#took some and my mind remembered this fuckin song

[ladyy--lazarus]

Hahahahahahahhahahahahhahah

Mc Chris - The Tussin

Robo tripped with my first girlfriend in high school while laying on a trampoline at night. I need to write my book already.

[sluckythewizard]

LISTEN TO ME BOY. I AM TALKING DIRECTLY INTO YOUR EAR. U GOTTA PUT THIS SONG IN UR EMIZEL PLAYLIST. YOU KNOW YOU MUST. YOU WILL DO THIS FOR ME.

[thewitchandtheassassin]

Life, Death, and the Space in Between Part Two (Agatha Harkness x Reader x Rio Vidal)

Summary: Centuries later, you find yourselves reunited once more.

Words: 2430

Warnings: Canon violence, language, arguing, etc.

A/N: I hate how obsessed I am with this couple but here we fuckin' are.

-X-

Three Centuries Later

Sipping your morning coffee, you idly flipped through the newspaper as you savored the stillness of the early hours. You had sorted through your expected duties, leaving you with a bit of time to yourself before the cosmic powers of Life dragged you back into its grasp. You may never be human, but you could at least enjoy a few mortal pleasures.

As the door to your temporary abode slammed opened, you sighed and tossed aside the paper.

“Hello, my love,” you greeted with an easy smile, tilting your head back to accept the deep, probing - almost furious - kiss from Rio’s painted lips. The aggression took you by surprise but you melted into the embrace, offering her whatever solace and reprieve she needed.

Dragging your chair back from the table, she dropped down into your lap, tossing an arm around your shoulders while downing the remnants of your drink. Protest died on your lips, knowing it would be useless to argue with the lady of death. It wasn’t abnormal for her and, honestly, you didn’t mind the quirk. You found it amusing.

“I found her.”

Head tilting curiously, you cupped Rio’s cheek, wiping a speck of blood from her cheek and knocking a piece of shattered glass from her dark tresses. “Who?”

“Agatha,” she practically growled, glaring at the dark wood table before turning her eyes to you. They softened, though you could see the fire raging within. “I wasn’t looking for her per se, but I did find her.”

Pressing your lips together thoughtfully, fighting your initial reaction, you slowly nodded. “And how did that go?”

“We fought. I made her front door explode.” She said it so casually that all you could do was blink up at her. “Turns out, little miss Scarlet Witch kept her trapped in Westview. She has no power now. Won’t be long until she has some poor idiots singing that song so she can rectify that.”

It was stated emotionlessly but knowing your former lover was mortal had clearly shaken Rio. Before, you could rely on Agatha being formidable. Powerful. To be lacking her purple, well…

“I see you didn’t reap her.”

Rio rolled her eyes, fingers playing with the baby hairs on the nape of your neck. “No. I…”

“She’s our weak spot,” you acknowledged, running a finger over the slope of her nose. “You and I are inevitable. A perfect balance. She was always our anomaly and we love that about her. Even if she still hates us three hundred years later.”

Pressing her forehead against yours, Rio poured. “Why doesn’t she want us?”

“She does,” you cooed, nipping at the pushed out lip teasingly. “She’s always been our stubborn girl. She just refuses to deal with her grief and instead-“

“Sinks a fucking unsinkable ship? Causes massive disasters so she can throw another tantrum or make a point?” she snarled, though there was little heat behind it. She’d always appreciated the dramatics of Agatha’s gestures, even if it often upset the natural order and balance you carefully crafted together.

“She was always incredibly skilled at getting our attention,” you chuckled, letting your mind wander back to the woman you remembered centuries ago. “There was never a dull moment when Agatha was around.”

“I miss her,” she admitted, shoving her head into your neck as her inhumanly sharp teeth scraped the flesh. “I cut her hand… and then I licked it clean. Tasting how mortal she is now is upsetting. I always liked how the purple sparked against my tongue.”

“If you were anyone else, I would mention how unsanitary that is,” you murmured, head tipping as a cool mouth explored the familiar expanse.

“Shut up.”

Tangling your fingers in her hair, you yanked hard and felt the lust rebound through your connection as the low moan met your ears.

-X-

As the dirt and grass shifted, the Road making way for a new witch to sink its proverbial teeth into, a passing thought flickered through Agatha’s mind but she brushed it away with a simple mental wave of her hand.

There’s no possible way. The universe can’t hate me that much.

Watching with bated breath, the newly formed coven gasped as two sets of limbs and bodies began to crawl from the wet soil.

“Oh, you have got to be kidding!” Agatha shouted, years of resentment burning in ocean eyes as you righted yourself from the fresh grave. Her stomach rolled with anguish - guilt, pain - at the brief expression of hurt that crossed your features before you leaned down, offering a hand to your other half and tugging her up from the hole she’d clawed her way out of. “Never mind, the universe does hate me.”

Teen glanced between Agatha and you, his eyes wide with fear and excitement.

“Heard you guys were having a party,” Rio greeted, her usual nonchalance in full bloom as she wandered closer to Agatha, forever drawn like a moth to its doom. “We were in the neighborhood.”

A flower blossomed from her fingers, beautiful in such drab surrounds.

“Surprise,” she gasped, eyes wide and bordering on deranged. “My lady.”

Always in step with your antagonistic lover, you were quick to wrap an arm around Agatha’s waist as she lunged at Rio, glaring at the smug woman pointedly.

“Come now, Agatha, it’s not worth the effort,” you murmured, trying to ignore how your heart fluttered at the close proximity.

She screamed in frustration, wrenching herself from your arms before storming away in a huff. The teenager chased after her, leaving you to stand awkwardly before Agatha’s makeshift coven while Rio petted the massive fucking spider on her jacket.

You might’ve been Lady Life but holy fuck, that thing was huge and kind of freaked you out. All life was important and sacred but it needed to stay far, far away from you.

“What’s up? I’m Rio.” You gagged as she guided the damned thing into her clothes, inching away as her eyes went wide and she crept towards you. “Aw, what’s wrong, baby? He’s sweet.”

“I’m sure,” you responded, stepping backwards warily. “He can be sweet… over there. Away from me.”

She growled playfully, stomping at you and cackling when you scurried back a few steps.

“So, you’re a green witch, huh? B-both of you?” the woman you recognized as Alice Wu-Gulliver. You remembered her poor mother, begging for protection for the young Alice. Watched Rio take Lorna’s soul when the curse overcame her.

“Less a green witch,” Rio replied, tilting her head in such an adorable way that you had to bite your lip to suppress a giggle, “and more the green witch.”

That frightening tone of Death startled the huddled women but you simply rolled your eyes, hooking an arm through Rio’s.

“She’s a green witch. I just came along for the ride, it seems,” you mused, studying the scenery around you curiously. To be standing on The Road, a place forged by Agatha’s lies and quick wit, was not quite what you’d expected when you’d been yanked from your home. It was born from a maelstrom of bullshit and naïve witches believing that power could simply be procured instead of earned.

How is this…

Dark eyes cut in your direction, a similar interest gleaming back.

Strolling down the dirt path, Rio whistled, knocking you into a patterned step-skip combination that was so innocent and bizarre that it made you cackle. You could hear Agatha ahead, speaking with Teen in a semi-quiet manner but your ears were keen to whispers. Despite the unsettling nature of The Road and the lack of understanding how, Rio seemed completely at home in this strange place.

It’s all real, but none of this is natural, she mused, chewing her lip thoughtfully as she peered around. I don’t think any of these witches are capable of changing reality itself but I guess I’ve seen weirder.

“I can’t tell if I hate her or if I want her number,” Jen whispered to the group behind you, nearly swallowing her tongue when Rio abruptly paused to turn and face them. An eerie grin crossed her flawless features and she waved before twisting back in your grasp and continuing onward.

“What a scary bitch,” Lilia breathed.

Should I be worried? you teased, snorting at Rio’s brow rising high.

Before you could blink, she had you shoved against a tree, tongue shoved into your mouth incessantly as she both made her point to the gawking witches and used the opportunity as an excuse to grope you. It was demanding and needy, completely indecent, and by the time she was willing to release you from her clutches, your knees were shaking.

“I-I was kidding,” you said breathlessly, panting as a familiar smirk curled the edges of her lips.

“Oh, I’m aware,” she purred, tugging you away from the still-gaping group and following after your former lover. “But we both know you loved that. You like staking your claim.”

Sliding your hand into her back pocket, you shrugged nonchalantly.

-X-

Standing at the doorway of the music booth, your eyes glided along the lithe form of Agatha Harkness. She looked good, especially in a 70’s outfit that probably would’ve looked weird on just about anyone else. It had been so long since you’d really gotten a moment to just appreciate her. Remember every dip and curve…

“Hey,” you grunted, nodding at Agatha’s drifting hand. “Must everything be a ploy with you?”

Dark eyes flittered to the witch’s wiggling fingers and she snorted, shaking her head. “You never change, do you, Aggie? Nice try, though. I almost bought it.”

“Of course you protect her. Again,” Agatha sneered, venom on her tongue and fury in her eyes at the perceived slight. “All you ever do is protect her. You can’t -”

“Bullshit,” you cut in sharply, glaring at the offended woman you still loved. It was a nightmare ignoring the burning ache in your chest, but you refused to let her grief insult your relationship with them. “I protected you just as fiercely. I went against my nature - my very being for you. So if you want to hate me, fine, but don’t you ever say I didn’t love you just as much I love her. That I wouldn’t have done anything for you. That I didn’t do everything I possibly could for you. And for him.”

Staggering away from your sudden outburst, Agatha stared at you with misty eyes. What you said was true. You both had always treated her as an equal, despite the odd, unending connection you would always share. Once upon a time, it had bothered her, that she would never have that same bond, but you did everything you could to never make her feel like an outsider.

When they’d been driven from town, you willingly killed for her and for Nicky. And for a brief moment, she considered apologizing for downplaying what you had done, for unintentionally spitting in your face, but righteous anger kept her tongue heavy as lead in her mouth.

Unwilling to suffer through your anguish any longer, you stalked out of the room.

“Hate me if you want. Believe whatever bullshit you tell yourself at night, but we fought against every power we could for him,” Rio said softly, watching Agatha’s features shift then harden. “She had to fight even harder than I did. Remember that. The universe and cosmos… they don’t forget. And they rarely forgive.”

-X-

Of fucking course it had to be that song. The bastardized, albeit sweet song-turned-protection-spell that was once Nicky’s creation. Luckily for you - and Rio - the curse haunting Alice didn’t seem to have any interest in the the ladies of Life and Death, so you flopped onto the couch to watch the impromptu jam session with unimpressed disdain. Truthfully, you hated what Agatha had done to the song, marring what innocence your son had left for the world.

I look so hot in this. So do you. Do you think the Road would be mad if you fucked me against that piano?

Shooting Rio a glance, you couldn’t stop the involuntary smile that befell you as she winked from behind the drums.

I think I might need these outfits. We can relive the 70s.

Pay attention to what you’re doing, you scolded. And maybe Agatha won’t die in this sham of a Road. And you hated the 70s.

Maybe that’s what I want, she replied flippantly, finding the beat effortlessly. I’ve been trying to collect her soul for centuries. She should’ve died quite a few times, if someone hadn’t interfered.

I…

I know.

Watching the performance, you couldn’t take your eyes off Agatha. She could hold the world’s attention if she demanded.

It brought you back to raising Nicky. How she would sing him lullabies as he fed, the songs far too mature though they seemed to soothe his moods. The nostalgia was overwhelming and for a moment, you thought you might get sick, before the tangy, metallic scent overtook your nose.

Blinking, you peered over at Teen, watching how he hunched and bowed in pain. You started to stand from your seat, but Rio’s shrewd look sent you crashing back down onto the cushions.

You can’t.

Watching the demon burst into flames, atop Alice’s shoulders, you were the first to meet Teen as his body went limp and he slammed into the floor.

“Oh shit! Teen!”

There was chaos and unfettered panic as everyone began worrying over the unconscious boy. Hands and words and thoughts came together in a crescendo of concern and nothing was truly getting done, other than Agatha snapping at her fellow witches as tears flooded her eyes. Swallowing your discomfort, knowing you probably shouldn’t intervene - that Rio would be less than thrilled by your choice - you stepped into the fray and lifted him with ease. Despite his age, he was a fairly light boy. Very unassuming. Meek.

Agatha shrieked, demanding you release him to one of the other witches, but you ignored her. You looked to Rio, whose eyes darted between you and Teen, before slipping down the stairs tucked within the piano and back onto the Road. His life was fading quickly, crimson dripping from his wound onto the ground beneath your feet and smearing across the fallen leaves.

Settling him on the nearest flat surface, you took two steps back as the coven gathered around him.

Rio took one step forward.

And all you could see was history repeating itself again.

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

I Put A Spell On You.

(Part Two)

Smoke and Rosetta got some makin’ up to do

It was a reflex for him to reach for his revolver. The sound of a withering floorboard caused Smokes to jump up from his sleep and grab it from the side table swiftly.

Click.

He was ready to aim and shoot down. Smokes’ unwavering gaze in that dimly-lit room cased out every dark corner and his ears listened for any signs of an intruder. He had good form and a lethal mental. He’d heard the sound again and instantly he aimed for the floor, finger on the trigger ready to pull.

A low meow followed by a pretty tabby-cat relaxed his tense muscles. Smokes lowered his weapon with ease before silently putting the revolver back on the night stand. His brandy-colored eyes tracked the movements of the cat between his legs, trying to get a feel of who this stranger was. Eventually, the sound of music on the jukebox and Rosetta’s soft snoring helped to steady his breathing and lower his pulse. Smokes reached to flick off the lamp light and carefully settled back into the rickety mattress. He took one look at Rosetta’s sleeping face before staring up at the ceiling.

Imagine rainfall, accompanied by the sound of a warm guitar slowly picking away at the layer of your sorrows, haunting, yet beautiful. A sense of serenity entered his mind, extinguishing the flames that burn his soul. For a moment, Smokes could feel, and think nothing. So brief, yet so long, he felt at ease. The melody carrying him across distant shores, feeling weightless in its entranced groove. He flew with the progression of the song, eyes closed, allowing his emotions to guide his path. Up and down his chest rose. Beyond the murky sky, the white glow of the moon shown through the window.

A dainty hand touched his chest. Smokes reached up to grasp it, rubbing it with his thumb. His bare dick against his thigh began to grow. Smokes brought her hand to his plump lips and kissed her there gently. The bed creaked beneath them. Smokes glanced down within the darkness, his eyes connecting with the sleepy, doe eyes of his Rosey. Her naked silhouette entranced him. The dip of her hip and the way her breasts hung from her chest aroused him to no end.

It was the way her long, deep wavy hair fell over the pillow. The pearls around her neck made her look ritzy and those red-tinged kissers made him salivate to taste her again. She was breathtaking. And Smokes didn’t lie when he meant she’s the most beautiful in N’awlins. Rosetta sat up and Smokes looked up into her heavenly face. Her fingertips danced across the ridges of muscle on his torso, her eyes never leaving his.

“Can’t sleep, daddy?” She says, voice soft and warm.

“That cat of yours woke me up out my sleep, gal…”

“Not you afraid of cats now…”

Rosetta giggled. Smokes chuckled slightly.

“I ain’t afraid of no fuckin’ cat…I’m just…been out there in some shit, baby. This the first time I had decent sleep.”

Rosetta looked towards Smokes’ revolver. Smoke followed her eyesight.

“I want one. My own gun.” Rosetta said.

“Oh?” Smokes sat up, “is that so?”

“Mhm. You can show me how to point that thang since you back home. Remember, you said you would…”

“I did.”

Rosetta sat up and Smokes situated her between his legs with her back against his chest. Grabbing the revolver, Smokes pointed it in a safe direction. A safe direction means that the gun is pointed in such a way that an accidental fire would not cause any harm. Rosetta watched with great interest. Smokes accessed the cylinder, emptying the bullets before clicking it back in place.

“Aight, Rosey…wrap your dominant hand ‘round the handle…use this hand for support.”

Arms outstretched, Smokes helped Rosetta point the revolver straight ahead at a wall covered with peeling paper.

“Straighten ya elbows, doll…no need to cock it, but steady ya breath…finger on the trigger…”

“It feels…heavy.”

“Hm. Imagine it with bullets.”

Smokes grazed Rosetta’s neck with his fluffy lips. The lingering smell of amber and sweat against his broad nose.

“That’s how you do it. I’ll take ya’ out to shoot soon…”

The urge to stuff his fat dick in her again created a tickling sensation just beneath his navel. Smokes felt at ease being with his woman again. He’d never leave her side again. Even if Stacks got in the way.

Smokes gave Rosey a wet sloppy kiss to her neck. She tilted her head and his thick tongue grazed over the rapid pulse in her neck and directly over that spot that got her wet every time. His thicker fingers were groping her breasts. Rosey released a breathy moan before looking back at Smokes, one hand on the back of his neck, forcing his lips against hers.

Their tongues moved in tandem, the squeaky springs of her not so sturdy bed surrounding them. Rosetta spun around and straddled his lap. Smokes kicked the sheets away from him, adjusting his large body to accommodate Rosetta. The wobbly, metal headboard banged against the wall when she flopped down into his lap.

One hand around her neck, Smokes tugged lightly, bringing Rosetta’s lips to his again. His other hand reached between her meaty thighs to feel the heat and dampness of her folds. Smokes growled against her lips. His dick was cast iron hard and read to fit inside her tight snatch again.

“Tilt ‘dem hips…atta, girl,” Smokes tapped her pussy with his big dick, “Time to fuck on this dick again, baby…”

“Yes, Papa…”

Rosetta wiggled her hips down onto Smokes thick pipe and her mouth dropped open in surprise. Smokes popped her on the ass hard, his way of telling her to get all the way down. Fully stuffed, Rosetta grabbed onto Smokes shoulders and with a whirl of her hips and a bounce she rode him on that rickety bed like it was her last time.

The fullness stretching her out made her shout Papa, Papa, Papa over and over. Smokes was too damn big for that bed but he made it work. He dug his heels into the lumpy mattress and with both hands he kept her cheeks spread while pumping up into her as she dropped down. Wet, skin slapping noises mixed with the way the bed jumped and creaked beneath them.

The steel of the revolver pressed against Rosetta’s knee each time she bounced. It was rough like she needed it. Deep dicking in her bedroom beneath the moonlight. Smokes slammed up in her so good Rosetta spread her thighs more to feel it stretch her. She craved the soreness, the way it tugged on her clit, the slight sting of his heavy balls slapping her ass.

Pop pop pop

Smack smack smack

Clap clap clap

“Damn, Rosey, gettin’ real whacky on that dick, fuck.”

