#were they having a fucking party on there or something?

[ghost-proofbaby]

the hat rule. (e.m. x fem!reader)

the hat rule (n.): you wear the hat, you ride the cowboy.

summary: when eddie dresses up as a cowboy to a night out with friends, you decide to steal his hat.

pairings: eddie munson x fem!reader

warnings: reader is described to be wearing a dress. reader is also dressed up as a black cat. premise is everyone is wearing 'slutty' costumes. overuse of pet names. public teasing, unprotected sex, choking kink, oral (f receiving), ass slapping. 18+.

wc: 13.3k+

happy early valentine's day, babes. shout out to @hellfire--cult for beta reading, as well as @andvys for giving me this idea to begin with.

If someone had told you last week that you’d be attending a slutty costume themed night at a club tonight, you would have laughed in their face.

And yet here you were, at Steve Harrington’s apartment, donned in a black cat costume that shows more skin than you have in years.

The elaborate plan had sparked on a random day after Steve encountered a flyer for the event. It was a nightclub your group had attended before, and one look at the line free drinks for participants had Steve running down your entire group to insist that you all needed to dress up, to participate in this, for the luxury of free Tito’s. 

He’d never considered that the ad might not be targeted towards the male population. And now, you were all gathering at his apartment to pregame, ‘slutted out’ as Robin had so kindly put it – men included.

Nancy pulled out some sort of angel costume she claims she had bought but certainly not worn a few years back, Robin had conglomerated an alluring pirate attire from items you hadn’t even been aware were in her closet. Jonathan arrived in his erotic yet pensive writer’s costume (you’d hardly understood it, but he seemed confident, so you all went with it), Argyle in tow donning some sort of seductive surfer costume, in which you certainly recognized the unbuttoned shirt and cargo shorts that had had a pocket knife taken to them to disregard a few inches. Steve even stuck to his own demands, going all out – a sensual bunny costume.

And then, there was Eddie.

Eddie fuckin’ Munson. 

“Pick your jaw up off the ground, sweetheart,” he teases as he shuffles around you in the kitchen to grab a drink, “Gonna start catching flies otherwise.” 

“There’s a joke in there somewhere about how sweet I am, right?” you blandly reply, keeping your eyes on your room temp cocktail that Steve had so graciously mixed for you upon your arrival, “Something where you call me honey or sugar, yeah?” 

Eddie pauses, bottle of vodka in hand, looking at you with big eyes lined in coal, “Oh, baby, you know me so well.” 

“Cut the pet names, Munson.”

You try to scowl. You really do. But you don’t mean a damn word you say. 

Sweetheart. Baby. Hell, even honey would have done it for you when he was wearing that costume. 

Tight leather pants, flared at the ankle. Worn leather boots that certainly had to have been thrifted, clicking with each of his steps. A cow print vest, and just a vest, over what looked to be an oiled chest. 

And that fucking hat smashing down his curls, adding a shadow across his face that only built into the illusion. 

You hate him. You hate this stupid party. You hate Steve for ever suggesting this. 

“You don’t mean that,” he sing-songs as he pours his own drink into a red solo cup. The vodka mixes with cranberry juice, you think, before he’s dropping a few ice cubes out of the freezer. “Or maybe you do, and I should try saying them with a southern drawl,” Fuck, he does a good southern accent. Slow and syrupy sweet, molasses down the throat as he flutters his lashes at you, “That better, darlin’?” 

You pluck the thin black straw that had been added to your cup for flare, probably stolen from a hotel at some point by Steve and positively meant for drinks of the coffee variety, and flick it in his direction without hesitation. 

“Terrible,” you flatly lie, “Cowboys aren’t even from the south, idiot. They’re from the West.” 

You have no desire to hear Eddie’s Western accent. No desire to hear Texan twang on those lips, putting on his best John Wayne impression. In fact, the faster you can get away from him, the quicker you can get yourself under control. 

It had always been this way between you and Eddie. Push and pull. Will they, won’t they. A game of cosmic shores as the two of you toed at each other’s orbits and bantered effortlessly. Flirtatious threats, inappropriate compliments, lewd innuendos – you had done it all, specifically with Eddie.

That’s just how the friendship worked. 

The friendship. 

Friend. Nothing more, nothing less. 

Eddie won’t leave you alone, though, choosing to lean up against the counter beside you, forcing his way into your peripherals, “Damn. You’re right. Wayne would kill me if he knew I mixed that up.” 

“Oh, I think he has plenty of reasons to knock some sense into you.” 

“Yeah?” he leans forward, tauntingly, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth, “Why don’t you do it for him? I think I’d like a slap more coming from you, honestly.”

He’s acting like he always does. This is normal. The fact that his entire torso is on show and you can’t stop staring at the way his tattoo on his peck is shimmering doesn’t change that. 

You play the role, knowing your part well as you lean in as well, forcing a smile right back at him, “Wanna kiss my knuckles before I do it, or am I gonna have to do all the hard work here?” 

“Oh, trust me, you’d never have to do all the work with me, ba-”

“Can you two get a fucking room?” Robin interrupts as she enters the room, clearly coming in for a refill but getting more than she bargained for. 

You’re aflame with the shame and embarrassment, feeling it lick from your ankles up to your throat, as Eddie only chuckles lowly. 

“Sorry, Robs,” Eddie chirps, not sounding apologetic at all, “I promise I’ll behave myself the rest of the night.” 

And yet, despite the words you’re hearing him say out loud, he does the exact opposite. 

There’s no real need for him to do it. There’s plenty of space amongst the kitchen for him to maneuver his way out without laying a single hand on you – and yet he still fucking does. 

His palm is shockingly warm when it curls around your hip, his other hand occupied with a drink, encouraging you to move a step forward so that he can brush behind you far too close for comfort. You nearly stumble over himself as he does it. The feeling of his barren chest barely bumping your bare shoulder blades sends your mind reeling, and his staple rings that have incorporated into his costume press right through the thin fabric of your dress.

Your breathing stops entirely as he pauses, the slightest bit of skin still brushing against yours, and leans in with a boyish grin, “We’ll both be on our best behavior tonight – right, kitty?” 

Something clicks in your mind. The way the nickname rolls off his tongue as he’s looking at you with eyes flaming with mischief, hand lingering on your hip for far too long. 

Your eyes flicker up to the hat on his head, and you smile slowly, meeting his toying gaze, “Right, cowboy.”

Best behavior, your ass. Tonight, you have decided, ends the will they, won’t they of it all. 

It’s about to either be the best night of your life, or the worst. 

—

Another shot with Nancy. Another smoke with Argyle. Another adjusting of Steve’s corset when he complains he can’t breathe (he certainly can, but you’re starting to think he just likes the attention). The pregaming continues on as more of Steve’s friends from work show up, the apartment slowly beginning to buzz with the chatter of more strangers than you can count on one hand.

You’re not even at the club yet and you’re already regretting your revealing attire.

Eddie stays mostly preoccupied with his own devices, and only gets scolded a handful of times by Nancy. You can hear every lewd joke he makes, of course. At some point, you make a private drinking game out of it; a sip for every time he makes the stereotypical joke of ‘save a horse, ride a cowboy’. 

Well, it was a sip the first time. A slightly larger gulp the second time. A chugging of half your drink the third time. 

“There’s no fucking way,” Steve laments at the table the boys as well as a few guests you don’t recognize have taken over for a game of strip poker, “Jonathan is cheating. Or counting cards.”

“I concur,” Eddie mutters around his cigarette, scowling at his losing hand. 

“You’re also cheating, asshole. This is the first round you’ve lost the entire game.”

“Or maybe I’m just really good at cards, Harrington.” 

“Oh, yeah? Well, maybe I’m really good at-”

“He’s not cheating,” Nancy interrupts with a sigh from the couch, lounging as she’s served as a referee of sorts for the group. Her entire body weight is draped against Robin, and you’re certainly not going to comment on Robin’s hands toying with her permed locks, “Stop being a sore loser and just strip.” 

You get why Steve was the most upset. He was down to his underwear and socks, corset tossed somewhere far behind him and bunny ears placed on Robin’s head in place of her pirate hat that she had claimed became too warm. 

“I think Steve should trade both socks and put back on the bunny ears,” she quips as she reaches up for the headband, flicking at one of the floppy ears, “He’d look cuter that way.” 

“Fuck off,” he snaps, throwing up a middle finger as Argyle finally loses his shirt. 

When your attention has drifted, you know he did exactly that, though. 

The game had been boring you half to death, honestly. Watching Steve strip without fail every round, hearing the loud cheers from Argyle when he managed to win a few rounds in a row and exclaimed it was a turkey (it had taken a ten minute intermission to explain to him that was bowling, not poker), watching a few of the girls that Steve had invited fawn over him as they carefully removed boots and gloves when they lost – none of it sparked your interest. The only saving grace had been every smug look Eddie offered as he’d win, time and time again. So far, he’d only lost his boots. 

He was hot when he was cocky. There was no way around it.

And now, as he carefully pondered as to which part of his precious costume to part with, you were on the edge of your seat. He was lovely and enticing when he was excited, when he was jubilant with victory, but as a sore loser? 

Dear God, Eddie Munson was a gorgeous specimen with a pout on his lips. 

“Trying to decide what to take off, Munson?” Jonathan notices the way Eddie is hesitating, even through the offset of conversations that had sparked up in the brief pause amongst the growing group.

You lean forward on the couch, almost subconsciously. 

You don’t care what Stacy from Steve’s job thinks of their manager or the latest drama ongoing there, and Steve would probably agree with you if it weren’t for Stacy’s all-red, latex Devil costume.

Eddie scoffs, waving a hand over his attire, “Obviously. You know, it’s not easy to choose when you have a costume as damn good as mine.” 

“What? Don’t think you’ll be as pretty without your hat?” you decide to contribute to the teasing, shocking yourself in the process. 

The last thing you should do when you’re staring him down in this way, is bring attention to yourself. And yet you were, like some fucking idiot with a death wish. 

“You think I’m pretty?”

It’s the fluttering of his lashes as he says it that gives you the courage. They match all that fluttering in your stomach, all that buzzing across your nerves. Because – yeah, you thought he was real fucking pretty. You’d spent the last half hour imagining how pretty he’d look in all sorts of places, too, especially between your sheets and between your thighs. 

You’re up off the couch, taking confident steps towards where he’s seated at the ground on the other side of the coffee table. It’s a little inconvenient now, but it had been a blessing in disguise for most of the game as you’d had a front row seat to the sight of him. 

“Oh, don’t get ahead of yourself,” you tease, entirely ignoring that lightheaded feeling you get anytime Eddie looks up at you this way. Half-lidded eyes, crooked grin. He’s dangerous and he doesn’t even know it, “I only meant you were pretty with the hat.” 

“You wound me,” he gasps, dropping back on his hands dramatically, his pout now for dramatics rather than genuine, “Gonna stand there and tell me I’m not pretty when I dressed up just for you?”

You have to take a deep breath to compose yourself, cross your arms to steady your guard, “Just for me?” 

He was playing that same old, tired game of yours. The same dance the two of you had memorized the steps to – and something inside of you has grown restless of it. You don’t want to keep skirting around each other with double-meaning jokes, you don’t want to keep painting humor over your flirtatious remarks. You want a damn answer to the age old question of will they, won’t they?

And you want that answer to be will they – terribly, terribly so.

His eyes trail along the room slowly, not avoiding you but trying to draw out the anticipation in you as he sucks in a breath, “Okay, and maybe for Steve. And Nancy. And Argyle. And Jonathan. And- Well, I’d say Robin, but I don’t think she’s looked twice in my direction all night.” 

“I haven’t,” the brunette chirps happily from the couch, still letting the weight of Nancy comfortably dig into her. 

You have no idea how she’s tuned into the conversation, given the way most of everyone else around the room was entirely ignoring the two of you. 

“So,” you all but purr, leaning down to be more level with Eddie. You already know where his focus wanders when his eyes don’t meet yours, “Not just for me, cowboy.” 

He’s distracted, staring at your chest as you notice him slip up in his brave facade for a second. Almost as though you’ve gone too far, pushed the limits a bit too hard. Good. You want to break this. You want to shatter whatever cage the two of you have built.

In one smooth movement, your hand reaches out and snatches the hat right off his head. 

He lets out a yelp and tries to grab it away from you, but you have the advantage as you stand up straight once more. Your free hand reaches up and tears off the cat ears you had donned, and in their place, the hat is deposited. 

It fits you a little big, and you nearly make a joke about the size of Eddie’s head. 

“Hey!” he argues, moving as though he might stand up and put up more of a fight, “I didn’t say the hat is what I wanted to take off.” 

“Took too long,” you shrug innocently. 

“Yeah, well, just carefully add it to the pile,” he jabs his thumb over his shoulder, towards his boots, as he relaxes back into his recline.

You should probably behave yourself. 

“No.”

But this is more fun. 

Eddie’s eyebrows shoot up in shot, disappearing behind the bangs that are flattened far more than usual. The entire crown of his head is absolutely crushed. No sign of his usual frizzy roots and unruly volume, “No?”

“No,” you confirm a second time. 

And you’re done with this game of back and forth. 

The hat’s staying on your head. It smells ever so faintly of his shampoo, the slightest whiff of his cologne even, and it’s staying on your head for the exact reason he believes is about to be a gotcha! moment.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he’s just tipsy enough that he’s not putting on any specific accent. Instead, his natural Appalachian accent inherited from his uncle begins to break the surface, “Surely you know about the hat rule.” 

Damn right, you know about the hat rule.

You cross your arms, huff a little, tilt the hat for effect, “The hat rule? Please, enlighten me.” 

“You wear the hat, you ride the cowboy.” 

Perfect. 

You don’t even attempt any sort of surprised act. No exaggerated gasps, no fumbling to remove the hat. You knew all about this rule, and it had been one of the first things to come to mind when you’d seen him enter this damn party with the hat on. 

“Yeah?” you question, mocking raising your eyebrows at best, “Hm. What a shame.”

And then you turn on your heel, not awaiting a single response from Eddie as you escape to the kitchen.

You almost wish you would have stayed an extra second to properly witness his reaction. There’s no doubt in your mind that he’s gone pretty and pink, a flustered mess for at least a second as low laughter sounds from the rest of your friends. A tell-tale snort from Robin, and a silent cackle from Nancy. You swear you even pick up on one of the extra guests muttering a confused what just happened? that goes entirely unanswered.

Strip poker doesn’t continue on for long after that.

You refill your drink, this time sans the alcohol, and return to find Steve has officially begun to call for cabs to the club. He busies away on his phone as everyone debates who’s riding with who, the entire party slowly coming to life as everyone stands to prepare to leave for the main attraction. 

When you meet Eddie’s gaze from across the room, the shadow of the brim of his hat cutting into your vision a little, his cheeks match the cranberry juice in your cup. 

Good. 

—

The ride to the club is a blur, and all that really stands out to you is that Eddie makes sure he does not ride in the same cab as you.

Which is fine. Really. It doesn’t cause a single spark of panic in your chest. Not one. 

You’re definitely not working yourself up over the thought that your plan is crumbling right before your eyes, that you’ve gone too far and entirely misinterpreted everything Eddie has ever done during your entire friendship. You’re not mulling over every dirty joke, not dissecting every single line that felt like he was flirting with you and attempting to look at it with fresh eyes. No, the entire ride to the club, you are definitely not beating a dead horse dead. 

Maybe you should have set off to ride the dead horse and not the cowboy. Maybe, then, Eddie would have gotten into the fucking cab with you. 

Your anxieties only worsen once you get inside the club. Pulsing beneath your skin, right in rhythm with the music. Your entire group had each been handed a drink ticket on your way in, and you had noted the fact that the girls of the group were slipped extra tickets. 

Nancy had given all her tickets to Robin, and Steve had given his singular ticket to Stacy. 

“So,” Robin runs up to your side, Nancy not far behind, “Do we waste our drink tickets on shots or real drinks?” 

“Real drinks,” you immediately reply, eyes scanning the bouncing crowd for a certain head of curly hair, “Shots are… well, they can be cheap. We can just avoid the top-shelf shit.”

Was Eddie really going to ignore you the entire night? 

He needed his hat. He couldn’t ignore you the entire night. 

“You’re right,” Robin shuffles the drink tickets in her hands, turning to Nancy, “On a scale of one to ten, how bad would it be me to ask you to flirt with men to get me-”

“Give me ten minutes and I’ll have us a round.” 

Nancy’s smile is sweet, courteous, as she gives Robin’s shoulder a squeeze on her way past her. 

Where the fuck is Eddie? 

“Did you see where the guys ran off to?” you blurt out. Most of the guys, aside from Steve, took the same cab. 

Robin also joins you in a quick survey of the club, lifting onto her tippy toes to squint over the current light show, “Honestly? I have no idea.” 

Fuck. 

As she drops back down onto her heels, Robin looks at you knowingly, eyes flicking up between your twisted expression and the hat on your head. 

“Trying to find a certain cowboy?” 

“What?” you look at her, already defensive, even if it was stupid at this point. Who cares if everyone knows you have a crush on Eddie? Who cares if everyone finds out the very foundations of your friendship with him were built upon quite a bit of truth? “I mean- yeah, he kind of needs his hat to complete his outfit.” 

“Should have just given him your ears for an even trade,” Robin shrugs, clinging to your elbow to avoid getting separated as a few bodies push past the two of you, “I’m sure he’ll pop up soon enough, though. Besides, I don’t think anyone’s too focused on what everyone’s costumes are as long as they’re… well…”

“Slutted out,” you finish for her flatly, trying to not get jealous as your eyes look across the sweaty crowd, stomach churning as you wonder how many other sexy black cats in the crowd would be approaching your cowboy. 

You fucked up. You shouldn’t have taken his hat. 

“Exactly!” she’s excited, unaware of your crisis, already moving along from the topic as she spots Nancy somewhere near the bar top, “Look, free shots!” 

The free shots don’t do much to quell your unease, but free alcohol is always nice.

You take the liquid down, burn and all, more than willingly. And then again, not even five minutes later when Nancy has caught the attention of another random man at the end of the bar. You almost partake in a third, but you finally hear a familiar voice saying a far too familiar joke. 

“You know what they say,” he’s flirting – he’s using a tone of voice that he has never used with you, and it’s clear he’s fucking flirting, “Save a horse, ride a cowboy.” 

Instead of continuing your drinking game from Steve’s apartment, you slam the shot back down and mutter some sorry excuse of being right back to Robin and Nancy before taking off in the direction of Eddie.

He’s stood a few stools down at the bar, hands leaning against the worn wood as his arms bracket a pretty blonde. It almost looks as if the line might be working on her. 

“If you’re a cowboy,” she giggles, and you almost stop dead in your tracks, “Then where’s your hat?” 

Well, that’s as good of a queue for your arrival if any. 

“Good question,” you pipe up as you take a few brave steps towards him, “Where is your hat, cowboy?” 

You’d expected him to be angry, or startled, or possibly even immediately take off running in the opposite direction of you. He doesn’t. 

He slowly turns, and his flirtatious smile has turned into more of a salacious grin as he faces you, “Well, well, well. Nice of you to join us, Kitty.” 

The blonde looks between you two a few times before shimmying down off her stool, “I think…. I’m gonna go. Nice to meet you, cowboy.”

You expect Eddie to react, but he hardly does. A quick glance in her direction, a pathetic wave. 

You’ve just trampled over one of his chances of getting properly lucky tonight, and he isn’t even phased. 

“Been lookin’ for you,” you mumble, looking over him. His hair seems to have been unstuck from his scalp a little, at least. As though he may have been running his hands through it repeatedly, “Thought you might have gone home without your hat.” 

“Not a chance. I haven’t forgotten about the rule, you know.” 

Something twists in you, deep in your gut, between your hips. 

“No?” you hold your breath as he leans in a bit closer to you to be able to hear over the music, “Good thing I haven’t either.” 

He tilts his head, eyes glittering in the multi-colored lights, “You haven’t? Then that means you’ll be giving it back, right?” 

Over my dead body. 

You’re on a mission tonight. You’ll either be ending this night in sore disappointment, drinking away your sorrows of rejection, or you’ll be ending up in a bed with Eddie. It’s up to him. 

You lift a hand to the worn rim, tugging it a bit more securely onto your head, “Not a chance, Munson. You know where to find me once you’re done playing around.”

As soon as your fingers leave the rim, holding tense eye contact with him, his own hand is coming up. You tense, worried he’s about to steal the hat back now, but he doesn’t. Instead, his fingers pinch the same spot yours just had, slow tracing over the rim as his tongue darts out to carefully wet his bottom lip. 

From the front point, around to the side. When he reaches the bit above your ear, his touch drops to your cheek and tucks back some of the baby hairs sticking to your skin with sweat. 

