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viridescent-din · 1 year

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benevolence

you always imagined it your first kiss would be... softer, than it ends up being. but it’s joel. you probably should have known.

smut, 18+. age gap. joel is a grumpy old man who hates himself and reader is down bad.

The first time Joel kisses you, it isn’t romantic.

It’s angry - he’s angry. The clicker that just had its hands on you lies motionless a few feet away, mouth frozen in the open position it was in when Joel shot it. Joel is checking you over relentlessly for bites. He’s running his hands over your waist, flashing his light on your neck... fuck, he’s even tugging up the cuffs of your jeans to check your ankles.

“You don’t do that,” he pants, fuming once he knows you’re okay. You’re adrenalized, shaken up and not working off your best judgment. You meet Joel’s eyes.

“Don’t do what? Be on the wrong side of the room? Have the batteries run out of my flashlight? This wasn’t my fault, Joel.” Joel shakes his head, pissed, and he grips the nape of your neck. You didn’t even realize his hand is still there, sturdy and calloused. You bite your cheek. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Shut up,” Joel growls, and it makes you even more upset.

“I didn’t - stop blaming me. Stop making me feel like a dumbass, because I’m trying and I’m tired but I’m still better than half the people in the Q -”

Joel cuts you off before you can keep egging either of you on, his lips connecting with yours in a harsh and almost painful way. Your teeth clash, and Joel kisses you with so much force you almost fall, the only thing saving you being his strong arm wrapping around your back. You open your mouth, probably from shock, and Joel’s tongue does a quick sweep around the cavern when you do. Your hands fly up to Joel’s chest instinctively for balance, and you can feel his racing heartbeat under your palm. It makes you falter. You didn’t realize he was so worried.

You’re just starting to ease into it Joel stops.

His teeth catch your bottom lip as he pulls away, and you both taste blood. Joel steps away, the both of you just staring at each other, panting.

“Do you get it?” He asks, voice gruff. “Don’t fucking do that.”

You blink, years of pining and want pouring over you. You swallow, tasting just a bit of what you think is Joel.

“Yeah,” you tell him. “I get it.”

The second time isn’t any more passionate. It’s done to prove a point, just like the first.

You’re leaning against the counter as you drink at the bar, still trying to wrap your head around this actual town Tommy is living in. It feels so real - like the flashes of memory you have of the world before the outbreak. You’re shivering a bit, your hair still wet from the shower you took. The shower with warm water. Joel is back at the house Tommy and Maria gave you to stay in. He insisted you shower first - he wanted to make sure that if there was hot water to use up, it was you who got it. He sent you off to the bar with the promise of meeting you there soon.

You’re drinking a whiskey neat, not because you like the drink, but because it feels warm in your chest and you know Joel will finish it. You’re sipping on it as you talk to a few men that are locals. They’re a bit older than you, but definitely younger than Joel. They seem nice, better than the lecherous creeps you keep managing to find on your journey (infected or not). One of them works in the stables, taking care of the horses. You smile as you listen to him talk about them. You think you can remember a few girls in elementary school who had farms and horses before everything broke down.

A hand slides around your waist as you’re talking, and you have to crane your neck to see Joel appearing next to you. He’s much taller without a backpack: less weighed down. His shoulders are relaxed and broad. You forget how to breathe for a moment, utterly taken by him.

“Hi,” you say softly. Joel doesn’t acknowledge it. You can feel the anger permeating off him, it’s more present than the hand he has that’s now gripping your side. You blink. “Joel.”

Joel looks down at you, his eyes flickering back and forth between you and the men. He brings his free hand up to your face, cupping your jaw. This time you know, you aren’t surprised when his lips meet yours.

You’re pissed at Joel - you’re furious that he’s doing this again, touching you without any indication for months that it’s something he wants. You know Joel feels for you, but when he only confirms it so damn scarcely, it’s easy for you to doubt. You try to steel yourself, only let him in so deep, but Joel is already with you, whether he’s touching you or not. The two of you are permanently connected, just like anyone else who’s ever survived together. Despite your best efforts, you melt into him, holding onto the lapels of the jacket Joel told you he got from trading with Bill.

By the time you pull away, your potential friends are already muttering among themselves, making up excuses to leave. They exit, giving you and Joel the entirety of the counter. You shake your head, turning so you aren’t facing Joel. You give it a few minutes, then walk out in the direction of the house. You’ve barely made it out the door of the bar when Joel pulls you into the little alley next to it.

“Joel, stop. It’s snowing. I didn’t bring a coat.” Joel pulls his off, wrapping it around you. You scoff, but don’t turn it down. “Joel -”

“Didn’t want them getting the wrong idea.” He interrupts you. You stare at Joel, incredulous.

“And what wrong idea is that, Joel?” You ask, then don’t let him answer. “They were nice. Just welcoming one of the new strangers to town.”

“They weren’t just being nice.”

“Yes, Joel, they were. Have you already forgotten about that ambush that happened when we got here? This place isn’t about to let in any assholes. Not the type you’re accusing those guys of being, at least.” Joel sets his jaw, taking a step towards you. You back up as he approaches until you hit the wall of the bar. You let out a breathe, one you can see. It’s fucking cold. You don’t know how Joel isn’t shivering, his freshly showered wet hair glistening in the light of the few street lamps.

“They needed to know,” Joel says. He’s so close to you. You smell the shampoo and soap that Maria has given him, but underneath that, he’s still Joel. Musky and experienced. Territorial. You can’t help being mad at him, but you’re terrible at committing to it.

“They need to know what?” Joel doesn’t answer. He places his hands on either side of you, caging you in. He won’t look at you. You raise your arms, placing your hands on Joel’s. You slip your thumbs under the long sleeves on his shirt, rubbing at Joel’s lifeline. His lips part as he exhales. “Joel, nobody can know about this when you won’t even say anything about it to me.”

You expect Joel to fight, maybe chastise you, but he doesn’t. He slumps against you, head buried in your chest and arms wrapping around your torso in a crushing bear hug. You blink, caught off guard, but you recover quickly, throwing one hand around Joel’s shoulders and bringing the other to massage the nape of his neck. You can feel the fight leaving Joel, just for a moment. You wonder what’s softening him: the shower, the almost normal town, finding Tommy.

You.

Joel doesn’t do this. You don’t know anything about his life before the outbreak, but you know he hasn’t loved many people. He’s approaching this in all the wrong ways, but he doesn’t know any better. He has to re learn, and you have to learn for the first time.

All Joel needs right now is a little reassurance.

“Joel. Joel. Baby,” you whisper in his ear, pressing your lips to his temple. “They didn’t want anything from me. And it wouldn’t matter if they did. They’re nothing.” Joel’s fingers dig into your ribs, and you can tell you’re going to bruise. You don’t care. “They’re nothing. I don’t care about them. I don’t care about anyone here.”

You close your eyes, burying your nose in the side of Joel’s neck and inhaling. You let Joel surround you, take up all your senses. You posture up, taking Joel with you. You take his face in your hands, your lips brushing over his forehead, cheeks, nose. You kiss the patches in his beard where the hair doesn’t grow, and his eyelids when his eyes drift shut. You’re overcome with affection, the feelings you push down every time you see Joel forcing themselves up. You almost want to cry. “Joel, you’re so handsome.” Joel tenses, praise unfamiliar to him, but you watch as he forces himself not to reject it. His fingers find the loops of your jeans, pulling you flush against him so there isn’t any part of you that isn’t touching. You let him. You ask for it.

“They’re not you,” you promise him. “Nobody here will ever be you.”

The night at the bar doesn’t magically fix everything. But it does make it harder for you and Joel to let go of each other - metaphorically and literally - so you start to sleep with him. Every night, Joel tucks you under his arm, letting you use his steady heartbeat to fall asleep to. Every morning, you wake up with the positions reversed, cradling Joel’s head to your chest.

The first time Joel has a nightmare, you think someone (something) has broken in.

You wake up to Joel thrashing, drenching the covers in a cold sweat. You grab his shoulders and shake, putting any worries about hurting Joel aside.

“Joel,” you say, your voice shaking but firm. “Wake up. Wake up,” Joel sits up, his eyes flying open. He blinks, gathering his bearings and realizing he’s safe. You pant, reaching out to put a hand on his arm. Joel flinches, so you draw it away. “Sorry,” you apologize. Joel turns, looking at you like he didn’t realize you were there. He says your name, sounding broken.

“You’re -” he says, then pauses, trying to figure what he’s trying to say. “You’re here.” You stare at him.

“Yeah, Joel.” You say. “I’m here. I’m with you.” Joel reaches for you, tugging you close and then pressing you against the sheets. He grunts, like he’s trying to make sense of everything.

“Can I - Will you let me -” Joel searches for the words, but can’t come up with them. You just nod.

“Yes,” you tell him. “You can do whatever you need. I trust you.” Joel freezes above you, almost glaring. His hands begin to toy with the hem of your shirt, and your heart begins to pound against your rib cage.

Joel slowly pulls your shirt up, dragging his mouth over every inch of skin he reveals. His chapped lips explore every curve and softness of your belly, and when you raise your arms so he can rid you of the article of clothing completely, he does the same to your breasts. It doesn’t even feel sexual, Joel isn’t licking or biting. He’s just feeling, touching. You feel dizzy, arousal pooling between your legs. You grip the sheets between your fingers.

“I’m only good for you in here,” Joel says against your skin. It sends vibrations throughout your body, you feel his voice everywhere. You shake, but you’re not cold. He sits back on his knees to look at you, so you prop yourself up on your elbows. You blink.

“I don’t know what you mean,” you admit. Joel shakes his head.

“I’m good for you here,” he gestures to the room. “And here,” he jabs a finger to his chest, over his heart, then mirrors the action on you. It kind of hurts, but you don’t show it. “But out there? I’m not a good man,” you open your mouth to protest, but Joel shuts you down with just one look. You stay silent. “I’ve done... I’ve done some bad things. Bad enough I don’t think Tommy really wanted to see me again.” Joel shakes his head. “And I - I would do those things for you. I even want to sometimes.” Your eyes widen, and Joel sees it. He sours. “Bein’ good for you means that I’m bad for everyone else. Do you get what I’m tellin’ you?” Joel’s drawl comes out as he gets more emotional. “You need to know that. And if we’re gonna keep doing this, you need to accept it too. It might not be fair. I don’t know if it is. But this is the way things are. You understand me?”

You stare at Joel, watching him bare himself to you in a way you don’t think he’s done for anyone else in a long, long, time. You suck in a shaky breath, and swallow.

“I understand you.” You pull Joel over you, looking up at him. “I still trust you.” You tell him.

Joel lets his head drop, not letting you see him. He works his way down your chest, from your collarbone to navel until he reaches the button of your jeans. Glancing at you to tell him to stop, he strips you of the pants when you don’t. You watch as he looks at you, staring at your most intimate area, and then presses his face to the inside of your thigh. He strokes your calf.

“You don’t what you’re gettin’ yourself into.” He murmurs, almost absentmindedly.

“Yes I do,” you protest. “I’ve been with you for years, Joel. I know you as much as you’ve let me. Let me know more. Let me decide for myself.”Joel holds your gaze. You pant, throbbing. “Let me give something to you. If you don’t think I know you, or us, that’s fine. It makes me sad, but it’s fine.” Joel presses an open mouthed kiss to the meat of your thigh, and you whimper. “I know myself, though, Joel. I know what I want. It’s you. I promise. I’m trusting you, Joel. Can’t you just trust me too?”

Joel looks at you in awe, and then gives you an affectionate frown. He doesn’t say ‘okay’ or anything like that. Instead, he just ducks his head, thrusting his tongue into your sex like a starved man, and holds you down as you keen and shake.

Joel used to refuse to give you any sort of heightened affection, any type of intimacy. He’s getting better at that. Joel strokes your cheek when you wake up in the morning, offers you bland but hearty oatmeal when he notices you haven’t eaten. He drops to his knees the second he sees that your shoe’s come untied.

He doesn’t like it when you try to do the same. Joel’s self-hatred is so deep seated he thinks the very act of you loving him is equivalent to any act of service. When you finally convince him to let do something for him - helping him undress, washing his hair, taking his cock down your throat - you have to promise him you want it too. Only once it’s happening will Joel let himself take. He’ll stay in the shower for hours, fuck your mouth until you can’t speak.

Joel is greedy when he lets himself be. That’s why it hurts so much that he won’t have sex with you.

“It’ll change things, baby.” He tells you, trying to ease the blow. You just don’t get it.

“We’ve already changed them.” You respond, looking away. “I don’t... I don’t want to pressure you, Joel. Just tell me if that’s not what you want.”

“Hey,” Joel grips your jaw, forcing your eyes to meet his. “That’s not it. Don’t you think that.” You swallow, but nod, accepting Joel’s words. He releases you, then begins petting your side. It’s spring now. Joel looks good under the morning light from the window. “You’re sweet. You couldn’t pressure me into anything.”

He’s right. Joel is his own man. His days of being easily influenced are long gone.

You learn to live with it, this tiny piece of rejection. You accept that there’s something about sex that’s too much for Joel. It’s strange, because it almost hurts more than it did before you and Joel got closer. Like you’re close enough to grab what you want, but can’t quite. It’s okay, though. You want him enough to accept whatever he’ll give you, and parts of Joel is better than none of him.

You wonder if the two of you have settled. You’ve been in Jackson for six months - but it feels like years. For the first time since you can remember, you’re living instead of surviving. It’s exhilarating. You and Joel are both showing signs of domesticity: the callouses on your hands have almost entirely disappeared, and Joel’s face has gotten a bit rounder. A couple extra pounds looks good on Joel. You like knowing he isn’t running himself to the bone.

With all this extra time, Joel has started taking you out of the town so you can perfect your shooting. He sets up targets, adjusts your grip, and watches you for what seems like hours. You’re getting better, but the process is painstaking. Everyone back in the QZ knew you were much more adept with a knife.

“Knife ain’t good for infected. You have to get too close.” Joel tells you, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. His hand snakes around your hip, pulling your knife from your front pocket. He tosses it to the side. “Now you don’t have a knife. Just the gun.” Joel points over your shoulder and at the target. “Shoot.”

You hit the target five times in the row.

You squeal in excitement, jumping up and down and dropping the gun. You turn around and practically jump into Joel’s arms. You’re grinning, and Joel is almost smiling, which for him is a huge victory. He cups your face, thumb stroking your cheekbone before he kisses you.

You’re still smiling into Joel’s mouth, and he’s swallowing your moans as one of his hands drops from your face to your chest. He finds the hardened bud of your nipple even over the material of your shirt - you never wear bras anymore, you haven’t felt the need since coming to Jackson - and he pinches. You whimper, pleasure shooting through your veins. Joel is hard, you can see the tent in your pants, feel it against your belly. When he breaks the kisses, Joel keeps himself pressed to you.

“I need this too, baby. I need it too.” You can hear the fight in Joel’s voice, the inner turmoil. You try to say okay, but can’t find the words.

Joel picks you up, throws you onto your shared bed. He’s being reckless - he literally tossed the gun on the couch in the living room. It’s not loaded, but still.

Joel stands back, breathing slightly erratic, and stares at you. He eyes you hungrily, like a starving man.

He’s about to indulge.

Joel pulls his shirt over his head, and you do the same, shimmying out of your jeans. You freeze when when Joel takes off the last item of his clothes, staring. You swallow.

Joel is beautiful.

You push yourself up, crawling to the edge of the bed. You place your hands on Joel’s sides, looking up to meet his eyes. He gives you an affectionate frown, stroking your cheek. He’s so broad. You press your lips to Joel’s collarbone, then cover him in your kisses. You kiss his neck, shoulders, chest, belly. Joel groans, his hand tangling in your hair. His cock is hard against his stomach, and you give the head a quick lick, cupping his balls. Joel’s eyes fly open, and before you even know what’s happening, he’s pressed you flat against the sheets, pinning your arms above your head.

“Don’t,” Joel warns you. “It’s been too long. And you’re -” Joel cuts himself, dragging his tongue over your throat to catch a bead of sweat. He presses his length against your hip, and you gasp. “You touch me like that again and I’ll cum.”

“Joel,” you whisper, but he just shakes his head. He holds his palm out in front of your face.

“Spit,” he commands. “You’re gonna want to make it easier on yourself, darlin.’” You take a breath, your chest brushing Joel’s. You squeeze your legs together, searching for any type of friction. Your face burns. “C’mon,” Joel says, softer this time. “I’ve seen you sweatin’ with blood caked in your hair. I’ve seen at your worst. Right now I’m seein’ you at your best.” A small smile manages to crinkle the edges of Joel’s eyes. “Nothing to be embarrassed about here.”

You blink up at Joel, and realize you feel exactly the way you always do around him: safe. Free, supported. You don’t have to worry about anything, not looking pretty or being good enough. It’s Joel.

You’re with Joel.

You spit in his hand, then watch as he strokes his cock with it. He spreads the beads of pre cum on his head down the shaft too, and then runs himself through your folds. You keen instantly, the feeling unlike anything (anything) you’ve ever felt. When Joel’s head brushes your clit, you feel like you’re dying. He lines himself up, teasing your entrance, and when Joel slides in, he keeps a careful watch of your face for any signs of pain. He takes care of you.

Joel stays still to let you adjust, and you feel him everywhere. Your body, your brain, your heart. Joel is all encompassing. He’s inescapable.

When you give Joel a small nod, he starts to move. He thrusts in an out, setting a steady pace. You grip the muscle of his arms, arching your back to get him deeper.

“That’s it,” Joel tells you. “Good job,” you clench around him at the praise, and you think you hear Joel let out a chuckle. He keeps working you open, each thrust a bit deeper until he’s buried to the hilt. You and Joel stop, both feeling. He lets out a breath, drops his face in your shoulder. Joel pulls out, then enters you again, burying himself once more. “I missed you,” he says into your skin.

For a moment, you don’t know what Joel’s talking about. You’ve been traveling with him for years, and since living in Jackson, you’ve hardly left his side.

Then you realize this is Joel’s way of telling you you’re familiar, and part of him.

You wrap one of your arms around Joel’s shoulders, link your ankles behind his hips. You pull Joel impossibly close, so close he has to abandon his idea of rubbing his thumb over your clit. He does the same to your nipple instead, pinching and pulling and driving you closer and closer to the edge. You feel sensation building in your stomach, the edges of your vision blurring.

“Joel,” you gasp. “Joel, I think.. I think I’m close.” Joel shushes you, brushing baby hairs off your forehead.

“It’s alright baby, let it go. Let me make you feel good.” He tells you. All it takes is a few more sweet nothings before your shuddering against him, riding out your high. Joel’s eyes roll to the back of his head as you clench him impossibly tight. He curses. Without a word, Joel pulls out before he can climax inside you, spurting on both of your stomachs. He collapses next you, his hand finding yours and squeezing it.

“I’m sorry it took so long,” Joel murmurs, dragging his lips across your knuckles. You can feel his cum begin to dry on your stomach. You hum.

“Worth it,” you manage to whisper back. “You’re worth it, Joel.”

Joel turns his head, meeting your eyes, taking in all of your sincerity. For know, he doesn’t know what to do with it. But he’ll learn.

He’ll re learn. All of this - these ideas of love and mutual partnership - he’ll make it familiar again. All so he can stay close.

#joel miller #joel miller imagine #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us imagine

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teaspoon-full-of-sugar · 10 months

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tangointhenight

pairing: harry styles x reader (au)

warnings: idiots in love trope, long-distance fwb (sounds weird but it makes sense just give her a read luv), switch!harry and switch!reader, detailed descriptions of female and male masterbation, maladaptive daydreaming during a fanfic, mentions of exhibitionism, edging, one singular ‘daddy’, cum swapping, breeding kink, praise kink and degradation, rope play, spitting, choking, mutual masterbation, overstimulation, use of toys (vibrator mostly), crying after sex (iconic)

word count: 13.3k

synopsis: harry records erotic audios, and y/n is an avid listener

author’s note: hello nasties, here’s another filth fic for ya! this has been a long time in the making, and i am so sorry i have been mia for so long, but i am back for the time being to give you this fic. i have wanted to do something like this for a while now, but it’s been a struggle (lots of blood, sweat, and tears put into this). i’m kinda proud of her to be honest, and i hope you enjoy :)

tags: @victoria-styles

masterlist

—

Y/N finally sinks into her mattress after yet another tiring day. She can hear her roommate on the other side of the wall, chatting with her girlfriend over the phone, blissfully ignorant to the fact that she currently has a hand teasing the band of her sweatpants while the other scrolls aimlessly through her phone.

Exhaustion burns behind her eyes, but there’s a desperate ache in her belly, one that demands satiety. She opens the internet app to find it unchanged from the night before, still lighting up in the profile named tangointhenight. His profile picture is a tantalizing photo of his hand, splayed across his thigh, which are clad in tight, floral printed pants, doing wonders for the very prominent bulge. Pieces of paint linger on his thumbnail, a pretty pale mint color, and his skin, tanned with faint freckles and etches of dark ink, looks tempting in the golden light. At his wrist is a braided twine bracelet with cheap beads that have letters that she can’t make out, which looks old and wilted.

She scrolls down, only lingering for a moment to appreciate the photo one final time.

There are some cute little posts and polls in addition to his erotic audios. The newest one, posted just that afternoon, warns not to listen to this in public with a series of cute little emoticons following. If there’s one thing she’s learned about Tango, that’s what she and other listeners call him, is that he’s a bit of an exhibitionist; his audios tend to lean toward nearly getting caught or even being caught (oftentimes leading to a “helping out” situation). She honestly wasn’t into that sort of thing until he started talking about it, and now, she finds it incredibly sexy, the thrill of the quick high and the fear of being caught in such a vulnerable moment.

She’ll definitely have to give the new audio a listen on one of her morning commute trips to the university; perhaps, she could give it a listen while she waits for her class to start, his deep voice teasing and coaxing her into an aching mess. She hopes that it’ll leave her trembling and throbbing for the rest of the day. She wonders if she’ll be able to make it until night before she has to finish herself off or if she’ll have to sneak off to the restrooms during one of her seven minute breaks, foot propped up on the toilet paper dispenser while she rubs herself to her bitter end.

She scrolls down a bit, passing over audios that vary from pillow talk to a dirty fuck in back alleys, before tapping on the familiar link, purple from use, the description teasingly saying: we’ve been visiting my mum for a week, and I haven’t been able to taste you... I guess we’ll just have to be quiet.

It’s one of the first audios she listened to when she was just discovering this new world of pleasure, so it has a special place in her heart. It’s one of his firsts from nearly a year ago, of fuzzy listening quality and nervous voice, but she finds his ramblings endearing; although, admittedly, she thinks anything he does is cute.

She tucks in her earbuds and presses the play button. Tossing the phone to the side, her eyes flutter closed, visions of white dotting through the darkness as they adjust. There’s a subtle cracking sound that indicates that it has finally loaded, and a fuzzy droning sound filters through the headphones. There’s a fan going in the background; it squeaks and grumbles nearby. A door creaks open, one of those fake sound effects that you can buy, but she appreciates the effort.

“Hey, lovie, feelin’ better?”

His familiar voice floats through her ears. She settles even more into her sheets. His voice is a nice, hot cup of tea at the end of a hard day, a drug that leaves her head foggy and senses dulled. His voice reminds her of sleep: deep, soothing, persistent, yet ever fleeting. She yearns for it, like being able to listen to that one mazing song for the first time again or the feeling of sunshine after the long winter months. His voice is intoxicating, reaching a baritone timbre that she can’t quite put to words.

At first, she wanted to put a face to the man who hummed sweet nothings in her ears, who coaxed her to oblivion for nights on end. Now, she’s at ease with never knowing. It keeps things interesting, and she doesn’t think about it as much anymore.

“If only mum wasn’t home, maybe we could’ve snuck a quick one in the shower,” he says. She smirks, picturing him tucked into his childhood bed, a cozy twin that would be a struggle for the both of them to fit in, and he has his old quilt tucked up to his neck, leaving his bare feet exposed because of how little it is.

There’s a moment of silence, then a cute little laugh.

“I know. You wouldn’t want to sin in her godly home, but she loves you, probably more than me. I don't think she would think any differently of you.”

Another beat of silence, then his voice catches in his throat. Y/N smiles softly as he stutters pitifully, slowly, struggling to find his words.

“N-no, y’know tha's not how I meant it,” he says. “Like, she loves you more than she loves me. Not that I don’t love you as much as she does.” He moves, the rustling of his sheets crackling in her ears. She can hear his hand run over his stubble, nails scratching over short little hairs. She wonders if he usually grows out his facial hair or if he’s the type to keep clean shaven.

“She couldn’t possibly love you more than I do.” The bed creaks as he shifts again. “C’mon, babe, join me. ‘S all nice and warm.”

She herself burrows further into her blankets, knowing full well that she’s probably going to be kicking them off in a few minutes. She turns to her side, blinking her eyes open, trying to immerse herself into the fantasy.

“‘M glad you got time off of work to come here with me. I know you could've been spending time back home, but you came here with me instead.” His voice is closer than before, however whispered. Every accentuated vowel that passes through his lips is like a breath of fresh air, and she hums quietly at the sound.

“I really appreciate it. ‘M glad we got to spend this time together.”

She imagines that he tucks her into his neck, coddling her while his fingers trace over the curves of her face, from the furrow of her brow, down to the apple of her cheeks, before stopping at her lips, lingering only momentarily before his thumb would push just past them.

He chuckles suddenly.

“What does it look like I’m doing? Jus’ lovin’ on my girl.”

His short pecks turn into slow, passionate kisses, deep sighs of relief falling from his lips, and she swears she can almost feel his breath on her skin, nose pressed tight to the pulsepoint in her neck as he sponges his lips over her collarbone, teeth nibbling lightly. She tugs the tee up from where it’s settled at her hips to where the curves of her breasts begin, the material squeezing them tightly to her chest. The sensitive skin aches under the tight pressure. She teases her nipples through her thin bra, feeling the tenderness coax chills down her spine.

“Please,” he whines. “Wanna taste you. You can be quiet. I believe in you, love.”

She could picture him now, chin resting on her stomach, eyes pleading with her. She would flick his head at the patronizing tone before brushing her fingers through his hair. Would he have short tuffs or long tresses that she could run her fingers through after a long day, breaking apart the knots that accumulate throughout the day? Does he have pin straight, dark locks that are cut close to his scalp or sand coloured curls that fall gracefully on his forehead? Perhaps, he has a bit of gray peaking through his hairline to match his wise and weathered voice. She could almost moan at the thought. She has always had a thing for older men.

Tango says something, but she can’t really hear it, his words muffled by her racing heart. She pries her pants down shaky legs, leaving them dangling around her ankle, and her fingers work quickly in massaging her puffy clit, arousal wetting the tender skin. Not one for having much patience, she doesn’t wait for him to finish worshiping her body with his mouth before she is rubbing herself through her panties, feeling the cold wetness on her fingertips. Eyes closed, her head falls back on her pillows, legs tensing when she stops suddenly.

“Pretty thighs,” he mumbles to himself between kisses, and she could almost feel his tender touches on the backs of her thighs, which tremble with anticipation. A wetly placed kiss followed by an appreciative hum signals his final descent to her cunt. The sound of languid licks are nearly enough to make her finish, walls clenching miserably around nothing. Fingers slowing close to a dead stop, barely more than a faint fluttering on her sensitive skin, she attempts to collect herself, but it’s difficult when he moans once again, muffled by his furiously working lips.

“Love your pussy, baby.” She melts at his words, eyes rolling back as waves of pleasure rack through her body, hips stuttering in time with each flick of her wrist. “So warm and wet and jus’ perfect for me.” His voice, low with need, makes her throb, arousal slipping into her panties.

She’s close already, an unfortunate effect he has on her. Barely five minutes into her alone time, and she can feel the orgasm begin to build, like an unyielding inferno spreading through every nerve. The stress from her day, the exhaustion with the world, everything melts into just one prominent feeling threatening to burst from her pores. She has to force herself to stop before she falls over the edge in order to draw out this experience as much as possible. She nearly cries out when she pulls her hand away altogether, her poor, puffy clit throbbing painfully.

This continues for a while, the undulating waves of a blistering release and the torture of a cut off orgasm, until the air becomes thick, her heaving breaths heating her empty room.

“There’s my good girl,” he says. “Use me, lovie. Want you to choke me with your pretty thighs.”

His voice is more firm this time, and she could only picture his baleful eyes staring up at her, eager to please her and guide her over the edge. It makes her wonder what they look like; she wonders if they’re a soulful, deep chocolate that darken with lust, a pale blue that reminds her of warm afternoons, or a striking hazel that flickers with green hues in the light.

