#then promptly fucked off never to be seen again

[imtryingbuck]

Family Photos

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OFC!Theo

Summary: Bucky has to marry a woman who surprises him more and more as their story goes along.

Word count: 1,837

Warnings: angst. swearing, divorce mentioned, Eliza being awful. Anymore let me know.

Masterlist   Series Masterlist

His head pounds and his stomach aches, he sits in front of the toilet just in his boxers.

"It's your own fault Buck" comes the voice that belongs to his best friend.

"I know Steven. Stop talking"

"Nope, what you did yesterday at dinner was wrong and uncalled for-"

"What are you talking about?" He grumbles.

"Do you not remember?"

"No"

Which was true, after Bucky pushed himself away from the door after hearing Theo's conversation with Wanda he went straight to his office and started drinking. He remembers Martha coming in and telling him that dinner was ready and then him leaving.

He listens in horror as Steve tells him what he had said, his heart ached when he found out Theo had cried.

"Shit! Fuck I need to talk to her"

"You need to shower first Bucky"

"Bu-"

"No buts, have a shower and then you can talk to her".

Doing as Steve says he waits until the blonde leaves before getting into the shower. It wasn't true what he had said, he wasn't going to Dots. He didn't want to see her again not now that he was married, he wanted to do right by his wife and his non-existent vows.

Thinking of how he was going to fix an already awkward marriage he honestly was coming up empty.

One thing for certain though was he needed to thank Wanda for being the only person to stick up for Theo.

Getting dressed a knock came from the door.

"Buck it's me"

"Come in"

"We've, well you, have a problem"

"What now Steve?"

"Your whores here and Theo's just seen her"

"Shit! And Dots not my whore"

"Sorry. Mistress is here"

"Steve she's nothing to me! I didn't see her last night I swear"

"Yep and the sky's green" Steve rolls his eyes and walks back out of the room.

"Hi Bucky" Dots voice caused him to groan, he wonders was her voice always that annoyingly loud when he was with her.

"What are you doing here Dolores?"

"Dolores? I've always been Dottie to you"

"Not asking again."

"See someone's woken up on the wrong side of the bed, what isn't your wife satis-" Nat promptly cuts her off by wrapping her hand around the woman's throat and slamming her in to the wall.

Before Bucky would have demanded Natasha to let her go but there are two reasons he didn't, one - he wasn't going to allow a nobody like Dot say anything about his wife and two - the fire in Nat's eyes scared him.

"B-Bucky tell her to get her hands-Bucky help!" Dot wheezed out.

"Dolores why have you came to my home?"

"Need your help"

"Not happening"

"Please Brocks being nasty to me"

Rolling his eyes he walks over to the two women, telling Nat to release her which makes Dot fall on to him, which then makes him push her away.

"Don't touch me. I don't care what Brock says or does to you. I want you to leave my house and never come back, never come near me ever again. Me and you Dot are finished." Turning to Clint "take her outside"

"Gladly, come on" Clint pulls on the woman's arm as she screams at Bucky, who ignores her completely.

"Where's Theo?" He asks Steve.

"She's left with Wanda" Nat says with a smirk.

"Where?"

"I don't know"

Taking his phone out of his pocket he rings Wanda's number. "First she slaps me and now she's not answering her fucking phone"

"You're lucky it wasn't me. I would have sliced your balls off and forced them down your throat" Nat says walking past him.

Leaving Bucky to gulp at the threat.

On the other side of town Theo and Wanda sit in the back of Wanda's Range Rover as Vision drives.

"So what are we going to your parents for?" Wanda asks.

"I need to ask my father something"

"What?"

Theo was brought up to never lie so lying to Wanda - the one person she trusted more than any other person, makes her want to be sick "I need to ask if I can have some family photos"

"Oh, do you think he'll give them to you?"

"Hopefully. We're here, Wanda you'll need to wait outside though. I'm sorry"

"Oh, are you sure?"

"Yeah"

The car pulls up and Theo jumps out. Walking up the steps she knocks on the front door.

"Hello Miss, I'll get your father" One of the maids says before leaving.

Theo hears her father's heavy footsteps then the door opens wider. "Theo? What are you doing here?" Pulling her into the house by her arm "permission to talk"

"I-I need to ask you something sir"

"What? And hurry up I don't have all day"

"Ca-can you marry one of your daughters to James instead of me sir". She speaks in a low tone.

"Why? You're already married to him"

"We can divorce an-and you can marry one of your daughters to hi-him sir"

"Theo I can't do that-"

"What is that wretched thing doing here?" Eliza walks up to Michael and Theo with disgust written all over her face.

"She wants James to marry one of the other girls instead"

"Brilliant, oh that's fantastic. I'll get the papers read-"

"Eliza stop, she's married to him and that's final"

"But James would be so much happier with one of our daughters instead of the runt, he'll be able to have legitimate children this way"

"What are you talking about?"

"I've told the girls that one of them will get pregnant by James so he can have an heir since his married to the bastard the kids too will be bastards"

Sighing heavily Michael looks at Theo and then at Eliza. "No. My decision is final. Theo go back to your husband and make sure you address him by his title and Eliza do me a favour and fuck off" he walks off leaving the women alone.

"You should have come to me you stupid girl! You know your father wouldn't have changed his mind, saying that I'll be nice and help you. Here's what you'll do my dear, you show him the filth that is your body and he'll divorce you"

"H-how ma'am"

"Tell him you want to have sex, he won't want to touch you after he sees your body" Theo flinches as Eliza's hand comes into contact with her cheek.

"You thought I was going to smack you? No darling you're helping me, now leave"

Theo scrambles out of the door and down the steps, Vision jumps out of the car to open the door for her.

"Theo? You okay?

"I-I'm okay"

"Did you get the photos?"

"N-no. I would like to go back to Mr James's home now"

Wanda sits there puzzled by her friends behaviour and decides against asking, not wanting the woman to shrink back into her shell again.

“Okay let's go home"

Bucky paces his office, checking his watch every few seconds. His heart was beating faster than it should have been the longer time went on, it had been well over three hours since Theo and Wanda had left the house.

Nobody knew where the two had gone, the regret seeped further into his veins as the memories of the night before became more clearer. Trying Wanda's phone once again he practically growled as the call was dropped.

"Buck they’re back" Steve says from the doorway.

Coming out of the office he moves to the front door where is sees the pair.

"Where the hell have you two been?" Mainly looking at Wanda with his arms crossed.

"Theo wanted to get something from her parents' house, calm down"

"Why didn't you answer your phone?"

"It's dead"

Looking towards Theo, his voice suddenly a lot softer "Did you get what you wanted?"

"N-no Sir"

"What did you just call me?"

“Sir. I'm sorry" her head bows even lower.

"I-don't call me that again"

"B-but your my husband sir"

"Stop!" Regret washed over him as he saw her flinch. "Just, just get inside both of you".

Wanda pulls a face to Bucky who just rolls his eyes at her. "Come on Theo let's get something to eat" taking the woman's hand and leads her inside the home.

"What the hell was all that 'sir' shit about?" Sam asks.

"Fuck knows, l'm gonna have to talk to her. I still need to apologise for last night" sighing as he rubs his face with his hands.

"She's a bit strange isn't she?"

"Shut up."

Walking into the house and heading into the kitchen he watches from the archway as Wanda makes them some food.

"Theo, when you're finished with your food I would like to talk to you please"

"Yes Mr James"

Sighing for the umpteenth time he nods and leaves the kitchen.

Theo knocks timidly on Bucky's office door, waiting patiently for him to answer.

"Hi, take a seat" He smiles softly. Watching as she moved to sit on the floor he stops her "Theo no sit on a chair, please"

"Sorry sir"

"I want to start off with saying I'm so sorry about last night, I didn't go anywhere other than my club I didn't sleep with anyone I swear"

"It's okay sir"

"Please stop with the sirs and mr’s and it's not okay I shouldn't of spoken about you like that, I had been drinki-“

"It's okay sir"

"Jesus Christ. Stop saying it's okay when it's not and I've told you to stop with the sir shit"

"But you're my husband"

"And? Look it doesn't matter whether we're married or not, you don't have to call me tha-"

She cuts him off, the words that come out her mouth pains him. He's surprised at how his heart turns to lead, they've been married for a week and he still knows nothing about her other than what Wanda has told him. In that week he's made no effort to try apart from telling himself and everyone that he'll do it.

He's already treated her like shit in a sense he's very much like his father which makes his skin crawl.

This isn't how things were supposed to go.

"I have asked my father for a divorce sir"

His blood runs cold, his heart goes still. The confession hangs in the air as he stares at her blankly, trying to figure out if what she had said was real or not.

Truly Bucky thinks his ears are playing tricks on him but noticing the look in her crystal blue eyes he knows that it's not a trick and she's being serious.

Just as he opens his mouth to speak Steve comes barging into the room.

"Buck one of the warehouses is on fire"

"Shit. Fuck" looking at Theo "this conversation isn't over okay, please just give me a chance please that's all I'm asking"

He doesn't wait for a reply as he walks away with Steve.

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Tags: @sapphirebarnes @bellabarnes1378 @unaxv @skulliecadaver-blog @mrsnikstan

#marvel #Bucky Barnes #Bucky x OC female #Bucky x oc #Bucky Barnes fluff #Bucky x ofc #Bucky Barnes angst #Bucky fluff #Till Death Do Us Part #Bucky ofc series #Bucky Barnes mafia au #Bucky series #Bucky Barnes x angst #Bucky angst #Bucky Barnes x fluff #Bucky Barnes ofc #Bucky Barnes series #tw rape #tw child abuse #Bucky female original character

[your-villainous-neighbour]

Wait wait wait one second gotta flex seeing Farhan Akhtar IRL reeeal quick-

#📍bangalore literature festival #he was so hot #he said all his poems come from conflict and deep sadness and that he cant write happy poems #then made everyone laugh over and over #then promptly fucked off never to be seen again #what a chad #Farhan Akhtar #bollywood #desi tag #desiblr #sam tw #zindagi na milegi dobara #dil dhadakne do #ms marvel #waleed #marvel #mcu

[buryustogether]

songbird

the ghoul x f!reader

summary: you used to be a singer in your vault - that skill comes in handy when you least expect it, and least want to use it. but who are you to say no when cooper tells you to sing for him?

wc: 5.7k

warnings: swearing, talk of murder, blood, alcohol, gun violence, sexual tension, smut, fingering, p in v sex, biting, possessive sex, possessive cooper

You had to admit - if you and your companion didn't find shelter soon, one of you was going to drop and the other wouldn't hesitate to feast on what was left.

The deserts of the Wasteland were harsh - you had known that the moment you stepped out of your vault those months ago and you had been faced with nothing but a searing sun, sand that got stuck places it shouldn't have, and creatures and fellow people alike who would risk it all simply for a quick grab at the pack on your back. But it seemed like this past week, God or Satan or whoever the fuck was controlling this shitshow of a world was in a bad mood. The heat was unbearable, even at night when the chilly winds should have weaseled their way beneath your vault suit and cooled your burning skin. Creatures mutated by the long-settled radiation were feeling the anger of the wasteland, as well, charging without warning or provocation. To top off a less than perfect week, your water supply had run out yesterday, and unless the skies opened up and released a storm of rad-infested hail upon your head, you weren't sure you would find any more before you keeled over and kicked it.

Struggling to plant your feet stable in the mounds of sand beneath you as you made your way between the shells of buildings that had once stood tall and proud, you glanced over your shoulder at your companion. Cooper was better adapted for this kind of environment than you were, what with his hardened skin and the wide brim of his hat shielding his face, but even he looked worse for wear. When he picked up his head, seeming to feel your eyes on him, you quickly averted your gaze and set your attention back on moving one foot in front of the other.

"Fuck're you lookin' at?" he said, his voice raspy as he called out through the dry air.

"Nothing," you snipped back, refusing to give him the satisfaction of facing him again. "Just wondering if I'm going to have to carry you the rest of the way, asshole."

The heat was making you both snappy - you hated it.

Your first meeting with Cooper hadn't gone smoothly. Hell, your second or third hadn't, either. You weren't exactly sure when you had fallen into a more comfortable presence around one another, but it sure as shit hadn't happened overnight. You'd been only half a day fresh from your vault when you'd seen him scavenging madly over a mess of bodies he'd dropped where they stood, searching for a number of vials kept in their pockets that he let drip into his open mouth like a fountain of youth. When you had called out a friendly hello to him, he'd nearly shot your brains out. Cooper had taken in your shocked expression - as you'd clearly never seen a ghoul before - as well as the stark blue of your vault suit and the pack over your shoulders, then promptly told you to scoot your ass back around to wherever the hell you had come from. Of course, you hadn't. You'd followed him from a distance, watching as he'd picked his way across the dusty sands until he'd wrangled you with the lasso at his hip, told you to fuck right off, and left you tied to a number of old pipes in the basement of a nearly collapsed building.

A day later, you'd tracked his footprints in the sand to a little settlement, where you hadn't ducked away quick enough to avoid his gaze. He'd threatened to blow your brains out if he caught you following him again. He'd only half-delivered on that promise when, not ten hours later, he'd planted a fist-sized hole in the skull of a raider attempting to cut your throat for the Pip-Boy affixed to your wrist.

From then on, he'd simply chosen to ignore you as you followed behind him like a lost dog, intent on staying with the biggest, baddest wolf in the yard. After a week, he'd tossed you a part of his rations. A week after that, he'd - not too gently - invited you to sit at the campfire with him when he saw you shivering beneath your thin, vault-issued blanket a good few yards away.

Somewhere along the way you'd started to talk. Started to share - at least, you had. Cooper had simply tucked his hat over his eyes and pretended not to listen while you rattled about this and that until he physically couldn't take it anymore and told you to go the fuck to sleep.

These months later, having accompanied him all this time, you didn't hesitate to call him a friend. Maybe something more, if you let the ache between your legs when you looked at him speak for you, but you knew it was a fantasy and nothing more, so you decided to stick with 'friend.'

Back in the present, you swallowed and winced when your throat barked with a bout of pain in response. You didn't think you'd make it another mile, let alone five, which was how far Cooper claimed the nearest town was. Despite the months you'd spent adapting out here to the wastelands, you were still attempting to cope with the hardships that came with it. Vault life wasn't anything like this; there was always water to drink, beds to sleep in. Cool air to bask in when it got just the slightest bit too hot. Of course, you didn't voice these complains to your companion. If you did, you had no doubt he'd tell you to shut the fuck up and deal with it.

Just as you were about to ask if you could take a short break and get away from the harsh sun beating on your back like repeated blows from a red-hot hammer, a gloved hand wrapped around your arm and held you in place. You jerked to a stop, nearly falling back on your ass as Cooper held you where you stood. You prepared a strongly-worded question as to just what he was doing before you followed his gaze downward, to where a small handful of pairs of footprints traveled perpendicular to yours. Together, you tilted your heads to the left where the foreign prints were headed, and it was there you found a small slope leading downward into what may have once been a shopping mall. From where you stood, you were able to see that the glass dome around the center of the mall had been shattered, letting out the gentle sound of music and human hollers.

You exchanged a look with Cooper, each of you sunken from the iron-fisted heat weighing you down, then slid down the sandy slope after him when he took off toward the shopping mall.

If there was one thing you had learned about Cooper since planting yourself at his side and refusing to leave, it was that he valued silence above almost everything else. You, on the other hand, had come from a talkative vault, where gossip reached every end of every chamber only an hour - at max - after anything noteworthy had happened. Your companion had once called you the biggest yap he'd ever heard, and you would have taken it for a compliment had he not told you to shove it a moment after. The two of you had been silent nearly the entire day now, save for a few venomous barks at each other, and you cleared your scratchy throat in an attempt to lighten your shitty moods.

"I used to read about shopping malls in the magazines," you said, leaning your weight backwards as the sandy slope shifted downward. "They had all kinds of stores inside."

"Thanks for the reminder," Cooper bit back, quickening his stride. "Would have fuckin' forgot without you here."

You let your eyes roll into the back of your head as you struggled to catch up to him, your boots digging into the uneven earth beneath you. "When I was a kid, a few of my friends and I would draw pictures of clothes - because, you know, we only had our suits - and then spread them across one of our rooms and pretend to shop. It was stupid, but it we made entertainment where we could."

"Now, was this before you started pretending to be Billie Holliday?"

You gave him a sideways glance. "Who's that?"

Cooper shook his head and took off ahead of you. "Jesus fuckin' Christ."

During one of your, as your companion called them, yap sessions, you had confided in him that your vault valued the arts above anything else. Since you were a child, they had encouraged you to find something you enjoyed, as long as you were able to call yourself an artist. Painting hadn't worked out too well. Writing had been a bust. But then you'd discovered singing - a way in which you were able to express yourself without actually saying how you felt. You could drape the tunes in metaphors and similes, bump the second verse from the first, and when you were done, everyone would get to their feet to applaud as if your songs were the best things they'd ever heard. Cooper hadn't expressed much interest in this, instead taking to calling you a songbird with her wings clipped when he deemed you were at your lowest and needed to be kicked while you were down.

Of course, you hadn't shown him - you would have to be long dead for that - but over the course of the few months you'd known him, you had confided in your notebook carried in your pack all the little things you'd come up with that complimented his persona. How the gold at his heels called for you with each step he took. The way his hands, encased behind leather that creaked, held a smoke so delicately you could have imagined it was you. The rasping curl of his words when he smiled while he spoke and how each word cast a spell that made you want to follow him until the sun exploded and the earth was gone.

Cooper was an enigma you couldn't help but wonder after, and every scrap of himself he tossed to you led you on like a dog on a leash.

The music and echoing sound of laughter from deep inside the shopping mall became louder as the pair of you approached, eyes scanning for snipers on the roof or guards posted at the busted-out windows. There wasn't a person in sight, only mannequins stripped of their clothing hanging out the openings and long-shredded posters clinging to broken glass. Cooper led the way inside, picking a path across the wreckage and rubble stacked haphazardly against the entrance. You felt your pulse tick up when he produced his gun from the worn holster at his side, tapping his trigger finger against the side of the firearm in time with the music winding its way down the wide corridors.

As you followed your companion through the shopping mall, you couldn't help but ogle at the numerous attractions you passed. Shops had been boarded up and torn open again, giving you a glimpse of tattered clothes still on hangers, books tipped over on shelves, pre-war machines behind display cases that were covered in two hundred years' worth of dirt and grime. Gang signs and dirty catchphrases had been spraypainted along the walls and windows in a rainbow of colors. In the center of the long aisle you were wandering, a carousel meant for children sat neglected, still fitted with cartoonish horses who had seen better days than these.

"Did you used to come to these often?" you asked as you stepped across a mannequin missing its head.

"Shut the fuck up for a minute." Cooper raised a hand to pair with his little spat, silencing you from asking any further questions. His tongue darted out between his cracked lips as he placed his steps carefully around shattered glass and wind-up toys that would declare your position to the entire mall. He led you around a few wide corners before coming to a stop behind an old escalator, motioning for you to take cover. You crouched to peer around the other side, pulling your bag strap tighter over your shoulder. You were met with a sight that made your lips part in wonder.

Made up in the center of the mall's large atrium, directly beneath where the glass dome had been broken out, a small encampment of people had established what looked like a tiny town. Tents rested just inside nearby shop windows and winking Christmas lights had been strung above their heads. Lanterns cast shadows along the faces of the camp's locals as they milled back and forth, sharing dinners, reading from books - and dancing. Booming from a solar-powered stereo was a symphony of fiddles and guitars, harmonies of trumpets and clapping in time with the beat. A woman's tinny voice came through the speakers and she reminisced about an old lover who had gotten away. As you watched the people dance and stamp their feet along with the music, you found yourself drumming your fingers along, as well.

You were so engrossed in the music that you nearly missed what Cooper had his watchful eye on; the fridge-sized container with several spigots on its sides marked with a large piece of paper that read 'Clean Water.'

You and Cooper ducked back behind the escalator.

"Bunch of fuckin' idiots," said Cooper as he pulled a red-capped round from his bandolier and loaded it into his gun's chamber. "That shit'll attract every goddamn raider and feral within the mile."

"They're just having fun," you said, unsure of why you felt so defensive of these people you didn't even know. Maybe it was because they reminded you of your fellow vault dwellers back home. There had been a dance or performance like this nearly every night.

Cooper scoffed. "Fun like this gets you killed, little lady."

Your eyes widened as you watched him pull back the hammer of his firearm. "You're not going to just go up there and start shooting, are you?" You knew for a fact that he would. You'd seen him do it before - draw his pistol and start spinning the trigger because a raider or flock of ferals had what he wanted. But this - this was something different. Before he could do anything more, you reached out and grabbed his upper arm in a grasp so tight your knuckles paled. He flashed you a dark, dangerous look from beneath the brim of his hat, but you refused to let go. "Cooper, these people are innocent. They haven't done anything to us."

"Listen here, dollface, and listen well," he said, quickly spinning you around so that your back was pressed against the escalator. He caged you in, his gun hand still in your grasp and his other arm propped against the wall beside your head. You tried your damndest to not flush when you felt his breath on you, when his hips came just inches from pressing up against yours. "If we're goin' to be carryin' on this little arrangement, you need to learn to keep that pretty mouth of yours shut when I tell you to shut it. Now, I know you vaulties think everyone and their mama is goin' to repay that silly kindness of yours, but do not be mistaken. Keep yappin' and I will drink my fill of that there water while I make you watch, and then I'll tip the rest of it onto the floor. You hear me?"

You were at a loss for words, your tongue dry and your knees beginning to feel wobbly from the lack of water and proper rest. Just when you were about to let your eyes fall back down and accept that he was going to clear out the settlement for their water, footsteps echoed past where the two of you stood. Cooper snapped around and raised his pistol, his other arm still caging you in, and aimed down the barrel at a few young men approaching the rest of the locals beneath the glass dome. Instead of yelling, instead of dropping their belongings and begging for their lives while they pissed their pants in the presence of a ghoul, the men waved and smiled friendly grins.

