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halfvalid · 8 months

Text

through the night

ABOUT

| 18+ | smut | explicit |

characters: live action!roronoa zoro | fem!reader

pairing: live action!roronoa zoro x fem!reader

word count: 4.2k

description: zoro comes to the reader's room during the night. sex ensues.

tags: smut, female reader, oral (receiving), fingering, vaginal sex, creampie, kissing (a lot of it), soft zoro, first time together, confessions (kinda), fluff, no use of "y/n", banter, pwp (lowkey).

author's note: consent is sexy and so is zoro

i have up to now only watched 2 episodes of OPLA and have never consumed any other type of one piece media. expect him to be ooc. also it's my first smut fic help

It was nighttime on the Going Merry, and the dull kiss of the setting horizon drifted lazily through the single window in your room. You were lying on your bed, leaning against the headboard as you flipped through a book you’d picked up the last time the ship had been docked. It wasn’t too interesting, but it was something to pass the time with, so you stifled a yawn and flipped to the next page.

There was a knock at your door, and you glanced up, watching as the shoddy metal hinges slowly creaked open. Zoro was standing in the doorway, his broad frame blocking out nearly all the light coming in from the hall. He was still dressed in his daywear, which reminded you that you needed to change—the loose shirt and trousers you wore were, although clean, nothing near sleepwear.

“Zoro?” you asked, watching as he started into the room. You clicked your tongue before he could step another foot inside, though— “If you’re going to come in, take your shoes off.”

Zoro scoffed but obeyed, pausing by the mouth of the room to slide his heavy boots off. He tread lightly to where you lay, climbing up to sit on the edge of the bed beside you. “What’s up?”

“Can’t sleep,” Zoro answered. You moved aside to allow him some more room, centering yourself on the bed. Zoro didn’t move, though.

You raised your eyebrows. “That’s possible?”

He looked unimpressed, propping his arms under his head and leaning back so his head was splayed against your thighs. His three matching earrings glinted in the light. “Luffy and Nami are being loud. Your room’s the farthest away.”

“Your elbow is digging into my gut,” you said, turning back towards your book. Zoro rolled his eyes, but readjusted his position, pulling his arms down to instead lay folded atop his stomach. “Are you just going to nap there?”

Zoro shrugged, and you had to stifle a giggle, the sensation vaguely ticklish. He’d never been a man of many words, so you lowered your book again and went back to reading. The light in the room was dim, though; after a few minutes, the glow from the light at your bedside no longer sufficed, and you were too tired to strain your eyes to squint at the page. You could, of course, just turn on the cabin lights—but Zoro was asleep by now, and you hadn’t even liked the book that much anyway.

You set it on your nightstand, gazing down at the slumbering man in your lap. Despite the glare he so often sported, Zoro looked near-angelic in his sleep, his face all smooth planes and straight lines. Those dark eyes of his were hidden like this, black lashes splayed across his cheeks as shadows emphasized the hollows of his bone structure.

He really was beautiful, an ever-comforting presence within the Straw Hats that your eyes had always strayed to. There was a certain kind of fondness you held for him that none of the other crew members could quite compare to, although if you voiced those thoughts Luffy would probably end up giving you a lighthearted scolding. You could already imagine the teasing from the other members of the crew—Usopp and Sanji particularly—making fun of your little crush, which is why you kept your lips firmly sealed. A secret was a secret, and this was yours to keep.

You finally tore your eyes away, focusing instead on getting out of the position you’d gotten stuck in. Somewhere in the back of your mind you liked the idea of Zoro sleeping in your lap, but the clothes you wore were getting increasingly uncomfortable. You carefully slipped out from under him, cradling his head so as to support him as you gently lowered him to the mattress. Thankfully, he didn’t rouse, and you slipped to the other side of the room to open up your wardrobe, satisfied knowing you weren’t disturbing him.

You made deft work, first brushing through your hair and rinsing your face with some clean water before focusing your attention on changing your clothes. You removed your trousers, instead donning a pair of shorts. You were halfway through peeling off your blouse to replace it with a softer, silk one, when Zoro coughed from behind you.

You froze, daring to glance behind you whilst still topless. Zoro had awoken, eyes having lost all trace of sleep as he slowly sat up, staring at your figure across the room. He coughed again as soon as your eyes met, dropping his gaze. “Sorry,” he said very carefully, voice hoarse and grating.

“No, it’s okay,” you managed out, but you were still frozen. Your thoughts were on the dark look that’d been in his eyes the split-second before he’d looked away—surprised but sharp, cutting like just his gaze could pierce through your soul. Gooseflesh had prickled up along your arms.

“I’ll just… go,” Zoro muttered, already having gotten up as he started shuffling towards the door. You jolted into action, nearly dropping the shirt still in your hands as you turned towards him.

“No, you can—” your words softened, seeing his gaze flicker rapidly around your figure before finally landing on some spot by your cheek. “You can stay.” You paused, hoping your words weren’t too direct. “If you want.”

“You should put your shirt on,” Zoro said, almost choking on his words, like they were too big to fit in his mouth.

Your gaze dropped down before a steady blush started climbing up the sides of your face. “Right,” you started, but it was like you’d lost control of your hands. The shirt still hung limply from your grip.

“Or you could…” Zoro paused, lips parted as he sucked in a soft breath. Carefully, he moved back towards your bed, the only sound in the room a soft thump as he sat back on it. “Not.”

You swallowed. You could barely feel the lax of grip as your fingers released the shirt, letting it fall to the floor in one pathetic heap. You took a tentative step towards Zoro, and then another, until you were right in front of him. The soft night breeze through the window caused chills to erupt down your spine. Or maybe that was Zoro’s expression—nearly studious in his attentivity, eyes grazing across your chest and torso like he was taking in information for a new, particularly high-paying bounty.

“Zoro,” you started. He finally glanced up at your face, and you shuddered, biting down hard on your tongue. “I, um—hi.”

“Hey,” he said carefully, like he was testing the word on his tongue. Your gaze flickered down to his lips. He seemed to notice, but he didn’t say anything; rather, he raised one of his hands, pressing it against your side until his fingers tightened against your waist, a present, ever-pulsing rush of warmth. “I think my chest is bigger than yours.”

You flushed, a quick rush of crimson gracing your cheeks as you turned away. Zoro’s grip on your waist tightened, and a low laugh escaped the bottom of his throat. “That was mean,” you whined. Zoro’s other hand came up to your face, fingers pressing against the underside of your chin. He carefully angled your face down, so you couldn’t look anywhere but straight at him.

“It worked to calm you down, though,” he said easily. You were about to protest against the fact that you had been calm in the first place, but then Zoro was kissing you.

Zoro was a lot less aggressive than you’d originally expected, but as you sunk deeper into the kiss, it started to make sense. Zoro was all clean lines when he fought, practiced and perfect—no space for sloppy lines or scribbles. The way he kissed was similar; he applied pressure, but not too much pressure, and his thumb traced firm circles into the skin of your waist.

He angled your head with the hand firmly propped against your jaw, so you didn’t have to do a lot of the work—just press against his lips and move against the gentle rhythm he’d set. His teeth scraped carefully against your lower lip, and he tugged, letting a soft gasp out from your throat.

Zoro took the opportunity to pry your lips apart with his tongue, the fingers splayed against your chin coaxing your jaw open until he could slide his tongue against yours. You let out a soft whimper, hands scrambling to his shoulders and running along the muscles of his back. Of course you’d known he was well-built, but the firmness of his body forced another squeak out of you—one he was more than willing to swallow up.

Eventually, Zoro’s hand dropped from your jaw, skimming along your body line before coming to rest on the underside of one of your breasts. You gasped as he started to massage the skin with his thumb, accidentally biting down on his lower lip in the process. He groaned, the sound low as his rhythm sped up, the hand cupping your waist dropping down to your hip.

And then he was hoisting you up and onto his lap. “Oh my God,” you muttered, causing him to break away, eyes glinting with amusement.

“What?”

A heady rush had blossomed along your cheeks again. “Nothing. You.” Somewhere in the back of your head, you wondered how strong Zoro had to be to lift you off the ground so easily with only one arm—granted, it hadn’t been that far of a lift, but still. “Kiss me again.”

Zoro laughed but obeyed, his hand still working at your breast as the other dropped to your thigh. Your fingers interlaced with his short hair, tangling within the moss-green locks as his tongue ran along the ivories of your teeth. His teeth scraped against your lip as he moved away, lips instead following the line of your jaw and moving down to your neck.

You dropped your arm from his hair, hand pressing flat against his upper back. Zoro’s muscles flexed as he chased down your throat, and you sighed as he pressed gentle kisses along the line of your vein.

“Been—wanting to do this for a while,” Zoro panted between kisses, placing a final one kiss at the junction of your collarbone before glancing tentatively back up at you. You met his mouth in another kiss, a smile you hadn’t felt rising bright along your cheekbones.

“Me too,” you whispered, and a look of relief flashed across his face before he was ducking his head again to press more kisses along your neck. You let out a laugh—you could feel the rumble of his lips against the sound as it left your throat. Carefully, you ran your finger along his earrings, soft clinks filling the room at the action. “What was that? Did you think I didn’t?”

“Dunno,” Zoro muttered, and you laughed again before he nipped at your skin, teeth scratching in a gentle bite. At your chest, his hand squeezed your nipple, and you gasped.

“That was mean.”

“Mhm.” Zoro didn’t seem appeased, his kisses turning sloppier—open-mouthed, full of bite. He never pressed down hard enough to hurt, but your mouth was full of soft gasps and whines, and your hand had come down to clench against his bicep. God, his arms. “I don’t hear you complaining.”

You nudged him, meaning only for it to be a slight press. But Zoro let the action guide him, falling onto his back with you pressed against him, flat against the bed. He stilled, both hands dropping to your hips as he gaze lifted to drink you in.

You were certain you were a mess—blushing, lips probably swollen, bruise blossoms that would purple by morning scattered all along your neck. But the way he looked at you made it seem like you were all dolled up—like you were outfitted in a flowing gown, eyes sparkling and hair perfect instead of the mess it most undoubtedly was.

“You’re pretty,” he murmured, almost too quiet to hear. Actually, you were certain you weren’t supposed to hear it, because before you could respond, he was pulling you across him, fluidly rolling you onto your back. His forearm pressed against the mattress beside your head, caging you in. Zoro seemed to like this angle, moving down your neck to your chest with more gentle kisses.

You were content to let him take what he wanted, eyes not moving from his face as you watched his lips brush over your breast. His tongue was hot against your skin, and you sucked in a tight breath as he swirled it along your nipple. Zoro steadied you with a firm grasp, hand pressing against your side before pushing up to attend to the breast that his mouth wasn’t. You squirmed, a soft pool of warmth sitting in your lower belly as he worked. A tight knot had formed somewhere inside, and you let out a breathy gasp.

Zoro’s gaze traced lower, hand leaving your breast in favor of skidding down your figure to rest at the hand of your shorts. He paused, eyes flickering upwards to meet yours. Hastily, you nodded, and his fingers dipped below the cloth, head lowering to press another kiss by your hip bone. Your hands clenched against the bed sheets as his fingers skimmed the rim of your shorts, coaxing them down inch by inch before they finally slid down to your knees. You kicked them off insistently, and Zoro laughed, one hand coming to stroke your thigh as if to make you stop moving.

Even though you’d partly expected it, you hadn’t been ready for the soft kiss he pressed against your inner thigh. His hand hooked around the side of your panties, dragging them down as he kissed up your skin, and you took in a sharp breath that he wholly and entirely ignored. His movements became more insistent as you squirmed, open-mouth and biting, tongue darting out from between his lips to languidly swipe up your thigh. Finally he reached the junction of your thigh and core, mouth pressing a feather-light kiss that dragged an entirely shameful sound out from your throat.

Zoro pushed your panties all the way off your hips, letting them sit by your knees even as you squirmed to kick them off. “Shh,” he murmured, and you stopped, heart pounding as the sound sunk deep into your bloodstream. The tight knot in your lower belly had only grown tighter, and your breath caught in your throat as you watched Zoro, his eyes flickering all around your exposed core.

He ran a finger along the side of your slit, and you shuddered, watching as he experimentally traced it across your folds. He lowered his head to your hips, pressing a kiss onto your clit. You were barely able to suppress the buck of your hips as Zoro’s hand came to rest on your thigh, pinning you down as his other hand worked along your core.

His finger found your vagina, carefully sinking between your folds as his tongue worked languid circles around your clit. You let out a moan, voice stuttering against your throat as his finger slipped deeper inside you. It only took him a few moments to push another one in, the soft scrape of his cut fingernails eliciting sparks that drew another breathy moan out of you.

“Isn’t it a little—unfair that I’m the only one not wearing anything?” you managed out between breaths, and Zoro stopped his motions, head lifting and eyes glancing up at you from under his lashes. One of his eyebrows arched in question, and his lips were glossy with your fluids, causing your core to squeeze around his fingers. Somehow, he didn’t even seem to notice the motion.