No matter the color, she is sure that they’re undoubtedly pretty.

“Please,” she whispers faintly.

“More? You want more, my greedy girl?” She nods pitifully, feeling the orgasm build quickly in her belly before she stops once again, fingers pressing into her throbbing clit. “You want my fingers?”

Her walls flutter fruitlessly for some sort of release, for some sort of stimulation. He moans out sharply.

“Feel so good, babylove,” he coos. “So warm and wet f’me.”

She wants to slip her fingers inside, to tease and massage that tender spot that she can barely reach until she struggles to breathe. She wants to feel full, but she doesn’t want to take care of the mess, and it surely won’t be comfortable sleeping in wet sheets. The wipes hidden alongside her other secret toys, beneath mounds of socks and crumpled underwear, do little to take care of the arousal that has pooled between her legs.

She fishes around her bedside table, fingers raking through bundles of panties to find her vibrator, a cheap little thing she got in a set when she first moved into her apartment. Unfortunately, she ran through the other ones that were in the set, and this is the only one left.

She nestles the vibrator on her swollen clit and ticks it on to the lowest setting. This stimulation is different than before; a vague rumbling rattles her bones, making her lips tremble, with choked cries teetering on her tongue. Obscene wet sounds fill her ears, and for a moment, she wonders whether they are coming from the audio or from her dripping pussy, and her thighs tighten around her wrist. She could only imagine the sight of his hands splayed over her hips and on her belly, perfectly pastel painted nails pressing into her wet skin. The shifting of her mattress worries her for only a moment, but her shame melts away, and she loses herself in the sound of his heavy, stifled groans, as if he is truly choking on her. The addition of the vibrator only serves to tease her more as she inches toward the end, brutally building in slow, abrupt waves. She struggles to swallow her whimpers.

He spits suddenly, and her hips jut forward at the sound, an erotic display of dominance, but he makes it seem like such a tender act; she could just melt.

“Can you take another?”

A beat of silence and a sharp intake of breath, squelching sounds growing louder.

“No? That’s alright, lovie, just two, then,” he coos. Her toes curl up a little at his words, hips rising from the mattress. On any other night, she would have craved more; she would have wanted him to coax her open with him telling her that she can take just one more and that she’s his good girl. It’s sad to be turned on by a man simply respecting her limits, but her clit throbs pitifully and some arousal slips out into her underwear.

“Gonna come for me, babe?” His words are slurred and wet. “Make me proud.”

Chills rushing down her spine, her body curls into itself, eager for her release. She wants to come so badly; she wants to feel the pleasure for days afterward, to tremble around her hand until she can’t take it anymore, to come until she’s seeing stars. She wants to make him proud, but she knows that she can’t come yet, or else she won’t be able to hear him finish. She doesn’t have another orgasm in her tonight, and she wants to prolong this experience as much as possible, even if that means holding out on her orgasm. The world spins behind her tightly screwed eyes as she slows her ministrations, the vibrator ticking back down to nothing. Her body reacts before she can even consider the loss, her hips bucking against the toy, attempting desperately to find that little bit of stimulation she needs to finally reach euphoria.

His lips smack loudly as he presses simulated kisses to skin, pulling her back from her foggy mind.

“So good f’me, pretty,” he says, words muted by skin. “So good. Hmm, I knew you could be quiet.” His kisses are slow and tired, unlike before when they were rushed and eager. His mattress grumbles as he moves once again, taking his time to, presumably, trail up the length of her trembling body until they’re suffocating in each other's embrace.

He sighs behind closed lips, heavy and wanton, and she can picture him working his hips into the mattress to find some sort of release. She would pull him up until he was right between her aching legs and press her lips to his neck, feeling his pulse jump at the contact. She would cup his cock through his thin pair of pajamas, teasingly massaging him until he just couldn't take it anymore, caution flying out of his mind as he is overcome by thoughts of her name, her skin, simply her. Trying to form a coherent thought, he would barely be able to hold himself up. She moans quietly at the thought.

“Babylove, we can’t—” He moans, his deep voice splintering. “I don’ know if I’ll be able to control myself.”

She has listened to this audio enough to know what to say to fill the silent gaps to fulfill the ultimate fantasy.

“Please,” she whispers into the dead air, barely audible over her roommate's voice in the next room. “Wanna feel you.” She wishes he was there for her to whisper in his ear, her fingers running up the plain of his back, feeling the heated skin tense at her words. He would quirk an eyebrow.

“Yeah? Y’wanna feel my big cock in y’tummy, pretty baby?”

“Yes,” she whimpers quietly, suddenly very aware of how much she truly wanted to be filled, to have him so impossibly close to her.

“Y’know I can’t say no to you.” She can hear the smile in his voice. She wonders what it looks like, if he beams with an eye-searing grin, his face splitting with happiness, or if he has a shy little smirk, just barely toying on his lips. She likes to think that he has a beautiful smile, filled with warmth and love. She melts a little, a rush of adrenaline coursing through her limbs to the tips of her fingers.

“Get on top.”

She does, eyes still closed as she sits and kneels on her mattress, one hand still between her legs, trying desperately to catch her poor, swollen clit at just the right angle that will leave her thighs quaking, her stomach clenching. Her underwear, which are still stuck around her knees, stretch and snap as her thighs slip and spread further on the sheets.

He moans sharply, and she can feel her hips unconsciously move, as if to pull that sound from him once again. The low vibrations from her little handheld leave her aching for more, nothing more than a faint rumble, but if she flicked it up to the next highest setting, it would surely be heard through the thin walls. Besides, she loves the teasing nearly as much as she hates it, just pushing to the brink before the rush subsides and settles into a quiet lull. Speechless, she gasps for air as yet another jilted orgasm subsides.

She works her hips slowly, careful of the squeaking of her mattress; there are only so many noises that can be passed off as her simply shifting around in her sleep. Her wrist aches at such an awkward angle, but she continues, the burning euphoria just beyond the horizon. He moans, and she nearly follows him, a crest of a cry nearly bursting from her chest but it comes out as a small whimper. She pushes her earbud deeper into her ear, as if to pull him closer.

“Sorry, jus’ feel so good,” he says sheepishly, and she can tell that he’s biting his lip by the faint lisp in his words. It would be torture for the both of them, to be so close but unable to move any faster or harder to finally reach the deepest, most pleasurable part, just barely scratching the itch for intimacy. He whimpers pitifully, and she thinks she might fall apart at the sound, but her stupid vibrator leaves her teetering back and forth between over the edge. She wiggles her hips to try to get a better angle, but with just a hint of stimulation, it’s a torturously slow build up.

“There it is, pretty,” he says, breaths faltering. “That’s the spot. Make yourself feel good, lovie. Use me.” Her legs ache at the awkward angle, trembling with overexertion. She wishes that she could let go of it, leaving it on the mattress with her pussy and thighs holding it in place, so she can grind on it, unhindered by her own body’s exhaustion, eagerly chasing her high. It would also free her hands to tease her breasts again, pulling and pinching at her hardened nipples.

“Love the way you feel, babylove,” he whispers. “Fuck, so wet f’me.” He curses again and again, as if no other words can properly describe the feeling of her, so soft, so warm, so fucking good. She could only picture him in abridged visions, his undoubtedly pretty lips parted with his pretty whimpers sneaking through, his features pinched in pleasure. Her eyes roll back as her orgasm quickly approaches.

“‘M gonna come,” he says suddenly. “Are you close, too?” She whimpers, arousal slips down her swollen lips and into her furiously working fingers, eager to finish alongside him. “Yeah? Y’gonna come with me? Y’gonna come on my cock, pretty?”

She is so close, so unbelievably close, and she struggles to relax her muscles to hold off for just a little longer.

“So fuckin’ good, such a good fuckin’ girl,” he says sharply. His mattress squeaks now, unable to hold back the sharp jolts of his hips, and he lets go of all inhibitions, moaning freely. She could imagine his hand tracing up her belly, cupping her swinging breasts, and he would suckle on her nipples until her fervent hips faltered. He would brush his hands up the curve of her back, digging into the muscles of her shoulders until she fell forward. Faces nestled together, interlocking like pieces of a puzzle, they would breathe each other in, savoring such a close moment of intimacy. It would feel like a lifetime as they waited with bated breath, using each other to get the most pleasure possible.

She comes when he does, holding her breath to keep the moans from slipping, which makes it all the more euphoric, the chance of nearly getting caught at her most vulnerable and the faint lightheadedness making her vision foggy. Her orgasm leaves her legs trembling, slipping away from her still buzzing toy, falling forward into her sheets. She breathes in sharply, barely holding back a pained cry; fat tears of pleasure soak into her blanket as euphoria crashes and beats into her muscles. The heart-racing, earth-shattering, limb-thrashing orgasm makes her chest heave. Just like she wanted, she is left spent on her mattress, the powerful rush still lingering in her trembling body.

She flips onto her back, quickly pulling her bottoms back up onto her hips. In her drunken stupor, her earbuds fell out, and she can vaguely hear Tango’s praises. She picks her phone back up, eyes straining under the bright light, and closes out of the audio.

Her head is light, foggy with the residual high. A dazed smile flickers over her lips, exhaustion settling deep in her bones, finally satiated by her orgasm.

She scrolls through his account once again, this time reading through some of his other posts, like links to playlists and cute stories. Suddenly, the little message icon in the corner looks so appealing, teasing and taunting. Perhaps, she’s feeling a little giddy from her high or maybe it’s from the exhaustion, but she can’t seem to find a reason to not do it.

She sends him a message.

Meanwhile, Harry stares at the blinking cursor petulantly. It taunts him amidst a sea of white, a blank canvas in what should have been a completed midterm paper that’s due in a couple of days. His eyes sink closed, and he starts to drift off, only waking when his hand slips from his cheek, knocking his glasses askew. An old sitcom plays in the background, the canned laughter providing a break in the silence every five seconds. He sighs for the billionth time that evening, struggling to find motivation to even think at this point.

His phone dings, and he happily divulges the distraction, his brows furrowing as he reads a direct message from a user called honeyhi. He’s used to getting comments on his post, with the occasional direct message (which he usually deletes instantly because of poor past experiences), and now, he usually doesn’t think much of them. He isn’t doing it to gain anything from anyone. He just wants to put his thoughts out there, and it’s just an added bonus to get validation from beautiful people.

She doesn’t have a profile picture, not uncommon on that corner of the web, especially since his posts aren’t a lot of people’s taste. He wouldn’t usually indulge in them, deleting them usually instantly, but something compels him to open her message.

Not to be too forward, but I had the best orgasm of my life, listening to your audios. I’ve listened to your audios for a long time, and honestly, listening to you has become the highlight of my evenings ;)

Honey, you have no idea what that means to me.

Truly, his heart swells at her sweet words. It’s nice to get complimented on something you put so much effort into. He bares himself for strangers, expressing such an intimate part of himself for their shared pleasure, and it feels reassuring to get compliments.

I mean it. Also, Tango in the Night is arguably one of Fleetwood Mac’s best albums. Definitely top three.

Most people assume it’s a sex thing.

I wonder why.

He laughs a little at the dry comment.

So, what are the other two in your top three albums?

Pre or post Stevie Nicks?

Post, of course. What kind of question is that?

That was a test. You passed. I think we’ll get along just fine, Tango.

I think so, too, Honey.

—

Y/N rushes past the postman, nearly toppling over when her bag shifts slightly on her arm, her thick binders peek out of the top and dig into her arm. Her hand furiously slaps the elevator button, and she stands impatiently, her dangling keys shaking at her hip. The doors tremble as the weight teeters down to the main floor, far too slowly in her opinion. For a moment, she considers just running up the three flights of stairs to her floor, but that feels a little too eager.

She and Tango have their weekly phone call tonight, and her classes ran long today; that coupled with the stand-still traffic made her more anxious than usual to get home. She always calls first, since her schedule is the most complicated, and she’ll feel absolutely awful if she was late for their call. She feels silly getting worked up over such a small thing, but their friendship progressed beyond the occasional messages in the past month, and she honestly looks forward to their weekly talks. Tango is such a beautiful and humble person, and he is such a stable place of comfort. She knows that he will be understanding and have an independent, secondary perspective on any situation.

He is someone she can rely on for just about anything.

The bell dings above her, and the elevator doors finally part. After barreling inside, she sinks against the railing, glancing at the time, which is still just before her usual calling time. She sighs sharply when the doors begin to close, relief tugging on her shoulders.

However, a hand pushes through the lift’s doors before they can shut, and she bites back an irritated groan; she probably could have made it to her apartment by now if she had ran up the stairs. The man slides in and gives her a grateful nod, accompanied by a small smile. Much to her delight, he presses the ‘close door’ button quickly, and they’re met with no interruptions this time. It’s a quiet ride, despite her nervous feet tapping, and he taps away on his phone,

She admires him out of the corner of her eye, forgetting momentarily about her anxiety. Half of his hair is pulled back in a small bun, exposing the darker locks underneath, and a bandana pushes back the frizzy flyaways that would normally frame his face. The thick strands curl slightly at the ends; there’s one tight coil that she wants to tug on. She could easily become enamored with him, with his pretty green eyes and day-old stubble. His bag has H.E.S embroidered on the bottom corner. A coral colored, gem necklace rests beautifully on his tanned chest, which is mostly covered by a near see-through white top, covered with a baggy, gingham jumper.

After living in the building for two years, they have run into one another on several occasions but have never really spoken. He lives on the second floor, and he goes to the university as well.

When he leaves, after offering another nod and quick smile, she calls Tango. He answers after the second ring.

“Hey, sweets,” he grumbles, not as chipper as his usual self. Her heart sinks a little. He had his midterms last week, and she can only assume that the results are not what he had hoped.

“Oh, no,” she says. “What happened?”

“‘S nothin’,” he insists, but she can hear the irritation in his voice. “‘M jus’ getting myself worked up over nothin’. How was your day?”

Clearly not wanting to talk, he changes the subject, which is something Y/N has grown used to over the past few months. He doesn’t like to vent when he’s too upset because he’s afraid of lashing out and taking his aggression out on her. Thankfully, she has also learned how to distract him. Usually, his annoyance melts away within minutes, and he is his usual, bubbly self again.

“Well, let me tell you, I nearly killed the postman today, and someone nearly hit my car today.”

“What?” He asks incredulously. “Please, elaborate.”

And so, she does.

A couple hours later, Y/N’s in her kitchen, making avocado and tomato toast for the fifth time this week. Her roommate is gone for the weekend, thankfully, which means she can get more stuff done without interruptions (and she can talk to Tango for as long as she wants without getting interrogated about it). His mood had improved significantly after she was able to make him laugh at her own expense (he especially liked the story about how she grabbed her iced coffee too quickly this morning and spilled it all over the barista’s hand).

“I have a question,” he says quickly, as if he wouldn’t have the courage to ask if he held onto it for a moment longer.

“Okay,” she says slowly, almost fearful at the sudden change of tone in his voice.

“Would you be able to listen to something I recorded the other day?” He giggles nervously. “I dunno. I just feel a little,” he makes a little noise, “off about it.”

Stunned, she stares at her phone, the seconds ticking by before her very eyes, and despite the fact that the only reason why they know each other is because she listened to his audios, she’s a little taken aback by the question. Before she knows it, too much time has passed for her to brush off as anything but bewilderment. She stutters.

“I—uh—sure?”

“You don’t sound too sure.”

“No, I am.” Stubborn and not willing to back down, she digs herself a deeper hole, despite the odd feeling growing in her stomach. “Yes, I will listen to it for you.”

“Okay, then,” he says breathlessly. “I’ll send it to you.”

Neither know what to say now. Conversation usually came easy to them, so it feels so strange to be stuck in such an uncomfortable silence. Now, she’s gone and ruined everything because of her hesitation. Why did she even hesitate? There’s no reason to be embarrassed. They’re both very open, sexual people, and it’s nothing to get so worked up over. Maybe, it’s the fact that it’s him, and she knows him so well now. Compared to before, when he was just some stranger on the internet, she knows his likes, dislikes; hell, she has even spoken to his cat, and it feels wrong because he is her friend, and that’s not what friends are supposed to do.

“It’s not weird. Is it?” He asks shyly.

“Of course not.” She says it a little too quickly. Admittedly, it feels a little weird, now that she thinks about it. It would be like walking in on your friend having sex. Then again, the only reason why they really know each other is because she listened to his audios (which is basically him jerking off to his dirty thoughts). However, it’s not an aspect they spoke about too often, usually after a couple of drinks. Their friendship, despite how it began, is purely innocent. They were each other’s comfort person; they were there to vent, laugh, and talk with. Neither ever hinted toward anything different, other than the occasional, playful flirting.

“No, I’ll listen to it for you. What are friends for?”

She doesn’t know why her heart is beating so fast.

“Thank you,” he says.

“So,” she says, “do you want me to listen to it now?”

“Eager, are we?” He hums teasingly.

“Shut up,” she scoffs.

“I mean, if you wanted to hear some dirty talk, all you had to do was ask.”

“Please, stop talking.”

“Y’know I’m always down to clown.”

“I’m hanging up now.”

True to her words, she doesn’t wait for him to answer before she ends the call.

Her phone dings a second later with the link along with another cheeky message. The link is to a private web upload platform, and she feels special for a moment. She wonders if she should just listen to it while eating her toast and go about her usual routine, or if she should do what she usually does when listening to his audios. Is that what he would want, though? Would it make him feel uncomfortable? Is it more weird to just listen to him moan in her ear while doing mundane tasks around the house?

Granted, they have had some conversations about sex and the like, but this feels so much more intimate, especially because he knows that she’s going to listen to him jerk off, not to even mention the obscene things that come from his mouth.

What does it mean for their friendship? Perhaps, it’s not even meant to mean anything, just a sincere favor asked between two friends. Maybe, it’s meant to be a step toward something more on his part. Is that even what she wants?

She brushes off that thought quickly, as she has for months, because deep down, she knows it would just end up in disappointment.

Oh, what a mess.

She’s headed on a downward spiral that has no chance of stopping unless it’s hit by a freight train to hell.

She opts to forgetting her toast and slips into her bedroom, falling onto her blankets giddily. She presses play on the audio, her heart racing as it loads, and leaves her phone face down next to her ear, eyes closing to fully immerse herself, trying to ignore her anxiety.

“Hello,” he says slowly, almost shyly, and it feels like one of their late nights again, with him talking through her phone and her cuddled in bed, listening eagerly. “I’ve just gotten home, but I’ve been thinkin’ about this all day. Couldn’t go to sleep before gettin’ it out there, y’know.” He giggles, a pretty little noise she’s heard many times now. He laughs a lot, sometimes at himself, but mostly in response to her. He even laughs at her corny, little puns, which she appreciated.

“And ‘m really hard right now, so that doesn’t help either. I haven’t really been able to come in the past two weeks. Been too busy with… life, I guess. But a friend of mine talked to me about the world of BDSM. She’s a kinky little shit.”

Y/N’s heart lurches, stomach twisting with an unrecognizable feeling, knowing that the certain friend he is talking about is her. She remembers the conversation well, even though she was a little tipsy and very high, mostly because it was also the first time they had actually spoken on the phone, and it began as it normally does, about mundane things that happened that week. Somehow, the conversation shifted to kinks, and she told him that she wouldn’t be opposed to more sinful acts in the bedroom, most of which her previous partners had not indulged.

“I’m pretty vanilla, I guess. I just love to love people. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that. I’ve never really been into that sort of thing, but now, I can’t stop thinking about it, and I’ve been kinda into some dark, dom stuff lately,” he admits slowly. “Dark for me, at least, which, again, doesn’t say much.” There’s another laugh, radiant and delicate.

“I dunno why, but I’ve been fantasizing about taking you into our room. A little lackluster, I know, but I’m not into the dark, dingy places, like those sex dungeons they have in the movies, where there’s lots of leather, red lights, music, quite the ambience.” He stops suddenly, and she could imagine his lips pursing to cease his ramblings. She wishes he wouldn’t do that so much; she wishes that he wouldn’t doubt himself and his beautiful way with words. If only he could be as confident in himself as she is in him.

“I just want to lay you down on our bed with our fluffy blankets pushed off to the side. Then, if either of us need to take a moment or stop, we can.” Her heart swells a little at his words. Even though he’s trying to talk about, in his words, “dark, dom stuff”, he is still so sweet and considerate, and she can’t help but soften. He trails off.

Faintly, she can hear him yank his belt from the loops, and it’s, honestly, one of the hottest things she has ever heard; the teasing glimpse of what could come far more erotic than anything any of her other partners could do. She could only imagine what it would feel like to have him in front of her, shirtless with his pants low on his hips; maybe he would be wearing the same floral pants he is in his profile picture, the ones that are unbelievably tight. She would be splayed on the bed, just observing this beauty of a man, waiting patiently for him to come and ravish her.

She’s sure that his tattoos cover more than just his arms, but how many more is a question that haunts her. The thought of a big tattoo on his thigh that she can grind on while he moans about how much of a good girl she is has led to many obscene dreams. She imagines black images carved into his chest, perhaps a trail of floating rose petals from his collar bone to his peck or a hellish looking snake wrapped around his waist. More vividly, she envisions a bold tattoo just beneath his belly button, one that she would scratch at while he violently pounded into her, one that she would kiss and lick before she would take him in her mouth.

Oh, what she would do to be able to feel his skin on hers.

She dips her hand beneath the band of her shorts out of habit, toying with the silky material of her panties. She tries not to think too much about her feelings, fearing it would deepen the ache in her heart.

“Anyway, you’d be on the bed,” he says, his usual slow, stifling voice pulling her deeper into the fantasy, “naked, on your knees with your pretty pussy facing me. You’re all tied up, starting at your wrists and ankles, and there would be a pretty knot down your spine that I can grab while I fuck you from behind.”

Her cunt throbs at the sudden turn. She could only imagine: her face pressed into the pillows, choking on the sheets, her muscles tight, aching beneath the restraints, and her voice raw, sobbing from overstimulation. Exhausted and wanton, she would take anything that he would be willing to give her. He would shove her face into the mattress, mounting her, and he would tug on the rope until it felt like it would permanently embedded in her wet skin, telling her how much of a good little slut she is, taking him so well.

She doesn't know why she’s drawn to rope play; perhaps, it’s all a part of the subtle nuances of the sex, the intimacy of tying the complex binds around your partner and the intricacies of sensory manipulation with such overwhelming stimulation. It’s so much more than just being bound while fucking. There is such a deep reliance on the other person to understand your body, your limits, your needs. It’s about trust and vulnerability. She thinks of it in such a melodic and romantic way; it must have resonated with Tango.

“Or I’d tie your arms to your legs, keeping you spread open for me on your back, with knots around your belly, the lead falling between your tits.” Her eyes flutter closed. While rope play is something that she has always wanted to try but never felt comfortable enough with another person to act on it. He would be different though. She cups her pussy, languidly running her fingers through her wet folds, feeling the arousal slip down her skin before settling on her sheets.

She pinches her clit, and her legs immediately jerk around her arm. Feeling far too sensitive for that type of stimulation, she simply strokes through her lips, focusing her ministrations on the delicate inside, close to her sopping entrance, enjoying the slow build.

“Then, I could hold onto your neck while I fuck you, and I like being able to see your face, to see how good I’m making you feel, to see tears of pleasure run down your pretty face. You could suck on my fingers while I fuck you, deep and hard. D’ya wanna choke on my fingers, pretty?”

She wants absolutely nothing more. She would gladly suck on his fingers if it meant that she could see the look of awe in his eyes, lust darkening his features when she bites teasingly on his nail.

“But if you’re on your knees, I could watch you in the mirror and still see your face. From behind, I can see your pretty, tight pussy take my cock.” He whimpers. “I haven’t decided which I would rather have.”

She can’t decide, either.

Then again, they could always have both.

“Of course, I wouldn’t give you my cock that easily. No, you’re going to be crying for me, begging for me to fuck you, and I dunno if I would fuck you right away or make you beg for it. I think for the first bit, after you’re all tied up for me, I’ll tease you, just barely touching you, pulling on the lead, the ropes tightening around your aching body. I think your tits would look so pretty all tied up f’me, babylove.

“When you’ve finally had enough, crying for me to stuff you full of my cock, I’d let you come, but I’d only use my fingers, never giving you what you really want. Maybe I’ll put a little vibrator on your clit and leave you there, having you come again and again until it hurts. I’d have you keep your panties on, of course. Don’t want you making a mess of the sheets, and then, when I finally give you my cock, I’ll put them in your mouth to keep you quiet, and so you can taste yourself.”

His moans are in the forefront in his sensual song, mixed amongst a symphony of bed and friction sounds. She matches his pace, flicking her wrist in time with the sound of him working his wet cock. She massages the entirety of her pussy, messily rubbing her fingers from the tip of her poor, swollen clit to her throbbing opening.

“Fuck, babylove, you’d be so good f’me, taking my cock so deep in your pussy. Would you cry f’me, pretty? Cry for daddy to fuck you into the mattress.” A rumbling groan finally breaks free, and she is so close to falling apart, her high festering into her muscles, burning through her nerves; her skin feels hot to the touch. She struggles to breathe, but she doesn't yearn for air as much as she does her end. Tears in her eyes, she clutches onto her blanket, tugging it in her mouth to keep from crying too loudly. She sobs, feeling a familiar tightness in her body, just beyond her grasp. Her hand still moves over her pussy, arousal seeping through trembling fingers, but she can’t reach her peak with such light, varied stimulation, her hips buckling.

“My pretty rope bunny,” he mutters. He’s desperate, truly just rambling on and on about anything that comes to mind. “My pretty honey,” he whimpers, almost inaudibly, “honey, honey.”

For a second, she thinks of the times that word has passed through his lips in less sinful situations, a slow, lulling honey when he’s trying to get her attention, sweet and innocent. That’s his special name for her, and she wonders if, possibly, he thinks about her in the same way she does, if he wishes to be with her in such an intimate way, just as she does. She thinks, incredulously, that maybe she isn’t overanalyzing the situation.

His bed squeaks faintly in the background, just barely heard over his withering voice. She can only begin to imagine what he looks like in that moment, legs tense, feet digging into the mattress, his hips thrusting to fuck himself into his fist. The head of his cock would peek through the top of his fist as he coerced his release free. She wishes she could see what he looks like when he comes, when he finally reaches his most euphoric moment. It’s such a primal thing to witness, to see someone liberated of all inhibitions, to observe them completely succumbing to their instincts. It’s such a beautiful thing to see someone acquiesce control and thrive so harmoniously with their body.

“I wanna wrap my belt around your throat.” He swallows thickly. She whines along with him. Perhaps, she’s just fooling herself, but she can swear that she could almost hear the sound of a leather belt squeezing in his fist. A pitiful pool of wetness slips between her ass cheeks.

“My cock hurts just thinking about how you’d sound.” He moans, mimicking the desperate heaves that would undoubtedly slip through her lips as he pulls his belt tightly around her throat. “Then, when you’re bratty, I can just wrap my hand around the belt and make it tighter.

“Please,” he mocks weakly, “please, sir, I’ll be good. But you’re just saying that to get what you want. You’re just a naughty, little slut aren’t you?”

“Yes,” she returns weakly.

“Maybe, I could get you a collar and pull you around with that. Would you like that?” He hums. “Of course, you would. You’re my pretty, little bunny.”

In any other instance, she would feel humiliated to be so aroused at being so weak and submissive to another, but he could convince her to do anything at this point. She’s close, toes curling and muscles tightening, and she waits for his familiar profession that he is also near the edge, but the silence that follows is deafening, a disappointing resolution to an intense narrative. It makes her stop completely, wet hand flipping her phone over to see that, indeed, she had listened to all of the audio. It knocks the air from her lungs when she realizes that that was it. She isn’t going to hear his cute little whimpers as he comes nor his sweet aftercare.

Frustrated from her ruined orgasm, she calls him instantly, and he picks up after the fourth ring this time, as if he knows that she is this needy and frustrated. She doesn’t give him the chance to greet her.

“That couldn’t have been all of it.”

“Well, hello to you, too—”

“I didn’t get to hear you come.”

“Is that what you wanna hear, honey?”

“Well, yeah, I always come with—” She stops before she says something she’ll regret, but by the sound of his laughter, it’s already too late. She wants to hide away in embarrassment.

“It’s only partially finished. I thought I told you that.” She can hear the teasing smirk he surely has plastered on his face, the cheeky bastard. “I just wanted to hear what you thought so far before I finished it. There’s no point in finishing something that I already feel isn’t worth the time.”

“Well, then,” she stutters quickly, “How does it end?”

