#what the fuck was i thinking with that old art making the background like that. hurts to look at

[micechicken]

Link-Fitzgerald family making Christmas cookies as I've been promising for YEARS now...

[occasionaltouhou]

regular touhou #28: so a while back someone in one of the servers i'm in drew a rin satsuki loosely based on the really old one i drew way way back

so this is sort of a remake of that old joke with their updated design

[carbonateddelusion]

sits here. my mood has been swinging back and forth like a pendulum lately

[mywritersmind]

A TYPE OF LOVE - LN4

summary : Childhood friends to a grown unknown. After Lando’s win in Singapore <3

listen up : i’m a hopeless romantic. short but sweet!!

word count : 377

⋆｡‧˚⋆

His head is on my lap, laughing with the firelight that’s making his skin glow. His eyes are reflecting the fire, making them green and gold. His curls are brushing my leg and falling into his face.

The Singapore air does him too well. Lando looks up at me, I push my hair out of my face so I can see him. He smiles softly, his eyes examining my features as if I'm a piece of art.

He does that a lot recently, acts like I'm something special.

Our friends say goodnight, congratulating Lando before going to their rooms with their loves.

I think about how Lando and I have different rooms but he’s sleeping in my bed every night. We just talk, I wake up in his arms but slip out before he can notice.

Lando sits up and I immediately miss the warmth he provided. He looks at me softly, “Thanks for being here.”

I smile, “Of course. I’m really proud of you.” His eyes change a bit just then, looking almost sad.

“You know… fifteen year old Lando wouldn’t believe this.” He laughs quietly, the fire cracking in the background. I tilt my head, silently urging him to continue, “He would think it’s ridiculous that I still have a schoolboy crush on you.”

His words make me feel sick, “A schoolboy crush?”

“Well…” Lando glances around, “More like a type of love.” He’s closer now. When did he get so close?

My eyes meet his and this time I can’t look away. “I would say something cute but fifteen year old Y/n fucking hated you.” He laughs, his head leaning down against my shoulder.

I move my hand to his neck, he looks up for the final time, close enough I can hear his breathing and feel his quickened pulse against my fingers.

His voice is scratchy and quiet, “How about current Y/n? What does she think of me?” He’s my best friend. He’s the love of my life, I think.

I lift his head so he’s looking into my eyes, leaning in closer, I brush my lips against his. His hand goes to my side, like he doesn’t want to ever let me go.

[ajortga]

opposites attract

pairing: jenna ortega x fem reader

summary: people would call you and jenna the old married couple from across the street, you'd always argue. you hate each other so much, but you love each other even more.

word count: 2.1k+

warnings: alcohol, goofiness, hilarious imo

based off request! (love you 🦦)

-

ME AGAIN. I JUST LOVE TO SEND OUT REQUESTS FOR SPECIFIC WRITERS 🙏🏻

Jenna Ortega! x Reader!

"In every friend group, there are always two people arguing"

holy shit this dynamic is so cute, it's like wherein obvi J and R likes to argue a lot, whether it be going out w friends, in set, sleepovers, literally just everywhere all the time.. In the end obviously they get together 🙈 YOU CAN DO ABSOLUTELY WHATEVER W THE PLOT IF YOU'D LIKE.

Completely understand if the request isn't taken!! I LOVE YOUR WRITING SM, I LOVE YOU

-🦦

-

It’s silent on set where Scream is being filmed. Silence would’ve filled your break room, that would be if you and Jenna weren’t damn yelling at each other over the littlest of things.

“You fucking cheated!” You accuse, pointing your finger at her as you go crazy and throw your Uno cards everywhere.

The tinier girl puts her hands up, putting one to her chest to pretend to be offended, “The Y/N is accusing me of cheating? When will I clearly won fair and square?”

That throws you off the edge, screaming into a pillow and kicking your feet, then throwing the pillow straight to her head. “I saw you looking at my cards dumbass!”

The atmosphere is chaotic as you two throw pillows at each other, one of them hits Melissa in the nose, “Hey!” She goes, throwing a pillow to Mason, which throws it to Jasmine.

Everyone is throwing their pillows at each other, screaming and laughing. Actually, not everyone is screaming, the only ones are you and Jenna.

“I WAS GLANCING AT THE SCENERY.”

“SINCE WHEN WAS THE SCENERY MY CARDS?” You yell, throwing the stuffed animal at her.

Jasmine nudges Melissa, who lets her pillow down and lets her friend whisper in her ear, “Who’s going to tell them that they’re flirting?” 

A cackle escapes the other actress, “She’s definitely always thinking Y/N is the beautiful scenery. In which she is, she’s like the days that have the best sunsets. She’s a sweetheart.”

That was true. Although Jenna won’t admit it. You were breathtaking. You were like the movie that everyone wants to watch again for the first time. Whose voice was a gentle lullaby that lulled those into a peaceful rest. A work of art, Jenna would say. A work of art she’d fucking hate, yet still buy it’s worth for billions of dollars more than they should be.

“Okay FINE! I peeked! I just saw that you had a yellow seven! That’s it!”

“Exactly!” You say, throwing the stuffed animal up and victory, “Nuh uh, you also said half-way through the game as a joke “I bet you have a blue four,” and I had a blue four!”

“FINE, but that was all!”

“Whatever.”

Mason rolls his eyes as he leans back into his chair, throwing a huge stuffed animal and making you collapse and go, “Hey!”

“They’re gonna get married one day, they’re like an old married couple,” He states, and everyone that hears agrees, except you two. You two are too caught up with arguing with each other, smacking pillows at each other.

“Asshole.”

Grunt!

“Bitch.”

Smack!

“Weirdo!”

“Goofball!”

Plomp!

“Silly!”

“Pretty!”

“Sweet girl.”

“Lovely!”

“Gosh, well aren’t they oblivious?” Jasmine scoffs, “Their flirting and don't even know it, they’ll use that as an excuse for another argument again. Melissa watches, amused, and laughing in the background with a cackle. You two are hitting each other with any pillows you can find.

-

liked by melissabarreram and 1,890,072 others

y/n_l/n this is very not an appreciation post for jenna, the first two i'm posting cause she told me not to but she cheated in uno and she's getting what she deserves! (someone save me from this mad woman)

#justicefory/n i hate you @jennaortega

-

melissabarreram: My babies #justicefory/n

liked by y/n_l/n

natalieortega1: Love you

↳ y/n_l/n: love u too!

crunchybaguette55: y/n is seriously blessing us with these photos

aliyah.ortega: nah why is jenna more flexible than me

liked by y/n_l/n

user839: watch jenna is gonna post something about her

jasminsavoy: lovebirds

liked by y/n_l/n

y/n'spersonalbag: SHE POSTED I'M EARLY

jennaortega: I hate you

↳ y/n_l/n: Ilyt

-

Melissa screams while the members of the cast begin to elevate up the roller coaster. 

“Oh god!” Mason shouts, while you two begin to lift off the floor from the free fall device.

“If the machine were to break and fall, would we bounce out of our seats or bang our head?” Jenna questions, looking down at her feet that are currently 100 to 150 feet off the ground.

You’re right next to her, yet you have to shout because of how loud the machine is, “Nuh uh! None of that stuff, if the machine were to break, then the starting point wouldn’t be as lifted and our feet would probably dislocate.” 

“Pfft, nonsense,” Jenna rolls her eyes, and you try kicking her but as you reach the top, it slowly begins to stop lifting up. 

“Guys!” Jasmine yells, looking down at the floor, she’s still holding her pretzel in her hand. The people below you now look like at least the size of a caterpillar. 

“It’s kind of tall!” Melissa says, but she’s giggling.

“No damn shit!” You say, looking at the floor and preparing for your heart to fly out of your chest, “Hold my hand!” Jenna jokes while you roll her eyes at her.

When you stop at the top, the machine makes a loud “TCCHhhHH” noise, and you are all still. 

“I DON’T WANNA DIE,” Mikey and Devyn cry, screaming.

“We haven’t even gone down- YET!” Everyone starts screaming as the seats you’re in descends at fast speeds. You all scream, high pitched, wails, singing to get your mind off of whatever. Devyn and Jasmine flutter their eyes and do a peace sign when the camera flashes. 

You close your eyes, the machine goes back up, then down, you’re screaming, laughing as Mason’s sandal falls out, “No! My shoe!”

It hits the person operating the roller coaster.

Somehow, your hand finds Jenna’s as you cling onto it, she doesn’t let go, giggling with you as you two fall. It was a nice moment, the breeze in your hair with the sunset saying hello. Except you don’t know if the moment got better or was ruined because before you can appreciate it, Jasmine screams, louder than she had when everyone dropped.

“My pretzels!” She screams, falling out of her hand and flying into the air, the cinnamon pretzels falling and smacking you and Jenna in the face as you feel a flash in your face again, you pose just as it clicks.

“I WANNA GO HOME!” Mason wails, “Where the fuck is my shoe? MY SHOE!”

By the time you reach ground level, everyone’s hair is ruffled, eyes dazed as your legs shake when you leave the machine.

You’re still holding hands with Jenna as you almost collapse on each other, you feel dizzy, probably because the machine was damn spinning and a pretzel got smacked into your face.

"You okay?" she asks, looking at your dizzied form.

"Mmhm, are you okay?" you ask, the feeling of throwing up going away.

She nods, letting you cling onto her as she hugs you tight.

"You're so weak," she teases.

"Says the one who screamed more from a pretzel being thrown in her face than the actual ride."

She smacks you, but nonetheless, still holds you tight to her chest.

Mason looks at the floor, and claps, turning happy, “My sandal!”

Everyone is groaning, Melissa is snorting and looking sick while Devyn and Jasmine shove their hands through the little amount of pretzels left in their bag.

You’re not surprised when everyone busts out laughing, pointing at the pictures of you on the rollercoaster. The first one, Devyn and Jasmine were making peace signs while somehow being able to do the slightest pose, Mason’s shoe is flying and you can see his mouth wide open with one foot barefoot, Melissa is smiling with cotton candy in her mouth, and you and Jenna are screaming and clinging onto each other.

The next one gets more chaotic, with Jasmine and Devyn looking horrified, the whole picture has pretzels flying and hits Jenna and you square in the head. Yet, the frame only catches Jenna’s face being smacked while you’re posing with your hands and blowing a kiss.

You’re laughing so hard, everyone is buying the photos, you can’t stop laughing as Jenna screams from the horror.

“How did they only take a picture when the pretzel gets to me?" She groans.

-

liked by jackchampion and 4,971,391 others

jennaortega i don't know how that little girl managed to hide all her bad photos on my phone but melissa took a photo of her falling asleep on my shoulder, i did not cheat! cancel!! @y/n_l/n

jasminsavoy: little? girl, you're the size of a strawberry.

↳ jennaortega: fuck you respectfully

y/n_l/n: NO i was sleeping because filming was so long

↳ jennaortega: yeah and you decided to sleep on my shoulder, do you know how heavy your head is?

↳ y/n_l/n: meanie

jennasorange: I love you Jenna please notice me

melissabarreram: Love!

natalieortega1: My girls

fruitrollupsa: omg someone confirm are they official

jackchampion: I saw you looking at y/n's cards

↳ jennaortega: no you didn't

↳ jackchampion: actually i did 🤓☝️

-

It was a little after sunset, where outside is painted a blue and purple sky.

“To a long day of maintaining our sanity for today’s long duration of filming!” Devyn says, raising her drink.

“To a long day of maintaining our sanity!” Everyone else cheers, you bring your drinks up and clank them with one another before downing it.

You liked it like this. Having parties every Friday with your scream cast. They were your family, most times you’d have sleepovers, play card games, video games, gossip. Silly photos were taken, and these polaroids were always hung on your wall of memories, Melissa holding her puppy while doing a bridge gymnastic pose, risking her skull from literally cracking.

You take the sip of beer in your hands, with a wide smile on your face. It’s nice knowing you have a group that you can easily fit in, you don’t have to think to speak, you can just do it freely.

A few minutes turn into an hour.

Melissa turns to you, pointing at you and smiling, "You're going to be the first one to get wasted, your cheeks are all pink."

"No their not!" You retaliate, a small slur to your words as you lean on the couch for balance.

"Right," Jasmine says, sarcastically as Jack and Mason are screaming at each other.

"Jack no! If you take that one off then the whole tower will fall! We can't lose!" Mason screams, the Jenga tower tilting.

You giggle.

You catch sight of Jenna and you throw your arms up, stumbling to her while slurring her name slightly, "Jennaaaa, where were youu?"

The brunette looks at you, confusion shown in her futures as she looks at your tiny self, looking up at her and tugging at the collar of her shirt. Your eyes sparkle.

"You're seriously already a little drunk?" She questions, amused as you groan and shake your head, "Noo, shut 'p. You're drunk tooo Jennifer. I literally am not drunk, I know waaht m doing."

"Right, right."

"Jennifer, kiss my forehead,"

"If you call me Jennifer one more time I swear to-"

"Jellybean?"

Jenna rolls her eyes, hugging you and kissing your forehead, "Love you," she murmurs.

"I love you tooo."

She sits you down to the couch where you get the sight of Mason, Jack, Melissa, and Liana are battling each other in Jenga.

"I'm not drunk, I just drank a little, I'm perfectly fine," she states. You don't say anything, instead distract yourself with the large jacket draped over her, you tug it, "I'm cold, give me that."

Jenna looks down at you, trying to take off her jacket, "Hey! What if I'm cold too?"

"Can we share?"

Jenna sighs, rolling her eyes, "Come here," you nestle into her as the jacket plays as a blanket.

It's not enough to cover the two of you, so she throws it into her bag and grabs a large blanket and lays it on the floor. The hollers of the Jenga crew grow loud as the tower tumbles over because of Jack.

"I TOLD YOU NOT TO DO THAT ONE IT WAS GOING TO FALL"

"OH YEAH, oops. I forgot." Jack says, putting his hands up in surrender.

The blanket is huge, it can fit at least 4 people.

"Hey Melissa, over here, let's turn into a burrito or something." The taller Latina that's non-occupied looks at you two, seeing the way you're already laying on the blanket, ready to be wrapped up.

You're squished in the middle as Melissa giggles and Jenna begins to roll over and wrap you 3 in the blanket.

"Oh my god," you three roll till the blanket space runs out, now you guys are cuddled, nestling into each other.

Cozy for sure, all of their arms are wrapped around you and each other as you close your eyes, getting comfortable.

"I hate you two," Jenna murmurs, both you and Melissa go "me too" before you two are silent.

"No you don't," you slur, "You love us."

"I don't, I love you guys," she giggles, and you and Melissa smile, hugging each other and letting the sound of music from the party echoing in your ears.

-

a/n: didn't know how to make them confess, so the ending is kind of suggested that they did? hopefully that's okay<3

[artdcnaldson]

thinking about pre engagement art at his first olympics. you’re doing coverage for a mag back home on some player from your hometown. but art. beautiful fucking art who you run into the morning of your first day and who you convince to come to your hotel so he can get away from the rickety little twin beds at the village. butter him up with a drink. only one, won’t hurt his game. you talk and talk you god you wish your story could be about him instead. and he stays the night in the hotel with you and is gone when you wake up but he’s left an official statement on his wonderful teammate, hometown guy, for your story that will make your boss happy. when you get home after your story star gets knocked in the round of 16 there’s flowers and your hotel has been paid off until the final. he wants to go to dinner after he wins gold and take polaroids of you w nothing but his medal on.

if u have room for 🫐 anon, i will keep homeostasis w my zweiginator emoji anon

Omg hi sorry I sat on this so long <333 RAHHHH pre engagement pretty angel curls art playing tennis at the Olympics makes me feel SO CRAZY

EEEEEP using your press pass to get access to all of his matches, even though you really should get home. Art’s dominating the court— effortless and beautiful. You’re there when he wins the gold medal match against an older, seasoned player, and he’s so gracious to the player’s face, to the press.

“It was a tough match,” he says into a microphone as you stand close by, thankful for the press badge around your neck. “I’m just lucky to get the chance to play with one of the greats.”

He smiles, charming and victorious when they take photos of him with his medal. The American flag in the background and him, the spitting image of homegrown, good old fashioned athletic talent.

The dinner is nice, fancier than you’re used to on a journalist’s budget. He’s just got a new sponsorship with Nike, so they pay for a lot. He buys a nice bottle of wine and bashfully admits he doesn’t know a lot about what makes it nice, other than the price tag. It’s charming, it’s sweet.

Sitting across from him at the table, you know he’s got less than innocent intentions for the night. Just three days ago, he had you sinking down on his cock, riding him hard and fast and crying out his name like it was a form of worship.

“Do you want to see the medal?” He asks once you’ve finished dessert.

You forget the question by the time you’re in his room in the Olympic village, when he’s mouth is on yours and his hands are ripping at your clothes. The bed is soft, plush beneath you as he drops you onto it, laid bare and wanting. You part your legs invitingly, wordlessly begging for him to strip off the rest of his clothes and bury himself inside of you.

You’d even let him do it raw— a present for his gold medal win.

But he disappears, digging in his suitcase until he retrieves the medal from within. Orange and red ribbon and a big gold medal at the center. Before you can say anything, he’s slipped it around your neck, so the gold is nestled between your breasts.

“Pretty,” he muses, fingers circling the cold medal where it rests. “Can I take a picture?”

“Yeah,” you answer quickly. He could’ve suggested anything, really, and you would’ve said yes. He was just so beautiful, so charming. You wanted to please him more than anything.

He pulls out a digital camera and powers it on. It whirrs softly as he zooms in, then snaps a photo of the medal resting between your tits. “Pose for me,” he says, but he has another idea already. His hands move up, sliding from your hip, up your abdomen, until it cups your breast in one large palm. He snaps another photo, smiling behind the camera.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he muses. He nudges your thighs apart and toys with your clit, just on the good side of teasing. Slow, insistent circles that make you grow even wetter, even needier. He zooms out, takes a full body shot (because he’ll die before he forgets this pussy) and tosses the camera to the side.

He hikes your legs over his shoulders and buries his face between your thighs— mouthing hungrily at your cunt. His tongue laves over your center, lapping at the wetness that had been steadily leaking from your cunt since dinner. He moans against you, as he nuzzles his nose against your clit to get closer and closer. “Taste so good—“ his words are mostly muffled against you, as he licks and sucks on your pussy, face shiny with slick and spit.

You cum easily, your body responding to his touches so openly. Like it’s his toy to use. He smiles up at you as you pant and tremble, cunt fluttering with aftershocks. He kisses your thigh gently, reverently.

It’s not long before he’s sinking into you. Your pussy so soft and warm and wet for him, sucking him in, aching for something to fill that empty spot inside. You whine and gasp as he nudges against your cervix, buried deep, finding home there.

“That’s it,” he hums as you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist. “Pull me in deeper. Just like that.”

His pace is slow, his thrusts deep. You feel so close to him as he boxes you in, arms on either side of your head, fucking you like he’s making love. When he leans down and kisses you, it feels like heaven, which seems appropriate for a boy who looks like an angel.

[azsazz]

Brains and Bravado

Kinktober Day 12: Dorian x Reader [Hate-Fucking]

Summary: Anon Req: For kinktober I would like to see either Rowan or Dorian! Maybe reader doesn’t get along with him but they have hate sex a lot and secretly like each other, however, they’re too stubborn (their pride) to admit it. Thank you for writing so many amazing fics for us, I’m excited for kinktober!👻

Based off of the previous ask of Dark Academia!Dorian

Warnings: Smut

Word Count: 3,944

Notes: You'll know the part I yearn for when you read it 😏 the rest is sort of meh

_________________________________________

You dislike Dorian Havilliard very much.

It doesn’t matter that he’s the son to the king or that his best friend is a lord-turned-captain-of-the-royal-guard. Here, he’s just Dorian, an annoying pain-in-the-ass know-it-all that you’ve sworn to demolish with your good grades.

Unfortunately, Dorian is as smart with his head as he is with that tongue.

It’s said tongue of his that always gets him out of trouble. The professors love him, eat up any excuse to fall into his good graces, whether it’s passing him with flying colors or allowing him extra special office hours whenever he should come calling. 

It’s not only the teachers who fall for the boy who makes the ugly, pristinely-pressed uniform look way too good. Everyone laughs at his jokes, flounders over his words even when they have no meaning at all. Girls and boys alike fall to his feet at the charming ways he speaks to them, looks at them, flirtatious to the bone.

You aren’t like that. Intelligent, yes, but your lips don’t curve around your words like Dorian’s do. They are his long-time lover, held near and dear and are cared for. He speaks like an age-old poem, like he’d been an esteemed author in a past life, the way they flow so easily for him. 

No, you can write beautiful sentences, transform letters into works of art, ones that bring tears to the eyes of the beholder, but it’s speaking eloquently that always trips you up. You lack the emotion, the confidence, to really make your words ring true.

The laughter and easiness of the hall seems to dwindle into a silence that only Dorian himself can evoke, and you turn from gathering the textbooks you’ll need for the afternoon to watch. You don’t want to, but for some reason you’re as drawn to him as the rest of the crowd is.

Dorian’s sapphire eyes stir something in your chest, even more so when they flicker down your body and that little smirk appears, the one he knows pisses you off to no end. Your stare turns into a molten glare at that look, and the feeling coursing through your veins must be a hot hatred for the boy striding down the damned halls like he owns the place.

Chaol trails Dorian down the hall like an esteemed purebred, waiting for a treat. He had the glare of a bloodhound too, but it doesn’t do much to ward off the flirtatious glares the prince is receiving. There hasn’t been a single time all year that you’ve seen them apart. They’re even in all of the same classes for Mother’s sake.

That look makes you want to squirm, to claw his eyes out. What a privilege it must be, to be the king’s son, you think, slamming your locker shut with a loud clang and spinning on your heel, stalking down the hall to your next class.

One of the ones that Dorian’s in.

Thankfully, he stops to ogle some girls who’ve hiked their uniform skirts up to their eyes at the appearance of the prince. Chaol, ever the mindful guard, stops with them.

You can feel those gemstone eyes following you down the hall. Of course, everything that Dorian sees in you is only surface level. He doesn’t know your background or the fact that you’d been kept at school over the summer because your parents couldn’t afford for you to come home, all while he was living it up in the lavish palace he calls home.

He doesn’t know that late at night you sneak out of your rooms and into the library. There’s a hidden door in there, tucked away within the vast stacks of a history so ancient, that it makes you shudder to even glance at. You haven’t found the courage to step foot down that particular aisle of books because the raw power in the air makes the hair on your arms stand tall. You had made it your mission to muster the confidence to see what’s behind that door before you graduate, and plan on spending any of your free time searching for other hidden passageways within this centuries old school.

Whilst lost in the thoughts of the door in the library, you almost miss out on the entire lecture. Your professor doesn’t seem to notice because Dorian is answering all the questions she asks, and she’s wooed by his boring responses that even the dunces of the class could explain with flying colors.

