonely. No matter how hard they were and no matter how much strain they put your body through you'd reassure him, you're fine!

He'd notice how you'd push yourself for him, it made him- feel. Feel something other than the constant sorrow due to Geto's absence.

He started reciprocating your 'kindness'. he would let you rest your head on his lap after a stressful mission and sometimes..he'd rests his own head on yours.

Shoving yourself in his life to replace the sorrows he felt didn't only include platonic relations. Every once in a while, whenever the feelings of loss came back too harshly, all he wanted was to forget. Get lost in pleasure, in anything, just- just please make him forget.

His tears which usually stained his face due to sorrow, now stained his face due to mind-numbing pleasure, his body was yours for the destroying, just please, please make him forget. Even if just for tonight!

" 'toru, use your words now, tell me what you want, hm?" You moved your hand ever so slowly, it hurt. "Just- just please, touch me, ruin me, do whatever you want. I'm yours, yours all yours- Suguru please.

Hah- fuck. He's so lucky he's Gojo Satoru. your gojo Satoru. You can feel yourself growing numb as you let out an unhinged chuckle "Sure Satoru." You try pronouncing his name with that same softness, to replicate that tone of pure love and kindness geto had, but alas, you never truly get it right.

Still, it's close enough for him. as he whines, bucking into your hand. You have half the mind to leave him like this, writhing on the bed, but you never do. This isn't the first time, and certainly isn't the last. You're sure every single fucking time you've seen satoru he's called out his name,

But, as you gaze down at him and as he stares up at you with his pretty blue eyes which spill with tears by the second, you can't help it. Perhaps you pity him, or perhaps you simply don't care if he's using you as a means to an end, since in return, you get to be the one fucking him dumb. And not Suguru, 'cause he's dead. But that's beside the point.

Rocking his world as his vision blanks, eyes rolling back as sweat covers him. You don't mind the pain of when he bites into your shoulder, you don't mind the fact that Suguru's name slips out of him more than your (can be fake) cock

But, for some reason you just can't take it today. Something takes over you, you swear, as you grab harshly onto his neck, gasps leave his throat as he huffs for air. "Wh- Ah pl- EAse- hah."

"say my name." "Wha- AHh-" pressing your hand down harder you're sure it'll leave marks. "Y/n. Fucking say it you dumb bitch." Tears fall down from his cheeks and onto your hand but it only seems to egg you on "Ah- mhm y-y/n please?" As you let go gits of his coughs fill the air as his pink chest rises up and down for air

Suddenly he gasps once more as you push against his prostate, you're far too pleased with him saying your name to let him rest, even to catch his breath.

His cries ring in your ear as his hands scratch onto your skin, leaving deep bloody marks in their wake he stares up at you with his tear stained eyes, mumbling only your name for the rest of the night.

You hope he's learned his lesson, and if not. You wouldn't mind teaching him another one.

[mooncleaver]

Love Is The Reason

ღ pairing: gojo satoru x fem!reader, familial fushiguro megumi x fem!reader

ღ warnings: MAJOR JJK268 SPOILERS. pls don't read if you don't wanna know!! slightly cannon divergent

What the hell.

His ears didn't stop ringing as he brought his body up from its position on the surprisingly soft surface, feeling every ache known to man throbbing all over. Megumi felt the cosmic numbness ebbing away like a flash, and suddenly, he could discern the warm cotton wrapped around his upper body along with the linen sheets that lay beneath him. The three—out of many—scars on his face pulled his skin tautly, so close to his eyes where that devil's face wore his for however long this limbo period was. It hurt to open his eyes. Well, it hurt to do anything, but he's thankful that he can see the world through his own view.

Megumi's ears perk up to the sound of poorly attempted hushed arguments. The sound was so familiar that for once in his life, he felt relieved to hear it. To feel that irritation ticking in his chest, the mindless crease that's fully starting to make itself known on his forehead, and that growing scowl—he could truly cry at the return of bodily autonomy.

Nobara was trying to fit herself inside a present-shaped cardboard box while Yuji stood next to the thing, pushing down the lid on top of her head, which ruffled the strands like crazy. Of course, the girl would not stand for this butchering of her beauty. She spent a lot of time trying to look presentable, not that this pink-haired fool would understand.

Megumi is hit with a deep sense of dejavu as he sits up against the headboard, looking back at the memory of Gojo doing the same exact surprise tactic to announce that Yuji was, in fact, not dead after his literal heart got ripped out of his chest. The boy can feel a smile forming on his lips, and he makes no move to try and stop it.

"What are you two doing?"

He sees Yuji and Nobara freeze in their spots, both eyes widening comically. A second passes before the two let go of whatever it was they were contending about, rushing forward to stick their faces into Megumi's. The former vessel looks—well, he looks like he's had better days. He's thankfully clean of all the blood oozing out of his skin when he fought Sukuna for the last time, his usual uniform with the red hoodie looking incredibly pristine, absent of any rips or blood. Still, some are sticking onto his face, notably a darker shade cutting down across his eyebrows as the dried blood clings onto his wounds. Nobara looks happier. God, he thought she died. He was ready to mourn her with all the losses he'd suffered, but for once, Megumi was glad to hear her voice. He welcomes it. She's wearing a black eyepatch on top of the eye that she lost fighting Mahito, and her uniform is equally as clean as Yuji's—Megumi can tell that she's relieved by that fact.

Finally, they're back together again. The trio of first years with lost dreams who've gone through horrible, terrible things now have found hope again—hope that never died within each other.

"Fushiguro!!" The two yell in unison, going in to hug him despite knowing he didn't usually like that kind of thing. But to their honest surprise, Megumi returned the gesture, fully and truly, closing his eyes and letting out a breath. Yuuji and Nobara didn't hesitate to tighten their arms around the spiky-haired boy, be damned the near-death exhaustion clinging to their bones. They may be battered and bruised, but they survived.

After a quiet moment, the momentum was back again as Nobara looked at the two boys with a disgruntled expression, her exaggerated self on display at the lack of reaction to her return. "You know, the class's Madonna, who everyone thought was dead, by the way, turned out to be alive?! You two should be either wetting yourself or crying with joy!"

Megumi didn't even bat an eye, unlike Yuji, who was scrambling out of his mind, replying to her in his usual stoic and flat voice. "I see. My bad."

"So, the bastard is dead then." The Fushiguro didn't phrase that like a question, more so stating a fact. The fact that he was here in his own body, alive and breathing, undoubtedly meant that the curse was dead. It was still surreal to utter, knowing that this was the one thing they'd all been fighting for since forever. Maybe now, everyone who was gone didn't die in vain.

Nobara sounded like she was still in disbelief, shaking her head slightly while she grinned and exclaimed, "Ha! Yeah! Itadori beasted that guy like it was a piece of cake!"

"Eh.. well, it was pretty tough, I'm not gonna lie. I cried a little when resonance was hit." Yuji himself could only scratch the back of his neck at the rare praise, his eyes crinkling into thin lines as he admitted his own emotions. It was kind of daunting to be the one who killed Sukuna with the fact that he used to be the curse's vessel. But out of everything, making that final blow was something he didn't once hesitate on. Yuji was going to finish all this madness. It all started with him and ended with him—the way it should be.

Megumi didn't sound too surprised at the boy's admission, only giving him a look in response. "I know. I saw everything happening inside Sukuna."

"Ugh... don't even remind me. Well, at least you two have the shared experience of being a vessel now." Well, no matter how sour the fact was, it was true.

Breaking his thoughts, Yuji suddenly lit up as he shifted through his pants pockets, haphazardly pulling out the crumpled pieces of paper in his hand. "Oh, wait, guys. I have something for you two. It's from Gojo-sensei. Gojo-san, too, I think."

The pink-haired boy grew incredibly sullen at the mention of both his teachers. He'd miss calling out to the two Gojo's, mixing the couple up despite your previous urgings to the students of simply calling you by your first name. Of course, your husband would not absolutely have that, sneakily going behind your back and basically forcing his students to call you Gojo, too. If he couldn't get the second years to follow, he'd make his own kids do it. The man would not pass on the chance of hearing people call you by your shared last name.

"A letter.." Megumi looked shocked at the fact. His sensei (and self-proclaimed dad who stepped up) never did this kind of thing—seriously, that is.

Growing up with Gojo and his wife, Megumi knew the white-haired sorcerer never strayed away from being lighthearted and childlike. Despite witnessing the lanky heir change from the bratty 18-year-old who approached him as a child in the streets into the mature, married man he was the last time, it just wasn't in his nature to be doing some sentimental things like this. That was more like something you'd do. From the daily lunch notes, deep-meaning gifts (that he still kept to this day), and the affectionate texts you'd always send, he would wager that you might've been the one to drag your husband to write the letters. But, knowing that Gojo probably had a feeling that he wouldn't make it out of the fight, it's not impossible that this truly came from him.

Nobara chuckled at his tone of voice, silently agreeing with his disbelief. Gojo was definitely not the type to do this.. it unsettled her.

"I feel you.. this is totally not like him. It's slightly gross to even imagine him writing letters.."

Though, after reading, she crushed the piece of paper in her hand, pursing her lips. Yuji noticed this, facing her to ask what it said. With slight hesitation, Nobara revealed that it contained information about her mother's whereabouts. To be honest, she wasn't sure how to feel. Some part of her still longed to feel her love.