“Oh, that’s what you want to focus on right now?” he murmured, all low and throaty. He always spoke low-pitched, vocal chords all brash and grating from the back of his throat, but his voice hummed even deeper now, although that didn’t seem humanly possible. Your muscles clenched again, and Zoro’s gaze dipped down to where his fingers were still pushed inside of you. He fluidly pressed in deeper, fingers curling inside your body before pulling out and working back in. Your retort was lost as you moaned again, the tight feeling of your gut slowly unwinding as he moved back and forth inside of you.

His mouth lowered to lick at your clit again, and you cried out, barely suppressing a scream as his fingers dug, more insistent, inside of you. He pressed one final kiss against your clit, and then sat back, eyes fixed on working at your core instead. His fingers pumped in and out, steady and fluid. Your breaths came out breathy and broken, climbing closer and closer to your climax until he finally reached the summit inside of you.

“Come,” Zoro whispered, the hand not taking care of you running reassuringly along your thigh. You came suddenly, hips stuttering from where’d they’d lifted off the mattress, a cry ripping out of your throat. Zoro slowly slipped his fingers out of you, rubbing soothing circles into your inner thigh as you ran out your climax. Your breaths evened out, becoming less deep, less frantic; Zoro watched all the while, a glossy shine over his eyes and the faintest of smiles pressed along his lips.

You tilted your gaze down to his face, catching him just as he started to move again. The fingers drenched in your fluids came up to his mouth, and he licked them clean. Your stomach dropped, somehow already turning you on despite having come just mere seconds beforehand.

“My turn,” Zoro said softly, sitting up to start unbuttoning his shirt. You hoisted yourself up, hands skimming along the sheets beside him, uncertain of whether he wanted you to touch. You glimpsed a stiff tent in his pants as he sat up, and swallowed hard, eyeing the pull with apprehension.

“Do you want me to—” you tried gesturing down to his hips, but he caught your hand swiftly, pressing it against the buttons of his shirt. “What do you want?”

“Sex,” Zoro said. Nothing else. You held back the choke that dared to escape your throat, and a sheepish grin crossed his face. It was lopsided, nearly a smirk, if not for the genuine warmth glimmering at his eyes. “Sorry. That was vague.”

“It’s okay,” you assured, stifling a laugh. Your hands worked fastidiously at his buttons. It took far longer than you felt it should’ve, fingers all clumsy as you tugged them through their holes, unlooping them from where it fixed the cloth together. Soon enough, though, Zoro was stripping the last of the fabric off, tossing it carelessly across the room before pulling you into another kiss.

He was sloppier now that you’d come, more comfortable in his element—you could taste the tang of yourself on his lips, and you let out a sigh, hands moving down his figure to work at his belt. He had to stop kissing you to tug at his pants, pushing them down his legs before finally kicking them off fully.

You ducked your head to press a kiss at his navel, eyes tracing the length that jutted out from his hips. Your breath caught, gaze fixed to a pale vein running up the line of his length. “Up,” Zoro murmured, and you glanced up. Zoro pressed a long kiss to your mouth, one hand skimming around your butt to pull you up by the headboard. He ran a hand over your core, as if to ascertain you were relaxed enough for him.

“Do you have anything for it?” he murmured, lips sending chills down your back as he pressed a soft kiss at your jaw.

“I’m on the pill, yeah,” you huffed out, arms winding around his torso. Zoro hummed his response, fingers running up and down your thigh as he adjusted, hips sliding against yours to meet your core.

You sucked in a breath, but he was gentle with it, pushing in slowly, hand running along your lower back and coaxing you still. The sensation sparked tingles all over your body; up your spine, along your hips, down your legs like Zoro was electricity himself. You let out a little sigh as he pushed up to his hilt into you, hips stuttering against his as you both paused for breath. He brushed a ghost of a kiss along your lips. “Okay?” Zoro murmured.

“Perfect,” you answered, arms clutching tighter around him, fingers digging into his back. You hoped it wasn’t too sharp, but considering how big Zoro was, it was likely he barely felt the pressure—the crescents of your fingernails were probably just pinpricks to him.

Zoro started moving, then, his actions soft and fluid at first, fingers pressing reassuring circles into your waist and hips. He was nearly tender with it, motions languid and slow, like he had all the time in the world. Your breaths came out easy, soft and just barely edging towards gasps.

He started thrusting with more insistence soon, though; Zoro’s hips bucked against yours, and your grip tightened along his shoulder blades as he pushed in and out of you. Soft gasps and whines left your throat, in stark contrast to the heavy groans and grunts that barely stuttered past Zoro’s lips.

“Like that,” you said, barely able to let out words of encouragement as he hit your sweet spot, buried deep inside of you. You let out a throaty moan as he moved faster and faster, thrusts becoming harder and more aggressive. You knocked your head back, one of your hands reaching to grab Zoro’s from where it propped him up by your head. He welcomed the invitation quickly, fingers interlacing with yours, coaxing your palm open into a kiss of your hands. His thrusts worked harder than ever, and you stopped chasing the friction, letting your hips buck up against his as he shoved into you.

A low groan erupted from his throat as he hit your spot again, mouth coming down to bite into your shoulder as he suppressed the cry that tore from his mouth. You swallowed, gasping hard for breath as you felt him come inside you, your walls clenching tight around him before you also felt the familiar burst of pressure. You let out a gasping moan, mind buzzing with sparks and tingles. Vaguely, you felt Zoro’s hand against your hip, moving up and down in calming strokes.

It took a moment for you both to recover, coming down from the blissful high after long seconds ticked by. Zoro removed his mouth from your shoulder, carefully prying his jaw off from your skin. He scrutinized the marks he’d left—crescents of teeth, undoubtedly—before lowering his head again to press an apologetic kiss to the bite. You laughed in surprise.

“I can be a gentleman,” Zoro protested lightly, though his words didn’t hold much of a fight as he carefully slid out of you. He did it slowly, inch by inch, leaving a hollow sensation in his wake when he eventually parted from you. “You okay?”

“Lovely,” you answered honestly, eyes grazing up his chest before meeting his. “You?”

“I’m good,” Zoro answered, a vague smile on his lips. It was soft, tender; maybe not as big as ones you’d seen when he was laughing with the crew, but special nonetheless. He studied you for a moment, and you took the opportunity to trace his face with your eyes. His pupils were blown, slowly receding back into small dots of shadow, and his lips were kissed red, swollen over and glossy with your saliva. “Want me to draw a bath?”

“No,” you said, content just to watch him like this. “We can clean up in the morning, it’s getting late.” You hesitated, suddenly uncertain, teeth tugging at your lower lip. “Unless… you want to go?”

Zoro snorted. “No, I think I like it here,” he decided. He sat up, reaching to pull the blankets over your figure so the gooseflesh you hadn’t even noticed on your skin would subside. “Too tired to move, anyway. Might stay here forever.”

“Dramatic ass,” you mumbled, wrapping a hand around his wrist and tugging him closer to you. Zoro obeyed, sliding beside you, one arm moving to wrap around your waist. “Go to sleep, you big dummy.”

Zoro’s breath was light against the shell of your ear. “That was unwarranted.”

“Sleep,” you insisted, and Zoro huffed, reaching the arm that wasn’t around you to the nightstand. He flicked the lantern off, then turned back towards you, finally settling down. His lips pressed a soft kiss along your shoulder, and you smiled, your hand reaching down to meet where his was splayed along your belly.

“Good night,” you whispered.

“Night,” he mumbled back, the end of the word tapering off into a soft, tired breath. You could feel his chest move, up and down in a steady, soft rhythm. You buried your head into the crook of his arm, letting out a contented sigh before finally closing your eyes to drift off to sleep.

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wintersera · 7 months

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sick and twisted || stepsibling g!p winrina x virgin!freader

notes: making a comeback. sorry anon for the long ass delay, but i also merged it with another ask bc i thought it would work well together. do NAWT ask why i took so long- i was going thru it 😭😭

cw: porn with plot, stepcest/pseudo incest, noncon -> dubcon, g!p dom winrina, virgin!reader, corruption, use of cuffs, oral (giving), blackmail, biting/marking, creampie, gagging, degredation, slapping, family issues, arguments, mentions of divorce.

wc 3.9k

if you told jimin and minjeong that they would have another step-sibling in their life they would scoff at you, then laugh and say that’s not possible… then scoff in your face again.

yet here they were moving into another house their father bought for you and your mother.

isn’t that fun?

jimin, the actual biological child, was born and raised with a hot headed mother and poor excuse of a father. living with the two was hell for her, dealing with her mothers bull shittery almost every damn day.. and the absence of her father always led to her mother lashing out at her and never him. longer down the line of their shitty marriage, the father decided to pull the trigger and divorce her for good. maybe it was money issues? maybe it was something else? jimin didnt like to pry and she was glad she left it like that.

minjeong was the child of a broke, whorish and shitty woman. the marriage between jimin's father and minjeong’s mother actually lasted quite a while… to their surprise. who knew another horrid woman in this rich fuck of a man’s life would actually do some good to the both of them.

they ended up acting like they knew each other from day one- like i kid you not, they were inseparable. even after the divorce of their father and mother they still stayed together, obviously choosing their dad because god that man was rich as hell and they knew that they could use some privilege from it. not only that, but for some reason their dad loosened up a little, he actually became a much better person and worked on his self improvement, unlike minjeong’s mother who stayed a cheating BITCH … no wonder why their father divorced her sorry ass.

but beside the point. jimin, minjeong and their father arrived at the new mansion. somewhere secluded and somewhere breathtaking- only because your step father really thought your mother was the one and only woman for him.

jiminjeong, without prior notice to their fathers new found wife, and no knowledge of the womans daughter, were left shocked when they saw the two of you enter through the mansion’s doors.

your first impressions weren’t good at all… your mother looked and acted like- guess what?!! a bitch… and you? you seemed pretty decent at first, so jimin and minjeong didn’t really care. yeah, unfortunately they didn’t click with you, but they thought that they should give it some time. you were unfamiliar with the new environment and they knew it would cause crazy anxiety.

—

a couple months into the family and you and your mother finally started to act comfortably around the rest. it didn’t take long for you mother to start acting up though- frankly she opened up too much, as in, she started to become more and more of an asshole as the months went by. at first it started as simple requests from your step father. she would go around the house demanding him to buy this and that. her ego grew… and when i say grew, it inflated actually. nothing could stop her from being a prick, and unfortunately she influenced you to act like the same way.

she had a plan- she really didn’t love your step father. instead she was really just into it for the money. and of course, you knew that plan from the beginning. as much as you didn’t like your mother, the plan wasn’t half bad- deciding to stay with her was the right choice, well you thought so anyways. anything for money i guess.

the workload he had stressed your step father out so much and your mothers constant requests for money really didn’t help. berating him almost every day, sometimes she would go so far to the point of him having to lock himself in his office just so he could avoid her.

only 6 months of living together and she’s already driving him crazy? jimin and minjeong looked at each other in disbelief, surely you wouldn’t join in on the disruptive behaviour… right?

oh they were so wrong.

YOU-

you wanted the plan to go well too… you needed that cash. fuck your mother and everything, that cash meant more than your strained bond. you wanted it for yourself, so now it was your turn to fuck around and be a dick head.

doing everything in your power to get money from your step father, like your mother did. it started out all simple and sweet.. you know like casually asking for allowance, and since he was rich as fuck, allowance was usually something around 2k per ask. racking up the money somewhere in your room for yourself, you didn’t realise jimin and minjeong were staring at you through the crack of the door.

jimin carefully lowered herself to minjeong’s height, making sure you wouldn’t be able to hear an utter from her. whispering in her ear “what a waste… she’s pretty but she’s a money stealing prick”

somehow minjeong was calm about it, thinking you were just stashing it up because she knew you were previously broke. she’s been in that same situation, showing some sort of empathy towards you “i mean.. she hasn’t done any bad yet… well i hope she never does actually. i hope she’s not like her mom”

jimin scoffs “i doubt that”

the sound of something dropping on the floor caught their attention, you’d dropped a bag of some sort. their hearts beating out of their chests thinking that you had caught them watching you. thankfully you didn’t, uttering under a few curses under your breath and nothing else. sighing in relief, they had back to their respective rooms and called it a day.

that was until they heard you shouting downstairs after a couple of hours.

“fuck you mean you can’t give me any more money. aren’t you supposed to be my dad? you know, someone who cares for their children and shit”

jimin woke up first, creeping into minjeongs room and shaking her awake “…mmm… huh? what’s up”

“don’t be surprised, but i think y/n is arguing with our dad… told you she was like her mom”

sneaking their way downstairs, tiptoeing so they wouldn’t be heard. they notice their dad hunched over in the couch, his hands covering his face in.. anger? or sadness. they couldn’t tell.

“GOD- fuck you’re such a shit step dad… you know what fuck you” the step father being on the verge of tears, the way he balled up his fists, the way his face was red hot and the way he was biting down hard on his lip, you knew it was was working and you knew you were such a shit person for it, you were growing heated too- for some reason. mothers genetics you could say.