By the time you’re released from class, you’ve decided to explore more of the library for hidden doors or books that give off a harrowing aura, when you slam into a wall. Not a wall, but the chest of your rival, Dorian Havilliard.

“Where are you going?” He asks, blocking you from stepping out into the hall.

You haven’t realized that the class had cleared out so quickly, and you shuffle a step backwards, trying to ignore the heat of his body and the way it had felt pressed against yours for a fleeting moment. In a burst of betrayal, that warmth converges between your thighs, and your muscles jump as you try to clench them together without his notice.

“To the library.” You don’t know why you answer, maybe because you’re thrown off by his sudden presence and lack thereof his best friend. Where is Chaol, you wonder, swallowing harshly when Dorian leans against his arm in the doorframe. He’s tall, muscular, and the shape he’s in draws your gaze down his perfect frame.

Something in those sapphire eyes flash, his mouth flattening from his smirk. “No, you’re not.”

“Yes, I am,” you argue. Who is he to tell you what you can and can’t do in your own free time? “I want to get started on the paper Professor Erawan assigned us,” you lie, thankfully remembering that tidbit from class while your mind strayed.

“Then I’ll come with you.” It’s not a suggestion.

You scoff, narrowing your eyes at him, wondering what he could possibly want from you when there are plenty of people willing to give him the attention he’s craving. Dorian straightens and waves you out of the room with a flourish of his hand.

You stare for a long moment, brows furrowed as you try to figure him out. You’re not friends, and you don’t want to be. All you really want is to beat him at his game of wits, be the first in class, and solve the mystery of what’s behind the dark door in the library. None of which needs any involvement from him.

“Please,” you roll your eyes, giving him a wide berth as you step around him into the hall. He immediately steps into line with you, and you try to ignore the way that he’s slowing his gait to stride alongside you. “You’re only coming to flirt with the librarian.”

Dorian’s grin is wolfish, “Why would I flirt with the librarian, when you’re right next to me?”

You trip over your feet at his words. Dorian catches you with a hand around your arm, steadying you. His touch is hot on your skin, and the look in his eyes is hot.

Your heart races in your chest.

Of course, Dorian has an ethereal beauty to him that anyone would consider themselves lucky to be with, but the fact that he’s flirting with you of all people, when all you’ve done all year is argue and bicker like an old married couple confuses you almost as much as the idea of the hidden door in the library.

“I don’t know why you’d flirt with me at all, actually,” you reply when you can finally find your voice. You’re being snippy, but you want the irritatingly handsome boy beside you to go away. He can find a place to stuff his cock elsewhere—you’re nowhere near as easy as the rest of the students in this school. “We don’t like each other.”

“Awe,” Dorian croons. When you glance over at him, he’s wearing a taunting smile, one that fills you with as much warmth as a cup of tea. “Who said I didn’t like you?”

Turning down the corridor to the library, it’s surely unlikely that Dorian will leave your side. You make a show of glancing around as if you’re looking for something, ignoring the way that your heart stammers in your chest at the mention that there’s a possibility he might actually enjoy your presence.

“Where is your little lap dog?”

Dorian barks out a startling laugh. He looks shocked himself, placing a hand to his chest, his cheeks pinkening as his chuckle echoes through the halls. It being the weekend, students and professors alike have fled the school buildings, more than ready to start the fun of the weekend.

You’re pretty sure that you and Dorian are the only ones left in the school.

“Chaol is on errand,” he tells you, sapphire eyes sparkling with interest. “Would you rather have him join?”

He says it like it’s a proposition, like you’d be pressed tightly between both of their bodies, like you’re not walking in through the doors into the expansive library that has more secrets than books.

You shoot Dorian a sidelong glance, your brows furrowed in confusion. He’s acting nothing like the Dorian you’re used to. Well, sure, he’s still the cocky prince you know, but the flirting is new. He’s staring ahead, like what he’s said hasn’t just thrown you completely off axis.

“Here looks good,” you mutter, sliding your books onto one of the large wooden tables lining the walls. Anything to fill the silence. It’s eerie in a building like this, stacks upon stacks of books filled with puzzles you’ve yet to piece together.

“You’re actually studying?” Dorian sounds affronted, like he can’t believe that studying is something done in a library at all. Like it’s some sort of secret brothel or a place for his conquests.

You wouldn’t put it past him.

“I told you I was going to study,” you bite, “What did you think I was going to do?”

You regret the words almost as quickly as they leave your lips.

“I thought you invited me so that you could sneak your hands down my trousers. Wear my tie around your neck while I take you over the table, perhaps?”

“I didn’t invite you at all,” you fight, but your voice is as weak as the knees you’re pressing tightly together, trying to ignore the sudden interest your cunt has in his words.

You gasp when you’re suddenly turned around, Dorian pressing in close. He’s staring down at you like you’re his favorite treat, sapphire eyes dark with interest, want, and a tinge of…hate? Annoyance, maybe, because you’re putting up much more of a fight than he’s used to.

His cock twitches at that.

“Do you want me to leave?” He asks, and the tenor of his voice rumbles deliciously against your chest. His scent is intoxicating, and you’re sure that his calloused fingers would feel just as good pressed against your skin as they are pinning your hips to the edge of the table.

Your brain must be on the fritz. Maybe you’ve stepped through that scary, looming, ancient door into another world because this cannot be happening. This isn’t Dorian.

“Why me?” you voice is quiet, a minute tremble to it that makes Dorian’s lashes flutter. He shifts on his feet, and you bite back the groan that crawls up your throat at the feeling of his hardening cock in his pants against your front. “Why now?”

He leans down to whisper in your ear, his long fingers tucking your hair tenderly behind your ear. The motion has your thighs clenching. His breath is a warm caress as he says, “Because I love it when you fight me. And I’ve had enough of keeping myself at bay. Hate me, if you must, but please let me fuck you.”

 “Yes,” you sigh, and the word is barely out of your mouth before Dorian’s lips are against yours, hot and unyielding, ravaging you completely like a predator does it prey.

His fingers clutch at your clothes, curling into the fabric in a feral sort of need that has you gasping, has your cunt weeping and lightning zipping through your veins. You chase the feeling, rolling your hips against Dorian’s.

You don’t know what’s come over you. The taste of his lips is exquisite and much sweeter than the vitriol the both of you are usually spitting at each other. His scent invades your senses—ice, ocean, magic, and musk. It consumes you as much as his presence is right now, overwhelmed by not just the primal need for you in his life but because of the strange events that have led you from loathing the boy lying you back onto the wooden table.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he pants when you arch into his body. His breath is hot, mingling with your own as you gasp for air. Dorian’s cheeks are flushed a pretty pink, matching the color of his swollen lips that he darts his tongue across, chasing your taste. His sapphire eyes are all pupil, dark and consuming and hungry for more. “Spread those pretty legs for me.”

You follow his instruction like a person cursed, thighs spreading wide for Dorian as he stands to his full height. His eyes burn a thousand fires down your body as he takes his time drinking you in, the gentle caress of his hands following the same torturous path has shivers awakening across every inch of your body.

“Dorian,” you plead, but he’s too engrossed with taking his time. His fingers curl around the waistband of your pants, flicking the button open with ease and guiding them down your legs.

“You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for this,” he admits, utterly distracted by the sight of your creamy thighs on display for him. He bites back the smirk that’s threatening to appear on his lips when you impatiently start kicking your pants down your legs with a frustrated and desperate keen. It makes his cock twitch, a bead of precum leak from the tip into the fabric of his underwear.

At the sight of your soaked panties calling to him like a siren, Dorian has to press his palm firmly against his aching cock, trying to keep himself from orgasming right now.

“How long?” you ask. Your fingers curl into the wood of the table because you need something to hold onto, and Dorian’s just out of reach. Your cheeks heat with arousal as those sapphire eyes zero in on your nipples where they’re tight and straining against your shirt. You don’t know why you feel the sudden urge to know how long he’s been thinking of you like this, why now is the time he’s finally decided to make his move, but you need to know his answer. “How long have you wanted me lying out for you like this, Dorian?”

His name sounds like heaven on your tongue, and he groans, releasing himself, his resolve snapping as he bends to take your mouth again.

You moan loudly, languidly. Dorian’s tongue brushes against yours and the feeling zips to your cunt as you imagine the feeling of his mouth sucking your clit, his tongue plunging inside of your dripping cunt like a starved male.

He hastily shoves up the fabric of your shirt, sneaking beneath the material of your bra to palm your breasts. You bury your fingers deeply into his hair, tugging on it when he tries to part from you. You didn’t know how desperately you’ve needed this—needed him—but now that his admission is out in the open and has you rethinking your dislike for the prince, you don’t want him to part from you.

“Since the first day we met,” Dorian breathes against your mouth. Your body goes slack with shock at the thought, fingers falling from his locks. Dorian doesn’t seem to notice, taking advantage of finally being free from you to mouth his way down your throat, burying his head beneath your shirt for a taste of your flesh.

You’d met Dorian years ago, on the first day of your time at school here. He was just as popular then as he is now, and just as cheeky, too. All you can recall from that day is the way how all of the other students were falling over their feet for a chance to befriend the prince. You’d wanted nothing to do with that, even when he’d stopped at your locker and tried to use his charm to get you to switch with him.

He had made a joke in poor taste, one that annoyed you enough to rebuttal with words not polite for someone of your status to say to a member of royalty, ever.

That was when you started to dislike Dorian Havilliard.

That sentiment is beginning to change, especially when he rolls one of your nipples gently between his teeth.

You cry out in pleasure, trying to grind your hips against his as you writhe beneath him on the table. Your arch, pressing your breasts into his mouth and he hums encouragingly, even more so when he hears the sound you make in response.

Dorian brushes his knuckles across your clothed cunt, reveling in how responsive you are for him when he’s barely done a thing. After this, he hopes that you won’t go back to hating him because he doesn’t think he can bear it, now that he has the taste of your engraved on his tongue.

He abandons post between your breasts, sliding his way down your body, kissing, licking, teasing every inch of skin that he can before he arrives at his desired destination. He settles himself between your legs, jerking your closer to him, your legs over his shoulders and ass leaning precariously on the edge of the table.

“Sweetheart?” he questions, and it takes effort for you to lift your head to look at him. Your body is burning with need, thighs trembling with anticipation. Your gaze is cloudy with lust and it takes you a few blinks to dispel it, giving Dorian your attention.

You scowl at the smirk gracing his lips. “What?”

“Do you still dislike me?”

Your heart thunders in your chest as you watch Dorian pull your panties to the side with long fingers that you know could hit every neglected spot inside of you. The cool air from the library breezes across your wetness along with the heat of his breath and it sends your mind into a dizziness of desire that forces you to take a moment to catch your breath.

“If I say yes?” you ask, biting your lip. Will he stop? Pretend that this was all some sort of game? A bet that he and Chaol had going on? Will he pop out from between bookshelves to laugh?

Before your mind can grasp onto one of those thoughts and overthink it, Dorian says with a twinkle to his sapphire eyes, “I’d say that you’re not going to after this.”

And then the prince feasts.

You fall back to the table with a cry of satisfaction. The thud of your head smacking the wood echoes throughout the library but you hardly feel a thing as Dorian licks a fat stripe up your clit. He doesn’t hesitate to bury himself in your cunt, fucking his tongue into you with fervor. Your thighs are already threatening to clamp shut around his head but his strong hold keeps them splayed wide as he devours you.

“Princeling,” you whine when you feel the tidal wave of orgasm building. You don’t know where the nickname comes from, somewhere buried as deeply inside of you as Dorain’s tongue is, but it has him growling against your cunt, trapping your clit between his teeth and flicking his tongue across it faster.

There’s nowhere for you to go, nowhere to squirm with the feeling that crashes over you because Dorian’s strength is pinning you to the table. Your fingers find his scalp, biting in, and Dorian welcomes the feeling, using that wicked tongue on you even when the wave crashes and you’re trying to shove him weakly away from your aching clit.

The reprieve of Dorian pulling away doesn’t last long. He straightens to his full height, keeping your legs hooked over his shoulders. It causes your body to slide even closer to him, your wet cunt butting right up against his cock that’s straining so hard in his pants that it’s painful.

“You’ll never call me anything else. Promise me,” he says, and with that harsh look in his eyes and the way that his lips glisten with your orgasm, you could never say no.

Dorian unsheathes himself, unbuttoning his trousers and pulling them down just enough that his cock springs free from its confines. He takes himself in hand, eyes wild with desire as he slides himself through your slickness.

Your breath is choked when you respond, “I promise.”

It’s pressed from your lungs completely with each inch his cock plunges into you. Your nails scrape against the wood of the table, the finishing catching beneath your nails. Your eyes roll into the back of your head at the feeling of him stretching you wide, Dorian’s low groan reflecting the one that your body is desperate to release but is unable to.

His curse is sinful when his hips finally meet yours. He’s staring down at you like you’re everything to him. Like you’re his queen.

“Dorian,” you gasp.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“Move.”

Move he does. Dorian’s hands meet your hips and your fingers clamp down on his forearms as he thrusts his hips. He loves the marks you’re leaving on his skin, the way you’re branding him with your hot, wet cunt wrapped tightly around him. There’s a sheen to his eyes that shifts something in your soul. You can feel it splintering out of your chest, winding through your veins and into Dorian’s where you’re connected.

He seems to feel it too, with the way that he leans over you again to capture your mouth against his.

“You will be my ending,” Dorian breathes when he’s able to pull himself away from you. He doesn’t go far, his lips brushing yours with his confession. “I would give you my last breath if it meant keeping you alive, but I’m selfish enough to admit that I’d waste it because I cannot imagine a plane of existence where I am without you.”

“Dorian!” You shudder with his words, hiss because how can one male be so good with words? So good with his fingers, his tongue, his cock? The way that he’s hitting that spot again and again and again is driving you over the edge into an oblivion that he follows you into because he meant what he just said.

You revel in the weight of his body collapsing against yours while he paints the walls of your cunt with his cum. You wrap your legs around his waist, keeping him tucked deeply inside of you. Your hearts beat loudly against each other, a heady drum of confessions and more.

You peck Dorian once, twice when your mind clears, trying to pull him from the stupor your cunt has put him in. He’s never felt like this before, never had sex this good. Even when you’re spewing fire at him, he’s wanted this, wanted you from the moment he set those sapphire eyes on you.

And now he has you.

[carolmunson]

let's go, don't wait: part II (e.m. x f!reader)

inspired by this prompt by @edsforehead - it's not exactly the same but i did my best! series masterlist summary: modern!eddie's been single since 2020 and aside from getting his dick wet after weekend shows at the hideout, he hasn't been going out of his way for love until his friends make him. cw: 18+ for adult themes. alcohol use, swearing, phone sex, smut, oral (f receiving). some sad childhood talk, all around this is a fluff piece so nothing too bad. (19K words.)

With how easy the first date had been to make, Eddie wasn’t expecting it to be so hard to pin you down for the next one. Neither of your schedules had lined up for the rest of the week, and up until next Friday neither of you had much free time. You either had to stay at work late or he had to stay late for the three extracurriculars he was running (jazz club, D&D club, and co-runner of the school’s GSA) – which he’d only be annoyed about running if he didn’t absolutely love the kids. The extra overtime didn’t hurt either, perks of working at a rich kid private arts school.

At first he was nervous you were busy going on dates with other guys until he called you one night and he could hear your boss in the background waxing poetic about the shift to lab grown sapphires. Then he’d feel bad for feeling so accusatory to start – you’d never said anything to each other about being exclusive. Hell, you’d only been on one date. But you talked every day, and fuck did that feel good for Eddie. 

g’morning pretty  ew you’re obsessed with me. good morning, boy

He’s happy he knows you’re joking because he’s certain no other guy would get it. He knows you read his text and screamed into your pillow, cheeks hot and chest thrumming. That’s why you always have to respond so mean so that he doesn’t know how much you like him back. This backfires, because he can tell that the meaner you are, the more you like his attention.

what’s your weekend look like? i know you leave for AZ on sunday but i’d really like to see you before you go. 

You were headed to a gem trade show in Tucson on Sunday for a few days. You went every year you’d been working for your boss, you told him all about it on the phone. You’re cute when you’re excited but he didn’t want to embarrass you by saying so – just let you rattle on about all the things you get to see. You promised to send him pictures of some of the cool fossils you might come across, all of the big crystal furniture.  “You were a weird dinosaurs kind of kid, right? You’d be into pictures of fossils?" “Why are you so mean? Would you go up to nine year old me and call him a weird kid that’s into dinosaurs?” “No, he’d be so sad.” “So next time you wanna say some mean shit, imagine you’re saying it to nine year old me.” “I bet you were a cute kid,” you thought out loud, “You’re a really cute adult.” 

“You think I’m cute?” “The cutest.” His face burned at every compliment you offered him, flushing dark pink at every sweet word you said. He was a mess. Embarrassment would flood him when he’d check his phone during class, the kids would never let him hear the end of it.  “Did you meet her on Tinder, Mr. E?”  “This is not appropriate class discussion guys,” his eyes would shut tight in frustration when they’d catch him texting you back and he’d reluctantly tuck his phone into his back pocket. They were way bolder than he was at their age. “No because like, you’re so happy though. Look how you’re smiling when you text her.” “Mr. Munson’s got that W rizz.”  “Is she hot?” “Be fucking forreal. He’s blushing so hard right now.” “Smash or pass, Munson?” “Guys, can you relax? You literally have a test right now." Bzz. Bzz.

i gotta run errands on saturday and go then leave sunday night :( working late friday cause we need to take gem inventory essentially He sighed, he didn’t want to wait until next Friday to see you again. 

i could run errands with you if you’ll have me. i’ll drive! you sure? it’s not super exciting stuff. you make it exciting. :) i’ll take you out to lunch. sound good? okay :) okay :)  see you saturday, cutie omg shut up 🙄 but yeah. see you saturday. :) 

He was nervous you’d notice he got his interior detailed the night before, but he was too embarrassed to let you get into the car in its original glory. He honked the horn in three short bursts, being mindful of the neighbors even though it was around 9:30 in the morning.  You inch out of the door of your place, the first floor of a quaint three family home, in your Princess Diana best. You dressed for errands and his heart swells, leggings and a big sweatshirt, little white sneakers and socks. You look cute like this, hurrying outside with your paper Old Navy bag blowing in the wind, relaxed and laid back. But you aren’t for long, you take a step outside only to feel the chill in the ‘second winter’ air of March and raise a finger to him before running back inside — reappearing with a lightweight parka haphazardly thrown on. You patter to the car and he tries to ignore his heart rate speeding up while he leans over to open it for you. “Hey you,” he smiles, “Good morning.”  “Morning,” you say with a coy smile. His chest leans forward slightly to kiss you as you settle in but he stops short. Are you there yet? You only kissed that night last week. What if you weren’t ready to kiss again? He swallows, settling back into his seat but recognizing how his car fills with your scent. You smell so fucking good he could eat you.  “So what’s the agenda, sugar?” he asks.   “Okay, agenda: Target, Old Navy for a return,” you say, raising your bag, “I have to run into Sephora to pick up some sunscreen for my boss, and um…I think that’s it? They’re all in the same shopping center over by um – by the movie theater.”  “Oh yeah,” he nods, “I know the one.”  He reaches for the sound system, turning the volume up a little, Lamb of God’s Vanishing crunching through his speakers. He watches for your reaction and can tell you don’t know it, but you don’t seem appalled or repulsed.  “Do you have a tunes preference?” he asks, voice velvety smooth, eyes catching on your parted lips, “It’s a long drive.”  “Uh…” your knee bounces faster, “I mean it’s your car. We should listen to what you wanna listen to.”  “Honey, I’m like your Uber driver today,” he offers, head tilting while he looks over at you. Eddie’s gaze lingers on your face with soft eyes, lashes a shadow over his irises, “How’m I gonna get a five star review if you don’t like the music?” 

“I do!” you assure aggressively, “I do like it.”

“Here, I have a plan,” he nods, holding his hand out, “Gimme your phone.” 

You toss him a look which triggers an eye roll from him, “Just trust me, give me your phone.” 

“Here’s the bargain, I connect your tunes to my car,” he mumbles while he disconnects his phone from the car’s Bluetooth and connects yours instead, “But I get to pick the songs. Deal?” 

A giggle bubbles out of you, shoulders shaking loosely, “That’s ridiculous.” 

“But is it a deal?” he asks again. He takes a breath that inflates his chest, while you consider it. It’s not fair that you look so cute this morning, it’s not fair that he doesn’t have the confidence to just reach over and lay one on you like they do in the movies. He wasn’t lying when he said you were so kissable. 

“It’s a deal,” you nod. He watches your knee slow down to stopping. Eddie swallows, eyes traveling from your knees to your full thighs sitting fat in his passenger's seat with a quick scan that you don’t notice. 

“Okay, so let’s see…” he mutters, going into your music and scrolling through your artists, landing pretty early on with an enthusiastic nod that makes his waves bounce around his face. 

“Blood Brothers?” he asks, “Wow, you really did hate your dad, huh? I haven’t heard this album in years.”

“I started liking them for a boy back in high school,” you shrugged while he thumbed through the tracks, “Then started liking them forreal.” “That’s okay,” he smiles over at you, “You’d be surprised to see my Spotify wrapped every year. Never as mean and scary as you’d expect.” 

“No?” your brows raise, “Not a bunch of ‘Stabby Metal Scream Crunch Stab’ in your top ten?” 

He scoffs, settling on ‘Set Fire to the Face on Fire’, the opening Fire! Fire! Fire! leaking through the speakers, “I married the head cheerleader at my high school – I’d like to think my music taste is pretty eclectic. Metal’s just, y’know, the main course. Plenty of side dishes on my roster.” 

“You a big fan of having something on the side?” you quirk a brow at him through the rear view mirror while he puts the car in drive. He scoffs again, lips twitching up into a smirk. You’re quick and it makes his blood rush, his fingers drum nervously on the wheel while he keeps the car in place.

“Why’re you so mean, huh?” he teases, “Do I look like the kind of guy that’s had a lot of side pieces?” 

“Oh,” you start, giving him a once over, “Not even close.” 

“You’re here with me, aren’t you?” he asks, putting the car in park again. He turns down the volume, turning his body completely towards you. “Yeah, yeah, you’re right,” you drone, turning yourself toward him in return,  “I guess I am.” Eddie clears his throat, tongue flicking over his full lips to wet them. 

“So uh…before we hit the road,” his voice cracks, heart rattling in its cage, trapped in his chest, “D’you-think-I-could-steal-a-kiss-good-morning?” It pours out of his mouth while his body goes numb – like the bandaid was ripped off but someone else did it for him. His hopeful voice when he presents the offer sounds foreign to him, but he knows what he’s asking you. Blood rushes in his ears, the steady thump of his heart pounding through his veins. Your bottom lip tucks into your teeth, eyes shutting briefly with anticipation, a tiny chuckle huffs through your nose. Your knee starts to bounce again. 

