#i tried! i really really fuckin tried man! all last year i tried so so hard.

[hzrnvm]

emotional. happy, pissed off, all that.

#hzrn #im cool with being annoying hypothetically but the real kicker is that no form of communication exists that i can really use comfortably #every single form of communication out there. i can't use it. i can't fuckin talk bc the sounds are too hard. #i can't fuckin type bc the buttons are too hard. #i can't fucking body and hands bc motions are too hard. #i can't fucking art because art involves all those things. #damn fucking WORDS are too hard. i put so much work into them and i get nothing. nothing! #who made the world this way?! why is it that all communication and socialization is so. fucking. hard!!!! #i tried! i really really fuckin tried man! all last year i tried so so hard. #i fell FLAT on my face. NO ONE liked me. they called me a retard! they said i was scary‚ awkward‚ hard to be around! #they did coordinated social attacks on me! then when i come back to school this year and i even *think* about trying again‚ they say #'nobody wants him here. and he should stop caring' #well right about then‚ is where she gives up! she has closed her eyes‚ she has given up hope! #i gave up trying to exist socially at school. the two paths are being myself and getting bullied‚ or not being myself and getting nothing #today was a good day for me all in all but idk. #the only reason i dont hold grudges like crazy is because of my object impermanence shit #although this might as well count as a grudge. i think it's somewhat justified though‚ because in my case it's more like #if you hurt me seriously then i'll think about it pervasively until you do something to redeem yourself in my mind. #probably that's part of the reason im so scared of being myself and shit #this is probably the reason why im so scared of being myself. bc everytime i tried i got bullied‚ mocked‚ demeaned. and that shit piles up. #i just spend mosta my time not thinking about it! just like i spend mosta my time not thinking about who i am‚ my future‚ my past and on! #siiiigh. sigh sigh siiiiiiiiigh #it's ok to like this post by the way #in fact it's encouraged. im directly and clearly asking you to. #im not making this post for nothing. im making it in the hopes that someone will read what i said. #although really no one will. why the hell would anyone fucking read this. get fuckin real. #i know for certain i'll wake up tmrw with this at at maximum like. 1 like. 2 if im really the luckiest girl in the world. #and i know how i sound caring about likes and shit. but really all it tells me is someone read this. and i really fuckin need someone to re

[bluebeary-jay]

Damage done

Pre/No-outbreak!Joel Miller x f!Reader

Summary: during a fight with Joel, he unknowingly sends you into a panic attack caused by your previous experiences. he deeply regrets it. (based on this wonderful ask!)

Tags: heavy ANGST, hurt/comfort, angst with happy ending (there's also fluff), established relationship, petnames, soft!Joel (he's trying his best fr 🥺). Several years pre outbreak. please read the warnings carefully

Warnings: fighting, talk and mention about previous abusive relationship, panic attack, emotional distress, self-destructive thoughts

Word count: 4K

A/N: i wrote it partially based on experiences with my own panic attacks, but i know everyone's is different. if there's a warning i missed, please let me know. also i want this man to take care of me so much 😢 anyway, stay safe, darlings, and as always: happy reading and i hope you'll enjoy!! 💕 comments and feedback are greatly appreciated 😌

It had been a rough couple of weeks. Things at your work were rocky to say the least, what with your boss firing several people every week and cutting your salary. Joel didn’t have it much better – from what you understood, two clients suddenly canceled their order, and Tommy got himself thrown into jail, again, breaking his longest record to date. On top of that, little Sarah went down with some kind of flu that was raging in schools recently, and for the last two weeks one of you had to be home with her almost all the time.

So it was probably no wonder that the tension and stress became too much at one point, and you both snapped.

It was about the play at Sarah’s school.

“You promised her, Joel! She was talking about it for the entire week.”

“It’s not my fault we have to go out of town on this date,” he answered through clenched teeth, pinching the bridge of his nose and not looking up at you. “I tried to reschedule, but the commissioning party refused. I can’t help it, for fuck’s sake.”

You were glad Sarah wasn’t home right now to listen to your fight. You dropped her off earlier at her friend’s house because she wanted to practice lines for the play they were doing next week. The play that Joel was apparently planning to miss.

You adored Joel – god, you loved him with all that you had – but he could be so stubborn sometimes, it was driving you up the fricking wall.

“It’s your kid, Joel–”

“Yeah, it’s my kid!” he raised his voice, only now lifting his head. His stare was cold and hard, so unlike how he usually looked at you. “Not yours.”

“Are you kidding me?!” you shouted, hurt by his words and the tone he used. “I’ve been taking care of her, loving her– She is like a daughter to me!”

“But still not yours,” he repeated harshly. That was a low blow, especially when he told you so many times that you might not be Sarah’s biological mother, but it’s obvious you love her like she’s your own blood.

“You’re only saying that ‘cause you know I’m right,” you snarled angrily, and Joel huffed a humorless laugh.

“Of course. You always know better, dont’cha?” He stood up, towering over you, but you didn’t back down. If anything, it only made you more mad, as if he was doing this to intimidate you. “I’m sorry I’m such a terrible father in your eyes, but I have to think about earning money. Especially since it’s only a matter of time ‘till that asshole boss of yours will fire you, too.”

“What the fuck’s that supposed to mean?! You really think so lowly of me to say it won’t be long until I get fired?”

“I don’t– Christ, you’re puttin’ words in my mouth again.”

“Again. Of course.” You spat out and took your sweatshirt from the couch, done with him and this conversation. “I’m going to my home,” you told him dryly. Joel’s nostrils flared and he took a step forward.

“No, you’re not.”

“Fuckin’ watch me,” you muttered under your breath, but loud enough for him to hear.

“We are not finished!!” Joel screamed, his booming voice echoing throughout the house.

It felt like a slap. In one second you froze, all your muscles seized up and a feeling of coldness gripped your heart and throat, sending panic flooding your veins. The sweatshirt you were holding slipped out from your stiff fingers.

Joel has never raised his voice at you like that. Never with such anger and fury. There was a bite to his tone that you couldn’t explain, but which you knew very well – the telltale sign that you went too far, and the other person’s patience was at an end, that now you were going to pay for it.

Your previous boyfriend taught you what it means. It meant bruises and split lips, and screaming when you started crying…

Joel noticed the shift in your behavior right away, and his anger immediately ebbed, replaced by confusion and concern.

“Darlin’?” he murmured the pet name, though it rolled off his tongue heavily and with difficulty.

He was still furious at you and your refusal to understand what he was going through, but it all died down when he saw how wide, how empty your eyes were. Your knees buckled, and you looked like you could fall down at any moment.

Joel didn’t have any idea what was happening with you – but knew that whatever it was, it was his fault.

You, in the meantime, felt like you couldn’t breathe. The man in front of you – you weren’t even sure anymore who that was – took a step forward with his hand lifted, and you quickly backed away, stumbling in the process.

“No! N-no, no, please, I’m sorry–” you started blabbering and sobbing, wrapping one arm around your middle to protect all the main internal organs. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to–”

“No, you didn’t…”

“Please… I’m sorry, I swear,” you cried, trembling at this point, but not daring to escape the room. “I’ll be better, just don’t… Please, don’t…”

Joel’s heart broke when he saw you bursting into tears and trying to make yourself as small as possible. All his anger disappeared in a cloud of smoke, replaced by the overpowering need to comfort the girl he loved.

But you seemed so scared when he wanted to come closer… And he didn’t know how to proceed.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he repeated in an even softer tone, his eyebrows scrunching in worry. “Sweetheart… M’not gonna hurt you.”

He took another slow step forward, but that seemed to already be too much, because the trembling intensified and you practically slumped against the wall, one arm around your stomach, and the other squeezing your throat tightly. Joel feared to know the reason why you would do that to yourself.

“Stop, plea– I can’t– I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

“No, it’s okay, my baby, it’s alright…”

He fell down to his knees next to you and reached to take you in his arms, but you started shaking your head violently, backing away and squirming out of his reach.

“No, no, please, I’m sorry! Don’t– don’t touch me!!”

A bile rose up in his throat, and he retreated his hands, holding them low in front of him to show he’s not going to do anything.

“It’s alright, babygirl,” he muttered chokingly, feeling completely helpless and lost about what to do. “You… you’re safe.”

You were crying uncontrollably now, though it seemed like you tried to stifle the never-ending sobs and tears flowing out of your eyes, in result making your entire body shake. You flinched – actually flinched – when Joel opened his mouth, and your fingers around your throat tightened their grip.

“No,” Joel said decisively, breaking your wish and grabbing your wrists, moving them away from your neck where red crescents started to form. “Baby, please, don’t.”

“Let go!!” It was hard to distinguish the words from between your cries, but the message your body language was conveying was clear as day. “No, don’t… me…” You sobbed again, quickly weakening despite your efforts. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

“Come ‘ere,” Joel whispered in a voice full of pain, carefully shifting closer and wrapping his arms around you, though being careful not to make you feel too crowded or trapped. “Shhh… it’s Joel, darlin’, m’here.”

Surprisingly, you let him hold you – maybe it was just because you didn’t have strength to resist and fight back anymore, Joel thought, but maybe you recognized him. Maybe it was both. But the tears didn’t stop. No matter how gently he stroked your back or whispered reassuring words, you couldn’t seem to stop crying.

Several times in the next couple of minutes you tried to grasp your neck or arm again, but every time he delicately, though firmly, moved them away. You still babbled half-intelligible apologies and pleas, and each time your voice broke or hitched on another fearful word, Joel’s heart was shattering into a million pieces all over again.

“I’m sorry…” you sobbed again, trembling in his arms. “I’m sorry, don’t hurt me, p-please–...”

“My darlin’...” Joel held you closer and more securely in his arms, rocking you back and forth. “Sweetheart, my sweet, sweet girl… I’m never gonna hurt you, I swear.” He planted soft, delicate kisses on your hair. Even though he wanted to hug you tightly, to show you how much he loves and cares about you, he restrained himself and tried to keep his touch as gentle as possible. “I swear, my babygirl, m’sorry, so sorry for screamin’... Didn’t mean to.”

You were still crying, albeit weaker now, in his arms, clinging to him like your life depended on it. Joel could feel your nails digging themselves into the skin of his back, but it was the furthest thing on his mind – hell, he could start bleeding and still it wouldn’t be as important as comforting you at this moment. Better him than you.

“I love you s’much, my babygirl, my life,” Joel continued murmuring into the top of your head, feeling close to crying himself when your tears seemingly couldn’t stop flowing. “M’so sorry. I won’t ever hurt you like that again, I swear…”

His words, though full of love and compassion, rolled off you like water off a duck’s back, and you still couldn’t locate yourself, couldn’t tether your being to this world and make sense of the difference between what you knew should happen, and what was actually happening.

Your whole body was hurting, yes, but it wasn’t the pain of being repeatedly hit. You could barely hear your own cries, but it wasn’t because of vicious and cruel words being thrown at you. You knew it was Joel you were clinging to, and he never hurt you in this way, but… but you also were never so angry at each other. You never fought like this – and experience taught you that crossing that invisible line will carry certain consequences.

You weren’t angry now. You were scared. And confused.

“Joel,” you whimpered between gasps, struggling to breathe through your rapid sobs. “I’m sorry. Please, don’t– don’t go.”

“M’not leavin’ ya, babygirl.” He spoke into your hair, closing his eyes. “M’not goin’ anywhere.”

You were calming down a little now, the sobs wrecking your body and breaking Joel’s heart dying down, though you were still shivering. Joel continued to hold and soothe you the best he could.

And wondered who must’ve hurt his darling so much that you’d react so badly.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered after a while, sniffling into Joel’s chest, but trying not to get snots on his shirt. Joel sighed sadly, but his hold on you just tightened.

“No, babygirl, my darlin’...” He pressed his lips to your hairline, stroking your back with his other hand. “You have nothin’ to be sorry for, I swear. It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” you whimpered pitifully, unable to stop another wave of tears from falling. “I’m sorry I reacted like that. I know… Joel, I know you won’t hurt me. Baby, please.” You took his head in your hands, searching his eyes with fear painted across your face. “I’m so sorry, wasn’t thinking and…”

“Hey. Love, it’s fine.” He placed his own hands on your cheeks, stroking lightly your damp skin with his thumbs. “Don’t say that. M’not angry at you and would never be because of that. It’s… it’s okay.” He petted your hair, trying to relax for your sake, but his chest remained tight. “It’s gonna be okay, I promise.”

You nodded weakly, though you weren’t sure if you believed him. Joel swallowed heavily and nodded after a while, too.

“Okay. I… I’ll run you a bath,” he whispered, but you held his hand tighter and shook your head with tears gathering in your eyes again.

“No, no! Just s-stay with me, please.”

Joel took your face in his hands, but you closed your eyes, feeling too vulnerable and exhausted to even try to maintain eye contact.

“I’m here, baby. C’mon, just hold onto me.”

He waited until your arms were around his neck before slowly standing up and tucking you securely in his arms. You hid your wet face in the crook of Joel’s neck, breathing in his soothing smell and trying to calm your breathing, which you still found difficult.

Neither of you said anything when he took you to the bathroom, sat down on the toilet seat and started to fill the bathtub with water and soothing oils. You just watched him, wiping your nose every once in a while.

Still remaining silent, Joel extended his hand and helped you stand up. Then, almost with fearful hesitation, he touched the hem of your shirt, sending you a questioning look. You just nodded, not having strength to undress yourself, and lifted your arms, letting him take your clothes off.

You didn’t let go of his hand even after he guided you to sit in the tub. You couldn’t bear being alone with your thoughts right now, and Joel, being as wonderful of a man as he was, stayed by your side as the warmth from the water seeped through your tired bones.

Another several minutes passed before he finally asked the question that was gnawing at him since the very beginning. You must’ve subconsciously known it was coming, cause it didn’t even surprise you.

“Who was it?” he asked quietly. His hand was still caressing your palm with the gentlest of touches, but his eyes were like ice, full of hidden rage and hatred. “Who did this to you, darlin’?”

You wrapped your arms around yourself, not sure whether to answer or not. Ever since you got to know him, Joel has been nothing but kind and understanding, never pressuring you into doing or saying something you didn’t want… but you had a feeling he wasn’t going to let the matter drop.

And honestly, you were afraid to tell him. To admit how your previous relationship looked and what exactly happened to make you act so strongly about something so small. Because… what if he’ll realize how broken you are, how much effort it’d take to put up with you, and he’ll leave? Even if he was willing to take care of you, it was really unlikely that he’d stay – even if he says that now.

You were doing good until today. You managed to hide the issues you had with yourself and all the pain you carried inside, never letting Joel know that something was wrong with you. But now he… he will…

You didn’t want him to leave. He made your life so much better and you loved him to pieces with all your heart, as weak and broken as it was.

You couldn’t lose him.

“Oh, baby…” Joel’s hands cupped your cheeks so carefully and lovingly that you almost started weeping again. “M’not goin’ anywhere. I love ya so much. You’re never gonna lose me.”

You didn’t realize you said those words out loud, but even so, somehow his affirmations didn’t make you feel any better. You wanted them to comfort you, but if anything, they just made you feel sick.

“I’m afraid you’re gonna leave someday,” you whispered hoarsely, keeping your eyes on the slowly disappearing bubbles. “I know I’m being selfish, but I don’t want you to. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, Joel. I…” Tears spilled from your eyes again and you shook your head. “I know I’m too much. And… and broken. And I know it sounds like I wanna guilt-trip you, but I’m not, I’m just–” You choked on a sob, and wrapped your arms tighter around yourself, hugging your knees to your chest. “I don’t– don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Sweetheart, look at me, please.” Joel’s hands were rough to the touch, but so incredibly gentle when they guided you to meet his eyes, and a big pit formed in your stomach when you saw how they shone. He was on the verge of tears, too. “Don’t say things like that. Nothin’ is wrong with you. Who…” He sighed again. “Who made you believe such things?”

You didn’t answer at first, but Joel kept staring at you, and – finally – you relented.

“My previous boyfriend. The one I didn’t want to talk about. He– Look, I know he was a horrible person.” You let out a short laugh, but without any joy – or emotions altogether – in it. “And I hate him so much, but he… he was right. About some things.”

“He’s not.” Joel didn’t back down, feeling despair growing inside his chest as he saw the girl he adored with his whole heart put herself down like that. “You’re… fuck, you’re perfect, darlin’, and you didn’t deserve to be treated or talked to this way. M’so sorry it happened to you.”

He brushed some of your hair to the back and sighed silently. He seemed so lost and sad, it made you feel even worse.

“What can I do?”

That stopped the train of your thoughts, and you looked up.

“What?”

“What can I do?” he repeated softly. “To prove t’you that I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

Your lips parted, and you were unsure what to say. Joel took your hand in his, delicately tracing patterns on the back of it.

“Babygirl, listen to me. You’re the most precious thing t’me. I don’t care what this asshole told you, but… but none of this is true. And it’s not gonna drive me away from you. Nothin’ is gonna make me leave,” he repeated more firmly, never taking his eyes off you. “Because I love you. More than anythin’ else in the world”

Joel sounded so sincere and desperate, tugging at your heartstrings with his gentle, sad eyes and loving words. The water became cool some time ago, but your insides felt like they were on fire – as if the next breath you were about to take would be your last.

“I’m sorry for everything I said.” You took a shaky breath, trying to keep your voice steady. “I don’t think you’re a bad father. I think you’re the best and most amazing dad Sarah could ever ask for. I didn’t want…” You sniffed and your shoulders started to shake again with silent cries. “I didn’t want to hurt you, I’m so sorry, I didn’t–”

The sob that you tried to stop with all your might suddenly escaped you, and Joel’s forehead scrunched in worry. He pulled you closer, leaning over the edge of the bathtub. Neither of you concerned yourself with water dripping off your skin, only feeling relieved from each other’s closeness.

“I know, babygirl. M’not mad.” Joel left a lingering kiss on your tearstained cheek, and then a second one on your forehead. “I’m sorry, too. For how I acted and for–” he sighed heavily into your shoulder, “for shouting at ya.”

“You couldn’t have known,” you mumbled, but he shook his head.

“That’s no excuse. I shouldn’t ‘ave done it in the first place.” He relaxed in your arms, and somehow it made your muscles less tense, too. “I’ll see what I can do about that job. So that I can see Sarah’s play.”

You nodded and let your eyelids drop, giving in to the feeling of calm and security that always came with being with Joel.

“Can I sleep here tonight?” you asked quietly. You still were a little afraid that he’s going to turn you down after what happened, but you really didn’t want to stay alone. “With you?”

“‘Course you can. D’ya want to go now?”

You nodded again. Not bathing seemed like a big waste of water, but you didn’t feel strong enough to actually wash your body. And Joel didn’t pressure you – he just bent over and wrapped his strong arms around you, practically pulling you out of the tub by himself.

His clothes were completely soaked when he put you down and reached for the fluffiest towel you had, wrapping it around you like a little cocoon. He got rid of his wet shirt, kissed your head gently and, without a word, scooped you up into his arms again.

“I can stand,” you offered when he started walking towards the bedroom, forcing you to wrap your hands around his neck for support.

“I want to take care of you.”

“But your back pains…”

“I’m not that old yet, sweetheart,” he answered with a half-smile, slowing down and gazing into your eyes softly. “Let me take care of you.”

You brushed his cheek with your fingertips tenderly, eyes flickering across his face. “But you’re always taking care of everyone, Joel.”

His throat bobbed and he almost immediately looked away. It was clear what he was thinking – that according to himself, he wasn’t doing a good enough job. Because you got hurt. Because he was the one who unintentionally hurt you and sent you into a panic attack.

He was silent when he put you down on the bed with care, turning around to fetch one of his shirts from the closet. During this whole time you didn’t say anything, either. Your mind was still a little closed off from when you tried to separate yourself from the painful memories that started to haunt you, and despite Joel’s efforts, it was still difficult to move past the experience.

But your head snapped up when Joel, after helping you put the shirt on, knelt in front of you, took your hand in his and leaned forward to kiss your knee gently.

“M’sorry,” Joel whispered with pain tinging his deep voice. “I’m sorry for sayin’ all those things about you and Sarah. I know you love her.” He pressed his lips to your knee again, and lifted his head, revealing how misty his own eyes were, which in turn made your heart ache even more. “My sweet girl. I swear I won’t ever hurt you again.”

“You didn’t hurt me,” you answered quietly, but Joel shook his head and took a deep breath.

“What can I do?” he repeated his question from earlier, and this time you knew exactly what you needed him for.

“Can you… can you hold me?”

Without missing a beat, Joel raised from his position and enveloped you in his embrace, making you feel safe and protected like never before. You sighed heavily, breathing in his scent and feeling like just by touching you with such love that only he was capable of, he helped you to lift some invisible load from your shoulders.

Despite the headache from all the crying and your chest still tightening with every shallow breath you took, you felt a little better now. You didn’t feel alone.

You knew you were safe with Joel.

It took some time for you to fall asleep, but even when you did, Joel could not find peace in the silky darkness of the evening.

Before you dozed off, Joel vowed again and again how much you mean to him, how you and Sarah are the best things that ever happened to him, and how he’ll never let anything happen to any of you – and he could clearly see that you believed his every word, and that you weren’t mad at him. You weren’t flinching when he rocked you back and forth, or later when he pressed small kisses to your forehead.

But you still were quiet and your face miserable, and several times Joel tucked you in closer to himself when he felt you shaking and sniffing. There wasn’t anything else he could do but hold you and whisper soothing promises into your hair. Once your eyelids started to drop, he began humming a familiar melody he knew you liked, and you nuzzled your face into his neck, curling up in his embrace.

And you whispered ‘I love you’ before you drifted off to an uneasy sleep in his arms. And before he could even answer, you thanked him for loving you.

When he heard it, he had to keep himself from breaking down with the last bit of his strength.

“You mean everythin’ to me, love. Everythin’,” he murmured after a couple of seconds, not even knowing if you were still awake. The guilt in his chest made it hard to breathe, but he pushed through it, and then he softly kissed your forehead, making a promise to himself.

He will find time to go to Sarah’s play with you. And he’ll make it right.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #the last of us #joel miller x y/n #tlou hbo #young joel miller #sarah miller #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller angst #joel miller fluff

[lemonwrap]

Imagine: Omegaverse AU where Ghost had his scent gland cut out by Roba.

Ghost barely survived it, and now he doesn’t have a scent of his own. He’s never tried, but it’s a logical assumption that he won’t be able to sustain a mating bond, either. He can usually pass his lack of scent off as just using the scent suppressants military members almost always use on missions, but it’s harder during downtime when there’s not such a need for them.

Ghost is close to Soap, flirting and bantering with him constantly, *likes* him, but he never outright tells him. He likes Soap’s scent, too, an odd but alluring combination of citrus and a hint of gunpowder—one would think the two scents together would be disgusting, but when it’s Soap, it’s not.

Ghost keeps the mask on to hide, and doesn’t lift it even to eat when others are around. It’s kind of a pain sometimes, really, and he’s considered being done with all the bullshit and just taking it off, but then Soap would know. He wants the bond and affection between them to last. It’s fucked up to lie to him, but Soap won’t want him when he finds out Ghost can’t actually bond with him, and Soap is the closest he’s been to someone in years.

Soap, while slightly skeptical of Ghost’s unwillingness to take off the mask, doesn’t entirely connect the dots and just thinks Ghost’s scent suppressants work amazingly.

Until the day Ghost sustains a head injury on a mission, that is. He’s losing blood fast and Soap can’t see a thing with the mask on, and he just barely convinces Ghost to take it off so he can staunch the blood flow better. Soap gets him patched up enough that he won’t bleed out on the way to exfil, but with the danger now past, he notices the deep, unmistakable scar of a botched scent gland removal on Ghost’s neck.

After Ghost is treated in medical, he makes an effort to avoid Soap, simply not wanting to bother with his pity or disgust.

He knows Soap liked him back at one point, but if they had ever gotten that far, they’d never be able to actually bond. Soap deserves a real mate.

Soap catches on by the end of the first day that Ghost is avoiding him, but Ghost is elusive if he wants to be, and Soap doesn’t catch him in the man’s favorite smoking spot on the roof until a week later.

Ghost hears him coming, but doesn’t pull his mask back down. Soap’s seen the scar anyways, so it doesn’t really matter.

“Long time no see, Lt,” Soap says.

Ghost doesn’t reply and takes a drag from his cigarette. He shouldn’t have let himself get so close to Soap, because he knew it’d go to shit once he found out about the scar. People usually date to bond. Ghost can’t do that.

Soap stands next to Ghost.

“Care to share?” Soap asks. Ghost hums and gives the cigarette to Soap, and they silently pass it back and forth until it’s a stub.

“Gonna tell me why you were avoiding me?” Soap asks, blowing out the last puff of smoke. “Kinda rude to vanish on someone like that.”

“Figured you’d know that one,” Ghost replies.

“If it’s about—“

Ghost cuts him off. “It is.”

“So you’ve been flirting with me and didn’t think to mention it? I’ve been wanting to fuck you for the past six fuckin’ months,” Soap says, sounding irritated. “Kiss would’ve been nice, too.”

“I didn’t because I knew you’d act like this,” Ghost says, pointedly ignoring the fact that Soap just admitted that he likes Ghost—or that he did at one point, anyway.

“So you like me?”

“Yes,” Ghost says, “but I think you can find someone that’ll be able to keep a bond.”

“It doesn’t make a difference,” Soap says resolutely. “I want you anyway.”

Ghost doesn’t scoff, but he sort of wants to. Of course it makes a difference.

“Just drop it, Soap,” Ghost says.

Soap does, for about ten seconds. Then he grabs Ghost by the collar and kisses him hard, smashing their lips together and biting at Ghost’s lips. Ghost kisses back just as hard, savoring how their bodies feel pressed together, hands gripping at each other’s clothes and skin.

This won’t last, but Ghost will take what he can get.