"Oh, did you even want to know in the first place?"

She shook her head as she looked down, leaving no room for the topic to be continued. "Not at all."

Suddenly, they heard the very, very rare sound of Megumi's laughter ringing out from the bed. Gojo would've bawled knowing he made his son laugh. It took a moment for them to snap out of the shock, seeing the fresh face of their friend's smile. He looked like a brand new person—content, young and carefree. It was refreshing.

Megumi hasn't felt this happy in a long while. He expected that the message wouldn't be some deep, meaningful thing, but out of everything, it was a joke about how he killed his biological dad. He wasn't sad, surprisingly. Megumi never really knew the man that left him and his sister to fend for themselves, and the memories he had of him weren't great. At least he found some closure. The boy shook his head, reading the familiar and large handwriting of his father figure. You'd think that it'd be messy, but as the former heir of the Gojo clan, Satoru was a trained guy in the art of handwriting. He wouldn't be caught dead with scribbles.

Unfortunately your father isn't around anymore!! Cuz I killed him!! Sowwy!! :P

Short, simple, and kind of foolish.

He bit back a grin. Even in death, the man couldn't take anything seriously.

Beneath it was a softer and more serious note. From you, of course. Megumi did not doubt that you wrote this to make up for your husband's short message, writing a heartfelt one that he could sense even before reading. The two of you must've known that this was not a fight you would come out of. And as much as that hurt him, Megumi was glad that he was in your last thoughts. It meant a lot to know that you and Gojo believed he, Nobara, and Yuji would live through everything.

Firstly, don't take this idiot too seriously. If you're reading this megs, we're probably gone, but hey, you're okay! Live your life fully okay? Don't forget that you're still a kid in the end. We're always looking out for you, sweetheart. ♡

There was a chibi doodle in the bottom and a sweet greeting that said,

— Love you beyond infinity, mom & dad

Megumi could tell that this was Gojo's handwriting. It was meant as a joke (the boy didn't call Satoru dad very often, despite calling you mom. It was kinda cringe.) but he accepted that sincerely. You two were his parents, biological or not. He loves you so much.

And he'd promise that for you. For Satoru, too, to be honest. To live life fully. Ever since he knew what living meant, he never intended to live a proper life. The absence of his biological father and the death of his mother left an untreated wound in his heart, altering his mind in a way that left him isolated—a recluse from the world, almost. The only thing that used to keep him going was his sister, Tsumiki. Now she is really gone. But then, everything shifted when he first saw Gojo Satoru.

It was a big change to have people to look up to. To have a mother. Megumi called you mom way before he even considered Satoru as his father figure, and it was one of the most precious things in life. You never took that for granted, always spoiling him and treating him like he came from your own womb. You knew you'd never take the place of his biological mother, but you wanted to be someone the boy could rely on in such a cruel world. It was a bit strange when Satoru first brought up the idea of raising the Fushiguro boy. You were both still 18, barely even adults with so much pressure and responsibilities. But you knew, from the moment you saw this poor boy getting dragged home by your boyfriend, that you'd love him like no other.

You and Satoru gave him and Tsumiki a home. An unlikely one, but a home nonetheless. You gave him a love like no other, an unconditional, wholehearted, and absolute kind of love, even when the two of you were struggling. It was a type that couldn't be described by words and only felt. That, along with the friendship and true family he found within Nobara and Yuji, made him realize that even if he didn't live his life for himself, there were others in the world. Other people, whether that'd be a mother, a father, a sister, or a brother could give everything meaning. A reason to keep going.

At first, he only lived for Tsumiki. To use everything he had to save her. But then he found himself living for you, for Satoru, for Nobara and Yuji. Once more, he would try again. This wasn't a chance he'd take for granted.

Reading the note made Megumi feel a kind of warmth he hadn't felt in a long time. The kind that he last felt when you hugged him tightly and kissed his forehead before everything in Shibuya happened. That was probably the last time he saw you happy and alive. The world was dull when you died. A victim of that son of a bitch curse Mahito. That was a loss like no other, so incredibly painful and numbing.

At least you died in an honorable way.

After that, he didn't know how to function. Tsumiki, Nobara, and now you. The boy felt half of his soul chip away.

Your husband was even worse. Inconsolable. Watching his wife die in front of his eyes before getting sealed the second after. When the man came out of the prison realm, anyone could tell he wasn't the same. There was no chance the old Gojo would ever return. And sure, he was still lighthearted, but Megumi could tell there was a weight in his gait—the heavy burden of the loss of his darling wife dragging down every word that came out of his mouth. He saw the sadness, longing, anger, and pure vengeance in his eyes. It never did go away. Not even when Sukuna butchered the man in half. At least now, the two of you were together in the afterlife. Megumi truly hoped that. He didn't believe much in that kind of stuff, but for his mother and his father, he prayed for a final peace to be granted.

That hope—along with the one amongst the living pushed Megumi to go on. To not just survive but to really live. Even beyond that, there were others too. His cousin, Maki, who was thankfully alive, and even Toge and Panda.

This was love. That unanswered purpose of life. It's to give love and find love in others. Love is why people do crazy things: to sacrifice the world, to sacrifice themselves. That's why he kept living even when his own dad disappeared or why he kept fighting to keep his sister alive. Love is why, despite the grief, Satoru still fought for you, for your memory, and for your efforts. Love is the reason he's alive.

And if anything, Megumi learned that when you have people in your life, you'd do anything to keep them in it. That's what you and Satoru taught him. Waking up in his own body again and greeted by the sight of his best friends—that was one of the biggest blessings he has ever received.

For his family, he would do anything.

i'm fucking crying. like actually. 3 chapters to go until this manga ends and i still can't fathom everything happening bruv

btw, this is what i imagine the letter would look like haha. half cannonical cuz it's the panel translation!! excuse my handwriting um

also sorry this isn't really proofread lol, i really wanted to post!!

dividers @cafekitsune @i-mmaculatus

[explorevenus]

doll parts ♡ leon kennedy x f!reader

nsfw (18+) - minors dni or i will call ur mom. and also the cops

word count: 3.6k

description: leon may not take the best care of himself, but he certainly takes care of you. it's his favorite pastime.

tags/warnings: vendetta leon, established relationship, unhealthy relationship dynamics, dollification, daddy kink, oral sex (f receiving), mirror sex

a/n: this piece was commissioned by my lovely bestie @dollfacefantasy, who knows me so well in that she knew i was foaming at the mouth for an excuse to write dollification w leon >:3 AND it's based off of that one scene in euphoria where nate dresses cassie up LIKE GET OUTTA TOWNNNNN I WAS SO JUICED TO WRITE THIS !!!!!!!!!!!!

my masterlist ♡

my ao3 ♡

fic under the cut, thanks so much for reading and i hope u enjoy ;w;

-venus ♡

You were mad. You were so mad, all the time lately, and you were past the point of wondering if you had any right to be. 

It was late, nearly half past midnight, the only sound in the dim house being the unrelenting patter of fat raindrops on the windows. Leon, too, was late, like he so often was. Of course, you weren’t allowed to complain or ask questions about his high paying job, or his whereabouts, or the secrecy, where all those injuries came from or why he didn’t return when he said he would for the hundredth time.

All your life, you thought relationships like this existed only in fiction, the trope of the distant workaholic who dismisses his partner’s concerns with nothing but his wallet and his sexual prowess, piling diamond encrusted bandages upon months worth of neglect, bottled up grievances and novels left unsaid. It was a concept confined to old movies and paperbound romances as far as you were concerned, before you met Leon.

You weren’t unreasonable, and you weren’t dumb. You had gathered that his mysterious government job really was important and strictly confidential, and you trusted that he was telling you as much of the truth as was permitted by the powers that be. You knew he cared about you, you knew he would rather be home with you than running around at the beck and call of the most powerful people in the country. You knew it was never his intention to hurt you.

But your awareness of his love for you didn’t make it any easier to swallow the unending cycle of broken promises, nor the visible deterioration of his mental and physical health while his ‘work trips’ became increasingly frequent until they all started to just blend together. 

You became numb to it after a while. It seemed selfish to demand his time and attention when he couldn’t help his circumstances. Even bringing it up made you feel like a monster, and it was all because you loved him so completely.

And you loved him so completely. You had seen him cry with laughter and sob with grief. You had seen him burn toast, fall asleep with the TV on, forget how to tie a tie, dread a mundane phone call, mumble to himself when he thought no one was listening. You knew his philosophies on life and love and death, you knew him heart and soul, and so too did he know you.

Thus, you just ate it, wore yourself down until you finally accepted that all those bottled up grievances, novels left unsaid and extravagant bribes were worth the privilege of being his lover.

Your eyes felt dry as you stared at the clock, counting in your tired mind exactly how many hours had passed since he was supposed to be home. It had been a long, rough day that would have been draining enough on its own, but the evening proved to disappoint even further. 

Leon heard about the karmic disaster that was your day through a handful of rant texts you’d sent over the course of it, each one more unfortunate than the last. Sympathetic to your senseless string of rotten luck, he promised to cut away from work an hour early to return home to you with your favorite dinner and enough doting on to make your teeth rot. He did not, of course, come home early, and not only that, but he didn’t come home at all, and you couldn’t get ahold of him.