Smokes grabbed her hips and helped her bounce on his length like a good little fuck doll. Her wavy hair shielded her eyes and those pretty titties swayed in his face.

“You hittin’ my spot, Big Daddy…you hittin’ it so good…make your pussy cum…make your bitch pussy cum…”

“Rosey–”

“Dig deeper, Papa–”

“Grip this dick and wet it up with that sweet nectar!”

Rosetta choked his dick with her walls and her cum trickled down his dick and over his balls. Hand in her hair, Smokes slammed his lips against hers while thrusting deeper.

He needed her more.

Smokes put Rosetta on her back and her legs in the air. He dived back in that pussy with his toes planted against the mattress. Rosetta clawed his back up and they both watched it go in and out. Smokes savored her nipples with his lips and tongue, ignoring the hollow dents in the wall from the headboard.

He grabbed a foot and stuck her red–painted toes in his mouth. Rosetta was super soaker wet on that dick, creating a large stain beneath her ass.

“I just wanna eat you up and fuck you…”

Smokes stared down at that hairy pussy with her leg thrown over his shoulder. He released a breath that came out like the hiss of a locomotive. That shit looked beautiful. If he could paint a picture of the way his dick all big and long spread her open he would. The sweat and humidity in that room made it hard to breath. All he wanted to do was be in his woman. They’ll crack a window eventually.

Well, I’ve got a meat grinder, it belongs to me

It's got good movements, I use it constantly

I’ve got a meat grinder, it belongs to me

It's got good movements, I use it constantly

You don't like good grindin', you ain't gotta bit of sense

It's been going on ever since the world commenced

If you don't like good grindin', ain't gotta bit of sense

‘Cause it's been going on, ever since the world commenced…

“That’s it, Big Daddy, cum all in your fat pussy…”

“Oh, yeah?”

Smokes folded Rosetta in half and pounded the fuck outta her. She furrowed her brows, chewed on that lip hard, and spread her pussy lips with those red nails like she wasn’t open enough already.

“Smokes! Yes! Don’t stop fucking me! Don’t stop fuckin’ your creamy pussy! Milk it, Daddy! Fill me up! Papa! That good hard dick!”

“Ahhhhhhhh–”

“Smoke…oooh…yes…yes…right there, daddy…don’t stop…ooooo shiiiit, daddy…fuuck….get it, da–DDY…”

Smokes gave Rosetta a heated glare and just like that he was filling her to the brim with his thick semen, painting her walls heavily. Dick slipping out, he painted her clit with more. Smokes rubbed his tip between her folds, eliciting a creamy noise. Their tired breaths mingled. Smokes slipped from the bed and stumbled on his way to the bathroom.

He ran a bath and took a piss. Rosetta perched her gorgeous frame against the doorway, body glistening from sweat and cum. She was a sight to behold. Smokes is a lucky man. A bar of Palmolive sat untouched on the edge of the claw foot tub. While Smokes shook the access urine from his dick, Rosetta opened a jar filled with lavender, rosemary, and chamomile herbs, sprinkling it into the tub.

It was big enough to fit the both of them. Smokes slipped in first and then Rosetta settled in front of him. They used a soap sponge to clean each other off thoroughly. This was serenity. Encased in her sweet embrace.

“I love you, Rosey.” He whispered.

“And I love you…”

——

The smell of bacon and butter wafted Rosetta’s nose that early morning. She sat up, messy hair in her face while she stretched her tired arms above her head. Smokes being gone told her that he was cooking up some breakfast. Rosetta threw her sheets back from her body and snatched a satin robe from a coat hanger next to her bed. Feet sliding into a pair of house shoes, she looked down and noticed deep scratches in the wood paneling.

She would need to cover that up with a rug or get someone to buffer that out. She didn’t want her mama to have a fit.

Rosetta made her way into the kitchen, the tea kettle whistling as she approached. Smokes moved about the small room with a blunt between his lips and his dick out and swangin. Rosetta admired his tight ass before her eyes swept over his muscular back. She could see that he was making bacon, buttered toast, eggs, and grits. Smokes sat the cast iron on the stove and looked back when he’d heard footsteps.

“Mornin’ sunshine…”

He pecked her lips.

“Smells real good in here,” Rosetta stole a slice of bacon, “I’m hungry from all that sex.”

“Gotta feed you then, huh?” Smokes winked at Rosetta.

Rosetta stole the blunt from his lips and took a hit.

She coughed slightly, Smokes chuckling.

“Careful wit’ that there, Rosey…”

She took another hit and blew smoke towards him to taunt him before sticking her tongue out. Smoke tapped her on the booty.

“Sit that pretty tail down. I’m a plate this food up.”

Rosetta settled in a dining chair. She noticed the news paper and fresh milk on the table. He must of gone to grab it. Rosetta grabbed the paper and opened it to read. She crossed one shapely leg over the other blunt between her fingers as she held the paper up.

“A train hijacking?” Rosetta announced with surprise.

Smokes glanced over at Rosetta while her brown eyes were glued to the paper. He packed her plate and walked over, placing it in front of her. Back at the stove, Smokes poured her a cup of tea.

“Jesus, killed everyone on board…”

“Gimme’ some neck…”

Rosetta tilted her lips towards Smokes and he stuck his tongue in her mouth. The grip she had on the paper slipped. Smokes snatched it from her grasp and placed it on the table with a loud slap.

“Eat, girl.”

Rosetta grabbed her fork but her eyes remained on Smokes. He could feel her staring while he situated himself across from her.

“Level with me, Smokes…you know ‘bout this?”

“Don’t know from nothing, gal. Eat.”

“I’ll eat when you talk to me.”

“Ain’t nothin to share, baby. Everything is copacetic…”

“Did Stacks do this?” Rosetta questioned.

Smokes’ fork clashed with the table. He gave Rosetta a pointed look of warning. Letting her know to drop it.

“Wasn’t Stacks. Wasn’t me. Wasn’t nobody to get all worked up over. I’m good. We’re good.”

“Smokes…I don’t want you gettin’ yourself in trouble. It’s enough that Phonzo wants you dead—”

“Phonzo punk ass already dead. Might as well call it what it is.”

Rosetta bit her tongue. She knew arguing wouldn’t get her the answers she needed. She didn’t want Smokes to return and get himself into deep shit. She knew he was more than capable of handling himself, but Rosetta needed him alive, especially if she planned to marry him and have his butterball babies.

They ate in silence, the food tasty. Smokes sensed that she wanted more, so he filled her plate up again and Rosetta thanked him with a small smile and a kiss. Smokes watched her eat while smoking his weed and when she finished he cleaned. Rosetta drank her tea with those smooth and thick ol’ gams teasing Smoke’s eyes.

As he scrubbed, Rosetta spread her legs in that chair and spread her lower lips with her fingers. Sweet pink graced his eyes. Smokes watched her stroke her clit. He was high and horny again. Dick stood out like a flag pole.

“You want daddy to eat that pussy…”

“Mhm,” Rosetta licked her plump lips.

Smokes dried his hands and marched over to Rosetta. He picked her up and walked her to the couch.

“Wait, not here—”

“This Miss. Doris’ good furniture,” Smokes laughed, not caring at all about the sofa, “Good thing it’s covered in plastic…”

Her legs parted like the Red Sea. Hips aching and inner thighs burning. Smokes wasted no time slurping on her pussy with a wet tongue and thick lips. Rosetta palmed the back of his head and mushed his face in it. He had a habit of being loud while eating pussy. She could feel herself creaming on his chin when he latched onto her clit to suck.

“Yes, oh, fuck, mmmm….”

Rosetta frowned her pretty face. She had a face that belonged in movies. A rare beauty. Smokes never took his eyes off of her, not even when she came in his mouth. He stuck his tongue so far up her pussy to catch it all. Her robe had spilled open, revealing that hot body to him again. Smokes reached up and rolled her nipples between his fingers while continuing to feast on her overflowing pussy.

Smokes popped his lips off her clit to stare down at his work, “you betta cum again,” He sucked again before stopping, “Cum in my mouth before I stuff you again,” He slurped her up again and Rosetta moaned out, “You know who this pussy belong to. Not Phonzo, not no other nigga…”

Rosetta had to pick her lip up to stop herself from drooling. Her eyes crossed as another orgasm rocked her body. She closed her thighs around Smokes head, unable to take the licks he was giving her.

“Got me ready to fuck again,” Smokes took it upon himself to bend Rosetta over the couch, “Bend that back…atta girl…daddy’s good girl,” Smokes spread her ass cheeks wide and grunted, “Shit, Rosey…”

He hunched his body and with the power of his hips he sank into that good twat. Rosetta rode his tip before he could even fit in. He popped her on the ass with his wide palm before thrusting up and deep. Already she was creaming on his dick. Smokes had her by the arms as he pounded.

Rosetta had that IT like no other. Pretty ass voice, pretty ass doll, perfect pussy, perfect face. Smokes watched her head loll back and forth from the momentous pounding he was giving her. That back arched and that ass jiggling. Her knees almost slipped from the sofa so Smokes had to fix her and put his hand in the middle of her back to keep her stationary.

“I’m a fuck a baby in you.”

Rosetta moaned and clenched his dick.

“Like that? Like when I tell you how I’m a get you pregnant? Like that, sweet baby? Make me a Daddy?”

“YES!”

“All wet on Big Daddy’s dick.”

“Oh, Jesus!” Rosetta yelped when his hand wrapped around her neck from the front, bucking those strong hips and slapping those big nuts against her clit.

Smokes growled deep and with two staggering strokes he came inside of her again. He abruptly turned Rosetta’s head and plunged his tongue into her mouth.

Crack!

Smokes slipped out of Rosey fast and stood tall. Rosetta turned onto her backside quickly, staring up at Smokes with wide eyes.

“Fuck was dat?”

Smokes moved with a brisk pace towards the window within the kitchen, he peered down past the small glass panel at his car.

“What is it, Elijah?”

Rosetta stood behind him with a worried look etched into her beautiful face. Smokes took deep breaths before exiting the kitchen, Rosetta on his heels. He entered her room and grabbed up his pants, uncaring that his underwear sat on the floor.

“Elijah!”

“Stay here…”

Smokes grabbed up his revolve and loaded it up.

Click.

He stormed out of Rosetta’s apartment and down the small staircase leading into the boutique. As he drew closer, his eyes became wild with anger. He unlocked the door and stormed out into the smelting heat with his gun raised. There, a brick lay at his feet. Smokes bent down to pick it up, his cognac eyes following a trail of broken glass until he came upon the shattered window of his Cadillac.

Some people gathered outside to see what all the fuss was about. Smokes peered at them, eyes accusatory and rageful. He knew it had to be someone from Phonzo’s crew. A cheap shot, but still…Smokes was furious. Chest puffed out, he tossed the brick and entered the shop. Locking it up tightly, Smokes turned to find Rosetta staring up at him with a fearful glance.

“They busted out your window…”

“Ain’t nothin’ I can get that patched up…”

Smokes grabbed Rosetta by the elbow, turning her back towards the stairs.

“Daddy gotta go handle some thangs…I want you to stay put and out the way—”

“I’m coming with you, Elijah—”

“No—”

“YES! Yes the fuck I am!”

Rosetta snatched her arm from his hold and stood firm as she glared down at him on the steps.

“I’m tagging along whether ya like it or not.”

Smokes clenched his jaw. Their eyes danced between each other before Rosetta turned her back at him, climbing up.

——

“Scotch…”

Smokes accepted his glass, adjusting Rosetta in his lap. He sat across from his twin, Stacks, the gold in his mouth gleaming. They were sitting in a bar, the sound of distant chatter and glass in the background. The smoke from the cigars they were smoking billowed out like a thick fog. Rosetta wore a chocolate–brown Blondell dress with pantyhose and embroidered T–Straps on her feet in gold. A cloche hat that had covered most of her hair and much of her face was a last minute accessory since she didn’t have time to fix her hair after sweating it all out fucking.

Smokes’ 8-panel hat sat over his own messy hair and he wore his button down shirt untidy with his white beater on display. Stacks looked dapper in his double-breasted mahogany suit with shiny silver buttons and matching cufflinks. Copper silk tie, and black and brown woven Oxford shoes complete the look. His fedora sat on the table next to him.

The Big Cheese took a sip of his own scotch.

“How was your night with that snow bunny?”

Stacks chuckled, “As good as yours was I’m sure, brother. Lay it on me…Phonzo askin’ to go war? Does he not know who he fuckin’ wit?”

“You know dat nigga stupid, Stacks,” He checks his dominoes, “I got word that he’ll want to meet up tonight. I’m not much for talkin’…”

“Hm,” Smokes puffed on his cigar before speaking, “You thinkin’ the corn field?”

“Dig a ditch or two,” Smokes threw out.

“I’ll get Monty on it.”

Rosetta listened to the twins discuss killing and burying Phonzo and whoever else in a corn field. She shivered within Smokes’ lap.

“How ya been, Rosey? Still singing?”

“Of course,” Rosetta smirked at Stacks, “Still gettin’ into trouble I see.”

“You mean your man here,” Stacks pointed towards Smokes, “He’s the trouble.”

“How so?”

“Go on and tell her how you was in Texas.”

Rosetta quirked an arched brow. Smokes shook his head.

“Takin’ his word over mine ain’t the way to go, baby.”

“Uh-huh.” Rosetta wasn’t fully convinced.

She grabbed Smokes’ glass and took a sip. Rosetta watched the twins play another round of dominoes and catch up before Stacks made his leave. He had to make sure things were in order before tonight. A jazz ballad played and Rosetta swayed her hips in Smokes’ lap. She could feel him poking and the thought of sliding up and down on that pole sent chills down her spine.

“Careful there, Tiger,” Rosetta lifted his chin with her finger, “I still gotta cook you dinner.”

“A meal before I bump off? My kinda lady…”

Josephine Baker–I Love My Baby started playing, her voice projecting in a way that emphasized a higher frequency, leading to a brighter, more nasal tone. Rosetta caressed Smokes’ handsome face while staring deeply into his eyes. She sang along to the words, husky breathy tone drawing him in.

Sometimes we quarrel and maybe we fight

But then we make up the following night

When we're together we're great company

I love my baby, my baby loves me

The spell she had on Smokes brought him to his knees before her. He stared at her with those bedroom eyes and a half smirk while she sang to him in his lap. That smoking hot chassis was enough to make him fuck her right there. Smoke tapped his foot and rocked his head while she serenaded him. Others in the bar watched with wonder while balancing liquor and ciggs.

When the song faded out, Rosetta gave Smokes a slow kiss. A wolf whistle echoed and Smokes removed his hat to shield them from view so he could tongue his woman down.

“If it’s a girl, I wanna name her Ella, after my mama…”

“That’s a beautiful name, Elijah.” Rosetta smiled against his lips.

“If it’s a boy,” Smokes took a sip of his scotch, “Emmett.”

Rosetta swatted his bicep with her dainty hand.

“What was that fa’?!” Smokes protested with a dimpled grin.

“I was thinkin’ the same thing!”

“That’s why you my woman…”

Smokes kissed on Rosetta’s neck causing her to giggle. They were both pleasantly faded.

“Is that Smokes?”

“Ida Mae…”

The curvy dame settled in front of them, dolled up and doused in perfume. The smell of Bergamot, Orange Blossom and Lemon burning Rosetta’s nose. Her back stiffened as she surveyed the woman with her sultry eyes and chandelier earrings. Her dark red lips quirked up into a flirty smile.

“When did you high tail back into Nola?”

“A day ago. Why’s you askin’?”

Ida Mae locked eyes with Rosetta for a second.

“Just missed ya’ that’s all. Stacks back too?”

“Ya’ know it.” Smokes replied, caressing Rosetta’s waist, “This is my woman, Rosetta. Rosey, this here is Ida Mae…”

“Pleasantries,” Ida Mae tilted her head in greeting.

Rosetta’s lips remained sealed.

“She owns that whore house in Storyville.”

“Is that so?”

Rosetta cut her eyes at Smokes.

“Yes, a good business if ya’ ask me. Selling pussy is on the up and up, especially these days. Got too much shit to stress about.”

Was he dipping in pussy she didn’t know about? Why the fuck would Ida do some disrespectful shit and flirt with her man in front of her? Smokes had some explaining to do.

“Well, just wanted to say hello. Good seeing ya’ Smokes…tell Stacks I said don’t be a stranger…”

“Will do, Ida.”

She walked away with a tantalizing sway of her hips.

“You wanna tell me what that was?” Rosetta cut to the quick.

“I ain’t fuck nobody else if that’s what ya’ asking.”

“You fuck Ida? Don’t lie to me Smokes…”

“Rosey, cut it out. Ida and Stacks used to fuck ‘round. Probably still do.”

“Yeah, okay, I’m no sappy bird I can tell. Prolly made a stop to that whore house before coming to me. Been writing Ida to keep that pussy ready—”

“Rosey, shut up.” Smokes said through gritted teeth.

“Shut up?” Rosetta kissed her teeth before pushing off of Smokes’ lap, “Go after her!”

Smokes narrowed his eyes at her.

“I ain’t lying to you, Rosetta.”

Rosetta stomped away towards the exit. Smokes followed after her, catching her before she could open the door. He walked with her in his grasp outside, the afternoon heat unbearable. Already he was sweating profusely. Smokes turned her around to face him. Rosetta pointed her gaze over his shoulder, refusing to look at him.

She could be so damn stubborn sometimes.

“I love you. Only you. You need to understand that and quick,” Smokes spoke angrily so close to Rosetta’s face his breath laced with liquor and a hint of chocolate and black pepper from his cigar wafted her nose.

Rosetta pouted. Smokes gripped her chin tight to make her look him in the eye. He needed her to know he was serious.

“Stop it, hear me?”

“Okay…”

She looked from his eyes to his lips.

“So damn hard–headed…”

He kissed her lips before popping her on the ass.

“I’m a drop you off at the shop, okay? I gotta get this window fixed.”

Smokes made sure Rosetta was settled in her seat before he got in. The drive was less than ten minutes. Smokes made sure she was situated, blowing her a kiss through the glass door of the shop before driving off.

Rosetta’s doe eyes followed Smokes’ retreating car.

She wanted to believe he was loyal to her and only her. He’d always been. Maybe it was her mother’s words making her feel insecure. Her mother hated Elijah. Rosetta planned to cook up a steak dinner for Smokes. Ready to get to it, she climbed the stairs and before she opened her door, she noticed a kitchen knife sticking out of the keyhole.

