#the fucking ANNUNCIATION on some of the words he says in this

[jayparked]

33 & jake pls 😩

jake’s hands really have their own fandom 🫠

warnings: jake hand kink jake hand kink jake hand kink, fingering, dirty talk

your mouth opens and closes, words failing to get past the bottom of your throat whenever you try to speak.

"oh c'mon, pretty. i know you can do it. just tell me what you want and it's yours." jake chuckles, his fingers trailing up and down your naked skin from your legs up to your shoulders and it's driving you crazy.

he thinks it's that simple but it couldn't be further than the truth. it doesn't help that his digits are on the colder side so every trace of you he touches he leaves behind a trail of goosebumps. your breath hitches in your throat when his pointer finger moves along the front of your esophagus. he's toying with you. and he's getting off by doing so.

"just tell me what you want," he whispers, a mischievous glint in his eyes with a smirk that's to die for.

"iwantyourfingersinme." you say all too fast, but not fast enough that he doesn't hear it or can't put two and two together.

but jake isn't gonna let you off that easily.

"huh? what's that? one more time but look me in the eyes and annunciate your words."

god he just loves being a smart ass in bed.

"i want your fingers in me."

"that's my good girl, wasn't so hard now, was it?" jake gives you a quick peck on your lips before plunging his veiny fingers deep in your cunt, wasting no time scissoring the digits inside you to give you that oh so needed stretch.

"mmm, yeah, fuck, jake how do- how do you do that?" you gasp out, clutching onto him to get some sort of stable ground. his pace is fast and consistent, only faltering to change his hand position. now, instead of scissoring, he has his hand out almost as if he was about to shake someone's hand. instead, he has his ring and middle finger deep inside you, moving his arm in small circles so his pointer finger can glide against your clit. all you can do is hopelessly clench on the two digits, relishing in the the way he curls them inside you ever so slightly, just enough to leave you on the edge of your seat.

"my baby should tell me what she wants more often. i'd do anything you ask me to do," he murmurs with a smile between open mouth kisses to your neck, flattening his tongue on the spot behind your ear that he knows makes your entire body tingle.

suddenly, jake's lustful eyes brighten for just a moment before darkening again. his free hand comes into your view as the other continues to coax your release out of you.

"like my fingers so much? then open." his pointer and middle finger prod at your lips until you comply. he presses his fingertips down on your tongue, impatiently telling you to react. you moan on his digits, hollowing your cheeks as your eyes roll back. swirling your tongue and feeling his veins in your mouth has you so ravenous you're almost scared you'll fully lose your mind.

with jake's fingers deep down your throat and deeper inside your cunt you come faster than you ever have before, begging him to do it again only moments after.

for part of my 1k follower celebration send me a member and a number from this list and i'll write a short drabble about it ♡ masterlist

[chelseeebe]

i still love you, i promise

18+. smut. mentions of domestic violence (eddie is NOT the perpetrator!!!) exhusband!eddie x fem reader. this is far more nice domesticity than smut

if i’m being honest i don’t like the ending to this buuuuut i wanted to put it out because it’s been a while!! i have some holiday themed stuff cooking that i want to post before christmas so let’s all pray i actually finish it! i also wanted to just disclaim that yes cheating is bad yadda yadda yadda but we make an exception for fiction and especially for dear reader and eddie okay!?

☾ ⋆｡°✩

the tv rumbles on in the background, eddie’s eyes darting to the clock to determine whether another episode would be wise or not. 

fuck it. 

it plays on anyway, illuminating his dark living room and his terrible posture. he’d spend another couple hours here before finally dragging himself off to bed somewhere between one and two. 

he jumps out of his skin at the sound of hammering, a chorus of fists pummel the door, startling him from his slouch. whichever asshole had the audacity to bang on his door at this time would certainly live to regret it. 

he swings open the door with such force, his fist already clenched, expecting to beat the ever-loving shit out of someone only to find three sleepy faces smiling up at him. 

and you. 

stood behind your grinning sons, completely dejected as you balance what looked to be the entirety of your belongings in your arm. 

“what the f-“ managing to stop himself as the boys run around his legs to get inside. 

his eyes fall bank to your face, the shining bright maroon bruise adorning your cheek only becoming apparent to him now. 

“what happened?” eddie frets, caressing your cheek with a gentle hand, “what the fuck happened?” he didn’t really need you to tell him, that much was obvious. 

you sigh, he hadn’t seen you this low in years, no witty quips or snarling insults. just a permanent scowl and dried tears on your cheeks. 

“can you just..” moving your head from his grasp, “can you put them to bed for me? please?” desperation rippling through your tone. 

“yeah.. yeah of course,” stepping out of the way to welcome you inside, “but you’re telling me what the fuck happened after.” 

-

it’s at least forty five minutes before they settle, eddie growing more and more impatient with every stifled giggle and unnecessary request for the bathroom or water. 

when he does eventually close the door and make his way back to the kitchen, you’re stood over the sink, opened beer bottle in hand as you stare out of the window onto the street. 

“what happened?” he asks gently, hoping not to startle you though you jump anyway.

eddie grabs a bag of opened peas from his freezer, storming over to press the cold bag to your now, very violet cheekbone. 

you sigh again, much different to the usual exhausted mutters you gave him, “it doesn’t matter- thank you for doing that.” 

“too fucking right it does- did he hit you? did he touch the boys?” his grip on the bag tightening as his knuckles glow white. 

“no, he didn’t touch the boys,” placing your hand on top of his, taking the bag of vegetables from him, “just me.” 

eddie can’t help himself, the rage bubbling over once again, “i’ll kill him- i’ll go over there right now and kill that fucker,” searching for the key to his van, anticipating a night in jail for whatever was about to happen. 

your frown only grows deeper, “don’t be fucking stupid,” a disapproving frown etched on your face, watching him flap about the kitchen only to pause, blinking at you. 

“he hit you,” annunciating the words just in case you didn’t already know. 

you hum in acknowledgment, taking another swig of beer, “you got any cigarettes?”

eddie pauses again, completely astonished that you could be so calm about this. but, he’s nothing if not your willing servant, getting the box out of his pocket to hold out to you. 

“can you be serious about this? please?” withholding the box just before your grasp. 

“what do you want me to say eddie? he punched me in the face! it’s done, it’s over. i just wanna have a cigarette and drink my fucking beer, okay?” the dejected look on your face makes his heart sore, he hadn’t wanted to upset you, just get you to agree to him going over there and beating his ass. 

he nods, pointing at the balcony doors, “alright.. alright,” giving up entirely, “go ahead.” 

eddie slips out into the cool night with you, dropping the cig in your open palm, lighting his own in a bid to calm down. 

“thank you, by the way,” exhaling softly, “it means a lot, it’s just-,” you sigh, looking off into the distance, “it’s a lot for me to deal with right now, you don’t need to worry about me.” 

that was all you needed to say, a hint of guilt hitting his chest. eddie hadn’t meant to be so abrupt, so pissed off, it had just washed over him in a scornful fury. 

“i’m always gonna worry ‘bout you.” 

your lips crack into a smile for the first time this evening, relieving a little regret from his heart. 

“now smoke your cigarette and drink your fucking beer,” parroting your earlier outburst, with love of course. far too much love really, so much so he didn’t know what to do with it all. 

-

the first time actually sleeping next you again had never meant to be on his pitiful pull out couch, it felt almost unnatural. 

eddie slept here a lot, especially when he had the boys, but he can’t help but feel you deserve better. 

not that either of you are sleeping, you’re tossing and turning too much for him to drift off to sleep. 

you sigh for the four hundredth time, turning onto your back with a disgruntled huff.

“can’t sleep?” he asks, knowing the answer already. 

you startle, expecting him to have been asleep, “no, not really.”

“yeah i can tell,” deciding to spring some humour back into such a glum night, “you haven’t stayed still all night,” rolling onto his back to join you in staring at the dark ceiling. 

“i’m not a good wife-“ completely out of left field, forcing his brows to knit together in confusion. 

“that’s not true,” eddie interjects, pulling your body into his chest, really just trying to stop this self loathing shit you had going on. 

you chuckle, wrapping an arm over his waist, “i’ve cheated on him like a thousand times eddie, i know i’m not.”

“only with me right?” he asks curiously, unprepared for any answer other than yes. 

“yeah, only you.”

“then i don’t think that counts,” entirely too confident, “i’m your ex husband, he should know that you’d never be completely over me.”

he can feel your chest rise and fall nestled into his side, a deep sigh escaping your lips before slinging your leg over his waist to scoot on top, his hands don’t hesitate to slide downward to rest on your doughy hips. 

“hey, at least you might be invited to the next wedding,” your arms snake around his neck, running your fingers through the hair on the nape of his neck. 

this sort of intimacy was what eddie missed most, just being able to touch you whenever he liked. starting out completely innocent just to naturally slip into something more. christ, he’d pay millions to have it back. 

especially when you looked like this, your ragged oversized shirt and a pair of shorts from before bill clinton’s administration. perfect. 

“uhh no, i won’t be going unless it’s me you’re marrying,” sliding his hands from your hips to your ass, resisting the urge to growl as he does so. 

you laugh, breath brushing against his cheeks, “is that right?”

you’re so close, you may as well just meld into one body, a mess of limbs and parts. keeping your face, for obvious reasons. 

“yeah, so don’t forget it,” grabbing a handful of your luscious ass, savouring the way you felt in his grasp. 

your eyes roll back on their own, shifting only slightly to discover his dick stiffening, the rising tent in his scruffy old boxers. 

“are you hard already?” 

eddie chooses to ignore your sneering tone, his voice thick with exhaustion, “what do you think?” 

“of course you are,” sucking the backs of your teeth, “what’re you? 15?” but your thighs spread, moving into a more comfortable position for what was obviously about to happen. 

“you’re a weirdo,” he laughs, mindlessly grinding upwards, planting his feet firmly on the shitty mattress to help keep you upright. 

“mmhmm,” humming to yourself as you lean forwards, pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose, “and you love it.” 

eddie sighs, moving your hips backwards with his hands, “you’re gonna have to get off of me if you’re not gonna do anything,” the feel of your warmth against his growing erection only making it worse, growling with need. 

your hands trail down his chest, stopping at his pudgy tummy, a feat he’s sworn to get rid of for years now. “what makes you think i’m not gonna do anything?” tucking two fingers inside the waistband of his strained boxers, teasing them down like he won’t cum right then and there. 

he hums, his breathing becoming laboured, “i- fuck, i dunno,” losing all coherent train of thought when you tug his boxers down below his heavy balls, dick springing up against his stomach. 

your tongue peeks out, wetting your lips, “thank you,” coming out of nowhere, “for letting us- or- me stay here,” hands lingering on his ribs. 

“of course,” a no-brainer, really. you were and always have been the love of his life, he’d do anything for you anytime, “you don’t ever have to thank me for shit,” giving your ass a generous squeeze for good measure. 

“yeah i know,” exhaling as you shuffle upward, lousy shorts pulled to the side as you fist his dick, positioning his tip at your sopping entrance, “but i’m gonna.” 

and with that, he slides inside, welcomed into your warmth with a soft moan, your hands finding his sighing shoulders to rest on as you move slowly.

it’s all painfully slow, knowing you weren’t alone and ran the risk of being interrupted at any point meant a milder version of events than what this room usually saw. 

he plants both hands on your cheeks, bringing your face in close, “you can get married a thousand more times and it’d still always be you,” breathlessly, pressing his sticky forehead against yours.

“st-stop it,” a shuddered breath, his gooey sentiments making your cheeks flush. 

“i mean it,” eddie’s sure he can feel your eyelashes flutter against his own, “no one’ll ever come close,” stilling his hips, your tepid smile and laboured breathing was enough to make him cum right now. 

“eddie,” you coo, coming to a halt to send a warning glare in his direction, “i’m still married,” as if soppy words meant more than the continued torrid affair you’d been having. 

“i’m literally inside of you,” he chuckles, finding your waist to caress instead, “you know this already.”

“mhm you are,” shifting on your knees, obviously hoping to distract him from his confession, “so shut up and fuck me,” whispering harshly, your finger lingers over his lips. 

he nods, losing the battle anyway. his hips thrust upward, meeting yours in a rushed manner, you gasp softly only tightening your grasp on his skin. 

the couch creaks, the springs begging for solace as you begin to move with him, containing your pretty little mewls within. eddie already knows he’s going to cum quick, he hadn’t seen you in weeks and even his hand had started to bore him. 

“oh shit,” he groans, running a hand underneath your shirt and up your flexed back, “i’m not gonna last,” gazing into your half-moon eyes, not put off by your growing smile. 

“no?” bouncing your hips faster, deliberately clenching your pussy around his cock, spurring him on for a disappointing showing, “you can’t wait f’me?” goading him, wanting him to cum just so you can hold it over his head. 

eddie pants in time with your frantic hips, allowing you to take control completely. he loves it like this, when you just use him to get off. barely able to keep watching you through hooded eyes, the sight of your wild waist sending him into overdrive. 

“nuhuh,” he strains, wetting his lips as he tries his utmost to keep going, “i can’t.. you feel so good,” through gritted teeth, his heels dig into the couch as a means to ground himself, prolong his climax for as long as possible. 

“c’mon eds,” pressing your damp forehead to his, “‘m nearly there,” positioning yourself so he nestles into your sweet spot, a clammy hand palms at the back of his neck as you desperately rut your hips. 

concentrated gasps fall out of his parted lips, reminding himself to keep breathing concurrently with every jerk and swing of your body. 

sticky skin meshes into one, he doesn’t know where you end and he begins, just a heaving pile of limbs on his couch. 

he’s trying to think of something, anything else to stop him busting his nut, but you’re whimpering, making these soft sounds and your eyes are rolling and it’s all too much. 

he’s thrusting upward without much thought, spilling over in a whirlwind of his nerves exploding and guttural grunts. filling you up, completely unapologetic in the moment, he knows he’ll make it up to you somehow. 

eddie can’t even comprehend your annoyed plight, his ears ringing and his vision fuzzy while you settle on his thighs. he can just about make out your frustrated pout, scowling at him as he floats slowly back to earth. 

“you’re so mean,” cupping his chin to force his eyes to meet yours, “i can’t believe you.” 

his eyelids flutter, sinking into the pillows with you still perched atop his thighs, “sorry sweetheart.. not my fault you feel so good,” sighing as the sleep takes over his eyes, lazily running his fingers over your supple thighs. 

you groan, sliding off of his lap to your spot next to him, pulling the blanket up and over you both. at least maybe now you’d get some sleep, though eddie’s not certain he will. thoughts of beating the life out of david crowd his mind, clearly not as empathetic or understanding as you were. 

he snakes an arm around your waist, watching your face as your features settle, embracing the tired aching of your bones. 

-

an ear-piercing, blood-curdling screech serves as your alarm, closely followed by three lots of footsteps banging down the wooden stairs in his apartment. 

eddie can’t have had more than three hours of sleep. holding onto your twitching body, preoccupied with guilt and anger over your bruised cheek instead. if he had been a better husband, this wouldn’t have ever happened. 

but now, he’s forced awake by your children, groaning into the pillow as their limbs flail and scramble onto the couch, screaming about breakfast and cartoons. 

“alright alright!” he huffs, still gruff from his lack of sleep, “get the hell off me,” shielding your head with his arms while they settle into place. 

“do we have have to go to school?” oscar perks up, an opportunist like his father. 

“uhh yeah,” you emerge from the blanket cocoon to scold your idiotic children, “what makes you think you’d be skipping today?” 

“because we’re at dads house, we only come here on the weekend,” so innocent, though you can both see right through it. 

“it’s tuesday,” you chuckle, “you’re going to school,” tipping them from your legs to stand up. 

there’s an unexpected sadness that settles in his chest, a knowing that he’d missed out on this for too long because he fucked up in the first place. 

eddie climbs out of the makeshift bed anyway, masking his lingering sadness with a cough, determined to make his incompetence up to you somehow. 

“i’ll get them ready,” he assures, leaning ever so nonchalantly against the counter, “go, take my bed, you need it more than i do,” it’d quite simply take all of his might not to crawl up the stairs and join you, leaving you alone in his bed was just torture. 

you nod, muttering a quiet thanks before shuffling off, running your fingers over benji’s mop of hair for good measure as you go. he was the only one that had inherited eddie’s curls, though unlike his dad’s, his sat nearly atop his head and not hastily thrown into a bun like his. 

“alright freaks, what’s for breakfast?” 

-

toast and ice cream apparently. 

a long battle of no’s and absolutely not’s ended with eddie conceding to his feral children, on the condition that they had toast as well as their ice cream. 

it worked, for the most part, until it came time to leave and oscar couldn’t find his pencil case and benji’s shoes needed to be tied. 

but they’d made it to the gates only a few minutes late, bundling them out of his car and far far away for eight hours. 

he still needed to call the shop and let them know he wouldn’t be in, not for a couple days at least. you were his priority now, not that you hadn’t ever been, they all knew he’d drop work if you asked. 

eddie leaps up to his apartment, desperate to get back to you. he wasn’t expecting to find you in the kitchen, washing the dishes from his chaotic excuse for breakfast. 