“How do you think it should end?”

There’s a certainty in his words, as if he has already accepted her as a lover, and she knows that he is giving her the opportunity to initiate the next step. Fear squeezes her chest, and for a second, she worries that she isn’t brave enough to follow through. Every fiber of her being is pleading with her to just take that risk, but another, more rational side of her, is saying it’s better to say a quick I don’t know, and they would move on as normal.

“Where would you come?”

Oh, it feels so filthy to ask that, but it’s so relieving to hear the hum of approval that passes through his lips.

Her heart races, not like before; this is exciting and new and arousing, and it feels wrong. She doesn’t even know what he looks like; hell, she doesn’t even know his real name, and she’s so fucking ready and willing to give herself to him. There’s just so many reasons to not pursue him. She feels ashamed, almost, that she is weak for a man she knows nothing about.

“Hmm, that’s a good question. Where would you like me to come?”

But how can she not get weak when he asks her things like that?

Shivers bloom on her skin in sunflower blossoms. She knows what he wants to hear, and usually, she would tease him, telling him that he didn’t care if he even came or not, but the throbbing between her legs is relentless, and she’s just lust-drunk that she’ll say just about anything to get what she needs. She begins rubbing herself again, focusing solely on her clit this time instead of the entirety of her pussy in the palm of her hand. Breathing out shakily, she answers honestly.

“Everywhere.”

He moans, and she knows that was the right answer.

“Everywhere? Such a greedy girl. You want me to come down your throat? You wanna taste it? Maybe, I’ll have you choke on my cock, fuck y’face until you’re crying.”

After he was done fucking her, she’s sure that he would yank her up either by the rope around her breasts or by the belt around her neck (she can’t decide which yet) and put his cock by her mouth, rubbing himself over her lips and chin, but never quite pushing past the barrier of her lips; no, she would be the one to open her sweet mouth for him, her jaw lax and tongue wet as she takes everything he’d give her.

God, yes, she wants to taste him. She wants him to use her in every possible, degrading way: to use her mouth while she tied up, under his mercy, to fuck her face until she has tears dripping down her cheeks, wetting her heaving chest, to come down her throat until she’s choking on him, but he would pinch her nose and make her taste it until her vision was blurry.

“You’d take it all, babylove. Won’t you?”

He asks so innocently, his deep voice having a soft twinge, but she knows that it’s not optional, not that she would choose otherwise. She would greedily lap at his cum and drink it all, proudly showing off her empty mouth when she’s done. Maybe, he would insist that she keep it in her mouth and pull her into a wet, heated kiss, prying her lips apart so he can taste himself on her tongue.

“I could make a mess on your belly or your tits, and then, I could lick you clean. Or I could mark up your thighs and watch it drip onto the sheets.”

The thought of him marking her with his come is nearly enough for her to reach her peak. A voice in the back of her head chastises her for being so greedy; this is something she has fantasized about since they started talking, and it’s going to be over before it can even begin at this rate. She needs to distract herself, to focus on anything other than the painful throbbing between her legs.

“Or I could come inside you.”

That’s the last thing she needed to hear.

Only because it makes a thick bead of arousal seep into her sheets. It makes her finally give in and sink two fingers inside herself, and fuck, she’s so wet and swollen and pliable. She sobs, truly biting back even louder cries behind gritted teeth. She curses again and again at the feeling coursing through her veins, heat spreading in her belly as her hips frantically move against her ministrations.

“By the sound of that moan, I think that’s definitely preferred. Such a filthy girl. Y’want me to fill your belly? Want me to mark you as mine?”

She just knows that he could fill her to the brim, but he would want to prolong the experience as much as possible, teasing her with his cock and coaxing her to beg for his cum.

She could just imagine the determined look in his eyes, so close to coming, but he would pull out, just barely teasing her trembling entrance with his twitching cock. He wouldn’t move, and when she would beg for him to put it back in and just fuck her until she couldn’t breath, he would say very simply: if y’want my cum so bad, put my cock back inside.

God, his face would be gleaming with this power, satisfied with seeing her so needy for his cum. Shamefully, she would put one of her hands on his hip while the other grasps his cock, pushing on him until he sinks entirely inside her once again, but he still wouldn’t move, simply filling her, the both of them twitching with arousal. He would demand that she make him come if she wants it so bad, as if it's a gift from the heavens.

“Are you touching yourself?” He asks, and only then does she realize that she was drowning in her fantasy; the sudden change makes her stop rubbing herself, her vision hazy. She parts her lips with wet fingers, slipping back down to her entrance, gently prodding inside until that euphoria builds once again.

“Yes,” she admits shamefully. “‘M so fucking wet for you.”

“Dirty little slut,” he says sharply. He has no room to judge, especially since she can hear the all-too-familiar sounds to him jerking his cock, wet sounds of his fist passing over the thick head echoing in her empty room. She is near tears at this point, so needy and high and horny, but she wants to make this last.

“Would you let me come? Please, can I come?”

It’s his turn to moan with approval, and she feels proud. His heavy breathing in time with hers, he seems to be lost in pleasure, voice hitching as he struggles to find words. Her orgasm swells to a near crest once again, but she wants to hear him finish. At this point, she knows what it sounds like, from the frantic ramblings to the guttural moans, and he’s not quite there yet.

“Do you think you deserve to come, honey? You think you’ve been a good girl f’me?”

“Yes, I’m a good girl—fuck—please, please, I need to come.” She stumbles through her words, what little power she held in her withering grasp deflating instantly from his words.

“I dunno, I think you’re a brat who just wants to get off.”

It’s painful how much his words impact her, volatile muscles spasming while she staves of hee end. She whimpers, sinking further in her headspace; she feels a cloud settle in her vision (or perhaps those are tears), overwhelming yet freeing.

“No, I’m your good girl,” she insists.

“I think you’ll have to prove it to me, honey,” he replies slyly. “I don’t think I’ll let you come quickly. I want you to beg for it. Can you do that f’me, babylove? Beg me to come.”

“Fuck, I’m so close,” she says. “Please, please, I need it. Please, let me come.”

“You can do better than that,” he says, voice cracking. Their harmonious sounds of excitement drive both of them closer to their orgasms.

“Oh, god—please, I—fuck—I need it so bad. ‘M so close, please.” She can barely speak coherently. Chills wrack her sore body, waves of throbbing pleasure threatening to break her. She wanted—no, needed—him to finish.

“Come f’me, Honey,” he says. “You’re my good girl, so good f’me. C’mon, babylove, come with me.”

She does. With ears ringing and eyes closing, she comes until her pussy aches. It feels never ending, euphoria consuming every part of her sweat-laden flesh, chilling and fiery, for hours—or perhaps only seconds. She can’t tell.

“Thank you,” she whispers, her vision blurry. Her body trembles with residual aftershocks of her intense orgasm. She lays spread open on her bed, her pussy still too sensitive to close her legs entirely.

“Thank you for letting me come.” In her daze, her limbs fall away limply. All she can do is exist at this moment. She vaguely wonders if he finished with her, the thought of his deep moans fueling another fire. A part of her is disappointed that she wasn't present enough to listen to him, but another part knows that more opportunities will come.

“You’re so welcome, honey,” he says sweetly. “I think we both really needed that today.”

She hums, still recovering from such a powerful end. She slowly regains her breathing.

“I guess I should be thanking you because that’s one of the best orgasms I’ve ever had,” he says. She laughs.

“You flatter me.”

“I’m serious. Nearly gave myself a pearl necklace.”

And just like that, everything continues as normal. Both know that the other is naked and satiated, but neither feels uncomfortable with the fact. If anything, it makes things relieved, open, or comfortable. They’re both giggly in the golden after-glow.

“What does this mean for us, Honey?”

As, yes, the dreaded ‘talk’. Fear immediately spikes in her veins, and she struggles to find her words. Before she can answer, he begins speaking again.

“Look, I really like talking with you, and I don’t want this to make things weird, but I meant what I said earlier. That was probably one of the best orgasms of my life, and I don’t think that I could live without your pretty little moans now that I’ve heard them. Maybe, we can do that again. We don’t have to put a label on it or anything, if you don’t want to.”

Her heart sinks. Is that all that he wants?

“Right, it doesn’t have to be anything serious, just us having some stress relief.” Her words are dry and forced, feeling like bile in her mouth. She grits her teeth. What the hell had she just gotten herself into?

“Hey, uh, it’s late, and I have to wake up early tomorrow. Same time next week?”

She hopes that he doesn’t think that she regrets what they did, and she hopes he doesn’t think too much into her abrupt ending of the call. It’s not a total lie; she does have work early tomorrow morning, but she has had more than a few days where she was running on two hours of sleep and a miracle. She just wants to get off the phone before he hears the contemplation in her voice.

“You think I can wait a week after that? You have too much faith in me.”

“I think you’ll survive, babe,” she says.

“Good night, babylove.”

“Good night.”

She falls asleep quickly after, dreaming of the nameless, faceless man who she bares her soul to.

Later that night, as Harry edits the finally finished audio, he thinks back to Honey and their mutual pleasure, feeling like an absolute idiot for saying that it was nothing serious. He wasn’t expecting her to agree so emphatically, so quickly.

Although, what had he expected? He was the one who suggested it. No matter, he can’t have a relationship right now, especially a long distance one. He would just end up getting hurt, but he likes her too much to stop talking to her completely. He finally took their relationship further even if it won’t lead to anything more.

—

“Are you ready to admit defeat?”

Y/N lets out a breathy laugh, despite her current situation, her hand rubbing leisure circles on her already sensitive clit, which still throbs from her first orgasm of the night. Tango murmurs praise in her humming ears.

She’s not really sure what they are, and she doesn’t want to think about it. It would only complicate things more.

Friends? Definitely.

Well, maybe not definitely, since she doesn’t even know his name, but what other word could she use to define their relationship? What sort of friends would say such filthy things to each other? Why would he call her ‘my honey’ so emphatically if they were ‘just friends’? Too afraid of misinterpreting his intentions and embarrassing herself, she doesn’t mention anything, and he never does either, but it keeps her awake at night, wondering what they could be if she could just put her feelings to words.

This would be the second hour of their phone call, and it only took them ten minutes for the conversation to turn into one of their “stress relieving sessions”. Both of them had a terrible day; she was late for the first day at her new job (they were understanding given the circumstances, but it still left a sour taste in her mouth), and he slept through an exam. She eased him into a submissive headspace quickly, babbling about what a good boy he is and how proud she is of him. Within minutes, he came, and she whispered all the filthy things she wanted to do to him until he was completely spent, his cock milked of all remnants of his seed, twitching and throbbing with empty orgasms.

He easily fell into the dominant headspace after his quick high, and he was adamant that he could make her come more than any of her other partners, even without him truly there. She knows that he can; hell, she has touched herself to his voice more times than she could count, but she likes teasing him, hearing him get all riled up and stubborn.

“Are you gonna come again, honey?”

“Nope,” she breathes, “Not even a little close.”

“You’re obviously lying or not trying,” he says sharply, and a sense of pride swells in her chest at her ability to get a rise out of him without even trying. She smirks.

“What are you gonna do? Punish me?”

“I might have to.”

She’s sure he would, too, but it would be in the most pleasurable way possible, with his mouth and fingers and cock stimulating her until she comes so many times she can’t take anymore. Her fingers trace her most intimate area, nails scraping against her quivering core. She sinks two fingers inside, feeling her sopping pussy swallow them easily, adjusting quickly and craving more. She tries to find that sweet, spongy spot inside her, but she can’t seem to reach it.

“Wish it was your fingers,” she mumbles, her movements certain and even, but it’s never enough for her greedy body.

“Yeah, lovie?” He croons, “they’d be so big in your tight little pussy.” She hums, wishing that he was there to stuff her in every way possible.

“Would you wear your rings?”

“For you? Of course.” Her eyes roll back at the thought; his thick fingers could tear her at the seams, and with the added texture of his rings, she would be coming within seconds. Her clit throbs, blood rushing in time with her racing heart, and she massages it harder, wanton and waiting for yet another release. “C’mon, babylove, Come for me. Make me proud,” he coaxes. His words make her fall over that edge once more, thighs shaking and pussy weeping. She’s sure there’s a creamy stain beneath her, seeping into her wet skin.

“Again,” he demands. She thinks she may break. “Keep going, babylove. Where’s that toy you told me about?”

He knows that she won’t be able to come much longer on her own, with the pain overwhelming the pleasure.

“It’s so far away,” she whines.

“Go grab it, love,”

Her legs tremble as she twists around, reaching blindly into her bedside drawer. She can’t close her legs too much without getting overstimulated; her legs ache and twitch. Once the toy is situated just above her clit, she ticks it on. Her body reacts immediately, limbs jolting about, hips ducking away, and her voice catching. Gasping, she almost wants to take the toy away, the stimulation being far too much.

He thinks differently.

“Turn it up higher, lovie,” he says so sweetly. Her chest feels like it could almost collapse into itself. Still dizzy from her orgasm, she’s not sure if she can take it, her body fighting against her. She wants to beg and plead for something, but she doesn’t even know what for. Is it for yet another orgasm that will surely be more powerful that any other? Or is it for the burning at every nerve ending to stop?

“I dunno—”

“You can take it, such a good little bunny for me.”

The vibrator ticks to the next setting, a sharp, persistent sound echoes in her empty room, followed by an even louder shout. She has not control anymore. Thankfully, she’s home alone or else it would be an awkward morning with her roommate listening to her cries of pleasure well into the night. Her hand shakes, but she presses the head of the toy harder to her clit. She lets out a guttural groan, feeling euphoria seep from every pore.

“There it is,” he moans, breathing growing ragged. He’s surely jerking himself off, basking in the pleasure with her, and it makes her arousal burn deeper. She wants to put on a show for him, to egg him on and make him feel as good as he makes her feel.

“There’s my pretty girl. Let me hear you, baby.”

She can barely squeeze out a few breathless whimpers from her chest, hedonistic—no, animalistic—sobs crash through her. Pain and pleasure fight for control, just as her mind and body do.

“Feel good?”

“Yes,” she says weakly. “Feels so good.”

She comes quickly with a silent cry, her lips parted and face scrunched. Saliva slips from her open mouth, and she is unable to wipe it away, lewdly dripping down her chin to her neck before finding it’s place on her dirtied sjeets. The recovery period is quicker this time; it’s either that or her body is becoming numb to anything but pleasure. It feels like it’s never ending with the vibrator still nestled tightly to her puffy cilt. Her lips are surely swollen now too, tender from too many orgasms, yet still sopping with arousal.

“Don’t take it away,” he says, “You got another one in ya. You can do it, lovie.”

His voice is muffled beneath blankets where her phone lies, lost in her ravenous bouts of pleasure, limbs writhing and tossing. Her body aches when she twists to put it back up by her ear to hear him more clearly, muscles tight from her previous orgasms. Legs closing slightly, she whines when the toy presses harder against her clit, hips ducking away from the strong vibrations, eyes fluttering closed. Her phone falls out of her grasp once more, but the light illuminates the dark room, casting a warm glow.

“Please—”

She’s not really sure what she’s begging for; it just slips out, a weak plea. Perhaps, she just wants him to be there instead of on the other end of a phone call, in some faraway place she doesn’t even know. The room would feel so much warmer with him here, her back pressed to his chest, their sweat mingling. Maybe he would wear those pretty lace stockings he showed her a picture of once, the glittery fabric coarse against her skin as he teases his toes along her leg, keeping them spread. His freckled and inked arms wrapped tightly around her middle, paying special attention to her tummy, he would whisper sweet things in her ear and press on the area right below her belly button, telling her of how he wants to grind his pretty cock against her soft middle until she is sticky with his precum, how he can fuck himself that deep inside her. She would feel him for days after.

“I know it hurts, baby, but just one more, then you can go to bed.”

It sounds so nice, the thought of sinking into her pillows for a good night's rest, but an orgasm sounds even better, one leaving her spent and satiated and sleepy.

“Such a good girl f’me.”

As much as she wants to, the sensitivity becoming nearly unbearable, she can’t stop; she wants to make him proud, to prove to him that she’s his good girl who can take it. Even though he’s not truly there with her to hold her and make sure she comes, she still wants to do as he says. Her legs tremble, threatening to close.

She squeaks when the vibrator hits a particularly sensitive angle on her clit, and she bites into her pillow to keep from crying out. Her hips work desperately, to reach that high for the last time, just one more, like an addict itching for one more hit. It’s her fourth orgasm within ten minutes, and this might just be her breaking point.

“I dunno if I can.” Her words slur, and she can feel spit dripping down her puckered lips. She suddenly wishes he was there to wipe it away, thumb soft and subtle against her skin, lingering on her puffy lips.

“One more, babylove,” he insists. “Just one more. You’re doing so well.” She bites back a mangled cry, eyes squeezing shut, her thoughts lost in a dark chaos. His voice is the only anchor amidst a dizzying high, coaxing her through her stupor with sweet words.

“My pretty girl, my good fucking girl, taking it so well.” His gravelly voice pulls her from drowning, his words gritty from his clenched jaw. “You’re not hurting too much, are ya?”

His deep voice is soft, lilting with a tender care she needs. She could simply melt, blanketed in the warmth of his rich voice.

“A little,” she admits, a dull ache in her belly when she clenches too tightly. “But it feels so good.”

The vibrations pulse through her body, leaving her voice shaky, and she shifts slightly, hips digging into the mattress. It settles on the underside of her clit, and it’s so close to that one spot, until finally—there, there, there—right there. She groans, low and guttural, drawn out from the depths of her chest, animalistic almost. Her body burns and trembles for a second before yet another strong, unrelenting wave drowns her. Every muscle in her body tenses as the head of the vibrator finds the one tender spot on her clit, catching at just the right angle that leaves her eyes teary, world dizzy. She knows it’ll be painful if she doesn’t pull away, a harsh orgasm building, but she can’t stop, not with him listening to her, waiting for her final bitter end.

She’s doing so good for him, such a good bunny. She trembles in the wake of such a violent euphoria, weak moans slipping in time with her belated breathing. It passes through in waves, the pain, a bittersweet burning welling deep inside her, but a different ache persists, one that leaves her yearning for more, one that makes her dig her feet into the mattress and press herself harder on the toy. Her toes curl, and her back arches, free hand twisting the sheets.

He hums appreciatively.

“My bunny likes it when it hurts. Doesn’t she?”

“Yes,” she sobs, “I want it to hurt.” Hips shuttering away from the relentless vibrator, Y/N feels her final orgasm build, pain lingering around the edges as her muscles twitch.

“Such a dirty little slut.” Her back arches at his filthy words, arousal pooling beneath her. She could feel it wetting her thighs. “Just f’me, right, honey? Just my pretty slut.”

She comes quickly, eyes rolling back as it overwhelms all of her senses. She feels tense yet relaxed. A broken cry breaks from her swollen lips as she shatters, falling apart for the final time. Her muscles quiver, tiny shocks lingering in the aftermath of so many orgasms in such quick succession. Her limbs ache. Her heart races. Her pussy throbs. She knows that this will be all she can take, her body completely spent. She can’t find the energy to keep her eyes open, and they roll back.

“You alright?”

“Yeah,” she says, still struggling to find her breath and collect her thoughts, but when she does, a smile breaks her face. She feels everything and nothing all at once, so perfectly numb. She finds herself laughing incredulously because that cocky little bastard was right: he made her come more times than anyone has before. She laughs until tears slip down her warm cheeks.

This is the part where the emotions start to become just as overwhelming as her release. So much sinks in all at once, and she realizes just how alone she is, and she wishes he was here to pull her back down to earth, to hold and to love. She feels deflated. The sexual release is such a rush, but it brings devastating lows. With tears in her eyes, she struggles not to cave into herself.

“You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah,” she lies, a sob curling in her lungs, forcing its way out in a blubbering mess. Once the first one escapes, the rest follow easily. She can’t seem to stop, heaving cries wracking her already sore body as she clutches onto her pillow. She fists her phone to her ear in an attempt to be closer to him, but that makes the feeling grow worse, settling to a black hole in her stomach, sucking all euphoria from her. Tears soak into her skin and sink into her ear, muffling his comforting words.

“Let it out, babylove,” he says softly. “I know, I know. I know. Sometimes it can just get really overwhelming.” His words are gentle, just as he is, and maybe that’s what makes this even worse. He is everything she wants. He is just so perfect for her in every way, but he is ao far from her reach. Maybe it would be better if he wasn’t such a good person. Maybe that would make the yearning go away. She’s quiet, slowly breathing through stuttering sniffles.

“Hey,” he says softly, “Go pee and clean yourself up, babe. Know you don’t like feeling all wet down there. It makes your peach all sticky.”

She nods, knowing full well that he can’t see her, but doesn’t move. She honestly doesn’t think she can.

“Go on,” he murmurs when he doesn’t hear the familiar rustling of her sheets. “‘M right here, honey.”

A few more tears squeeze out of her eyes at his words. It makes her whole demeanor crumble once again; she’s upset because he’s not really there, he’s not there to hold her and kiss her and love her, and that’s not fair. She just wants to have him here to tell her that everything will be alright; she wants him to be there to laugh with, to just be with. He is such a good part of her life, but she just wishes that he could physically be there in the way she dreams.

She cleans up quickly, tossing her spent underwear into her dirty laundry. Just as she had suspected, the remnants of her orgasms stained her thighs.

What’s that ache in her chest?

“Good girl, feel better, lovie?”

She nods and whimpers, unable to calm her trembling lips.

“Good, ‘m right here, babylove. Y’did so good, so proud of you.”

She crawls back to bed moments later, shuddering breaths and swollen eyes being the only remnants of her breakdown. She sniffles and wipes her wet eyes with the back of her hand, which smells vaguely of her feminine wipes.

“Sorry, if it was too much,” he says.

“No, no need to apologize,” she says quickly to get rid of any lingering guilt he has. It felt amazing, to be tested just beyond her limits, to be pushed to a shattering breaking point, to trust him to know what she can take. “It was nice. I just sorta—” Her voice breaks. “I dunno. Everything just got a little overwhelming. I think I’m better now.”

“What do you need from me, honey?”

She nearly starts crying again at how sweet he is. She almost could imagine that only a few minutes ago he was calling her his dirty little slut and demanding her to come until she could handle it.

“Just talk to me,” she says.

“So, I saw a couple dogs today,” he begins awkwardly. “Well, I was attacked by two little frenchie’s when I was walking to class, and it completely made my day ten-times better. They were so cute with their chubby little legs.”

He rambles on about his week, and it feels nice and familiar.

She’s nearly asleep when he begins talking about his mother. Apparently, she was visiting him last week, which was nice for about a day; then, he began realizing why he moved away in the first place: she is so smothering.

“And my mum is always nagging me to go out and socialize. She was like,” he breathes in, adjusting his tone to a falsetto. “Harry, you’re never gonna be able to find anyone if you don’t…”

He continues as normal, chattering away in his low, sleepy voice. She doesn’t think he even realizes his slip up, words spluttering out of his mouth so quickly that even he probably couldn’t hear it. She smiles as sleep finally overwhelms her.

Harry.

His name is Harry.

—

#also if this is too niche and it flops lets just forget it happened #okay? okay.#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles smut #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #ellie writes #ellie writes smut #ellie writes filth #gif not mine #credit to owner

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princessbrunette · 3 months

Note

thinking ab their pretty little gf w a not so stellar home life comin back to the chateau in tears, tryin to explain what happened but she's simply just a blubbering mess. the duology of jayj who's ready to give your old man a taste of his medicine vs daddy!john bee who's a little more levelheaded n thinking rationally. saying smth like 'just wanna forget' would have those two jumping to your aid - 🍓

₊˚⊹♡𐙚♡𓆪ֶָ֢

“yup, i’m gonna kill him. murder him in cold blood.”

“you are not going to kill her dad, jj.”

whilst the blonde paces, developing a routine of yanking his cap off his head, running a hand through matted tresses before placing it back on— john b, the more level headed of the two kneels by your side, a gentle hand on your back.

you’d been crying, infact — you cried all the way to the chateau after an explosive spat with your terrifying father. it just didn’t feel fair, how can some people have the privilege of feeling totally safe and welcomed in their own home, by their own family — but you had to suffer? you felt in despair, just wanting everything happening outside of the chateau to stop.

“dude i’m tired of this asshole actin’ like — like he can just mess her around and scare her, look at her john b she’s scared!” jj rages, trying to bring his voice into a whisper-yell despite you being right there, stopping his pacing to direct his anger at the brunette by your side.

“i know, but right now you just need to calm it down. i doubt she wants you to go all john wick on her dad. sit down.” your face is in your hands as you weep, so you miss the way john b’s eyes widen in warning to jj, a silent message for him to quit acting out. the blonde licks his lips, shaking his head feeling like he was totally justified, but he does as he says regardless, lowering himself to sit at your other side.

“how ya holding up, princess?” he finally speaks, scratching the back of your head like a puppy. you remove your clammy hands from your face, staring down at them once they hang in your lap.

“s’just not fair.” you rasp, and you feel john b nodding at your side. you daren’t look at him, his large concerned puppy dog eyes sure to set off your waterworks once again so you look at jj instead, almost looking for solidarity. if anyone understood your home life situation, it was him.

his brows are all creased up sorrowfully and he presses his lips together, thumbing the freshest tear that dares to race down your cheek. you feel john b rest his chin on your shoulder, wanting you to feel his presence even when you didn’t face him.

“what can we do?” his warm voice rumbles right in your ear.

at first, you don’t know — and that look of hopelessness in your eyes almost cracks jj’s heart in two. he knew from experience how shitty it felt— but seeing it from the third person perspective was almost worse. he would take a million beatings from his dad if it meant no one was to ever lay a hand or throw a venomous word in your direction. “anything, babydoll.” he reiterates.

as fucked up as it is, having two male figures at your side— two who you’d like to think held a comfortable amount of authority over you, a small slither of the hole that was left in your heart from your daddy issues was filled with a warm honey-like feeling. maybe your emotions were all fucked up and out of whack, or maybe you just really appreciated the comfort — because you felt that warmth spread lower at the way they coddled you.

“i just wanna forget. wanna forget it all happened.” you whisper, and at first they don’t get it. well, they do— but not in the way you mean. john b’s hand creeps up to massage at the back of your neck, trying to relax you as he nods, frowning as he tries to piece together what he can do. always the fixer.

“okay, we can do that. what… specifically do you—”

“i need you.” you turn to look at him now, faces close, breath mingling. “i need you both to… make me forget. just don’t wanna think.” your whisper holds a tinge of an oncoming mewl to it and their faces melt in understanding.

“oh, baby.” john b coo’s, catching on and you feel yourself physically already starting to melt at the tone.

“that mean what i think it means?” jj’s breath is at your neck, fingers sliding up your arm to the strap of your tank top. slowly, carefully.

“please jus’ make me feel better.” you slur like the effects of a drug are finally kicking in, the two boys seeming to close in on you more by the minute.

“alright baby. daddies gonna help, okay? gonna make it feel better.” john b cups your cheek and you wring weakly at his wrist, pulling his palm to your wet mouth where you press kisses to the warm coarse skin, a silent plea to follow through.

jj’s mouth follows his touch next, a kiss on the junction between your neck and shoulder, wisps of blonde hair sticking out the front of his cap tickling your cheekbone. “i should’a known that’s what you were after, you want that head all empty don’t you mama?”

like that, you’re putty in their hands.

₊˚⊹♡𐙚♡𓆪ֶָ֢

#🍓 anon #jj x reader x john b

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holylulusworld · 22 days

Text

Indecent Proposal (17)

Summary: Your boyfriend wants to be part of their empire. You are the pawn he’s willing to sacrifice.

Pairing: Mobster!Stucky x fem!Reader

Characters: Natasha Romanoff, Jake Jensen

Warnings: established Stucky, caring mobsters, pregnant reader, fluff, implied needy reader and Bucky, candy theft, polyamory

Indecent Proposal (16)

Indecent Proposal masterlist

Two months after Bucky and Steve found out about Rumlow’s plan to get information about them using the nurse, said man disappeared.

No one cared about Brock Rumlow's disappearance. One day, he left town and never got seen again.

People may think Steve and Bucky took care of the annoying thorn in their flesh, but the truth is that they didn’t touch one hair on his head.

“Still nothing?” Bucky watches Natasha stuff the money he brought to her into her bag. Another good investment for the mobster, money for her retirement to Natasha. “Be honest, Nat. Did you take care of him?”

“I told Rumlow that his little stunt with the nurse went too far. He had the order to stay away from your…” she wrinkles her forehead still not understanding your relationship with the mobsters. “Fiancé.”