Rosetta gasped, hand covering her mouth. Fear consumed her as she stood there, staring between the crack of the door and into a pitch black abyss. It was eerily silent. Rosetta took a chance and pushed open the door. The light from the stairwell flooded the room. So far, as she peeked inside, she couldn’t see anyone.

Rosetta stepped over the threshold and grabbed the handle of the knife, tugging it to release. She held the knife out in front of her, hand shaking with nerves. Her glossy eyes bounced left and right. She fully stepped inside, frantically moving her hand along the wall until she felt the string of the lamp light. A pinch of relief flooded her veins when the room brightened.

That was all stripped from her just as fast when a gloved hand slipped over her mouth and the weight of a gun pressed into her hip.

——

Hope ya’ll enjoy part two 😏😌

@hearteyes-for-killmonger @imagining-greatness @chaneajoyyy @uzumaki-rebellion @lisayourworries @ratedbadgal @bombshellbre95 @cancerianprincess @dameshaemonique @6lack-1otus @thickemadame @thickeeparker @stinkalinkkkk @ehniki @electrixt @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @melodichaeuxx-lacritquexx @bxolux @sweet2krazee @seyven89 @ispywithmylileye @geemamii @nubianbabee @adoreesun @blackpinup22 @nayaxwrites @cocoa-puffs @dersha89 @honeytoffee @thickianaaaa @modelmemoirs @queenfaithmarie @angelicniah @soulfulbeauty19 @aijha @novaniskye @callmemckenzieee @blowmymbackout @lahuttor @momobaby227 @blackerthings @kenbieee @princessxotwod @palmstreesallday @kokokonako @coolfancyone @soulsparker @richgirlaesthetics

[szasfuckingwife]

WHEN I LOOK IN YOUR EYES, I FEEL ALIVE

EX CONVICT!TOJI X MOM!READER

WARNINGS: angst, fluff, Toji has gone to prison, Toji fushiguro is a family man and wants his family back !!

SYNOPSIS: Toji being incarcerated fucked you and your daughter up badly, and when he’s released, you want nothing more than to hold him again.

A/N: i was listening to Blue by Beyoncé while writing this and she made that song for her daughter and I just felt the need to sob for some reason🥲 but yeah prisonbf! Toji missing his gf and kid fucks me up.

When Toji went to prison, you knew it was the end of your relationship. You warned him so many times that this would happened, even before you gave birth to your daughter. And, knowing Toji, there was no convincing him.

The court trial was the worst memory that comes to mind when talking about Toji. When the judge declared he was guilty, it wasn’t a shock to anyone, even Toji.

But it didn’t help that you were there, holding your two year old as police men took him away. Not once, during the whole ordeal, did Toji look back at you two, deciding it was too much to see his girlfriend and daughter who he loved so much get taken away from him. He’d probably break down right there if he looked back.

You cried so much that day, especially when getting told that he’d be facing five years. Even when your lawyer ensured that Toji would face a lot less if he behaves well in prison, it all went in one ear and out the other.

It had been a difficult two years, he’s missed out on so much. Such as, his daughter’s third and fourth birthday, you having a new job and the fact that you and that guys relationship was more serious than he thought.

He remembers when you told him about it. It was bittersweet due to the fact that you brought your daughter so Toji could see her. “Daddy!” She exclaimed, excited to see her dad even though it’s behind a poorly cleaned window. She was too excited to even speak through the telephone.

But Toji already knew. Toji knew his daughter loved him. He talked to her about school and smiled as his four year old talked about whatever she’d been doing for the past week. Except, she mentioned that her, mommy and ‘that man’ went to the park.

When his daughter said that, Toji looked at you only to see you looking away, embarrassingly. Despite his annoyance, the raven haired man kept smiling at your daughter, even more attentive than he was before.

You took the phone once your daughter was finished, “He’s just a friend from work.”

“Why don’t I know about this guy?” Toji asked whilst keeping his hand pressed up against the glass so his daughter could press her hand up too.

“Because it’s not that serious to be talking about.” You sigh. And you were right, it was a couple of dates and drinks but he didn’t make you feel things that Toji had made you feel. “Don’t do this, Toji, not here. Not in front of her.” Your daughter looks up at you, her hand still separated from her fathers due to the glass.

He scoffed, “Does he sleep over? You fuckin him now, is that it? In my bed, huh?”

You stayed silent, not wanting your daughter to hear you lash out. Toji grew even more annoyed at that, “You know that’s gonna upset her, right? She’s gonna think you’re replacing her dad. That shit isn’t fair, Y/N. You know I’m gonna be released soon.”

“And that’s supposed to make me roll out the red carpet for you? And forget that this shit ever happened?” You scoff. Toji opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again choosing to let you talk. “I’ve missed you so much. She misses you so much. Do you know how hard it has been to raise a child on my own? And for you to give me shit if I wanted to move on? Fuck you, Toji.”

His questions not only angered you, but upset you. You had every right to allow yourself to move on after him being locked up for two years. The fact that he’d even attempt to make you feel bad about that was absurd.

Toji watched silently as you held back tears, put the telephone in its holder and walked away with your daughter.

That was the last conversation he had with you for a year. Toji would’ve slapped his past self for even talking to you like that because he misses you now more than ever.

There were so many times where he’s called you, longing to hear your sweet voice. Even if it’s you saying that he’s a dick and you never wanted to hear from him again.

But that wish was never granted.

‘Hey, it’s me again. It’s nearly peanuts fourth birthday..’ He smiles remembering the nickname you gave your daughter. ‘I was just wondering if maybe you could come around? Or maybe give me a call, just so I can wish her a happy birthday. I miss you more and more each day. Both of you. I love you.’

The voicemail meant nothing to you. It should’ve meant nothing to you. But hearing him say your daughter’s nickname sent tears down your face.

He truly misses his little family.

You can only imagine his excitement when he was released. He called an uber straight to your home, his home. He had nothing but a bag of his possessions and $20 but once he’d see you again, he’d be more than satisfied.

It was a Saturday morning. You cooked your daughter some scrambled eggs for breakfast, reminding you of her dad who ate eggs almost everyday. Toji was set to be released any time now, and that loomed over your head like a plague.

Suddenly, you hear three loud knocks coming from your door. It startled you, and your daughter who nearly dropped her orange juice. It was probably one of your friends who forgot their bag here, you thought.

But once you opened the door, you were met with an unwanted surprise.

Toji stood, smiling down at you, dressed in a casual hoodie and joggers. He was definitely more buff due to all the muscle gain he earned through prison. It was strange seeing him again. Not behind a glass but in front of you. Not in his orange jumpsuit but in normal clothes.

You wanted to touch him, see if he was real.

“Hey..” He said. Oh, how badly he wanted to kiss you right then and there. Seeing you again after a year was the best thing that has ever happened to him.

When your daughter saw him, stood at the door, her mouth fell open. “You remember me, sweetheart?” Toji crouched down to her height with open arms as she ran towards him.

He almost cried as his little girl sobbed into his shoulder, she wasn’t as little as she was when he last saw her. He realised how much time has passed. And how much he’s missed the both of you.

“Daddy, don’t l-leave again…”, the four year old croaked out, her nose stuffy and eyes watery. Toji rubbed her back, encouraging her to let her feelings out.

Toji almost jumped when he felt an extra pair of hands join in the hug. However, when he looked up and saw you, he was reminded that everything he ever did and everything he’d ever do would be for the two of you. He pulled you into the hug and held you both, kissing both of your foreheads.

All resentment you felt towards him went away the second you saw him. The three of you caught up, well, it was more of you and your daughter catching him up. The most Toji could do was mention all the times he’s intimidated people at prison, even those serving longer sentences than him. However, Toji was still glad to know you ended things with that guy you were with.

He helped you cook dinner, not forgetting to kiss your cheek every step of the way. The meal truly being made with love. He missed the domesticity of his life. Even when he was going through all his trial stuff, he remembers you, his baby daughter and him all cozied up on the couch, eating spaghetti or something.

And now he had that opportunity again. He enjoyed seeing you remind your daughter to not play with her food and how she asked for ice cream once she was done.

Once the day was over, Toji sat on his bed, his back still not truly recovered from sleeping in a dingy prison bed. It also helped that you were there. You removed his clothes, peppering him with kisses as you did so. He snuggled up to your warm body and just listened to your steady breathing.

“I fucking love you.” He whispers and you hum in response. He knows you and how it’ll take some time before you can utter those words again. If it takes him the rest of his life to make things up to you, he’ll do that.

But that’s fine. As long as he’s with you.

[redfoxwritesstuff]

A Misdemeanor Of The Heart, Chapter 10 (Human!Alastor x Married!Reader)

Chapter Trigger Warnings: Graphic aftermath of domestic abuse and sadly typical post abuse love bombing

AN: Listen- see those warnings above? I fuckin mean it. If you're not in the right headspace or you need to walk away for a bit, do so. This shouldn't need stating but I will anyway, Laurence is a terrible man and his views are not that of my own.

Masterlist AO3 KoFi

“Honey, I’m home!” Laurence’s voice pulled you from the darkness you had taken shelter in, beating it back with a razor wire wrapped bat. Now it was time to be awake, to perform the song and dance of a wife. The time for rest was done. 

You sat on the floor, at the foot of the stairs, though you had no memory of actually making it down them at any point. There were large black spots in your memory, almost as big as those you blinked from your vision. 

Blinking the eye that still worked, you tried to make your mind work. The cogs in your mind felt rusted, seized, as if they hadn’t turned in years, long abandoned and forgotten. 

The shadows were growing long across the floor as the day came to a close. So much time had been lost, slipping from your fingers. If you were stronger, you would have been able to hold on to the fleeting hours. You hoped Laurence wouldn’t be angry that the cleaning hadn’t been done. 

Dinner. You hadn’t started dinner, had you? You couldn’t remember. Hopefully, you had. Laurence needed to be fed. He worked hard, long hours to provide for you. It was your duty. 

His footsteps were heavy across the warm wood floors he hated so much. Anxiety grew in you with every footfall, but you couldn’t do much more than groan in protest. Standing, you willed yourself but you couldn’t. Everything hurt. It hurt to breathe. 

“Oh, honey,” Laurence knelt by your side, brushing hair out from your face with a tender hand. “What are you doing down here?” 

“I couldn’t,” you croaked out the words, throat raw and dry, “get the washing done.” 

Laurence’s arms hooked under your legs and scooped behind your back. He lifted you, cradling you against his chest as he carried you to the small breakfast nook just inside your kitchen. There was a sweet smell that clung to the neck of his shirt. Floral. You liked it. Where had it come from?

“I brought you dinner,” Laurence said as he settled you onto the padded bench. “I figured you weren’t much for cooking tonight, so I treated us. It took calling in some favors but I’ve got the roast chicken from that diner you love so much.” 

The act of kind consideration touched you more than it should have. A tear rolled down your cheek, leaving a wet trail. It was always like this, after. Laurence would care, after. He was soft, after. Always after. 

You slumped in your seat as Laurence set a glass of water in front of you. He left you alone, heavy steps taking him through the house. He walked through the house as if he hadn’t been the force behind your blood splatter on the stairs. Was that abnormal? Did other wives wake loose hours or days after an argument with their husbands? That’s all that was, right? Just an argument? 

If it had been anything more than an argument, what did that mean? It was better to not think about that. Your hand trembled as you brought the water to your lips, letting the cool liquid pour down your raw throat, washing away the question as you tried to ignore the way your little finger didn’t move quite right, didn’t sit quite right. 

Laurence came back into the kitchen, humming as he carried a ceramic baking dish and set it on the counter. You could count on one hand the number of times he had dished up a meal, but you said nothing as you watched him portion roasted chicken, vegetables, and rice onto plates. 

You remembered back to the dinner you had prepared for Alastor, how the guest helped serve instead of Laurence. You tried to not think about Alastor or of how your husband had embarrassed you, letting a guest serve the meal when you hadn’t been fast enough. You blinked the thoughts away as Laurence settled into the seat next to you. 

Scooping some rice onto the fork, you tried to keep your hand steady while you brought it to your lips. Most of the rice fell off and what didn’t was pushed off by your lips as you struggled to open your mouth. Your jaw hurt. Your lips hurt. It hurt to open your mouth. 

“Honey, let me help you.” Laurence’s hand was soft as he wrapped it around yours. 

He took the fork from you and fed you like you were some small child. You watched passively as he shredded the chicken, feeding stands through lips you struggled to part. Black dots swam in front of your vision, blocking out the view of Laurence cutting the food. Would you fall over? 

You mashed what you could with your tongue, avoiding working your jaw more than you had to. Laurence helped you wash down each small bite with a bit of water. Every time you swallowed a bite, he had another ready for you, not giving you a chance to do more than gasp a breath between bites. Eating was exhausting, and you wanted nothing more than to sleep again. 

“You have to eat,” Laurence said, hand resting on your back as he scooted closer to you. “You need to eat so you can heal.” 

“Yes, Laurence.” It felt like you were speaking through cotton balls as you looked at him. You had to look at Laurence when you talked to him. He didn’t like it when people didn’t look at him when they spoke to him. Fear coursed through you as your eye looked into his bright blue eyes.

His hand came to rest on your face, a touch soft as the way he looked at you, brows knitted together in clear concern. For a moment, you thought his eyes were brown. Warm brown eyes and soft hair and then you blinked. No, it was just Laurence, the man who caused the damage, looking at you with pity and sorrow but not an ounce of guilt. 

“You know I’m sorry, right?” Laurence’s thumb ran over the swelling in your face. “I just, you make me so mad sometimes. I love you so much. The thought that you’d want him instead of me…” 

You said nothing. What was there to say? You didn’t forgive him, but that didn’t matter. It would do no good to tell him that when you faded in and out, it was someone else’s eyes you saw in the place of your husband’s. Another tear fell from your eyes, tracing a messy line down the swelling in your face as you wondered why your mind dared to betray you now. 

“You make me so crazy,” Laurence said, standing up from the bench after he decided you had eaten enough. “It happened because I love you.” 

Laurence disappeared into the living room again before returning. He had a bouquet, large and wrapped in colorful paper. Small blooms surrounded a wide arrangement of a dozen bright red roses, all expertly picked, arranged, and tied together, held in the hands of the man that had ruined your last floral arrangement.

“I got these for you because I love you,” Laurence said, setting them on the table in front of you. 

You picked them up mechanically, looking at them. The corners of your mouth twitched up in a mockery of a smile. It was good enough for him, though usually such a poor performance would earn you the back of his hand. 

Laurence hummed as he took the flowers, unwrapped them and put them in water. 

“Oh, honey-” Laurence rested a large hand on your shoulder. “I’ll be working late for at least the next week. The radio station liked our marketing plan so much they wanted more.”

“That’s wonderful,” you said through swollen lips. Maybe with the success Laurence would let you buy a mechanical washing tub. Having one of those would be mighty helpful right about now. 

“Do you ever tire of fetching Mimzy’s dresses?” Susan asked as she packed up yet another custom dress. She hated working on the woman’s designs. They were off fashion, unique and a proper pain in the ass. 

“Is there something bothering you, Susan?” Alastor leaned on the counter, not taking her bait. “Neighborhood boys got you in a bad mood? Want ol Al to put them in their place again? Or is there actually something on your mind?” 

The woman behind the counter huffed, shoving her brown waves back before running her hands down her face. Her elbows rested on the counter on either side of the bag. 

“Boss bothering you?” Alastor asked as he pulled Mimzy’s bag to him. 

“Not any more than usual,” Susan sighed. “Remember Mrs. Latimer? With the bloody nose?”

“How could I forget you overcharging me for a handkerchief?” Alastor leaned on the counter, arms crossed as they spoke like conspirators. 

“I charged you what the boss wants me to charge everyone.”

“Which is too much,” Alastor countered, smile growing wider.

“You could go somewhere else,” Susan snapped, “And take Mimzy with you.” 

“And miss out on your lovely face?” Alastor chuckled, “I would never. Now what’s got your mood more sour than a lemon and what’s it got to do with Mrs. Latimer?”

“She hasn’t been by to pick up her dress. It was due for pick up three days ago. Ticket’s unpaid too. Boss just loves that. He’s been down my neck about it. Sen’t out a notice, but I’m not sure what he expects me to do about it.” 

“Is that so?”

“I don’t-” Susan sighed, “I don’t talk about what I see or the things I know about people in town. But I repair a lot of torn shoulders for Mrs. Latimer. I’m worried about her.”

“Torn shoulders?” Alastor hummed. 

“Don’t ask me to explain. I won’t.” 

“Let me get her dress,” Alastor was already pulling his wallet back out. “I’ll pay the ticket and bring it to her. I’m sure she’s fine, just under the weather.” 

Alastor had stood across the street from the Latimer home long enough to be sure that the man of the house was not home. He could see that someone was moving around inside before crossing the street. He walked swiftly up the pathway to the front door and rapped his knuckles against the dark blue door.

He waited, listening to the chirping of the birds and the rumble of a car in the distance. When you failed to answer, he knocked again, harder this time. The fluttering of curtains in the window told him someone was peeking out. 

He knew it wasn’t Laurence. Unless you had gotten a pet or had guests, it was you. 

So why did you not answer the door?

“Mrs. Latimer?” Alastor calls for you, thinking twice about using your given name while on the street. “I’ve got a delivery for you. Susan sent me.” 

“Just leave it outside,” your voice muffled too much for just coming through the door, “Thank you.” 

Alastor leaned closer to the door, speaking softer, but still clearly intending for her to hear him. “You’ve not picked up your dress. Susan’s worried for you, as am I.” 

“Susan?” 

“The seamstress from Markin’s tailor?” Alastor offered, bemused that someone could not have an annoyingly close relationship with the woman regardless of if they wanted to or not. Alastor had known her since they were children and it seemed he could never shake her. “I’m not leaving until you open this door. She’ll skin me alive if I don’t tell her I laid eyes on you and verified one of her best customers is indeed safe and sound.”

“I,” you hesitated inside your home, a block of ice wrapped in cloth hanging from your hand. The swelling had gone down, but the ice soothed the pain still. “I can’t, Alastor.” 

“I’m not leaving, so you may as well open this door. I’ll stand here all day if I need to.” Alastor’s lips twitched into a wider smile as he heard the lock on the door and watched the doorknob turn. 

You peeked through the opening. “I’m fine, see? Now-” 

Alastor leaned to the side, giving himself a better view of you. You watched his face drop from the smile he seemed to wear, and you knew in that moment he had seen too much. 

“Fuck,” the word was soft, spoken under his breath and not intended for your ears, but you caught the naked truth of it. 

He saw. 

“Let me in.” His voice was little more than a tense hiss, but it lacked the threat of Laurence’s voice. Alastor didn’t wait for you to decide if you were going to allow him in, though. 