"No need to hide," one said, gesturing the pair of you toward the others. "Y'all are welcome to come and make yourselves cozy. The more the merrier!"

They continued on, greeted by the other locals with shouts of welcome backs and fond hugs, paying no mind to the wide eyes and parted lips of you and your companion. Breaking away from Cooper's little cage he had created with himself and the wall - as much as it pained you to - you peeked back around the escalator. The young men pointed your way, and a number of people waved in kind and beckoned you forward. You found yourself taking a few steps toward the inviting sight of fresh water and the smell of food being cooked over one of the fires when Cooper snagged you by the back of your suit's collar and pulled you back into cover.

"Where on this good green earth you think you're goin'?" he said in a hushed tone, bringing your face close to his with a commanding grip on your jaw. Another flutter of excitement, of blood rush, bubbled to life in the pit of your stomach and began to travel south, but you suppressed the urge to lean into his touch. You didn't pull away, either.

"They invited us," you said, your eyes wandering back over to the light flickering from the lanterns and fires. "It's rude to turn down an invitation."

Cooper harrumphed and released you a little harsher than necessary. "What you've got is a one-way ticket to bein' on tomorrow's menu, sweetheart," he said, tilting his head to follow your gaze and keep eye contact when you looked away. "If you've about had your fill of the real world up here topside, then be my guest. Go and let'em fatten you up. I'll pour one out for 'ya tonight."

Deciding not to wonder if he would actually pour one out for you, if you really meant that much, you scoffed and shook your head. "You know it's okay to let your guard down every once in a while. Smile, maybe? Wave back? No wonder you're so damn bitter, old man."

Cooper stared down at you, and you wondered briefly if he was considering slamming your head into the side of the escalator. Would he drag you away with him, you thought? Or would he leave you for the strangers just around the corner. After what seemed an eternity, he hummed a short little note and nodded his head toward the camp. "You want to play friends, little lady? Go ahead. See how far that gets you before I've got to turn around and put one between the eyes of a man who's not lookin' just for the sake of lookin'."

With the faintest hint of a smile, you blinked up at him. "You'd turn around for me?" you asked in a murmur.

He matched your heated gaze, dark eyes intense and flaring a torch in your belly. "I suppose you'll just have to find out one of these days."

Swallowing thick, you took a breath, then turned and led him toward the little encampment of people. Heads turned as the pair of you approached, and you found that most of them smiled. You waved to those who offered little shakes of their hands, trailed by a ghoul stalking in his own shadow and resting the crook of his palm on his pistol. You were met by a kind-faced woman near the large tank of water, and she was forced to speak loudly to be heard over the sound of the thumping music.

"You folks just get in?" she said, already fixing two bowls of stew from a large pot simmering over a fire.

You broke yourself from the staring match you were having with the pot, the same one Cooper was still stuck in. Although, he may have been watching the chickens that roamed inside a little pen nearby as he licked his lips. "Yes, ma'am," you said over the trill of the woman's singing. You so desperately wished you knew the words so you could sing along. "I hope we're not imposing."

"Not at all!" A bowl of stew was pushed into your hands, and you forced yourself to be polite and not spoon it down your throat immediately. At your side, your companion gave the rim of the bowl a lick with the tip of his tongue before tipping it to slurp up. "We pride ourselves in being an open community. We might be small, but that just means there's more to share." The tin cups of water she handed over didn't last but five seconds before she was refilling them. "Make yourselves comfortable and stay however long you like. All we ask is that you keep your weapons holstered and don't disturb the music."

You and Cooper took seats at a dining table that had been dragged over from the cafeteria, neither of you speaking much as you both wolfed down what was in the bowls in front of you. Both of your spoons went untouched, each electing instead to drink up the strangely-colored meat floating around inside. Cooper finished much faster than you, and shucked off his gloves so that he could dip his scarred finger in to collect what juices were left. When he was finished, the bowl looked as though it hadn't even been used.

Watching him with a small smile, you let up from your own bowl and said, "I'm waiting."

"For what, exactly, little lady?"

"Your apology." You lapped up the rest of your stew before politely setting your bowl inside of his. "You wanted to -" You hesitated and glanced over your shoulder to make sure no one was too close to hear you. "You know." Then you settled a rather self-satisfied smirk over your features. "And look where we are now. So I'd like my apology now."

Cooper sucked on his finger, ensuring he was getting every last morsel of the stew that he could, and your attention was pulled down to where his lips wrapped around his digit. A part of you began to imagine it was yours. He noticed you staring and grinned wide. "And you know what I'm waitin' for, darlin'?"

"What?"

"For you to walk yourself over there and get me seconds."

You rolled your eyes, but nevertheless grabbed your stacked bowls and began to make your way over to where the woman was tending to the pot. "You'd better be thinking about your apology," you called over your shoulder. When you turned back around you nearly collided into someone retreating back to their spot with their own dinner. You jerked to the side, attempting to get out of their way first, and in doing so rammed yourself into the stereo set on a table in the center of the little camp. You watched in horror, bowls clasped to your chest, as the stereo tumbled over the edge of its pedestal and fell to the floor, where it shattered into what must have been hundreds of pieces. The camp became shrouded in a tense, shocked silence as every eye in the mall turned to face you and look upon your sin.

"I..." Your voice carried through the atrium and down the corridors of the shopping mall, sounding like an isolated cry for help. "I'm so sorry. I - I didn't mean to, I really didn't. Here, I might be able to fix it." You bent down to try and gather the pieces with your free hand, and the moment you did, a number of the camp locals drew weapons to aim in your direction.

"Now," came that familiar drawl behind you as you heard a hammer lock into place. "Are we really goin' to be killin' each other over some silly radio?" asked Cooper, and you felt some of your nerves ease slightly when you felt his chest press against your back.

A man to your right hissed. "You killed him!"

You shook your head viciously. "No, no! I - I didn't kill anyone. I'm sorry, I really am."

"You killed Sterry!" a woman accused.

"Sterry?" You looked down at the broken stereo and began to scoop up the bigger pieces you could find. "I - I can fix Sterry, I swear -"

"There's no fixing Sterry," moaned the woman who had served you stew as she sunk into the closest bench, looking as though she were about to faint. "He's dead. And you've killed us all."

You glanced back at Cooper, who wielded both his pistols now, each pointed in a different direction toward locals who had drawn their weapons. He offered a shrouded look that screamed, 'Now, didn't I tell you so, sweetheart?' You took a shuddering breath and faced the woman who had served you. "What do you mean?" you asked.

The woman placed her head in her hand as if she'd already accepted her fate. It was a daunting sight, the face of a woman so cheery and joyful such a short time ago, now deflated as though someone had let out all her air. "This place," she said, gesturing vaguely to the mall around you. "It's infested." The word was so heavy you felt as though you nearly choked on it. "Infested with creatures that will tear us limb from limb now that you've ruined everything. The music! The music was what kept them away, and now that it's gone..."

As if on cue, from the darkness of one of the long-winding corridors straight ahead, there came the bone-rattling sound of a feral hissing and snapping its weathered jaw. A few of the locals scrambled back as the creature emerged from the inky blackness, arms twisted and eyes sunken so far back into its skull they looked like they were forever pointed toward the sky. It took a rushed few steps forward before Cooper's arm rotated and he put a hole between its eyes. The feral dropped to the floor, leaking dark blood that stained the tile floor.

"Stop being so dramatic, Uma," said an older gentleman who stooped at your feet to begin gathering the pieces of Sterry. You immediately dropped to your knees to help. "We've fixed Sterry before, and we'll fix him again. It won't take long. But while we do, we'll need something to drive those creatures off..."

Your stomach dropped when, as you stood to hand over the pieces of the stereo, you felt Cooper's hands - still fitted with his pistols - rest heavily on your shoulders. "Well, then, y'all folks are in luck," he drawled, and you could practically hear the smirk playing his lips as he spoke. "I've got my very own songbird right here. I'd be happy to lend her to 'ya if, say... you filled our flasks from that there tank when the time comes for us to leave."

"Cooper," you hissed through your teeth as you spun around to face him. Singing for your vault was one thing, but singing for a bunch of strangers in the middle of an infested mall while ferals stumbled from the darkness all around you? He may as well have tossed you back out into the wastes. "You are not going to fucking trade me -"

"Done," said the old man as he sat down and began to sort Sterry's pieces. "Have your girl start singing - anything her heart desires. Just long enough for me to fix old Sterry here."

Giving the man a mock salute that didn't quite raise to his brow, Cooper shoved you onto a bench so that you stood over the rest of the camp. From this angle, they were all able to see your petrified expression and your hands shaking at your sides. "You heard the man," your companion said and smacked the back of your knee. "Get to it, songbird."

"Cooper, I can't -"

Before you were able to finish, Cooper turned, his ears pricking at something yours did not pick up, and dropped another feral that had been silently stalking the camp from the other side. A few of the locals yelped in terror, fleeing into shopfronts and tents.

"Sing for me, sweetheart," Cooper said. He sent you a wink, tipped his hat, then unleashed another round of lead into the darkness which only his eyes could penetrate.

You felt as if you were going to vomit. Sweat began to form on the back of your neck as you fisted your hands and swayed slightly where you stood on the bench. Turning your head, you met the eyes of a few camp locals watching you from their hideouts, their expressions filled with fear, anger, anticipation. They were waiting. Expecting. Needing. Attempting to push down the swelling that was beginning to form in your throat, you looked down at Cooper as he emptied his pistols of empty shells before reloading in order to fend off the ferals attacking the camp - the very camp he'd wanted to take out not half an hour ago.

He'd told you to sing for him. So you'd sing. For him, and only him.

Clearing your mouth and opening your lips, you took a breath and forced yourself to sing. "Death will come from where the earth meets the sky." Your voice wobbled slightly, rusty from having not singing since you left your vault. That, along with the fear and dehydration sitting on your tongue. "The sand is scorched beneath his step, the future decided by his eye." As you sang, the miniature explosions banging from the barrels of Cooper's pistols created a short, quick beat you unconsciously began to tap your foot along to. "He'll come for you all in the end, you'll never be free... he'll come for you all, but never for me."

Ferals shrieked in response to the gunfire, to the song torn right from your notebook in your pack, and one by one, like stage performers who had practiced this dance a hundred times, they dropped at the feet of the camp.

"Death's got a girl who croons his songs, which is why he never stays for long. He's got to run back to his lady, just as harsh as he, he's coming for you, but he's running back to me." As you sang you realized your voice was getting louder, louder, swelling until it filled the mall's atrium and every corridor far beyond. You tapped your heel along with the rhythm you'd created, closing your eyes and imagining an audience of one; a ghoul with his arms slung out across the chairs beside him and a knowing smirk playing his thin lips. It pulled you forward, pulled forth a song you hadn't realized was already in you. "He might sound mean, but I swear, he's kind. He's just got to peer into these eyes of mine. I'll ride with him, and he'll follow me, leaving behind a trail of blood far as the eye can see. Oh, my baby's got teeth to bite and a gun to blow, see his smoke and soon you'll know. Death ain't my man, he's my right hand. He'll come for you all in the end, you'll never be free... he'll come for you all, but never for me."

You had just been nearing a second verse when, from where it rested before the old man on the table, the stereo jumped back to life and filled the atrium with thrumming, pulsing folk music. It drowned out your voice, silenced you like a gunshot, and the ferals teetering on the edge of the darkness leading to the rest of the mall stumbled back into their hiding places. The camp locals slowly emerged from their hiding places, chattering excitedly about Sterry and his newfound love of life. Feeling a little stupid still standing on the bench, you climbed down and shuffled away toward where you had been originally sitting.

Taking a seat, you rested your forehead on your arms and exhaled a shaky breath. What had you been thinking? Singing a song for the man you'd become hopelessly fascinated with while he was just a few feet away, battling ferals who were intent on tearing out your throat and taking your voice with it? You were such a fucking idiot. You wouldn't be surprised if he told you to never open your mouth again.

Just as promised, your flasks were filled to the brims with fresh water before you went on your way, leaving the mall atrium and the singing, dancing camp locals behind as you picked your way back outside. Neither you nor Cooper said much as you continued your trek to nowhere, leaving a pair of footprints like echoes in your wake. Your cheeks remained flushed long after the mall had disappeared into the horizon, and long after you picked out an abandoned building to set up camp for the night. For once, it wasn't from the heat.

You sat across the lantern and what light it cast from Cooper, who stared into the little beacon as if he were watching the most fascinating flick within its glass. You held your notebook in your lap, thumb marking your place as your tried to write, but nothing would come to mind save for the things you'd sung about today. Mortification stirred like a serpent in your belly, and you briefly considered excusing yourself to get up and throw up outside.

"Let me see that book you've got there."

Your head lifted at Cooper's request - more of a demand - and unconsciously tightened your grip around your notebook. Your notebook - full of songs, melodies, lyrics. The most recent half of which you had written about the ghoul staring at you. "This?" you said, your trembling voice giving way to your nerves. You forced out a chuckle and smacked it shut. "It's nothing worth looking at."

"Why not?" he said, voice rasping lower than the baritone he usually held it at. You swore his gaze was hotter than the sun during the day and the fires at night. "You got more songs 'bout little old me in there?"

Fuck, he knew. Fuck all, he knew. You felt your flush deepen as you pointedly tucked your notebook into the bottom of your pack and flipped the top shut. "I... I don't know what you're talking about," you said, avoiding his eyes. Instead you focused on the fraying tip of your boot. "I wrote that a long time ago. Back in my vault."

"Uh huh." Cooper stared you down for so long you thought that perhaps time had frozen. Then he took a barely-there breath. "Come over here, songbird. Let me get a good look at you."

For a long, long moment, you remained still as you ever had been. What was he saying? Normally the only time he let you close to him was when he invaded your personal space to deliver a shove or to smack your knee or thigh to tell you to get a move on. Your breath hitched when you finally lifted your head and found his gaze boring into yours, heavier than a ton and white hot like a branding iron.

"I ain't goin' to tell you again, pretty girl."

As if he had you on a fucking leash - because you swore he did - you found yourself pitching forward, crawling on your hands and knees toward him. He spread his legs slightly, enough to give you room to fit between them, and hesitantly, so very carefully, you rested yourself against his front. His rough, scarred hands, free of his gloves, came up to rest on the swell of your hips as if they were made to be there, fitting like puzzle pieces against your skin beneath your vault suit. You stared up at him, backlit by the lantern light, and let his thumb drag down your bottom lip until it slipped from his touch.

"Didn't think my songbird had such desire in her," Cooper chuckled, his warm breath fanning across your face.

You relished in the goosebumps that crawled over the planes of your skin. "I... I don't..."

"Oh, you'd be dead wrong if you said that little ditty you sang today wasn't all about desire." He settled back deeper where he sat, giving you more room to settle against him between the columns of his thighs. Your lower belly rested against his crotch, where you felt the hard outline of his cock straining against his trousers. Your heart skipped a beat or three. "If you wanted to ride with death, sweetheart, all you needed to do was ask."

Cooper sealed his lips to yours without word or warning, pulling a surprised little noise from the back of your throat that he swallowed up with fervor. As the initial shock faded, you found your eyes slipping shut and your mouth moving against his, lips opening without fight when his tongue demanded to explore your own. Bracing yourself with one hand against his thigh, you reached up with your other and cradled the back of his head, knocking off his hat in the process.

Swift to get a move on, to feel you against him and swallow up more of your sounds, Cooper easily flipped you around so that you were now lying flat on your back and he was hovering over your prone form. Both tingling excitement and nauseating nerves pulled groans from your lips as he moved to pressing harsh kisses and nips to the column of your neck, licking up red spots that would surely bruise come morning time. He shucked off his duster and abandoned it somewhere behind him, at the same time, by some skill you had no idea anyone possessed, also grasping at the zipper of your vault suit to pull it down as far as it would go.

It didn't take long for you to shimmy out of the suit, leaving you in just your underwear, the seams of which he traced with his calloused finger. It sent a chill running up your spine despite the heat prodding at your skin.

"My songbird sounds real pretty when she's singin'," Cooper muttered as he sucked a bruise into the swell of one breast over the cup of your bra. "I bet she sounds even better screamin' for me."

His hand plunged beneath the waistband of your panties and began to explore your folds, pulling a long, whining moan from your lips. He ate you and your whimpers up, devouring your lips like he wanted to eat you whole - maybe he did - while his middle finger ran up and down your cunt a few times before deftly finding your clit and applying a bit of pressure to the sensitive bud. You cried out. It had been far too long since you'd seen any real action. It didn't take long before your folds were soaked, and he was able to gingerly nudge his finger past the entrance of your pussy. It felt foreign to have another person thrusting their finger in and out of you, building you up to a kind of high you hadn't known since far before you left your vault. In less than a few minutes - something he would surely tease you about later - you felt that familiar coil snap in your stomach and you soaked his hand with a loud, throat-rattling wail that escaped your lips and flew right past his.

Cooper pulled back with a self-satisfied smirk and pulled his hand from your panties, lifting his spread hand to show you to slick you'd coated his digits with. You were only able to huff for breath and watch with hooded eyes as he brought his fingers to his mouth and used his skillful tongue to lick off your cum. You briefly wondered what else that tongue of his could do, what it would feel like to have him lap up your pussy like it was the only thing to guarantee him his daily hit of medicine.

"Sweet as honey, baby," he cooed, bracing himself with one hand while the other worked on the buckle of his belt. "Well. Maybe Tennessee honey. You ever had a taste of that?" He knew you hadn't. But that didn't stop his smirk from growing in size when you numbly shook your head. "Don't you worry your pretty little head about it, baby. We'll get you a lick one day. 'Til then..."

Your limbs dancing with pins and needles, you lifted your hips to help him tug off your panties. "I'll just have to settle for what I've got," you exhaled with a hazy smile.

Cooper grinned wide, a smile that bordered on the edge of dark, as he tugged down his trousers just enough for his cock to spring free. He was thick - larger than you'd expected - and his member was rough and scarred like the rest of him. It made you want to feel him all the more. "I'll promise you somethin', darlin," he said as he positioned himself at your entrance and you locked your legs around his waist, heels digging into the edge of his gun belt. "I'm better than anything else you'll taste these days." With that he slid into you, filling you at once to the brim like he just couldn't wait to feel you from the inside. A loud, sharp yelp escaped your lips as your back arched instinctively, curling yourself up into him. He only waited a few moments for you to adjust before he started moving, pulling himself out to the tip before thrusting back inside your welcoming cunt. You were able to feel each and every ridge of him, every scar, and you swore you were getting drunk from just the feeling.

"Fuckin' shit, girl," he groaned, moving to press the flat of his hand to the base of your neck so that he could keep you in place while he fucked you. "Better than I could've fuckin' dreamed."

Cooper's thrusts began to increase in speed, your moans and whimpers accompanied by his low, almost growling snarls he panted against the shell of your ear. You couldn't believe this was happening. You were being fucked by the ghoul you'd been following all these months, the ghoul you'd been watching and studying and falling hopelessly for. And it felt good. It felt so fucking good, a part of you wasn't entirely convinced this entire scenario wasn't a dream concocted by the recesses of your mind.

"God, Coop," you heard yourself moan as your nails dug crescent moons into the fabric of his shirt. "Feels so fucking good..."

"Atta girl," he muttered, moving his head down so that he could suck at the junction where your neck met your shoulder. "Such a sweet little songbird." His grip on your hips tightened as his movements increased even further. "Might just have to fuck you good every night so I can hear you sing for me."

You panted deep as you felt your second orgasm of the night approaching at an alarming rate. Your hips bucked up to meet his with each thrust, the sound of skin on skin filling the abandoned building in which you had taken shelter. "Don't have to - ah! - even ask. I'll sing for you any time, Coop."

Cooper's breaths came shorter, sharper, and it wasn't long before he came with a harsh bite against your shoulder, one that spilled blood into his awaiting mouth and pulled your own orgasm from deep within your depths. You shuddered and cried for him, tugging him close and holding him there for several minutes after your highs had faded and your breaths evened.

Finally, he pulled himself off of you. A short whine escaped you when he slipped from your heat, and he chuckled low before tossing you your panties to slip back on. When you were both covered again, you sat up and crossed your legs as you basked in the afterglow of what had just taken place. Cooper dug around in his saddlebag for a moment before producing his inhaler and drinking up a shot of his medicine, shaking his head against the sudden buzz that came with it as he sat back on his elbows and stared at the lantern light.

"I..." You struggled to find the words so desperately clawing at your chest. "I hope you don't..."

Cooper reached up and pulled your wrist out from under you, causing you to fall back on the ground beside him with an 'umph.' He let his arm cushion your fall before sweeping a few strands of hair from your face and giving you that crooked smirk which made your legs fall numb all over again. "Oh, don't you worry yourself, songbird," he said. "I ain't lettin' you fly away from me any time soon."

#fallout #fallout show #fallout amazon #the ghoul #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul x you #the ghoul smut #cooper howard #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x you #cooper howard smut #fallout imagines #fallout one shot #fallout smut #the ghoul x y/n #cooper howard x y/n

[wysteria-bloom]

⚝ " i'll never smile again "

The hazbin boys are visibly stressed

Warnings : I used female pronouns. There are mentions of Valentino. Highly suggestive in Vox's part because yeah it makes sense. Alastor offers to go on a murderous rampage with the reader 🥰

Genre : Fluff, suggestive

A/n : I hate the people in my life and they stress me tf out so I'm writing to vent my frustrations out. :) I only included my favs in this one but if you would like a part two with other characters then say the word.

Characters : Alastor, Vox, Lucifer

▢ vox ᯤ

- Offering sexual favours -

Vox growled to himself gently as he typed away at the screen in front of him, eyes honing in obsessively on the words and news articles.

He was on media control right now because fucking Val blew up on Angel in public today.

Now he's forced to get rid of every media that is sculpting Valentino out to be the bad guy.

Whoopee fucking doo.

"Fuckin' Val... stupid idiot.... stupidly hot idiot." He sighed out, running his hands down his face tiredly then his eyes widened with an idea,"... Where's my assistant."