“I do, don’t I?” he hums, voice dropping a bit lower, focused entirely on you. “I don’t think I’m the one playing around right now, though, Kitty.” 

Does he think you’re joking? Does he actually, genuinely think this is all a game to you? 

You nearly make the decision to grab him right there, right at this moment, and shatter all the tension. Get his lips on yours and drag him into the darkest corner just to prove to him how serious you truly were. 

Suddenly, his hand drops away from you entirely, and you almost want to whine. You miss that warmth, that feathery caress, until it aches. “It’s okay, though. Always knew cats were playful things.” 

Is there a dark corner somewhere near you two? Is there a dark hallway to drag him into? Just enough shadow to cover all the sins you’re desperate to commit, just enough light to see that blush rise across his cheeks again. 

“I’m not playing,” you whisper, eyes drifting down to his hand cradling a glass. Something deep and russet, just like his eyes. Likely whiskey. You wonder if you’d be able to taste it all over his tongue before you had him putting it to work where you need him most right now. “Whenever you get that through your big head, come find me.” 

“Big head?” he throws his head back in a laugh, and the tension mists away in seconds. “Who says I have a big head?” 

“I do, as the one wearing your hat,” you readjust it for emphasis. 

You thought the tension had misted away until he��s smirking, tsking a little, “Oh, thought you meant the other one.” 

It’s a replay of the scene in Steve’s apartment, but this time, the roles are reversed. You’re the one left in shock, mouth agape, as Eddie spins around and walks away, leaving you to sit with what he’s just said. 

“Bastard,” you breathe out as you watch him disappear in the crowd, eyes locked on his broad shoulders until one too many bodies separate the two of you. 

A bastard you want awfully, terribly, bad. 

—

You wish you could say you threw back drink, after drink, after drink. You wish you could say you danced with a hundred different beautiful strangers, and each one strayed your mind farther from Eddie. 

You wish you could say you did anything but what the reality of your night had been.

A few men had approached you, only to be turned down repeatedly. Most of your night was spent all but moping at the bar, eyes diligently scanning the bouncing crowd for a certain curly haired figure that seemed to escape you. One moment, you’d catch him pressed against a flirty stranger, hands holding onto whatever bare skin was available to him. And then, his eyes would find yours, and there would be a spark; a wink, a smile, a whisper across a bustling room daring you to come out and play with him. 

You never did. You’d look away, take a sip of your plain coke, and wait a few seconds until it was safe to look back and find him seemingly vanished. 

That in itself had started to become a game. Just like the hat, weighing heavy on your head. 

You’re starting to accept that maybe you had just been a bit too brave. You’d jumped the gun, flown feet first into cold and ragged waters you weren’t prepared to navigate. You knew you wanted a change with Eddie, but were you ready? If you had been, you would have accepted one of his various invites. Would have strode across the room, shoved away whatever man or woman he was dancing with, and slotted yourself into their place. You would have been swaying your hips in rhythm with his rather than allowing him to cycle through strangers, and you’d be reminding him that you wore his hat. 

You’d be the one bringing up the hat rule to him consistently, not him to you. 

When the night begins to wane, you’ve already talked yourself out of it all. 

“I’m heading out,” you announce to Robin when she finally returns back to where you’ve sat at the bar to babysit their drinks, hopping down from the stool before she could argue, “I’m getting way too tired.” 

“What?” your friend gasps, face pink from the heat of being in the crowd, a shimmering sheen of sweat across her forehead, “No! Stay! We can take turns watching the drinks, or just-”

“Robs,” you smile as sweetly as possible, patting yourself down to make sure you have all your belongings. A whistle sounds from a group down the way at the bar, and you ignore them, “It’s seriously okay. You’re having fun! I’m just a senior citizen who needs some sleep. My bedtime was like…. An hour ago.” 

You highly doubt you’ll be getting any rest when you return to your apartment. Maybe some confidence can be built out of fantasies, letting your hands wander and sheets catch fire with all that could have been if you hadn’t talked yourself out of your perfect plan. 

Maybe, imagining Eddie’s hot hands on you rather than getting to properly feel them will light a damn fire under your ass for the next opportunity that arises. 

“I…” she sighs, glancing over her shoulder in the general direction of Nancy, “Okay, fine. But do we want to do brunch or something tomorrow?” 

Not a chance, you think rather quickly, eyes scanning once more for the metal-head-turned-cowboy. Not if Eddie’s going to be there.

“Sure,” you lie, already knowing he will be there, “Just text me.” 

With that, you make your grand escape. 

Borrowed hat on head, phone in hand, you push your way out of the club with a newfound determination. You want to get home and take off this uncomfortable dress, finally do away with the thigh highs that have been rolling down at the most inconvenient of times, driving you insane the entire night. Trade the sexy attire for something comfy – stay true to the cat essence as you curl up beneath your blankets for the night. Hang that damn cowboy hat on your door as a cursed reminder-

“Where do you think you’re going, Kitty?” 

You stop a few feet short of the curb, a cab ordered as you turn to find that bastard leaning against the wall. Cigarette smoke is still clinging to the air around him as he looks at you curiously. 

“Home,” you shrug, trying to ignore your pounding heart. You’d figured you wouldn’t see him again tonight, that your fate had been sealed. “What are you doing out here?” 

“Smoke break,” he lifts his hand with the cigarette pinched between two fingers casually, pushing off the wall to come closer, “It’s hard work, keeping you entertained all night.” 

You scoff, falling back into what’s almost a normal rhythm for you two, “You were not the one keeping me entertained all night.” 

“I hardly saw you dance with anyone at all.” 

“I did!” you try to defend yourself, deciding this could be fine. Some casual conversation as you wait for your ride, a way to pass the time. This is fine. “Robin dragged me out into the crowd at least twice.” 

“I watched you swat a guy’s hands away not once, but three times.” 

“Unsolicited touching isn’t a compliment. He should have taken the hint the first time.” 

Eddie nods in eager agreement, taking another drag of his cigarette, “Damn right. If he had gone in for a fourth try, I was considering dragging him out here for an early smoke break.” 

“Why do I highly doubt it would just be a smoke break?” you question, glancing at him with a smile. Scandalous plans aside for the night, embarrassment swallowed down whole, it’s nice to remember that Eddie is a friend. Albeit a bit flirty, and capable of driving you fucking insane, but he’s a friend.

And maybe that isn’t the worst thing in the world. 

“Oh, no, yeah. You’d be posting my bail.”

“Why me?”

“Because you’ve got my hat, ” he reaches out and flicks the brim with his free hand, and you freeze up a little. You had hoped he wouldn’t mention it again, “Kind of makes me your problem until the end of the night. Speaking of….” 

You already know what he’s about to request as he trails off. This is it. You either give up the bit, hand the hat back over, and go home for the night – or you make one final attempt to get what you had wanted.

Eddie. You wanted Eddie, as more than a friend. 

“I’m gonna need that back, sweetheart.”

At least he’s asking politely, you consider, before it hits you why he’s asking rather than taking. 

The looks across the room. The way he’d been unbothered by the girl he’d been flirting with running off at your appearance. The way he never just took back that fucking hat when he’d been provided ample opportunity. 

He thinks it’s a game for you, and keeps bringing it up, because it isn’t for him. He’s giving you one last chance to back out, or to stand your ground. To say you really want this. 

And fuck, you really want this. 

“Nope,” you lean into his space, pressing closer, fully committed. Your phone dings with the notification of your ride approaching, and you fully ignore it. “My hat now, cowboy.” 

He quirks an eyebrow, and you hear the crunch of gravel behind you. Your ride. “Is that so?” 

“Yep.”

Another ding, another buzz of your phone.

Go ahead. Bring up the hat rule. 

“That your ride?” he asks, tilting his chin in the direction of the car. 

You glance over your shoulder, “Pretty sure it is, yeah.” 

“And you remember the hat rule?” 

Your stomach twists with excitement. Your previous pity party is long forgotten – you’re still hoping to get out of this dress, but you highly doubt you’ll be slipping anything on after it. “I do.”

“Great,” those hot hands you’d been fantasizing about the entire night suddenly reach out to you, gripping your hips tightly as he tugs you into his body. You collide with his chest as he leans down and whispers in your ear, “In that case, that’s my pussy now.” 

His lips linger against the shell of your ear an extra second, warm breath sending chills up your spine before he’s keeping an arm around your shoulders as he guides you to the car. His cologne and the scent of tobacco is suffocating, and you crave to drown in it. You want him to consume you; you want him to take over every breath you breathe, every move you make, to finally get those hot hands and lips everywhere you’ve only dreamt of. 

You barely hear him confirm with the driver that it is in fact your ride – you can only focus on that hand on your lower back, palm heavy on you as his thumb traces arcs that nearly spend you spiraling. 

“After you, kitty,” he murmurs, motioning for you to slide into the backseat first. 

In that case, that’s my pussy now.

You hope he ruins you. 

In the backseat of the ride, it’s all polite distance and hands to yourself. You can’t even make eye contact with the driver, terrified he might be able to mindread and see all the filthy thoughts racing through your head. 

Eddie between your thighs, mouthing at your hips. 

Eddie hovering over you, pulling your knees to your chest as he stretches you out. 

Eddie, proving that your pussy is in fact his for the night. That it was made for him, sculpted out to fit the curvature and every single vein of him. 

Eddie simply fucking your brains out. 

Some polite conversation is exchanged, mostly between Eddie and the driver. The classic questioning of how the night has gone, small talk that buzzes in your ears mindlessly. 

The entire time, you can see Eddie’s hand in the space between you two, fingers tapping away at dark leather incessantly. His rings shimmer like a siren calling to you. 

It’s a small movement, when your own hand drops near his. You keep your eyes trained forward once you begin your mission, inching your pinky closer and closer until it finally collides with his. You swear, you feel him fully jump out of his seat. 

Slowly warming the water, you start off simple – playing with his fingers. Gentle caresses over his knuckles, little pricks to the pads of his fingers. He tries to capture your hand in his, but you have bigger plans at play here. 

You’ve spent the entire fucking night waiting for this. You’re going to have fun with it. 

He huffs after you deter his second attempt at properly holding hands, his knees falling apart a little further. You twist at the ring on his middle finger, a clunky skull you’ve always admired. It has minimal signs of wear, probably pure silver if you had to guess, and you can only imagine how cold it’s going to feel against your skin. 

You can only imagine the imprints it’ll leave if he grabs your hips just right. 

“You know,” the driver hums mindlessly over the low volume of the radio, “You guys are my first ride of the night, surprisingly. Thought it might be busier with all the parties and clubs, but I think it’s just barely picking up now.”

“Yeah?” Eddie asks politely, nodding as he looks out his window. Perfect, “I think you’re right. It is getting pretty late-”

He’s entirely distracted, your hand out of his line of sight as it moves in on its target. 

His thigh. 

Just a few inches above his knee, your hand grips at what is clearly sensitive flesh. You watch his entire body turn to stone when you do it, and he moves his head quickly to look in your direction. 

You’re looking straight ahead. 

There had been a time, a few weeks ago, where you’d learned Eddie had… sensitive knees. You’d been joking around about one thing or another, and when your palms had gripped at them through the torn fabric of ripped jeans, he’d nearly launched himself across the room. He just kept insisting they were ticklish, that that skin was just delicate.

You’d seen the tent in his jeans then. You’d just been a bit more polite, a bit better behaved that day. 

“What are you doing?” he hisses in a whisper, reaching for your hand, but you’re quick to slide it even higher. 

His hips jump a little, and the driver is none the wiser. 

“Nothing,” you innocently say, still looking ahead, watching the passing streetlights with intense interest. “Absolutely nothing at all.” 

The entire ride, at every red light, your hand inches higher. 

And every time, you relish the way he squirms in your peripherals.

By the time you’re five minutes out from your place, you’ve riled him up to impossible heights. Every little noise has him on edge, constant twitching and shifting in his seat as he tries to get you to just look at him. You know he’s catching every sly smile that attempts to creep up on your lips – you’re pathetically failing at every turn to cover them up. 

You think you have him like putty in your palms as you give yet another squeeze to his thigh, fingers starting to dance up even higher. When your eyes flicker to his crotch for just a second, you see him straining against that tight leather. 

And then he flips the script. 

You’re so focused on your own goals, you never see that ringed hand creep to your own thigh. It’s not until cool metal nips at you, briefly, before you feel the warmth of his hand overtake, that you realize the predicament you’ve gotten into. 

Just as your hand was beginning to skim over his crotch, Eddie’s hand found solace between the meat of your thighs. Even as you try to clench them together, deny him the access he was seeking out, he finds his way in. Scandalous fingers dipping under the hem of your dress, fighting fire with fire when he lets his middle finger brush across the fabric of your underwear. 

Your touch from him nearly retracts entirely. 

“What?” he leans in closer to you, the driver still focused on the road, “Don’t like a taste of your own medicine?”

As he says it, his fingers dip lower. Hovering right over your protected clit, making your entire abdomen clench. 

You swallow hard, a bit of your jagged pride somewhere amongst the spit as you turn your head to look at him, “I don’t know what you mean.” 

“Still playing games I see.” 

In sync, the two of you lock eyes as you continue to test waters. You apply pressure with your palm and note the way his breathing hitches, and he draws a feather-light circle around the wet patch forming in your underwear. You can feel your bottom lip quiver as you try to refuse to give him any satisfaction, but when he’s this close, it’s a hopeless battle.

When had he gotten so near you? What happened to all that static distance from when you’d first crawled into the backseat?

You’re trying to only focus on your own hand. Eyes darting to guarantee the driver is still oblivious as you roll the heel of your hand harder against the seam of his pants, and biting your lip to hold back a successful grin when he has to cover a gasp with a cough. It’s all fun and games until the action is rewarded with his payback; his knuckle curling up against your cunt through your panties, pressing in hard before slowly sliding his way up, up, up. 

He deliberately stops when he catches on your clit, and you’re the one coughing now. 

“Had enough?” he mutters under his breath, looking at you with half-lidded eyes. He looks good in this lighting, flashes of the streetlights bathing him in soft yellow, headlights of other cars fluttering in through the windshield as they hit his brown eyes just right to bronze them. 

“Never.”

You almost think you’ve won when his knuckle pulls back. 

But suddenly, his entire hand is cupping your cunt, two fingers pressing against your fluttering hole as another drags up your slit slowly once more. This time, when he reaches your clit, he continues moving in small circles. 

You have to bite your lip to hold back any noises, eyes closing for just a second as you hear him huff out a laugh. 

The final damnation is when he brings his lips to your bare shoulder, merely grazing your skin with them as he mumbles, “You sure about that, Kitty?” 

You clench around nothing, and you know when he feels it from where his fingers remain pressed against you. His own hand twitches as the finger circling your clit stutters for a moment. 

“I-”

“We’re here!” the driver says, not having looked into the backseat yet as he finds a safe place to pull the car into. In an instant, you and Eddie remove your hands from each other. You’re both visibly flustered – you can feel how warm your cheeks have gotten, and you can see clouds of pink splattering over Eddie’s chest and neck. 

“Thanks,” Eddie is the one to speak up as the car comes to a halt, not even waiting for the driver to put the vehicle in park as he throws the door open. 

A bit rushed, but still polite as ever before he’s grabbing you by your bicep to pull you out of the cramped space right along with him. 

You can hardly muster a weak wave to the man as Eddie is dragging you towards your apartment building, knees still a bit weak and mind still blank after getting a taste of your own medicine, as Eddie had put it. 

He doesn’t let go of you until you’re at your front door, those cursed shaking hands of yours fumbling with your key ring. 

“Here, let me-” he starts to offer, reaching for the keys that continue to clank together, just as you find the one you’re looking for. 

“I’ve got it-” you try to cut him off, just as you drop the fucking keys in your haste. “Shit.” 

You quickly drop to the ground to grab them, pausing once you have the metal digging into your palms once more. There’s no real reason for you to do it, but you do – you take a second to look up at Eddie from this position, and nearly drool at the sight of it.

Him, standing over you, still a bit flushed and still visibly uncomfortable in his pants. Pretty curls a mess and lips darkening from how much he’s been biting them. 

You want him to ruin you. You want him to absolutely, entirely and utterly destroy you.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he laughs, chest heaving a bit as he watches you carefully, pupils slowly growing in the dim light of your building’s hallway. 

You can see his bare torso clenching, the twitch of his hands at his sides – the same fingers that had just been caressing you over your underwear in the backseat of a stranger’s car. 

“Like what?” you’re dragging out the moment, taking time to appreciate the sight of him. 

“Like you want me to just press you up against the wall and fuck you out here, for everyone to see.” 

That’s a new one. That’s a vision that hadn’t come to you in all your dirtiest dreams of the night. 

It sends your clit throbbing. 

You rise slowly, pushing the hat back a bit to see him better, keeping your voice quiet so your neighbors won’t hear as you ask, “Would you? If I asked nicely?” 

He doesn’t let out a laugh, but a breath of air, like you’ve just sucked all of the oxygen out of his lungs. 

No need to say it – you know he would. You probably wouldn’t even have to ask nicely. 

You’re staring at him when he finally moves, one hand snatching your keys out of your hand and the other gripping you around the waist. Back to pulling you, man-handling you to get you right where he wants you – where he needs you. 

One second, you’re pressed against his body in the hallway. The next, he’s managed to unlock your front door and throw you both into the safety of your apartment. 

Hidden from the world, and you’re still reeling as you wonder what it’d be like for the entire building to witness you calling out his name. Or him calling out your name. 

Here within these four walls, Eddie has put some space between the two of you, staring with blown out eyes and a shaking chest as he breathes out, “Sweetheart.”

A few seconds pass, the two of you just standing there, the click of the front door’s lock being the only thing echoing in the silence. If you focused over the roar of the blood pounding in your ears, you might catch every single gasp of his as he stares in awe – but your focus is elsewhere. Far away and out of grasp for the time being. You can only think of one thing, and one thing only. 

Your body isn’t your own as you move to get exactly what you want; you drop to your knees hard enough that you should cringe at the thought of the pain that will linger, possibly for days, but it doesn’t even cross your mind as your hands begin to fumble with Eddie’s pants. The oversized, gaudy belt buckle is in your way, glinting at you as if mocking the way your shaking hands can’t undo it fast enough. You’re about to give up and just start unzipping the leather pants, desperate to get your hands, and your mouth, and your eyes on him properly, when he stops you. 

“Hey,” he sounds breathless - he is breathless - as his own hands quiver a bit and grab onto yours, “Hey, hey, hey. Slow down.”

Those hands let go of your wrists and reach for the hat, and you’re quick to try and swat them away only for him to grab at you, surprisingly gentle, as he drags you back up to your feet. 

“Wear the hat, ride the cowboy – right?” you insist, chin held high, your gaze refusing to waver from his. 

His slow and buttery grin makes you lightheaded, his low chuckle sends shakes through every nerve and bone. “That’s right, but maybe the cowboy wants to take his time. Ever think of that, hm?” 

Were you moving too fast? Were you going to scare him off? 

Small, baby steps are taken by Eddie, the click of his heels shattering against your wooden floors until his hips are flush with yours. 

And - oh.

Oh. 

That surely didn’t feel like you were scaring him off. 

You could feel the outline of his cock, hard against your hip, as he gives a little roll. He catches his bottom lip between his teeth, nostrils flaring with a hard breath, and the fear leaves as quickly as it had arrived. 

He wants this. You want him. 

“I’m not a very patient person,” you murmur, eyes glued to his lips now as his head leans in closer, and his hands begin to explore your body. Taking their time as they travel down your arms from where he’d held onto your biceps, slowing as they reach your wrists. Even the press of his thumb against the sensitive inner skin there sends jolts up your spine, little gasps attempting to escape your mouth. 

His fingers tangle loosely with your own for a few moments before his palms find your hips, and he continues his journey. 

“That’s okay,” he whispers back, close enough now that his lips have begun to brush against your own. His nose bumps yours as his hands skate up over your ribcage, thumb sweeping out over the hill of your breast and intentionally avoiding your nipple, “I can teach you, baby.”

Your mouth finally collides with him at the words, nearly going limp in his arms at the words. 

You’ve thought about kissing Eddie for a while now. Every time a snarky remark fell from his lips, you’d wonder how his tongue might taste afterwards. Every time he’d pout his lips at one of your comebacks, or blow a kiss teasingly in your direction from across a room, you’d wonder how hard you might have to bite down to make him bleed. Every drag of a cigarette you’d witnessed, every hard gasp in faux offense, every breathless chuckle at a joke he didn’t want to find funny but did – you had spent a lot of time wondering what it might be like to steal all the air from his lungs, to kiss him until the two of you were both blue in the face. 