If this wasn’t such a frequent occurrence, you might have been more worried about his safety, or even more angry at him for leaving you hanging on a day like this one, but you had become so familiar with this whole song and dance that your feelings around it were dulled.

You were just about to give up and go to bed when your phone lit up with a notification. Following the several undelivered texts you tried to send asking if he was okay, he’d given a simple response that you knew would redirect the course of your whole entire night.

Headed home in 15. Be in the dollhouse

You had long since garnered that the dollhouse was more for him than it was for you, even if he seemed to believe it was the other way around. It was nice to be pampered and doted on and styled like a Barbie, until it became a way for him to avoid talking to you about anything important. But that was neither here nor there. Dolls don’t talk, and they most certainly don’t complain.

With a deep, measured breath you exited the bedroom and turned down the hall, to what used to be a spare room but was now more aptly describable as a boudoir. The door creaked open to reveal the delicate, feminine space, heavy satin drapes blocking out any potential prying eyes. Between two solid oak wardrobes was an ornate standing mirror, the walk-in closet to the right overflowing with opulent clothing that hardly ever saw the light of day, just the familiar warmth of Leon’s cerulean eyes. 

At the other end of the room was an antique, three-mirror vanity, stocked carefully with luxury makeup, designer perfumes and every last tool one might need to style your hair, down to a box of satin ribbons in every color with which to tie it back. Leon was never one to do things half-way, and dolling you up was no exception.

Piece by piece, you stripped yourself of your clothes, hands moving as slowly and purposefully as his own would, as if by instinct. Just like a doll would be, you undressed to nothing but a pair of delicate lace panties, and you took your place at the vanity, your posture straight and your hands folded neatly in your lap.

All there was left to do now was wait for Leon, to stare at yourself blankly in the mirror and ruminate, to let your thoughts scream and echo around in your head until it would all collapse into silence, putting you in the proper headspace of an empty-headed little Barbie for Leon to play with.

You didn’t so much as flinch at the sound of the garage door opening, or move a muscle at all at the muffled thudding of his footsteps ascending the stairs. Your lips parted with a slow, deep breath, your posture straightening up one final time before the knob turned, and you watched the door open behind you through the reflection in the mirror.

He looked tired. To be candid, he looked like shit. It was evident he had left immediately from whatever dangerous, world-saving thing he was doing to rush home to you, not taking the time to change or freshen up.

Leon approached you gently, reaching over your shoulder to let his rough fingers cup your neck and throat, tilting your head up just enough to make you look at yourself, and to adjust your posture.

“Such a precious little doll, sitting so pretty for daddy,” He whispered, stooping down to plant a kiss at the crown of your head. His hands smelled like iron and gunpowder, and his breath smelled faintly of malted liquor poorly masked with mint. If only you could have confronted him about it. You just swallowed, staring straight ahead where he was directing your gaze.

Reaching over your shoulder, Leon’s steady hand plucked a detangling brush from the vanity, running his fingers through your hair carefully with his other hand. He felt through the length of your soft locks, mindful as always not to tug at any of the little knots he discovered here and there. Shortly after, he was running the brush through your hair with gentle veneration, delicate, even strokes that nearly threatened to put you to sleep.

Leon watched your expression in the mirror as your lashes fluttered, your head lolling back as if mindlessly chasing the attention. A low chuckle fell from his parted lips. “Feels good, huh? I’ll bet it does. Your hair is so messy, baby… You weren’t playing by yourself all day while daddy was gone, were you?”

He was teasing you. A subtle grin begged to tug at your lips, and you let it. Still, you were sure to shake your head ‘no’-- after all, you couldn’t have him thinking you had taken advantage of his extended absence to be naughty, even if you had been awfully tempted to. 

Carding his fingers through your freshly brushed hair, he hummed in mock consideration for a moment, like he couldn’t decide whether or not he believed you. Finally, he turned you around in your chair to face him, tilting your chin up so he could give you a kiss. “I know my baby would never. Always the perfect princess for me, even when I’m not always the perfect daddy.”

That last part came out a little quieter, like he was ashamed to even say it out loud, but somehow still, it was the loudest part to you. You softened.

He noticed, and he, too, softened. The tension in the air dissipated a bit– it was still somewhere around here, likely waiting right outside the door, but it was no longer actively present, at least. Leon gave you another sweet kiss, this one to your forehead, before gently correcting your posture again.

Pushing your hair back with a soft, fluffy headband, he opened up one of the drawers in the vanity and began to take a few things out. First, a light moisturizer, which he massaged into your skin with a jade roller that was cool to the touch and just as relaxing as always. Your moisturizer was followed by a gentle under-eye balm, a thin layer of primer and a hydrating lip oil.

The way he moved was so fluid, so methodical, like a conductor before an orchestra, and you were his masterpiece. In Leon’s eyes, you might as well have been carved out of the finest, most expensive marble, and you were to be treated no less delicately.

He stepped out just for a moment to wash his hands, a clean slate for the next step of the process, your makeup.

You honestly don’t know how he did it. Judging by some of the techniques and products he would use, you could only guess he must have been doing his research online or something, though where he found the time to do so was another question entirely. His lines weren’t always clean, his blending wasn’t always perfectly smooth, yet somehow you always still felt he’d managed to upstage you with the finished product– perhaps it was because he could see you in a way you couldn’t see yourself.

“Daddy?” You chanced a whisper, but he was quick to press a finger to the plush of your lips, ever so gently.

“Shh… Just sit nice and still for me, alright, sugar?”

You nodded, and he resumed his work with a careful touch.

Soft brushes and plush sponges worked their way around the surface of your face, applying shadow and powders and liner, with Leon holding his breath now and then to ensure a steady hand. Your cheeks were rouged, your lips were glossed, your lashes were carefully curled and it was all topped off with a cooling mist of setting spray and a gentle kiss to the forehead.

“There you are, hm? My beautiful baby dolly,” He mused, reaching forward to tilt your head up by your chin, then to the left, then to the right, checking over his handiwork from every angle. Adding a dash of blush to the tip of your nose, he deemed your makeup complete. “Just perfect.”

Slowly, Leon turned your chair around again, allowing you to look at yourself, and yeah. Wow.

You looked gorgeous, you were glowing even. All of your best features were adorned with purposeful swipes of blush, shade and highlight, your eyes dreamy and sweet, your skin smooth and radiant. He let you look at yourself for a moment, just admiring the expression of awe on you– you were always exceptionally stunning, of course, but you looked all the sweeter in these sacred moments in which you recognized your own beauty.

Leon rested one hand on your shoulder to recapture your attention, his other hand coming forward to stroke your cheek. Your long lashes fluttered as you met his eyes in the mirror, a silent signal that your focus had returned to him. Now the hand that caressed your cheekbone was coming forward to take your own. He helped you up from your seat at the vanity and across the room, to the plush chaise lounge in front of that standing mirror.

The room filled with the quiet noises of rummaging, Leon sifting through drawers and racks of hangers stuffed with what had to have been thousands of dollars worth of designer, a stark contrast to his own attire of largely plain black shirts and jeans that had seen better days.

But you were his princess. Leon was just Leon, and Leon couldn’t possibly deserve as much as a princess.

Turning over his shoulder, Leon approached you with a simple pair of white stockings in hand, sinking to his knees right before the chaise lounge to put them on you. Your ankle looked so slight and delicate in his strong hand as he lifted your leg, drawing a line of kisses up the inside of your calf to follow while he rolled the stocking up higher and higher, until the hem reached just above your knee.

He repeated the action with your other leg, the movement of his hands fluid and practiced, but his breaths were becoming shorter, his kisses a little wetter and needier on your skin. Your own breaths were quickly falling in sync with his own just by watching him dial in on your sex, his calloused hands propping your legs up onto his shoulders so he could shuffle closer.

Gripping you by the hips to angle you up to his liking, he buried his nose into the seat of your thin lace panties and breathed you in deep, as though he were starving for oxygen. The tip of his nose nuzzled forward to brush your panties aside, and just as soon as your slit was bared to him, his tongue was darting out to taste it.

He spread it flat in a slow, languid stripe from your weeping hole all the way to your throbbing clit, his lips closing around the little bundle of nerves to coax it from beneath its hood. You sucked in a breath, your manicured nails printing into the lush material of the furniture you were perched on, trying as hard as you could to keep quiet and still, to allow him to guide you, to play with you as he so desired. Luckily, he wasn’t in too stern of a mood this evening anyway– you weren’t likely to be reprimanded for small errors like that, especially not while he was otherwise occupied.

“Fuck,” He growled lowly into your cunt, leaving white prints where he gripped your pillowy thighs just to ground himself. You could feel his body growing warm as he lost himself in you, lapping up every drop of your arousal with greed. For just a moment, his dilated, denim eyes flicked up to look at you, his rosy cheeks gently squished between your quaking thighs as he puffed out, “Just look at you, my dolly… Daddy’s favorite little toy…”

Your eyes screwed shut with pleasure as his hot mouth met your center again, and when they fluttered open, you caught sight of it all in the mirror. It nearly knocked the wind out of you.