As you readied your words of protest, Alastor looked each way and shoved the door open enough for him to slip inside. The force knocked you to the side, but you had no strength to put up any sort of fight.

This was wrong, you thought as the door squeaked. Improper. You were alone with him, or you would be if he dared to close the door. It stood open, just enough for his frame to have slipped through, though someone could still see. 

He looked at you as if he was seeing someone else. A few heartbeats passed before he shut the front door behind him, sealing you off.

Alone. Laurence would kill you if he had found out, but in the haze and fog of pain, you struggled to care beyond the sharp spike of fear. It was done. 

“Did he do this to you?” Deep shadows settled on Alastor’s face. Rage, an emotion that looked wholly misplaced and yet right at home, settled over his face in place of the smile he usually wore. 

You shrugged, not brave enough to meet his eyes. “It’s not as bad as it looks.”

“Like hell it’s not.” Alastor reached out, fingers ghosting over the dark blue bruises over your eye, “If I had to bet, I’d say it’s likely worse than it looks.” 

“It’s fine.” You needed Alastor to leave, “I’m healing. Please, you need to go.”

“I’m helping you,” Alastor’s lips twitched up into a calm smile, “Because it is my fault, isn’t it?” 

“No! No, not at all.” 

“The flowers were too much of a risk,” Alastor did not outright say sorry, but the words were written on his face. “I’ve patched my fair share of people up.” 

Somehow, you found yourself led through your house as if you were the guest. Alastor’s hand was light against your back, only a slight pressure when you would hesitate. It was hard to hesitate for more than a few moments. The pain and fatigue stole the fight from you. 

Alastor pulled the chair from your workstation toward the center of your kitchen and lightfully pushed you to sit in it. It was surreal seeing him in your space as if it was his once again. 

With a start, you realized how improper this really was. You were alone with a man that was not your husband. What’s worse, you were alone in your home with him and your husband didn’t know. You had no intention of telling Laurence, and that made it all the worse. 

It didn’t matter if nothing happened between you. If Laurence found out Alastor was in his home without a third party to ensure things were proper, you would be branded an adulteress. He could leave you ruined in society. Your family would disown you.

“It’ll be worse if he finds out you came.” 

Alastor seemed to hear your whispered words easily as he put a kettle of water on the stove to warm, though he disregarded them. He opened drawers until he found the kitchen rags instead of responding to your protest. 

You sat quietly as you watched Alastor pick herbs from the little pots that sat in your kitchen window. He put the leaves between two layers of the rag and grabbed your heavy stone rolling pin. Leaning forward to put his weight into it, he rolled it along the cloth until there was a slight green color to the white kitchen cloth. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Something Ma taught me.” You smiled softly at his words. Though he still spoke in that irritatingly perfect transatlantic accent, he called his mother ‘Ma’. “It’ll help prevent infection in your lip.”

You wanted to ask him how he knew about patching up beaten women, why his mother needed to teach him how to prevent infection beyond washing a cut, but you didn’t. You didn’t want to know. He was too kind of a man to have a childhood where a harsh man’s hands left bruises and weeping wounds. 

“When do you expect him back?” Alastor asked as he dipped the folded rag into the steaming water. After squeezing the water out, he took the wrapped chunk of ice from you and re-wrapped it with the damp green tinged cloth. 

“Usually just before dinner,” you answered, “But he said he’s probably going to be working late on the extra work for the station.”

“Extra work for the station?” Alastor scoffed but didn’t elaborate. You didn’t ask, though you wanted to. It wasn’t the place of a woman to insert herself into the affairs of men. 

“I’ll be gone before he’s back. I didn’t park near either. He won’t know.” 

You wanted to trust him. There was no energy left to argue with him about it. 

Alastor took the damp rag that had been wrapped around the ice and dropped it into the kettle. He waited for a moment before fishing the rag out and ringing the water out. How it didn’t burn his hands, you did not know.

“Hold this to your eye.” He tilted your head up with a finger under your chin. The action was strangely intimate. Softly, he pressed the warm cloth against the bruised skin. “After the first two days, heat is better to treat bruises. Helps your body break it down so it’ll fade faster.” 

“I didn’t know that,” you were not sure what to say to Alastor at that moment. Instead, you slowly reached up with your other hand to take the rag from him, folding your fingers over his hand as best you could with your little finger still not working right. 

Alastor noticed your finger, sitting out at an angle from the others as your hand ghosted over his. As he let you take the rag yourself, he leaned forward to get a better look at the finger. 

Your heart beat hard in your chest as his face drew closer to yours. You could see the different shades of brown in his eyes, making them look like freshly tilled soil. He had his attention focused on your hand, but the way his hair had just a little more curl at the root, giving it more volume, captivated yours. His long lashes framed his eyes, such a normal color, and yet you couldn’t look away.

“It looks like your finger is just dislocated.” his words were soft. His breath ghosted over you, bitter coffee rich in it. “It’ll hurt, but if you don’t relocate it, it will just get worse.”

“What’s a little more pain?” You tried to sound brave, but your voice still faltered. 

Alastor nodded before rummaging through your kitchen again. He came back with twine as he fished a small folding pocketknife from his pocket. He dropped another rag into the kettle before taking both the rag and hand over your eye in his hand. 

You marveled at how much bigger his hand was than yours as he plucked the rag from your palm and tossed it into the kettle easily. He held your hand close to his face, using his fingers to feel how the bones sat under your skin. 

“Three.” He said, taking your hand in both of his. 

“Two.” He wrapped his fingers carefully around your pinky. You took a deep breath, clenching your teeth together and held it.

“One.” He pulled your finger out and toward the rest of your hand with a strong, steady pressure. 

It wasn’t slow, and for that you were thankful. Pain swirled in your head as you cried out. And then, with a pop, you could instantly feel relief. The joint throbbed, but the pain was duller now..

You didn’t realize you were swaying until Alastor’s hands on your shoulders steadied you. “Are you alright?”

“Dizzy,” was all you could say, “I’m okay.” 

Alastor nodded, dropping his hands from you but stood, watching you for a few moments longer before fishing a rag out of the hot kettle with tongs. 

“Give your lip a break from the ice,” he directed over his shoulder as he worked water out of the rag using the side of the kettle and the tongs. He clumsily folded it on the counter, pinching the steaming edges of the fabric and flipping them over. 

As he tossed the folded cloth between his hands a few times, you pulled the cloth from your lip. He folded the cloth in his hands one more time before resting it against your bruised eye again, holding it to your darkened skin until your fingers slipped under his hand. 

Then his face was once again too close to yours. Your heart pounded as he looked at your lip closer, directing your head this way and that with a few fingers under your chin. 

Never in your life had you been this close to a man who was not your father or your husband. All it would take was leaning just a little forward and your lips would be on his. Such a silly thought that was. The pain was surely getting to you. 

If someone walked in and saw him holding you like this, they would think he was about to kiss you, and that thought wasn’t so silly. Fear flooded you as your eyes ripped from his to glance at the doorway.

“Don’t worry,” Alastor whispered, “We’ve got plenty of time still.” 

“Why are you helping me?” You asked, dressing gown clutched to your chest as you held the back of your blouse up for Alastor, trying to preserve as much of your modesty as you could. 

He had insisted on checking the rest of your injuries and you don’t know why you agreed. Maybe it would make him leave sooner? Maybe it just felt better to be taken care of. While Laurence had provided a meal, flowers and water, he hadn’t provided any actual care for the injuries themselves. 

“Because no man should lay a hand on his wife.” Alastor spoke around the end of the bandage he had gripped in his teeth. “I don’t enjoy seeing it and I enjoy causing it even less. You deserve better.”

“But it’s what it is. I’m his,” Alastor only hummed at your words, passing the bandage to your side. You took it and wrapped it around your front, passing it back to him on the other side, where he pulled it tight. The pressure around your ribs was comforting, just as he promised it would be. 

You still were not sure it was worth being in such an indecent position with him. He said nothing of the yellow and green bruises you knew were on your back, healing marks from prior times you had disappointed your husband. 

“What are you doing later this week?” Alastor asked, breaking the tense silence that fell between you while he finished wrapping your ribs. “While he is working?” 

“Cleaning,” you weakly shrugged. “Cooking. Healing. Being a wife.”

“And if you took a break from that?” Alastor felt the adrenaline trickle into his system just as it did whenever he took a risk while hunting. Interesting. Unexpected. He filed that reaction away to examine later. 

“What?”

“I’ve spent all afternoon here patching you up. I was supposed to go pick up some curtains.” 

“I’m so sorry!” You sucked in a breath as he tied off the bandages. “I’ll make it up to you somehow.”

“I know just the way!” Alastor’s voice returned to the cheer you had grown to associate with him. It had been subdued in the last few hours and you had missed it. Its absence had left you feeling tense. “Why don’t you assist me in making the selection? My home is dearly missing a woman’s touch. We can go next week, so you’ve had a chance to heal.” 

“It wouldn’t be-”

“Proper, sure it would. We’ll be in public and I can assure you that Laurence wouldn’t find out. Just you, me and the rest of the shoppers.” 

“Alright,” you chewed your lip, “If you’re sure he won’t find out… I could assist and then we’ll be even? The debt paid?” 

Next? Masterlist

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[star-wrote]

ANYFING WITH FLUFFY MUEPHY MACMANUS PLES PLES PLES PLES LMAOOO

Mo Stór

ao3 link

Characters: Murphy MacManus x Fem!Reader

A/N: loving the energy in this request, anon. if you had a tail, it would be wagging LMAO. i’m sorry this took AGES, but i hope you enjoy anyway! <3

Warnings: cussing, bad irish accent writing, fluff, domestic bliss, seriously it’s so fluffy

Word Count: 817

Dating Murphy MacManus isn’t the easiest thing in the world. In fact, if you were to ask his brother, he’d say something along the lines of “Dunno how ya put up with us being vigilantes and shit, lass.”

You and Murphy have had countless talks about him and his brother’s “hobby,” half of them ending in you begging to join him. He would never let you, it’s too dangerous.

So you work your job to support yourself and the boys. You don’t mind it really, they treat you like their queen. Usually, they’re home when you get off work. Walking in to a warm dinner, even if it was a frozen pizza, was a feeling you wish for every good person on earth.

Other nights, like tonight, the brothers wouldn’t be home. You couldn’t help the feeling of anxiety that went to that pit in your stomach. You rush to the note on the refrigerator, ripping it from the magnet that also held up a picture of you and Murphy kissing. Both the picture and the magnet fell off the fridge as you read the note.

“Went to grab Chinese takeaway for dinner. Be back soon x.”

You sighed in relief as you read Murphy’s chicken scratch handwriting. You remembered the magnet and picture that fell, and quickly retrieved them off of the floor. You smiled as you pinned the picture back to the fridge and silently thanked Connor for capturing that moment on camera.

It had been a long night at McGinty’s, and Doc had kept the rounds coming. You had somehow convinced Murphy to dance with you; it must have been the David Bowie song playing. At the end of the song, he dipped you down like you were in some kind of romance movie, and gave you one of many kisses that you two have shared in that bar. Once he heard the click of the camera, he gently dropped you to the floor and shoved his brother, trying to grab the camera. You laughed on the bar floor as he successfully got the camera and pocketed it. He must not have been too upset about the picture since he printed it out the next day.

You heard the door open while you were reminiscing, interrupted by the familiar sound of the twins bickering; this time about chopsticks.

Connor calls your name as he shuts the door. “Are ya gonna use chopsticks?”

You smile as Murphy rolls his eyes and sets the food down on the table. He makes his way over to you and kisses your cheek.

“Yeah, of course,” you answer Connor, “are you?”

He pulls two wrapped pairs of chopsticks out of his pocket and hands you one. “Of course! Murph here wouldn’t let me grab three because he doesn’t know how to use them.”

You look at Murphy who rolls his eyes again as he grabs your hips to slide past you and take a fork from the drawers. He grumbles out “I’m fuckin’ Irish, don’t need to know how, eejit.”

You giggle as you hug him from behind. “I’m pretty sure the Irish didn’t invent the fork either, Murphy.”

He tried to frown, but one side of his mouth lifted. “Are we gonna eat this shite or not?”

After dinner and the nightly movie, you and Murphy retired to your shared bedroom. You were glad that the movie finished because it was Connor’s night to pick, and he picked the worst possible movie on earth, as usual.

You had both changed into your sleep clothes, and brushed your teeth together, smiling at each other in the mirror.

This was your favorite part of the day. You and Murphy got to cuddle in bed and just look at each other. His hand was on your cheek and his thumb was smoothing out your skin.

“Mo stór.” Murphy interrupts the silence.

You smile at him. “What’s that?”

“My darling.”

You kiss his forehead. “Yeah, I am.”

He smiles and kisses your lips gently.

You rest your forehead on his. “For a second I thought you were asking me to marry you or something.”

Without hesitation, he answers, “I would.”

You bring your head up from the pillow and lift your eyebrows in surprise at him.

He notices the shock on your face and scrambles to say something else. “I mean I don’t have a ring for you or anything. But I would get one. I just know that God sent you to me. I may be a saint, but you’re an angel, lass.”

He grabs your hand and kisses the top of it.

“It seems like it would be a pretty divine marriage if you ask me.”

You feel a tear fall from your eye. “Oh my god.”

He smirks as he wipes the tear from your face and chides, “Lord’s name, love.”

You giggle and then nod.

“Let’s do it.”

[soobadnoonecanstopher]

Can I Stay? (A Baekhyun Story) Part 8.

Pairing: You x Baekhyun

Rating: M (SMUT - Mature Content) (Don't read this at work or in public or at church or in class)

Word Count: 6.6k

Warnings: Here today for your consideration is some graphic smut. Idk anymore. Agonizing smut. Edging. Power Play. PWP. We don't need to live like this, but this is how this chapter happened, someone told me to make it long so here we fuckin are guys. Anyway don't forget to drink water and clench as you read this.

A romance between two adults with an unspecified age difference between them, an English story that uses the word Noona for lack of another word in English that carries the same feeling, if you don’t like this, then don’t read this story.

Author‘s note: remember all those years ago I said I’d write a Baekhyun x Noona fic? This is that fic.

Inspired by the Ray LaMontagne songs Can I Stay

Thank you @his-mochi-cheeks for making the story poster featuring Baekhyun’s outfit in this chapter. Additional Tag for @andimoon

Links: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9

‘When can I see you again?’

‘I need to see you again”

With a slow and deliberate agonizing pull of his dark eyes, he ran them up the entire length of your body before setting them down devastatingly deep inside of your eyes and there was no longer any breath left in your body that could fight the dizziness you felt under his gaze.

Inside of his eyes a flame was ablaze and you, and you, and every single bit of you, was burning.

Baekhyun was at your doorway with a hand in his pocket; looking absolutely nothing like your prim and proper Personal Assistant usually did. Gone was the professional suit and tie and here he stood in front of you looking more casual than you had ever seen him. This was day-off Byun Baekhyun. He leaned against the doorframe with colorful sneakers on his feet and on his lower half wearing a pair of well fitted jeans with what had to be very trendy holes ripped right through the knees. The holes were large and dramatic. You could make out the soft flesh of his inner knee and on the right leg, you even saw some of his soft upper thigh. What were these jeans?

Your eyes seemed to act on their own accord as you took him in, pausing your journey just about thigh level to let out an appreciative exhale because of simply how good this man’s thighs looked in these jeans. On his broad chest he wore a soft and well-worn red hoodie. He looked younger like this. His face was already very youthful for his age but dressed like this? He could pass for a college student in this sweater and in these jeans.

You tried. You really tried not to let your eyes linger for too long over the middle zipper section of him. But the man was wearing a belt — the accent in the middle kind of caught your eyes and despite all of your mental gymnastics to get your eyes to move up into his face right now, you knew that the belt was black. You knew that he had the buckle fastened through the third hole in the leather and you knew that the buckle was silver and had a brushed metal texture to it. You had lingered here for too long. My god, you could identify it in a police lineup if you had to. The belt as well as the bulge of fabric; the well filled out denim below the belt. The parts of him that occupied far more of your mind than you’d ever admit outloud to anyone. You had intimate knowledge of the power he held over you. You’d slept with him exactly twice; both times in the well concealed darkness of your bedroom and still, still knew the man and every single but of him was gorgeous.

You were positive that you were ogling him for too long but if he had any thoughts about the way you took him in he certainly wasn’t speaking on it.

When you finally made it through, when the breath that seemed to be stuck halfway through your windpipe finally made its way out and your eyes finally touched on the edges of his face enough for you to catch the tip of his tongue that moistened his bottom lip a half second before his teeth bit down on that wet lip. It was such a brief action but your mind flashed a memory of those teeth biting down hard on to the soft skin of your neck. Those teeth that brought just a bit of pain and that mouth that sucked hard enough to bruise your flesh.

This mark remained on you at this very moment and it took every bit of strength left inside of you not to lift a hand and touch the spot with your fingertips.

You shouldn’t do such a thing. You were being watched.

His eyes watched you. You’d made it this far. You’d reached his eyes and when you pulled your own into his there was a shift in his pupils to finally have your focus, to finally be looking into his face instead of feasting all over his crotch like you had been doing.

Were you caught?

He had a smile on his face and you could see a narrowing of his eyelids, a microscopic tick of a single eyebrow over one of his eyes and his smile pulled just a tiny bit wider.

You probably should do something.

“Hi,” you managed weakly and his smile pulled brighter, showing his teeth for a moment.

“Hi,” his lips parted with his whispered response. His head tilted toward the door frame he was leaning on. That one word; just a repetition of your own inadequate greeting but somehow in his voice and said so softly it seemed to jostle every bit of the fondness you had for him and it sent a burst of sweet bubbles to your surface. The sweet feelings and tiny gestures and the delicate kisses and the sleepy whispers, they all floated up and one by one each made a tiny pop, pop, pop, breaking whatever excuse for surface tension you had tricked yourself into believing you could still hold on to.

What did normal people do when they had a visitor?

You stepped aside; your legs teetering just a little unsteadily, holding the door open for him to enter and also for your own balance and at last his weight shifted off of the doorframe and he took a quiet step inside.

You could breathe at last. He was finally aiming his eyes at something other than you as he looked down at his feet to push his shoes off.

You could feel the newness of this making your nerves misbehave.

Your brand new out-of-the-box boyfriend had suddenly stopped by your house and it was getting dark outside. As far as you knew he was supposed to have been busy all day. The boys’ music class and then dinner with his parents and then… he would have been tired after his day. He would maybe want to go home and rest.