“Can’t the lesson wait until tomorrow?” you mumble against him as his mouth, your own fists now gripping onto the lapels of his vest. His hands have reached your shoulders, memorizing the outlines of the curve of your neck where it meets your collarbones, the slope of your chest as you take hot and heavy breaths. 

“Nope,” he insists, pulling back from the kiss, a little bit of spit on his pink lips, “But it’s nice to know you’re thinking about tomorrow.” 

A hand finally finds your chin and pinches it carefully between his thumb and fingers, a careful grip on you to angle you just right so he can all but devour you. Lips, tongues, teeth – it’s a messy ordeal, and you almost make a smart-ass remark that this kiss doesn’t feel very patient. 

But you can’t. Eddie’s taken away all your breaths, all your words, as he starts to guide you backwards. 

Your knees hit the cushions of your sofa, making you jump back from him with a gasp, palms going flat against his chest. 

He feels good. Tender skin soft to the touch beneath your hand, tattoos tempting to trace the outline of. Later. 

“Figured you might want a more comfortable ride,” he laughs against you, breath smelling ever so faintly of mint and whiskey washing over you, before he dips to mouth away at your neck.

You drop back onto the sofa, bite your tongue on a comment about how this cheap piece of furniture most definitely wasn’t the most comfortable option, simply eager at the fact he was letting this move along. 

You want him, you need him, and you have no time for patience. 

His exploration of touches have lit you aflame, and you’re growing a bit desperate at this point. It might be pathetic, it should be embarrassing, but you really don’t care. 

“By all means,” you break out of his hold entirely, catching the way his hand holding your chin lingers a few extra seconds, reluctant to let you go, “Take your seat, Cowboy.” 

He joins you on the couch, eyes never leaving yours even as he throws himself down. Knees spread wide, inviting lap on show, cock still straining against his pants. 

The best seat in the house, as far as you’re concerned. 

“You just gonna keep starin’,” he mocks lightly, looking you over slowly. Taking his time, you suppose, “Or you gonna get over here?” 

His words are all you need. You’re quick to climb onto his lap, swinging your legs so that each thigh brackets his hips, your cunt pressing down on crotch carelessly. You love the way it feels – the outline of him hard against you, the cooling effect of the leather, the sharp edges of the zipper catching just right. 

“There,” he huffs out, grabbing onto you when you give the slightest roll of your hips, “Now we’re both in our seats.” 

When you go to press down harder, guiding yourself over his lap, hands steadying you by gripping his shoulders, he surprises you by his hips jumping up to meet your slow rhythm.

“What happened to being patient?” you try to tease him right back as your forehead meets his, hat comically struggling to stay on between the two of you, “Thought you were gonna take your time with me-”

“Between you and me, I’m not gonna last,” he pants out, hands finding your hips. Those rings you’d been fantasizing of leaving an imprint on you are doing just that as he guides you, “Been dreaming of you too long, sweetheart. Wanted this for so long.” 

Your heart nearly stops. Your hips stutter, pausing as his words rush over you. 

“What?” 

Your head lifts away from his completely, grip on his shoulders tightening. 

He’s wanted this, too? This entire time? 

Eddie takes your pause as a bad thing, a terrible omen as his face pales, “I mean- I just-”

“Munson,” you say lowly, narrowing your eyes at him, “You’re telling me, this entire time, you’ve been flirting with me?” 

Had that tone he used with the girl at the bar been flirting as you’d thought, or simple for show? You’d so cluelessly assumed he’d never used that tone with you because he’d never genuinely flirted with you – and yet, it seems, he’d never used that tone because he’d been genuinely flirting with you. 

“I-” his cheeks are brilliant red, and the wide eyes are from something different than lust now, “Maybe?” 

“Maybe?” you almost laugh, throwing your head back. The hat falls off, but Eddie is quick to retrieve it, “My God, we’re fucking idiots.” 

“Hey, I’m not the one who stole my hat-”

“I like you, dumb ass,” you state plainly, “I wanted this for a while, too.” 

He pauses, one arm outstretched as his hand grips onto the hat, “What?” 

“Been thinking about this, too,” your voice drops a little, almost a whisper, even though you two are the only ones in the room. For all you know, you two might be the only two people left in the world with the way he’s looking at you, “Thinking about you and your lips. Thinking ‘bout your hands and the places they’d go,” as you point out every detail, his body seemingly reacts. A lick of his lips, a squeeze of his hand still on your hip, “Thought about your fingers and tongue a lot, too. How good they’d feel inside me.” 

His hips thrust up at that, and suddenly, he’s placing his hat back atop your head. 

That, it seems, was all the encouragement Eddie needed. 

He deals with that belt buckle that had given you hell, bouncing you a bit on his lap as he fumbles with yanking the entire belt off and tossing it to the side. One hand busies with undoing the button and zipper of his jeans, as the other starts to bunch your dress. 

“Nice and slow,” he insists, looking up at you, absolutely vibrant. Somewhere between the tightness between your hips, all the throbbing between your thighs and in your chest, you feel a sort of bubbly delight creeping up along your spine. “Got it, kitty?” 

You nod once. Twice. On the third nod, he cuts you off with a kiss. 

Your dress is up to your waist, and you don’t know how, but he manages to shimmy off his pants without throwing you off his lap entirely. It’s impressive, really. Probably a symptom of him having thought about this, dreamt about this. He’d probably thought up every scenario possible, and was prepared. 

“Oh, and these?” his fingers find the waistband of your panties, tsking a little as he pulls at the elastic and lets it slap back against your skin, “Those definitely have to come off.” 

“Whatever you say, cowboy.” 

You take your time sliding off his lap, making sure to grind against him before you properly lift away. He throws his head back in a groan, Adam’s apple bobbing as you stand up straight. You take that moment to just admire him, capturing the clench of his jaw to memory, the way his eyes screw shut in pleasure at your influence. 

He’s fucking perfect. You’re sure there’s others who disagree, but you’d pay them no mind. He’s perfect, and he’s all yours. 

You make a show of taking off your panties only once he’s properly looking at you once more, craving his eyes on you as you keep all your movements fluid and steady. No rush, exuding all that patience he’d prattled on about. 

You want to see his face when you gently toss the black lacey piece in his direction, watch him fumble with his own desperation to catch them. 

“Seems a bit unfair that I’m the only one undressing,” you hum as you go a step further and begin to shimmy out of the dress.

“Yeah, well,” he grins cheekily at you, fisting your panties, a hand trailing down to the waistband of his boxers as he eyes you, “One of us was showing a bit more skin than the other.”

“Take off the vest, Eddie.” 

Your command is velvet, and he’s quick to obey. His hand stubbornly refuses to let go of your panties as he rushes to shrug out of the thin fabric over his shoulders, tossing the vest to join his pants and your dress on the floor. 

“And the boxers.” 

You stand there, in nothing but his cowboy hat, as you wait pretty and patient for him to listen. And listen he does. 

The moment his boxers are discarded, his cock is standing at attention, leaking from the tip and deep shade of pink that matches his kiss-bitten lips. You think it might be the prettiest color you’ve ever laid eyes on as you watch a drop of  precum slip down his shaft. 

He’s pretty, even in the fucking pants. 

Girthy, thick enough you almost arch your back before you’ve even sunk down on him. All veins and soft skin, a sensitive tip that you’d trace your tongue over for hours if he let you. 

“Gonna just stand there, or are you going to ride your cowboy?” 

He surely meant to sound more cocky, but the words come out as more of a whine as you watch him twitch under your stare. 

He’s right though, and you’d rather get him inside you than spend another second gawking. There will be time to pay more attention to him and his pretty cock tomorrow. Right now, you need to finish this god-forsaken mission. 

Your thighs find his hips just as his hands find yours, choosing to grip the couch rather than his shoulders as you steady yourself. 

Nice and slow, his words echo in your mind. 

You could have prepared yourself more, but you’d already made it clear to Eddie that you are not a patient person. The fact that you even take your time as you sink down on him, going as far as to grab him by his base and guide his tip to smear precum across your clit, is impressive. 

The stretch is a bit painful. A bit much. A bit dizzying. But you refuse to stop as your jaw drops, eyes fluttering shut in ecstasy. 

“Fuck,” you breathe out softly as you feel him fill you, “Fuck, Eddie.” 

“Feel good, baby?” he questions, reaching up to grab your chin just as he had before. Forcing you closer to him, forcing you to look him in the eyes just as he bottoms out. 

You don’t answer him as you both moan out. 

You stay there for a second, unmoving as you swim in the feeling. Feeling him press into the depths of you, the overwhelming warmth and the coil in your abdomen tightening ever so slightly. 

It’s better than you had imagined it. No daydreams could compare to the feeling of Eddie’s cock finally, finally filling you. Stretching you out, making you his. 

“Go ahead,” he grits out, entire body tense, clearly holding out on you, “Ride your cowboy, kitty. Don’t make me ask twice.” 

Nice. And. Slow.

Three little words that ricochet through your mind as you start to slowly bounce on him. Lifting ever so slightly, dropping back down, aching to feel him even deeper inside of you. Feeling the quiver of his thighs to match yours as you repeat the action, gasps and whimpers falling from both your lips. You’re about to try and kiss him, try and swallow all those delicate noises from him, when he stops you. 

“No, no, no,” he’s chuckling, giving your hips a few squeezes before his palms rub down your thighs, the friction sending you on edge, “C’mon, now. We both know that’s not how you ride.” 

His hands rake over your skin, down to your knees, lighting scratching and squeezing along their entire pathway until they make their way back up to your waist and hips. 

“Do it like this, sweetheart.”

He guides you, no longer allowing you to lift up. You sink all the way down on his cock, whining out at the fullness, before he starts the pattern. 

Back and forth. Gentle circles amidst the rocking. Your clit grazes his pubes, and the coil in between your hips has never tightened more quickly. 

The motion feels familiar - like riding a bull. 

This feels right. You still press down, still clench down on him hard enough to make you both slip out obscenities, but it’s getting you there. 

At some point, Eddie’s grip on your hips slips, but it’s fine – you’ve got the rhythm down perfectly. Slow, intermittent figure eights between the rolls of your hips, his occasionally slamming upward to reward you with that deepness you need. You can feel him in your stomach, in your chest, in your throat. 

You get a bit daring, and take one hand to his shoulders, as the other reaches up for the top of the hat on your head. 

Just like a cowboy. 

“Like this?” you pant out between harsher rolls, eliciting curses that continue to grow louder from Eddie. 

“Fuck, baby, yes,” he groans out, head thrown back, mouth open in gratification, “Just like that. Keep- keep going just,” he thrusts up, “Like,” another thrust, “That.” 

You nearly lose balance, falling forward a bit, too stubborn to let go of the hat. There’s a grin glimmering at the corners of your mouth, and it fully blooms when Eddie throws up a hand to catch you .

A hand on your throat. 

He doesn’t squeeze, doesn’t cut off blood flow or breathing. He keeps that warm palm there at the base of your neck, cradling you, holding you. A reminder that he could squeeze if he wanted, that he held you in the palm of his hands currently, but he won’t. 

“You like that?” his eyes shine as he looks up at you, the sight of his rings decorating your neck. 

You nod.

“Tell me with your words,” he commands.

“I like it,” you whimper, looking up further, stretching more of your neck to be vulnerable to Eddie. “I like it so much, baby.” 

When the pet name falls from your lips, you can feel him twitch inside of you. The sudden jut of his hips, the sharp intake of breath. 

“You like that,” you laugh breathlessly, your hand atop the hat the only thing keeping it from falling as you lean your head fully back, eyes beginning to roll back into your head. “Wanna be my baby, Munson?” 

“Always have,” he grunts, the hand on your throat slipping up to cup your face to drag you towards him, “Since the fucking moment I met you, sweetheart.”

When he kisses you, it tastes like the closest to Heaven you might ever get. Soft, plump lips, and an eager tongue. All the wasted time hiding behind jokes and teasing, playing pretend like the flirting was never serious.

It was serious. And if you’d just come clean sooner, you would have had this long ago. 

Your hips are still rolling as your hands begin to roam. You’ve found your balance again, lips pressed to Eddie, and it’s your turn to explore all he has to give you. Your nails graze his stomach when your clit catches once more on that rough thatch of hair against the base of his cock. Your fingers dig into flesh wherever they can find it – his chest, his arms, his hips. At some point, you throw a hand out behind you, grasping for his knee. Learning every curve and every point of his body as he had done for you. 

You wanna memorize the roadmap of him. Take a snapshot in your mind so that next time, none of it is unfamiliar territory. 

Your touch is driving him insane; it doesn’t take a genius to pick up on the way his hips falter to meet your movements, or how he keeps breaking the kiss to gasp, letting his jaw fall slack when he hits a particular deep spot within you. 

It’s when your lips finally trail down the stubble sprouting across his jawline, mouth sucking on the soft skin below his ear, that he’s finally a goner. 

“‘M close,” he gasps out, almost sounding drunk as he slurs through his pants, “Ah, fuck, I’m gonna-”

“Cum for me, Eddie.” 

Maybe it’s the way you had been touching him, or the way your cunt had been fluttering around him, or the persistent rolling of your hips that had become so focused on his pleasure. Maybe it was the sight of you in his hat, looking at him like that. Maybe it was the way his name sounded on your tongue. 

Either way, when Eddie Munson comes undone, he’s beautiful. 

Your own movements slow involuntarily as you gaze starry eyed, watching the way his face scrunches and feeling his grip on you tighten impossibly. Leaving their mark, making you his in yet another way. Warmth fills your cunt and every curse word under the summer sun is falling from his lips. 

Your name, curses, prayers, gratitude – a jumbled mess, and it sounds fucking fantastic when it’s said in Eddie’s desperate tone. 

“Shit,” he gasps out, finally coming back down to Earth, “Shit.”

You sit still on his lap, skin sticky with sweat, lips spread thin in a cheeky grin, “Sounds like I get to keep your hat, cowboy.” 

His eyes shoot open, and for a second, you’re terrified.

Those aren’t the eyes of someone satisfied. 

“You didn’t cum.”

“What?”

“You,” he says, stressing the word as he shifts you off his lap. You don’t miss the way he winces, clearly a bit sensitive, “Did not cum.” 

You hadn’t really noticed, too wrapped up in him to notice your high slipping away from you. You’d been too focused on Eddie: on feeling him cum inside you, on watching him break apart, on tracing the outline of the blood rushing to his cheeks with your eyes and that fresh burst of violet on his neck in the shape of your lips. 

“It’s fine,” you start to argue, feeling the warmth of him leaking down your thighs. You should be a lot more worried about making a mess all over your sofa. You should be, but you aren’t. “I can-”

“You’re not keeping that fucking hat until you cum for me, sweetheart.” 

And, oh, maybe your own orgasm wasn’t racing as far away from you as you’d believed, because those words nearly push you over the edge for him. 

“Get on all fours for me, baby.” 

Yeah. You definitely could still be close. For him.

When you don’t move to follow his command immediately, he’s using those gentle hands to guide you. Encouraging a twist of your hips from how you’re reclining back across the couch, letting you press your cheek down against the cushion.

You open your mouth to argue, to insist it was fine, to say anything, but you’re cut silent when a sudden slap lands on your ass. 

A silent command this time, and you’re finally listening. 

You lift your ass up for him on shaky knees, elbows digging into the cushion now instead of your face. The hat on your head is lopsided, and you almost reach up to fix it when- 

“I’ll be taking that,” For the first time since you’d stolen his hat, Eddie takes it back. Right off your head, too fast for you to protest. When you dig your chin into your shoulder to look back at him, he’s smiling, hat back in its rightful place atop his curls, “You can have it back after you cum for me, at least once.”

“At least once?” you mean to laugh, to sound cocky, but it comes out as more of a squeak. 

He shrugs, leaning forward, his bare chest pressing against the skin of your bare ass – right where an imprint of his hand still sings, “At least. By all means, if you feel the need, don’t hesitate to give me a few. God knows you’ve earned it.” 

You don’t have time to banter back; he retracts before bring his mouth down to your cunt, and your elbows quickly give out at the first long stride of his tongue. 

“Gotta get you cleaned up,” he murmurs, a bit muffled, against your cunt. 

Another stride, and this time, his tongue spends an extra second at your clit, circling it salaciously. 

“Oh, God,” you moan out into a mouthful of couch cushion, tempted to bite down to hide all the noises creeping up your throat when his tongue draws yet another circle, tip of his nose pressed to your sensitive hole.

He brings his tongue back to that space, that hole that feels gaping without him filling you now, and you try to bury your cheek only to earn another slap on the ass.

“Don’t be shy now, kitty. Let me hear you.” 

And let him hear you, you do. 

Each lick, short and timid or long and confident, is dredging up obscene mewls from you. When he enters you with it, curling it and pressing as deep as he can, truly cleaning you up as he had said, you’re chanting his name. 

“Fuck, Eddie,” you cry softly, rocking your body back against his mouth, “Your fingers. P-Please, use your fingers.” 

Your wish is his command as he brings his hand up between your legs, breaking from having his tongue buried inside of you and using a calloused pad of his finger to trace over your clit before he begs, “Say my name again.” 

You do. Over, and over, and over as his mouth and his fingers begin to work against you. Careful focus is placed on your clit, and his mouth runs amok between your cunt and thighs. You feel what will no doubt be hickies along the curve of your ass, nips of teeth against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh as he presses two fingers into you. With every thrust of his hand, your hips are rocking back to match his rhythm, wanting more. 

More, more, more. 

There’s nothing nice and slow about this. You’re chasing after a high, and Eddie is listening to you every step of the way. 

Your thighs begin to shake terribly right around the time your vision blurs, unable to contain the whines that have grown to echoing volumes. Surely, your neighbors can hear. Probably confused as to who Eddie is, probably considering how embarrassing it would be to knock down your door and complain about the noises. 

You really, really don’t give a fuck when white speckles flood your vision, even with your eyes screwed shut, and that tension between your hips threatens to snap. 

Right before your knees give out, your entire body trembling, Eddie pulls back and grabs your hips. You cry out, so close yet so far, until he’s flipping you back over. 

You get one glimpse of him before he goes to work to bring you over that edge – lips and chin slick with you, hair frizzing beneath his hat, a determined glint in his eyes that have your thighs clenching around his ears. 

You were right. Eddie Munson looks damn good between your thighs. 

He quickly returns to his mitigations, and this time, it’s all a bit more strategic. Lips suctioned around your clit and three fingers curling deep within you, a beckoning motion as he urges you to let go for him. 

The white returns behind your eyelids. Your back arches up off the sofa. Your ankles lock as they cross behind Eddie’s back, almost effectively trapping him in place.

You cum hard for him. 

You’re entirely unaware if you scream his name in the process, but you hope you do. As that relief, that ecstasy, floods your system, you hope you make sure everyone within a five mile radius knows who’s responsible. Your entire body continues to shake for far longer than you believe it ever has before. Your hips had lifted, begging for Eddie to keep going even as it all grew painful.

He does. He keeps going, sucking you dry for every drop you have to give him, until you’re physically having to shove him away. 

Your hands are weak as you sink down into the cushion, eyes still closed as you hear him chuckle before you feel him crawl his way back up your body. 

“There,” you don’t even need to see his face to see that smug satisfaction – his voice is dripping in it. “Now you can keep the hat.” 

One of your hands blindly throws itself through the air to smack him, missing entirely as you drift through the afterglow of it all. 

“I’m not sure I’ve earned it,” you mumble as he catches your wrist, limp in the air, “Pretty sure I didn’t break you when I made you cum.”

“Oh, you did,” he notes, hand curling around your wrist. You watch as he slowly brings it to his lips, peppering a few chaste kisses on the soft skin, “Just in a different way.” 

You raise your eyebrows, smiling at the tingling feeling left behind on your skin in the wake of his mouth, “Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

He tugs you to sit up despite your groan of protest, somehow smoothly maneuvering the two of you so that he’s now the one beneath you, letting the full weight of you bear down on his chest as you lay on top of him. The hand wrapped around your wrist brings it back up for more kisses, more repetitive gentle pecks of affection, as his other arm is quick to wrap around you. Holding you in place, as though he’s scared you might disappear. 

“Well,” you whisper against the bare skin of his chest, nearly shivering when his free hand starts to trail slowly up and down your spine, “Good.” 

Your cheek feels the vibrations of his chuckle, “That’s all you have to say?” 

“Give me a few minutes to recover,” you insist, all but nuzzling into him, “I’m sure I’ll have a smartass comeback for you once I’m…” you trail off, heavy eyes looking up at him, the words lost on your tongue and in the air. 