#Ghost and Soap could be any combo of alpha and/or omega tbh #I feel like it works either way #I’m imagining this as an eventual happy ending #Bonus if Ghost *can* be bonded with but Soap just has to renew the bite often ;) #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #ghoap #soapghost #ghostsoap #call of duty #cod #lemonwrap writes #drabble

[raya-hunter01]

Can you do a story on jey about his gf tryna go to bed mad at him and he ain’t having it 🤗🤭

We Ain’t Going to Bed Angry

Jey Uso x Black Female OC! (Jasmine)

Rating: 18+

Warning: Smut; sex, fluff, couple arguing, Jealousy

Summary: Jasmine wants to go to bed angry and in separate bedrooms, but Main Even Jey Uso is putting his foot down.

My first ever request....I hope you enjoy it @mya2real

Pensacola, FL

Jasmine’s POV

“Damn I finally get you alone, and all you want to do is cruise the coast and talk about your man. I hope he realizes how lucky his ass is, cause I really was trying to get your number,” Carmelo said as I laughed.

 “Thanks for helping me out Melo you are a sweetie. I promise he won’t come at you with any drama,” I said giving him a kiss on the cheek as I began my walk back to Jey’s house.

 I had Carmelo drop me off down the road from the subdivision. I ain’t crazy by no means, I ain’t letting just anybody know where I lay my head at night. Folks can be crazy as hell.

I groaned as my phone rang again looking down, I sighed. Another call from Jey. I knew I was wrong, but I was still pissed so I hit ignore and punched the code to be let into the subdivision. You let a bitch dance all up on you like you're single and shit.

But, oh, but when I leave yo’ ass at the club you concerned. Give me a break you weren’t worried about what I thought when she was twirling all up on your dick,” I muttered continuing my walk. I hate these fuckin’ groupies with a passion.

Jey’s POV

“Jasmine, I know you ignoring me.  What you doin'?  I know you had betta be on your way home. I bet he trying to fuck you ain’t he?  I’mma get’em you know dat right? I’mma hurt him bad Jasmine,” I said ending the voicemail before I dug an even deeper hole.

“Well damn, you just threatened to kill Melo for nothing, Jasmine ain’t that type of woman, and you know it,” Jimmy said shaking his head at me.

“She ain’t, but I know Carmelo likes her. I knew when I brought her to a show last year. He was looking wit no damn shame Uce, and tonight she got into a car wit his bitch ass trying to make me jealous,” I said steaming thinking about Carmelo touching Jasmine in any way.

"Hell, ain’t no tryin’ in it, you jealous Uce" Jimmy said as I rolled my eyes at him.

 “This woman gon’ be the death of me,” I muttered as Jimmy snickered. “Aye, sis told you not to play in her face, and you did anyway. Serves yo’ ass dead right,” he said laughing.

“I ain’t played in her face, I was just dancing with a fan,” I said oblivious to what he was trying to say.

“Uce, it wasn’t that you were dancing with her, it was how she was dancing all up on yo’ ass and you did nothing to stop it. Ya’ll was all but fuckin on that dance floor,. You lucky Jasmine didn't show her ass,” Jimmy said as I tried to think back to what happened, and when it finally clicked, I felt like an ass.

“Ok, yea, I admit it was outta pocket, but she ain’t have to leave with his ass to prove a point. She knows I’m wit her, that shit didn’t mean nothin',” I said as I heard the front door open.

A wave of relief washed over me as I saw her beautiful face as she took off her heels seemingly ignoring me. Thank God she was home safe.

“Uh, I’ll let myself out, and let ya’ll talk,” Jimmy said trying to hurry to the door but not before hugging Jasmine. “Glad you ok sis, you had me worried,” he whispered as she smiled rubbing his back. “I’m ok bro, tell Trin I’ll call her tomorrow” she whispered as I tried to keep my cool, at least until Jimmy left.

I felt my anger rising by the second. What had she been doing with Carmelo that she couldn’t pick up the fuckin’ phone? As the door closed behind Jimmy I exploded.

“Where the fuck have you been?!” I hissed trying not to wake up our son upstairs.

“I went for a ride with an old friend, is that a problem?” she asked with a bit of an attitude.

“Aye, chill with the attitude, I’m the one that should be mad. My girlfriend left me at a club to go be with another motherfucka she knows I don’t like,” I said as Jasmine rolled her eyes.

“Well, my man was dancing all up on a ho like he’s single so I guess we even, and can both be pissed the fuck off together then. Ugh, I can’t wait to go back to Georgia, this was a mistake coming here to visit, It just was too soon,” she said walking away as I followed her upstairs.

“What the fuck does that mean? You really feel visiting me was a mistake?” I asked as she stopped walking.

“Jey, all I wanted was to spend time with you, and all you’ve done is spend time with everyone else but me and our son! I feel like we don’t belong here Jey, that’s why I left in the first place!” Jasmine exclaimed as I ran my hands over my face in frustration.

I knew she was right; I had been on the go since they got here, and I had promised I wouldn’t be. I truly had no defense for my actions.

 I was in keep-busy mode because that’s all I had been doing since Jasmine had left with our son a couple months ago.

This was my fault, I agreed to host that party at the club tonight knowing they were here. I asked today to be added to the meet and greet for tomorrow instead of enjoying my day off with them.  

“Baby, I’m sorry ok can we just talk about it in the morning. I promise I’mma make it right please, I don’t want us to go to bed mad at each other,” I said as she sighed in defeat.

“I’m not mad, I’m hurt and I’m not going in there with you pretending everything is ok when it isn’t. I’ll sleep in the spare bedroom. I put my bags in there earlier anyway,” Jasmine said as I frowned at her not believing what she was saying.

Jasmine’s POV

“You ain’t staying in the spare bedroom, that’s for guests and this is yo’ fuckin’ home regardless of how you feel about it. “Jey I’m not,” I started as Jey cut me off firmly. “Jas! You ain’t stayin’ in there and that’s it!” Jey said as I felt myself shiver at his commanding deep voice.  

I was speechless looking at him trying to remain unfazed. “You are sleepin’ in our room…. In our bed, and in my fuckin arms 'cause that’s where you belong, nowhere else,” Jey said full of conviction as I shook my head in defiance at him.

“I ain’t doin’ this wit you, I’m going to check on Jayden,” I whispered walking away from him and peaking my head into our son’s room. I couldn’t help but be in awe of him as he slept in his crib.

He’s almost a year old, and I still can’t believe we made his little amazing self; he looks so much like Jey it’s scary.

I felt Jey’s eyes on me as I turned to see him standing now in the doorway of the bedroom, we shared together for the last four years up until four months ago.

His intense gaze makin' me weaker in the knees by the second as I closed my eyes finally breaking eye contact with him, it was too intense.

“Jasmine, we been playin’ this game for four months too long…Don’t make me have to come get you. Tell our son goodnight, and get yo’ fine ass in here so we can go to bed,” I heard him say as I opened my eyes ready to give a smart-ass reply but saw he had already disappeared into the bedroom.

I could hear him shuffling around the room, then the shower started. I blushed to myself at the thought of him getting naked to take a shower. “No, remain strong Jasmine,” I whispered to myself as I went to the spare bedroom.

Jey’s POV

 “I know her ass betta be in there when I get outta this shower. Sick of this shit, she knows I love her ass,” I muttered letting the hot water and steam relax me.

Ok, maybe my approach wasn’t the best, but I love my family and if I have it my way they won’t be going back to Ga if I can help it. “Jey, you got to get it together and get yo’ family back,” I muttered to myself stepping out of the shower and drying off.

Walking back into the bedroom I saw Jasmine wasn’t there. “Oh, so yo’ ass think I’m playin’ wit you huh,” I muttered to myself wrapping my towel around my waist, and heading down the hall. I could see the light under the door and as I got closer I heard her on the phone with her mom.

“Hold on mama let me put you on speaker, I'm changing," she said as I heard her mother take a deep breath. "Now like I was sayin' Mama I am trying, we came out here didn’t we,” Jasmine said as her mother laughed.

“Girl, you flew out there with hell in you, 'cause of them thirsty ass Instagram comments on his post he made about being happy ya’ll were flying out to see him. “Mama, I wasn’t mad,” Jasmine said as her mother laughed.

“Baby, he loves ya’ll. I know all the female attention he gets worries you especially since he’s on the road more with them adding more house shows,” she said as I frowned at her words as Jasmine wiped her tears.

“I know he loves us mama, and I love him.  I just want him to act like he’s in an actual relationship. I mean stop making these women think they have a shot with you dude, you got a family at home waiting on you. That's why I gave him the engagement ring back and told him we needed space,” Jasmine hissed as I sighed. Damn was I that bad?

“Baby, why do you think that man has been begging, calling nonstop, and flying to Georgia on every off day he has just to come to little ol Warner Robins, GA even if it’s only for a couple hours. He misses ya’ll and wants his family back. You gotta let him in baby, this been goin' on long enough,” her mother said as I felt the need to make my presence known as I opened the door.

Walking inside I saw her standing nervously there in her bra and underwear talking to her mom as she spotted me trying not blush.

Yea, I’m looking at yo’ fine ass. Damn, my baby was fine as fuck, it had been four months too long for my liking. How the hell did I even let her leave in the first place.

Jasmine’s POV

I can’t believe he brought his ass in here, didn’t even fuckin’ knock. He is getting next to my nerves I swear. I see him lick his lips looking at me as if he could devour me whole.

I ain’t gon’ lie, I felt powerful as hell.  I could see and feel his need for me, just from his intense stare that seemed to be burning a hole in my soul and it made my thighs quiver at the thought of being in his arms. He knows what he’s doing coming in here in that lil ass towel.

“I love you, sweetie, give my grandbaby my love,” my mother said as I smiled. “I will mama, good night and love you too,” I said rushing to get off the phone.

“Why are you in here?” I asked as Jey began walking closer to me almost like he was stalking his prey. “I told you to take yo’ ass in our room, but you just keep tryin’ me,” he smirked as I shrieked in shock as he picked me up and put me over his shoulder.

“What the hell are you doing?”! I hissed as Jey carried me down the hall back to our room. “What does it look like? I’m takin’ your ass back to where you belong, which is in our bed wit me with yo’ stubborn ass,” he said not missing a beat as I hit his back continuously.

“Put me down Jey! This shit ain’t funny!” I exclaimed irritated as he laughed. “Calm yo’ ass down, before you wake up the baby. I want you to myself da night,” he said slapping me hard on the ass before tossing me on the bed as tried to gather myself.

 Sitting up on my elbows, my eyes met his smirking face, and it made me madder.  “Oh, you want me to yourself?” I asked smartly rolling my eyes.

Yeah, I do. That ain’t gon’ never change Jasmine,” he said as I got up and tried to walk past him as he growled pulling me close.

“Jey let me,” I started as he took me in a possessive kiss, pinning my arms behind my back with one hand as the other grasped my neck, angling my mouth for better access as our tongues battled for control.

“Mmm, we can’t, we said we would wait,” I moaned against his lips as he released my arms, and I tangled my fingers in his hair. “Yes, we can baby, I got you,” Jey said picking me up by my thighs as I wrapped my legs around his waist tightly, as his towel fell to the floor. God, it felt so good to be this close to him again, I needed him bad.

“I want you so bad baby; Daddy missed you, and he needs his pussy,” Jey whispered against my lips as he ripped my underwear. “Fuck! I missed you too,” I moaned moving my kisses to his neck as he groaned moving us to the bed.

“Can I have you, it’s been so long Jazzy” Jey moaned gently sucking on my neck as I shivered at his use of his nickname for me.

“Jey, I’m still mad, we need to talk,” I moaned, unexpectedly gasping along with him as he entered me suddenly, both of us shivering at the feeling of our bodies and souls becoming one with each other again after four long months.

“You can be mad all you want tomorrow. Not da night, you gon’ enjoy Daddy reclaiming his pussy,” Jey moaned never stopping his thrusts as my hands clawed at his back as he hissed.

 “Jey, you feel so good,” I gasped as my body felt like I was on fire, I bit his neck before attacking his neck with kisses, sucking greedily, applying pressure trying to leave my mark for the world to see. I wanted them to know he was mine.

“Yea, suck that shit and mark me up, this yo’ dick, let’em know I’m yo’ man fuck,” Jey encouraged as I purred at his words as he rolled us over with me now on top. “Jey! Shit! Mmm,” I whimpered scratching down his chest, feeling him so deep from our new position.

“Uh huh, daddy deep in his pussy ain’t he? Come on and ride Daddy's dick and tell him how much you missed him. Tell me how this pussy was made just for me,” Jey groaned grasping my hips as I began riding him slowly enjoying the jolts of electricity going all over my body.

“Mmhmm, it’s made just for you daddy, you hear her talking to you,” I moaned talking my own shit as Jey growled beneath me as the sounds of my wet pussy sinking up and down on his dick filled the room along with our moans of desperation.

“Fuck Yea, Daddy hear, see, and feel her, damn she wet and tight as fuck. Talk yo’ shit girl, you makin’ daddy dick even harder. Give me dat pussy,” Jey groaned slapping my ass before grabbing my breasts with his hands almost painfully squeezing my nipples while meeting my slow deep thrust.

Shit, he knows what to say and what to do to set my body on fire and I loved it. I’m addicted to him, and I didn’t care who knew it.

Jey’s POV

“Yea, ride that shit slow and deep, you know how much I love dat shit,” I panted biting my lip trying not to lose control. “Mmm, I guess you did miss me, Daddy. Shit, you gettin’ even harder,” Jasmine moaned swirling her hips beginning to bounce harder on my dick with wild abandon.

“Fuck yea, I missed you, only you can get me like this,” I moaned not afraid to let that shit be known slapping her on the ass again as she whimpered, her body shivering with anticipation.

"Oh! Fuck, you promise it’s only me that gets you like this…You promise,” Jasmine groaned leaning down, kissing me with all her might as I groaned complete putty in her hands. I held her closer as our eyes met.

 In that moment I knew I had to let her know how I felt. “We gon be ok, you hear me,” I whispered as she nodded as a few unshed tears fell from her beautiful eyes as we both were chasing our orgasm.

“Say you hear me,” I said more demanding, sitting us up as she held on to my neck as I gripped her hips helping her keep pace, thrusting her even harder down on my dick.

The feel and sounds of her wetness was driving me insane. “Tell me you hear me Jasmine,” I moaned, sucking on her neck trying to leave my own mark. “Josh, I hear you!” She cried as I moaned in satisfaction hearing my real name fall from her lips in passion as I rained kisses from her neck back to her beautiful lips.

“I ain’t never letting you go, we workin’ this shit out,” I growled holding her gaze as I reached between us rubbing her clit, while meeting her thrust with equal power.

"Oh my God," Jasmine moaned as I knew she was close. “You gon’ cum hard for daddy? You gon’ gush on daddy’s dick ain’t you?” I said, taking her in a deep kiss as she whimpered in my arms.

“Mmhmm!” she whimpered in pleasure as our tongues danced passionately with each other as I felt her nails scratching my back as she fell apart in my arm. “Josh, I love you!” she moaned as I saw the look of ecstasy that washed over her as her orgasm took over.

“Fuck, you are so fuckin’ beautiful. I love you too,” I said feeling my dick get even harder as I kept thrusting. Yeah, you gon’ give me another one and it’s gon’ be big.

Jasmine’s POV

 “Mmhmm, I want you to give me another one Jazzy,” Jey growled reversing our position as he now towered over me, playing with my sensitive clit, thrusting long and hard trying to make me cum again.

“Josh, I can't, it's too much,” I moaned as sweat dripped from his face, falling onto my chest as he kissed me speechless “I…Said. Give…It…To…. Me…Now, “Jey growled against my mouth, each thrust more powerful than the last as my pussy gripped him like a tight vice, and I couldn’t hold it anymore.

“Josh! I’m cummin’!” I cried as my pussy quivered and gripped him even tighter as another orgasm rippled through my body.

“Oh yea, that’s what I wanted, shit! Give it all to me baby, I’m cumin too!” Jey groaned loudly as he came inside me. I could only hear the heavy beat of my heart and our heavy breathing in sync as he collapsed beside me holding me close as we came down from ecstasy.

“You know you I ain’t letting you go right? We a family and gon’ stay one,” he said as I smiled. “I know and I ain’t letting you go either,” I whispered as he kissed me gently.

“When I’m on the road all I think about is you and lil man, you ain’t never gotta worry bout, nothin’ girl, I love ya’ll and I ain’t messin’ dat up for nobody he said as I tried not to get emotional. "I know, baby it's ok," whispered as he held me closer.

"I was outta pocket not stopping her from dancing all up on me like that, I promise it won’t happen again,” Jey said as I sighed tracing his arm tattoo.

“I love you and I’m sorry about leaving the club with Carmelo,” I said honestly as he growled. “You had my ass trippin’ I was ready to kill his ass, Jasmine. I don’t even wanna imagine you wit somebody else,” Jey said as I shook my head.

“Can we just drop it for tonight before one of us gets mad again,” I said as he laughed.

“A'ight new rule, we ain’t never goin’ to bed angry in this house again,” Jey whispered caressing my face as I smiled. “I like that rule, no more going to bed angry,” I whispered settling in his arms as we both fell asleep.

The end

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beneath the mask ✩ chapter 13 ⬅ch.12

➠𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈; 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓; 𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 ➠SIMON "GHOST" RILEY X AFAB!READER ➠CHAPTER TAGS | nsfw. lil bit of 'dark' simon. wc 7.4k ➠AUTHOR'S NOTE | here we fucking go

𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ✩ 𝐜𝐨𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ✩ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

you tried your hardest to repress all of simon’s words to you from last night. the way he stopped you in the hallway, heightening all of your senses, dead set on telling you things he probably hadn’t told anyone in a long time… it was dangerous. it was leading you to believe he actually cared about you. that maybe this thing you fabricated between the two of you wasn’t all in your head after all. 

what did it mean if he was trying to let you in? 

you tried not to think back to the night at the bar, when simon had his fingers inside you. when he coaxed you to orgasm, his words melting in your ear, like he was just as desperate for you as you had become for him. 

and maybe he pushed you away because he didn't know how to let someone in that kind of way—and maybe what he was feeling scared him. then the image of the blonde woman he was talking to in the training room—him watching her attentively as she spoke—made you think of his fingers on her. it made your stomach twist into knots. you shut that thought down and instead tried to conjure the way he looked at you in the bar—when he said, i fuckin’ hate seeing you with other guys . well, apparently, you hated seeing him with other girls, too. 

a sudden flush warmed your cheeks as you strolled down the hall at base. except simon was a grown man—years older than you, even—so you weren’t going to put words in his mouth. if he wanted you to know how he felt, he’d tell you. you weren’t going to sit around and make things up in your head—playing around with all the what if’s.

and still, your mind wandered. it felt like you had no power in keeping him out of your mind and you hated it. you hated that you thought of him so often. you couldn’t help but think back to the other night in his room when he followed you into the bathroom and stared at you like he wanted to devour you whole. his body radiating so much heat, you felt yourself sweating standing before him. you remembered the way his lips twitched like he was dying to kiss you, acting like a starving man. 

your heart fluttered and you shook your head of your daydreams. you were off to find soap, who was hopefully in the training room, needing to feel confident in yourself again before you went on your next mission. and you needed him by your side to help you practice. 

it was weird how you had somehow weaseled your way into task force 141. you were swept away into the rush of combat, the adrenaline boost of being in the height of the action. sidelined with ghost, price, gaz, and soap. it not only made you swell with a bit of pride but made you nauseous at the thought of delving into something so crucial and vital. were you really cut out to be at the same level as these men?

you peered into the training room through the glass door and looked for soap. when you didn’t spot him, you used that as an excuse to hold off on your training exercises to go and seek him out… you couldn’t train alone … at least that’s what you told yourself. maybe you weren’t really ready to get back into the action and you were using this as an excuse to make yourself impertinent to the upcoming mission. maybe you’d get left behind. 

down at the motorpool—the large hangar where all the humvees and other military-grade vehicles were kept—you felt a cold breeze rustle through your hair through the open wall. you hustled down the metal stairs, scanning the large room, looking for a mohawked sergeant. 

your eyes perused a crowd of commotion and you maneuvered your way over to see what was going on. as you got closer, you realized it was a collective of new recruits. it was easy for it to slip your mind that a new wave of soldiers had been starting out this week. you hadn’t even thought to ask if that meant you’d be getting any new medics in the infirmary. 

they were likely getting lectured on safety protocols with all the tanks and militarized vehicles. bored with the swarm of newbies, you slid behind a humvee to go find soap, maybe he’d have some intel on divisions the recruits were being added to. 

a deep voice echoed behind you and made the hairs on your neck rise. you stopped in your tracks and peered around the vehicle, spotting a tall man with a skull balaclava on. ghost . 

you couldn’t help the nerves that filled your chest and stomach. were things going to be awkward with your next encounter? should you mention the intimate details he told you last night, or pretend like it never happened? 

as you pondered your unusual situation with your lieutenant, your heart stopped. ghost stood beside the blonde recruit you saw him with the other day in the gym. her hair was pulled back in a way that should be unflattering but somehow accentuated her beauty. she sported the same dull outfit as the rest of her peers and yet she wore it far better than you ever could. what made your eyes widen, however, was the way she looked up at ghost as another lieutenant was lecturing the group about something you tuned out, already accustomed to the military spiel. 

you watched in horror as she bumped him on the shoulder, laughing as she said something to him. why were you getting so jealous? simon wasn’t yours . if he wanted to flirt with the new recruit, he had every right—no matter how unethical, but that thought was just you being petty.

ghost looked down at her, hunched over slightly so his face was in line with hers, and mumbled something under his mask. your heart dropped at the proximity of their faces. 

you finally had enough, pissed at yourself for falling into a rabbit hole, thinking maybe he had grown to truly care about you. you turned back in your tracks and went to leave. ghost’s head snapped up at your abrupt movement, your boots on the hard ground echoing in the building at the lull in lecture. you refused to meet his eyes and raced back to the metal stairs and ran up them as fast as you could without falling. 

you’d find soap later. you didn’t want to see him right now. how could you let yourself get hurt by ghost again? johnny would think you so stupid—you said you were moving on, that it didn’t bother you anymore. but then, spotting him with another girl, it made you feel sick. 

you needed to get him out of your head for good. shouldn’t it be easy? he didn’t like you. he told you so himself. 

you hadn’t heard him coming, so when you made it back into the hallway, you yelped as two hands grabbed you and spun you around, pushing you up against the cement wall. 

the ugly fluorescent light stuttered, creating an eerie glow over ghost as he loomed above you, his hands still gripping your shoulders. 

“i can’t fuckin’ do this, anymore,” he growled out. the baritone of his voice sent a small wave of fear up your spine. you may have grown to like ghost, acquainted with his rough demeanor, but you couldn’t forget how intimidating he could truly be. 

you looked away from his gaze, your eyes watering. how stupid ghost must think you. to be incapable of a hookup—to be crying over him. he was a cold-hearted killer years older than you, and you really thought you stood a chance? he must think you beyond naive. maybe he’d finally get you kicked off his team—

he cut off your racing thoughts abruptly when he grabbed your chin and forced you to look up at him. you heard him sigh as you let your eyes meet his, a tear sliding down your cheeks. “i’m sorry,” you mumbled. 

“stop apologizing.” you thought back to one of your first conversations with ghost, when he had yelled at you for being so soft—for apologizing so freely. he told you to stop then, too. 

you could feel the warmth from his gloveless fingers as he held your chin in place, almost like he was worried you’d look away the second he let go. his eyes flickered to your lips, his thumb brushing over your bottom one with a gentle swipe. your lips parted at his touch before ghost dropped his hands back to his side. 

“m’not interested in her,” he said rather quietly. 

your eyes found his before dancing away and looking at your feet. you didn’t think you’ve ever felt so embarrassed before. getting jealous over your superior—who has made it clear he’s not interested—talking to another teammate?! “it’s fine,” you said shyly. “i’m sorry, you don’t have to explain yourself. i know that you—uhm—comforting me doesn’t mean we’re together. i don’t know why i—”

ghost’s hand on your chin cut you off for a second time. “look at me.”

you reluctantly did and he dropped his hand again, his fingers flexing. “m’not good for you.”

you blinked rapidly, tilting your head slightly. “what do you m—”

“for fuck’s sake,” he said a bit harshly. “you’re right. we’re not together . and yet i’ve already hurt ya more times than i’d like.” he had to bend his neck to look down at you as he spoke. he took a small step closer, entering your personal space in a way that made your head rush. “you deserve better than me. a better man.”

“ghost, i—”

“simon,” he corrected in a harsh, splitting tone. you felt your cheeks warm. simon shifted on his feet, his mask suddenly itchy and uncomfortable. “used t’like that callsign. reminded me of who i had become n’ why i was doin’ all this. but hearin’ you say m’name, my real name …” he cleared his throat. “reminded me of who i started out as. that m’human.” he paused. “i like hearin’ your voice say my name.”

your lips quirked up a little but quickly faded. simon watched your every movement, his heart racing just as it did on the battlefield. “i don’t understand.” your hands came up and ran through your hair. “i’m so confused. d-do you want me as a friend? or do want me to forget everything that’s happened between us and pretend like nothing happened between us? that’d probably be best, wouldn’t it?” you gave a strained laugh and simon’s eyes narrowed. “you’re my lieutenant and i'm just a medic.” you didn’t know if that last sentence was intended for you, or him. 

he wanted to tell you that you weren’t just a medic . he hated hearing the way you talked about yourself. 

you looked up at him with such fierce hope in your eyes, but he could see the sadness laced behind them. and all that sorrow had spurred from him. he caused that pain you were feeling. he was ruining you already. ruining such an innocent thing. that’s what he did, he was destructive. he tore things down. he should stop leading you on. he should hurt you so you’ll go back to hating him. so you can be just another one of his subordinates again. 

after a few beats of silence, you nodded. “okay,” you said softly, accepting that as his answer. your words were so faint that it hurt simon’s ears to hear your voice like that. 

this was it—the closure you needed. you developed a little crush. simon thought you attractive enough for one night of reprieve. you wanted more. he couldn’t give it to you. and he was telling you to move on from all the shit that happened between the two of you. to forget those nights he comforted you. to forget how much relief you felt when he was the first face you saw after being held hostage. 

you turned to walk away, your back to him. simon felt his heartache, a feeling he hadn’t felt in a long fucking time. shit , this was only going to hurt you and him. but he wasn’t a good man. he wasn’t a better man. or a man you deserved. he’d only ruin you. he shouldn’t let himself. but he never claimed to be a good man.

ghost yanked his mask from his face, shoving it in his pocket. it took him only a few strides to catch up to you. he grabbed your arm and spun you around so you collided with his chest. he was done bullshitting around. in this moment, he decided he didn’t care about how this would be a disaster. he’d worry about that later.