"Here, sir."

"Fuckin' christ-!" He yelped out at the sudden voice and he spun around quickly in his chair, coming face to face with her amused little shit-eating grin. He glared, scowl on his lips," You been there the whole time?"

"Yes, sir." She nodded, hands folded in her lap modestly.

"You're a little creep, y'know that?"

"Yes, sir."

He sighed and rolled his shoulders, wincing at the painful cracks that resounded from them," You seen the media?"

She nodded," yes, quite the 'clusterfuck' as you would put it."

His lip twitched in amusement," perfect descriptor, honestly." He then clicked his fingers at the screen," Is Troy on today? Tell him to deal with the rest of the articles pl-"

"It's Troy's day off today, sir." (Name) interrupted, walking so she was standing next to him, she leaned over him a little to click away at the tabs he had opened," But I will call him to come in. You need rest." She replied promptly.

Vox watched her with an almost sleepy look in his eyes, watching her close down the articles with quick and manicured claws.

"What would I do without you, eh?" He hummed out.

A chuckle flitted from her lips and he found himself entranced by the sound of it," I think you'd do well for yourself without me, sir." She reassured with a gentle voice and stepped away from the desk a little, turning to face him," would you like me to accompany you to your room?"

He blinked and then smirked," how forward of you, sweetheart." He cooed out with that sultry tone of his," Take me out to dinner first, yeah?"

She tilted her head to the side with an owlish blink,"... Would you like to go to dinner? Would that be a better form of stress relief for you that the first option?"

His mouth fell open with a shocked look as he stared at her, a little buffering symbol in the top right corner of his screen for a moment before it disappeared, a dark blush appearing on his face," f-fuck wait... w-were you suggesting we..."

"We have sex? Yes. I hear it's a rather fantastic way of stress relief and you are a rather sexually frustrated individual so it would-"

He place a hand over her mouth as he stood from his chair, basically towering over her.

There was a hungry look in his eyes as he let that charming grin twitch onto his lips," You're about the best damn fuckin' assistant I've ever had."

She smiled beneath his hand and grabbed onto his wrist gently, maneuvering it so she could place an oh-so-gentle kiss to his wrist whilst looking into his eyes," I'm honoured, sir." She hummed out in a sultry fashion.

Vox gulped, his self-control snapping, red leaking from his mouth," I'm gonna fuck the shit outta you."

"I wouldn't have it any other way, sir."

▢ alastor ⍋

- Expressing your issues over a glass of giggle juice -

A sigh and a huff fell from her lips as she made her way into the hotel lobby, shoulders sagging from a long day of work.

There seemed to be nobody in the lobby as she walked over to the bar and poured herself out a glass of whiskey.

"Late-night drinking? That's not like you." The familiar static of Alastor graced her ears.

(Name) blinked and looked over to him, noticing how tensed his smile seemed. His eyes looked... genuinely exhausted. His ears flopped downwards ever so slightly.

"Looks like you should be joining me," She hummed back and grabbed another glass, wiggling it at him suggestively.

He watched it for a second before relaxing and grabbing it, sitting next to her at the bar and pouring the liquid. He took a sip with her and his smile seemed to curl in a more soft way now.

"Hm, I dare say my dear, that does just hit the spot doesn't it?" He hummed out, a more relaxed expression on his face.

"You can say that again. No wonder Husk is an alcoholic, I understand the appeal after having an awful day." She replied with a nod of agreement," yknow, sometimes I wish Hell was just a personal purgatory instead of me having to deal with other people's shit."

"Agreed. It gets tiring, doesn't it? Makes you want to go a little batshit insane, yes?" He said this with a polite tone of voice, ears perked up.

"I want to go on a murderous rampage every second of every day."

"We could join forces if it ever came to that. We would kill twice the amount of demons."

She grinned at him," how flattering. You'd go on a murder spree with me, Al?"

He pressed a hand to his heart to express his genuine sincerity," Dear, if I ever say no to a question like that then I give you my full and utter permission to kill me in the most brutal way you can think of." He replied honestly, and (name) didn't know whether to be flattered or concerned but she found herself laughing along anyways.

"What a charmer," She grinned at him brightly," You can be so romantic when you want to, hm?"

"Romance has nothing to do with it. It is merely etiquette." He tilted his head at her, resting it in the palm of his hand, expression seemingly brightened from just a conversation with her," what's got you so downtrodden?"

She deflated a little, smile tired," Overworked and under-appreciated for the work I do." She replied simply, taking a sip of her whiskey," I'll never smile again~" She sang sadly.

Alastor perked up at the familiar song," until I smile at youuu~" he serenaded, smile only widening at the sound of her amused laughter.

Then he looked her over, an almost disappointed glint in his eyes," I still wonder why you work for that insolent shitbox after all these years." His smile seemed to sharpen at the thought of Vox," He doesn't deserve you at all. Not a single bit."

(Name) shrugged," I'm helpless, what can I say?"

"You're not. You're a strong woman, (name). Stand up for yourself. And if you can't stand?" His eyes glowed sinisterly," Break his legs off so you can."

She stared on for a second before raising her glass," Most sound advice I've heard for years."

Alastor barked out an amused laugh and raised his hlass to hers, "For that compliment? I will break his legs for you if it is needed, darlin'. "

Clink went their glasses as they enjoyed each other's company for a while longer.

▢ lucifer morningstar ⚝

- Gentle caresses and positive affirmations -

"Okay so... meeting with the angels next week... then I have to call Michael- eugh cowabummer... then I have to-"

(Name) watched her friend flail around his office with a concerned frown on her lips, arms crossed over her chest.

He's been so stressed lately. He had that little break in between where he could just... chill.

And make his cute rubber duckies.

But now with everything in the hotel, he's had a lot more work on his shoulders. Specifically with Heaven, as unfortunate as that was.

She saw his claws scratching through his hair as he paced back and forth, as though he was entranced by all these... issues. He's so entranced he's forgotten she's there with him.

So she sighed and lifted herself from the wall and walked into his walk-cycle path, grabbing onto his shoulders before he could crash into her.

He blinked in surprise and met eyes with her, a dumbfounded expression on his face," Oh... Hey."

She smiled," Hey."

"Sorry, you've probably heard me complain enough lately. Your pretty ears must be burning with all the yapping-"

"Of course not, Lou..." She huffed out, interrupting him with a frown of disapproval. Her hands moved from his shoulders to his arms, rubbing gentle touches of comfort," I think you've got too much on your plate lately - you using me as an outlet to vent to is the least of my problems."

He deflated a little, a tiredly wry grin on his lips," You're... you're too nice, y'know that?"

"What? You'd rather I spit and degrade you~?" She flirted teasingly with a fanged grin.

"No thanks... for now." He then sighed and moved his head to rest on her chest, cheek smooshing against her collar bone," I need a vacation."

(Name) laughed as she threaded her fingers through his mussed-up hair gently and soothingly," You were basically on a vacation already, hon. Now's the time to get back to work. Put all those wonderful thoughts and dreams to good use."

He melted in her arms, closing his eyes slowly as he wrapped his arms around her waist. This felt more domestic than platonic, but the two of them were too focused on eachother to admit that.

"You'll stay, right? I like having you here." He mumbled tiredly," U-unless you don't wanna which I totally understand and a-accept... y'know, you don't have to be here if you don't want t-"

"Stop worrying you dummy." (Name) chuckled out,"... I'd love to stay here with you."

"Phew..." He huffed and grinned sharply," Good to hear... a-amazing to hear!... Y... you're the best."

"Don't I know it~!"

#alastor x y/n #alastor x you #alastor x reader #lucifer x y/n #lucifer x reader #lucifer x you #lucifer morningstar x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel x y/n #vox x y/n #vox x you #vox x reader #vox x valentino #im sad and tired #writing can only save me from the bleak reality that is life

[hannieehaee]

18+ / mdi

content: newboyfriend!vernon, new relationship, friends to lovers-ish, smut, f reader, public sex (it's indoors but they have roommates so ..), fingering, oral (m and f receiving) mentions of penetrative sex, chan is traumatized, spit, too much tongue, etc.

wc: 1485

a/n: this is nasty as hell and not proofread whatsoever 🫡

masterlist

you and vernon had not been dating for too long. a few weeks at most. you'd been more than friends for a while, however. well, not exactly. you'd liked each other for a few years, never doing anything about it, but pissing off everyone else around you who had to deal with the pining of their two unsuspecting friends.

it had been a few weeks ago that the dam had finally broken.

you had gone clubbing with a group of friends, vernon included. as per usual, you spent a while at a table with your friends until you grew bored, deciding to go dancing instead. it seemed like some guy had the same idea, as you soon found yourself dancing with some random guy who kept pressing himself against you. you dont remember exactly what was said after that, seeing as you were slightly tipsy, but a few moments later and you were now holding hands with a peeved off vernon as he dragged you out of the club and into an empty alley.

a heated conversation followed after that. you had never seen vernon express this much emotion, scolding you for being so careless with some guy you didnt even know. you could tell he wasnt drunk, but he was clearly at least a little buzzed, so you chalked off his behavior to the effects of the alcohol, barely having the mind to pay attention to what he was saying. that is, until he muttered the five words you'd been wanting to say to him for years.

"i'm in love with you."

what happened after that could only be described as public indecency, as the both of you let your desires take over and fucked against the alleyway wall. and that was only the beginning of what was now your relationship with your new boyfriend.

all your friends had been ecstatic at the new development of your relationship, happy that they would no longer have to lend their ears to your cries of hopelessness whenever the other would show interest in another person. but that happiness only lasted a little while. ecstatic could no longer express what your friends felt towards yours and vernon's new relationship.

annoyance? irritation? disgust? these were all the contenders for what your friends felt, yet again, at walking in on you in the middle of yet another depraved act with one another.

depravity. there was no better way to explain it. it seemed like you and vernon were always desperate for one another. since that first night at the club you just couldnt take your hands off of each other. any separation felt like a third degree burn. one look at your cleavage would have vernon dragging you away, begging you let him drag his tongue all over your tits. one look at vernon sitting on the couch, legs spread, led you do kissing at his ears, demanding he fuck your mouth.

day after day, you and vernon found new ways to touch one another, no matter where you were. just like now, as seungkwan, dokyeom and chan walked across the unlocked door of their shared house.

the scene was familiar by now. you on your knees, cock gliding up and down your throat while vernon sat on the couch, hands tangling your hair as he groaned at the tightness of your throat.

"b-baby, fuck. just like that.."

he was too lost in pleasure to pay attention to the sound of the door unlocking, but did not miss the loud screech seungkwan let out as soon as he spotted you.

"GET A ROOM!" yelled a scandalized seungkwan as you hurriedly separated your mouth from your boyfriend's dick, cleaning off the spit around your lips as quickly as possible.

dokeyom stood there, hands over his eyes while chan had his eyes glued to your disheveled form.

seungkwan sneered at you to get out, to 'have some decency', and promptly exited the room while you and vernon ran off to his own room to continue with your ministrations.

that had not been the first nor the last time that happened. the next time would present itself soon after in the form of you and vernon making breakfast together early in the morning. well, you making breakfast while vernon felt you up from behind, dragging his hands over every curve he could get to.

"n-nonnie .. you heard kwannie," you sighed, not really being able to think straight due to the feeling of your boyfriend's big hands pinching your nipples as he kissed your neck. "we ca-can't keep doing this out in the open like this .."

"but baby ... feel so fucking pretty against me .. just this once, yeah? let me have my breakfast? hmm?"

you were a weak one, because that's all it took to let your boyfriend remove your shorts as he ate you out from behind, right in the middle of the kitchen.

"baby .. taste so fucking good .."

"shit, want this every morning."

"yeah .. fuck, just like that. push it against me, baby."

"do you feel my tongue, baby? yeah? it's that good?"

his words against your pussy were making you light headed, not being able to process your surroundings as you whined at the feeling of his tongue dragging itself across your most sensitive places.

unfortunately for you, your whines had the same effect on vernon, leaving you both too distracted to hear a sleepy chan approaching the kitchen.

"FUCK!" he screamed, startled at the view of your ass on full display, with a vernon covering half of it with his head as he desperately licked at your folds.

you both quickly jumped into action, vernon standing in front of you to cover your naked half from the intruder.

"i- the kitchen?! eating ass in the kicthen?! where we eat?!", complained chan, more exasperated than ever.

"i-he wasnt eating my .." you mumbled, embarrassed at being caught once more.

'nevermind, i'll go eat at jun's. disinfect the kitchen when you're done' and with that, he left, muttering something along the lines of 'disgusting' and 'degenerates' as he walked away.

chan had been right, as that was not the last time you and vernon would be caught in a situation like that. the next (and probably not last)time, you had been having a movie night with your three roommates. you all sat on different parts of the dark living room, chan and seungkwan on the couch, while you, dokyeom and vernon were under some blankets on the floor.

inevitably, you and vernon sat under the same blanket, cuddling as you paid attention to the screen. but that, of course, didnt last long. it seemed like it was impossible for you and vernon to sit in such close proximity without putting your hands on one another. fortunately for you, you were sitting an at angle where chan and seungkwan could not see you very well from the couch, and dokyeom was sitting about foot in front of you, leaving you out of his line of sight.

it started with vernon pressing a few light pecks on your shoulder, then moving onto a few short kisses on your lips. knowing the smacking of your lips would make too much noise, you opted for subtle licking of each other's tongues as you wantonly breathed into each other's mouths.

if there was one thing vernon was good at, it was at using his tongue. the way he kissed you always made you lightheaded, as he always knew ways in which to play with your tongue that made your eyes roll back. just like now. with your eyes rolled back at the feeling of his tongue probing into your mouth, vernon gestured for you to stick out your tongue for him. he then proceeded to quietly let a glob of spit fall into your tongue, quickly using his own to force it further into your mouth. as he did this, he had snuck his hand under the blanket, probing at your panties.

he continued quietly kissing you as he rubbed you through your underwear, refusing to stick his fingers inside but providing you with enough friction to make you wanna whine into his mouth.

at some point you became too aroused to keep kissing him, instead letting your mouth fall open as you breathed against his own. vernon took this as an invitation to lick even more into your mouth, speeding up the rubbing of his fingers against you. you eventually managed to cum with a quiet moan against vernon's lips, thinking yourself successful at not getting caught. that was until your thoughts were interrupted by a whine from dokyeom.

"you guys are disgusting. i'm literally like five inches away!"

"are you fucking again?!" now was seungkwan's turn.

"god, please tell me they're not naked .." chan added.

you and vernon sat through ten minutes of scoldings and complains at your lewd actions, knowing you should probably just move out at that point.

#seventeen fanfic #seventeen x reader #seventeen #svt fanfic #svt #seventeen smut #svt smut #svt x reader #seventeen imagine #seventeen oneshot #vernon smut #vernon x reader #vernon fanfic #hansol smut #hansol x reader #hansol fanfic

[vent-stink]

Y/n helps Seonghwa

a/n: not proofread (not well, anyway) c/w: oral (m receiving) pairings: owner!Seonghwa x cat hybrid!reader w/c: 1.9k

Seonghwa didn't usually close the door to his bedroom after coming home, so y/n didn't know what to do with herself as the very such thing occurred one day. She slept in Seonghwa's room every night, and it was her routine to plant herself on the bed in whatever position she felt comfortable in that moment and watch Seonghwa with her curious feline eyes as he winded down from his day.

Now she sat at the end of the hallway of bedrooms, staring at the closed bedroom door, at a loss of what to do. "What do you think he's doing?" y/n asked San who was lounging on the couch, not as curious about Seonghwa's apparently odd behavior as she was. He snickered, "I dunno~" His tone indicated that he probably did know, y/n could tell, but she huffed, wanting to find out for herself.

She went to the door, sitting in front of it. She couldn't immediately hear anything, so she pressed her ear against it, listening intently.

Consistent, labored breaths. The occasional sound of his desperate voice in between them. Y/n's hair stood on end, trying to understand what she was hearing, wondering if she was hearing what she thought it was. Seonghwa's breathy curse found her ears, "Fuck- Ah-"

Y/n wasn't in control of her own body when she opened the door a Crack. She just wanted to see, but it was obvious that that wasn't all she was going to end up doing.

Y/n looked at Seonghwa, perched on the edge of the bed, almost heaving as he worked his cock with his hand. His dress shirt was unbuttoned and his slacks were pulled down just below his cock as he was too desperate to get himself off.

Fuck, his coworker had just looked so sexy today. He felt dirty touching himself to the thought of them knowing he had no chance, they weren't into men, but that didn't stop their constant touches throughout the day from working him up so much that this was the result.

Y/n watched with a watering mouth as Seonghwa pleasured himself. She'd never seen her daddy's cock, only having seen the slight protrusion of it when he was stripping into his boxers. She'd never seen him hard, clothed or otherwise. The way her tummy felt right now was different than when was saw San's cock. She wanted to touch Seonghwa so badly.

Seonghwa stopped when he heard a small whimper coming from the door, cursing as the orgasm he'd been working himself up to fell short making him release a pained moan.

He wasn't surprised to see y/n there. He should have locked the door. He sighed as she stared at, not his face, but his hard member. There'd be no way her curiosity would let her leave, now.

"Hi princess," He murmured, lightly stroking himself again, "Do you wanna come watch?" He did not have to ask y/n twice as she gasped, promptly crawling into the room, closing the door behind her.

She sat in front of Seonghwa as he started up again, Y/n watching intently at movement of his hand, the speed, the delicacy, the technique, and his face, contorted in pleasure. She couldn't take her eyes off him. She wanted to be the reason he made that face.

She let out a harsh breath unconsciously and Seonghwa looked at her as she came closer to him, close enough to touch him if he wanted her to. "Y/n-" "Can I help you, daddy?"

He sucked in a sharp breath of air, "You-" He was at a loss for words. He didn't intend for her to ever do this, hadn't even thought of it for a second, even when he let her watch him. He just thought she had been curious, and she was, but she was definitely more than that, evident by the way she was looking at him and the way she was shifting her closed legs in between which her arousal was wet.

"Can I touch you, daddy, please?" She was close enough that she could lay her head on his thigh right next to his cock, looking up at him with such desperation that it would physically hurt him to say no to her, even aside the fact that he was throbbing so painfully that he might explode.

Seonghwa was conflicted, but at her final whisper of, "please," he relented. "Sure, baby...fuck, you can touch me...," he murmured, and he had to hold bad the intensity of his groan at the feeling of her soft small hand tracing the veins of his dick.

He debated continuing to stroke himself as she simply explored the contours of his penis, but decided to fist his hands into the blanket instead, giving her free range to touch him as she pleased. Eventually releasing from this would be more satisfying than just fucking his hand, he reasoned.

His breaths were shaky. He was extremely reactive as she finally wrapped one hand around his cock. She experimented, stroking him a little, the way he had been doing before and his labored breathing returned. Then she stopped to watch his expression as she lightly squeezed. "Fuck! Y/n don't-," she did it again, causing to him throw his bed back, biting his lip at the stimulation.

He was sensitive. Every little movement of her hand on his cock was like a drop of water in the desert, quenching his thirst. Satisfied with the reaction she'd gotten from him, she moved on curiously to the angry red tip of his cock. She hadn't seen him touch it, wondering why as she ran her thumb over the very tip of it.

The sound that left Seonghwa was loud, almost pathetic, as he felt her touch his sensitive tip. Y/n's interest peaked at this. She realized that a substance was secreting from the small slit in his dick that she had touched. Seonghwa watched as she stuck that very thumb in her mouth, tasting him.

The only reasonable following action was for her to consume the delectable substance from the source. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Seonghwa jerked his hips as y/n unexpectedly (to him at least) sucked his tip into her mouth, rolling her tongue around it, as if literally trying to suck the precum out.

She gave kitten licks to his tip, and it was too much as Seonghwa took her by the hair, tugging her back to halt her movements. His chest was heaving, her eyes were wide, and they both just wanted to continue, but he had to teach her what he needed right now. She could take her time sucking him down like a lollipop another day, but he needed his cock in her throat as soon as possible.

"Do you think you can take it all in your mouth, baby?" He asked gently, "have you done this to San before?" She shook her head. San was usually too busy drilling his cock into her cunt for her to take it into her mouth, but as she looked at Seonghwa's length, while she didn't know if she could fit it all in her mouth, she knew she definitely wanted to.

"Can I help you?" He asked, "Can I help you do it?" She nodded. With the grip he had on her hair, he moved her head forward slowly, pushing his cock into her open mouth.

She closed her mouth around him, sitting still for a moment. It was an uncomfortable position and when she attempted to breathe, she gagged around him, almost violently. Seonghwa pulled out and she gasped, coughing. "M'sorry, daddy. M'sorry!"

Seonghwa pet her reassuringly, "It's okay baby, just breathe slowly through your nose, okay? Do you wanna try again?" She nodded, determined to get it right.

Seonghwa led her through it again, and this time she breathed through her nose, slowly so that she didn't suck air in too fast and gag again. When her lips reached the base of his shaft and stayed there as he watched her calmly take a few breaths, he finally let out his own breath of relief. He was holding himself back from fucking into her mouth, but he could never do that to her. She was being so sweet and patient and obedient, he was going to make sure that this was a good experience for her.

Then she started moving.

He didn't prompt her in any way, but as she sat still with his cock in her mouth, now at least a little more confident that she wouldn't gag as easily, she knew that she had to move in order for her to pleasure him the way she wanted to. So she pulled her head back then back down again.

He hissed, letting go of her hair in fear that he might actually push her down too harshly, and he let her find a rhythm. It started slow as she got used to the feeling, still making sure that she wouldn't gag. Then finally started getting faster when she started feeling confident, Seonghwas loud moans a signal to her that she was doing a good job.

It wasn't hard for Seonghwa's orgasm to start building again. He had already been so horny that he could have nutted if y/n had been 2 seconds slower in opening the door. Paired with his hypersensitivity to her, since this was the first time she had remotely don't anything like this, especially for him, he was loving this.