The gentle curve of his cupid’s bow. The roundness at the end of his nose, still a fading hue of pink. The freckle beneath his right eye. The way the phantom of the dimple of his left cheek never quite leaves his face.

All the things you’ve dreamt of seeing so up close, never knowing it could have been a reality. 

He lets go of your wrist, smiling softly with a shake of his head, “Can’t believe you’re gonna fall asleep on me.”

“Am not,” you nearly say under your breath, sighing in content. 

“Am too,” he mocks, a certain docility to all his teasing before he sighs as well, “It’s okay. You can. I’ll still be here when you wake up.”

You hum, eyes fluttering shut as you hear some rustling, “Promise, cowboy?” 

“Absolutely, kitty. You said something about tomorrow, remember?” 

You both laugh in sync as your couch suddenly becomes the most comfortable place in the world. 

Just before losing consciousness, right as you feel Eddie’s breathing even out along with your own, you decide to open your eyes one last time to catch sight of the cowboy hat perched carefully on your coffee table. 

Tomorrow. You hope for a thousand tomorrows as you decide that that hat is definitely yours now.

[my-castles-crumbling]

skirt - Jegulus microfic - @into-the-jeggyverse - word count: 353

“C’mon, Reg!” Barty called up to him from the bottom of the stairs to the Common Room. “I’m sure it’s not that bad!”

“Yeah, just like it ‘wasn’t that bad’ when you pissed yourself in front of the entire Great Hall in second year!” Regulus retorted, refusing to go down another step.

But it was Evan who spurred him into action. “Are you really going to let the Gryffindors think we Slytherins can’t take a dare?”

So he began to walk down, grumbling the entire time, shifting uncomfortably and pulling at his clothing. When he finally found himself level with Barty and Even, Barty clapped him on the back. “There. Not so bad, is it?” Barty asked bracingly.

“You’re not the one in a skirt,” Regulus mumbled sourly.

It had been part of a Gryffindor versus Slytherin bet. Losing team had to host a victory party for the winners, and wear skirts the entire night. Dorcas called the whole thing ‘sexist and stupid’ but Regulus was still nervous as he walked into the packed Common Room.

“You look good, honestly,” Evan shrugged. “You have nice legs.”

“He- he what?” Barty gaped, looking rather furious.

But Regulus was over the entire thing. He pushed past his two best friends and went to find a drink.

And for a while, things were fine. Nobody really said anything. The shock factor had worn off long before he’d come down to join the party and he thought that maybe he could get away with surviving the night without comment. 

Until he noticed James Potter staring at him unabashedly, his mouth wide open and his cheeks pink.

“What’re you looking at?” he sneered, trying to mask his nervousness.

But it was Potter who ended up stuttering. “I…er…I….fuck,” he mumbled, scrubbing at his face. “Nothing, it’s just…you look good, Regulus,” he said, voice genuine, as he looked him up and down.

“Oh. Thanks,” he said, blinking in shock before jutting his chin in the air.

And if he purposely swayed his hips a bit as he walked away so Potter had something to look at, well….that was his business.

[nerdlvr]

just perfect.

you bit the inside of your cheek as you watched jisung's stupid smile spread across his face, his body leaning towards the mystery girls ear, his words mute against the music of the room.

"need a drink?"

even more perfect.

you felt your body tense as a soft breath grazed your neck, "yuta-"

his hand slipped around your waist, pulling you gently against his chest, "you can tell who i am just from my voice? such a sweet girl- i knew you'd never forget me."

his grip was firm as you tried to release yourself from his grasp, hands tugging at his, "let go-"

"look-" he placed his chin on your shoulder, chuckling softly, "little jisungie seems to have gotten tired of waiting around- first time you let him out of the house and he's-"

"stop that-" you turned around shoving his chest harshly, "stop messing with my head- you have no idea what's going on between me and jisung-"

"i don't?" you gulped as a smirk spread on his lips, body moving closer to you, "i don't know about your fake little relationship- how he just wanted to test out what it's be like to have a girlfriend? he just wants to fuck something, y/n- don't forget your place- you think he'll hang around after he gets his piece?"

you felt your chest tighten, words getting jumbled in your throat, "whatever jisung does has nothing to do with me-"

"oh but it does- it completely does sweetheart, because you thought he might actually be different, you thought he was so so sweet to you because he cared. and now you look desperate searching for him in a party."

you slapped his hand away as he reached for your face, "you know nothing about jisung."

you tugged your skirt down as pushed through the crowd, yuta's mocking laugh making your cheeks burn uncomfortably.

in all honesty- you also knew nothing about jisung.

age? 20. major? unknown. siblings? no even a clue.

you downed the first shot that was in your sight as you entered the kitchen, a shiver running down your spine as you gagged.

.

just perfect.

jisung's eyes scanned the room- where the hell were you?

first you tell him that you're not coming to the party, and then you're posted up on twitter showing off the sluttiest little cheerleader outfit he's ever seen- well maybe not the sluttiest.

the girl that had been annoying him for the past half hour had to take the prize for sluttiest outfit. she was barely clothed, tits on full display as she leaned in closer to him.

"park jisung- look at me!" she reached for his face desperately, manicured nails cold against his face.

he sunk deeper into the couch as he inched away from her grasp, "uh- just- just jisung is fine- no need for all the formalities." he laughed nervously as he sat up straight again, grabbing her hands to place them on her lap.

"have you by any chance caught a girl walking in? green cheerleader outfit, about- hm about this tall- curly hair- really really nice-"

"jisungie i have a green cheerleader outfit-" she played with the hem of her basically nonexistent skirt, a dumb grin on her face.

"uh-huh- i bet you do-" he sat up a little taller, eyes slightly squinting as he searched the room again.

"jisung-" she giggled as he jolted in his seat, her hands sneaking across his lap, "jiiisungiee-"

his smile spread as he gripped her hands, slowly dragging them away from his lap. she bit her lip as she waited for his next move, cheeks heating up at his touch.

he moved in closer, breath fanning against her ear, "you touched me- and my dick remained completely soft- now if you have the slightest bit of shame, you'd ask a guy if he has a girlfriend before throwing yourself at him."

she pulled her hands out of his grasp, moving away on the couch as he straightened her outfit- clearly embarrassed.

but jisung didn't even give her a second glance, his eyes now trained on the familiar figure in the crowd.

even more perfect.

his eye twitched as he watched your ex boyfriend reach towards your face. the hosts never show up so what was he doing here trying to make moves on you?

he got up from his seat, fingers nervously picking at the skin of his lips. after everything- would you drop it all for a moment of relief with your slimy ex?

the short answer was no. he grinned as he watched you push him away, you body moving through the crowd as you distanced yourself from him.

he didn't hesitant as he strode after you- not missing the opportunity to bump past yuta on his way.

.

"park jisu-" you gagged softly, the shot of patron already not sitting right in your stomach.

"hey- hey pretty girl- you okay?" he was quick to move close to you, hands moving up to cup your face, "how many have you had?"

you pushed him away, a grimace on your face, "stop acting like that."

he stood back to watch you, your fingers playing with the rim of your shot glass, "like what?"

"i'm not your girlfriend park jisung- barely friends- so stop acting all lovey dovey." you nodded towards the stranger that appeared behind you, his steady hands filling your glass again.

he scoffed at you, hands moving to rest on his hips, "i recommend you watch that pretty mouth of yours- i don't like my girls drunk."

"why not? isn't it easier to sleep with me if i'm drunk? that's what you want anyways right? why you're doing all this?" you lifted the glass to your lips, hands clenching as the liquid burned your throat.

you whined as you felt him tug the glass away from you, "what's wrong with you right now? i've been waiting almost 2 hours for you and now you're here giving me attitude?"

"waiting? i'm sure it was a long wait as you macked on some random girl." you took a step back, cheeks heating up at the realization of your words- what were you even saying?

"oh so you think you have the right to be jealous while you went looking for yuta first instead of coming to see me?" he leaned in closer to you, face only inches away now.

"i didn't come here for you park jisung- what don't you get?"

your breath hitched as he leaned in closer, chapped lips grazing yours.

"you came here for me- i know you did- just say it."

your breath hitched as you felt his arms wrap around your waist, his lips still dangerously close to yours, "we are nothing park jisung."

his lips spread against yours, mouth turning into a wide grin, "i love that the idea of us being nothing upsets you."

you looked into his soft eyes, his gaze burning your skin, "w-what-"

"look at you baby- you're melting in my hands-" his grip on your waist tightened, your breath now caught in your throat, "i-i'm drunk- park jisung-"

"no you're not- you're horny-" he chuckled against your lips, your eyes fluttering shut as they dragged across yours softly.

you felt his arm wrap farther around you, hand snaking down past your ass to press against your aching core, "it's hot down here isn't it baby? so hot you want me to fix it for you?"

you gripped his jersey, lips parted in a moan as you nodded softly.

"go home." his arms detangled from your body, pushing you away with his hands so he could look at you.

you were flushed all over, skin slightly sticky with sweat as your chest rose and fell with each pant- his balls were going to explode.

"text me when you're home- i- actually- wait here for a sec, i'll call you an uber."

you watched him dumbly as he reached for his phone, tapping at the screen, "jisung-"

"car's right around the corner- get home safe- remember text me." he pushed you softly towards the door, patting your ass to urge you out.

he watched as you shuffled away, hands bunched at the sides of your hips as you hung your head low.

"dude did you just send her home- what are you- her dad?"

his head snapped up as his friend entered the kitchen, his arm lazily wrapped around his girlfriend's waist.

"he just pulled a me! remember when i made out with you during that halloween party and then left you with blue balls! he totally just pulled a me!" he watched mark's girlfriend happily jump in place, soft giggles leaving her lips at the realization.

"sungie- she'll be all over you in no time- trust me-" she threw her thumb towards mark, "it works like a charm."

mark reached towards jisung's shoulder, squeezing softly, "dude- you're in some deep shit now."

wait- why didn't he just sleep with you?

ᡣ𐭩 ｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅rent-a-girlfriend.com ~ 21. BOMBOCLATT

previous ~ masterlist ~ next

notes : you'll be banging on my chest, bang-bang, gorilla. idk where the angst went so i will try to start an emo fight next chapter cause how am i going to miss to opportunity for horny party scene COME ON NEOWWWW- ok but yeah next chapter we're mixing it and twisting it haha

taglist : @bunniin , @neverbeurs , @fakeuwus , @natokkiz , @222brainrot , @mystverse , @sk8mrk , @ksywoo , @snowyseungs , @nislost , @nosungluv , @jae-n0 , @peterm4rker , @livingdoll-hara , @doejaejung , @tommina , @413ktz , @aerivrs , @cyjzzl , @dolleyedgirl , @nneteyamss , @mrkleelvr , @4chensungs , @nctrawberries , @multifandomania , @catpjimin , @dudekiss3r , @yuujiswrld , @slayhaechan , @catdonut657 , @kodasity , @ohwowzersthatscool , @byeonwooseokabs , @hyucksunset , @rksbae , @hyucktion , @lionzyon , @baobeii55 , @jakesbubu , @axo-l0tl , @sunghoonsgfreal , @strawberrysavi , @hyunjungjae , @kookssecret , @babrieeee , @defzcl , @sikuthealien

[anarchythorn]

wait wait wait youre on to something actually. wait. oh my god. deadass this just gave me the most peak revelation about the movie. Afton's treatment of the children is almost DEFINITELY going to be showed or implied to be a reflection of his treatment of Vanessa isn't it. oh my god.

like... he treats them like an abusive father. he KNOWS he has control over them, it seems like he feels ENTITLED to it if anything. "I MADE YOU!" in that moment probably carries the same meaning as a shitty parent saying "I brought you into this world, I can take you out of it!" to scare their kid. he controls them and he controls Vanessa in almost the same ways, it's all but directly stated that he veiws/treats both of them like tools that he has some kind of entitlement to.

"You had ONE job!"

to Vanessa, acting almost like her ability to be his little helper is all she's good for in his eyes (and he certainly has no qualms about getting rid of her once she isn't his obedient helpful accessory anymore!!)

"Wake up, children! I have something for you to play with!"

to the animatronics, some of which had just been fucking tased, and yet he not only fully expects them to obey his order, but he phrases it like they should be thankful to do so in the same way a kid would be grateful for a new toy.

Spot the difference in the intentions behind these lines btw:

"Look at you. Look at the NASTY things you have become! Look how small you are! How worthless you are! You are wretched, rotten little beasts! I MADE YOU!"

"A little old for temper tantrums, aren't we, Vanessa?"

he's literally just more direct about it in the first one but both are literally intended to do the same exact same thing: to make the receiving party feel small. to paint the receiving party as unreasonable/incapable of "reasonable" behavior.

he belittles them and he belittles Vanessa when he doesn't get what he wants. he killed the kids with no remorse, he for all intents and purposes ATTEMPTS to kill his own kid just the same. for all intents and purposes, Vanessa is little more than a tool in his eyes, and the kids are just the same.

...I wonder if Vanessa ever watched her father talk to the animatronics and remembered all the times that he talked to her like that. I wonder if her childhood was robbed from her the same as the spirits' childhoods were, the only difference being that she got to live into adulthood instead of simply being cut short.

FNAF MOVIE SPOILERS

I guarantee y'all that the way Afton spoke to the animatronics in his big "I made you!" speech is exactly how he spoke to Vanessa growing up.

[tojisprettylittlething]

ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴀ ᴘʀᴀɴᴋ, ʜᴜʜ?

jealous!boyfriend!Toji Fushiguro x fem!reader —𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘱𝘶𝘭𝘭 𝘢 𝘱𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘰𝘯 𝘛𝘰𝘫𝘪 𝘣𝘺 𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘨𝘶𝘺’𝘴 𝘧𝘭𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘧𝘭𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬—𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘦’𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘢𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘥.

warnings: jealous!Toji, possessiveness, smut (MDNI), rough sex, spanking, mean!Toji, backshots that have you crying, degradation, mild dumbification, marking, overstimulation, a little bit of crying, slight aftercare (if you have a gun to your head), creampie, Toji’s dick is a problem, he’s so mean but he loves you.

word count: not that long, but filthy

a/n: You got a sick mind. I love it.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Toji wasn’t the jealous type.

At least, that’s what you thought.

Because here he was, lounging on the couch at this house party, legs spread wide, arm slung over the backrest, swirling the last of his drink while watching you flirt with another guy right in front of him.

And he was smiling.

That lazy, cocky, unsettling smirk that told you he was up to something.

Your whole plan had been to rile him up. Get under his skin. Maybe earn yourself some good, rough, jealous sex at the end of the night. You wanted to see him get possessive, to grab your waist, whisper some warning in your ear about how you belong to him.

But instead, he was entertaining it.

“You really got a way with words, don’tcha?” Toji drawled, raising a brow at the guy currently eating out of the palm of your hand.

The poor man—some dude whose name you hadn’t even caught—was completely oblivious, nervously laughing at Toji’s comment while still trying to win your attention.

You played along, tilting your head, running your fingers down your own arm as you giggled. “He’s funny, isn’t he, baby?”

Toji took a slow sip of his drink. “Oh yeah. Fuckin’ hilarious.”

Something about his tone made your stomach flip. That wasn’t a compliment. That was a warning.

Still, you doubled down, letting your hand brush against the guy’s arm, even batting your lashes up at him.

Toji just chuckled.

You were so screwed.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The second you stepped into Toji’s house and in his room, the air shifted.

His hand was around your waist before the door even closed, a solid wall of muscle and heat pressed against your back.

“That was real cute, baby,” he muttered against your ear, voice like gravel, rough and deep and sending a shiver down your spine. “Real fuckin’ cute.”

“Toji,” you laughed, trying to turn in his grip, “it was a prank—”

A sharp smack landed on your ass. You yelped.

“A prank?” His tone was mocking now. He let go of you just long enough to spin you around and shove you forward. Your knees hit the mattress before you even realized what was happening.

“Toji, wait—”

“Bend over.”

You swallowed. Hard.

Your hands fisted into the sheets as you obeyed, laying your head onto the mattress. The rustle of his belt unbuckling was the only warning you got before his hands were yanking your hips back, forcing you into an arch, positioning you just how he wanted.

“So fuckin’ funny,” he muttered, pushing your skirt up, snapping the waistband of your panties. “Flirting with some dumb fuck. In front of me.”

“Toji, I told you—”

Another smack. Hard. Right over your panties. Your thighs clenched together on instinct.

“What was that, baby?”

“I—it was a prank,” you gasped, voice muffled by the bed. “Just wanted to—fuck—wanted to mess with you.”

A dark chuckle rumbled from his chest. “Mess with me, huh?”

He didn’t waste any more time.

Fabric tore. A startled gasp barely made it past your lips before he was pressing the tip of his cock against your soaked entrance, teasing, dragging it through your folds.

“You wanted my attention, baby?” His voice was dangerously low. “You got it.”

And then he thrust.

The force knocked the air from your lungs. Your fingers clawed at the sheets as his cock stretched you open, filling you to the brim in one brutal stroke.

“Toji—!”

“Too fuckin’ late for that,” he grunted, pulling back just enough to slam back in, knocking you forward. “Wanted to play games, huh? Thought that shit was funny?”

You could barely breathe, barely think, eyes rolling as he fucked into you with ruthless, bruising thrusts. Every snap of his hips had you seeing stars, his grip on your waist bruising, his cock dragging against that sensitive spot over and over.

“Toji—fuck, fuck—”

“You can’t even talk,” he mocked, voice laced with amusement and something dark. His hand fisted in your hair, yanking your head back just enough for his lips to brush against your ear. “That dumb little brain finally went quiet?”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. He was relentless, fucking you so deep, so rough, every stroke pushing you further into the mattress, pleasure and pain twisting into one.

“S’too much,” you whined, voice shaky.

“Too much?” he echoed, a smirk curling against your skin. “Nah, baby. You wanted this.”

He wasn’t wrong.

His grip tightened. His thrusts got meaner, deeper, his name spilling from your lips in broken, needy moans.

And when you came, it was a fucking mess—your body tensing, legs trembling, his name punched from your throat as you clenched around him.

But he didn’t stop.

Didn’t let up, not even a little, just kept fucking you through it, dragging out every last shockwave of pleasure until you were sobbing into the sheets, body shaking, words slurred.

“Shit, baby,” he muttered, voice husky. “So fuckin’ pretty like this. Cryin’ all for me.”

Your only response was a choked-out whimper.

And then he was cumming, groaning deep in his chest as he slammed into you one last time, spilling inside, making sure you felt every last drop.

You barely registered when he pulled out, when he gently turned you onto your side, one big hand running down your thigh in lazy circles.

“Next time you wanna prank me,” he murmured, pressing a kiss against your temple, “Think about this.”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

a/n: you should be ashamed of yourself. but also, you’re welcome.

[l0s3rd0wnt0wn]

the reader has each time that a member of her family tries to create a bond with her:I am not your pet, I never liked you, I don't care about you I won't wait for you. I hate you.

Yum, good soup!

They'll do anything to spend time with him. Bruce has never watched anime in his life, but you love *Ouran High School Host Club* and *Soul Eater*. With no choice, you watch with him, only for him to ask fifty or more questions. And you always end up leaving him behind in the dust. But he's trying; you're still his baby, even if you side with him like that.

Dick always wanted to help you out with your like a big brother should, showing you the way, but you growl like a wild animal if he gets close to curls. Sure, you let him put growth oil in your cornrows, but that's all he'll ever do. You avoid that man like he has cheese touch.

Jason hasn't been a teen in forever, maybe reading a comic or two and bonding with you about how stupid comics draw women or how ugly the super-realistic style is, just for readers to roll their eyes every time he speaks. Why is he talking to me? Come on, laugh at his jokes; he knows you, he's funny. Come in and giggle!

Tim, you both are nerds. Why don’t you guys play some D&D? "Nah, I have my own party." Tekken 8? Nah, you prefer MK. Come on, just hang out with him! Geeks stick together, but for some reason, you’d rather play with random online players. He’s literally the superior player, and he’s way cooler and funnier, so don’t ditch him for your friends—he's a better rival!

Damian, please, oh, please let him hang out with you. Let him be a little brother; let him ride on your back. Let him play video games with you. Let him come to your room when you have a night in, but you refuse; you blow him off like the plague. Don’t tell him you’re not free—he tracked your schedule!

Stephanie, let's go shopping, paint each other's nails, talk about our crazy crushes, go shopping, and max out Bruce's cards. Oh, you're busy? That's cool. Wait, all your friends are hanging out together, and you're going to Chuck E. Cheese? Why don't you let her join? Oh, you guys were planning this and you don't have an extra space? Maybe next time you'll spend time with your favorite gal pal.