“did they have ice cream for breakfast?” you ask the second he enters the room. your tone gives nothing away, forcing him to answer cautiously in case yes was the wrong answer. 

“it’s the only thing they’d eat,” he holds his hands up in admission of his guilt, “they had toast too though,” sidling up besides the sink, studying your eyes to grasp whether you were pissed. 

“alright,” nodding as you drain the sink, wiping your hands with the dish towel, “they had a shitty night, ice cream is fine,” shrugging as you turn to him. 

is this a ruse? were you about to release your real frustration? eddie’s not sure and he’s not about to find out. 

“how ‘bout some food? we could go out?” changing the subject entirely, a safe, but wise move. 

you blink, glancing at the clock, “you don’t have work?” 

he shakes his head no, “called in, told them you needed me here so.. you’re stuck with me,” sliding closer along the countertop, a bashful grin overcoming his features. 

he’s not sure how long this’ll last but he’s going to soak up every last minute of you being here, letting him dote on you instead of refusing, a semblance of the old life he so dearly missed. 

“i want a burger,” stating plainly, knowing he’d get you anything you asked for. 

“i can do that,” he eyes your disheveled shirt and no pants, “you wanna get changed first or are we just going like this?” 

you snarl before scurrying off to get ready. eddie finds it difficult to not let his heart swell, he’d never fallen out of love with you exactly, but he’s certain he’s falling in love with you all over again. 

-

eddie’s not complaining at all, but he’d forgotten just how long you took to get ready sometimes. 

an hour later and you reappear, the maroon marking still adorning your face, though you look a little less tired and a little more like you. 

deciding on a benny’s special over shitty fast food which he didn’t mind. eddie used to work at benny’s right around the time you got pregnant with oscar, it was a short lived job though, he wasn’t exactly cut out for customer service even in your local dinner. 

benny was kind enough to let him go with his whole pay check, he’d always had a soft spot for him. 

“are you getting out or..” his hand pauses on the door handle, staring at your frozen body.  

“uh no? not with this,” gesturing to the bright purple bruise decorating your face. 

eddie’s brows furrow, you weren’t one to care about what people thought of you, especially not something shallow like a bruise. 

“why? d’you think anyone’s gonna care?” completely dumbfounded by your hesitance. 

you scoff, “no eds, i don’t want anyone to think that you did it.”

oh. 

“oh.. shit, yeah,” it was so unfathomable to him to ever think about hitting you that the the thought had just never crossed his mind, he would never, not even if his life depended on it. 

“yeah,” you repeat, laughing at his ignorance, “i’m doing this for you,” staying put in your seat, a self-righteous nod as he clambers out, having already memorised your order on the journey over. 

he can’t stop thinking about it. 

that anyone could ever assume he’d do that to you. 

he lost his temper sometimes but not like that, never at you. it makes him nauseous to even imagine, babbling through his order while all his brain can fathom is you. 

eddie’s more sure than ever that he had to do whatever it took to keep you next to him forever. you liked to joke a lot about your divorce, how it was the best two thousand bucks you’ve ever spent, but eddie’s not sure it’s at all true. 

he slides back into the car, holding the food in his lap while he, rather shoddily, thinks this through. 

“what? what’s wrong?” oblivious to the inner workings of his head, the buzzing feeling of electricity coursing through his veins. 

the car is silent, though he’s certain you can hear his brain ticking along before he takes a hold of your hand. 

“i’ve been thinking,” your arm going limp with his touch, befuddled by his sudden change in demeanour. 

“oh no,” laughing quietly, letting him continue whatever this was, “that’s never a good thing.”

he slides his ring from his finger, still unable to part with the commitment he’d made, and slides it onto your, notably empty, fourth finger, “i want you to have this, and i want you to keep it until you’re ready- whether that’s a couple of months or twenty years,” twisting the metal around and around, “i’ll be there.”

“eddie,” too gentle for scolding, perhaps it was purely pitiful instead. but your eyes soften when they catch his forlorn gaze, squeezing his fingers for good measure.

a sign that maybe not all hope was lost.

[fitzells]

im just thinking about conrad defending his girlfriend. like imagine conrad is with you and he overhears someone say something rude or insulting towards you?? i feel like his head would just snap up immediately and he’d be pulling you close and being all protective and extremely sassy/sarcastic to get the person to back the fuck off

really cranking out this conrad material. gimme more x this one kinda cringe it’s not my best work. enjoy regardless x KEEP REQUESTING ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

There’s a hand palming at your ass. One that definitely does not belong to your boyfriend, who’s using both of his to overly annunciate the story he’s recounting to Steven just a few steps away. You emit a little squeak, taking a step away from the wandering hand; feeling slightly embarrassed, for some reason.

“Uh. That’s my ass.” The guy laughs loudly, taking a swig from his cup. He shoots you this creepy, perverted little smirk; and you feel your face screw up in disgust.

“Trust me, princess. I know that’s your ass; kinda why I put my hand there.” Taylor sneers beside you, Belly meeting Steven’s curious eyes as she gestures over at the guy in question. “Look, don’t go all prude on me just because of your little boyfriend, ok? You wouldn’t be the first girl I’ve hooked up who belongs to someone else, you know.”

You scoff incredulously, as your fingers wrap around his wrist and remove his grip from your body. The nerve of this guy. “Okay, the reason I don’t want your filthy, perverted paws on me is not just because I have a boyfriend— who does not own me, by the way. It’s because it’s creepy and downright disgusting of you to just think you have the right to put your hands on me when I’ve given you no indication that it was okay.”

He looks around the room for one of his friends, although you’d be surprised if he has any. He seems a little uncomfortable now, probably not expecting you to berate him in front of all of his peers. Less sure of himself, he makes a pathetic attempt to stand his ground. “Ooh.. Indication.”

“Yeah, try spelling it.” A breath of relief tugs at your lips. You know that voice. And you definitely know this hand, rubbing soothingly at that spot between your shoulder blades. “You like feeling up girls who don’t want you? Because there’s a name for that, you know. It’s called perversion.”

The boy raises his hands in surrender, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly; although you can see him shrink in on himself. “Hey man, she was the one giving me those ‘fuck me eyes’ across the room. I’m sure you’re familiar—“

Your boyfriend’s comforting hand leaves your back, and he takes a step in front of you. A crowd is forming behind you, all of your peers waiting for the first fight to really kick off summer. Why do these always have to involve Conrad? “Alright, that’s it—“

You grab at his arm before he has a chance to swing at the shorter boy in front of him. You tug at it, and he turns around to face you. Your gaze melts his demeanour, and you exhale serenely. “Can we just go, please?”

He nods slowly, and you grin up at him. He takes one look at the boy, and then, meets your gaze once again; and he’s made his decision. His fingers squeeze at the flesh of your hip, huffing out a laugh at the faint ‘boo’ the teenagers in front of him yell out in annoyance.

“You okay?” The words are hushed into your ear, a kiss pressed to your temple. You nod, squeezing at his wrist, where it lays on your hip bone. You’re just about to speak when you hear that damn voice again.

“Yeah, take him home. Maybe after that you can come back here for a round two? You know you want—“

You pull Conrad’s hands off of you and after breathing out a quick, give me one second; your hand comes up and slaps that other asshole in the face. Hard. Hard enough that he stumbles back into Belly, who pushes him off of her with a grimace. You sigh, triumphantly. Turning back to your boyfriend, you pat at his chest and laugh at the grin on his face.

“Now, can we go?” You query, with a smile on your face. He nods speechlessly, and pulls you in for a kiss the minute you get outside, in front of everybody; despite his hatred for PDA. Your arms wrap around his neck, and his hands cup at your face delicately.

“Jesus, Con. Everybody knows you guys are together, you don’t have to eat her.” Steven slaps at Conrad’s back. You pull away reluctantly, and follow the rest of your friends out of the house. Steven wraps an arm around your neck, smiling down at you as he ruffles your hair. “Great work in there, by the way. Extremely satisfying to see a powerful woman take down a creep.”

You roll your eyes, and Taylor and Belly’s faces screw up in annoyance in front of you. You jog over to the red jeep you’re a little overly familiar with, opening the passenger door and watching as Steven stomps his foot like a child. “Wow, Steven Conklin the feminist! I’m still calling shotgun though, but nice try.”

Everyone piles into the car, Belly uncomfortably perches on Taylor’s lap to make room for them all. Conrad leans over and presses a kiss to the top of your head, flipping off Jeremiah as he gags from the seat behind you. You grin, cheekily. Conrad grins back.

“We are so getting this girl some ice cream.”

Everybody cheers.

[messyemmy]

Ray of Sunshine - Grumpy!Harry x Reader.

Premise: Harry has a tendency to be moody, but what happens when he meets his match? this one's especially for @harrysonlylover 💞

Other Writing

Word count: 3.4k

Warnings: She/her pronouns. 3rd person.

⛅️

Harry’s car skids recklessly into the almost-full parking lot, dismissing the concept of carefulness in favour of confronting the driver behind the wheel of a sunshine-yellow ‘60s VW beetle, who had pulled into the lot moments before- which should have never happened because it had been behind him, to begin with. 

As if his mood hadn’t been less than pleasant for the past month, what really set him over the edge was the lack of apology from the said sunshine yellow driver, who only honked his way and proceeded to turn into the parking lot as they seemed to have always intended. 

With agitation, Harry neatly swerves into the nearest parking space, barely managing to stay in the lines as he reaches over and snatches his work satchel from the passenger seat, slinging it over his shoulder as he slides from the seat and exits his vehicle. 

In hot pursuit, his long legs help him catch up to the sunshine car just in time for the driver to exit, her back turned to him, leaning in through the open door to collect her items. 

By the time she turns around and lazily swings the door shut Harry is peering over her, wearing a black hoodie, brows furrowed, his body tense. 

She recognises him in an instant- it’s hard not to remember the face of a man who is scowling so sinfully as he hit the hooter for an unnecessary amount of time- all because he couldn't be bothered to indicate. 

“Did you not see my blinker?” He grumbles. 

“Clearly not.” She torts, her face still and expressionless. 

“You’re a moron. It was on.” Each word is more annunciated than the last. 

“It wasn’t.” She shrugs, slinging the straps of her bag over her shoulder. 

“You clearly need glasses.” Harry huffs in disbelief. 

“Maybe if you weren’t blasting your music so loud you would have heard that it wasn’t on.” 

Harry feels a wave of shame wash over him at the idea of her seeing him getting a little too into his playlist, in turn, his chest simmers with defensiveness and deflection, 

“Your driving fucking sucks…” He says, getting no response only encourages him to rant further, “And your car looks like it’s hanging on by its last thread, no wonder you’re a bad driver.” He gestures to her car with a look of distaste, “It’s a piece of junk.”

She adores her car, it is not only special but holds the heart of many fond times, adventures, people, and sometimes just conversation. The car sure has been through the wringer- in age alone- but she can hardly afford another, and she certainly doesn't want one. 

So, she tries not to find offence in this grumpy strangers declaration of her ‘piece of junk’ and does her best to take a deep breath before responding in concession- though her agitation has morphed into sarcasm and it seeps through your sentences,

“Okay, sorry Mister Mercedes. Guess I’ll be more careful next time.”

Harry didn't know what he wanted her to say, but it certainly wasn’t anything along those lines. So with an eye roll and the reminder that he’s close to being late for work, Harry starts to walk away and points out matter-of-factly, 

“Yeah fuckin right, you’re an accident waiting to happen.” 

“Asshole.”

“I heard that.” 

He turns on his heels to see her as calm as ever, an amused sparkle in her eyes, a smirk playing at her lips,

“What ya gonna do? Chew me out some more?”

Harry stared seethingly at the rude and reckless driver who couldn't care less about his mood, her focus was on gathering all the necessary items for whatever task she so desperately had to complete that she was willing to almost kill him. 

He meanly mutters, “Have a fantastic day," before walking off for good, dreading work and in a worse mood than ever. 

⛅️

Harry has an hour for lunch, grateful for the assortment of cafes and restaurants scattered within the city square, along with plenty of boutiques, art deco, and antiques to name a few. 

Most days, he is likely to grab a sandwich or coffee- or both- from the restaurant directly across from his office block, but that would be the third time this week and Harry can’t fathom facing any of the staff in fear of becoming a ‘regular.’ 

He meanders around the centre and stakes out the array of food options displayed in each glass window. 

Just when he thinks he may settle on some early afternoon sushi, Harry spots a bright object from the corner of his vision, his head snapping with such haste he must have strained a muscle. 

Parked directly in front of a shoe boutique is his notorious enemy; the sunshine car. And leaning back against a pillar just outside of the store is the bad driver from behind the wheel. She is halfway through smoking a cigarette, her other hand occupied by scrolling through her phone. 

As if his scowl was so strong that it was sent straight to her, causing her to sense his presence, she looked up from her phone and smiled mischievously at the realization of her new enemy's arrival. 

She tucks her phone into the pocket of her black slacks, taking a puff of her ciggie, a cloud of smoke mixing in with her greeting,  

“Ah, Mister Mercedes.” 

Harry nears but notices his frustration thicken with each step into her space. He crosses his arms across his chest, 

“I recognised your car.” 

“Oh, that old piece of junk?” She asks with nonchalance. 

“Yes.”

“Bothered you so much that you decided to come over here?” Her pout is melting with pure mischief. 

“I’m sorry, okay.” Harry concedes, but it doesn't come off as anything but frustrated so his tone softens in volume and intention, “It was a rough day.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?” His brows furrow.

“Yeah, okay.” 

“Fucking insufferable.” He mutters.

His frustration slips over like that of water on a duck, her mood has been calm all day, and his attitude wasn’t likely to spoil it- right? With another puff, she ponders aloud, 

“Is there anything else I can help you with?”

There is a moment where Harry almost ponders the purity of his intentions, but dismisses it and chooses to interrogate her- he is far too invested in finding out more about his enemy,

“Do you work here?” 

“Obviously.” She shrugs with the softest of scoffs. 

“Hope you’re a better employee than a driver.” 

Now he’s starting to get under her skin. this is her hour for lunch, why can’t it be spent in peace? She does her damndest to maintain a cool demeanour as she asks again,

“Why are you still here?” 

“To apologize, Jesus.” Harry doesn't mean to snap, but neither of them is surprised when he does. His juxtaposition of words and tone render his sorry useless- they both know it.

He tries to reason with her, explaining his frustration, “And all you said was okay.”

She peers over at him incredulously, repeatedly intrigued by the attitude of this man who has gone out of his way to make an enemy out of her, 

“What do you want me to say,” her tone facetious and fiery, “I forgive you, we all have bad days, sometimes we take it out on strangers to avoid hurting those close to us, you’re probably actually a great guy?” 

“I- yes.” 

“Well now that I’ve said it, you can go on your way.” 

Harry feels stunned like she just let him walk out into the snow knowing that there was soon to be a blizzard, he can’t reason with her- nor does he care to at this point, 

“Jesus. I take back my apology.” He grumbles, hands raised in defeat, his head shaking as he scoffs sourly, “Such a mature little thing, huh?” 

She ignores everything but the last sentence, slowly enjoying the opportunities he’s giving her to indulge in going out of her way to increase his already extreme grumpiness. 

Once more, Harry curses out under his breath and with zero intent to say another word, begins to walk away from her. 

Pulling the phone from her pocket, ready to continue her prior activities, she chuckles and calls over his shoulder,

“Bye, Mister Mercedes.” 

⛅️

It has likely been less than a week since their last interaction and Harry’s enemy has decided to treat herself to a proper lunch- sitting down at an actual table in an actual restaurant for a change. 

However, she underestimated her fitness levels and loosely accounted for a good portion of the time her lunch break consisted of. By the time she arrived and got back to her own store, there would be less than twenty minutes left to sit at a table. 

Takeout would have to do, and once she has placed her order, she waits off to the side of the main counter, waiting to both pay and be gifted with grub. 

The food comes quicker than predicted and with excitement she thinks can't be topped, she reaches for her wallet, but the hostess stops her in her tracks and gestures to one of the tables scattered throughout the eatery and informs her, 

“The man at table four already paid for your order.”

It’s her sworn enemy, packing up the contents of his belongings before taking a final sip of his nearly-empty Americano. Harry doesn’t acknowledge her.

“What’s with this guy?” She ponders aloud before making the swift and frustrated decision to go over to his table.

He is already standing up to leave, still not looking her way, and with a bough of confusion, she finally speaks up, 

“What’s this about?” 

“Strange way of saying thank you, Sunshine.” 

Harry frowns and she doesn't enjoy the way it makes her feel, giddy and begging for more opportunities to bother him, 

“Thank you.”

“Whatever. You’re still a pest.” He grumbles, almost bumping his shoulder into her own as he slips past and hastily exits the restaurant.

⛅️

Harry walks into her store with a better attitude than he has in a long time. Things were starting to look up, but one little thing was still bothering him, and she was staring right at him with a scowl that gave him a run for his money. 

Anyhow, he’s here for a reason; an attempt to smooth over the rocky start that was more than likely his fault. And he hopes she’ll take his apology this time. 

Harry approaches, and with each step, he gets a better view of her distinct frown, lips turned down, eyes quickly turning to loathsome slits. She is no longer leaning across the front counter with laxation, her body stiffening to attention, her hand pressed firmly to her hip. 