Your dainty legs spread out over your gruff boyfriend’s broad shoulders, adorned in delicate white stockings that looked pure and bright against his tight black t-shirt; his sandy blonde hair damp and messy as he wedged himself between your thighs and drank from you like a fountain; your hair and makeup fit for a gala as your expression contorted with rapture… it could have been an oil painting.

Every swipe of his tongue up the length of you, every flutter along your swollen bud, every deep, wanton, needy groan had your eyes rolling back in your head, your thighs trembling and tightening around his jaw. Every inch of you felt featherlight with electricity as he worked his magic on you, more than capable of making you cum in three minutes flat, but opting not to for the fun of it.

Not that you were complaining. At times he could get carried away in his teasing, but tonight was not one of those nights. Leon wasn’t going to waste your time dangling you over the edge much longer than was strictly necessary. As soon as he noticed you were having trouble sitting still, quiet whines and sighs of pleasure occasionally slipping out from between your glossy lips, he knew it would be unfair to string you along any further.

Leon was practically making out with your folds, the room quiet aside from the slick sounds and lustful whimpers that accompanied his dining of you. Soon it was joined with the low, husky timbre of his voice as he groaned into you, “Gonna cum for me, baby? Gonna make a pretty mess all over daddy’s face?”

In all honesty, you barely registered his words, but all it ever took to get you nodding like a bobblehead was that upward lilt in his tone that indicated he was asking you something. That was all you needed to know that the correct answer was yes.

Smirking briefly to himself as he witnessed your eager and rapt approval, he doubled the intensity of his efforts, his hands wrenching tight into your thighs to pull you flush against his face, but more importantly, to keep you from wriggling away. He didn’t bother to shush you when a shocked yelp bubbled out of you, your body jerking in response to the added stimulation. After all, it was the response he was expecting, and the response he yearned for.

Your shaking hands darted forward to claw at his hair, half-lidded eyes catching your reflection in the mirror once more. Your skin was warm, your breasts heaving as your spine drew into a fine arch and your lips parted to gasp in all the oxygen you could get to your dizzy brain, heels digging into the prominent muscles in his back. He felt every quiver and twitch of your muscles and it only spurred him on. He ate you up like you were his last meal.

Your vision went white as your climax crashed over you hard– the sounds he made were obscene, a satisfied groan vibrating from deep in his chest at the syrupy sweet taste of your arousal. It was an essence he couldn’t possibly get enough of.

As you laid there panting, your legs shaking after the tension in them released, Leon’s eyes dragged up the length of your body with pride. He carefully pulled your panties back into place with a sweet kiss to the bow in the center of them and an affectionate pat to the thigh. 

“There’s a good girl,” He hummed, crawling up from between your legs to kiss you, his mouth still warm and slightly slick with your own spend. “A perfect little doll. All I have to do is pull the right strings to get you to sing for me, huh, princess?”

Once more, you nodded, eyes fluttering shut just for a moment as he kissed your forehead. Then, he stood to his full height again, one hand taking yours and the other steadying you by the dip of your waist as he raised you up to join him, wobbly knees be damned. After all, he wasn’t finished playing dress-up yet. He took a moment to ensure you had regained your balance enough to be able to stand without assistance before opening up one of the wardrobes in search of the remainder of your outfit.

Moments like these only piqued your curiosity in terms of how his brain worked. Sure, you’d been dating for a long time and it was safe to say you knew him quite well, but his penchant for compartmentalization never ceased to astound you. He possessed the sometimes frightening ability to just switch his brain from one mode to the next.

You were brought back to reality once more by the feeling of his lips on your neck. He murmured into your ear, “Arms up, darlin’,” and he barely even finished saying it before you were complying.

You lifted your arms, and he slipped a new dress over your head. There it was, the compensation for being home late, for dropping off the face of the Earth again. The dress was flattering and soft, a delicate blush pink color with embroidered details along the bust and white lace hemming. He drew up the zipper without resistance, and as it reached its apex, the fabric hugged your form perfectly, as though the garment itself was made with you in mind.

Leon kneeled down to straighten out your stockings, and then the skirt of your dress, his eyes scanning over you meticulously in search of any little imperfections that might need fixing. Finding none, he wandered over to where he’d left his jacket, fishing a baby blue box out of the pocket. You had become quite familiar with that blue lately– Tiffany.

Nestled in the slender box was a dainty diamond necklace that now rested right at your collarbones, the clasp in the back secured with a smooch. He carded his fingers through your hair one last time before turning you around to look at yourself in the mirror, his hands rested on your hips, head stooped low to smother the crook of your throat in kisses.

“What do you think?” He whispered in your ear, nibbling gently at the shell.

“Beautiful,” You replied just as quietly, “Thank you, daddy.”

[6esiree]

Halloween With The Hazbin Men And Your Daughter

With Spirit Halloween already showing up around town, I’m out here thinking about Alastor, Lucifer, Husk, Vox, and Adam taking care of your daughter during Halloween. 🤭

Alastor:

• I feel like he would be the type to hand out treats—or more like tricks—but with your daughter in the picture, he’s walking around Hell’s neighborhoods with her little hand holding onto his, his back slightly hunched because of the significant height difference between the two.

• If your daughter begged Alastor to wear a costume… it would most likely be something as subtle as Jim from the Office wearing a sticker on his shirt with the name “Dave” on it. While she’s 5-years-old, she’s already accepted her adoptive father’s stubborn nature.

• Oh! And if someone tries to pull a trick on your daughter, which is not likely to happen with him around—but if it does, you best believe that Alastor will summon one of his minions to make sure that she listens to his instructions: close your eyes, cover your ears, and turn around, while he devours the poor soul for trying to scare her.

“Daddy? Why did you ask me to do that?” Your daughter innocently asks after he shrinks back to his normal size. His minion vanishes with a wave of its hand, so she narrowly misses the way his tongue swipes across his teeth.

“Well, to get your treats, my sweet little doe,” Alastor says, handing her a full-sized candy bar, which he definitely stole from a random kid’s basket. That house was only dealing tricks, after all. “Now, let’s move onto the next house, shall we?”

• Your daughter tries to grab his hand again, but Alastor decides to carry her, his spine slightly aching after walking down several blocks with his back hunched. She is delighted, of course, a chuckle reverberating through his chest as she marvels at the different view, eating her full-sized candy bar all the while.

Lucifer:

• Oh, Lucifer would be absolutely elated to take your daughter out trick-or-treating. He’s willing to wear everything and anything as a costume, no matter how embarrassing it may seem, excited to relive what he used to do with Charlie.

• Hunching? What’s that? Our short King doesn’t have to worry about his back hurting if your daughter holds his hand while going door-to-door in the neighborhood, although he’d rather have her sit on his shoulders in fear that someone will try to take her.

• Nobody is going to try and pull a trick on your daughter with Lucifer around, they’d be stupid to do so. But if they have no treats and only tricks, the random sinner will probably scramble to find something sweet in their house to avoid him turning them into a frog or something, lol.

“Wow! They gave me more candy than the other kids,” Your daughter gasps as she stares down at her basket, already filled to the brim despite only trick-or-treating for 30 minutes. “Look, daddy!”

“Oh, that’s amazing, ducky! Do you want to continue walking around or…?” Lucifer asks, his hands clasped behind his back as he anticipates her response.

“No, because my mommy won’t even let me eat that much candy,” Your daughter says, but Lucifer leans down and whispers in her ear, telling her that he’ll promise not to tell her how much candy she eats.

• And he keeps his promise, allowing her to eat all the candy she wants on the way back to the hotel, even eating some alongside her. But when your daughter complains to you about having a stomach ache, you end up scolding both of them, leaving Lucifer a flustered mess.

Husk:

• Oh, Husk would definitely be the type to stay back and hand out treats, but only because Alastor forced him to. With your daughter in the picture, however, he’ll be spared from the mind-numbing duty.

• Would Husk wear a costume? Hmm, I’m not quite sure, but if your daughter whines enough, he’ll acquiesce and allow her to put something on him. He is not pleased when she swipes his hat off of his head and replaces it with a tiara.

• Husk is not as tall as Alastor, and even though your daughter is rather short, the man spends most of the time hunched anyway. He doesn’t mind holding her hand as they go door-to-door, but he does mind the snickers random sinners toss his way at his half-assed costume.

“Whatcha lookin’ at, bub?” Husk growls after your daughter receives her treat, and he almost feels bad for causing a scene in front of her… until she unwraps the candy bar and it ends up being fake.

“Oh no, it’s plastic,” She pouts, her big, round eyes staring up at Husk in disappointment, brimming with tears, especially as the sinner in front of him laughs. “Daddy?”

“Aight, pumpkin, turn around and let ya old man deal with this chump,” Husk instructs her, and she complies… sort of, kind of, peeking through her fingers and giggling as he knocks him out.

• After that, Husk takes your daughter in his arms and uses his wings for once, an excited squeal seeping past her lips as he flies to the nearest gas station, allowing her to take whatever candies she wants, leaving his poor wallet hurting. But the way she smiles up at him as he pays for everything makes it all worth it.