“you couldn’t keep your first wife, and you couldn’t keep your second wife?! and now you’re going to lose your third all because you can’t provide for your family like the good man you are.” you laughed in his face and clicked your tongue “ahhh it all makes sense now. you're a miserable excuse of a father and a poor excuse of a husband. you’re rich as hell i dont know why you can’t give me anymore money…”

“i-i.. i’m trying my best you know y/n” voice cracking “i’m doing my best to keep the family together… i just want us to be happy”

“yeah well you’re not doing a good job now are you? hell, you’re also a shitty example of a man too. go ahead and write those divorce papers. i’m sick of your shit”

with that, you walked back upstairs, jimin and minjeong running back up trying not to get caught.

you’d struck a nerve in them, witnessing you berate their dad knowing that he’s a changed man, made them vexed. jimin had been peering at your face, an obvious crease in her forehead and in between her brows made it obvious that she was planning something sick. minjeong had a cold and blank scowl.

they both gave each other knowing looks, a smirk on both of their faces… whatever they had in mind was not morally right, but they couldn’t care less.

—

sleeping soundly after the whole argument, glad that you could possibly get something out of it by the time you woke up, you failed to hear the sound of your lock being picked open.

jimin creeped towards your bed, gritting her teeth as she tried her very best not to punch you in the face. utter disgust was the one thing she was feeling, looking at you made her grimace. she found you pretty at first glance but after she witnessed you tear down her dad, her vision was shattered. even if she wanted to beat you up, she couldn’t, she wanted to defile you first. with shaky hands, she lifted the thick bed sheets off of your body, carefully stripped you out of your clothes and gazed at your naked body. she lightly slapped her cheek, you looked good bare but she didn’t let that take over her… yet.

she hooked your wrist onto the bed frame. the cold icy feeling of the cuffs latching onto your left wrist made you stir in your sleep, yet it wasn’t enough to wake you up from your deep slumber.

minjeong had the job of writing on you. depriving your humanity by writing objectifying words on your bare stomach. words such as ‘slut’, ‘filthy whore’, ‘gold digger’, were written across your stomach, thighs and legs. if it wasn’t humiliating enough, she took pics just for safe measures. it was horrible, yes she knew that.

she thought how genius it would be to draw an arrow on your lower abdomen pointing down towards your pussy, the words above saying ‘use here’. giggling to herself as she snapped another pic.

the flash from minjeong’s camera startled you. waking up grumpily asking “what the fuck is going on” as you tug on your arm, only to realise that you’ve chained to the bed.

first thing you noticed was minjeong’s camera pointing towards you, bright flash blinding your eyes “fuck- shit, this isn’t funny. turn the camera off” the chains on the cuff rattling as you attempt to pry them off “guys… this isn’t funny… take it off”

second thing you realised was the lack of clothing. the chilly air hit your body, goosebumps forming on your skin. the warmth of the blanket was no more and the intense humiliation began to seep into your body.

thirdly, the writing on your stomach and legs as you look down analysing the situation.

“you shouldn’t have said that earlier. the disrespect you have… yu y/n you’re disgusting” jimin spat at you, her gaze turned towards minjeong who then nodded. afraid that they would kill you right on the spot, automatically you started to sob out pathetic pleas

“listen, shit- i’m sorry. i was desperate okay… he should’ve given me the money anyway- cut me some slack, it was only a one time thing. you know, me and my mom rea-“

a hand flew to your face “shut the fuck up” she left a red stinging mark on your cheek- well deserved. minjeong gritted her teeth, she didn’t want her dad to wake up to another argument yet alone waking up to his two kids fight his other kid “this picture i took.. do you want this to be uploaded everywhere?” rapidly shaking your head in denial. the image in question was so vulgar, your legs being spread apart while the words ‘use here’ were pointing right at your pussy, it was truly horrible. minjeongs lips tugged upwards, biting back a snicker only because she wanted to seem serious and mean about this- oh and also because the image violently turned her on.

“n-no… delete the pic- please i’ll give the money back and apologise… just.. don’t upload it anywhere” hiccuping while hot tears streamed down to your chin.

“poor you” jimin added on “no one can help you now.. do as you’re told” her tone was sickening to hear.

it clicked and you felt disgusted, the knowing look that they had.. body language showing that they were about to ravish you. it was gross.

your tear stained face shifted into a dreaded look. feeling jittery, your eyes widened as both of them slid down their boxers, revealing their cocks that sprung up.

“…you guys are sick…” there’s no way in hell that they were about to do this. but here they were, approaching you as you attempt to free your wrist from the cuffs again “get away f-from me… you sick fuckers” minjeong sprang onto the bed first, holding your legs open as you try to kick away from her grasp. curses and shouts left your mouth, but they were useless since jimin wrapped her hand around it.

there was no use in fighting back. you gave into their heinous acts even if your body was rejecting them. no one was there to help you anyway. even if you called for your mother, she wouldn’t give a shit since she only cared for herself from the very beginning.

jimin, who stood beside you, pressed her cock against your face. you could feel her throbbing as she placed it on your cheek, the hard thing felt slimy and gross- you denied her as she tried to forcefully shove it in your mouth, which ended up with her slapping it around your face like you were some common whore “open up, unless you want those pics of you online” of course you didn’t want that- those posts would ruin your reputation, your self esteem. it would ruin you.

mentally screaming in your head, you open your mouth wide, feeling her thick cock enter your mouth slowly. jimin let out a long sigh, savouring the feeling of your tongue at the base of her cock- “a-ah.. you’re taking me whole? you slut” moaning out as she steadily rocks her hips back and forth “you should- mm fuck.. really use this m-mouth just to take dick, don’t you agree jeongie”

minjeong, who was stroking her dick in between your legs, nodded her head. fixated on the way you took jimin’s throbbing cock easily down your throat. she watched you with keen eyes, keeping her gaze on the way your lips parted and wrapped around her shaft while also listening to the gagging sounds you made everytime jimin hit the back of your throat.

having more of a moral compass in comparison to jimin, she felt a little bad for you- but couldn’t help getting off to the view in front of her. she grinned, a very fucked up grin you could say. grabbing her phone again, she pressed record without you noticing- being so caught up with having dick stuffed in your mouth. spreading your lips apart, pointing the cameras and zooming in on your soaked pussy “you really are a whore- getting wet from this.. you should’ve said you wanted this from the beginning y/n. or were you too much of a coward to ask” slapping your pussy repeatedly, earning a few muffled moans.

putting the phone down minjeong slipped her hard cock inside of you, skipping the condom and everything.

your pussy was tight, almost like a virgins… wait- “god, don’t tell me you’re a… you’re a virgin?” a sick and twisted smile crept upon both jimins and minjeongs face. and the way they got harder hearing that news further implicated that they were morally fucked up in the head “mmm… fuck, you’re so tight that i can barely move… y/n ah- ngh..” by trying to push her dick further into you, it caused you to scream out in pain and pleasure- the sensation of her throbbing cock filling up your virgin pussy felt alien, yet so good. thankfully you were soaking wet, and the precum slathered around minjeongs dick helped it slide in much easier than it should have.

“nmghh hurts… hurts-” you manage to say between breaths, voice muffled by jimin's cock still being pumped in and out of your throat. minjeong couldn’t care, extracting her anger out on your pussy, stretching it wide open for her own sick pleasure. she scoffed,

“not so talkative now, are you?” she mocks, her hands gripping the sides of your hips, nails digging into your flesh as she jolts her hips which caused her tip to ram into the entrance of your cervix. fuck.. and it hurt like hell. never being filled up by something so large, your eyes begin to roll back, and you begin to scream around jimin's cock.

both of them showed absolutely no mercy, using your body as if it was a toy for their pleasure. being used in such a way made you feel heated, your stomach tightening as they continue to force themselves into your holes.

minjeong moaned out, her nails digging deeper and deeper into your flesh, almost breaking it. your tight cunt clamping down so hard on her cock threw her into a frenzy- she observes your face with hearts in her eyes, she never felt this powerful before, god… even her movements sped up- there was a husky rasp to her moans, it even seemed animalistic.

and there was jimin, gripping your hair in a messy ponytail just so that she can ruthlessly fuck your mouth. with the amount that she was tugging and pulling on your head, you could assume that your head was throbbing in pain- assuming anyways, because you were feeling strangely good that you most likely ignored the pain.

as planned, they continue their assault on you. pussy already stretched out and abused, and your jaw began to ache.

enough of that jimin thought. although she enjoyed your warm throat, mouth and tongue working magic on her cock, she couldn’t forget that this was your punishment. the palm of her hand pushed your forehead, prompting you to lay back down, head meeting the soft pillows. you fell with a light thud- now due to the fact that you had nothing in your mouth to keep you quiet, and the way that minjeong was still pummelling into your pussy raw, you had no other choice but to cry out loud… not in a ‘save me, help me!’ way, it was more like a “fuck, fuck- mmnngh… w-wait- feels ah..!?” type of way.

jimin looked at her younger step sibling. she knew minjeong was too heated to even think about the punishment. she clicked her tongue in annoyance.

minjeongs fingers made their way to your clit, toying and rubbing with the sensitive nub. it only pushed you to moan even louder, the first time you’d have someone play with your clit.. waves of pleasure washed over your body causing you to wriggle around. seemed like jeongie was a little pussy drunk, actually no, she was pussy drunk. every pound forced your cunt to the best fucktoy for her. at this point her sweat dripped down from her temple to the side of her face with how fucking fast her hips were going.

jimin stood for a moment- thats when it struck her, another great plan came to mind. she kneeled on top of your bed, making it creak a little, shuffling a little closer to where minjeong was positioned, she whispered something sinister into her ears.

“get up-“ jimin ordered with an authoritative voice “stand up y/n” you winced, hissing out in pain as minjeong carelessly pulls her cock out with a little-

“mmm.. now? oh yeah, okay…” jeongie thankfully takes the cuffs off. thank god she did because the pain from the hard ass metal had you rubbing your wrist, a slightly deep and red mark sat on your skin.

“y/n, stand up” jimin ordered once again.

coughing out, voice hoarse “…fuck no… n-not gonna”

“still talking back?” minjeong sneered. now both of them are pretty strong- being able to toss you across the room for shits and giggle.. but not so much shits and giggles when you’re forced to stand up, seized inbetween jimins strong grip, both hands around your bare shoulders. she momentarily gawked between your legs, she snickered-

“lowlife stealing bitch and now a whore even though you were a virgin… you honestly deserve this” all at once her dick pierces your cunt, her erratic movements earning a guttural moan that came straight out your throat. following jimin, minjeong came from behind, lifting your leg into the air so that she could make room for herself.

“don’t…!? you’re gonna b-break me- i can’t fit both in me.. wait, please pleaseplease anything but this- please!?!” teasing her dick at your entrance, basking in the feeling of your wet pussy again. jimins thick cock was bigger than you’d anticipated- but having minjeong’s in your cunt as well would surely leave you unable to walk. not like they cared…

ramming both at different speeds caused you to lose control of everything. unable to adjust to their length, your hands instinctively search for something to grab ,because really.. who can function normally with two girthy dicks stuffed inside of their virgin pussy.

if one of them pumped in, the other one pumped out. an endless stream of violent railing that turned your brain to mush. beyond saving, and beyond speech- nothing more than gargled moans and incoherent mumbles fell from your mouth. so, so intense that you felt like your body was giving in-

being dehumanised and degraded and only made for jiminjeongs use. you hated that you learned to love it.

jimin threw her head back, her mouth agape moaning at how stuffed your pussy was and how much of a cock slut you were. hips snapping each time she felt like you weren’t reacting the way she wanted. huffing each time she felt close- her plan wasn’t completed yet and because of that she had to restrain from shooting her load into your womb.

minjeong bit down on your shoulder, marking you everywhere she could- only because she could take a couple more pictures later and use that as blackmail and definitely not her own personal use. she nuzzled herself into the crook of your neck- leaving dark bruises scattered across your nape.

you wrap your arms around jimins neck “feel- feel weird… haa.. mmngh-“ you squeezed your eyes shut, your body tensed, you heard the two of them pant in your ear, jimins low moaning reverberating in your head and minjeong high pitched whimpers suggested that they were as close as you were.

“take it- fuck,, take it all you filthy whore” jimin snapping her hips as she fills your entire cunt with her semen. not even a second later, minjeong ejaculates as well, she squeals and bites into your neck, both hers and jimins legs shaking from the harsh orgasm. you follow in their pleasure, letting out a strangled moan, head slumping backwards into minjeong as your body falls limp.

they leave you afterwards, letting you lay weakly on the floor “what happens here, stays here. if you tell anyone we’ll know.. oh and those pics will be posted” walking out the door as if nothing ever happened. and yet you’re laying down on your carpet cunt filled up with a mixture of their semen leaking out.

hmm… guess you’ll have to piss them off again. who knows what they’ll do to you.

HELP IDK HOW TO FEEL ABT THIS? THOUGHTS????