“ what —?” you started, surprised. 

then his lips were on yours. 

his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you onto the tips of your toes as he kissed you deeper, starved for something only you could quench. 

you were hesitant before quickly matching his passion. your hands wrapped around his neck, encouraging his tall frame further down over you. you both stumbled as he backed you up against the wall of the abandoned hallway, his hands around your waist, forcing you into him.

he tasted like whiskey and mint and a little like something cataclysmic. something that would only hurt you with time. but you didn’t care. in that moment, the only thing you could think about was the way he felt against you. 

you had worked with ghost for over a month now, and you never imagined him as a romantic. you couldn’t picture him kissing a girlfriend or wife. or see him saying sweet nothings into his partner's ear. so with him filling all of your senses, his hands gently, but firmly, plastering you to him as he devoured you, the juxtaposition of it gave you butterflies. 

one of his hands escaped and slid up to cup your cheek, allowing him to deepen the kiss. you felt your breath get lost in your throat, his lips far more soft and warm than you would have imagined someone like his. 

“m’not good for you,” he mumbled between kisses. 

“i don’t care,” you said breathlessly. 

he pushed his body against yours in response, caging you in between him and the wall. you heard him groan in his throat. his hand slid against your skin where your shirt began to hike up, his fingertips leaving burn marks all over. 

he finally slowed, kissing you a few more times before actually pulling away. but his hands stayed locked around you. “don’t think i can handle losing you,” he said truthfully. 

your breath got lost the second you were able to look at his bare face. his rugged beauty made you want to weep. he was so gorgeous and you doubt he even knew it. 

“you won’t.”

he didn’t seem to like that answer. you didn't know that. but he did. he knew something was sure to come between the two of you, whether that was death or of his own destruction. 

his eyebrows furrowed as he studied you, his cheeks pinking and his lips swollen. before he had time to ruin this moment, you went onto the tips of your toes, feeling brazen as your hands clutched onto his jacket so you could kiss him again. your hands moved to wrap around his waist, softly scratching his back over his shirt. you heard him moan into the kiss and you subconsciously clenched your thighs. 

“ fuck ,” he mumbled against your lips, his slight stubble tickling you. “i want you so bad.”

your heart fluttered in your chest. your head was telling you to slow down—to stop and discuss things. to figure out what was happening between the two of you so you didn’t get burned again. 

but when you opened your lips to speak, all that came out was, “ prove it. ”

simon grunted, pulling back to look at you. if he was a smiling man, he would be grinning ear to ear. something wicked was spreading through him. “you don’t want a man like me,” he rasped.

“you don’t know what i want.”

he bent over and swept you up into his arms making you squeal. he clicked his tongue, “quiet, pet. don’t want the whole barracks to know, do ya?”

you shook your head, unable to speak for fear of stumbling over your words.

simon carried you swiftly back to his room, skillfully avoiding running into anyone, not even caring that he didn’t have his mask on. 

you made it to the confines of his room in record time. he was a man on a mission.

he kicked the door closed behind him and plopped you down onto your feet, his hand dragging against your body as he did. you swallowed hard, your hands gripping his jacket. 

you leaned into him tentatively, like you were asking permission. like you weren’t sure if he was going to push you away for being forward. that thought made simon angry, his hands tightening on you. 

he leaned over to meet your lips halfway. you moved in sync far slower than earlier, the two of you taking the time to soak in the moment. all of your worries about the upcoming mission, all of the things that kept you awake at night, were slowly sinking away. simon was absorbing it all. taking the pain so you could feel the relief.

and simon was never a kissing man. he didn’t really see the point. but he never wanted his lips to separate from yours. he felt your kiss all the way to his fucking toes.

he pushed you back so your knees hit his bed and you collapsed onto it. his hands rested on either side of your thighs on his mattress, his eyes burning holes through you. his eyelashes stood out, the blondeness of them stark against his charcoal face paint.

“m’not gonna be able t’stop once i start,” he said darkly. “so ya gotta tell me now if you don’t wanna do this.” 

he was holding himself back from wrecking you like he so desperately wanted. the number of times he had imagined this moment where he got you alone in his room, ready and willing, was sure to be astronomical by now. 

you gulped, his nose inches from yours as he waited for your answer. his fingers were begging to touch you, but he had to wait. he had to make sure you wanted this. that you wanted him like he wanted you.

“please. don’t stop,” you said, quietly.

simon growled low in his throat, his hands sliding up over your thighs. your lips parted as you watched him unbuckle your tactical pants. “lift your hips,” he commanded. you obliged and he heaved the clothing away from you, not in the right state of mind to take his time. he wanted you—no, he needed you—right this second. 

he tore your pants off of you along with your boots and then he was squeezing himself between your thighs, falling to the floor on his knees. 

“simon, what’re—“

his large hands hooked around your thighs and yanked you to the edge of the bed, putting your legs on his shoulders. you felt shy all of a sudden. taken aback. you didn’t quite think he was going to do this… 

“relax, pet,” he cooed, his warm lips meeting the soft skin of your upper thigh. you bit your lip as you watched him, his eyes never leaving yours. his eyes fluttered as he moved his lips on you. he kissed up to the apex of your thighs and then kissed you over your underwear. you gasped from the fiery contact. he chuckled, reveling in the way you were already panting before him.

he pushed your panties to the side and his lips were immediately on you, not wanting to tease you any longer purely because he couldn’t stand it. his mouth was on your core, kissing and sucking, his tongue dragging along you. your head fell back in pleasure, your hands finding his hair. 

he hummed against you, the obscene sounds his mouth was making rang in your ears.

he devoured you like a man who hadn’t eaten for days. and you were a buffet spread out for the taking. 

you felt his finger slide up and tease your entrance, his lips wrapping around your clit as he sucked gently. you groaned.

simon was getting frustrated with the cloth that limited his access, so he hooked your panties in his hand and yanked. you gasped as the fabric ripped and he tossed it to the ground. he spoke when he saw your mouth open, “i’ll buy you more.”

his lips were attacking you before you had the chance to even reply. 

simon slid one of his digits inside of you, slowly filling you up. “ oh my god ,” you moaned. 

he began to move his finger in and out of you while he worked your clit with his mouth. his free hand wrapped around your thigh and splayed over your stomach to keep you from moving, rooting you in place while he coaxed you closer to your orgasm.

without warning, he slid a second finger inside you, making you squeal. “you taste so fuckin’ good,” he mumbled to himself. he moved his fingers in and out of you and you fell back onto the bed, moaning at the way he was torturing you. “sound good, too.”

his fingers pumped inside you and he felt your walls squeezing him tight. “close?” he asked.

you nodded furiously, unable to speak a coherent word. he groaned against you like he was enjoying pleasuring you as much as you were.

then he slipped his fingers from you. you whined at the loss. “don’t worry, i’m gonna get you there. i just want you t’come on my tongue, baby,” he reassured. his mouth was on you again, his tongue darting in and out like his digits had been as if he was jealous of his own fingers. you didn’t even have time to process the pet name.

you fisted his bedsheets, your legs wrapping around him, your hips bucking up slightly. simon held you down as his mouth brought you to orgasm. you cried his name, “ ah –simon.” you tried to muffle the sound with your hand. 

simon let you ride out your high, his mouth never failing to move against you, bringing you to the brink of overstimulation. 

when you settled back down, completely out of breath, he came up and rested between your legs. “neva thought m’name could sound so good.” 

your face warmed, shy at his compliment. his mouth glistened with you and you had the urge to kiss him. he grinned, reading your face, and he brought his lips down and let you taste yourself.

it felt like you had a fever as you kissed him. you bucked your hips up into him without your permission and he groaned. you could feel his hard length straining in his pants, pushing against you.

“ jesus ,” he said breathlessly. 

your hands slid down his front and he turned to watch them as they trailed to his belt. before you could undo it he pushed back and stood up. he slid his jacket off, his eyes never breaking away from yours. next was his belt, the metal clinking something so sensual. then he pushed them down his legs, kicking off his boots too, and you could see how large he was in his tight boxers. you sat up, your legs hanging off the bed as you watched, entranced.

then he pulled his shirt from his body, exposing his toned chest. even though the lighting in his room wasn’t great, you could easily see all the scars that marred his torso, matching the ones that cut across his beautiful face, only managing to make him that much more haunting. he had a small smattering of hair on his chest that then trailed down beneath his boxers. your chest thrummed loudly in your ears.

your hands reached out and grabbed at his waistband, pulling him closer to you. even though you would never be strong enough to move him, he edged closer, letting you have your way. you looked up at him as your hand slid into his underwear, pulling him out. he groaned, his lips parting as you fisted him. you were still surprised with how bold you were acting. but the way his eyes had darkened, looking at you like a feral animal, gave you a confidence boost.

your eyes fluttered down and you marveled at him, a glistening of precum already pooling on his tip. and fucking hell, he was huge. you already knew he was from that drunken night, but being with him sober? you had no idea how he was going to fit inside you.

you stroked him a few times, prepared to bring your mouth down over him before he pushed you away. 

you looked up confused and his thumb brushed along your lower lip. “as much as i’d like t’feel your hand and mouth ‘round me. i won’t last.” he tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “and i need t’be inside you or it might kill me.” 

your heart raced at his dramatics. he grabbed you under your armpits and heaved you further back onto his bed. you sat and watched as he crawled up and over you. he pushed your legs apart to much of your resistance, suddenly feeling a wave of bashfulness. “don’t go shy on me now, pet.”

your stomach warmed as he bullied his way between your legs, settling himself on top of you like this was exactly where he belonged and you weren’t about to tell him otherwise. and he was far too heavy for you to move even if you tried. his hands were quick to find the hem of your shirt and tear it up over your head. he groaned as he looked at your chest. he seemed too impatient to properly unhook your bra so he simply tugged it down. your nipples hardened for him. and simon couldn’t stop himself, he leaned down and sucked on one of your tits, his other hand palming your other breast.

your back arched into him as his soft lips teased your nipple. his other hand kneaded your breast, making a chill ride up your spine. you helped him out and undid your bra, tossing it to the side. his tongue swirled around you and you finally broke. “simon, please . i need you.”

and if that wasn’t the most beautiful thing he’d ever heard in his sorry excuse of a life. 

he didn’t deserve to have you begging for him like that. but he didn’t care. he rose from your chest and gazed down at you, his hand running through your hair, admiring the glow your skin was emitting from the fevor. 

“you deserve to be fucked good n’ slow,” his words guttural. “but i need ya too fuckin’ badly, pet.”

you didn’t care about any of that. you wanted him to know he didn’t have to be gentle with you. you reached down between your bodies and gripped his cock in your hand, making his hips jerk forward. “then take me,” you whispered. 

“shit,” he cursed, his cock throbbing painfully against you. “don’t have a condom.” simon didn’t ever keep condoms in his room at base. he didn’t have a habit of sleeping with subordinates. when he slept with women, it was back home. 

you helped line him up with your entrance, your body heady with anticipation. he breathed your name. “it’s fine,” you urged.

“s’not. we shouldn’t—“

“simon, please.” you looked up at him through your lashes. a piece of you felt like if you two didn’t fuck right this second, it was never going to happen. and you wanted him more than you had ever wanted any other man in your life. 

“y’sure?” he knew he wasn’t going to say no when you asked him, looking so pretty sprawled beneath him. he wasn’t as strong as he thought. 

you nodded and slid your hands up to wrap around simon’s back as he took charge, taking his cock in his hand and pushing his tip into you without wasting time. 

you both groaned in sync. he edged into you ever so slowly. and even with your previous orgasm loosening you up to him, it was still a tight fit. you closed your eyes and took a deep breath. 

“m’i hurtin’ you?”

your eyes fluttered open to a concerned simon, his eyes darting between yours, trying to get a read on you. “y’gotta tell me if i’m hurtin’ ya.”

“you’re not hurting me,” you said, breathlessly. 

“hm, jus’ a bit too big for ya, then?” he rasped. he chuckled at the way you went shy at his words even though his cock was currently edging inside you—but it was his words that made you blush. “you can take it,” he cooed. 

he pushed into you further, and you mewled in your throat at the intrusion. your body tried to push him out, making simon groan into your neck. “so. fuckin’. tight,” he managed to get out. 

you buried your face in his neck while he was buried in your hair, both of you trying to compose yourselves as simon forced his way into you. “simon,” you groaned, making his hips jerk, sending his length further into you in a way that was almost painful.

“gotta stop sayin’ my name, princess. or i won’t be able to do this slowly,” he said through strained breaths.

princess . you felt your heart swoon at hearing something so devastatingly sweet coming out in his husky baritone. 

you nodded and his hand slid up and fisted your hair. 

it took another full minute for him to slowly push his way inside of you. your legs were wrapped around his waist, pressing against him as tightly as you could, bracing yourself for the small sharp spurts of pain. “m’sorry,” he muttered into your ear. he knew it hurt you. he could see it on your face that the way he stretched you out was uncomfortable. but bloody fucking hell , he couldn’t stop. 

“s’okay,” you slurred. 

your hips bucked up weakly when simon adjusted his position. you both groaned at the movement. your clit brushed against him, sending a bolt of pleasure through your core. “please. move, now.” 

he was big, and even with you so wet, he still teetered the line of being too large for you. but you could handle it. you just needed to get past this part so you could fully enjoy it. 

he held himself up on his arms and he slowly dragged his cock out of you, only going halfway, before pushing back into you with decent resistance. “ah,” you cried. 

“need me t’stop?” he asked you, though he prayed you’d say no. 

you shook your head and spoke a bit breathlessly. “no. keep going. please.” 

he furrowed his brows but did as you said. 

he pulled out halfway again before pushing back in. this time he groaned deep in his throat, the way your walls squeezed him was almost too much. 

he slowly pulled out again, except now he did all the way. and when he thrusted back into you, you yelped. he tried to restrain himself, but his mind was turning to mush. he began at a steady thrusting rhythm, trying to go slow, but on the brink of completely breaking and succumbing to his desires.

after a few strokes, your body adjusted and allowed him to move a little more easily. 

and it began to feel good. really good. you wondered if it would feel this good if simon was any other man. or if this was so mind-numbing because of how desperate you were for him.

simon grunted, repeatedly in your ear just as you imagined he would. he wasn’t usually very vocal in bed, didn’t see the need. he thought it was all just theatrics. but he couldn’t stop himself from letting sounds pour from his mouth. you felt that good.

“m’not gonna last— oh, fuck— long.”

your nails dug into his marred back, neither of you caring about how much pressure you were putting on him. to be honest, he didn’t even care if you drew blood—if anything, he might have preferred it. he wanted to know you were enjoying this just as ardently as he was. 

simon reached around him to grab one of your hands that currently had a death grip on his back and interlaced your fingers before pushing your interlocked hands onto the mattress. you squeezed his hand tightly, an orgasm brewing inside you.

“god,” you mewled, letting out little whimpers every time he bottomed out.

“sound s’pretty f’me, pet,” he said through gritted teeth.

his other hand reached down to your thigh and pulled your leg further up, hooking his hand behind your knee, so he could hit you deeper. you gasped at the position shift, his cock in as deep as it could possibly go. his hand held your thigh so tightly you worried he might leave bruises.

“i’m so close,” you babbled. your free hand slid to the back of his head, your fingers tangling in his short hair. he loved the way it felt.

simon looked down at you, marveling at how fast you were reaching your climax, just as he was. he liked the notion that he was doing this to you.

his makeup smudged down his face from the perspiration, his pale lashes standing out against the dark. your heart raced looking at him. he was gorgeous. he caught your gaze and leaned down to kiss your lips—something that surprised him. he wasn’t a romantic. he didn’t even really like kissing. yet he couldn’t help himself when it came to you. 

you clenched around him and his lips parted, gasping and breathing heavily against your mouth. his hand that was currently around your leg left to pay attention between your thighs. he began circling your clit with his fingers. “want you t’come for me,” he said lowly. 

you mewled, his lips still grazing yours as you both tried to breathe. you spasmed around him and he shut his eyes briefly at the sensation. “ fuck .”

as he felt himself about to release, he had the urge to be looking at you. he opened his eyes and used one hand to grab your chin, making your face look directly at him. “don’t look away,” he commanded. 

you nodded, his hand reaching back down between your thighs. your legs began to shake, your walls impossibly tight as they clenched repeatedly around him. “bloody hell,” he moaned. 

you felt so good, he didn’t want to pull out. he wanted to feel this forever. and as you climaxed, he reached his high, his sounds primal, growling and grunting at an increasing speed with each of his frantic thrusts. 

his fingers continued to rub against you even as he pulled his cock out of you. but he was a little too late. he came just inside your entrance, then emptied himself all over your lower stomach. 

you cried out his name as he panted, his fingers never faltering, his other hand still gripped tightly around yours. “simon,” you breathed in a pained breath. “stop, please. s’too much.”

he slowed his finger movements and then pulled away completely. he sat back to look down at you. his hand slipping from yours. you lay sprawled on his bed, your legs parted for him, his waist nestled between them. his come was dripping from your cunt, your chest rising in rapid beats. “fuckin’ hell,” he couldn’t help but praise. you were a work of art. and he was going to fucking ruin you. 

then something feral came over him. he leaned down, his hands grabbing the tops of your thighs, keeping your legs from touching one another, and his tongue came out, licking you like he had earlier. “ah! what’re you— oh my go d—doing?” you asked, exasperated. 

“cleanin’ you up,” he said nonchalantly like this was the normal way men acted after sex instead of being repulsed by their own come, finding clarity after orgasming. 

you were so sensitive as he lapped at you, his tongue dancing over your clit and sucking at your labia gently at first. but then he went a little harder, on a new mission entirely. your legs squeezed around his head, caging him in, wanting to block the overwhelming sensation. you were starting to feel beyond overstimulated. 

“s-simon,” you stuttered, wanting him to stop, but not being able to get the words out. his tongue focused back on your clit, sucking and rubbing aggressively against you. and without even realizing it was possible, you orgasmed for a third time. you came around his mouth again as he ate you like you were the most delectable dessert he’d ever had. 

he let you ride out your high on his tongue before he pulled away and hovered over you. “ jesus ,” he groaned, looking at your messed-up hair and glowing face. 

his hand moved to brush against your lips, his thumb dragging over them before sliding to the side of your face and running through your hair. your eyes fluttered at the delicate touch. 

simon collapsed beside you, his chest rising and falling as rapidly as yours was, as if he, too, just came again. 

the realization crashed down on you as you looked over at him. he felt your gaze and he rolled his head on the bed to meet your eyes. 

“i-i can do casual,” you said, your face heating. he quirked a brow in question. “i can be casual. you don’t have to worry about my feelings. i—”

“is that what you think this is?”

your eyes had a hard time staying locked with his. “was i not supposed to think… i thought you wanted…” your hands twirled around once another in nerves. 

simon rolled to his side, his arm extending over you protectively and caged you in. “there has never been anything casual about us.” his eyes flickered to your lips. he sighed. “i don’t want casual.” as much as he fought his desires for you, they were never casual. 

did that mean he wanted nothing at all? was this it? did he reach his end goal? getting into your pants? and now he wanted nothing more from you.

“oh,” you said crestfallen and a little embarrassed. 

“i want more than that,” he said through a struggled breath, as if this was foreign for him to say—at it likely was—but more importantly, he knew he shouldn’t be saying it. 

“as in…” you started. his hand came out to brush against your cheek. fucking hell, you never thought he could be so gentle. your eyes dropped to the scar on his lip. 

“ as in ,” he continued, “i don’t know what the fuck i’m doing. i haven’t had a girlfriend since secondary school. and even that wasn’t serious.”

your eyes widened. “ girlfriend ?”

he rolled his eyes and fell back onto his pillow, running a hand through his hair. “i’m tellin’ you,” he said dragging out the words. “i want you to be mine . n’ only mine.” his voice got deeper all of a sudden thinking of the times he had thought you were with johnny. or when graves had complimented you and you smiled sweetly at him. he hated that jealous feeling he got. 

you waited a beat before sitting up completely. he watched you, his eyes focused. “are you going to ask me?”

he smirked, looking like a predator hunting its prey. “no.” he sat up too, grabbing his shirt from the floor and handing it to you to put on. “m’not askin’, pet. i’m tellin’ you. you’re mine.”

“and if i choose not to acknowledge that?” you were pushing him. while you liked the openness he was currently exuding, you also had something in your gut telling you he wasn’t good for you— look at his track record. how he’s treated you so far . 

“you’ll end up gettin’ me dishonorably discharged if y’do that.”

“how–”

“i’d have t’kill any man you let touch you.”

you laughed, but his face didn’t change. “you can’t be serious.”

“deadly.”

you should have had him grovel more for what he had said to you. for all the mean words. for the night in the bar when he told you you meant nothing to him. and now, all of a sudden, he thought he had claim over you. your lust was clogging your head, and now you were seeing clearly. 

“i don’t think that's fair.” you looked away from him, putting his shirt on and crawling out of his bed, looking for your pants. 

simon pulled his boxers back on and reached out to you before you could get too far. his calloused hand wrapped tightly around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. if he decided to never let you go, you’d never be able to leave. you were nowhere near as strong as him. 

you turned slowly towards him. he sat on the edge of his bed, his eyes looking at his feet in thought, his arm extended to you. 

you took in a breath as you watched him, waiting for him to say or do something. “simon,” you finally said, softly.

he looked up at you, his usual cold demeanor covering his face, though it was almost more unsettling without his mask. “what d’you want from me?” 

you tilted your head. “what do i want from you?” 

he nodded, his hand still clutching yours. “i don’t know. i… i guess i never knew. you never really gave me time.” your free hand pulled at his shirt in nerves. “all i know, is i wanted you to like me. that’s how it started, at least,” you gave a mirthless, forced laugh. “and maybe i did develop a little crush,” you said, mimicking how he had said it. your cheeks grew hot, embarrassed to be saying this. you weren’t sure how words were embarrassing you when you just had his head between your legs, but that was beyond the point. “and then i thought you definitely hated me. probably thought i was a kiss-up. but at the bar… and you said…”

he sighed. “i know what i said.”

you rolled your eyes in an attempt to hold back the tears. “so, i don’t know what i want, simon. i didn’t think this,” you gestured between the two of you, “was going to amount to… this.”

simon jerked you towards him and you had no choice but to stumble into him. his hand released you and instead, both of them slid up your leg and rested on the sides of your thighs as you stood between his open legs. “m’sorry.”

you gave him a sideways smile.

“i didn’t wanna let anyone get too close. they always leave me in the end. thought pushin’ you away would do us both good.” he shook his head. “was wrong—which is new for me.” 

you giggled and he smiled, wiping your eyes before tears could fall. 

his grip on your legs tightened. “m’not good for you. i meant that. but i want you. and m’done pretendin’ like i don’t. m’not a good man. but you can decide f’yourself.”

your finger traced one of the scars on his cheeks. “so, you want to keep doing this?”

he nodded.

“and we’re to be… exclusive.”

“i wasn’t kiddin’ ‘bout killin’ any man that touches you.” 

you didn’t doubt it. “okay,” you said faintly.

his eyes flickered between yours. “okay,” he mirrored.

something strange settled in simon’s stomach. in all the ways without actually saying it, you were now his girlfriend. how you had gone from hating him to dating him, in less than an hour was beyond him. 

and he knew he was going to mess this up. he had always known he was never allowed to keep anything good in life. that’s a big reason he refused to act on his feelings towards you. it’s why he tried to get you to hate him after he relapsed at the bar. he didn’t deserve anything good.

nothing good can stay, at least not for simon.

and he would soon be right.  

chapter 14 ➡

#ghost #simon riley #smut #ghost cod #ghost x reader #ghost mw2 #ghost smut #simon riley smut #simon riley x reader #cod #ghost fanfic #simon riley fanfic #ghost call of duty #ghost angst #cod mw2 #cod fic #call of duty fanfic #mw2 fanfic #beneath the mask #mw3 #ghost mw3

[rustedhearts]

everytime (steve harrington x fem!reader)

summary: despite your break up two months ago, you can't seem to stay away from each other. when you need him, he's there. but how long can this really last?

uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.

♡ the steve collection ♡

tags: steve + reader are college age (early-mid 20s), alcohol consumption, angst, hurt/comfort-ish, reader may have a bit of a substance abuse issue (it's heavily implied), accidental casual dominance? (steve really just takes care of her)

"every time i try to fly i fall without my wings, i feel so small. i guess i need you, baby. and every time i see you in my dreams, i see your face, it's haunting me. i guess i need you, baby."

—everytime, britney spears (ethel cain cover)

hawkins, indiana 1999

For your first date, Steve took you to Harvey's: a little retro milkshake diner off the interstate with the soggiest salted French fries and the smoothest strawberry shake you'd ever had in your life. He kissed you against the tin wall, right beneath the neon crimson exit sign. He held your hand on the drive home and kissed your knuckles at stop signs. You're so fuckin' beautiful, he told you on your porch.

That was senior year, three years ago.

For your last date, Steve took you to Enzo's: the fanciest Italian restaurant in town with bitter sauce and crunchy breadsticks. He didn't kiss you on the way there, nor the way back. You barely looked each other in the eye during the entire meal. When the check came, Steve slid it into his lap and turned to your hand, limp and empty on the tabletop. This isn't working anymore...is it? he asked you.

That was two months ago.

Your relationship had been on the outs for a while. All you did was fight, and not the fun, witty banter you used to have. The arguments turned explosive: doors slamming, engines revving, broken picture frames. Steve accused you of flirting with every man you came in contact with. You accused him of insecurity and projection. The pair of you made a scene no matter where you went, and soon it became exhausting just to be in your presence. You were bitter and bitchy, no longer the sweet girl he loved to make giggle. You became resentful and mean, and he became passive and silent.

It wasn't working, and it hadn't been working for a while.