Vox:

• Does Vox even go outside? It would take a whole lot of begging and whining from your daughter for him to even consider giving out candy outside of the Vee tower. Much like Alastor, he’ll wear a half-assed costume and call it a day, your daughter sitting on his lap as you give out candy.

• Every time your daughter looks over her shoulder with those big, round eyes of hers, he’ll put on his signature grin, making sure that she doesn’t see how displeased he is that he’s giving out candy in Hell for the first time. For some odd reason, it’s just embarrassing to him.

• Vox doesn’t bother giving out tricks… until one unsavory child tries to take more than what your daughter is supposed to give, hurting her in the process. He has a TV for a head, so I can imagine him putting on something scary, and all your daughter sees is him chuckling as she turns around in confusion.

“Daddy? Why did that little boy run away screaming?” Your daughter asks, turning away and watching the boy run down the streets of Hell in fear, candy spilling from his bucket all the while.

“Oh, don’t worry about it, sweet pea,” Vox says as he settles down, affectionately carding his claws through her hair, making her giggle. “Is the candy almost done?”

“Yes—are we going to do something else after that?” Your daughter asks, digging through the bucket, finding a candy she likes. “Oohh, and can I eat one?”

• Vox allows your daughter to have whatever is left, knowing that you’re not particularly keen about her eating too many sweets. Plus, he could have anything else sweet whipped up in the Vee tower easily, alongside some child-friendly Halloween movies, of course. Maybe next year he’ll go trick-or-treating with her.

Adam:

• Look, I’m not religious or anything, but I’ve met plenty of Christians who do not celebrate Halloween, but let’s say Adam is in a secret relationship with you, a sinner, and begrudgingly agrees to look after your daughter while you’re out with some friends.

• He can’t take your daughter out trick-or-treating, so he decides to put on some movies in your room and brings a lot—and I mean a lot—of candies and sweet treats for the two of them to indulge themselves in. Adam ends up eating most of the stuff he brought, however.

• Your daughter plays with Adam’s mask, pretending to be an Exorcist after losing interest in the movie, an amused chuckle reverberating through the angel’s chest as she trips over his leg. He quickly spreads out one of his wings, so all she feels are his feathers when she falls.

“You wanna be an Exorcist, just like me?” Adam asks as he watches her peel his mask off, her head nodding vigorously. It’s bittersweet to him—the 5-year-old doesn’t know the full extent of what Exorcists actually do.

“I want to be a fighter just like you, daddy!” Your daughter says, jumping over his legs and pretending to fly, her mouth stained with chocolate. “And have wings like you, and that round thing on your head—“

“The halo?” Adam chuckles as she approaches him, her hand tapping it. “Yes, this thingy majiggy,” She giggles, sitting back and taking some of his candy; and while he usually doesn’t like sharing what he’s eating, he doesn’t mind her taking some. “Hmm, I’m not sure if your mommy would like that, princess.”

• Adam invites her to eat more candy with him in an effort to make her drop the whole Exorcist topic. And fortunately, your daughter drops it, sitting next to him and eventually falling asleep in his arms, using his belly as a pillow. He never thought he’d feel bad about Extermination Day, his hand stroking her hair as he watches the TV.

[foldingfittedsheets]

I’ve never had a particularly strong desire to get high. Altered mind states have always been somewhat unappealing to me. The only drug I’ve ever enjoyed taking was a prescription strength muscle relaxant that loosened all my knots at once and sent me into the boneless slumber of jello. Top marks.

But I have dabbled with pot. As I’m wildly sensitive to smoke my only recourse was to try edibles and anyone could’ve predicted this was a recipe for disaster. So here’s the story of the first time I got high.

Brendan was a major stoner. He was a high energy guy who loved hiking, had his shit together, and absolutely loved getting high and relaxing. One day he decided to make pot brownies. Brendan was an amazing cook in his own right but he came into my life at a time when I was eating mayonnaise sandwiches and started giving me real food so I viewed him as a paragon of cookery. He made amazing desserts. And he didn’t make a batch of no pot brownies.

I’d never had one of Brendan’s brownies, before, but dear god I wanted one when they came out of the oven in a waft of rich chocolatey smells. They were fudgey and perfect and all that I wanted in the world was to eat one. I watched him take a bite, burning with envy and desire.

Being high seemed like a small price to pay if only I could sink my teeth into the warm splendor of brownie. I came up to where he was sitting on the couch, slightly behind his left shoulder. “Hey. I want to try a bite,” I told him.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes!” I was sure as fuck that I wanted that brownie in my mouth.

Brendan was sat facing the tv and held up his hand without looking so I could take a bite. I am not a creature of modest bites. And I wanted that brownie. I took a huge bite, carving into the interior of the brownie, leaving Brendan with a only a rim.

He pulled his hand back and saw the brownie crime I had committed and gave a resigned chuckle. “Well this is going to be fun.”

On one other occasion in my life I’ve tried an edible and there was a brief relaxed period before things went horribly wrong that made me think, this is probably where most people stop and enjoy themselves.

But on this occasion, the massive bite of brownie didn’t drift me slowly up through layers of being high. It skyrocketed me into high space with great prejudice. I have no memory of a middle point, I wasn’t high and then I was suddenly so high I couldn’t function.

I’ve heard people talk about paranoia. I didn’t have that. Some people mention nervousness, no, none of that for me. My mind was simply gone. A thought would blip to life on one side of my brain and fail to travel through the fog to find its conclusion. I couldn’t think. I wasn’t really experiencing sensation. I was nothing in the void.

When Brendan realized I’d been staring wall eyed at nothing for too long he said, “How are you doing?”

It took a long time to process the words and even longer to slur out, “I can see everything.”

I don’t remember him getting up and leaving, or waiting, or anything really. Thoughts flickered and died in my mindscape, meaningless and alone.

Then Brendan put headphones on me.

I was unable to conceive of anything as wonderful as music surrounding me, and thus began the only nice part of the trip. I might have experienced ego death but at least I had the ethereal sounds of Pure Reason Revolution to wrap myself in.

I’m not sure how long the nice phase lasted. But eventually something started going wrong in my mouth. My throat became uncomfortable enough to pierce the haze I was in. It was almost numb, and impossibly dry. I drank water to no avail. Finally I conceived of the solution. “Ice cream!” I demanded of Brendan.

He went to grab some and I was dismayed that when I took a bite the sensation in my throat intensified. “It made it worse,” I complained.

“Made what worse?” Brendan asked, because of course I hadn’t actually told him why I’d wanted ice cream.

When I told him what was happening he said, “Oh, of course ice cream is going to make cotton mouth worse.”

“Well then why did you give it to me!” I complained. He smiled fondly at my irrational grumping and got me more water.

Finally I’d had enough. Music couldn’t erase my discomfort, I was getting frustrated I couldn’t think but I was still high as balls and I wanted the night to be over. Brendan suggested I go to bed so I climbed up into my bed and lay there, uncomfortably high.

I couldn’t sleep. My throat was so cottony, a side effect I hadn’t known existed and I thoroughly loathed.

Then I thought: I could masturbate! Brendan had talked about enjoying that while high. I’d give it a shot. My body however was wiser than my head and was having none of this plan. It refused to respond, stubbornly insisting that now was not the time.

I doubled down, refusing to give up on this horrible idea and in a bitter struggle, and against my body’s own wishes, I produced an orgasm that rated a 0 on the pleasure scale. Something happened but it was like a resentful flex of muscles that stopped immediately.

Furious with the overall experience of being high I buried my head in pillows and finally slept. I told Brendan the next day about my attempt and he facepalmed so hard. “Why didn’t you just go to sleep! You were way too high to enjoy that.”

I grumbled and agreed that it was very stupid. I tried to weigh the single bite of brownie I had with the absolutely wretched hours of discomfort and while it didn’t quite balance it was still pretty close. It was a really good brownie.

[alotofpockets]

Serious about you | Leah Williamson x Lioness!Reader

Where you cross a line with your best friend

Warnings: smut (with a plot), 18+ MDNI

A/n: @scribblesofagoonerr thank you for your support throughout writing this one!

Woso masterlist | Words: 2.2k

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“Leah!” You yell out for your best friend when you see her walk through the doors of St. George’s Park for the first time since she had done her ACL. At the sound of your voice she turns around with a smirk on her face, “You’re happy I’m here, aren’t ya? Your day just got ten times better darling’.” You roll your eyes and hug her. 

“Always happy to see you, but the comeback makes it just a tad bit more special.” Leah’s smirk grew impossibly bigger. “Knew you thought I was special.” There was only so much of Leah’s flirty personality you could take at once until your body would go into panic mode, so you decided you had to step away. “Yeah, great seeing you, I gotta gay- go! I gotta go.” You quickly walk off cursing yourself, while Leah’s proud smile goes right past you.

Beth, who noticed the whole interaction, followed you out of the hall. “I see your crush on Leah is going well.” You sink into one of the chairs in the room. “Oh god, people saw that?” The blonde chuckles, “I think everyone saw you run off with a face like a tomato.” What a great start to camp you thought while your face was slowly returning to its regular colour.

“When are you just going to tell her about your feelings?” Beth was well aware of your feelings for the Lionesses Captain, as she was often the one you came to for advice and a listening ear. Her being your roommate this camp would probably come very handy for those reasons, besides Beth of course being a great friend of yours.