#wintersera #cw: noncon #cw: stepcest #aespa smut #aespa x fem reader smut #g!p aespa #g!p winter #g!p karina #aespa karina smut #aespa winter smut #kpop smut #girl group smut #kpop girl group smut

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demonpiratehuntress · 3 months

Text

I am actually so mad. I was working on this and for some reason it didn't save correctly and ended up posting a blank draft while deleting the stuff I had already written! I'm so sorry it took so long, @tiaramarijadhkxdyi755, but here it is! i hope this is close to what you wanted, because i wasn't sure how to go about it 🙈

taglist - @kabloswrld

patience with the Straw Hats

featuring - Zoro x F!Reader, Luffy x F!Reader, Sanji x F!Reader, Usopp x F!Reader

summary - the ask above

warnings - mean/careless/neglectful Straw Hats, im sorry, i changed Luffy's and Usopp's because I don't imagine them ever screaming at or getting angry with their s/o 💕

ZORO

Zoro has a short fuse, and that's common knowledge. Everyone knows just how grumpy and aggressive he can be after a hard fight or a difficult day training. He's snapped at everyone more than once, but you seem to take the brunt of it since you're the closest to him, and today was no different.

"For fucks sake just leave me alone!" Zoro could be heard yelling at you all throughout the Sunny. "You're too damn clingy and I don't need your help right now!" He stormed off.

You stood there in shock, having just asked him if he was okay, and taken aback by the response you had gotten. It wasn't unusual for him to be angry, but he was really upset today for some reason. You decided to give him space, but you had to admit you weren't really hurt or upset. More so disappointed that he had once again pushed you away.

"Zoro-"

"What?!" He snapped, glaring at you as you came up into the crow's nest with some food. "I'm not hungry, just leave."

"But-" You started, until he did something unexpected.

He smacked the food out of your hands, sending it all over your face. Your eyes widened and you stumbled back a bit, stunned.

"Okay, I'm sorry," you apologised, giving him a soft smile, "I'll have food in the room once you're ready to eat."

You waited a long time until Zoro finally entered your shared room, looking embarrassed and guilty about his outbursts today. He didn't say anything as he crossed the room and sat down beside you, but when he took your hand in his and brought it to his lips you knew he was apologising.

"It's okay," you smiled gently, "I'm not upset. Just disappointed that you won't let me help you."

"I know I know," he admitted. "I'll work on it, I promise."

"What made you so angry anyway?" You squeezed his hand.

He sighed, "You almost got hurt in our last fight because I was distracted. It's been haunting me, and I just don't want it to happen again. I snapped because I wanted to train harder instead of resting or eating, so I can properly protect you."

You smiled at him again, "But you always do, that was not your fault babe."

He was so grateful to have such a patient, understanding and loving girlfriend.

SANJI

Sanji usually never snapped at or yelled at you. He didn't ever want to, and never had any reason to. He was sweet, loving and doting just like you were, but unlike you he did have his days where he went against his promise to never lash out at you or hurt you in any way. Today was one of those days. Usopp had pulled him away from some girls who were fawning over him, and he was irritated.

"Why did you do that?" He glared at the sniper. "I was having fun."

"You also have a girlfriend," Usopp reminded him, gesturing towards you. He was nervous now, because Sanji looked pissed off.

"So?" The cook scowled. "I can appreciate and talk to other women without cheating on her!" He spoke like you weren't right next to him. "Right, (Name)?"

"Right," you smiled, a bit disappointed but not showing it.

Then he was off, returning to those women to apologise and your crew turned to you, looking at you quizzically. Nami set her hand on your arm reassuringly.

"It's okay," you told them with a smile, "It doesn't bother me."

Sanji then returned, but was quick to notice the disappointed look you had on your face. He was about to ask but you shook your head and kissed his cheek, continuing your exploration of the island.

"Okay what's your problem?" He suddenly asked, annoyed, when you looked disappointed at another interaction between him and a pretty woman.

Your eyes widened, "I'm not-"

He rolled his eyes, "I'm not stupid, (Name). You're obviously hiding the fact that you want to control my every move and stop me from ever talking to other women again."

That claim was so preposterous, you frowned, "I wouldn't-"

He quickly realised what he had said and his eyes widened, "No no no, my love I didn't mean that! I don't know why I said, I-I-" He fumbled for an excuse but sighed when he didn't have any. "I'm sorry, my love. Let me make it up to you, with your favourite dinner."

"Deal."

LUFFY

In all honesty, I don't see Luffy getting angry with or yelling at you. I think he's more of the neglectful type, when faced with certain situations like facing Boa Hancock out on the sea. She claimed she didn't know you guys would be there, but you're pretty sure she was stalking his movements. Luffy wouldn't listen though.

"It's okay, (Name)!" He replied cheerily when you voiced your concerns, "Hammock's really nice! And she has yummy food!"

And then he was off, leaving you to shake your head and sigh. You retired to your shared room, hoping that Luffy would eventually realise her intentions and come back.

He never did, and after a few hours you were starting to get lonely. So you ventured out to find him, only to see him giving her a tour of the Sunny.

"Luffy!" You called, but frowned when he seemingly ignored you as Hancock said something to him.

That was pretty much how the day went. You were ignored entirely by your boyfriend, simply because Hancock wouldn't let him pay attention to you. But you were disappointed in him too, for not telling her that you were dating and for not coming to spend time with you on his own.

When the day ended and Hancock retreated to her ship, bidding Luffy goodbye, the captain finally made his way to you. You weren't upset or sad, but Luffy could see on your face that you weren't feeling anything good.

"Are you alright, (Name)?" He questioned, hugging you.

"I'm disappointed, Luffy," you told him, but hugged him back and smiled anyway, happy to have him back.

"Disappointed?" He frowned. "Why?"

You sighed, "You didn't make any effort to come and see me for even a few minutes today. You spent the whole day with her. I'm not upset, because she helped you a lot, but I am disappointed that you ignored me."

He hugged you even tighter, "I'm sorry, (Name), really. We can spend the whole day together tomorrow!"

You smiled and nodded, not having the heart to tell him that's what you guys did everyday when Boa wasn't around.

USOPP

Usopp is another Straw Hat that I don't see getting angry or yelling easily. He's very patient with you, and he's understanding. He also doesn't have any aggravating circumstances, but the one thing he can be that disappoints you sometimes is careless. He can be very careless when it comes to what he says or does, because he usually acts on emotion.

And today, it seemed, he was missing his old crush Kaya. Because while you were shopping for clothes on one store, seeking to replace your torn and burnt ones, he kept yapping on about how Kaya had this and Kaya had that, and that hers were all real and genuine.

"I'm sorry I'm not Kaya, or as rich as her," you politely reminded him, not upset but starting to feel uncomfortable.

"It's okay!" He smiled, ignoring the subtle hint for him to stop talking about her. "I love you anyway!"

"Love you too," you smiled, but in your disappointment it didn't quite reach your eyes like it usually did. Still, you persevered, hoping he would stop by the next shop.

He did not.

"Kaya had something like this," he looked at the dress you were holding up, "But much prettier."

You frowned, again disappointed that he didn't like it. And that he had once again compared it to someone in his past that should be staying in said past.

Usopp noticed your expression, and his smile faltered, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," you smiled, shaking your head, "It's just not my style."

His eyes widened, "Woah, (Name), I didn't mean-"

"It's okay, Usopp," you kissed his cheek, "Let's go, I think we're done."

"No we're not," he took the dress, "This will look so much nicer on you than Kaya."

You opened your mouth to say something, but giggled when he refused to let you and bought it for you, dragging you back to the Sunny so you could show him just how much prettier you were than Kaya.

#one piece #op #zoro x reader #zoro x you #one piece x reader #one piece x you #roronoa zoro #vinsmoke sanji #sanji x reader #sanji x you #usopp x you #usopp x reader #usopp #monkey d luffy #luffy x reader #luffy x you

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doumadono · 2 months

Note

I am a "simper" creature :3

I fall for Sanemi... EKHEM

Sooooo.... I would like to request a SMUT fic with him.

The reader is smaller and weaker, and it seems like he doesn't like her because of that. He is all annoyed and angry... BUUUT... It turns out he simply WANTS her... JUST GIBE ME A SMUT PLS!

Warnings: smut w/o plot, dom!Sanemi, possessive Sanemi, a bit of dirty talking Synopsis: because Shinazugawa-dono appears to have a problem with your every move, you're quite reluctant when tasked with changing sheets in all the Hashiras' rooms, particularly the Wind Hashira's room

DEMON SLAYER MASTERLIST

In the Ubuyashiki mansion, amidst the clanging swords of Hashiras who were training, mastering their skills, and rushing footsteps of other demon slayers, you lived a life of humble servitude. A small, delicate figure, you were often overlooked, except by one: Sanemi Shinazugawa, the Wind Hashira. You worked tirelessly around the Ubuyashiki mansion. Your duties were humble, but essential.

His gruff demeanor and constant irritation with your presence made you wary of him, always trying to avoid his scathing gaze and harsh words. The powerful demon slayer seemed to take issue with your every breath.

One day, as you were cleaning the corridors, Sanemi stormed past, his purple eyes narrowing at the sight of you. "What are you doing here?" he growled, his voice echoing off the walls.

You stuttered an apology, your heart pounding in your chest, and hurried away.

Days turned into weeks, and each encounter with Sanemi left you more flustered than the last. You couldn't understand why he seemed so agitated around you.

Occasionally, you mustered the courage to glance in his direction, marveling at his imposing presence. Yet, whenever he caught you looking, you swiftly averted your gaze.

One fateful night, you were assigned to clean the Hashira rooms. As you approached Sanemi's door, your heart pounded in your chest. You knocked once, twice, but there was no response. You took a deep breath, pushed open the door, and stepped inside. The room was dimly lit, and you could hear the soft rustling of fabric.

Suddenly, a strong arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you close. "What are you doing in my room?" Sanemi's breath was hot against your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

You gasped, your heart racing, as his other hand was placed to your hip.

"I don't recall granting you permission to enter my chamber," he snarled from behind, causing you to stiffen.

All you could manage was a hard swallow as you desperately sought a suitable apology. "Sanemi-sama, I apologize for the intrusion, but I received orders to change the sheets in all the Hashiras' rooms," you explained, gasping slightly. His hot breath brushed against the nape of your neck as he pushed your hair to your shoulder.

He spoon you around, his hand reaching out to cup your cheek. The roughness of his palm against your soft skin left a burning sensation in its wake, and you gasped yet again. His muscular frame towered over you, and his strength was evident in every slightest movement of his. "Why are you always looking at me?" he growled, his voice deep and rumbling.

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest. "I can't help it," you whispered, your voice barely audible as you lowered your gaze. "You're… you're just so strong, Shinazugawa-dono."

His eyes narrowed, and for a moment, you thought he would lash out at you. Instead, he stepped even closer, sizing your chin so you looked into his purple irises again, his gaze never leaving yours. "You think that's all I am?" he asked, his voice softer than before.

You shook your head, your breath hitching in your throat. "No, I… I don't. I just… I can't help but admire you, Sanemi-san."

He leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear. "Is that so?" he murmured, his voice sending shivers down your spine. "Then perhaps it's time I showed you just how strong I can be."

Sanemi's strong arm encircled your waist, pulling you close. His lips found yours in a heated kiss, a fire igniting between you. His breath was hot against your skin as the kiss broke, his scent intoxicating. "I saw every glance you sent my way," he murmured, his voice a deep rumble.

His words sent a shiver down your spine, your heart pounding in your chest. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, his desire palpable. He traced his fingers down your arm, sending goosebumps rising on your skin, before he moved them to the hem of your shirt, slowly lifting it over your head.

And you never protested.

His eyes drank you in, his gaze hungry as he admired your bare skin and the curves of your breasts still covered with white bra, his rough fingertips traced down your exposed shoulders and moved to rest on your waist.

Logical reasoning abandoned you in a heartbeat when the Wind Hashira touched you like that. It was against all reason, yet it felt undeniably right at the moment. You let out a soft moan, your hands reaching for him, fumbling with the buttons of his shirt.

"Oh, Y/N, look at ya," Sanemi chuckled darkly. He helped you, discarding his crips white shirt in haste. His muscles rippled under your fingertips, his skin hot to the touch. He kissed you again, his tongue darting into your mouth as his hand found the clasp of your bra, freeing you from its confines with ease and expertise.

He led you to his bed, his eyes never leaving yours. He pushed you down gently, his body covering yours. His clothed cock pressed against your thigh, undeniably hard and ready. He trailed kisses down your neck, his hands exploring all the curves of your body, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

You gasped quietly.

His hand slid down your body, his fingers finding the hem of your dress and pushing it up. His fingers found your clit instantly.

You gasped again, your back arching off the bed as he circled it, his touch sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. He slid a finger inside you, his thumb continuing to work your clit.

You could feel yourself growing wetter, your body begging for more. "Sinazugawa-dono…"

"Call me Sanemi already. Done this enough by now, so enough with the formalities, especially when I' fingering your pretty, tight cunt." Sanemi grinned agains your inner thigh, watching how your cunt sucked his finger deeper inside. "Well, Y/N, I would never have assumed that you're such a needy little thing," he cooed.

The scent of his sandalwood cologne hung heavy in the air as Sanemi leaned over you, whilst his fingers were expertly exploring your cunny.

A soft moan escaped your lips, a testament to the pleasure that coursed through your veins.