She couldn’t fathom anything could have worsened her week, and here he was, presumably planning on sucking away whatever remained of her soul for his own sick gain. With a chest simmering with chaos, she asks with incredulity, 

“Seriously?” 

Harry blinks back, a little awestruck, ignoring the pang of disappointment that greets his heart when she seems to confirm her distaste for his presence, he embraces his mildly peppy mood and remarks playfully, 

“Well hello there, Sunshine.” 

“This is not the time.” She snaps.  

“Aw, is Miss Ray-of-Sunlight in a mood today?” He coos. 

“Mmph.” 

She huffs, hardly meeting his eyes, and Harry quite likes how well she emulates his usually grumpy demeanour, he wonders how similar they might be, decides to find out, 

“What happened?” He meets her at the counter, lazily resting his body against the counter courtesy of the elbow he balances on. He leans a tad nearer, a tantalizing smile playing at his lips as he teases,

“Did you almost crash into someone with your junkyard on wheels?” 

“I’d rather drive this than parade about like an absolute dick in an overpriced German car.” Her tone drips with what Harry feels is both disappointment and disgust. 

He feels frozen under her words like his Sunshine had just revealed herself to be Medusa, a sly Succubus. 

Now what does he do? His confidence sits on the floor with his converse, his sentences have turned to slosh in his skull and she is staring at him with such distaste that Harry certainly won’t be saying a word. 

Stunned to silence, he leans away from her, settling a safe space between their bodies as his features morph from friendly to confused. This only seems to increase her frustration and she fiery snaps, 

“Why won't you stop fucking pestering me?”

Harry subconsciously steps back, straightening up and stacking his defensiveness around his skin like a shield. He has no power to prevent a petty eye roll, 

“Oh, please. This is no treat for me either, Sunshine.”

“Are you kidding?” She gets ready to leave him standing alone in the middle of her own store. 

Harry panics and blurts, “Hear me out!” It comes off more desperate than he would have liked. But she has stopped and addresses him with crossed arms, waiting for his next words. Harry is in autopilot mode, more nonsense spilling from his lips, “I- want to make it up to you?” 

“Why, so you can clear your conscience?” She scoffs with sass. 

“Sure, whatever you say, smart mouth.” Harry has regressed and reflects her unpleasant temperament.

“Go away.” 

Their gazes are glued by the calamity of their conversation, tied together with frustration that feels impossible to unwind. 

Harry just wants to tell her why he’s here in the first place, but what’s the point? His presence is evidently worsening her day. 

And though the soft curiosity in him wants to know why she seems so down, Harry’s focus is returning to the ruin of his afternoon. So, in true fashion, he flails his arms in disappointed defeat and turns his back on her with a wonderful version of goodbye,

“Fine. Fuck it. Have a miserable one, Sunshine.” 

“Likewise, dickhead.” She dismisses, grateful his mood is now as miserable as her own. 

⛅️

When Harry finally exits the glass entrance to the bottom floor, relief rushing over him now that work is over, he’s hardly paying any attention to anything or anyone, already scanning his phone for notifications. But then he sees his cloudy sunshine leaning against a wall, arms crossed, no car in sight. 

He ponders pretending to not have noticed- walked away and gone about his eve. That would never happen though, he wants- needs to see her again- his stomach stays unsettled the deeper their discourse divulged. 

He heads over to her with unnecessary haste, scolding himself as he comes to a halt in front of her. She has been aware of him from the minute he exited the building, already prepared for his arrival. 

His body waits expectantly as she eyes him up and down, a cheeky glint in her eyes and when Harry understands that she is in no rush to speak up, his undying impatience rears its head, 

“What do you want?” 

“For you to stop being so grumpy.” She shrugs.

“Rich coming from you.” He mutters, but when she attempts to turn her back on him as they had done so many times before, more words rush out, “Okay, okay. What’s up?”

“I’ve decided to hear you out.” 

“Gee, how kind of you.” 

“I cannot imagine how anyone deals with you on a daily basis.” 

Harry doesn’t take it as an insult, he is fueled forward by the fact that she might be willing to listen,

“I’m actually very likeable.” 

“Do you want me to hear you out or not?” 

He thinks for a moment, leaving her to ponder what in her right mind caused her to take a walk to see him in the first place. 

But, he wants to do this as… right as their attitudes might approve of, so he bravely wraps his palm atop her own, gently gesturing for her to follow and she allows him to drag her along. He encourages, 

“C’mon.” 

“What?” She asks but proceeds to let him guide her. 

“It’s almost six, let’s go eat.” He informs, one step ahead of her as they take the short trip to his regular restaurant

“That is the last thing I want to do with you.” She grumbles. 

“I’ll pay.” He soothes. 

“Fine.” 

Harry keeps her hand cradled in his own, even as they enter the restaurant and he asks the waiter for a table for two. In fact, he only lets go to pull out a chair for her. 

He asks what drink she prefers and if she’d be open to splitting a plate of fries with him. 

But she has been eyeing him with suspicion, and once it’s clear that this won’t waver until she confronts it, the waiter leaves and allows her to question, 

“Why are you being nicer than usual?” 

“Can you stop being snarky for even a second?” He nearly snaps. 

“Ah, Mister Mercedes is back.” She nods as if it were what she had expected all along. 

“No,- Jesus fuck.” Harry feels desperate again, scooching his chair forward, his arms folded across the table, leaning in to ensure her unwavering attention,

 “I- almost got into another accident the day we met.” He sighs out with shame, ready to be met with warranted ridicule. Her expression has already turned to one of bemusement. But he’s not done yet,

“Turns out my left blinker bulb burned out... so...”

She tilts back and finally relaxes into her chair, a gleeful grin spreading to her sparkling eyes, 

“Sweet vindication.” 

“Brat.”

“Dick.” 

Harry has little confidence to spare, now that his confession is out in the open, he is in the dark. 

Her demeanour has slightly diverted swells of amusement and satisfaction dancing along the tabletop.

“Just wanted to try and make it up to you.” He shrugs earnestly, unfortunately having to rely on her newfound information to dictate her next reaction. 

“Make it up to me?” 

He can’t convince himself to meet her eyes, his lowering to study the rings donning his fingers, fearful of humiliation, but not enough to waste the opportunity sitting across from him, looking overjoyed with sweet satisfaction, and far too endearing for him to resist,

“Mm. I didn’t want you to think I was just a grump but…” Her face seems to soften and he feels it safe to continue, “Been tryna ask you out on a date. since.” 

“A date?” 

“Yeah, a date.” 

“Are you crazy?” Her features return to one of confusion, bewildered at his seemingly sudden turnaround, “I don’t like you.”

“Well, I like you.”

“Forgive me for finding that hard to believe.” 

It’s true- that he likes you, and that it’s hard to believe. He likes the surprise shifting his statement. 

“I do.” He nods as if it’s been obvious from the start, “And your attitude, and your silly yellow car.” He admits with bashful fondness, “Guess I hoped we could start over?” 

“Sunshine.” She says. 

“Hm?”

He ponders aloud and it’s her turn to lean forward, stretching her arms across the table. Her gaze has returned to one of sternness, 

“My car. Her name is Sunshine.” She allows Harry a moment to soak up the coincidental information. “She is a piece of junk, but I love her, so shut up about my baby.”

Harry’s head tilts back when a bough of laughter suddenly leaves his lips- amused and even more attracted than he thought possible, he nods along in agreement and chuckles, “Fair enough.” 

There is an elongated pause- at least Harry perceives it to be- as she thinks over the oddly pleasurable past few weeks of finding herself in the presence of a grumpy but playful man. 

So, she gives him one last good look over before deciding to openly give in, 

“You have been a consistent pain in my ass.” He pouts cutely, and she goes on, “Guess we’ll have to find out if there’s more to you.” 

He smiles at that, his head and heart finally settling at the promise of better nights of sleep to follow. Moreso, he’d like to find out more about this so-called Sunshine who seems to simultaneously rile him up and calm him down with ease, 

“‘M name’s Harry, by the way.” He extends a hand.

“Y/n.” Her palm meets his eagerly.

-

Here we go children, this one was really fun to write, I hope it meets your expectations! - Em. xo 💞 this one's especially for @harrysonlylover 💞

[zablife]

This look he has just reeks of touch my wife one more time and I'll raise hell. Or reader is shy (and married to Tommy) and is trying not to be rude + moving to stop the touches on her arm. Tommy sees if they keep doing it before he intervenes

Tommy watching you do just anything at home

John pretending to read but watching you tell a someone off. Also him waiting to see if the guy does something

Sorry 😅idk what to do with myself

Tysm for the ask, darl! I love all of these amazing ideas! Protective Tommy makes me feral and that look in the 2nd GIF is pure sunshine. However, I've written loads of Tommy requests recently so I'll show John some love.

Place Your Bets

"You there!" a mean looking drunk shouted over the din of the betting shop. You didn't bother looking up from your desk as you concentrated on taking a customer's bet over the telephone.

Undeterred, the man slowly clomped toward you, swaying as he walked. He approached wreaking of whisky and body odor and you hung up as quickly as possible to shoo him away. Rising from the desk you motioned to the back of the queue, closer to the doors where the stench would be carried away with the breeze. "You'll have to wait your turn," you informed him tersely.

"I know you," he said with a sneer, showing off a row of rotten, yellow teeth. "You was the lass who took my bet last week."

You turned away, unsure how the poor sod had placed his bet and not caring in the slightest.

"I'm talking to you!" he shouted and you turned with fire dancing in your eyes as he dared to continue. "You gave me that rubbish tip about Monaghan Boy!" he said, wiping his nose on the back of his sleeve.

"Gonna let your missus handle that one?" a secretary asked as she passed John's desk.

John lowered his paper as he shrugged, "Why not? She can take care of herself better than half the men here," he said, voice swelling with pride. He grinned to himself as he thought of all the times you'd bested him in an argument and counted himself lucky someone else was on the receiving end of your temper for once.

"He must have been off his tits! Came in dead last," the man grumbled to you.

"You'd know something about that, eh?" you countered, snickering as you pushed past him to gather a few papers.

"What did you say to me?," the man asked, puffing out his chest.

"Oh, God, this is going to be good," John said with a slight giggle. He could tell by your folded arms and the way your foot began to tap rapidly against the floorboards you were properly angry now.

You whipped around, annunciating your words as if he were a complete idiot, because he was. "I said you're a fucking drunk who made a shit bet so don't come in here and throw a wobbler like a bloody child!"

Sitting back to watch the drama unfold from behind his paper, John snickered as he listened to you give the man a tongue lashing. The man retaliated calling you a cunt.

John sucked in a breath. "Ooh, I wouldn't call her that, mate!" John commented to no one in particular, shaking his head. He kicked his feet off the desk and leaned forward slightly to see how you would return the insult.

You wagged a finger in the man's face, half his size, but berating him as though you were equally matched. "Call me that once more and I'll cut ya, ya filthy animal! Don't fuck with me!"

That's when John saw the man reach out to grab you by the arm and he was on his feet in seconds, pounding the floorboards menacingly. He pinned the man to the wall, narrowing his eyes at the bastard who dared lay a hand on you, asking, "What the fuck do you think you're doing?" The man could only gurgle in response as John held him by the throat.

You brushed your sleeve, noting the dirt he'd left behind with a frown before collecting yourself and lightly placing a hand on John's shoulder. He turned to look at you, eyes softening, but grip remaining firm.

"Can I borrow your blade, darling? Left mine in me other skirt," you said, voice as thick and sweet as honey.

"Of course, love," he said, handing it over with a quick kiss.

"Wait, wh-what's sh-she going to do with that?" the man stuttered, too afraid to move.

"Cut your balls off, I reckon," John replied. Breaking out into a shit eating grin, he reached up to smack the man on the cheek a couple of times. Then he pulled back to take in the look of horror as he snorted, "Nah, just take your eyes. She's a blinder after all and she did warn ya not to fuck with her."

[vaporwavebeach-writes]

Kinktober Day 9 (Stripping)

Soldier Boy x Reader (NSFW)

(945 Words)

Summary: you tell Soldier Boy about your mission before hopping in the shower

Warnings/Tags: 18+, gender neutral reader, little bit of blood, typical canon violence (it’s the boys duh), alcohol consumption, making out, striptease, heavily implied shower sex at the end

Notes: this was a fun change in pace after yesterday’s prompt LMAO anyway I love soldier boy, enjoy the fic!!!

-

The door behind you closes with a slam as you catch your breath. You quickly walk over to the mirror in the corner, you take in your bloodied appearance, trying to process the completely batshit insanity that was your last mission. You feel yourself take shakily taking in deep breaths, still running high on adrenaline.

“Hey there.”

You whip your head around to see Ben, sitting on the couch, nursing a small bottle of bourbon. He looks at you, amused. Seeing you caked in blood and sweat seemed like this seemed just like a normal Tuesday for Ben, considering all his experiences way back in the day during his glory days as the legendary Soldier Boy, where he would be in the same position as you.

“Hi,” you reply, staring at him for a moment.

“What happened to you? You look like shit,” he grins.

“You-” you make your way over to him, slumping down on the couch beside him, not giving a shit about the dried up blood occupying your clothes. “…Have no idea.” you sigh. With a subtle nod, he passes you the bottle, where you swiftly gulp down a couple sips, feeling that delicious burn run down your throat. “Where’s?-”

“Butcher and the cum guzzler?” You nod at him witch a chuckle. “They’re out, doing god only knows what, which gives us…” he wraps an arm around your shoulder, pulling you in. “…The perfect opportunity to release some of that pent up adrenaline.” You meet his gaze, brilliantly hazel with flecks of green staring at you wolfishly.

“You know what?” You take his hand in yours, pulling him up, “I think I’d like that”

“There we go,” he chuckles. Once he gets up to his feet, Ben can’t keep his hands off you. His large hands are on your waist, gripping the small of your back.

You lean in to kiss him, and he tilts his head to yours, giving you access. The sensation of his tongue in your mouth sends shivers down your spine, letting out a soft groan. Ben lets out a perverted snicker, as his hands make their way to your ass, groping you firmly, keeping flush against his chest.

Your feverish make out session leads you two to the bathroom, messily slamming the door as you find yourself positioned sitting on the closed toilet.

“Easy there, Soldier Boy,” you chide, annunciating his hero name with a sensual drawl, biting his lip gently as you pull away from his kiss, maneuvering yourself on top of him. “As much as I’d love for you to completely wreck me,” you continue, getting up from straddling him, “I feel fucking disgusting.”

“That’s alright babe,” Ben says eagerly, “I don’t mind a little mess.” He winks.

“Oh, I know you don’t,” you voice flirtatiously, “I was hoping you could watch me take off these messy clothes,” you lean back toward the sink, “…And maybe join me in the shower?”

“Oh sweetheart,” Ben lets out a low, gravelly chuckle. You sense the heat in his voice and hearing it sends arousal shooting to your sex, which begins to ache in anticipation. “You make a very tempting offer, I’m in.”

You shoot him a sly look as you begin to undress yourself slowly. “You wanna know how I got all bloody?” You glance over to Ben, who lets out a noise of approval. “I was hunting a supe, nothing special, one of the D-listers.” The first item to go is your jacket, which you unzip slowly, giving Ben access to look at your chest, which prominent through the fabric of your shirt.

“He was on the run after getting himself in hot water with Vought.” The jacket hits the floor as you continue to speak. “Unfortunately for him, he ran into me before Vought could get to him.” Next, off come your pants. You turn around, giving Ben a decent view of your ass before teasing him with just enough, and turning back around. “He had some info I needed, and was too stupid to give it to me, so I figured it would be better to put him out of his misery before Vought got their claws in him and probably would’ve done something worse.”

You find yourself on top of Ben once again, pulling off your shirt, exposing your upper half to him. You can feel his length, hard and eager through his grey sweatpants. Coquettishly, you decide to have a little fun, grinding on him ever so slightly. A guttural moan erupts from Ben’s throat, you can’t tell if the wet patch is coming from you or Ben as you feel the arousal rip through you. Left in nothing but your underwear, you reach the peak of your story.

“He put up a fight- more of one than I thought, but it wasn’t so bad once I crushed his skull with my bare hands.” You get off him abruptly, not wanting to finish this before it even gets started. You flip open the shower curtain and turn on the faucet, hearing the shower pour down.

Slipping off your final piece of clothing, you are completely nude as you motion for Ben to take off his own clothes and meet you in the shower.

“Jesus,” he stares at you in awe, getting up and frantically removing his own clothes, haphazardly tossing his Giants jersey to the side and ripping off his sweatpants. “My god, you’re gonna be the death of me,” he grunts, before sliding his arm around you and pulling you into the shower with him.

You giggle before pulling him into a sloppy kiss, sliding the shower curtain closed behind you.

[zombiewhor3]

JEALOUSY, JEALOUSY

fem reader x mickey milkovich

word count: 1280 content rating: MA (18+) A/N: this is my first shameless one shot and i don't know how to feel about it because it was so rushed and sloppy.