As he felt himself about to burst, he attempted to pull her off of his cock, but she held firm. He didn't want to have to cum in her mouth the first time, she wasn't used to it. But there was no stopping her. "Fuck, y/n, my baby, my good girl, such a good girl, fuck, I'm cumming!" He groaned, releasing his load into her mouth. She didn't expect it, but she was not opposed to it at all. It had a taste that she somehow craved as if she had been needing it for so long without even knowing. She hadn't even realized that her own legs were trembling, hips rocking against nothing as her own high was being built up.

"Shit, y/nnie," He spoke as he pulled her off his cock even as he was still releasing, causing some of it to fall on her face and chest. He frowned when it got on her clothes, this apparently being an important issue when his seed was literally spilling out of him.

Y/n licked her lips, and despite his initial reservations about her swallowing his come, he couldn't help but bring his hand to her mouth, his index and middle finger pressing down on her tongue to look back into her throat, seeing that it was all gone.

"You're so good, swallowing like a good girl," he murmured petting her head as she leaned her head on his thigh again, nearly vibrating at the praise. Seonghwa noticed the movement of her hips and was about to offer to help when she let out a loud moan, hips juttering.

She heaved, "I'm a good girl, daddy?" Despite her exhaustion she wanted to keep hearing him praise her. "Did you just cum, baby?" he asked, still stroking her head, and she nodded against his leg.

He just looked at her with awe, "You came from just my cock in your mouth. You liked it that much?"

"Love your cock, daddy," she said softly, "Love it so much. Love your taste."

He smiled warmly at her, "Well, you can have it whenever you want, okay?" "Daddy can have me, too," she mumbled, "I want to please, daddy."

"You please daddy every day just by loving him."

#ateez imagines #ateez x reader #ateez #atz #ateez fluff #choi san #hybrid ateez #park seonghwa #park seonghwa x reader #ateez smut #ateez fanfic #atz smut #ateez hard hours #seonghwa smut #park seonghwa smut #seonghwa x reader #park seonghwa x reader smut #seonghwa x reader smut

[appleblueberry-pie]

sigh can't stop thinking abt him

you love making him mad. he looks so good when he's kneading the bread with a force you haven't seen from him before. he looks so good with those veins popping out of his head and arms. looks so good gritting his teeth and muttering profanities underneath his breath. you ruined his entiiiiire day.

first, you misplaced his work clothes. had the laundry running in the morning instead of the night, so he had to wait for the dryer to be done with his stuff. that made him about 30 minutes late to work. then you didn't make him breakfast because you overslept and 'forgot'. that way he'd come home hangry and cranky. then you didn't even make him dinner either. and as a man that you've been spoiling for years, he gets upset when he hasn't had his fill of food.

so instead of overspending some more at a random restaurant, he decided to make his own stuff since you wanted to be a hardass.

as he kneaded the bread, he tried not to, but began thinking of the other things that you had done throughout the day. you didn't answer to any of his texts today. you came home late. you didn't even make proper conversation with him to fix all of these problems you caused throughout the day, so he knew that you were purposefully causing trouble then.

and even after all of that, you decided to try and get back on his good side again. kissing his cheek to greet him, asking if he needed help and that you'll run him a bath. he promptly ignored you like you did to him all day and continued roughly kneading the dough before quickly placing it into the bowl to continue making his own meal. you fiddled with your cotton night dress before softly saying you'll just clean up around the house instead.

you didn't. you just laid on the couch and watched him cook.

he didn't even want to eat anymore. he was too pissed and horny. his stomach kept twisting and turning and he didn't even want anything you would cook either. he just wanted to bury his face into your pussy and call it a night.

he wanted to fuck you. he watched himself get hard and let out a shaky sigh, gripping the counter with an inch of his life. he couldn't give into you, not like this. not after what you've been doing all day. but in the back of his head, he knew he'd give in like every other time.

as you've said before, you loved to piss him off. but you'd never tease him. you wanted him to come to you, give into you and chase after you. acting innocent when you really weren't was the most amusing thing you've ever done, in your opinion. and it works on him every time. even if he couldn't see, you watched him with worry on your face and excitement staining your panties.

Kento wanted you so damn bad. he turned and saw you already staring at him and he watched you look away. he promptly turned off the oven that wasn't of use anymore and walked over to you, ordering you to look at him. you sat up and stared up at him, seeing his stone cold face and got (fake and real) nervous.

he roughly grabs your soft and warm face, making you whine in slight discomfort at his sudden actions. you blinked your glossy eyes up at him, not knowing what he'd do and wanted to ask. before you could, he let go and sighed heavily, moving your body to make you lay on your stomach on the couch. you tried to sit up, but he had straddled your legs to make sure you wouldn't move. when you spoke out his name, he threatened to shove his sack into your mouth to busy your mouth with his gold instead of nasty words for once.

you were nearly immobile and wasn't allowed to speak as his wandering hands tore your favorite pair of underwear so he could stick two of his thick fingers into your sopping and aching pussy. a long whine was pulled out of your throat as his fingers slowly thrusted in and out, curling in that special spot as he began your punishment that felt more like a reward than anything. he knew you liked when he was rough, so you didn't know what he'd expect if you didn't cry as much as he'd want you to.....not like you'd say that out loud, though.

his hot mouth kissed and slobbered on your neck while his fingers thrusted faster inside of you, creating that delicious feeling of cramps of so much pleasure that made you attempt to squirm underneath him. you moaned louder at the feeling and Kento groaned as his bulge rubbed against your bare ass cheeks.

you wanted to call out his name, but knew it would serve no purpose unless you wanted him to mock you and call you names. he suddenly pulled out his fingers and sucked what was inside of you off of his own digits. you looked back at him slowly and he grabbed the back of your neck.

"I wonder where you get your attitude from."

You roll your eyes at his statement and look back at him as far as you can turn your restricted head. "only one guy i could get it from." he scowled at your answer. "Little girl,"

you wanted to smile so bad at his answer and considered asking him straight up to put it in. "I didn't teach you to talk to me like that."

"no, you didn't, sir." he leans over you and mutters into your temple, "tell me who's pussy this is." you crane your neck back to try and reach to his lips even though you really can't. "yours, sir." you whisper, heart beating erratically in your chest.

"yeah?" your mind seemed to slip into a headspace the more he asked if you were his. and like clockwork, your mouth fixed to speak the words you both wanted to hear. "ye-" you cut off your own words with a gasp as his cock head stretches your entrance, his warm length filling every part of you like you wished he would since a few days ago. that burning desire to have him in you and fuck you like he hated you that burned into the back of your mind, now resurfaced as he continued pushing inside of you.

you couldn't speak, your mouth remaining agape at the feeling and his hands tightening around your neck and waist. he kept whispering praises to you at his first act of the night which managed a small whimper out of you. he pulls back out slowly, the feeling of him being pulled away too, before he pushes back in. your hands find any part of the couch to grab on, clutching it tightly as you automatically grind back into his hips in hopes for him to reach deeper. he calls you little nicknames when even at your most useless state, you find it in you to take more out of him.

a few minutes pass by, and he's already set at a comfortable fucking speed, a soft clap sounding in the air when you two continue to collide. if he looked close enough, your essence covered the base of his dick and would continue to build there until he decided to stop or it would drip down occasionally.

louder moans were pulled out of you, words not even in your mental dictionary anymore since the only thing you could focus on was him. you couldn't answer any questions and didn't even respond to any of the sly comments he made to make fun of your quick submission. you wanted to feel him, this position on the couch making it hard for you to do so. as if he understood your unintelligible jumble of sounds, he leaned down closer to you, his chest touching your back and his hands reaching around to touch whatever he wanted on your body. he stopped thrusting for a bit for you to catch your breath and you softly panted, your hands finding his own. Kento hummed in appreciation and pecked at your face from behind.

"You ready to talk nice to me again?" You nodded and told him yes. He chuckled at how dream-like your voice had sounded and dug his nose into your hair. "We'll see about that tomorrow morning. Until then....you got until later tonight to prove yourself to me again."

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk kento #jjk nanami kento #jjk nanami kento x reader #jujutsu kaisen nanami kento #kento x reader #nanami x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #nanami kento smut #kento x reader smut #nanami smut #nanami x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff

[ghost-bxrd]

okay so this is an idea I’ve seen brought up maybe once before, but maybe Jason (before the Bats find out who he is) accidentally lets something slip that makes them realize that he’s literally, like, a child (seventeen, sixteen, I’m not sure how old he is at that point exactly, but either works)

and Bruce “adoption addiction” Wayne promptly looks at this obviously traumatized teenager and decides that he should adopt Red Hood.

I just think Jason would be so confused (maybe a little pissed too)

I’ve touched on that a little bit in What you’re longing for (you claim to abhor)!

I think this trope is wayyy underrated. Like, Jason is still so, so young. Basically a child. Even if he died at sixteen and then spent two years with the league (even if we’re counting the time he spent dead as aging). He’s barely even legal when he returns to Gotham. Or if we’re being generous let’s say he’s nineteen.

Doesn’t matter, he’s barely out of his teens (maybe he’s still IN his teens if you bend the timeline of your fic a little) and he’s experienced horrors that would have most people become utterly unable to function. But Jason? That boy takes his trauma and channels it into anger. Which, not exactly healthy, but well.

Anyway, getting off topic:

YES. Jason is still basically a kid when he debuts as the Red Hood, and you know what else he is? A good boy who’s not gonna touch any alcohol until he’s officially 21.

“But why would he do that? He grew up in Crime Alley! Ain’t nobody got time for age limitations!”

Hear me out! Let’s assume he grew up in a household where his father, Willis Todd, drank quite a lot on the regular in addition to his mom’s addiction. Jason experienced the aftermath of this (perhaps domestic violence?) every time his dad returned from a job/jail and he grew to loathe any and all substances, including alcohol. Knowing Jason and his convictions it wouldn’t be too far fetched to assume he’d never touch a single drop of alcohol at all.

So that’s one way he could slip up while taking to his goons (and having the bats overhear) or even straight up talking to one of them where maybe Dick banters a bit and goes “Hey, perhaps you should chill out a bit. Have a drink maybe” and Jason just instinctively goes “Fuck you Dickwing, I’m seventeen/eighteen/nineteen! I’m not allowed to drink!”

And Dick just— bluescreens. And immediately goes to tell Bruce, obviously.

OR

The Bats assume Jason is this old guy (Bruce’s or Drathstroke’s age maybe) and consequently they keep alluding to things that happened way before Jason was ever even born and at first he’s so? Confused??? But eventually it just gets really annoying and eventually he just— snaps.

“How the fuck would I know which Nokia gen hit the market that year? I was born in fuckin’ XXXX, I’m an iPhone kid!”

“Stop referencing the Cold War dipshit, I’m fucking seventeen! I’m glad I remember my own damn birthday!”

“I don’t know, I was like— two back then.”

Bruce, obviously, would take .1 seconds to realize:

“Omg. That’s- that’s a whole child. That’s a whole damn TRAUMATIZED child, killing people and sawing off heads. Omg someone must have hurt him so bad. Don’t worry tho, son, Batman’s got you. You won’t have to hurt anybody ever again. We’re here for you. Would you like the room next to Tim’s or Dick’s?”

Meanwhile Jason: “what the fuck”

#ghost talks #lmao Jason would be so done at this point #like pls spare him all the horrible references he doesn’t understand #he’s gen z #and everyone is suddenly using boomer memes #and he’s so lost #dick isn’t helping #jason todd #batfamily #batfam #bruce wayne #dick grayson #robin #tim drake #red hood #fic #batdad #good dad bruce wayne #brainstorming

[shdo-xplosion]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐮𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐧 .ೃ࿐

𝐩𝐫𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐨!𝐛𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐠𝐨𝐮 𝐱 𝐩𝐫𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐨!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 2.4k words; aphrodisiac accident, explicit smut, no reader pronouns but “pussy”, “clit” and “cunt” are used, pussy slapping, slight overstimulation, some plot, some fluff

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: first full one-shot! bakugou seemed like the right choice since his birthday just passed. manga cap colored by moi ( ᐛ )و plspls tell me what you think of my writing! i’ll really appreciate you!

𝐒𝐨 stupid.

You can’t believe you had forgotten to update such critical information—paperwork you had filled out nearly ten years ago that you simply never thought to return to, never remembered to return to.

Now your reminder has arrived (too late) and is standing in front of you with a deep frown etched into his features as he examines you from across the hospital room.

“M’sorry,” you breathe heavily, “you don’t have to stay.”

Bakugou doesn’t move aside from crossing his arms over his chest and making his quintessential mocking “tch.”

Dabbing your forehead with the wet rag you’ve been clutching for dear life, you try again. “No, it’s okay, I’ll be fine.” Nevermind the fact that it feels like your skin is on fire, and your blood is bubbling with need.

Fucking aphrodisiac quirks. Every hero knows to beware of them despite how rare they are, but after avoiding such a quirk for years, the warning turned into more of a myth in your head, even with the waivers and emergency contacts you’ve filled out in the past—one packet while you were still at UA (in which you listed your best friend as your ‘rescue partner’) then again at your first real agency job.

“Just list me, I don’t care,” the Dynamight had waved off. “Those quirks are so fuckin’ rare you’ll probably never run into one.”

So you put your fucking boss down on the paper like an idiot, and he scribbled his messy signature like an idiot, and then you both promptly forgot about the exchange until right this moment.

“Don’t be stupid,” Bakugou huffs in front of you, finally walking to you and snatching the rag out of your hand to wet it with colder water in the sink.

It’s been a couple years since you’ve seen each other in person aside from tense, fleeting moments during missions. He’s still attractive as ever, still gives you butterflies like when you originally worked for him, like when you used to ogle him through the TV in your early teen years.

He’s in his thirties now, and though his hero costume hasn’t changed much over the years, he fills more of it out—specialty spark-proof shirt sticking to every dip and curve of muscle, gauntlets looking less humongous where they hang under impressive biceps. He slips said gauntlets off and gently sets them on the stiff hospital couch then moves back to you and places the wet rag on the back of your neck.

If you weren’t so distracted, you’d be surprised at his composure, especially since you didn’t actually leave his agency on the best of terms. There had been a… disagreement about a promotion that resulted in you packing up your desk and storming out, not caring about the bridges you would burn by doing so. To add insult to injury, you ended up at one of his best friend’s agencies working under Chargebolt.

You expect Bakugou to bring it up and get mad, scold you for making such a rash decision (like he doesn’t do the same thing), but he doesn’t. All he does is sigh and mumble, “how’d you even get in this mess, ya’ dumbass?”

It makes you laugh which makes you cramp and throb between your legs. You aren’t sure how long you’ll be able to stand the small talk, though the cool water dripping down your back helps alleviate some of the heat.

“Seemed like a typical smash n’ grab,” you tell him, clenching your jaw when you feel his bare fingers graze your hairline. “Was not typical, it turns out. Guy got away with a bunch of jewelry and I got away with…”

“A need to fuck?” Bakugou snorts.

Your run your hands down your face while whining, “don’t say it like thaaaaat,” because it’s embarrassing.

“Why? That’s what it is? You got hit with a quirk that makes ya’ need dick.”

His tone is amused but it still goes right to your pussy.

“I don’t need dick,” you argue. “The effects will wear off on their own.”

“Yeah, but it’ll probably take longer.”

You watch as he bends at the waist to unlace his boots and take them off. He unbuckles his belt next, unbuttons his pants, and you’re swallowing excess saliva at the thought of what will happen next.

It’s Bakugou. Murder God Dynamight. Your old boss who you sort of fucked over. The idea of being so vulnerable with him nauseates you, but… he’s here, and he’s undressing, and he’s peering at you like he has no qualms whatsoever.

Your head is screaming at you to shoo him away, but your cunt is leaking with arousal, insides pulsing in time with your heartbeat, and you just don’t have the willpower to deny yourself the relief that he will surely grant you.

“Fine. Just know that I know this is a dumb idea.”

“You’re the one who didn’t fill out new paperwork,” he reminds while peeling off his shirt. “Take your clothes off, idiot.”

You roll your eyes but also obey without protest. “I see you’re still sweet as ever.”

All of your clothes are damp with sweat as you take them off and fling them somewhere. At this stage of a hookup, you're usually a little shy, wanting to cover yourself back up, but you’re not operating at full capacity as of now. There’s no room for shyness.

A lot of pro heroes have merchandise that goes far past t-shirts and keychains, and Dynamight is no exception. You don’t know how many “replica” dildos you’ve seen online and in sex shops, and though many of them are appealing, none come close to the real thing.

Bakugou has a fat cock, mushroom-shaped head leaking with translucent precum. A vein pops and curves up the side like a river that accentuates his girth. A gradient from pale to angry pink, it might be the prettiest dick you’ve ever seen, though that could be the aphrodisiac quirk talking. His is the kind of cock you want to suck, the kind you’d happily let bully your throat open. More than that, though, you want it inside of you. You want it to make you cum.

You reach out to grab him, but Bakugou steps just out of reach with a wicked smirk on his face.

“Nuh uh,” he shakes his head. “Gotta show me that pussy first.”

Your vision tunnels from the lust that overwhelms you, and you throw yourself onto your back hastily, shamelessly spreading your legs in both display and invitation. You don’t have to see yourself to know how pathetic you look, sweating and panting, thighs already trembling as slick leaks from your hole in thick globs. You’ve never felt this kind of desperation before, and now you truly understand why heroes are warned so heavily about these quirks.

“Fuck me,” Bakugou exhales, sliding to his knees and bending forward to press his face between your legs. At first all he does is breathe in deeply. You would blush if you weren’t in such a state, but the action only turns you on more.

A tongue traces from your hole to your clit, parting your lips and gathering your arousal with each pass.

“Bakugou,” you whimper, wiggling your hips wantonly.

“Shh, lemme make you feel good,” he rumbles.

Tears pool behind your closed eyelids, and you plead with him, “wanna feel good with your cock, pleeease.”

You feel his derisive exhale more than hear it, but as he rises and gets on the bed you definitely hear the words, “greedy brat,” leave his mouth.

Your back arches like your possessed when Bakugou guides his thick cock into your hole, gummy walls sucking him in until his tip is kissing your cervix. You need to be fucked now, need him to fuck you and fill you with his cum over and over again, “please, Kat…” you sob, falling into old habits of when you considered each other friends.

“I’ve got ya’, sweetheart,” he promises, slowly thrusting. “M’right here.”

He feels so good, sliding in and out of you and making a home of your insides. You feel him in your stomach, in your chest, and your heart starts beating too fast when you lock eyes with him.

“Ready for more?” he asks.

“Yeah, yesyes, please.”

Without any further warning, Bakugou manipulates your legs so that they’re pressed to your chest, knees parallel to your ears. Your eyes roll with the new angle, spongy tissue massaged in just the right way, and when Bakugou realizes he’s hitting the right spot, he starts snapping his hips harder and faster.

You’re full-on crying now, a steady stream of tears dripping from your eyes, but you’re smiling, begging, thanking whatever god there is that Bakugou is here and taking away your pain.

Your pussy squelches with every thrust, wetness splashing between your bodies, creating a tacky mess all over thighs and pelvises.

“Feel good, baby,” he tells you, and his own eyes are cloudy, lips parted and just asking to be nipped. So you lean up as well as you can, grabbing him by the hair at the back of his head, and kiss him sloppily.

Bakugou groans, rhythm faltering as he shoves his tongue in your mouth. It feels like you can’t breathe anything but him. He’s filling every inch of you, invading every sense. He smells like gunpowder, tastes like caramel, and feels like a body of divinity.

“S’your pussy always this creamy or is it just for me?” he growls, letting go of one of your legs so he can slide a finger alongside his cock, thoroughly coating it in your juices then pulling it out to show you.

“Quirk,” you gasp. It has to be, right? You can’t be this out of your mind for Bakugou, can you?

“Oh yeah?” he starts tapping your clit with his fingers, growing a little more aggressive with each hit until he’s slapping your swollen bud.

“Just the quirk, huh? This pussy squirting ‘cause of the quirk too?” He rubs over the slick bundle rapidly, overstimulating you until your body pushes out a geyser of squirt that soaks Bakugou’s toned chest. He resumes slapping your pussy, making you jerk beneath him, and keeps up the ruthless cycle until the bedsheets are drenched and you’re babbling a confession, “it’s you, always you, wanted you for so long, Kat…”

“Yeah, that’s what I wanted to hear,” he tells you approvingly as he starts fucking into you again.

Your walls swell around his cock, spasming with an impending orgasm. Bakugou keeps drilling into you, spewing filth right in your ear, breath hotter with every taunt.

“You wanted this cock so bad, yeah? That why you left me?”

You shake your head, jaw falling open as your climax builds.

“Wanted me to fuck your little pussy but didn’t know how to ask? Well, I am now,” he continues, “finally gonna fill you up like I’ve wanted to.”

Your breath is pushed from your lungs in a long moan when it hits you, puffy cunt gushing around Bakugou and milking his own orgasm from him, hot cum painting your insides and slowly oozing from your loosened hole.

You’ve heard that with many aphrodisiac quirks it takes more than just one sexual cycle to get it all out of your system—multiple phases of excitement, multiple plateaus, multiple orgasms, and multiple resolutions.

But sometimes one is enough. If the cycle is strong enough and your body releases enough…

“God, I feel so much better,” you say, chest rising and falling with each deep breath. “Thank you.”

Bakugou pulls out and rolls onto the bed next to you, also breathing heavily. Though still hard, you know his cock is spent, slowly softening where it glistens with the mixture of fluids. He doesn’t say anything, just nods.

You figure he’ll catch his breath then get up and leave, remind you to change your emergency contact.

But after several minutes of post-orgasm bliss, he pipes up in his gruff voice, “so why did you leave like you did?”

It’s not really what you feel like talking about, but you kind of owe him. Plus, the answer is pretty simple.

“You already know. I was angry about being passed up for the promotion,” you sigh. “I thought I was doing pretty well as an intermediate sidekick, but… guess not.”