His touch was skilled, each caress sending waves of ecstasy crashing against your shore. He leaned forward and claimed your lips, scissoring his thick fingers within your pussy, making your legs tramble.

Sanemi's bedsheets bore the evidence of his own desire. His hips moved in rhythm with his fingers, the friction against the sheets a feeble attempt to sate the burning need within him. His hakama pants, once a symbol of his discipline, now served as a prison for his arousal, the bulge unbearable, and you couldn't help yourself but lick your lips at the sight.

Seeing his plight, you reached out, your hands trembling with anticipation. Fumbling with the belt that held his pants in place, you dared to look directly into his eyes.

Sanemi's eyes met yours, a wicked grin spreading across his face. He leaned in, his breath hot against your ear, "Do you want to help me, doll?"

You nodded, your breath hitching as you finally managed to undo the belt. With a swift movement, you pulled down his hakama, revealing the object of your desire. Sanemi's cock stood proud, straining against the fabric of his underwear, and when his fingers pushed into you again, you felt how wet you became.

With a swift motion, he pushed his underwear down, releasing his throbbing member. It stood proudly against his toned abdomen, already twitching with anticipation.

You watched, your eyes dark with desire, as Sanemi took his fingers out of you and licked them, humming at the taste of your arousal. His eyes never left yours as he plunged his fingers back into you, fucking you with a rapid rhythm.

"Aaah," you moaned, your voice barely above a whisper. "Sanemi…"

His name spoken in your soft tone was like a siren's call, pulling him deeper into his game of lust. He pulled his fingers out again, coated in your slick wetness, and used it to jerk his dick a few times. His eyes, dark and intense, never left yours. He looked at you like a predator would eye its prey, and you found yourself wanting nothing more than to surrender to him.

Sanemi quickly tugged your dress down your legs. He reached out, his fingers brushing against the soft fabric of your panties. With a single, swift motion, he pulled them down too, leaving you completely exposed to his gaze. "Fuck, Y/N, you're beautiful," the scarred man commented, grinning.

"Sanemi," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sound of your own ragged breathing.

"Say my name again," he demanded, his fingers teasing your clit again. "Say it like you mean it."

"Sanemi," you moaned, your back arching as he plunged a finger inside you again; his cock twitched and a single pearl of pre-cum appeared on its slit.

"Just like that," he praised, smirking at you. "You're mine."

You opened your mouth to protest, but his lips crashed against yours, silencing any objection you might have had.

His kiss was possessive, his tongue claiming your mouth with a ferocity that made your knees weak. Sanemi positioned himself between your legs, his cock nudging at your slick entrance. He looked into your eyes, his gaze possessive. "You're mine," he repeated, before he thrust into you.

Your breath hitched in your throat as he filled you, his cock stretching you deliciously. He was big, bigger than you had ever imagined, and you moaned in pleasure as he filled you to the brim.

He began to move, his thrusts deep and powerful, his heavy balls hitting your slit with each thrust.

You cried out, your nails digging into his back as he began to fuck your pussy.

You could feel every inch of him, your body responding to his touch. You wrapped your legs around his waist, urging him on. "Harder," you gasped, your body aching for release.

He obliged, his thrusts becoming more frenzied. "You're so small, so tight," he murmured, his voice filled with awe. "I could lose myself in you."

You moaned in agreement, your body moving in perfect rhythm with his. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the air, mingling with your moans and cries of pleasure. "Yes, right there," you cried out, as his tip hit that perfect spongy spot. Your pussy was painfully stretched, but you didn't mind.

Each thrust was a testament to Sanemi's strength, his pace fast and hard, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your veins.

But Sanemi wanted more, his lust insatiable. His voice, a deep rumble, commanded you to wrap your legs tightly around his waist. With ease, he lifted you, his cock nestled comfortably in your tight cunt, a perfect union of bodies as he got up from his bed.

You clung to him, your fingers digging into his broad , scarred shoulders, your breath hitching as he began to fuck you while standing. Each thrust was a display of dominance, his cock hitting all of your sweet spots with precision. His pace quickening, his cock moving within you with a fervor that left you gasping for air.

The scent of sex hung heavy in the air.

"Faster," you begged, your nails digging into his shoulders. "Faster, Sanemi."

Sanemi's grip on your waist tightened as he fucked you, his movements fast and brutal. Each drive sent a jolt of pleasure through your body, your moans growing louder with each passing moment. His free hand reached up, tangling in your hair as he pulled your head back, exposing your neck to his lips. His teeth grazed your skin, eliciting a moan from deep within your throat. "Mine, mine!" Sinazugawa growled like a wild animal.

The man easily tossed you up and down his fat cock as he continued with forceful, quick pace.

"I'm going to cum," you whispered, your body trembling on the edge of ecstasy. "Oh my Lord, I'm going to cum!"

"Do it," he growled, his fingers digging into the meat of your ass as he pounded up in your cunt. "Cum for me, little Y/N."

And you exploded around him, your body shaking in pleasure as your pussy clamped around his throbbing member. Instinctively, you slipped your hand into his snow-white hair, pulling the spiky strands.

He followed you over the edge, his cock pulsing inside you as he filled you with his cum.

Yet he continued to thrust into you, his movements growing more erratic.

You could feel your second orgasm building, your body tense with anticipation. "Sanemi," you gasped, as you felt yourself tip over the edge. Your body shook with pleasure, your muscles clenching around him as he lay you down on his mattress again, thrusting deeper in your wetness, hooking your legs over his shoulders to change the angle.

He followed soon after, his cock pulsing deep inside you as he found his own release for the second time, milking your clenching, drenched walls with his thick cum. He collapsed on top of you, his breath hot against your neck. "Mine," he murmured again, his voice soft and content.

Slwoly, he withdrew his dick out of your pussy. He watched with a mixture of awe and pride as his release poured out of you, dripping down your slit and onto his sheets. A satisfied grin spread across his face, his eyes still locked onto yours. "Fuck, what a mess," he mused, and your cheeks flushed.

"I apologize," you whispered, but your words were sealed with the kiss he bestowed upon you – a kiss that proved to be the softest you had ever experienced in your life.

Sanemi rose, seemingly unfazed by his nakedness, and reached for some sheets from the bed to clean his cock, covered in your mixed releases. Throughout, his gaze remained locked with yours. After throwing the sheet onto the wooden floor, he proceeded to put on his hakama pants. "It seems you've arrived just in time to change my sheets to fresh ones, Y/N."

additional tag: @mrskokushibo - because I know you like Sanemi

#sanemi x reader #demon slayer sanemi #sanemi x you #sanemi shinazugawa #sanemi x y/n #sanemi smut #sanemi x reader smut #kny smut #kny x reader #dom!sanemi #sub!reader #kny sanemi #demon slayer smut #anime smut #shinazugawa x reader #kny shinazugawa #kny x you #divider by cafekitsune

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periprose · 6 months

Note

Hi! :)

I’m craving some Logan Howlett angsty fluff and I really like your writing style… Do you think you could maybe do a fic where either Logan and reader are in the heat of the moment and his claws come out and he scratches her. Or where Logan has a nightmare and the same thing happens. Either way the reader ends up comforting him.

Thank you! 🩷 :)

Hi!! So sorry for getting to this so late 🥹 loved the idea btw :) ended up doing a bit of a mix of both? If that makes sense.

"Out with it."

Your voice rings out clearly among the X-Men, the throng of battle no longer around you all. It was a more exhausting battle than you would've thought, but nothing irks you more than knowing that Logan has been apparently thinking of you as someone to play babysitter to. He hadn't trusted you to make your final blow to the enemy, and instead scooped you away to safety before lashing out with his own claws.

Logan clearly has something to say to you, and you want to hear it. You're not going to let him escape again- the way he always does, nonchalantly, refusing to acknowledge how he treats you.

Charles stiffens next to you in the helicarrier. Watching the tension, feeling the palpable heart-wrenching sensation between you and Logan. He doesn't know how you got to this point.

"Listen. Just because you didn't have it doesn't mean you're not a good X-Man-" Logan starts dismissively.

"But I did! I did have it!" You shout back at him, and then inhale carefully. "Nobody told you to rescue me, Logan. If I was about to die, then I was. I wanted that to be on my own terms."

"Don't talk like you're a fucking martyr when you've never had the privilege, kid." Logan's unnecessarily harsh tone has you flinching. "Do you know how many people I've seen die, for no good reason? Do you really want a bunch of Pentagon psychos to be your last memory?"

"Shut up." You shift in your seat, feeling small. "We don't get to choose when we die. Not like you."

Logan becomes visibly angered with that, the little taunt you've made towards his immortality. "That doesn't mean you have to go seek it out, dumbass."

"Oh really? Don't tell me you're getting soft, Logan." You glare at him, and Charles and Jean and Scott look at each other uncertainly. "Just because your life is so long doesn't mean the rest of us have forgotten what it means to be alive."

There's an unspoken, sudden charge in the air, now that you've mentioned what everyone else has the good sense to shut up about- Logan having lived so long and not caring about the consequences of his actions. Logan's eyes narrow until you feel sure that you've pushed him too far this time- he looks more animal than human, more Wolverine than ever- and you feel yourself inching forward, letting the anger of not being understood push you to fighting him- and Charles suddenly raises his hand in protest.

"Please, you two. I'm not sure what has transpired today, but I know you are better than choosing to have a physical altercation on a helicarrier flight." His calm, soothing tone makes you feel a little disappointed in yourself, and you settle back in your seat, refusing to meet his or Jean's glances of concern.

All you really wanted was an apology. A "Sorry, I won't do that again." Or even an explanation for why Logan keeps tabs on you all the time, never letting you be a real part of the X-Men, always safely on the sidelines. Were you just too weak?

Should you even be here?

You feel guilty for what you said to him. It's not a bad thing, you know, that Logan doesn't want you to get hurt- it's just that you want to do your job. You're not a kid.

It almost, almost justifies how you treated him, but even you know that was too far. You can't act as if you know Logan's life story- not even Charles or Jean would claim to do that, and they've searched his mind for memories several times.

Like it or not, the man was mysterious. He kept to himself on a lot of things, citing past hurt as his reason why- and you should've respected that.

"Maybe I am weak." You mutter to yourself, wondering why you can't restrain your emotions around Logan.

You're practicing shooting small, psionic blasts towards the target in your room- it's a great way to pass the time when you can't sleep- when you hear a groan, a shudder, an angry, deep growl-

It sounds like Logan. His room is right above yours, and the sounds are definitely coming from there- you hear him yell, and before you can stop yourself, you're bounding up the stairs to the third floor of the X-Mansion, bursting through his room's door with a ready hand, in case you need to fight.

Logan watches as you berate him in his dream.

Actually, it's not quite you- it's some venomous, evil, witch wearing your face. You giggle at him- you call him old- you don't take him seriously.

With every taunt, you fire another bright purple blast at him- and for once, his body doesn't heal instantaneously. He is getting old, getting hurt, watching as blood pools out of him. It's agonizingly painful.

He's going to die this time, without making it right with you- he's afraid that you're right about him, that he's a washed up sad old man who can't ever let people in.

"We don't need you anymore, Logan..." The not-you whispers softly, smiling a smile that doesn't quite reach your eyes, and Logan can't help but believe it.

His self preservation instincts kick in, and he launches forward, snarling, claws out with a sharp snikt sound. He feels that even though he'll regret your death, he'll miss you immensely, it's just one more tally mark to several others.

"Logan. Logan!"

You're leaning over Logan's sweaty, clammy body in his bed. You watch as his hands fist in the sheets, and he tosses and turns in agony- you breathe in hesitation, in fear that he's not going to be okay- he grunts suddenly, and you're reminded of how Rogue tells you about his nightmares. They're frequent.

How out of touch could you have been today?

You gently-yet-firmly grab Logan's arm, shaking, and his arms move forward in a self-defense mechanism that seems practiced, as if he's been attacked in his sleep before, and before you can move away, there's a sharp snikt sound, a quick wave of claws, and a searing pain in your side.

It all happens before you can even blink. You fall off to the side, on the floor, writhing in pain. Logan's claws just nicked your side, it's essentially a scratch- but the pain is so much worse than you're expecting, and you fall to the floor again as you try to get up.

You breathe in harshly, holding back a sob, as you feel wet blood pooling through the side of your night dress.

"Jesus Christ." Logan pounces off the bed, waking to blood all over his claws, and he's leaning over your body, as you blink up at him hesitantly. He immediately panics, lifting you up and resting you on his squatted thighs. "Kid! Hey, kid, don't close your eyes-"

"..." You're just barely hanging on, but you listen.

And Logan feels that same sense of shame he felt when he attacked Rogue, when Jean "died", every single time he had accidentally unsheathed his claws towards someone who didn't deserve it.

Doubly so, considering it's like his terrible nightmare has come to life. But you absolutely didn't do anything wrong- he can't believe he was so angry with you.

He calls for help, in a slightly broken tone, and no one seems to be coming.

"Just a scratch." You try, but Logan shakes his head.

"No, no, no." Logan spits out. "How could I- I never meant to-"

"I'm sorry, Logan." You cough, and Logan feels awful that you're apologizing while bleeding out due to his actions. "I shouldn't have said what I said. You're not some unreliable old man who doesn't care..."