“We didn’t kill him,” Steve pushes off the wall to look at the pictures on Natasha’s desk. “Even though, we planned on taking him down. Rumlow had it coming.”

Natasha frowns deeply. “If none of us took him down… What happened to him? This doesn’t make sense at all.”

“What if he fucked with the wrong people over?” Bucky scratches his scruffy chin, wondering if the man obsessed with him and Steve annoyed the wrong person. “We can’t be the only people he messed with.”

“I don’t know,” Natasha sighs and rubs her tired eyes. “He’s a good cop.” She rolls her eyes when Steve makes a retching noise. “Believe it or not, he’s not a complete psycho. Rumlow is good at his job. I don’t know what you did to make him lose his mind.”

“We did shit to your little buddy,” Steve grunts. “If someone made him disappear, I owe him one. This way, I didn’t have to get my hands dirty.”

“This must be very funny to you, Rogers,” Natasha wrinkles her nose. “He was a good man and a good cop. It’s too bad he got lost in your web.”

“We didn’t lure him in,” Bucky snaps at Natasha. He glares at her, making sure she knows they did come here to chat. “One day your friend decided he must bring me and Steve down. Does he even know that we maintain peace? No one dares to harm citizens since we took over the throne.”

“I get it,” she huffs. “You are the kings of your kingdom of shit.”

“Careful—” Steve snarls at the redhead. “Our fathers build this kingdom with blood and terror,” the blonde steps closer to Natasha, sizing her up. “Bucky and I changed the old ways. We took their empire and changed it for the better.”

“What do we do about Rumlow now? If he’s dead, people will start asking questions. It’s no secret that he was obsessed with us.”

“I will try to keep you out of this,” Natasha steps away from Steve. She doesn’t want to rile him up even more.

“You’ll keep us up to date,” Steve points his index finger at the redhead. “We need to know every detail of his disappearance…”

“Doll, what are you doing,” Steve laughs. You threatened to cut Bucky’s cock off because he dared to steal a chocolate bar from your secret stash.

“He stole from me!” You pout. “Bucky stole my favorite chocolate bar. It was the last one with hazelnut.” Faking a sob, you look at Steve. “You should scold him.”

“I was hungry after you wanted a taste of Bucky,” the brunette grins. “And you got a whole drawer filled with the sweets. Candies, chocolate bars, all the good stuff. Steve, she’s got a sweet tooth.”

“Not only a sweet tooth,” Steve smirks. “She’s a naughty little minx too.”

“Hey! I’m not little,” you kneel on the bed to glare at Steve. Not months ago, you trembled in fear in front of Steve, and now you talk back and tease the mobster. “You better watch your tongue, or I won’t show you the latest ultrasound picture!”

Bucky watches you and his husband bicker. He smirks and chuckles. The brunette leans back and enjoys the show. “Steve, she’s getting cocky. What will you do about it?”

Steve cocks a brow. His features darken and he smirks at you. “I will spank her cute ass if she gets even cockier.”

You laugh at Steve’s words. He wouldn’t dare put his hands on you. Both men are deadly and strong, but with you, they are soft and gentle. Even if you are a brat and a needy slut sometimes.

“The doctor will be here in half an hour,” Bucky stretches his legs and yawns. It was a long day. Jensen and Bucky tried to find out more about Rumlow’s disappearance over the last hours. “Let’s not fight over stolen candy.”

“I did not forget you stole from my stash, punk!” You poke your index finger into Bucky’s thigh. “You are on thin ice, Sir.”

“Sir, huh?” Bucky licks his lips. “Steve, how long until the doctor arrives.” He looks at his husband.

“Buck. No,” Steve shakes his head. “Last time the doctor almost caught us red-handed.”

“Hmmm…good times,” you nod and sigh dreamily. “Very good times.”

“Your fiancé is healthy,” the doctor murmurs while scribbling down a few notes, “everything looks good. There is nothing to be worried about.” He looks up from his notes. “We should talk about the results of the ultrasound we took today now.”

He clears his throat and looks at you. The elderly man gives you a soft smile. “Can I tell them?”

The doctor chuckles now. “Of course, my dear.”

“Alright,” you clap your hands before grinning at Steve. “I will blow your mind.”

“Please tell me she’s not pregnant with a Tasmanian devil,” Steve mirrors your smirk. “I bet she is. It would explain her bratty behavior.”

“Stevie, let Y/N talk. I wanna know what she wants to talk about,” Bucky grabs your hand. Anytime you have an ultrasound examination he turns into a softie. “Go ahead doll. We are listening.”

You take a deep breath. Suddenly you’re a little nervous. “I-doctor can you tell them?” You chicken out and drop your gaze.

“Fuck! Is something wrong with the baby?” Steve presses one hand to his heart. “Please tell us.”

“Doll…” Bucky holds your hand a little tighter. The usual tough man looks helplessly at his husband. “Stevie?”

“The baby and your fiancé are healthy,” the doctor hastily says. “We got no bad news for you. It’s rather, good news for you and your fiancé, gentlemen.”

“Good news,” Bucky nods at Steve. “Did you hear…good news. Phew.” He sighs deeply. “Thank fuck.”

“What is the good news?” Steve rumbles. He stares at your swollen belly, awaiting an answer. “Doctor?”

You take a deep breath and look at both men. You don’t know if the news is good to them or not. “We—we are having twins!”

Part 17.2

#steve rogers #bucky barnes #stucky #stucky x reader #pregnant reader #stucky x fem #stucky x female reader #female reader #stucky x y #Indecent Proposal (17)

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daydreaming-nerd · 16 days

Text

Young Love and Old Money (Cassian x Female! Reader) Part 11

Young Love and Old Money Masterlist

AN: Once again sorry this took a while! I'm about to graduate college (which I'm not happy about) and I've been packing and moving stuff home. Also guess who finished Iron Flame? ME! (Yes I know that i'm so late to the game. Graduation remember) but hey y'all drop your Xaden Riorson requests ;)

Summary: She was the most beautiful woman in Prythian, sister to the High Lord of Night, and now she is the soon-to-be wife of Eris Vanserra. Despite her many titles and her aura of unattainability, Cassian can't help but fall deeply in love with the princess of the Night Court. But will it be enough to stop her impending wedding to a man who is sure to destroy her from the inside out?

Warnings: mentions of injuries and infertility, smut, violence.

Word Count: 7,238

The next 24 hours I was bedridden, not by my wishes, but my Madja’s and well, Cassian’s. For most of those hours I was asleep, in Cassian’s arms of course. Getting him to do anything but hold me was a miracle. Not that I was complaining, but when it came to matters of him needing to eat and such I was very adamant that he do so.

Neither of us spoke much, both of us just wanting the peace of each other's company. When I would wake up I would tilt my head up from Cassian’s chest to see if he was awake or asleep. According to him I was a sleep magnet.

He would ask me if I was cold or hungry, but mostly he asked how I was feeling, which thankfully was better. My body still aches from the bruises left on me. But since the bloodbane was now out of my system the scars from both of my stab wounds were healing nicely.

I was lying on Cassian’s chest, enjoying his heartbeat when a timid knock sounded on the door. I lifted my aching body to turn and find my brother poking his head through the door, just like he used to when he would ask me if I wanted to sneak out for a midnight flight to the candy shop.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, shutting the door behind him softly, like the sound would be too much for me to stand.

“Much better, still sore and a little tired from the blood loss but at least I’m not near freezing now,” I smiled at him, Cassian rubbed my shoulder as if I needed that small ounce of warmth the friction provided.

“That’s good,” Rhys said, putting his hands behind his back. “If you’re feeling up to it, I’d like to talk to you.”

“Yes I just woke up so I’m feeling rested,” I say moving to sit up on the bed, my joints protesting.

Cassian’s hands found their place under my arms to help lift me into position and then fluffed all my pillows so I would sit comfortably. When the Illyrian made no effort to get out of bed and leave the room, Rhys cleared his throat, getting his attention.

“Yes?” Cassian cocked an eyebrow, clearly oblivious to what Rhys wanted.

“Can I have a word with my sister alone?” Rhys asked.

Cassian just rolled his eyes dramatically and moved to get out of bed. Before he left, he leaned over me and placed a kiss on my lips, one I greedily took as there was once a time I thought I would never taste him again. It wasn’t until my mate sauntered out and closed the door that Rhys spoke again.

“That’s going to take some getting used to,” he laughed sitting at the side of my bed.

“What is?” I ask, shifting in my seat to get more comfortable.

“My little sister making out with my best friend,” he explained, nodding towards the door.

“We did not make out,” I scoff, slapping him in the arm.

“Any kind of kissing I see from the two of you might as well be fucking,” he laughed again, shying away from my hand. “Now enough of that, I wanted to apologize.”

“Apologize? For what?” I furrow my brows, wondering what my saint of a brother could possibly have to apologize for.

“For being a bad brother, for not being there for you after we escaped, for even suggesting you marry Eris,” he sighed, casting his head down like he couldn’t stand to look at me. “After we got back from under the mountain I started thinking about how I did everything wrong. How if father was still High Lord that never would’ve happened. That’s why I went looking through his things, and that’s how I found the contract. I thought that if I was more like him, I could keep us all safe. I could keep us from having to endure Hybern’s wrath like we did Amarantha’s. I spent too much time thinking about my own mate and my own trauma that I didn’t even stop to consider yours, and I’m so sorry.”

“Rhys,” I breathe, feeling my heart break as I reach for his hand. “You aren’t a bad brother, you’re far from it. You’re the best big brother I could’ve ever asked for. I never gave you the option to be there for me after we got back, and I never made an effort to be there for you. We both messed up,”

“Why didn’t you tell me about Eris? You know I would’ve stopped the whole thing right then and there if I knew he had hurt you like that.” He asks, gripping my hand tighter, his brows furrowing as he searches my weary face for an answer.

“Because you sacrificed so much for me, Rhys. You sold yourself into slavery to keep me from the exact same fate. It’s a debt I never thought I’d be given the opportunity to repay.” I take a deep breath, letting the weight of my own words hit me. “You saved me, I owed you Rhys. I would’ve done anything to help you. I’m sorry that it didn’t work out, that we won’t have those armies anymore.”

Rhys’ violet eyes glisten with tears as he takes in every word I say. There’s an overwhelming guilt that fills the room. One that ebbs and flows from both of us. For the first time in 49 years I felt like I was truly seeing my brother again for the first time and what a lovely sight it was.

“Don’t you dare apologize y/n,” Rhys says, scooting closer to me. “If you were still his wife and living in the Autumn Court, I would have burned the whole place down, given what I know now. Gods I nearly lost my mind when Azriel showed up here with you, and when Madja said you may never wake up? It was worse grief than when mother and father died. Because it would’ve been my fault. You would’ve died before I ever got the chance to make things right again and I don’t think I could’ve lived with myself.”

“But we don’t have to worry about that anymore,” I cry, holding both of his hands. “I’m here now.”

“And you’re not going anywhere,” he assures me. “I can’t be High Lord of this court without my little sister.”

My words get caught in my throat at his words and I decide to hell with them. I throw my arms around his neck for the first time in a long time. He plucks me from the bed, pulling me closer, like I might slip out of his grasp and be lost forever. Both of us blubber like babies, but I can’t help but smile as I’m engulfed in the scent of sea salt and citrus again. I had missed him so much.

I hear the snapping of leather wings and then suddenly the light around me goes dark. I open my eyes to see Rhys' wings wrapping around me, cocooning me, just like he used to do when we were little kids. I can’t help but laugh and wipe away a tear as I take them in.

“We haven’t done this since-”

“Since father yelled at you for trying to sneak out to go on a date with the blacksmith's son,” Rhys said finishing my sentence.

“That’s right!” I gasp remembering the young man with shaggy brown hair. “What was his name again?”

“Arne, and he nearly soiled himself when father and I showed up to his doorstep and told him to stay away from you.” he chuckled.

“I didn’t know you went too!” I gawk, eyes going wide.

“Well of course I did, he didn’t deserve your affections,” Rhys smirked.

“All this time I blamed father but you were in on it! I hate you!” I laugh, slapping his chest. “He was handsome.”

“Don’t let Cassian know that,” Rhys teased and I couldn’t help but laugh at the image of Arne standing next to Cassian. Soil himself he certainly would in the presence of The Lord of Bloodshed.

“I promise you I’m fine. Madja said it would be good for me to start walking around more!” I protest at Cassian’s vice grip trying to keep me in bed.

It had been two days since the conversion with my brother, one that had gone into the late hours of the night as we reminisced about the old days. The only reason the conversation ended was because Cassian barged in claiming he was tired and refused to sleep anywhere but with his mate. Rhys happily obliged him and promised he would eat lunch with me the following day, which he did.

Now I was feeling much better, as my stab wounds were scarred but healed. My body still ached from the bruises all over me, both left there from Eris' hands when he took me by force, and from being dragged through the palace. But I was in desperate need of a bath, and a change of clothes. So I wasn’t taking Cassian’s pleas that I stay in bed another day.

“Fine but let me help you at least,” he grumbles rounding the bed so he can take my hands and help me stand. My legs shake under the weight of my own body but hold strong. The long sleeve shirt of Cassian’s covering my wobbling knees.

“See I’m fine,” I laugh taking slow steps to the bathroom where the house has already prepared me a steaming hot bath. The smell of Jasmine bath salts wafts through the air further solidifying that I’m home, in Velaris, and everything is okay.

I lift Cassian’s shirt over my head, discarding it on the floor and for the first time since I’ve been home I finally get a good look at myself. Except I’m not sure the person looking back at me in the mirror is me. Angry hand shaped bruises mar my hips and my forearms from where Eris gripped me. The hand print around my neck finally started to fade but it was still there. My knees and elbows were bruised from being dragged over stone floors and the scar on my side had finally healed to a faint pink.

“Gods what did he do to you?” Cassian breathed from the doorway, breaking me out of my trance. I turn to meet his worried gaze as his eyes look up and down my body at the evidence of what Eris did.

“You don’t want to know Cass,” I say, turning back to see myself in the mirror again. Cassian’s frame comes to stand beside me as he places a kiss on my bare shoulder.

“If you ever need to talk about it I’ll be here. You don’t have to hide it from me just because you don’t think I want to hear.” he says, staring at me through the mirror.

I turn in his arms to run a hand down his chest, “Can I ask you a favor? One you can absolutely say no to and I won’t be upset?” I ask him timidly.

“You could ask me for the moon on a string and I would fly up there and get it for you my love. Anything you want and it’s yours,” he smiles, brushing his knuckles against my face.

“Will you teach me how to fight? I’ve been thinking about what happened with Eris, and how helpless I felt. How I knew that all I could do was lie down and take it. I don’t have powers like Rhys, or even wings like you and Azriel to take me away. I don’t ever want to feel that way again, I never want to feel helpless.” I admit staring at his bare chest, unable to meet his gaze.

His hand finds my chin and lifts it to meet his eyes, in them, so much love. Pain for what I’ve gone through, but pride for how I’ve chosen to handle it. I could feel every emotion down the bond that I thanked the mother for every day.

“You will never have to feel helpless again y/n. I’ll kill anyone who dares to harm you and I won’t feel a lick of remorse for doing so. But I would be honored to train you,” he smiles, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “You’re going to bring me to my knees in Illyrian fighting leathers,” he laughs.

I giggle at his comment and smack him on the chest, before waltzing over to the bathtub and getting in. The warm water washing over me practically has me falling apart as I let out an appreciative hum. I close my eyes and lean my head against the edge of the tub already feeling the invisible dirt and grime being lifted off of my skin. It’s like being reborn.

When I don’t feel another body I open one eye to see Cassian standing next to me arranging towels and clothes for when I get done. I can’t help but smile at the overbearing mother hen he’s been the last couple of days. If I told anyone that The Lord of Bloodshed was fluffing towels and laying out outfits I’m sure none would believe me.

“Are you going to get in general?” I ask, nodding to the space before me. The bathtub isn’t as big as his, but it’ll do.

“If you’re asking me to get in and just sit with you, yes. But if you’re hoping for anything more the answer is no. You’re not fully healed yet and I don’t want to hurt you,” he says firmly, setting the towels down.

“But Cass I’m fine-”

“No you’re not, the wound on your stomach is still healing,” he states and I know he’s right.

“Fine, get in you Illyrian baby,” I say moving my legs to make room for him.

He rolls his eyes at my comment but drops his pants. The moment he does I instantly curse myself for allowing my eyes to ogle him. Then I curse him and his stupid temporary sex ban. It had been well before the wedding since he and I had been intimate that way and I wanted so badly to touch him. To solidify the fact that he was purely mine. Even as he looked disorientated as hell trying to find a way for his wings to fit in the smaller tub, he was handsome.

“Here,” I laugh, moving over to sit in his lap so that he can extend his legs and move more. “There now we both fit.”

“As soon as you're well I’m flying you back to The House of Wind and we’re taking a proper bath,” he laughs, pressing a kiss to my nose.

“I’ll hold you to that general,” I smile leaning in to kiss him.

Just like the first time we bathed together he takes the time to gently wash all of me. The way his large hands massage my scalp as he washes my hair has my eyes fluttering shut, as do his soft touches as he washed my body. The smell of my jasmine and amber soap filling my nose and making me feel like myself again. His hand lingers over the nail shaped scar across my stomach and his eyes zero in there. As if there’s something on the tip of his tongue.

“There’s something I need to tell you, something that I’ve been avoiding.” he says, not taking his eyes off the scar. “I wanted to wait until you were completely healed but I think you should know now.”

Anxiety starts to build inside of me. I thought that after the wedding he had stopped keeping secrets. Whatever this was, it was big. Big enough for his eyes to start glazing over as they stayed riveted on my stomach.

“What is it?” I say quietly when he doesn’t speak up.

“Madja was able to heal most of you but there were things even her magic couldn’t fix. She says that the wound to your womb was severe, that it hit an area she couldn’t heal. Because of it, you may never be able to have children,” he says solemnly, finally taking his eyes off my scar to look at me. His eyes were full of worry, as tears welled up in them.

My world stopped as I took in what he said. I knew the reason Eris wounded me was to ensure I wouldn't have his child, but it had never occurred to me that it would prevent me from having any children. Prevent me from having Cassian’s children.

A wave of grief washes over me for what could’ve been, and then it’s followed by guilt. Cassian had already sacrificed so much for me, for us, for this court. And now I couldn’t give him the one thing the fae prayed and begged the Mother for, a child. I had been a terrible mate all these months. Not knowing about the bond, marrying another male, letting that male put his hands on me. All things I could never atone for.

What god did Cassian offend to end up cursed with me as his mate?

“There’s still time,” I breathed, eyes cast down to where he held my hands just above the water.

“Time for what my love?” the general’s eyebrows furrowed at my anomalous response.

“For you to reject the bond. We haven’t truly accepted it yet and I understand if this isn’t what you want anymore. I know how badly you wanted children and if I can’t-”

“No,” he answered resolutely, pulling me closer to him pressing his forehead against mine. “This changes nothing. I don’t need children to be happy, I just need you.”

“Then maybe you can seek out a surrogate and then-” I ramble but he cuts me off again.

“Don’t even finish that sentence. I would rather die than lie with another woman,” he said with a strong tone. “A life with you…That is what I want more than anything. More than children, more than armies. I have loved you for so long and now you are mine, and I am yours. Anything else is inconsequential.”

He pauses and leans over the edge of the bathtub grabbing his pants. I can’t help but furrow my brows as he fishes around in one of his pockets until he pulls out something small that I can’t see and holds it tightly in his hand.

“I made up my mind from the moment you asked me to kiss you all those weeks ago that you would be mine until the end of all days. If you recall, I even told you so.” he starts.

“Now I’m never letting you go”

The words replay in my head as he opens his hand revealing a brass ring. The thing looked so small in his large hand. It was beaten and weathered. No doubt having seen years of life and love.

“This was my mothers,” he states, holding up the ring. “It’s the only thing I have left of hers, given to me by someone in her village who managed to save it. As you know I’m a bastard, so it’s not a wedding ring. But I remember her wearing it all the time.” his lips tug up in a small smile as if remembering his mother.

There is a sadness in his eyes as he stares down at the little ring. But as I see the wheels in his head churning, recalling his mothers face, his eyes lighten and he continues.

“I always knew that I would give it to my mate, if the cauldron ever blessed me with one. I never once thought I would be mated to the princess. It feels stupid asking you to marry me with this, but I didn’t carry this thing around all these years for nothing.” he chuckles looking into my eyes. “Y/n I love you. I always have. I don’t just want you as my best friend or my partner or even just as my mate. I want you as my wife. I know this ring isn’t befitting of a princess or The Jewel of Prythian, but will you marry me?”

I can’t help but let out a small laugh and press a kiss to his cheek, “Of course I will Cass, how could you ever think I would say no?”

“I just had to ask,” he chuckles into my lips.

I look down to see him sliding the circlet of brass around my left ring finger and to my surprise it fits like a glove. As if it was destined to sit there for the rest of its days.

“We can get you another one, something more befitting of a princess.” he smiles, pressing a kiss to the band.

“No, I don't want another one. I want this one.” I assure him laying my front down on his chest.

“Whatever makes you happy my love,” he hums, running a hand through my wet hair.

We lay in the newly engaged bliss for a long time. Until the bathwater runs cold and our fingers and toes wrinkle. But it isn’t long enough, we could’ve spent hours more in that bath and it still wouldn’t be enough. No amount of time ever would be.

The next day I woke up to Cassian’s side of the bed cold. No doubt he had finally started training again, something I’m sure Azriel had been pestering him about. Ever since I had gotten back he hadn’t left my side once, and that included training. I joked with him that he was going to lose his rippling abs but he always laughed it off and said I was more important. I wasn’t upset that he had gone to training, if anything it made me feel lighter. It made me feel like things were going back to normal.

I was sitting in the library reading when he finally waltzed in, covered in sweat with his hair tied at the nape of his neck. The sight had me wondering when his little sex ban would end.

“How was training?” I ask setting down the book I was reading and stand to greet him.

“Az kicked my ass, apparently a couple days out officially puts me out of practice,” he smiles, bending down to kiss me.

“You’re stinky,” I laughed, twisting my face at him.

“You like it and you know it,” he teases, grabbing me by the waist to plant another kiss on my lips.

I cursed at the feral part of me that liked seeing him sweaty and dirty, “Yeah, yeah, yeah so maybe I like it,” I smiled, pulling him down by the nape of the neck for another kiss.

His hands pulled my waist so I was closer to him and my arms naturally looped around his neck. I was consumed by the feeling of him. His strong arms around me, his lips all over mine, his scent at its purest form. It was enough to drive me absolutely mad. I pulled him in closer with a groan as I parted my mouth for him.

“Ah ah ah,” he tutted, breaking the kiss. “You’re not healed yet.”

“Ugh Cass!” I bemoan throwing my head back in a mini tantrum.

“You’re still a little sore, I can see it when you walk,” he laughs, kissing my temple. “Just a few more days my love.”

“If you don’t want me anymore you can just say it,” I tease, turning my head to the side so that I’m staring at the wall.

His hand finds my chin and turns it so I’m facing him again. I make sure to don my most irritated face, one that makes his lips turn up in a smirk. I wish I could kiss it right off his face.

“Oh believe me baby I want you plenty,” he smirks. “In a perfect world I would fuck you over the arm of that couch until the only word that you know how to say is my name.”

My breath hitches and my toes curl at the image of him taking me that way. I knew he meant every word. Words I would hold him to once I was finished. I wanted him in every way possible. The kitchen floor, the bathroom counter, the dining room table. Anywhere he would take me.

As if he can scent my arousal he leans in to place a sweet kiss upon my lips. But when I close my eyes I fall into dead air. I open my eyes to see him staring off into the distance, a concerned look on his face.

“What? What is it?” I ask knowing that something is going wrong.

“Eris is here,” he says assuredly and I realize that my brother had been contacting him via daemati.

Cassian drops his hands from my waist and walks towards the doorway, picking up the swords he discarded against the wall. A male with a clear goal in sight.

“Wait, I want to come too!” I shout at him, following him down the hall.

He stops in his tracks turning to meet my gaze, “Absolutely not, I don’t want him anywhere near you.” he fusses strapping his swords and daggers in tightly.

“Cass please I’m not afraid of him. This obviously concerns me, I want to be there,” I plead with him.

Cassian’s jaw twinges and he looks out the window to my right, as if he is contemplating what he wants to do. Things that might happen, things that could go wrong. I see his eyes dart around slightly as if he’s watching all possible outcomes.

“Fine,” he states, though I can tell it’s not truly what he wants. “But you have to know that if he even comes close to you I will fucking kill him y/n. I will slit his fucking throat right then and there. Can you live with that?” he asks me in earnest.

“Yes,” I nod.

In reality my answer is no. The last thing I need is for a war between Night and Autumn just because Cassian killed their heir. I hated the male just as much as Cassian did, maybe even more, but I wouldn’t allow this to happen, which might be the real reason I wanted to attend.

The flight to the house in The Court of Nightmares was short. One Cassian had clearly flown a thousand times. Growing up I was never allowed to go there, my father claiming it was too dangerous for me. One night curiosity got the best of me and I asked Rhys to take me and he declined. It was at that moment I lost all desire to set foot in the city.

As Cassian and I stepped foot into my family's house there I couldn’t help but shudder. No wonder I had never been allowed here. It was all wrong, nothing like Velaris. Suddenly all the stories other courts whispered about the Night Court added up.

When we arrived at the throne room we entered through the back. Standing by Rhysand who was sitting atop the throne he had been born to inherit. Eris is standing before him just a few yards away. Both of them clearly lost in a heated discussion.

We stood aside Rhys, Cassian’s arm wrapping protectively around me as his other hand hovered over the hilt of his sword. Eris’ eyes flickered over to me, then to Cassain and then back to Rhys.

“You hold no claim over my sister, not after what you’ve done. You’re lucky I haven’t melted your mind where you stand,” Rhysand’s voice boomed.

It was the first thing I heard when I walked in, and it made a chill run down my spine. I had never heard my brother this way. I knew Rhys often put on a front for other courts but I had never seen it. As if he was too afraid to show it to me.

“She’s my fucking wife. You can’t keep my wife from me Rhysand; it goes against the laws of every court in Prythian.” Eris growls back. “Come on pet it’s time to return home.” he says, holding a hand out to me. Had he forgotten the events that led me here in the first place?

I step closer into Cassain’s frame, my hand curling into one of the straps on his fighting leathers. As if he can sense my fear, his body tenses and he pulls me tighter to him.

“Take one more fucking step towards her Eris and I will spill your guts on this floor,” Cassian growls and even I’m scared of the tone he uses. Unlike the Autumn Court, Cassian has the upper hand here, and I’m deeply terrified he will use it. While he may be The Lord of Bloodshed, Eris is the son of a High Lord.

“She is my wife, and I hold full authority over her,” Eris seethes, the fire in his eyes returning.

“You hold no claim over me,” I said. “You never did. By the laws of your court our marriage is null and void. Now I belong to my mate, who loves me.”

“You once told me you loved me,” Eris says smugly.

My mind races back to our wedding night. I swore I would never let him hear the words pass my lips. But the pain, it was too much. He told me he would stop if I would just say those three little words, and in a moment of desperation I caved to his wishes. My body too worse for wear to take much more.

Cassian’s body twinges next to me clearly taken back by Eris’ words.

“That’s because you beat me into submission until I did. That’s not love. I gave Cassian my love freely, before he ever touched me. Before I knew he was my mate.” I say firmly, my gaze unyielding at the Autumn Court heir.

Eris simply rolled his eyes, “To hell with the laws of my court, I had it written today that impure females can still wed noblemen. I want The Jewel and I shall have her,” he smirks looking me up and down.

Before I can even retort, Rhysand speaks up, “and I had it written the moment she was found that in my court, mates can’t be separated without consent,” my brother says smoothly. “Sister, would you like to go with Eris?” he asked me.

“No I would not,” I say firmly. “You wouldn’t benefit much from me anyways. The healers say I may never bear children now.”

“What a shame, now you’re just spoiled fucking goods,” Eris lips twist in a self satisfied sneer. “At least one good thing came out of that nail to your womb. You won’t be making any bastard children.”

Before I can even start to bring him down to earth Cassian is launching himself at Eris. A frenzy of swords, flame and raw power from Cassian’s siphons barrel around the room. I can’t help but gawk and run to my brother's side as Cassian unleashes his fury upon Eris. Most of Eris’ moves are on the defense, as Cassian never lets him have a moment to strike.

“Rhys stop this!” I say clutching my brother's arm.