Cass will psychoanalyze all the shonen you've ever watched. Even if it's unrealistic and people don't scream for 15 minutes and suddenly get powerful in the show. Oh, Kengan Ashura! Tell her about the lore and all the fighters; please talk to her about it. She'll pose like the fighters and recreate the moves for you. Come on, just hang out with her. She won't talk, or she'll talk your ear off, but your face of indifference tells her you really don't care; you'd rather watch something else. Fine, Cass will watch it with you.

Duke, come chill with him. Sure, you guys have only had two conversations, and so what? You can't have more? Listen to Kendrick with him; why don't you both bond over not liking and hating on Drake? Schoolboy Q shit. He'll even play Doechii's Chromakopia is out. Let's rap to Sticky. You don't fuck with that? Oh, it's cool; he'll listen to whatever you like. He'll do whatever you like! You guys can watch Boondocks together and make random references that only you two understand. Let him give you a retwist. Let him be your brother, but you'd rather hang out with some loser from your school? What's that about?

[growth-opportunities]

Even though we don't talk anymore, this is the picture I love to go back to when I think about my old friend group. It's just so thrilling to me, to think about what this picture used to show. We were all moderately busty when we met (I have my own theories about women of similar bust sizes becoming friends, but that's for another day.) Jenny, sitting next to me in the leopard print, was the biggest at an E cup and I was the smallest, though still sitting pretty with a pair of juicy C cup tits. We were all headed up to my parents' summer home for a few days to really break in the new swimming pool. It was meant to be a dream vacation with my best friends, girls who had been my best friend for a long, long time.

All it took was a few shots of Pink Whitney to turn it into a nightmare.

Okay, that's kind of an exaggeration. It was already a nightmare, I just didn't know. But alcohol helped loosen Allison (in the back, behind Jenny)'s lips. As soon as she mentioned Joe, my boyfriend, I knew something was up. A few more shots and a screaming match later, it all came tumbling out. Turns out Joe had been cheating on me with Jenny for a few months now. Allison and Shannon knew about it but they were all keeping it a secret from me. It broke my heart, of course, but it really twisted the knife when she started talking about how her boobs meant she could steal any guy she wanted and that Joe deserved someone better than someone 'small' like me. Needless to say, I kicked them out and made them find their own way home. I had never been more furious in my entire life. Just the betrayal of it all, from people that, just days before, I felt like I could trust with my life.

I still had a few days at the vacation home, so I continued to drink all by myself, threw myself a nice little pity party. And, in a moment of impulsiveness, I may have kind of turned to magic. The others had always teased me for my interest in the occult, so I thought what better way to get back at them. And if they were all fine with stealing my boyfriend, then I had no qualms stealing something back from them. And what better than the things that Jenny thought made her so fucking superior. I threw together the stuff that I needed (though admittedly, it was a little janky to use my mom's scented candles for the ritual) and called upon the Powers Beyond to help me. Turns out, the Powers Beyond respond really well to revenge. Not only did I steal almost all of their tits, but they rewrote reality so that I always had tits that big and they were always that small.

It was unbelievably arousing to look down and see my tits swelling, watching my bikini top shift as reality adapted to my new size. Feeling their growing weight, watching as they swelled larger and larger, spilling out of the top until reality gave me a new one... I can see why people keep going back to make deals with otherworldly powers. I thought the picture of us together and happy, just before my world shattered, would always be a painful reminder, but now it's proof of my revenge. I doubt Joe is with Jenny still, in this reality, but I couldn't give a shit about them anymore. Their tits have made me absolutely enormous and I can't wait to see what life is like at this enormous size.

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

Omg just read your love potion fic for rafe, and it was SO good. Please please think about making a continuation!!!!

a/n: back at it again with part 3! this time we getting sluttyyyyyy

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

| previous part |

masterlist | join my taglist

“Wait, baby,” you tried to pry your boyfriend’s lips off of your neck as they danced down the length of it, and his greedy touch began to wander up your skirt, “not here!”

“Why not?” Rafe murmured against your skin. He didn’t even offer the fellow college students surrounding the wall he had you pressed up against a single glance as he clearly had other priorities than getting drunk at yet another frat party, “let them watch,” he snuck his fingers up even higher till his touch found your core, “let them see me pound your pussy till she cries,” he drew greedy patterns over your panties, making your cunt clench in response, “at least then they’d know who you belong to.”

“Oh my god, I can’t believe you actually have me considering it…” your eyes fluttered up towards the ceiling as he pressed the tent in his pants up against your thigh, “how are you even hard again already?” you asked, half horrified as the two of you had literally just stumbled back downstairs after he’d yet again not been able to keep his insatiable paws off of you.

“How can I not be when the girl I love is so amazing?” he casually dropped the meaningful declaration that he’d repeatedly uttered ever since that very first day when you’d given him that 

enchanted muffin that changed him forever, the sun hadn’t even set that evening before he’d spat out those three words you’d so long yearned to hear, although now, weeks later, they didn’t settle deep within you in quite the same way. Shifting his hand, he then stuffed it down into your underwear without a care in the world who might see, “I would do fucking anything for you…”

It was rare these days that you weren’t sore, as a ravenous sex drive was one of the numerous side effects that had come along with the love spell you perhaps should have thought through a bit more carefully. Though you had been aware of the severity and danger of such charms, it was another thing to endure it in real life and come to accept that, for example, having a boyfriend who couldn’t stop himself from stalking you was a reality you simply had to live with. For even if you were admittedly in over your head, the darker sides to the deal were something you’d just have to find a way to deal with, since that way, you’d at least still have him. 

© 2025 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[videokilled]

Vox picked up the pace again when Alastor didn’t also slow down at the wild noise. He had never heard the noise of an alligator announcing its ire at encroaching parties. He’d never even really seen one in person- ever. There certainly hadn’t been any other than teeny babies at the zoo. And that had been centuries ago.

He did trip mildly but recovered with the grip of Alastor’s hand for leverage.

“Ew. Ew. Ew.” Vox barked under his breath as he placed his feet and started hearing squelching of the wet moss beneath them.

Vox assumed ‘bad news’ meant the Angels were approaching- which he would also classify as bad news. But with the sudden yank and a noise pulled out that Vox would have paid to scrub from the internet and the radio demon’s own brain— he now classified ‘bad news’ as ‘I’m going to carry you like a damsel’.

“Alastor—“ he snarled and did immediately struggle against the other to be put down. His antennas sparkling too- but he was in guise. So it just made a general staticky feeling. He tried to lift his legs or twist out of the other’s hold. Obviously trying to get down and support himself. He wasn’t helpless.

Thankfully- as disruptive as the struggling was- it paused when over Alastor’s shoulder, Vox saw from his new vantage point (and not staring at his feet) the vibrating culprit- a 6 foot alligator that perfectly blended in as a mossy jagged log. It hissed and rumbled its dissent, and turned tail to slide fully into a nearby puddle-lake.

Vox’s mouth dropped and went still in the other’s arms. Just briefly. Only this time. It was just for speed.

He had seen what those creatures did to those they caught in their jaws.

Demonic or not- it wasn’t something he was vying to experience.

“This never fucking happened- I’m not that type.” He grumbled under his breath, but otherwise held onto the others shoulder tightly and allowed the carrying.

Vox was still taking very deep breaths, and took a step to hold onto the tree as he felt all his blood rush to his head and tunnel vision took over just for a moment. His focal turning into a peripheral feeling vision. But it faded in just a few moments. But unless Alastor had been looking elsewhere- it had been pretty obvious for just that second that he had been about to pass out. Just from exertion versus not realizing how much the smoke had been affecting him.

He gave his head a quick mild shake with a hard blink to shake off the rest of the dizziness. Then stilled as Alastor spoke, just to focus on pulling on his human guise once more as he listened. His deep raven brown hair with the red stripe still a bit sweaty and messy running through the bayou earlier.

They had laid on the alarm button for far too long to not bring some very motivated scouts their way.

Vox looked up when his hand was taken, a step behind Alastor’s speech so he stumbled a bit when he was pulled but moved to follow promptly after.

“The car was that way right-??” He said still sounding winded and cleared his throat at the end of it. not quite able to keep the pace up casually, as he was staring at the ground. Definitely not as confident in his foot placement as Alastor. Even on the seemingly hard ground there were roots and tall grass that he didn’t trust.

As the hurried away from the house, Vox finally also picked up on the weird jittering of the air- not even the air. The fabric beneath the air. Like a Deja vu feeling but made of eyes. Vox knew that feeling all too well, would place it easily as the angry roiling type of Angelic attention. They needed to leave expeditiously. He did try to hurry up a degree further then. Gripping onto the others hand. There was a deep hissing and chuttering noise- vibration underwater- that Alastor would know meant jaws nearby. Not imminent- but much too close for comfort.

Vox slowed just slightly in concern to look around.

“Th’f’ck w’s ‘at??” He said alarmed right into his accent again. His voice cutting out momentarily still drawn raw from the smoke and disuse earlier.

[archangeldyke-all]

Angel… hear me out…

butch babies already has 4 drabbles, just one more to get an emoji and be officially a series soooo… what do we (you) think about writing about one of them being jealous maybe bc of insecurities (like idk someone was flirting with sev and reader started feeling insecure bc she is like complete opposite of this other girl), OR maybe they got on a stupid argument and they both are so dumb and stubborn that they don’t know how to solve shit (they are teenagers after all) so they try and make a move to solve everything like organizing something in their hideout but they end up planing the exact same thing JSMDMDKD. OR how would be their first time together (i kinda picture sev waiting for an adequate moment and trying to make it really special for reader, maybe as a birthday gift, or celebrating like an anniversary of that first fight when they meet).

I’m just obsessed with them atm 😭😭😭

this whole series is healing my inner teenager ugh asd;lfjas;ldkj

men and minors dni

you're having a shitty night.

you and sevika snuck up to piltover to sneak into some university frat party-- looking to sell the shitty cave-weed you've been growing in your hideout to rich college kids who don't know any better. at first, it was fun. you made good money, drank expensive liquor, and danced to piltie music.

but now, you're a little drunk, you've got a headache from the altitude, and sevika's pissing you off. she's got her signature cocky smirk-- the one usually directed at you-- pointed at some pretty, proper, pilite girl.

sevika says she's yours. she says you're her favorite girl in the world. but... sometimes you worry.

you know you're different from most girls your age. you've never been interested in typical girly things. wearing dresses makes something nervous start to crawl around in your stomach, and you prefer to keep your hair short and out of the way, not bothering with ribbons or clips or bows. even in zaun; where piltover pinks and frills are traded out for flashy piercings and bold makeup-- femininity just doesn't suit you, no matter what form it takes.

you huff as your girlfriend leans closer to the piltie girl, snatching the closest bottle of good liquor and storming out of the frat house.

you make it halfway down the block before sevika comes running after you.

"hey! don't you hear me callin' your fuckin' name?" you roll your eyes and keep walking. you can hear her scramble after you, before she reaches out and tugs your arm. "what's your fucking problem?"

"what's your fucking problem!?" you ask.

sevika gawks at you. "i-i dunno?" she asks. "i thought we were having a fun time!"

"you sure seemed to be having fun." you huff.

"well, yeah! babe, look!" sevika reaches in her pockets and starts pulling out silverware and watches. you snort and roll your eyes, and resist the temptation to show your best friend your own stolen goods from the evening.

"sev... do you ever think..."

"what?" she asks, still confused.

you sigh. "sometimes i feel like you should be with someone so prettier than me."

"what?!" sevika shouts. "y-you're the prettiest girl in the entire universe--"

"yeah, but i'm not, like..." you flail a bit, looking for the words.

sevika frowns at you. "you're not what?"

"you know sevika. you've known me since i was a kid. you're the same way, sorta." you say.

"so you don't think i'm pretty?" sevika asks.

you gasp and reach out for her with your free hand. "no!" you shout. "sevika-- you're so pretty, your face is all i ever think abo--"

"then why are you being weird?!" sevika shouts.

"because you were flirting with that girl!"

sevika freezes, then she bursts into laughter. "babe!" she cackles.

you huff and pull away from her, taking a sip off the bottle you'd stolen.

"i don't get what's funny."

"i was scamming her!" sevika cackles. you blink.

"what?" you ask.

sevika shrugs. "people up here are rich. and stupid. she was telling me all about how she snuck out of her sorority house-- how everyone who lives there is at a party tonight--"

"we cannot rob a sorority house!" you cut your girlfriend off. sevika deflates.

"but babe!" she whines.

you can't help but giggle with relief and exasperation. sevika must be even drunker than you-- she only gets this mischievous when she's drunk.

"absolutely not. c'mon, i took this bottle, we can go to our hideout and have our own party."

"but i only got like three sets of silverware!"

"look." you giggle, pushing the bottle into sevika's hands and reaching into your sports bra. underneath your shirt, flannel, and jacket, nobody could see the increasingly lumpy silhouette of all the shit you managed to sneak out of the frat house. telescopes, fancy lighters, pocket watches, bifocal glasses, and best of all-- two unlimited piltover university cafeteria passes.

"holy shit!" sevika gasps, grinning down at your haul. "you're fucking amazing!" she giggles.

you smile. "i'm sorry i freaked out."

"i'm sorry i didn't tell you my evil plan. guess i oughta tell my partner in crime about my criminal plans, eh?" she teases. you laugh, redistributing your goodies from the evening in your pockets, before grabbing sevika's hand and tugging her toward the university's campus. you're gonna treat your girl to an all expenses paid cafeteria dinner.

"yes, you should. now hide that liquor so we can get into the dining hall." you whisper.

sevika giggles. "these passes are for grad students. we're too young, they're gonna know!"

"we'll tell 'em we're child prodigies."

"us?!" sevika cackles. you snort and stop your trek, pulling sevika in by her waist for a kiss.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@kissyslut @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@lavenderbabu @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @my-taintedheart

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen @annesunshiner

@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @lesbodietcoke

@strawberrykidneystone @vkumi @fict1onallyobsessed @dvrkhcld @sweetybuzz25

@sluttysierraaa @snake-in-a-flower-crown @ruiwonderz @littlemisszaunite @biblicalcrybaby

@blackgaladriel @nightlyconfusion @dancingqu33n17 @losernb @p1nkearth

taglist!!

@sevikas-baby @ghostscandys @sevikasllver @runawaybaby3

[ariahmichelle]

Seeing Red

JJ Maybank Imagine

Summary- When a wealthy Kook starts flirting with you at a party, JJ cant hide his jealousy. After an argument, he finally admits how much he cares about you.

A/N- my requests are currently open

The party is in full swing, music blasting through the speakers as people dance around the bonfire. The air is thick with the scent of salt, smoke, and cheap beer. It’s a typical Outer Banks night—loud, wild, and chaotic.

But JJ Maybank isn’t having fun.

He’s standing off to the side, beer in hand, jaw clenched so tight he swears his teeth might crack. He’s barely heard a word of whatever Pope’s been rambling about for the past five minutes. Because across the bonfire, in the middle of a group of Kooks, is you.

And some guy is all over you.

A rich, preppy-looking asshole with a perfect haircut and a smug grin, standing way too close, whispering something in your ear that makes you laugh.

JJ doesn’t like it. Not one bit.

“You good, man?” Pope finally asks, following his line of sight. His expression shifts when he sees what—or who—JJ is staring at.

“Shit,” Pope mutters. “You look like you’re about to murder someone.”

JJ scoffs, taking a swig of his beer. “I’m chill.”

Pope raises an eyebrow. “Dude, your eye is literally twitching.”

JJ ignores him, his grip tightening around the bottle. He’s not jealous. He just doesn’t like Kooks. And he sure as hell doesn’t like watching one try to sweet-talk you like he’s got a chance.

And then it happens.

The guy tucks a loose strand of your hair behind your ear.

JJ sees red.

Before he even realizes what he’s doing, he’s moving, shoving past people with a determined stride. Pope calls his name, but it’s drowned out by the roar of the party.

By the time you notice him storming over, it’s too late.

JJ doesn’t hesitate—he steps right between you and the Kook, forcing him to take a step back. “Alright, Casper,” JJ sneers, tilting his head. “You can go now.”

The guy scoffs. “Uh, I was in the middle of a conversation.”

JJ grins, but there’s nothing friendly about it. “Yeah? Well, it’s over.”

“JJ,” you warn, eyes narrowing. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Saving you,” he replies easily, still glaring at the guy. “You’re welcome.”

The Kook rolls his eyes. “Dude, chill. We were just talking.”

JJ lets out a humourless laugh. “Oh, is that what you call it?” He crosses his arms, stepping even closer. “See, I know your type. You think just ‘cause you’ve got daddy’s money and a trust fund, you can get whatever you want. But she’s not for sale, man.”

Your eyes widen. “JJ—”

“Whatever, man,” the Kook mutters, backing off with a scoff. “Not worth the trouble.”

JJ watches him walk away before turning to you, expecting a thank you—maybe even a look of admiration. Instead, you’re glaring at him like you’re ready to throw him into the fire.

“What the hell was that?” you snap, crossing your arms.

JJ blinks. “What do you mean? I just saved you from—”

“I didn’t need saving! I was handling it!”

JJ scoffs. “Oh, come on. That guy was a dick.”

“You don’t even know him!”

“Don’t have to,” JJ retorts. “I know how guys like that work. He was trying to get in your head.”

You shake your head in disbelief. “And what? You think it’s your job to protect me? I can take care of myself, JJ!”

His frustration boils over. “Maybe I don’t want you to have to!”

The words hang between you, heavy and unspoken for too long. JJ’s chest rises and falls, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. Your expression softens, but your voice is still firm.

“JJ…” you sigh. “Why do you care so much?”

He runs a hand through his hair, looking away. He doesn’t want to say it—not like this, not in the middle of a party. But he’s already too deep in it now.

“Because it drives me insane watching other guys look at you like that,” he admits, his voice lower now. “Like you’re something they can just… win.” His jaw tenses. “You’re not a fucking prize, Y/N. You’re… you’re you. And they don’t get to have you.”

Your heart pounds. “And you do?”

JJ freezes, eyes snapping to yours. The firelight flickers against his face, shadows dancing across his sharp features. For once, he looks uncertain.

“I don’t get to have you,” he murmurs. “But God, I want to.”

The air between you crackles, thick with something unspoken. You swallow, your anger melting into something else entirely.

“Then maybe,” you whisper, stepping closer, “you should stop acting like an idiot and do something about it.”

JJ searches your face, like he’s trying to figure out if this is real. If he’s allowed to want this—want you.

And then he does it.

His hand finds your cheek, and before you can think, his lips are on yours. It’s messy, heated, desperate—like he’s been holding this in for way too long. And maybe he has.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, and he groans against your lips, like he’s finally found something he’s been searching for. When you finally pull back, breathless, JJ leans his forehead against yours, his hands still gripping your waist.

You laugh softly, brushing your thumb against his cheek. “Took you long enough, Maybank.”

JJ grins, pulling you back in. “Better late than never, sweetheart.”

[cece693]

You're Just Jealous of Me

pairing: the salvatore brothers x male reader tags: reader knows he's manipulative and a slut, you just don't care tbh, Elena has an aneurysm from not being the main character, the brothers know they're getting played, you're just that hot/beautiful/perfect for them to give you up, Elena bashing, no incest

"I can't believe you." Elena exclaimed, her eyes growing misty as you were getting ready to head out with Damon on a date. It hadn't even been a week since they broke up (something about her needing stability or some other bullshit) and you didn't care. All that mattered was getting through yet another 'poor me' moment without killing her and making it seem like an accident.

Seriously, what did your sister expect? That Damon was going to stay single for the rest of his days until she made a fucking choice between him and Stefan? Perhaps some of her betrayal stemmed from the fact that Stefan had also rejected her ass and had made it clear he didn't feel anything for her anymore. So now poor Elena had no one while you played with both brothers.

And it wasn't even 'playing' per se if they knew about the whole situation. You could fuck any of them, and they'll be fine with it—a thing you made clear to them when this whole thing started. You liked both brothers, but having to choose just one was unfair—they both had traits that attracted you, and if you couldn't have both, then you'll settle for nothing. Like eager children they agreed. The arrangement was abnormal to others, but for you it worked—you dated both brothers, they still hated each other (entertaining fights arising from their competitiveness on who you liked more, who was 'rocking' your world, etc.) Simple really.

"Save the tears for the pillow, sister. I’m really not in the mood—nor will I ever be—to entertain your pity parties." Pulling on one of Damon’s leather jackets, you smirked. You were a sight to behold—not only would Damon be eager to rip the clothes off you, but half the population would, too.

It was fun stirring the pot, watching Damon bare his teeth at anyone who thought they stood a chance. Jealousy was his kryptonite, and while a part of you hated targeting one of his insecurities, you always reassured him in bed of your devotion, loyalty, and love.