“You know I can't, Beth. Everybody knows Leah doesn't do serious relationships.” It was well known that Leah hadn’t had a serious relationship since Jordan, every girl she had seen since was just a meaningless hookup, so there really was no use in you ever confessing your feelings for her. 

Once you’ve come down from your embarrassing moment on the first day back at camp, you and Beth join the rest of the girls again. It was great seeing everyone again, and your embarrassment was soon forgotten.

The next morning the dining hall was buzzing with energy and laughter. Everyone was happy to be reunited, and was catching up on the time since they had last seen each other. Beth nudged your shoulder, “Look who’s coming over.” 

Your heart started racing as Leah walked in your direction with a beaming smile. Internally you were screaming at yourself, Leah was your best friend, you shouldn’t panic every time she’s near. It used to not be this bad, but ever since Leah started making flirty comments towards you, your brain just went full mush.

“Morning, love. Did you sleep well?” You tried to sound casual, but your mind went a little numb at the nickname she only used on you. “Morning, Lee. Yeah, I slept well. How about you?”

“I slept great. Any plans for today?” Oh god she wanted to have an even longer conversation, while you still had the love on your mind. You glance at Beth for help, but she just raises an eyebrow and smiles, clearly enjoying your discomfort. “Uhm well just training with the team and recovery after.”

Leah nods contently, “Alright sounds good. I’ll make sure we’re paired up for drills so we can catch up some more.” You smile and nod, “Looking forward to it.” Leah smiles and turns around to get her own breakfast. 

You turn back to Beth, “Looking forward to it? Why did I say that?” Beth rolls her eyes, “Well, clearly because you’re in love with the woman.” You groan, “Don’t say that out loud!” Beth laughs at your antics, “Relax, it’s just drills. Also, it’s just Leah.” With a huff you respond, “Yeah, just Leah. Mind telling my mind that when it stops working when she’s near?”

One thing about Leah was that when it concerned football, she was always serious. So, while you were running drills with her as your partner, the flirty side of Leah subsided. It wasn’t like she was only serious, you were still having fun while training. You were actually very much enjoying spending time with Leah like this, no embarrassing yourself this way.

Over the next couple of days the team was in full training mode, which came with plenty of recovery where you would relax with the girls. There were movie nights where Leah would sit besides you and put her arm around the back of the couch, and team walks where Leah would always find her way to your side. 

Tonight on the final day before your first match, you joined a few of the girls to recover in the hotel hot tub. You were deep in conversation with Beth and Lotte when Leah walked up to the hot tub, “Got room for one more?” She takes off her training top, leaving her in her sports bra and shorts like the rest of the girls. Only since Leah wasn’t like the rest of the girls to you, your eyes fell on her toned stomach, making you fully space out on the conversation you were having. 

“Earth to y/n.” Beth says loud enough for only you and Lotte to hear. You snap your eyes away from Leah at Beth poking your shoulder. “You’re drooling.” You want to defend yourself, but you know there is no use since she had seen you staring on full display. 

You tried your best to keep your eyes away from Leah, but each time you glanced over you were either faced with a smile or a smirk from the blonde, making your heart beat faster. On the other side of the hot tub, outside of your field of hearing Keira nudged Leah, “I think you might give her a heart attack if you keep flexing, mate.” Which only made Leah smirk again.

Slowly more and more of the girls started leaving the hot tub, until only you and Leah were left. She sat with her arms spread over the edge of the small pool, and you couldn’t help but let your eyes wander. You don’t know what came over you to check her out without anyone around the two of you to cause enough distraction for it to go unnoticed. 

“Are you just going to keep staring from the other side, or are you going to come join me?” Leah asked with glint behind her eyes that you couldn’t quite place. You move across the hot tub and sit down beside her. She moves her arm that was laying on the edge behind you to your shoulder and starts drawing patterns on it with her fingers.

You hadn’t said a word to Leah since the other girls left, and your eyes were focussed on a glimmer in the water. Leah was doing things to your body right now that you couldn’t control. “You had no problem checking me out when the girls were here, what has gotten you so shy now?” Your only reaction was the blush spreading over your cheeks and the way you swallowed hard. Leah moved her other arm to turn your head her way softly by your chin. She was about to say something, when she realised that you were staring at her lips.

Leah starts slowly leaning in, to give you enough time to stop what was about to happen. You didn’t make her stop, so she placed her lips gently on yours. When Leah realised you weren’t kissing her back, she quickly pulled away again. “Sorry, I thought there was a vibe.” That’s the moment you sprung to life. “There was, sorry.” Leah’s smile returned to her face, “There was?” You nod and lean in this time.

You knew you should stop, but this was the only way you would ever have Leah and besides every fibre in your body telling you that this was only going to end up hurting you, you just couldn’t stop. Before you knew it, you were sitting in Leah’s lap and the two of you were fully making out. 

When Leah’s hands started moving up your thighs, you broke the kiss and halted her. Leah was about to apologise, but you were quick to speak first, “It’s okay, just not here.” You said looking around. Even though the area was currently empty, it was still a public place, and you were not about to have a stranger or even worse one of your teammates walk in on you.

With big towels around your bodies, you made it to Leah’s room. Leah had never been happier to have a room to herself during camp, the perks of being the captain. Without missing a beat, she closes the door behind you and pushes you up against it. Every thought of this not being a good idea left your mind the moment she slotted her leg between yours.

Leah’s hands roamed your body, losing both your towels in the process. It all happened very fast, the next thing your remaining clothes were scattered around Leah’s room and you were laying in her bed. Leah was laying on top of you and kissing your neck, with her hands between your legs. 

The pleasure she was bringing you with simply her lips and her fingers, was overwhelming and perfect at the same time. At no point did you want her to stop, even telling her “More.” A couple of times between pants, which Leah happily obliged to. 

You didn’t realise you had fallen asleep until you woke up the next morning, still naked in Leah’s bed. At first you’re a little disoriented but then it all comes flooding back to you. You crossed a line with your best friend. Your best friend that you were in love with. Your best friend who is the captain of your team. 

Quickly but quietly you get out of bed and put on a clean training kit from Leah, since yours was still wet from carelessly being thrown on the floor last night. You take your own stuff with you and throw it in the laundry on your way back to your own hotel room.

“Well good morning to you, stranger.” You had hoped Beth had still been asleep and you could pretend that you had come in after she had gone to bed last night, but all of that was out the window now that she was looking at you with questions behind her eyes. You confess everything to Beth, who simply cheers you on for finally acting on your feelings. It doesn’t feel that way to you though, Leah didn’t know about your feelings, and knowing Leah this was just a one time thing. At least that was what you were telling yourself. 

Before you could talk about it more, you had to head to breakfast since you had an early bus to take for your first match. You didn’t get to talk to Leah, and quite honestly you were trying your best to ignore her for the time being. 

The first time you interacted with Leah was after the match when you had given your jersey to a fan in the strands. Leah had rushed to your side and handed you her jacket. You thanked her before bringing your focus back to the fans. 

On the bus ride back, you avoided Leah again, opting to sit next to Lotte instead of Leah or Beth. You didn’t know what you wanted, but talking about last night was definitely not it. Back at SGP everyone goes their own way again. You opt on staying with some of the girls in the lounge and put on a movie. About halfway into the movie Keira walks in, “Hey y/n, Leah wants to see you in the meeting hall.” 

You curse yourself, this was it. You had ruined your national career because you couldn’t stop yourself. Nervously you opened the door and found Leah leaning against one of the tables with her arms crossed. Her first words came as a surprise to you, “Why did you leave this morning?”

For a moment you don’t know what to say, standing in front of her with a slightly furrowed brow. “You wanted me to stay?” Leah’s serious expression softened, “Yes, of course I wanted you to stay.” You take a deep sigh, knowing you need to speak your mind. “Lee, last night was… amazing, but you don’t do serious relationships. I left because I didn’t want to make it awkward.”

Leah realises what you’re talking about. “Look, I know I’ve got a bit of a reputation concerning that, but this is different. I haven’t brought a girl home for months because you’ve been clouding my mind. I’m serious about you. Last night meant everything to me, and if it did for you too, I would really like to explore this new territory with you.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing, Leah was feeling similar to how you were feeling about her? “It did mean everything to me too. I- sorry, I didn’t expect this, I am a bit at a loss for words.” Leah smiled and stepped towards you. “Maybe instead of using words, I can kiss you?” You nod and Leah crashes her lips on yours. 

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[skbeaumont]

Five for Five | Joel x Reader Oneshot

“I ain’t stupid.” His tone is heavy now, words grating out of his throat like rusty razor blades. “Last I checked, we had one hundred and two. There’s ninety-seven here. That’s five missing.”

Summary: It was probably a stupid idea to trade five ration cards for a tiny bottle of perfume, and it's not surprising that Joel is angry, but you think it might just be worth it. Tags/warnings: fem reader, smut, dubcon, spanking, punishment, dom!Joel, sub!reader, first time, oral (m receiving), fingering, pet names, unprotected p in v, aftercare. Word Count: 4k

A/N: Forgive me father for I have sinned. This is pure filth. Please mind the tags/warnings.

“Where are the rest?”