Your mind reached back to his text message. You’d been longing for his company again back when you read it but now your nerves had a hold of you and his messages’ crystal clear meaning from before his arrival was beginning to cloud over just a bit. What if you had been wrong?

What if he actually had some other reason why he had to see you.

What if something had changed or what if something happened with the dinner with his parents? What if that dinner had turned into a business discussion about his future in the company and how he couldn’t waste away his precious days working as your assistant. What if this was a farewell visit; or worse a break up visit?

Were you jumping to conclusions about the reason for his sudden visit and assuming he wanted what you also wanted? What you knew for a fact right now is that you were definitely overthinking this.

The uncertainty had you crossing your arms over your chest and looking down the length of your bare legs. You pointed a freshly painted toe nail forward and absentmindedly tapped against the kitchen island beside the entryway of your home.

“So what did you need to see me about?” The question sounded innocent enough in your head but when it came out of your own mouth you could hear the confrontational tone. It made you wince. You hadn’t meant to sound this way. Out of habit, to recover just a little bit of your own pride, you straightened your shoulders and lifted your chin. It was an act of self preservation. You were a mess of a mix between a hopeful girlfriend and a nagging team manager and something told you the later one was not what you were supposed to be acting like right now.

Your stupid question was out though and there was no putting it back in. You held your breath and you braced for the answer.

Baekhyun had been making his way into your kitchen and his forward progress stalled when he heard your question. Did he feel your nerves through your words or had your business-like tone taken front and center stage?

He didn’t answer quickly and instead took a few more steps past where you stood your ground and you saw the tiny head shake as he looked back at you with his lips parted.

“Oh, uhh...” his voice began to speak but he stopped again, “I uhhh…” The man didn’t usually struggle with his words. Had you somehow infected him with your nerves? Was it the crossed arms and the manager’s tone of voice? You felt a flash of guilt for it.

Baekhyun exhaled and his eyes closed up.

“I sat outside for thirty minutes and I couldn’t come up with an excuse for being here.” His lips pulled into a wince and he peaked one eye open to look at you.

“I should be at home right now, but my car seemed to drive me here.” Your own smile betrayed you and when he saw it his other eye pulled open. He was adorable. His quiet confession made your heart leap.

“Nothing? No ‘My cell service is out and I had to deliver this important message’ or ‘We have this important client meeting tomorrow and you need to be aware of this detail that only I know.’ You couldn't come up with one little thing?” You simply could not help the teasing now. This was just too much fun. He was adorable.

You hadn’t read his messages wrong. All at once you felt the nerves burst and vanish and he smiled wider as he shook his head.

“I am definitely not here for work, Noona.” He stood just out of reach in that bright red hoodie wearing those jeans and he slipped a hand into his front pocket again, fidgeting with his keys or his phone or whatever it was he did when he was just a little bit anxious.

“So what are you here for then, Baekhyun?” You’d long since dropped your arms and they hung at your side.

His easy smile flattened out, vanishing from his face and he looked into your eyes, watching the shift in your face and recognizing the change in your tone easily.

Something different was brewing inside of your chest that had replaced the silly anxiousness you felt earlier. It had you taking the smallest step closer to him when you asked your brazen question.

This new feeling, a mirror of that which fueled your fingers to text him to tell him to come over, it had you lifting your eyes up from his lips where you’d just watched the nervous way his tongue darted out, your eyebrow bounced over your eye to see it, and when you’d pulled your eyes back up you did it slowly enough that there was zero doubt between the two of you that he had seen it.

This man, this beautiful, glorious, amazingly competent-in-all-ways man, was watching your face with his lips parted and with his words caught up inside his mouth. This man looked nervous right now, inside your home with you looking into his eyes waiting very patiently for his explanations for why he had to see you so urgently tonight.

So far he had none that he dared speak out loud.

You knew this might not be completely fair but it sure was fun watching the man who always had something to say about everything ever, finally at a loss for words.

What would it take to pull those words out of him.

You reached for the top button of the shirt you wore. It was a loose and flowy top and you knew it would only take one button for the shoulder to fall off. You knew the bruise he’d made with his mouth would be visible. You knew the lacy bra you wore would also not be very well concealed and just one more button would bring the view of the soft mounds of your breasts before him. You were on a roll with one button and you were unstoppable with the second button.

Of course his eyes touched below your neck, of course he saw the mark and of course his eyes looked down to the glimpse of your exposed bra. With his eyes having a look he bit down in his lip and you heard the rough exhale through his nose.

And he was in motion. His hand lifted to rub through his hair and another hand lifted to rub over his face and he physically reeled standing right here just out of your reach and with about as much pent up energy inside of his body as you felt inside of your own.

“You,” he lifted a lazy hand in your general direction, waving his slim fingers at you, “I — did not only come here for that. I also wanted to make sure you were okay after yesterday, I swear.”

He spilled the words out quickly and pulled his lips in between his teeth as he lifted an oh so innocent hand to lay over his chest as he did his very best to convince you of his noble intentions for coming here tonight. It made you grin. You couldn’t stop it.

The smile on your face was knowing. While you appreciated his concern you were very clearly just fine. And that wasn’t the part you wanted to get to the bottom of. You raised an eyebrow and dropped your voice an octave and you slowly asked your next question.

“You didn’t only come here for what, Baekhyun?”

You whispered in response, needing him to use the words himself out loud before you exploded right here in the space between your entryway and your kitchen. You wanted him to speak openly and honestly with you. You needed to know if he wanted to use you tonight as badly as you wanted to use him tonight.

His eyes were steady on you and you looked at him, mustering all of your experience from your most intense professional negotiations. You steeled your mouth shut and lifted your eyebrows in his direction with a tiny raise of your chin.

He watched your face. His breathing seemed to grow heavier and he seemed to war with himself inside his own head for a few breaths if it.

After a moment his head ticked upward and the look in his eyes grew darker.

“Okay,” he said and his lips hung open after the word came out. A decision it seemed had been reached.

“Okay, fine.” He took a step, it was a big one and you miraculously stood your ground as he moved in.

You did have to close your eyes for a second as he closed in on you. You’d asked for this. And when you felt the warmth of his breath against your face he was so close to you now that even with your eyes open, the pretty features of his face were a blur.

More than his hot breath on you, his hands had come too, those slim fingers ran a path along your neck, slipping his slow moving fingertips over the bruise. You knew his eyes would be feasting on the sight of where he had marked you as his own.

“You want to know why I came?” His hand moved now and you gasped to feel that hand slip around your chin and grip your face tightly. He pulled, making your face turn away from his so that his lips touched up against your ear. He held your face with a surprising strength and your breaths raged in and out, unable to conceal how affected you felt for him to be touching you this roughly.

You felt his soft lips at your ear a moment before you heard the lowly growled words that came from deep within his chest.

”l came because I want to fuck you.” You closed your eyes and your mouth was open as short breaths pushed out of your lungs. You had asked for this but had nowhere prepared for the impact of it. Oh this felt better than you had expected.

“Is this what you want to hear, My Love” You felt overwhelmed by his words, by his hands, by the way he pressed his firm body up against you and the way the edge of the hard countertop dug into your back. The pain of it made you feel somehow still connected to your body right now despite the otherworldly arousal that coursed through you.

“I came because you feel so hot and so wet and so good around my dick that all I can think about is fucking you over and over again.”

His hand moved your chin to face him again and he pulled his face back just enough for you to be able to make out the dark brown of his eyes. His pupils were so dark and all consuming they looked like black holes ready to devour you completely.

“You have no idea how desperate I am for you. If you asked me to get on my knees and beg, I would drop — I would drop to my knees, again, for you.”

“But what you have no fucking idea about, is how It goes so much deeper than that.” Your mind was too jumbled to make sense of what he meant. You did not have any space to translate — deeper than what?

His thumb moved then and you felt pressure as he pressed over it your bottom lip, his wild eyes watching the way your mouth opened slightly as he did it.

Every bit of resistance you may have had in you was gone. You easily molded under his hands, feeling the effects of him in more than just your mouth, the heat spread all over your body, dropping into your stomach, pooling in between your legs.

“More,” he said darkly as if this one word had punctuated the shift into a very different Baekhyun and you let your lips fall open more. His thumb pushed in, hooked around your bottom teeth and pulled you forward into his open mouth. You felt the hot wetness of his tongue when he pushed it inside of your mouth. This darkness in his voice sounded familiar; like the same Baekhyun that bit you. This must be him, when he’d lost the carefully curated control, this was him.

You felt inundated. Blindsided by the way your body reacted to it. You sucked on his tongue that he’d pushed into your mouth and you heard a low throaty groan from him as he slowly pulled it back out, leaving you shaking and trembling to watch his face twist into pleasure. His eyes had rolled closed and with him pressed up against your body this way you could feel the rigid heat between his legs pressed up against you.

His hands were trembling and he took them off of your face. He was retreating. It took you a few seconds to realize this and you missed his hands touching you when he’d pulled them away. He stumbled back, landing on one of your kitchen stools.

You watched him breathe through it all the while desperately trying to catch your own breath. When he spoke next he sounded worked up and agitated.

“I am fucking wrecked by you. I feel insane. I feel completely destroyed,” When his eyes pulled open he was back; whispering softly through parted lips and trembling hands that he fisted at his waist.

“But, I also know how lopsided this is. I know that I’m the one who fell too hard — too fast. I think you know it too — teasing me like that. Making me lose control, making me want to lose control —”

You’d done something awful. You’d introduced some doubt inside of his mind and you felt the need to undo all of that this very instant. Was that really why? Did he really have so much confusion about your intentions?

“You must know that I would do anything. I know I should hold back — I need to hold back with you, but…”

You took a step into him, leaned forward and pulled his bottom lip in between your lips and you kissed him, interrupting his false beliefs about how much you felt for him with a kiss.

He responded to your kiss right away with a need and incredible want. That he didn’t know the signs — that he didn’t recognize just how strong of a hold he had on you was a failure on your part — this couldn’t be the only reason. You wondered if it was something you’d missed.

His lips kissed you with such an intensity that you had to place both of your hands on his cheeks to pull him back, just so you could breathe, just so you could speak to the truth of how you felt about him; how you had been feeling about him all day. You had things to say to him.

”I worship you —” Your labored exhale painted over his wet lips, “Baekhyun.” Your chest constricted when you heard your own voice utter those scary words. You’d never before told someone something like this and still deep inside your chest you knew how true it was.

With your small declaration you saw his eyes roll and he bit down on his bottom lip. He inhaled through his nose, his teeth bit down hard on that lip. A small whimper came from the back of his throat.

But you weren’t done. You had so much to tell him and you mustered up the courage to speak.

“You occupy my mind and my heart so completely. I even considered going to bed early tonight just so I could hurry up and see you tomorrow morning.

“If I’ve given you any impression that I don’t want you, that I didn’t want you here; I am sorry. And I’m sorry about the way I greeted you earlier. I was — just nervous. I don’t want you to hold back with me.”

His face ticked back and forth, you felt it happen within your hands.

“I’ve never seen you nervous.” Baekhyun said matter of factly with his pink lips hung open after he spoke.

“I am very good at hiding it.” You let go of his face, trusting that he might stay put and you waved both of your hands over your own chest. “It happens all on the inside. My stomach is a wreck.”

“But you, texting me like that, and standing there at my door looking like this…” you waved a hand over the length of him and his eyes followed your waving fingers to look down at himself with a slowly growing smile that he tried to conceal on his face. His fingertips reached out and he touched your shirt, rubbing the fabric between his thumb and index finger.

“You make me very nervous. I thought for sure I was the one who liked you more.” Your confessions had been tumbling out of you quite freely now. It seemed you’d cleared the clog. “I think we have a lot to learn about each other.”

He watched your face as you spoke. You said all you could think of to say and the small tugs he made on your shirt were distracting, they made you lose whatever else you might have had to say. You reached a hand forward to tug at one of the red strings that hung out of his hood.

His fingers released the bit of your shirt he was holding. He’d been absent minded with it but when he reached out again he lightly gripped the next closed button on your top. There were only two left that held this thing together. His focus was light on that button he held between his index finger and his thumb and you felt a small tug as a third finger came into play, pushing the button through the hole; exposing more of your skin.

He was making you dizzy again. You felt his light touch along your stomach just below the front clasp of your bra and your own small gasps were the only sound in this quiet space when he lightly traced the lace edge of your bra, his fingertip running up the soft flesh of your breast. He followed up the strap and you felt him rub the pad of his fingertip on your shoulder, over the bruise there.

Baekhyun leaned. You felt the movement in him moments before you felt his hair tickling lightly over your skin. You felt the puff of breath from his mouth moments before you felt his soft lips on you and when his lips landed over that same exact spot you had to place your hands on his shoulders to keep yourself from falling over. You braced for it, you could feel it coming when you felt the parting of his lips, the wetness of his tongue and the hardness of his teeth and he bit you again, harder this time in the exact same spot as before. It took your breath away and you had to open your mouth; a small hiss and a quiet moan.

“Do I really make you nervous?” He asked in a low whisper into the space beside your neck. You felt goosebumps all over your skin. His hands were moving and you felt a tiny click. He had figured out the front clasp of your bra. You felt his mouth on you again, this time his lips and his tongue all over. You might have nodded your head. You weren't very much in control of your body anymore.

But his hands, those hands, they were moving again. His slim fingertips had slipped into the space between your goosebumped skin and the waistband of your shorts and he pushed with his hands, leaving only your lace underwear behind. He was undressing you. In the kitchen with all of your lights on and your hands rubbed over the soft red hoodie he still wore, lamenting over the lack of warm skin you felt. He was still completely clothed when gravity took your shorts.

“Do you really want me to not hold back?” His next question was spoken into your open mouth. You gasped, inhaling the sweet smelling air from inside his lungs when his hands reached around and gripped your ass and you were being lifted, with his mouth still connected to your own and his eyes wide open as he looked into your face between the kisses.

He had so many clothes on. You felt the roughness of the denim through the thin lace panties that you still wore and against the bare skin of your thighs that wrapped around his thin waist. You felt your own wetness that soaked the fabric press against you as you were lifted and you were carried; he was moving now.

You were in a different room. You inhaled a shocked breath when you were tossed, your back meeting a soft bed and you were entirely too naked for how many clothes he wore as he climbed over you on the bed, his bare knee and its warm skin a stark contrast to the scratchy jeans, you felt him push that knee roughly against your legs, making you open tor him.

“Baek — clothes,” you managed only a few nouns. He understood and you heard a quiet chuckle from the back of his throat, only it didn’t quite sound like humor. It sounded like something else. A little boy playing roughly and carelessly with a toy, perhaps.

He caged you in with his arms pinning you down on either side and his bare knee pressed up high between your parted legs. You were certain he could feel your wetness on his knee.

“I’ll keep them on for now, because you like them.” His balance shifted then and he moved, propping up on one elbow so he could trace down the curve of your body with his fingertips. He was moving very slowly and you squirmed below the uncomfortable tickle you felt when he reached your hip bones. He was moving lower and his knee was gone, replaced by his wandering hand.

“God, you are wet. I can feel you worshiping me, right here,” his fingertips pressed over your panties and the purposeful drag of his fingers over your swollen center had you gasping. He did it again and again and you responded desperately with every touch and when he pushed the fabric aside and slipped two slim fingers inside of your wetness you could feel yourself losing this game he was playing.

Just with the build up before you got into this room, you were already in bad shape, but now with his fingers touching; you felt yourself too close. He was guiding you there. You knew he could tell too. His movements were deliberate and he was watching your face closely as he did it. You could feel on the edge of it, you were so close to it, your breathing was ragged and desperate and he watched with a quiet and calm expression on his face as he brought you there. You squirmed below him, you touched just along the edge of it with a whimper when all at once he pulled his hand away abruptly, slipping well outside of your wetness and far away from the release you had been so close to. That hand, that hand was gone, his fingers and the feeling all of it was gone. The denial felt like a splash of cold water against your hot skin.

“Do want me to fuck you, Miss Manager?” He spoke out your work title in a hushed whisper and the surprise of hearing that title — right here with you in the state you were in, it pulled your eyes open to look into his face. When he caught your attention you saw a slight narrowing of his dark eyes. It was a challenge. You wondered right then about the fantasies this man must have had at work. You wondered how you would be able to move forward tomorrow knowing what you now knew from his one question he had just asked you.

“You know you just have to ask me nicely,” he said with a shrug of his face. He lifted his hand, still wet from you, up to his lips and you watched his lips part and the tip of his tongue emerged to lick up the wetness before he stuck both of his fingers inside of his mouth, pulling them out of his mouth slowly as he looked into your eyes.

This was too much. You hadn’t been prepared for this kind of behavior from him and the most shocking thing was just how much you were turned on by every single thing he did to you.

Yes, you did want him to fuck you. You were feeling entirely too desperate for it and he was completely and utterly in control of every single thought you had coursing through your brain.

“B-Baek—take off your clothes—”

“Uh-uh,” he interrupted firmly when you had started to speak. “I don’t think that’s the proper way to ask your assistant for a favor. Really, you are more professional than that. At least say please.” This was definitely a game he was playing now.

You felt all of it, all at once. The sting of being so close to a finish and being denied it. The sting of him denying you even for a few seconds what you had so clearly wanted from him. You felt the arousal still overtaking every single one of your senses and still so very affected by his goddamned audacity to be so clearly having so much fun with you right now.

It made you feel insane. All of it was too much.

You weren't speaking right away for sheer loss of words. You felt like you’d lost them along with your sanity and all you could do was reach your hand out and tug lightly at his red sweater. You were greeted with a small slap at the back of your hand for that and he was inhaling to speak again with about as much mischief in his eyes as you had ever seen.

“Répète après moi,” he began in French for no reason you could make any sense of, not that you could make any sense of anything that was happening to you right now.

He spoke clearly and slowly as if you were a naughty student in need of reprimanding — with a finger pointed at his mouth, touching on his bottom lip. This was the finger that had just been inside of you.

“Assistant Byun…will you please” he said with a pointed pause and he watched you and he waited.

It was your turn to repeat after him.

“Assistant Byun, will you please take off your clothes and fuck me?” It was always best to rip the bandaid off, you said it in a single breath. The seconds after the words came out of your lips though, you felt their massive impact.

Every single day, and all day long at work, you started dozens of sentences to him exactly like this. This was the most dangerous game you could have played with him.

His eyes were watching you darkly as you said it and you caught the slow roll of his eyes into the back of his head as he threw his face back and away from you, feeling the very real impact of that sentence you had just said to him.

No doubt, committing it to memory so that every single time you started with those words at work, this very moment would return to his mind — and to yours as well.