You moved out of the apartment and in with a friend from college, taking the tiny spare bedroom she'd been using for storage. Most of it lived in the closet now, but the space was yours. The move was difficult—you'd lived with Steve since the day after high school graduation. You were gonna get married. You were gonna move west to California when you were done with school and abandon Indiana together. The pair of you had dreams bigger than this town, and now that you had gone your separate ways, they felt out of reach.

But you hadn't really gone your separate ways, had you?

You spoke on the phone a few nights a week, murmuring in the darkness about your days. Though it always went unspoken, I miss you bled through every phone call. When he inevitably sighed, and the receiver crackled with his shuffling, you had to bite way tears. I should get to bed, he'd say, and he'd say it like an apology. You soaked your pillow, wishing you'd told him you loved him a little more than you did when you had the chance.

Because you always loved Steve, and you were certain you always would. Nobody had ever been so kind to you, so sweet and understanding. Steve saw you for who you were, and never wanted you to change. But you pulled away from him, pushed him out when he tried to get in. Nobody bothered to stick around as long as Steve did. And that scared you.

Now here you were, crying yourself to sleep.

♡ ♡

One thing you didn't lose in the breakup were your friends. They refused to pick sides, insisting that there was no need to choose one or the other when they could easily split their time. More often than not, you found yourself waving to Steve through Eddie Munson's apartment window as he got into his car and drove off—like switching shifts, alternating between your visits and Steve's. He'd wave back, a stiff palm in the air directed your way in the windshield, paired with a tight-lipped, solemn smile.

Tonight, Eddie was hosting a party with his girlfriend, Gwen, and you knew the crowd would be absent of Steve. The only reason Steve ever attended parties was because you wanted to. He much preferred staying in and reading, or going to dinner just the two of you. He hated crowds and loud music, the 'sloppy drunks and fuzzy potheads' as he called them. He hated Eddie's other friends, and he hated you around them. You were always a little too eager to guzzle alcohol and puff a joint—it was the topic of many of your arguments.

He wasn't wrong, and that's what pissed you off the most.

Because here you were, on your third rum and coke of the night, sipping from a tiny red straw and chewing on the plastic. Eyes hazy and rimmed pink, cheeks flushed with warmth, sweating down your spine. The apartment was crammed with people like sardines in a tin can, and you stumbled through them on your way to the kitchen for some sort of snack. There, you found Robin and Gwen leaning against the sink, eyeing you pitifully as you fell between them with a sigh.

"What's up, girls?" You were out of breath and slurring your words.

They shared a look over your head, cringing. "How many have you had, babe?" Gwen asked.

You hummed, rubbing at your eye and smearing glitter across your cheek. "Uh...like two? Three. Definitely three."

"Three and?"

You huffed, tipping your head back exasperatedly. "Three and, like, one fucking hit. How many have you had, Robin?"

Your tone was mean. It always got a little sharp and cruel when you had too much to drink. The words always came flying out before you could swallow them, and you always woke the next morning with a massive headache and a ball of regret the size of Canada sitting in your throat. You felt it, a pang of guilt stabbing your gut, when you saw your friends' faces fall. You felt it, wringing your heart like a wet washcloth when Steve would stomp off.

"Hey. We're just looking out for you," Gwen interjected, brows furrowing at your tone.

Your cheeks flamed, teeth digging into the fleshy interior of your cheek to stop the tears of humiliation from springing forth. You turned around shakily and took a warm cheese cube from the platter on the counter.

"I know. But I'm...I'm fine. Okay?"

The girls sighed, and Eddie came shuffling into the kitchen with a beer and a cigarette in hand. He wrapped an inked arm around Gwen's neck, pulling her in by the crook of his elbow to plant a loud kiss on the top of her head. She fit into his side and nuzzled his neck, smiling in greeting. You swallowed, throat coated with thick warning. You were going to cry, and you sure as fuck weren't gonna do it here.

"Hey, what's up, scholar?" Eddie asked you, smacking your arm playfully.

You refused to turn around, knowing if you did the whole kitchen would see your glossy eyes and wobbling lip. But this just made you mean again, and as you plucked more cheese from the counter and poked at limp peppers, you pulled in on yourself. Eddie turned to his girlfriend and Robin, who shook their heads dejectedly.

"You okay, honey?" Robin reached out to rub your arm, and you curled away to wave her off, keeping your face angled toward the floor.

"I'm fine. I just...I'm gonna...go wash my hands."

You hurried off, refusing to meet their eyes as you went. You staggered through a sea of people, dizzy and foggy-headed, struggling to breathe. Gwen and Eddie's bedroom was the last door on the left, and you burst into the room with an urgent gasp of breath. The door slammed after you, and you had half a mind to sink onto the floor and lie there for the rest of the night until you stopped crying—but then you saw the phone.

You didn't even think about it.

You knew the number by heart. You dialed the numbers like second nature, lifting the phone to your ear to cradle the cool plastic with shaky fingers. You sniffled to clear the snot, swiping at the tears dripping down your cheeks. The dial tone droned. Once, twice, three times. You sank onto the floor against the bed, leaning your head back against the soft mattress.

"Hello?"

You squeezed your eyes shut. "Stevie?"

It was quiet a moment, and then another soft sigh. "Honey...why are you callin' me? Is everything okay?"

His voice, so soft and smooth like it always was, felt like a security blanket. It wrapped around you, tendrils curling around your bones to hold them tight like he used to. And you wanted nothing more than to hear that voice murmuring in your ear, with his arms around you to keep you safe. Everything's been so off-kilter since he left. Since you left each other. Every day feels like finding your footing all over again. Naked and bare, you weren't sure which direction to go in unless he was there to guide you.

And as selfish as it sounded, you wanted him to guide you again.

"N-No. I'm so fucked up, Steve—it's so fucked up."

Shuffling crackled through the receiver, and you imagined Steve sitting up in bed and rubbing his tousled hair. He sounded tired when he spoke again. "You been drinkin', baby?"

You nodded, sniffling nosily. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Stevie."

Keys tinkled like wind chimes in the distance of the other line. "Where are you, honey? Hmm? Do you know?"

You sighed, snot rattling in the back of your throat. Your hand fell to the itchy carpet beneath your legs, rubbing your palm to scratch it. You hated how this sounded like a routine. Like he expected you to call, all fucked out and lost. You wished you were better for him.

"M' at Eddie's."

"Oh, okay," Steve sounded a little relieved. "Stay where you are, alright?" He was coming to you.

"Steve...you don't have t' come, m' sorry. M' sorry, just...I'm all over the place."

"I'll be right there."

The line clicked, and you carefully placed the phone back in the cradle. The tears started up again, full force and breathless. You gasped for air and hiccuped like an infant as you clawed your way onto the bed, sprawling out on your back. You were grateful the room was dark. You didn't want to see yourself like this.

You listened the songs change while you waited to calm your cries. The room hadn't stopped spinning, and your throat felt so tight. Your chest hurt with a hollow ache that hadn't gone away since your last night at Steve's. You slept in the same bed, facing opposite walls. In the morning, you slid your key across the table and kissed his cheek. He carried your boxes to the car and stroked your cheek with his thumb against the passenger door. He smelled like hazelnut coffee and sleep.

Four songs passed before you heard familiar voices murmuring outside the door.

"Jesus, Steve, you can't keep coming to rescue her," Robin huffed.

You wiped your cheeks, lips downturning. Tough love really hurt when it came from your closest friends.

"Mind your business."

"This is my business. I care about both of you, and this is just...this is unhealthy!"

"Get out of my fucking way, Buckley."

The door handle jiggled, and you turned your head to watch it open. A streak of yellow light sliced through the blue darkness of the room.

"You don't know shit," Steve muttered, and then he was standing in the room.

The thump of music became muffled by the door once more, light clamped off to return the pair of you to darkness. A strip of moonlight beaconed over his face as he stepped closer, hands in the pockets of his jeans. You could hear his keys jingling as he fidgeted. He tipped his head at the sight of you lying there.

"Hi," you whispered. It was the sweetest you’d sounded in months.

Steve swallowed, trying not to rush over and kiss you. He had to fight the urge each time he saw you, even in passing. It felt wrong to part ways without a kiss goodbye. Even when you fought, you always stopped to kiss each other before going to work or heading to bed. It became one of Steve's favorite habits. He felt empty without it.

"Hi," he murmured back.

You sniffled, carefully turning your head away to look toward the ceiling. You were disappointed to see it was still swirling. You suddenly wished you were sober. Maybe he'd see you differently.

"You didn't have to come."

Steve shrugged in your periphery. He was wearing one of those collared polos that you loved. Three buttons always left undone, tight white t-shirt underneath. You wanted him closer. You wanted to smell his cologne again.

"But I'm here."

You shuffled to your elbows, groaning softly. Something lurched in your stomach, coiled tight in your belly. You were gonna be sick, but you didn't want to be in front of Steve. Pushing off weakly on your palms, you sat upright and wiped your cheek, smearing more makeup in the process.

Steve inched closer, waiting for his cue to step in. It came when you stood and wavered on the carpet, reaching for a steady surface.

"Alright, easy, honey." He swooped in, arm wrapped around your waist to guide you toward the bathroom door.

He pushed it open and flicked on the light, propping you against the sink like a Barbie doll. With an open palm on your stomach, he kept you upright as he rummaged through the drawers for a rag. You played with the brown leather band of his watch as he ran the rag under warm water, a pout embedded on your mouth.

"Wanna hop up there f' me?"

You braced the cold counter with the heel of your palms, lifting on wobbly arms to sit on top. "Atta girl," Steve mumbled under his breath, and even in your bleary state you flushed with warmth.

Resting against the mirror, you watched Steve lather powder white soap onto the wet cloth until it bubbled, bringing two fingers under the pink cotton to wipe against your cheek. His eyes were steady on his own ministrations, watching his hand clean away the smeared mascara and tears.

Your eyes, however, could only focus on him. His big sad eyes, swampy green and brown flanked by long, curled lashes. The mocha-colored freckles grazing his cheeks and collarbone, sprinkled along his neck. The pout on his plump pink lips, taken between his teeth in concentration.

When he switched the cloth to the other cheek, you exhaled shakily and caught his wrist. His eyes flicked to yours, finally catching your gaze. He blinked, another one of those toothless, tight-lipped smiles breezing over his lips. It was painted with pity.

Wrapping both hands around the warmth of his forearm, you tipped your cheek into his palm and the soapy, damp cloth encompassed around it. Steve sighed, chest deflating beneath that handsome polo. In the fluorescents of the bathroom, he looked prettier than ever. You were smaller than he'd ever seen you, crumpled and disheveled.

"You drank too much again." He said it the way he orders a cheeseburger in the drive-thru: casual, predictable, cool. He expected this.

That's what always hurt you most.

Your mouth opened to utter a reply, but all that came was a shuttered breath. Your lip downturned, jutting out in a petulant pout that made him ache. He swiped two fingers, cool from the cloth and scented of clean soap, across your temple and into your hair, tucking it behind your ear.

"Just felt sad," you admitted lowly, rubbing your hand along his arm.

Steve placed his hand against your other cheek, suddenly cradling your face. His thumb made circles in your sticky skin—firm, tender, just the way you used to like it. Your eyes fluttered closed, head falling deeper into his hold.

"About what?" His voice was so soft, so small. The rest of the world fell away outside of his tiny, outdated bathroom.

You scoffed humorlessly, head shaking. You opened your eyes again as you fiddled with his watch. "You know what."

Steve's gaze rolled over your face, swollen and pink, stuck in a defeated frown. He wondered if you'd remember this in the morning, or if it'd be another night you fell fuzzy on.

"Yeah...yeah, I know, baby."

You huffed, breath hot and laced with liquor across his arm. "M' sorry. M' sorry I made you come out here, and...m' just...m' just sorry—"

"—hey, come on—"

"—no, Steve...m' a mess. Everyone's right about me."

The pads of Steve's fingers scratched at your scalp, and you hated how easily you purred like a kitten at his touch. Your neck craned, and if it weren't for his hand holding your head up, you might've lied down right there on the sink. Inebriation had its claws in you deep.

"Hey," he cooed, urging your head up with his wash-clothed hand. "Don't talk like that."

When you did nothing but continue to frown and sniffle, Steve sighed and steadied you upright. "C'mon, lemme finish cleanin' you up."

Your shoulders slumped, head bobbing gently. "Okay."

Steve chuckled, rubbing your other cheek with the soapy cloth. "Okay."

You were pliant to his pulling and prodding, allowing him to clean you without complaint. He tucked your hair behind your ears when your face was washed, and filled a Dixie cup with cool water for you to drink. He rested his hands on your bare knees as he watched you gulp it down, patting them when you were done.

"All done?"

You nodded, handing him the paper cup. He tossed it in the trash bin, nudging your chin up with two fingers. "Hey. You with me?"

You nodded again. "Mhm."

"I'm gonna take you home, okay?"

You grasped his hand, pushing your fingers through his. "Okay."

He helped you off the counter, but he didn't drop your hand. He held it as he guided you through the dark bedroom and into the hall, using it to pull you into his side to fit through the crowd. When you made it to the kitchen, you were stopped by your friends, and you pressed your head to Steve's firm back as their voices melded into a yell.

"Oh, fuck off, Munson, seriously, this is none of your business. Last I checked, our relationship only involved the two of us."

"What relationship? You broke up—weeks ago, by the way, in case you forgot—"

"—I didn't forget," Steve hissed, side-stepping and pulling you with him to avoid Eddie. "And for the last time, it’s none of your business.”

You peered back at the group of your friends huddled near the sink as Steve steered you toward the back door. You knew they were disappointed—you could see it in their empty eyes and pursed lips. You could see it in the way Gwen had to rub Eddie’s arm to calm him down. Because the two of you were making a mistake, and you’d never move on if you kept crawling back to each other every chance you got.

But maybe you didn’t want to move on, and maybe Steve didn’t either.

Steve took you home that night, and sat you on the end of the bed. He pulled your dress down your legs and replaced it with a big t-shirt: sunshine yellow, drenched in Steve. He tucked you under the blankets and kissed your head. And then he crawled in beside you, and held you the whole night.

He took you home, where you belonged: with him. And he didn’t know if you’d wake the next morning wondering where you were, or happy to see him nuzzled in your neck, but Steve was willing to roll the dice. For now, he could pretend this was how it always was, and that you never left.

#rolly! #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #joe keery #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington angst #king steve #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington blurb #steve the hair harrington #joe keery fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson #robin buckley #steve harrington fic #stranger things fanfiction

[thelovelyruin]

𝖎 𝖐𝖓𝖔𝖜.

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖘 : choso x fem reader

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖚𝖓 : choso wasn’t taking the break up well, and honestly, neither were you.

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖒𝖔𝖔𝖓 : smut, angst with a happy ending, porn with plot, vaginal sex, praise, love, teasing, fingering, edging.

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖗𝖎𝖔𝖙 : 4.3K

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖗 : inspired by lyrics from i know by big sean and jhene aiko.

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖊𝖒𝖕𝖗𝖊𝖘𝖘 : hello lovelies, thank you so much for reading! i hope you enjoy it; if so, follow me for more. au revoir!

18+ MDNI ADULT CONTENT

I know you've been going through some things…

When Choso wanted to come out and relax get over you, he definitely wanted some time away from you. So, why the fuck were you here? You walked into the club, not noticing him in the upstairs balconies, sitting in a section with Yuuji and some of the other guys. As much as he tried not to, he couldn’t keep his gaze off you. You were wearing those high heels you know he’d love; they made your legs look so pretty, and because of that, it made your ass pop. That was being covered up by some skimpy dress you’d found, probably one of the ones you wore before you guys got together. Not that he didn’t allow you to wear it, but it was hard for him to pull it down every few moments. You had your hair in some cute curls, makeup done all pretty, fuck, it made him miss you. But, unfortunately, fuck you, and not literally.

I know you don't even love the same, do you?

Once you and your friends found your section, you sat your things down and went up to the bar, presumably to start a tab. What he wasn’t expecting was for you to look around as you sat there, finally making eye contact with him. When you saw him, you didn’t look away, instead looking at him with disgust and walking your way back to your section. That made him really fucking pissed. It’s not like he’d thought you be happy to see him but fuck.

Gotta get away, make it happen; whatever happened just had to happen.

“You good man?”

Yuuji had placed a hand on his shoulder, looking concerned as Choso stared down at you with a locked jaw.

“Yeah, peachy.”

“It’s cause she’s here, huh? What the hell even happened with you guys?”

Well, to put it simply, Choso was a bad drunk. He would always fight with random people or get pissed and throw things, but never at you; he wasn’t that crazy. But he was crazy. Especially two weeks back, he got drunk with the boys and returned to your apartment. You were pissed at him, firstly because he came in at 4 in the morning but also because he decided to drive home. And crash his fucking car. That had been your last straw, packing your bags immediately as he wrapped around you, crying, begging you to stay, but being so fed up at that point, you brushed him off. You hadn’t talked to him since then, and he fuckin’ hated that. 

You weren’t even giving him a chance to make things right, just throwing your whole relationship away, two long years. He’d put a limit to his drinking since then, not like he was an alcoholic or anything, but when he did drink, he got fucked up. So, he limited himself to three shots, enough to get him buzzed but not nearly enough to black out. He’d started smoking cigarettes again, too, smoking one whenever he missed you. He went through a pack every two days. 

I know you've been dancing, dancing, dancing like you fucking got a reason.

Then, there were those fuckin’ rumors. He’d heard through a friend of a friend that you’d moved on pretty quickly, a little too quick, in fact, enough to make Choso think of the possibility you’d cheated on him, and that’s why you left, but he knew deep down it was because of his fuckups and the rumors were far from true.  But that wouldn’t stop him from being himself, especially when some random bastard was buying you a drink. 

You looked like you whispered something to him, making him call the bartender. She’d handed you two a shot of something, clicking your glass against his and throwing it back. Choso had to look away before he went down there and beat his ass the main reason he needed to stop drinking. Instead, he pulled out a cigarette and focused on the conversation Yuuji and the others were having. For 5 minutes.

What the fuck were you doing? He had distracted himself for a few minutes, that was until he saw you in his peripheral vision. Dancing on that bastard. He took another swig of his Jack and Coke, Yuuji looking over his shoulder and seeing what was happening. He also saw when you’d raised your eyes to Choso, and Choso fixed his eyes on you. He was fucking fuming. This random motherfucker was touching on his girl you, putting his hand on your hips as you rubbed your ass on him. Choso found every piece of self-control he had; you were fucking teasing him. You’d let the guy play with the hem of your dress and set his head on your shoulder, all while looking up at your RECENTLY ex-boyfriend. You turned around then, Choso getting a good view of this guy rubbing his hand over your ass. He’d like the idea that you were too fucked up and gotten more comfortable than you realized, but when you turned around and shot him a kiss, he crushed that fucking cigarette in his hand.

You need to be taken care of and pampered, but just like a pamper, he on that childish shit.

You’d walked off from the guy, him trying to follow you and you popping his hand. Now, getting violent is exactly what you’d expect Choso to do, and that’s why he had other plans. He’d waited until you’d sit back down and called the bottle girl working the sections tonight.

“Hey, you see that girl down there?”

He pointed down at you in your pink patent leather dress clear heels to match. She nodded quickly.

“Yeah, that girl in the pink? What do you want her number or something? She’s real sweet.”

“Nah, just want you to do me a favor. Take this and pay for all her drinks; if she asks who, point at me.”

“You got it!”

Choso handed her his card as she walked away. After a few minutes, the girl began talking to you, then pointed at Choso, who was sipping his drink. You’d whispered something in her ear, and she left the table, promptly returning to him. She handed him his card, and he looked at her for a response.

“She’s done drinkin’ for the night, went ahead and charged it! I pointed you out for her, and she told me to tell you ‘thanks, baby”.”

Choso thanked her and smiled, “Baby” huh? That got him pretty happy, it being the kindest you’d been to him in weeks. He’d looked back at you, and you weren’t in the seat, presumably off to dance with your friends or go to the bathroom. Yuuji, who saw the whole thing go down, shook his head and sat his hand on Choso’s shoulder.

“You’re fuckin’ toxic, dude.”

I know you feel like sometimes y'all don't speak the same language.

Choso and Yuuji began talking about something that was wrong with his car; think he needed a tune-up or something, but that was cut short when you’d walked up to the table, jabbing Choso’s shoulder.

“The fuck are you doing?”

“Whatcha mean, princess?”

“Don’t call me that; you know exactly what I mean.”

“No, actually I don’t. Enlighten me.”

“Maybe if you weren’t fuckin’ drinking, you’d know what the hell I’m talking about.”

That one hurt. He could tell it hurt you to say it, but nonetheless, you kept your arms folded.

“I’m not allowed to buy you things anymore?”

“So, that’s what this is? You buying me back?”

“It seems that’s the only way to get your attention nowadays. Haven’t blocked my number, but leaving me on read? You’re fuckin’ with me.”

“Yeah, it’s cause you’re fuckin’ toxic, texting me after 2 a.m., telling me how much you miss me?”

“It’s because I do, want me to lie to you?”

“No, I want you to fuck off. I’m fuckin’ leaving.”

With that, you walked away from him, leaving him with his jaw locked. You’d told him exactly what you wanted, and he had to accept that. Maybe. He put the cash on the table for his tab, saying bye to the guys, chasing after you.

I know you've been going through some things; wanna get away, baby, let me be your vacation.

When Choso found you, you were sitting on the back patio, smoking a cigarette and crying as you looked at your feet. He hated that he was the one making you feel like this, and he felt like it was his job to fix it. That’s why he brought his arms around you, hugging you from behind. You’d known that hug from anywhere but were too damn sad to move him. To be honest, you really needed one. He’d guided you from the patio to the parking lot, opening his car door and setting you in.

“Want me to take you home?”

“Yeah…”

“Where are you stayin’ now?”

“I want to go home.”

You wanted to go back to your guys’s apartment. Choso felt himself perk up a little; your wanting to go back home was a step, right? He put his hand on your thigh, which you moved almost instantly as he pulled out of the parking lot. You leaned back in the seat, opening the window for fresh air. He thought you looked so beautiful. Flustered cheeks, smiling as your hair blew out the window. It made him smile, seeing you happy again; he couldn’t remember the last time you did. 

You came back down in the seat, giving him an awkward smile, wrapping your arms around his arm on the gearshift, laying your head against it. You looked like you were gonna nap, but your eyes were opened like you were thinking about something. Choso was thrilled by the attention you were giving him, but it was pretty hard to drive. All he had to do was focus on not crashing, but then again, maybe that’s what you wanted, emotionally, that is.

I know you know I am down for whatever; you know I'm just here to make you feel better.

Take a load off on my private island, come inside, and go into hidin’.

Choso parked outside your apartment building, taking a second to ensure you were awake before taking you out of the car. You didn’t feel like standing, so you hopped up so he could carry you bridal style. He was trying so hard to be respectful, but your tits were sitting right in front of him; if you guys were on good terms, he’d be sucking on them by now. 

Now, when Choso said he missed you, he really did. Was it normal to think about your ex while you, ya know? Probably not, but when he tried to think about anything else, all that came to him were early morning sessions with you or spontaneous fucks in his car. Right now, he was pretty fuckin’ hard, but the mission was to get you ready and put you to sleep.

Choso unlocked the door to the apartment, carrying you inside. He took off your heels and fixed your dress, sitting you down. He turned around to lock the door, about to take you to-

I know that you've been sacrificin’ your time and need time to unwind and let go, so let go, and let's go.

You wasted no time, bringing Choso’s head into your hands as you kissed him. He was too fuckin’ shocked to process things. But that pretty much ended when you jumped up a little, him picking up your legs and wrapping them around himself. He’d back you onto the wall, deepening the kiss as you groaned into his mouth. You wrapped your hands around him as he sucked your neck, leaning your head back as he rutted his hips against yours.

“Baby…”

“Yeah, princess?”

“On the couch…”

Choso brought you back from the wall, clearing the distance from the hallway to the living room in seconds. You hadn’t let him lay you down on the couch all the way before you pulled him down to you by his neck, the other hand lifting his shirt. He helped you take it off promptly, averting his attention to your dress, unzipping the back, and taking it off you in one motion. With your tits exposed to him, he’d climbed on top of you and kissed you, bringing his face down to your chest and sucking the skin there. As he laid you all the way down on the couch, he started sucking your nipples, rubbing the other between his fingers when he didn’t have his mouth on it. You’d started bucking your hips, begging him to touch you, and that he did.

Choso pulled your thong down, got off you, and sat on the floor. Swiftly, he brought you up and pulled your hips to the end of the couch, legs getting thrown over his shoulder; he began to finger your pussy. God, you were sexy. Fondling with your tits as he pumped his fingers into you, throwing your head back as he started to indulge in you. He could swear you’ve never tasted this good before; maybe it was the distance, some sort of marination period, who knows. What he did know was that his tongue was making your body go crazy. Every lick on your clit had you rutting your hips on his face, body on full display as it moved uncontrollably. He was starving so badly couldn’t even look up at you like he’d usually do; this time, his face was completely engulfed with your pussy, pleasing you in any way he could.

Excited, activated, get ignited.

You’d started moaning louder, his name falling from your lips over and over, getting closer as he fucked you with his tongue, nose rubbing on your clit.

“Baby…”

He knew you were about to cum, so he pinned your hips down, making you groan as your fingers found his hair again.

“Baby, fuck, I’m close…”

You’d started pulling on it, your other hand gripping a pillow on the couch as you started to let go. Finally, his eyes looked up at you, wanting to see you when you came, and that was the tipping point for you. Your eyes rolled back as you ground your hips into his face, shamelessly making him eat you through your orgasm. The aftershocks had you screaming his name, whining as he sucked you into overstimulation. Choso didn’t really care. He was so fuckin’ happy to taste you again; he was a man starved. 

“Okay…”

He hadn’t stopped holding your legs tighter as he put all his attention on your clit, knowing it would have you melting now, faster as you came down from your last high.

“Choso, fuck, okay…”

Your hands were still in his hair, you could pull him back at any moment, but instead, you let your body fall apart as he made you cum again, this one stronger than the first. You were practically screaming this time, cumming all over his face as he pulled away reluctantly. Both of you sat back for air; shortly after, Choso came up to kiss your thighs up to your stomach, then landed on your lips, which you’d moved him away from instantly.

You a star; you need space.