-

being posessive was always mickeys thing even if he didn't want to admit it or even if he only saw the person as a "fuck buddy" he hated sharing, he believed it was the most untolerable thing in the world.

leaning against the counter with a magazine in her hand she popped the piece of gum in her mouth before looking at Mickey who was straightening up items on the the convience's store shelves.

he looked hot during the summer, when the shitty fan Kash installed didn't work properly and the hot air around them would make his skin form glossy droplets of sweat.

his dark tank top and his security vest with no sleeves had made for a nice touch to show of his arms, the way the sweat had made his muscles pop out as it shined against him as he worked.

she caught herself staring to which her eyes traced back down as if she couldn't make it any more obvious she had been staring,

instead of him making a sly remark he rubbed over his lips trying to wipe the snarky smirk he had formed on his face.

hearing the bell from the door opening she could see a man walk in, his familiar face strolling down the aisle as he grabbed a bag of chips.

mickey could see her eyes lurking on the man her hand resting her chin up on the counter probably filling her mind with raw things.

he was an older man surely in his thirties, dark brunette hair with blue eyes. he wore a dark grey suit and a fancy watch on his wrist.

bringing up a soda and pack of gum to the counter y/n flashed the man a happy smile,

"how you been nick?"

she spoke with a slight hint of trifle in her tone, watching his blue eyes flash her a look as he re-adjusted his tie trying to hide his smile.

"just well, you holding up after last night?" he shot her a wink as he placed some cash onto the counter and watched her place it into the register before returning her gaze.

"oh definitely my body feels great. i'm back here working for the rest of the week, but i'm free this friday." biting her lip she could tell mickey wasn't having it, he looked irritated, he looked jealous.

like every bone and nerve in his body was trying its hardest not to whip around and throw one solid punch at the guy.

instead he stood in front of the door his arms crossed, "receipt?" he asked and shot y/n a glare as she licked over her lips and printed off one.

Mickey let him pass through the door and returned his sour face to her,

"who the hell is that?" he retorted at her but before he could even get an answer out he asked another snappy question,

"you seeing some rich fuck now?" he spat and watched y/n close the magazine her eyes locked on his and she wasn't backing down.

"he is a guy i've been seeing and doing things with, which you have no say in my decisions, so keep out of it milkovich."

spitting back at him she looked back down at the counter and unexpectedly the magazine was pulled away from her grasp.

"what kind of things y/n?"

"mostly we fuck" she made sure to annunciate the "k" at the end and watched his face twitch a little and he had been punched in the mouth,

like her words were a direct shot into him.

-

in the back cooler she had decided to clean up, take inventory and take a break from the register for a little.

bending over to move a box she felt something rough and hard pressing up against her, mickey had his crotch pressing up against her ass,

he was so hard she could practically feel his jeans about to pop at their seams, abruptly turning around she cupped the bulge in his pants hearing him let out a soft groan.

the eye contact between the two of them and the close proximity had made her hungry, hungry enough to slam her lips against his.

pulling of his vest and his shirt her hands smoothed out against his abdomen as she looked down at his tattoos and even some of his scars that were littered amongst his pale skin.

he had already gotten her down into nothing but her panties, his hands groping and pulling on her breasts feeling her nipples grow harder from the nip of cold air surrounding them.

without hesitation she had slipped away his belt, tearing away the clothes around his waist until he was bare and showing her the fullness of his cock, his tip leaking with pre-cum from excitement of her.

a small gasp slipped from her even if she had done this a million times with him.

pulling her pretty panties to the side for at least some respect he thrusted into her, not even a warning could've prepared her for.

the feeling of his cock pushing deep into her, her legs wrapped around his waist,

one of his hands holding onto the shelve to keep his balance and the other on her throat to pull her closer into the heated kiss they shared.

he pulled his lips away just for a second so he could whisper in her ear just how "fucking good" she felt on his cock, in response she moaned his name with a soft angelic moan.

her hands squeezed at his shoulders and back. her nails having a habit of scratching and clawing their way during sex, the better the sex the tighter grip she had.

"fuck mick gonna cum feels to good" she couldn't help but cry out a little into his ears and when she did she felt his cock twitch a little inside her,

her stomach balled up and before she knew it the tidal waves of a perfect orgasm had rushed through her like a summer wind,

finishing on his cock and hearing as he let out a deep set of groans and maybe even a whimper he finished against her stomach just in time.

she still had her eyes shut from the orgasm from its intensity she hadn't had one like it in weeks maybe even months since she had one that good.

no guy ever gave it to her this good, no guy except for the one who was wiping his cum off her stomach with a rag.

slipping on her clothes with a little of his gentle help she watched him pull a cigarette from his vest pocket along with a lighter and as he slipped on his pants he lit it in his mouth.

not saying a word she had tried to slip out of the cooler but the feeling of his hand grabbing onto her arm stopped her.

pulling her in closer and leaning the cigarette away from her he spoke, "i want you to stop seeing him, he's not worth it" he muttered.

letting go of her she closed the cooler door back and let out a sigh,

"i lied, me and him only had sex once. it was barely even sex and i didn't enjoy it"

mickeys eyes seemed to soften as he slipped back on his tank top and his security vest blowing out some of his cigarette smoke before speaking,

"good keep it that way. i have the house to myself maybe see you at 8?" he asked her and watched her nod before slipping out of the cooler

[nicohischierz]

lesson learned: trevor zegras & hughes brothers

when your first season with the sabres finished, you had been approached by the anaheim ducks. trevor had sung your praises to the team and the trainers looked into the work you did with the sabres. 

you didn’t have to think much about what choice you were going to make. things had been awkward for you in buffalo and knowing that your brothers were still close and didn’t pay you much attention. 

you needed to move. 

so you did. 

when you were there, the trainer revealed that trevor had told them how much you used to help him during his time in the ntdp and when he was over during the summer. 

it was then that the two of you formed a relationship together. trevor provided you with comfort and he always protected you, something you hadn’t felt in a while. 

but the thing was, you never told your brothers about your relationship. it didn’t matter when you posted seeing as they never asked who you were seeing but the problem arised one night when the devils were in town. 

“so z, who’s the mystery girl on your instagram?” jack asked. the ducks were playing the devils in anaheim and the two friends decided to meet for dinner.

you were working with jamie on some light exercises for his shoulder. the ducks had won their game against the devils and you had a home cooked meal planned for your boyfriend and your best friend.

jack was about to get the answer to his question when you opened the door and yelled “hi z, we’re back!”

you didn’t notice your brother sitting across your boyfriend when you walked over and kissed him. jamie did and he tried stopping you but it was too late. 

“what the fuck?!” jack exclaimed. 

your brother got up from his seat and stalked over to where you and trevor were. “what is going on here?” he asked again, his hands on trevors shirt. 

trevor removed jack’s hands from him and looked down at his best friend “this is my girlfriend,” he expalined annunciating each word for jack to hear. the middle hughes brother scoffed. 

"why do you care?” you asked quietly. jack had never cared about your past relationships so why did he care so much about this one. but as soon as the question left your mouth you knew the answer. 

“it’s because he’s dating me right. you don’t care who i date but you do care who he dates,” you answered. jack didn’t say anything so you just shook your head and headed up to your room. 

trevor looked like he was about to punch jack, so jamie stepped in and shoved jack out of the house. their top concern was you. 

when jack got back to his hotel room he called his brothers. “she’s dating z,” he started. luke tilted his head to the side and quinn furrowed his eyebrows. 

“y/n. she’s dating z,” he explained briefly. 

“oh shit really? i mean i knew she was working for the ducks but i didn’t know she was dating z,” quinn rambled. 

“what?” jack asked. he didn’t even know you were in california. 

“yeah. there was this big post on the nhl account when they announced she was going to be a trainer there. petey and brock showed me, that’s kinda the last time i spoke to her. when did you guys last talk to her?” quinn asked. 

both of the younger brothers pulled their phones out and checked their last message to their sister. the time stamp read 2023. it had been three years since they spoke to their own sister. 

“we’re horrible brothers,” luke muttered. 

whilst the three brothers spent the next two months trying to find a way to repair their relationship, ellen payed a visit to her daughter. 

“trevor, i thought you’d want quinn, luke and jack here?” she asked. the two of them were out shopping whilst you were at work and jim took a nap. trevor shrugged. 

“i mean last time jack was with us, he kinda blew up at y/n because he didn’t know and i want this to be special,” he answered. elllen turned to the taller boy and gave him a questioning look. 

“oh shit. i mean sorry, you weren’t supposed to know,” he whispered. 

“you mean, they haven’t spoken to her recently?” 

“y/n told me the last time she got a text from quinn was before she moved here and then from the other two was before she moved to buffalo,” 

ellen was furious. her sons had promised to reach out to their sister after they forgot to come drop her off at the airport. so as soon as she got home, ellen called her sons and yelled at them. 

it was now the end of the season and you were back in michigan after three years. trevor had to do a lot of begging to get you here but it was worth it. 

the two of you ended up taking the boat out to watch the sunset. it was a nice night of just the two of you. halfway through, trevor complained of a stomachache and turned the boat back around. 

when the two of you docked you turned back to your boyfriend to make sure he was okay. only to find him down on one knee. 

“y/n hughes. i know we’ve only been together for two years but we’ve known each other for seven and i’d like to make that forever. so will you make me the happiest duck around and marry me?” he asked. 

you were stunned for words, but when you heard a faint shout of ‘say yes’ you nodded. when you turned around you were met with all the people in your life.  

your parents, your friends from uni and work, some of trevors ntdp friends and standing in front with tears in their eyes were your brothers. 

all three of them. 

and just like those days when you were younger you waved at them. but instead of ignoring you they waved back and embraced you in a hug. 

all four of you knew it would take time to rebuild your relationship but with the help of your now fiancé it seemed more likely than it would’ve a day ago. 

[magnoliabutters]

• AS THE WORLD BURNS •

pairing: kas!vamp eddie munson x (she/her) reader

summary: the consequences of love are not always easy...

warnings: 18+ content, mdni, adult language; canon divergence, season 4 spoilers, violence (vecna level), gore (blood), choking, angst/hate, near death scenarios, toxic/anti-hero relationship, y/n count: 1, etc.

word count: ~9.2k

reblogs, comments, & thoughts are so so shmo appreciated

• stories of eddie munson series • season two • previous part •

note: herro! it feels so good to post again! lots to unpack in this part and its quite long! i apologize if its a bit confusing with referring to some memories. as always, feel free to share your thoughts or ask any questions you may have! i did want to share that my characterization of vecna is probably on another level and die hard v-daddy fans may not enjoy this version - fair warning. nonetheless, i hope you enjoy!

Screams. Screams gargle out of your throat before you even notice. Your heart beats heavily within your chest. The pain shoots up your thigh and into your stomach, as well as down your entire right leg. Your hands push against his head fiercely. You are desperate to rip his teeth off your thigh. You feel his mouth latch harder onto your skin, causing a screech to escape your lips. The blood slowly trickles down your leg, an uncomfortable and nerve-wracking feeling. You scream, “Kas,” as you struggle against him. 

Your head shoots up, looking for something to help you - anything. You reach up to grab a baluster off the staircase. You pull as hard as you can in hopes of ripping it off the handrail. With eyes desperately searching for a weapon, your gaze falls upon Vecna. A sickening smile before you. His eyes completely fixated on Kas and his heavy bite against your thigh. Your stomach drops as you stare into the burned pile of flesh before you. He is enjoying this. It disgusts you. Anger slowly fills your body as you struggle against holding the wood above you. 

With a yell, you release all your undeniable anger. Your body tensing. Your muscles firm. You rip the baluster out from the stairs and drop it heavily against the back of Kas’ head. He shuffles back on his knees. A hand quickly pressing against the mark you made on his cranium. The blunt weapon falls from your hands as he releases his grasp on your thighs.

His eyes slowly raise to you. Those brown chocolate eyes now indiscernible. Red replaces his honey - his sweetness, his innocence. Another stab in the chest, reminding you that Eddie is no longer. You hope he found peace, and that you will see him soon. 

“You bitch,” Kas hisses out. “Fuck you,” you mutter with heavy annunciation on the f. Fueled with anger and pointing towards Vecna, you add, “Funny you’re calling me the bitch when you’re so clearly his. You’re a fucking puppet and a fucking disgrace to Eddie.” He stands up, a finger to your face, as his nostrils flare. 

His quick movements scare you as you wince in his presence. He steps forward in your space. You try to hold your ground, but you step back defensively. “Watch your mouth,” he demands. “Why? Aren’t you about to kill me? I’m going to do whatever the hell I want to do with my last moments,” you scream back. The anger now rings true throughout your body as you take a step forward.

Kas steps back, sucking his tongue to his teeth as a slow smirk appears on his right side. “You have no control here,” he says calmly. Your eyes squint with rage. “You don’t get to decide whether or not you speak before you die. I could just as easily bite off your tongue or rip away a chunk of your cheek,” he lists off as he runs a finger down your cheek bone. You pull away sharply, only making him smile more. “I’d like to see you try to speak then.” You breathe out heavily through your nostrils as you struggle to keep your body from shaking. You refuse to let him see the fear he causes within you. 

“Oh, and one more thing, darlin’,” he states. His index finger and thumb squeezing your chin as he pulls your attention back on him. You struggle to pull away, pain radiating across your jaw, but he holds you right where he wants you. “Eddie was the fucking disgrace. Everything he did and everyone he loved led to him being left to die on that floor,” he continues with a laugh. He takes another step forward, only a mere inch or two away from your face. “What disgrace? You couldn’t even save him. Where were you, huh?” he taunts. “Where were you when he was dying on that slab of concrete? Where were you when he was calling out for you, desperate to have you sit by his side as he left this world? Where were you when he was screaming your name-”

You slap him, hard, before you even knew it. The burning on your palm fuels the hate you feel so deeply within your heart. Kas is stunned before you. His hand retreating as it applies pressure against his face. Shock courses through your mind that he was seemingly bothered. You can barely see out of the tears piling within your eyes, but a part of you worries if you went too far. That very same part replays the unforgivable words spoken, and you are reminded of your hate.

“You disgusting bastard,” you mutter. “Why does it bother you SO much when I talk about him? Is it the constant reminder that, even though he’s gone, he is and always will be a better man than you? Is it because you know the love we had and how you’ll never have it?” A smirk suddenly falls upon your face. Your own eyes turning red, if they could. “Or is it because you know how much better he is at fucking me? That I faked it-“ 

Kas’ hand immediately rushes to your throat. You gasp, letting out your final breath. The pain is excruciating, but completely worth it. You give him a deep smile as you watch the anger flow into his eyes. “Do you ever stop talking?” he spits out through gritted teeth. “Fuck you, Munson,” you grumble out, twisting the knife in his side. He squeezes harder in retaliation and you immediately feel faint. You choke, heavily. Fear in your eyes as you feel the blood halting at your neck, disconnecting from your brain. 

You are going to die, but you already knew that. You haven’t said everything you needed to say. One last love note to beautiful Eddie before you see him again. 

And almost like a switch, Kas’ eyes widen at your reddened and horrified face. He pulls back his hand violently. You immediately collapse to your knees, choking out heaving breaths as your finger nails dig into the hardwood floor. 

Kas steps back, a traumatized look to his face. Never once has he felt regret. Never once has he experienced the fear that spreads like wildfire in his victims’ eyes. And he did this to YOU. The one person in this world that he doesn’t hate with every fiber of his being. Your words stung, hurt like a mother fucker, but he knew they were just words. He loves you, but you make him so angry. And he feels everything so deeply now - now that he knows. He regrets it. He regrets hurting you like that, despite having every intention to kill you at that very moment. 

“Kas, what did I say about playing with your food?” Vecna asks amusingly. His voice careless, as though he has better things to do. It pulls Kas out of his thoughts, which was his intention. You shoot your head towards him, giving him the deadliest stare you could muster. “I am not food, you fucked up burnt pile of shit,” you scream. You are tired of him, tired of him enjoying your death. There is no way in hell you would be letting anyone minimize your existence, certainly not this skinless fuck. 

Vecna’s eyes fall on you sharply. The muscles of his brow pulling together as his haunting stare consumes you. You gasp in response as your heart races. His hand slowly raises. With that, Kas’ face turns pale. He immediately turns to you, trying to push you out of the way, but it was too late. An invisible force floats you in the air. Your breath halts as you attempt to tremble, but you can’t even do that. Your arms are spread from your torso as your heels click together. Your eyes peer down at that horrible face, seeing nothing but absolute ruthlessness.

Kas watches a tear fall down your cheek as you struggle to grasp an understanding of what was occurring. His heart sinks as he watches you raise. He knows what happens after this. He usually enjoys the brutality, mentally taking notes, but as he watches you there, bright flashes wrack his head. 

He pins his chin to his shoulder as he receives painful glints of a blonde girl. He is brought back to the living room that will never be the same again. She floats above, just as you are now. He feels the fear, the terror envelope his body. An involuntary hand hits his chest. Screams, he is screaming. 

The girl he has known since the fourth grade is dying right above him, and he cannot do anything about it. She is the nicest girl, always has been. Anger, resentment, the need to have justice fills his soul. She did not deserve this. She was innocent, absolutely innocent. 

Like you… you didn’t deserve this. 