Rhys simply smirks, crossing an ankle over his knee clearly amused, “No I’m actually enjoying this,” he smirks leaning into the arm of the throne as the sounds of metal on metal ring through the room.

I look up to see Cassian hovering over Eris, a sword held to his throat as Eris uses every ounce of power he has to keep the general from piercing his throat.

“Did I get under your skin, dog?” Eris taunts, trying to catch Cassian off guard enough that he can get the upper hand. “Did I tell you how she screamed as I took her?” he grins.

Cassian falters just long enough for Eris to get out from underneath him. Eris’ hands are ablaze as he tries to burn through Cassain’s leathers, but the general has him on his back before he gets the chance. His hazel eyes ravenous as he lifts a sword to cleave Eris’ head. I realize that this is truly the Lord of Bloodshed standing before me, and now I know why he had been given the title.

“Rhys!” I cry out hoping he can end the carnage.

“Fine, fine,” he assures me standing from his seat. “ENOUGH!” the High Lord bellows, his power pulling the fighting males apart. “My word is final. Eris, go home while I’ll still allow it.” Rhys finishes sitting back in his chair with a swagger I wish I could recreate for myself.

Cassain comes running over to me, not a scratch on him as Eris limps out the doors behind him.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?” I fuss surveying the burn marks in his leathers from Eris’ hands. Thankfully none of them burnt all the way through.

“I’m fine baby,” he beams down at me, trying to mask the anger he feels for letting Eris walk out of here alive.

“By the mother can the both of you get a room?” Rhys chastised, standing from the throne.

“You’re going to have to get used to it brother,” Cassian laughs, wrapping his arms around me.

“Yeah, yeah,” Rhys dismisses us. “Go home, both of you, before I lose my lunch,” he jokes, stepping down from the dais, moving towards the door Cassian and I entered through.

Cassian and I enter his room, this time at the House of Wind. Both of us had decided that Rhys needed to learn to take the new dynamic in doses. The Illyrian rid himself of his leathers, his body practically vibrating with anger, desire, sadness? I couldn’t quite tell.

“Cass, are you okay?” I ask laying a hand on his now bare shoulder. My voice is small and timid worrying what I might awaken in him.

“Yes my love I’m fine,” he says, taking my hand and pressing a kiss to my open palm. “Just left over adrenaline inside of me, that’s all.”

My thoughts wander to the sight of him nearly taking Eris’ life. In the moment I was scared he would get hurt, but looking back now? I hated to admit how it made my heart race and my thighs clench. I had never needed him more than I did now.

“I can think of a few ways to dispel that adrenaline,” I smirk, leaning in to kiss him but he stops me.

“No stop, I won’t hurt you y/n,” he groans, pushing me away.

I felt something in me snap, something breaking. “Cassian please,” I beg and his eyes meet mine. “Please, I'm begging you to touch me. I am whole, I am well. I just want my mate. I can’t bear it any longer.” I plead with him, tears welling in my eyes.

He moves swiftly, his frame towering over me as he comusnes my mouth as if he’s consuming my soul. I feel the need in him sink into my very skin as he takes me in his arms. I nearly whimper at the way he kisses me so thoroughly.

“If I hurt you, tell me right away. Okay?” he says between kisses, his hands roaming up and down my sides.

I can only nod my head in agreement before his lips are on mine again. Every touch of his hands on my body is so all consuming, yet never enough. The male could be melded to my skin and it still wouldn’t be enough.

I feel my thighs hit the back of a rogue desk and suddenly I’m being hauled up until my bum sits on the cold surface. My hands wander up and down Cassian’s chest, committing every muscle to memory once more. His own hands wander around my back until I hear a deafening rip ricochet off the walls. My dress being torn in half and discarded on the floor.

“Cassian,” I breathed as the cold air hit the bare skin of my breasts.

I was happy to see that his little sex ban had affected him as much as it did me. His hands and mouth were feral on me, no doubt from the adrenaline. His hand tugged my head back by my hair giving himself full access to my neck. The open mouthed kisses he left all over me drove me wild. But I didn’t stop the general on his mission to worship every part of me.

His lips wandered over every ghost of a bruise Eris had left on me.

“You are loved, you are safe, you are mine,” he whispered before consuming my mouth once more.

My hands flew to the leathers of his pants, ripping them open seamlessly. His cock sprung free, hard and ready for me. But once again he stopped me.

“I mean it princess. You feel pain at any time and we’re done.” he says pressing his forehead to mine.

“Shut up and fuck me general,” I grit bucking my core towards him.

“Is that an order princess?” He teased, kissing my temple.

“Yes it is,” I groan. “If you don’t I’ll throw you in the dungeons.” I tease running my hands down his chest.

“Well then, as my princess commands.” He smirks, sinking himself into me.

If he didn’t have me seated on his desk my knees would’ve buckled. The feeling of him inside me was so overwhelming, so amazing. I found myself crying out in pleasure from the fullness.

“Good girl,” he smiles before thrusting in once more.

My eyes already see stars as he sets a steady pace. One not nearly as hard as he did at the ball, clearly not wanting to hurt me. Nonetheless, the pace he set felt amazing.

“Oh Cass,” I moaned, my nails raking across his back.

“Did I tell you how I missed this?” he groaned, thrusting into me deeper. “How badly I missed being inside you?”

His words had me going limp in his arms. My mouth leaving sweet kisses on his neck to encourage him to keep fucking me. I run my hands all over his body, wanting to feel all of him. This man, this glorious, brave and strong man was my mate. For the first time since realizing it, it had begun to truly sink in. This was our first time together now that both of us knew, and I could practically feel the bond between us screaming to be consummated.

“Mine,” I breathed into his ear as he hit me particularly deep. “My mate.”

His hand came back to cup the base of my neck so that I was craning up to meet his stare. The fanning of his breath on my cheek as he fucked me languidly.

“All yours baby, forever.” he smirked, leaning down to kiss me.

Large hands cupped my bottom and I felt myself being carried towards the bed. He set me down in a way that made it so he never had to pull out of me, and I was thankful for the gesture. I didn’t want to be separated from him for a single moment.

He resumed his relaxed place, one that had me feeling every inch of him. There would be time for fucking in the future, but for now I just wanted him to make love to me, and by the cauldron did he.

I felt my legs start to shake and tremble as he continuously hit the part of me that always had me falling apart. My hands threaded through his hair as I heard his moans and grunts in my ear, only making my stomach flutter even more. The damn inside of me getting ready to burst.

“Cass I’m going to,” I shudder, raking my hands down his back, an action that spurs him on.

“I’m close too y/n, just hold on for me,” he grunts fucking into me harder.

In my efforts to hold off on my release in order to wait for him I feel myself clench around his length, his hips stuttering as he tries to keep his pace.

“Oh shit baby you keep doing that I’m gonna-”

“Cass please,” I cry, nearly arching my back so I can feel more of his skin on mine.

“Fuck, cum with me,” Cassian groans.

The ragged deepness of his voice has me seeing stars as my own release washes over me. He continues rutting into me as he buries his head in my neck, breathing in my scent. Both of us are panting as I run my hands through his hair some more, calming us both down.

“My beautiful, smart, amazing, sexy mate,” he says, kissing my neck with each phrase.

He rolls over so he doesn’t crush me under his weight, and his arms pull me up to rest on his chest like always. The skin under my cheek is covered in a thin sheen of sweat as I hear his heartbeat beginning to calm down. I can’t stop myself from propping my chin up on his chest and placing sweet kisses all over him. From his abs to his chest, to his shoulders, and his neck.

“If this is us now how bad are we going to be after we accept the bond?” Cassian chuckles, pushing my hair out of my face so that he can see me.

“I don’t know, but I don’t want to wait any longer to accept it,” I say, pressing a kiss to the center of his chest. “Not after today, with Eris. Who knows what kind of crazy strings he would pull to take me back and have me be his lap pet. If we’re officially mated Rhys’ laws will hold true.”

“Trust me, Eris would sooner have his head on a pike than have his hands on you again,” Cassian laughs lightly.

“I’d rather not have it come to that. If you were on the other end of Beron’s wrath for killing his heir we couldn’t do this as often,” I smirk, placing a kiss on his neck.

“You have me there princess,” Cassian laughs, pulling my bare body impossibly closer to his.

“By the end of the week?” I ask boldly.

“What?” he says, caught off guard.

“I want to be mated by the end of the week, I want to call you my husband,” I smile, bringing my left hand with the engagement ring up to cup his face. “Unless you think it’s too soon?” I ask worried I might be pushing him too far.

“Too soon? I’ve been wanting to make you my wife for over 50 years y/n. I’d marry you right now if you wanted me to,” he rambles and I can’t help but giggle.

“While I love the sound of that I would like a dress, and maybe a ring for you as well.” I say brushing a hair out of his face.

“I suppose I’ve waited this long,” he laughs, pulling me over so I’m lying directly on top of his chest. “By the end of the week it is.” he beams, sealing the promise with a kiss.

Hey I’ve been having some problems with tagging so lmk if you get this or if you saw it but didn’t get the notif!!

Taglist: @crystalferret202 , @nickishadow139 , @graceshifts , @writeroutoftime , @heyyitsnat21 , @stinkinstuffie , @lilah-asteria , @12358 , @fxckmiup , @daughterofthemoons-stuff , @mybestfriendmademe , @anxious-study , @bxm-1012 , @mal-adaptive-dreams , @sh4nn , @talesofadragon , @5onedirection5 , @saltedcoffeescotch , @flourelle

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bihanspookies · 4 months

Note

If you’re willing to do requests: MK1 Earthrealm Champions with a reader who’s a vigilante assassin?

Helll yeah bruudddeerrr, let’s get it

I’m writing it as them finding out what you do 🧐

Johnny Cage

• You saw how he reacted to Liu Kang, Bi Han and Kuai Liang showing up at his front step. He didn’t believe diddly squat until he saw magical shit up close and personal. You think he’d be a little more open to finding out you’re a vigilante assassin but—

• When he first finds out of course he’s in disbelief, he’s standing there with his hands on his hips and looking at you like 🤨

• He’s known you for YEARS how could he have not known this?

• Honestly though he finds it hot.

• Brains, beauty AND deadly?? Sign him tf up.

• Now he knows for sure to not mess with you.

“Wait wait wait so you’re saying that was you who took that guy out? Get outta here.” He waves a hand dismissively at you, using his other hand to take a sip of his drink. You both had been drinking the night away casually, swapping random stories when you had let it slip about your little ‘side job’.

“It’s true Johnny, not quite sure how I can prove it you but,” You shrug, downing the rest of your drink and popping one of the table snacks into your mouth. Johnny can only look at you, lips parted in suspicion as he tries to process the information you just told him.

“So the—?”

“Yeah.”

“And the guy—?”

“Mhm.”

“….Fucking amazing.”

Kenshi

• He isn’t quite sure how to handle it tbh. One on hand he understands wanting to punish those that deserve it but on the other he doesn’t like that you’re putting yourself in danger, no matter how good you say you are.

• He knew something was up with you the more he got to know you. How you’d seem more tired on certain days, bruises that were way too severe from just a simple sparring session, or how you’d suddenly take interest in someone from Kenshi’s past.

• He got extra worried when he saw you snooping through his office one day, filing through some old papers before claiming that you were ‘looking for something else’.

• He followed you one night, using Sento to guide him with ease throughout the city. It was late, raining, and he was starting to get frustrated the longer he tailed you.

• Finally he feels you stop, slipping quietly into a building from the fire escape. He’s not too far behind, climbing up and through the window just in time to see you slice open the neck of some poor unsuspecting man.

• He jumps down and makes his way to you, ready to tear you a new one until he sees that it’s someone from his yazuka days.

“The hell are you doing??” He hisses your name, Sento clutched tight in his tattooed hands as he approaches. He glances down at the bloody body on the floor, muffled gurgled sounds of his former enemy choking on his blood.

“The hell are you doing here?” You retort back, wiping your blade clean with your shirt and tucking it back into its sheath.

Kenshi doesn’t know what to say, too stunned at just witnessing you murder someone without even batting an eye. You can see the gears turning in his head and decide to let him in on your secret other life. You’ve known him for years, you can trust him.

“Vigilante… assassin?” He doesn’t like how the words taste on his tongue, grimacing at he tries to connect them and you together despite what he just witnessed.

You had walked and talked, disposing of the body as you did so and soon you find yourselves sitting on top of another building.

For the first time in a while you feel nervous, fiddling with your nails as you watch him soak in this new information.

“I just… be careful alright? I don’t like it but I can’t stop you.”

Kung Lao

• Like Johnny he also doesn’t believe you at first, claiming that you’re just making shit up to have a one up on him.

• You know that scene in the incredibles when Helen spins around in the chair waiting for Bob and she’s like “is this rubble 🤨.” That’s Kung Lao when you come home late one night covered in blood and debris.

• He’s immediately on you, asking where the hell you’ve been while also questioning why you look like you just came out of the Koliseum.

• Usually you’re so careful when coming back, slipping in and out like a snake but this particular job had nearly gone wrong so you’d been a little reckless when coming back inside your home.

• Knowing there was no way out of this one, you sat him down and started to explain everything. It’s a good thing Kung Lao didn’t play poker because his poker face was absolutely awful. His facial features showing exactly what he was feeling in the moment.

• When you finished, he was silent for a few moments before letting out a chuckle. He gave a look of ‘really?’ And you could only sit there and watch him try to soak up everything you said.

“So you’re a sort of crime fighting assassin? Please, you insult me.” He crosses his arms over his chest, eyebrow raised and a bit of a smug smirk on his lips. You can only huff, rolling your eyes and shaking your head at him.

“Lao it’s true, I don’t know what else you want me to tell you.”

His smile slowly dies off his lips, noticing your posture and the lack of humor in your voice. You’ve never been one to lie to him so why start now? It starts to lock into place when previous instances start to pop into head and suddenly he’s sitting up straighter in his chair.

“You’re… really going out and doing these things?”

Instead of answering you turn and lift your shirt up, showcasing the gash on your lower back that was caked with dry blood. He hisses, running his fingertips across the top before pulling back and lowering your shirt.

“Not quite sure I believe you yet but let’s get you cleaned up first.”

When he finally does accept what you do, he’s very excited to have you fight along his side, wanting to low key turn any fight you do into a competition even more now.

Raiden

• You know that face he did when Kitana said that she heard he has a crush on her. Yeah that’s him when he finds out.

• At first he’s stuck processing it, because he never thought that you of all people would do that.

• But the more he thinks about it the more he’s impressed and although he wishes that you would leave that stuff to the law, he knows what it’s like to having to take matters into your own hands.

• He admires you for being able to go out and just take someone out with no thoughts about it whatsoever.

• But also he can’t help but worry every time you disappear because now he knows what you’re truly up to. He knows you can take care of yourself but still.

• It’s late at night when he catches you slipping out, softly calling out your name to stop you.

“Another job?”

You nod, no expression whatsoever as you linger by the window. Your gloved hand taps silently against the frame, wanting to reassure Raiden that you’d be fine but truthfully these things could go either way and you didn’t want to give him the false hope.

He only gives a singular nod, crossing his arms over his chest as he takes in your appearance.

“May the Elder Gods protect you.”

And he bows and smiles, a barely noticeable one but it’s enough to have you feeling confident and excited to come back home to him.

“I will.”

He watches as you hop out the window, feeling a sense of odd pride swirl in his heart.

#mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat #Johnny cage x reader #kenshi x reader #kung lao x reader #raiden x reader #johnny cage #kenshi #kung lao #raiden #my writings

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youwouldntdownloadapizza · 3 months

Text

The Gates of Jackson | Joel Miller x F!Reader - Chapter 3

masterlist | ao3 | follow @youwouldntdownloadapizza and turn on notifications for updates

You showed up at the gates of Jackson with hands covered in blood and no memory of how you got there. That was two years ago. Since then, you've become Maria's right-hand woman and the person in charge of Jackson's logistical backend. Patrol schedules, inventory—all your purview. When a patrol gone wrong forces you to get to know Joel, memories of your past begin resurfacing—along with their consequences.

previous | next

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

rating: 18+, minors DNI

word count: 1.1k

tags: no use of y/n, eventual smut, no beta we die like sarah, jackson era, other additional tags to be added, slow burn, ellie needs a hug, joel lives, good parent joel, reader-insert, reader insert, forced proximity, only one bed trope, nightmares, childbirth, hurt/comfort, emotional hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending, soft joel, cuddling & snuggling, fluff, masturbation, pining, joel falls first, possibly demisexual reader (tbd), ptsd, ptsd flashbacks, panic attacks, amnesia

chapter warnings: canon-typical violence, violence towards children, nightmares

Chapter 3

By the time you descended the ladder, Joel had everything set up. A clean, if dusty and threadbare, blanket was spread before the fireplace. He’d managed to get the fire going, and while it hadn’t reached a roar, it was plenty hot enough to heat some cans for dinner.

“What are you in the mood for?” Joel asked, gesturing between two cans with a pilfered can opener. “I’ve got alphabet soup or beefy ravioli.”

“Ravioli, please,” you said decisively, taking a seat beside him on the blanket. It took a second of him staring at you expectantly for you to realize he was holding out your selection. You took it and dug in.

“Holy shit,” you nearly moaned, the zing of 20-year-old marinara a delight to tired taste buds.

“That good, huh?” Joel asked.

You nodded–yeah, it was really that good.

“Maybe Ellie’s onto something,” he chuckled, digging into his own dinner. You cocked an eyebrow. He elaborated, “She’s big on Chef Boyardee, too. Who knew he’d have so many fans in the apocalypse?”

“I don’t know,” you joked. “Fungal pandemics come and go, but pasta is forever.”

He laughed mid-chew, snorting so effusively a J-shaped piece of pasta landed at your feet.

“Huh,” you said. “J for Joel.”

You ate the rest of your food in relative silence, the levity of the first few bites subsiding once you realized how hungry you truly were.

A few minutes later, you set your empty can on the hearth with a clatter. “I’m gonna turn in.”

Joel nodded. “I’ll take first watch. Good night, Doe.”

“Night, Joel.”

Upon further inspection, the puke-covered couch appeared to convert into a mostly unscathed bed. It felt almost wrong to tuck yourself beneath such cozy bedding in your filthy patrol clothes. Especially since you had to be ready to spring into action at any moment, which meant your shoes stayed on too. But it’s not like there were other options. You lay your head atop the impossibly fluffy pillow, and let your eyes fall shut. Before you knew it, you were asleep.

* * *

You only ever saw Steffy in your dreams anymore. Your baby sister had been there for the collapse of the Salt Lake City QZ, escaping alongside you. But somewhere between fleeing and finding yourself at the gates of Jackson, you’d lost her. You’re not sure what happened exactly, but the dread in the pit of your stomach left no room for wondering: Steffy was dead.

She was alive right now, though. You were little again, sitting on the terracotta tiles of your Aunt Suzie’s back porch. It was summer, a gentle breeze rustling the leaves of the magnolia tree above you.

While the adults grilled, you and Steffy had a tea party. All the best dolls were invited, teddy bears too. Even Steffy’s favorite, a bedraggled rat plushie named Ratty.

“Ratty wants Earl Grey,” Steffy said, holding out a tiny teacup and saucer.

“Why, of course,” you replied in a bad British accent, pretending to pour him a cup.

Steffy made Ratty drink the whole cup in one gulp. “Dee-licious.”

You giggled. She giggled. It was contagious, the two of you devolving into downright guffaws when you noticed the adults’ chatter had stopped. Looking over your sister’s shoulder, your face fell.

“What’s wrong?” Steffy asked with a tilt of her head.

You wanted to tell her to run. You wanted to tell her to get behind you, that something was wrong. But you were frozen.

That’s when the clicker sunk its teeth into her neck.

You woke with a start, flailing wildly, arm connecting with something hard, something that let out an ‘oof’ in response. Joel. You had hit Joel. Based on the proximity, you guessed he was trying to wake you.

“Sorry,” you panted, heart still racing from your dream. “Time for my watch?”

“No,” you could barely make out the shake of his head against what was left of the dying firelight. “It’s only been a couple hours. You were flailin’ about, looked like you were having a nightmare.”

“Oh,” you said. “Thank you. I’m fine now.”

“If you’re sure,” he said. “I’m here, y’know. If you want to… talk about it, or anything.”

You were still shaky. Your heart was still going so fast. But you weren’t about to discuss your dead sister with Joel Miller.

“I’m fine.” You doubled down, softer than you meant to.

“Okay,” he backed off, returning to his spot leaned up against the fireplace, eyes on the door.

Minutes passed, and your heart was still racing. Your hand throbbed, and you wondered how hard you’d hit Joel. Hopefully not hard enough to leave a mark.

“I’m sorry I hit you,” you said softly through the darkness.

“It’s fine, Doe. You were dreaming.”

You hated the way he brushed away your concerns, the way he gave you grace. In your experience, people rarely let others off the hook, not really. There was always some resentment that lingered.

If you were going to owe him, you might as well really owe him.

“Joel?” you asked.

“Hm?”

“I can’t sleep,” you confessed.

“I don’t know what you expect me to do about that.”

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself to ask for what you wanted. “Will you cuddle with me? It’s not you, it’s just…I need another person. We’re safe here, we don’t need a watch, not really. And I need you.”

“Thought you said it wasn’t personal.”

“It’s not,” you bristled. “But I thought it would be nice.”

“Never said it wouldn’t be, sweetheart.”

You lay there expectantly for what felt like ages. Then, finally, you heard the squeak of old floorboards under his boots, and felt the squish of the mattress as he climbed onto it beside you. You found a position easily, one arm beneath your head, his other loosely draped across your waist.

Your heart slowed marginally, but your breathing remained fast and light.

“Relax, sweetheart. You gotta breathe.”

“I can’t–” you started. He cut you off with a hand to your stomach.

“You can.” He pulled you back against him gently, not so tight you were crushed, but just enough for you to feel the expanding and contracting of his own breath against your back. “Breathe with me, alright?”

You nodded with a shuddering breath. He tapped your stomach lightly with his thumb. You matched his inhale, breathing deeply and resenting the fact that this shit works every goddamn time. Within a few minutes, you were calm. Or as calm as you were going to get, anyway.

“I get them too, you know,” Joel admitted.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You were still pulled close against him, neither of you having made a move to scramble apart once your breathing returned to normal. At his admission, you relaxed into him fully, taking his free hand in yours.

Before you knew it, you were asleep once more, dreamless and deep, held safe and secure in the warmth of Joel’s embrace.

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#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller fluff #joel miller angst #joel miller series #joel miller fic #the last of us #tlou #joel x reader #joel x you #no use of y/n #joel miller x f!reader #jackson era #joel lives #ao3 #fanfic #fanfiction

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mikeandikeschmidt · 3 months

Text

FNAFMovie!Incorrect Quotes: Part Four

WILLIAM, as Steve Raglan: You're clearly not listening. I can say whatever I want, can't I?

MIKE, half asleep: Tell me about it.

WILLIAM: I murdered another kid last night.

MIKE: I feel you.

WILLIAM: Now I have the taste of blood, I can't stop killing.

MIKE, yawning: Been there

***

MIKE: If I seem intense, that's for one reason and one reason only, okay? I don't wanna be here and I'm really sad.

***

VANESSA: Why is Barbie's the Nutcracker the only good film adaptation of the ballet that has ever been made?

MIKE, who’s been around Abby too long: Because Barbie movies slap, next question.

***

WILLIAM: it's time for you to die.

ABBY: One sec, let me ask my brother

WILLIAM: It's not a choi--

ABBY: Mike said no.

***

MIKE: I did what I could, you know, while I was also trying not to bleed to death.

***

WILLIAM: I will ruin your happiness, no matter the cost!

MIKE: My happiness?

MIKE, turning to Vanessa: I'm happy?

***

ABBY: You wanna see how hardcore I am?

ABBY: *punches wall*

ABBY:

ABBY: Take me to the hospital.

***

MIKE: Well, well, well. If it isn’t my old friend...the dawning realization that I messed up bad.

***

MRS. AFTON: Hey, it's your turn to wash dishes.

WILLIAM: I'LL WASH THE WALLS RED WITH YOUR BLOOD

MRS. AFTON: 'Kay, but before that, wash the dishes. Also, use soap this time?

***

WILLIAM, a career counselor: Look, I would like to give you moral advice, but I have very questionable morals.

***

MIKE: You're my little sister and the most important thing in the world to me. I would do anything for you.

ABBY: I want you to eat three meals a day and have a decent sleep schedule.

MIKE: Absolutely not.

***

MIKE: What doesn't kill me should run, because now I'm ticked off

***

MIKE: You saved me. I owe you my life.

VANESSA: No, thanks. I’ve seen it and I’m not very impressed.

***

WILLIAM, first interviewing Mike: You look familiar. Have I killed one of your loved ones before?

***

MIKE: Fool me once, I’m gonna kill you

***

MIKE: Do you have any skeletons in your closet?

WILLIAM: You mean literally or figuratively?

MIKE: Honestly, the fact that I have to specify...

***

WILLIAM: 'Person of interest' is almost too flattering.

WILLIAM: Like, if the police were to pound on my door and go, 'Someone has been murdered in your building and you are a person of interest,' I'd be like, 'Moi? Oh, do go on.'

***

VANESSA: I've already sent good vibes your way… they’re coming. There’s nothing you can do to stop them.

MIKE: This is the most threatening way I’ve ever been cheered up.

***

MIKE: People are always asking me if I'm a morning person or a night person. And I'm just like, 'Buddy! I'm barely even a PERSON!'

***

ABBY: Oh just so you know, it's very muggy outside

MIKE:

MIKE: Abby, I swear, if I step outside and all of our mugs are on the front lawn...

ABBY: *Sips chocolate milk from bowl*

***

MIKE: Schrödinger’s cat is overrated. If you wanna see something that’s both dead and alive you can talk to me any time of the day.

(This can apply to both the movie and the game)

***

VANESSA: You know, I'm starting to regret showing you how that blender works.

MIKE, drinking toast: Why do you say that?

***

MIKE: Okay, maybe playing, "Whose family is more dysfunctional" was a bad idea. Vanessa's sobbing in the bathroom now. We can't get her out.

***

MIKE: I slept for almost 12 hours but I might still be tired so let's go for 12 more just incase.

VANESSA: Mike, that's a coma.

MIKE: Sounds festive.

***

VANESSA: Don’t worry, I know exactly what I’m doing. Everything is going to be fine!

MIKE: How can you still say that?

VANESSA: Because sometimes, when things get tough, denial is all we have.

***

WILLIAM: Okay. I get it. You've had a really hard time lately, you're stressed out, seven people died-

VANESSA: Twelve, actually.

WILLIAM: Not the point. Look, they're dead now and really, whose fault is that?

VANESSA: Yours!

WILLIAM: That's right: no one's.

***

[Mike is the only one raising Abby after his dad’s depressed and his mom lost it]

MIKE: I think I'm having a mid-life crisis.

Mike’s Dad: You're, like, 15 years old

MIKE: I MIGHT DIE AT 30!

***

WILLIAM, sitting with his back turned: I’ve been expecting you, Michael

MIKE: How did you do that without turning around?

WILLIAM: ...To be perfectly honest, the first couple of people I did that to were not you.

***

[The career counselor scene]

MIKE, explaining why he's gone through so many jobs: Bad things keep happening to me, like I have bad luck or something.

WILLIAM: Mike, you don't have bad luck. The reason bad things happen to you is because you're stupid

***

MIKE, banging on the door: Vanessa! Open up!

VANESSA: Well, it all started when I was a kid...

MIKE: No, I meant--

ABBY: Let her finish.

***

#josh hutcherson #mike schmidt #fnaf #mike schmidt fnaf #five nights at freddy's #fnaf movie #mike and abby schmidt #incorrect fnaf quotes #incorrect quotes #william afton #fnaf vanessa #vanessa shelly #vanessa afton #abby schmidt

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captain-mj · 10 months

Text

Vampire Part 6

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Content Warning: Implied delusions?? It used to be true but not anymore and that upset Ghost

Soap got to work immediately on Ghost’s new mask. He needed something that would cover the majority of his face while also not bothering his new ears.

Ghost was lounging on the couch, giant body on display.

Soap had to bite his lip and look back at the mask that he was working on. Images of those teeth and that mouth around his…

Anyway.

His throat hadn’t quite healed. The bruising had faded but there were two holes in his neck that looked like they might scar despite how gentle Ghost had been. His hips had also not healed. They still ached from how hard Ghost had gripped him when he messed up and said the lord’s name. The way Ghost’s nails had sank into him so deep. It had definitely awoken things in him. Now all he could think about was how nice it would be to have those nails holding him down. Sinking into his flesh again. Ghost’s mouth had been cold. Incredibly soft and cold.