“Nah, you were doin’ great. You did well with me and all the other pros.”

You glance over at him with narrowed eyes. “Then why’d flaming pubes get the promotion?” you think back to the new sidekick bitterly.

Bakugou opens his mouth but immediately closes it again. Sits up, hunches forward, drags a hand down his face.

“Kat… why?”

“Cause I didn’t want you on crazy fucked up sites,” he tells you, voice too loud. “I’d seen you cry during rescue missions and didn’t like it, and you split your fuckin’ head open on the Dark Shot mission, and I didn’t like worrying about you!”

You stare at him in bewilderment. He was… trying to protect you?

“You would rather some freshly graduated sidekick die than me?”

“I don’t want anyone to die, but least of all you.” He heaves a shaky breath, hands shooting out like they’ll help him explain himself better. “You were a distraction for me! If I could keep you even a little bit safe, I could keep doing my job right.”

Your head is clearing. You’re still foggy from your orgasm, but at least you’re no longer sex-crazed.

“So, what are you saying exactly?”

“Dude, don’t play stupid,” he snarks, but you can see the plea in his crimson gaze: don’t make me say it.

Fighting a smile, you decide not to tease.

“Well, if it’s any consolation, I was distracted the entire time I worked for you. Crushing on your boss is hard.”

A faint blush reddens his cheeks as he mutters, “yeah, so’s crushing on your god damn employee. Felt like some school boy bitch.”

“Is that why you saved me today then? Get what you used to think about all the time?” you smile.

“No. I saved you ‘cause I signed my name on a legal fucking document.”

The very beginnings of disappointment rise in your chest, but before they can fully bloom, Bakugo leans over and kisses you. Much softer than what you had initiated while in the throes of passion. His lips are gentle, moving in sync with yours. There’s no tongue, no urgency, just pure satisfaction and contentment that makes you melt.

“Getting to do that is a pretty big plus, though.”

2023 ©️ shidou-x. Please don’t plagiarize or repost my works to other platforms.

#bakugou x reader #bakugou x you #bakugou smut #bnha x reader #bnha x you

[axellovesalastor]

Drunk and Submissive

*Alastor Brat Taming part 2 will be out soon, but in the meantime, please enjoy this!

Comment for part 2 of this!!

Tags/warnings: Alastor x reader, gn reader, gender neutral reader, Alastor smut, submissive Alastor, drunk Alastor, drunk sex, edging, afab reader, 18+ only, some fluff

Sorry for any mistakes, slightly proofread

you were up in your room listening to music while alastor was downstairs having a couple of drinks. the loud bass ricocheted off the walls and you were in your own world when you heard the doorknob fumble. confused, you shouted “who’s there?” over the music. with no response, you were about to get up when your tall, lanky man finally managed to get the door open and stumbled into the room.

you took a good look at him as he stood a little passed your doorway. his face was flushed a bright red, his eyelids slightly lowered. his hair was a mess and his knees buckled inwards like a fawn just learning to walk. his overcoat was even off and nowhere to be seen, which was highly unlike him. and the most surprising part, his smile was so soft it looked like it was about to slip.

he stood up a little straighter, and with a slightly lopsided smile, he finally managed to get out a drunken, “hi, sweetheart.”

you laughed a little and started to get up to help him. you hung your legs over the side of the bed and placed one foot on the floor. as you were about to put your other foot to the ground, his ears shot back, pinned down to his head, and he shut his eyes tight.

“wait. what is that… horrible noise?” you laughed again and started to make your way towards him, “it’s my music. you don’t like it?” you put a hand in one of his and placed another on the small of his back to help him balance. “hah. music? well… you could have fooled me.” static noises replaced your music for a second, and then it promptly turned off and was replaced with soft jazz. “much better.” you scoffed and looked at him softly. you’d never seen him this drunk, but even looking a mess you could manage to fall in love with his face all over again. and the look in his eyes told you that he probably felt the same about you.

you broke the silence and shut the door behind him and put out a hand, gesturing to the bed. “alright bambi, let’s sit you down.”

you walked him over to the bed, and even though it was only a few feet from the door he managed to stumble a couple times and you caught him, laughing softly each time. you helped him sit down and then you stood over him.

You put a hand under his jaw and lifted his head so he could look up at you. “i’ve never seen you this drunk. you’re a bit of a mess, al.” his face flushed an even brighter red and his eyes quickly trailed off to the side, it was clear that he was embarrassed and when his eyes met your bedside mirror, they widened and it became apparent to him he was very untidy looking. “i look..” he hiccuped in between his sentence, “terrible.”

“it’s alright baby, no you don’t” you kissed his cheek tenderly, and looked at him for a second as he continued to look at himself in the mirror, analyzing himself and brushing himself off.

you got on the bed and crawled over to the middle, laying down. he turned his head backwards, and his eyes quickly found yours again. “come lay down,” you gestured, patting your chest.

he positioned himself on the bed and crawled over to you. he straddled himself on top of you, sitting on your hips and looking down at you, just staring at you for a moment. you felt a fluttering heat pool down in your stomach. you could’ve sworn he was giving you “fuck me” eyes, but maybe he was just being drunk. he finally bent down placed his head between the juncture of your head and shoulder. you softly ran your fingers through his hair and scratched lovingly at the back of his head and ears. he made quiet humming noises in approval.

having him on top of you and just holding him was great. but you couldn’t stop thinking about how he looked straddled on top of you, looking down at you.

“alastor” you said softly, removing your hand from his hair and placing it on his back, rubbing in small circles. his ears perked up at his name. “yes… my love?” he said half drunkenly and half tiredly. “sit up.” you sounded a little stern this time.

he paused for a second, and then slowly got up, his knees still bent and his hips still locked to yours. he looked down at you again, and it took everything in you to not rip his shirt off right there and then. you placed your hands on his thighs, just above his knees, and rubbed them up and down, never going too far up.

“what.. are you… what.. are you doing?” his eyes traveled down and he looked at your hands. “keep your eyes on mine.” without hesitation, he locked eyes with you again. this time as your hands rode up, you went a bit further, and stopped them as you met his mid-thigh.

“is this alright?” he nodded softly, still maintaining eye contact. just seeing him straddled on top of you was enough to get off.

“here’s what’s going to happen,” your hands slowly moved up his thighs, softly grabbing at them. you stopped at the top of his thighs, and gently pried them more apart. his smile widened and somehow you felt his gaze become even more stronger. you bit your lip softly and squeezed his thighs a little tighter. “i want to have my way with you,” your hands moved towards his inner thighs and his body shuddered a little. “but i want to make sure you’re comfortable.” you stopped moving your hands. “so tell me if you want me to stop.”

he let out a shaky exhale and quickly looked down at his thighs, and then meeting your gaze again. “please, keep going” his voice coming out slightly whiny. almost involuntarily, you pressed your hips up into his and spread his legs a little wider apart. you rubbed the insides of his thighs, getting close enough to his cock to almost make him wince each time your hands rode up. you were giving him too much yet too little at the same time.

here you were, with the radio demon straddled on top of you, whimpering and going dumb at just your touch. he may be intimidating to others, but you know just how to break him, and secretly, he loves it.

you got close enough to be able to feel his dick twitch every time you inched closer and closed towards it. “pleeeaaassee…” his ears dropped down again and the music switched off for a second, static filling your ears. “please what?” his hands met your sides and he softly pierced into your flesh, making you softly wince. he pushed his hips down and started grinding in between your hips. softly moaning, you allowed this to go on for a couple of seconds before grabbing his hips and holding him in place. “i already told you we are doing this my way.” his eyebrows furrowed and a bead of sweat dripped off his nose.

“poor baby. you can do it. just hold on a little longer.” you placed your hands back on his thighs. in response, he opened his legs up even more, making his boner press hard through his pants. you laughed softly, moving your hands back up and squeezing right below his desperate dick. his body shuddered and he started moving his hips on you again, softly groaning. “if you were embarrassed before, you really should be now.” you finally placed a hand on it. he bit his lower lip and blood trickled down his chin. you took your other hand, softly caressing the side of his face and then wiping the blood off his chin with your thumb. you brought your hand back down, placing your thumb in your mouth, and then releasing it with a “pop”.

“do you want me to make you cum?” he nodded his head quickly like it was a question of life and death. “awww,” you looked him in his pleading eyes as you unbuttoned and then unzipped his fly. you took both your hands and placed them at the top of his pants, and he raised his hips up to allow you to pull them down just below his cock. still maintaining eye contact, both your hands found his length, and you started jerking him off through his boxers. his stomach jutted out and in as he struggled to catch his breath. after only a couple of seconds, static filled the room again, this time more intense.

you took your hands off of him, and the static shut off instantly, and the music turned on again. “mmmm…” he sounded frustrated, and he was still struggling to catch his breath, his body was shuddering. “i almost finished…” you placed your hand back on him and he twitched in your touch. “i know my baby, have patience.” you pulled down his boxers and revealed his erection. his face flushed red again as he once more realized what a fool he was making of himself. a few drops of precum dribbled out and you positioned your hand back on his cock and smeared it down his tip. he bit his lip again, drawing more blood.

“f-fuck… please no more. i just want to be inside of you…” the signal of the radio flickered in and out as he tried to maintain some of his sanity. “i think… you’re going to drive me mad, my love” his body waved back and forth and jerked up with every stroke you gave to him. “i’m gonna work you up until you can’t take it anymore. and then you’ll get to cum inside of me.” you jerked him off a little faster, and his eyes rolled to the back of his head. “nope, eyes on me.” he looked back down at you and squeezed his eyelids, holding back tears. “does that sound like a deal?” he let out a long groan, and you couldn’t tell if it was out of pleasure or desperation, although it was probably both. “deal.”

#alastor x reader #alastor #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin #18+ only #18+ content #alastor x you #alastor the radio demon #alastor fanfiction #hazbin hotel fanfiction #alastor smut #smut #edging kink #gender neutral reader #gender neutral y/n

[eddiesghxst]

PRICE OF FAME (PART 5/12)

HEHEHE THIS ONES PACKED W LOTS OF... STUFF, ENJOYYYY!!!

————

18+ — MINORS DNI

pairing: rockstar!eddie x journalist!reader

summary: eddie doesn't think he hates you anymore and you can't figure out eddie's game

contains: enemies to lovers trope, smoking, drug and alcohol use, sexual themes, masturbation (f), maybe a little kith (hehe), flirting, and eddie being a jealous boy <3

word count: 6.5k

| previous part | next part |

| series masterlist | -main masterlist- |

The four-day break seems to go by in the blink of an eye, and before you know it, it’s show day again.

As always, everybody is busy and filled with pre-show jitters. Although Eddie and Gareth have yet to speak with one another and resolve their dispute, breakfast is not as tense as last time, and you assume the time away from each other has aided in that realm. But then again, you have an inkling that Eddie is only putting up a nice front for Wayne since it’s his last day in New York.

Eddie is stiff and rigid throughout the morning, taught as a guitar string and vividly battling something he has yet to announce. He’s quiet at breakfast and only speaks when directly addressed, and he doesn’t taunt any back and forth that could transpire between him and Gareth. Jeff’s girlfriend joins the table for the first time, and you sit beside her. 

Naomi is kind and bubbly with tight, curly brown strands that smell of honey and lime whenever she brushes past you. She’s from a small town in Georgia, where she spent most of her life before going off to college and getting a bachelor's in fine arts. She tells you about her most recent projects and showcases and even invites you to attend if you’re ever in town, and you take her number to keep in contact.

Jeff has radiant energy throughout the meal, and you think he and Naomi make a fine couple with how they seem to complete each other.

After breakfast, you make a few calls for work and fill in Anna on your progress. She informs you that they’re working on setting a date for Corroded Coffin’s photoshoot for the magazine and should be in contact with Richie sometime soon. When Anna asks how the trip has been so far, you lie and tell her it’s been seamless and fun. 

You never told Anna about Eddie hating your guts, and you don’t even debate telling her that you’ve somehow stirred the pot between two of the band members or that you kissed the lead singer.

You’re still having a hard time convincing yourself that it was even real.

For a moment, when you woke up this morning, you thought you’d dreamt of kissing Eddie, but no dream ever feels as vivid as that.

You could feel the warmth radiating from Eddie’s body, the coolness of his rings stinging your cheeks when he placed his hands over your jaw to pull you in. The taste and smell of weed mixed in with the worn-down scent of his cologne from the day. And the kiss was so quick, and you were so sleepy you barely had enough time to memorize what his lips felt like or how the feeling of his warm breath against your upper lip sent shivers down your spine.

It left you in a daze for most of the day. Every time you remembered what had happened, your heart raced and the back of your neck heated— and you wanted to ask Eddie what the fuck that was about, but Eddie was nowhere to be found.

After breakfast, Eddie practically falls off the face of the earth. Nobody hears from or sees Eddie, and he doesn’t even show up for rehearsals, which is when Richie becomes suspicious.

“Has anybody fuckin’ seen Eddie, for the love of god?” Richie exclaims. Off to the side, the bass player plucks a deep tune in boredom. Standing center stage, Jeff looks at Richie and shakes his head before glancing at the other two members. Gareth sits behind his drum set, twirling the thick drumsticks between the knuckles of his fingers, lower jaw promptly working a piece of gum as he shrugs. His eye looks better, you note.

And that’s another thing. Gareth has been avoiding you like the plague. You didn’t talk to him much before, but now it’s as if you don’t even exist, and fuck is it making your job more complicated than it already is. How are you supposed to write about Corroded Coffin when half of the said band hates your guts?

Wayne had been spending the day at the hotel, preparing to fly back tomorrow morning, so you doubt he knows where his nephew went. Richie asked an assistant to check if Eddie was being a hermit in his room, but to nobody’s surprise, Eddie wasn’t there either.

By the time 8 o’clock rolls around, the doors to the venue have opened for fans to flood in, and Eddie is still yet to show up. You stand in front of the barricade, a perfect and obstructed view of the stage where you can see everything, including the hustle backstage. 

Wayne has opted for a seat next to the sound booth in the crowd, claiming he’d rather not spend the next few hours standing on his feet, “When you’re older, you’ll understand.” He claimed.

You enjoy the opening act, bopping along and singing to the lyrics you know, and before you know it, the band is leaving, and the clock for Corroded Coffin’s appearance is ticking— still, no word from Eddie.

You’re busy watching the stage crew set up Corroded Coffin’s display when a familiar face approaches you. “How’s the article coming along?”

James, one of the three tour photographers for Corroded Coffin. You sat next to James on day five of breakfast. James is kind, and with your little snippets of conversation, you’ve come to peg him as not exactly what you’d expect. 

James’ skin is littered with tattoos, sleeves up both arms with intricate ink slithering up his neck. You’d ask him how many tattoos he has in total, and he’d confessed that he lost count a long time ago and has now resulted in just throwing out a random number when people ask, to which you laughed.

He has jet-black curly hair that you’ve only seen at breakfast because he likes to slick it back most days, and he has piercings in each ear and one on his right eyebrow. 

He’s a character, James. Intimidating from the outside, but nothing but soft, fluffy teddy bear warmth on the inside. 

“It’s… well, it’s going. I’ve still got a bit of work to do, but so far, so good.” You nod. James smiles and nods, “I’m excited to see the final product. I won’t lie, after we spoke at breakfast, I did a little digging,” he responds. You raise your eyebrows in interest, “Digging?”

“Yeah, you know, looked at some of your past work and whatnot— which, by the way, the piece on the Cocteau Twins was insane,” He exclaims. Your eyes widen, “Really? Not many people talk about that one; I didn’t think it got around.” You laugh.

James tells you about his favorite pieces of yours he read, and he asks questions about each one of them. What your favorite interview was, who were you most excited to write about, and which of your works is your favorite piece so far.

You eventually end up talking about James and his current projects aside from the tour. He tells you about the new exhibit he’s partnering with in downtown LA. It’s an immersive piece, something new in the art world where the audience, for the first time, will get to experience art in a more tangible way. It’s more interactive and fulfilling for those who struggle to grasp the full context behind the art, and James seems more than excited about it when he tells you to stop by if you have the time.

However, before you can respond, the lights in the venue dim, and the crowd roars. 

This has always been your favorite part of a show, that moment when the lights cut off and the arena comes to life with a shared excitement. It’s exhilarating and pulls you to the edge of your seat, no matter how often you’ve seen it.

Through the smoke-filled venue and the dark atmosphere, you can see each of the boys file out onto the stage, Gareth spinning his drumsticks between his knuckles as he steps onto the drum riser while the other two grab their instruments. Three members are on stage, and you remember that Eddie has been missing in action for the entire day.

The crowd grows louder when they see the shadows of the boys on stage, screaming their names and chanting in anticipation. And as he shreds the first chords to the opening song, you worry that Eddie really might’ve skipped out on tonight’s show.

You’re happily mistaken, however, because soon you see another figure step out, and the crowd goes deafeningly loud.

Beside you, James smiles and shakes his head, “Shit never gets old,” he yells over the screams.

And your heart is racing for some reason as you watch the tall figure walk in the darkness, curly mane of hair akin to a halo as he steps up to the mic, electric guitar strapped across his body.

He leans into the mic and says a few words, words you don’t even hear due to how loud the crowd is, but you feel the gruffness and bass of his voice booming through the speakers, and you nearly mistake it for your heartbeat.

Because when the song finally starts and the stage lights go up, you’re at a loss for words.

Eddie is gorgeous, undeniably so; he always has been, and you never thought he wasn’t. The only thing that got in the way of Eddie’s beauty was his shitty attitude towards you. But this… the way Eddie looks tonight— you’re a speechless and wavering mess of mixed feelings.

Tonight, Eddie is beautiful.

His hair is down as usual, curly and healthy strands sitting pretty atop his shoulders, and he’s opted to play the show in nothing but leather pants and his usual boots.

His upper body is on full display, broad shoulders, and muscles flexing with each strum of his guitar, back muscles working overtime as he trashes along to the music. He’s covered in a thin sheen of sweat, tattoo-covered skin glistening beneath the lights, and you want nothing more than to run your hands down his chest and watch the way it smudges beneath your fingertips.

When the second song finishes, Eddie’s chest is heaving as he pauses and looks out into the crowd, scanning the rows with a lopsided, smug grin.

You can hear faint pants leaving his lips as he leans into the mic, jewelry-wrapped fingers hugging the fret of his guitar. He gazes in silence for a moment, listening to the cheers of the crowd that pull the corners of his mouth into a wider grin. And you don’t even notice the rest of the band on stage because all you see and hear is Eddie.

You hold your breath when his eyes find yours, and your knees nearly buckle at the sight of his dark eyes shining beneath smudged, black eyeliner. 

“Fuck,” he breathes with a smile, softly laughing when the crowd screams at his voice, “Do you look good tonight, New York.”

And he’s saying this and looking at you.

He is staring at you like he can see through to your soul, and it makes your head dizzy with a whirlwind of emotions and greedy wishes.

You don’t even realize you’re holding your breath until Eddie finally looks away from you and into the crowd, “Are you ready to have a good time, New York?”

Eddie has never, in all his years of living, played as well as he did tonight.

He’s not sure what exactly caused this; maybe the fact that Wayne is in the crowd tonight, or perhaps because he’s still pissed with Gareth, or maybe because he can’t stop thinking about kissing you, or probably because he hates the way you and James won’t stop fucking talking to each other.

Eddie doesn’t know why it pisses him off to see you laughing and enjoying the company of James, but it does. It ticks him off to no end, and he can’t help the feeling that brews in his chest when you lean forward to hear James over the music or when James innocently squeezes your bicep to get your attention before he says something.

By the middle of the show, Eddie has had enough. He’s four shots of tequila in, and he’s feeling bold with the crowd's energy, so when his infamous guitar solo in one of the songs comes, he doesn’t stand center stage as usual.

No, Eddie makes sure to walk over and stand right in front of where you and James stand and play his solo like it’s the last time he'll ever play.

It’s a sinful view, and the crowd goes wild, the big screens zooming in on his skilled fingers dancing across the frets, the flexing of his wet torso, the flutter of his lashes when he closes his eyes and tosses his head back. His lips are slick and parted in ecstasy from the adrenaline high. 

And Eddie can feel your eyes on him. Can feel the heat of your gaze burning through every inch of his body, rolling over every movement he makes and taking him in like he’s a prized possession in a museum. He thrives off of it, and he plays harder.

When his solo ends, Eddie doesn’t bother looking at the crowd or James or his band; no, Eddie only looks at you, making sure you understand what he’s trying to say through his eyes. And for a moment, Eddie wishes James would turn the camera away from him and capture your beauty instead— because you look like an angel under red lights.

Eddie has only allowed himself small moments to appreciate the sight of you, but now, he is greedy with the upper hand he has. He takes in every piece of you; your hair, your eyes, your lips, the delicate necklace kissing the skin of your collarbones— and Eddie wants to run his tongue up the side of your neck and hear you whimper for him. Wants to dig his teeth into your skin until you keen and whine and beg him for more more more. 

The skirt you’re wearing, god, it’s fucking short, and Eddie imagines the way your skin would feel beneath his fingers, pressing into the fat of your thighs and marveling when the skin gives way to the pressure. Hot and messy fingerprints all around your hips and ribs. Teeth bearing marks across your stomach and chest. Eddie is dizzy with lust and need, and he feels like a fucking animal writhing and waiting to pounce.

Greedy, greedy, greedy.

He wants it all.

The rest of the show goes back and forth like that. Eddie catches glimpses of you and James talking and takes it upon himself to direct your attention back to the stage— back to him. Near the end, James finally focuses on his fucking job and busies himself with taking pictures instead of flirting with you, and Eddie walks off the stage feeling satisfied.

The band does their meet and greet backstage and signs a few autographs before they can do their usual post-show rituals: drinking, playing games, and making plans to go out.

Despite his love for post-show rituals, Eddie wants nothing to do with it tonight because he can only focus on you. 

You’re standing with James and a stage crew member, talking about something Eddie could care less about, given how he cuts into the conversation, “Can we talk?”