Yes, because at the end of the day, you loved both Salvatore brothers. This wasn't just some passing fantasy, nor was it some revenge scheme against your sister (though you did love tormenting her with the fact that you were dating the two). You were willing to throw away your human life to become a vampire—to spend eternity by their side.

"Why are you doing this to me? What have I ever done to cause this!" Now there was the Elena you knew all too well—the one who constantly placed themselves as the victim, putting blame unto you because who could ever hate a girl who lost her parents?

You let out a humorless laugh, crossing your arms over your chest. “You really want to go there?” you snap, not bothering to hide the derision in your voice. “Fine. For starters, you’ve always made Jeremy and me feel like shit, and the few times you did act like a decent human being were just so you didn’t look like a total bitch.”

“That’s not true!” she protests, anger tightening her features.

“It is, Elena,” you spit back. “When our parents died, you didn’t do a damn thing to help us cope. You were so wrapped up in your own grief, your own fucking melodrama, that you never once checked on Jeremy or me—unless, of course, it was to nag us about how we were coping. When Jeremy started doing drugs, you freaked the fuck out. Not because you cared, but because you were afraid of how it might make you look. God forbid anyone sees that the 'perfect' Elena Gilbert can’t keep her family together or help her brother kick his drug habit.”

She flinches, but you weren't done. Oh, no. You were just beginning to go down the list of why you hated her ass. "Then, when I began to hook up with Damon, you acted like I was the cause of our parents death—no, that's on you because Elena couldn't help herself and got drunk, needing a ride home at midnight. Sleeping with Damon was like I'd personally betray you."

Her cheeks flush crimson. “Well, you did! You—”

“I did what, Elena?” You take a step forward, towering over her. “I moved on? Found something that might actually make me happy? Meanwhile, you’ve been stringing both Damon and Stefan along for God knows how long. You made your choice—you dumped Damon, tried getting back with Stefan, when he told you to fuck off, you tried going back to Damon and he said the same thing. So now you’re standing here, arms crossed, lip trembling, trying to put the blame on me because you lost your backup plan.”

Her lips press into a thin line, eyes brimming with tears. But you’ve seen this act before—she’ll blink prettily, glance away like a wounded animal, and wait for you to console her. Only this time, you won't.

“You are an asshole,” she hisses, eyes narrowed into slits. “He was mine first.”

That makes you laugh, a harsh sound echoing off the hallway walls. “Right...possessive much? People aren’t property, Elena. He’s not a damn handbag you lend out when it suits you. If Damon wants to be with me, that’s his call. And if I want to keep him, that’s mine.”

She trembles, either from anger or heartbreak—you can’t tell, and frankly, you don’t care. “Why would you do this?” she asks again, her voice cracking. “What have I ever done—”

You rolled your eyes so hard you got a slight headache. "Did you even listen to me? I have every reason to hate you, so does Jeremy and the rest of Mystic Falls. Those who continue to stand by you are either stupid or hope they'll get some attention from your desperate ass. I'm done. I’m done letting you guilt-trip me. I’m done tiptoeing around your precious feelings. I’m fucking over it, Elena.”

Just then, Damon appears in the doorway, that trademark smirk on his face. “Ready?” he asks, taking in the tension between you two. His gaze flicks to the tears glistening in her eyes before returning to you. “I’m guessing we’re skipping the family therapy session?”

“Therapy? More like the mandatory guilt trip, which I’ve politely declined.”

Elena’s voice wavers, “Damon, how can you just—”

He cuts her off with a raised hand, posture casual but his eyes dangerously dark. “Stop, Elena. What we had is over. You made that choice before, remember? I’m done letting you waltz in and out of my life whenever it’s convenient for you.” You can practically feel the hatred radiating off her in waves. She’s not used to being shut down, especially not by Damon, the semi-reformed bad boy who once hung on her every word. It must sting. Oh, well. Her loss.

“As much as I loved talking to you, sister, I do believe we're running late. Don't wait up and please, if you're going to continue crying, leave my room. Keep wallowing if you want. Hell, cry yourself a fucking river. Just don’t stain my carpet.” Without another glance at Elena, you brush past Damon, and he steps aside for you to lead. He follows, closing the door behind you both, leaving your sister alone in her silence.

You descend the porch steps and greet the night air with a sigh of relief, reveling in the silence that isn’t tainted by Elena’s incessant whining. Damon slips an arm around your shoulders, guiding you toward his car parked beneath a streetlamp. His touch is warm, confident—like he’s proud of the chaos you’ve left behind.

“She’ll get over it,” he says, glancing at you with one of those trademark smirks that used to make Elena weak at the knees. Now, it just fuels your own sense of dark satisfaction.

“She’d better,” you mutter. “I’m not putting up with her drama anymore. If she wants to play the victim, she can do it alone. I’ve got better things to do.”

Damon’s grin widens. “That’s the spirit. So, where are we headed, anyway? We never actually nailed down the specifics.”

You shrug, placing an arm around his waist and snuggling closer to his side. “Anywhere but here. Got a craving for something stiff—drink or otherwise.” The innuendo doesn’t slip past him. His eyes flash with interest, and you can’t deny that thrill you get from watching Damon Salvatore light up over you instead of your sister.

“Sounds like the Grill for starters,” he suggests with a casual tilt of his head. “They might have a halfway decent bourbon I can drown myself in. As for the ‘otherwise,’ well…” He lets the sentence hang, the possibility of later events sparking arousal for the both of you.

You’re about to respond when you spot Stefan leaning against Damon's Camaro. Typical. Even without super-hearing, you know he’s probably caught every word you exchanged with Elena. Damned vampires. "What are you doing here?" Damon was the first who spoke, hand tightening over your body. As if he was a child preventing his favorite toy to be taken away from him.

"Nothing, really. I was just walking around the neighborhood and saw your car parked. But now that I see you're here with my boyfriend, I guess I have time to join you two at the grill."

"Our boyfriend."

You simply laugh at Stefan’s innocent tone, shaking your head at the absurdity of it all. Just a few minutes ago, you were telling off Elena and storming out of the house. Now you’re pinned between two vampires—both of whom are technically yours, and you are theirs. Welcome to the wonderful, fucked-up world of Mystic Falls.

“‘Our’ boyfriend,” you echo, looking from Stefan to Damon. “Are you two seriously going to argue semantics right now? Pick a damn fight over who saw me first?” A scoff escapes you as you shrug off Damon’s possessive grip just enough to stand on your own. You’re not some chew toy they get to tug-of-war over.

Stefan cocks a brow, his expression cool but laced with a hint of smugness. “I’m not here to fight,” he says, his gaze flicking to Damon. “Just wanted to make sure I wasn’t excluded. Last time I checked, this was a joint arrangement.”

Damon’s jaw clenches. Clearly, he remembers crashing your date with Stefan last week—and how you’d had to smooth over the tension in ways that involved very little clothing and a lot of apologizing on his part. “We’re not excluding you, Saint Stefan. But we do have plans that don’t involve your pensive brooding.”

Stefan straightens, crossing his arms over his chest. “Oh, so your plan is to get drunk at the Grill and then…whatever else…” He waves a hand dismissively, “doesn’t appeal to me?” He tilts his head in mock curiosity. “You sure about that?”

You snort. “Children, please. If you both really wanted to rip each other’s heads off, you’d have done it ages ago. Let’s just go. All this talk is making my head hurt.”

Damon lets out a dramatic sigh, rolling his eyes. “Fine. But if Stefan starts preaching about morality or—God forbid—Elena, I’m leaving him to pay the tab.”

Stefan’s smirk grows. “I’d pick a better conversation starter than Elena, trust me.”

You give an unimpressed half-smile. “Don’t even mention her name. As far as I’m concerned, she doesn’t exist unless she’s blocking my path to a stiff drink.”

That shuts both of them up. They exchange a quick glance—some silent vampire communication or whatever—then Damon jerks his head toward the passenger door. “Shotgun’s yours,” he says to you, ever the gentleman when it comes to seating. To Stefan, he adds begrudgingly, “Guess you can squeeze into the back...or the trunk.”

Stefan’s lip twitches like he’s fighting off a retort, but he says nothing. Instead, he silently moves to the rear door. You can’t help but grin. It’s absurd that they both share you yet still bicker like five-year-olds over the smallest shit. But hey, maybe that’s part of the charm.

Once inside Damon’s Camaro, you sink into the leather seat, adjusting your legs as you feel Stefan’s presence behind you. The tension is thick—crackling with desire, frustration, and that constant competition. You kind of love it. Damon revs the engine, and the car peels away from the curb.

“Any chance we can make this a quick pit stop at the Grill?” you say, your gaze shifting between them. “I need something to eat, maybe a drink or two, but I’m not really in the mood to fraternize with the entire damn town.”

Damon flicks you a sidelong glance. “Someone’s impatient. Looking to skip straight to dessert, sweetheart?”

A grin tugs at your lips. “I’d just rather not get cornered by whichever idiot wants the latest gossip on Elena’s meltdown.”

Stefan leans forward, resting his forearms on the front seats. “We can be in and out in under thirty minutes. Grab some wings, maybe a bourbon—or three—and leave.” He lowers his voice suggestively. “After that, I wouldn’t mind some privacy.”

Damon makes a sound of reluctant agreement. “Deal. But don’t whine when you realize your tolerance is way lower than mine, Brother.”

Stefan just smirks. “Don’t worry about me, Damon. Worry about yourself.”

The quick banter settles into a charged silence as the lights of Mystic Falls blur by. The neon sign of the Grill soon comes into view, and Damon maneuvers into a parking spot with practiced ease.

“Let’s get this over with,” you mutter, pushing the car door open. “I’m not about to waste my entire night entertaining half-drunk townspeople.”

Stepping onto the sidewalk, you can already see a few familiar faces through the window—Caroline, Matt, maybe Tyler. You can’t be bothered to care. The only drama you want tonight is the kind that ends in moans, not tears. And if Elena hasn’t slithered over here yet, you might just get your way.

Damon slides an arm around your waist possessively again, and Stefan eyes the gesture with an annoyance that’s as old as time. You sigh inwardly. No matter how many times you remind them you belong to both, they still can’t help but try to stake their separate claims. Vampire pride, maybe.

As you head inside, the ambient chatter and smell of bar food envelop you. A few heads turn—this is Mystic Falls, after all, and you’re making a very public entrance with both Salvatores. Let them stare. Let them talk.

“Your usual table?” Damon asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes,” you say. “Let’s just grab a seat and order. I’m fucking starving.”

The three of you slip into a booth. Damon slides in beside you, Stefan on the opposite side. A cute server looks mildly flustered as she hands out menus. You can see her eyes flick between Damon and Stefan, likely recalling the messy history each has with Elena. If she notices you’re with them in a more intimate sense, she doesn’t comment. Probably for the best.

“So,” Damon says, flipping open the menu, “bourbon and wings? Or do we want to start with something stronger?”

Stefan doesn’t bother with the menu. “I’ll have what you’re having,” he says with a forced casualness, drumming his fingers on the table. He’s clearly aware eyes are on you three. You can practically feel the tension rolling off him—like he’s waiting for the next potential disaster.

You roll your eyes at the both of them. “Bourbon’s fine. Then if someone pisses me off, we can move on to whiskey shots until I forget this entire night.”

Damon flashes that trademark smirk. “You, pissed off? Shocking.”

Stefan snorts, finally cracking a faint smile. “I’m sure we’ll manage to avoid any drama.”

A short, barking laugh leaves you. “In this town? With the three of us in the same damn booth? Doubtful.”

But you push aside the building dread. Because at least you’re here on your terms, Elena’s sob story is miles away, and you have both Salvatores at your side—bickering, sure, but ultimately yours. And that realization, twisted as it might be, makes a satisfied grin curl your lips. With a raised brow, you signal the server for your order. Let the vultures talk, let Elena sulk. You’ve got bigger, better things to do tonight—and two vampires to do them with.

“Bring on the bourbon,” you say, leaning back. “I’ve got all fucking night.”

[eyelambspider]

♡ Cocktail Parties || Ghost

⤷ summary : (fem!version) arguing with you right before an undercover op wasn't... the smartest, because now he has to watch you flirt with strangers. link to male!reader version!

┊pairing : simon "ghost" riley x fem!reader (dress wearing reader), tf 141 mentioned ┊content warning : (un)established relationship (you can choose), jealousy, anger, slight angst, suggestive, arguments, mentions of drinking/alcohol, men & women flirt with reader ┊word count : 1.5 k ┊a/n : ashgfhsgjg j- nothing- :)

The night was still young, on the crest of dipping into the rich gala that embodied upper-class society: Women and men alike danced in a whirl of sequins, satin and silk. Flaunting bubbling flutes of champagne and pretty lies. Bodies, throats, and wrists fitted snuggly and dripping in diamonds.

It was truly a party for the top one-percent of society. The extravagant guestlist filled to the brim with cold business moguls, old money, the famous, and the beautiful. Each bumping shoulders with glittery laughs and white smiles.

It gave Ghost a headache. Watching through the lenses of his binoculars as the crystal chandeliers glinted off the marble ballroom and directly into his retinas.

The operation had only 'officially' started merely an hour ago. The moment your shiny shoes kissed the floors below. And Ghost had come into it pissed.

Coiled up tighter than a snake and twice as twitchy, just a hair's breadth away from lashing out at the first thing that interrupted his brooding.

Price and the others had noticed, but decided not to comment on the Lieutenants hard-set jaw and his white knuckle death grip on the binoculars.

The three remaining member of Taskforce 141 exchanged knowing glances. Each of them knew it.

The two of you had fought before this.

About what? Nobody was going to ask. Not with him silently seething and muttering curses over the comms like a dreary static.

To say they were utterly relieved to be positioned away from him was an understatement. Eager to give the Lieutenant his space.

It left Ghost to his own thoughts, propped on the roof of the venue, looming over the edge of the intricately crafted glass dome like an ominous shadow. Giving him the perfect opportunity to watch over you-the Taskforce's trump card-as you gathered information on the ground and mingled.

Tonight, the collective mission was to get close to the target. To pick up information on most of the guests here, even a little. Each guest having their hands in less-than-legal business ventures. One man in particular... DeLuca or some asshole-ish name along the lines... who cared.

Ghost had something more important on his mind tonight.

He hadn't taken his eyes off you since you'd stepped foot in the building. The sight of you was enough to punch a hole clean through his chest and leave him burning up on the edges.

You walked the floor like you owned it, had to make sure of it to blend in with such an elegant crowd. A grin pulling at your lips, dripping with a natural charm that made hearts flutter. Eyes turning kindly towards whoever spoke to you or tried to catch your attention. Returning needy, simmering glances with a coy, knowing tense in your shoulders.

That was it. He was going to break these stupid fucking binoculars clean in half-

but ffuck-! He couldn't!

It would leave him without a way to watch you properly.

Ghost grit his teeth instead, suddenly forgetting to breathe under all the tension that was building up in his muscles. His legs were stiff. The one he was knelt on completely numb from the position, and his biceps were locked in a fierce bundle of (what he was convinced could only be) residual anger from your fight.

You moved through the fray of millionaires with a casualness that alluded confidence. Not afraid to gently part through the mass of high maintenance bodies and figures in a bid to get closer to the target on the other side of the ballroom. It caught the attention of those around you in a way that didn't bother the Captain, but rather, the Lieutenant.

The patrons of the party not looking with suspicion... but desire. A desire to know the woman who was walking with a quiet purpose and without a second glance back at them. When their time was worth thousands... you seemed to spare not a second on them.

Ghost couldn't even remember what the two of you had been fighting about. The entire gist of the argument flying out of his head as he watched. They all looked at you like they had a fucking chance in hell with you. It made his blood boil. The sounds of his contempt catching over the comms. "Fucking-... bloody b-... always-..."

Women with dark made-up lashes let their gazes fall over you as you passed, offering tiny giggles. Men trying to step into your path 'accidentally' and introduce themselves. Vying for your attention, or at least, your name.

Ghost had been so caught up in the fight. So angry and refusing to be anything less than right that he hadn't seen you since earlier today. Had missed the way you had gotten ready for the operation-for the party.

You had cleaned up well. Hair trimmed and styled neatly, a few locks dropping tantalizingly near your temple. And... "fuck me" Ghost muttered inaudibly... Your black dress fit your body like a dream. Sleek and elegant, enhancing the curves of your shoulders and chest, sinched to a fault at the waist.

Ghost felt a heat begin to bloom over his body and trickle down to the swell in his pants. Drinking in and savoring the sight of you even if he stubbornly refused to acknowledge it. His brown eyes followed your silhouette, eye wandering down the soft curve of your hip and the slit in your dress that revealed the supple skin of your thigh... The sleek fabric made your legs look...

Fuck, you were beautiful.

He shook his head and grumbled some more, still trying to huff in defiance of how he felt. Even if he was still heated, it was for an entirely different reason now.

Within range of the target, you stopped just short of Deluca's social circle by picking up a bubbling flute of champagne to avert suspicion. Before you could even pretend to bring the rim of the glass up to your lips, a woman's hand clasped gently over your shoulder, running over the fine fabric of your dress with a perfectly manicured caress. A soft, sharp smile dancing across her lips as she stepped in front of you, inviting herself into your space seamlessly. Her hand lingering and trailing down your bicep before she pulled it away.

Ghosts gloves creaked in protest again as he gripped his binoculars tighter. Watching her eyes rover over your face, tracing your jawline with a bone-deep confidence in herself. Had Ghost been down there, no one would lay a hand on you like that. No one would even be able to fucking shoot you a longing glance.

The man who accompanied her followed, debonair and smoky, reaching out a strong hand to shake yours in greeting. He bowed his head, gripping your hand subtly and leaning forward in order to steal a more intimate glance. His eyes flickering down to your lips before a grin pulled at his cheek and he stepped back.

The two making easy conversation with you.

"That cocky fucking bastard," Ghost seethed, attention zeroing in on the walking trust fund in front of you.

It was part of the operation. He had to tell himself that to keep his fucking head on straight.

You were in the best spot to pick up chatter from the target behind you. Indulging in laughs with people who had learned how to carry one without a second thought.

And there wasn't a fucking thing Ghost could do about it except watch. The way people teased and flirted so openly with you, stealing touches and glances. Drinking you in like the sparkling bubbles they held flawlessly between their fingers. All haughty gazes and blatant interest.

It made Ghost's stomach and chest roil with disgust. A deep heat settling over his body. The anger that once simmered in his veins was now laced with an even uglier emotion: unbridled jealousy.

No. After this fucking farce of an operation was over and you were back with the team... He was going to find you. Fuck-! you were his the moment you stepped out of this building.

The thought made his body flutter with rage and lust. The idea of having you alone now, in that dress of yours and all to himself, was a dangerous one.

You were going to get an ear full after this... fuck, maybe more. The image of his own hands running over your dress flashing into his mind. Hiking your leg over his waist, kissing you until your pretty hair was disheveled and your dress rumpled under his hands.

Those rich pricks would get an eye full of you now-let them-because he was going to be the only one to see you writhing and blushing beneath him at the end of the night.

[dollyichi]

OH KATSUKI

bakugou katsuki x f ! reader ᯓ★ 3.7k words. m—dni. roommates + university au / f/wb / toxic themes (slightly) / creamp!e (don’t be like them!) / bisexual katsuki / krbk open relationship / ex!sero / slight ooc / mentions of smoking & drinking / not proofread

an entry to my “ milk and cookies “ event with the prompt #5 “i'm not gonna last long if you tighten up like that sweetheart.” this is my self request oops!

you just broke up with your ex, and your roommate’s boyfriend is miles away. having fun together shouldn’t be too bad, right?

you’re sat by the kitchen counter. eating the reheated dinner your roommate left by the fridge. you just got home from a pretty rough night.

you’ve just broken up with your boyfriend, but that’s life. you’re sure he’s going to beg to get you back next week but it didn’t matter right now. the relationship was a mess and you were sure it wasn’t exactly love.

you hear a door open and you see your roommate getting out of the shower. “hey kats~” you say.

he places the towel on his shoulders heading over to you.

“you just got here? it’s interesting you’re actually home.” always sassy, but that’s why you liked him. it’s true, you’re rarely at home anyway. only there during exam season or at the morning. always outside at a party or with your boyfriend, now ex.

“yeah we broke up.” you say with a dry chuckle. he makes no response, instead goes to the fridge. “yikes. well that’s none of my business.” he says, not actually knowing how to comfort someone after hearing that.

the sad thing about your relationship ending was the constant sex. you were sure that was the only factor gluing you two together. he was a sweet guy, but you were sure getting your brains fucked out happened more than a proper date—and you’re sure he’s still got his ex flings on his contacts.