Ghost hummed. “Johnny. How is my mask coming along? I am tired of this.”

Soap hated this. He didn’t want Ghost to cover his face again. If he could, he’d draw him right now. Take his immense beauty and get it on paper. He wished he could take photos but he knew Ghost, or… Simon… It was such a trip knowing that name, but he would just disappear. Like mirrors, they couldn’t appear in photos. Which was devastating. He wanted so many pictures of them. But he supposed unlike humans, Ghost would never change. He’d always remain the same. No need for something as silly and sentimental as photos.

“Soap.” Ghost snapped at him.

“Oh! Sorry, sir. Yeah, it’s coming along.” He held up the mask for him to look at. Like his old one, it had a skull design on it. It would fit more like a medical mask rather than a balaclava but it was the only design Soap could think of that would work.

Ghost nodded. “I’ll need you to get more bleach. I want to keep my hair blond.”

Soap paused. “I’m sorry. You get your ears. Rip your mask. Get so distraught you don’t eat. But you had time to bleach your hair?”

“Yeah, exactly.” Ghost nodded like that was okay.

Soap just shook his head, unbelievable.

“Johnny, I’d like to talk about yesterday.”

“Yes! I’d also like to talk about yesterday.” Johnny turned around to face him. “I have so many questions. Was my blood really that good?”

Ghost frowned. “I meant you killing someone.”

Soap got a bit pale. “Thought we were just going to not talk about it.”

“Who were they?”

“Don’t know. It was on accident. I thought they’d stop at the sunlight not… Not…”

Ghost nodded. “Good. Senile. If you’re being forced to tell the truth, you can say they ran out into the sun. If there’s any more details, don’t say them. And don’t tell me.”

Soap nodded. “Understood, sir. Thank you…”

“Yeah. It’s alright.” He reached over and grabbed his hair, pulling him over. His hand was so big. It made Soap feel very, very small. “And yes. You did taste good.”

Those intense, dark eyes stared right through him like he was made of glass. Soap should’ve kept his mouth shut. Should’ve just kept it moving. Let the blissful thing that was Ghost’s attention wash over him.

He did no such thing. Instead, stupidly, he asked a question.

“What are you going to do about Price?”

Ghost could hardly be described as a fragile person, but Soap watched something snap. His mouth twisted up into a snarl and he tried so hard to seem angry.

He didn’t though.

No, Simon just looked heartbreakingly sad.

“The only reason I don’t tear him limb from limb is because I can’t.”

Soap swallowed. “Is he why you haven’t turned me yet?”

“I just… want to make sure this is something you really, really want. I want it to be special. For you to have a choice.”

Soap nodded and they kept eye contact. It made Ghost speak again.

“Price was my commander. He talked to me like I was an equal. Discussed plans with me.”

Soap squeezed his wrist and he felt him tighten the grip in his hair. It started to hurt but he didn’t want to interrupt.

“I thought he was attractive. The fangs. The way his eyes glowed. I was swayed. An idiot. A stupid fucking human. Walking into the jaws of something I couldn’t understand. I need to make sure that doesn’t happen to you. That when I sink my teeth right here.” He tapped his gloved fingers onto his jugular. “And claim you as mine for eternity. Make myself your sire. That it’s something you’ll never regret.”

Soap wanted him to continue. To keeping talking in that accent that was both ancient and so modern.

When it was clear that Ghost would not continue, Soap spoke up. “I do. I want this. Want… Want…” You. Want you. He could say it. Nice and easy.

Rodolfo burst through the doors. Ghost released him and he fell. “Rudy. Something wrong.”

“None at all. Just wanted to check on you. Rough few days.” He reached over and ruffled Ghost’s hair. Soap felt green with envy. The way they interacted so easily. He wanted to run his fingers through his hair. Kiss his temples. Feel his cold mouth on his body again.

Soap looked away. He reached up and grabbed his necklace, toying with it. His old one had been snapped and unusable, so he got a new one. Protection.

Sometimes, he didn’t want to be protected. But the little cross stayed around his throat all the same.

Ghost stood up. “I am going outside to the backyard. Tell me if you finish the mask.” He disappeared in a wave of smoke.

Rudy looked down at Soap, still on the floor and hummed. “Feel better now that you’ve finally been bit?”

“Surprisingly? Yeah, a little.”

“Good. Happy familiar, happy home.” Rudy seemed to have something they wanted to say. His nails, not quite as sharp as Price and Ghost’s but that was due to age and age alone, picked at his pants. He turned abruptly to leave before swiveling back around.

Soap waited. It worked with Ghost, so why not.

Rudy took a deep breath. “I think you’re… a good… person.”

Soap almost choked. Was this a compliment? Was he being complimented right now?

“You’re nice. Good.” Rodolfo patted him on the head. “What you did, even if it was stupid, was the right thing to do.”

Soap nodded blankly. They were being nice.

Too nice.

“Are you guys going to kill me?”

Rodolfo laughed. “No. We’re not going to kill you. Just relax.” He smiled at him.

Soap’s heart didn’t slow down.

Ghost came back in eventually. “Price managed to seduce our neighbor and I swear if he eats that guy.” He shoved everything off Soap’s bed to sit on it.

Soap should’ve reprimanded him, Ghost would probably listen, but he found it endearing. He was sketching. Luckily not Ghost. Just some random portraits. But this did give him a perfect opportunity.

“Ghost, sir.”

“Yes?”

“Can I draw you?”

Ghost paused at that and looked at him. He weighed his options. “I suppose it has been a long time since I’ve seen what I look like…”

“Exactly. May be good to remember, yeah?”

Ghost tapped his fingers against the wood. “I think my last portraits were made at my wedding.”

Soap had long since learned that Ghost had married a few times over the years, most of his spouses nothing more than political alliances or were ways to cover up what he was. Both admissions were said with so much guilt when Ghost had drank too much drugged blood that Soap felt inclined to believe him.

“Oh yeah?”

“Price had an artist paint us consummating in a graveyard.”

“Did you… actually consummate… in a graveyard?”

“Yes. I wore the mask though.”

Soap laughed a little. “Really? Mask on, fucking in a graveyard?”

“Yes. It was fun. I think that was the last time I get married actually. Didn’t mean much, just a little bit of fun.” He tilted his head back, exposing more of his jaw and throat. It made Soap feel funny things in the pit of his stomach.

Soap focused on getting him on paper. He had the excuse and the permission to stare at him until he gets his fill. He wants to gulp Ghost down until he can only taste him in his mouth. A bitter aftertaste coffee couldn’t mask.

Instead, he draws him. He makes two portraits. One he can keep, one for Ghost. He’ll pretend the first one had something wrong with it if Ghost sees it. That way he can have it. He could color it later. Make it as close to real life as possible.

Maybe it was a tad obsessive, but Soap had always liked his things to be his and his only. Ghost couldn’t be one of his things but the portrait could be. All his.

He spent the rest of the night and a good bit of the morning like this. Ghost taking up his bed, perfectly still. At one point, Soap was pretty sure he had dozed off, eyes closed and no sign of life in him.

Soap finished the portrait and as soon as his pencil stopped scratching the page, Ghost opened his eyes and held out his hand. He painstakingly ripped out the page for him and handed it to him.

“You left out my scarring.”

Soap tilted his head. “What?”

“My scars. The…” Ghost made a motion around his mouth to mimic a blade cutting his mouth. It made him think of the Joker weirdly enough.

“What scars?”

Ghost looked hurt. “That’s not very funny, Soap.”

Soap didn’t understand, but Ghost seemed so upset it made him want to fix it. “I drew you exactly as you are. I didn’t change any details.”

“Yes, you did. You got rid of my scars. I understand if you don’t like them, but you could just admit it.” Ghost hissed at him. Clearly this was hitting some nerve that Soap couldn’t begin to understand.

“Ghost. You don’t have any scars.”

Simon swallowed so hard it made an audible click in his throat. “It’s the whole reason I cover up.”

Soap wasn’t sure if vampirism cured scars, but despite their lifestyles, none of the vampires had any, so it made sense. Maybe they just didn’t notice?

Ghost got up and went looking for Alejandro, Soap trailing behind him. He held the portrait up to Alejandro.

“I look like this?”

“Your hair is a little fluffier, but yeah. That’s how you look.”

Soap thought Ghost was going to have a meltdown.

“I look like this? Exactly like this? I have no scars?”

“No? As long as I’ve known you, you’ve never been scarred up.” Alejandro looked confused.

Simon started to scratch at his arm, clearly going through a lot right now.

Soap made a decision right then and there. He was going to keep Ghost from having to deal with anything else for a bit. It wouldn’t be too hard to convince him to just relax at home for a little while. Just as long as no one brought any more news.

Price burst into the room.

“Guys. I’m getting married!!”

#captain john price #ghostsoap #simon ghost riley #cod mw2 #call of duty #johnny soap mactavish #soapghost #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare ii #Vampire Au #rodolfo parra

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idanceinthegraveyard · 4 months

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HAVE A FUN READ AND ENJOU, SORRY FOR THE KISSING THEME AGAIN IM SO TIRED AND I DONT CARE IT'S SHOWTIME!

Yandere Trickster x gn reader

Warning; yandere and obssesive behavious, blood and again stabby stab stab.

tags; @sinnful-darling

"Sing for me Songbird."

The fog tinkered with your memories, leaving nothing behind but your name. It probably wanted to make sure you focused on the pain and suffering that will come with every trial you will be forced to participate in.

The realm was harsh, cold and dark. It was a torture, but even there you found something that kept you sane. It was a song, or at least a melody. It has been stuck in your head ever since you got here. Not even that damn entity knew how to get rid of it. Your stiff from cold fingers fumble with the generator. You were humming the oh so familiar tune. It kept you sane, helped you calm down and you didn’t even know the words or the whole song. Just the same old tune, humming it like a broken record. Oh if you only knew, that not only this tune but also your pretty raw screaming was a music to his ears. Every match he waited for you. Every single one. You have no idea how much disappointment he had to endure when you weren’t there. His muse, his songbird. He just can’t wait to hear you make those sweet sounds, or to see the sweet crimson seep out of your stab wounds. It was beautiful, just like you. His only problem was that you didn’t even pay attention to him outside of those trials. You wound him. You should be honored, he gives you his time of the day, why can’t he get yours? The Ormond was cold, frosty grass crunching under your feet. The freezing hurt your tongue and throat. Painful but refreshing even if there was a light scent of smoke. The horn of the generator pulled you out of your thoughts, white lights signaling it was done. You smiled proudly, ready to get up and head to another one. Rubbing your hands you tried to give them so warmth. No heartbeat, no rising adrenaline, no killer. You breath on your hands, a light puff of white could appear.

A scream echoed through the still air, your heart sank. With lips trembling you found yourself humming. You silently backed away from the generator.

Everything was going good, why now? Your heart started to race, anxiety creeping in. Head pounding with stress but you kept humming. Then a knife flew next to you, screaming loudly and you turned around to see the sinister smile of the famous trickster. You couldn’t run, this time fear made you stop dead in your tracks. “Oh my, a fan I see? How charming, how about an autograph hm?” He got closer, your face twisting in fear and confusion as you tried to force your body to move as far away as you physically could.

“Oh how lovely you hum, and the screams! My, the screams! I could say I’m obsessed.” Your back was met with one of the walls. Face twisted, in silent terror as the man got closer. You hated the trickster, he loved to torture you, you didn’t even want to know what he got planned for you this time. “Oh we are going to have so much fun this time, and don’t bother screaming. You are the last one.” He pinned you to the wall, his warm breath fanning across your face. He was so close, too close. You tried to shrink yourself, to be as small as you could to escape. His face drew in closer, the coldness of the air didn’t bother you anymore, in fact you swear the weather shifted and you felt hot and then his lips touched yours. The kiss felt long, passionate and sweet with a coppery after taste as he drew away.

“Now sing for me, Songbird” White pain blossomed in your stomach and you soon found out why you tasted copper. Trickster had stabbed you, slowly making the cut deeper.

You felt your warm blood drip from your mouth and you could help but grant his wish. You screamed with all the energy you had left.

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lovrre · 2 years

Text

My Vampire boy ~

My Gif but scene pack from @kilzolga (on Instagram)

Eddie x fem reader

Pt2 here >>>

Warnings: cursing, masturbation, unprotected sex, smut and probably some others stuff.

Word Count: 2,476

Summary: When your best friend dies you realize just how much you really love him what happens when he comes back from the dead with fangs and a crazy amount of libido?

It’s been two days since the gates ripped Hawkins in two, you would think that would be the worst thing, It’s not. the worst thing is Eddie, after the demo bats tore his ass to shreds you forced Steve to carry him through the gate. You weren’t going to leave without him, dead or not he deserved far better. You remember the pain You felt. You and Dustin desperately trying to calm him with false promises of the future.

~~~~

“Nonono baby you’re gonna be ok you’re gonna make it” Eddie didn’t answer his eyes getting heavy and he was staring at the dark misty upside-down sky. “You’re gonna be fine Eddie,” Dustin says lip trembling. “Look look look at me baby,” you say grabbing Eddie's face with your hand blood smearing on his face in the process. His eyes looked more and more tired with each passing second. Dustin watched you his eyes filling up with tears. “Baby?” He whispers, smirking weakly and reaching his hand laying against your face you quietly hold it steady with your own.

“Yes baby, I’m sorry I made you wait so long, I’ve loved you since I met you, your humor your clothes everything ” Eddie musters up a smile and you smash your lips against his in fear that you won’t get another chance. It’s not a good kiss it’s sloppy, you taste the dirt blood and salty tears all merge Into one.

You pull away from the messy kiss and look at Eddie's now still body you can’t help but jerk back your body gose still before letting out broken sobs and laying your head on his chest frantically looking for a heartbeat. You knew there wouldn’t be one if anything you would’ve been surprised if you heard one but when you didn’t hear it your whole body felt like it shut down.

~~~

When you guys went back through the gate it seemed like everyone was so focused on doing other things their energy made it feel like burying Eddie was a chore. You Steve and Dustin dug his grave next to your late aunt's old Summer den hidden in the woods.

Dustin and Steve placed Eddie inside the not-so-shallow grave The whole experience was horrible. The way Eddie’s body flopped like a doll rather than himself. There wasn’t a drop of life in his body you couldn’t look at him without crying. What pissed you off the most was after everything that happened everyone was acting like nothing happened at all. Like Eddie didn’t sacrifice himself trying to save them. After The burial you Dustin and Steve had a little funeral. But Steve left quickly after taking Dustin with him.

You tried really hard to stay away from the cabin but your house was empty and painfully quiet. your foster dad wasn’t home meaning he was among the presumed dead. If he was you would Now be officially an orphan. You knew you should have felt stronger but you barely felt anything Numb to everything. Also, None of your “friends” came to check up on you not one since The burial. The worst part was you knew if Eddie was alive he would have. Packing a bag you filled with leftover food in the pantry and Some of Your Clothes and the bag of Eddie clothes you packed for he previously when he was hiding in the boat house.

The walk there was excruciatingly long but it didn't matter. all you wanted was to be near him,You sat down Next to the painted grave marker you and Dustin made that read “our hero”. You guys couldn’t personalize it too much for fear that somebody might find it and vandalize it.

You Slowly lay on the ground next to the grave.

“Eddie….I miss you so fucking much you don’t even understand” of course, there was no answer so you continued looking up at the sky. “I think my foster dad might be dead. The sheriffs say they found somebody but can’t identify them yet I know he was an asshole but..he didn't deserve to die. A part of me thinks this is some cruel ass joke you know… what are the odds I lose everyone I’ve ever cared about ” your lip quivers at the last sentence. “Never knew my dad, dead mom, dead aunt now dead best friend… oh and Dave is presumed dead so that’s.. that ” tears began falling down your cheek.

“I never got to give you a proper kiss like the one I promised, if we would have had just a little more time I would have given you that damn kiss and then some,” you say with a dry laugh.

“Really?” You hear a familiar voice before you even see him your eyes well up with tears.

You sit up so fast you think your gonna fall right back down. “E-Eddie,” you say breaths becoming unbelievably heavy standing there in front of you was Eddie before you can think any longer you run into his arm just squeezing him. “I’m going crazy aren’t I” you cry into his arm “nope,” he says smugly you look at him grabbing his face with both your hands and kissing him deeply he deepened the kiss holding your head back for more leverage this was what your fist time kiss him was supposed to be like not tears and blood. “Yes I am going crazy but it’s ok as long as I’m with you,” you say now crying again.

“No baby you’re not, I’m here,” he says tilting your head with his finger and wiping away one of your tears with your thumb. You take a closer look a realize Eddie looks a bit different. Big brown eyes don't look so innocent and doe-like but dark and husky almost red. “Eddie, is it really you…?” He pinches you on the cheek “Did you feel it” he says smiling you cry ten times harder “ya, ITS YOU ITS ACTUALLY YOU!” your heart is beating so hard and all you want to do is get in his skin… it’s an extreme but you don’t ever wanna be apart. “You died though…. Did I die am I dead too?” You say gripping Onto his arms “Nono you’re not dead”

You kiss him again.

Pulling away from the kiss Reality sets in “you gotta get inside” yanking Eddie by the collar you drag him inside the small cabin. Sitting down on the couch you ask Eddie some more questions. “You died, I watched how is this possible,” you say staring at him hard “maybe I wasn’t dead,” Eddie says leaning back on the couch and smiling. “No, you were dead your heart stopped and you were cold,” you say a small tear running down your cheek. “No more crying ok, I don’t what going on but I’m here and we’ll figure it out,” he says whipping away the tear “I’m here”

~~~~

Eddie -

It's been almost 2 hours of us on this couch just talking. she keeps asking how and why I’ve come from the dead and I keep giving her the same answer, I don’t know.

I do know why I’m back but I’m not gonna tell her right now. What if she thinks I’m a monster, I just wanna be with her a little longer and this vampire bat shit is making it real hard to stay calm around her. Not only do I want her bad in like all ways humanly possible, but there is the huger…the loud beating of her heart pumping hot blood into her veins I can control it tho, I will for her. Thoughtlessly you take your fingers and push the hair off her shoulders exposing her neck. Before you can get too caught up Y/N speaks you’re breaking your trance.

“I didn’t wanna say this earlier and ruin the moment but baby…you need to wash,” y/n says turning to me. “I like this baby thing we got going on, let’s keep it going,” you say leaning in for a kiss. Y/n accepts lightly pressing her lips against yours. “Now go wash…baby,” she says the last part seductively. “Will do ma’am,” you say jumping up and walking down the only hallway that led towards the bathroom.

~~~

In the shower, the water feels warm against your skin but you can’t stop thinking of y/n. Ya before the bats tore you up you wanted her like crazy but since you came back it’s like times ten you can’t look at her too long without thinking about being inside her. You feel yourself hardened at just the thought of it. slinking your hand down to your length and wrapping your hand around What’s the harm your already in here you thought to yourself.

You begin pumping yourself at A medium speed. Small moans leave your mouth here and there whispering her name.

~~~~

Y/N-

“Oh, I forgot to give him a towel” you quietly knock on the door nobody answer so you open the door right before you open your mouth to speak you hear Eddie’s moans. Of course, you don’t wanna be a creep but there’s a part of you that just can’t help but listen for a second. “E-Eddie I put your towel on the skink you say stuttering the first part

“hmm- oh thanks” he replies as if nothing happened. You turn to leave and he calls you over. “Can you hand me the towel?” “Ya sure,” you say hesitantly walking towards the shower curtain. Eddie rips back the curtains exposing his whole body.

You desperately try not to look down handing Eddie the towel he quickly wraps it around his waist. Now you were really looking at him you jumped back as your eyes Landed on his bright red ones. “Omg Eddie your eyes-“

“ya I know, sweet right?” he interrupts smiling hard exposing his adorable dimples and FANGS?!?! “EDDIE WHAT THE FUCK, YOUR TEETH!”

you shout jumping back.

“I look scary right, look Y/n I’m a vampire or a bat, something along those lines but besides all that I really really need you right now,” he says stepping out of the tub

“you need me?“ you say looking up at him.

“Mmh...bad,” he says wiping A piece of hair away with his free hand the other securing his towel around his waist. “Eddie this is serious, like really serious not only are you back from the dead but you’re a vampire?,” you say Seriously looking up at him. “It’s not that serious, I feel pretty much the same, except you know…the Uncontrollable need for you”

He says smiling ear to ear.

“Eddie as much as I would love this,” you say gesturing to the current situation You two were in. “We don’t know anything what if you bite me or something,” you say biting your lip unsure .“I won’t bite unless you want me to, can’t make any promises though,” he says giving another shit-eating grin.

“I’m guessing all this confidence is a perk of your”before you can finish your sentences his lips are on yours pushing you against the wet bathroom wall. You don’t fight it instantly leaning into his touching. The kiss wasn’t soft or sweet like the ones you shared before…no he was hungry. You couldn’t help but let out a moan as his hand traveled to the side of your face deepening the kiss. His body felt warm from the steam but his lips felt cool.

Without another thought, Eddie spoke through the kiss “jump” you instantly obey wrapping your legs around his waist. He blindly walks towards the living room “bedroom?” he says breaking the kiss. “The door on the left” you breathe out before smashing your lips against his again.

Eddie walks to the room throwing you on the bed before he puts his body back between your legs. “I need this,” he says tugging at the hem of your shirt. You lift up your arms and he slides off your shirt before his lips return to yours. Your lightly tug at the towel tightly wrapped around Eddie’s waist and it’s off in seconds. “Your turn” he whispers looking down at you. You quickly unbutton your pants and Eddie helps by pulling them all the way off and throwing them to the floor. “Better,” he says coming down to your neck to leave small kisses. “Eddie please” you whine squirming under him.

“God… I wanna take my time but I have eternity for that” with that Eddie throws off your underwear his lips ghosting over yours throughout The Whole motion. He grabs your left leg throwing it over his shoulder before lining himself up with your entrance. Wiping himself through your folds before slowly pushing himself in. “So fucking wettt” he moans entering you entirely. “I’ve been missing out…so fucking tight,” he says picking up the pace. “Mmh” you moan grabbing onto a nearby pillow. “I’m your first right?” Eddie knew he wasn’t technically I mean you told him about the situation with Brett where he only got the tip in before his mom bust in. “Eddie..”

“Nonono, I’m your fucking first ME! I’m your first, last, and anything in between., you’re mine ” His words make you clench around him. You liked this side of him a bit more aggressive and confident.

“No, say it” Eddie’s face Gose serious and he grabs your face to look at his while he’s thrusting. His eyes are deep red and his fangs are visible on his lip. “I’M YOURS! Always had been ”

You thought how fucking embarrassing you would feel in the morning for that.

~~~

Eddie—

I’ve died and went to heaven because This was a dream come true Y/N under me a blubbering mess of moans and groans as I fucked her senseless. I felt her walls begin to squeeze around me. “I’m so so close” she moans out scratching my back. “Me too” I take that as a hint to go harder. Until she’s shaking around me and I’m dumping myself into her. I can't help but to graze my fangs over her bare neck as we cum