Your eyes are wide and bright when you turn to him, shocked by Eddie’s ability to even acknowledge you, and Eddie thinks about last night and how your lips felt against his. “Um… talk?”

Eddie’s still high on post-show energy, and he doesn’t like that James is standing so close to you, so he takes a leap of faith and wraps a hand around your wrist, gently tugging with a short nod, not even waiting for an answer before he turns and drags you out of the green room. 

He doesn’t know at what point his fingers traveled down your wrist to slip between your warm and gentle fingers, but he becomes hyper-aware of it as soon as you both step out into the hallway, the slam of the door echoing behind you, “Eddie, where are you taking me?”

Eddie glances back at you, fingers subconsciously squeezing yours, “Dressing room. I wanna do the interview.” He answers.

You halt at his response, heels digging into the cement floor and tugging Eddie back, “What?”

The heat of your palm is burning through Eddie’s skin, and he’s not sure if he’ll be able to stop himself from what he wants to do if he continues touching you, so he lets go. “The interview.”

You shake your head and squeeze your eyes, “No, I heard you, but… I mean,” you pause, “why? And why now? This can’t wait until—“

“Look, if you don’t want to do it now, that’s fine, but I’m not doing it any other time.” He doesn’t wait for an answer before turning around and continuing to walk towards his dressing room.

You silently watch for a moment, clearly confused by the sudden change of heart, but you nod either way and follow after him.

Eddie hardly pays any mind to you when you walk in behind him, busying himself with walking over to the bar cart and pouring himself a glass of the first bottle he sees. Glancing over his shoulder, Eddie notices you awkwardly standing near the door and snickers. “You can take a seat, sweetheart; I didn’t bring you here to, like… chew you out or something.” He jokes.

He makes you a glass despite not asking, and when he turns around, you’re now seated on the light brown couch in the middle of the room, hands fiddling in your lap as you silently wait for Eddie.

He sits on the opposite side of the couch and places the second glass on the coffee table, wordlessly nudging it toward you before leaning back in the seat and taking a long sip.

“Where’s your cute little journal?”

You’re confused.

You don’t understand the game Eddie is playing, and it’s driving you insane the longer you look at him, leaned back against the plush couch, smug smirk kissing the rim of his glass as he takes a slow sip, brown, hazy eyes glazing over your nervous figure. The sheer button-down top he now wears is fully unbuttoned to reveal his sweat-glistening torso, leather pants hug his thighs, snug and tauntingly, the button popped open and zipper pulled down to show the sinful sight of a trail of hair that leads to places you’ve been trying so desperately not to imagine. You don’t mean to stare, and you catch yourself when he shifts his hips upward to get more comfortable, the sight of his lower stomach flexing and tattoos coming alive on his skin sending shivers up your spine.

You clear your throat and turn to grab your journal out of your bag. You haven’t had the time to buy a new journal after you ruined the binds by tearing out those pages for Eddie, so you must handle the remaining structure carefully.

You take a deep breath and flip to a clean page, clicking your pen once before glancing at Eddie, “Okay, I guess we’ll… start.”

Eddie smirks, and you want nothing more than to wipe it away.

You open your mouth to ask your first question, but Eddie cuts you off, “I have a proposition,” he begins.

You look at Eddie, blinking once and thinking over if you want to indulge in whatever trick this is. You relent, “Okay?”

Eddie smiles triumphantly and leans forward to put his glass on the table, yours still untouched. He grabs the pack of cigarettes lying to the side, picking a single stick and grabbing the lighter before leaning back onto the couch, lighting the cigarette before shifting to face you. He drapes an arm across the back of the sofa, blowing out a cloud of smoke before speaking, “I get to ask you questions as well. Like a trade-off, for each question you ask, I also get to ask one.”

And it’s not as bad as you’d thought, really. Knowing Eddie, you had expected him to propose a game involving stripping or drinking of some sort, and you had prepared to immediately shut him down— but this, you can settle for this.

So, you shrug, “Okay. We can do that.”

Eddie hums in delight, taking another drag of the burning stick and nodding for you to begin.

“Okay,” you sigh, shifting to get more comfortable. In the distance, you can hear the chaos of backstage rituals happening, and you fight through the noise to focus. “We’ll start light. What made you choose music?”

Eddie twiddles the cigarette between his fingers, silently thinking, “I don’t know. I grew up with music, never went a day without it, so, in a way, I guess you could say music chose me.” He responds.

You nod, “What are some of your first memories with music?”

Eddie smiles and gazes up at the ceiling, and you watch as he seems to wander down a road of memories. “When I was younger,” he begins, “before my mom died, I remember waking up and going to the kitchen to watch her cook breakfast,” he pauses as if trying to see through the fog of time to explain it clearly.

“And she had this small green radio that sat on the window sill, and she would play all of her tapes; The Mamas and Papas, Jefferson Airplane, Sam and Dave— you know… hippie shit.” He says. “I knew Surrealistic Pillow like the back of my hand by the time I could talk, I swear.” He jokes, smiling when you softly laugh. He looks at you, a glint flashing in his eyes, and you can tell the memory brings him a joy he misses. 

And you find yourself thinking back to a few days ago, when you were walking beside Wayne with Richie and Eddie a few paces back. You remember what Wayne had told you then; you remember the tone in his voice and the careful thought he’d used behind each sentence.

“Give him time,” Wayne softly says. You glance over your shoulder and catch a glimpse of Eddie and Richie sharing a cigarette. You turn back to Wayne when he adds, “You’re a nice girl, and Eddie… Eddie doesn’t know what to do with nice.”

You dig your teeth into the inside of your cheek, chest tightening at the pained gaze in his eyes when he speaks, “He hasn’t had much of that in his life.”

“I know you don’t owe it to him, but just give him some time… he’ll come around.”

Eddie glances at your empty page before gazing back into your eyes, “You gonna write something down? I’m not repeating any of this, just so you know.”

You nod, snapping out of your daze to begin writing. Eddie patiently waits as you jot down your thoughts and conversation, burning through his cigarette and watching your every move.

You look back at him when you finish, and fight the urge to shy away when you realize he hasn’t looked away from you this entire time. “Um, okay, tell me about—” “I believe I get to ask two questions now.” Eddie cuts in with a smirk.

“Oh,” you pause, “Yeah, okay. Go ahead.”

Eddie ashes his cigarette and grabs his drink again, “When did you start writing?”

And Eddie keeps surprising you. For some reason, you thought Eddie would ask something dumb, inappropriate, or condescending— nothing of this matter. You didn’t think Eddie was interested in actually learning something about you.

You sigh as you think, “Well, the first time I ever wrote for myself was around middle school; I had a diary.” You respond, and Eddie’s eyebrows raise in interest, “It was lilac with a gold lock on the pages, and I carried the key around on my necklace because I was so afraid someone would get ahold of it.” You shake your head as Eddie laughs.

“Now, what in god’s name was little middle school Birdie writing about in her secret diary?” Eddie pries.

You scoff, “Like I’d ever tell you that.” You roll your eyes, and Eddie makes a sound of protest, “Come on, it can’t be that bad.” He pokes. You raise an eyebrow and glance at Eddie, “You’d be surprised by what goes through the mind of a twelve-year-old girl on the precipice of puberty. I’m taking those pages to the grave.”

Eddie laughs loudly at that, head tossing back with the action. You find it beautiful, the way his neck stretches and his skin molds against his bones— kissable and enticing.

“Okay, well, aside from your secretive diary. What made you choose this,” Eddie nods towards the journal in your lap.

You hum and purse your lips in thought, “I’ve always loved writing. I loved reading too, still do, and I tried writing fiction, but there’s something about writing people’s stories that just… feels good.” You respond.

“I know how easy it is to become misunderstood in this industry, so I want to hear the truth and help the audience see things from a clearer perspective. I want to help create an understanding if that makes sense.”

Eddie nods, eyes soft and smiling within his gaze. “That’s neat.” He comments, and you smile.

He sips his drink before speaking, “So, how did you end up writing for Rolling Stone Magazine?”

You laugh, “A shit ton of groveling, I’ll tell you that.”

You reach forward and pick up your drink for the first time, taking a sip before speaking, “I’d been trying to get an interview for the longest time, and then I finally just gave up for a while, but then my friend saw an opening a few months later and sent in one of my writings and… I guess they liked it enough to hire me,” You shrug.

“But,” you hold up a finger, “I spent a good year just running errands and shit for the managers; it was awful,” you admit. “So, how’d you end up with the big guys?” Eddie asks.

“Well, I wrote a hell of a paper and blew their fuckin’ minds.” You jokingly say, smirking over the rim of your glass as you take a sip. Eddie softly laughs and takes a sip of his drink as you place yours back down on the table in exchange for picking up your pen.

“My turn,” You remind him.

He nods, and you glance at your journal, thinking about what you want to ask next. “I know in the past you’ve mentioned that you don’t particularly release songs about your life, but you rather opt to tell stories within your music,” you mention, and Eddie nods in confirmation. 

“What’s the reasoning behind that?”

It’s a slightly more in-depth question, and Eddie has to take a few moments of silent pondering before he answers. “Well, for starters, I’ve always considered myself more of a storyteller. I like to create different scenarios and characters and find ways to bring them to life,” He begins.

You quietly jot down notes as you listen to him speak, “When I was in high school, I got really into Dungeons and Dragons, and I still love the game, but I guess you could say it stems from that— the storytelling aspect, I mean.” 

“But as for why I don’t release more personal songs… I don’t know; I guess I just like to keep a part of my life private to some degree. However, that doesn’t mean these made-up characters and scenarios I sing about aren’t in some way correlated to me,” He hints, and you nod in understanding.

“That’s neat.” You copy his words from earlier, and you both smile.

You and Eddie go back and forth with questions for a bit, touching base with topics like childhood, friendships, current projects, and such. It’s nice to have a decent conversation with Eddie, and for a moment you forget that you’re even doing your job because interviewing Eddie feels like any normal conversation you’d have— lighthearted, smooth, and innocent. Until—

“Alright, my turn. This one’s good,” Eddie starts.

You’re both two glasses in, and your cheeks feel warm from the drinks as you gesture for Eddie to go on. Eddie gazes at you and studies you briefly before speaking, “What’s going on with you and James?”

You blink in confusion, “James?” You question. Eddie nods, “Yeah, James. The photographer.” Eddie explains.

Your face twists in slight confusion as Eddie sips his drink, “What about him?” You ask.

Eddie laughs, “What’s up with you two? Are you guys together or something?”

And there it is. The game that Eddie’s been playing all along, revealed in all its true nature. 

Your eyebrows furrow in defense, annoyed with the sudden shift in demeanor, “Is that any of your business?” You question, and Eddie laughs, tapping his ring against the glass of his drink with a soft clink, “Sweetheart, it’s my business if I’m cutting the check.” He snickers.

You narrow your gaze at him, clearly irritated with his words. You don’t know why you ever gave him the chance. Eddie has only ever shown you his true colors, and he’s, more than once, told you that he doesn’t take you or your profession seriously. This has reminded you so.

“You don’t pay me,” you snap, “And I doubt you’ve even touched a check in the last three years.”

Eddie smirks, amused by your sudden frustration, “Maybe you have a point,” he relents, “But you still haven’t answered my question.” He points out.

You roll your eyes, “Why do you care, Eddie?”

Eddie shrugs, “I’m curious.” He smugly answers. 

“I don’t ask you who you’re fucking, do I?” A lousy attempt at dodging the question.

Eddie shrugs again, “You could if you want to, I don’t mind. I bet you’ve been curious to know anyway, haven’t you?” He replies.

You don’t like the way that makes your insides squirm with heat.

And you could tell him the truth. You could tell him the simple and honest answer that, no, nothing is going on between you and James. But as you look at Eddie sitting across the couch, you can’t find a single reason why Eddie should even care or why he should have the satisfaction of an answer. “Ask something else.” You say.

Eddie doesn’t waste a second to spit out his next question, “Did you like the kiss?”

“A different question.” “Those are my questions, princess.”

God, you don’t even know why you’re putting up with this. You could easily just get up and leave, but you hate to give Eddie any room for thinking he’s won whatever stupid battle this is. 

You shut your journal, refusing to stay another minute, going back and forth with Eddie. You stand and grab your bag, shoving your journal in before looking at Eddie and finally answering his original question, “No, nothing is going on between me and James.” You admit. And you think Eddie will leave it at that, but you're sadly mistaken.

“And the kiss?” He asks.

“What about it?” Your composure is beginning to falter and your frustration is seeping into your tone. Eddie’s eyes glint with mischief, gaze never leaving your fidgety frame as he speaks, “Did you like it?”

“No.”

A lie. A terrible one that Eddie can see right through.

You begin making your way to the door, but Eddie catches you before you can even lay a finger on the handle, turning you around to face him when he speaks, “You’re a shit liar.” He points out.

And he’s so close you can barely think straight with his overwhelming presence. You find your footing through the haze, gazing into Eddie’s eyes when you speak, “Did you ask me to come in here so you can answer my questions, or did you just want to waste my time?”

Eddie is silent for a long moment, eyes dancing between your wide and sharp gaze, darting down to your lips, the tip of his pink tongue darting out to lightly lick across his bottom lip. You can smell the smoke on his breath, reaching out to mix with your liquor-coated exhales.

“Did you like the kiss?”

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Eddie has you cornered now, pressed against a wall so tight you have no choice but to admit defeat, moving forward to press your lips against his liquor-slicked lips.

It’s hasty. Messy, greedy, drunk, and needy, and it rids your mind of all rational thought as Eddie presses himself against you. 

Eddie kisses you like it’s the last chance he’ll ever get, pressing into you so close you’d think he’s trying to jump into your skin. And the taste of Eddie is addicting.

You crave for more, and you’re hesitant to push, but Eddie understands the second he feels your tongue lick against your lips. He takes it upon himself to push his tongue into the warm, wet cavern of your mouth, and you happily let him. All clear thinking has gone out the window at this point, and you let your bag slink off your shoulder to plot onto the floor, busying yourself with sinking your fingers into the curly strands of his hair and gently tugging at the root. Eddie moans against your lips, and you pant, your brain going dizzy at the heavenly sound.

Eddie’s hands are eager and hungry as they rest against your hips, sneaking up your torso to squeeze and grab at your skin. And he hates the fact that there are so many layers of clothes between you, and he wants them gone.

His hand travels down the side of your body and digs into the thick of your thigh, dipping lower to catch the back of your knee and hitch your leg around his waist. You keen, pitching your hips forward into Eddie’s, and he moans, greedily squeezing your skin and gliding up your leg. Cool rings send shivers up your spine when he slips under the hem of your denim skirt and kneads the fat of your ass.

If breathing weren’t a necessity, you would kiss Eddie forever, but your lungs burn with the lack of air, so you find yourself pulling away with a wet gasp, “I—“ Eddie presses a kiss to your lips, cutting you off before you can speak and you whine, fingers moving to dig into the soft material of his open shirt, “Eddie, I can’t… I can’t breathe, I gotta breathe,” You pant.

Eddie laughs, and you smile as he trails his kisses down to your neck, licking against the base of your throat before sinking his teeth into the skin. You moan, whiney and loud in Eddie’s ear and he hums in appreciation, grumbling into the skin of your neck as he speaks, “I wanna fuck you.”

His teeth scrape against your pulse, and you gasp, head dropping back against the wall with a soft thud as your nails dig into the skin of Eddie’s shoulder. “What?” You hazily blink.

Eddie moves back to see you, lust-ridden eyes darting all over your face. And he looks so pretty, hair messy, shirt skewed against his lean frame, lips swollen and pink from kissing, and you want him. You want him to a dangerous degree.

He kisses you, muttering his words against your lips as he squeezes your hips and pulls you closer, “I wanna fuck you.” Eddie repeats.

You pant, opening your mouth against his and preparing to speak, but you’re interrupted by the door opening, the two of you jumping at the sudden intrusion, your hand swiftly shoving at Eddie’s body to push him away. 

And you think you might die because who better to walk in on you and Eddie practically devouring one another than fucking Jeff.

“Oh, shit, uh,” Jeff looks the other way as soon as he sees you and Eddie. You hastily pick up your bag and tug your skirt back down to a modest length from where it had ridden up to your hips.

You and Eddie are still breathing heavily from your extremities, and Eddie— fucking Eddie; he snickers when Jeff glances back at him and makes a lazy attempt at holding back a laugh. Your face and neck heat up in embarrassment as you shift in your spot, wanting nothing more than the floor to open up and swallow you whole.

“The car is here, man, let’s go,” Jeff snickers before leaving.

And truthfully, you don’t currently have the confidence to look Eddie in the eye and register what’s just happened between you two. So, you grip the strap of your bag and flee before Eddie can say or do anything.

You’re not sure how that happened, and you’re not sure why it makes your stomach twist in a way that makes you blush, but you like it. 

And you can’t believe yourself.

You can’t believe that you spent the entire drive to the hotel thinking about how Eddie’s hands felt on your body, his lips against the skin of your neck, or how you could feel him pressed against your thigh, begging to be touched.

When you shower, you try to ignore the throbbing ache between your legs when you think of those words Eddie whispered to you. You try to ignore it as you get ready for bed and ignore the toe-curling sensation of the cool hotel sheets brushing against your hardened nipples when you slip into bed. You try so hard; you really do.

But you can’t help it when you begin imagining how Eddie’s hands would feel across your chest, the light and rough feeling of his calloused fingers ghosting over your nipples to watch as you writhe beneath him. 

Fuck, you really try to ignore it.

But you can’t. It’s annoying, the way Eddie clouds your mind. And you feel like a bitch in heat when the only thing running through your mind and body is the burning desire to cum. And if you stuff your hands between your thighs and bring yourself to cum to the idea of Eddie and the feeling of him pressed against you with your name on his tongue, who’s to judge you but yourself?

Because despite everything your mind is telling you, you can’t help but find yourself wanting Eddie.

But all of that flies out the window the following day.

You’d decided to order breakfast to your room, and the hotel sends the daily newspaper with each meal, and you like to read it while sipping on a hot cup of coffee on your terrace. However, when you see the newsletter cover, you’re not sure you have much of an appetite for coffee.

A picture of Eddie from last night with a familiar red-headed girl wrapped around his arm and a caption that makes your stomach twist in knots. The caption, ‘Corroded Coffin lead singer, Eddie Munson, new girlfriend debut!” in bold and italicized letters.

And you don’t know why, but your stomach sinks. You should’ve known better.

————

part six

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a/n: HIII YOU MADE IT TO THE END!! i know i said there would be drama drama in this part BUT it started getting too long for my liking, SOOO THE REAL DRAMA WILL COMMENCE IN PART 6 HEHE. THANK YOU FOR READING, AND AS ALWAYS, I LOVE TO HEAR YOUR THOUGHTS SO PLS LMK IN THE COMMENTS OR REBLOGS HOW YOU FEELLL <3

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cutie lil taglist: @mastermindmiko @whataboutbibi @ryanmxrie @ihatepeanutss @tlclick73 @motherfckerrr @emxxblog @jesssssmaybankk @eddiesguitarskills @bibieddiesgf @chloe-6123 @micheledawn1975 @demxnicprxncess @emma77645 @sidthedollface2

@mvnsonslvt @s-u-t @hereforshmut @mmunson86 @welcometohellsock @lma1986 @birdsinmywalls @animechick555 @sheneedsrocknroll92 @spideydreams00 @lorosette @prestinalove @sirensleepingsoundly

#WHEWWW #LETS GET IT #PLS DONT HATE ME #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie x reader #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson au #rockstar!eddie munson #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie x y/n #eddie munson smut #eddie x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson headcanon #eddie x fem!reader #stranger things au #rockstar!eddie x reader #rockstar!eddie smut #rockstar!eddie x journalist!reader #journalist!reader

[milkywaydrabbles]

Omg the Rindou one 🫣

Could you write bf Rin again with #4 kinktober, like maybe after an argument/fight??

A/N: sheesh Rindou got me down bad rn that's crazy. Thank you for the req, I hope you enjoy it as much as I did! MWUAH

CW: toxic? (they love each other it's a work in progress), doggy, smacking, demeaning,

Hate Sex x Haitani Rindou

“Fuck you, Rin!” Another loud thwack to your ass accompanied with more wet smacks against your hips.

“That’s what I’m fuckin’ doin’, sweetheart. Or are you too stupid to realize?” He sneered behind you, shoving your face deeper into the mattress as he continued to rail you. Messing with Rindou when he was pissed was already a nightmare on its own. But Rindou when he’s pissed and jealous? You might as well have been arguing with a damn wall all night. He doesn’t like bringing you around to Bonten galas, ever. Not because he’s ashamed, or doesn’t want you around that life--he just can’t stand the vultures eyeing you up like a piece of meat all night. You were hot, the sexiest piece of ass on this side of town if you asked him. They would have to be blind not to notice how attractive you are. But that was the problem: All these men acting like leeches trying to woo you, steal you away from under him. (Of course that’s before they knew you were one of their head benefactors’ girlfriend. Happens too often for his liking).  You weren’t dumb, you knew these men kept throwing themselves at you, with empty promises of riches and a life of luxury, as if you’d ever think about being with them when you had your perfect man already. Even if you continued to push them away, each time Rin caught a glimpse of someone putting their hand on you even for a second it made his blood boil. So, he was already pissed off.

But then there was that one dickhead that wouldn’t back off. And the worst part about it is you allowed it. To your defense really, he mostly just spoke about the business, you wouldn’t dare open your lips to spill secrets but you let him talk anyways. It was seemingly innocent, he never tried touching you, he kept a reasonable amount of space, was always cordial. But he showed his true colors when he knew you weren’t watching. He’d always eye up your tits, or your ass, even being so bold at looking at Rindou right after and raising a glass in his direction with a glint in his eye. The fucking nerve got make crude gestures towards you. And then go right back to conversing like nothing happened. That was the last damn straw. Rindou was seething, seeing red, storming over to you and grabbing you by the arm, mumbling a ‘we’re leaving’ and promptly exiting the entire gala. 