“Yeah, but it’s not stealing if I’m letting you have one,” you reply, your own voice becoming delicate and girlish, teenage nerves coasting down your throat through the back of your neck. He leans close to you, engulfed again in the scent of your perfume, head leaning to the side slightly while your movements mirror his. Eddie brings a hand up to hold your face, keeping you steady while he goes in for the kill, one he’d been hoping to make since he saw you last. Heart stuck in his throat, he almost feels a sob shoot through his chest when his lips touch yours. It’s as soft and warm as he remembers. As soft and warm as the moment he’s been replaying in his head since last Monday. 

You both break apart but he doesn’t move away from your face, hand dropping from your cheek to your bouncing knee where he gives it a gentle squeeze, “Are you nervous?” 

“I don’t know,” you shrug, “I think maybe, yeah. But I’m excited, too. Y’know, to spend the day with you.” 

It’s his turn to feel giddy and embarrassed, a flush building steadily on the apples of his cheeks, “If it makes you feel any better, I’m nervous, too. But it’s  just gonna be a nice, chill day, okay?” 

“Okay,” you nod, both of you wearing matching smiles. 

“I do have a rule, though,” his brows furrow, implying he’s serious. You look very seriously back at him. 

“I gotta kiss you every time you’re startin’a look a little too good,” he gives you a shrug of one shoulder before settling back into the driver’s seat while he pulls onto the road, “Cause I don’t know if you saw, but the way you look this morning is fucking illegal.” 

You let out a soft tsss from between your teeth, shaking your head while you settle back into your seat, “You’re so stupid.” 

“I’m just a man, sugar,” he tilts his head, readjusting behind the wheel before putting the car back in drive. He restarts the song before pulling onto the road, feeling like maybe this errands date would go much, much better than he’d planned. He drums on the steering wheel again, head softly bouncing along with the beat of the song while the lyrics scream through the car. You mouth along with them, staring out the window while you do. 

‘Those cold hooks, cemetery claws raking at the infant's jaws,Set fire to the horse on fire,Set fire to the dress on fire,Set fire to the stage on fire,Set fire to the stars on fire!’

“Damn, me and the band shoulder cover this,” he nods to himself, “We’d fuckin’ crush.” 

“Can you scream like that?” you ask, turning your head to face him, “I feel like I’d blow my vocal chords.” 

“Eh, sorta kinda,” he tilts his head from side to side, “I got plenty of practice. Do plenty of screaming with our own stuff, you sorta train your voice up to do it. I might not be able to scream as high but, I could harmonize with Jeff – lead guitar if you remember –” “I remember,” you smile, “And his wife Alycia.” 

“And is wife Alycia! Damn, look at you,” he smiles, “You should write my memoirs. But yeah, surprisingly Jeff can get pretty high up there – it’s super impressive.”

“Well when you cover it, I’ll come watch,” you nod, “You still haven’t really told me about your band.” 

“Corroded Coffin?” he asks, turning into a coffee shop drive-thru and pulling up behind a short line of cars, “Not much to tell. We play shows every couple weeks, in the summer every week, at a few bars around the city that are into that scene. We have fun – still play at our old stomping grounds in Hawkins, too. Same five drunks cheering us on for the last twelve years.” 

His eyes widen at the realization, “Twelve years, Jesus. I’m so fuckin’ old.”   

“Oh, thank god I only have two years until I’m fuckin’ old,” you laugh, “You don’t look old.” 

“You don’t look old either,” he smiles, giving you a once over that you immediately feel shy under, “What can I get you?” 

“Oh no, no,” you shake your head, reaching for your wallet in your Old Navy bag, “I’ll get it, seriously. You’re driving me.” 

“No, please, I’ll get it,” he says, pushing your hand down gently while you offer your card. 

“I wanna pay for it, you’re already going out of your way to do all this boring shit,” you offer again. He plucks your card from your fingers and flicks it into the backseat. He shrinks when your smile falls, you’re very obviously not taken by his actions. 

“Look,” he shrugs, voice lowering, “I didn’t wanna say anything cause I didn’t know how you’d react. But this location actually doesn’t accept money from women. I know, crazy right? So sexist. Its so gross of me to still go here when it’s totally against all my shit. But since they don’t accept any payments from women, I’m gonna have to pay or else we can’t get coffee.” 

You roll your eyes but can’t hold back your laugh, “Fuck, why do you have to be funny about it?” 

“You think I’m funny, huh?” he grins, pulling up to the microphone box. 

“Yeah, funny lookin’,” you tease. Eddie ‘tsks’ a few times with a shake of his head, looking back at you. 

“What can I get you?” he asks again. 

“Medium, iced, caramel. Almond milk if they have it, regular if not,” you respond, crossing your arms. He orders and can feel your eyes on him, he wants to turn back around and kiss that pout right off your lips. You’re not used to having someone take care of things and he can tell, you don’t like it either. Or at least you don’t know how to let yourself like it. Two givers stuck in a car running errands with each other – he wonders if you’ve ever known how to take. 

He gets the coffees, yours with your milk and flavor, his iced and black. You say thank you when you take it, there’s something about your face when you do, a softness he feels like he’s not supposed to see. 

“Hey, you know my rule,” he says, leaning in again, “You’re startin’ to look at little too good right now.” 

Your embarrassed smile says enough when you close the gap between the two of you, lips pressing together in a soft and gentle peck. 

“Thank you,” he expresses, big brown eyes looking into yours before pulling back onto the streets. He turns the sound system up again, the opening of Cam’ron’s Hey Ma flows through the speakers, he nods enthusiastically. 

“Another banger,” he exclaims. 

“You know this song?” you ask with surprise. 

“I grew up in a trailer park, baby. You hear a lot of different music out there,” he shrugs. Eddie feels his throat choke up when he realizes he called you baby. But at least if you hated it, you weren’t showing any sign that you did. 

“Got drops. Got coupes. Got trucks. Got jeeps. Alright, 'cause we gon' take a ride tonight So ma. Wassup? Let's slide. Alright. Alright, and we gon' get it on tonight.” He likes that you’re impressed that he knows the words, of course he does. He grew up hearing this song all of summer 2002, running through the hose with the little kids, while his old baby sitters sat out in lawn chairs to work on their color. Playboy Bunny stickers on their hip bones to show off their tan lines. 

You both sing the opening verse to the windshield, windows coming down an inch as you turn onto the parkway, voices booming over Juelz Sanatana’s. 

“Now I was down town clubbin’, ladies night, Seen shorty she was crazy right, And I approached baby like, ‘Ma, what’s your age and type?’ She looked at me and said, ‘Yous a baby right?’” He hits the last red light before the long stretch of the drive, turning to you to deliver a passionate line reading of the lyrics. He’s surprisingly smooth, even impressing himself at how actually cool he’s being about it. 

“I told her, I’m eighteen and live a crazy life, Plus I’ll tell you what the 80s like, and I know what the ladies like, Need a man that’s polite, listens and takes advice. I can be all three, plus I can lay the pipe. Come with me, come stay the night.” 

He winks when he finishes the line and by the way you stop singing, he knows he’s got you flustered. You are easy. He wants to see how much easier it is. 

“You better be careful,” you warn, tongue caught between your teeth. “Yeah? I better be careful?” he grins, car pushing forward when the light changes so he can turn onto the highway. 

“You’re trouble, Munson,” you shake your head, turning your attention back to the stretch of asphalt ahead of the both of you, “You’re big trouble.” 

“She looked at me laughin’ like, ‘Boy your game is tight.’ I’m laughin’ back like, ‘Sure, you’re right.’” 

“D’you need a cart?” Eddie asks, taking a side step over to the push carts neatly pushed into each other in between the double doors of Target. 

“Nah, if I get a cart I’m just gonna use it as an excuse to buy more stuff,” you pull a face, shoulders dropping dramatically, “And while I’d love to have an excuse to buy more stuff, I just need a basket.” “Basket it is,” he grins, hand wrapping over the hard plastic of one of the handles, tugging a basket loose from where it’s encased with its brothers. You reach your hand out, taking a step closer to the entrance, our step triggers the automatic doors and he files in after you. 

He looks at your outstretched hand behind you and then up at your face, “I can hold it, Ed.” 

He gives you a small shake of his head, “Nah, I’ll carry it. You lead the way. What’s on your list?”  “I mostly just need to get travel stuff…like toiletries,” you think out loud, “I guess this wasn’t really much of a big errand now that I think about it.” 

“That’s okay,” he says, and he means it. 

You don’t go straight to the beauty section. You’re taken by the $5 and under shelves at the front of the store, full of small decor knick knacks that he recognizes from his own apartment. This is where Tati’s always picking up those little gold tchotchkes for the coffee table and bookshelves every other month. The same way Chrissy would always have new, tiny holiday themed pieces every year to sneak onto their mantle.

“So, do you want me to keep you on task?” he asks, falling in step next to you, watching your fingers toy over a felted bunny figurine for Easter, “Or do you want me to aid in you not being on task?” 

You look over at him, eyes scanning over his frame. He catches the way your eyes linger on the way his t-shirt fits him under his leather jacket and denim vest. Dark olive green, a touch too tight in the chest, collar worn out just enough so that the ends of his collar bones peeked through. 

“We have all day, right?” you smirk. 

“All day,” he nods, “You a walking through the aisles type of girl?” 

“Is that a deal breaker?” you ask, attention captivated by a lavender ceramic pencil holder in the shape of a rainbow. 

“No, not at all,” he assures, taking you by surprise when he presses a kiss to your temple, “I’m a walking through the aisles type of guy.” 

“Was I looking a little too good while perusing the five dollar shelf?” you tease while you move onward into the store, stopping to thumb through a rack of jeans.

“Well that’s the thing,” he says with a tilt of his head, “You’re always lookin’ a little too good.” 

He hums when you roll your eyes, “Hmm. How’d I know that was coming?” 

“Why’re you so nice to me all the time, huh?” you fake argue, bored with looking at clothes and taking deliberate steps towards home goods to the bath section. Eddie hurries to keep up, basket clicking and clacking in his hand. 

“I guess I can be mean to you, but I feel like that would make me a shitty date,” he jokes back, “And an even worse Uber driver.” 

“So true, actually. Zero stars,” you nod, running your hand over a towel that matches the color of his shirt, “Y’know green’s a really good color for you? Makes your eyes pop.” 

“Oh…” he can feel himself turning red when you say that. So she’s been looking at my eyes? Is she always secretly sort of checking me out the way I’m always secretly sort of checking her out? Does she think I’m cute or something? Why am I trying to propose to her right now? Is it ‘cause we’re looking at towels? 

“Um, thank you. I’ll um, I’ll wear it more often,” he runs a hand over his face while you continue to look at towels, turning the corner to look at the fancier ones. You laugh at his jittery response, not so much at him, not teasing, but – this guy covered in tattoos, stomping in combat boots, definitely has a knife in his back pocket, chains dangling down the side of his pants, is blushing bright red just because you said he looks good in green. This guy? 

“You should,” you encourage, turning to see his reddened face, “What happened to not being nervous?” 

“That’s a rule for you,” he says, walking a few steps ahead of you. His eyes catch on a soap dispenser, it’s the same one he had in the master bathroom back with Chris, “I can be as nervous as I want.” 

“Ah, I see, rules for thee, not for me,” you nod slowly. 

“See! Now you’re getting it,” he says over his shoulder. He reaches his free hand back toward you, eyes meeting yours, tossing you a smile when you look at his hand and back at him, “Yeah, I want you to hold it.” 

When your fingers slide in to lace with his he realizes his hands are a little sweaty. They weren’t last time you saw him, with your hand cradled in between his on his knee at the bar. He was a couple drinks in then, not forced to face the action fully. Not aware enough to realize he was holding a pretty girl’s hand in public on a domestic date and all he can think about is railing you in the backseat of his Honda Civic and also making a mental note of all the color choices you like so when you eventually move in together he already knows what you — Jesus fucking Christ you have soft hands. You guide him through the rest of the bathroom section, stopping briefly to consider whether or not you need more hand towels for your apartment and then shaking it off. He let’s you take him around the corner to mattress covers, you talk about your Casper mattress and how you still aren’t sure if you really like it two years later. He hears himself respond in a fog but he’s caught up on how right it feels to be here with you, to be holding your hand, holding your Target basket for you, listening to you talk about whatever. 

You get to bedding and stop at the throws, Eddie’s fog lifts when you let go of his hand to take one of them off the shelf. A dark green knitted blanket replaces his hand, folded up neat and tidy in its wrap-around casing. 

“This is so perfect for my living room,” you murmur to yourself, “It’s so cute.” 

Eddie leans against the shelf while you let your senses absorb the knit: touch, sight, smell. You peer at the other colors, unhappy with the rest, balancing the blanket on your hip while you look back at the empty spot where it once sat. Your eyes roll again, shoulders slumping for real this time.

“Not seventy five dollars cute,” you grumble, putting the blanket back on the shelf. 

“Seventy five dollars?” he asks, aghast, brown eyes rounding in surprise, “What, did they shear the sheep here or something?” 

“That’s capitalism for ya,” you click your tongue, giving the blanket one last look with a little pout, “Oh well, I’m sure I can find a dupe or something at TJ Maxx.” 

“M’sorry, sweetheart,” he consoles, taking your hand back and giving it an apologetic squeeze. 

“Sweetheart…” you repeat back, “That’s cute.” 

“That’s cute? Okay,” he smiles down at the tile under his feet, teeth showing, “I’ll keep note of that.” 

You both continue your journey through bedding, crossing through the Hearth & Hand showcase where he listens to you gripe about how you swear it’s a scam. None of this shit should be this expensive. Like, I could get all this shit at H&M Home online for twenty dollars less. What, just cause they’re on TV? Frickin’ ridiculous. He still stands by thinking that you’re cute when you’re mad. He can’t let go of your hand. He doesn’t even care that you’re both so far from travel toiletries, that you likely forgot why you were even here. He just likes this, being in Target with you, holding your hand while you yell about something. 

“Oh, hold on, I gotta look at these,” you squeeze his hand before you let go again, walking ahead of him while Matchbox Twenty’s 3AM fades into Des’ree’s You Gotta Be. 

“Decorative wicker baskets?” he asks, stepping back to look at the wall of wicker baskets of all sizes in the back of the store. 

“I need two for under my dresser,” you say, reaching up to grab one and looking at the tag for the dimensions, “S’for my socks and stuff.” 

He tosses you a look and you look back at him, “Don’t ask.” 

You get lost in the task, two stepping with a little sway to your hips, small movements. You sing along to the song while you pull one basket down and put it back, and so on. You gotta be cool, you gotta be calm, you gotta stay together. You aren’t mocking him when you sing along but the lyrics feel like they are. You’re so into it, too. He guesses this is what you’re like when no one’s around to watch you. How unfortunate that you’re so kissable even when you think no one is around to see it. 

“Hey,” he says, putting the basket down, “What did I say about looking too good?” 

“What?” you turn around, eyes rounded, almost startled, “Am I taking too long?”

“No,” he says with a furrow of his brow, approaching you gently while he crosses into your personal space. His voice drops a little lower, lips lingering close to yours, “No baby, not at all. Just looking really cute over here.” 

You can’t help but feel girlish when he’s like this, giggling while heat floods your cheeks and chest. 

“C’mere,” he whispers, pressing you back with his body so you’re flush with the shelves against the wall. His nose brushes yours, fingers finding your chin to tilt you up toward him where his mouth can taste you and you can taste him. He starts slow, just a test, shrouded in the lower light of the back decorative basket aisle, lips parting slightly to see if you’ll match it. He puffs a small breath against the ridge of your upper lip and it’s enough to send you into a frenzy. His body presses close up against you, kiss gaining fervor, hands coming up to cup around your cheek and neck to guide you with him

“Wait, wait,” you gasp, breaking away, “We’re gonna get in trouble.” 

“You think I’m scared of getting in trouble?” he clicks his tongue before grinning at you. Looks like you don’t do trouble. His lips ghost over yours, skating softly over your cheek to get to your ear, “I’ve been gettin’ kicked out of Targets since 2007, sweetheart.” 

His teeth graze your ear lobe, your hands reaching to clutch the soft leather of his jacket, a small sigh puffs out of you. He’s not sure if it’s pushing it, but the aisle is empty, and whatever he’s doing, he’s pretty sure you like it – his lips drop from your earlobe to the edge of your jaw, settling on a slow, wet open mouth kiss on your neck before meeting your mouth again. 

“Ed,” you mumble quietly, “I can’t be turned on at Target.” 

“Yes you can,” he giggles, stealing another gentle kiss from you. 

“Uh…hey folks,” a timid voice calls from the end of the aisle. You both break away, embarrassment clearly taking you over while you cover your face in your hands. A younger guy in a red t-shirt and khaki slacks waves awkwardly when he has both of your attention. 

“Sorry to uh, to interrupt but, um – y’know, this is a family friendly store and we just – yeah, I’m sorry. You’re not in trouble or anything,” he offers, stumbling over his words. 

“Thanks man,” Eddie says genuinely, giving him a wave back, “Sorry about that, just uh, caught up in the moment I guess. Baskets really do it for her, y’know?” 

The guy nods, walking away when a small thwap of the back of your hand hits his chest. 

“You’re so fucking annoying,” you laugh, changing your voice to mock him, “Baskets really do it for her. Fuck all the way off.” 

Eddie laughs with you, picking up the Target basket and placing it in your hand, “Look, I gotta pee so bad. Do you think you can man the aisles yourself while I go and take care of that?” 

You nod, “Just text me when you’re done and I’ll tell you where I am, okay?” 

“Cool,” he nods back, leaning in to press a kiss to your cheek, “See you in a bit.” 

hey, where are you at? easter stuff, i got distracted  very godly of you

He bustles through the aisles, realizing now that you’re on the totally opposite side of the store than you were before. He spots you where all the candy is, your basket full of your toiletries.  “Easter candy?” he asks. 

“It’s the best holiday candy, easily,” you confess, “I know people will probably say Halloween since that’s the candy holiday, but dude, there’s something about Cadbury eggs.” 

“Yeah?” he reaches out and takes the basket out of your hand gently, you don’t protest when he does, “Isn’t it supposed to be from the UK? Don’t they have better chocolate by proxy?” 

“I think so,” you agree while Eddie strolls a little further down the aisle, “Have you ever had them?” 

“I’m sure I have,” he says, fingers tracing over a chocolate bunny in a box, “I guess I’m more of a Halloween guy.” 

“Boring,” you sing, holding two small bags of Cadbury eggs in your hands. Eddie holds the basket in front of him while you gear up to toss one in. 

“Kobe!” you shout, the candy leaving your fingers in a lay up toss, floating through the air only to fall at Eddie’s feet on the tile. 

“Too soon,” Eddie shakes his head solemnly, reaching down to grab the chocolate and put it in the red basket in his arm, “How’re you gonna call out a legend’s name and then miss?” 

“I feel like you moved it so that I’d miss,” you accuse playfully. 

“I kept it exactly where it was, I think you’re just not very good at basketball,” he says, making his way towards you. You put the other bag in with the rest of your stuff and look up at him through half lidded eyes. He matches your gaze while he looks at you. 

“You just don’t wanna see me be great,” you tease. 

“Oh, stop,” he tutts, “You’re very great.” 

Neither of you can help but kiss again. It feels natural to do it at this point. 

“You get everything you need to get?” he asks against your lips. You nod, a little ‘mhm’ squeaks out of your throat, “Good, cause they can’t yell at us for making out in the parking lot. So we should head out of here soon.” 

The remainder of the errands and lunch go by like a blur to him. Saturday meant busy restaurants so instead you opted for fast food in the parking lot, starting the drive home sharing Wendy’s waffle fries over the center console. 

Before you pull out of the lot, he flicks your music on again, opting to just leave it on shuffle because he feels like he learns you better that way. What’s going to come up next that’ll surprise him? What’s he gonna find out about you? 

‘Baby, I know you’re hurting, Right now you feel like you could never love again. Now all I ask, is for a chance, to prove, That I love you.’ 

Eddie barks out a laugh, takes a sip of his Sprite, and then laughs again, “Oh shit. I haven’t heard this song in years!”

“You know this song, too?” you ask, surprised again at his music repertoire. 

“You really don’t think I’m cultured, do you?” he jokes, “I have a deep affinity for the Backstreet Boys, though I will admit I was an NSYNC boy myself growing up.”

“Of course,” you murmur with an eye roll, “What’s your favorite NSYNC song?” 

“Ooh, let me see,” he thinks while he turns onto the highway, “Definitely Drive Myself Crazy. I’d always try to hit JC’s runs.”

“You knew their names too?” 

“I told you already, I grew up in a trailer park. I had the same babysitter from two to eleven,” he explains, “Mrs. Grandy watched me until her daughter Summer turned thirteen and then I’d go and pal around with her and her friends. I was like her little brother, I practically lived there.” 

“Were you always there?” you ask, “At your babysitter’s house?” 

“Yeah. My uh, my mom died when I was seven but she was always working and tryna stay out of the house when my dad came home so I was always at the sitters. He’s y’know – he’s in jail but he was in and out of it when I was a kid, too. Got arrested for beating on her a couple months before she died and my uncle moved up from North Carolina to take care of me. But he worked nights so – if I wasn’t at school I had to have someone watch me while he slept and then someone had to be at the trailer while I slept. It was way easier when I was in school – but anyway – wow – off topic there – yes, I spent a lot of time with my babysitter and her mom,” he finishes.  

“I’m sorry,” you offer, reaching over to give his knee a reassuring squeeze. 

“No, don’t be. It’s okay. I’m okay – I turned out pretty cool, I think,” he shrugs.

“You’re really cool,” you smile, Eddie smiles back. 

“What’s your favorite Backstreet Boys song?” he asks. 

“Hey Mr. DJ, easy,” you tell him, “It’s the most fucknasty song they’ve ever made and it still holds up. Like, I want it played at my wedding. I’m trying to make a child to that song.” 

Eddie loses it at fucknasty, head falling back on the headrest while his chest bounces, “The most fucknasty song? We’ll have to play that next.” 

“You won’t be disappointed,” you say, “AJ sings it and he was my favorite.” 

“Oh, baby, that does not surprise me at all,” he grins. Calling you baby sounds comfortable now, even after just talking for a week. He’s not sure how fast or slow these things are supposed to go, but your little smile every time he says it makes him wanna say it more. 

“I saw them in concert, when I was like, nine or ten or something,” Eddie says, “For their Millenium Tour – was when I Want It That Way was huge.” 

“You got tickets?” you ask, a teasing grin splitting your face. 

“Summer was a huge Backstreet Boys and NYSNC fan, like, posters all over her room. Had every magazine they were in that she could find, everything. So all we would do when she would watch me was listen to them and talk about them, so I liked them because she liked them and I thought she was cool,” he starts. 