Joel’s voice cuts through you as soon as you step inside the apartment. It’s late, already dark out, and the dangerous edge to his words makes you jump as you step inside, shoulders aching, feet numb from the long walk back home through the QZ.

“Jesus fuck, Joel. What are you doing here?”

He doesn’t answer, just holds up his hand and shakes the stack of ration cards that are clutched in his fist. The only light is coming from the wonky reading lamp in the corner and it casts an amber glow over the apartment and Joel’s stern face.

“I said,” his voice is steady, clear, but you can already hear the frustration that’s buried underneath it, the anger that’s so quick to rise in him threatening to bubble over, “where are the rest?”

“They should all be there,” you reply, letting your eyes fall down to your boots, toeing them off so that you don’t have to look at his face.

“Well, they ain’t.” He takes a step toward you, his own boots heavy on the worn linoleum floor. “And I wanna know where they are.”

“Did you check under the floor?”

Of course he’s checked under the floor, and of course they aren’t there, because last night you took a handful – five, max – and traded them for a tiny bottle of perfume that’s now stuffed under your mattress. Joel rarely checks the ration cards – he lets you deal with that side of the dodgy business you’ve been running together for the last year and a half – so you’d thought you could get away with it. That he wouldn’t notice. But this is Joel, and he’s noticed.

“I ain’t stupid.” His tone is heavy now, words grating out of his throat like rusty razor blades. “Last I checked, we had one hundred and two. There’s ninety-seven here. That’s five missing.”

With this last he slams the pile down on the kitchen side next to you, stepping right up into your space so that you feel his breath – hot and tinged with the scent of cheap bourbon – on the side of your face. You’ve seen him angry so many times, but it’s never been directed at you before, and you’re starting to understand why most people avoid his gaze in corridors, why men cross the street when they see him coming. 

“Did you miscount?” You ask, fighting to keep your voice level, light.

“Did I miscount?” He repeats, slow, each word enunciated like it’s a full sentence on its own, and you realise it was probably the worst thing you could have said.

His fingers are hot on your chin when he grabs it, tilting your reluctant face up, dragging your eyeline to meet his. His face is a sight to behold: eyebrows furrowed, deep groves carved out in the lines that surround them, his jaw tense, a muscle twitching as he grinds his teeth. There’s danger in his eyes; a fire behind them that burns as he stares down at you.

“No, I didn’t miscount.” He spits the last word out, eyes tracing the blush that’s crawling up your throat, the way your eyes dart away from his, the flicker of your pulse – fast, rising – in your throat. The trace of the misdirection, the lie, so obvious.

He can read you like a book, always could. But you’re stubborn. You’re not giving anything away if you don’t have to. Those cards are yours as much as they’re his, and this one thing you’ve allowed yourself in eighteen months is worth the way his fingertips are digging into the sides of your face.

“What did you trade ‘em for?” He asks.

“Fuck you.”

He laughs at this, lets your face go and takes a single step back, swings his arm to his side and lets it carry him into a half turn. You slump back against the door, peeling paint sticking uncomfortably to your back. But it’s a short-lived reprieve.

“Fuck me?” He repeats, turning back to you. “After all I’ve done for you, all the shit I’ve taken for you-”

“I didn’t ask you to!” Your voice is shrill compared to his gruff curses, but you continue, adrenaline spiking, “And you’ve been the cause of at least half of that shit, Joel. Don’t make out like you’re some knight in shining armour when we both know the truth!”

The truth: that he’s brutal, feared by almost everyone in the QZ;  that people only trade with the two of you because of your hard work and negotiation skills. Joel’s good for enforcing things, for smuggling things in and out, and for sending a message when anything goes wrong, but he’s also a broken man whose anger has got him into more than a few scrapes that you’ve had to get him out of with nothing more than your sharp tongue and quick thinking.

He lets you rally this outburst at him, doesn’t blink in the face of it, until you’ve finished. Then he’s striding back to you, slamming the hand holding the cards hard against the door behind you. It makes you flinch away but his other hand’s back on your jaw, grip tighter this time, forcing you to look up at him.

“Where are the rest?” He repeats, brandishing the ration cards so that they’re inches from your face.

“They’re mine as much as they’re yours.” You say, quietly defiant despite the way your voice shakes.

“You trade them?”

“What does it matter?”

“Nuh-uh,” He twists his hand, turns your face away so that you’re forced to look to the side instead of into his face and he can say the next words into your ear. “This ain’t how this works. I ask the questions, you answer ‘em. Did. You. Trade. Them?”

His face is so close to yours now that you can feel spit landing on your cheek as he speaks, his breath hot in your ear. It shouldn’t turn you on, but it does. You can feel yourself getting wet, slick pooling unbidden between your thighs. It’s hard to ignore a man like Joel, but it’s even harder to get close to him. You don’t think he’s ever been so near to you before, not even when you’ve tended each other’s wounds after a run went south.

You’ve always wanted him to; held a secret flame that’s grown brighter and hotter over the last few months. There’s something undeniably attractive about Joel. The way he moves, the quiet confidence he exudes and the brutal, coiled power of him. You’ve watched him set his fist into another man’s jaw and wondered what it would be like to be on the receiving end of his temper, his passion.

Now, with his face so close to yours, his thick fingers digging into your jaw, you feel yourself sinking into it, relaxing despite the tension of the situation. You want this, you want his anger and razor-sharp focus. It’s overwhelming in the best way, and you feel tears burning at your lower lashline.

“Yes. I traded them.”

A tear slides down you face and Joel’s eyes trace its path as it glides over your check, pooling in the corner of your mouth, salty and unrepentant.

“What for?”

“Perfume.”

He laughs again, but this laugh is full of derision, not mirth. It’s a punch of a laugh, straight from his chest, catching in his throat and distorting into a growl that sends a shiver up your spine and a bolt of lightning through your cunt.

“Perfume.” He repeats, turning your face in his hand so that you’re looking at him again.

His pupils are blown wide, his face a mask of fury and something else that has you pressing your thighs together, seeking friction. He notices you doing it, lets his eyes follow the movement of your hips, the desperate, needy breaths you’re sucking in. He grins, teeth bared.

“And what, exactly, do you need perfume for?” He asks, not giving you time to answer before he’s bending down and pressing his nose into the side of your neck, inhaling deeply, stubble scratching your throat. “Smell sweet enough to me already.”

“Joel, please,” you say, but you’re not sure what you’re asking for, because he’s licking a thick stripe up the side of your throat and you think if he stops you might scream.

“Buy it for those boys I see sniffing around you sometimes? Huh?” He asks, drawing back from you and shaking your face in his hand roughly. “Knew you were nothing but a fucking slut.”

“I just- I wanted something nice.” You try to explain, the words catching in your throat as he slides one thick thigh between yours.

“Something nice? What makes you think you deserve something nice, hmm? Ain’t nothing nice in this place, you should know that as well as I do.”

And you do, God knows you do. The QZ is dark and twisted and fucking soul-crushing, but you’d wanted the perfume, wanted it with a deep yearning that matches the way you want Joel to keep going now, to push you and punish you and take what he wants.

“I think you need to learn a lesson, baby.”

You’re nodding into his hand, tears rolling down your face, splashing onto his thick fingers. He lets go of your jaw, takes you by the wrist and pulls you into the room, toward the sofa, over his knee when he sits. Your stomach is pressed into his thighs, face buried in the dirty sofa cushion and he’s got one hand pressing into your spine, the other searching out the button of your jeans. He undoes it, wastes no time in dragging the worn denim down your shaking thighs.

“You’re gonna lie there and take it, you hear me?” He says, splaying a hand over your bare ass cheek, moving the line of your knickers out of the way so that he can squeeze the meat of you, fingers dipping between your thighs, finding the slick liquid that’s leaking from you.

“Jesus Christ, you’re soaked already. Fuckin’ filthy little thing, aren’t you?” His accent is somehow thickening, vowels lengthening, the twang of his consonants increasing.

“I asked you a question.” He says when you don’t immediately reply, and you nod your head, wipe your wet eyes against the sofa.

“Count for me.” He says, and before you can take a breath to prepare, his hand is coming down sharply on you.

The sting is sharp; delicious.

“Count.” He hisses, and you whisper a faint one, breaking off into a moan when he lets his fingers graze the side of your puffy lips.

You wish you could see his expression, see if this is affecting him as much as its affecting you, if he’s watching with something like ecstasy on his handsome, haunting features.

The second smack is harder than the first, sharper and sweeter for it. It makes you jerk against him but he’s holding you down firmly with one solid hand in the middle of your back, pressing you into his thighs, into his lap. The denim of his jeans is rough against your bare stomach, scratching you skin where your shirt’s risen up. The third slap makes you yelp, harder again, but he soothes it immediately with his palm, rubs the flesh of your ass.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you? Enjoying being bent over my lap and spanked like the dirty whore y’are, huh?”

You can’t believe the filth that’s dripping from his lips. Sure, he curses plenty, and you’ve heard him cuss out entire rooms full of angry men, but this is something else entirely. This is animalistic and derogatory and indecent. And God help you, its sending rushes of hot liquid practically gushing down your thighs.

“Be so easy to slide myself inside you, you’re so goddamn wet.” He says as he sends another harsh slap onto your ass. “Open you up and press myself inside this soaking cunt, hmm? Bet you’d let me, too, let me do fucking anything to you.”