“Fuckfuckfuck...”

~~~~

Laying in the small bed y/n twirls your hair between her fingers while looking at you. “I didn't know that situation with Brett bothered you so much,” she says giggling to herself. “I didn't know you even liked me that much” you look at her bewildered. How could she not tell, the thought of her and Brett in bed together had made Eddie so physically ill that he missed three days of school that week . “I thought I was being pretty obvious, I thought me saying

“I would have done it Better” was enough of a hint ,” you say looking down at her. “I thought you were joking”

“Not at all..”

#eddie munson x black reader #eddie munson x reader #vampire smut #stranger things season four #supernatural x reader #stranger things #vampire eddie munson #vampire Eddie Munson x reader #Eddie Munson vampire #eddie munson kas #Eddie Munson x fem reader #lovrre

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sonofthedunes · 7 months

Note

…any thoughts on dilf Luke getting a blowjob? 🫣

i’m sure i can scrounge some up for you, anon!

i’ve always liked the idea of waking a partner early in the morning with some gentle loving-that’s what you do here for luke. perhaps he showed you a good time the previous night and you’re returning the favor; perhaps he’s been especially tired or irritable lately and you want to lighten his mood. in any case, not long after you surface from dreams and blink the sun out of your eyes, you realize you’re still in the position you fell asleep in: head cushioned on luke’s chest, rising and falling with his steady breathing, your hands curled under your chin. his heartbeat thrums against your cheek for a moment till you raise your face to his. a pang strikes you at the peace in those features, peace that is rarely if ever there when he’s awake. where does his mind lead him in the night, you wonder…to the ruined jedi temple? to some victory of the rebellion? even further, to his youth on tatooine? only luke could say, and you doubt he’d tell you. still, you gaze fondly on him as he slumbers. he’s grown dear to you, this strange old hermit. there must be some small way you could show your appreciation.

and in that moment, you shift your leg and it bumps your thigh. dormant, but you’ve learned how to wake it. what if you did now? the idea is appealing, you’ve certainly given him pleasure with your mouth before, but every other time he’s been alert and directing the action. he seems to dislike surprises (your arrival on ahch-to initially proved that), but…maybe, just maybe, he’d enjoy this one. the dampness gathering between your legs indicates you’re in favor. the morning is bright and clear. the hell with it.

laying a soft kiss on his sternum, you move slowly and quietly to wriggle under the blanket. you’re both still naked from yesterday’s activities, so there’s no trousers to unfasten or underwear to shove down. he remains dozing as you position yourself beside his legs, the better to brush a finger over his soft cock. your mouth waters at the thought of taking it inside, delicately sucking, feeling it swell against your tongue, growing harder with every pull of your lips. “what a pretty cock you have, master,” you catch yourself thinking. and it truly is, a bit bigger and girthier than average, but such a lovely pink color and the perfect size for you. reaching for it again, you loosely grip the base and lean over; bestowing a kiss this time on the head, you smile at the first faint twitch. no change in his breathing yet, no stirring of his limbs, but oh, it will come. licking your lips, you part them and inhale as he enters your mouth, your tongue lapping at the slit.

stars, he’s incredible. you’ve never savored the taste of any other lover like this, nor the veins marbling the shaft. it’s almost a pity that you needs must release it in order to breathe. dribbling a string of saliva onto the rod, you pump your hand two or three times to coat the velvet skin and resume your task. in and out, forth and back, the wet suction tugs at him as you draw his arousal from its depths. the beast is stimulated, blood rushing to your beckon call. you almost moan as you feel him begin to fill your mouth. so warm, so perfect. one hand remains gripping its prize, the other splays on his belly, scratching at the trail of grey hair leading to all the excitement. you normally close your eyes when you blow him, but this time you want to see it-the exact second when his dreams are disturbed and he groggily wakes to this worship. for shouldn’t you, as the padawan, grant proper respect to your master at all times? even if your ideas don’t quite mesh with the jedi of old…

the signs are subtle at first: a slight spasm of the leg, a hitch in the rhythm of his breathing. most would assume these were the result of a particularly vivid dream. but the stiffer his cock grows, the more it becomes apparent that he detects your wake-up call. no, more than that. his desire is rising like the tide on the shoreline, and you’re both riding it out for the long haul.

above your head and the woven blanket covering it, you hear a groan, drawn out and languorous. at the same time, his flesh hand flexes and searches blindly for the source of this satisfaction. it touches your upper back first, then wanders into your loose hair and weaves its fingers through. not to prevent you from leaving, or in preparation to shove your head down and choke you-merely to show that he knows what you’re doing for him, and he’s reveling in it.

he’s almost fully erect now, more than you can easily fit in your mouth, so you compensate by licking rough stripes from root to tip in between sucking. the first time you let go of the purpling head with an audible pop, he tenses with a hiss. and the true reward: those little clear drops leaking onto your waiting fingers, slurped onto your grateful tongue, smeared across your lips like cosmetics. it’s sticky, salty goodness that makes your clit tingle and your nipples pebble against the pallet. you dare to hope that, if you please him well enough, luke will sate your own increasing arousal.

you long ago stopped feeling insulted that he doesn’t lavish praise on you in bed. it simply isn’t his way (though he’s hinted that it was in the past). still, his contentment shows in his erratic breaths, his fingers massaging your scalp…and the occasional exclamation you drag from him. “fuck,” he whisper-moans, voice rough from sleep. “fuck, that’s good.” that short sentence means more to you than full-on cursing and writhing from any other man. he’s holding back, he wants to plunge his length down your throat and fuck your mouth, but he’s allowing you to set your own pace and work him as you see fit. if you really wished to tease him, make his balls ache and erection weep, you might edge him once or twice to make his climax even more intense…but this morning you simply don’t possess the patience. you want him to come, and soon. a bit selfishly, you want to wallow in the knowledge that it was you who unraveled him, the great jedi master. who helped him, even for a handful of seconds, to forget his troubles.

your tongue caresses him plushly, lips pursed over the steadily dripping slit. the large hand that rests in your hair tightens with your movements, tugging occasionally when you give an especially hard suck. he’s close-you can sense it in the force (are you allowed to use the force like this? probably not), but also in the tightness of his balls when you touch them, in his ragged gasping and thighs clenching much like your own. and at last, you decide to speak.

“please master,” you plead, a string of spit connecting you to his prick, “let me make you come. i want to swallow every drop.”

a strained huff from above you. ever closer he creeps. “you feel so good in my mouth, master,” you hum, licking a prominent vein. “almost as good as you feel in my pussy.” just for fun, you scrape your fingernails along his abdomen and he jumps slightly. “i love being able to serve you like this…to please you. only you.”

he grunts in response, those same muscles you just scratched taut. nearly there now-he’s dancing on the precipice. he just needs a push, and you’ll happily provide it. “master,” you purr, “come in my mouth, stars, i want it. i want to be worthy of you and your beautiful cock.” you kiss his hard-on and it kicks with another spurt of liquid. like a flash it’s licked clean and he moans. “give it to me. please.”

and give he does. he shudders and you barely have time to fit your mouth over him before he gives a yank on your hair and great ropes of cum are flooding your cheeks, spilling down your throat. with every one a choked groan escapes him and his whole body jerks, fully caught in the tidal wave of orgasm. you don’t quite fulfill your earlier promise: some of the precious pearly elixir creeps down your chin and from the sides of your mouth, dropping back onto the man who gave it to you. you can’t help but gag and choke a little, but you swallow as much as you can. the salt is all you can taste. panting, you slide off his body and wipe your mouth, watching his cock soften, its purpose complete. squeezing your eyes tight to recalibrate yourself, your ears catch luke’s own efforts to regulate his breathing. the grip on your hair is released. the spell dissipates. time to start the rest of your day, you suppose.

suddenly the pallet rustles and the blanket is peeled back, and you’re staring into your master’s face. he regards you sternly, but he’s flushed from his hairline to his collarbone, and a light sheen of sweat dews his skin. immediately you scramble to your knees. “i-…good morning, master,” you bow your head briefly. “i apologize for being so…forward. i failed to control myself. i accept whatever punishment you decide.”

luke squares his jaw and knits his brow. amazing how he exudes such power and dignity, even totally nude and spent. he considers his words before he answers. “your apology is accepted,” he says. “but you must learn to manage your feelings.”

“yes, master.”

“i know it’s difficult. i struggle with it too. but that’s no reason to give in to them.” he rises from the bed and begins hunting for his discarded clothes. “now go wash and dress. we have a lot of work to do.”

you nod, chastised. “yes, master,” you repeat, beginning a similar process on your end-only to halt when he adds, almost as an afterthought:

“of course, when i was taught to control my emotions, that wasn’t included. i think…i think in certain situations we can bend the rules a bit.” you can’t see his face, but you just know the ghost of a smile is playing at his lips. “do we agree?”

a sigh of relief drifts from you. you’re finding that he’s full of surprises. “we do, master,” you covertly grin as you snatch up your tunic from the floor. “we definitely do.”

#ask #luke skywalker #luke skywalker smut #luke skywalker x reader #not sure how i feel about this but here it is anyway

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honey-flustered · 1 year

Text

Cruel Little Vixen 7

Rockstar!Eddie Munson x Journalist!Reader

Summary: The universe continues to teach you and Eddie some important lessons. Tensions rise when the world becomes aware of the rockstar’s girl. And top it all off, you and Eddie are forced to make an important decision regarding your relationship.

NO READ MORE LINE BREAK ADDED DUE TO GLITCH

A/N: It’s been a tough ass road, but I’m back. I’ve experienced challenges with the last two parts of my story being deleted and having to start over, my mental health’s hung by a fucking thread, I’ve been anxious to post because I feel like my work’s not good enough but ya know what I love writing and it keeps me happy! The series is coming to an end. Just one more part (tried making this the last one but the ending’s too damn long). I cannot wait to finish this because I’ve had so many fic ideas I’ve been meaning to share. I wanna complete requests and ask for some of yall ideas or whatever. I just want to have some fun with this. Any this chapter’s filled with slight rom com elements and tropes. It’s definitely a healing experience for both reader and Eddie. Especially Eddie. It’s a wild ride so please enjoy! Also Happy New Years! 🥳

>>>>>Series Masterlist Part 7 of 8

Word Count: 10.8k

Warnings: overload of fluff and 🌽, heavy flirting, idiots in love, airplane jokes, some angst, brief blood and violence, talks of negligent parents and juvenile detention, hinted abuse of a minor character, smutty smut, kissing/making out, fingering, squirting, handjob, light dirty talk, nipple play, mile high club activities, graphic language, Eddie loves drinking his respect women juice

2 years ago…

“We’re Corroded Coffin and we’re the band your parents wished you never listened to! 2, 3, 4!” Eddie shouts into the mic, counting in time to Gareth’s drumstick taps. The drums to Aerosmith’s “Walk This Way” are the first to make its noise before the familiar guitar riff picks up after it.

Then, he sings and the crowd’s loving it.

The former nightclub bartender and now manager of Corroded Coffin, Eugene Neds, spotted great potential in the enigma that was Eddie Munson that night. In a band of 19-year-olds passing off as 21 to perform at a venue much too risqué for kids their age, the man only had eyes for the lead guitarist/singer. Eddie was going to be a star, he was sure of it. Eugene just needed to make sure that he would be the one to make it happen.

The music cuts abruptly. “Hey, asshole! Leave her the fuck alone, alright.” Eddie shouts on the mic, pointing over at the bar. The spotlight lands on the inebriated giant of a man towering over a visibly uncomfortable woman.

“Why don’t you mind your goddamn business?” The large man slurs.

“I’m not so sure it’s your business either, man. She wants absolutely nothing to do with you.” Eddie hops off stage, approaching the man as if he were David in Goliath’s presence.

At that moment, Eddie realized he was tired of running, tired of bullies, and tired of being picked on for being different. Those days have been laid to rest along with all his grievances of high school. The man had since gained the grit needed to face danger head on. It was the day he reclaimed the title, ‘The Freak’.

“You looking for a fight, little guy?” The large man attempts to intimidate, towering over him.

“Well, if you won’t leave her alone…then yes…I am looking for a fight.” Eddie stares daggers up at the man.

Not a second longer, the man’s fist connects with Eddie’s jaw, sending him back against a table with a few glasses being knocked over. Eddie’s wild hair covers over his face. He swipes a thumb over his lips. Blood. Blood that was now seeping from his mouth. The room is quiet, not a peep. But then the sound of laughter. It was manic. Wicked. And craziest of all, it wasn’t coming from the man who’d thrown the first punch.

It was the enigma himself.

So this was what it felt like to be punched? To taste blood? To stand up and fight instead of running? To laugh in the face of danger. And it felt so good.

The metalhead looks up at the giant man. His teeth, bloodied red. A terrifying smile of nightmares. He stands planted on his two feet again.

“You want some more, freak?” The large man says, swinging a fist in the air once again only this time Eddie swiftly ducks out the way. He surges forward at the large man, full speed, sliding from under him so that he is now right behind the man.

Eddie quickly climbs on top of the bar table. “You’re not so big from where I’m standing,” He quips then points at the liquor hose in the bartender’s hands. “Hey, could I borrow that?”

The bartender hands it over. Holding the nozzle over the giant man’s head, Eddie's famous smirk is the only warning. The man could barely register what was going on before the trigger’s pulled, beer spraying and trickling down his head.

The large man was now wet and red with anger. Eddie makes no haste with his next move, spatting blood in the bully’s face and uppercutting him with a kick to his chin. The large man goes down with a loud thud. The room is in an uproar of applause and thus the beer dumping incident became a fan favorite legend. To this day, fans of Corroded Coffin pay homage at concerts, dumping cans of beer on their heads.

The band was soon tossed out of the venue that night and although Eddie’s friends had sung their praises, he couldn’t help but to feel guilty having ruined their biggest gig.

Then, he was approached by that very bartender on his way back to his van. The one who’d soon change the trajectory of his life. The one that promised a life of glitters and gold. Eugene Neds had sold Eddie a dream. A dream that was disguised as a lending hand to the young man.

“I can make Corroded Coffin a household name.” He says, holding out a business card.

A former manager of countless failed bands, Eugene was convinced he’d finally found the kind of talent that would free him of the depressing bore of a penniless 9 to 5. Eddie Munson would be his project. His success story of taking a teenage dirtbag with the attitude and skills and molding him into a sex symbol. Thus creating ‘Francis The Freak’.

But then… YOU came along. The rockstar’s undoing. You were tearing down the walls that were so perfectly built.

Mr. Neds calls it: You’ll be the end of Eddie and his band. The only form of control Mr. Neds has now would be keeping your relationship with Eddie under wraps. He’ll be patient, though. He knows this couldn’t possibly last between you two. Certainly, you were just another pair of legs that captured his short attention span until he eventually got bored.

Mr. Neds snaps out of his thoughts at the sounds of your giggling, eyes looking at the rearview mirror from his seat on the tour bus. You and Eddie were cozied up in the back, him showing you some scars.

“So, that explains the NPC-like behavior of your fans dumping beers on their heads or asking you to spit on them,” You deduce. “I’m glad to be in the know. This’ll be great tying that into my last article.”

“Did you really say NPC? As in Non-Player Character? You little nerd, am I rubbing off on you?” Eddie teases, poking your tummy.

“Hey, I know things.” You laugh, poking him back. “But you shouldn’t solve everything with fists. I’ve never known you to be a fighter.”

“I’m a lover, but I’m no pacifist.”

“You, a lover?”

“Mhm, want me to demonstrate?” His mouth attacks your neck, you squeal in delight.

So lost in each other, you couldn’t have noticed the manager’s demands to the driver to halt the bus. He had grown more and more frustrated at the sight of you and Eddie being so close. He decidedly gets out of his seat, walking down the aisle past the bandmates who could immediately sense something about to go down but all they could do was follow with their eyes as the manager made his way over to you.

“Y/n, Eddie…I’ll need you to test a theory for me. Stand beside one another.” The manager demands, breaking your moment together.

“What’s your point?” Eddie asks, squinting his eyes.

“We need to make sure that you both won’t look so ‘friendly’ with one another,” The manager explains. “The media are bloodhounds. One whiff of the hormones circulating between you would send them into a frenzy and next thing ya know you’re on the cover of yet another magazine.”

“Are you suggesting that the chemistry between us is so intense that remotely standing beside each other would give us away?” You ask, incredulously.

“Precisely.”

“Are you familiar with the term ‘delusional’?” You question rhetorically, causing Eddie to chuckle.

“Not delusional. Perceptive.”

“You weren’t very ‘perceptive’ when Eddie and I got together.” You smirk.

“I’ve suspected. I just chose to ignore it. It only became too difficult to deny when the two of you became sloppy with it.” Mr. Neds scoffs.

“We can totally stand beside each other without being ‘friendly’.” Eddie defends.

“Oh, is that so?” Mr. Neds asks, mockingly. “Because right now, right before my eyes, I see you and Eddie sat extremely close on this loveseat with his hand caressing your thigh…and he doesn’t even know he’s doing it.”

Eddie’s eyes widened, looking down at the hand that graced your supple skin lovingly. The two of you jump apart as if burned by the other.

“See what I mean,” Mr. Neds lets out a dry laugh. “Now please stand. Both of you.”

“Fine.” You and Eddie mutter in unison.

Standing up at once, your arms knock against each other’s. Your eyes trained at the contact and how close in proximity you both were. You blush, eyes on him. He notices your flustered state, smirking down at you.

“Jesus Christ.” Mr. Neds rubs at his temple, letting out an exasperated sigh.

“Oh, they’ve got it bad.” Mel says as he walks in biting nonchalantly into an apple.

“It’s worse than I thought,” The manager groans. “You’re like magnets! You’ll need to stand at least 7 feet apart.”

“7 feet?! How the hell am I supposed to interview and complete my article from 7 feet away?” You argue.

“Anything is possible.” Mr. Neds answers.

“You’re being a real pain in the ass, Eugene.” Eddie says to the 40-something man.

“Welcome to my world,” He retorts. “If 7 feet’s such a big deal then I’ll be reasonable. 5 feet. No more negotiations.”

“This is so stupid.” Eddie shakes his head.

“Don’t be so upset, brother. They say distance makes the heart grow fonder or some bullshit like that. It could actually be quite romantic.” Mel chimes in.

“Mel…get the hell outta here.” Eddie and Mr. Neds sneers together.

Mel exits, a middle finger up in the air while the other brings the apple to his lips.

“Now if we’re going to work together and keep the peace,” The manager begins. “We need to do this my way. No, ‘ands’, ‘ifs’, or ‘buts’ about it. We’ll be at the airport to catch a plane to New York soon so—.”

“Whoa,” Eddie interrupts. “I thought we were going back home?”

“Well, I’ve booked a performance for Corroded Coffin to attend. It was an offer that I couldn’t refuse. A Holiday Parade! And it won’t just be televised in Hawkins like you’re used to. It’ll be all over America. No worries about rehearsals either. Just do everything exactly how you did at Mantra•esque. Ever since that performance, word’s been traveling about the new hot band in town. You’ll have an interview with the hosts of the parade right after so please be on your best behavior.”

“Why am I just now hearing about this?” Eddie’s voice raises.

“Well, you would’ve heard about it along with the boys if you hadn’t snuck out last night.”

“I have even caught my breath yet, man.”

“You had countless nights to rest. You spent them sneaking around with your…girlfriend. Eddie, I only ever want what’s best for you. If I hadn’t discovered you, where do you think you would’ve been?” Mr. Neds rests a heavy hand on Eddie’s shoulder. A visual much akin to that of a demon resting on gullible shoulders, pleading for their victim to sign away his rights. “You would have still been living in that shitty trailer park while your uncle picked up 12 and 16 hour shifts just to keep a roof over your heads. Remember, you’re not doing this for yourself. This is survival. You understand I only mean well…do you?”

Eddie’s jaw clenches, a quick nod.

“I knew you would. It’s nothing personal, kid. It’s just what they call ‘business as usual’. It’ll only be for a few more days and then you could enjoy all the time you need in Hawkins before the next tour.” The manager pats his back before making his way back up front to inform the driver to get back on track.

Sitting back on the little loveseat, you climb into Eddie’s lap while your arms wrapped around his neck for a hug. “He shouldn’t be allowed to speak to you that way.”

“He’s right, though.” Eddie huffs, caressing your back.

You felt yourself becoming angry for him, pulling away to look him in the eye. “He’s wrong. With or without him, you could do anything. Anyone could’ve seen that light in you. I have. You’ve got something special and no fucking manager could take that away from you, okay.”

Eddie’s stoic expression softens into a warm smile. “Look at you being all protective. Making you my girlfriend’s made you all soft.” He chuckles.

“No one messes with my man,” You shrugged with a smile. “He talks to you like that again and I’ll knock him down a peg or two.”

“That’s very cute,” He kisses the space between your eyebrows. “But you don’t have to defend me, ya know. I’m a big boy.”

“What? You think I couldn’t do it or something?” You ball your fists into your sides.

“Oh, no. My hesitancy is more concerned with how badly you’ll hurt his ego. I still need the man to be able to stand on his two feet if he’s getting this band going.” Eddie jokes.

“But…i-is that what you want? To keep this going?” You asked, twiddling with your thumbs.

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I?”

“What about taking a break? You’re going to perform in New York then you’ve got Europe in a week or so. It just seems like a lot.”

“It does seem like a lot. But if I have you beside me, it wouldn’t be so bad,” He catches himself. “In New York, I mean.”

Eddie made sure to include that last part not wanting the inevitable conversation to be brought up. Eventually, it will. As you’ve mentioned, the tour for Europe is approaching. The next time you’ll see each other again wouldn’t probably be for another 6 months. Maybe more. But what really affected him was the idea that you wouldn't think to consider going on tour with him. Especially since a little before bed last night, Eddie had asked you a question that tested everything between you two and all you could do was ignore it and say your goodnight.

“You want me to go to New York with you?” You asked.

He shrugs, shyly. “Well, yeah. I thought it was obvious. You’re fine to say ‘no’.” That response was meant for both situations: New York and Europe.

You take a deep breath. “Okay. I’ll go with you…” Eddie’s eyes lit up until you finished the last part of your sentence. “…to New York.”

“Y-yeah,” He clears his throat then echoes. “To New York.”

————

It was greatly in your favor that Eddie’s manager had decided to keep up with his “5 feet apart” rule, sitting you in separate seats across the aisle from one another. Why? Because you couldn’t bring yourself to talk about “the inevitable conversation”. Eventually…you’ll give your answer. Just not now. Not when things are going so well between you two.

You bury your head in your journal not exactly writing anything of importance, simply scribbling away to keep yourself from wondering if he was looking at you. But curiosity gets the best of you, so you peek up from your journal and catch Eddie’s eyes on you, too. You both look away at once, you resume your doodling nervously.

When you went to look over your shoulder this time, Eddie made a face silly enough to make you giggle and roll your eyes. He points at the journal in your hand, gesturing you to slide it over. You check your surroundings to make sure no one’s looking before doing so.

You waited as he proceeded to write something down. Then, he turned the journal to face you. In big letters: “Hi.”

You smile, waving and mouthing a “Hi” back.

He writes something down again and turns it over to face you. “Writing you here so Neds doesn’t try to listen in.”

You nod to confirm that you understand.

He writes. “What were you writing about?”

He could’ve turned the page to see exactly that but he didn’t wish to invade your privacy. You do the honors. Turning the page to which you scribbled different drawing variations of his name. You’re a little embarrassed to show him that he’s all you’ve been thinking about. But then he smiles eager to show you what he’d been reading.

He holds up his book, opening it to the page where his thumb held it open and reveals a polaroid photo of you looking up at him and him, down at you on the Manta•esque stage. This was his way of letting you know he’s thinking about you, too.

You smiled, writing him back. “How’d you get that?”

“Junie.”

“The camera guy?”

“Yep. Begged him to take at least one picture of you for me. It’s my favorite. I was going to share it with you but, selfishly, I want to keep it for myself.”

Is this really the same guy I met in that dressing room some weeks ago?

“Lovely view we have up here.” He writes.

You shoot him deadpan stare, not amused by the airplane joke. He tugs at the collar of his shirt in feigned nervousness before gesturing for the journal again. He writes. “Okay, I can see how that aviation joke went over your head.”

Still unamused. You wrote back. “I really appreciate corny jokes but these are just painfully bad.”

“Are you saying my jokes didn’t…land?”

“Please stop. If you’re going to tell airplane jokes, at least tell the Wright ones.”

Now he’s the one to look at you unamused and confused.

You scribbled quickly to explain yourself. “Get it? Wright. Like the Wright brothers. The first ones to fly an airplane?”

“Sorry, but your knowledge of world history is lost on me. I failed that class miserably.”

“I guess you can say it went over your head.”

“You can’t just repeat my joke. Joke stealing’s no laughing matter.”

Okay, that tickled you a bit. Smiling to yourself, you hadn’t realized Eddie passing you the notebook once again, until you felt the pages brush your arm.

“Think you can meet me in the restroom in 5?”

You scoff out loud. “I hope you're not thinking about what I think you’re thinking about.”

“I wanna talk.” He simply writes.

How could three words be so frightening? So ominous? Your heart pounds hard, daring to jump out of your chest.

“Are we not talking now? What would you need to talk about that can’t be said here?”

You anticipated his reply. Leaning over your seat, trying to peek but more so averting your eyes. You mindlessly picked at the skin around your fingernails, nerves getting the best of you.

With a solemn face, he holds out the journal to you. You meet his eyes then down at his hands, hesitating to reach for the book. The regretful look on Eddie’s face gave away that he was second guessing what he’d written down. When your fingertips grazes it, it falls out of his hand with an audible slap to the ground.

The two of you scramble to reach for it, kneeling down. Your hands accidentally touch in the attempt to take the book for yourselves. Instead of pulling away, you both ceased your frantic movements. Eddie’s thumb caressing the palm of your hand. You focus on this action then look into his big brown eyes.

The bing of the attendant assistance button pulls you out of the trance. Taking the notebook, you stand on your two feet and hug it to your chest. With a stern nod of confirmation, you stride your way down the first class aisle towards the restroom.

You shut the door behind, back rested against it as you let out a breath you weren’t aware you were holding. Eyes closed, you peel the notebook away from you. Your hands are outstretched in front of you and when you were sure it was directly in your field of vision, you opened your eyes and read.

“Europe.”

So it began. The inevitable conversation. There’s rhythmic knock and you were sure it was him, stepping away from the door and facing it. He opens it enough to let him slide through before he closing it behind him quietly.

“Hi.” He breathes out.

“Hi.” You say in quick breath as if you were scared to breathe at all.

“I guess you read the note.”

You don’t say a word, nodding tentatively.

“Y/n, I—“

“Why’re you calling me that?” You interrupt.

“You mean…your first… name?” He says, eyes squinting in confusion.

“Yeah. You usually call me some stupid pet name. What are we on first name bases now?”

“I thought you didn’t like it?” His eyebrow raises.

“It’s grown on me.” Your face grows hot as you cross your arms defensively over your chest. “Besides, do you just call me those names simply because I don’t like it.”

“At first, yeah. But I do it now because I like you.”

Your face grows even hotter, hoping he doesn’t see the effect he has on you right now. You should be upset, girl! “So, what gives? Why aren’t you calling me a vixen or a babe or whatever the fuck?”

“I just figured it’d be more appropriate for what I’ve got to say,” He explains before taking a deep breath. “I’d like to---”

You couldn’t bring yourself to hear much more of it. Okay. So he wants to talk about the tour in Europe? What exactly does he want from you? You couldn’t possibly give him an answer he’d be happy to hear.

“I’m sorry,” You cut him off again. “I didn’t want to talk about it. I wanted to forget. To pretend that there was no tour so that I can enjoy being in the present, being with you. But now I know that sometimes…it’s okay to face the inevitable. So…I think I’m ready now.”

“You’re ready?” He says, eyes shimmering despite the dimly lit environment.

“Yes,” You confirmed, lowering your head to keep him from seeing your tears. “I know what you’re going to say. And you’re right. We should break up and—”

“What the hell are you talking about? I never mentioned breaking up. I hadn’t mentioned much at all since you kept interrupting.”

“You didn’t need to mention it. The signs are all there.”

“Really? Because I’m trying to see them for myself. They must be—I don’t know—invisible. Nonexistent.”

“You can’t possibly think I can just throw my career away to be some groupie for you.”

“You make it sound like it’s a bad thing.” He jokes.

You roll your eyes. “I can’t go on that tour with you, Eddie. I have my dream and you have yours. I can’t put my work on the line when I’ve gotten this far.”

“So long distance not a thing?”

“I couldn’t do that to you. It wouldn’t be right. You’re gonna be a star. You’ll meet plenty of women who’d want you. I don’t want to hold you back. I just won’t do it. You deserve to be free to be with whoever you want.”

“You’re un-fucking-believable, Y/n,” He towers over you. “You have no right to make these decisions for me. That’s for me to decide. I’m tired of people telling me what to do, how to feel, what to think. I may not be the brightest but I’m not stupid. What about what I want?”

“What do you want?!”

“You, woman! I want you!”

“If you want me because you think I’ll be this doting girlfriend of your dreams who’s at your side at all times, who ‘sits down and shuts up’, constantly obeying your wishes; I am not that kind of girl.”

“Okay.” He shrugs, demeanor cool and collected.

“Okay? As in…”

“Okay, as in ‘I’m not asking you to be the girl of my dreams’. You already are, goddamn it. As stubborn, self-righteous and bitchy as you can be, I admire every part of you. Good or bad. I want you to have control over your own decisions and be unfiltered as you are. But sometimes, you do need to learn when to shut the hell up and listen to what I’m trying to tell you.”

You began to seethe at his words, opening your mouth to protest only for him to put his palm over it. He shushes you, his free hand putting a finger to his lips. “I’m gonna remove my hand now. You’ll be quiet, right?” He searches your glass-like eyes. You nod slowly, your stare holding sincerity.

“Good girl,” He praises, pulling his hand away. He straightens his composure as if to prepare himself for his own news. “I won’t be going on tour. I’ll follow you.”

Now you’re shaking your head at him. “No. You couldn’t. This is your chance!”

“There’ll be plenty of tours in the future. We can have time for each other until then. Get to know each other well enough so that you’ll start to believe me when I say there’s no one else I’d want besides you.”

Your eyes, the size of saucers. “Are you out of your fucking mind?! I would never ask you to do something like that.”

“That’s the thing. It’s my choice. I’m practicing this thing called ‘autonomy’. It’s quite refreshing actually.”

“It’s stupid!”

“That’s just your opinion.”

“It’s 100% fact,” You notice him approaching you slowly and closely. He’s got that devilish grin playing on his lips. “Stay away from me. 5 feet apart, remember?”

You place a hand on his chest, stopping any attempt for him to move further. He looks down at your shaky hand. He knows it’s futile, so he laughs. “We followin’ rules now?”

“I said, stay the fuck away, Munson.” You squeaked.