You flinch at a sudden, sharp pain, and Logan motions for you to stop talking, but you keep going.

"If anything, you're the opposite. You're there for me. And I'm sorry that I got so... so angry at you for that." You mutter to yourself, not aware of how Logan hangs onto your words. "You're protecting me from making mistakes, and I'm grateful."

"No, kid. You had a point before." Logan interjects, but you shake your head.

"Did I? Or was I being a brat?" You grimace at yourself.

"You did have a point. I was being selfish," Logan shakes his head and then swallows that urge to push you away. "I don't always know how to leave people well enough alone. Sometimes I'm too much."

He hesitates, and then continues on. "Like, I treat you as if you're a nuisance, right? But I always... I always want you next to me. And I know I should just sort my shit out like an adult. But I'm scared."

"Scared?"

"Of what happens. What always happens." Logan sighs in defeat. "I fall in love, and they die. I find my people, and they leave me because I'm such a jackass. There's too much surrounding me that just... ruins everything."

"No, no. I won't leave." You tighten your hand around Logan's, and he, despite wanting to say that you're wounded because of him, believes you. He's so grateful to hear you say it- he had no idea that's what was weighing on him so badly.

He loves you, he knows he does. Logan has never been the best with feelings, but for once, he's glad he was honest.

The first thing Scott sees when he finally makes his way to Logan's room, from all the way across the X-Mansion, is Logan whispering "I'm sorry," and... he thinks (he's not 100% sure), "I love you," to your very forlorn, softly curved-around-him body.

It's a very tender moment, and Scott feels he should leave.

Then Logan presses a firm, shaky kiss on your forehead, and then your lips, and you, with your limited reserve of energy, kiss him back, and then Scott interjects with:

"Hey!...?"

He seems taken aback as you both look at him. "I heard screaming? What is this, some sort of weird cult sacrificial scenario?"

"Logan... had a... nightmare..." You wince, and Scott sees the red on your night gown. "I need... medical attention."

"On it." Scott glances at Logan for permission, and he's currently trying to push all these mushy feelings back into his chest where they belong, and he wants to be there to help you in the clinic, but he's flustered with everything that's happened and he can only hand you to Scott without looking at him.

Scott smirks to himself as he runs you to the clinic of the X-Mansion.

"You and Logan, huh? I knew there was something in that fight today." Scott remarks as you cling to him.

"It's taken an embarrassingly long time for me to figure it out, but yeah." You blush. "Has everyone else...?"

"Jean's been running a bet for the last year." Scott laughs. "She says you both are two sides of the same coin."

You can't help but agree.

#logan x reader #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett #logan howlett angst #logan howlett x you #wolverine x you #wolverine x reader #wolverine #old man logan #wolverine angst #james logan howlett x reader #marvel x reader #xmen x reader #x men x reader #x-men #x-men x reader #x-men angst #ask #requests

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greatooglymooglyyy · 19 days

Text

The Last Ride Chapter 7 (AU Cowboy!C.Sturniolo)

summary: when spoiled and sheltered city girl Y/N finds herself in running in the wrong crowd, her dad gives her an ultimatum. it's either spend the summer of her gap year on her uncle's ranch or face being cut off and finding a job. just when she thinks it can't get any worse, she meets Chris, the brooding farmhand who thinks he knows her type. but as the summer goes on, they both realize there may be more to the other than meets the eye.

advised and cowritten by @rootbeerworshiper

contains: cursing, kissing, general fluff, verbal arguments, mentions of toxic relationships, angst, 3.7k words

a/n: sigh. here y'all go. damn.

series masterlist

“What if instead of cleaning duty, I was on horses today?”

I look up at him from under my lashes as he scans over his clipboard with today’s task list.

“Hmm..” Chris taps a finger against his chin, tilting his head as if in deep thought. “How about no?”

“Please?” I beg, not caring at all about the slight whine in my voice. When he doesn’t answer, I step a little closer and drop my voice to a whisper. “I’ll kiss you again.”

Chris arches an eyebrow and gives me his cocky smirk. “You were gonna do that anyway.”

Wow. Someone’s gotta humble this kid. I open my mouth but my words get lost when I focus on his lips, his tongue prodding teasingly against his bottom one. Damn it. He’s got a point.

When I throw my head back in a dramatic show of defeat, he laughs and touches my waist lightly. “Sorry, Scotch. No favoritism. You gotta see Cinnamon on your own time.”

I shoot him a glare that turns into a small smile without my permission when I meet his teasing eyes. His hand on my waist lingers longer than necessary as he trails his eyes over my face. Just when I’m sure he’s about to lean in, a couple of the hands walk by and Chris pulls away.

He claps as he recovers, apparently remembering he’s in charge. “Alright. Get a move on. Last time you left milk in my buckets and they soured.”

Covering my mouth in mock horror, I gasp. “Oh my. Not the buckets!”

Chris bites his lip to stop his smile. “Watch it. Keep it up and I’ma put you on pigs tomorrow. Let ‘em dust your ass again.”

*****************

My lip curls up with disgust as I drop my soaked gloves into the trash bin and turn around. Turns out that disinfecting animal equipment is absolutely disgusting. Who would have thought?

Suppressing the urge to shudder at the memory of caked-on curdled milk, I smile at a passing worker as he collects the buckets to redistribute them. He nods his head back in friendly recognition. “Chris said to send ‘ya round to the cows when you’re all done.”

He’s leaning against a truck, staring at someone testing out paint colors on the barn with an inscrutable look on his face. My heartbeat doubles embarrassingly when his eyes find me but I force myself to not let it show. He doesn’t react outwardly either, but I clock how he readjusts slightly like he’s trying his hardest to stay still.

“You rang, bossman?”

He rolls his eyes and gestures towards the painter. “This is all your fault.”

Okay, so that was technically true. But how was I supposed to know when I told Birdie the peeling paint made my eyes bleed, she’d make my uncle redo it?

“I never told her to make it red. She always half listens to me.” I counter, leaning against the door beside him and letting our arms brush.

He glances over at me, the barest hint of a smile on his lips. “Speaking of not listening, didn’t I tell you to make sure you grabbed all the buckets?”

“I literally did!” I answer, panic raising at the idea of having to scrub more nasty equipment.

“You literally didn’t.” He says with a butchered valley girl impression. “Coulda sworn I say some of the other side of here. Come see.”

I sigh as I follow him to the back of the barn, already growing irritated at Chris’ nitpicking. But as soon as we are out of eyeshot, he stops short and turns to me. Before I can ask what’s wrong, he leans in, bending his head low and tilting my chin up with his fingertips, before pressing his lips to mine.

It’s a sweet kiss, not unlike the handful we’ve already shared, but there's some urgency beneath this one, his tongue moving against mine. When he pulls away, it takes all my energy not to follow him and bring his face back to mine.

He leans back and studies my face, running his thumb under my lip before dropping his hand. “I’ve been wanting to do that since breakfast.”

“Why didn’t you?” I question with a smile, watching as he leans against the wall of the barn.

He scoffs and crosses his arms. “And have your uncle get to whoopin’ my ass over grits? No shot.”

I smile at the thought of that. “You’re right. It would be pretty funny though.”

Chris just rolls his eyes, using his hands to pull me into him by my belt loops, our bodies leaned against the barn wall. “It’s like you just live to see me suffer.”

“Need I remind you of the work I was doing at the barn today? I’m gonna have nightmares about the smell.” I shiver slightly, reminiscing on the sour smell of milk and strong chemicals combined.

He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear while his other hand simply rubs my lower back. I’m not entirely sure what’s gotten into him but he’s definitely more affectionate than normal.

“What are you doing tonight?” He smiles, making eye contact with me and immediately causing me to look down.

Unfortunately for me, he doesn’t let me have that luxury for more than a few seconds, his finger lifting my chin to force my gaze back onto him.

“You ask me that every time as if I’m ever doing anything but hanging around you.” I lean in to close the space and place another quick kiss on his smirking lips. “Where’re you taking me now boss?”

“What makes you think you’re getting another date?” He asks as if the answer isn’t completely obvious.

I look up as if I'm really racking my brain for an answer before looking back at his blue eyes again. “I happen to think I know you pretty well. Now tell me, am I wearing a dress, or is this another good ol country get-together?”

“Call me uneducated but I’m not entirely sure on the dress code for every date.” He laughs. “State fair’s coming down, thought you might wanna go on a few rides.”

I gasp with a smile plastered on my face as I step back from him. “Really?”

“Really. Better go looking for outfit ideas soon, Scotch. I’ll pick you up for eight.”

*************************

“Since when were you scared of rollercoasters?” I ask, my arm intertwined with Chris’ as we walk past the brightly colored food trucks.

He scoffs dramatically, shaking his head. “I’m not scared of them, I don’t know what you’re on about.”

“Really? Because from where I was sitting, it was hard to tell your screams apart from the ten-year-old behind us.” I tease, leaning my head onto his shoulder.

Chris just kisses the top of my head. “I really can’t catch a break with you, can I sweetheart?”

“No, you cannot.” I smile to myself before a sign catches my eye. “Oh my god!”

I pull Chris by his hand, not stopping to explain what has me walking so fast. “Woah, what’d I miss?”

I catch my breath momentarily before replying. “They have my favorite lemonade here. I haven’t had it since my mom took me to the Cali expo.”

He looks down at me, eyes laced with a hint of concern at the casual mention of my deadbeat mother.

Before I can reassure him that I’m okay, it’s my turn to order. “Hi. I’ll have a large raspberry lemonade please.”

I reach for my wallet but by the time my eyes scan back to the cashier Chris is already handing them a ten-dollar bill. “Keep the change.” He smiles, grabs my drink for me, and begins to walk away from me.

The first sip transports me back to my childhood so quickly, I almost mistake Chris’ arm brushing against mine for my mom’s. Almost.

But the smile he gives me when I glance up at him is enough to keep me from letting those thoughts linger. Instead, I hold out the cup for him to take, listening to the satisfying sound of the ice sloshing against the plastic.

“Try it,” I demand. “It’s like sunshine in a cup.”

His eyes light up with amusement as he takes the cup, tilting it to peer inside. “Sunshine, huh? Awful big promise.”

I shrug, watching closely as he takes a weary sip. “You could have flipped the straw.” I joke when he hands it back, nodding his approval.

He raises an eyebrow and chuckles. “Oh, so you can stick your tongue down my throat but we can’t share a drink?”

“Don’t recall that.” I lie, as I walk over to an empty picnic table and swing my leg over the bench.

“Yeah? Lemme remind you.”

He leans down, tipping my head up so he can kiss me slow and heavy. I reach up and tangle my hands in his hair. Just as I start to deepen the kiss, someone clears their throat and I pull away quickly, the memory that we are in public heating my face.

Chris just laughs, completely undeterred and unembarrassed, before he takes a seat next to me. He reaches over and takes the cup again, taking a slow and deliberate drink from the straw, all the while keeping his eyes trained up on mine.

“Cute,” I say when he hands the cup back, a smirk growing on his face.

“Thanks. I thought so.”

************************

“I cannot believe you talked me into this,” I say mortified as I look around at the children occupying the other teacups. Yeah, that’s right. Teacups. Because I’m on a date with a child apparently.

“What are you talking about? This is the best part.”

Chris’ face across from me is one of pure and utter glee. A soft and playful demeanor he rarely wears coming to the surface. It’s so cute, I can’t help but match his smile.

The ride begins and we start spinning slowly, Chris’ hands resting longingly on the wheel. I had expected him to turn it as quickly as he could the minute we started but I guess he wants to be a gentleman.

Thankfully, I am very much under no obligation to be one.

Shooting him an evil grin, I spin the wheel like I’m steering a rouge pirate ship, cackling when the momentum sends him flying to the side.

He looks up surprised but grins back, spinning the opposite way even faster until we are both slipping and sliding, laughing uncontrollably.

I end up sliding over to him and he wraps an arm around my shoulder, slowing down the spinning a bit. I feel his thumb gently smoothing against my arm as I lean into him. “This was my plan all along.” He says softly into my hair.

I smile up at him, content as the world around us continues to spin.

The ride is over way too fast for my liking but it’s probably for the best. Forty-five seconds in and I’m already seeing double of Chris.

He hops off the ride first, extending a hand and helping me out. My first steps are a bit wobbly and he laughs, slinging an arm around my shoulder and pulling me into his side.

“Easy, baby. How about we switch it up and go play some games?”

*****************

I press the back of my hand to my mouth, trying to cover my laughter, as Chris misses his final ball toss. And by final I mean, the fourth round that he’s paid for and missed every single time.

“Y’all got them motherfuckers glued down.” He accuses, jokingly pushing his buddy who’s working the stand.

The boy, who I remember vaguely from our night at Hank’s, smiles back tauntingly and walks over to the glass bottles, picking one up for demonstration. “Ain’t nobody cheating you. You just suck, Sturniolo.”

My laughter bursts out at this but I quickly play it off as a cough when Chris’ attention snaps back to me. “Why don’t we try another game?”