“you and eijirou are still dating right?”

“it’s an open relationship.” he mumbles, grabbing a glass to put water in. you’re kinda happy to know that though.

“hmm makes sense but, doesn’t it get lonely? i mean he’s in osaka and it’s a pity you’re not getting fucked while he’s gone.”

he scoffs, “who says i’m not getting fucked?”

“i know you’re home every night bringing no one over.” he shakes his head.

“tch. fuck off. what’s it to you?”

you didn’t know why you even thought of it. maybe you just wanted some type of comfort, or maybe you’re just an insatiable wreck. though nobody would blame you for finding the blonde attractive, if given the chance anyone would love to eat him up, you just wanted to know if he’d give you the privilege.

as for the ‘issue’ at hand, you didn’t cry after what happened. “let’s break up.” you repeat in your head from earlier. you didn’t know if you’re numbed from all emotion of romance but you always wanted something physical. exactly how your relationship with your ex started and now, you’ve broken up because he wasn’t being ‘a boyfriend.’

the breakup felt empty but it didn’t exactly hurt as you expected. it felt weird even. like a ‘so what now?’ feeling.

“then, let’s be fuck buddies.”

he flinches at your question. and even you were slightly surprised. still, you got it out.

“yeah right, like i could get it up for you.” though that’s a lie. he’s thought about it, once, twice. in the rare times you bring your ex over and he hears those muffled moans from the other side of your room through the wall— “come on kats. we could fuck when we’re free, how about it?”

“what even happened with that sero that you’re replacing him? or are you such a cockslut that anyone’s good?”

“we broke up so it’s fine. and i only offered to you.” he rolls his eyes and you laugh. “i’m serious! my door’s always unlocked anyway. if you wanna use your dick just come right in.”

“i’m serious, fuck off.”

you smile at him, getting excited that he’s glaring at you under the dim light of the kitchen.

“the fuck’s wrong with you today?” he thinks to himself.

you take your coat off and walk to your room. katsuki didn’t dare watch you walk away, however your suggestion lingered in his head.

you were probably drunk, you smell of alcohol and you’re not thinking properly. you were always nice to him, you were always sweet.

still, he finds himself texting his boyfriend to tell him what you just asked.

eijirou: hey baby it’s okay, you can fuck around with y/n i don’t mind at all.

he thinks about it.

you and katsuki weren’t too close to begin with. sharing this big condo with him was just for convenience. both of you were going to the same university, he needed a roommate and you needed a place.

you thought of him as a friend and he does confide in you every rare chance. eating dinner together, cooking for you while you clean the place. helping each other with some projects, not too deep not too shallow. he was a hot headed guy who’s in a ‘long distance relationship’ and sees his lover every six months. that’s mostly what he knew about you too, how you were always out with your ex boyfriend, how you were always on and off.

fuck buddies—you’re pretty, attractive, though sometimes unbearable but it’s not like you’re asking him for a relationship—like hell he’d break up with his lover for someone as crazy as you.

would it be so bad to have a bit of fun?

the next day you greet him like normal. wave at him in campus like normal, eat dinner with him like normal.

you’re giving him so much to think about and you’re acting like nothing happened and it’s slowly driving him insane.

he’s a man too, he’s got his own urges—exactly why eijirou suggested to keep the relationship open, as long as it’s purely for sex.

it’s been a while since he’s hooked up with someone either, and he’s not the type to really go out of his way just for it.

you did smell of alcohol when you brought it up, but you were the most straight forward person he knows. the biggest factor as to why he even let you be his roommate in the first place.

your offer was convenient. he knows you, you know him, he doesn’t have to drive too far cause you’re just there. your face is nice and he doesn’t mind at all.

“yeah…. i don’t mind.” he mumbles.

you didn’t think much of it the moment you turned your back on him. you didn’t want to be pushy, you didn’t like repeating questions either. so if him not acting on it is his answer then it’s fine.

“not going out tonight?” he asks breaking the silence. you tilt your head at him, “do you wanna go out? i don’t mind.” as if that’s his thing.

“nah just unlike you to be here is all.” you both were washing dishes. wiping the counter, cleaning around. bumping arms from time to time, it was silent, comfortable.

though you probably didn’t notice the slight bags under his eyes for keeping him up at night from your question.

“maybe not tonight.” he thinks.

nothing happened the next day, and the next. you’re acting too normal, only uncharacteristically staying more at your shared place with him. not going out with your friends, not drinking, though he sees you smoking at the balcony from time to time.

it was already late at night and he couldn’t sleep. you on the other hand is on the couch on your phone.

you’re fresh from a breakup, but it’s firm you just wanted to get off, no strings attached.

katsuki almosg felt pathetic from how much he’s overthinking this.

he reads a text from his boyfriend, making sure he wasn’t doing anything stupid at all.

eijirou: yes katsuki i told you i’m okay, i’m fine with it. i’d rather you be with y/n than some random too. don’t worry about it baby and just tell me what happens. <3

it almost hurt how casual it was but it shouldn’t—he’s in love with someone else. hooking up really wasn’t his thing, that’s why he rarely engages on it no matter how ‘needy’ he gets, and he’s not necessarily needy.

yet, somehow you’re getting him to be. you’re not even doing much but it’s like you’ve planted a ticking bomb in his head.

of course, he’s not gonna back down from such a good offer though.

he groans, getting out of his bed and walking over to where you were. his lover gave him an explicit yes. there shouldn’t be any issue now.

“hey kats~” you greet him, just like you did the other night. it’s sending shivers down his spine. “let’s do it.”

“huh?” you act dumb, knowing he actually agreed.

he clicks his tongue, “let’s fuck around.” impulsive but well thought.

you grin, sitting up properly to look at him from the couch. standing over you under such a dim light just like before. you didn’t think his presence would be so demanding like this. but he’s already wincing from your glare—almost crystal clear from the way you’re looking at him, how you’ve been wanting to eat him up.

you waste no time getting him seated on the couch, already on his lap while you start to grind on him.

you’re overwhelmingly assertive it’s so attractive. “how do you fuck with eijirou? tell me everything~”

his breath hitches when you start kissing his neck. getting sensitive when he feels your breath under his ears. “he tops.”

“that’s your preference? what about girls?”

“just a few times.” you hum. “usually oral or fingers. not often more than that.”

“kissing?”

“that’s the best part.” and you swore you almost swoon. you didn’t know katsuki could actually be cute.

he stops you for a bit, “are we really gonna fuck tonight?”

“well what do you want to do?”

he sighs, “just wanna feel you a bit.” you wait for him to make his move. you wonder what he'd do, what he likes.

“stick out your tongue.”

and so you do, moving your head to look at him with you tongue out. katsuki leans forward, taking the tip of your tongue in his mouth. his hands are already moving towards your chest.

katsuki fully takes your tongue in his mouth, sucking on it. you mewl against him—you never did that before.

katsuki pulls away to take off your shirt. “didn’t know you liked that.” you tell him.

“yeah? i like a lot of things.”

it was definitely like a reset on your part, almost like an awakening. seeing this new side of him, getting to understand and feel this way for the first time—katsuki was just so different from anyone you’ve ever been with, and from what you even imagined.

the cherry on top was seeing drool coming out of his lips. you should’ve just broken up with your ex sooner. and you’re so glad you never asked him to get into a threesome, that scumbag didn’t deserve to see someone as perfect as katsuki.

when your top’s finally off he takes a bit to look at them. “even your tits are pretty huh.”

this might’ve been the first time you’ve ever felt shy.

“take your shorts off for me.” you nod sliding them off slowly, making sure he sees every inch of skin that you’re revealing for him. katsuki can’t help but grin from excitement.

“thought you couldn’t get it up for me?” you say hovering over the bulge from his sweats. he rolls his eyes.

he holds onto your sides while you pull down the fabric along with your panties. his mouth’s slightly open when he finally sees your pretty cunt that’s shiny from the slick pooling. he chuckles, using two fingers to swipe between your folds, “you’re so fucking wet.” he says, moving his fingers up and down as strings of your slick stretched onto his fingertips.

you shudder when he stills on your clit. your move your hips, trying to get any stimulation from him. “too eager huh.”

he takes of his fingers causing you to whine. in a swift motion he carries you over to his room. “funny you chose yours.”

“don’t want plushie eyes watching me fuck you thinkin’ i’m their dad.” it’s cute that’s he’s trying to be funny.

"don't got a condom." he says as he lays you on the bed softly. wasting no time then to hover above you. "don't want you to use one." neither of you couldn't help but chuckle.

you're both just as needy.

“can you play with yourself for me?” his voice was raspy, breathy, almost needy. you’d prefer him touching you but him on top was enough to get your hands moving towards your clit. “yeah circle around it with your pretty fingers.”

you do exactly everything he tells you to. moving faster, slower. teasing your entrance while he pinched your nipples. he’s kissing the corners of your mouth while he asks you make yourself cum while he toys with you.

you never noticed the mirror on the top of his bed. you were rarely invited into his room, this is the longest you’ve been in there.

“what a fucking view.”

his back is so seductive, watching it move while you get off on your own fingers. the visual and the stimulation on your clit and his hot breath on your neck is getting you so sensitive—you’re almost there.

you’re almost shaking from how hot he’s being. “when are you gonna fuck me kats~” you’re already a mess doing this much. he’s stripping himself off his clothes and you’re getting so close the moment he’s flashing his happy trail.

katsuki hisses from hearing how wet you are, all for him. it’s just so different from what he’s used to.

“don’t wanna cum yet.” you say, slowing down your fingers. he pulls you towards him, maneuvering your body so that he’s on the bed.

you’re sat back on his lap, you bring your fingers covered in his slick towards his mouth which he takes in. sucking on them while he starts pumping his shaft. your breath hitches when you feel him moaning against them.

you wanna fuck him so bad.

he pulls away, lips now covered in more spit than earlier. katsuki’s getting messier each minute he’s so gorgeous to you.

“sit on it yourself.” firm and commanding, you’re sure him getting you to do the chores would be bad after this.

you replace his hand with yours, positioning the tip against your entrance. you’re surprise he even let you do this raw, someone so picky as him.

“f-fuck yeah…” he moans while he enters you. so slow yet so smooth, like a perfect fit. “i'm not gonna last long if you tighten up like that sweetheart.”

you elicit a long moan. you can feel him throbbing inside you, “fuck this is the best.” you hear him say.

you jolt when he pushes you down, back arching as your chest hits against his. you’re sure you could feel him so deep inside it’s driving you insane.

you’re panting, trying to catch your breath but he ignores you, gripping your hips to move you the way he wants, using you to get off like a fucking toy while you’re trying to get a hold on his shoulders. “said you wanted me to use my dick right? well aren’t you all bark.”

“your cock’s so f-fucking big!” bigger than your ex’s bigger than anyone you’ve ever fucked before.

you’re scared you could get addicted to this. you’re scared the moment you stop you’d ask for it every night.

“s-shit- katsuki-“ you couldn’t even look at him properly. you were so sure if you were eijirou you wouldn’t let him go. if you eijirou you would’ve been fucking him everyday.

he’s fucking you so good you’re tempted to ask him if you could be his second lover. you wonder would he be sweeter? more softer? would it be more intimate than this?

would he call you baby? what else would he do? would his hands touch you more tenderly?

he's handling you so well you're hoping this wouldn't be a one-time thing.

though underneath katsuki’s roughness is a man that’s easily stimulated. it’s sexy that your sweating, it’s sexy that your tits move while he bounced you on him. when he pulls on your tongue with his fingers when you ride him.

you sit back and show him your puffy clit, which he presses his thumb against, circling around the the sensitive bud. “you’re whimpering so much.”

maybe he’s getting carried away, wanting to invite you when eijirou comes for a visit. getting greedy thoughts getting you to ride him while he’s sucking off his boyfriend.

“h-hey focus on me.” you cup his cheeks with a pout.

he looks at you with half lidded eyes, removing any restraints he’s been suppressing for the past few minutes.

it’s getting so late and you’re still at it. you’re just that good. “you’re cute when you become a mess huh?”

his cock’s so big it’s still not letting up, even getting bigger with every thrust. both so focused in each other that he let his phone ring a few times before he picked it up.

“put it on speaker~” you whisper.

katsuki makes the swiping motion to answer the call, “sero.” he says.

he hisses when you clench on him tighter from hearing your ex’s name out of his mouth.

he’s always fucking ruining shit, but do you even care anymore?

you take his phone from him to place beside you. “honey~ i’m fucking katsuki~” you exclaim, wrapping your arms on his neck as you pulled him closer. katsuki looks at you with confusion, absolutely hates that you’re involving him in a feud he doesn’t care to be in.

then again, perhaps this whole ordeal got him involved automatically.

“y/n? w-what?” you hear sero’s voice break.

a new record, barely a week in and he’s getting katsuki to talk to you for him. "what a loser," you think.

you’re not interested in talking though. you've almost forgotten that your ex even existed the moment you got a taste of your roommate.

he tried to talk to you, call out to you it was so pathetic. saying how he misses you, if he could come over, only to be drowned out by your spews of, “oh katsuki,” or praises of the blonde's touch getting rougher each time your ex started to beg you to listen. it's almost bruising.

“you’re better than him.” katsuki’s sure he could hear sero’s heart break from the other side of the screen. his eyes were focused on the number of seconds of the call. only for it to end, knowing he’s given up.

he chuckles, “you broke him.” and yet he feels somehow prideful, an ego he didn’t know he had—how he’s fucking you while your shitty of an ex is struggling to get your attention, pitiful but exciting.

“nah he probably didn’t- hnngh~ get a shot with a girl that’s why he’s crawling back.”

“yeah? and i was sure he was fucking you good every time.” you yelp when katsuki changes positions. you’re now on your back again, watching him from the reflection of a mirror.

you’re such a mess, you didn’t even realized you cried.

“you made me want to fist my cock every night.” he says before thrusting back in. it was steady, hot, you’re sure you’re already melting as he picked up the pace. you didn’t know how much more you could take.

“your moans are always fucking hot.” he takes your legs to wrap it around him, “but it sounds better when it’s my name instead.”

you’re so close, he’s holding back so well. you’re probably the best fuck he’s ever had. “g-gonna cum-“ you weakly whisper.

his cock’s already twitching so much you could feel everything. “inside please- do it inside kats~” no matter how much you’re fucked out you still have it in you to tease him with that tone of yours.

it’s going to haunt him for the rest of his life.

as if it’s like a switch flips whenever you call out to him. how your tongue perfectly moves when you say his name, like you’re meant to.

yet you’re not his, and he’s not yours. you’re only just playing around, this was just to satisfy his urges and yours.

somehow, still, he didn’t want to let you go. and you’re the same.

he yelps when you pull his head down towards you, taking him in a sweet kiss. bucking your hips upwards to meet his as your movements turn more erratic.

cumming feels so much better when you’re kissing. all you could hear in the room was the sound of skin slapping against each other and your moans muffled from the kiss.

you grip onto him, clawing at his back and he didn’t care how much of a mark it left on him.

his thrusts become sloppier, quicker, and you feel your climax building up so fast. the knot in your chest becomes so tight.

“mmhh~” he moans loudly against you, pushing one last thrust before spilling inside, just as you asked him to. and you’re crying, feeling so full of him that you still wanted a bit more.

he whimpers while you tried to continue his movements, almost overstimulating him. katsuki pulls out and lays beside you. only to pull you close to him he plays with your pussy.

“look at yourself in the reflection for me. watch me play with your pussy.” broken breathy moans come from your lips as you bury your head further onto his chest. his other hand’s on your chin, motioning over your head to the top mirror. "such a fucking mess we made huh?"

you’re both sweaty, tired, yet he’s fucking you with his fingers relentlessly just to give you that climax you’ve given him so graciously.

“c-cumming~ katsuki~ 'm c-cumming!” it’s almost embarrassing how loud your cunt is.

that tight little knot in your stomach come undone, shouting his name one last time, your body twitching on top of his as you calm down.

“holy shit that was so hot.” you exclaim in between heavy breaths. "you liked it?" he asks you and you nod.

“then tomorrow.” huh? “i’ll fuck you even better tomorrow.”

“hah...” you breath out, laying on your chest on his to plant a kiss to his lips. “then we should let your boyfriend watch too~ to return the favor.”

“shut up.” maybe he’s gotten greedy for sure. he doesn’t even want to share you with his own lover after this.

can’t tomorrow come any faster?

do not copy, plagiarize, translate, or repost my works

[mommyownsmee]

100 WAYS TO GET BACK AT AN UNWANTED DICKPIC — HAVE FUN! x

1. That’s adorable. Does it come in a size for adults?

2. I’ve seen worms on the sidewalk after it rains that look more impressive.

3. Wow, I didn’t realize you were doing charity work for guys with disappointing anatomy.

4. Ah, a dick pic. Here we go again. The male equivalent of a participation trophy. Completely unnecessary and nobody here asked for it.

5. Bold of you to assume I was desperate enough to be impressed by that.

6. I was having a good day before you sent me that, and now I have to cleanse my phone with fire. Thanks.

7. Is this supposed to be a threat or a cry for help?

8. Sorry, I do not accept unsolicited junk mail :)

9. I hope you didn’t mean for this to be sexy because it just made me laugh out loud😂

10. This looks like something I’d have to scrape off my shoe.

11. Bless your heart, I really didn’t know they made them in travel sizes👀

12. I’ve seen bigger clits.

13. You sent me this like it was supposed to be a treat, but it’s giving medical anomaly.

14. I’d be more impressed if you sent me a credit score over 700

15. Imagine thinking this was the move. Tragic.

16. This is why women fake orgasms.

17. Bro, fr, this is the digital equivalent of flashing someone on a subway—except no one gasped, they just laughed!

18. That’s crazy! Thanks! Anyway, what’s it like living life as a disappointment?

19. Your dick looks like it’s about to deliver bad news in a Disney movie😂

20. You sent this expecting what? Me to be turned on? Sweetie, I’ve seen sexier things in biology textbooks👀

21. You should try OnlyFans. Not for money; just to learn what a decent dick actually looks like!

22. I’d roast it, but it looks like life already did😂

23. Is this a dick pic or a cry for help? Blink twice if you need a hug, bro… (not help because they could say we should help get them off)

24. Your poor mother carried you for nine months for this?

25. Sorry, I don’t accept coupons for disappointment😂

26. Why are you holding a lima bean?

27. If I wanted to see something this pathetic, I’d look at your bank account❤️‍🩹

28. Do you have health insurance? Because that looks concerning😭

29. I’ve seen bachelorette party straws that were more impressive :)

30. Sweetie, I’m gonna need binoculars…

31. Your dick looks like it has performance anxiety😂

32. My vibrator is laughing at you right now.

33. Are you the guy that got the mouse dick transplant? I can tell!

34. Your dick has the same energy as an unseasoned chicken breast.

35. It looks like it’s trying to apologize for existing!😭

36. Bro, did you crop out the ruler because it was too humiliating?😂

37. No wonder you’re single. Even your dick looks like it doesn’t want to be with you.

38. If I had a nickel for every time I saw an unimpressive dick, I’d be richer than you🤑

39. Your dick looks like it’s on probation!?

40. Did you scare it before taking the picture?

41: You‘re just proving my point by showing me how disappointing your dick is!

42: You should frame this as a warning to other men about the dangers of inbreeding!

43. This belongs in a museum exhibit called „Why She Faked It.“

44: Your dick looks like it gives out WiFi signals in the 1800s☹️

45: Do you have to jack off with tweezers?

46: Sir, that’s not a dick, that’s an overconfident skin tag.

47: I zoomed in as much as I can but I still can’t see anything?

48: This should come with a disclaimer: „Objects in picture are even smaller than they appear.“

49: I’d tell you to go fuck yourself, but based on this, I don’t think you’d even feel it????

50. If I wanted to see something this pathetic and underwhelming, I’d watch a nature documentary on endangered worms.

51: Deep throating isn’t even option for you is it? The best you got is teeth tapping and even that’s just a maybe…

52: Your dick looks like it apologizes before it even gets hard😂

53: It looks like it came with a participation ribbon.

54. Your dick should come with a warning label „Caution: May cause depression“.

55: Your dick has the same energy as a flat soda—sad, disappointing, and nobody wants it.♥️

56: You should get that checked, like—medically…

57: Did you take this picture with a microscope, or is that actually it?????

58: Soooo… Where is it? 👀

59: This looks like something an archaeologist would dig up and struggle to identify👀

60: I’d offer constructive criticism, but I don’t think there’s enough material to work with🤷🏻

61: This looks like it would give up after 30 seconds and need a nap😭

62: This is you

63: Are you sure you sent me a dick pic? Because this looks more like an unfortunate birth defect?!😵‍💫

64: You know I have your moms number, right?