“That doesn’t sound very confident,” He chuckles darkly. “You sure you want me to stay away?”

You let out a shaky breath. He bites his lip. This shouldn’t excite him as much as it did, but he was HARD. And it didn’t help that the turbulence brought his attention to your full breasts bouncing temptingly in his gaze. Even covered by your scantily clad tank top, it was see-through enough to leave little to the imagination. He grasps your wrist, pulling your hand off his chest to hold.

He knew exactly how to push your buttons. You hate to admit it, but you were turned on, too. The wetness pooling in your underwear was undeniable.

“I think you like it when I’m this close,” He lets go of your wrist, testing the waters and taking another step. This time you don’t stop him. “I’m sure you remember the way I make you feel when my hand is between your legs.”

“Eddie…” You pleaded.

“You know what else I think, you wanted me to follow you the whole time. Is that why you ask if I wanted to keep the tour going? Why you’ve made me wait hand and foot for an answer? So, you can break me.”

“Not true.” You whimpered.

“Then, you manipulate me into thinking I’m breaking up with you,” He laughs incredulously. “Tsk, tsk, tsk, little vixen. I thought you were better than that,” His fingers coil around your neck tight, but not tight enough to cut off any air circulation. “But you couldn’t get rid of me that easily. Even if you were to leave me right now, you wouldn’t be able to forget me. You’d still feel me here.”

He cups your mound and your mouth drops, knowing that your cover was blown. You were sure that he’d feel you soaking your underwear. It was a blessing and a curse that you decided to wear a skirt today.

“We shouldn’t.” You gasped as he squeezed you down there enough to feel his rings digging into your cotton panties.

Oh yes, we should!

His lips ghosts over the shell of your ear. “You’ve broken me, kitten. Now’s my turn to break you.”

“Let me go.” You whispered weakly.

“You just don’t get it, do you?” He says, tone rich and deep. “There is no letting you go. You’d think I’d ever let another man touch you like this.”

He rolls a thumb over your nipple, perked up for him to tend to. A small moan escapes your lips, causing you to bite them in an attempt to cease any more sounds.

“I couldn’t even begin to imagine someone else hearing those pretty sounds eaving your lips,” With the hand still cupping your face, he swipes his thumb over your full lips and caresses the slightly-healed scar. “Couldn’t even bring myself to use your moans in my songs cause they’re meant for my ears only.”

“How do you think I feel? I get nauseous just imagining you with another girl,” You admit, eyes staring up in hopeless surrender to him. You grow as intensely possessive as him. Your bodies are so close, chests flushed together. Nails digging into his shoulders, you lay a desperate kiss on his lips that makes him feral. “I’m not usually the jealous type but I want you all to myself.”

“You have me.” He whispers, biting down on your soft bottom lip as he cups your butt and guides you to straddle his thigh. Slipping your panties to the side, he presses his thigh into your now exposed core. You knew exactly what he wanted, grinding against the fabric of his jeans. The rough material of the denim against your clit was a delicious surprise to you.

Eddie slips his tongue into your mouth and you immediately suck on the appendage. It felt like you were so in sync with the rhythm of your bodies. Your moans into the kiss competing with one another.

You loved when you got to hear the effect you had on him even without him being inside you. Your hands travel down to the dip in his back, pulling him closer (if it were even possible to be closer than you already were).

You ride his thigh, foreheads against one another and eyes locked. Noticing the erection straining against his jeans, you palm and squeeze it. He thrusts into your hand, pursuing further contact. The two of you work to unbutton his jeans, lowering the zipper until the pants loosened enough. Spitting into your hands, you dip it past the spandex of his boxers and free him of his restraints. You jerk him in your hands at the same tempo you moved your hips against him.

“I don’t want anyone else to touch you like this,” You pant. “Wanna be the only one.”

“I don’t want anyone else hearing how amazing you look you cum,” Removing his thigh away from between your legs, he shoves two thick fingers into you. You gasp which then melds into a moan at the feeling of being stretched so suddenly. Your eyes roll to the back of your head until Eddie snaps you out of it, gripping your chin and forcing you to face him again. “Eyes on me, little vixen.”

The feeling of his fingers, which were perfectly long enough to hit depths that even your own fingers couldn’t reach, drove you into a level of high you were scared to reach for. You tug his cock harder, faster in your hand and feel the precum coat your fingers with added lubrication.

Your stares grew intensely along with the sounds of your heavy breathing. You were getting lightheaded, knowing that the end was soon approaching.

“Want you inside me.” You begged, not caring enough that you were in an airplane restroom.

“Unh…fuck…not here,” He grunts. “Next time I fuck you will be at my place, in my bed so my sheets could smell like you.”

He wiggles a finger in you, teasing the sensitive trigger. His fingers are shot out of you and you’re squirting before you could even recognize that you’ve come.

“Holy shit, holy shit!” You squeal, vision going white. You convulse under him, hearing him groan and the familiar sticky feeling of his essence running in your hands.

You both cling onto each other moments after, his head to your chest feeling your heart beating erratically. When Eddie finally peels off of you, your body grows cold mourning the loss of his warmth. He cleans the two of you up, taking his time, cleaning between your legs and running a wet paper towel on the palms of your coated hands. He wordlessly watches your eyes tracking his hands, before placing a kiss to your now spotless fingers.

“You ready to go out there?” He asks.

“Could we walk out together?” You curl an arm around his, batting your lashes. You know it’s a risky thing to ask.

“Sure, babe.” A big warm smile plastered on his face.

When he feels as if you’re ready, he gives you a reassuring look before unlocking the door and stepping out. Undeniably, you were sure there would be eyes on you. So, releasing a breath, you walk down the aisle hand in hand with your heads high, ignoring the hushed whispers between passengers.

As the two of you approach the section where Corroded Coffin‘s seated, Mr. Neds looks back furiously in contrast to your blissed out states.

Instead of sitting in his “assigned” seat, Eddie sits beside you, putting an arm around you and smirking at the manager.

“Something wrong…Eugene?” Eddie mocks.

“Really? In the restroom? Are you forgetting we have 15 other passengers with us in a section small enough to hear someone’s heartbeat?” He replies through gritted teeth.

“She was quiet enough. As much as she could, anyway.”

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Very.”

“I’ll enjoy myself, too, someday. Currently, I’m thinking of how great that tour in Europe will be for you. It's a shame Y/n’s decided she won’t be joining us, though.” Mr.Neds says sarcastically.

“Don’t be surprised if that tour has no effect on me whatsoever. Almost like I’m not there.” Eddie retorts.

The two of them exchanged heated glares at one another. You sigh, sinking down in your seat.

————

It took longer than expected to arrive due to the weather conditions. A day and some hours and about 2 plane transfers to be concise. By the time you’d touchdown, it was practically evening but you couldn’t wait to get off the plane. You’ve never been to New York but you and Chrissy have talked about one day moving there together to make names for yourselves.

Despite Eddie clearly being exhausted from all the performances and trips, your joy rubbed off on him and soon he was just as determined to explore the big city as you.

Entering the terminal, you rush up to the big glass windows to stare out at the bustling streets. It’s really cold but no snowfall just yet.

You felt Eddie’s body pressed up against you, shivering enough to make you shake along with him.

“You okay, Eds?”

“Not really. I’m not dressed for this kind of weather. Guess fashionably torn shirts and tight jeans just aren't enough.My only saving grace is my leather jacket.”

You felt more bodies lean into you for warmth. The boys in the band huddling for warmth since you're the only one sporting a faux fleece coat.

“Hey! She’s off limits.” Eddie growls.

“Aw, come on, bruv. I’m practically naked in this top.” Judas says, pressing hard into your shoulder.

“Yeah, sharing’s caring.” Mel chimes in.

“If there’s anything you fuckers should know about me is that I don’t like sharing.” Eddie says pulling you into his body only for the men to follow after.

“Can’t we all just go shopping and get you all some decent clothing? Not rockstar-related?” You say, voice strained from being crushed between them.

“Being a star means sacrificing comfort for style.” Mr. Neds answers.

“That isn’t fair,” You protest. “You wouldn’t want them catching colds before their performances, would you? They need warm clothes.”

Mr. Neds stares you down then up at the boys who defensively reciprocated hostile stares at him.

“Fine. The new tour bus is awaiting us outside. We need to board it quickly or else—“

“Oh my god! It’s Corroded Coffin!” A voice rings through the terminal and soon all eyes around the terminal land on your group. There’s a beat of silence before screams and heavy thuds of feet fill the air. The fans sprint determinedly towards you.

Security immediately pushes you all outside of the terminal, blocking an entrance. The doors of another unmanned entrance burst open as floods of people come crashing through, running towards the tour bus.

You were paralyzed, shocked by the amount of people rushing over until you felt a hand take yours and tug you inside the bus. Another group of bodyguards standing between the doors to keep the crowd from hopping on top of the large vehicle. As best as they could the 4 bodyguards shoo away the crowd before hopping in and the driver quickly pulls off. Everyone on the bus, panting from the exertion of escaping.

“Look at that! Just a small town band, now your name’s being heard in even more places. Told you I’d make Corroded Coffin a household name.” Mr. Neds says proudly.

You exchanged a look with Eddie, who groaned at the manager’s lack of awareness. With stardom came lack of privacy. You felt a foreboding feeling that somehow your privacy would be compromised as well.

—————

“What do you think of this?” Eddie steps out of the dressing room, a man disguised. His outfit consisted of some light gray sweatpants, white kicks, and a basic white long sleeve shirt under his leather jacket. To top it off, his signature wilf curls had been stuffed into his black skully hat for better effect.

“You look great but wouldn’t you want to dress in coordination with your band?” You inquire.

Eddie’s bandmates had done the opposite of dressing casually. Going for the flashiest, expensive clothing.

“Nah, they’ll just end up getting us chased again,” Eddie laughs before looking over his shoulders then whispering. “I’m thinking we ditch ‘em.”

“Eddie…” You began but then suddenly you felt like you were in the mood for an adventure. “Know what…I’m ready for anything. What’d you have in mind?”

He’s taken aback. “The good girl’s looking for trouble?”

“I don’t have to look far. You’re the embodiment of it.” You tease.

“Correct as always, my dear.” He says in a silly posh accent, taking your hand and guiding you to sneak past the guards.

Then, you hear the sound of Eddie’s manager yelling from behind you. “Stop those two!”

You turn to your boyfriend, eyes wide. “Run.”

Next thing you knew, you’re both gunning it out the shopping mall, the bodyguards close behind.

To anyone on the outside, you were simply a rowdy couple caught doing something bad enough to be chased by men in black. After a couple twists and turns around the corner and a few “watch where ya goings”, Eddie leads you down the stairs of a subway station. You were sure you’d lost them until you saw them treading down the stairs a few seconds after.

Eddie pulls out a subway card from his pocket.

“Where’d you get that?” You questioned, panting as you ran.

“I swiped it off one of the guards,” Eddie laughs, also panting. “My dad was a pro pickpocketer.”

“We’ll need to unpack that sometime.”

Swiping the card in the machine, Eddie pushes through the turnstiles but when he swipes the card for your entrance, an error message shows up explaining that you have to wait at least 3 minutes for the next swipe. After a couple tries of the turnstiles not budging, you look over your shoulder and notice the guards closing in.

“What do I do?” You panic.

“Jump over!” He holds out his arms.

Grabbing either side of the gate, you hop over the turnstiles and into his arms just as the men reached you. The two of you resume running, this time having some distance from the guards.

As if your prayers had been answered, a train makes its stop at your station. Rushing in, you and Eddie gloat at the approaching bodyguards as the doors shut and the train pulls away. Clinging to the hand rail above you, you both pant in exhaustion which quickly morphed into laughter.

“You’re a bad influence.” You tease, hitting his shoulder lightly.

“You love it.” He retorts.

The words “you” and “love” in the same sentence. It is so strange that you hung onto them at this moment like they had any meaning outside of its context. But what would it be like to hear those words in a different arrangement? One where it felt more of a confession rather than a dismissive play on words.

Your hand slips caused by the jutting train, sending you out of your thoughts and straight into Eddie’s free arm.

“Geez, kitten. If you wanted a hug, you could’ve just asked,” He jokes. “You don’t have to throw yourself at me.”

Wrapping your arms around his waist, you squeeze tight, cheeks squished against his chest. “I could use one.”

He melts into your embrace with an arm around you while the other keeps you both planted to the ground. It doesn’t matter to him that you were in a crowded train where anyone could spot you together because Eddie felt like he'd taken a trip in a time machine.

He’s like a teenager all over again. Sneaking around and running from the trouble he’s caused, but most of all, he felt this way being with you. Maybe he didn’t get that chance to impress you back then… but he has you now.

So lost in you, he hadn’t registered the light tap on his shoulder until accompanied by a said, “Munson?” From a familiar voice. Eddie turns around and his eyes widened in disbelief.

“Emerson?”

“Holy shit! It is you! Almost didn't recognize you with the hat,” A more mature Gareth stood in your presence. The two boys go in for a bear hug while talking over each other in their excitement. “You look great!”

“Can’t say the same for you, man. You look like shit.” Eddie laughs.

“Fuck off,” Gareth laughs. “I just got off my shift. What are you doing in New York?”

“I should be asking you the same. Hadn’t heard from you or Jeff in 2 years.”

“We moved to New York. They say it’s where everyone’s making a name for themselves.”

“You guys still make music?”

“Hell yeah, we do,” Gareth nods. “Ya know ever since, the band got separated. We knew we couldn’t stop rocking. You wouldn’t have wanted that.”

“Good to hear that, bro.”

“And what about you? What’s gotcha in the big city? Tour, maybe.”

“Not exactly a tour. Just a performance and an interview.”

“Aw shit, man. That’s wicked as hell. Rockstar life’s been treating you good it seems. I bet you get tons of chicks,” Gareth says excitedly, ignorant to Eddie’s panicking glare. “How many girls have you—“

He’s interrupted by you clearing your throat stepping out from behind Eddie. “Hello, Emerson.”

He gasps, pointing between the two of you. “Y/n…Eddie…you two are together?”

“Yep, she’s my girl.” Eddie curls an arm around your waist.

“Wow, I’m honestly surprised considering your first article on him. But Eddie did always have a little thing for you back in high school. I’m sure he made it his mission to win you over.”

“S-shut up, dickhead.” Eddie stutters, blushing.

“You read my article?” You ask, a smile creeping up on your lips.

“Oh, yeah. Everyone’s talking about it especially since Corroded Coffin’s performance at Mantra•esque. If ever I need exposure, I’m calling you for an article on mu band. Speaking of which,” Gareth searches through his jeans pocket, pulling out a flier. “You guys should stop by at this Battle of the Bands event tonight at 10. That’s in a couple hours from now so you won’t have to go back and forth until then. It’s at this cool ass venue they call a ‘speakeasy’ in Koreatown. You’ve gotta have a password and everything to get in that shit. Jeff and I will be performing along with our new guitarist, Brody. You’ll dig him. He’s chill.”

You look in the corner of your eye, feeling Eddie tense beside you at the mention of the new member.

“Our band’s called ‘TSNP’,” Gareth continues. “Thou Shall Not Pass. Will you be there, Eds?”

“I…could try. It’s just that I’ll be busy with rehearsals. So, I’m not sure if I’ll be able to make it, man.” Eddie lies.

“Oh…right. Well, that sucks,” A hint of disappointment in his tone. “Jeff would’ve been super stoked to see you. Sid, too. But I understand you're a big rockstar now.”

There’s silence between them. You shake your head at the men too prideful in expressing their true feelings despite supposedly being best friends.

The rest of the trip remained this way until the train halts to a stop at another station. When the doors open, Gareth makes his way over to them, stopping in his tracks and turning on his heel to look over at his friend one last time.

“When you left, we stopped making music for a while. Just didn’t feel the same. Then, I heard your song on the radio and it brought me back. It would’ve been really great if you had some time to see us play,” Gareth scans Eddie’s features and when he doesn’t get a reaction from him, he sighs. “Have a good night.” Sending you a small wave, he steps out and train’s moving forward again.

You turn to look at Eddie, arms crossed and disappointed. ”There are no rehearsals. It’s not fair to lie to him like that nor is it fair for you not to come and support. They’re your best friends. You have your band, why can’t they?”

“It’s not like I’m the one who chose to replace ‘em.”

“I know. But it’s okay to admit when something hurts,” You give him a small smile to lighten the mood. “I’m sure it hurt them having to make the decision to replace you just as much as it hurt you performing on a big stage without them. They’re chasing their dreams, too. It doesn’t mean they don’t want you to be a part of it. He did invite you, didn’t he? It’s like he said you’re the reason he was brought back.”

“You’re right.” He sighs.

“Of course, I am. I’m always right,” You tease then solemnly say. “No one’s gonna take that bond you all share. Not unless you continue to push them away.”

He nods, not saying a word. Thinking things over until the train makes another abrupt stop. The two of you exit hand in hand into the unexplored territory.

————

You were a lot more appreciative of the quiet moments you and Eddie sometimes had to yourselves. Where you got bask in the intimacy of normalcy. Lately, ever since Corroded Coffin's popularity, it’s constantly felt as if there were people lurking in the shadows, waiting on your next move.

Although, you must say it’s hard basking in the glory with your boyfriend’s face plastered on billboards around the city.

“Your manager’s not entirely wrong,” You say, pointing at the billboard. “Look at you guys up there. You'll probably be as big as Kiss someday.”

“You flatter me…but no,” He pats your head. “They’re untouchable.”

“I mean it, though. You shook the world. I can’t imagine you wanting to leave it behind now. I thought you wanted this tour.”

“I know what you’re trying to do here and I appreciate you considering my career but I’ve got my priorities straight. It took some thinking—not much—but I didn’t need a lot of time to realize I’d rather be with you.”

You try to contain the butterflies fluttering within you. “Now who’s become soft?”

“Shut it,” He laughs, pulling you against him and planting a kiss on your lips then neck until you suddenly pull away. “Did I do something wrong?”

You take him by the shoulders, guiding him to do a 180 degree turn. “There’s Coney Island in the distance. Wanna go?”

“I’m up for it. But just so you know, I like scary rides.”

“Aw, you don’t have to concoct a scheme to get me to cling to you, baby. I like scary rides, too,” Hands clasped behind your back, you teasingly walk circles around him then ahead towards the direction of the bright lights competing with the starry sky. You look over your shoulder and say, “I’ll still hold onto you, though… you’d like.”

He dramatically fakes offense, resting a hand over his heart. “I’m insulted that you would think I’d stoop so low. When would I ever deny the chance for you to hold onto me?”

“Then, what’re you standing all the way back there for? Come here and let me hold you.” You shout from behind you. Something about today made you feel extremely flirtatious. Maybe it was for the reason that Eddie was incognito, allowing you the chance to unabashedly enjoy each other’s company.

Eddie’s eyes now trained on the sway of your hips. “Just a second. I’m enjoying my view.”

You giggle. He rushes up behind you and wraps his arms around you, rocking you side to side. Your cute little game of cat and mouse comes to an abrupt end when you both enter the theme park and are met with scattered patrons all over the park with their heads buried in a magazine…with your faces on them.

“No.” You say, cupping your hands over your mouth in shock.

“Jesus H. Christ.” Eddie voices his frustration, eyes squeezed shut.

“That bastard,” You say through gritted teeth. You would have said that it was your fault for posting the article regarding Cole’s scandal. But you hadn’t gotten the chance to publish it, yet. “He was going to post it regardless of whether I’d accept his terms.”

You spot a nearby telephone pole. “I’m calling him and giving him a piece of my goddamn mind,” You say, strutting towards the payphone when Eddie grips your arm. You sneer a “what” at him.

“It’s not worth it. He’ll just try to provoke you which’ll then provoke me.”

You groan, running your hands over your face. “What do we do?”

“The only thing we can do: accept it.”

“Should we leave?”

“No. We’ll enjoy our time here while we can because as soon as we go back. We face reality.” Eddie holds out his hand.

You take it, exhaling and proceeding forward. “Okay but as a heads up, I’m definitely going to take down that man.”

“By all means, crush him,” Your boyfriend encourages. “Now let’s make you forget.”

“How do you suppose we do that?”

“Ferris Wheel, possibly. It’s the only ride without a giant line to wait in. We could talk…and other things.”

You snort. “What ‘things’ could you possibly do on a ferris wheel?”

He simply smirks, walking ahead of you this time. The boy is a menace.

You were considerably glad no one had recognized you from the magazine despite a good amount of park goers including the person operating the ferris wheel having the magazine in hand. After waiting in line patiently, it was your turn to board the ferris wheel car and take your seats.

“Some much needed alone time.” Eddie exhales his relief, both your heads thrown back against the wall of cart in exhaustion.

Not soon after exclaiming this, you both hear the sound of gum popping which causes you to raise your heads simultaneously. Seated in the chair across was a child, somewhere between the ages of 7-9, smacking away at her gum and kicking her feet.

“Hi!” She says, cheerfully.

“Hi, sweetie,” You return the greeting. “What’s your name?”

“I’m Beverly. Also Bev. I’m 8 years old! What’s your name?”

“I’m Y/n. That’s Eddie.” You point to Eddie who seemed uncomfortable.

“He looks scared. Are you scared of the ride, Eddie? It’s not scary. See?” Beverly gestures to herself seated.

“You okay, Eddie?” You asked, concerned.

He leans over, whispering to you as not for the little girl to hear. “It’s just…little kids freak me out, ya know. They always ask so many questions, forcing me to question my own existence.”

“It’s okay. I’ll take it from here,”You turned your attention back to the little girl. “Beverly, what are you doing here all alone? Where are your parents or guardians?”

“I wanted to ride the ferris wheel. Mommy said I couldn’t ride because it was bad. But I really wanted to.”

“Sweetie, it’s not okay to disobey your mother. Especially when she means well. She’s probably worried sick looking for you. I have an idea. Once this ride’s over, I’ll help you find her.”

“But she’ll be so angry.”

“Rightfully so, sweetie. But she’ll only be mad because she loves you.”

“So I can’t stay here?”

“You can’t run away from your problems. There’s a time where you’ve gotta face ‘em head on,” You were thinking maybe you should practice what you preach considering that running is exactly what you’ve been doing. “Tell ya what? I will have a talk with your mother to smoothen things over so she wouldn’t be too angry.”

“You promise?” She says, outstretching her arm and holding out her pinky.

“Promise.” You intertwine your pinky with hers.

“So when do you think we’ll get off this ride?” She asks.

“A few minutes or so.” You answered.

“Really? Even when it’s standing still.”

“Standing still?” Your eyes bugged out, looking over at Eddie who was just the same.

“Fuck! The Ferris Wheel’s stopped!” He exclaims.

“No swearing, Eds. Let’s not corrupt the kid.”

“Did you hear what I said?” He groans, standing up in the cart and walking back and forth.

“Yes! And could you please stop that? You’re wiggling the cart around.”

“I can’t help it. I hate confined spaces.”

“It’ll be okay,” You reassure him. “I’m sure it won’t be long before help.

The sound of a safety horn rings and then the click of a bullhorn. “Passengers, we’re experiencing some technical difficulties. Please allow 30 minutes for help to arrive and another 30 minutes to repair this issue. Please stay put and be safe. Thank you.”

“Well, that’s just fantastic.” Eddie throws his hands up before sinking down to the floor, head in his hands.

You sit beside him. “I didn’t know you were claustrophobic.”

“I’m not but sometimes confined spaces remind me of a certain point in my life…Juvie.”

“You’ve been to juvie?” You asked.

“It’s okay not to be surprised,” He laughs. “But yeah, I have.”

“No, I really am surprised. I never considered it,” You assure. “If you don’t mind me asking…how’d it happen?”

“It’s because I wanted to be like my dad. Ya know, the pro pickpocketer. Well, that wasn’t all he taught me. I learned how to hotwire different vehicles, dismantle and rebuild cars, how to pickpocket, taught me the ins and outs of ‘get rich’ quick schemes, taught me how to deal drugs…the whole nine. I remember wanting to be just like him,” He says. “I never cared much when my mother wasn’t around because he was there. Maybe he wasn’t the best father figure or as present as a parent should be. But when he was there, life didn’t seem so bad. Then one day we’re having some beers on the porch—I was 12, by the way—talking shit and listening to greatest hits. The cops came to arrest me because witnesses saw me stealing parts from a car. Parts that my father begged me to steal because he was too high off his own shit to do it himself. In custody, my dad says, ‘Don’t you worry, buddy. I’ll get you outta there.’ I really wanted to believe he was telling the truth.” Eddie laughs dryly, shaking his head.

Then he continues. “That was the last I saw of him and he didn’t even have the decency to look me in the eyes and say he’s sorry. I was sentenced for 6 months. He never visited me and being in that cell, staring up at the ceiling, alone with my thoughts; I realized it was the first time in my life I knew what it meant to be alone. I found out later he’d been arrested not even a month after my sentencing for serious drug charges. Lock up practically for good. Uncle Wayne took me in even when he hadn’t spoken with my dad in years. Hell, he didn't even know I existed until the guards called him looking for an immediate family member who'd be willing to take me in.”

Your heart broke at the sound of that. To know that he had such a rough childhood but he still managed to be Eddie was remarkable.

“I owe Wayne for everything I am now. If it weren’t for him, I would’ve been a dirtbag just like my dad.”

“I’m so sorry.” You say, rubbing his back.

You weren’t sure the right words to say or if you should say anything at all. The little girl, Beverly, slides off her seat, sitting on the ground along with you. Her tiny backpack in front of her as she rummages through it, pulling out a tiny pink book then holds it out to Eddie.

You both look down at it. Eddie, hesitant but otherwise he takes it in his hands.

“My dad is in jail, too,” Beverly says. “Even though I miss him, I think he’s better there than when he’s with me and mommy. At home, he was mean and scary sometimes. Mommy says he’s better now. I think so, too. He calls me princess like he used to. Once he told me that if I'm ever sad or scared, do something I like. He likes to draw. Like me.” She points at the book.

“It’s not creepy drawings of people being buried, is it?” Eddie says, fear sprinkled in his tone.

You discreetly shove his back with your shoulder. “What he means to say is, ‘are you giving us permission to look at your drawings?’”

Beverly nods, a small smile on her face.

Eddie flips through the pages and he’s caught by surprise. They were quite beautifully drawn for something done by an 8 year old. Gothic drawings of birds, spiders, landscapes and such.

“These are actually really cool.” Eddie praises.

“You’ve done these all by yourself?” You ask, also charmed by the work.

“Mhmm,” The little girl hums proudly. “Well, not all of it. Sometimes, dad starts a drawing and I finish it at home. Then, I start a drawing and he finishes it. He says it’s how we can commemorate with each other.”

“I think you mean, ‘communicate’,” You giggle. “That’s a beautiful story, Bev.”

“He also draws on people’s skin,” She adds, pointing to the matching tattoo you and Eddie had gotten. “Like that.”

You smile at your boyfriend, him, back at you in quiet appreciation; reminiscent of your time together so far.

“Hey, kid, I’ve got a friend I’ll be seeing soon,” Eddie grins. “He’s in a new band and I’d like to give him a little gift. I could use some help with creating a new logo for his band. Think you could make one for me while we kill time?”

Beverly beams. “Yeah!”

The little girl immediately takes out art supplies from her bag, taking the book for him to start on a new blank page.

“Did you mean that? We’re going to Gareth’s show?”

He nods, squeezing your hand. “Yeah.”

“Don’t just sit there?” Beverly chastises. “Gimme some ideas.”

Eddie chuckles, leaning over the page and springing ideas with her while you watch in amusement.

————

After 50 minutes, Eddie and Beverly became a close pair. You’d barely spoken with how much the two had gotten along.

“And she’s all, ‘You’re not invited because you’re weird.’” Beverly says in a mocking tone.

“No.” Eddie says in disbelief.

“Yeah and everyone in class had an invitation. She’s always been a real bully. Sometimes she shoves me, pulls my hair…and it makes me angry. Like I want to hurt her.”

Eddie scoffs. “I’ve known asshats like that back in school, too. Wouldn’t even look in my direction because I didn’t have the latest shoes or clothes.”

“Language, Eddie.”

“Sorry, I meant ‘butthats’,” Eddie says, causing Beverly to giggle wildly and nearly color outside the lines. Eddie whispers. “Some advice: don’t stoop down to a bully’s level because then you’ll become a bully, too. It happened to me. I thought solving everything with fists would somehow get people to stop messing with me but it only made me feel worse. It’s okay to stand up for yourself but it’s also okay to tell someone what you're going through. Like an adult.”

You smile at his advice, realizing that he’d listened to you.

He’s becoming really mature.

“However, she did hit you first so it’s only fair game that you get to hit her back.” He adds.

Ooh, so close.

“All done!” Beverly holds up the drawing.

Eddie takes the page, scanning it. It was of a spider spinning a web in the shape of a guitar, a giant cross in the background. It looks badas—“ You shoot him a look. “It’s really cool, kid.”

A whirring sound picks up and the ride’s moving again, the three of you erupt in cheers. When you’d finally reached the bottom, a woman full of fear stood there waiting on the sidelines. Her eyes lit up the moment she saw Beverly.

“Bev! Baby.” Her mother sobs in relief, arms opened wide.

“Mommy!” The little girl jumps into the mother’s arms.

“What did I tell you about leaving my side?! I knew you’d be here. You just don’t quit, do you?” Her mother scolds.

“Ahem.” Beverly says, clearing her throat cuing you.

“Hello, Beverly’s mother,” You waved, introducing yourself. “It’s wonderful meeting you. I’m Y/n and this is Eddie. We found her riding alone and talked about searching for you when the ferris wheel stopped.”

“Hello. Please call me Martha,” She introduces herself. “I told her that ferris wheel’s always giving up. I’m so sorry. I hope she didn’t cause any trouble with you. She can be quite the handful.”

“No. She was an angel. Even drew us a picture.”

“That’s very sweet of you, Bev,” Her mother smiles down at her. “Thank you so much for keeping her happy. She’s usually scared to ride those things alone. If there’s any way I could thank you…”

“Oh no, that won’t be necessary.” You protest.

“No, no. I’ve got it! If ever you need help planning an event—maybe a party or… wedding,” She darts her eyes between the two of you, handing you a business card. “That's my number right there. I’m a wedding and event planner.”

You blush, profusely. “Umm, okay.”

“Let’s go, Beverly. Say goodbye to the nice people.”

She pouts. “Will I see you guys again?”

You let Eddie have this one. He crouches down to her level and says, “I think so. Who knows? Maybe I’ll be needing a wedding planned or whatever,” You were now blushing so hard that the heat from your face could warm you enough from the cold weather. “Or maybe I could get some cool tattoo ideas from the artist herself.” He finishes, winking at her.

The girl beams. Then, she and her mother were on their way. Eddie, waving at her until they couldn’t see each other anymore.

You smirk at him. “Well, would you look at that. You’ve overcome your fear of children.”

“She’s pretty cool. Reminds me a lot of myself.”

“She’s very special. Bright, too. I think she’s helped me work out a lot up there than any therapy session I’ve had in years.”

“Somehow the universe keeps sending people our way because you and I could use a little push. We’re very stubborn people, ya know. Although, I’m a Taurus. What’s your excuse?”

You laughed. “So are we going to this show or are we going to discuss signs now?”

“Don’t you wanna debate how un-Taurus like I am,” He jokes. “Alright. Let’s go so see TSNP. Dumb name by the way. Hope Gareth didn’t come up with it.”

“Do you think we’ll make it to their performance on time?”

“I think so. But if we don’t, I’d still like to go for the support,” He smiles and curls an arm around your shoulders. “Then you and I could go back and face reality.”

You rest your head on his, walking out of the park; ignorant to the magazines with your faces on them.

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