You’d gotten up and walked to the bedroom, pulling out one of his shirts and putting it on. You threw your hair up in a ponytail as you sat at the bar counter, lighting one of the cigarettes he’d left there. He stood up, slightly confused. To be fair, he was pretty sure you two were about to fuck again, but if you just wanted head, he was okay with that too. He was just unsure why you’d gone cold again. You’d brought the cig to your lips, lipstick staining the filter as you brought it down to the ashtray.

“Do you want some water or something?”

“Don’t fuckin' talk to me like I don’t live here. I can get the water myself.”

His jaw locked as you walked to the kitchen, getting yourself a glass of water.

“You’re pissed at me again?”

“I was never not pissed at you, Choso.”

“Was that before or after I just ate you out?

“Both. During also. I can’t fucking stand you, but your tongue is pretty nice.”

Choso started laughing, wiping his face in disbelief as you walked to the bedroom, closing the door behind you. He felt pretty fuckin’ lost. Yeah, he’d figured you’d still be mad at him, and of course, sex wasn’t gonna fix things, but he did have a sliver of hope that his tongue inside you could be the peace treaty.

You wanted space? He’d give you space. He’d walked over to the pack of cigarettes, lighting one, and slamming the lighter back on the counter. It seemed the only common point you guys had was that pack of cigarettes. He went to the cabinet, grabbed the whiskey, and poured himself a shot, pretty much fed up with the night.

I know you've been cryin’ and poutin’, 

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

You were standing in the bedroom doorway, catching him before he could throw the shot back.

“Come the fuck on-”

“That’s so fuckin’ like you. Go ahead and take it; crash your car again while you’re at it.”

You were really getting under his skin, taking low blow after low blow.

“You keep fuckin’ talkin’ to me like you’re some sort of saint.”

“Oh, really? What does that mean?”

“Don’t act like your memory escapes you from earlier, sweetheart. Staring me dead in my face while you dry fucked some guy? Pretty fucked up, if I do say so myself.”

“What I do has nothing to do with you.”

“Oh really? Then why’d you shoot me a fuckin’ kiss after? You’re fuckin’ with my head, and you know it!”

“You know what? Fuck you!”

You walked to the living room, grabbing your things.

Know you're tired of arguin’, no screamin’ and shoutin’.

Now, Choso knew he probably should’ve left it at that, but there were too many unresolved emotions not to fuckin’ argue. You’d moved back to the bedroom now, almost slamming the door in his face, before he caught it and walked in after you.

“Then, earlier, you’re like, “Don’t talk to me like I don’t live here?” Hmm, maybe it’s because you haven’t fucking lived here in weeks!”

“Why’s that, huh? Because you’re a fucking asshole!”

“I know, and I’m sorry! Shit, I don’t know what to do!”

He started crying now, whiskey and cigarette long forgotten as he paced the room yelling at you.

“I wake up every fucking morning wishing you were here! Same when I go to sleep, missing you more and more every day, and you? You won’t even give me anything; the only thing you’ve given me in weeks is your pussy and interactions that just leave me confused!”

“You don’t think I miss you, Choso? My heart fucking yearns for you every single day, but shit, I have to have some sort of resolve. Months and months of taking care of your drunk ass when you’d come home! Why do you deserve anything else, huh?”

“You won’t even let me fix my mistakes! Shit, I’ll stop drinking altogether, stop goin’ out, whatever it takes for you to come back! I’m shit without you, and I know that, and you know that, and I’m sorry, but please, baby, please just let me fix it!”

Choso was in your arms now, sobbing into your shoulder as he held you, both of you crying now.

“Baby, please, just one chance…”

“Choso…”

“Anything, baby, just come back home.”

I know you just tryna maintain.

You pulled Choso’s face away from yours, looking him in his eyes. If you were being honest, he looked a fucking mess, but fuck, you loved him.

You wiped away his tears and kissed him softly. Hesitantly, he kissed you back, deepening it as you brought your arms around his neck. His hands found the arch of your back, pulling you in closer as you kissed him hard.

You’d gotten back in his arms now, kissing you like that for a moment before gently laying you on the bed. As he got on top of you, you started fondling the button on his pants, taking them off before coming down to kiss you again. His legs sat between yours, hand under the arch of your back as you two made out. It felt so good, having you in his arms again. Nurturing you. Loving you. Pleasing you. He’d brought his kisses to your neck, sucking your skin until he knew hickeys would blossom.

You moan softly as he moved the kisses down your collarbone, hand massaging your side as you arched into his touch. He pulled your shirt off, and you almost immediately pulled him down to kiss you. Choso had every intention of taking it slow if you ever wanted to fuck him again, but right now? You just fucking needed him, and he just needed you. 

I know you've been divin’ through pain.

Choso took his briefs off, exposing his dick as he fingered you, prepping you to take him after so long. He used your cum from before to lubricate his shaft, coming down to kiss you.

“Princess?”

“Yeah, baby?”

“Can I fuck you?”

You say yes with a kiss and a nod, relaxing as he kisses you, slipping inside you. 

“Fuck, princess…”

“Baby…”

Fuck, he missed you. Your walls tightened around him as he sunk in, fully inside you now. He began fucking you slowly, making sure it felt good for you.

“Missed you, baby. So much…”

“Choso, fuck me… please.”

He picked up the pace a bit, going steady as you began to moan in his ear, whispering how good it felt. He nuzzled his face in your neck, moaning in your ear as his hips began to move faster. You brought your hands up to hold his back, one of them coming up to rest in his hair. Choso could tell you felt good, but when you brought your legs around him and fixed them on his waist, he knew exactly what you wanted. He brought his arms down to either side of your head as he began fucking you faster, losing yourself on his dick. Your nails were scratching his back now, moaning his name loudly as he fucked into you at a pace that had both of you sweating. He just couldn’t stop praising you, so grateful to be fucking you again.

“Fuck, I missed this pussy.”

“Takin’ me so good, baby.”

“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful.”

Your reactions to him talking you through it made his heart skip a beat. He felt like you were made for him, your pussy wrapping him up and sucking him in as he fucked into you in that sweet spot, and as you gripped him tighter, the faster he thrust into it. In a few seconds, he’d begun fucking the shit out of you; any attempts at making love thrown out the window now. You two hated each other for the past few weeks, but despite all that anger, you both were sexually frustrated, holding out until one of you caved in.

I know you goin' so crazy; I know you runnin' on empty. 

Choso lifted your hips from the bed, sitting back as he fucked into you fast, watching you try to grip the sheets as he fucked you. You were in heaven. A few drinks, two orgasms, and making up with your boyfriend? It definitely had you feeling really good. That and your boyfriend fucking the shit out of you. 

“Baby…I’m close…”

“Yeah, princess. I’m about to cum too.”

Choso focused on pleasing you, but he knew he wasn’t gonna last much longer, not with your tits bouncing from the thrusts he was giving you, that and the fucked out look on your face, cheeks flustered and trying to catch your breath. He brought his thumb up to rub on your clit, the overstimulation on your bud nearly sending you over. You pulled him back down to you, groaning his name as he fucked into you deep and fast, drilling you into the bed.

“Cum for me, baby, I got you.”

You felt yourself come undone, body bucking into his as he held you, screaming his name into the air as you held him close.

“That’s it, baby. Say my name, give it to me.”

You began panting and whimpering into his shoulder, sending him over as he tensed up, cumming inside as he fucked you through both of your highs.

That shit can fuck with your mental; I know this shit, don't you tempt me…

When you both came down, Choso couldn’t bring himself to pull out of you, so blissed out from the feeling of your pussy. It wasn’t until he fell to your side, exhausted and on the verge of passing out. As he came to, he looked over at you, eyes half open, exhaling slowly. Shaking himself together, he got up and went to the kitchen, handing you a glass of water; you slowly drank it, trying to get back to earth. You both laughed at the sloth-like pace it was taking you to drink the water, flipping him off when he went to help you out.

After getting a few sips in, he picked you up again, taking you to the bathroom for a bath, wiping your makeup as you gave each other kisses every now and then. When he’d dried you off, he pulled out your pajamas and put them on you, getting dressed and laying you on the bed. He turned the TV on, getting in the bed with you as you picked out a movie, nuzzling your face into his chest.

“Baby?”

“Yeah, princess?”

“I love you.”

“Love you too, so much.” 

I know you. I know you. I know you.

♱ the song used in this story is i know by big sean and jhene aiko. 🖤

(this fic was mostly based on prior experiences; made me cry a couple times, but i am so happy i could turn that into this! hope you enjoyed it 🖤)

♱ masterlist.

♱ all fics playlist.

𝖆𝖚 𝖗𝖊𝖛𝖔𝖎𝖗, 𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊𝖑𝖞𝖗𝖚𝖎𝖓.

#choso x reader #chosoxreader #choso x you #chosoxyou #choso x female reader #chosoxfemalereader #choso x f!reader #chosoxf!reader #choso x fem!reader #chosoxfem!reader #choso x y/n #chosoxy/n #choso fanfic #choso fluff #choso fic #choso angst #choso smut #chososmut #choso supremacy #choso #choso jjk #jujutsu kaisen choso #jjk choso #choso kamo #kamo choso #jjk x fem!reader #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk smut #jjk angst

[rosedom]

Since you always serve us, let me serve you an imagination ( ͡⁠°⁠ ͜⁠ʖ⁠ ͡⁠°⁠)

Imagine aether or scara being so bratty and pouty all day, just genuinely being a cute meanie saying how they don't want to talk to you because they're so stressed out so you start kissing them everywhere and showering them with love, giving them the softest vanilla sex they've ever had. And the best part was you weren't even rough, you treated them like the king's they fucking are but they look so fucked dumb and cock drunk like they'd just beg you not to pull out because they just want more of your love cuz who wouldn't want a someone like you 😭🫰

—🪷

"in an open match, 【 🪷 】 has invited AETHER to play . . . stressed by day, blissed by night

✦ㅤㅤ 【 CW 】 dom!top!amab!reader, sub!bottom!ftm!aether, snarky aether (at first), couch sex, vaginal fingering & sex, gentle & full of praise, creampie, cockwarming .

A/N : i chose aether ,, i am a simple man . . .

"do you want to watch, [PLAYER]? press KEEP READING to spectate the match."

Today's been a busy day for Aether.

Commission after commission, all with no fruits to show for his reaping. And all day, he'd whined at you and shooed you away, pouting at you whenever you tried to so much as lay a soft kiss against his lips.

Really, he's been nothing short of a brat.

"I don't wanna talk to you right now."

You whine, draping yourself across your boyfriend's shoulders and nuzzling into his neck, shy of his blushing ear. The pointed tip of it jabs into your temple, but you pay it no mind as you busy yourself with the expanse of his honeyed skin. "But baby—"

Aether tilts, turns his head away from you, but it only serves to expose more skin to your light touch. He groans and reaches for your head, batting at your hair until you whine again. "'m stressed," he says, as if that's a good 'nuff answer for you.

"And I'm your—" Aether moves his hand to clamp over your mouth instead, keeping you from saying anything else.

When you lick at his palm, he grumbles at you, a disgruntled n' whiny "stopp." The sound is rather pitiful, really, but you grin nonetheless; it makes you wanna see what other lil' sounds you can draw out of his pretty throat.

"But baby," you drawl, repeat it, dragging your tongue across the freckles on his neck and pausing to suckle at the bob of his Adam's apple. "I missed you." You try to frown, right into the hollow of his throat, make him feel your hankering.

At his responding whimper—a sound you feel wash over your ear, a vibration that reverberates through your lips and down to your toes—, you can't help but go back to grinning, instead.

Hook, line, and sinker, all without even getting his knickers down to his knees !

So, "Baby," you say.

He tries to hum, at that; but his soft, sounding sound is more akin to another breathless whimper, one masquerading as a meak "hm."

"You're tired."

"No shit." Well. He's got his voice back enough to snide, to yip and yap at your gentle teases; but, really, he's loosening in your arms and under your wandering lips. His attitude is a only a weak façade, the physical accumulation of the day's—the week's, the month's, the year's, the fucking life's—stresses.

With a last, suckling kiss to a prominent freckle—more of a beauty mark, to be honest, pigmented and stark amidst otherwise subtle freckles, lots of sunspots—atop his clavicle, one you found by tugging his scarf down, you lean back on up and bump your nose against his.

Gently, you shush him; then you press your lips against his, soft and slow and sweet, letting him melt into you. He whimpers, again, even without the introduction of tongue.

Aether is, simply put, fuckin' exhausted.

You tell him so. "You're exhausted," you say, enunciate, nipping at his bottom lip as you leave it kiss-bitten and red. This time, he doesn't snark, and you know then and there that he's submitted. "Let me take care of you tonight, honey. Please?"

He nods, and, "Okay. Okay. Please." Your name is gasped out, too, smothered in the messy kiss you give him at the first go-ahead.

"My sweet Aether," you murmur.

"Y-yeah?"

Getting his garments off is easy: scarf, done; crop top, off and tossed away; knickers and boxers, gone in one fell-swoop. He's bare in front of you quickly, the expanse of scarred, freckled and sun-spotted skin absolutely appetizing, to you.

And, in gentle reply, smoothed right to the erratic flutter of his pulse: "Let me make you feel good."

After that, moving him to the sofa is an mindless thing; you push him to sit down, get comfy, for the mere seconds it takes you to strip yourself. Clothes gone—out of sight, out of mind—you tumble on top of him, and he giggles—tired, huffing lil' things, but still giggles, nonetheless—, and you smother him in kisses, in sweet praises.

His giggles turn to gasps, his gasps into quiet moans. You're working another deep mark into his neck when he starts grinding into you, and you decide it's time to move on. "Up, up," you mutter, taking hold of his pretty hips, the fat of them filling your palms, and spin the two of you around.

Aether yelps your name, clinging onto your shoulders as his world is upended. "What—" he starts, whines, but you settle him properly onto your lap and bump your groin against his. The whisper of your cock against his makes him shiver.

Around you, his arms shake; his abs ripple when you tease your fingertips down his torso, the hair of his happy trail; and his hips try to jump away at the feeling of your fingers across his cunt. You hold him down easily enough with one arm—a feat made easy thanks to his exhaustion, sure, but mainly the utter trust he placed in you—, and ask him, softly, "What'd I say, honey?"

"H-huh?" Whimperin' like a pup, he shakes his head, crying out when your fingers gentle him open, one, two, three. The process is long, sure; but it's an art, to you—an act of love as each finger slips inside, the stretch of each one you soothe with kisses and sweet words.

You curl the three of them upwards, soaked down to your wrist, bumping your palm against his jutting cock. "What'd I say, earlier? Told you I was gonna do two things to you tonight."

Aether whines, clenching around your knuckle-deep fingers. "Y—you, ah—" You slide them out slowly, and he catches his breath, hot puffs of air against your own marked-up throat. "You said you'd take care of me."

"And?" you implore, not unkindly. He mewls, shivers, lets you lift him up enough to nudge the swollen, pre-cum slick head of your cock against his hole. "And what, darlin'?"

He moans, high and ready, scrambling for hold on your biceps when you slowly drop him, giving him inch by inch of your cock. "A-and—" he tries, at first, before he crumbles and falls forward into your neck once more at the pressure of your cock against his g-spot.

"Breathe, honey, breathe. You're doing so well, lettin' me take care of you, lettin' me—"

"Make me feel good! You—" he squirms on your cock, crying out desperately into your neck. He squeezes your upper arms like his cunt squeezes your dick: deliciously. "You said you'd—you'd make me feel good."

Lifting him up is easy; dropping him is even easier. He mewls and moans, whimpers and whines, and he gives you total control of his tired body. "That's right, Aeth," you coo, nipping at his ear and groaning at the slick slide of him on you, you in him. "I said I'd take care of you, and I'd make you feel good. You're perfect, lettin' me do these things to you, lettin' me make you feel nice, just as nice as you deserve."

You know it's a little cruel, forcing him up and down on your cock when he's already this tired; but the strain in his thighs is sweet, the gentle motions of your cock even more-so. He's boneless with pleasure, melting into your body while you maneuver him in the way that makes you both feel oh-so good.

Your orgasm, then, takes you by surprise. It's a slow n' steady build, one that washes over you in gentle waves and has you tugging Aether down onto you—a motion that makes him cry out n' harshly clench around your cock and leaves his cunt, wet n' sloppy, spasming, milking you for your cum. But it's rapturous nonetheless, and you reach down to thumb at his own cock and bring him over the edge, too.

"Good boy," you murmur, the two of you reveling in the remnants of your orgasms: you, in the wet-warmth of his cunt; and him, with the heat of your cum settling warm and deep in him.

However, when you try to move, try to pull out your softened cock, he cries, squeezes tight on you and keeps you snug in him. "Don't pull out," he whispers, and who are you to deny him?

"Alright, honey." He settles back into your lap enough for you to pull a throw over you both, tucking him up in warmth from all sides—inner and outer. You can feel his contented sigh in your own chest, his arms falling limp around your middle as he deeply breathes, dozes off.

Holding him close, feeling the rise and fall of his body against yours, you wonder whether you may have made him feel a bit too good—if such thing even exists. (You don't think it does.)

Today's been a busy day, after all; tonight an even busier night.

writing with my dick out ngl . . . i kind of took the request in another direction (⁠>⁠0⁠<⁠；⁠) maybe not as cock-drunk as straight up cock-passed-the-hell-out.

1 MAR. 2024, @rosedom, rosey .

#ㅤ✦【 ASKS 】 #【 🪷 】 #took me so much not to say “full of cm” too in the CW . . . #sub aether #aether x reader #aether smut #i love him so so much <3 #sub genshin #genshin x reader #genshin smut #ftm smut #top reader #dom reader #amab reader

[cannibalizedyke]

omg ok i’m sorry this’ll be the last one for now i feel bad 😭😭 but eddie x fem!henderson!reader with mutual pining and dustin is totally sick of it and just tells eddie what reader thinks of him and when eddie approaches her she’s just like “dustin you little shit”

i’m sorry again for putting so many requests in 😭🫶🫶

NO NO SEND MORE COREY BABY I LOVE YOUR REQUESTS I LOVE GETTING EDDIE REQUESTS HON

dude i love henderson!reader it's probably my favorite thing fucking ever

also!! in my head the reader is adopted, i don't want anyone to feel like they aren't being included bc they don't look like dustin :)

part two

💗👛💗👛💗👛💗👛💗👛💗👛💗👛💗👛💗👛💗👛💗👛💗

You always volunteered to drive Dustin and his friends to Eddie Munson's trailer for Hellfire.

It wasn't because you cared about your brother, it wasn't because you wanted to be helpful, it wasn't for any good sentimental big sister reason. No.

You drove Dustin to Hellfire because it gave you an excuse to see Eddie, the boy you'd been crushing on since your freshman year.

Eddie didn't know this, of course. He thought you were like, a good person or some shit, no matter how vehemently Dustin tried to convince him that could not possibly be further from the truth. You were nice, but you weren't gonna waste your time doing stuff for your little brother. That wasn't like you at all.

"Stop shitting on your sister, man," Eddie said, rolling a die. "She drives you to Hellfire, she obviously really cares about you."

Dustin sputtered. "Cares about me!? Sure, but like, not enough to waste her time driving me, Mike, and Lucas here! She drives us cause she's - " Dustin shut his mouth, eyes wide.

Eddie raised an eyebrow. "Cause what, Henderson?"

Dustin shook his head vigorously. "Nah, she would kill me if I told you."

Eddie licked his lips. "Ooh, so your sister has a secret?"

Dustin looked absolutely terrified.

"Tell us, tell us," Eddie started chanting, and before long everyone else had joined in.

Dustin was scared of you, but he was more susceptible to peer pressure. "(Y/N) drives us cause she has a giant crush on Eddie!" Dustin covered his mouth.

Eddie's mouth dropped open. "No fuckin' way, man, you're makin' shit up." He laughed. "Tell us the truth, Henderson."

"It is the truth!" Dustin insisted. "She like, talks about you all the time, like to her friends and stuff. She thinks your rings are really hot." Dustin winced.

"Dude, your sister really likes me?" Eddie asked, leaning forward with wide eyes.

"Yeah, but don't give her a hard time about it, okay? She's sensitive to rejection, man."

Eddie snorted. "Give her a hard time? Nah, man, I'm gonna ask her out."

"What!?" Dustin shrieked. "No, no, siblings are off limits."

Eddie smirked. "Too bad you don't make the rules." He checked his watch. "Oh, and it looks like she'll be here in just a few minutes to pick you up." He rested his feet on the table and reclined back in his throne. "Dude, why didn't you tell me sooner? Your sister's hot as hell, man, I'd go out with her in a heartbeat."

Dustin groaned, covering his face. "That's disgusting, Eddie."

A banging sounded at the door. "Dustin!" you yelled. "Hurry your ass up!"

Eddie perked up. "I'll get it!"

"No, no, Eddie, no!" Dustin begged, but Eddie was already running toward your knocking.

"Let's g- Eddie?" You looked at him, eyes wide. "Oh, um, hi." You swallowed.

"Hey, Henderson." Eddie relaxed against the doorframe, grinning at you. "So, Dustin told me you have a crush on me."

Your mouth dropped open in horror. "DUSTIN I AM GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU - " You started toward your little brother, who screamed.

Eddie held you back. "Nah, nah, (Y/N), let him be. If he hadn't told me I wouldn't have known I could ask you out."

You stared dumbly. "Ask me- What?"

"Wanna go out with me? I mean, I know you're totally out of my league, but - "

"Fucking hell yeah," you replied breathlessly.

Eddie grinned. "Great. Here, tomorrow night at nine? You can pick a movie."

"Sounds awesome." You were still in shock.

"Oh, and here." Eddie slipped off one of his rings and handed it to you. "Since you think they're so hot." He winked.

You glared daggers into Dustin. "You fucking owe me, you dick."

"Yeah," Dustin squeaked.

"Let's go." You grinned at Eddie. "See you tomorrow, Munson."

Eddie grinned back. "See you then."

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x henderson!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson

[flamehairedwritings]

Do Not Touch

Characters: Jim Hopper x Female Reader 

Rating: E, 18+ ONLY

Words: 10k

A/N: My take on your friend and mine: sex-pollen! I started writing this two years ago, isn’t that wild.

Tags: s3 Hop’, dub-con because of sex-pollen, fuck or die situation, Hopper being a huge dick at first, swearing, masturbation, dirty talk, thigh-riding, oral sex (F receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, doggy-style, creampies, hand on neck/throat but no choking, gentle-mdom Hop’, more submissive reader, slight praise kink, slight cum play.

Summary: A visit to Murray’s house of wonders provides a lot more than you bargained for.

Please don’t copy or steal my work, and please don’t post it on any other sites.

—

“... fuck are you talkin’ about?”

“They’re tapping your phones, Jim, how can you not see it?”

“‘cause it’s not fuckin’ true.”

“Oh, right, so...”

As Murray sets off on another rant, you raise your eyes to the heavens, or rather the dirty, damp ceiling, and tip your head back against the wall, exhaling a long, long breath.

You knew this wasn’t going to be easy. Not impossible, but not easy.

And even Hopper had known Murray was your only hope with this kind of thing.

This kind of thing being that neither of you speak Russian and Murray does.

You’d heard the message over the Hawkins Police Radio two days ago while you and Hop were working late in his office. He’d been adjusting the frequency, fiddling, more like, when the voice had suddenly come through, delivering a short message. You’d both stared at each other, then it had come through again. You’d realised it was the same passage and had quickly grabbed a pen, repeating it to yourself as you wrote it down phonetically on your notepad.

Neither of you had known what to do, so you’d just carried on with your evening, working on your new case. But it had weighed heavy on your mind when you’d left; with the strange things that had gone on in Hawkins in the last couple of years, you are suspicious of everything. Hopper apparently had shared your thoughts as, the next morning, he’d called you into his office, shut the door, and asked if you’d kept the note. When you said you had, you’d both then decided that deciphering it would put your minds at ease.

... Except it was really fucking hard because none of the words sounded close to anything you recognised.

Barely ten minutes later, Hopper had shoved his chair back and hissed out curses.

“We’re gonna go and see Murray,” he’d muttered as he’d strode out of the room to get more coffee.

You’d watched him go, irritation prickling at you because everything needed to be done right now with him these days. In the four years you’d known him, he’d never exactly been a very patient man, but this was different. In the last few weeks he was quick to rile, short-tempered, irritable, yelling more often than not, and you were starting to get sick of it.

So maybe it’s a good thing that he can let that all out on Murray now, who can give back as good as he gets, often, actually, better.

Not that you don’t stand up for yourself when Hopper is in one of his new moods and snaps. He never yells at you, he never has, just raises his voice slightly or gets unnecessarily snippy or even borderline patronising, but your usual tactic is to just walk away, leaving him to stew until he comes to you and makes his kind of apology (offering you a hot drink or a pastry), or you try and lighten the mood. That’s just getting tiring now, though. 

And it’s also a huge turn-off.

Yeah, okay, fine, you’ve admitted it to yourself, you’re attracted to him, but it’s a line you don’t like to cross; he’s your boss and your close friend, too, considering everything you’ve both been through with El, Joyce and the kids.

Now, though, you’re not even sure you want to be his friend.

You’ve tried to talk to him, ask him why he’s so God damn angry all the time but he just brushes you off or says he didn’t sleep well. The latter is nothing new, he was a mess when you’d arrived in Hawkins, sleeping for a few hours at a time on his couch in his trailer, but he’d really come into his own since then, especially when he’d had to start taking care of El. The former is new. Living through life or death situations, spending many late nights working together, and the town being small has brought you two closer together, and you’ve confided in him and he in you, so it stings when he brushes you off like you don’t have a history, like you aren’t his friend. Like you don’t matter.

“Do you know what it fuckin’ says or not?” Hopper thunders in the next room, and the patronising edge to his tone has your nose wrinkling.

“Of course I do, you neanderthal, if you give me the fucking piece of paper then I will be able to write it down for you.”

For once, and you never thought that you ever would, you’re on Murray’s side.

There’s the muffled sound of cursing, then a patronising ‘thank you’ from Murray, and then it’s quiet, except for the sound of a chair squeaking as one of them sits down. From the huff, probably Hopper. Folding your arms across your chest, you exhale another breath as you let your gaze travel the room.