It did not matter how much you hurt him. How much you broke his heart. How much he despises your existence. How much regret he holds from saving your life that first night. You were innocent. He should have never brought you here. He should have left you alone. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

Kas stands beside Vecna with eyes of horror. His widening gaze peering up at your body as he attempts to process the sight before him. You are conscious. Why is Vecna leaving you conscious? His eyelashes fluttering as tears well in them. What the fuck can he do? You pissed Vecna off, the god of this shithole. He is scared, horrified even. In the face of death, he suddenly realizes he can’t lose you. He won't lose you. 

But he is frozen, frozen with absolute fear. Upon seeing that memory, on top of the anger, resentment, and justice, he feels fear. Vecna destroyed such a precious life so viciously. What could he do with Kas’ meaningless life? He brought him back into the world. He could surely take him out of it. 

Vecna slowly walks up to you. His clawed hand almost encompassing your chest. His head tilts to the side as he watches your terrified eyes. “You are mine, little girl,” he whispers. You tremble as you struggle to bring your eyes to the deadened form below you. Your chin held up by the invisible force. Do you regret what you said? Hell no. This pile of uncured meat is the reason your entire life went upside down. 

“Fuck you,” you muster. 

Suddenly, you feel like your bones were lit on fire. An unbearable wound against your shin and knee. The pain is overwhelming. Enough that your body is so overloaded that you didn’t even notice you were screaming again. Screaming at the top of your lungs as you still struggle against a force holding you against nothing. 

Nerve endings wrack your skull. Your body falls in and out of consciousness. You try hard to let yourself fall out of it, but HE keeps you in. You can feel him deep in your mind. His fingers wriggling within. Any control you had was surely gone. A sickening feeling you wouldn’t wish upon anyone. You truly were his, whether you wanted to be or not. You seek repulsion against the feeling of him in your veins. 

Kas watches you in absolute terror. A memory come to life once again. He can see your snapped leg out of his peripherals but he desperately keeps his widening eyes on your face. He shakes. He shakes as he sees your face pale. His lips tremble. He reminds himself that he did this to you. It may not be his hands, but he put you in this situation and now he is forced to watch your execution.

“Which one next?” Vecna asks lightheartedly. He slightly turns his head towards Kas. His eyes still glued to you, but he manages to pull away. Kas notes the increased excitement in Vecna’s eyes. He despises it, but can’t look away. If he does, then he would have to look at you. However, he can’t escape your crying, your pleading, your begging ringing in his ears. The sound somehow converts into daggers at his side. It causes a worse wound than his death AND rebirth. 

“Please!” you scream with a voice ripped right from your chest. Kas bites his lip as he stares at the floor. The damage to his system abundant in his face. “Just,” the word falls out of his mouth before he could stop it. Vecna turns faster than the word is spoken. “Just what?” he says slowly. He faces him now, full on. Kas could see you starting to fall unconscious from your pain in his sidelines. He is beyond thankful. 

Kas takes a deep breath before drawing his glance back towards Vecna. “You need to stop,” he says. He decides that honesty, something that does not come naturally for him, is his best path ahead. “Something inside me cares for her and I-I can’t have her die like this.” His eyes fall to the ground as he inadvertently becomes vulnerable. He relinquishes his power as he slightly bows before his alpha, his “savior.”

Vecna’s human eyes fall into the depths of hell as disappointment claws across his face. “She left you for dead,” he spits out with a waver to his voice. With a quick shake to his head, he reaches his arm out, undoubtedly to break another one of your limbs. Kas catches his wrist, stopping him in his tracks. He quickly looks at your resting body, ensuring he did not do anything within that fraction of a second. “She is the only thing that’s made me feel alive since you brought me back,” he musters. “You will not take her from me.” 

A deep, grumbled scoff falls from Vecna’s scorched lips. He pulls harshly from Kas’ grasp, as though his touch was poisonous. Kas awkwardly places his hand back at his side, still ready for the offensive, but suddenly extremely careful with where his hands were. “You are telling me you haven’t had any fun since I brought you back?” he clarifies with a laugh. “I saw you smiling while a man’s blood fell from your lip. Your laughter now haunts the New World, as does mine.”

A wince squeezes his face as Kas shakes his head. “Killing is different from living,” he whispers. “You don’t get to decide that,” the deep and overpowering voice emerges. Vecna hasn’t used this voice since they first met. He hasn’t heard him like this since Kas last asked a question or attempted to have any semblance of autonomy. “The only way you can live is if you kill her,” he continues. “Kill her for me.” 

Vecna closes the space between them, leaving Kas to shudder at his increasing voice volume. “Kill her, for me,” he says as he steps away from your unconscious body, still floating above the ground and destined for death.

A haze of a memory as you slowly open your eyelids to watch the two below. Just a few moments and you will cease to be. “I’m crazy about you, Eddie,” you whisper.

And then everything went dark. 

Your cheek rests against a warm and soft surface. It is comforting, familiar. Squelches are heard from, what you assume to be, mudded ground beneath you. Normally, you would be overly curious as to where you were, where your body was headed, who you were with - but not today. You are beyond exhausted, beyond lethargic. Your mind shattered in a million pieces, accompanied by a wretched headache.

A cheek bounces off the warmth as your body sways. The taste of metal fills your mouth. You smack your lips, attempting to get the taste off your tongue. Immediately, a giggle fills the small area between where your head and hand rest against the firm skin. This peaks your interest as you slowly open your eyes, peering your chin up naturally. 

You see the beloved curled locks you long for gracefully brushing against your forehead. A strong jaw line as it clenches, painfully holding back any more laughter. A quick movement of the Adam's apple as he swallows. You curl deeper into the warmness. Nuzzling deeper into his skin as a little grumble leaves your lips. Why would you ever pull away? 

“God, you’re so cute,” you hear Kas’ voice echo within the space. Your mind immediately panics, wriggling your limbs about until he drops you flat onto the ground. The pain resonates through your right hip, but you quickly push the thought away and prepare yourself for his attack. You spin upon your knees and grab hold of a nearby rock, throwing it at him. Naturally, he laughs as he dodges your attempt easily. “I like you better when you’re asleep,” he mutters with a thick upper lip. 

Your eyes rapidly scan the area around you. You find yourself in the woods, but recognize that Vecna’s demonic presence has not impacted the beauty of the nature around you. Were you out of Hawkins? You turn around and note a large plain of tall winded grass and a grand scene of bright light blue across the sky. Freedom. “We’re almost out,” he announces with a deep and confusing sigh. We? you question in your mind. Last you knew, he was about to kill you and now there is a “we?” 

“How did we get here?” you ask, returning your determined eyes upon him. Your body remains defensive, ready to strike if deemed necessary. Kas looks to his feet, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth. The top of his shoe hits against the sole of his other. His hands resting at his back, exposing his bare chest. He stands awkwardly, uncomfortably … vulnerable in front of you. Your breathing intensifies as your eyes meet his. “Last I remember, you were about to kill me,” you say quietly. Your hand slowly crawling towards the next nearby rock. 

His eyes widen before you as he takes a step forward. Your body involuntarily shudders at his approach. Your grip tightening against the rock, almost painfully. “I was never going to kill you,” he replies softly. His body language retreating, as he leans heavily against the trunk of a tree. “Bullshit,” you throw out as your teeth grind. Anger reverberates throughout your body as you struggle to keep yourself calm. 

Kas pushes off the tree with closed, tightened fists. “I was never going to kill you,” he enunciates. “As much as I wanted to,” he whispers under his breath. Your breathing heavies as you watch him begin to pace. “Am I supposed to thank you?” you spit out, terrified to stand from your kneel. “I wouldn’t mind a thank you,” he says sarcastically. “But I also wouldn’t mind you believing me.” You immediately laugh, following his words closely. “Believe you? You must be joking,” you huff with a lowly chuckle. “You left me to die,” you say sternly. The rage within your chest builds your courage as you stand before him. 

“Left you to die? God, how dramatic are you?” he mumbles, throwing his hand up in the air. You step forward, your hands clenching. You forget the rock piercing your palm. “You left me, crying - devastated,” you yell, tears welling in your eyes. “Are you serious, y/n?” he says sternly, entering your space. 

His rage boiling over, equal to your own. The way he says your name is unfamiliar, uncomfortable. “You thought I was him!” he yells. His face is so close to your own that you could note the small hints of pain within his eyes. “You said you didn’t know him,” he growls, his upper lip lifting on one side. 

“I said, I didn’t know who you were,” you yell. Your frustration is as clear as a bell. You push against his ribs, giving yourself a bit more breathing room. Kas’ devilish smirk, the one you swear is plastered to his face, disappears. His body halts after taking a step or two to gain his balance. A cold rush flows from his head to his feet. You find yourself curious, almost concerned, but you quickly remind yourself of the pain he’s caused you. Your worry just as easily turns into enjoyment. 

“You’re right,” he mumbles. You scoff, the words sound absolutely foreign coming from his obnoxious mouth. However, he stares at you. He stares at you blankly - with no indication of what he is thinking, what he is feeling. Your smile slowly forms into a line. “I didn’t know who you were,” you repeat softly. His eyes solemnly rake over your body until they fall upon your lips. He avoids eye contact as you continue your thought. 

“I knew the man, I-,” you start to fumble on your words. “I knew who you were talking about.” For some reason, you feel the need to be truthful, to clarify his twisted idea of what occurred. “I knew you were asking if I knew Ed-” you take a sharp breath. His name hurts - a new sensation that you immediately despise. “Eddie,” you let out in a sigh. The only way the name would fall out as you exhale from the pain it causes. “But I knew you weren’t him, even in that first moment. I lied to myself, I can see that now.” You peer down at your anxious fingers as they dig into your nail beds. “I wasn’t ready to accept the truth, but I didn’t lie to you,” your voice growing more clear and confident as you end your statement. 

A wave of emotions floods Kas’ brain. He can’t ignore the pain you caused. The crack in his heart that caused him to leave you in a puddle of your own tears. But can he really blame you for what you did? For thinking he might have been the man you loved. For being confused. Exactly how he is not to blame for the intense fire within his chest anytime he catches a glimpse of you. 

Eddie may be dead, but there is a part of him that is fresh and beating within Kas’ chest. He loved her. Loves her? He squeezes his eyes shut as he runs his fingers through his hair. He slowly lowers into a crouch as he ponders over her words. He tries desperately to keep Vecna’s out… She did this. She left you to die.

“Now, it’s time for you to tell me the truth, Kas,” you demand with a wobbling voice. “What the hell happened back there?” He pulls his head out from his hands as he looks back up at you. You try to suppress the anxiety that presents at the bottom of your throat. “You loved him,” he whispers as he grips harshly against his chin. Any reference to Eddie also pains Kas, like acid in his mouth. 

With a quick movement, Kas stands before you, straight and tall. “When you would sleep together,” he starts. Your eyes harden as your brows pull together. Upon the sight of you, Kas chuckles. “When you were actually sleeping, darlin’,” he corrects with a smirk. Your face softens as you nod in encouragement for him to continue. He looks off, behind you, almost as though he can see a picture of the scene before him. 

“You would always wake him up with your snoring,” he laughs, biting his lip. “But he was grateful. It always gave him a chance to watch you. You - you looked so peaceful, you know?” His smirk transforms into a smile of remembrance as his eyes quickly pan over to you. “He loved pushing this silly strand behind your ear,” he says as he slowly reaches for your face. You instinctually pull away, but slowly allow him to touch a piece of hair dangling before your face. He places it behind your ear with a gentle finger. 

“He was crazy about you,” he says softly, as though the words mean nothing. But you know better. Those words mean everything to you - to you and Eddie. Those words are gut-wrenching to hear, but you do your best not to show it, still unwilling to expose your vulnerability.

“In the cafeteria, he would watch you. Always making sure that his girl was alright,” he chuckles. “Even before you were really his.” Your face twitches in confusion as the feelings coursing through your veins continue to contradict each other.  “He always watched you,” he says as he closes his eyes. “Catching glimpses of your smile in between the chaos of that room. He didn’t even know your name yet.” His face contracts, as though he is also confused. “How did he know he loved you without even knowing you?” he asks as he finally opens his eyes. Genuine curiosity fills those deadly chocolate eyes.

Brown, they’re brown - not red. Not anymore. 

The silence brings your attention to your wobbling bottom lip. Your brows push together. You are sure there is a wrinkle forming between them. “He told me he was always curious about me,” you start self-consciously. You wanted to know more - to hear more, but you didn’t want to give Kas any more than you needed to. 

“I remember the first time he saw you,” Kas starts with a lighthearted breath. Part of him hated this. Hated talking about the man he could never be. Another part felt happiness, an overwhelming feeling that floods through his body. It grows as he recognizes the same happiness within your eyes. Even though he is split, he must continue - for you. 

“You were this nervous girl, tightening the straps to your backpack when you walked down the hallway,” he continues. He gestures a line between them as though he is mapping out the school’s halls. You watch his hands intently. “He was a junior. He knew he shouldn’t even be looking at you - fresh meat and all.” He immediately acknowledges the confusion on your face and clarifies, “Dibs go right to first year Hellfires, but you…” He chuckles with a shrug. He tsks between his cheeks as he beams into a smile. “For you, he’d break all the rules.” 

Kas analyzes your reaction. Concern washes over him as he watches a tear stream down your cheek. To his surprise, a smile immediately follows. A smile that he is sure you are not even aware of, which makes it that much better. He could see why he loved you. Why he fell for you the second his eyes landed on yours. You are beautiful, despite your annoying, strong headed attitude. 

“Then that night, you called him up on your birthday,” Kas adds with amusement. “He was shocked that you even managed to get his number. He was devising a plan to get yours for the past year and a half.” His eyes widen at the sound of a small giggle falling from your lips. You are still enthralled with the memory, not yet ready to fall into reality. Fall back with Kas. You wanted him. “When he finally got to talk to you, he knew,” he shares with his smile closed and pulled to the side. “I don’t know how, but he did.”

He stops speaking, leaving silence to fill the air. He watches as you slowly flow back into real life. He notes the point where your happiness dissipates. Your eyes fall upon his, leaving that visual imaginary world depicted by his words. You are reminded of where you are now, and how much you wish you could go back. Go back to that opening in the woods, to that bench. You are hesitant of the memories he has shared, of their purpose. But above all, you are grateful. 

“Thank you,” you whisper as you nod, looking everywhere but his eyes. “You’re welcome,” he responds with a hint of confusion. 

After a brief interlude of awkward silence, you say softly, “Kas, can you please tell me how we got here?” You take a step to approach him and his tree. He straightens up, hopeful of you closing the distance between your bodies. Finally, your eyes scan his chest and note the many pink scratches across his skin. Taking another step, you slip upon a branch. Your weight shifts quickly and you feel a soul-crushing pain exude up your right leg. The pain brings along the memory of you floating in front of your two killers. 

In a panic, you immediately look down to note that your leg is fine, and that you, too, have a pink scratch against the side of your shin. “What did you do to me?” you scream as fight or flight ensues. You squeeze your eyes closed, begging for your memories to share some insight into what happened to you - desperate not to depend on just Kas’ recollection. 

Kas stands with eyes to the ground once more. You begin to notice this guilty tell of his. “You don’t need to remember that. You should just go - go now,” he encourages. His palms towards you as he approaches, turns you around, and attempts to walk you out of the woods. “No!” you exclaim as you pry his hands off of you. His solemn face drops as he realizes there is no getting out of this.

“Tell me what the hell happened, Kas! Now,” you demand as you point to the ground with a stomp. Your entire body fuming as you struggle to find peace with what you have learned. “Okay,” he says calmly. “But promise me, after I do, you’ll leave this place.” You take a deep breath, biting your lip as you watch him with fury. After he tells you what happened, you would have no reason to stay here. To stay in this fucked up version of Hawkins. You would finally be free from this never-ending shit show. Finally, you would be free to grieve. To mourn.

“I promise.”

“Kill her, for me,” Vecna booms with excitement in his eyes. Kas could not help but notice the odd interest he had in him. Almost as though every interaction was an experiment meant to be further analyzed and studied. Usually, the words ring true in his mind anytime Vecna speaks. But this time, the words were rotten. They were impossible to follow. An impenetrable idea in his heart and in his mind that the girl before him cannot die. And most definitely not by his own hands. 

Kas has never disobeyed an order. He killed as easily and as quickly as the words fell from Vecna’s mouth. He did it without regret, without remorse. He killed with laughter, enjoyment. Just as Vecna taught him. He particularly enjoyed the fellow students who recognized his former self. Each one assumed that he would help them, save them. Yet, they all called him a freak, a satanist, a murderer. They were right about two of those things anyway, and he made sure to prove it to them with their slow deaths.

But now, he is stuck - desperate for a way out. Unsure of the safest path forward. The path that will bring you to the sanctuary you deserve. He caused your pain, the least he could do was get you out of it. His eyes travel from the horrific sight before him to Vecna’s melted flesh. A twinge of pain in his brow as he attempts to gather the words. Naively hoping that maybe, just maybe, Vecna will understand and let you go. 