“No chance. You said you want that penguin, you’re getting that there penguin.” He says squaring his shoulders and pointing at the hanging toy.

Oh god. He might as well bang on his chest and swing from a vine.

“Can we just buy the penguin?” I ask the worker, giving him a sweet smile. He leans in, a bit charmed before he notices Chris’ eyes on him and takes a step back, shaking his head.

I sigh and pull out my wallet, grabbing a few dollars to pay the fee. But before I can hand it over, Chris grabs my arm, his eyes wide. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like? I’m winning you that penguin.” I say as I place the money into the boy’s hand and pick up one of the balls.

“Okay fine. But at least waste my money instead of yours.” He mumbles as I wind back and completely overshoot on my first try.

The worker steps forward, giving me quiet advice on how to set my feet and I nod thankfully before I toss my second ball. It bounces off the ledge and moves the glass a bit but it doesn’t fall.

Motivated now, I try again, tuning out Chris’ rambling advice and aiming similarly to how he taught me to fish. The ball crashes through the bottles and the pyramid crumbles to my and Chris’ shared shock.

We look at each other stunned for a second before exploding with celebration as if I had just won the Superbowl. I’m serious. Pretty sure there was a chest bump involved.

The worker rolls his eyes but there’s a small smile on his lips as he takes down our prize and hands it over. “Here. Now gon’ get away from my stand. I’m gonna throw up.”

Chris grins at the penguin, handing it to me as we walk away. “Good shit, Scotch. I never doubted you for a second.”

I scoff, tucking my stuffed animal under my arm and looking up at him. “You did. But that’s okay. We just proved which one of us got game.” I lace my voice with a perfect impression of his cocky confidence and he kisses his teeth.

“Yeah, yeah. You won this one. Bet you don’t wanna see me in basketball though?” He says, already taking off towards the booth like a little kid.

I huff in faux anger as I race to beat him there. “Chris. You are such a cheat!”

But as I hear his playful laughter ring through the courtyard, it’s impossible not to join in.

******************

“Looks like they’re about to close up. You bout ready to call it?” Chris asks, bringing my hand up to his mouth and pressing a quick kiss to it.

I nod, trying not to let the disappointment at the night ending show on my face. “Okay.”

We start walking towards the parking lot slowly, trying to stretch the minutes we have together. As if I don’t see him every day. Somehow it’s still not enough.

“So…” He starts, stretching the word out dramatically. “How was our first real date for you? Give it to me straight. I can take it.”

I laugh and roll my eyes. “God. I hate to inflate your ego anymore. But it’s definitely been the best date I’ve ever had.” I shake my head a bit embarrassed as I add a quiet, “Not that I’ve been on many.”

He scrunches his face up as if that’s impossible for him to believe and I just shrug as if to say ‘what can I say?”

“Alright. What’s up with those West Coast boys? They blind or somethin’?” Chris asks lightly, his eyes glancing down to where our hands swing interlocked between us.

I laugh darkly in response, the memory of Jace souring my mood a bit. “More like I couldn’t see past my ex… or whatever he is.” I shake my head and sigh at how dumb I feel not knowing what to call him. “It was complicated. I’ve loved him- I mean, I loved him for a long time.”

Glancing up to meet Chris’ eye, I can tell he’s fighting between wanting to ask more questions and not wanting to press me. But after all the vulnerability he’s shown me lately, the least I can do is open up in return. I give him an encouraging smile and he finally continues. “When did y’all break up?”

The question rattles me immediately and I stop short. Technically…I mean… Did we? Not that Jace and I were ever anything near official and especially not that I have any delusions of him waiting up for me. But it’s true that we never had a conversation about calling it quits. Instead, I blocked him and hopped on a plane.

Worry skates across Chris' features at my silence as we watch each other for a second. “Scotch… You did break up with him, right?”

“Yes. I did…I think. Just not in so many words.”

Chris drops my hand, tilting his head and giving me a look of complete and utter disbelief. “You think or you know? Throw me a bone here and tell me I haven’t been losing my mind over somebody else’s girl.”

“You haven’t!” I say, my voice coming out sharper than I meant it to. “I don’t know what you want me to say. Dating is different in the city.”

His brow crinkles and his voice grows smaller. “You get down like that?”

And I don’t know if it’s his words or the way he’s looking at me like he just found out I don’t light up the sky, but something sets me off.

“You have no right.” I grind out, stepping closer and digging a finger into his chest to emphasize my point. “Don’t insinuate a thing about me like you’re some Sunday school saint. You don’t think I’ve heard about you and your ‘whores of the week’? You get down like that?”

The laugh he gives me is clipped and he takes a step back, looking over my shoulder as if he can’t stand to meet my eye. “If you believe that bullshit talk, that’s on you. I’m going off the words from your mouth. You don’t even bother to put the poor guy down before you're stringing another idiot along.”

My eyes narrow to slits. “Take. Me. Home.”

“You. Got. It.” He answers, mocking my cadence and stomping off toward his truck. I trail behind him in silence, trying to hold back my emotions as adorable couples pass us by hand-in-hand. A few feet away from the car, he turns back around and glares at me, hurt and anger warring in his eyes.

“Just tell me one thing, Y/N. How long were you gonna wait before you ran back to that loser, huh? How long after I dropped you off at the airport? Were you gonna give me a month at least? A week?”

“It’s not like that, Chris,” I say, pleading creeping into my response without my permission. “I hadn’t thought it all through but I was trying to be done with him.”

His lips pull up in the mockery of his usual smile; this one is cold and unlike him. “Oh! Well, as long as you’re trying. Why didn’t you just say so?”

Rolling my eyes at his sarcasm, I step around him and pull against my door handle, finding it locked. “Hurry up before I walk home,” I say, running my fingers through my hair, wincing when I hear his mocking laugh.

He doesn’t say a word, just walks over and unlocks the truck on my side, swinging it open before heading back around. I rest my fingertips on the frame of the door, watching as Chris climbs in and starts the truck, but I hesitate to get in. “I’m not a whore.” I say, my voice remaining strong despite how much I want to break.

Chris looks over at me, the furrow between his brows deepening. “I never once called you one.”

“Then why is it so easy for you to believe I’m trying to play you?”

“Because you’re you, Scotch.” He says simply, his grip on the steering wheel tight.

“What is that supposed to mean?” I cry, frustration at how quickly this all went south rising to the surface.

He’s silent for a beat and the sounds of the fair become audible again. The sound of children laughing and faint carnival music at odds with the tension sitting between us.

“You know what it means.”

My breath hitches for a second but I nod, somewhat happy my doubts are confirmed. The ones that screamed at me Chris would never see past that stereotype that he pegged for the first day we met. The ones that whispered I will always be missing something vital but no one will care enough to tell me what it is.

I slam his car door shut and turn on my heel, walking vaguely toward the direction we came from. Chris is calling my name behind me but I keep my eyes forward even as they grow blurry. When I almost trip over the rocky asphalt, I stop and rip off my heels, carrying them in my hands as I keep forward.

From my peripheral, I see the truck pull up beside me, slowing to crawl and rolling the window down. “Okay, you’ve made your scene. Get in the car.” Chris says, sounding every bit as exhausted as I feel.

Ignoring him, I train my eyes forward, panic raising when I realize the sidewalk ends a few feet ahead. While I’m debating what to do, Chris calls my name again sharper this time.

Cars begin honking behind him as we both come to a stop. Just as I’m about to say fuck it and keep it pushing into the street, Chris’ patience snaps. “Get in the car, Scotch!” He hollers, reaching over and flinging the door open. “I’m not gonna watch you get hit by a fucking high roller.”

My lip trembles as I finally cut my eyes over to his. We stare at each other for a moment before the melody of horns starts back up and snaps us out of it.

“Please.” He whispers so quietly I have to read his lips to hear him.

So I do. Hopping wordlessly into the car, I let him take me home while I stare out the window, my mind racing. And not for the first time, the center console between us feels like it might as well be as tall as the Great Wall.

🏷️// @sttzee @tillies33ssss @miloisdone1 @sstvrnioloo @junnniiieee07 @sturnioloslurps @mrsmiagreer @asturniolos @teapartyprincess4two @whicked-hazlatwhore @sukiipjs @fratbrochrisgf @sturniolosmind @imfromthediningtable @st4rswrld @thvvluvr @sturnssmuts @littlenerdybee @sturniolossss @iloveneilperry @eclipzw @chrissloverrrrrrr16 @sstvrnioloo @clemlament @fwskullz @luv4kozume @xoxo4chrisss @ribread03 @h3arts4harry @chrissystur @pepsiboyy

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zombiekooo · 6 months

Text

Taming You (Rick Grimes x Fem Reader)

Warnings: • Angry/Rough Sex, Dacryphilia (crying kink), Choking, Sub/Dom Play, Dirty Talk, Age Gap,

A/N: This is quite rough, so I will give you a warning. It is NOT noncon whatsoever (our Rick would never) but I’d like to say Reader does say ‘no’ and ‘stop’ but it isn’t because she hasn’t consented. Everything is safe sane and consensual on this page ;)

(9k words)

Rick watches as you walk through Alexandria’s gates with a gun in hand. You wear no expression, your head down to avoid any wandering eyes. You’ve got a smear of blood across your cheek, red droplets leaving a trail behind you.

He's startled. It felt like a splash of freezing cold water was poured over his head and awoke him from a deep slumber. Quickly, shame falls upon him.

The last couple of nights were a struggle for him. The thoughts of you seemed to enchant his mind whenever he'd close his eyes and fall back upon his bed after a particularly stressful day. It quickly became a routine to stroll outside, allowing the cool air to ground him from his perverted thoughts-- which he had been doing just now until you interrupted him. So when he sees the face from his dreams across from him, the very face he was trying his hardest to avoid thinking about, the guilt finally confronts him like a stinging crack across the cheek.

But oh, you would look so beautiful beneath him. Your eyes which were always narrowed would soften into a delicate, heavy-lidded expression just for him. Your frown would ease, and your lips would part and instead of scoffs, you would unleash pretty little moans he knew you were capable of.

That expression he was so desperate to see again would pop into his mind during his disgraceful fantasies. The first time he ever saw you, trapped behind cell bars in Terminus, the image of your youthful cheeks, rosy and plumped, tears glistening them and making them look like glossy red apples that he so badly wanted to bite into. It was beginning to drive him mad from how often he'd seen that exact expression in his dreams. The pure desperation in your face, grabbing his wrist so gently through the bars of the cell you were caged in. He remembers how wet your eyelashes were, the way your lips parted to speak when the building had blown up which had forced everyone to evacuate, and in a whirlwind of crashes and screams, seeming as if time had stopped, you whispered,

"Can't I come with you?"

His fantasies would play like a CD inside his head, thinking of how he could recreate that same expression on your face but from pleasure instead of fear. Would you be as defiant in the bedroom as you were in life? Or would you be submissive and pleading? Grabbing him with such neediness that you would cry out of frustration just for him to pleasure you, your lashes would cling together wetly and your cheeks would redden into an adorable rose shade that he would so happily lick the tears off of--

Stop, Rick.

He shakes his head, grimacing.

It wasn't like this before, these thoughts never existed until now-- or at least that's what he tells himself. It was just because he was safe, you were safe, in a community, together. No constant threat that kept you paranoid day in and day out. No question of where to go next or who keeps watch over the camp next. No, that was gone now.

Still, he knows it's terrible to think of you that way, even after all the time he's known you. You were nearly half his age, cold-hearted and stubborn-- you would never think of him more than the man who saved you.

But-- he knew you had a soft spot for him, and just that fact alone gave him some kind of hope, even if he may never act on it. Even if he shouldn't act on it.

Although he tells himself that you were off limits, here he was, standing on the street and watching you strut your way inside the walls. Past midnight. Similar to how you did nearly every day this week. His curiosity grew, and maybe the excuse to take a walk at night wasn't just to clear his mind anymore, but instead to wait for your silhouette to silently breach the walls of Alexandria and dip back into the shadows of your house, thinking that nobody had seen you.

You were breaking his rules. In fact, all week you had broken it, four times exactly. However, he never confronted you about it. If he was being honest with himself, it was because he was scared to look you in the eyes, he knew that if he were to do that, all he would imagine were those teary eyes he'd played over and over in his head for the past month.

But, he knows he couldn't keep letting you believe you were being sneaky.

Rick gathers the strength to reveal himself, exposing himself from the shadows he had lurked under for the past week. He was dressed simply. A brown jacket with a wool collar draped over a plain gray-sleeved shirt, paired with navy blue jeans.

The moment he revealed himself your head shot up to look up at him, instantly sensing his presence. He finds amusement in the way your face contorted into a surprised expression, your fast pace slowing down until you were nearly at a stop. Absentmindedly, you bring a hand to your cheek as if trying to cover the obvious bleeding wound from him.

"It's past midnight. How'd you get around the guards?" Rick asks almost cheekily, enjoying the way your face paled.

"Snuck out," You quickly respond with a shrug of your shoulder, keeping your eyes down.

Rick raised an eyebrow, knowing instantly you were lying. He'd seen the gates open for you-- you had convinced someone to let you pass.