It’s exactly how you’d imagine Murray’s place would be. There are... things everywhere, on every surface, some things you don’t even recognise like devices and folders with foreign writing on them, all just strewn around. To your left on a counter there’s even a corked jar marked ‘DO NOT TOUCH’, filled with a russet-coloured liquid, an unfamiliar, what was once probably red, flower head submerged in it. It looks rather like a lily, but there are strange, swirling patterns on the petals that you don’t recognise.

Your attention is diverted by the sound of the chair squeaking again, boots on wood, and then Murray’s voice.

“Ah, ah, ah, what do I get, Chief?” 

“What?”

“What do I get for my services?”

“What do you get? You don’t get a fuckin’ broken nose, you asshole.”

There’s the sound of paper sliding against skin.

“... What the fuck is this?”

“It’s what was written for me, word for word, so unless you got something wrong, then that’s it.”

There’s silence, then the sound of Hopper striding closer to the room you’re in.

“You’re welcome,” Murray calls as Hopper exits the room, and you press your lips together at his thunderous expression.

“Thank you, Murray,” you answer for him, raising your voice a little.

“Ah, you’re welcome.”

Dropping your arms as Hopper nears, you raise your eyebrows. “So?”

“It doesn’t make any fuckin’ sense,” he mutters, thrusting the note towards you.

Taking it from him, you read it, then frown as you read it again.

The week is long. The silver cat feeds when blue meets yellow in the west. A trip to China sounds nice if you tread lightly.

Inhaling a long breath, you shrug and look up at him. “Yeah, that makes no sense to me.”

“Yeah, I thought it wouldn’t.”

You make yourself interpret that in a kind way as you look at him, watching him lean against the counter beside you and take the note from you, shoving it into his pocket.

It’s complicated. It doesn’t make any sense. He’s not making a comment on my intelligence.

Licking your lips, pressing them together for a moment, you open your mouth, then close it... then open it again, your voice low, “Do you think this maybe has something to do with what Joyce was saying about the magnets? And the lab?”

If his expression was thunderous before, it’s just full on pissed off now. His gaze darting up to you, you can see how tight his jaw is.

“We don’t know that.”

“I know we don’t, but it’s a little suspicious—”

“Or it could just be some people communicating via code.”

“Uh, yeah, that’s suspicious, isn’t it—”

“Not necessarily—”

He goes to put a hand on his hip as he huffs out a breath, but his elbow knocks against the jar, pushing it off the ledge, and your eyes widen as your hands dart out in the same moment Hopper’s do. Both of you acting on instinct, it fumbles in both your hands for all but two seconds as you try to catch it, in the process the cork top sliding off and some of the liquid spilling onto your hands and his arms and you’re waiting for it to sting and burn but it doesn’t and then— 

And then it’s falling and smashing on the floor.

You stare at the spreading liquid, the flower resting limply on it before your eyes dart up to meet Hopper’s, your mouth open. His is closed firmly, his hands, like yours, still raised.

“What was that?!” Murray calls, and you hear him approaching, your eyes now darting to the archway.

“Uh, it—”

“Nothin’, bye, Murray.”

Hopper grabs your hand and pulls you towards the front door, shoving it open and leading you out into the fresh air. He releases you and pulls his car keys out of his pocket as you head for the passenger side of the Blazer, both of you swiftly climbing in once he’s opened it. He’s starting the engine and turning the Blazer around before either of your seatbelts are on properly. Good. There’s only so much shit a human being can take from Murray.

Your seatbelt secured, a glance in the wing-mirror shows you the man himself, waving his arms frantically and faintly yelling for you to come back.

Absolutely fucking not.

Whatever it was, you’re sure it’s replaceable. Sure he collects weird things but it was just a flower, how precious could it be?

You hear Hopper blow out a breath as you head back to the main road, both of you relaxing. Leaning your head back, you keep your eyes on the road, letting the riddle swirl in your mind. You’re certain it’s connected to Joyce’s theories; in all the time you’ve been working at the Station you’ve not once heard someone speaking in code over the radio that wasn’t one of your own or kids, and as for Russian? You’d be very surprised if anyone in the little old town of Hawkins spoke it.

You want to broach the subject with him again, but maybe not now when you’re stuck in a hot car with him and only just starting a nearly two hour drive.

Boy, is it hot.

It’s just gone noon and it’s already sweltering. Rolling the window down, you tilt your head towards it, expecting some kind of breeze. There’s a light one, but it does nothing, so you grip the front of your shirt between your thumb and forefinger and waft it, trying to create some air. The way the shirt moves against your skin... every time it touches against it, slides against you with the movement, you’re hyper-aware of it. Maybe it’s just because you’re more aware of your body in general considering how hot you are.

God, it is uncomfortably hot.

You’re about to ask Hop to put the aircon on when he does so, angling a few of the grates towards himself. Glancing at him, you notice a few beads of sweat at his hairline.

“It’s hot, isn’t it?”

“Hm.”

Oh, well, that’s that conversation over.

You give him the benefit of the doubt, assuming he’s probably thinking about the riddle, too, so you return your thoughts to it, repeating it, turning it over and over—

It’s so hot it’s actually quite hard to think. 

Blinking and widening your eyes a little, you say each word of the riddle slowly in your mind, but they just end up being words, and when you try and say it all together again you just end up stopping halfway through, forgetting it momentarily.

Just wait until you’re back, you can have a cool drink, whack the aircon right up and think about it until you go mad.

You angle the grates on your side so one’s sending a cool breeze to your face, the other your body, and then drop your hand into your lap—

Jesus Christ.

Your leg jerks a little, involuntarily, as you register the sensation of your fingers on your clothed inner thigh. You quickly move your hand to your side but even that, your fingers gliding over your leg, makes your stomach muscles tighten.

It had felt good. Far better than it usually did.

You’re just hyper-aware of yourself because of how hot you feel, it’s fine.

You shift a little in your seat and— 

You catch yourself before a sound escapes you.

Fucking hell, that had felt good. So good in fact, your pussy is actually starting to ache.

Usually when you’re turned on, very turned on, the smallest of touches can have you gasping but... Are you turned on? You take a moment to consider it and find... Fuck, you are. Where the fuck has this come from? 

Hopper clearing his throat pulls you from your thoughts, glancing at him. He’s sweating a little more and he’s gripping the steering wheel tighter, his knuckles almost white, but that’ll just be the heat, another thing that pisses him off.

You need a distraction from... whatever this is your body has decided to feel.

“Maybe it’s from another town.”

“What?” He says it so sharply, almost like you’ve said something completely ridiculous.

“The message? Maybe it’s from another town and just carried over—”

“Nah, I don’t think so.”

Your mouth closes tightly and you return your gaze to the road, staring at it.

Take a breath. He’s in one of his moods. Murray has riled him up. Just let him ride it out... Fuck that, I really need to say something to him about his attitude.

It’s the perfect distraction, planning in your mind what you’re going to say when you get back to Hawkins, coming up with retorts and come-backs to whatever he could say, acting out the conversation in your head and going down every route imaginable. You get so in to it, in fact, that you manage to just about forget how warm you are, and you don’t notice that Hopper is sweating profusely, his hips shifting every few minutes.

—

Your clothes are sticking to every inch of you. Your entire body aches.

What the hell is going on.

You’ve been in the car for a total of thirty minutes now, but it feels like a God damn lifetime. Thinking about arguing with Hop had only gotten you so far; it had channelled some of this weird energy you’re feeling but then suddenly you’d thought about ripping his shirt off and shoving him onto his God damn uncomfortable couch and sitting in his lap while you told him all about how God damn annoying he is.

And then the aches, the bone deep aches, had started.

Fuck, do I have the flu?

You just feel awful. Your elbow rests against the car door, your hand supporting your head, and you stare out of the window, taking slow, deep, steadying breaths. You feel nauseous and your skin is on fire. You’ve tried to keep quiet but you actually think you might be sick, and between throwing up in his car and asking him to pull over, you think the latter will annoy him less.

“Hop’.”

“What?” He doesn’t snap this time, instead he sounds... strained.

“Can we pull over soon? I don’t feel well.”

“Yeah.”

Wow.

Okay.

That hadn’t been so hard. 

His voice is still strained and short, but, again, that could just be the heat. He doesn’t pull over immediately and as you glance up you notice a sign for a motel not too far ahead.

Oh, good.

Ten minutes later, the tyres of the Blazer are screeching as he turns sharply into the parking lot of the motel. You have to grip at the handle of the door as he swings in, parking swiftly and braking hard.

“I’ll get rooms.” The words are said so sharply it’s like they’ve been punched out of him.

God, he really doesn’t want me to throw up in here.

Wait, ‘rooms’? Are we staying for a night? That’d be nice.

You both climb out, and you’re almost dizzy from the action. Hopper’s already striding towards the reception booth and you slowly follow after him, wiping the sweat from your brow. You have to walk with your legs slightly apart because your thighs rubbing together... What the fuck is going on? By the time you reach Hopper he’s already got a key and is turning on his heel, walking back behind you.

“C’mon.”

As he passes you, his elbow brushes against your arm and you both flinch because, fuck, a weird little electric shock thing happens. Except, whereas when that usually happens you only feel it on your skin, this time you feel it all over your body, spreading down and curling somewhere in your lower stomach.

And it felt good.

Beads of sweat run down your arms, back and chest as you follow him up a flight of stairs to the first floor. It takes every ounce of energy you have to get up there, whereas Hopper’s almost running. The door’s open when you finally reach it and he’s got the aircon on high which you’re grateful for. Closing the door behind yourself, you’re about to thank him when you look over at him and you notice that he’s drenched in sweat, just as you are.

He glances up and briefly meets your gaze before he runs a hand through his damp hair, his eyes sweeping the room as he paces, his eyebrows raised.

“Only one room left. Sorry.”

You shake your head, the action just increasing your nausea, as you shrug. “No, it’s okay. It’s not like we need to spend the night. Just... think I need a nap, or something. Feel like I’m gonna be sick.”

There’s a short silence in which you sit down on the nearest of the two double beds, your hands on your knees.

“Me, too.”

You look up at him, your brow dipping. “What?”

Hopper gestures at himself before he drops his hand, exhaling a hard breath. “Feel like... feel like I’m gonna be sick, too. Feel so fuckin’ hot, can’t think straight.”

“Yeah, me as well...” Your frown deepens. “Are we both sick?”

“How’s that possible?”

“I don’t know. It came on so suddenly, too, only after we left...”

You meet his gaze as he presses his lips together, following your train of thought.

“That son of a bitch...”

Crossing the room, he grabs the phone from the bedside table and dials Murray’s number. At any other time you would have laughed that he had it memorised. Like they’re pals.

His tongue darting over his lips, your eyes following it for some reason, he holds the phone to his ear, his jaw clenched.

Murray answers on the first ring.

“Hey, Murray—”

You can hear the other man even from where you’re sat.

“You broke the jar, didn’t you.”

“Uh, yeah, but I can—”

“Oh, you fucking idiot. Is she with you?”

Hopper’s eyes briefly dart to you. “Uh, yeah, hey, I’m sure it’s replaceable, I can pay—”

“One, no, it’s not, and two, it’s not me you should be thinking about, you ass.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“It means, are you feelin’ a little weird, Jim? Huh? Is your lady friend?”

“Uh...” He glances at you again before turning his back, lowering his voice slightly. “Yeah, why?”

You stood up instantly as he turned, and, ooff, there’s the dizziness again, though you manage to move closer to him, a frown pulling at your features as you tut, so you hear Murray’s humourlessly chuckled reply.

“Oooh, hoooo, you’re both in for quite a day.”

“Why, you fuckin’ asshole?”

“Let’s just say you’re going to be feeling certain urges... or maybe you’re already feeling them?”

Hopper glances at you yet again before turning his back away from you again. You hiss and move closer, brushing against him, which just makes you both grimace because there’s the electric current again. You try to stay as close as possible without touching him.

“Just tell me what’s fuckin’ goin’ on, Murray.”

“The best and most polite thing to call it would be an aphrodisiac.”

You frown as you glance up at Hopper, but he’s just staring at the wall.

“What? Why the fuck do you have something like this, Murray?”

“I was going to dilute it to sell in certain markets.”

“As what?”

“An aphrodisiac, dumbass.”

As Hopper snarls and opens his mouth, you grab the phone, your fingers brushing together making your stomach flip and something clench inside you.

Holding the phone to your ear, you swallow before exhaling a breath and murmuring, “What do we do, Murray? How do we stop feeling awful?”

He sighs, and you’re surprised and also slightly unsettled by his tone softening a little. “There’s not much you can do, except what you have wanted to do for a long time that neither of you will admit.”

Before you can speak, Hopper calls, even though he’s right beside you, “And what the hell does that mean?”

“Fuck each other!”

Your mouth drops open as you think your heart stops, and Hopper freezes beside you.

“I’m sorry... what?”

“Oh, come on, you know what I mean—”

“No, Murray, I mean,” you quickly cut him off, rubbing at your damp forehead as you lick your dry lips, your cheeks burning. “What did you, why would we need to, uhm, do that?”

"It’s the only way to ease the aches and pains, honey, that—”

“Pain?”

You’re aching, yes, but you wouldn’t say you’re in pain.

“Stop interrupting me, Jesus...” You press your lips together at his exasperated sigh, before he takes a breath. “The pollen from that flower is like an instant aphrodisiac. If it comes into contact with your skin, that’s it, kiddos, you’re horny. I was diluting it so it’s less lethal, hence why it was in that jar marinating in that liquid. I’m assuming you got some of it on you when you oh so cleverly broke it for no reason?”

“Yeah, but we didn’t mean to—”

“What did I say about interrupting? Depending on how much you got on you, you’re gonna feel hot, then your whole body’s gonna ache, then’ll come the urges and the pain, and once those hit, hooo... so you two had better get to it.”

You feel like you’re having some kind of a fever dream. Rubbing your forehead again, you close your eyes for a few moments as you almost trip over your words, “What, hang on, w-what do you mean by lethal, what happens if we don’t, you know, do anything? It’ll just wear off, won’t it?”

Murray’s silent.

Oh... this is bad.

“C’mon, Murray, answer her.” Hopper’s sudden voice makes you jump.

There’s a quiet sigh. “You gotta take care of each other, together, or... or you’ll die.”

It’s the first time you’ve ever heard Murray speak in an entirely gentle tone.

You don’t know what stuns you more; that, or his words.

“... What.” Your voice is so quiet.

Hopper is silent.

“I don’t know how much you were exposed to but no matter how much, the need and the pain, if nothing is done, can get so bad that your organs start to fail and shut down. If it was just a little, it’ll take longer, if it was a lot then I’d say it’s only a matter of time.”

“No, it... it was just a little. Few splashes. I think.” Your voice sounds far away to your own ears.

“Well, you’ve got some time, then. But it’s gonna be uncomfortable so get to it.”

“Right... Thanks, Murray.” You place the phone down, feeling so far out of your body, hanging up before he can say another word.

Silence.

You look up at Hopper as he clears his throat and moves away, being very careful not to brush against you, his hand running through his hair again. As he sits down in the armchair, you sit on the edge of the bed opposite, staring at the floor.

It’s... it’s... You don’t have the word for it. Wild. Outlandish. Crazy.

“He could be lying, right.” You look up at Hopper as he speaks, meeting his gaze. “He could be mad that we broke somethin’ of his and is just makin’ this all up.”

“Yeah,” is all you can think to say.

“This could just be a reaction to it.”

“Yeah...” You shrug after a moment, blowing out a breath. “Pretty fucking bizarre thing to make up.”

“Well, that’s Murray.”

You both fall silent as he stares at the wall and you stare at the bed. It’s got a patchwork blanket on it, all red squares with other panels of red floral designs. It reminds you of the damn flower. It’s like it’s taunting you. As are the beads of sweat sliding down your spine. And the new, faint, throbbing in your cunt.

You believe Murray.

It’s... wild and bizarre and you don’t understand it at all but, yes, you believe him. Your lips are suddenly dry, either from the realisation or the flower, and you lick them as you lift your gaze to Hopper. He’s still staring so intently at the wall, hands gripping the armrests.

His eyes flick to you as you speak gently.

“I think we should stay the night. Until this wears off. Don’t want to infect anyone else, if that’s possible.”

He nods curtly, expressionless. “Okay.”

Thankfully, Joyce has El for the night, Hopper having asked her to take her in case you both stayed longer than you thought you would, so that’s one less thing. You think about saying that out loud to him, then swiftly decide against it. Of course he’ll already thought about that, will probably take offence at you asking and think it implies you think he hasn’t.

You hate the silence of the room, though, hate the space it provides to think, so you continue instead with, “We’ll just... ride this shit out. It was only a few drops. We’ll be fine.”

Hopper may be expressionless, but what you can’t see are his blunt nails digging into the fabric of the chair. 

“Okay.”

—

It was a mistake, turning the TV on.

It’s too loud, too bright, but, fuck, you need the distraction. Your eyes are fixed on it like you’re possessed, and your shirt is soaked, sticking to your skin. Uncomfortable. Your skin is slick, you can feel sweat sliding down your face, arms, back. A loud commercial comes on and you grab the TV remote, turning it off as a wild burst of irritation suddenly flashes through you.

Focus on the room. Two double beds. Bare desk. Mini fridge. Bathroom. Standard motel room. Boring. Plain. Dull. So dull. Think about how dull it is.

It doesn’t work. It hasn’t been working for the last twenty minutes. Has it been twenty minutes? Longer? Less? You don’t know and you don’t want to know. Your body is aching, not only physically but with need, like you’ve never, ever felt before. You feel almost drunk, too, unchallenged words on the tip of your tongue, your brain doing the bare minimum to stop them from coming out... but they’re not just words, they’re pleas.

Touch me.

Kiss me.

Fuck me.

Your eyes dart to Hopper. He’s not moved but his shirt is soaked, too, the hair on his chest, peeking out the top of the grey, flannel button down, damp. That hair... You stare at it. How far down does it go... What would it feel like if you ran your fingers through it...

Your pussy clenches around nothing and tears start to sting at your eyes.

Fuck, I need to be touched.

The words leave your mouth before you can stop them, thick with unshed tears. “Hop’, I feel awful.”

A muscle in his jaw moves. “It’s just a reaction to whatever it is—”

“Yeah, and what if it’s the kind of reaction he was talking about?”

Hopper finally looks at you, brow dipping. “You believe him?”

You hate the way he says it, all disbelieving, making you feel like you’re an idiot. 

“Yeah, I do. Why would he lie, especially about something like this? Yes, he’s a dick, but he’s not this much of a dick. He’s more likely to just rip into us and go on and on than make something up.”

“You can’t say that, you don’t know him.”

Brushed off. Again.

Your chin rises slightly, meeting a challenge you might be imagining. “I’ve known him long enough.”

His jaw moves as he arches an eyebrow. “Oh, you hang out all the time do you? You best pals, know everythin’ about him?”

“No, it just doesn’t seem like him—”

“Doesn’t seem like your good pal Murray? How would you know? You can’t just make assumptions like that, he is a—”

The words lash out of you. “Oh, just shut the fuck up, Hopper.”

He pauses, lips still parted, his own words dying on his tongue... until new ones return, his eyebrows raising as his head tilts. “... Excuse me?”

Anger feels good, it channels some of this increasingly restless energy swirling inside you. “Just shut up, you’ve been a real asshole all week, all month, all the time I’ve God damn known you, actually—”

“You didn’t think I was an asshole at the Christmas party.”

You freeze, staring at him.

Last year’s Station Christmas party.

Why did he bring that up.

Was he thinking about that.

You know he was thinking about that.

Because you’ve been thinking about it, too, minutes earlier, intently. It had suddenly come rushing back to you, his hands on your waist, your lips on his, tongues stroking at each other, the moaned sigh you’d released as he’d pressed against you.

You’d both been drunk, though, and lonely and alcohol makes you horny so you’d wanted him to kiss you and he’d spent the last hour before it looking like he’d wanted to, too, your eyes constantly finding each other, looking, really looking, and then you’d just bumped into each other as you’d come out of the bathroom, but it seemed like he’d almost been waiting for you and then you’d talked, no, you’d flirted, he liked your dress, you liked his comically festive tie, and you were both laughing, your hands somehow on each other, maybe to steady yourselves, and then you’d... then you’d kissed.

Neither of you had brought it up, ever, until now. You’d been so horribly hungover the next day that you hadn’t even remembered it until late in the evening and you’d felt so embarrassed. You’d fretted for the rest of the night, wondering if you’d ruined your friendship and a relationship that meant so much to you, but when you’d gone into work the following Monday he hadn’t said a thing, hadn’t even looked at you differently. You’d been so incredibly relieved, but it had come back to you every now and then; how good his lips had felt, how passionate the kiss was, how his hands had felt on you.

All this time you’d thought he had just forgotten it... and it appeared that wasn’t the case at all. 

Your already warm face becomes warmer.

“I was drunk.”

He’s got a fucking smug look on his face, like a fucking petty bastard.

“You kissed me.”

“I did not.”

“You did, you pulled me in.”

“Oh, just shut up, Hopper, it doesn’t matter or count anyway because we were drunk.”

“Doesn’t it?”

“No, it doesn’t.”

“I saw the way you were lookin’ at me—”

“Why does it matter so much to you?” you snap, staring at him.

He pauses, the smug look quickly fading. Then, he shrugs, the corners of his mouth turning down. “It doesn’t.”

“Good, shut up, then.”

Silence descends.

And you fucking hate it. At least while snapping at one another you don’t think about how your panties are now soaked and you just want to feel some fingers against your cunt and a cock deep inside you...

A strained groan slips from your lips.

“You okay?” he mumbles, and you blow out a harsh breath.

“No, I’m not, I just—”

Oh, fuck.

You were just about to say it. You were just about to ask him to fuck you. Rolling your neck, your breaths slightly shorter, ragged, you lick your dry lips again.

What the fuck do I do, I’m literally about to ask my boss, my friend, the absolute pain in my ass to fuck me so I don’t, possibly, die.

Then, it comes to you.

“... You just what—”

“Just need the bathroom,” you cut him off exasperatedly, every intonation of his voice prickling your skin, and not in an entirely unpleasant way.

“Jesus, fine,” he mutters, and you hope he doesn’t notice how quickly you turn your back to him as you stand, striding towards the wooden door to the bathroom.

Closing it firmly behind you and turning the lock, you step back from it, releasing a breath that has your shoulders relaxing minutely. You catch your reflection in the mirror to your left and release another breath at your expression; sweaty, tense, and, yes, there’s a trace of panic in your eyes.

Just do it. Do it then you’ll stop thinking about it and then it’ll be over and you’ll feel okay.

Your fingers, seemingly of their own accord, move to your jeans, fumbling with the button and zip. In your haste, the zip catches on the material and tears fill your eyes again.

Oh, come on, come on, come on, please...

You don’t realise you’re murmuring the words out loud, so fixated on what your fingers are doing. Finally after a moment or so you can shove them down, your panties with them, and then you’re spreading your legs as one hand braces against the door and the other slides between your pussy lips.

You can just about muffle the moan that falls from your mouth as your finger tips glide back and forth over your clit, your teeth sinking into your lower lip.

Oh, fuck...

It feels heavenly, unlike any pleasure you’ve felt before from a first touch. You’re dripping, too, so soaking wet that you can hear it as your fingers quicken their pace... but it’s not enough.

How is it not enough?

Tears are slipping out of the corners of your eyes as you grit your teeth, a need so desperate coursing through you that it’s painful.

What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck... Why isn’t it working?

You slip two fingers inside your pussy, hoping filling yourself even a little will help but... no. It just makes you crave a cock inside you even more, increasing the aching that’s running through your entire body.

Oh, please, come on—

Two gentle knocks sound against the door. You freeze again, mouth open as your fingers stay buried inside you.

A throat clears on the other side, and then Hopper speaks, voice slightly muffled.

“Hey, uh... I’m sorry for snappin’, and for my shitty attitude, I... I know I haven’t been the best to be around lately...”

His words just become sounds as a kind of white-noise, ringing starts in your head.

Oh, no, no, no... No...

Your cunt is throbbing. You can’t help but think about him murmuring those apologies in your ear as his cock thrusts slow and deep inside you, as he tells you he’ll make it all up to you, everything, that you feel so good around his cock and he wants to make you feel so good all the time...

As your hand drops and you straighten, you don’t think you have absolute control of your body anymore. 

And you don’t fucking care.

Unlocking and yanking the door open, you instantly meet Hopper’s gaze, watching him blink as he abruptly silences whatever he was saying.

“Woah, you okay?”

How is he so normal? Yes, he’s sweating, profusely, but that’s it, seemingly. What a sight you must look in comparison. You watch his gaze travel down you, settling on your jeans and panties that are around your knees. His eyes dart back up to yours, and you watch his slick throat bob as he swallows hard.

“What the hell you doin’.”

You can hear your own breathing, ragged, short. Staring at him, you don’t know if it’s sweat or tears running down your cheeks.

“Hop’, I need you to touch me.”

It’s as if you’ve just asked him to detonate a bomb. His eyes widening, his mouth moves but nothing comes out for quite a few moments.

“I... Hey, now, hang on—”

“Please.” At any other time you might have been embarrassed for sounding so tragically desperate. “I tried, I tried to touch myself and it didn’t work, I’m aching so bad, please—”

“Sweetheart—”

That nearly has your knees weakening, a faint sound emitting from the back of your throat. He swallows again at hearing it and runs a hand down his mouth, shaking his head.

“I mean—”

“Fuck, Hop’, please. Don’t you feel it, too? I feel like, my, my, my whole body is just in pain, it fucking hurts, Hop’.”

You don’t know whether he feels it, too, or he’s just pitying you, because confliction is rife across his face.

And then he takes a step back, and he might as well have punched you in the stomach with the gasped breath that releases from you.

No, no, no, no...

“Hop’...”

He takes another step back, unable to stop his gaze from flicking down to where your hands are pushing your jeans and panties down and off, your shoes with them, kicking them aside. Then, he looks away, so sharply and suddenly, his fingers flexing by his sides.

“I can’t.”

“Why.”

You can’t think of any reason that would be damn good enough right now.