Before he can do anything, Kas hears a simple whisper fall from your mouth. A whisper so sweet, so soft that it sounded like it came straight from the heavens above. And with those words, the words you thought would be your last - “I’m crazy about you, Eddie,” his heart filled with undeniable love. 

A flash of your smile floods his mind. Laughter that he would be lucky to listen to for the rest of his life. A moan so sexy and daunting that he had to hear more. Another flash and he stumbles back, almost in pain. Hands rushing to his head as he presses the base of his palms against his brow bone. He is transported back in time. Back to you...

“Hey, don’t forget the popcorn, babe,” he says while munching on the last kernel. What appears to be an action movie blasts loudly across the screen. Kas recognizes the space - it’s HIS trailer. He looks to his right and lands on your beautiful smile. He almost doesn’t notice that you were wearing his t-shirt, strawberry printed panties, and fuzzy long socks bundled at your ankles. You jump over to him in excitement. The popcorn nearly falling out of the bowl. 

“Wait, wait, wait,” you say with increasing volume. Your hand rests lightly upon his chest as your other hand gestures towards the tv. Your eyes are on the movie, but his are glued to you. “This is my favorite part,” you gleam as you softly pat his chest. “I’ll be back,” you imitate in a low-toned and thick accent. 

This was the moment. The moment he knew, without a doubt, that he loved you. From that moment forward, he had every intention of making you his life partner - his wife. He had met his soulmate and he was beyond thankful, knowing that not everyone is as lucky as he. 

“I’m crazy about you, girl,” he whispers as he pushes back that familiar strand of hair that always falls in front of your face. Your smile grows as crimson rises to your cheeks. Your chin pins to your chest as you express a sweet mix of appreciation and embarrassment. 

“Oh, my love,” you whisper as you cup your hand to his cheek. He could feel your warmth. He leans into it. In this simple embrace, you have given him everything he has ever wanted. “I’m crazy about you, Eddie.” He rushes into the kiss, almost as though you may disappear before his very eyes. His hands grip tight around your waist and lower back, determined to never let you go as long as you wanted him. He loved you from the day he saw you, but this was the day he knew you loved him back. 

Kas winces, pulling out of the memory as he stumbles a few steps back. An ambiguous streak of concern riddles Vecna’s face. Save her, a familiar voice rings clear through Kas’ mind. Vecna immediately replies, “No, you must kill her. Kill her for me.” Kas could not even comprehend that Vecna was answering his thoughts. His heart shreds, splitting in two as he struggles to find solid ground. Save her, the voice enunciates once more. 

His eyes flick up towards Vecna. Eyes glowing red as they stare into the soulless being. A subtle shock is depicted upon Vecna’s face in response to Kas’ physical defiance. With a quick outward throw of his hand, Kas’ energy propels Vecna out of the home and straight into the ground a few meters down. Broken wood falls everywhere. Insulation slowly seeping from the cracks.

Kas stares at this hand curiously. He did not know he was capable of such power - power comparable to his. He never needed to use it. Most definitely not when met with Vecna. With a quick glance to his incapacitation, Kas jumps towards your still floating body and wraps his arms around you. His forearm supports your neck, while his other holds your knees. He tries his best to avoid the sight of your damaged leg. It evokes a confusing and distinct feeling within that pangs his sternum.

He holds you tight against his chest, primarily for his own benefit. The warmth you exude transcending deep with his own skin, providing the comfort he desperately sought for. Before he could step out the door, Vecna gracefully lifts from the ground with ease. He lands gently before the two of you, despite the fury building within his expression. 

All Kas could do was watch in horror. He has never once felt vulnerable before, and yet, here he is - with the most important being in the world within his arms - within harm’s way. With a simple firm hand, Vecna flings Kas against the living room. His back bounces off the wall as a ragged and pain-filled grunt drops from his mouth. 

A vengeful force pinning his head against the peeling and painted walls. Your body left rigid and exposed across the floor. He tries so desperately to pull his crown from the wall’s surface, but the power was too strong. All he wanted was to ensure your safety. 

Vecna comes into view. Those blackened eyes piercing right into Kas’ soul. “What have you done?” the low, booming voice echoes within the space. It leaves shivers down Kas’ spine. “Let us go,” he spits out through grinding teeth. Suddenly, Vecna raises his clawed hand, causing pain to electrify each and every one of Kas’ pain receptors. Open wounds spread across his chest. The oxidized air stinging the bloodied rips. A scream stills the room, a scream that only the two of them can hear. 

“Us?” Vecna says with an amused tone. He pulls his hand from the traitor’s face. A displeasing taste in his mouth. A sudden shift to his voice and Vecna’s anger appears ten-fold. “You don’t even know who she is,” he whispers as he leans into Kas’ face. His eyes admiring the pained response of his clenched jaw. “I don’t,” Kas struggles to say. He squeezes his eyes shut, hoping that it may distract from the pain. “I don’t know you either,” he manages to let out with a gasping breath. 

Vecna’s eyes harden as he stares within Kas’. A slight head tilt and the pain disappears. Kas takes in a heavy breath, still pinned forcefully against the wall. “You know me,” Vecna mutters as he turns back to your lifeless body. He wishes he could kill you right here. Snap all your bones until you were an unidentifiable pretzel. But in order to do that, he would need to make you conscious, just for the sake of enjoyment in your death. But the thought of your aggravating voice was enough to put the pleasure of torture out of his mind. “No, I know what you want from me,” Kas whispers back. 

With heavied breaths and a tightened neck, Kas manages to lift his head from the wall to stare down onto Vecna’s burnt skull. A slight uptick of Vecna’s brow revealed the impressiveness he saw within Kas’ strength. Impressive, yet worrisome. A slow burning smirk and he returns his hollowed eyes back to the man before him. “And what do I want from you?” he says amusingly as he slowly returns his hand to Kas’ face. 

Kas immediately makes eye contact with the daggered fingers. His heart racing as he takes a loaded breath in through his nostrils. He returns his eyes towards Vecna’s, courage pouring from his irises. “You want a lieutenant. Someone to lead your armies,” Kas spits out with disgust. “You want someone to stand beside you as the world burns.” A bellowing laugh erupts from Vecna’s chest as the hand carelessly falls from Kas’ cheek. “I don’t need someone to lead,” he laughs effortlessly. The words falling without care. “I can lead.” 

Twisting his head, Vecna pushes in closer to Kas’ face. Kas still manages to hold his head a mere inch away from the wall, but nothing more and nothing less. Only what Vecna allows. “Then why did you bring me back?” Kas hisses. His nostrils flare as he stares down his lifted chin. He desperately holds on to any autonomy he can get. 

“I need a partner,” Vecna answers softly. The bit of disdain within his voice can almost be mistaken as vulnerability. He pulls his eyes from Kas’ before he could recognize the twinge of pain within them. He walks back towards your unconscious body. He rakes over you, questioning what Kas saw in you. “You were right about one thing,” he continues as he speaks over his shoulder. “I do want someone to stand beside me as the world burns.” 

Vecna swiftly turns back to Kas. The quick movement almost berating his body with an impenetrable force that flew his head back against the wall. A soft hiss falls from Kas’ lips as he sears from the blunt pain. “What did she do?” Vecna asks as he takes another step towards him. “What did she do that made you give up on everything that we had?” 

Kas begins to feel a tightening against his neck. He coughs as he struggles to gather his breath. He tries his best to calm his body, not wanting to show any response to Vecna’s abuse. “Nothing,” he whispers with a strained voice. “She did absolutely nothing to pull me from you.” 

After a laugh of disbelief, Vecna sucks his tongue against his bottom teeth with a clenched jaw. “She had to do something, Kas,” he says with pseudo-encouragement in his tone. His boisterous attitude disappears just as quickly as it emerged. A wash of despair falls upon Vecna as he slowly realizes what you gave Kas. A thing that he could never give. Kas scoffs, enjoying the pain that resonates on the face before him. 

“You kill innocent people,” Kas asserts with a hindered voice. Now it was Vecna’s turn to laugh. “Innocent? There’s no such thing as innocent people,” he grumbles with another painful chuckle. Kas’ lips form into a solid line as hatred fills his lungs. “Chrissy Cunningham was innocent,” he spits out loudly. Vecna grumbles as a slow smile forms on his face. “Who?” he asks sarcastically. Kas hisses immediately, almost as though he was ready for Vecna’s dismissal. “The girl you killed in front of me,” he retorts. 

Vecna’s back immediately straightens as he stares at Kas in incredulity. “You remember?” he asks quietly. “No, no. You were perfect,” he attempts to understand by speaking aloud to himself. Kas lets out another bustling laugh despite the pain it caused in his wounded body. “How many times did you kill me before I was perfect?” Kas asks nonchalantly. 

The words penetrating Vecna’s thick armor as he stumbles a step back. “How long did it take you to realize that I remembered before you sicked your bats on me? Before you brought me back again and again?” Kas lets out a simple chuckle, feeling the strength holding him against the wall weaken. He stretches his neck, hearing a clear crack in its side. “You killed me and then expected me to call you my savior,” he mutters in disgust. 

As anger boils the blood that courses through his veins, Kas pulls harshly away from the wall. The feeling no different than peeling his skin off of a burning stove. He struggles to muffle the scream forming in his throat, but his eyes are set upon Vecna. He lands harshly onto the floor, evaporating the force that held him up. 

Vecna’s expression rests in a fixed state of complete bewilderment and determination. “You may despise me, but you do love her,” he whispers in a clear monotone. His quick disconnection from reality settles in as his hand slowly raises - and you along with it. Kas’ eyes widen as he watches your lifeless body raise behind Vecna’s shoulder. 

“Would you like to feel the pain you just caused me?” Vecna says carelessly as a sadistic smile pulls to the side of his face. Kas’ eyes quickly scatter between yours and his. His entire body fuels with adrenaline as he watches your body destined for death within the hands of his “savior.” “Wait,” he pleads. His mouth immediately fills with regret as he slowly returns his eyes to the soulless pair before him. “Don’t.” 

Vecna continues to stare into Kas. He internalizes the twitches of his face, all the pained lines drawn upon his skin. A small part of him wonders if Kas will ever care for him as much as he does for you - if he ever has. The words drop as quickly as the thought fades from his mind. “Don’t what?” he mocks. Kas winces as he begrudgingly returns his sorrowed eyes to Vecna. “Don’t hurt her,” he whispers with a lack of intonation to his voice. “I will stay with you, but only if you let her go.” 

A heart flutters faster than intended. Faster than he ever remembered it could. Vecna swallows his pride as he slowly lowers the desolate girl behind him. “Take her to the border,” he instructs as he steps out of Kas’ direct path towards you.

Kas nods as he rushes to your side. His fingers gently brush the hair from your face as he desperately searches your skin for abrasions. “You’re okay. You’re okay,” he says softly and repeatedly. He tucks his arm underneath your neck. Another arm hooks beneath your knees as he slowly lifts both your bodies up from his crouch.

As he heads towards the door without any intention of looking back, Vecna adds, “If she returns, I will kill her.” Kas slowly turns around, following the ear closest to Vecna as he ingrains the threat into his memory. “If you don’t return, I will kill her.” Fear pangs his heart. It is almost audible as his eyes fall to the ground. He slowly turns, careful not to make sudden movements, as he and you both escape death. Vecna watches him as he carries your undeserving being through the threshold. 

As soon as he made enough headway from the now demolished house, Kas bolts into a sprint to create as much distance between you and his maker. He takes you to another piece of the fallen Hawkin’s border. Your body often smacks against his chest within his haste. The sounds are almost reminiscent of the previous night, but he pushes the thought far from his mind. 

Finally, Kas finds an abandoned church along the way. “Saint Jude’s,” he reads aloud as he walks down the stoned pathway. He finds irony in the idea but pushes through the big double doors with you in his arms. He lightly lays you down upon a pew. Another finger brushes the soft strand out of your face - a now involuntary and automatic act of care. His eyes rake your body, assessing the damages. The majority of your skin was racked with bruises. However, the biggest concern was, of course, your broken leg. 

With a heavy breath in preparation, Kas finally takes in the sight of your distorted leg. The image hurt him more than he could have ever imagined. Seething in hot breaths, he raises his wrist and bites harshly against it. Softly, he raises your head to his inner wrist. Your pretty mouth resting nicely against his wound. 

In your woozy state, you push him away. Some part of your consciousness awakens as adrenaline bursts through and your fists begin swinging. He holds you down, despite the blood falling from his forearm. “God, you’re unbearable even when you sleep,” he grumbles. Your defenses slowly soften as you slip back into unconsciousness. He raises his wrist to your mouth once more. His other hand slowly caresses the back of your head as his fingers trace through strands of your hair.

As soon as a drop of blood falls upon your lips, your body craves it. Suddenly, your hands were holding the back of his wrist and pressing his forearm against your face. He tries his best not to find the interaction incredibly arousing, but your embrace, light sucks, and little nibbles make his head swoon. You took as much of him as you needed, falling back in exhaustion once finished. 

Kas hovers over you for what seemed like hours, but is truly only minutes. A smile forms on his face as he watches the bruises slowly disappear from your beautiful skin. “You’re okay, darlin’,” he whispers. The words finally feel true. He places a gentle kiss on your forehead. A kiss you will never know of. 

With that, he carries you up to his chest once more to finish the trek to the border. He cannot help the smirk that plagues his cheeks as he feels you nuzzle against him. A clear, but subtle smile forming on your own lips. 

“And then he let us go and I healed you with my blood,” Kas states matter-of-factly with a shrug. His back still leaning heavily against the tree trunk. Arms and ankles crossed as he slowly raises his eyes onto yours. 

You stumble back, placing a hand against your stomach. Nausea washes over your head as you attempt to process the information provided. You quickly drop to your knees. The movement is sudden enough that Kas jumps from the tree, desperate to catch you. “I’m okay,” you say as you swat his hands away. “I-I just,” you start, breathlessly. “I just need a second. That-that was a lot.” He steps back slowly and hesitantly. He gradually falls into a squat in front of you as he mindlessly picks up random leaves to play with - giving you the space you asked for. 

Your mind feels fixed, almost as though you cannot trust your own memories. What Kas says happened sounds familiar, yet unfamiliar all at the same time. You also cannot forget that the truth does not come so easily from those particular supple lips. You push your fingers through your hair, trying not to burst into sobs over the lack of control. It is not easy to accept being a toy in someone else’s game, to accept no longer being the main character. 

From what Kas shared, you should be safe. You should be free, yet - you feel anything but. Something was not right. “Kas,” you whisper, breaking the silence. His head pops up almost immediately. “So, Vecna tried to kill me. He-he broke my leg,” you attempt to recollect. The words all feeling familiar. “You both fought and then he just agreed to let us go?” you ask in disbelief. Kas nodded, gesturing a compressed shrug with his hands. 

“I don’t believe you,” you say lightly with a shake of your head. 

Kas scoffs as he pushes his curly hair back. The smile almost juvenile as he looks back at you with distrust. “Believe what you want, darlin’,” he shrugs once again. He stands up, making his way back to his trusty tree. “No,” you say abruptly, standing yourself. “There’s no way he would let us go without anything in return,” you murmur to yourself, thinking aloud. “What did you do?” you ask with horrified eyes. 

He deadpans as soon as your question hits his ears. With a deep breath, he whispers, “I got us out.” You walk towards him with a stubborn, determined pace as your palms press against his chest. “What did you do, Kas?” you ask again as you watch him stumble back from your push. With a look of annoyance, he rushes you with a finger pointed in your face. “I saved your life and this is the thanks I get,” he yells with hands out to his sides. “God,” he scoffs, pulling away from you and throwing a hand up. “I did what I had to,” he mumbles as he adds more distance between you two. 

You follow him, a gentle hand to his wrist as you turn him around. Those gentle brown eyes that you know so well staring back at you. This time you recognize Kas within them. “Kas, what did you do?” you ask calmly. His gaze falls to your hand. He slowly lowers your fingers and intertwines them with his before flicking his eyes back to you. “I have to go back,” he whispers, like an innocent boy admitting his wrongs.

You take a sharp breath as you try your best to keep calm, but your head is already involuntarily shaking no. “It’s okay,” Kas murmurs as he tightens his palm against yours. “I’ve made my peace.” Your eyes swiftly fall upon his, tears welling. “No,” you muster. “You don’t have to.” The unbearable weight pressing against your chest has only just lifted, and yet, another hundred or so pounds are added on. A man who pained you so harshly, who then saved you, is going back to hell for you. The words are beyond confusing to think about, but it does not change the feeling of hope you have towards your new ally. 

“You don’t have to go back,” you whimper as your other arm rests against his back and pulls him into a hug. The warmth of his embrace confirms that bit of his story within your own memory. “If I don’t go, I am setting up some other miserable fuck for hell on Earth,” he whispers in your ear as his chin finds a spot upon your shoulder. His hand pressing against the base of your skull, supporting you. “I won’t do that to someone else.” 

You pull away, shaking your head again. His forehead falls against the crook of your neck, almost naturally. “Aren’t you supposed to be the bad guy?” you ask incredulously. His head lifts as confusion presses his brows together. “Why do you care what happens to the next guy?” A smile pulls to the side of his face as he presses his hips against yours. The largest space between you two rests between your chests as you hold each other tightly at the waist. “You must be rubbing off on me,” he mutters softly. 