“So anyway, she finds out on the radio that they’re giving away tickets to a show in Columbus – cause like, no one fucking comes to Indiana to play shows – and she calls in and wins! She literally went into shock. But we ended up going and she brought me instead of her friend because she was like ‘Mom, he’s family’. Which as an adult, makes me fucking melt y’know? But as a kid I was like ‘Damn you’re gonna drag me to Ohio to see a boy band? I wanna see Tool.’”

“Not Tool!” you laugh.  

“But it was cool cause we got to stay in a hotel for a night and all that other shit. It felt really special, her mom got us t-shirts which I’m sure cost her a fortune but – damn. I had a lot of fun.” 

“It sounds like you did.”

“The most crazy thing though – which I’ve never told anyone so, I hope you feel special – was when I saw them perform, I thought like, ‘Wow, I wanna do this when I grow up.’ So in a way, if it wasn’t for the Backstreet Boys, I would’ve never realized I wanted to be a rockstar,” he confesses, “And I mean, obviously I was really into rock, and metal, and folk-punk stuff ‘cause of Wayne, but seeing those guys on stage? Everyone screaming? I was like ‘Damn, I wanna be up there! I wanna be shredding up there!’” 

“I love that,” you reply, a warm smile spread across your face while you watch him relive the memory in his head. 

He shrugs, “It was a cool dream to have but, I don’t know. That ship has long sailed.” 

“What do you mean? Long sailed? You can still be a rockstar,” you argue, a fry crunching soft between your teeth. 

He shakes his head, slight defeat caressing his tone, “No I can’t. I’m too old now.” 

“Too old? Shut up,” you assert through a mouthful of waffle fry, “Metallica’s still out there playing. Iron Maiden is literally on tour right now. And they’re all like – in their sixties for fuck’s sake.” 

“Okay?” he huffs back, the red from the hazard lights of the car in front of you flashes against his face, “And? They all got famous when they were like, twenty or younger. I’m fucking…thirty-two.” 

“Exactly! You’re only thirty-two,” you exclaim while he rolls to a stop at a red light. Your hand reaches out to squeeze his arm, “You have so much time. You can literally be a rockstar whenever.” 

Eddie’s chest gets tight when you say that – it had been a while since he heard that type of encouragement. He’d missed the feeling of someone cheering him on from the bar while he was on stage, Chrissy’s praise when they’d get home. Wayne calling to tell him he saw a review of their set in the paper. Lately the shows felt sad to him, he felt lonely, even though he was always the happiest when he could make it on that stage. 

“You can’t be saying shit like that to me,” he says knowingly, maneuvering his arm so that he can take your hand in his. 

“Why not?” you ask, your voice holding a hint of sullenness that breaks his heart. He kisses your knuckles before resting his and your hand on your thigh, the light changing to green. 

“‘Cause you’re gonna make me fall in love with you.” Your eyes cast down at his hand on your thigh, your smile tight, stretching painfully across your cheeks, “Oh, okay. I’ll be meaner if that’s not what you’re going for.” 

“It’s definitely what I’m going for,” he murmurs, squeezing your hand softly. 

The mood in the car shifts to comfortable silence, I’ll Never Break Your Heart fading out into the opening croons of Leon Bridges’ Coming Home. You lean your head on the window, looking at the cars passing you on the highway, the light flecks of rain hitting the glass as the car keeps its speed. Eddie lets go of your hand, palm stretching over the mass of your thigh, running soothingly up and down on your leggings. His thumb rubs soft and slow over the outside of your quad, he just wants to touch you. It’s a comforting touch, no implications other than – I like being here with you right now. 

‘The world leaves a bitter taste in my mouth, girl. You're the only one that I want, Wanna be around. Wanna be around, girl, Wanna be around, girl, Ooh, wanna be around, girl...’

“I like this,” Eddie says, his voice soft, “Who is this?” 

“Leon Bridges,” you answer, “The whole album is so good. It honestly sounds even better on vinyl.” 

“I was just about to say, I bet it sounds great on vinyl,” he enthuses, “I like the old timey vibe.” 

“It’s cozy, right?” you ask. 

“Very cozy,” he nods, tossing a look over to you. Your eyes are heavy lidded, breath steady in your chest,  “You gettin’ sleepy?” 

“Kinda,” you yawn, “You’re not boring me or anything, I promise.” 

“That’s okay,” he offers you a soft pat on the thigh, returning back to the slow back and forth that was putting you to sleep, “We’ll be home soon-ish, just take a nap.” 

You frown, “You sure? Am I being lame?” 

“Nah, you’re not being lame,” he assures. Your eyes flutter closed, the warm cascade of his hand continues while they do. 

After a long stretch of highway, Eddie turns the car into your part of town, a sadness washing over him that he has to drop you off and then go home to his apartment for the remainder of this rainy evening. For a flicker of a moment he wants to be selfish and ask if you wanna just kick it at his house, but he knows you have stuff to do before this trip. Envy seeps into his sadness that your boss gets to spend so much time with you, gets to watch you laugh, gets to watch you solve problems, gets to watch you do anything all day. Is it healthy to feel like this so quickly? I don’t know her like that, he wonders, Is it that sort of thing where like, if you know you know? Or am I being kind of insane right now? 

“What’d I miss?” you ask, rising from your mini-nap in the car. You frown when you see your surroundings, so much closer to home than you hoped. 

“A few showtunes and Mariah’s Vision of Love,” he says, your sleepy voice tugging on his heart and lips, “I’m partial to My All but that’s cause I’m a professional sad boy.” 

“My All is on there, but it’s probably good I was out for Vision of Love – you didn’t have to hear me screlting it in the small confines of this car,” you laugh.

“Do you sing?” he asks. You shake your head no. 

“I did musicals in high school, as you can see by the showtunes,” you explain, “But I wouldn’t call myself much of a singer.” 

“I’m sure I’ll find out if that’s true sooner or later,” he offers. It’s part way through Good Charlotte’s Girls & Boys, volume low so he didn’t disturb you sleeping. 

“This song makes me laugh,” you say, he feels your hand find his, still sitting firm on your lap. You play with his rings, twirling them around his fingers, he swallows hard. 

“Like, so many songs that came out around this time, even a couple years after – now they just sound like women’s empowerment.” 

“Tell me more,” he says, turning onto your street, the ache creeping back up again. 

“Like, ‘Girls don’t like boys, girls like cars and money.’ Is that supposed to be a dig? Of course I like cars and money – I’m a person. ‘Paper or plastic, don’t matter, she’ll have it.’ Like it’s a bad thing! Sounds like she’s thriving, he’s paying for everything and she didn’t even ask him to, she’s just sitting there looking hot!” you continue, “Sounds like a dream to be honest!”

“Yeah!” he nods, mulling it over in his head, “Fuckin’ – good for her!” 

“I’m happy for her!” you laugh, he laughs with you. It’s nice to laugh so much with you, he likes that you’re sort of goofy in your own right. He pulls up to your house, pulling in to park in front of the walk way. Both of your laughs quiet down, you both look at the house through your window and the air in the car changes. 

“I don’t wanna go,” you frown, shoulders slumping, “I wanna keep hanging out.” 

“I know,” he says gently, “I wanna keep hanging out, too – but you got stuff you need to get ready for tomorrow.”

“I know,” you scrunch your nose, “So stupid.” 

“So stupid,” he agrees, “How dumb that you have to go to a really cool expo where the weather’s nice.” “Well when you put it like that,” you say with a tilt of your head and a smile. 

“Let me get your stuff out of the trunk,” he offers, getting out of the car into the smattering of rain. He pops the trunk and grabs your bags, coming over to your side to open your door for you. 

“Here,” he says, offering you your toiletries, Old Navy exchange (and a few other purchases), and a Sephora bag with definitely more than just your boss’s sunscreen in it. You thank him and lean in for a kiss but he grins, turning away from you to go back to the trunk, “Sorry, forgot a bag.” 

He reappears with the trunk closes, another Target bag in his hands that he passes to you. The weight reveals what it is before you look, but you peek to be sure, “Ed…”

“I didn’t really have to pee,” he confesses, “You just really liked it and you looked so sad when you put it back so, you know, I just wanted to do something nice.” 

“It’s really nice,” you smile, looking down at the green Casaluna blanket nestled in the bag, “I just don’t want to like…feel like I owe you something.” 

“No, no, no,” he hurriedly shakes his head, “Please don’t feel like that. This really was just like – it’s not like a power move or anything I’m not like that, I promise – I don’t want anything in return, seriously.” 

“Except maybe a picture when it’s all set up nice in your living room,” he grins. Your eye rolls make his heart flutter because so far, you always kiss him after you do it and this time is no exception. 

“I’ll see you when I come back,” you say, wincing as the rain starts to pick up. “You act like you’re going to war, sugar,” he teases, “Like you’re not gonna text me in five minutes.” 

“Ew, bye,” you scowl, giving him a peck before hustling up the walkway to find refuge on the covered porch. 

“Bye,” he calls out, bottom lip tucking between his teeth in the afterglow of another good date. He gets back in the car and waits for you to get in safely before driving away towards his own apartment. At a red light, his phone goes off, just five minutes since he’s pulled away. He opens his texts, a full belly laugh barking from his mouth.  it looks great in my living room. oh shit it’s only been five minutes. 😡 fuck you. 

By day two of your trip, Eddie was already homesick for you. Savoring every message you could send his way when you weren’t busy, but also trying his best not to text you back immediately so he didn’t seem needy. Or worse, desperate. He liked it the most when you’d send pictures: big pink quartz bathtubs, amethyst arm chairs, huge chunks of malachite that were the size of his hand. 

these would make cool dice for d&d, right? the coolest. you should buy that and then hand carve the dice for me. let me pull a grand out of my ass real quick so i can get to work on that. so needy.   oh, so you miss me?  of course i do :) i miss you, too :) 

“So when’re we gonna meet your mystery girlfriend?” Robin asks, swirling her rum and coke with her straw, “Or does she go to a different school in Canada that we wouldn’t know about?” 

Steve snickers with Robin, two mean girls who always mean girl together. It was a Tuesday, which meant Robin and Steve would meet up for Happy Hour at a bar near Nancy’s office for the paper and then bother everyone else to come meet them until everyone showed up. The three sat at the corner of the bar, Steve in the center in his business casual. Patagonia vest over his blue button up, hair perfectly windswept with his sunglasses tucked into his t-shirt collar. Picture perfect finance bro with his mean lesbian guard dog to bark at any woman who might hurt his feelings. Eddie was convinced that if Robin wasn’t gay, they would’ve gotten married the day that they met. 

“Well she’s not my girlfriend yet, for one,” Eddie starts, defensively, “And if you wanna know if she’s real, here’s her Instagram.” 

He passes his phone to Robin who swipes through your photos with a nod, a smile pulling across her face, “Not bad at all, Munson.” 

“Let me see,” Steve demands with a slight whine, plucking the phone from her hand. He scrolls, a touch of a salacious smirk spreading across his face, “Oh, smash. Immediately smash.” Steve passes Eddie’s phone back to him on the table, screen open to a risque picture of you on the beach, “You didn’t fuck?” 

“Not yet, Harrington,” Eddie sighs, “I’ll be sure to let you know the moment I slip it in, okay?” 

“I’m just saying,” Steve shrugs, “I would’ve fucked her already.” 

“Yeah, we know loverboy,” Robin teases. Eddie’s shoulders tense a little because if Steve wanted you, he’d definitely be able to take you. He’s hot and charismatic, he has more money than he knows what to do with, and at the end of the day – Steve loves women. All kinds of women. Eddie swore Steve would leave college with a taste for thin blondes that were in his frat’s sister sorority but every night it was someone new. And every night, Steve Harrington got what Steve Harrington wanted. 

“Tell her to follow me,” Steve winks. 

“It’s the first thing I did when I met her, actually – told her to follow you,” Eddie jokes back. 

what’re you doing? happy hour with the group. well right now just rob and steve but everyone else is on the way. fun! i bought a new bathing suit at a vendor because i have bad impulse control. also look at these cool rocks. oh, sick – what kind are they? the vendor said they’re ocean jasper do you want one? will you get a matching one with me? also linger is playing at the bar right now and it’s…making me think about you? stupid as hell. absolutely will get us matching ones. i love that song. who said you could be this cute? pretty sure i did. steve says hi by the way, he’s ‘linger’ing over my shoulder. lmao you’re so corny “Is she gonna send you a picture of her in the bathing suit or not?” he asks impatiently. “She’s still working, man,” Eddie flips his phone over so the screen can’t be seen, “And even if she does, I’m not gonna show it to you.” “Yeah, don’t be such a perv Steve,” Robin sasses, “Get me another rum and coke instead.” 

After an hour, the rest of the group has made it and Eddie’s had three beers in a short span of time. Not enough alcohol to feel drunk, but enough alcohol that he keeps getting lost in the thought of your thighs on that barstool last week. The little overflow of your tummy in your jeans, your hips, what you might look like out of those jeans. What sounds you might’ve made if he went to your house after Target and he peeled those leggings off you. You’re busy and he’s bummed out about it only because he selfishly wishes you were here at happy hour instead of looking at cool rocks. “You look so sad right now,” Tatianna says from across the table the group has gathered round, “You miss your girl?” 

Eddie pouts dramatically, nodding, “I do.” “Guys this is the one, I’ve never seen him like this before,” Tatianna grins, “He’s down bad.” 

Tati reaches next to her to hold hands with Gareth giving it a squeeze, “Hinge is the truth, I’m telling you.” 

“I mean, you sure? He thought Chris was the one and look how that turned out,” Mike says from the other end. Everyone sighs and groans, whines of ‘C’mon Wheeler,’ sound out of a few of them. 

“When you know, you know, kid,” Gareth offers softly, “And I think Ed knows.” 

“When’re we gonna meet this girl who likes your nerdy ass?” Erica giggles next to him. “Exactly what I was saying earlier,” Steve adds. 

“I don’t think you need to meet her, Steve,” Dustin laughs, “Let him have something, for God’s sake.”  “Well,” Nancy starts, “I mean, Steve’s party at Barcade is next week. Might be a good sort of low stakes way to ease her in.” 

“That’s actually such a good idea,” Tatianna agrees. 

“But I have the jazz concert for my kids that night,” Eddie sulks. 

“Yeah but that ends at like, eight thirty,” she argues, “You should tell her to come. We’ll take care of her before you show up.”  “I’ll take realgood care of her, Munson,” Steve grins.

“Steve.”

Eddie’s head is down on his forearms so he doesn’t know how many people started scolding Harrington over his head. This was overwhelming again – this part. Eddie thought maybe all the fussing over starting to date would be the worst but now it’s every day that they ask about you. At least twice a day in the group chat – Your girl coming to D&D? How was your date last weekend? Is she with you right now? Tell her we all said hi. Are you gonna bring her to Tati’s art show?

He doesn’t have all the answers yet and he doesn’t know where you’re at either. Do you want to meet his friends? Would you even like them?

Everyone yelling at Steve is satisfying, but it would be cooler if you were here to see it.  

The following night he was up late grading papers he should’ve graded a week ago but he was too caught up in his personal life to care. Conversation with you had dwindled quickly last night as he spent more time at the bar and ended up planning the next campaign. You hadn’t reached out at all today and he felt too proud to be the one to text you first, a twinge of resentment plucking at his heart strings in his chest. Hollow loneliness drumming at his ribcage. 

The papers were graded, neatly stacked and put away in his bag for tomorrow, red pen capped and put back on his desk. Eddie groans as he stands up to stretch, peeling off his t-shirt and slipping off his sweatpants, tossing them haphazardly in the corner of the room by his hamper. He kicks off his socks, finally comfortable in his boxers and silver chain, before trudging down to the bathroom to brush his teeth. He comes back to a quiet buzz on his phone, screen glowing to life while he swipes it off his dresser. 

hey, sorry i was so MIA today. things got really busy and hectic, surprise zoom meeting with bloomingdale’s and then a second surprise offer call with bergdorf goodman and then a few vendors wanted to get dinner and schmooze. it’s no excuse honestly but i should’ve messaged you to let you know i was busy. i’m sorry, handsome :( thought about you all day if that helps 

Eddie’s heart leaps in his chest, cheeks already hurting from the smile splitting his face open. You thought about him all day. You thought about him all day. The same way he thinks about you all day. He climbs into bed, snuggling in under the covers with the glow of his phone illuminating his grinning face in the dark. 

don’t apologize, sweetheart, i know you’re busy. glad that your hectic day is over at least, now you can relax! thought about you all day, too. one of my kids kept trying to play juicy by doja cat on the sax at jazz practice, so you came to mind immediately. LMAO. i’ll take that as a compliment. what’re you doing up so late?  grading papers, but i’m done now. i’d ask why you’re up so late but it’s only nine thirty there. what’re you up to? trying this bathing suit on, finally. do you wanna see it?

“Do I wanna see it?” he murmurs, exasperated with an eye roll to no one, “Of course I wanna see it.” 

yeah, show me :) 

He waits with bated breath, trying his best to swipe out of the text conversation and do something else instead of counting the minutes until you reply. His heart hammers in his chest while he waits for the familiar buzz in his hand. 

And there you are, dark red spandex hugging you tight, cinching you in all the right places. His eyes linger on the high cut of the bottom, the way some of the pudge of your hips pokes out at the seams and he bites his lip. ‘Fuck,’ he mumbles quietly. Your thighs on full display for him, thick and begging for him to grab, you’re so fucking grabbable he can’t even stand it. 

jfc you know what you’re doing  whaaaaat? what do you mean?  ‘what do you meaaaannn 🤪’ you know what i mean.  do you not like it?  i like it a little too much  you wanna see it from the back? 

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he mutters into the darkness. He feels the blood rush to his pelvis like an army command, cock partially at attention while his hand palms delicately over his boxers. 

of course i do 

He gulps when the picture comes in, you posed like that on purpose. One ass cheek propped up on the bathroom counter, the other lifted and perky from your stance. The soft rolls of your back on display from how you’re turned to still have your pretty face in frame. He’d fucking wreck you. Lovingly, of course.

do you want me to hop on a flight or?? how much are tickets to az? i’m about to come thru.  you got enough blood in your brain to make that trip rn?  lmao you know i don’t 😏 sorry i’m all the way in a different state, i’d help take care of it. 

“Yeah?” he chokes out, palming turning to full slow strokes over the fabric, “You wanna take care of it for me?” 

yeah? you’d take care of it?  only if you asked nicely :) 

“Fuck,” he whispers, tossing his phone down to reach for his side table drawer to reach for the tiny bottle of lube he kept there. He tugs down his boxers hastily, squirting some of the liquid in his palm before picking up the phone again with his clean hand. 

i’d ask very nicely. i’d even say please.  what a good boy. :) 

“M’such a good boy,” he huffs, hand wrapping tightly around the base of his cock and dragging upwards, “I’ll be so good for you.” 

would you want me to use my hands or my mouth? 

“Oh my fucking God,” he groans, brain short circuiting at the thought of you on your knees while he stands over you. Eyes looking up at him with a hand tangled up in your hair, desperately trying to not thrust deep into your throat while you go to work on him. He bites his lip while he fucks his fist, palm and fingers gliding in time with his foreskin, teasing his tip. A fire lights in his belly, cooking up thoughts in his head on how he’d want you first. 

i like the idea of keeping your mouth full  oh you wanna shut me up? is that it?  i don’t think it takes much. 

His head leans back on the wall behind his bed, eyes closing while his hips roll up to meet the speed of his hand, slower now to stave it off. 

“Yeah, suck it just like that…” he hums out, “Please more.” His brows pinch while he looks back at the picture you sent, your glossed lips gleaming back at him. They’d look so good around his cock, your eyes would look so good filled up with tears when you tried to deep throat him.

“T-take all of it,” he stammers out, unsure of his own dirty talk to himself. Would he actually say that? 

Bzz. Bzz.

oh yeah cause you’re soooo big 🙄

“Psh,” he hisses out with a roll of the eyes, hand lifting off his cock to type back. He guesses when it comes to you, he would say that. Just so you’d stop being such a brat. 

you’re gonna feel so stupid when you see it  you sound very confident  because i am  is it big? 

He looks down at himself confidently, laying fat and dense up his stomach, kicking up at the thought of you seeing it for the first time. Chrissy always gawked at it, despite how many times she’d seen it, it was always like she was seeing it for the first time. The girls he’d pull into the bathroom at The Hideout and other bars would whine at the sight. Both him and them slurring together about how they can make it fit. 

its big, sweetheart. but i think you can take it.  i know i can take it.  so sure of yourself tonight, huh? bet you wouldn’t be so cocky if you were here.  so i could watch you jerk it in your bedroom? puhlease. 🙄 i can tell by how you’re talking that you really like the idea of that.  so you are jerking it in your bedroom?  the same way i know you have your fingers between your pretty thighs

He doesn’t know that, but it was worth the shot. His mind reels, thinking of you barely changing out of your swimsuit into nothing to lay back on your hotel bed to touch yourself to him talking to you. He grunts when his hand wraps around his length again, fisting himself with more intention, thinking about your hips writhing in time with his. He wishes he knew how you sounded when you felt good, how you’ll sound when he makes you feel good. And god does he wanna make you feel good. 

🙈 stop  yeah? i can stop.  don’t actually, i’m just embarrassed 😩 how come?  cause i do have my fingers between my thighs 

“Fuuuuuck me,” he groans into a whimper. He shudders a gasp while his hips buck up to meet his hands thrusts, imagining you on top of him, under him, below him, above him. Mouth, hands, pussy, anything of yours bobbing over his cock. Wiping the images clean and starting over with you splayed out on the hotel bed again, trying to keep quiet so your boss won’t hear you through the hotel’s thin walls. 

does it feel good, sweetheart?  it would feel better if you were doing it for me.  can i call you?

“Can I call you?” he reads out loud, in a whisper, “Can I…call you…” 

absolutely. 

Your face pops up on his phone within the minute, phone buzzing rhythmically in his hands. His heart rate jerks alive, stomach dropping like he’s on a roller coaster while it continues to ring. 

He accepts, swallowing thickly as he does. 

“Hey there,” he murmurs. 

“Hi,” your voice is shaky on the other end, he holds back a moan. 

“Hi,” he says back to you, squeezing himself softly at the base again. 

“Do you wanna hear something embarrassing?” you laugh, following up with a soft needy sigh. 

“Always,” he swoons out, low and warm. 

“Your voice is so hot to me,” you giggle, “I don’t think I could finish if I didn’t hear it.” 

“Ah, there you go again, thinking your compliments to me are embarrassing,” he smirks. You sigh again and he lets out a heady breath while he strokes himself, teetering towards a climax. 

“Sorry,” you smile, and he can hear it in your voice, “You having a hot voice isn’t embarrassing. Me getting off to it is embarrassing.” 

He pauses, hearing your shallow breaths pick up, waiting for the right time to strike. His thumb trails over his tip to smear the precum oozing out of it over the head — his eyes roll back as he thinks about your tongue there instead. 

“S’not embarrassing,” his eyelids lower, settling deeper into his pillows. He groans low in his chest before speaking again, “You all wet for me, sugar?” 