“What is your problem Rin?!” You were frustrated at how he was handling you, and how he wasn’t talking at all. He slammed the door to your shared apartment so hard you swore you heard the hinges creak. “My problem? My problem is you letting that fucking asshole all over you!” He yelled back, pacing around the room. You scoffed, “oh fucking please. He only talked about his fucking business Rin. He didn’t even touch me.” 

“You should have seen the way he was practically eye fucking you, are you kidding? Or are you too stupid to realize?” You walked over to Rin ready to slap him, hand reeling back--only to be caught in his grasp and pulled forward, catching your lips in a heated kiss. It was all tongue and teeth, biting down on your lip to invade your mouth immediately after, taking over your senses.  One thing led to another, bringing you to where you are now, snug underneath him with your ass in the air and him fucking into you relentlessly. 

“You’re mine, do you understand that?” He sounded wild above you, kneading at the globes of your ass before smacking down again, causing you to lurch forward with a yelp. 

“A-and you’re a fucking asshole--ah, fuck!” It was hard to bite back when he was abusing your hole like this. Rin grabbed a fistful of your hair and brought your head up, leaning down over your body slowing down just enough to kiss you again. He liked when you fought him back, Haitani Rindou was never into submissive women and you were exactly his type. Even with his thick cock pumping into your sloppy pussy, you had enough energy to keep up with his dominating kiss. Spit dribbled from your mouths, messy--just how you liked it. A weak hand came up to grip at his jaw, nails biting at his skin as you continued to make out with him, pussy sucking him in deeper. He could feel you tightening around him, hips stuttering for a moment before keeping pace once more. 

“Asshole? Baby if I were an asshole I wouldn’t even let you cum. And this is, what, number three?” He laughed in your face, letting you go completely before straightening himself, hand wrapping around your body to rub at the now swollen and abused bundle of nerves. You practically screamed, body convulsing as he threw you into another orgasm. Rin groaned, quickening his pace regardless of how you tried to create space, feeling overstimulated. “Gonna cum in you, baby--gotta mark you inside out. You’re mine.” He threw his head back, releasing his sticky cum inside you, load so big it seeped out the sides of his dick no matter how plugged up he had you. 

The air felt less tense than it had in the beginning, only panting filled the air for a minute before you spoke. Your voice was small. “..I don’t like when we fight like that, Rindou.” You whispered into the bed, shivering when you felt him place small, innocent kisses on your back and shoulders.

“I know I’m a jealous prick, baby...I’m sorry. I can’t lose you, I don’t know what I’d do without you.” It wasn’t often Rin laid his emotions like this, so raw and vulnerable. You pushed off and managed to turn around under him, cradling his head to your chest and kissing the crown of his head. “I’m not going anywhere, Rin. You have to trust me. Ran’s right by calling you a moron if you think I’m leaving for some dick like that anyways.”

“You talk to my brother?”

“Rindou!”

#rindou haitani x reader #tokyo revengers rindou #rindou haitani #haitani rindou #rindou x reader #rindou smut #tokyorev #smut #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #milk kinktober #milk writes

[am-i-interrupting]

Hi there! Could I request fem!reader x husk reuniting in hell?

Maybe they used to be together when they were alive but then a misunderstanding happened and they split up/ or one of them just died 😭

Someone from hotel found about it, found her and brought her there or maybe she just came there and met him. Idk I leave it to you.

I know it might be stupid but I really love this trope and want to read something like this with Husk :3

We’ll Meet Again

“So,” Angel began, laying in the bar with a perfect view of Husks’s hands as he fluidly went through the motions of mixing a drink, “what’s the ring for?”

Angel had said a lot of dumb shit. Like, a lot but he’d never said something that threw Husk off enough to actually spill something.

“Fuck,” Husk grumbled.

He grabbed a rag to clean the mess. It was then Angel realized that the only reason he’d ever seen Husk grab the cloth was to clean up someone else’s mess, never his own.

Angel sat upright. “So, I’m guessing it’s personal?”

Husk looked at Angel and paused his cleaning. “No shit.” He continued on.

It wasn’t until weeks later that Angel would see Husk wasted. In fact, all the hotel residents would see Husk truly wasted for the first time.

He came in, barely able to stand much less walk and ignored everyone, promptly flipping Charlie off when she asked if he needed help, and continued to make his way to the stairs.

“Oh, yeah,” Niffty said, “it’s that time of year again.”

“What could possibly have our resident day drunk absolutely plastered?” Angel asked.

“This happens every year?” Charlie asked, much more concern coming from her voice compared to Angel’s snark which covered his own.

Alastor appeared at the end of the stairs. “Ah, the woos of a broken heart strike once again,” he said as he spun his microphone before he leaned on it, staring up the staircase. “One would think after over seventy years, he would be over it, hmm?”

“That’s not fair, sir,” Niffty said as she joined him. “She was the love of his life.”

“And his life is now over,” he said in response.

“I’m gonna go check on him,” Niffty said as she began darting up the stairs. “I don’t want to have to clean vomit out of the carpet.”

“What’s wrong with Husk?” Charlie asked, standing with her hands clutched close to her chest.

“Nothing he hasn’t faced before, my dear,” Alastor said. “It happens every year. For a week expect him to disappear for long periods of time and come back completely zozzled. Although, he may be inclined to stay if I procure him something stronger. I would love a front row seat at a stage play compared to a parade, a rather sad parade but a parade nonetheless.”

“What happened?”

“Hmm? Yes, well, I suppose you don’t know, do you?” Alastor said. “Our dear Husker used to be married, unfortunately before they could grow old together, they happened to get into a lover’s quarrel and before it could be resolved, his darling wife was murdered in a street mugging gone wrong.”

Angel felt his heart sink down into his stomach. That’s why Husk had gotten so defensive. He’d probably been trying to avoid thinking about it and there Angel went with his big mouth, bringing up something that hurt him right around a trauma days.

“That’s horrible!” Charlie exclaimed.

“Yes, indeed but life is hardly kind, my dear. Death is rather the same,” Alastor said before he went to take stock of the liquor at the bar.

It was a long time before Angel learned a name but that’s all he had to go on, was a name and a description of what you looked like with an off hand comment or two about some of your hobbies.

A year paced and Angel was on his way back to the Hotel from a long night at work when he saw a woman crying as she walked. Normally he’d walk on by. It’s not like it was an uncommon sight to see in Hell but he didn’t. Something compelled him to stop.

“You alright, toots?” he asked as he slowed down so he didn’t walk past you.

You looked up at him. You weren’t ugly crying. You weren’t really showing any emotion but Angel knew just how much of a curse it was to bottle things up. He knew a vacant cry wasn’t any less concerning than a violent one.

“I’m fine,” you said as you quickly tried to wipe you tears.

Angel’s eyes flickered down to where you were fiddling with a ring.

“Martial problems?”

You huffed a laugh. “Yeah, something like that.”

“You wanna talk about it?”

“Why do you care?”

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “Maybe it’s because I’m just bored and noisy but I’ve also been staying at the Princess’s redemption Hotel. Maybe it’s made me a more carin’ person.”

You said nothing. The two of you walked side by side for a few minutes, both going in the same direction.

“It’s my death anniversary,” you blurted out.

Angel winced in sympathy. “Those are rough. I’m sorry.”

You shook your head. “It’s not dying that bothered me. It just—“ you felt yourself getting choked up— “I died while having a fight with my husband.”

“Did he kill you?” Angel asked.

“No, no, someone else did but we were fighting and it was over something stupid,” you clarified. “I slammed the door after yelling some bad things. They were the last things I ever said to him.”

Angel’s brow furrowed. “This is gonna sound stupid if I’m wrong but,” and he asked if your name was the one Husk had given him not that long ago. When you said yes, he laughed a bit hysterically. “Fuck, I didn’t think I was right.”

You followed Angel into the Hazbin Hotel. You were wary. You didn’t believe him. You didn’t want to get your hopes up.

“Hey, where’s Husk?” Angel asked.

Charlie looked up from the charts she had spread across the table as she sat on the couch. “Vaggie helped him go up to his room not that long ago.”

“How was he doing?”

“Not good.” Charlie got up. “Who’s this.”

When Angel said your name and Charlie gasped it gave you a bit of hope. A random sinner on the street fucking with you was to be expected. The Princess of Hell who prided herself on her kindness? That’s as a bit more trustworthy.

“Here, let me take you to his room,” Charlie said as she grabbed your hand and pulled you up the stairs.

The door barely creaked as it was opened. It revealed a damn near exact replica of your home in life and on the bed was a black tuxedo cat with red wings curled up on his side.

“That’s him?” you asked, twisting your ring on your finger.

Charlie nodded. You hesitantly stepped into the room.

“I’ll leave you two alone,” Charlie said as she closed the door.

You stood there for a minute. You just stared at the cat that was supposed to be your husband. He looked so tense, even in sleep.

You took another step forward and then another until you were beside the bed. On the nightstand was a hat and tie.

You picked up the loose tie and twisted it between your fingers. For some reason you couldn’t explain, you held it up to your nose. You nearly collapsed as so many memories rushed to you from the smell, from his smell. It smelled like the same cologne he used to dot on before he went to perform or go play a round of cards at the bar.

You tried to keep the sobs bubbling up in your throat at bay but it was all for not. They came out anyway as you curled in on yourself, standing at the bedside.

There was a groan.

“The fuck?” your husband’s voice said.

You said his name, his real name and his eyes went wide as he shot up. He swayed and caught himself on the headboard.

“Am I hallucinating?” he asked.

You couldn’t get words out to answer. Instead you’d hugged him, causing you both to fall onto the mattress as neither of you had the energy to keep yourself up.

You woke up the next morning wrapped in Husk’s arms and wings. You felt safe for the first time since you fell to Hell.

You didn’t want to leave. You didn’t want to let go. Luckily you didn’t have to.

No one was surprised when they didn’t see Husk for the next week. They were surprised when he came out of his room smiling, with you by his side and he refused to let go.

#hazbin husk x reader #husk x reader

[chaussetteblanche]

"I can't do this anymore,"

pairing : hobie brown x reader summary : you can't put up with being in a relationship with hobie anymore, angst word count : 1.5k warnings : 18+ mentions of smut note : i try to make the reader as neutral as possible so that anyone can read and identify to them ! if you see anything that isn't neutral (gender, skin colour, etc.) please don't hesitate to tell me :)

When you’d first started seeing Hobie, you’d been warned by himself and some of his friends of his… particular tendencies. But you’d thought nothing of it. So what if he liked to get away from time to time? You understood, sometimes the world was too loud even for you. So what if he ghosted people for days on end at some moments? He liked his peace. So what if he would show up at your place battered and bruised? The protests you attended weren’t always peaceful either. You truly hadn’t thought you would mind it. Not one bit.

But then you’d had a breakdown one night. You’d wanted nothing more than his comforting arms around you, his soothing voice telling you that everything was going to be alright. And he had been nowhere to be found. He had vanished off the face of the Earth. And then another time, you got accepted into all the colleges you’d applied for. You were absolutely ecstatic and had rung him up immediately to tell him the good news. Once again, it was as if he wasn’t even on the same planet as you. He'd begged you to come to this one specific show and had been so excited about it, but when you had showed up, he had been nowhere to be seen. You had spent the entire evening alone. The show had been amazing, of course, but it was never the same without Hobie. You had sent him a text one evening, wanting to see if he wanted to grab a bite together the next day and he’d only answered five days later.

Even when he'd shown up at your doorstep and didn't give you time to greet him before he was on you, pushing your body flush against the wall as his hands roamed you, you didn't question it. Not even did you ask about it when he fucked you from behind, shoving his cock into your dripping hole like there was no tomorrow, his eyes glued to the spot where you met, white rings coating his dick. Or when he ate you out like a starved man trying to quench something deep inside him, making you sing and arch your back in the most beautiful way, you'd never asked. Even when he’d crashed through your window one evening, almost ripping your curtains out of the wall and staining your hardwood floor with blood, you had never brought it up again. You’d patched him up the best you could, gave him something to eat, drink, and a place to stay the night, just like you had done all the previous times. The next morning, when you’d started asking questions, he’d told you not to worry about it. About him. But that was easier said than done.

You had been willing to put up with it. Everything. No labels? Sure, of course, no problem. You understood, they were oppressing and made you expect something from the other person. You shared pretty much the same view on society and how it all could be saved, so the rest wasn’t that complicated. That drawer you couldn’t open whatever the reason? No problem, everybody was entitled to some kind of privacy. The music? You weren’t the biggest fan, but that had never been a problem, you were open to new things.

But when everything started to have an impact on you, your well-being, and your mental health, that was where you drew the line. You’d come too far to let yourself be ruined by anybody, even if that person was Hobie Brown. You loved and respected yourself too much to let yourself be destroyed by him. And that was when you knew it had to end. Whatever it had been. It wasn’t fair to you, or to him.

When he’d tapped at the window one evening, you had been slow to open it. He’d crawled inside your room and promptly sat down on the floor, resting against the wall. “Hey, luv,” His voice, although soothing as it always had been, made you tense up. “Are you hurt?” You kneeled next to him and gently took hold of his chin, lifting his face and angling to the side, looking for any kind of injury. He met you with a curious gaze, sensing something was off immediately. He knew you too well. He leaned forward to give you a kiss but you turned your head to the side, making his lips meet your cheek instead. He frowned but didn't comment. “Just a scratch,” he answered, lifting his shirt up to reveal three impressive wounds which almost looked like claw marks. You cussed under your breath and hurried over to the bathroom to pull out a first-aid kit. You dropped to your knees next to him, like you'd done so many times before that you'd become accustomed to the bruises, and started pulling out all the things you would need to treat his wound.

"How did this happen?" you asked quietly as you sprayed some disinfectant on the scratches. He looked past your head, at the poster you had on your wall. Your breathing was shallow. He didn't like when you got worried about him. He preferred your shallow breathing in other situations. "Some pig with really long nails, I guess. I don't remember all of it, honestly, t'all went really fast," You said nothing, your lips pressed together tightly. You knew damn well the wounds he came back with weren't from pigs. Of course, they were violent and sometimes lethal, and you hated them for it, but they didn't leave wounds like this. This wasn't anything human, you were sure of it. "You alright, my love?" Hobie asked after a second. You were concentrated on placing a few butterfly stitches and took a few seconds to answer.

"I can't do this anymore, Hobie," you sighed, sitting back on your ankles. He immediately sat up straighter, worried eyes looking over your face before landing on his wounds. "Oh, I can take it from 'ere, luv, you've already done so well-" "I mean us, Hobes, I can't do this," you motioned between him and you," anymore." He seemed to forget all about his injury and got on his knees, taking hold of your hands. "What do you mean by that?" he asked calmly. You hated how collected he could stay in a moment like this.

"I mean you're clearly lying to me about something. Something big, too. And you can have your reasons, I respect that, but I can't put up with it anymore, it- it's not fair to me." You cursed your voice for trembling. Your insides felt like they were on fire and you wanted nothing more than to cry in his arms. But you couldn't. You had to stay strong. "Why do you think I'm lying to you about something?" "Are you serious?" you scoffed, ripping your hands away from his and standing up. He inhaled sharply, wincing. "You show up at my window battered and bruised, saying it was pigs! You know damn well if they had actually gotten their bloody hands on you, you wouldn't be here to tell the story, and I wouldn't be here, patching you up and keeping my questions to myself, I'd be out in the street marching and screaming your name!" You were pacing around your room now, unable to keep still with the turmoil of emotions inside you. His heavy gaze followed your every movement. Your eyes burned with tears. "So, I don't know what it is, if you're a criminal or a bloody superhero, or if you get some kind of kick out of getting your ass beat, and I don't care, I just can't stand being in the dark!"

Hobie pushed himself to his feet with the help of your windowsill. He wobbled and you steadied him by reflex before pulling away, as if his touch had burned you. You ignored the hurt look on his face and the deep crease in his brows. "And- and even when you're here, with me, I feel like you're not here entirely... Like you're just- out of reach or something. And I can't take it anymore, Hobie. This whole thing, it's too much. I deserve an explanation. Or I deserve better."

You'd never seen that look on his face before. He looked like he was about to be sick. He ran a hand over his face and let out a deep sigh, sitting back down. "You're right, I'm being unfair to you. I was worried about that at first, but you took it like a champ, so I never thought about it again." "Thought about what again?" you pressed, your throat tight. "About what I was making you go through by being with me."

You took a shaky breath, feeling the pit in your stomach growing by the second. "Hobie, is there anything you'd like to tell me?" "Yeah, I think there is."

#hobie x reader #hobart brown x reader #hobie brown x you #hobie brown x reader #spiderpunk x reader #spiderpunk #hobie brown #hobie brown fic #hobie brown fanfic #hobie brown angst

[wolvesandshine]

Regulus Arcturus Black.

Sirius’s younger brother.

James knew all about him of course, even though he hadn’t spoken to him at all.

But he knew. The first time he met Sirius, Regulus was all he talked about. How he had a sweet tooth, how he liked reading french poetry, how he was good and kind and talked to house elves - the list went on.

As the year went on, James heard less and less about Regulus, and being eleven years old at the time, he wasn’t paying enough attention.

Then next year rolled around. James had spent the whole of summer alternating between dreading and anticipating meeting Regulus.

He needn’t have worried though. Sirius had shown up with a dark face and alone, and from then Regulus Black was strictly off topic.

Then Regulus Black had placed in Slytherin, and well, so much for the sweet and kind boy sirius had always talked about.

So James had never interacted with Regulus. He never had any reason to - until now.

He had seen Regulus leaving dinner early and seizing his chance, he mumbled a good bye to his friends before rushing after him.

The minute he got Regulus alone, James drew out his wand, stepping closer, letting the familiar anger wash over him. “Why if it isn’t the famous baby black.”

The boy in front of him then stiffened, looking indifferent. It boiled James’s blood. How could he stand there looking so unbothered? As if he didn’t have a part in sending Sirius bloody and halfway to death to his home.

“What? Unable to speak without darling Walburga with you?” That got a reaction out of Regulus. He started, jaw clenching and made a move as of to hex him or punch him - but then he stopped. Face going blank, before he turned around and started walking away.

That just wouldn’t do. James couldn’t hurt Walburga or Orion Black, but Regulus? Sirius wasn’t his brother anymore.

James reached forward to grab Regulus’s hand before shoving him up against the wall, wand at his face.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kill you for what you did to Sirius.” James spoke lowkey, voice shaking with barely restrained anger.

Regulus just stared at him blankly, only serving to anger James more. “What the fuck do you think you’re playing at?”

Just then, James heard noise behind him, the sound of the rest of the students leaving the great hall. But James wasn’t about to let the coward leave - consequences be damned.

Before he could do anything though Regulus shoved him, causing James to fall promptly on his arse, winded. He hadn’t expected Regulus to have that kinda strength - but then again he always defied expectations.

Within seconds, Regulus had stolen James’s wand and held both at his throat. “Is this the kind of rash decisions you’re planning on making in the war?” He jabs the wand into his neck. “What is Sirius going to do then?”

James, admittedly, feels a bit lost right now, confused in the direction the conversation is going. Regulus glances up at the increasing sounds before he turns startlingly grey eyes on James - so different yet so similar to Sirius’s. “The Potter name carries weight.Without it, Sirius wouldn’t have made it this far.”

With that he leaves James alone, dropping his wand before he walks off, smoothing out his robes, face blank again.

James stared at the retreating form. He’s starting to think there’s more to Regulus than he had thought.

#i’m so proud of this #might make a part 2 #regulus black #marauders era #marauders era funny #marauders era textpost #harry potter #jegulus #marauders #james potter #starchaser #sunseeker #wolfstar #sirius black #walburga black #orion black #remus lupin #peter pettigrew #dead gay wizards #jegulus textpost

[melodygatesauthor]

Always Yours, Never Mine

Yandere Miguel O'Hara X f!Reader

Universe Two - The Barista

Series Masterlist - Beta Read by @campingwiththecharmings

Summary

I didn’t even test the DNA analysis module on the watch before I left my universe. Idiotic? Definitely, but I was so excited by the thought of seeing you again that I didn’t care. So I tested it when I got to the new universe, using the watch to scan one of your hairs and then using that data to track you down…I can't believe I found you again.

Tags/Warnings

NSFW, dub-con due to identity issues, non-con, rape, More tags on the masterlist.

Word Count: 5.4k

It was a morning like every other.

You opened your eyes to the sound of your alarm blaring next to you. You hit the snooze button, probably too harshly, before promptly burying your face in your palms. Sometimes you thought that if you just laid there long enough, all your responsibilities would disappear. A moment later, the alarm went off again, reminding you that it was time to get up, for real this time. After fantasizing about ripping it from the wall and breaking it into a thousand pieces, you turned it off and rolled out of bed.

You stepped out into the living room, smelling the coffee brewing in the pot already. Your step-sister, and roommate, Emily, was flipping through the channels on the tv in the living room.

“Mornin’,” you mumbled, grabbing the hot cup she’d left for you on the breakfast bar.

“Morning!” She turned around to face you while you sipped from your mug. “The ‘rents wanted to go out for dinner tonight, you in?”

You groaned, trudging over to the armchair in the living room and sitting down, taking another sip of your coffee. You stared at the television idly, not really taking any of it in. You thought about your impending workday. You sighed heavily, the idea of ending your long day by having dinner with your parents exhausting.

“I don’t really want to, I’m gonna be tired after work but…I guess I can pull myself together for a couple hours.”

“Thanks, I don’t really wanna go alone.” She sniffed out a laugh, “you should bring that guy you’ve been seeing, might be a good time for them to meet him.”

You gave her the look. The look that said, ‘no way in hell am I introducing him to our parents’.

“I’m not ready to subject him to that just yet.”

“Fair,” she said with a shrug, turning the volume up on the tv and thus ending the conversation.