“Come with me, Kas,” you say as you break away from the embrace. Your fingertips brushing against his as you attempt to walk into the field. The sun is starting the set and the light blue sky fills with orange. As you continue to step into the field, you swear the air tastes different. “I can’t,” he whispers as you pull away and he chooses not to chase you.

The act stops you in your tracks as you look back at him. You take the second to think, to devise a plan. “If I promise you that we can kill him, maybe not today or tomorrow, but some day we will come back and kill him - then, would you come with me?” you ask hopelessly. You have absolutely no idea of how that might happen. How you two might accomplish such a feat. You have never known the need for revenge until meeting Kas. Nothing will stop you from finding out how to put Vecna in the ground, and suffer as you do it. 

Without thinking, the words fall from your lips all with good intent, “I promise you. Will you come with me?” You walk back to the border, only a step away from the impending doom that is Hawkins. Your hand extended for someone who is just as capable of that same doom, and yet, you pray he will take it. You hope he will join you in this world and that he will help you defeat your lover’s killer. All you can do is hope. A hand falls into yours, breaking your string of thoughts. 

“I will,” Kas says softly as he steps into the orange glow of the sunset.

note: how we feeling? what are we thinking? we have 3 more parts to go and best believe the gang will be making an appearance! thank you for taking the time to read 🤍 i hope you will share your thoughts!

next part • feeling everything •

comment or reblog if you'd like to join the taglist! 🫶🏼 reblogs are most appreciated to get this series out to more readers!

taglist: (love you btw) @babeyglo, @dotslabyrinth, @wheaty-melon, @mattymurdocksbitch, @sammararaven, @onlyfengs22, @perle1990, @ms1oftheboys, @ghosttownwherenoonegoes, @tayhar811, @bbyhargrove, @hiscrimsonangel, @ali-r3n, @secretdryrose, @stranger-messenger, @sunnytkm23, @ambthegamer

• nav • no-no plagiarism • series • requests open •

[illholy]

he’s just staring at her from across the way — eyes narrowing, shoulders hunching, and teeth baring. he is ready for her — is she ready for him?

“hey, bitch!” he’s approaching like a dog, slinking over with muzzle ready to snap and snarl. “nice day, huh?” is it? now that he’s here? “what are you doing — ?? being weird as fuck again??”

(a little pre jail? maybe!)

█ 𝒖𝒏𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒎𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒅. i know he has issues, but fair tbf. you SHOULD bark!!! ╰› @pavlovianpanic 

She's not ready, no. Not really. Not when he's coming in guns blazing.

What is he angry about now ? An irrelevant question, so she doesn't ask, but he calls her a what now ? A BITCH ! Calls her a BITCH! With full syllable, annunciated like he means it, and that has her staring, confuse and confound. The bible says something about that, Psalms 55:9 , Lord, confuse the wicked, confound their words, for I see violence and strife. But she's nothing near wicked, not a bitch, at least to her knowledge.

So she's coming in, no guns needed, ARE YOU READY FOR HER ? When she's eating away at the space between them, palms of her hands suddenly pressed against his mouth, muzzles him tenderly, soft, covers his lips for saying anything else. Bitch? Her? Absolutely not!

The bible says something about this too, something about enemies, something about tolerance, she has none of that right now, human fallibility one might call it. She should be forgiven for retaliating, for stepping forward, once and twice in an attempt to corner him against some wall, pin him there.

⸻ ❛❛ How do I make you behave? To treat me nice. ❜❜

[theimaginatrix27]

I need to talk about Benjamin Sisko

I have been meaning to make this post for a while now, and I have ranted about how much I love this man in the tags of so many posts, but the time has come for me to make my own. Why no, this isn't me practicing what I would say to Avery Brooks about his character and how much I love him in the unlikely event I ever get to speak to the man in question. Why would you even think that?

If you had asked me, even a year ago, which of the three Trek Renaissance captains was my favourite, I'd have told you that I'm bad at picking favourites, that I like Picard, Janeway and Sisko for different reasons, and can't choose between them.

Now, though, I've come to a decision:

Benjamin Lafayette Sisko is in a league of his fucking own.

Don't misunderstand me, I have always liked Sisko, and I have loved him for nearly a decade and a half as of writing this post, but in recent months, as I have revisited Deep Space Nine, I've found my love for him deepening, broadening, flowing more freely, shining more brightly, and gaining momentum.

Because this man is the best Trek Captain. Ever. There is no competition.

I fell in love with Sisko when I first watched Emissary. As I said, I had liked him before then, thought he was pretty cool and all, but after watching that episode, I was in love.

Because you cannot watch the scene where he really has to face his grief, acknowledge that some part of him never left the moment he lost Jennifer, and come out the other side the same person. Especially when you have your own burden of griefs, moments from your past where pieces of you have existed since that trauma first tore them away. I cried with Sisko when I first watched that scene. I've cried with him almost every time I've watched it since. And that performance is so raw, and so beautiful, and this was the fucking pilot. Avery gave it his all!

But of course, there are so many reasons to love this man, and many other DS9 fans have said it better than me, but I will do my best to lay out the big ones:

He is so very strong. Not in the sense that he physically kicks arse (though he absolutely can and does), but that he possesses strength of character. He is able to withstand so much, and still keeps going in the face of ever-increasing odds, and fucking wins.

He is also so very warm and caring and loving. Have you seen this man with his son? Because I have, and I think he beats out every fictional dad I've ever seen anywhere else. And he shares that level of love and warmth with everyone who serves under him, who has ever been his friend, the rest of his family, the world of Bajor, every baby fortunate enough to enter his orbit, the list goes on. I would accept a one-way trip to DS9 and put up with all the shit just to be able to be within the radius of that love.

He adores kids. I have to make this its own point because the man just melts around kids of all ages and it's precious. He's precious. You seen him with babies? He is so soft with them you wish you could be that baby.

He is not afraid to stand up for what he believes in, and is so very very passionate when he does: I have said it before in tags, but this man does not yell at you when you have fucked up or otherwise aroused his ire. He is loudly passionate, and very articulate with it. He will speak out against injustice, he will meticulously lay out the ways you fucked up, and he will annunciate every word. I have been that passionate about things I believe in. I know how powerful it is to hear it and to do it, and Sisko is a prime example of this kind of passion, for which I cannot help but love him. Sisko's disappointed parent voice would have me in tears if it were ever directed at me, because I would never want to disappoint Captain Sisko.

Man knows how to have fun! Seriously, I love Picard, but easygoing he is not. And I love Janeway, but her idea of fun is Gothic Horror Romance in the holodeck, and I'm sure some people vibe with that, but it's not what most would consider fun. Benjamin Sisko plays baseball. He was the most enthusiastic of the four who had to play the Allamaraine game in Move Along Home (I like that episode, it was fun, Quark broke down sobbing, it was great). He is a genuine delight to spend free time with. He is as far from boring as it is possible to be.

He can cook! And I wish I could just drop in to share every meal he makes! I love my food, and I would dearly love to try his, because it sounds divine. Yes I know that's sort of ironic to say about Sisko given where canon took him, but I'm not taking it back. I've never had Cajun cuisine, but I wanna, just because it's Sisko's specialty. I trust him to feed me well and make the experience an absolute pleasure.

He is so very, very progressive. This is a big part of what has deepened my appreciation for him as I have reintegrated myself into the Deep Space Nine fandom. I've always been progressive on some level, but I've grown a hell of a lot over the past decade, and coming back to a show I already loved with the perspective I have now has made me appreciate more of the nuance woven through it. And Sisko is a beacon of progressive ideals! He is always trying! Always open to understanding! Always on the side of the oppressed! And he admits when he fucks up (which isn't often but it happens). We should all strive to be more like Sisko.

I could gush on and on about him all fucking day and not run out of material, but I won't, because I would like this post to go public while some of my Trek friends are still awake.

I will say this before I close, however. I cannot in any way fathom the kind of person who looks at this character, truly one of the most multifaceted to come out of any 90s show, and reduce him to racist stereotypes. If you are one of those people and have somehow found this post, block me. I will never agree with your shortsighted views and it will be better for both of us if we never interact.

Thanks for coming to my TED Talk, go watch DS9 however you can and give it and its captain the love they so richly deserve.

[ferromagnetiic]

Headcanons on Kid's accent quirks.

Alright, so this has been bothering the hell out of me recently, and I need to get all of this out in the open and clarify a bunch of things. I'm going to write a condensed version on his carrd eventually, but I wanted to have a full version written here so I can elaborate as much as I want without feeling restricted.

We all know that I remind everyone every twenty seconds that Kid is very Scottish; or, rather, the One Piece equivalent of Scottish. For the sake of explaining what I'm talking about, just bear with me temporarily and pretend his birth island is an exact replica of Scotland for a moment.

When I first started writing him more seriously, I decided to give him the quirk of intentionally hiding his accent, because when he doesn't, his accent is actually VERY heavy, often to the point where people not very familiar with the accent might not fully understand what he's saying, and he loathes having to repeat himself. Additionally, sometimes people might try to tease him or mock him for it, and while he himself doesn't care about that himself, some of his nakama are also from his birth island, and by insulting his accent, they're also being ridiculed, so he's like "fuck you, you don't deserve to hear it if you're gonna be a little shit about it". Anyway, he masks his accent to different levels, and it comes in several different degrees:

1) Entirely masked, so you probably wouldn't notice it at all unless you were familiar with it or actively listening out for it.

2) Mostly masked, so he might have a little more oomph in his R sounds and he has more depth in his O sounds, but it's still speaking fairly neutrally. There's a natural growl in his words and his vowels are affected.

3) Somewhat masked; he's actively speaking with a distinct Scottish accent, but only uses occasional Scottish slang, phrases, or idioms, so it's unlikely you wouldn't be able to understand him.

4) Not masking at all, full blown accent out, using slang and terminology exclusive to his birth island, phrases people might not know, specific idioms, etc etc.

5) Literally speaking Scots Gaelic which isn't the same thing but I like when he does that so I'm mentioning it here.

Usually I have him at a 1 when he's meeting someone new and/or is being serious and intense, annunciating, actively and consciously masking. Most of the time, he's around a 2 as a neutral default. He starts slipping into a 3 when he's losing his composure a bit and not really thinking about masking, so when he starts getting very pissed off, when he's a little to moderately intoxicated, if he's feeling unwell or in pain, tired, or if he's just relaxing around his nakama. He's only at a 4 when he's exclusively around the select members of his crew from his birth island, so Killer, Heat, Wire, and a couple of the other guys who've known him since before they became pirates. Alternatively, he'll do it publicly or if he's extremely, EXTREMELY drunk. It also doesn't help that he's slurring his words really heavily when he's drunk enough to do this, so sometimes even Killer is just like. "I don't think that was even a real sentence..." He only speaks Gaelic with Killer, and then later with Shou (@snowdrcp) because she starts learning the language.

Anyway, finally on to why I'm actually making this post this long and detailed.

Normally I only mention an increase in the degree of Kid's accent in the monologue, and I don't normally write it phonetically in his dialogue because I would have to add a translator's note every single time, and to be honest, I'm just not familiar enough with Scottish to make it sound all that natural. However, when Kid is speaking casually, I do like to change some specific words, such as "you" becoming "ya", and "your/you're" becoming "yer", as well as removing the G from words ending in -ing. This isn't so much meant to be an indicator of his accent or its intensity but instead because Kid just talks naturally colloquially in my head, and he often has a bit of a husky drawl. I don't always include this; sometimes it makes the sentence structure sound weird, or sometimes if he's really focused or alert, he's annunciating more and therefore doesn't speak so informally. However, he sounds really stiff in my head if I don't include this in his regular dialogue, and I intended for it to be a subtle reminder of the fact that he's speaking lazily even when he's not exposing his accent very much.

My problem is that when I make him sound more Scottish, like a 3 and up, every time he says the words "you" or "your/you're" it would not sound like "yer" at all; due to the way Scottish accents sound when pronouncing those syllables, it would be pronounced more like "yooh", and "yoohr". So sometimes, I have the issue of Kid getting angry at someone he's yelling at, and I'm writing his dialogue, but for the sake of being consistent I'm keeping him using "ya" and "yer", even though it isn't congruent with how he would actually be speaking if it was audible and not written dialogue. My concern is that if I suddenly switch over mid conversation, it's going to look ugly from a writing perspective, and kind of sloppy on my part if I keep changing how I'm writing the same words.

I guess I basically just wanted to explain how I intend for his voice to sound, and ask if it would be an issue for anyone if I started throwing in some "yoohs" and "yoohrs" to flavor his dialogue when I feel it's appropriate to do so, without people thinking it's a typo/mistake, or inconsistent.

I'd love to have opinions on whether doing this would look too unnatural or peculiar, and I'd be really grateful for any kind of feedback on the issue.

Thanks so much if you read all of that and made it to the end!

[b0mblover]

is sorbet icecream?

By: J

i uh, kinda lost motivation at the end, so this is short as fuck.

buuut whatever, only like. 2 ppl will see this anyways

(im so sorry)

Lopt and mason were sneaking out of the building. it wouldn’t excatly matter too much if they were to grt caught, but, well- homophobia was rampent in the government, even if they werent “dating” two men going and getting something to eat together was seen as taboo.

Lopt said that this was masons “payment” for the files he was shown, though mason had a good feeling that was just an excuse.

walking down the street, lopts arm draped over masons shoulders, the warmth of another human(oids) body felt quit nice compared to the crisp autumn winds. 

lopt inhaled, 

“hey~ you uh, brought youre wallet. right dear~?”

he dragged out the ‘r’ on dear, attempting to be semi quite.

“i- what!? you just said i had to go! not pay!” 

mason annunciated some of his words, though never shouting as to not draw attention, they were getting looks already. 

it was around 5 pm so there was a fair number of people going home, from work, school, it didnt matter to either of them, all they cared about was their so called “Rendezvous” (although mason didnt see a reason in calling it that considering they were /already/ with each other opposed to meeting up somewhere-) 

after around 25 minutes of walking there seemed to be less people on the streets.

a pink haired teen here, a turquoise haired drug addict there, a red haired ghost- they felt alone enough to speak to one another.

“so” mason started in

“why did you let me see those files, for the price of buying you icecream?”

“i- oh no dear, i was just kidding about your wallet, i know freelance doesnt pay that much~”

“i-“ mason stammered

“first of all, im payed fine thank you very much. second of all, answer my question”

“ah-ah- whatever you say dear~ and to answer you, -does it matter? i mean truthfully- why does anyone do anything? you couldve easily manipulated me, hell you couldve gotten into my office without me ever knowing. but you never tried”

lopt shrugged at the end of his statment.

mason paused his walking a minute.

thinking of what his partner had just said.

“ahh- now dont be like that, just- focus on what icecream youre gonna get okay?”

lopt knew he wasnt really “good” at cheering anyone up.

-he felt slightly insecure about it-

mason sighed, mentally saving the idea for later, he knew lopt was correct, he wasnt gonna get anywhere overthinking it right now, 

—————

sitting on a random bench in a desolate playground,

they ate their icecream in silence, though, at least to mason it wasn’t uncomfortable. 

(i do not understand if sorbet is like. icecream or its own thing so 🤷)

mason had decided on lemom sorbet while lopt settled for chocolate icecream. even though it was cool out, it still was nice.

they threw away the cups they had ate out of before turning around to go home.

“hey would you care if i came home with you?”

mason, shockingly in a good mood, agreed, though knowing that this was a horrible idea.

[for-fvckssake]

"honey, if you wanna degrade me with dog names at least pick a cool one…" his voice is groggy and laced with sleep, his eyes struggling to take in the light while he slowly gets off of you with your help. the nickname makes his face scrunch up even further, his distaste for it manifested in the form of a pout on his lips.

eren is barely awake throughout the very short-lived walk to the car, all he can register —besides the light invading his vision— is the warmth of your hand encompassing his as you guide him to the new ride. he patiently waits and holds the car open for you to get in before being pulled to sit down.

eren spreads his legs open, immediately relaxing against the leathery, comfy seat beneath him. his neck presses against the headrest, making his head hang in a position that some would call uncomfortable. but he couldn't care less, not when he could still feel the sleep that lingered on his body.

he stays like that for a few more minutes, imobile save for the rise and fall of his toned chest, before jolting awake when you sneak your hand past his waistband.

"fuck- here?!" he mouths at you, eyes darting to the driver before moving back to you. as much as it embarrassed him to admit it sometimes, even just the threat of you touching him in such a public place was more than enough to get his blood to rush south.

"baby, be nice…" he half whispers, voice already laced with need as he stares at you through lidded eyes. eren uses his hand to guide yours, legs spreading more and more the further down your fingers travel.

-Rennie <3333333

i let out a low hum, my face hiding into your neck while pressing a gentle kiss against your skin smiling.

“yeah, here. cant guarantee kindness though.” i whisper, giggling while my hand wraps it’s way around your dick, pumping ever so slowly.

“god, already hard? you’d think i don’t fuck you at all, getting immediately worked up on rock for me with the slightest wind blowing.” i hum out yet again before i slip it on, a vibrating cock ring.