“Yeah,” you whine to him. 

“Wish I could be there to take care of you,” he huffs, “I’d make you feel so good.”  

“How?” you ask breathily. 

He smirks, biting his lower lip, letting out a low laugh, “I’d take my time with you. Sounds like you get real needy.” 

“I’m not needy,” you protest. 

“Not needy, but calls me from the other side of the country to cum to my voice?” he argues playfully, “Oh yeah, not needy at all, baby.” 

You whine again, a few huffs of breath sound in the receiver. 

“You like that?” he asks lowly, “When I’m a little mean to you?” 

“Yeah…” 

“Fuck…” he whispers back, blood rushing to the tip, twitching while he works his hand up his shaft.

“Wait – are you actually jacking it right now?” you ask with a laugh. 

“Yeah,” he sighs back, “Are you surprised?” 

“How long have you been doing it?” 

“Since you sent me that picture with your whole ass out,” he confesses with a giggle, it just makes sense to him to answer honestly. 

“Is that how you wanna fuck me?” your voice is laced with depth and sex, his hips buck up at the sound, “From the back?” 

“Maybe not at first,” he starts, imagining he’s in the hotel with you, eyes locking on yours while you touch yourself. Meeting your pleading eyes with a salacious grin while he pumps his cock, climbing on top of the mattress. Climbing on top of you. 

“I’d probably want you on your back so I could see your pretty face,” he offers, “Watch you take it.” 

You sigh into the receiver again and he groans quietly while pleasure starts taking him over. 

“But if I’m being honest…” he starts again, voice lightly teasing. Your breaths pick up, and if he thinks he’s hearing right, you’re very wet. Just because of him, the way he’s talking to you. He shudders before regaining his composure, voice dropping dangerously low. 

“I can’t wait to get my mouth on that pussy,” he slurs out, drunk on the idea. 

“Mmm, fuck,” you mewl out. Okay Munson, maybe you still know how to do this shit. “Oh, you like the sound of that, huh?” he asks, a light raise to his voice, “You like thinking about me between your legs?” 

“Yes,” you huff through gritted teeth. He feels his orgasm creeping up on him quick, your little whines hitting his ear and gliding down his chest to his pelvis. Every soft puff of your breath feels like he’s the one making it punch out of you. 

“I know you’d take it so good, too. You’d get so messy for me,” he groans again when his palm grazes over the underside of his tip, cock leaking cum unceremoniously, sending shockwaves through his system, “Just like you are right now, hm?  Waiting for me to come over ‘n’ fuck you stupid?” “Please,” you whine into a growl, “Please fuck me stupid.” 

“Oh baby, I will,” he moans while he feels his balls tighten, closer and closer to the edge, hearing you pant and beg like that. Just for him. He grunts, breath huffing from his nose like a bull while his orgasm takes him over, cum shooting onto his belly in thick ropes, “F-fuck till you can’t fuckin – mmmf – can’t fuckin’ think.” “Oh! Oh my god, fuck. Fuck!” you cry out into the receiver. He grins, satisfied at that reaction, both of you taking deep breaths into your mics while you both come down. 

“Did you cum for me, sugar?” he drawls. 

“Mhm,” you squeak out. His grin doesn’t fade, it turns dirty, filthy, “Good girl.” 

“Don’t say that.” He can hear your embarrassed smile in your voice, it makes him laugh. He’s normally not like that, that’s not something he thinks he’s ever said in bed – at least not sober. 

“I won’t say it, I’m sorry. You don’t like that?” he asks thoughtfully. 

“I like it a lot and you’re too far away,” you say softly. 

“Poor thing,” he offers. 

“I am a poor thing!” you exclaim. You quiet down a little, both just listening to each other breathe on the other end, “I’m excited to see you again, when I come back.” 

“I’m excited to see you, too,” he smiles while he speaks softly into the receiver, “But lucky for me, I have these pictures of you to hold me over until then.” 

“Visual learner?” you tease. “Physical, too,” he counters. 

“You really are trouble,” you laugh, “And um – I don’t want you to think that like, the only reason I wanna see you is just to have sex or anything. I just really like spending time with you.” 

“I don’t think that at all,” he assures, “I really, really like spending time with you. I’m – and this is gonna sound super lame – but I’m excited to keep on getting to know you.” 

“Lamest thing I’ve ever heard,” you laugh, “But also, same. We can be lame together.” “Oh – uh, by the way,” Eddie’s voice reverts back to normal while a reminder jolts his body awake, “The group really wants to meet you and I know it’s gonna be the day after you get back and you might want to rest, but Steve’s birthday party is Friday if you wanna come. Totally understand if you’re gonna be too tired.” “Oh no, I’d love that!” he can hear you shifting on the mattress, likely getting ready for bed, “Steve’s the one whose Instagram request I shouldn’t accept, right?” Eddie laughs, “Right.”

You both talk for a little longer before he tells you it’s getting late and you should get some rest since you had such a long day. He doesn’t want to hang up, but you’re both too old to be doing the ‘falling asleep on the phone’ thing. Plus, he had to be up for work in five hours. 

Eddie slides into the seat on his Honda Civic and sighs – he’s tired. He doesn’t want to go to Steve’s party where everyone is gonna be loud and drunk by the time he gets there. He hates playing catch up, but you’re gonna be there so he’s doing his best to hype himself up before he starts the car. He cracks the Monster Energy sitting in his center console and chugs it, heaving a deep breath before starting the car. Mayhem’s Freezing Moon blares through his speakers and he nods to himself, Good, good, good. It would be a hype enough song to get him excited on the way there. He gives himself a once over in the rearview mirror, looking the same as he did when he freshened up in the teacher’s bathroom after the Jazz Club performed during the Spring Concert. His slim fit black slacks still kept their crease, his wallet chains still dangled from his pocket. Eddie took your advice and started wearing more green, a hunter short sleeved linen blend button up laid open and loose over a clean and expensive white t-shirt. If he didn’t know any better, he would say he looked hot. His hair was coiffed and coiled – he made sure to get a trim before you came back just to touch up the shag. His tattoos were the showiest you’d ever seen them and deeply moisturized, his silver chain and small rings were recently cleaned. 

He wants you to lose your mind when you see him, but when he walks into the bar he knows he already lost. There you are, standing at the bar with Nancy, Robin, Steve, and Dustin while they laugh with you at some story you’re telling. You’re all legs in your little black skirt with a cute cropped ‘ARIZONA’ sweatshirt cinching you in right at the waist. Your little white sneakers were shining purple in the black light of the bar, you probably wear these everywhere. 

“Eddie!” Dustin calls out, giving a big wave to call him towards the party. You whip around, beaming while he makes his way over, meeting him part way with a drink in your hand. He can smell your perfume immediately and he’s surprised he hasn’t already fallen to his knees. “Started without me, huh?” he asks, nodding to the drink in your hand. “I tried to get Steve a drink but he said it was a better gift for him to buy me one…or two,” you tell him sheepishly. Eddie catches Steve’s eyes over your shoulder when he pulls you in to say hello and shakes his head. Steve smirks, blowing him a kiss before mouthing, ‘Her ass? Insane.’ putting his hands out to show off the size of it. Eddie flips him off while he lets you go. 

“Everyone’s been really nice though,” you smile, giving him a once over, “You look really good.” 

“Thank you,” he says in your ear, kissing your cheek, “You look too good. Don’t think I can let you stick around here too long.” 

“S’kinda hot when you’re like that,” you grin sloppily, biting your lip. The tequila’s blurring the filter in your head a little, he can tell you’re just saying what comes to mind, eyes a little glassy. 

“Like what?” “A lil’ possessive,” you shrug. He tucks a knuckle under your chin, lifting your gaze toward him for a moment.  “Okay,” he smiles, leaning in to kiss you much more passionately than you expected. Your mouth is cold against his, tongue sliding in to taste the tequila on yours. He snakes one arm around your waist so that you’re chest to chest, both of you laughing against each other’s lips while Tati and the group whoop and holler over your makeout. He breaks away, looking down at you, eyes sparkling. 

“I missed you,” he says confidently. 

“I missed you,” you smile, pulling him tight against you. This was what he was waiting for. An ounce of clinginess so that he didn’t feel so insane for wanting to be close to you all the time. He leads you back over to the bar, hand on your lower back while you put yourself back in your little group. 

“What’re you having tonight, big boy?” Ed asks Steve, clapping him on the back in a brotherly hug. 

“Surprise me – you doing shots?” he asks. Eddie nods, getting the bartender’s attention when she makes his way over. 

“Can I get four shots of Jameson and then two for my buddy over here?” he asks, pointing at Steve with his thumb. The bartender nods, lining up the shot glasses and starting the pour. “I don’t really like Jameson,” you scrunch your nose. 

“Well baby, they’re all for me, so don’t worry about it,” he grins playfully, white teeth shining, “I’ll get you something else when you finish that drink.” 

You nod lazily, pulled into conversation with Robin while Steve and Eddie start taking their shots. The whiskey feels good hitting his throat, burning just enough to reinvigorate him for the rest of the night. He clicks his tongue when he downs them all, the scent of Tatianna’s vanilla perfume overtakes him before her hands cover his eyes from behind. 

“Guess who it is,” she laughs. 

“Someone who used my Warm Vanilla Sugar hand lotion today,” he answers, his fingers running over hers while he peels her hands away. He turns to her to pull her into a hug and then hugging Gareth behind her, already with their drinks in hand. 

“Look, it went with the fragrance I was wearing today. You used my curl cream again so – you can’t even be mad,” she shrugs, beckoning him over with her hand, “Come sit with us really quick.” 

Eddie turns to get your attention but Tatianna stops him, “She’s a big girl, she’s been doing fine on her own without you here, so far. Let her make friends.” Eddie pouts and Gareth pats him on the back after passing Tati’s drink to her, guiding him over to their booth close by the end of the bar. Eddie sits in the middle of the bench, looking like a kid who just got in trouble and is about to get a stern talking to by his parents. “So…” Eddie starts. 

“I really like her, dude,” Gareth grins, “Came in and immediately knew who we were, introduced herself, offered to get us a round. All around seems very much your vibe.” 

“And you, mom?” he asks, eyes lifting up through his lashes to look at Tatianna who has a smug grin on her face. 

“All I’m saying is that you should always be listening to me when I tell you to do something,” she shrugs, “‘Cause what if you had deleted the app that night? Would’ve never met the love of your life right there.” 

“Love of my life? You think?” he asks, eyes widening. “I know. Her energy is exactly what I thought it was gonna be,” Tatianna explains, gold rings in her twists flashing back the neon reflecting on them, “And you’ve been down bad for the past few weeks so I knew there had to be something about her that was really good.” 

“So you like her?” Eddie grins. 

“We love her,” Tatianna nods, “Consider her adopted.” 

“Steve loves her too, it looks like,” Eddie huffs, looking back over at the bar to see Steve showing you something on his phone, a little too close for comfort. 

“He’s behaving himself, don’t worry,” Dustin says while he slides in next to Eddie, “We all gave him a warning before she got here. Plus, he’s got two girls on his radar right now that he’s trying to take home if he doesn’t get too drunk – but y’know, we’re banking on the getting too drunk part.” 

“Always banking on the getting too drunk part,” Gareth laughs. 

The night continues on, people coming and going, getting up to dance, getting new drinks. He watches you blend in seamlessly, swaying with Tatianna at the bar while you wait for a rum and coke for you and water for him. He still has to drive home after all. 

“What do you know about this song?” Tatianna laughs while Victoria Monet’s Coastin’ booms over the speakers. You both walk back over, two stepping in time until Gareth pulls Tatianna in tight to him, rocking back and forth with each other and stealing kisses. 

Eddie watches you approach him while you lipsync the words playfully, hips swaying in in time with the beat. 

‘Think of the waaaays, The ways I wanna give you this ass, Just how you liiiiike, Feel like a Thursday how I’m throwin’ it back.’ “The ways you wanna give me this ass, huh?” he smirks, eyes flitting over you while he takes the water yor offer him. You keep up with your sway, pressing up close to him – you look up with a fake unamused quirk of your brow and he knows you’re about to say something bitchy that’ll make him fall for you even harder. “I don’t think you could handle it,” you flirt. 

“You know something?” he starts, putting his water on the table of the booth, catching you before you can sit down, “I think I can handle you just fine.” You burn at his words, a shy grin pulling at your lips when he sits down at the edge of the bench next to Nancy and across from Steve and Robin. It’s fun to flirt with you like this, right on the precipice of something a little dirty. He wants you so bad and if he knows women as well as he thinks he does, he knows you want him so bad, too.  He pats his thigh, encouraging you to sit on his lap. You hesitate at first but he nods encouragingly, a silent Please, it’s okay. You settle in, the table high enough that both sets of your thighs fit under the table. He takes a breath before letting his hands settle on your skin, imagining what it might be like when he gets to put his hands on all of it. 

Everyone banking on Steve getting too drunk to take someone home was right, him and Robin were already in their codependent best friend phase of the night where they only want to hang out with each other, hands cupped tight on the table. You’re talking to Robin about a game that’s like Sims but 8-bit – 

“It’s called Unpacking and it’s so cute, you basically unpack a house or a room and you learn more about the person’s story by unpacking their boxes – sort of like Sims but with actual feelings that you don’t have to make up,” you enthuse. 

“Is it on Steam?” she asks, “I’ll literally buy it right now.” 

“We’re partying, Rob, don’t play a dumb game,” Steve whines. 

“She’s not gonna play it right now, Steve,” Nancy chides, “She’s gonna play it later. Don’t worry, we all know tonight is about you.” 

Lucas comes over to the table looking aggravated, Max grinning next to him in a smile that Eddie knows too well. Lucas lost a bet and has to pay up, Eddie wonders what they bet on this time. 

“Why does your Dragon’s Lair score have to be so fucking high? Can you literally let anyone have anything?” Lucas huffs. 

“Don’t be so sad, Sinclair – you can always try to beat Red’s score,” Eddie shrugs, smirking smugly at the pair. 

“She’s 250 points behind you, and you’re both like, seven thousand points ahead of everyone else,” he huffs. 

“What’d’you owe her this time?” he asks. 

“I can’t even tell you out loud,” he sighs. Max cackles, offering her hand and leading him back over to the Party at the bar, fingers laced with each other while they talk. Eddie adjusts under you, groin shifting under your ass by accident but he savors how delicious it feels to have you on top of him like this. 

“Are there any other games in there that you have a high score on?” you ask, breath hitching slightly while his hands coast teasingly over your bare skin under the table. Your posture straightens when his fingers glide up your inner thigh, brushing his fingertips past the hem of your skirt. You like that, he thinks, your body language tells him all he needs to know to keep going. 

“The Dracula pinball machine,” he replies confidently. 

“I’m gonna go beat it,” you grin up at him. 

“Oh yeah?” he asks, hand sliding off your thigh when you get up to head to the arcade room,  “You even know how to play?” 

“You can show me,” you shrug. He doesn’t really have to show you, pinball is pretty self explanatory, but he doesn’t want to give up a chance to have you alone. He leads you to the machine, pointing out where you want the ball to hit for the best chance at extra points. The music on the sound system is loud and the machine’s music matches it so he has to get close to your ear to explain. 

“Do you think I don’t really know how to play or do you just wanna get close to me?” you ask, turning your head to look at him while he chin hooks over your shoulder. “You caught me,” he blushes, hand resting on your hip while he fills the gap between your back and his chest, “I’m sure you’re gonna do just fine.” 

And you do, in fact, you’re really fucking good at pinball and he’s almost mad about it. “Where did you learn to do this?” he asks after you rack up nearly three fourths of his high score in one go, the ball just narrowly missing the lever before sinking down to be propelled again. 

“Summers on the boardwalk in New Hampshire,” you grin, “My uncle lives over there so we go visit him every year. Played one pinball machine every summer – my high score still stands, like, eleven years later.” “That’s so hot to me, oh my god,” he laughs while you get the next ball rolling onto the board. You lean forward, hips jutting out against him while you really get into it, concentrating hard. Eddie’s breath hitches when you slowly move your hips against him, so slow that he’s not sure if you’re doing it on purpose or not.  Rihanna’s Work starts over the speakers and  that’s when he knows it’s on purpose. Your movement’s pick up a little, lost in the game and in the beat. You’re a good dancer and that makes his mind wander to other things you might be good at. Your fingers work quick on either side of the machine, lights flashes against both of your faces while you keep trying to win and he keeps trying to not pull your skirt up in the middle of Barcade. 

While the song continues, he stops paying attention to you playing, so caught up in how your waist winds and ass bounces against him that he doesn’t realize you aren’t even playing any more. His hips grind slowly back against you, one hand on your lower back, the other gripping your hip to keep you in position. This isn’t new territory for him, pulled into clubs by Tati and Gare, Robin and Steve, everyone else, from the moment things opened back up again in Indiana. When you look back at him he short circuits at first, but he knows you’re surprised he can dance like this. Maybe you forgot, but he does teach Music Theory – rhythm is kind of his whole thing. Of course he has it.  

Your hips roll, making your ass run painstakingly slow and firm over his hardening cock. A groan gets stuck in his throat, reaching out to your shoulder to pull you up right again with your back against his chest. 

“You like bein’ a tease?” he asks, voice deep and daunting. 

“Just getting you back for what you did under the table,” you say matter-of-factly, turning around to face him with your butt leaning against the machine, “You’re not the only one here who knows how to be a slut.” “Also, I beat you,” you grin. 

“Looks like you did,” he says, eyes passing yours to look at the new high score glowing on the outdated screen. 

“Do I win a prize?” 

“M’sure I can think of something,” he murmurs, lips pressing against yours while both of your eyes flutter closed. He takes your hand, leading you to the dark corner close by, both of you hidden by the now defunct change machine to press you up against the wall. “What do you think you deserve?” he purrs before catching your mouth in his again. His kiss is a little sloppy, a little needy, it’s the four shots of Jameson. Not too drunk to drive, but buzzed enough that he doesn’t care about his kissing technique, he just wants to taste you. “Oh, it’s like that?” you giggle mischievously, “I don’t think we can do what I think I deserve in a public place.” 

“Hmm, okay, not into exhibitionism I guess,” he huffs a laugh while his kisses trail to your neck, knee slotting between your legs where you eagerly press up against him. He feels one of your hands fall into his hair, making his assault on the crook of your neck more intense when you give it a slight pull. “Kiss me,” you whine softly. “M’sorry, sorry,” he smirks, meeting your lips again, “You just smell really good, I like being in there.” “You’re a really good –” Kiss. “Mmm--kisser.” “Thanks, sugar, you’re –” Kiss. “Not so bad your –” Kiss. “Mmm shit – yourself.”  He can barely think like this, so close to you but not close enough. Hands on your waist and hips to guide you against part of his thigh while a little whine pulls out of you. He can’t hold off much longer, feeling his pants grow unbearably tight. 

“Let’s get out of here,” he mumbles against your jaw, a satisfied smile blooms on his face when you roll your hips against his knee again. 

“You don’t wanna hear everyone drunkenly sing Steve happy – oh, mmm – happy birthday?” you pant out while he presses kisses at the curve of your jaw back to your mouth. His hand entwines with the hair at the nape of your neck, giving you a soft tug to keep your head in place. 

“The only thing I wanna hear right now,” he purrs in your ear, “Is what you sound like when I’m making you cum.” 

The ride home is quick, barely saying goodbyes while he pulled you through the crowds building at the bar and paid the tab. Gareth shot him a wink as they left, tossing you both a wave but neither of you could think of anything else except each other. 

He dropped his keys twice trying to get in the door of his first floor apartment, “Fuck, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” 

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” you smile, “Just breathe. I’m still gonna be here.” 

The door opens and he takes a millisecond to rip your coat off and kick off his shoes, instructing you to kick off your sneakers or Tati would likely emerge from the walls and kill you both for walking into the house with your outside shoes on. His lips immediately attach to yours. There’s no time to waste for him, pulling you over to the couch and plopping down with an excited puff of breath. “C’mere baby,” he beckons you over with two fingers, grinning up at you while you climb over his lap to straddle him. His kiss is searing, hands exploring you with abandon, all the ways he’s been thinking about touching you were now fair play. No one here to see either of you, no one around to interrupt. You can feel how hard he is under his dress pants, the material leaves little to the imagination. The gentle curve of it, its thickness, the length, all pressing up against you with every mutual roll of your hips. 

You choke out a whimper when it hits just right up against your clothed slit. Eddie looks up at you mischievously, greedily sucking on your neck for a moment before catching your gaze a little.

“That’s all it takes? Just pushing my hips up like that?” he purrs, rolling them up again slowly, “Is that what you want?”

“Uh-huh,” you breathe. He bites at the skin on your chest, not hard enough to hurt. He grips and grabs you but not hard enough to bruise. He’s testing the waters, seeing what you like and how you like it. His hands travel down past your hips, gripping the fat of your ass.

“Fuck, baby,” he moans into your mouth, exploring you more, his palms flattening against your skirt while it rides up, the curve of your cheeks warm in his hands. 

“Finally got to grab it the way you wanted to?” you tease between breaths. 

“Mhmm,” he groans, “Now I just gotta smack it around.” 

You take his lower lip between your teeth, making his cock twitch when you let it go to click back against his gums. 

“Ooh, you wanna spank me?” you laugh into your next kiss. His hand reaches up to pull at your waist, pushing you tighter up against him. His fingers graze between your legs from behind while your head falls back in a breathy gasp. 

“Do you want me to spank you?” he asks, brows raised inquisitively.  

“Maybe not tonight,” you shrug with a smirk, hips winding over him in a way that makes him really feel you. He growls when you do it, hands guiding your hips to do it again, “Maybe only when I’ve been bad.” 

“Jus’lemme know,” he grumbles, pupils taking over the brown in his eyes, “So I can  — mmm, shit — teach ya a lesson.” 

“Next time,” you huff into his next kiss. He manhandles you so that your back is to the cushions and throw pillows, switching your positions so that he’s on top.

“Next time,” he nods, pulling your sweatshirt off and dropping it to the floor, “But since you’re so good, it only makes sense that you get a reward, right?” 

“I did beat you at pinball, so…” you grin. He grins back, kissing your neck hungrily, slotting his knee between your legs like he did at the bar. 

“You did beat me at pinball,” he nods, a soft growl brewing in his chest when he feels you start to grind against him. Insatiable, he thinks, Greedy girl. But he doesn’t know if he can say that to you yet. He doesn’t know, all the way, what you like. He feels his heart hammer in his chest at the fear of realizing it – you aren’t Chrissy. What if he was only good because Chrissy thought so? What if he wasn’t actually – 

“Oh!” you squeak out, hand reaching out to grip his bicep. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, pulling away from your neck to look at you, big brown eyes blown with nerves. 

“Y-yeah that’s just…where you’re kissing…that’s a spot for me,” you admit bashfully, unable to look at him. 

“Sweetheart,” he shakes his head with a knowing smirk, “Shouldn’t’ve told me that.” 