He didn't respond right away with words but he was moving before you heard him whisper the quiet, “Yes ma’am,” that he always used as a response at the office.

He quickly pulled the red sweater up over his head and tossed it onto the floor behind him. He’d grabbed the white shirt along with the sweater, removing everything at once. You saw the clear firmness of his skin at last. You could smell the clean, expensive fragrance that he wore. You felt the bed move and you heard the telltale sounds of a belt buckle, a zipper, the swish of jeans and he was back to you all heat and skin and the overwhelmingly amazing way he smelled and he was back; he was back.

You felt ready to snap. You felt wound so tight; the anticipation alone might have done you in, but he was back. You’d abandoned the panties. They were soaked anyway.

He was above you; coating you entirely. The heavy weight of his body covered you, you felt restricted in your breathing and he was here. He was yours; you had him at last. He was in between your legs, he was on top of you and his arms wrapped below your shoulders as he pulled your body into his own, a tangle here without any distance at all between the skin of your bodies and between your faces. You felt him there too, right between your legs, so perfectly lined up. You’d wrapped your tense legs around his waist to pull him in closer to you.

He was looking into your eyes and when he pushed inside it was all at once; in one fluid motion. Your mouth opened to gasp and his mouth opened over your mouth, pushing his tongue between your lips and biting down with his teeth with a matching rhythm; the same motion that his hips moved inside of you, until the gasping from his own lungs grew to be too much for him to take.

You touched him everywhere, needing to feel that smooth skin from his abdomen to his chest to his neck to his face and as you passed your fingers over his lips you gasped when turned his head, catching a finger between his teeth and biting down hard. You wondered how many marks he had made on you now.

You were dizzy. You were overcome. He was sitting up and watching the space where your bodies connected; where he disappeared inside of you again and again and you were lost.

You were lost. His pace was affected by the feeling of your tremors, by the tightening of all of your muscles and you were lost. You heard the growling curses that flew from his lips and the whining sounds that came from his mouth.

His actions were a blur. You were too consumed by this man. You know that you came undone before he did, you felt his strong grip as his hand dug hard into your inner thigh and you felt the slight pain as he pushed inside of you roughly. It brought a sound to your lips and you cried out again when his thumb between your bodies colliding did-you-in again and he was shaking. He was trembling on top of you with a noisy grunt in your ear and a shuttering that you could feel inside of you he was shaking.

The comedown was lengthy. A thousand thoughts came rushing into your mind the second it cleared enough to allow for any little bit of rational thinking. This man…this man was surprising in every single way he could be. He was a marathon and a marvel. He was a hurricane and a deluge and you felt almost too spent to even move, but you knew you must. You reached for something on the bed, finding the panties and deeming them good enough for this mess and his breathing had finally settled enough for a small moan to come from his chest.

Despite the relief you felt, despite the sex being what you needed from him you still longed to touch him. You were sore and you were spent and still you reached for his warmth as if you would never be free of this desire for him. You found him easily. He wrapped himself around you and you only half paid attention to any of those thoughts racing through your mind. Concerns and worries for how you might resist him at work, now that you had these ideas presented in such a tempting way. Worries for what the future with him might actually hold. Worries about how deeply you had fallen for him and how desperately you felt this desire to be with him all of the time.

“Where did you park?” You finally spoke after a long spell of silent breathing.

“Secure lot,” he said over your head and he tightened the grip of his arms around your shoulders and laid a heavy leg over your hip.

You saw him arrive at your home empty handed and he definitely didn’t bring a suit for work tomorrow hidden in his pockets, but the hold he had on you was tight and it was warm and his breathing was beginning to even out as the sounds of nighttime insects began to chirp outside of your closed window and you decided that all of those pesky little details and worries and concerns could wait definitely until tomorrow.

[To be Continued]

Links: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9

[eilaafterhours]

Drunk on Pussy [Sampo Koski]

Content: Oral Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Edging, Vaginal Sex, Cunniligus, Coming Inside, Creampie, Breeding Kink, Dirty Talk, Sampo Has A Big Dick

Pronouns: None (AFAB)

Remember: I’ll block you if I catch your ageless or under age (not 18+) ass in my activity :)

Edits: Major

You really don’t remember how you ended up in this situation.

“Fuck…”

Although, you found yourself compromised like this quite often.

Fully nude, lower half hanging off the edge of the bed while your legs laid on Sampo’s board shoulder. 

While he ate you out like it was his final meal, partaking in the fruit of ambrosia. 

“Fuck…you’re so fucking wet. All for me…” Mumbled against your glistening folds, followed by the lewd song your pussy was singing. 

Singing for him.

You were singing too, but small and breathless. 

His fingers were playing you like an instrument that slides. Pulling you back and forth from the edge. 

You were so fucking close. 

You let out a whine when he finally pulled back, building pressure tumbling back down to a low simmer. 

“This pussy loves me—was made for, right?” He sighed lovingly as he pulled your folds open, watching it pulse around nothing. He groaned, it was becoming increasingly harder to not just push your knees against your chest and fuck you like he knew you’d love. 

Alas, he was so wonderfully endowed, and you needed plenty of preparation to take him. 

So he’d make you come one last time before he let go of the reins. 

And he knows exactly how to get you.

Shoving three fingers into your cunt, he curled them, making sure to assault that spongy spot. Your orgasm overcame you so quickly that you could only manage a surprised gasp before groaning. 

You were ready. 

He finally wiped the slick from his chin, then gently removed your legs from him (they flopped aside like jelly). 

He chuckled, and he stood from his crouched position, then repositioned you so that your bottom was laid full on the bed and giving you a quick peck on the lips, he then hoisted your thighs in his large hands and started pushing them back toward you.

Your eyes widen. 

“Wait, wait—” But he was too pussy-drunk to be reasoned with at this point. 

There was only one thing on his mind: 

Feel that cunt of yours heat. That fucking vice grip that’ll milk him of everything he’s got and more. 

Taking only seconds to align, Sampo gave you a crooked grin before sliding embarrassingly easy into your sopping pussy. 

And gods above, that was all it took. 

Somewhere between the stars and vastness of space did you catch the gaze of a few Aeons. 

The moment that he was fully seated within and the tip touched that special part of you, all the pent-up orgasms came tumbling into one.

And Sampo was not far behind.

“Yes, fuck! Yes! Milk me for everything I’ve fuckin—fuck! Let me fill you—I’ll fill you so fuckin good…” He rambled, eyes rolled far back enough that for a moment you believed he’d actually rolled them all the way back.

Not even a second after you had caught your breath, did shove your thighs against your chest. 

“Sampo!?” And yet again your voice was drowned out.

Instead, his hips pistoned with reckless abandon, chasing some sort of high that hand him going at the mouth. 

“You’ll let me fill you up, right? And another one after this? Fuck—I wanna see how it looks. Your cunt all flushed and puffy, but still wanting more even after I’ve got you leaking out my cum—Fuck! Fuck—Y’ll let me clean you up right, let me go done on you one last time?” At the end of that deprived man’s prayer, his gaze met yours. 

And who were you to deny the poor man’s deepest desires?

I literally said that Sampo/Reader smut was NOT going to be my first fic into HSR

BUT HERE THE FUCK WE ARE

ENJOY I GUESS

I've also given him a breeding kink because of course the fuck I did (more like a I wanna fill you to the fucking brim, watch it leak out, eat you out then do it all again the next day), but don't worry y'all Sampo himself literally told me that he's into this. 

wink wonk

Edit: Yeah so this has been changed so that it's fully original. Cuz turns out that OP is into shit that I don't like and don't want to be associated with!

And I swear to god, I shouldn't have reach like this but, just to cover any and all bases:

I do not condone any harassment of that person.

Masterlist

[ultralightpoe]

hear me out hear me out, tear you apart by she wants revenge. thinking very enemies to lovers hate fuckin kinda thing. obviously its really up to you but this song is very hot lol

Tear You Apart- Aemond Targaryen

Description: Aemond hates you and you hate him, but why did he feel so freaking good all the time

Authors Note: BUCKLE IN BITCHES! Also my requests are open for April, take a look at this post to see the request event and send some in! Happy April!

Warnings: Smut, adultery, fun fun fun

Word Count: 2924

Enjoy!

Got a big plan, this mindset maybe its right

At the right place and right time, maybe tonight

And the whisper or handshake sending a sign

Wanna make out and kiss hard, wait never mind

Alicent was punishing him. Not that she would ever admit to it, or he could ever prove, but it was just something he knew. Because there was absolutely no reason that you should be seated next to him as this gods forsaken dinner. 

Aemond had known you had entered the second his spine locked up, nervousness and anxiety racking through him as he risked a glance in your direction to see that you were already looking at him. You had walked in, a smarmy smile laced on your face, with your arm laced through your new husbands and a dazzling necklace across your neck. 

You squinted a bit at him before turning to whisper something in your husband's ear and Aemond found himself squeezing the goblet in his hand and trying his best not to sneer or rip his nephew's head off.  

You had chosen the bastard over him. How pathetic. So scared of your own emotions that you ran to the easiest target rather than facing the fucking truth. 

A smug feeling filled his chest at the thought of you moaning his name while in bed with his cowardly nephew, that feeling quickly being washed away by the sound of his mothers voice. “Lady Y/n, how radiant you look. Dare I say….glowing?”

His hand tightened across the goblet again, red blinding his sight before you answered with a small laugh. “Not yet, but not from lack of trying. I swear.”

Your voice was bragging and he tried not to laugh. As if his nephew could actually give you any form of pleasure. Not after you had Aemond.

“I do apologize for our seating arrangement, you are in between my two boys tonight for the meal.” Alicent smiles before passing you and moving to greet her old friend. You turn to Aemond and give him a polite smile before turning to Jacaerys and kissing his cheek. 

Before Aemond could remove himself from the table your husband was blocking his path, pulling out your chair for you and kissing your head, leaning down to mutter a soft “Remember the plan” before moving to his own side of the table. 

Aemond loses sight of him the second he is away from you, because he cannot seem to drag his eyes anywhere else. Gods, he hated you. Hated everything about you. From the perfect hair to the gorgeous eyes all the way to the natural way you seemed to win everyone over. Witch.

You move your head to make eye contact and the second you do his heart stops dead in his chest. It was annoying that you still had this power over him. 

“If you look any closer you might burn right through me….prince.” You smile, batting your eyelashes the way you always knew riled him up. It was like you enjoyed pissing him off. 

“Good. Last I checked we were supposed to burn the witches.” He replies, trying to keep a nonchalant attitude. He knew the second the smile laced your features that he was correct, you really did enjoy pissing him off. 

“Well since I am a witch I feel quite free to lie. By the way, your eye patch looks dashing tonight. Really brings out the purple of your eye.”

“Fuck you.”

“Maybe if you play nice with your nephews I’ll take pity on you.” 

He was so close to responding before everyone else took their seats and he was left in silence while you turned your attention to the king. Only you weren’t actually paying attention. 

You played it normal, and Aemond nearly jumped out of his skin when your hand met his under the table, a soft touch from your pinky onto his. 

He tears his hand away, turning to glare at you before you roll your own and lean back, a heat traveling across his skin when you wink. 

You were mocking him. He knew it. 

“Aemond, is it true that you and Lady Y/n grew up together?” Lord Stark asks, forcing Aemond to drag his eyes away from you. 

“Indeed. We had studies together.” You answer for him, smiling lightly as you leant forward to grab your goblet. 

“I taught her everything she knows.” Aemond says this as he looks to his nephew, that smug feeling returning again as his nephew sneers. That’s right, I made her cum long before you. 

When he glances back to you, the conversation moving away from him finally, you are already staring at him once again. This time your eyes are hooded, and he knows that you caught on to his jab. 

“I believe I taught you a few useful tricks myself.” You whisper, before turning away to talk to the person on your right. 

His entire body is aflame at the memories and a harsh anger rises in him. Of course you would do this, marry his nephew then rub it in his face. 

You had led him on. You had tore him up as though it was nothing.

Late night, and passing, mention it flipped her

Best friend, who knows saying maybe it slipped

But the slip turns to terror and a crush to light

When she walked in, he froze up, believe its the fright

You ignored his existence the rest of dinner, not that Aemond minded because he got many opportunities to glance at you this way. 

He watched the way you fixed your hair and the way your hand caresses the bodice of your dress when you bring it back down. He looks at the exposed part of your neck before his eyes catch on the pulse point. 

How easy it would be to just lean over and bite you the way he knows you like. How easy it would be to reach his hand up your skirt and- Your eyes cast to him before he can finish the thought and he soon realizes that everyone is staring at him.

“I apologize, I seem to have dazed off.” He rushes out, trying not to get embarrassed under your gaze. “I do not feel well, I believe I should return to my chambers.”

Before anyone could argue his request he is out of the chair, burning through the room and heading to his own chambers across the keep. It was uncomfortable to walk due to the aching hard on he now wore, and he was desperate to make it to his rooms to fix this problem.

He felt like a stupid fool. You probably barely thought of him, and here he was pining after you. Pining after the traitor.

By the time he pushes the door to his chambers his chest is heaving and every piece of him feels as though it is on fire.  Ragged breaths consumed him as his fingers worked to tear off his leathers. 

“Fuck.” He curses, when his finger snags on the leather of his riding pants, hopping out of his boots to hop on the bed. His back hits the cushion of it and he stares at the ceiling for a moment so he could calm down and focus.

He could not think about you. He hated you. You betrayed him and he hated you-

Before he could stop himself he reached down, a moan slipping from his lips as he touched himself, your face flashing in his mind. No no no. This was wrong and he hated you. 

But that didn’t stop him from sitting up, working himself faster as he imagined you above him, moaning to him just as you used to at the speed you liked- fuck Y/n. fuck fuck fu-

Y/n.

You were there. In the doorway with wide eyes and a blush on your cheeks as he stopped short, a ragged whine passing his lips when he realized. 

Its cute in a way, till you cannot speak

And you leave to have a cigarette, your knees get weak

An escape is just a nod and a casual wave

Obsessed about it, heavy for the next two days

“I wasn’t…” The lie begins to slip from his lips before he can stop it, but halfway through he realizes that he shouldn’t have to lie. You had seen him do this countless times, how was today different? 

You were married. And you shouldn’t be here.  “Leave.”

“I’m sorry.” You whisper, eyes welling up as you take a step back before you turn. Only you don’t leave, when your hand touches the door you risk a glance over your shoulder to where he is still sitting, still completely bare to you. “I’m sorry you hate me.”

“I’m not.” He sneers, face heating as your eyes track across his body. “You are a lying whore.”

“Indeed.”

“And you took everything I gave you and threw it away.”

“If that’s what you believe.”

You stared, unmoving, as he stood and walked closer. Everything in him screamed to pull you close and he was infuriated that even after all this time he still craved your touch. He still dreamt of having you in his sheets just as you used to. 

“You should leave.” He whispers, his chest meeting yours as he looks down on you, hands clenched at his sides to keep from grasping them in your hair like he wanted. 

“I should.” You reply, leaning your nose up to touch against his. The second your skin meets his he is gone, hands whipping up to your hair as he pulls you in for a rough and ragged kiss. 

It's only just a crush, it'll go away

It's just like all the others it'll go away

Or maybe this is danger and he just don't know

You pray it all away but it continues to grow

Maybe if he just got you out of his system it would be better. He could hate you from a distance after this and everything would be fine.  But the moment his lips touch your own he knows he is a goner. 

A warmth bleeds through his chest as you kiss back, your hands wrapping around to pull him closer by his back and he pushes you both forward until you are pressed against the door. A grunt pushes through him when his hands travel your body, lifting your skirt to touch the back of your thighs and help you hop up. 

Tearing yourself away to catch your breath gives him a moment to stare at you, the smug feeling returning once again. “Where is your husband?”

“Don’t ask.” You gasp, pulling him back in for another kiss. He stabilizes you both so you can reach and undo your corset, biting his lip harshly and making him groan out. 

“I hate you-” 

“I hate you more.” He enjoyed the way you gasped that out, allowing him to suck at your neck as both of you begin grinding into each other. “Aemond please-”

“Please what?”

I want to hold you close

Skin pressed against me tight

Lie still, and close your eyes girl

So lovely, it feels so right

“Aemond.” You try again, leaning to catch his head in your hands and pull him up to face you. “I’m so-”

“That’s not what I want to hear and you know it.” He seethes, pushing your skirt up higher. “I don’t want to hear your fake fucking apologies.”

And then the dam breaks and you are rushing forward to kiss him again, your teeth clash against each other and you bite down harshly before pulling back, eyes hooded. “Then fuck me. Fuck me like you hate me.”

I want to hold you close

Soft breasts, beating heart

As I whisper in your ear

I want to fucking tear you apart

He doesn’t waste any time, dragging you both to the bed and slamming you across the sheets, laying on top of you with a fire in his eyes and a smirk on his lips. “This is familiar.”

A small laugh tears from your throat when he grips your corset and tears it in half, growling a bit as he moves to your skirt. The sound of cloth ripping fills the room and you sit up quickly, snatching the eye patch off his face before he can fight it. 

A hand wraps around your wrist tightly, dragging the patch back. “No. I want to see you, Aemond.” You argue, keeping your arm tight as he grunts out before finally letting go. 

He can’t argue that,  nor can he argue the proud feeling he gets from those words, instead he crawls up your body until you are nose to nose. You smile at him and for a moment he can imagine himself back to the moments you used to have, before you were married off. 

“Breathe.” He whispers, just like he always had, before he is pushing himself into you. A groan escapes him at the same time you gasp out, hands scratching along his back as he fills you fully and for the first time in a long time he felt at home,

It disgusted him. 

“I hate you.”

“Then show me.” You laugh and he gives in. 

Then he walked up and told her, thinking that he'd passed

And they talked and looked away a lot, doing the dance

Her hand brushed up against his, she left it there

Told him how she felt and then they locked in a stare

The room filled with grunts and the heavy sound of skin slapping, Aemonds hands landing on the bed above both your shoulders to keep you trapped close to him as his hips snapped into you over and over. 

“You’re…..a….fucking whore-” He seethes, grunting louder as you moan out. “A fucking traitor.”

He laughs when you come undone, moving to lean down closer and press his nose to your cheek when you turn away. “I’m not done yet.”

They took a step back, thought about it, what should they do

'Cause there's always repercussions when you're dating in school

But their lips met, and reservations started to pass

Whether this was just an evening or a thing that would last

He takes you over and over, telling himself each time would be the last, but he couldn’t get enough. It was like a beast that had been let out of its cage and was ravaging anything it possibly could. 

By the time he had his fill, 5 rounds later when the sun began coming up, he let you sleep beside him as he kept you close. His hand laid on your thigh as you curled yourself up, breathing evenly as you dreamt. 