65: That thing has the same energy as a man who says „nice guys finish last.“

66: I’d call it ‘cute,’ but I don’t want to insult babies and small animals.🥺

67: Who ever told you your dick is „amazing“ is a liar and probably faked their orgasm🥰

68: This looks like something that legally shouldn’t be exposed to direct sunlight☹️

69: That’s practically an innie at this point.

70: I would file a report but its really not even worth doing the paperwork.

71: Your dick looks like it’s in a permanent state of stage fright.

72: Does it only come out when it rains?

73: Your dick looks like it would ghost me before I even had the chance to block you.

74: It looks like it suffers from low self-esteem, and honestly, it should.

75: Oh wow, I love puzzles! This one is called „find the dick“, right??

76: What ever rock your dick crawled out from under, it needs to go back.

77: Are you sure this isn’t a „spot the difference“ challenge? Because I’m struggling to see one between this and a raw baby carrot?!

78: I’ve seen crayons in kindergarten classrooms with more length and stamina.

79: I think I found your lookalike! looked up tardigrade. The resemblance is uncanny.

80: This looks like a rejected emoji😒

81: Did you have a circumcision or a castration?♥️

82: You should consider doing drag, you wouldn’t even have to tuck with that.

83: Wow, you must have really low standards if that’s your best shot. Good luck with that.

84: Your dick looks like it would ask me to „lower my standards“ in a dating app bio.

85: Is this your way of saying 'I'm compensating for something,' or are you just really into abstract art?

86: Sending this is like offering someone a burnt slice of toast and expecting a „thank you“.

87: You really saw that in your camera roll and thought, „Yes, this is the one“??

88: I’d tell you to grow up, but I see you’re struggling to grow anything at all.

89: Your dick looks like it’s been buffering since birth.

90: Dial up moved faster than your dick.

91: You sent this like it was a gift. Babe, I’d rather receive a parking ticket.

92: If I wanted to see something this sad and underwhelming, I’d watch a sloth try to use an escalator.

93: Is this a „before“ photo for a shrinkage study, or did you just forget to send the „after“ one?

94: Why did you send this to me? Your dick is so tiny I can’t even roast it.

95: Ah, I see you’re auditioning for „Small Parts: The Movie.“ Best of luck with the casting!

96: I’m not into feet, so I can’t figure out for the life of me why you sent me a photo of a pinky toe.

97: Does your mom make you pay rent to stay in the basement or does she keep you there for free so the rest of us don’t have to see you?

98: You should probably go try catching fish and not women with that little bait worm you got there.

99: If i show this to a straight woman she’ll probably become a lesbian.

100: Naked mole rats carry a lot of diseases. You should probably go wash your hands.

A BIG THANK YOU GOES OUT TO ALL OF MY MEMBERS OF MY SAPPHIC GROUP CHAT WHO HELPED AND PUSHED ME TO DO THIS! I LOVE YOU GUYS!!♥️

[darknight3904]

All Too Well

Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Summary: You reflect on your past with Joel, memories only you know flood your brain at a Fourth of July bash.

Warnings: Langauge, idiots in love.

Word Count: 3.4k

Previous Part / Series Masterlist / Main Masterlist

Brought to you by the songs All Too Well and You Are In Love by Taylor Swift

Summer 2003

Sarah Miller didn't think fate existed. At least a fate that worked out in her favor anyway. For example, if fate was in fact real, why did she end up with homework every night? If fate existed, the purple soccer cleats at the sports store would've been in her size. If fate existed, maybe her mom wouldn't have picked up and left before she was old enough to even sit up.

No, fate was a made-up thing for Sarah. Fate, however, seemed to be turning her lucky eye to her father.

Sarah loved her dad, even if he was a bit of a grump sometimes. As the years passed, she slowly learned how much he sacrificed for her. Between driving her to her soccer games and giving up nights when he could be out with Uncle Tommy at some bar somewhere, Sarah knew he loved her dearly.

She could feel his devotion, anytime she got sick at school, he dropped whatever job he had and ran into the nurse's office, frantically looking for her. Even when he'd been out on a date, and she'd broken an arm on her friend's trampoline, he'd pulled up in his beat-up pickup truck to take her to the emergency room.

Sarah loved her dad, and he loved her, there were no doubts about that.

Loneliness. It was something that she'd felt creeping up on her dad's life. Even if he'd never admit it, Sarah could tell he felt alone sometimes. She couldn't quite put it into words, but she saw it in his eyes.

Fate, however, pulled some strings, and before Sarah knew it, you were in their lives.

You were like a fresh spring breeze, blowing into Sarah and Joel's lives and breathing new life into it. It had been the night after your third date with her dad that she noticed it, the giddiness. Her dad had bounced into her Uncle Tommy's home with a pep in his step that Sarah only saw after a high-paying job was finished and the check was deposited in the bank.

"Think he's got it, baaaad...." Her uncle whispered into her ear

Sarah giggled when her dad's expression fell,

"I heard that, Tommy."

Sarah pretended not to see when her uncle flipped her dad off.

You were more fun than Sarah had expected. Sure you talked and listened to her whenever she recounted her latest soccer match or gossiped about the kids in her grade. But anyone could listen to that.

Sarah had only really met one of her dad's girlfriends before. Her name was Alison, and she smelled like fancy perfume. Alison was fine, a bit boring, and far too into romance movies for Sarah's taste. Things had gone south after Alison suggested a boarding school for Sarah.

Sarah remembered peeking through the crack of her bedroom door as her dad threw Alison, her nice purse, and bright red high heels out of their home. He'd polished it off with a, "Don't ever fucking come back."

You and Alison were complete opposites, though. You baked cookies for her friend's party and pointed at the funny-looking fish at the aquarium, making fun of their stupid eyes. You watched the gory action movies with her and her dad, even convincing her dad that a 1 am Dominos was essential to all movie marathons. And yes, you even talked him into those delicious lava cakes the made. You were simply magical.

When Sarah tried dunking you at the pool, you hadn't shrieked the way Alison did when a drop of water came near her precious hair. Instead, you sent a splash so big that Sarah got water up her nose and had the sting of chlorine in her eyes for 20 minutes after that.

Late one night, Sarah had tiptoed downstairs in search of a big glass of water. She hesitated when she was a few feet from the kitchen archway. Soft murmurs filled her ears, followed by a laugh that was definitely her dad's. She peeked around the corner just a bit, wanting a glimpse of whatever was so funny at 2:46 am.

An opened rub of ice cream sat on the counter, the refrigerator door was hanging open, and a can of whipped cream was halfway pulled from its spot in the door. Most surprising of all, though, was the way her dad, certified grump Joel Miller, was twirling you around, dancing in the kitchen, the two of you bathed in refrigerator light like it was a disco ball.

Sarah had snuck back up the steps, a stupid grin on her face, finally, her dad was finding some happiness in his life.

You had fit so perfectly into her and her dad's life. Fate had smiled on her and her dad for once.

What Sarah couldn't understand, though, was how he let you go. It'd been your birthday. Sarah knew it because she marked it in her school assignment book, she wanted to make you a nice card with the colored pencils you got her two weeks ago. Her dad wasn't letting her go to whatever party was being thrown at your little apartment across town. Sarah had begged, but he put his foot down, and instead, Sarah made him promise you'd get the card.

His truck had started, but it was sitting idle in the driveway. The slam of the driver's door had Sarah rushing away from the window. Maybe he'd forgotten something?

"You're not going?"

"No." He said, plopping down on his bed to pull his shoes off

"But it's her birthday." She tried to reason with him

"I don't belong goin'." He replied

"I thought you were invited..." Sarah said

Joel gave her a funny look that Sarah couldn't quite place.

"I was...I am. Look...." He patted the bedspread, beckoning her over, "Sometimes, adults, we just...we got things that are bigger than just gettin' along and watching movies together at night."

Sarah nodded, she knew that. How many times had she heard her dad stress about taxes and the transmission in his truck? It had to have been countless.

"I just, Look, what I'm sayin' is that I'm not what she needs." He says, his voice blank

"But you two seem so perfect..."Sarah trails off

He gives her a sympathetic look, "We're better off apart, real different in age too, it'd go bad eventually anyway, better to cut it off now before you get too attached."

Sarah scoffs, he was speaking like he wasn't equally as attached to you as she was.

"Yeah, okay....I guess I get it..."

She had asked her uncle about it one warm day in early September, thinking about how you could've been the one picking her up.

"Why'd Dad dump her, though? I just don't get it, they were so good together, always smiling and stuff."

Her Uncle Tommy glanced at her in the rearview mirror, a flash of concern on his features,

"Sarah, your dad...he's one complicated son of a bitch."

Sarah snorts, she knew that. Anyone who ever met Joel Miller knew that.

"But, if you wanna know my two cents, I'd say he was scared."

"Scared?" Sarah balks, her dad wasn't scared of anything, "Of what?"

Tommy's voice is so soft Sarah barely hears it over the idle of his truck's engine.

"Fallin' in love. He's scared of fallin' in love."

Sarah Miller wasn't one to believe in fate, after all, it had been rather unfair to her. She could only hope, though, that one day maybe, just maybe, fate might step in again and bring you and Joel back together.

July 4, 2024

You groan as your eyes flutter open, a loud voice registering in your ears.

"Get up!!!"

Ellie's face looms over yours as she pokes at your cheek. You try to shuffle back under the blankets, but she rips them off you. God, she was so cruel.

"Fuck off." You mumble, you need to sleep. You thought only babies were this needy, yet here was Ellie dragging you out of bed...again.

Last night's overnight patrol had sucked the soul from your body. You loved Tommy, but listening to him talk about Cailey for 8 hours was simply too much for anyone. Honestly, you didn't care whether his kid liked socks or not.

"You told me to get you up at Three Thirty. You said we were gonna make cookies for tonight's Fourth of July party. " Ellie says accusingly

You let Ellie drag you out of Joel's bed and down the steps where Dina stands at the counter, ingredients spread around her.

"Sleeping beauty arises." Ellie jokes, presenting you to her friend

You nudge Dina with your elbow, "Don't laugh at that, she's a brat."

Dina laughs anyway, her gaze fixed on Ellie. Ugh, teenagers...so gross.

You teach the girls how to fold the ingredients into the dough and catch Ellie at least three times trying to steal some of the chunks of chocolate meant for the batter.

"You're really good at this." Ellie notes as you drop the cookies onto a sheet

"Thank you." You smile at her compliment

"How long have you been baking?" Dina asks curiously

"Technically, I probably started with my grandma back when I was three. But I guess I really got into it in my early twenties. I baked a lot with Joel's daughter."

You hand the spoon off to Dina, letting her drop the cookies onto the tray.

You're not quite sure what it is, but your eyes have gone misty. You turn your gaze away from the girls and wipe at your waterline with the sleeves of your shirt. Fuck, you hadn't even said her name and you were tearing up.

The sound of the front door opening as you all turn. Joel comes in, wiping at the sweat on his brow.

"How'd it go?" Ellie asks

"Good. Fixed the door to the school and a couple of the wobbly desks for the kindergartners." Joel says, giving the report like the three women in front of him were his supervisors on some big fancy construction project.

You give him a weak smile as he turns to look at you.

"What's wrong?"

He's instantly in front of you, dropping his tool bag to wipe away a tear you didn't realize had escaped.

"Nothing. I'm just being stupid." You sniffle, "We were talking, and I brought up Sarah...my stupid waterworks didn't get the memo that there'd be no crying today, though."

Joel's mouth has set in a hardline, you've touched a subject he hated talking about. He steps back from you, his hands letting your face go, leaving the skin he'd touched burning from some feeling you couldn't quite coin.

His eyes are distant now as he backs away, reaching for his tool bag, "Gonna go put these away in the garage."

You fidget in front of the mirror in Ellie's room. A cute white summer dress sits on your body. It's one that Maria brought you, knowing that you'd love the way it fell to your ankles, hiding the ugly scars on your legs. The issue was the way your bare arms poked out, pink lines of ugly scar tissue lined them, making the dress look horrible.

A soft knock at the door sounds, and you slip your bathrobe back on just as Ellie enters, her hair dripping water onto the faded hardwood floors. Her eyes scan your attire, a fuzzy blue robe atop your upper body with a flowy skirt poking out the bottom.

"What the fuck is that?" She gestures to your upper body

"It's my bathrobe." You say dumbly

"You're wearing a bathrobe to a party?" Ellie asks, her voice filled with judgment

"No!" You groan, "I just hate my arms in this dress."

Ellie gives you a look, almost as if she's saying,' And this is why I don't wear dresses'. She sighs and turns to run a brush through the mess on her head.

"I got this ugly cardigan in my closet. You can wear it if you want." She offers

Instantly, you're off your feet, rummaging in her closet to find said cardigan.

"This is anything but ugly." You point out as you pull it from her closet

"Well, I'm never wearing it, it's all yours." Elie motions

The Tipsy Bison is a buzz with what looks like every single person in Jackson. Music plays from one corner of the room, some guy named Alex who apparently knows how to DJ stands at some speaker set up.

Ellie leaves your side in search of her friends, and your eyes roam the crowd. The school teachers stand in a small circle giggling and pointing at some poor guy who has just tripped and fallen on his face. There's another group clustered together and you recognize them as the younger guys who got sent out on graveyard patrol shifts, Brett tosses his head back and laughs at something another has said.

The people you and Joel had rescued from the Walrus are also here. They sit together at a table in the corner. They were all nice enough but you'd left them alone since they entered Jackson, they deserved a sense of normalcy.

Lana leans against the bar, and a nameless woman whispers something in her ear that makes her blush. You liked Lana, you small talked with her when she was assigned to the greenhouse. She was artsy, always sketching in her free time, plus it helped that she made a mean venison stew.

Your eyes finally lead you to the man of the hour. Joel stands, tucked away in a corner, sipping at a glass of whiskey while Tommy rambles about something.

"Didn't think you were gonna show." Tommy greets you with a smile as you cut in

"Well, free booze is hard to pass up." You say honestly, motioning to your half-full glass, "America's independence is nice too."

"Y'look real nice." Tommy nudges Joel, "Doesn't she look nice?"

Joel nods, not meeting your eye.

You'd crossed a line earlier. You knew he didn't want to talk about Sarah, yet you pushed it anyway. You should've just lied and said there was dust in your eyes or that Ellie had beaten you in Uno again.

"Is Maria here?" You ask, hoping to hold baby Cailey

"Ah, she was but uh, Cailey had a blowout." Tommy huffs, "Went all over her and Maria."

You nod, trying to imagine how bad that must've been.

"Would've gone with them but Maria insisted she could do it alone," Tommy explains, trying to justify his wife's absence.

"You don't gotta worry about me judging your parenting skills, Tommy." You smile

Tommy chuckles and shakes his head, "Shudda smelled it. I don't know what's in that breastmilk but it stunk worse than-"

"We don't need a play-by-play of your kid's shit." Joel cuts in

You suppress a laugh as Tommy shoots Joel a hardened glare.

The party rolls on into the night, and you join Ellie and her little group of teens in a game of Monopoly, somehow losing each time to Dina. By the time you rejoin Joel in his corner, you'd been bankrupt twice.

"It's so not fair. They weren't even alive to see a real grocery store and they're mopping the floor with me." You groan as you flop down next to him on a bench

"Would've made good gamblers," Joel says

You snort, trying to imagine Ellie, Dina, and Jesse at the casino gambling away, "Yeah, right. They'd be broke in the first twenty minutes."

"Sounds like you're speakin' from experience." Joel teases

"No!" You gasp, punching his arm only to hit what felt like a block of muscle

This sends Joel into a fit of laughter as he looks at your perplexed face.

He was gorgeous like this. Warm light bathes his tanned skin, highlighting his sharp features. The whiskey he'd drunk gave his cheeks the softest pink tint as his crow's feet crinkled when he smiled more. A green button-down stretches across his chest, it's rolled up at the sleeves, exposing his forearms to your greedy eyes. Blue jeans that are perfectly hugging his thighs and, erm, other areas compliment said shirt nicely.

You chalk it up to the alcohol, yes, the way he's laughing at you must be the booze in his system.

"You're real funny, y'know that," Joel says

"You just have a terrible sense of humor." You huff, crossing your arms across your chest.

A tingle shoots down your spine when you feel Joel's skin brush yours. His big hand has moved to fix your cardigan, pulling it back up your shoulder.

The soft strum of a guitar starts, and you look over to see a woman you recognize as Nadia, sitting on a stool, her acoustic guitar in hand.

The delicate notes of some unnamed slow song starts as Alex switches from his DJ set to a beat-up keyboard he had. You pick at the skin of your fingernails, watching as Tommy pulls Maria away from her seat and onto the dance floor, Cailey cradled between their chests.

"Can I have this dance?"

Joel's deep voice nearly has you falling off the bench. He stands over you, hand stretched out, offering you a dance. Your face warms as you give him your hand. What kind of a person would you be if you left him hanging?

Joel leads you out onto the dance floor and rests his hands on your waist. You nervously fidget, your hands landing unsurely on his chest.

"I dunno how to slow dance." You quietly admit

Joel chuckles and moves your hands so they link together behind his neck,

"Y'did twenty years ago."

The fuzzy image of Joel spinning you around in his kitchen in front of the fridge comes to mind.

"That wasn't dancing...that was just being stupid."

Joel snorts and shakes his head, "Don't worry, I'll lead."

It shouldn't be as hard as it is, dancing with Joel. Yet here you are, stepping on his toes as he tries to lead you in a dance. Your eyes nervously flick around, wondering if anyone is watching.

All of a sudden as if it's magic, it feels like you and Joel are the only people in the world. Alone in a snow globe that spins round and round, keeping the two of you together forever.

"I'm sorry about earlier." You say, "Bringing up Sarah...I shouldn't have done that."

Joel shakes his head, his mustache twitching as he gives you a small, sad smile, "It's alright. I uh...Talkin' about her it's a good thing. It makes me sad but I feel like..."

Joel fumbles with his words as he tries to think of what he's trying to say. You smile and run your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, understanding what he means.

"It keeps her memory alive." You finish for him.

Joel nods and breathes a sigh of relief that you get it.

His dark brown eyes meet yours and your heart speeds up.

Fuck, you knew what was happening, and god was it bad. Joel runs his thumbs against the covered skin of your waist.

"Y'look real pretty tonight, baby." Joel's deep voice crowds your ears, "Sorry I didn't say it earlier."

"It's fine, thank you." You softly say

Was it getting hard to breathe in here? Who the hell was stealing all the oxygen? Probably Tommy and his fat mouth.

Joel speaks again, "Listen, I wanted to ask you if-"

"I, um, I'll be right back."

You force yourself to unlatch from Joel and push your way towards the doors of the bar. Once outside, you greedily gulp in the cool summer air. Crickets chirp as you begin the way back home.

Home. Joel's home was where you had been shaking up. Fuck! You couldn't go back there, not until this stupid feeling in your chest went away. If it ever went away, that is.

You were so stupid, falling for him again. You really didn't learn, did you? Twenty-one years into the apocalypse, you were head over heels for the same asshole who dumped you when you were in college.

College. If only your college roommate, Amelia could see you now. She'd probably either tell you to forget about Joel, or she'd say something about how hot Dilfs were.

The grass tickles your sandal-clad feet as you walk off, away from the bar. You must be the world's biggest fool. Of all people you knew, you knew all too well what he'd done. How he made you feel and then ripped it away just like that. He'd fucking mailed back your things and said your age was the reason for the breakup.

Fuck him. You weren't going to fall for his tricks again. Joel could shove his stupid mustache and his dad bod that made you drool up his ass for all you care.

The loud pat pat of footsteps has you spinning around, wishing you'd thought to tuck a pocket knife into the pockets of your cardigan. A deep voice fills your ears as you meet his eyes.

"Where the hell do you think you're goin'?"

Joel.

Next Part

Here we go, the feelings will be felt. Confessions confessed. Stay tuned for the final part!

Thank you for being patient with me as I write. My college courses are eating up all my time again. The Fantastic Four teaser motivated me to finish this part up for you, thank you, Marvel.

Comment to be added to the tag list. This tag list is not chapter by chapter, I carry the tags over to each part.

Tags:

@lunaticgurly  @orcasoul  @snowlycanroc  @freythecrazyfae

@person-005 @greenwitchfromthewoods

@elli3williams @yawnzzzzzzzz @am-3-thyst  @concrete-jungleeee

@cherrypieyourface  @kanyewestest @bambisweethearts

@sarahhxx03 @loveisacowboyyy @amyispxnk @lou-la-lou @dancinglotusbud @superblyspeedydragon @heartpatch @anoverwhelmingdin @korikolove