A kiss on the lips is his only consolation to you before he goes back to your neck, tongue trailing down to its last spot where he parks his teeth and lips. You like that. He hears you like it. And fucking God is it good to hear you like this, to hear you in person, moaning and whining in his ear just from kissing and sucking this spot on your neck. 

“Eddie…” you breathe, high pitched and desperate, hips still pressing against his knee for friction. He can’t help but go back to your lips, but before he does, he peeks to see the marks he left behind. 

Lips become neck, neck becomes chest, chest becomes stomach, stomach becomes hips, and before you know it he’s on his knees on the rug in front of you. Eddie’s eyes find yours when he’s kneeling between your legs, the center of your thighs looking him in the face. He places a kissing on the inside of your knee, gentle and soft. 

He opens his mouth to ask, but you nearly read his mind, tugging up the hem of your skirt over your thick thighs. He helps, pushing the fabric up over your hips and ass so he gets another chance to touch and feel you. Once he settles back down he takes a breath, smiling up at you while he readjusts your legs to open a little wider, mouth making contact with your skin soon after. His lips capture the fat of your inner thigh, traveling down in passionate kisses, like your skin is divinity that he’s found for the first time. 

“You’re so soft,” he whispers, lips ghosting over your underwear to reach the top of your other knee, planting a kiss there too. 

“Thank you,” you breathe out. He lets out a low, teasing giggle at the state of you, head lolling back on the couch while he kisses the inside of one thigh and runs his hand over the outside of the other. His kisses stop and he looks up at you from between your legs, big brown eyes begging you to let him in. A ringed finger teases over the gusset of your underwear, the way you bite your lip gives him the approval to keep going. His slides your panties off, run of the mill black cheeky cut cotton that he wished he could’ve stripped you down to. Just to see that ass swallowing them, to see the way they sat on the curves of your hips. 

“You nervous?” he asks with a smile while your legs close, your underwear placed on the floor next to your shirt.

“A little,” you giggle. 

“Don’t be nervous, baby,” he coos, hands cupping under your knees to spread your legs again, “Just gonna make you feel good.” 

He sighs when your legs open up for him, already wet and puffy, you’d been thinking about this all night. Eddie nips softly at your inner thigh again before he lets his lips linger over your folds. You squirm your hips closer to him, a whine leaking out of your mouth. 

“Okay, okay,” he laughs, “I won’t tease you, I’m sorry.” 

But he’s lying. Leaning in to get close, only to ghost a breath over your clit. Fingers sliding to your slick lips to separate them slightly for more access to you. He pauses, leaning back away from your pussy and looks up at you quizzically.

“Actually, should I put on Hey Mr. DJ to set the mood? Since it’s so fucknasty…” gesturing his thumb towards the sound system on the other side of the room. You let out a mix of a laugh and a groan while his kisses coast on your thighs again.

“You said you wouldn’t teaaaasssseeee-oh my God,” you moan out when his mouth meets your clit without warning, soft, slow sucks and licks. 

“You like that, sugar?” he asks, voice dropping down to a bassy gravel. 

You nod feverishly, “Don’t stop, please don’t stop.” 

“Mmm, don’t stop?” he asks, tongue gliding from your entrance to your clit. 

“Please,” you gasp, hand reaching out to run through his hair, bangs pushing back to reveal the soft lines of his forehead. 

“Well you’re asking so nice, seems a little mean to keep you waiting,” he coos, fingers replacing his mouth while he talks, “But I thought you liked it when I was a little mean.” 

“Don’t be mean, Ed,” you pout. 

“Okay, I won’t be mean,” he smiles, opening your legs a little wider. He’s confident about his skills here, Chris loved getting eaten out so he dedicated a lot of time to getting it right. It helped that he loved going down, watching his partner gasp and whine while he serves her on his knees. Feeling the tug on his hair when he’s doing it right, making her feel good. The press of her hand to push him closer to her when she’s getting close, giving it to her over and over again. 

“Oh fuck, Ed — oh my god, baby,” you mewl, hips grinding up against his mouth. He smirks into the next stripe of his tongue, latching onto your clit to suck softly while his fingers press against your entrance. His eyes gaze up at you, your own going glassy while you look down at him. 

“I like when you look at me like that,” he confesses quietly, mouth returning to its actions immediately. He keeps his eyes on you while his first finger pushes in, he groans at the feeling — snug, warm, wet. He drags out slowly, a high pitched moan escaping you when he pushes back in with little resistance. His head moves with his mouth, tongue laving over your clit, lips pursing over it when he feels your pulse over his finger. 

“You’re so good — fuck — you’re so good at this,” you sigh. The praise runs down his chest and along his spine, he moans gratefully into his next kiss against you. He stripes his tongue again, using his other hand to keep your lips spread for more access. Your thighs twitch while he goes back to soft deliberate sucking, alternating between that and gentle fluttering flicks from the tip of his tongue. 

“That’s good for you?” he mumbles. 

“You’re so good for me,” you whisper back, gripping his hair hard when he pushes his second finger in, “Just…unhm, just like that.” 

He keeps a steady pace with his fingers, evidence of his skill coating them while he does. He wants to drag this out a while, take his time with you like he said he would. He breaks his mouth away for a moment to really look at you, just in your bra and skirt. His heart skips a beat, breath caught in his throat. You’re so beautiful, he thinks. Too afraid to say it outloud. What if you don’t like that while you have sex? You said you like when he was a little mean, does that mean he should be mean all the time? 

“Earth to Ed…” he hears you say, your hand waving in his face. He looks back up at you, startled, “You okay? You stopped and sort of just…stared for a second.” 

“Oh my god, I’m sorry,” he laughs to himself, taking his fingers away to massage the inside of your thighs with both hands, “Just got caught up staring at you.” 

“Ew,” you giggle with a smile, “You think I’m pretty or somethin’?” 

Eddie leans up between your legs on the couch where you come down to meet him, noses inches apart, “Well I don’t wanna be too forward…” 

“You’re literally eating me out, you can’t get any more forward,” you both laugh at the ridiculousness of it. Of both being shaky and shy even this far into the game. 

“Like I was saying — I don’t wanna be too forward, but I think you’re honestly so beautiful,” he blushes bashfully, looking down so all you can see are his full lashes, “And I didn’t wanna be corny and say it while I’m like, neck deep in your pussy.”

“That’s very sweet, baby.” You run your hand through his hair, pushing back one side when he looks up at you again. Baby. He likes when you call him that. He likes when you call him baby. He’s excited for you to call him other names like pretty boy, and babe, and honey. He wants to hear ‘em all. He wants you to spend the night so he can make you breakfast in the morning — for like…ever. You kiss him and he shudders, cock jumping in his slacks for a hint of attention — but he has a job to finish. 

“You’re very sweet,” he says, nuzzling your nose before kissing your cheek, then your jawline, your neck, your chest, down and further down until he’s between your legs again — he doesn’t tease this time. He licks at your entrance, replacing his fingers with his tongue to lap up what you have for him. Your thighs tremble he trails back up, swirling his tongue over your clit when his fingers snugly sink back inside you. 

“Eddie…” 

“You gonna cum for me?” he asks, voice smokey and deep. He lets his fingers search inside you for your g-spot, grinning when he finds it. Your moan is loud when he massages it, hips pushing down into the couch cushions, head thrown back while you grind against him. 

“M’so close,” you huff, “That feels so good, please don’t stop. Don’tstopdon’tstop.” 

He grunts, feeling your thighs jump while he keeps up his pace. His tongue gets sloppy with it, wet and filthy, pooling spit out of his mouth in droves to mix with your slick. He fills you with a third finger, legs parting further again while you huff into the stretch. 

“Ooh, you can really take it, baby,” he encourages, “Look at you takin’ all these fingers.” He glides the flat of his tongue over you once before leaning back to watch you. The pads of his fingers press in slow circles against your g-spot again, smirking when your eyes roll back. 

“M’gonna cum…oh shit  — oh fuck Ed I’m g.. — ohfuck — fuckfuckfuck — mmm-ah!” Your hips jump, lifting off the couch, writhing to pull away while you feel your orgasm rush rapidly to its peak. 

“Thaaaat’s it,” he smiles, mouth returning home to its place latched over you. He holds your hips down with his free hand, eyes fluttering closed while he continues. A slight flit of his tongue right as he pumps his fingers in puts stars in your eyes, thighs snapping closed on either side of his head — exactly what he wanted.

“Ohmygodohmygodohmygod,” you chant with strained, shaking vocal chords, tears pricking your eyes. Eddie groans when he feels your walls clench down hard over his fingers, flooding over him down his hand. You hiss while he keeps going, fingers easing out of you but tongue licking up as much as he can while you come down in shivers. 

“You okay?” he asks, when your thighs release him. You reach for his hand, still covered in your juices and pull it toward you — but he knows your game. He knows you’re gonna lick it off and give him those eyes — so he pulls his wrist away, “Oh, no baby.”  

Eddie delicately puts his fingers in his mouth, eyes on yours with a glint of satisfaction, and gently sucks them clean instead. 

“I don’t like to waste it, sugar,” he croons, “I can make you something if you’re hungry.” 

His sexy act breaks when you roll your eyes at him, clearly flustered by his antics in your post orgasm glow. He snickers when he stands up, leaning down to peck you with your arousal still smeared on his mouth and chin. 

“Don’t laugh at me,” you pout. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he pouts back. A peck turns to a kiss, a kiss to something passionate. 

“Why don’t I go get cleaned up,” he starts, before catching you in another kiss.

“You should pee since that’s the smart thing to do before and after,” he presses a kiss to your neck.

“And then I’ll take you to bed,” he murmurs huskily, “How’s that?” 

“That’s really nice,” you rasp back, turning so that you’re nose to nose, “But I am a little hungry now that you said that.” 

“You’re funny,” he smiles, another kiss, “I’ll get us a snack and then I’ll take you to bed, is that better?” 

“Much better.”  

Eddie passes you your panties and shirt, and points out where the bathroom is down the hall. While you traipse along, he opens the fridge, taking out the tiramisu he got as dessert with his takeout last night but didn’t get around to eating. He slices the generous cut in half, gently placing it on two tea plates and grabbing two forks. 

“Do you like tiramisu?” he asks when he hears your socked feet pad into the kitchen. 

“I do. My mom’s is the best actually,” you brag. He turns around to see you, your bright smile, your refreshed face. 

“Will you still eat it if it’s not your mom’s?” he asks, offering you the plate. 

“Yes, of course,” you nod, taking both plates out of his hands and placing them on the table, “But first I gotta –” 

Eddie’s taken aback by the kiss, but you don’t notice. He’s swift at the pick up, matching your pace expertly and hoisting you up onto the counter with surprising ease. He grunts when you pull him forward between your legs by the belt loops because he knows you’re trying to fuck just as much as he is. 

“Baby…” he starts, regretfully breaking away, “Are you hungry or not?” 

You don’t answer at first, you just look at him and kiss him again. When you pull away, your gaze lingers. Fear coasts icily over his chest when you almost look forlorn. 

“Shit…” you whisper, shoulders drooping. 

“Wh-what? What is it?” he asks, hands getting clammy where they rest on your thighs.

“I…” you take a deep breath, it shakes when you exhale, “I really fucking like you.” 

He smiles, but he knows why this is your response, why you look like this, why your shoulders sulk — because he’s also there, “Does that make you scared?” 

You nod, but instead of going in to kiss you again he pulls you close, smooching your cheek before leaning your head on his shoulder. 

“It’s okay that you’re scared,” he murmurs, “But if it’s any consolation…”

“I really fucking like you, too.” 

When you kiss again, he’s overwhelmed. 

“Fuck the tiramisu,” you breathe, “Let’s just —.” 

“Mhm,” he breathes back, hoisting you off the counter, balancing you on his hips, “I fucking need you.” 

Jingle. Click. Creak. 

“HONEY, WE’RE HOME!” calls the voice of a sloshed Steve Harrington, from the front door, “Put your clothes on, sluts.” 

But it’s not just Steve, it’s the whole party — the group filing into the living room while you hurriedly slide down Eddie’s form. Tatianna and Gareth follow in after everyone gets their shoes off, laughing and joking with Robin and Dustin while they stumble through the door. They halt when they catch Eddie’s expression from the other room, a stare so cold it could freeze them both. ‘I’m so sorry,’ Gareth mouths, realizing with deep regret what they’ve interrupted. Tatianna makes her way over, making a face of pure guilt when she makes it into the kitchen. 

“So here’s the thing, my phone died and Steve was using Gareth’s phone to change the music and I forgot to text you,” she explains to the both of you, “I’m so sorry.” 

“It’s seriously okay,” you laugh, “Please don’t feel bad. It’s you and Gareth’s apartment, too.” 

“Are you mad at me?” Tati pouts at Eddie, who could not stay mad at Tati for even a second. 

He puffs a dramatic sigh, crossing his arms, “No, no, I’m not mad at you. It’s okay.” 

“Okay,” she smiles, opening her arms for a hug which he obliges without question, “Gare’s sorry too, but unfortunately he’s busy babysitting Tweedle-dee and Tweedle-dum with Nance.”  Eddie looks down at you when he lets go of Tatianna, reaching his hand out to rub your back, “She means Robin and Steve.” 

“I figured,” you smile. Tatianna makes her exit and you’re both alone in the kitchen again. 

“I’m sorry,” Eddie offers, using the leverage of his hand on your back to pull you in close to him. 

“What, why? There’s nothing to be sorry for,” you furrow your brow, forearms leaning up the length of his chest. The opening bass of Dua Lipa’s One Kiss starts to thump from the soundsystem in the living room into the kitchen, along with Steve’s passionate This is my favorite fucking song, holy shit. 

“Everything got ruined,” he frowns, “I’m like, kind of embarrassed.” 

“Don’t be embarrassed,” you urge, pulling him a little closer to give him a reassuring kiss, “There’s always next time. I’m not goin’ anywhere.” 

“No?” he asks, leaning his forehead against yours, “You’re stayin’ right here?” 

“Well, until I have to go to home,” you shrug. The music gets a little louder and Eddie throws his disappointment to the wind. There is always next time. For now, he has you here in his kitchen, lips on yours, hands on your cheeks, the steady thump of the beat of his heart. And of course, Steve drunk crying to Robin in the living room – You’re literally my best fucking friend. You’re my best fucking friend Rob, I love you so much. 

Eddie giggles against your mouth at the sound, an ache caught in his chest. He really fucking likes you. 

[leog4u]

Game Design and Porn Pt. 1

or, How To Fuck Up The Best Intrinsic Reward Ever

Hi, I'm Leo G, veteran pervert. One time while chatting in a server exclusively made of porn artists, I brought up the game design of a porn game I enjoyed. One of them laughed, saying "Who cares, it's just a porn game?" Being unwell, I never let this go. Since then, I have played many adult games and took each one as serious products made by professionals. Fast forward to today, and the demo for my porn game, Joker's Trip, is nearing completion. I also have some sci-fi erotica you should check out.

So you wanna make a porn game. You heard they make money, and hey what’s more fun than making a video game AND porn? But you don’t know where to begin! Well don’t worry, Leo’s got you covered. We’re gonna walk through the line of thinking you should have when designing your porn game. There's gonna be at least three parts to this, with part 1 focusing on how to reward your player.

Define "porn game" for me, Leo.

There are porn games, and then games with porn in them. A porn game is a game where you won’t last 5 minutes, where everything exists solely to meet and, subsequently, fuck. A game with porn in it is a game where everything exists for the purpose of the game, and also, you fuck. Fate Stay Night, for example, is a VN with a story that just so happens to have some CGs where the protagonist rails Saber, but is mainly about Shirou and the Holy Grail War. Much like how I would call Castlevania a game with horror in it, but not a horror game.

Porn games are a lot like horror games. They both get a bad rap for being cheap to make, appealing to base instincts, and generally being low quality. They're also both not actual genres of games, but genres of content. Think about it, if I asked you what a horror game is, you'd say a game that's scary. But what's the actual game part? The unfortunate answer would most likely be "walking sim," but there are a lot of examples that are FPSes, puzzles, driving sims, platformers, deck builders, the list goes on.

The most common genres of game I see for porn games these days are by far RPG Maker RPGs and VNs. I won’t be talking about VNs because they’re closer to writing than game design, which isn’t a flaw but a feature. What used to be everywhere, in days of old, were breakout games, where the more bricks and levels were cleared, the more of the sexy image would be revealed in the background. Other arcadey type deals like shoot ‘em ups and mahjong were also around, and had a similar “strip ‘em down until you have sex” gameplay loop.

Okay, so what’s an intrinsic reward?

There’s intrinsic rewards, and there're extrinsic rewards. Extrinsic rewards, generally, are the number go up rewards. Things that make your character stronger, or give you more resources to buy new gear or whatever. Intrinsic rewards in games can cover a large swathe of things. It can be the feeling of satisfaction of completing a puzzle, a piece of lore or world building, or a new dialogue option with a character you want to fuck.

I like fucking characters, are we talking about porn now?

Yes! I’m of the opinion that you literally can’t make a better intrinsic reward than pornography. On top of setting the tone for the entirety of the game., at its best it can add to a story, add to someone’s character development, or be a beautiful piece of art to look at. AND you can jack off to it! Unfortunately, that’s at its best. Let’s talk about how porn is delivered in a theoretical RPG porn game. (As a head’s up, there will be talk of “bad end” scenes, but this is under the assumption that the player is the one consenting.)

So you’re playing an RPG and get into a fight. Maybe you were underleveled or too cumbrained to remember to buy healing potions. Then your HP goes to zero, and instead of going back to the title screen, you’re getting fucked by orcs. That’s right, let’s talk about Game Over CGs.

You get to watch porn when you lose?

To someone making a porn game with a battle system, this delivery method makes sense. The characters in this world are driven primarily by lust, this is just the obvious conclusion. And it doesn’t even have to be non-consensual! Games like Future Fragments show that it can be presented as a sexy inconvenience rather than anything uncomfortable for the player or our hero. Game Over CGs even have the benefit of softening the blow of defeat, by giving the player a chance to reflect on their defeat and jerk off. Even better if losing a fight isn’t lost progress, but rather a bump in the road. However, there’s a problem here. The player is a dog, and we’re rewarding bad behavior.

The porn is an intrinsic reward, so why are we giving it to the player for losing? Incentivizing losing on purpose isn’t just bad game design, but a waste of time. And to that end, a lot of porn games try to give solutions to this. One being a kill button on the keyboard or a skill that instantly KOs our hero to get to the lose screen faster. What might seem like a convenience is really just expediting failure.

What it says is that the gameplay doesn’t actually matter. You’re just here for the porn, right? In that case there’s plenty of places I can go to see a chick with huge knockers get railed by an orc, with the added bonus of not having to play forgettable and mid turn based combat!

Another solution I’ve seen is the game outright telling you, “hey don’t bother killing yourself to see the porn. Once you beat the game all of the scenes you missed will be unlocked!” At first this seems like a reasonable way to go about it, but it comes with another problem: your game better be fucking good to make me play through the entire thing before getting to see cock. Like I said earlier, porn at its best can reveal things about the world and drive character development. I uh. Just beat the game. I don’t care anymore. Showing me a scene that’s taken out of context by a factor of 5 hours or more isn’t what I’d call great game design or story telling. It’s also too little, too late.

What if we made the porn actual rewards?

Now we’re getting somewhere! Let’s make the reward…a reward! What if, every time the player beats a level, we get some porn? If we tie the CG to beating the boss, we’ll be tying the reward to game progression. That’s good right? So now, on top of the extrinsic rewards you’d normally get for beating a boss (a lot of EXP, better gear, opened areas) we also get that sweet dopamine rush of pornography! So we’re good, right?

There’s 1142 words left in this post, so I’m assuming no.

Well. It’s a start. It has the problem of predictability. If not handled properly, it comes off as lazy. As a game designer, one of your goals is to not constantly remind your player that they’re playing a video game. Get through the level, get porn. It feels a little too “mouse in a maze looking for cheese” for my taste. And much like the game over method, if the actual game itself is mid, the player will start to question if the reward is worth it, and might be afflicted with the worst condition a player could receive: boredom.

Of course there are exceptions. In puzzle or arcade type games where you don’t get extrinsic rewards, giving the player porn as another form of reward per level or whatever is perfectly reasonable (though it does have the issue of being predictable.) This is a perfectly good way of doing it if your game is short, or if the game is, y’know, good and fun to play. Bad Color’s game, Heroine Conquest, is a level based puzzle game with porn as the reward, but only when you do good. Combining the actual challenge of mastering the game, with a genuinely unique game loop makes for a feeling of accomplishment when beating a level. Pair that up with a sex cutscene, and the dopamine rush will hit.

So! Let’s combine giving the player a power trip, with a less rigid structure for giving the player porn. Instead of tying the porn to purely progression gates, let’s tie it to the progression.

Plot milestones

In Third Crisis, sex scenes are peppered throughout the regular game’s plot, starting with some lesbian bondage before introducing the protagonist, who goes through a tutorial before having their own horny encounters. It’s not just given when you win or lose, but is a natural part of the game. Beating bosses, losing to enemies, and exploring dialogue options in sidequests all lead to unlocking new CGs.

Now what’s nice about that, is that the sex isn’t placed somewhere extremely predictable. It isn’t just a reward for beating The Boss Of Forest Zone, Now Go To Ice Zone And Beat The Ice Boss For More Cock. Because that’s the biggest issue of predictable rewards, you know you’re not getting anything until that checkpoint, which will make the player weigh whether or not it’s even worth continuing. This is fine, again, for an arcade type game, not an RPG or adventure game. By sprinkling sex throughout the plot itself, the player will not only want to progress, but their curiosity will have them wondering “what else is out there?”

Rewarding exploration

By putting sex scenes behind optional side quests or encounters, the dog that is the player will scour every single corner of the map, and leave no pixel unturned. Personally, that’s more exciting to me than what you’ll get in the main progression route. In Future Fragments the player can find their rival Faye in sexual situations if they explore the map enough. These are completely optional, and don’t give any direct rewards like more HP or an item, but they’re by far what motivates me to explore the maps as thoroughly as possible, more so than the plot macguffins the game is named after!

So now the player is excited. Sex can happen anywhere. Maybe that daunting off road path with stronger monsters isn’t just hiding a secret, but a sexy secret! They’ll be more likely to venture down those optional paths you painstakingly made.

If we’re using sex in game overs, boss fights, and just randos, why not put it everywhere?

So now I want to talk about the concept of a “sex stat”. It’s not a bad idea! Say, the higher the player’s sex stat is, the more opportunities you unlock for fucking. It could even be tied to the player character’s personality, and affect the story! Instead of using a sword and shield, they’ll end any conflict with sass and sex. They open their eyes to the horny world around them and stop being a hero, and instead become a succubus, and the ending is a massive cum filled orgy.

That sounds excessive

Yeah, it does, doesn’t it.