“Yes, Joel, please, anything.”

His third laugh of the afternoon is throaty and coarse, full of self-indulgence. It makes the hairs stand up on the back of your neck, makes you clench your thighs together and grind your teeth to stop you from crying out again.

“You gonna come like this, baby?” He asks, sliding his hand over the meat of your ass, down between your thighs to press at your entrance, slipping beneath your ruined underwear. “Come on my lap like the dirty fucking slut I know you are?”

The sweet sting as he pushes two thick fingers inside you almost pushes you over the edge there and then, but you bite into your lip – probably drawing blood, but you’re too distracted to notice. He curls his fingers, drags the pads of them over the soft flesh inside you, seeking out that spot that makes you almost black out, pleasure ratcheting up so suddenly that you gasp, coming hard in his lap, muscles shaking and contracting, cunt squeezing his fingers tight.

“There she is,” He hisses, curling them again, chasing you as you shift against him, overstimulated.

How is he so good at this? You’ve never seen him with anyone – he’s always given the impression that he has no interest in sex, in relationships, friendships, even. But the expert way that he’s playing your body like an instrument, chasing your moans and gasps like they’re the air he needs to stay alive, tells a completely different story. And when you jerk in his grip and he presses you harder against him, shifting on the sofa, there’s suddenly a very clear indication of just how much of an affect this is having on him, too.

“Shit,” His voice is ragged now: This outburst isn’t controlled in the way that the rest of the curses he’s been spewing into your ears have been. It’s unexpected and bitten back behind a grunt as your hip comes into contact with his cock – a solid, hot weight that fills the front of his jeans, pressing the button of his flies into you, his pocket a line of stitches on your stomach.

The next smack is all the harder for the tiny huff of a giggle you let out, which turns quickly into a hiss of pain when his palm comes down hard against you.

“Concentrate,” He warns when you don’t immediately count the spank aloud. “’m teaching you a fuckin’ lesson, here, remember?”

“Four.” You say, pressing your face harder into the cushion, rolling your hips just slightly so that his cock twitches against your stomach.

“Five for five.” He says, soothing your heated flesh with the palm of his hand before bringing it down one final time. “Five. Think you’ve learnt your lesson?”

You twist round in his lap, eyes dancing when you see the flush that’s tinted his cheeks, the way his gaze is lingering on the swell of your ass cheek in his hand, perspiration beading on his heavy brow.

“I don’t know, Joel, do you?” You say, voice teasing, and he snaps his eyes up to your face as he hisses through clenched teeth.

“Fuckin’ mouth on you, you insolent little slut,” he curses, fisting the collar of your shirt and pulling you upright, opening his legs so that you slide between them onto the cold lino floor.

“Think we can find a better use for it, hmm?” He leans back against the couch, pops the first button on his jeans. Your eyes follow the movement hungrily, unable to look away as he slide the zip down painfully slowly, tooth by tooth, the clicks loud in the silent apartment.

He doesn’t take the jeans off, just pushes them far enough down his thighs that he can fist his cock where it sits, heavy and thick, in his underwear. There’s a dark stain at the tip that makes your mouth water, and when he drags his briefs down, too, you lick your lips greedily.

He’s painfully hard – head flushed a deep red, veins standing out boldly against his thick shaft. There’s a thatch of dark hair at the base, and his balls are heavy and full when he tucks the waistband of his briefs underneath them.

He strokes himself lazily a few times and you let yourself look up to his face. His eyes are dark, pupils eating into the deep brown irises, brows furrowed slightly. The amber light of the lamp is casting his face partly in shadow and it only accentuates the strong, curved line of his nose, the deep creases that lines his eyes and forehead. He’s looking at you like you’re the only thing that exists, his gaze so sharp and focused it makes you dizzy.

“C’mon then,” he says, running a hot hand up your jaw to grip the back of your neck, pulling you in towards him. “I got no doubt you know exactly what you’re doing here.”

The scent of him is musky and something distinctly masculine, and you bury your nose in the thick hair at the base of him, place a heated kiss to the side of one thigh. This alone make him moan, a deep, throaty sound that lights you up from the inside.

You press your lips to the tip of him, flick your tongue out to kitten lick at the slit.

“Fuck,” he curses.

He’s sensitive. When you wrap a hand around the base of his cock and place your lips around him he hisses, fingers tightening their grip in your hair, free hand fisting the loose cover of the worn couch. You take him further in, suck your cheeks in to caress him, work your tongue over the delicate ridge at the head of his cock. He tastes like salt and sweat and something distinctly Joel, masculine and heady. When he hits the back of your throat you try not to gag, try to swallow him down, throat contracting around him so that he groans and curses.

“Jesus Christ, baby. Your mouth is fuckin’ filthy.”

You grin around his cock, work your hand over the part of him that won’t fit, then pull back and lick one long strip up his shaft, letting your tongue follow one of the thick veins. He presses himself back into your mouth, tightens his grip on the back of your neck and raises his hips off the sofa.

“You want me to fuck that pretty little mouth, baby?” He asks, and you nod, feel hot tears prickling in your eyes when he starts moving, dragging his hips back and then forward, forcing his cock into your mouth, down your throat so that you feel like you’re choking, like all that exists is Joel and his hard cock, his breathy moans and filthy mouth.

“Got such a clever fuckin’ mouth, baby. Just needed to find a way to put it to good use- shit, yeah, that’s it.” He pushes you down once more, groans as he bottoms out on your throat, then releases the back of your neck so that you can pull back.

You’re a mess, tears rolling down your face, saliva pooling in your mouth and joining your lips with Joel’s cock in long strings. Joel’s looking down at you with fire in his eyes, his dark gaze flicking from your mouth to your eyes to the open buttons of your shirt and the swell of your ass.

“Get up,” He says, wrapping his hand around your upper arm and pulling you to your feet.

Before you’ve time to get your balance he’s bending you over, forcing you onto your hands and knees on the sofa. He lines himself up behind you, drags the blunt head of his cock through your soaking folds and presses himself inside your cunt.

The stretch is intense. You squeeze your eyes shut, press yourself back against him as he inches inside. He pauses for a split second when he’s sheathed himself fully inside, then pulls out and begins a punishing pace, fucking you into the sofa, his hands gripping your hips so hard you’re sure he’ll leave marks in the shape of his fingertips.

“Pussy’s gripping me so fuckin’ tight, darlin’” He says, and something in your chest swells at the sound of ‘darlin’’ rolling off his tongue like that, full of something that’s dangerously close to fondness.

He’s a cacophony of contradictions, greedy hands gripping your hips possessively, then smoothing up your back under your shirt before sliding back down to slap the soft flesh of your ass. His thrusts are hard and intense, cock hitting that spot inside you that makes electricity jolt in your stomach with each movement, but then he bends over you, slows his hips so that he can kiss the skin of your throat. His voice – deep, husky, reverberating in his chest – keeps up a filthy chorus that has you whimpering into the couch, but he’s praising you, offering you gentle encouragement, his words warm and dirty and entirely overwhelming.

Being so good for me, baby, pussy’s so fuckin’ wet and tight around me. Can feel you getting close, you gonna come like this, huh? With my cock buried deep inside this pretty little cunt?

Without waiting for an answer he wraps an arm around you and finds your clit with two of his thick fingers. He starts rubbing confident circles over it, bringing you closer and closer to your inevitable climax. You grip his arm with your fist; fingernails digging into hard muscle.

Then suddenly you’re coming apart, white noise blocking out the sound of his hips slapping into yours and his voice and the low level hubbub of the other apartments, until there’s nothing left but your pleasure and his cock and his clever fingers, his nose pressed into your throat, teeth nipping the tendons there.

The world fades back into existence as you come down, muscles jolting. You feel yourself clenching around him with the aftershocks. Joel gasps into your neck, squeezes your tits over your shirt.

“Fuck, just like that, gonna come in this sweet cunt. Shit, that’s it.” His thrusts falter, hips slamming into yours.

You feel him twitch inside you as he comes, ropes of hot cum painting the inside of you, his stuttering breath at your ear.

You stay as you are for a moment, both gasping for breath, hearts hammering in your chests. His embrace is suddenly tender, muscles shifting as he relaxes against you. You don’t say anything, but he presses a kiss to the side of your neck, and that simple gesture opens a floodgate in your chest.

He pulls out of you but keeps his arm around you, guides you both down to lie on the couch, your back pressed to his front. The light in the apartment feels different than it did earlier, the orange hue warmer, kinder than it was.

Joel peppers kisses along the back of your neck and over each shoulder, his strong arm keeping you firmly against him. He wraps a thick thigh over both of yours and tightens it, anchoring you in place. You sigh in contentment, head quieter than it’s been for months, years, possibly.

“I didn’t hurt you?” He says into your hair, voice low.

“No, Joel.”

“You sure? I’m sorry if I was too rough. I don’t- I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I liked it, Joel.”

He chuckles darkly, hooks his chin over your shoulder and teases the skin under your ear with his teeth.

“Fuckin’ filthy, aren’t you? Always knew you were.” He presses his nose to your neck, inhales deeply. “Perfume’s nice, by the way.”