You finished your coffee before getting yourself ready for the day. You looked in the mirror on your bedroom door, adjusting your nametag pinned through your apron next to the Moonbean Coffee logo. The company aprons felt so frumpy on your frame and you hated the shade of brown the owner had picked out, but you supposed it was better than not having a job to begin with.

“See ya later!” You said on your way out.

You arrived just before seven for your shift. Your co-workers, Stacy and Mira, were there already, baking sweets and brewing coffee for the morning rush. You flipped the “open” sign around and went behind the counter in preparation for the under-caffeinated stampede. Stacy always made some comment to you about ‘opening the floodgates’ whenever you came in, since that was always the moment customers started pouring in.

You were sweaty by the end of the rush. It felt to you like that was often the time that he seemed to make his appearance. You’d talked to him about it before, telling him to come in first thing with the other customers if he wanted you to look your best. ‘You always look your best, hermosa’, he’d say, suave as ever.

Miguel walked in. The smell of coffee hit him like a ton of bricks, but then so did your face. 

It had been a year and a half since he’d seen you. A fucking year and a half. His breath caught in his chest and his lips parted slightly. He felt like he was seeing you for the first time. In some weird way, he was seeing you for the first time. This version of you anyway.

“Are you just going to stand there or are you gonna come get your coffee?” You giggled and started making his usual cup.

There was that sound again.

He thought he’d never hear your laugh for the rest of his days. In his universe, he’d replayed videos of when you were alive over and over to take the edge off, but nothing compared to the real thing when it hit his ears. He watched you make his coffee. You’d made it wrong, but he’d expected that when traveling to another dimension things wouldn’t always be quite right. He didn’t care, as long as he found the universe where you lived; that’s all that mattered to him.

“Are you gonna say something or just stare at me?” You laughed at him nervously.

“I’m sorry I’m just…having a rough morning,” he held up his cup, “haven’t had my coffee yet,” he said jokingly.

You’d thought about Emily’s suggestion to have him join you and your parents for dinner, and figured she was right. You liked this guy. This impossibly tall, broad, and handsome physicist who seemed to be smitten with you no matter how gross you looked after a long shift at the coffee shop.

“I’ve been thinking, and no obligation if you don’t want to, I understand, but…my parents invited my step-sister and me out for dinner tonight and…” You trailed off, feeling nervous, “do you…would you wanna–”

“Yes, I’d love to,” he blurted out.

He felt like such an idiot. It wasn’t like him to get flustered like this, but something about you made him feel like the space between his ears was filled with nothing but hot air. He saw you press your lips together bashfully, and noticed the way your eyes seemed to sparkle when you looked at him. You’d always told him that he was special to you; that he was different from other guys you’d dated, he’d just never paid attention to the small details like this back then.

“Great, it’s at the new steak place up the road from here. Six pm, please don’t be late,” you said in a pleading tone.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, honey.”

There were customers coming in and he decided it was time for him to go. He had a dinner date to get ready for afterall. The fluttering in his stomach from seeing you wasn’t something he’d felt in a long time, and he’d missed it. It was hard to break away, but he kissed the back of your hand and started to leave anyway.

“Hey!” You shouted.

He turned back around, “Hm?”

“No kiss?” You put your hands on your hips.

You…you wanted a…

He gulped. “S-sorry, thinking about work,” he lied.

He walked up to you and leaned over the counter and you took his face in your hands. 

You touched him. It had been so long since you’d touched him. 

You pressed your lips to his softly, and for a moment, he tensed. Once he relaxed, he leaned in, parting his lips and melting them against yours. He never thought he’d kiss you again. Miguel sighed with joyous relief when the kiss broke, choking back the tears that threatened to fall.

“See you later,” you said, patting his wide chest before watching him walk away.

As Miguel stepped outside and started down the sidewalk, he passed someone on his left. It didn’t hit him right away until he realized that the man was as unnaturally tall as himself. Miguel stopped dead in his tracks, looking back at the man as he headed toward the coffee shop he’d just walked out of. It was…oh no…

You looked up from the coffee cup you were putting someone’s name on to see Miguel come back inside. You smirked and let out a chuckle.

“Forget something?” You raised an eyebrow at him, unsure why he’d returned. He had a huge smile as he walked up to you and leaned against the counter.

“Hola, hermosa,” he said, “I’ll take my usual, if you don’t mind.”

“What…?” you felt uneasy.

Lots of people had memory problems right? You and Miguel had only been dating for a couple months, so you didn’t know all there was to know about him. Maybe he suffered from short term memory loss or something. Not to mention, you knew he was a scientist. It was possible he’d suffered some brain injury in the lab or something…right? You couldn’t be sure, but your intuition was telling you that something was off; stupidly, you ignored it.

“Are you feeling okay?” He asked, looking at you with concern.

You cleared your throat, “Yeah, yes I’m fine.”

You faked a smile and made his coffee…again. When you handed it to him he smiled and sipped it. That’s when you realized he wasn’t wearing the same outfit he was wearing when he’d walked out of there just a moment earlier. Something wasn’t right. Were you losing your mind? Maybe he wasn’t the one with memory issues.

Miguel was a genius on paper. He could make a device that allowed him to travel the multiverse with only one minor flaw, but that didn’t mean he was immune to idiocy. He’d just watched that universe’s version of himself walk by and go right into the coffee shop where you worked. How could he be so stupid? If there was a version of you in every universe, then it was reasonable to assume that there would be a version of himself in every universe as well.

He had to do something about the doppelganger. Miguel couldn’t let him get in the way. He couldn’t let someone else, even if it was just an alternate version of himself, take you from him.

Later that evening, you were dressed and ready for dinner. You’d managed to shrug off the weird encounter you’d had with Miguel earlier, and decided that you would wait to bring it up after dinner with your parents, if at all. You really liked him, and didn’t want to mess it up over something as silly as his, or your own, forgetfulness.

You shook your head free of the thoughts that plagued you. It was just Miguel. Normal, loving, caring Miguel that you’d known and enjoyed spending time with over the last couple of months. With a sigh, you left, heading to the restaurant where your parents were already sitting with your step-sister. You decided to wait outside for him to arrive, having texted Emily earlier to let her know that you’d changed your mind about inviting Miguel after all.

God you looked beautiful.

Miguel felt a swell in his chest as he walked toward you on the sidewalk. You hadn’t noticed him yet. You were wearing a simple black dress that hugged your body nicely. You looked like you again. This was how you’d dressed in his universe when he would take you out somewhere nice. So fucking pretty.

When you finally noticed Miguel’s lingering gaze, you felt flustered. You tried to compose yourself as he approached, calming your fluttering stomach. You didn’t want to look like a bumbling idiot, not only in front of him, but in front of your parents too.

You cleared your throat when he got closer, “Ready?”

He nodded, looking down at you, “Oh you bet.”

“Oh! You’ve got something on your…” you furrowed your brow, eyes catching on a small red smear just below his ridiculously sharp cheek bone. “I’ll get it.”

You licked your thumb and wiped the mark off his face. He smirked until he saw your thumb covered in crimson. His mind flashed back to the events that had taken place over the last couple of hours…

Miguel was waiting silently behind a wall in the kitchen, having snuck into his alternate’s apartment, watching Miguel trying to decide what tie he was going to wear to dinner with your parents in a few hours. He felt bad for a second, knowing that if this man loved you even a fraction of the amount that he did, this would be disheartening when he realized he was going to die before he got to truly love you.

For someone normally so meticulous, Miguel hadn’t really thought this through. He’d rushed to follow the man home after his meeting with you at the coffee shop, and kept an eye on him throughout the day to get a feeling for his lifestyle so he could attempt to mimic it once he eliminated this universe’s version of himself.

The time had come for Miguel to kill his other self, and nothing could stop him now that he’d come this far. There was one perk to killing his alternate: even if someone discovered the body, or some poorly disposed of evidence, all the DNA would lead back to one person…himself. So it didn’t matter if he slit his own throat, snapped his own neck, or shot himself in the head. No one would ever know.

Miguel had never killed anyone before, but the more he thought about this other man - despite that ‘other man’ being himself - touching you, the angrier he got. He couldn’t bear the idea that you, his precious girl, might be giving someone else attention, and those thoughts alone were enough to fuel the fire that brought him to the brink of murder.

Miguel must’ve been so confused. For him it probably seemed like a normal evening at first. He probably had no idea he was about to die. He was going to shower, probably stress a little bit about how to impress your parents, and then start getting ready for the dinner date. It was all normal, until the shower curtain opened and he was greeted by his doppelganger who delivered several stab wounds to the man’s chest.

Miguel wondered what his other self was thinking in those last moments as the life faded from his eyes. 

Cleanup took a while, but not so long that he couldn’t make it in time for dinner. Now he was in a predicament. You were standing there with blood on your thumb and a curious look on your face.

“Must’ve nicked myself shaving,” he chucked, rubbing his hand over his jaw, “Thank you, mi vida.”

He leaned in and kissed you, and despite him calling you ‘mi vida’, something he’d never called you before, you kissed him back. Regardless of the red flags flying in your face, you took his hand, smiled and walked into the restaurant with him to meet your parents.

Charming as always, Miguel impressed them with ease. It was like he knew them. He acted as though he were meeting up with old friends rather than meeting his girlfriend’s parents for the first time. It was so hard to find someone they actually liked so you threw every red flag of the day out the window and decided to move on. It was that simple. 

When you asked Miguel to go back to his place that evening, instead of going to your own apartment, he was thrilled. He didn’t even wait for you to get your shoes off before he had you lifted off the ground, legs around his thick torso and pinned against the wall. He hadn’t felt the wet heat of your cunt in well over a year and he was desperate.

You’d never heard him like this, so primal and hungry. His heaving breathing was almost like a low growl. He lifted up the skirt of your dress, large hands grabbing onto your hips while his mouth left heavy kisses on your neck. You didn’t care if he was acting strangely, it felt so good that it didn’t matter.

He brought you to the bedroom and fell onto the mattress with you, hovering over your body while his hands continued their exploration. He was reveling in the delicious feeling of your soft skin; the skin he hadn’t touched in too long. He was loving the taste of you, it was almost the same…close enough anyway. He wanted to taste more of you.

He pulled down the strap of your dress and bra in one motion, exposing your breast. Miguel bit his lip and looked up at you, eyes full of a dark lust. You gasped when he brought his lips over the peak, rolling his tongue around the hardened, sensitive skin there. You brought both of your hands to his shoulders, squeezing them tightly, though you knew it probably felt like nothing to the overly muscular man. He flicked his tongue over you one more time before looking up again.

Miguel wanted to taste something else he hadn’t tasted in far too long, so he kept working his way down, lifting your skirt and hooking a finger under your delicate lace panties.

“You wore these just for me, didn’t you, hermosa?”

He used both hands to rip the thin fabric covering your already glistening, slick folds. He used one thick finger, sliding it through your slit and up, brushing over your clit gently. You gasped, throwing your head back. Miguel smirked, letting a dark chuckle escape. The other Miguel hadn’t been so giving with you, had he?

He hadn’t, and you noticed right away that Miguel was acting more focused on your body than before. But when you felt his mouth come down over your mound, warm and soft, you didn’t care. Whatever it was that made him act differently, you were living for it now. Red flags be damned.

“So sweet, mi vida,” he cooed, going back in for more like he hadn’t eaten in weeks.

You were delicious, but wasn’t quite the same. There was something a little more sweet about this version of you, but it was alright. He could live with it. You still sounded the same, and you still looked the same, more or less. You grabbed onto the back of his head which made him smile against your folds. The feeling of you touching him made Miguel all the more eager to please you.

Miguel brought one of his thick fingers to your entrance, sliding it in with ease and feeling your cunt flutter around him in response. You whined, arching your hips to take him deeper. One perk to finding this new version of you, was showing himself up in the bedroom. He loved that you were coming undone under him like never before. The original you had been so used to his catering in the bedroom, but this one seemed impressed, and he liked that.

“Mm, hermosa, think you can take another one?” He asked, sliding in another finger to meet the first.

As he started pumping his fingers in and out of you, he noticed how much your body twitched and writhed. So sensitive, this one. He flicked his tongue rapidly over your swollen, needy clit. You were crying out words of affirmation repetitively, grabbing a fistful of his hair as you did. Your legs were shaking against his cheeks.

“Tres?”

He added another finger, and you were a gasping mess at his mercy. Your hole ached with the sweet stretch as he pumped his digits in and out faster. You’ve never known Miguel to do anything like this, but you weren’t complaining. This was the best sex of your life and he was still just playing with you. He curled his fingers, and you cried out, throwing your head back.

“F-fuck! Miguel…!”

He kept going, feeling the way your legs tensed and hearing the way your breathing got even heavier. His eyes trailed over your mound, up your beautiful torso to meet with your heartstopping eyes. You grabbed his hair so tight that he winced, but he didn’t stop lapping over your folds, knowing that you were about to come for him for the first time in a long time.

You’d never had an orgasm so intense it made you go cross-eyed before before, but there you were, shaking so hard you rattled the headboard. Your cunt was gushing and clenching around his fingers while he curled and dragged them over your walls through your climax. You fell back, breathing heavily, but Miguel wasn’t done with you yet.

“Come here honey,” he said in a husky tone, grabbing your hips and pulling you toward him.

Your body was still shaking from your release, and now he was running his length along your folds, collecting your arousal to make it slick. You looked up and saw him biting his lip through your tear blurred vision. You felt his tip prodding at your entrance. He so fucking big.

“Oh baby f-fuck—“

Miguel’s voice was like gravel as he pushed into you slowly, feeling your walls shift to accommodate his size. It had been so long - too long - since he’d felt the vice grip your soft pussy had around his throbbing cock, milking it for every drop you could. You cried out again, the sound hitting his ears like a symphony. He grabbed around your throat, fingers almost touching around the back, pulling you up to sit on him.

“Mm, mi vida,” he mumbled into your sternum.

He spread your ass cheeks, with both large hands, fucking you over his cock with ease. He could hardly get the whole thing inside. Your poor legs were still shaking, struggling to stay up, but he was happy to do the work. Miguel was satisfied enough to just have you in his arms again, in any way he could.

“T-too much Miguel I–”

“Shh honey, sh, I’ve got you,” he cooed, lifting and lowering you with the movement of his hips.

You grabbed onto his shoulders tightly. Miguel had never been so commanding and attentive to you before. He was sliding in so fucking deep that you felt your brain short circuit with every pass. He felt bigger than before, but you knew that was impossible. Your nails dug into the muscle of shoulders, he groaned, voice rough with arousal. He looked up at you.

“Kiss me hermosa.”

You complied, grabbing the back of his head and tangling your fingers in his hair while melting your mouth into his. You started to feel the strength come back to the muscles in your legs so you took over, riding his cock while continuing to kiss him deeply. This wasn’t the first time you and Miguel had been intimate, but you wondered why he’d held back this passion for lovemaking for so long. This was not the same sex you’d had with him just a few nights ago.

Now that his hands were free, he could feel over your entire body, letting the pads of his fingers take in every detail of your skin. It felt so soft, like it always had, smooth and warm. You started moving your hips faster, taking his cock deeper. He could feel your walls fluttering around him again.

“Gonna give me another one already, baby? Hm?” He started nipping at your neck, making you whimper and whine louder.

“Yes, oh yes Miguel!”

He wrapped his arms around you, leaning forward so that you were underneath him. He held you down with his weight, fucking you harder than you could possibly have done if you were still on top. His teeth still continued marking your neck, forcing sharp cries from your perfect lips.

“Yes, that’s my girl, oh god…honey-I-f-fuck…ah!”

Miguel’s hips came to a stuttering halt, cock pumping his hot spend into your tightly clenched cunt. Your walls were crashing over him, squeezing his cum out around the sides of his length and letting it spill onto the bedding. He didn’t want to let go of you just yet, so he held you there while you both lay in your blissed out high for a while.

It wasn’t the same…it would never be the same…but it was close enough.

That was how Miguel had managed to slide - almost seamlessly - into your life. He noticed that this version of you was more different than he’d originally thought, right down to the way you liked to do your makeup. Still, he felt that as long as he could keep you alive, and keep you safe, he could overlook some of those things. You were similar enough that he felt happy again.

He still missed you sometimes though; the real you that he’d lost, and he still mourned for that version of you. But when he looked at you now, a few months into dating this you, in your little brown barista apron with a big grin on your face, kissing him on the cheeks like he was the most precious thing in the world to you, he felt warm. It was like putting a bandaid on the wound. It would never fully heal, but this made it better.

Everything was as perfect as it could be, until one morning felt unfortunately familiar. He woke up fast, realizing he’d been sleeping with his mouth wide open on your chest.

“Good morning, handsome,” you said, laughing and wiping a bit of spit from his stubbled cheek, “You were out. Having a good dream?”

He hadn’t forgotten a single detail about that day.

He looked up at you, brow furrowed in confusion and concern. In the last couple of months he’d learned a few things about this universe. Time still worked the same as it did in his universe, but the year was 2016. It was possible that time wasn’t even a relevant factor concerning your death, but he thought that perhaps if it was relevant, he might have a chance to save you before this day would be upon him.

He had also considered that perhaps his universe had an anomaly that the others didn’t, and that was why you’d died and perhaps you’d live in this one. Maybe it wasn’t canon for you to die every time, and he’d just been extremely unlucky to be born in the one dimension that he would lose you.

But if this universe did work exactly the same, he thought he would get to prepare for this. He thought he’d get more than a couple months with you before he lost you again. He gave you a soft smile and brought the back of your hand to his lips.

“What do you say you skip work today and we stay in bed, hm?” He asked, calm on the surface but screaming on the inside for you to agree.

“Well I have to go in, my rent isn’t going to pay itself.” You slid out of bed and headed for the bathroom, leaving Miguel lying there, staring at you with desperation as you walked away into the bathroom.

“I have a good job, mi vida, I can pay your rent, you don’t need to go to work,” he insisted, getting out of bed and standing in front of the bathroom doorway.

“Not a chance,” you said, undressing and closing the door in his face.

Maybe this morning would be different. If he recalled correctly, and he did recall correctly, this wasn’t how that morning had started originally. The fact that you weren’t married was already so different, it was just that…something felt so uncanny, so similar but so…not at the same time. He opened the door.

“Have to pee,” he grumbled, walking over to the toilet.

“Oh! I almost forgot to tell you,” you said, turning knobs on the shower, “I know we said we would do dinner tonight but a couple girls from work wanted to go out for drinks tonight so I think I’ll join them, that okay?” You stepped into the warm water and closed the curtain.

Miguel pulled his pants back up and froze.

“W-Who’s going?” He couldn’t stop his shaking hands from clenching into fists.

“Stacy and Mira.” You peeked your head out of the shower curtain, “I’m really sorry, I forgot all about–”

“No,” he said coldly.

Your heart caught in your chest at his words. All this time, Miguel had surprised you by proving to be the best guy you’d ever been with and suddenly, his firm tone sent a chill down your spine. He’d never spoken so bluntly to you before, and he’d certainly never looked at you with such a dark glare as he was in that moment.

“Baby, we can go out another night, it’s not often that Stacy can find a sitter and–”

“I said no,” he repeated harshly, “I won’t say it again.”

You turned off the shower and got out, grabbing your towel and covering yourself. He was so much taller than you, but you weren’t going to let someone talk to you like that, especially someone who was supposed to be your partner. You held up a scolding finger.

“Miguel, why the hell are you acting like this? You’re not my fucking dad, you’re my boyfriend. You don’t get to–”

He pulled you in, pressing his lips to yours. He didn’t know what else to do. You were angry, and you had every right to be. For all you knew, your normally loving and considerate boyfriend had taken a controlling and dark turn, and you were upset. He thought if he could just shut you up then you might forget about it and agree. Instead, you slapped him, forcing him to step back in shock, holding his cheek where the sting remained.

“Out,” you said firmly, “you’ve been acting like a weirdo ever since the day you met my parents. I looked past it because you still seemed like a nice guy, and those are hard to find, but you freak me out.”

Miguel’s heart fell into a million pieces all around him. He held his breath, trying to keep himself from losing his temper. His chest was heaving.

“Mi vida, I–”

“Stop calling me that! I’m not your life. I’m just some girl you’ve been dating for a few months and sometimes things don’t work out. This…” you gestured between the two of you, “isn’t working out.”

Miguel would never hurt you. He would never hurt you, but in that moment he fantasized about breaking your fucking neck. It was delicate enough, he could hold it tight and make it snap with only one hand. He might even enjoy watching you writhe when he grabbed you. How dare you think you could just leave him like that.

But he didn’t have to do a thing, because he knew that you would die that day, and he wasn’t going to stop you. Not this time. Fuck this version of you.

“Fine,” he said with a malicious smirk.

After he left, you cried, but only for a short while as you finished getting ready for work. He wasn’t the first weirdo you’d dated, and you were certain he wouldn’t be the last. You were glad that Emily had stayed at her own boyfriend’s house the night before so she wouldn’t hear you and Miguel arguing that morning. The last thing you wanted to do was go to your older sibling with your tail between your legs in defeat over another loser.

Miguel watched you leave your apartment and start walking to work. He thought he might have to wait until 10:53pm to see you die, but it would seem his theory that time was completely irrelevant when it came to your canonical death was correct.

The car seemed to come out of nowhere, flying down the street without a care for who might be in its path. Some idiot was behind the wheel, texting and driving, not paying attention while you crossed. The interesting thing was, that the other two girls died too, like they had in the original universe. After hitting you, the car swerved into the storefront of the coffee shop, killing the two employees who were standing near the front door; looks like those stupid friends of yours were meant to die in every universe too.

Miguel shook his head in frustration. Of course a part of him felt sad seeing you choking on your own blood in the middle of the street while people surrounded you, as if there was anything they could do. He didn’t feel sad for you though, he felt sorrow only for himself, having wasted so much time trying to find out if you were the one he could replace you with. It would seem you were a faulty substitute, flawed in so many ways that he’d chosen to overlook, and it was time to find a new one, a better one.

And he wouldn’t stop looking until he found a sufficient replacement, the perfect one.

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