I’m not a fan of “corruption” systems in porn games. Corruption as a kink is totally fine, and having it be a part of the story lets you incorporate more sexuality into the plot. But as I alluded to, it snowballs pretty fast (and I’m not talking about spitting in someone’s mouth). It ends up being like a cheat code, where you’re bypassing parts of the game for no cost. It stops being a reward, it stops being unexpected, and it stops it from being sexy.

Wait, what? Stops being sexy? What’s not sexy about a succubus orgy?

Alright, listen, we gotta rein it in for a minute. This isn’t so much about game design as it is about writing erotica, but if you have a world where everyone’s fucking and sucking 24/7, there’s no contrast to make what would normally be a hot taboo a hot taboo. If everybody’s naked, nobody’s naked. The aforementioned snowball effect of a corruption system can be seen if you play literally any game that has one. It won’t take long to not have to engage with any combat or adventuring system if you can just press the “Submit to the big dick warlock” button and watch porn to progress.

Which, now that I said that, is exactly the problem. Imagine any other rpg you’ve ever played. Now imagine if every encounter and dialogue option had an option to just watch a short cutscene to skip the encounter. That would suck ass, right? Literally no difference here.

It would. Hey, I’m sort of lost now.

Don’t worry, we’re wrapping this up.

So what did we learn? We learned game over CGs have a critical design flaw that shouldn’t be relied on. We learned that predictable rewards can lead to boredom. We learned to keep sex as a reward and not devalue it.

To summarize, here’s a neat trick to know where to put your porn scenes.

”Would I put an Xbox Live achievement here?”

It’s that easy. “Lose to Goblins for the first time,” that’s an achievement. “Beat orc commander,” that’s an achievement. “Find Hubert the Magical Dickhead,” that’s an achievement. Using that as a guideline is foolproof. Almost.

This sounds like it’d take a lot of resources

It sure does! But don’t worry. I’ll cover that in the next post talking all about how to deal with the resource management of a porn game.

(Shoutout to Taylor, my guy for editing!)

[genericpuff]

Are there any things you like about LO? Or is it all shit to you. Personally, I think it could be a great storyline with the right execution, but a lot of the stuff and plot is unnecessary (I.e. Hades being thousands of years older than Kore and making characters fall in love with people they are racist/classist towards 😨😨)

Oh there are LOADS of things that I liked and still enjoy about LO despite all the shit I've thrown at it. I love love LOVE a lot of the older art-

Like, damn, that shit is so charming! I swear I had that Tower 4 panel as my phone background for like, 2 years LOL

Rachel had a really strong understanding of shape language, composition, color theory, and expressive linework in a way that was really appealing and unique at the time, but along the way it was just lost, undoubtedly due to her taking more of a backseat in the character art process and leaving it to her assistants.

That said, there's a lot of... not so charming, too.

I think, on the one hand, there's a lot to appreciate in the old art that shouldn't be rejected as we criticize this series. At the end of the day, as much as we riff on it, many of us did love this series at one point in time, so we shouldn't cringe at what it used to make us feel or pretend like we were ever above it when we were very much lost in it for ages before it went down the tubes.

But there is a lot to be said about the effects of rose-colored glasses, and how LO was never perfect. The reality is that much of Rachel's work is exemplified by the odd beautiful thing that sticks in our memories, but when we actually go back to relive those memories, we find they're all strung together by some not so beautiful stuff that makes us go 'wait what???'

Case in point, with LO we remember beautiful compositions like this:

But then within those same episodes we get:

And it's like oh. Yikes.

Aside from the art, there was also the SA plot as well as the Act of Wrath. The SA plot felt really special to me at the time because I was someone who was once in Persephone's shoes, being pressured into sex that I wasn't ready for but wasn't capable of saying no to. I can appreciate what Rachel was trying to do with that plot, but over time it became clear that she wasn't committed to seeing that plotline through and so I kind of just dropped my expectations for it entirely.

That said, it wasn't the SA plotline that set me off. I had good faith in that one still that it would be addressed eventually. It was the Act of Wrath plotline that did me in. The premise of it was totally my cup of tea in the way of "quirky character has a dark evil backstory!" which is shit that I absolutely LOVE, but then when the "twist" happened that Eris was the one to give her wrath, that was literally when I had my almost "canon event" moment of realizing "wait... I don't think Rachel knows what she's doing." And then it was just all downhill from there. The S2 finale sealed my fate LOL

All that said, as much as my brain is often defaulting to "ew! gross! bad!!!" in all honesty I do still appreciate what LO meant to be back when I still enjoyed it. It meant enough to me that I just couldn't let it the fuck go when it started to go downhill, so much so that I started making my own version of it! And that's something that sets it apart so much more from other comics I really don't like anymore (or comics I never liked to begin with) like Down to Earth, The Kiss Bet, Let's Play, etc. where I really can't even be bothered to think about them let alone talk about them to the extent I do about LO. I may be full of beans when it comes to LO, but I'd still rather be talking about it and all its failings and what it used to mean to me than about any of those other works. I loved it enough to still want it in my life and that's what Rekindled has accomplished for me.

[tossawary]

You know, the more I think about it, the funnier I find the concept of Monkey D. Luffy /& Boa Hancock (especially paired with Aro-Ace spectrum Luffy and Aro-Ace spectrum Hancock) just for what it must look like from an outsider's POV.

For the record, personally, my favorite Luffy ship is Zoro/Luffy - also with Aro-Ace spectrum Luffy, that's basically non-negotiable for me, I don't care whether he's sex-favorable or sex-repulsed, but he's definitely ace. It is so funny to me to think about Luffy's incredible pull with aro-ace spectrum folks. People who once thought "sucks for you fuckers obsessed with sex and/or romance, I'm built different" (Roronoa Zoro, Koby, Trafalgar Law, Boa Hancock, Bartolomeo, etc.) find themselves fascinated by this little rubber man, who regularly declares war on the government and can swallow a roast chicken whole. Some of them are happier about this than others. Some of them WISH they just wanted to fuck or marry him, that would make more sense than this shit.

But, okay, back to Luffy and Hancock (as a friendship or queerplatonic situationship, whatever, doesn't matter). Like, let's pretend this is some kind of Modern College AU (Luffy is probably not IN college, tbh, he's just there to hang out with his friends and for any food anyone makes the mistake of leaving out). You are on your way to class and you see this woman walking down the street and she is - hands down - the Most Beautiful Woman In The World.

Super tall, with incredibly long, muscular legs in shockingly high red heels, a short skirt, artful cleavage, a waterfall of sleek black hair, beautiful face, striking makeup, gorgeous jewelry. Looks too old to be an undergrad student. She looks like if a martial artist became a supermodel. Walks like that too. The phrase "please step on me" comes to mind, but not to the lips, because that's sexual harassment, and also this woman looks like she could stab you through the heart with a kick and her shoe heel, killing you instantly.

She sees someone and her entire face lights up. She runs forward (how is she running in those shoes) squealing in excitement and embraces this guy you didn't even notice before, shouting about how much she missed him, and kisses him on the lips. He is... uh... three-quarters of her height at the tallest. A real Mr. Short King.

Wow, he has a babyface. And a scar on his cheek and on his chest, which you can see because he's wearing an open button-up, in eye-searing rainbow colors and decorated with monkeys, and jorts with fur at the cuffs. And mismatched flip-flops on the wrong feet. And a straw hat on a string around his neck. It looks like he hasn't brushed his hair today. It is impossible to judge his looks because his outfit is too distracting. Now the Most Beautiful Woman in the World is blushing bright pink as she clasps one of his hands in both of hers. Mr. Short King is using his other hand to pick his nose as she talks.

They walk hand in hand together over to where an incredibly expensive-looking bright red car is parked. Mr. Short King opens the driver's door for the Most Beautiful Woman and she apparently nearly swoons at this chivalry. She climbs into the driver's seat and he gets into the passenger's side (Luffy cannot legally drive and also cannot actually drive). They drive off together. What the fuck kind of Roger-and-Jessica-Rabbit-ass Sugar Mama relationship did you just witness?

Boa Hancock keeps a photograph of Luffy as her phone background and also on her desk at work. Everyone is always like, "Is that your... son?" And Hancock is like, "No, that's my number one choice of future fiancé! Isn't he sooooo handsome?" And people can only be like, "...Okay, but why are there police lights in the background? And something is on fire? It kind of looks like he's in the process of being arrested..." And Hancock responds dreamily, "They didn't catch him! He climbed into my exercise duffel bag and I carried him out."

[bonefall]

Do you think the clan cats having less kits per litter/less litters in general (they already have less kits than real cats) would fix the bloated cast issue? Because I look at Ginga and the cast is also bloated and only a few characters have offspring but the author keeps making other dogs join Ohu and refuses to kill the old as fuck dogs

I don't think there's any one particular "solution" for stopping bloat in series that manage large casts through generations like Ginga or WC, it's actually a few things

The #1 MOST important thing I think about bloat, though, is that it's about a ratio of quality to quantity. NOT raw size.

A long while back I made a couple of allegiance lists for certain eras. In spite of my Clans having the same (or even higher!) population as canon, I NEVER struggled with those lists being bloated. If anything, sometimes if a Clan's below 30, they look too small.

(I'm sure you can find those lists if you look, they're probably tagged BB!Allegiance, but they might be a bit out of date)

That's because in BB, there's dozens of HUGE cultural additions to Clan life. In "administration," alone, there's 3 new major divisions of skills (hunting, cooking, construction) ALL with their own "head" of that patrol, plus canon's leader, deputy, and Cleric. Not to mention subtitles like the Educator and maybe a Chaperone/Permaqueen!

So to bring it back to that "Ratio Theory," If our Clan is 30 cats, those 8 major roles immediately give at least a slight amount of character to a little over 25% of our group, with each role being something that the other 75% of cats can desire and compete for.

Canon's measly 3 is 10%, and you can ONLY vy for deputyship if you want any power. There's nothing else to BE ambitious about.

You can make the ratio higher by having hobbies, drama, skills, arts, etc. Basically; characterize background characters! Which should be obvious!! Give them traits that are useful and interesting and show the community being valuable.

It won't feel like "bloat," it has the sense of communities living their lives. Even if they go quiet for a while, when they return (just look at how much people like seeing Sedgecreek or Hallowflight mentioned lmao) it feels like meeting an old friend again.

WAYS TO MAKE BLOAT FEEL WORSE;

Giving too many "opportunities" to old characters.

Think of every relevant role a cat gets as a meal, and the bigger the role the more they've eaten. If you're only giving value to your old fanfavs, you're not doing much for them because they're already full while the rest of your cast starves.

Haphazardly killing off characters.

I actually strongly resent the "trend" where people conflate good storytelling with an author's willingness to suddenly kill characters off. I think it comes from the same place as needing to "outsmart" your audience.

If you kill off a character with VALUE, an unfinished arc, interesting connections, it's just unsatisfying. The Erins have this problem of killing background characters with some established lore or value (like Harelight and Briarlight) while leaving uninteresting background nobodies behind that they never build back up.

Before killing a character, ask yourself what their role in the cast is, and their dynamic with others. Try not to axe them without a plan to fill that "role" and/or comment on their absence. Replace what you take.

EASY REPLACABILITY

This one is HUGE, this is why Ginga is so bad with this. If a bunch of dogs die, 100 random soldiers can replace them from somewhere. That is REALLY bad, because all the random influxes of new characters do not have a chance to replace what was lost.

It also makes death feel cheaper. Oh no! Background dog 7446 got eaten by the newest type of bear. This won't make battles harder to win or cause us to lose any valuable skills though. Also a new dog just walked in from offscreen.

Population Growth outpaces Death Rate

AKA your cast is growing too fast and you're not getting rid of old characters. This is what anon was asking about-- and it CAN help to make births less frequent and litters smaller. Make sure to pair with preventing lots of new, adult characters to casually wander in, too.

ALL of these tips have exceptions and places where they can (and should) be subverted and broken. But these are just things I think about

[adyophene]

I got a few people saying they wouldn't mind seeing a run down of my unfinished work and sketches! So this is gunna be just a big ol post of that and just explaining what the doodles would have ended up being!

First off is just some sketches of Alastor, Husk, a really uncanny Blitzo, and an unfinished voxhusk sketch

Left Husk was reffed off a pose that i've since lost, and right was going to be a little comic of Husk bugging Vox and then Vox bugging Husk in return. :( I don't remember what dialogue I was going to use.

Next is just some unfinished couple sketches! Some Chaggie and Angel/Sir Pentious that I might still use at some point. TuT I think Angel and Pentious could make such a hilarious couple and it kills me that I can't find almost anything for it

and this husk was just going to be a redraw of this

but with Al, Vox, Angel, and Lucifer petting him

next is one I did already post but this one here; left was going to be a short comic where Lilith comes back and is enamored with Husk while also vaguely threatening to Alastor as she is. Right is the only doodle I have so far for a comic about Husk and Charlie getting caught hiding out from the rain, and Husk trying to talk to her about her making a deal with Alastor. Ugh. I need to even just thumbnail out that comic. Its been in my mental queue for literal months!

Next up is a bunch of sketches of my own Hazbin OC, Shiv! I've never posted anything about him alone before, but he's featured in a lot of the backgrounds of my pieces! He was a carnie in voxhusk fake dating, and then a waiter in the diner piece, and ticket booth attendant in the movie theater one!

I always love putting him in just whatever job the art calls for because he is a '1980's cocaine and bourbon grindset hustlepilled business fuck'. I don't know if I will ever expand his story in artwork, but if I did I would draw something about him trying to get a Soul-Based Multilevel marketing scheme going. Shiv is short for 'Shiver' because he froze to death after drunk wandering naked into the woods while on a skiing trip. He's in hell because he made his money doing shitty business practices like scamming old people out of their money with phone scams. If he saw Mad Men he'd think it would be about him, but he'd fit better in Its Always Sunny

Lastly, I have some sketches from a comic I am literally fighting myself not to make, where Husk ends up kidnapped by a ring of criminals that smuggle sinners to other Rings of Hell. Husk would be captured to be an exotic pet for a Ostrich theme'd Goetia, but would quickly escape. The main plot would be him running into and then helping out Blitzo in return for help getting back to the Pride ring!

I would have also got to include my other OC, the little Egg lamb, Sunnysides!

Literally would have just been a huge excuse for me to draw Husk going through Situations and hanging out with the Helluva Boss cast and my OCs.

[risingsuntarot]

1--2

3-4

General Messages & Advice !!

⚠️TW Quick mention of s*icidal ideation⚠️

I honestly had no set plan for this reading negl so I kinda just pulled out some cards to describe the collective energies and give them some advice sorry if this is long !! This took me quite a while so any love would be greatly appreciated!! Thanks for reading 💜

Excuse any typos :+//

-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-

Pile ONE

---Cards pulled---

Ace of cups/Queen of Coins/2 of Coins

---Clarification---

9 of Coins/7 of Coins/8 of Wands

I see you're able to either barely able hold onto your emotions and new beginnings or you manage them quite well no inbetween

Youre extremely intelligent, patient yet fast and direct, dedicated and multifaceted it may have taken a lot to get to this point although

Im sensing a lot of emotional sensitivity yet you are perceived as stone when you feel like glass

"Petite, Cute, Princess, Marilyn monroe, Dainty" maybe youre described as such?

Strong sense of justice and very dependable, able to maintain balance

Maybe you feel lost inside? S*icidal ideation ? Or loneliness is a big factor

Possible lack of belief in change and self confidence

Im getting Hopeless romantic or dissatisfaction in love life if im being honest

No inspiration for life :'+(

Unstable Family background or relationships

Youre extremely pessimistic arent you? Im so sorry but i feel genuine pain hurt and the urge to cry almost? But something wont allow me to

Suppressed emotions or memories :+((

---ORACLE/ADVICE---

Eagle "see from a higher perspective"

Air Gaurdian "Shift your perception"

Lord "Take charge with authority"

High Priest "Intend ans Create"

There is a need for the sun and nature for playing a huge part in your healing, maybe its seasonal depression or simply anxiety or the "no inspiration for life" thats here

Bed rot could be a thing

There is a need to release old habits desires and ego

Confide in a masculine figure in your life or a masculine figure sees your distress (Gender doesn't matter its all energy)

Protection is needed and maybe a nice cleanse, maybe a cedar bath?

Again seasonal depression is coming up lol

You could be either a pieces or one of the Air signs

Take pride in your appearance, in the card she has long flowing black hair and stunning eyes!! Piercings too? Specifically a left nose piercing

Over thinking/pondering lol

Possible past friends or connections have ended badly?

Opportunities will only open up when you open your eyes and see that what you choose to see in the world if what youll perceive and experience

Lord of the rings/DND/Elden Ring/LARPing?

Rams could be significant or Aries sign!!

Learn a new instrument!! Make more art but with your own style ? Maybe youre in a art achool that doesnt allow for much individuality? But being a proud ab your individuality here is important!!

Birds are an important sign here, look out for feathers, hawks or eagles!!

If youre indigenous/Native/Aboriginal you may be receiving an Eagle Feather from an elder or during ceremony?! What an honor oml

Willie Jack from reservation dogs Vibes !!

---Channeled Songs---

LVL up - David strickland, Drezus, Aspects, prognosis

This came on during writing the eagle feather bit a lyric that caught my attention was

"Been a problem, Still a problem

But problems are what you need to grow"

Runaway - Lil peep

"Everybody act like they care, Why the fuck do everybody act like they care"

When I'm Gone - Eminem

"Just know that I'm looking down on you smiling

And I didn't feel a thing,

So, baby, don't feel no pain

Just smile back"

-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-

PILE TWO

---Cards pulled---

The hermit/Knight of wands/8 of wands

---Clarification---

9 of cups/The Empress/Strength

Im getting like lost rebellion? And being unhealed and hurt inside from past trauma's specifically abandonment, neglect or betrayal from authority figures or those you had trusted

Feeling empty and misguided despite only trusting yourself, and no one seems to want to listen to your advice/experiences leading you to feel isolated and forgotten in a way?

Maybe you're a party animal, possible drinker and/or just popular/known in social settings

There is heavy overindulgence in emotionally fufilling things, specifically overspending and maybe other possible addictions (sleep, food, drugs etc)

Mother/Feminine figure is very important in your life

You look to them for approval of many things but they may have been not caring about your emotional needs or satisfaction rather they cared more about your hidden strengths and "beast inside" ?? Or even how "weak" they perceived you, they may have been disappointed at your strengths and abilities, n maybe they put you in some kind of martial arts or boxing despite your disinterest in it?

Quick to move on from situations!! Yet indecision and regret is coming through Strongly

Impatient with skills and talents that dont turm out they way you wanted so perfectionist type vibes

You are a clear communicator but tend to be rather impulsive with decisions or say one thing and do a completely different thing

Extreme harshness towards oneself and heavy judgement too :+(

Feeling exposed? Like all eyes are on you yet you dont want them

I feel a facade of confidence but there is true confidence coming through by the tiniest bit? yet it's heavily based on the feminine figures perspective in your life one with authority also your own perspective on yourself

Lots of self hatred and anger

Family oriented, getting protective yet detached energy tho

Cancer by my chemical romance came on so that song may be relevant?

---ORACLE/ADVICE---

Wise One "Grow within your current situation"

Mountains "Stand your ground"

Stargazer "Set your sights higher"

Direction guardian "Choose your path"

Owls maybe significant to you and other avians such as ravens

The wise one card depicts a woman with feathers in her gray hair, description of someone possibly?

Also a crescent moon is atop the owls head so maybe Athena or Greek mythology is important to you

I sense there was a lot of hardship in your life, ups and downs, peaks and valleys yet you choose to persevere and stay strong

I see you have may have been passed down a gift having to do with dreams, keep a journal and look into meanings of those dreams!! Also maybe astrology is something you love to look into or have an interest in ?

Although something is blocking this gift from its fullest potential i believe there is healing or a cycle to be closed off before youre allowed to fully tap into it !! It'll take time and work on your part

As of now you have many choices to make in many areas of life, youre heavily protected by your guides and loved ones, the direction guardian is depicted with a Seraphim as described by the hebrew prophet Ezekiel!!

Specifically in Ezekiel 28:11-19 is where the seraphim is described

You have choices, this card is to remind you that YOU have the power of your own path and direction

---Channeled Songs---

Cancer - MCR

"Baby I'm just soggy from the chemo

But counting down the days to go

It just ain't living

And I just hope you know

That if you say (if you say)

Good-bye today (good-bye today)

I'd ask you to be true (I'd ask you to be true)

'Cause the hardest part of this

Is leaving you"

No place to hide - Korn

"Some will look at the time I looked back into my life

You wanna touch me to see what's in my eyes

Why do you make me remember my hate, all this shame?

Don't you hate me? Sometimes"

I-E-A-I-A-I-O - SOAD

"Mine delusions acquainted,

Bubbles erotica,

Plutonium wedding rings,

Icicles stretching,

Bicycles, shoestrings,

One flag, flaggy but one,

Painting the paintings of the alive."

Although this seems like nonsense many fans believe its abbreviations or like code!! Soo...

M D E = Media and so on

The sentence comes together as:

"Media back-end power is bullshit, opposing force for the power of propaganda"

Stole this^^^ from genuis btw lmao

Theres the "lost rebel" part lol

-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-

PILE THREE

---Cards pulled---

2 of swords/The Chariot/10 of Wands

---Clarification---

Ace of Swords/Knave of Coins/6 of wands

I feel more a message for this pile? And i do apologize but it is quite shorter than the rest but I will try my best to deliver both tho

You seem to be a very balanced person with clear morals and judgement, you have an ability to see all shades of gray in a black and white world maybe you work in the justice system? Or are dealing with the justice system ?And this stresses you out greatly yet you maintain hope for all that you see and deal with even if you see repeating injustices to those around you

Maybe PTSD is a factor here too, overthinking your own trauma or others

Anyways despite your position here you choose this pile for a reason !! You offer people truth and often give closure to cycles that needed to end

With the 2 of coins tho i think there is some imbalance between what you can and cannot do ? If that makes sense, like you can heal others or give them justice but cannot do the same for yourself :+(

Anyways the message i sense from this pile is pretty straight forward, you are giving someone (or yourself!!) the chance or closure to heal once more and whatever you may be waiting for is coming in quite quick although I feel there may be someone who may come in to sabotage the whole thing so be careful about who you choose to reveal this information to

They may offer a trade of some sort?

A deal, hush money or simply intimidation

Up your protection and be aware of fake friends yet still remain hopeful about the outcome because i see it turning out in your favor

---ORACLE/ADVICE---

Snake "Shed old skin"

Protection Guardian "Drop your Shields"

Winter "Take care of your needs"

High Priestess "Harness mystic power"

Again straightforward, beware of fake Friends and deals with strings attached my advice here is to up your protection and stand your ground!!

Drop your gaurd with those who you KNOW you can trust, you may need ro let out some stresses and emotions? Because the card winter is all about needs and hibernation so sleep well, eat and take some time to relax !!