“as much as i wanna keep jerking your fat dick in the back of the taxi, playing like this will be more… fun.” i say, annunciating the last word with a vibrating plug being popped inside you too. “this… will be fun angel.” i say, kissing your lips sweetly before sitting back normally with a grin.

[skeletalheartattack]

[muertawrites]

Of Incense and Intimacy (Eddie Munson x Reader) [18+]

Summary: Your roommate's recreational habits tend to wreak havoc on your anxious sensitivities, so you burn a little incense with him to help you both relax. Maybe choosing a scent called "love spell" wasn't the best idea....

Warnings: anxiety, panic attacks, the devil's lettuce, explicit descriptions of secks (minors i fucking see you stay behind the beaded curtain), raw dogging (wear a fuckin' raincoat y'all don't be dumb), mentions of the dirty touch, perv!eddie my beloved, my daddy kink continuing to control every aspect of my life

Word Count: 3.5k (she long and thick this time babes)

Author's Note: i just like incense a lot. ever since i got a backflow burner it's become my entire personality. my room smells amazing.

You hate doing this, ruining his fun. Especially because you know it's how he relaxes; how he deals with his own problems. Still, the tightening of your chest, the shallowness of your breathing, the fear starting to creep its way out of the corners of your mind sends you across the hall, tapping on his door.

Eddie answers in a puff of cannabis smoke, and you instinctively cover your mouth and nose with your shirt. Even in his hazy, glazed-over frame of mind, he knows exactly why you're here, and he immediately apologizes.

"Oh, shit, pumpkin, I'm sorry."

He dashes back into his room, stubbing out the joint in his hand and opening his window a crack, despite the winter chill. You stand in the doorway and sigh.

"No, I'm sorry," you say. "I'm a shit roommate."

"You have clinical anxiety." He annunciates the words as he returns to you, leaning against the door frame and giving your hair a quick, gentle pet. "It's okay."

You grimace as you flinch away, choked by the skunky smell emanating from him.

"That shit reeks," you huff. "You don't have anything better?"

Eddie chuckles, shoving the sleeve of his sweatshirt under your nose to tease you. He laughs as you smack him away.

"The high quality stuff brings in too much money," he explains. "Unless you want me to stop pitching in for takeout."

You roll your eyes and hold a finger up, telling him to wait.

"I'm not living with that stench all night."

You disappear into your bedroom, returning with a couple ceramic dishes and a stack of different sized boxes. Eddie raises an eyebrow as you set them up on his dresser, handing him a few of the boxes and directing him to choose some of the contents. He opens the topmost one, labeled "fairy dust", and removes one of the clay-coated sticks inside.

"Incense?" he realizes. He holds the stick up to his face, the scent so sweet it burns his nostrils. "Is this why your room always smells so good?"

You nod, shuffling through a few of the smaller boxes.

"It covers up the smell of weed," you explain. "I started using it like a week after we moved in together."

Eddie smirks, looking through the other scents you've brought over. Some of them are simple and self-explanatory, like basil and lily, but others are more vague, like "mystique" and "decadence". He pauses when he comes across a box marked with the words "love spell", grinning at you in that impish, borderline perverse way you know too well.

"You trying to seduce me?" he jests, waggling his eyebrows.

"I'd have to do way less than this to seduce you," you laugh. You shriek when his pillow smacks you in the back of the head.

"I'm not desperate," he defends himself. "I've been dry for over a year, y'know."

"We share a wall," you remind him. "I can hear you masturbate. Twice a day. It's like you don't even try to keep quiet."

He scoffs, attempting to play off the fierce blush that burns across his cheeks. You giggle at him; he's way too cute.

"What's weirder is that I never hear you masturbate," he deflects. "I'm starting to worry."

"I masturbate," you state matter-of-factly. "I'm just considerate enough to shut the fuck up about it."

Eddie tries to ignore the way the image of you pleasuring yourself, just feet away from him, makes his cock twitch. He clears his throat as he hands you one of the boxes, choosing at random.

"Here."

You examine it, grinning up at him.

"You picked the one called 'wizard'?" you tease. "Not surprised."

He chuckles, settling himself on the end of his mattress as he watches you place an incense stick upright in your burner and set it alight with the Zippo he keeps next to his stash. The flame flares, searing a thick, smoky path down the tip of the stick before you blow it out, leaving nothing but glowing embers and heavy, fragrant smoke curling into the air. He fixates on the purse of your lips, barely staving off the lewd thoughts that float through his mind.

As the smell of sugar and sandalwood perfumes the confined space, you pop open one of the smaller boxes and remove an incense cone from it, setting it strategically at the top of the second dish. This one is shaped like a pond, beveled with stones, complete with sculpted lily pads and painted koi. When you light the tip of the cone, sweet sage drifts upward on the wisps of smoke, waves of it cascading down the ceramic stones and into the waiting pool below.

Eddie's eyes grow wide, watching the display as if you're performing magic. You smile, curling up on his mattress so you can comfortably enjoy the view.

"That's so fucking cool," he gasps. He lays back beside you, his body fitting nicely next to yours. There isn't much room on his full bed, so you're pressed together, your head falling onto his stomach to compensate for the lack of space.

"Yeah, I knew you'd like it," you muse. "I was gonna get you one for your birthday."

You lay like that for a while, until the incense stick burns out, the silence and shared warmth far too easy between you. Eddie's arm migrates around your shoulders, hugging you close, your leg somehow finding its way between his as you fold yourself more and more into him. The scent of weed still lingers after the incense is gone, so you stand and light another, Eddie whining at the loss of your touch.

Rose petals and musk fill the air as you return to the bed, this time straddling your roommate's lap as he sits leaned against his pillows and the wall. He quirks a brow at you but doesn't protest, his hands falling without hesitation around your waist, keeping you there.

"... Maybe I am trying to seduce you. A little bit," you admit.

He smirks, eyes still glassy from his high.

"You're joking," he replies. There's no way that you - beautiful, intelligent, fiery you - want to have sex with him.

But you shake your head, arms draping over his shoulders as your chest presses to his.

"I think you're hotter than sin, Eddie Munson. And you're my best friend. I can't think of anyone I'd rather be in bed with."

Maybe it's the pot. Maybe it's how pretty you look with your hair up, greasy and messy, a day past needing a wash. Maybe it's the feel of your unconfined breasts pushed against him under your sweater. Maybe it's simply how he loves you, but can't find the words to admit it. Whatever the reason, Eddie closes the space between you with a tender, tentative kiss, his thumb grazing the naked skin just under your shirt. You smile softly against his lips, opening your mouth so they can slot together with yours, tongues finding each other with the gentlest little push.

"You taste good," he murmurs. You peck his lips as he pulls away to speak, gazing dreamily into his honey brown eyes.

"You taste like smoke," you tell him. He chuckles, returning your tiny smooch.

You take your time, savoring each other's kisses and touches in a heated round of sucking face. Eddie's movements are slow and deliberate, his tongue and his lips moving in sync with yours while his large, calloused palms rub loving circles into the skin under your sweater. When you pull away to breathe, he licks teasingly at your lips, grinning as you giggle softly. He presses lazy kisses along your jaw, your eyes falling blissfully closed as he works his way down your neck, nipping and sucking at your flesh. He's hard under his sweatpants, but he's in no rush - he loves having you close, loves having the time to worship your body the way you deserve. You knot your fingers in his hair and he lets out a breathy little moan, the sound so melodic you could listen to it on repeat for hours.

"What do you think about when you masturbate?" he wonders aloud. He thoughtfully licks his lips as he levels his face once again, brushing his nose against yours. His eyes are heavily lidded.

"It used to be Jeff Goldblum, before he gets all gross in The Fly," you divulge. "But since living with you, it's just you. The sounds you make... it's like having my own private porno."

You smirk as Eddie blushes, his hand squeezing gently at your love handle. You've masturbated... to him masturbating? All while he was none the wiser? That can't be right. He must be hearing things, mustering his own fantasies into being.

"You're so pretty..." he whispers, losing track of his thoughts.

You giggle, playfully licking at his lips the way he did yours.

"What do you think about?" you ask in return.

"You," he answers without a beat. "How you look when you walk around in just a big t-shirt. I like to imagine you riding me like that. Or when you're in the shower, I... I sometimes masturbate thinking of you in there."

Your tongue grazes over your bottom lip, teeth sinking into it as the muscle disappears into your mouth and you smile. He's shocked that you're not totally disgusted.

"I want you to bend me over," you confess.

He blinks. This can't be for real.

"What, no missionary first?" he asks.

You laugh, pressing an affectionate kiss against his lips. He returns it reflexively, grinning into you, adoring the sound of your laugh.

"Just fuck me," you whisper. "It's about time we got naked together."

Eddie obliges without further convincing. He lifts your sweater over your head, drinking in the sight of your bare tits without shame. You kiss him again as your hands run under his sweatshirt, groping at his bare skin as he guides the offending fabric up and away, tossing it somewhere to be forgotten. He takes your face in his hands and presses his chest against yours, sighing into your mouth at the feel of your bodies so close, without anything between them. He's warm, his chest broad and firm, his arms forming a protective brace around you. Something so salacious as preparing for sex with your roommate has no right feeling as loving as this does.

"Stand up," Eddie instructs.

You climb off the mattress, giggling as he takes you by the hips and positions you between his legs. He kisses the space between your breasts, his breath fanning delicately over your skin as he eases your sweatpants down your legs, fingers teasing your exposed thighs. Your first instinct is to be embarrassed - you haven't shaved in well over two weeks, and you're afraid he'll be put off by it. But he's unfazed, too enamored with you to really care. His eyes graze over your body with lovelorn grace, still very much under the influence of the drugs, but clear enough to remain totally tuned in to you.

"Undress me."

He stands so he's towering over you, snaring you in another kiss before you make your way downward, trailing your lips languidly over his torso until you're kneeling before him; you pause on your way to kitten lick his nipple, and the sharp intake of his breath at the tease thrills you.

You don't bother taking your time with his sweats, unraveling the drawstring with expert precision and letting them fall, immediately grasping at the base of his cock. It's a pretty thing, long and perfectly thick, the tip poking out handsomely from the hood of his uncut foreskin. You stroke at him gently, grinning up at him with your lip between your teeth.

"You're as perverted as I am, aren't you, sweet little thing?" Eddie chuckles. You don't miss the way he twitches in your palm.

"I learned from the best," you reply with a wink.

His grin doesn't disappear as you run your tongue up the underside of his head, tasting the salt of precum as you gently suckle at the tip. He breathes an airy moan, his hand falling to the nape of your neck.

"Just let me fuck you, baby," he pleads. "I'll use your mouth another time."

You raise yourself up, unable to stop yourself from taking him in for another kiss. He's addicting, the feel of his lips twined with yours almost, if not as good as the sex you've been aching to have with him.

Eddie's hands don't leave your waist as you crawl back on to his mattress, bending down on your elbows and knees and arching your back in a display of catlike sensuality. He's quick to fall behind you, smoothing his palm down the curve of your back before bringing it with a sharp smack down on your ass cheek. You yelp, already dripping through the petals of your pussy in anticipation of his cock.

He runs two fingers through your slick, feeling you out; in the floor length mirror beside his window, you watch him raise those fingers to his lips and suck them clean.

"So sweet," he drawls. "I can't wait to make you cum with my tongue."

"I've never been eaten out before," you mention, catching his eyes in the mirror. They've got a mischievous gleam, not leaving yours as he runs the head of his cock up and down the length of your opening.

"You'll never want anyone else between your thighs once I'm done with you," he promises.

He dips himself inside you, causing you to gasp at the sudden rush of pain that always comes with the first breach of your walls. Your face scrunches, fingers gripping at his sheets as he takes hold of your hips, gently and carefully easing you onto him.

"It hurt?" he questions. The concern in his voice is obvious, and it makes you want for him even more.

"Only for a moment," you assure him. He gives a little nod, pulling out slightly before slipping back in, his cock stroking against you and relaxing your muscles. You breathe out a sigh, the pain fading into delicious fullness.

"Fuck, Eddie," you gasp. "Why didn't you mention you have the dick of a porn star?"

He chuckles, giving you another playful spank as he bottoms out, his head just kissing your cervix.

"Same reason you never mentioned your pussy was so perfectly deep and tight, I guess."

He grips you by the waist and starts to fuck, moaning as he sets a steady pace so you can both savor the feeling of each other. You stretch your torso out on his mattress, curling your body so he's hitting you right at your deepest point, an angle that has him groaning and mewling the way you're all too familiar with.

"Fuck, sweetheart, you look so good for me," he praises. "Taking my cock into that sweet little pussy..."

He brings his hand down once again, causing you to moan with the pleasurable sting of his palm against your skin. He continues to spank, thrusting in time with each hit until your cheeks are rosy and tender with the imprint of his palm. Your tongue rolls out of your mouth as he picks up his pace, eyes closing as you smile with bliss.

"Oh, that's my good girl," he growls. "Loving the way daddy uses her as his little fuck toy."

One of his hands raises to curl around the back of your neck, holding you in place as he starts to pound ruthlessly into you, your legs shaking as the sensation of him filling you reaches high into your stomach.

"You're so good baby... so good... mmmm, fuck, shit, heck, you feel incredible on my cock... Fuuuuuuuck, baby... Fuck...!"

You giggle at his intonations, mewling sweetly as his hips snap against yours, the sound of your thighs slapping together echoing off the walls. You can hear your sticky wetness clinging to his shaft, a harmony to back the loud groans he releases every time he thrusts.

"Right there, Eddie..." you coax. "Fuck, babe, right there... Make me cum..."

He guides your body forward, laying you flush against the blankets as he positions his body prone above yours, his arm wrapping around your neck to steady you. He doesn't stop railing into you, panting heavily in your ear, the thin plastic of the ever-present guitar pick around his neck bobbing against your back. You roll your hips into his, meeting his thrusts, and he lets out sound so sweet you think he might actually be crying.

"Oh, god, sugar, yes..." he snarls. "Keep fucking yourself on my cock... fuck, fuck, yeah, just like that... oh, love, you feel so fucking good..."

His relentless pace has built up a knot in your abdomen, one that releases with an explosion throughout your entire body. You cry out in ecstasy, your limbs fizzling with the shock of your orgasm, your toes curling as you ride the wave of indescribable pleasure out for its impossible length. As soon as Eddie feels you tighten around him, he clenches the base of his cock, staving away his own release as he fucks you through to the end. Once you relax, he gingerly unsheathes himself; you roll so you're facing him, repositioning yourself with bended knees so you can curl your fingers around the handsome appendage and stroke him, savoring his enamored cries as he cums onto your stomach and breasts. His breathing is ragged as the thick, pearly strings of semen cease to erupt from his slit. He collapses onto the mattress beside you with a satisfied huff.

For a few minutes, all you do is lay beside each other, filling each other's space while your breathing regains its normal rhythm and your bodies come back to themselves. Eventually, Eddie gets up and disappears, returning with the pack of baby wipes you keep in your room. He cleans you off, removing every trace of the depravity you've shared and kissing your stomach once you're pure again. He wipes himself off as well, pitching both the used cloths and the ash left in your burner into the little trash can beside his nightstand. The incense has long since burnt out.

Eddie crawls back into bed with you, lifting the blankets over you both and slipping between them, placing a kiss on your shoulder as he presses his chest to your back. You're laying with your heads on the foot of his bed, but that hardly matters; he's actually holding you, close and tight and with his face buried in your hair. It's such a small thing, but you've never been treated with this much tenderness before.

"What's wrong?" he asks. He can read you like a book and it makes you want to cry.

"... You're just being really good to me," you whisper. "You're not... You're not done with me."

"Of course not," he murmurs. He brushes a few stray wisps away from your face, clearing a space for his lips to press a light kiss into your temple. "If I just wanted you for sex I'd have made a move a long time ago. I... I kind of feel things for you. Like... a lot of things."

You turn to face him, hugging him close and hiding your face in his chest. He kisses the top of your head, his fingers making a delicate trail down the length of your spine.

"Thank you for putting up with me," you say. "And for driving me to the hospital that time my contact high gave me a panic attack."

Eddie chuckles, giving your love handle an affectionate squeeze.

"Any time, pumpkin. That's still the best date I've ever had."

You smile, letting out a breathy laugh into his skin.

Over the next couple weeks, Eddie slowly migrates his things into your room, making a habit of sharing a bed even when you're not having sex. His old room becomes a studio, and the other members of Corroded Coffin are excited when he tells them they finally have their own recording space. They're sprawled out on the floor, sharing a joint in celebration when the new setup finally dawns on Jeff.

"Did your roommate move out?" he inquires.

"Not really," Eddie responds with a shrug. "More like I moved in."

Jeff and Gareth share a skeptical look. As if on cue, you appear in the doorway, wearing a pair of Eddie's boxers and tossing him a pack of basil-scented incense, which he catches without so much as a flinch.

"Put it out, please," you request. "I'm starting to get jitters."

"Yes, dear. Our apologies."

He flashes you a giddy, awestruck smile as he reaches for the ashtray. He then blows you an exaggerated kiss, to which you just roll your eyes and grin.

"You're a fucking dork," you tell him.

"Love you too, angel babe."

💀🌹 masterlist 🌹💀