Just one more kiss and he would be good. He would be rid of this craving, he swears it. 

But when his lips touched your forehead very softly he closed his eyes and held them there, mentally begging himself to just get up and never touch you again. He hates you. 

“A traitorous whore.” You murmur, eyes still closed, and his eyebrows pop up in surprise. “That’s what you are thinking. I know it.”

“Am I wrong?”

“I hate you.”

“I know.”

Either way he wanted her and this was bad

He wanted to do things to her it was making him crazy

Now a little crush turned into a like

And now he wants to grab her by the hair and tell her

You left the next morning in one of his tunics, with a limp in your step that had his heart beating quickly but he ignored it, holding a hand to his chest to try and stop it. 

When the door shuts he turns back to the bed, shoving his nose in the pillow you had slept and and imagined if you could stay, if you had married him instead. 

Pathetic.

I want to hold you close

Skin pressed against me tight

Lie still, and close your eyes girl

So lovely, it feels so right

The halls were filled with people cheering and wearing flower crowns, the courtyard filled with twice as much music. 

Aemond sat under the tree feeling sick and angry. 

They were celebrating you, or rather your child. The news had passed quickly that you had begun your labors in the early hours of the day, with Rhaenyra by your side and your ‘devoted husband’. 

“Brother!” Helaena calls, snapping him out of his moping. “Come!”

Ever the attentive brother he stands, moving to follow her through the halls as she holds her baby in her hands. She talks his ear off as they join their mother, her face pulled into a tight frown. 

The two ladies lead him to Rhaenyras chambers, where you are laid out on the bed with sweat covering your skin and a small bundle in your arms. Rhaenyra is giving you the widest smile he has ever seen his sister give and many people are congratulating Jahaerys. 

“Have you heard the good news?” A Lord asks, leaning in to whisper to Aemond. “Lady Y/n has delivered a Targaryen. White hair and all.”

Memories of your last night flash together, of Jahearys asking you about a plan and you showing up to his rooms. 

A wide smile covers his face when he looks up to find you already staring at him, a knowing and tired look on your own features. Oh, how he hated you. 

[timaeusterrored]

(The Pool Boy)

((Remember that one post I made waaaaay back in the early days when everything was cool? Yeah well I’m finally writing it))

Kerry Eurodyne remembers a time when he would have been embarrassed by Ariel seeing the state of the villa after a long night. But now he couldn’t find it in himself to care. Both were used too it, just as much as Kerry was used to being shaken to make sure he was still alive and Ariel starting conversations way too early.

“Kerry! Up! Breakfast!” Ariel was two seconds from pouring water over the rocker if he wasn’t up in the next five seconds. Kerry knew the annoyance in his voice, this song and dance happened every morning.

The rocker followed the smell of food and winced at the bright lights, attempting to dim them but immediately got scolded by his cook. Claiming he ‘needed them.’ Kerry just figured he was in a bitchy mood today. Or maybe he himself was in the bitchy mood.

Ariel was talking a mile a minute while Kerry stared at his back and tried so hard to focus on what he was saying, but failed miserably. What on earth was this man on today?

“Kerry!”

The older man winced, putting his hands over his ears for a moment. Was Ariel’s voice always so loud? Or was Kerry just extremely hungover? When was the last time he was this hungover?

“Did you hear anything I just said?” If anyone saw them right now, Ariel could have been confused for a disgruntled lover not getting paid attention too.

“No, I didn’t. What the fuck did you say?” God he sounded awful. Ariel just rolled his eyes and put on a pot of tea.

“I said that we have a new guy coming in. He’s on the younger side so be nice. He’s gonna be helping Miguel out, with the pool or something. I dunno.”

“I’m always nice-“

“Remember that time I came in and you launched a bottle at my head at full force.”

“Hey now, that was only because you came in at fuckin five am while I was in the zone, that was your fault.”

Ariel flipped him off then placed a heavenly plate of food in front of him. Kerry ate slowly, trying to keep himself from throwing up, and any mention of the pool boy gone from his mind- Ker don’t call him a pool boy this is not a porno.

The thought made him laugh and Ariel looked up from his own food in confusion. Kerry stated once that Ariel could eat whatever he wanted, he cooked the food he should be allowed to enjoy it! And if he came in early enough, Miguel was welcome to join them too… Kerry needed to stop hiring only men. He wasn’t even attracted to either of them, it just happened.

Ariel forced Kerry to drink the tea and honey he had made him, stating with as renowned as Kerry was for his voice, he took absolutely awful care of it. If Ariel knew Kerry when he was in his early years, he’d know Kerry was a princess about his voice. Now his chrome did most of the work and Kerry stopped caring as much. At this rate, Kerry was going to sing himself into the grave.

After breakfast was said and done and Kerry decided to be somewhat human today and take a shower, he wondered about the new hire. Honestly he wondered if he had been told at all, or had just not been listening when it came up. Either way, he trusted his gardener to not hire some complete clown.

What he wasn’t expecting was a complete piece of Night City beauty standing by his pool, talking to Miguel. He was tall, built like a fucking merc, and had gorgeous red hair Kerry wanted to grab. Oh and he also didn’t look a day past at least 26. And Kerry wasn’t sure if he had reached that level of his celebrity meltdown yet of dating a guy that young.

“Absolutely not, Kerry Eurodyne.” The voice behind him made him jump out of his skin. He needed a fucking bell on Ariel at this point, who was packed and ready to go to the store to restock Kerry’s fridge. “That kid is like 28 and way not prepared to deal with you.”

“Deal with me?” Kerry asked, offended now.

“You know exactly what I mean, Ker. Don’t fuck your pool boy, that’s just pathetic.” Ariel wasn’t wrong… but fuck.

Over the next few weeks, Kerry had for the most part, stayed out of the kid’s way. He learned his name was V, when Kerry asked Miguel if that was it, he was told that’s all the pool boy told anyone. He was from Heywood, his dad was apparently a ripperdoc in the city, and he liked boxing. Pretty basic if you asked Kerry.

But the weird part was that no one had seen him actually get into the pool. He somehow managed to avoid doing it every single time he was there, doing his work from the sidelines. He did a damn good job of it too, they were just impressed he could do it.

He was normally in and out, doing his job quickly and quietly to a point that Kerry honestly kinda forgot about him… until one morning.

Kerry had been on another work binge, up all night writing and composing, when he just happened to still be up when V’s car rolled up. It was a hunk of junk and Kerry noted he needed to look at his pay. Pretty boy like that deserved better than a junk car.

It was way too early for any normal human being to be up and at em, but Kerry supposed he was awake too. Maybe it was high time for and introduction. Kerry forgot he actually had to introduce himself to people.

He walked out of the villa once he had put some more presentable clothes on, a cup of coffee warming his hands as the door slid shut behind him. The pool boy was hard at work, doing… whatever it was he did with the pool. Kerry actually had never taken care of this thing on his own… had his fame really made him this lazy.

“Bit early for a swim, ain’t it?” That was his opener? Dear god he was rusty. Alright, Ker, put on the charm.

The man turned his head over his shoulder in confusion, then his eyes widened. Kerry heard him swear before he stood up, drying his hands on a pair of cargo pants. Seriously what was this dude’s deal? How do you work on a pool and not get in?

“Shit I’m sorry, hope I didn’t wake you up- uh, Mr. Eurodyne?” He said it like a question, like he was testing what Kerry preferred to be called.

“Kerrys fine, kid. And I wasn’t sleeping, so you’re fine on that front… never answered my question though. The hell are you doing here at 5:30 in the morning?”

Fuck what was this dude’s name? Z? Van? V! That was it. V looked perplexed, hands in his pockets as he examined Kerry for a moment.

“I’m always here early. I don’t wanna be in anyone’s way so I come and get my job done and then leave.”

It was kinda impossible to bother anyone with a face like that but okay. And also normally Kerry for the most part alone, unless Ariel was worried about him or Miguel needed extra hours, in which he just sat down with Ker and Ariel and had lunch or something. But this kid? Bothering them? Unlikely.

“And do what the rest of the day?”

V shrugged. “Help my mom out at her bar, or my dad in his clinic. Or Y’know, hide bodies.” Oh he thought he was funny did he?

“Oh are you good at that? I actually have some in the bathroom I needed help moving.” Kerry shot back, earning a small laugh from the pool boy.

“I Uh… I should probably get out of your hair soon, don’t wanna-“

“You want a cup of coffee?” Kerry cut him off. Clearly this kid had some deep rooted issues and Kerry was too tired to ask why he felt like he was bothering him. So here they were.

“Uh… sure.” V’s voice was quiet, but Kerry didn’t miss his small smile as he was lead inside. He wouldn’t fuck his pool boy…

Not yet.

[hellfirenacht]

Reader ==> Hang Out With Eddie One on One

lsekai Chronicles Master List

START HERE <<-- FIRST CHAPTER HERE

Recommended Previous Chapter: ==> N/A

Chapter Summary: It's your first time hanging out with Eddie Munson one on one.

Tags: angst, hurt/little to no comfort, mentions of nausea but Reader does not throw up, Reader has a small panic attack, references to Flight of Icarus events, Oops! All Angst!

@jo-harrington I did warn in my list that I could be a Monkey's Paw Author

Reader ==> Ride Shotgun with Eddie

Your body almost hurt from how stiff you felt, both from the shitty futon you’d been sleeping on at Benny’s on the nights that the different sports teams weren’t trashing the place, and from how tense you felt sitting shotgun in Eddie’s van. 

You wished you could relax and not come across as a total weirdo to the guy sitting next to you. Eddie was currently driving you to his place, with the promise of letting you borrow a few cassettes and selling you some weed. 

When you thought back to your old life before sliding into this world, you had hazy memories of smoking with friends, but sometimes you remembered differently. Either way, it was a good excuse to spend some one on one time with him. 

If you didn’t know anything about Eddie it’d be easier, but so far you couldn’t look at him for longer than a few seconds without thinking about-

Well, you were just going to not think about that. Not yet. 

Eddie took a sharp turn and you reached up instinctively to grab the “oh shit” handle and tried not to slam into the door. 

“Jesus, Eddie.” you muttered, wondering if his driving would kill you before you had a chance to try and save him. If he could hear you over the sound of Judas Priest blasting through his old rattling speakers, he didn’t show it. 

You dared to look at him out of the corner of your eye. Eddie was wearing a band shirt so faded you couldn’t make out what it said from this angle, and ripped jeans. His head was moving to the music and you could see him mouthing the words the the song that was playing, and his hands were banging against the steering wheel occasionally. 

This was Eddie’s world and you were just living in it. Literally 

“We covered this song once.” Eddie said, looking over at you for a second. Your heart jumped for a second and you wondered if you would ever get used to him acknowledging you. “My band I mean. Corroded Coffin.”

“Oh, yeah?” you responded with a slight pause beforehand. Wish you weren’t so fuckin’ awkward, self. You chastised yourself. 

“Yeah, in middle school we were all forced to perform at the talent show.” Eddie laughed, mostly to himself. “It was a nightmare. I thought I was gonna puke, man.” 

You stared at him, wrapping your mind around this. Why was it so easy to accept that the other characters had lives before, during, and after what you had seen on tv but with Eddie it was different? 

Because he only had ten minutes of screen time before he was wanted for murder. You reminded yourself. 

“They forced you to perform?” you asked, trying to imagine him, Gareth, Jeff, and Grant as pre-teens. Had the other kids been forced to perform? Steve? Nancy? You made a mental note to ask about that later.

“Yeah it was a stupid rule.” Eddie took another dangerous turn that made you grip your seat with white knuckles. He at least decided to turn down the music just a bit before continuing with his story. “I avoided it as long as I could but they managed to corner me into signing up. I refused to go down alone though so I roped some friends into joining me and thus, Corroded Coffin was born.”

“So you’ve been friends with the others since middle school?” you asked. If Eddie hadn’t been driving like a maniac you might have been able to relax a little as he led the conversation. 

“Oh, no. Gareth joined in on drums in my second senior year.” he explained. “It was originally me, Ronnie, Jeff, and Dougie.”

Well, you knew at least two of those names. Jeff and Gareth had been there the night that Dustin asked for you to sub in for Grant. You didn’t remember much about them other than how they looked at you like fresh meat thrown to a wolf pack. 

“A middle school talent show, huh?” you asked, finally looking at him for more than just a few seconds at a time. “Were you any good?”

“Oh, not even a little. We got boo’d off the stage and a ton of parents complained about our choice of song.” he smiled brightly, full teeth. “I’m pretty sure they changed the ‘everyone must perform’ rule after that.” 

“Sounds like you failed for the good of all the kids in Hawkins. Bet you’re a hero to some of them.” You bit your tongue wincing at your choice of words. Hero. It was so cheesy and too on the nose. It didn’t mean anything. It meant everything. It meant nothing. Just stop overthinking-

“It’d be the first time someone thought I did any good in school.” Eddie said, pulling into the Happy Hills Trailer Park. He pulled up in front of his trailer and parked, and you hopped out, glad to be on steady ground. 

Your watch said that it was around seven thirty. You’d walked all the way to the high school to be picked up by Eddie after Hellfire, he’d offered to pick you up at your place but... well you didn’t need him knowing where you were staying right now. 

“Eddie.” An older man was sitting on the porch, cigarette in hand, as he nodded at his nephew. 

“Thought you’d be off to work by now, Wayne.” Eddie said, hopping on the steps to the porch. 

“Just about to head out.” Wayne’s eyes drifted over to you, taking in a drag and looking you up and down. Had it been any other old man, you would have felt deeply uncomfortable, yet with Eddie’s uncle you felt like- you couldn’t place it. If you had to take a shot in the dark, you assumed that he was trying to decide if he should judge you. 

Actually, maybe you were a little uncomfortable now. 

Eddie grabbed your shoulder and pushed you up to stand next to him as he introduced you. 

You shot your hand out and gave him the best hand shake you could. “Nice to meet you.” you said. Wayne took your hand with his free one and shook it, giving you a nod. Whatever he had been thinking before disappeared and he stood up and flicked his cigarette off the porch. 

“Don’t stay up too late.” Wayne said, heading towards his truck, parked on the other side of the trailer. “Granny dropped off a casserole in the fridge if you get hungry.” 

The scent of cigarette smoke hung stale in the air of the trailer, and Eddie cracked a window in an attempt to air it out. You looked around, taking in the interesting choice of decore. 

“Do you want a drink?” Eddie asked, looking over at you as you stared at the walls. 

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you.” you said, making eye contact with a Garfield mug by the door. 

“Why would that inconvenience me?” 

“Well if you get me a drink what would you drink out of?” you asked, scanning the seemingly endless shelves of mugs and hats on the walls. 

You heard Eddie laugh from the kitchen. “I’ll make due.” When you turned to look at him again he was holding a beer in his hand. No need for a mug then, you guessed. 

“No, really, this is a lot of mugs for two guys.” you said, looking around. The small living room had a couch and an old arm chair, and there were just so many fucking shelves of mugs. “And hats.” 

Eddie walked over to you and handed over a beer, which you took without a word. He’d been enough of a gentleman to even open it for you. You took a sip, trying to remember if you even liked beer. 

“It’s just something Wayne always collected.” Eddie said. “I never really thought too much about it. Actually I don’t think I ever see him wear hats much either, mostly during the summer.” 

“Do you wear hats?” You scanned the line of hats over one of the windows. 

“Not since I was a kid. Those caps just make my hair go everywhere.” 

“I like your hair.” 

Eddie looked at you and you made eye contact with him for the first time since he picked you up, making your stomach twist. He almost looked bashful at the compliment. 

“Thanks.” he looked like he might want to say more, but instead he turned around and started walking towards the opposite end of the trailer and you followed him. 

Eddie’s room was overwhelmingly Eddie. Your eyes scanned the room, picking out pieces of him as you went. There was a small closet that was a little open, showing a guitar body that didn’t have any strings, a homemade Corroded Coffin banner, posters that were plastered on almost every spare inch of wall, a yoyo on his dresser, his electric guitar hanging on his mirror.

You stared at the guitar and tried to calm the pounding of your heart, trying to push down the memories of seeing him play the instrument on the small screen of your computer back at home and what happens after. 

Calm down, calm down, calm down. You chanted in your mind and looked away from the dresser to where Eddie was on the other side of the bedroom. He was looking through a basket on the floor and you could hear the slight clacking sound of cassette tapes knocking together as he looked them over. 

“You might have to rewind these.” he said, tossing them on the bed. “And one of these isn’t done so when you find that one, give it back.”

You picked up one of the tapes, seeing the label with his handwriting. You had told him that you were interested in getting into more metal music and Eddie had been more than happy to offer up some of his mixtapes for you to borrow. 

“So what’s on all of these?” you asked, the labels not giving you any hint of what could be on them. Faerune, Ralishaz the Mad, Stroud’s Castle Caper, Middle Earth. You read each label one by one, realizing that all of these had something to do with D&D or fantasy, the fucking nerd. 

“A bit of everything.” He said, taking a seat on his bed, looking at the tapes. “Just whatever I was into at the time that I didn’t want to miss when it came on the radio.”

“And the labels...?” you asked, looking them over, noticing a smudge on one that faded to a fingerprint. You wished that you could ignore the small details that were making Eddie so real, it only made your head spin. The more of him you saw, the harder it became to say you weren’t going to try and change anything. 

Even if it means risking your own life? 

You missed his explanation of why he named the tapes the way he did and you instead shoved one out at him “Can you put one on?” you asked, sounding a little more frazzled than you had intended. 

Eddie took the tape and put it in the smaller boom box that was plugged in on the floor and hit play. You sat next to him, trying so hard not to think about him, which was a stupid endeavor considering you were in Eddie Munson’s world, in Eddie Munson’s trailer, sitting on Eddie Munson’s bed, with Eddie Munson.

You were sitting on Eddie Munson’s bed. You were sitting on his bed right next to him. You felt yourself get stiff again, and you closed your eyes and took a few deep breaths. With any luck he would just think that you’re focusing on the music instead of trying to shove down the sudden wave of dirty thoughts that drowned out your moral dilemma and left you with a completely different problem now. 

This is what you get for reading so much fan fiction. 

Reader ==> Calm the fuck down

You focused on the sound of the music, the last ten seconds of the song were cut off abruptly with a new song. The sound of the radio DJs announcement of the new song adding to the homemade quality of the tape. 

You took another sip of the beer that had been ignored in your hand, letting the burn of the cheap drink distract you and pull you out of your mind for a moment. Eddie had started talking again, telling you about the song and more technical things about the guitar solo. 