Hopper can’t look at you as he shakes his head again. “It’s not right, you don’t want this, it’s just the flower—”

“I want this, I want you, Hop’, I need you...” You’ve stepped towards him, your hands on his chest, sliding over his damp shirt, fisting it in your hands. “... I need you inside me...”

His jaw is so tight, his whole body is, you can feel his muscles underneath your hands, and his breathing is harsher. He raises a hand, which you don’t notice is shaking until he places it on one of your forearms. You wait for him to try and pull it away, but he just grips it lightly.

“You... You don’t want me really, this, this isn’t right—”

“I do, I do...” Your chin lifts and your lips brush against his jaw, and you swear you hear him groan quietly. You cling onto it, even if it isn’t real, and the words tumble out of you. “... I’ve thought about you before, inside me, making me cum, I’ve fucked myself imagining it was you before, so many times, please, Hop’, I’m begging you...”

He must have groaned because now his head is tilted against yours, lips against your cheekbone. His thumb is brushing against your inner wrist, too, so lightly. You press against him... and feel it.

His cock straining against his jeans.

Maybe it’s not just you, then. The arm he isn’t gripping moves, your hand dropping to settle on his thigh, your fingers caressing.

“Please, Hop’...” you whisper.

You know he groans this time, his lips so close to your ear. You know he’s seconds from crumbling, too, his hips angling towards your hand, his hand sliding from your wrist to your bicep, head turning closer towards yours, lips inches away—

Then, he freezes, a breath hissing out through his teeth.

He doesn’t move away but, staring at him, you can see the confliction return and even some anger that washes over his features.

“Hop’—”

“This isn’t the way I wanted it to be.”

You pause, lips parted so your harsh breaths can escape audibly. He hadn’t wanted to say that. He’d hissed the words out, eyes unable to meet yours, in fact he’s now closed them; regret swirling inside him.

But you can only think about one thing right now. 

You’re shaking with relief and anticipation. “... You’ve thought about me, too, then.”

A statement, not a question.

His eyes open, finding yours. “Yeah.”

You relish every word you say. “Then fuck me like you’ve wanted to.”

Any last restraint he has crumbles.

And he must have be in just as much pain as you because it happens in mere seconds.

Hopper’s hand grips the back of your head, holding you close and tight against him as his lips crash against yours. A combination of a sob and a moan emits from the back of your throat as you grip at his shirt, desire burning through your veins. His other arm wraps around your lower back and part of your brain is grateful for his strong grip because then he’s suddenly turning you and walking you back towards the closest bed.

The backs of your legs knock against it and you fall back on the soft covers, and it’s like he didn’t let you go at all as he’s already on top of you, one arm by the side of your head, the hand of the other resting on your torso, fingers splayed. One leg is between yours to hold himself up and your brain is working so fast, trying to find any way to soothe what your body is crying out for, that it takes you a moment to initiate its plan. Shifting down, your back arching with the movement, you start to rock your bare cunt against his thigh. The moaned cry you release is swallowed by his mouth, but he gives a groan in return.

“Fuck...” he hisses, feeling how wet you are as you’ve already soaking through his jeans.

The material is rough but that just makes it more heavenly against your swollen, aching clit and folds. Gripping his biceps, your lips tear from his as you tip your head back with a loud moan, eyes closed tightly. It’s not enough but it still feels so fucking good.

It takes you a few moments to realise he’s pushed your shirt and bra up, and his lips instantly descend upon your hard nipples, kissing, licking, sucking, pulling with his teeth slightly.

Tears are sliding down your cheeks in relief and a smile is pulling at your lips because—

“Yes...” you gasp, fingers curling tightly into his hair, tugging at his scalp.

His hips jerk as you do, and his grunts tell you just how much he likes it. So you do it again, and again, and again... and realise he’s grinding his hips against your thigh, just like you’re doing to him.

“Fu-uck...” he growls against your chest, his mouth moving in a deliciously sloppy way up your skin to your neck.

You whine as he kisses you there, your head tipping back, teeth sinking into your lower lip.

It’s so, so fucking good... but it’s still not enough.

“Hop’, need more...”

“Shh, don’t worry, baby, I know...”

How can he string words together? You had just about managed to breathe yours out.

What delicious words they were, though.

You must have done something in response to them, bucked your hips a certain way or made a sound, you don’t quite know because your mind is starting to feel like liquid, because he’s suddenly smiling now.

A lazy, smug smile that makes you clench.

Gazing down at you, his hands splay across your waist, and he presses his thigh a little harder against your cunt, which has your back arching.

“You like when I call you baby, huh? When I talk to you?”

“Yeah…” is all you can so eloquently answer with.

“That’s good to know.”

How is he capable of this much talking? Does the pollen enhance sexual characteristics that are already there?

Whatever it does, you can’t think on it much further because the hand on your waist is now travelling down your stomach, and you’re about to complain at his thigh suddenly disappearing when they’re now replaced by his long fingers sliding over your cunt.

“Oh, fuck…” you gasp as he groans, your eyes falling shut.

“Jesus, baby, you’re so fuckin’ wet, you’re fuckin’ dripping…”

You don’t even bother trying to respond. Gripping at his shoulders, all you can do is moan as three of his fingers drag up and down your folds. When they move over your clit, you don’t know whether it’s a sob or a moan that falls from your open mouth. Either way, pure pleasure courses through you. Maybe at any other point you would have cum right there and then from how intense it is, but you need something inside you. Whatever is happening, that’s all you know.

“God, Hop’, please…”

“I know, baby…”

And as he says the words, he pushes two of his fingers inside you.

“Yes…” you cry, your hips pushing down so they slide all the way inside you, but if you’d been coherent enough to you would have bet he would have done so anyway.

“Jesus…” he hisses, tone strained, and he instantly starts to slip them in and out of you, sinking them in as far as he can each time. “… You’re so fuckin’ wet…”

He groans again when you clench down on his fingers, and it seems to break whatever kind of resolve he was still holding onto, however the hell he was holding on to it.

A pitiful whine of protest escapes you when his fingers pull out, and he just nods swiftly, strands of hair falling over his forehead as he rises up onto his knees.

“I know, sweetheart, I know, just let me… Fuck…”

Lifting your head, you watch him shift backwards until his boots can touch down on the ground, but it’s only a moment before he’s kneeling on the floor and then his hands are wrapping around your thighs, widening them, and then he’s lowering his head and then… and then…

Your mouth drops open wider as your hands dart to his hair, plunging in once again as his tongue licks a long, wide path up your folds.

“Just needed to fuckin’ taste you…” he mumbles against you, the vibration of his voice making you mewl.

If his hands weren’t keeping your thighs apart you would have wrapped them around his head. All you can do, though, is rock your hips and grind against his tongue. He growls with pleasure, and just as you inhale a breath to beg for more, he pushes three fingers inside of you.

Three.

Three of his thick, long fingers slide inside you with no resistance or pain at all, and you throw your head back with a loud cry as you clench around them.

“Fu-uck...” he groans, curling them a little, stroking inside you. “... Look how fuckin’ easy that was, huh... How fuckin’ easy are you gonna take my cock, baby? Huh? Is it gonna slide right in? Fill you all up on the first stroke?”

Again, at any other time, you would have cum right there and then, but... somehow it’s just not enough.

Gritting your teeth, because while it’s not enough, the pleasure is still so fucking good, you release a sound between a sob and a moan.

“Hop’... Fucking need more...”

“You want my cock in you, sweetheart, huh?”

“Please.”

He groans again, and then you hear it.

He’s stroking his cock in swift, firm movements, and you want to be doing that, you want to be touching him, tasting him, pleasuring him, and—

“Want you to cum on my tongue, wanna fuckin’ taste you,” he mumbles against your pussy, lapping at you again, and you have to take in a few ragged breaths before you can speak.

“... Can’t... Not enough... Need your cock...”

“Christ...” He exhales a breath that closely resembles another growl. “... Do you know what hearin’ those words does to me, huh? Oh, you’re gonna cum on my cock, baby, but I’ve fuckin’ dreamed about you cumming in my mouth so you know what you’re gonna do?” He lifts his head, and you open your half-lidded eyes to look at him. “... You’re gonna cum on my tongue.”

And lowering his head again, he sucks hard at your aching clit.

And maybe it is just enough, because your back is arching and you’re pulling at his hair and he’s having to tighten his grip on your thigh and tears of relief or maybe it’s beads of sweat are sliding down your cheeks because yes, yes, yes...

You don’t realise you’re chanting the word as your climax builds, and when it rolls through you, a blissful serenity follows it...

That lasts all of a few seconds before you’re squirming again, the throbbing in your core somehow sharper, more desperate.

Hopper, however, is sucking and licking at you still, lapping up your release as he moans, an arm moving to settle over your lower stomach. Opening your eyes, you gaze down at him and see his hand working over his cock still and you want to move and touch him but his arm is keeping you down and his tongue is continuing to move so deliciously against your cunt.

And then he’s releasing short, sharp groans, and his hips are jerking and his hand is starting to slow, and then he cums, and you can only watch as it trickles down his fingers.

No, no, no, you want to feel him cum, you want it inside you—

He lifts his head, licking his lips, and the hunger still burning in his eyes steals your breath away.

He rises, and you can only watch with ragged breaths as he kicks his boots away and pushes his trousers and boxers off. His dick is still hard, pressed flat against his stomach, tip red and weeping.

“You want my cock? You want my fuckin’ cock inside you...?” he’s murmuring, and your eyes dart up to meet his as you release a breath.

“God, fuck, yes, Hop’...”

“C’mere...” He’s suddenly on top of you, then, cupping the top of your head with his large hand as he props himself up on his elbow. It eases some more of the pain a little, having him crowd you, feeling his skin on yours, but you both know exactly what you need.

His eyes are boring down into yours, and your nails are digging into shoulders, and then, finally, you feel the tip of his cock against your cunt.

“Mhm, yeah, fuck, inside me...” you’re breathing, pleading, half out of your mind with need as you nod.

And then, without any more teasing or talking, his thick cock slides all the way inside you.

Your eyes squeeze shut as you cry out and your back arches. Pure pleasure and relief and bliss overwhelms you, and you haven’t even cum on him yet. In fact, he can’t move yet because you’re clenched so tightly around him, your slick walls gripping at him like your cunt doesn’t want him to ever leave.

His breaths are short, sharp, strained, and his hand has moved to rest under your head, a gesture that, at any other time, you would have recognised as tender.

“Oh, fuck, baby... Fuck... Feel every inch of my dick... You feel it, huh?”

Words aren’t possible anymore, so you can only nod, eyes still shut tight, and your breaths fall away into moans as he kisses at your neck, all of them sloppy, uncoordinated, needy, and you suddenly realise he’s murmuring to you.

“... Wanna fuckin’ move, wanna make you feel so fuckin’ good, wanna cum in your wet cunt and feel you cum on me, want you screamin’ my fuckin’ name...”

As if his words were the key, you unclench around him with a whine of desire, and, with a hiss, he instantly draws his hips back and then snaps them forward, sinking fully into you once again.

Fucking lighting zips through your body, you’ve never felt anything like it.

He must feel it, too, because he doesn’t stop for one moment, drawing all the way back and thrusting right back into you to the hilt, each time harder than the last and, distantly, you can hear the headboard smacking against the wall.

“... Good girl... Good fuckin’ girl...” he’s growling through gritted teeth, and you realise you are because you’re doing exactly as he wanted.

You’re shouting his name amongst your moans.

And not even just ‘Hop’ or ‘Hopper’; ‘Jim’ is falling from your lips, and each time he hears it his hips snap forward just that little bit harder.

“Yeah, baby, good fuckin’ girl... Good girl... Fuckin’ Christ... Can you hear how fuckin’ wet you are? Listen to how fuckin’ good you take my cock, baby... Take it... Fuck, take it...”

Nevermind listening, it’s how he feels inside you that’s making sparks skitter across your skin. He fills and stretches you perfectly, dragging and sliding against your sensitive walls deliciously each time. You’re not going to last much longer, the last coherent part of your mind knows, and it nearly makes you sob with both relief and dread.

You never want this fucking feeling to end, it’s all so good, so fucking good but you know it’s just going to feel even better when you cum, when you feel him cum.

Managing to open your eyes, you find his gaze still on you, flicking from your parted lips to your chest.

“... Cum...” you whisper, voice hoarse, and you have to swallow before you try again. “... Cum inside me, please... Want to feel you cum... Fill me with your cum...”

“Yeah?” His jaw is tight, eyes boring into your own again. “... Wanna feel my fuckin’ cum fillin’ you up, baby, huh? Want my fuckin’ cum leaking out of you?”

“Yes”, you chant over and over and over breathlessly, gaze fixed on his, unable to look away because his hips are stuttering in their rhythm, just slightly, but enough that you know.

He’s close.

“Cum, cum for me...” you start to plead now, “... Wanna feel you cum, cum inside me, Jim, please... I need it...”

“Yeah, you fuckin’ need it, baby?” he grunts, voice low, gravelling.

“Yeah, give it to me, please...”

“Take it, fuckin’ take it, take my cum...” He groans sharply then, mouth dropping open. “... Fuck...” His hand darts out from under your head and grips at the bedcovers, and with a few more thrusts, he then buries deep inside you and cums with a shout, eyes shut tight.

And euphoria spreads through you.

You feel his cum spill inside you, and the pleasure that courses through you from the sensation sends you spiralling into your own release. Gripping at his arms, nails digging in probably to the point of pain, you throw your head back and cry out.

It’s unlike any bliss you’ve ever felt before.

For a few moments you may even black out as it rolls through you in wave upon wave upon wave.

Hopper feels closer, as well, as if he’s collapsed slightly but just about managed to hold himself up in time. His lips are against your jaw, and you can feel his panted breaths, his lightly trembling frame.

Oh, you’re trembling, too, can hear it in your own breaths.

At least you can try and calm your heart rate, now, because it must be over, it has to be. It’s been done now, it’s...

It’s...

It’s...

It’s still there. That strange energy, whatever the hell it is. It’s not as intense now, but it’s there. Enough so that you lick your lips and gaze up at him, finger tips gliding down his arms.

“Hop’... I can still feel it.”

It’s a few moments before his eyes open, and when his gaze meets yours, and you realise he’s still hard inside you, you know before he speaks what he’s going to say.

“... Me, too.”

Neither of you speak, or move, just gaze at each other. Enough sense has returned that you take these few moments to breathe, but not enough that when those moments do start to stretch on... you just can’t help yourself.

Teeth sinking into your lower lip, you start to slowly roll your hips.

His eyes fall shut with a guttural groan, and your involuntary mewl answers him.

When his eyes then snap open, you also can’t help the smile that pulls at the corners of your mouth.

“You not satisfied yet?” he murmurs, voice dangerously low, and you shake your head as your tongue glides across your lips.

“Fuck me again, Jim.”

His thumb and forefinger are suddenly gripping your chin, and his lips hover over yours as he exhales a breath.

“It not enough that my cum is fillin’ you up? You need some fuckin’ more?”

“Yeah...” you breathe, trying to lift your chin higher so you can kiss him, but he holds firm.

“You want me to fuck you again, sweetheart?”

“Please, Jim...”

His lips brush against yours, and it’s the lightest of touches, but it’s enough to have you moaning as you rock your hips again.

“Please...”

“Well, seein’ as you’ve been a good fuckin’ girl...”

Pulling back, he rises up onto his knees, and pulls out of you. You mewl softly at feeling empty now, but you’re instantly distracted by his hands gripping your thighs, keeping them parted wide, and the fact his eyes are fixed on your cunt.

“Fuck... Your pussy looks so pretty with my cum spilling out of it...”

Fucking hell.

“Hop’, please, fuck me, I need you again, I need your cock—”

“I know, baby, I know.” Your words have his gaze tearing away and returning to your own, and he releases your thighs with a groan. “Turn over. On your stomach.”

You don’t need telling twice.

Except you have your own demand.

“Take your shirt off, I want to feel all of you.”

When his fingers fly to the buttons of it and start undoing them, then you roll over onto your front, resting your cheek against the covers.

You hear him toss it aside, and then his fingers are sliding down your back, over your ass and to your cunt. His fingertips caress your pussy lips lightly, gliding up and down, and your eyes fall shut at the gentle waves of pleasure that pulse through you. He’s toying with your mixed cum, gently pushing it back inside you and spreading it along your cunt.

“Jesus Christ...” he breathes, half in awe, half aroused.

Any other time you would have left him indulge himself for as long as he wanted, but the desperate need inside you is growing once more.

“Jim... Fuck me...”

You’ve only just finished pleading him, when his cock sinks inside you, this time in a slow, long thrust.

As your mouth drops open in a high moan, your fingers gripping onto the covers, he releases a long groan, eyes fixed on his dick disappearing inside you.

“Fuck, look at that...” His hands grip your ass, spreading you open wider. “... Take me so fuckin’ good... So fuckin’ good...”

Your eyes nearly roll back when you close them, as he starts to repeatedly give you slow, long thrusts, watching his own cock spread your soaked lips apart. You’re nearly delirious with pleasure, cunt pulsing around him, and when you feel him move, you can’t even open your eyes.

He settles over you, holding himself up on his forearm while his other hand slides under your neck and grips it gently, making you lift your head, tipping it back a little.

And now his lips are right against your ear.

“Fucking perfection... Like you were fuckin’ made for my cock, huh, sweetheart?”

You can only moan in reply as his thrusts speed up a little.

The position you’re now in somehow makes it feel more delicious than before, like his cock is somehow filling you even more. You now focus on the lewd sounds caused by how wet your pussy is, too, and it’s so lewd, so filthy and hot that it’s making your stomach clench.

You must clench around him again, too, because he inhales a ragged breath before speaking.

“You gonna cum for me again?”

“Yeah...” you breathe, mind starting to turn blank.

“Gonna cum on my hard cock? Soak it and the fuckin’ bed?”

“Please...”

It feels more intense this time, the mounting pleasure, and your fingers twist into the bed covers as you try and ground yourself. He’s murmuring into your ear still, hand on your throat still gentle.

“... what a good fuckin’ girl you are, taking my cock so good, gonna take my cum again, huh? How many times can I cum in this pretty little pussy, how many times can I fill you up until you’re satisfied, huh...”

It’s all too much, too good...

Your orgasm crashes over you.

Your brow dipping, your mouth dropping open, a scream is pulled from your throat, and the world goes dark.

—

Your eyes snap open.

Oh, fuck.

There’s a slight pounding in your head, the beginnings of a headache most likely from dehydration.

Annoying.

When did I last have a drink, though? Or eat? Must’ve been...

Oh.

It all comes flooding back to you.

That... That actually happened?

Releasing a soft groan, you lift a heavy hand to try and rub at your forehead—

Another hand catches it, and the space beside you dips slightly.

“Hey, hey, woah, you okay?”

Your gaze darts to the source, and you find Hopper sat there, concern etched across his features. You don’t have time to think about it or answer, though, as he swiftly releases your hand and a glass of water suddenly appears before you.

“Here, drink this.”

Sitting up a little, you drink deeply, your throat dry, raw, actually, and the entire contents is nearly gone when you finally lower it, gasping a breath in.

He takes the glass from you, placing it on the bedside table, and as you lick your lips and adjust against the pillows, he watches you, fingers rubbing against his mouth.

Clearing his throat after a few moments, he ask quietly, “You okay?”

Is it too soon to tell him that was probably the best fuck of your life?

Raising your eyebrows, a light smile pulls at your lips. “Yeah. A little sore, but...” Your smile fades as he looks down at his hands, his jaw moving. “... Oh, Hop’, I didn’t—”

He can’t look at you, his head shaking. “I am so... I’m so fucking sorry.”

“Hey, no, don’t be.” Leaning forward, you place your hand on his arm, hating that he stiffens. “We couldn’t control ourselves—”

“I could’ve, I could’ve held out longer, I could’ve locked myself in that fucking bathroom, I just...” He looks fucking devastated.

Shifting closer, you wrap your other hand around his arm, tightening your grip. “You shouldn’t be sorry. I mean it. I...” Well, it’s now or fucking never, and all things considered... “... I wanted it, Hop’. Even without that aphrodisiac thing. I wanted you. I have for a long time.”

Your face is burning and your heart is pounding but relief settles on your shoulders the moment you finish speaking.

His head turns towards you now, gaze darting to meet yours, searching it. “You... You’re not lyin’ to me?”

Your lips lifting again, you shake your head before murmuring, “No.”

Hopper exhales a breath, his hand setting over both of yours. “I’ve... Fuck, I’ve wanted you, too. Just... I imagined it going a little differently.”

You give a soft laugh as delight overwhelms you, and his thumb brushes against your skin. “Yeah, we really skipped the first date, didn’t we.”

“In the traditional sense.” He smiles as you laugh again, but it’s gone just as soon as it arrived. “... You sure you’re okay?”

You don’t care how foolish you look, with your tender smile, gaze openly filled with affection. Probably because his gaze is exactly the same.

“I am. Really. It’s a good sore.”

A corner of his mouth lifts. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Your teeth graze over your lower lip. “I wouldn’t mind getting used to it.”

“Oh, sweetheart, I’d hoped you’d say that...”

Cupping your cheek, he closes the gap between you and kisses you tenderly, the pad of his thumb brushing against your skin gently. It’s sweet, gentler than you had ever imagined him to be.

It’s perfect.

When his lips leave yours but he remains close, you smile again. “I guess we can give Murray a thorough review, then.”

He growls quietly as he brushes his nose against yours. “Don’t talk about that man right now...”

As he moves closer, laying you back on the bed, your arms slide around his neck and your smile widens.

“Yes, Chief.”

—

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#jim hopper x reader #chief hopper x reader #hopper x reader #chief jim hopper x reader #jim hopper #jim hopper smut #my writing #flamehairedwritings #just a goofy sexy time

[vanwritesfan-fiction]

Omg I have one what if reader accidentally calls jack by one of her guy friends name after she just went on a trip with her friends or something and he gets mad, hehehehe I love me some angst

Jack walked by the dining room on the way to his studio, focused on his phone. He stopped in the doorway, leaning in the threshold as he looked through the menu of a local restaurant.

You were elbow deep in a project that was quickly approaching its deadline, and to say you were stressed was an understatement.

"Babe, I'm gonna order dinner for us. Does Mexican food sound okay?" You were so engrossed in your work, you didn't hear him walk up or speak.

"Babe?" He called for your attention again. "Does Mexican food sound good?"

"Yes, sounds good Chris." You responded with an exasperated breath. Jack's brow furrowed. "Who the hell is Chris?"

"What?", you ran a hand across your face. "Oh, Chris is just some guy that I work with. Sorry, that was a slip of the tongue."

"This guys name has never come up before, and now you're calling your boyfriend his name. Doesn't sound like a fuckin' slip of the tongue to me." Jack knew he was being ridiculous, but the last couple of weeks had been really busy, and you had barely seen each other. He was using this opportunity to take some misguided frustrations out on you.

"What are you even talking about? It was an accident. I just got off a call with Chris, his name was just on my mind." You scoffed, turning back to your computer. "I don't have time for this right now."

Jack walked into the room, continuing to dig. "So this Chris guy, what's his deal? Is he married?"

"You better think twice about what you're accusing me of, Jackman."

"I'm not accusing you of anything. I'm just wondering who is this guy that you're spending all this time with. What do you really know about him?"

"You know what I do know about him? He's not a jealous asshole like my boyfriend. He doesn't question whether or not I'm cheating on him because I accidentally called him another guy's name one time."

"Maybe if you spent less time on work, and more time with your boyfriend, he wouldn't have to worry where your loyalties lie." Jack was yelling at this point, his face beat red as he tried to catch his breath. You were on the verge of tears, the lump in your throat building.

"Wow that is really rich coming from someone who missed his girlfriend's birthday because of work." You slammed your laptop shut. Jack opened his mouth to speak, but you stopped him with a hand up.

"Jack, I'm always very understanding of your busy schedule, the least you could do is respect my time as well. I know I'm not a famous rapper, but I am a person with her own goals and dreams that don't involve just being a rapper's girlfriend." You wiped a stray tear from your cheek, trying your best to hold in your cries until you were alone. You weren't going to give him the satisfaction of seeing you cry.

"Please, don't try to pretend this is the same thing. No matter how many women throw themselves at me, I never forget your name." Jack was grasping at straws at this point, he had already lost the argument.

"You know what? I don't have time for this." You quickly gathered your things, pushing past Jack on the way to the front door.

"Oh, and by the way, Jack. Chris is a 65 year old man, with a wife he's been with for over 40 years, two kids, and 5 grandkids. You jackass." You punctuated your sentence with a slam of the door, leaving Jack all alone in the mess he created.

#jack harlow #jackman thomas harlow #jackharlow #jack harlow x reader #jackman harlow #jack harlow concepts #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow fanfic #travis kelce imagine #jack harlow angst

[alloftheimaginesblog]

damaged goods {e.m}

plot: you and eddie have been seeing each other for a while but just as things are getting good, he self destructs and pulls away.

character: eddie munson x reader

As soon as you see his black van parked at the school, you're determined to hunt him down. He's clearly been avoiding you for the last two weeks and you want to know why. Was he not interested in you anymore? Did he want things to end? Was he going through something? You didn't know but you needed to; you couldn't just have nothing from him so you were going to do whatever it took, whether it meant missing classes or even skipping school completely, you'd do whatever it took to get to the bottom of this.

Things between you and Eddie had just been getting good, you were getting to the stage where you were hoping that he'd ask you to be his girlfriend and then he just... left. Whatever the reason, you needed to know. You liked Eddie, god you really liked him and that's why you were pissed. You wanted this so bad, you wanted him so bad and maybe he didn't want you and honestly, it hurt a lot more than you'd care to admit.

You didn't know where he'd be so you found someone who would. It didn't take long to find the rest of the Hellfire Club, they were tucked away inside their dedicated room ranting about the new campaign that they were starting. When you barged in, they immediately shut up.

"Where is he?"

They glanced around at each other, stammering and red in the face.