Also might be an indication that whatever this situation is it may have happened in the winter/colder months

While in this time of self care and healing strengthen your knowledge and strengths learn how to master them !!

Your dreams and own special psychic gifts are important and potent !! Use them for yourself at this moment in time use that healing energy for yourself

Have confidence in yourself and know and own your protection because again you are heavily protected at this time you will most likely know who to stay away from very soon

Follow you intuition and what it tells you !!

---Channeled Songs---

The bird and the worm - The Used

[Whispered Post-Chorus] "Don't tell on me, don't tell on me. No, don't you tell on me, please. It's okay, don't tell on me, please..."

I find it interesting that its not the actual audible lyrics but if you listen to the song this is what the whispers are saying so...take it as it resonates

Spiders - SOAD

"Approaching guiding light

Our shallow years in fright

Dreams are made, winding through my head"

Bad dreams might be significant to you? Please try to relax good things are coming !!

Mama - MCR

"You should have raised a baby girl

I should've been a better son

If you could coddle the infection

They can amputate at once

You should've been

I could have been a better son"

-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-

Pile Four

---Cards pulled---

5 of cups/4 of wands/Knave of coins

---Clarification---

8 of wands/6 of cups/Knave of wands

I believe there currently is dissatisfaction with your love life or offers within love at this moment or even just impatiently waiting for your current partner/interest to "make a move"

There isnt a lot of hope or faith in the connection on your part but i do see this person is interested they just operate differently and have some concerns

Mostly having to do with being used for their material gain, name position and/or authority

They do see this connection quite successful but they hate being put on a pedestal, due to this they wont have the guts to come forward if they do!! It will most likely be impulsive or very confusing and indirect which might leave both of yous flustered mainly them

This might be over drinks because my face is warming up lol

They see you as the four of wands and 6 of cups what a wonderful pair of cards together!!

But they see your disappointment and or pulling away from their energy which is turning them off easily but they still have their eyes on you

They have no time to be a chaser or to be chased this person is quite serious in their relationships so dont play childish games, play stupid games and win stupid prizes right?

They have come to a decision on their own but its also up to them when this information is revealed to you directly

Also there seems to be a sort of distrust with relationships on either sides which needs to be addressed before hand

Communication maybe be an issue

---ORACLE/ADVICE---

Medicine Guardian "Be open to healing information"

Elder "Healing through lineage"

Peacekeeper "Harmonious resolution is possible"

Lady "enjoy growth a reap rewards"

I feel like time is needes to open up tp yourself and heal some issues on your side first, become the best possible version you can before you can move on with this

I see that this connection may heal cycles in your family and generational trauma possibly?

Its your job to keep cool despite the circumstances now and remember to mediate and that peace is always an option. Not every battle is worth fighting

However this goes you will be happy with what you see in the mirroe nonetheless!! Enjoy your hardwork and healed state

---Channeled Songs---

Fed Up - Ghostmane

"I'm fed up with the fame

I'm sick of reading my name in any other way than I intended

Fed up with all of these motherfuckers misunderstandin' me

I'm fed up with the ones that try to say you a fan of me

But then they turn their back and mothafuckers abandon me

You think I'm sitting high with everything, but now can't you see?

I'm livin' in reality, a struggle, not fantasy

I'm in a million-dollar couch, back then I was in a van"

No you girls - Franz Ferdinand

"Sometimes I say stupid things

But I think, well, I mean I

Sometimes I think the stupidest things

Because I never wonder

Oh, how the girl feels

Oh, how the girl feels"

Driven Under - Seether

"Must be something on your mind

Something lost for me to find

Do you know I'm faking?"

I feel this is more the distrust with their previous relationship possibly?

Also this lyric

"We have to succumb to the feelings we can never face

I need you, I breathe you

I can't go through this all again

We have to succumb to the feelings we can never face

I need you, I breathe you

I can't go through this"

Also pile 3 may have some messages?? I accidentally typed pile three for this one? :+//

-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-

[cryiingoutloud]

☽〝 brushstrokes of desire ( matty healy x reader )

warnings: 18+, mostly sexual tension, soft smut at the end. english is not my native language, be kind & enjoy <3 wc: 2.6k

you’re in your studio, working late into the night as the soft hum of the city outside fades into the background. the space is alive with color: splashes of vibrant reds, muted blues, and earthy tones smudged on the walls and floor. your brushes, canvases, and palettes are scattered around like the aftermath of a creative storm. the air smells faintly of paint and linseed oil, grounding you as your hands glide across the canvas, lost in the flow of creation.

you’re wearing a pair of matty’s sweatpants, soft and oversized, hanging loosely off your hips, along with an old white t-shirt, now more paint-splattered than pristine. you feel cozy, relaxed, though a little aware of how ridiculous you must look in your makeshift work outfit. but matty? he’s perched on a low chair behind you, his arms resting on his knees, watching you with an intensity that makes the air hum between you. you catch glimpses of him in the corner of your eye, his dark curls slightly tousled, his lips curved into a lazy, dreamy smile as if he’s amused by something only he understands.

his gaze, though silent, feels weighty, and you can sense it without turning around. it’s the kind of stare that warms you from the inside out, and the fact that he’s just sitting there, observing you, sends a thrill through you because you know he finds this version of you, the one covered in paint, entirely absorbed in your art, irresistible. he hasn’t said a word for a while now, content to just watch, but you know him well enough to sense what’s going on in that head of his.

you try to focus on the canvas in front of you, keep your brush steady, but the awareness of him sitting behind you is palpable. you’re working on a new piece, but the paint under your fingertips feels almost secondary to the weight of matty’s presence filling the room. his gaze feels like a touch, soft and deliberate, like he’s painting you in his mind with each passing second.

finally, you hear the faintest shuffle of movement behind you, and before you can process it, you feel his hands slide around your waist, gentle but firm. his fingers brush the exposed skin just above the waistband of his sweatpants, and a shiver runs through you at the touch. he pulls you back against him, his warmth pressing into you as he rests his chin against your shoulder, watching your hand move across the canvas.

"you're so fucking beautiful," he murmurs against your neck, his voice a low rasp that sends a spark of heat straight through you.

you pause, trying not to lose focus, but it’s impossible. his hands drift to your hips, his thumbs brushing slow circles over the fabric of the sweatpants, and you feel your breath catch in your throat. it’s a delicate touch, but it carries a weight that’s impossible to ignore. your hand falters on the canvas as he presses a soft kiss to the back of your neck, just below your hairline.

"you’re distracting me," you whisper, your voice breathless as you try - unsuccessfully - to keep painting.

he laughs softly against your skin, the sound sending another shiver down your spine. "good," he mutters, his lips grazing the sensitive spot just behind your ear. "i like distracting you."

you try to stay focused, but his hands are roaming now, one trailing up under your shirt to brush against your stomach, the other still holding your hip, pulling you closer against him. you can feel the heat of his body through the thin fabric of your clothes, and it makes concentrating on anything else a near impossibility.

"matty," you murmur, your voice a mix of warning and need.

he hums in response, his mouth still tracing soft, teasing kisses along your neck, and his hands - god, his hands - are making it impossible to think straight. you set your brush down, the paint on the canvas forgotten as you give in to the sensation of his touch, the way he’s effortlessly unraveling you.

you turn around in his arms, your hands finding their way into his curls as you pull his mouth to yours. the kiss is slow, languid, a mix of tenderness and simmering heat, like neither of you is in a rush but both of you know exactly where this is heading. his lips are soft, warm, moving against yours with an almost lazy hunger, like he wants to savor every second.

your hands slide down to his shoulders, then to his chest, feeling the solidness of him under your fingertips, the way his body reacts to your touch. his breath hitches when your fingers graze the hem of his shirt, tugging it up just slightly, and that’s when the idea hits you, suddenly, all at once.

you pull back slightly, your lips inches from his, and he looks at you with those dark eyes, his pupils blown wide with lust and something softer, more adoring, lingering beneath the surface.

"i want to paint you," you say, the words slipping out in a breathless rush.

he blinks, surprised for a moment, but then a slow, wicked grin spreads across his face. "yeah?" his voice is rough, but there’s a playful note to it, like he already loves the idea. "what are you thinking?"

you smile, excitement bubbling up in your chest. "let me use you as a canvas."

he doesn’t need more convincing. he steps back slightly, his hands falling away from your hips as he pulls his shirt over his head, tossing it aside. your gaze follows the movement, and your breath catches again at the sight of him. his bare chest, the way his muscles ripple with every movement. he watches you with that same smirk, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you.

"you gonna paint me, love?" he teases, his voice low, dripping with suggestion.

you nod, your pulse quickening as you grab a fresh brush, dipping it into a pot of deep blue paint. "turn around," you instruct softly, and he does, his back now facing you. the muscles there shift under his skin as he moves, and the sight alone sends a fresh wave of heat through you.

you step closer, your eyes tracing the lines of his shoulders, his spine, the curve of his waist. you reach out and run your fingers lightly across his skin, and he shivers at the contact, goosebumps rising where your fingertips have touched. you smile to yourself, loving how responsive he is to you.

with a deep breath, you press the tip of the brush against his back, the coolness of the paint making him tense for a moment. you begin to drag the brush in slow, deliberate strokes, painting abstract shapes and patterns, your mind following the rhythm of his breath, the rise and fall of his body. the blue spreads across his skin in soft waves, and you add hints of white, blending the colors like the sky meeting the sea.

every stroke of the brush seems to draw out something deeper, a tension that hums in the air between you. you can feel it building with every pass of the brush, the way his muscles tighten under your touch, the way his breath becomes more labored. he shifts slightly, his head dropping forward, exposing more of his neck, and you can't resist brushing a kiss against his nape, feeling him shudder in response.

the room feels smaller now, the silence heavy, punctuated only by the sound of your breathing and the soft drag of the brush across his skin. you move closer, your body nearly pressed against his as you work, your fingers occasionally brushing against his bare skin as you adjust your strokes.

"fuck," he mutters under his breath, his voice strained. "you're killing me."

you smile, but you don’t stop, your hand moving lower, tracing the curve of his lower back with the brush. his breath hitches again, and you can feel the tension in him building, coiling tighter with every passing second. you’re not just painting him, you’re teasing him, driving him slowly out of his mind with every careful stroke.

the room feels thick with heat, the air charged with a tension so palpable it makes your heart race. you can feel it in the way he’s holding himself so still, like he’s barely keeping it together, and you know that he’s close to snapping.

you pause for a moment, stepping back to admire your work, and the sight of him bare, painted, his skin a canvas of blues and whites, muscles taut and quivering under your touch sends a wave of desire crashing through you. you want him. now.

but before you can make a move, he turns around suddenly, his eyes dark and wild, and in one swift motion, he pulls you to him. his mouth crashes against yours, hot and demanding, all of the tension from before exploding between you in a rush of need.

your hands find his bare chest, fingers smearing the paint as you cling to him, and he groans into your mouth, the sound deep and guttural. the kiss is messy, desperate, a clash of tongues and teeth as you both lose yourselves in the heat of it. you barely register him guiding you down to the floor until your back hits the soft sheets covering the studio floor, the fabric crumpling beneath you.

his hands are everywhere: gripping your hips, sliding under your shirt, tugging it over your head, until you’re both bare, your skin flushed and slick with paint. he presses you down into the floor, his body hovering over yours, and the feeling of his skin against yours, still wet with paint, is almost too much to bear.

"god, you’re beautiful," he murmurs, his voice rough and breathless as his eyes rake over your body, taking in every inch of you.

his words send a shiver through you, and you reach up, your hands finding his face as you pull him back down to you. his lips are on yours again, but this time the kiss is slower, more deliberate, as though he’s savoring the taste of you. his hands roam your body with a kind of reverence, fingertips tracing lines over your bare skin, dragging through the smears of paint. the feeling of his touch, mixed with the slickness of the paint and the heat between you, makes everything feel heightened, every sensation magnified.

his lips leave yours, trailing down your jaw, across the line of your neck, pressing soft, wet kisses to your collarbone. you arch into him, a soft moan escaping your lips as his mouth moves lower, painting your skin with his lips, his teeth, his tongue. the contrast of the wet, cool paint and the heat of his mouth sends sparks through you, each touch leaving you aching for more.

you feel the tension building again, thick and heavy in the air between you, each breath you take filled with anticipation. your hands glide over his back, fingers tracing the lines of his muscles, feeling them tense and shift beneath your touch. he shivers under your hands, his breath hot against your skin as he works his way lower, his mouth worshiping every inch of you.

"matty," you breathe, your voice a soft plea, and he pauses, lifting his head to meet your gaze. his dark eyes are blown wide with desire, his lips swollen from kissing you, and the sight of him like this, completely undone, completely yours, sends a fresh wave of heat pooling in your core.

he doesn’t say anything, just looks at you with that intense, almost reverent gaze, and then he’s moving again, pressing his body flush against yours. you gasp at the feeling of him, hard and ready, pressing against your thigh. the friction between your bodies, the way his skin slides against yours, slick with paint and sweat, makes everything feel electric, like every nerve in your body is on fire.

"are you sure?" he asks, his voice a low, gravelly murmur against your ear, even though you can see the barely controlled hunger in his eyes, the way he’s struggling to keep himself in check.

you nod, your heart pounding in your chest, your body aching for him. "yes," you breathe, your voice shaky but sure. "i want you."

that’s all he needs to hear. in the next moment, he’s positioning himself between your thighs, his body pressing down against yours, and then he’s inside you, filling you completely. you both gasp at the feeling, the connection between you so intense, so overwhelming, that for a moment, neither of you moves. you’re both suspended in that perfect moment, the air around you buzzing with energy, with the raw, undeniable connection you share.

and then he’s moving, slow at first, his hips rolling against yours in a steady, measured rhythm that has you arching up into him, desperate for more. his hands are on your hips, holding you steady as he rocks into you, each thrust deeper, harder, more deliberate than the last. your bodies move together in perfect sync, the friction between you sending waves of pleasure crashing through you with every movement.

"god, you feel so good," he groans, his voice tight with pleasure as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, his breath hot against your skin.

you can’t form words, can’t do anything but cling to him, your fingers digging into his back, leaving smears of blue paint across his skin as you hold on for dear life. the heat between you is unbearable, the tension building and building with every thrust, every breath, until it feels like you might shatter from the intensity of it all.

his pace quickens, his thrusts becoming more urgent, more frantic, and you can feel the tension in his body, the way he’s holding himself back, trying to make this last. but you’re both so close, teetering on the edge of something explosive, and it’s all you can do to keep up with him, your body trembling with need, with anticipation.

"matty," you moan, your voice desperate and breathless, and that’s all it takes to push him over the edge.

with a low, guttural groan, he surges into you one last time, his body tensing as he comes, his release triggering your own. the wave of pleasure that crashes over you is intense, overwhelming, and you cling to him as your body shakes with the force of it, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps as the world around you seems to blur into nothing but him, his body, his touch, his love.

for a long moment, neither of you moves, both of you spent and breathless, your bodies tangled together on the paint-streaked sheets. his chest rises and falls against yours as he catches his breath, and you can feel the rapid beat of his heart, still in sync with your own.

slowly, he lifts his head, his eyes meeting yours, and the look in them is so full of tenderness, of affection, that it makes your heart ache. he smiles, soft and lazy, and leans down to press a gentle kiss to your lips, the heat between you simmering down into something quieter, more intimate.

"you’re incredible," he murmurs against your lips, his voice soft, reverent.

you smile, feeling warm and light and utterly content. "so are you."

he chuckles softly, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. "we should do this more often," he teases, his voice playful now, and you laugh, feeling a sense of ease and happiness settle over you.

as you lie there together, wrapped in each other’s arms, the world outside the studio seems distant, irrelevant. all that matters is this moment, this connection between you, this love that feels almost too perfect, too real to be true.

but it is real, and it’s yours. and as you drift off in the warmth of his embrace, surrounded by the smell of paint and the lingering heat of your passion, you can’t help but feel that this is exactly where you’re meant to be.

[itsabouttimex2]

Sooooo... How do you feel about the season 5?

In short? Mid. 6-6.5/10.

In long…?

A severely rushed season that bit off way more than it could chew. A season that had the characters pull powers from their asses more frequently than ever before. A season that had shitty “dramatic” moments for the sake of having dramatic moments. A season that lampshades issues instead of fixing them. A season with so, so much wasted potential.

It basically boils down: everything they wanted to do COULD have been good, but they just didn’t have the time.

I’ll go into some varied details below. I’d also like to make clear- I’ll be tagging all of my Season Five Posts with “Lego Monkie Kid Season 5” and “LMK Spoilers” until August 1st. Then the gloves are coming off and I’ll stop tagging them.

(I still liked the season, for what it’s worth- and you can watch it in full here! I’ve got some drafts and bots cooking as we speak!)

This was a cute send-off to Flying Bark! It was nice of them to acknowledge, in some way, everything that those dears did for the show- because Lego Monkie Kid would NOT be where it is without them.

Significantly less cute-

The absolute kick in the fucking face that constantly superimposing old footage over newer, worse footage is.

You don’t want us to be constantly reminded of the animation downgrade- that’s the literal last thing that anyone wants. Why would you constantly remind us that it used to be better?

What the fuck does this accomplish? Okay, let’s make comparisons, cause that’s the only thing that can result from pulling this shit-

This is what happens when you constantly reference the older, superior content.

PEOPLE CONSTANTLY NOTICE THAT YOUR CONTENT IS WORSE.

Also, why is it so saturated? How do you make a Lego Minifigure look like he has jaundice?

It’s just a bad look to constantly reference content you can’t live up to. I’m hoping they’ll just recreate old content instead of sloppily pasting it into the background of the show- it’ll be less jarring.

Alright, what else…

———

Yay, I called it! Nuwa is not MK’s “loving though bereft mommy”! Which I had been guessing ever since the Celestial Pagoda leaked, actually-

I mean, come on. He’s literally stealing the stones away from her as she reaches to take them back.

And the Season confirmed it! Nuwa might’ve be been MK’s creator, but she certainly wasn’t his momma.

And you know how the series subtlety clues you in to how little she cares about her “son”?

Nuwa didn’t give him a name. She had hundreds, maybe thousands of years to think on it- but no. No name.

We mortals name our pets, our vehicles, our art. We love them enough to bestow monikers.

Nuwa didn’t even bother to name her own sapient mortal creation.

But when he makes a move against her, does something she doesn’t want, takes destiny into his own hands?

She calls out to him with one word- not “son”. Not “MK”.

Nuwa angrily calls him “mortal”.

Becuase that’s all he ever was to her, really. A mortal pawn. A handmade puppet.

Someone designed to fulfill a sacrifice. Even though her intentions were good, MK’s sole purpose by her hand was to shoulder the weight of the world like a good little hero.

So… a potential “villain” in the making?

———

Lampshading the fact that you’re doing the “macguffin hunt” again does not excuse doing the “macguffin hunt” again.

Lampshading the “apocalypse after apocalypse” plots doesn’t make them any less exhausting.

Lampshading Macaque’s lack of narrative consequences does not undo the awkward and weak redemption arc.

———

They changed Mei “no longer wielding” the Samadhi fire, I guess.

Ignore that she never displayed a hint of concern or sorrow over “losing it” because now she’s sad and worried (after backlash from the fans over her losing it) about losing it.

Like, Subodhi knows so much about the world and the universe that he’s aware of his existence in the ink scroll- but he gets Mei not having an interplanetary level threat inside her wrong?

I smell a retcon.

———

Macaque’s redemption arc is still shit. I’ve got a whole rant queued to release soon, actually- I imagine it might be the final time I comment on his arc until Season Six.

To put it short- Macaque still falls upwards into redemption. No pushback or difficulty or introspection. He’s just a magically better person without any onscreen development to make the change believable.

But they reference this at one point?

Sun Wukong points out that Macaque escapes the trial without any punishment, and is just allowed to mope in place of an actual consequence.

So maaaaaayybeeeee they’ll do something in Season Six? I’ve lost all faith that he’ll ever be an interesting character again, though.

He’s essentially just “brooding rival #80058”. Instead of being a character that calls back to Seasons 1-3, from 4 onwards he’s just a brand new dude who totally didn’t commit any atrocities with a smile on his face- and he’s a worse and more boring character for it.

———

If I haven’t misjudged the intent, I think Monkie Kid will be going back to being an episodic series for the extent of Season Six. Again, they lampshade the “apocalypse after apocalypse” thing, yeah?

And now they have a perfect formula- find someone who’s having trouble with their new power, and help them.

And we might see Bai He again???

Let’s hope for a good breather season!

———

Rest in piss Li Jing their asses did NOT cook with you sorry papa

You could’ve been interesting in the writers didn’t try to pull a “loving father” bait and switch after you got like four scenes of being a raw jackass

If they were going to deviate from the source material and make you a good dad couldn’t it have just been:

“Li Jing, you were not invited to the trial!”

“STF that monkey son of a bitch hurt my baby boy-“

“Father I’m 300-“

“Hush son, let daddy take care of this- that monkey son of a bitch hurt my baby boy when he stole the Samadhi fire map!”

Maybe next season you’ll get to be interesting, hun.

(I’m still writing for Lotusfam though)

———

Drama for the sake of drama. 0/10 scene. Could’ve just had the interruption come AFTER they held hands, but no. Gotta drag shit out for the shippers or whatever. There was no reason to prolong this reunion.

I’m really not a fan of the “just wait another season for it”, mentality. Stop stretching shit out. You had a chance to do something sweet and heartwarming, and chose not to for the sake of trying to drag a conclusion out.

Ugh.

———

Characters just pull powers out of their ass for the sake of forcing dramatic scenes.

THESE ARE DOGSHIT SCENES

THIS MAKES NO FUCKING SENSE. THIS IS DONE SOLELY FOR THE SALE OF “MUH DRAMATIC FINALE” AND IS BAD

ITS BAD WRITING TO HAVE CHARACTERS PULL NEW MAGICAL POWERS OUT OF THEIR ASSES FOR THE SAKE OF DRAMA

IF WUKONG HAD THIS POWER FROM THE START HE SHOULD’VE USED IT AGAINST HIS FUCKING LETHAL ENEMIES AND NOT SAVED IT FOR HIS PRECIOUS STUDENT

MK NEVER LEARNED TO USE THE FILLET SPELL. THE WRITERS PULLED IT OUT OF THEIR ASS TO FORCE DRAMA BY HAVING MK TORTURE HIS MENTOR LONGER THAN EVEN THEIR ACTING ENEMY LI JING DID WITH A CIRCLET THAT IS CANONICALLY TIGHTER THAN HIS FIRST

WE SEE HOW FAST HE IS WHEN HE FIGHTS THE AZURE LION

MK CAN MOVE FASTER THAN WUKONG

HE COULD’VE BEATEN HIM THERE IN AN EQUALLY CLIMATIC RACE

I FEEL NOTHING WHEN I WATCH THIS BECAUSE IT IS FORCED DRAMA FOR THE SAKE OF DRAMA

—————————————————

💚💚💚