He’s info dumping. You realized, and opened your eyes again. You looked at him and he wasn’t looking at you, just going on and on about the song, fiddling with one of his rings. 

He’s nervous. The retaliation hitting you like a brick. You had been so wrapped up in your own nerves of being alone with him that it never once occurred to you that he might be feeling nervous around you. You couldn’t fathom why. You were just some weirdo who crashed his club once and now were trying to be his friend in an attempt to eventually save his life. He only knew about that first part though. 

You were tempted to reach out and rub his back to calm him down, but you didn’t want to be too forward. 

“I like the song.” you said when he stopped to take a breath. “I can see why you do, too.” 

You noticed his shoulders relaxed a little and he smiled at you and you wished he wouldn’t because you didn’t think your heart could take it. 

“I listened to this tape a lot last summer.” he said as another song came on, and the whiplash from metal to what sounded like country. 

“This is different.” you said. “I didn’t take you as a country fan with the... everything about you.”

Eddie stood up and walked over to his dresser, digging around through a drawer and pulling out a small bag of weed. Right, that’s the other reason you used to hang out with him tonight. 

“Yeah, my mom was from Mempis.” he said, measuring out what you’d asked him for and you started scrambling for your wallet and pulled out the time-appropriate cash you had in there. “So I grew up with this kind of music.”

You two exchanged goods and you shoved the baggie in your backpack. From where you were sitting, you noticed another guitar that you’d missed when you first stepped in his room. It was an acoustic guitar sitting in the corner, out of the way but not so much that it looked completely ignored. Eddie had gone in and painted words on the body of the guitar, squished together as if he hadn’t thought out how he should space out his writing. 

This Machine Slays Dragons.

Of all the small bits of Eddie that you had learned in the past few days, this was the thing that punched you in the gut and humanized him completely. The site of this acoustic guitar is what made you feel clammy and the weight of this world suddenly came crashing down on your shoulders. 

“Have you ever been to Tennessee?” you asked, your voice sounding foreign to you as you tried desperately to anchor yourself. 

Five things you can see. Guitar. Another Guitar, Corroded Coffin banner. Empty beer can. Eddie

That wasn’t going to work. 

“No, I’ve never left Hawkins.” Eddie said, putting his stash away, oblivious to the storm that was raging inside your brain. “Mom, uh, used to talk about how her music felt like a plane ticket home even if she was stuck here. I say that my bands music is more like a portal to another dimension-”

“Where’s your bathroom?” you asked, your stomach lurching. 

His head snapped up at you, and you tore your eyes away from the guitar as his words echoed in your mind. 

Portal to another dimension. Portal. Another dimension. 

“Hey, are you okay?” Eddie asked, taking a step close to you, his brows were furrowed under his fringe as he looked you over. When you didn’t immediately answer, he pointed out of his bedroom “Bathroom is right there.”

You gave him a nod and quickly locked yourself in the bathroom and tried not to hurl. He was real, Eddie was real and he was going to die if you didn’t do something. Eddie was real, and he listened to blue grass, and he had an acoustic guitar that he painted himself, and he made mix tapes, and he had a mom, and he owned a yoyo and he just sold you weed and he was going to be killed by monsters trying to save this town and the world. 

It took a moment to calm yourself, taking deep breaths. You had been lying to yourself since the day you arrived. You had been telling yourself that this was alright, that you were totally able to handle being transported to another dimension, knowing what was going to happen.You could be a hero and save everyone. 

That was a fucking lie. You were still trying to tell yourself that this was a dream, that this wasn’t really happening and that these people didn’t really exist because they couldn’t exist. 

But they did. They existed, and you were no hero. Eddie’s voice echoed and layered with yours in your mind and you turned on the sink, splashing water in your face. People were going to die and did you really think you could do this? 

You needed to get out of there. 

You flushed the toilet and stepped out of the bathroom and walked back into Eddie’s room. He was fidgeting with a guitar pick between his fingers and he looked up at you. 

“Everything okay?” he asked, standing up from his bed. “You look kind of...”

You were sure you looked like shit, shaken up and feeling clammy. 

“Y-yeah.” you said, trying not to bolt out of the trailer like a mad person. “Sorry, I’m not feeling great. I think I need to head home.”

“Totally, I get it. I’ll drive you home.” Eddie said, and the genuine worry in his voice made you want to cry. 

“No...!” The word came out more desperate than intended. You could not let him know where you were staying right now. “I- I think I need the fresh air. I don’t live far from here.”

“You look like you’re about to pass out.” Eddie protested, and your brain scrambled to think of any good excuse for what to do next. “I’m gonna be honest, you look like shit.”

“Can you drop me off at Dustin’s place?” you asked, grabbing onto the first name in your head. 

“Dustin... Henderson?” Eddie asked. “Why?”

Why? Because you couldn’t let Eddie know that you were squatting in Benny’s. Because you couldn’t tell him that on Friday and Saturday the old run down diner you were calling home was crawling with basketball players drinking and hungover. You couldn’t say that on those days you jumped between the Party’s homes to hide out and sleep. 

There was so much you couldn’t say and you hated every second of it. 

“His mom is a friend of my family.” You managed to say, hating the lie on your tongue. “And since my family isn’t around here...”

Eddie’s eyes were staring hard into yours, searching for something. If he found what he was looking for, he didn’t say so and just nodded. “Yeah, I’ll drop you off at Henderson’s.”

You grabbed the cassettes on the bed and shoved them into your backpack, following him to his van. How had you managed to fuck up so bad? You hadn’t been there for a half hour and he was already needing to drop you off somewhere else like a kid getting sick at a sleepover. 

The drive to Dustin’s was awkward, Eddie had the music turned on again but at a much lower volume as the two of you drove in silence. You stared out the window, counting street signs and focused on your breathing. 

What a mess of tonight you’d made. 

Eddie’s driving wasn’t as mad as it had been earlier and when he pulled up to Dustin’s home which you were thankful for. 

“You sure you're gonna be okay?” Eddie asked, looking you over. “Need me to, I don't know, walk you to the door?”

You shook your head, not needing him to do anything more than he already has. Besides, you were planning on walking to the back of the house and sitting in the shed to give yourself some alone time. 

“I'll be okay.” You said, sounding far more confident than you felt. “Thanks for the ride... And the tapes... And the weed.” You gave him an awkward smile which he managed to return. 

“Yeah, any time.” He said and you got out of the car and headed towards the garage to be out of sight, only emerging outside again when you heard the van pull away. 

You made your way to the back yard and changed your mind, moving into the basement instead. 

It was going to be a long night as you processed the reality you were living. 

--

Tumblr User ==> What next?

[iolypse]

primarily english speaking qsmp members as D&D characters because I can't help but fuse both of my current fixations together

Philza — species for this one was tricky, class and subclass a little harder, but I ultimately decided on aasimar ranger (horizon walker). kept trying to pick between aasimar and air genasi, almost put air genasi because I felt like qfoolish fit aasimar better, but they can both be aasimar it's fine. by the time I finish writing this, foolish might not even be an aasimar anymore, im still thinking. regardless, qphil has always been a bit of a tactician and a bowman, hasnt he? classic traits of a ranger. from there, it felt like horizon walker was the only subclass that fit. protecting from otherworldly threats, preserving life and other planes. yeppp sounds like this paranoid motherfucker right here.

BadBoyHalo — now that's a tiefling if I've ever seen one. class is a little more complicated. I've deliberated between paladin and warlock before eventually settling on paladin, making him a tiefling paladin (ancients). I don't have to explain the tiefling part (have you seen his everything?), but the paladin part could use it. we're yet to really see qbad make any real deals with any powerful forces, so that took out the warlock part for me. I wanted to make sure he had at least a little bit of magic though (c'mon), so I immediately went to paladin, and it worked out. he's a dedicated man! he'll make a promise and he'll fuckin stick to it. I debated between devotion and ancients after that, but devotion tends to have a more lawful side, which ended with me choosing ancients. they fight the darkness because they love life, plain and simple, and you're dull if you can't see how much this dude loves life.

FitMC — alright, I'm sorry, I had to do it, but this is a human fighter (rune knight) right here. I simply couldnt see him as anything other than human, and rogue and artificer didn't fit since there's other characters that fit those classes so much better, so fighter it was. still, qfit has a lot of cool gadgets and bits and bobs, and I wanted to recognize that in this adaptation of him, so I decided to show that through the rune knight subclass. rune knight fighters can do a lot of cool shit with their runes, enhancing pretty much anything they put their mind to. probably some shit he found scrawled in the horrors of 2b2t and decided to study.

Foolish — this one was hard! the fuck is this guy? I instinctively thought aasimar, but I already made qphil an aasimar, so I played around with different types of genasi and then goliaths, even minotaurs just trying to find something that fit the semi-inhuman sorta innately magical, physically strong being vibes. I think aasimar fit best, so then it was a matter of class. hes a builder! he builds shit. that's what qfoolish does. but he is NOT a mechanic and therefore not an artificer, not musical enough to be a bard, not angry enough to be a barbarian, so what the fuck is he? took a LOT of fucking around, but eventually I remembered the college of creation exists, and I felt it fit well enough, making him an aasimar bard (creation). he draws his power from his builds— he inspires with sight, not song. it's a unique take on a bard, but I've seen some awesome chef bards, so I think this works just fine. he's an architect bard.

Slimecicle — this one was FUN. 100% that's a fucking plasmoid. he's a goopy guy! then I experimented with different bard and rogue classes, thought maybe warlock for his deal with demon rubius, and then decided i couldn't disrespect the juanaflippa song and said fuck it, he can be a bard. again in correlation with the song, I went with valor, since he's telling her great story through the lyrics, keeping her memory alive with it. I DID consider spirits, however, since he actually managed to bring juanaflippa back, however briefly. still, I felt valor fit the bill just a little better. he's a plasmoid bard (valor).

JaidenAnimations — ohhh this one took some thought. I wanted her to be fairly humanoid while still having some subtle unusual traits, and elf was considered but it felt too regal. I almost considered kenku for how she tends to repeat what other people say, but it wasn't right. thought I'd try something a little strange, and I ended up with shifter! specifically wildhunt. class was just as difficult— she wasnt going to be any primarily martial classes, so that cut out a bunch, and she's not really faithful or super devoted, so that took out paladin, warlock, and cleric, and eventually I narrowed it down to sorcerer, picking aberrant mind for their mystery and influence on others. being the only woman in an island full of gay twinks is tough, man. she's a shifter sorcerer (aberrant mind).

Wilbur — half-elf bard (eloquence). this one came pretty quick to me, actually. the bard part is more than obvious, subclass picked for the number of times qwilbur's casually convinced other people to just go with the bit. he's a man of words, and he weaves them well. he can be damn persuasive, mixing in genuine arguments with small white lies, all while playing your heart strings just right. half-elf is almost entirely vibes honestly— human was too bland, elf too spicy, so we met in the middle.

DanTDM — this dude's been gone since the very fucking beginning pretty much. I almost want to make him a rogue just for that, but man, he's the diamond minecart, alright? I grew up watching him. it'd be a disservice not to make him an artificer. from there, alchemist best suited the vibes, since he never really did much of anything machinery-related. he is a human artificer (alchemist).

[foxes-that-run]

Question...?

Question..? track 7, is the most clearly directed at Harry on Midnights so I will start there. In the vein of Style, Two Ghosts or Perfect there is no attempt to hide the muse here. To me, these songs are intended to draw attention. It was the surprise song on the 20 May anniversary.

This post also has more on Question

When was it written

It was written by November 2021. Rachel Antonoff, Dylan O'Brien, and Austin Swift (in Jack's home studio )were there the day they recorded it as seen in the video below. Dylan was in New York for All Too Well filming in late October and to attend the premiere on November 12.

Lyrics

[Intro] I remember

Firstly, Remember is a reference to Wildest Dreams and she samples Out of the Woods. 2 words in and we know it's Haylor, Taylor is being clear, she's referencing 1989.

[Verse 1] Good girl, sad boy Big city, wrong choices We had one thing goin' on I swear that it was somethin' 'Cause I don't remember who I was Before you painted all my nights A color I've searched for since But one thing after another Fuckin' situations, circumstances Miscommunications, and I Have to say, by the way I just may like some explanations

Good Girl/Sad Boy is a matured reference to Style, where she was a good guy. He was also a bad guy in Blank Space.

'Painted my all my nights a colour I have searched for since' is one of my favourite lyrics, because Harry gets all of the colours, it also touches on the theme that are are irreplaceable to each other.

Miscommunications are also a key theme for their songs to each other. They do not communicate in words what they can in song.

[Chorus] Can I ask you a question? Did you ever have someone kiss you in a crowded room And every single one of your friends was makin' fun of you But fifteen seconds later, thеy were clappin' too? Then what did you do? Did you lеave her house in the middle of the night? Oh Did you wish you'd put up more of a fight, oh When she said it was too much? Do you wish you could still touch her?

This is often thought to reference New Years Eve which is a sad event to me. I think it is less literal, referring to how people are both thrilled and aghast that they were together.

The second half refers to the events of Say don't go to me.

In a 2013 vanity fair article swifts rep said:

“After Swift ended the relationship, he pursued her for the better part of a year until she finally took him back. “But the whole time she says she feels like he’s looking at every girl,” the source continues. And then when they were in London together he “disappears one night and after that it was like he just didn’t want to keep going.” Styles’s rep, Benny Tarantini at Columbia Records, said that all of Swift’s source’s claims are “undeniably false.””

[Verse 2] Half-moon eyes, bad surprise Did you realize out of time? She was on your mind with some dickhead guy That you saw that night But you were on somethin' It was one drink after another Fuckin' politics and gender roles And you're not sure and I don't know Got swept away in the gray I just may like to have a conversation

The bad surprise refers to an event in 2016 which I think played a role in her disappearance.

The dickhead guy is Calvin Harris. In Ready for It...?, Illicit Affairs, Woman and Delicate talk about that period as well as other songs.

Gender roles in politics is a beautiful line, she explores this more in Slut!, The Man and what makes them beautiful muses for each other is they are both purposeful with their gender expression.

[Bridge] Does it feel like everything's just like Second best after that meteor strike? And what's that that I heard? That you're still with her? That's nice, I'm sure that's what's suitable And right, but tonight

'Does it feel like everything is second best' reflects a theme that no one compares to the other, in particular:

Ready for it: Every lover known in comparison is a failure, and

As it was: "Seems you cannot be replaced / And I'm the one who will stay."

[muirneach]

okay. neil time. my official review: guys oh my god he is so good i love him so much. but much more gushing below:

im not retyping all that + setlist. he really did not speak like at all. before fuckin up (i think idr) he DID say ‘my producer died. we’re all gonna die by the way. just something to keep in mind’ which like. okay lol. and then every few songs he would say, and i quote, “hows everyone doin”. we’re doing great neil. but i respect it. anyways the man can play a hell of guitar for someone who is 78. i was just standing there being like my god. thats neil young and he is playing guitar. he’s real and he is so good. phenomenal stuff!! i can tell he was just havin fun with it lol. the horse was also very good. they were friends all having fun!! i want to be more insightful than this but literally like. he’s good guys. he did some really good solos. and i love him. good setlist 👍 losing end i feel like was surprising? but lots and lots of everybody knows which is always good. both the electric and the acoustic sets were wonderful. and i don’t know if it was the sound mixing or what but his harmonica sounded absolutely magical. i like harmonica but i have NEVER heard it that beautiful before.

pics i took lol:

this sign… i could cry. welcome back neily :) also i loved the nya village i had seen pics of it but i didn’t know what it was all about. wow the guy just loves to find his way into my envsci heart. imo it really really felt like the times contrarian come to life because it was a bunch of tables with different themes and they were giving away seeds and talking about agriculture and all that. and i loved that it was very local to toronto (/whatever city he’s in ofc). like they had local alternative magazines and their environment stuff was about here. i loved that level of care. this paper was the only thing i got there and now he lives on my bedside table :)

there was a family of goslings before the show and the moon was out and also there was a severe thunderstorm watch and the show almost got postponed but luckily it didn’t even rain so all was good. oh also its victoria day so people light fireworks and we couldn’t hear them because neil was blasting but we could see them it was nice

oh and lastly. him. typically when i take concert pictures they always suck because they make the performers look so far away even if i have good seats. and like thats true here but honestly i was so far away from the stage that he was so tiny anyways. no jumbotron which is a shame but that is par for the course from neil ‘dont even THINK about filming me’ young. i had a great time tho like i definitely saw him. he’s been playing a lot of small venues but lets remember that toronto goes ALL OUT for that old man and this was a sold out 16k seat venue so i cannot complain i literally got to attend a concert from my all time favourite old man. disbelief honestly. i love u neil!!

[clumsyclifford]

this is cuteee thanks for tagging me @team-118 (i was today years old when i learned about your sideblog!)

Q&A

last song: change your mind by knox, i'm studying to see him on sunday

favourite colour: don't do this

currently reading: i just finished the pairing by casey mcquiston (great book) and then started michelle obama's book becoming! it came highly recommended from my sister. i'm right at the beginning but liking it so far. she's a good writer.

currently watching: i was rewatching how to get away with murder but that's on pause while i finish the last like five episodes of leverage that i never got to

last movie: oh it was this little indie movie called....fuck what was it called. it was, i think, a true story about these guys in prison who were all part of a program called RTA (rehabilitation through the arts) where every few months they would put on some kind of staged production. really really good movie. i can't remember the fucking name, it was in this little indie movie theater in my hometown and my mom took us cuz she loves that shit. and the movie. was called. fuckin. okay ill come back to this when i remember. man i had to go check my mom's text. title was SING SING.

sweet, spicy, or savory: i'm gonna say sweet though i have been known to crave savory things. the real answer is salty, idk why that's not an option

relationship status: single/platonic soulmates with @igarbagecannoteven

current obsessions: i am back on my atl bullshit in a major way, so that's a big one. i would also say i'm currently obsessed with music theory, but i just suck at it, so i'm really trying to learn. concurrently also been playing guitar a lottt, also with the goal of improving, and i would call my mindset obsessive. i think once you start watching youtube videos about it, it's an obsession, and these are in fact the three things i've been on youtube for lately!

tea or coffee: you know i'm a tea girlie for life

last thing I googled: oh i really expected it to be a music theory question but it's "can you play stardew on mac" (the answer is yes) (trying to get my friend to play with me. literally ANY person who wants to play stardew on PC with me JUST SAY THE WORD!!!)

thanks team that was fun i'll pass it on to @reveriesofawriter @tirednotflirting @igarbagecannoteven @allsassnoclass @chamaleonsoul andddd @rotten-candie