Rolling your eyes, you put your hand on Dustin's shoulder, "Dustin," your voice turned from hard to sticky sweet, "Can you tell me where he is?" Poor Henderson. He was clearly under instruction to not let you know his location but as soon as you fluttered your lashes he spluttered out that Eddie was in Mr Muchnik's class prepping for a test that he'd previously failed. You patted Dustin on the shoulder, "Thanks, kid," as Mike Wheeler hissed 'dude he's gonna kill you'.

On the walk to Muchnik's all you could think was that you hoped he didn't have a class first thing because you wanted this all sorted with Eddie, you didn't want to have a bunch of kids walk in on your - what you presumed would be - heated discussion.

When you walked in, Eddie was hunched over the table, scribbling things down, "Henderson, I told you not to bother me-"

"Munson!" The roar of your voice startles Eddie, making him jump and cower like a dog who's being scolded for chewing on the couch cushions.

Quickly, he jumps up, "I-I gotta go, sorry, really gotta run!" He excuses himself and tries to scuttle away.

"And you're just abandoning all your work, huh?" You ask, arms crossed over your chest. Eddie looks back to the mess he's left on the desk, the important mess on the desk, "You won't mind if I just tear it all up, would you?" Eddie's eyes narrow as he weighs up the situation in his mind. Would he really let you destroy his hard work just for the purpose of avoiding talking to you for even longer? Seriously?! "I just had to flirt with a goddamn twelve year old so you're going to fucking speak to me, Eds!" You hiss, annoyed and still slightly mortified with flirting with Dustin.

Eddie almost laughed, he would've had the tension not been too much, "Fuckin' Henderson man..." He mutters under his breath before realising that right now is not the time for jokes. He relents with a heavy sigh, "Okay, let's talk."

You're standing, arms crossing frowning at him. He's looking at you as though you're the one who needs to do some explaining and your patience wears thin, "Well?" It's harsher than you really intend it to be but Eddie doesn't flinch, instead he shrugs one shoulder, scratching the back of his head.

"I don't really know what to tell you."

You're fucking pissed and he knows it. It takes every ounce of self control to not rip him to shreds, "Start with why you've been avoiding me." Your voice is sticky sweet but with an edge; a knife dipped in honey.

His composure changes from that of being skittish to being... indifferent? "I'm damaged goods, sweetheart," he says, hands spread out in a 'what you gonna do about it' gesture, "what more can I say?"

"The fuck are you talking about?" You're angry, he sees it burning in your eyes and he doesn't blame you. He'd be angry too if you'd avoided him for two weeks with no sort of rhyme or reason. It's like he doesn't care, like it's fun to mess you about but the real reason is that he does care; so much, maybe even too much, "What does that mean?"

"Damaged goods," he repeats, voice more serious this time, "I'm broken, fucked in the head, a mess... Any of them work better for you?" He sounds bitter, annoyed at himself almost.

You roll your eyes, "I know what it means, Munson, I just want to know why that's reason enough for you to avoid me for two weeks when things were just getting good."

It's Eddie's turn to be confused, "Because I'm a mess. Why would you care about me? I'm not worth it so I decided for you."

You roll your eyes, "How about you let me decide what I can and can't handle? Eds..." At the sound of your nickname for him, his face softens and he suddenly can't look directly at you anymore. Shame burns in his stomach. Could you really care about him? Has his insecurities caused him to push you away? Your demeanour changes and all of your anger vanishes. You're not angry. Your heart aches for him in this moment. You reach out for him, he doesn't react, "I thought things were going really well, I stupidly thought that you were..." You trail off, shaking your head with a bitter laugh.

"That I was what?" Eddie presses quietly.

"That you were gonna make it official soon," you say with a shrug, "I don't care if you're broken or if you're a mess - have you met anyone who's not a bit of a mess or a little fucked?! I have issues too, Eds, I struggle as well. You just have to trust that I care about you because..." he finally raises his head to look at you, "I do. I do care about you."

He laughs humourlessly, "Why? Why do you even care about me? I'm a freak, no money, no friends, nothing."

"Because you're you, Eddie. You're funny, always making me laugh even when I'm mad or upset. You're so sweet. When we started this thing I didn't really see you as a sweet or caring guy but my god you are. You came and picked me up at 3am from Olivia's party, drunk as a skunk and then I puked in your van and you didn't care. You still called me pretty and helped me get home safe, didn't complain about the state of your van or anything. Spending time with you is so fun. Before we started hanging out, I don't remember when I'd had this much fun. Eds, you mean so much to me and I don't get why you don't see how fast and hard I'm falling for you!" The last part was a secret that you'd meant to kept locked up and as soon as you say it, you take a sharp intake of breath, "I-I- fuck."

Eddie smiles, a real smile that reaches his eyes and crinkles the corners, "You mean all of that?" He steps towards you.

Your cheeks burn hot, "Yeah, I do."

"All of it? You accept me for my flaws and all?"

Again, you agree.

"You promise?" He asks, "I'm giving you an out right now. If you're not sure, if you don't think this is a long term thing... get out while you still can because I want you and once I have you," he's standing right in front of you, chests centimetres from touching, "I'm never gonna let you go." His breath fans over your face and you find yourself closing the gap between the two of you.

"I'm all in," you whisper, eyes boring into his.

He grins but you barely get a chance to see it before his lips are on yours, warm and fast. It's not a long kiss, no those tend to happen in the back of his van, but it's enough for now.

He pulls back, pressing your foreheads together, murmuring an apology to you, "I'm sorry," he starts, "I- I got kinda in my head. Couldn't understand why someone like you would date someone like me." Instead of replying, you kiss him again. He tastes familiar - cigarettes and coffee.

"Oh," he says, pulling back, "we're totally in a relationship now by the way if you didn't know." He speaks quick before kissing you again. Your hands tangle in his hair as he backs you against the wall. You missed him; you missed this. You just hoped that you'd be able to prove to him that no matter what he was - damaged goods or not - then you'd be here to help repair the pieces.

#one shot #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #reader insert #stranger things #os #prompt #eddie #eddie x y/n #eddie x reader #stranger things imagine #stranger things fic #st #st imagine #imagine

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

from this prompt list (send me some if you'd like!) prompt #s 35, and 82

pairing: steddie | word count: 819 | rated: M (just in case!)

“Ah, fuck!” Eddie pants, finally letting go and dropping his weight into Steve’s capable hands.

Steve lets the other man catch his breath, running his hand up and down Eddie’s bicep in a soothing motion.

“You’re doing great, Eds, that was fucking perfect.”

Eddie looks up at him, mouth still hanging open though his breath is finally slowing.

“This is a one-time thing, you know.” Steve says.

“Fuck you.” Eddie heaves out, finally catching the last of his breath.

Steve chuckles at him, “Well, it is! I told you you’ve only got to try it once.” He moves his hand from Eddie’s bicep to pat the scraggly bun on top of his head sympathetically.

“Stop laughing at me, asshole.”

“I’m not! I’m not,” Steve laughs, “Well, okay, yes, I am–but!--it’s only ‘cause I love how irritated you get.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, “Shut up, Harrington, just pass me the fuckin’ weights.” 

Steve smiles as Eddie lays back onto the bench in a huff. “You think you’ll get up to 25s by the end of the month, or are you gonna stick with 20s all year?”

“If you keep making fun of me, I’m gonna bench the 5s. Now pass them over; I gotta get this done ASAP.”

“Oh do you now?” Steve asks, coaxing his boyfriend to sit back up so he can take the weights properly. 

Eddie takes the free weights and lays back down, holding them over his head for another set of presses. “Yeah, duh. The faster I’m done, the faster I get to see you do yours.”

“You got a thing for jocks or something, Munson?”

Eddie’s starting to huff again, finishing off rep seven of ten.

“You know I do, sweetheart.” he grits out, pressing out the last one; he sits up and drops the weights to rest on his knees. “Pretty boy muscleheads lifting 70 fucking pounds over their head at once really gets me going.”

Eddie’s not lying either, he’s been giving Steve the eyes the whole time they’ve been in this gym, and it’s NOT helping Steve’s concentration.

Steve does his warm-up jog on the treadmill? Eddie gives him the eyes.

Steve manages to do a full set of reps with 35s instead of 30s? Eddie gives him the eyes.

Steve loads up the leg press machine, eyes. Actually does leg presses, eyes.

Eddie sets the dumbbells on the floor and stands so Steve can take his place on the bench.

“You’re insatiable.” Steve gumbles, hefting his own weights (still 35lbs each!!) onto his legs so he can push them up properly with his knees and lay back for his presses.

“And I can’t wait for you to saiche me when we get home.” he says, relishing in the fact that he made Steve laugh in the middle of his last rep.

“Don’t do that, asshole! I coulda dropped this thing on my face!” 

They swap spots once more, Eddie finishing his last set on the bench, then Steve starts talking him through the next exercise.

“Okay Eds, you’re gonna stand up for this one. Make sure you’re standing straight, take one weight in your hands by one of the ends like this,” he cups one bell of the dumbbell in both his upturned palms, “and go behind your head with it, palms up.

“Then, all you have to do is push the weight up toward the ceiling and back. Got it?”

He demonstrates, both arms stretched up and bent at the elbow to let the weight hang from his hands behind his shoulders. The stretch causes Steve’s shirt to ride up, leaving a sliver of his soft stomach bared, the muscles at the back of Steve’s upper arms (He told Eddie the correct term for them before, as if he was going to remember that..) bunch and stretch with each movement…and Eddie immediately wants to climb him like a tree.

“Eds, you got that?” his boyfriend says, sounding slightly out of breath as he continues to press his weight above his head.

“Steve.” Eddie breathes out.

Steve keeps going, concentrating on his movements.

Eddie tries again, “Stevie, darling. Either you need to stop. Or we need to leave.” 

“What?” he stops, carefully moving the weight back to his front and putting down onto the bench beside them. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean.” How could he not? Does he not know how he looks right now??

Eddie feels his cheeks flush hotter as Steve searches his face, his eyes dropping down.

“Oh—oh yep, yep, okay, lemme just–” Steve wastes no time re-racking their weights and grabbing a spray bottle of disinfectant and paper towel to clean off the bench they were using.

“C’mon, lets go,” he says in a low voice as he pulls Eddie by the hand out the door to their car, “You’re lucky you’re cute,”

Eddie only grins, letting himself be towed along.

my husband gave me these numbers! so this is based on my own love for my husband and his strong arms and shoulders that make me 🥵 when i go to the gym with him lolol

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie ficlet #i hope the subtle twist at the beginning makes sense and also makes you laugh #st #stranger things #steve harrington x eddie munson #prompt drabble #noelle writes

[muldermuse]

this is kind of a ramble so bear with me:

thinking about sending two sinners!gator into an absolute tailspin when he shows up to your house to see everything in boxes and your clothes packed up in a few suitcases by the door

he’s like ????? WHAT IS GOING ON WHERE ARE YOU GOING???? and just casually saying “skipping town” and going to kiss him and he’s like ??????

i can only imagine the catharsis of telling him that “there’s nothing in fargo for me, most of the town hates me and the ones who don’t just wanna fuck me, you’re probably gonna marry glenda which will only make everyone hate me even more if they find out i’m the other woman. So I want to live somewhere else. I’m not happy here.” and he obv freaks out

and maybe you’re just going to stay at a friends house while your place gets painted, but maybe leaving was on your mind (it’s easier to sell a house with fresh paint👀), and maybe you wanted to see how serious he was about coming with you…but none of that is any of his business…

i’m usually not an angst girlie but i’m on my period and it’s probably a safer bet to be melodramatic and pick a fight with a fictional man than one i actually know 😭😭

ok this ask made me feral, i felt so ANGSTY writing it

thank u so much for sending it through angel <3

18+ only!! Angst below the cut!! Gator is mean and reader is maybe meaner. They're both terrible people. He calls her a whore, she calls him a lot of mean names. Mentions of smut but no actual smut.

Maybe, this is super far in the future for the two sinners fic or maybe it is not canon. who knows!!! not me!!!

You’re not sure how he found out. You’ve quietly handed your notice in at work and said goodbye to the few in this shitty town you care about. Jenson, Jax and Steve have been ghosted (but you know that they’d all come back with a simple ‘you up?’ text). You weren’t going to tell Gator you were leaving- he didn’t deserve a goodbye. You’d planned to go for 3 months as your place was going to get renovated in that time (you’d been saving up for years to make it more of a home). So, you thought that the months away would be an opportunity to become a new person. A better person. Someone who didn’t fuck pathetic Sheriffs. If anyone looked in; they’d think you were going forever. You’d decided that as soon as you left, you’d block Gator and when (or if) you returned, you’d avoid him like the plague.

The U-HAUL parked in your drive probably gave it away. Or when Glenda saw you filling up your truck and made a snide comment about what you were doing. Or maybe it was when you fucked him 2 days ago he made a passing comment about how empty your home looked. Since then, the entire hall area is covered in boxes filled with your possessions. You try not to let it depress you that your whole life has been packed up in a matter of days. You need a fresh start, you’re moving in with a friend a few towns over and you can be whoever you want to be for a few months. No one there has to know that you’ve been fucking a loser in a relationship for the best part of 2 years. You know it’s him as soon as he knocks on the door, no one knocks as loud as him and other people wait to be invited in. Gator lets himself in as you’re checking your backpack one final time.

“The fuck is all this shit?” He kicks a box that’s in his way and you’re thankful you don’t hear a shatter. “Saw the U-Haul and uh- Glenda saw you fillin’ up. Plannin’ a trip or somethin’?”. He tries to sound unbothered but you know him better than that.

You don’t look at him when you tell him, “Yeah, I’m leaving”. You tell yourself that it’s because you’re checking your backpack but really it’s because you can feel the adrenaline pumping through your veins and you’re trying to compose yourself before you lose your shit.

“The fuck did you jus’ fuckin’ say?”

“Sorry, I’ll say it slower because you’re a fuckin’ idiot. I am leaving”. You draw out the last three words and stare at him. You can hear your heart thumping in your ears as you try to read the expression on his face. It’s a mix of anger, confusion, and sadness. A soft kiss his pressed to his cheek as you walk into the dining room to check your toiletries box. That’s the only pleasantry you’ll exchange with him today- or maybe ever again.

His boots stomp behind you as he follows you in. “Well, where are you goin’?”

“I’ll tell you when I’m there, Gator. Now you can fuck off back to Glenda and play fuckin’ happy families for the rest of your life”.

“Well- why are you leavin’? You’ve never mentioned this before”. His voice breaks as he speaks, either a sign he’s getting choked up or he’s getting really angry.

You can feel the anger rattling in your chest and the sound of your heartbeat in your ears becomes overwhelming. “Why am I going? Gator, everyone in this town fuckin’ hates me or thinks that I’m a total whore because of your fuckin’ bitch of a girlfriend. Who- by the way, you’re goin’ to marry because you’re too fuckin’ chickenshit to upset your crazy daddy…” You slam your hands on the table and take a quick breath, “Gator- I fuckin’ hate it here, I’m miserable and I can’t do it any longer- it’s killin’ me”.

He’s stood opposite you and fuck, does he look mad. He doesn’t move for a minute but then shoves your boxes off the table and kicks them when they hit the floor. After a few seconds, he kicks them again with more force and slams his hands on the table.

“Yeah, real fuckin’ mature Gator, breaking my shit beca-“

“What about this? What about us?” His voice is more muted than you’ve ever heard it. His breath is shuddering gasps. You’re unsure why it enrages you.

You laugh cruelly, “What us? What the fuck are you talking about? Gator, you have a fuckin’ girlfriend who you’re going to marry.”

“Yeah but when has that stopped you- huh? You can’t put this all on me. You’re jus’ as bad as me.”

He moves to stand in front of you. The energy in the room is charged, usually, when it feels like this between the pair of you, it would end in some angry sex where you’re both trying to dominate the other person but you both know that isn’t going to happen today. 

“You’re movin’ away to be a fuckin’ whore somewhere else... or because you’re jealous of Glenda. She gets all of me and you jus’ get the fuckin’ scraps”. His smile is wicked and his eyes look darker than you’ve ever seen them.

You take a step closer to him, “I couldn’t think of anything fucking worse than havin’ all of you. You’re a pathetic fuckin’ daddy’s boy who’s never won anythin’ in his life”. You get close enough to whisper in his ear, “you’re a fuckin’ loser, Gator.”

You hate how much you want to fuck him in this moment and by the red bloom that’s creeping up his neck; you know he feels the same.

He leaves your home silently. He kicks another box on his way out and you finally hear a shatter. His tyres spin as his car races off your front lawn. 

You should block his number and know that that is the end of this awful affair. 

But you both know that it isn’t.

#gator tillman fanfic #gator tillman #gator tillman smut #gator tillman angst #gator tillman fic #gator x reader #gator tillman x fem!reader #gator tillman x reader #gator tillman x you #gator tillman x f!reader #fargofx #fargo s5 #fargo season 5 #fargo fx #fargo #fargoedit #joe keery x reader #joe keery smut #joe keery #joe keery angst #two sinners works

[ozarkthedog]

𝐔𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐒𝐤𝐢𝐧

summary: you and Tim have a strained relationship and it boils over at the scene of the crime.

warnings: Tim Rockford x Fem Reporter!Reader. hate/love fucking. pining. FILTH. rough wall sex. fingering. cream pie. THAT LEATHER HOLSTER - yeah, he makes you hold it while he fucks you. fluffy feels. no beta.

word count: 1.9k

author's note: this all happened so fast. I saw this image, almost fainted and then wrote this. enjoy!

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭  ♁  𝐎𝐳𝐳𝐢𝐞'𝐬 𝐋𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 

“You’ve got some nerve showing your face around here.” The handsome Detective in charge grits shooting daggers in your direction. You send him a sly grin as you lean against the doorframe of the enormous library and scene of the scandalous crime. 

“I read what you said about me. About my competency.” Tim seethes. “You think I’m in over my head. That I’ve got no fuckin-” He cuts himself off before his anger gets the best of him and takes a deep breath. 

You scan the massive shelves as you walk into the impressive room, dragging your fingers along the spines as Tim follows your every move. He’s raging beneath the surface. His leather holstered shoulders rise and fall heavily with each breath, all because of your article in the local paper. 

“Awe, did I strike a nerve?” You jab, showing off your pearly whites with a smug grin. You honestly didn’t think it’d matter to him but maybe you were on to something after all.

“So, have you found any clues then?” You ask, edging closer to the chalk outline of the recently deceased. Yellow tape cuts off your quest for a closer look, but you mentally note the markers around it.

“It’s time to go.” The burly detective grunts as he curls a hand around your upper arm and drags you across the room. 

“Come on, Tim.” You argue with a soft sigh. No matter how hard you tried to free yourself his hold wouldn’t budge. “I was only doing my job.”

He stops in his tracks and turns on his heel standing over you with a feral gaze. Your belly swells with hot arousal from being so close to the stoic man. His size overwhelms you as he squares off his shoulders turning him into a brick wall. The grip on your arm locks ever tighter leaving you no chance to run.

“Doing your job? Really?” His lips curl into a snarl. “Could’ve fooled me. I think you get off on ruining people’s lives.”

“Fuck you.” You bite, poking his white button up chest. “I am doing my job. I’m just as invested in this case as you. We all want to know what happened.”

His eyes soften for a moment as your anger crests. Remorse balances on his tongue when tears prick your eyes. The chaotic relationship you two danced around for the last few years always beguiled him. No one has ever gotten under his skin quite like you.  

You shove at his chest yearning to break free from the intense moment as bitterness laced with heavy desire consumes you. The throbbing between your legs has you close to whimpering and you can’t have him knowing the effect he’s had on you despite your long held affection for the older Detective.

He easily thwarts your escape by locking his free hand around your other arm and tugging you into his solid frame. “We’re not done yet. You can’t run from this.” 

You close your eyes and will the burning torture away as your breasts press against the crisp white linen of his shirt. Your hands inadvertently smooth over his strong chest before a gasp tears from your throat when your fingers brush the straps of his holster.

His brows quirk at your response from touching the leather. “Look at me.” Tim gently commands. You shake your head and bite your lip too afraid that’ll give your feelings away.

He gives your body a slight shake, showing off his strength. “Open those pretty eyes now or I’m bending you over the nearest object and spanking your ass until you’re screaming.”

A needy mewl slips from your tongue at his sinful threat and you finally open your eyes. 

“Thatta girl.” His wild, deep mocha eyes are tinged with slight softness as he slowly traces his thumb over your bottom lip. You purse your lips and kitten lick the pad making you both moan in unison. 

He tests the waters and slips the thick digit into your mouth. Your eyes flutter closed as you suck on his thumb with a purr and lave the salty skin. 

“All this time we could’ve been hate fucking. Such a waste.” He muses with a deep groan that makes your cunt clench. “You gonna be good and let me fuck my cock into that sweet pussy? Or are you gonna be a brat?”

The terse tone makes your cunt quiver and you moan unabashedly around his thumb like a writhing whore.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” His lips pull into a grin as he slips his thumb from your mouth only to shove your body into the nearest wall.

Air is forced from your lungs as your back hits the rich mahogany. You shudder along with the books on the shelves as he stalks toward you with ravenous energy. He smothers your lips and body with his own, pressing you cruelly into the hard wall. 

He licks into your mouth with hot, heavy swipes and his mustache tickles your lips leaving you a moaning, wanting mess. Teeth clash as each kiss deepens more than the last. Large hands descend your body and weighty palms drag over your breasts, shoving the thin material of your dress down and exposing your soft globes before giving each a rough grasp that sucks the air from your lungs. 

Tim smooths around the curve of your hips and settles his hold on your panty covered ass making you grind against his growing bulge.

He breaks the violent kiss with a heavy huff but smiles when you instinctively try to follow his lips. 

“Grab ahold, Sweetheart.” Tim nods toward his right shoulder with a smirk. 

Your brows pinch together in slight shame. He found one of your weaknesses. 

That damn holster. 

The man always looked good. Dressed to the nines in his suits. However, when he donned the shoulder holster without his suit coat all coherent thought went out the window. 

“Go on. I know you want to.” He chides. 

You teethe your bottom lip as you slide your fingers along the strap. The warm leather is butter soft under your fingers and it’s just like you imagined. Your belly swirls with nervous energy as you grab each strap and meet his frenzied stare.

“I’d hold on tight.”

A strong, nimble hand dives between your thighs and forces your legs apart. He rubs your panty covered core making your eyes roll back and grasp the holster hard. 

He tuts. “You’ve soaked through your panties. Naughty girl.”A finger hooks under the sticky material and pulls it to the side before he deftly teases your drenched folds. 

Tim watches your features twist from his torture, loving every single one of them as he learns what takes you apart. Your heart thumps against your ribs as he glides a heavy thumb over your swollen clit and elicits frantic mewls from your feverish form.

“Is that what you needed? Hmm?” His brows meet his hairline as he slightly mocks you but you couldn’t care less as the pleasure builds brighter and brighter. 

He presses two thick fingers into your searing heat and groans as your body widens around his digits. Your cunt drools as he thrusts his fingers steadily and smacks his palm into your aching clit. Your hands tug anxiously on the holster for support when he grazes that serene spot that always left you breathless.

“Shit-” A cavernous groan rises from his chest when he feels the pulse in your cunt quicken. He fights past your tight opening as your walls begin to shudder and clench down, ready to drown him in your arousal.

Just like hot coals doused in water, your orgasm is stamped out when he rips his fingers from your warmth. You want to cry as he leaves you a withering mess while he shoves his fingers in his mouth and tastes you for the first time. 

“You’re only coming on my cock.” A desperate groan rumbles from his throat as he tastes your sweet slick. His eyes flash a wolfish black when you mewl and grind your throbbing core against his own aching cock. 

“This what you want, Sweetheart?” In a flash, he unbuttons his slacks and pulls out his swollen, girthy cock that’s leaking from its bulbous tip.“You need my cock to fill you up? Keep you from being a brat and getting on my nerves?”

“Yes, please.” You whine and tug the holster bringing his lips to yours in a delirious kiss. He holds one of your legs around his hip and taps his meaty length against your shiny folds as he holds your panties to the side and smears his pre cum all over your puffy center making you hiss.    

He tips your chin with his slick stained fingers before curling it around the back of your neck forcing you to look at him. “I’m going to ruin you.”

Your head hits the back of the wall as he plunges his cock into your core in one long, unending thrust. He barely gives you time to breathe as he cants his hips and rapidly drives his length between your soaked folds. Your channel convulses with each brutal shove as he fucks you into the wall forcing you to the edge in record time.

 “That sweet pussy wants to cum. She’s practically drooling down my balls, she needs it so bad.” He taunts making your insides flip.

“Please, Tim! Please! I need-” You beg with tears in your eyes as your velvet walls flutter from the rough treatment as he opens you up with his cock.

“Shh. Shh. I’ve got you, Sweetheart.” He slips the hand from behind your neck under your other leg and easily lifts your shaking frame with his strong arms. He settles your ass in his large palms and pins you under him. The stretch is obscene as he shoves every inch of his length in your tight hole and his crown cruelly kisses your cervix. 

“Want to feel you come around me as I fill this cunt to the brim.” 

He nails you to the wall with heavy, pounding thrusts that drag sinfully along your channel. The unyielding movement rattles your bones making you fight to hold onto the sweaty leather still in your grasp. 

You can barely breathe as he wickedly grinds his pelvis into your clit forcing a strangled noise from your throat. He stokes the flames in your gut to rise and rise until you explode.

“Come on. That’s it. Let me feel you.” He commands, sinking his cock even deeper.

Your mouth goes slack as every muscle in your body tenses. Your shouts of bliss echo off the walls as you drag Tim over the edge. He grunts like an animal as your cunt spasms and locks around his girth and milks his balls. His heels leave the ground as he pumps you full, never leaving your warmth for a second as he fucks his seed into your cunt like it’s the last act he’ll ever do.

The tension that used to settle around the two of you like a heavy blanket is no longer. Tim gently cradles your face in his palm and kisses you so softly you’d think you were made of glass. Tenderness pours from his lips and drowns you in affection.

Your hands finally detach from his holster as he carefully sets you back on solid ground before tucking himself back into his slacks. 

You share a knowing look that things would be different now as he reaches for your hand and interlocks your fingers. 

He walks you over to the scene of the crime and points to the mantle above the fireplace. “See the candlestick? That’s the murder weapon. Happy now?”

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