He noticed the way you squirmed beneath his gaze and the downcast of your eyes. You were a shitty liar.

"Try again." He sneers. "Where'd you get that cut on your cheek?" His tone turned colder and the loose smile he wore in the beginning began to straighten.

"Tripped," You lie again. This time, he saw the way you leaned your weight side to side, your antsy fingers tapping at your gun. He took a step forward, closing the small gap between the two of you. The blood from your cheek had left a sheer trail of red down your jaw, slithering to your neck and finally dipping under your low-cut collar and between your breasts. There, he noticed your stuttered breaths and the uneven fall of your chest.

"How?" He asks again, examining the rest of your body with his intense stare. Your collar was torn, and your sleeves ripped up to your shoulders, leaving nothing more than some flimsy fabric to cover your exposed arm. As his gaze continued down (his concern stopping him from lingering at your curves) he noticed your belt had been lost, your jeans sluggish around your hips. A faint red mark of a boot was indented into your thigh.

It was obvious that you had gotten into a scramble with somebody.

"A walker popped out in front of me. I got surprised and took a tumble." You reply after a short pause, his gaze making you nervous.

Normally, if it was anybody else other than Rick, you would be scoffing and pushing past them with no more than a roll of your eyes. But something about the man in front of you intimidated you, even if he was the reason why you were still alive today. He reminded you of a panther. Nothing escaped his gaze... nothing. Which is why you felt so uneasy, you knew he would find out the truth even if it wasn't today. You had a hunch he knew that you'd been sneaking out at night, and it was only a matter of time before he would confront you about it. You just wish it wasn't today.

"That's a lie," Rick says, becoming more and more frustrated as you went on.

You swallowed, recognizing the annoyed tilt of his head and the tut of his tongue. He was getting angry, you realize, and it ran a series of fearful trembles down your body.

You don't make an attempt to step away when he takes another step closer. Nor do you react (other than a full body shiver) when his fingers graze the back of your neck, pulling down the hood that you tried concealing your face with. You watch the way his razor-blue eyes squint as they examine your face for any other wounds or bruises.

"I've seen you coming in and out these past nights," Rick says, proving your theory right. Of course he knew. He always knows. "Care to tell me why?" He adds.

You hesitate, fear crawling into your throat and lodging a lump to prevent you from speaking. You never had gotten in trouble with him before, but you knew how strict he was-- how terrifying he could be. You've seen it before. You vividly remember the way he held up that red machete and brought it down to slice the throat of the man who had trapped you, staining the same jacket he wore now with his blood. If you close your eyes, you can see the fury-- something kin to primal rage in the expression he made. The animalistic breaths he took as he wiped the blade clean, throwing the tissue he used to clean it onto the man and leaving him there to choke on his blood.

As morbid as it was, you couldn't stop thinking about it. The nod he gave to you afterward as if saying "You're okay now." The graze of his hand in yours as he leads you away from the scene. Your fascination for the man only grew since. Despite him being years older, he never seemed to completely leave your conscious. Always lingering inside your mind when you tried to fall asleep, or appearing in your dreams which had you waking up with your body feeling hot and the place beneath your navel feeling warm and tingly.

Maybe... you wanted to get caught just to see what he would do.

"I-" You choke. The moment you spoke his eyes snapped up to yours, his unforgiving gaze boring into you.

You were so aware of the heavy touch of his hand at your nape, unmoving. It felt like you were a rabbit in the jaws of a wolf, reluctant to let you go. His body moved in front of you in such a way that it felt suffocating, his broad chest limiting your view.

"I was hunting," You confess, telling the first truth of the night.

"And tonight too?" He asks, feeling satisfied with your answer.

You nod, your lips pinching together. You began feeling the blood rise to your cheeks, the realization finally hitting you at how close he was. You could almost touch his chest with yours if only you moved an inch or so forward.

"Now answer me again," He says in a quieter tone, no more than a whisper. His face leaned down to yours, his nose barely grazing the lobe of your ear. His breath was warm against your skin, a contrast from the chilled air. "Where did you get the cut?"

You may have blushed from the deep growl of his voice and the proximity of his face to yours if it weren't for the circumstances, but right now all you felt was your blood turn cold and the hairs on your arms stand.

He knew you were lying. You were out of options-- out of excuses. But, despite the tremble of fear you felt, your pride was strong.

"I already told you," You snap back, trying your hardest to conceal your fear and perhaps excitement as well. "I. Tripped."

You felt a blow of air from Rick's nostrils, another irate tut spilling from his lips. He pulls away from your face to reveal the deep frown he wore. His brows furrowed, making his deep-set eyes look frighteningly dark. The grip on your nape tightens to the point of near discomfort but it unleashes another shiver from you along with a breathy moan of surprise.

Suddenly, he has you turned around, your back flat against his chest and his hand tight at your throat. His free hand slithers down to your hip and presses an unforgiving finger on the bruise on your thigh, causing you to cry out loudly and arch your back, instinctively pushing your bottom against him in an attempt to free yourself.

Rick watches you squirm momentarily, your cries cut short by the pressure he applied to your throat. A sick sense of satisfaction rules through his body when looking at your vulnerable state. Your back arched in an attempt to be released, your toes pointed to withstand the pull on your neck, the dusting of tears that hugged your waterline.

Shit, he thought. Calm it, Rick. She's just a girl.

"I'll give you one more chance," Rick says, feeling sorry for you. His thoughts were running wild, the fantasies he rewatched over and over in his head were becoming a reality. But his consciousness caught up to him, knowing if he continued scolding you in this matter, it would lead to something he couldn't take back. He had to give you an opportunity to escape.

The pressure on your throat eased, but the prodding at your hip never relented. You shot a hand down to Rick's forearm, trying to pull his hand off your bruise, but it felt like trying to pull the tight jaws of a dog away from its bone. It was useless and dangerous.

Rick was unbothered by the attempt. He watched as you licked your lips, your breaths coming in short puffs. He leaned his head forward, once again next to your ear. You turned your head, awkwardly straining your neck to look up at him.

He feels his heart lurch when you expose the devious glint in your eye to him, your teeth peeking through your curled lips in a half smile. Your face was so close to his which had him frozen. He couldn't take his eyes off the way your tongue darted out to lick at the beads of blood that trickled from your wound into your mouth. If he wasn't imagining things, he could almost say that your gaze turned lustful.

"No," You mouth,

He's stunned. It seemed like reality had caught up to him in that moment. The position he'd manhandled you in, the rough touches along your young supple skin, the words of intimidation he whispered in your ear-- to anyone else, this would've looked more sensual than just a scolding.

It takes him several seconds to process what you said.

"No?" Rick scoffs, looking down at you incredulously, his eyes glancing down to your chest where he can clearly see your exposed cleavage. He swallows, instantly glancing back up to your unmoving gaze.

"What will you do if I don't tell you? You gonna' put me over your knee and spank me?" You half scoff, using that same cold-- almost monotone voice you use when talking. Rick was unsure whether this was an attempt of seduction, or you were dead serious and were trying to get a rise out of him as you often had. It wasn't until you boldly pushed your hips back again, but this time intentionally grinding your bottom over his crotch that he finally figured out your intention.

Irritation fell upon him again when he saw your smug look. He wanted the tears back at your waterline, desperate to hear those soft gasps he had never heard before from you. He wanted to render you speechless until nothing but incoherent mumbles spilled from those pretty lips of yours.

He wanted to tame you, break you down into an obedient pretty thing.

Rick said nothing as he stared at you with the same expression he had on before, but this time with widened eyes. It had you nervous, thinking you overstepped a boundary (which you one hundred percent had) but when his hand slithered up your clavicle, caressing your jugular and up to your jaw, gripping it tightly in one hand, your questions left. There was a look in his eye you couldn't quite place. Something between desire, and lust-- but also something sadistic and predatory. It had you almost wanting to shrink away, coward, and apologize to the man. But he didn't give you the option.

"Do you know what you're asking?" Rick says, no lilt or pause in his tone. His stare was intense, his touch even more so.

The question struck a string of both fear and arousal inside you. The familiar feeling beneath your navel began bubbling with warmth. A feeling you know far too well during late nights alone with nothing but your thoughts of Rick. Imagining how the scratch of his beard would feel between your legs. If those piercing eyes of his would look up at you when tasting you, forcing you to maintain eye contact with him. Maybe he would go fast, eager to taste all of you, or maybe he would be slow and steady, sadistic in his actions where he keeps putting off your orgasm until you weep and beg.

"Why don't you show me what I'm asking for?" You reply with a small nibble to your lip that doesn't go unnoticed by Rick.

Rick feels his breaths become shallower and arousal beginning to tent his jeans. He could hardly believe that this wasn't a dream. You were in front of him, writhing and gasping impatiently for him, practically asking him to take you. But his doubts begin to come back, chanting to him,

She's nearly half your age, dickhead.

But all doubts were wiped away when you shyly nudged his chest with your head, your hand running up his forearm and up to his bicep where you squeezed it, quietly admiring the muscle there. His attention is brought back to your youthful face, your eyes full of desire.

"Please?" You ask in a meek voice, your lips darting to wet your inviting lips.

And just like that, his resolve vanished.

He spins you around, his touch finally relenting from your bruise. His hand is back on your throat, forcing your face to look up at him. You notice the quick short pants he releases from his lips, his dilated pupils eating up most of the blue in his irises. Again, fear prods you. He stares at you for a second longer, analyzing your face for any sign of regret, but there is none.

He takes you firmly by the hip, dragging you forward with a shove to your lower back.

"Move," He commands coldly, sending another wave of fear and excitement down your spine.

Rick continues guiding you with a firm hand placed on the dimples of your back, eventually leading you to his house where he makes you climb the steps to his door.

Once he swiftly brings you inside, you're shoved cruelly onto the couch. You lose your balance and fall onto the pillowy surface, turning around with wide eyes and watching him shimmy off his jacket, gently hanging it up on the coat rack, unlike the way he had just manhandled you. He's staring you down as if you had just wronged him, rolling up his sleeves to rest at his elbows and revealing the ripples of muscle in his forearms.

He then approaches you, his boots loudly thudding onto the wood panel floors.

"You're a fucking pain in my ass, you know that?" He grunts, a loose smile playing on his lips. It wasn't a kind smile by any means, it was almost patronizing-- unsettling.

You didn't know how to answer, so you kept your mouth shut. Your feet were tucked beneath your bottom, staring up at him like prey.

That's what you felt like. Prey. You've never felt anything like this before-- normally you had the upper hand over people, very rarely feeling fearful or intimidated by them. But Rick had you in a chokehold, and it scared you.

One leg kneels on the couch cushion next to you. You felt the dip of his weight and the manly smell of what you imagine is his laundry detergent and some kind of musky cologne waft to your nose. He was leaning over you now, the thick build of his body clouding the rest of your vision. One hand found purchase on the sensitive flesh of your inner thigh covered by your jeans, the warmth of his palms seeping through the thick fabric.

"Turn around," He demands,

You look up at him defiantly, feeling bold.

"If I don't?" You say,

He cocks an eyebrow, and in one fluid motion, he spins you around himself. His fingers tangle in your hair, pressing your face down into a pillow rather harshly. He loops an arm around your waist, propping you up so you rest your weight on your knees. He's rough, but not to the point of pain or discomfort. He's simply showing you that he can do whatever he wishes without your approval.

You feel his narrow hips push against your bottom as he presses the weight of his body onto your back, pushing you further into the couch and nearly knocking the breath out of your lungs. You squirm weakly beneath his hold, but he doesn't relent and you hear a soft, demeaning chuckle from behind you. The hand that is looped around your waist rests at your stomach, then slowly trails down over your pelvis, then down to your core. Your body reacts instantly, jutting your hips back like a horny animal trying to present itself to its mate.

"Naughty girl," He whispers into your ear, "Who knew you would be so easy to pin down like this? You're not even fighting it."

"That's not--"

"Shut up." Rick says insultingly, rendering you silent instantly.

One hand slips off your jacket, throwing it carelessly on the floor. Then he moves to the simple black tank beneath it, nearly ripping it off your body. He keeps one hand at the back of your head, keeping your face down and your ass propped up for him-- an easy position for him to admire and access all of you.

Then goes your jeans, tearing every article of clothing off of you other than your undergarments-- keeping some of your dignity still intact.

You felt humiliated in this position. Your arse up like a bitch in heat, Rick's heavy weight immobilizing you, his harsh commands that you actually listened to. You felt ridiculous, but you couldn't ignore the blossoming heat that came to life between your legs. You felt betrayed by your body, the way your pussy responded to his roughness, clenching around nothing as it anticipated him. No matter how much you wanted to fight it, wanted to be somewhat stubborn, your body just wouldn't comply. Your body knew its position, and that was beneath the man above you with your pussy on display just for him, your brain just didn't want to accept that fact yet.

You felt Rick cup your cunt from behind, and you couldn't help the way you thrust your ass against it. You heard another dark laugh at your blatant neediness. He rubbed back and forth at a tantalizing pace, feeling the wetness seep through your clothed cunt and moistening his hand. He was shocked at how easily you submitted before him. Never did he imagine you would rut your hips against him, expose your pussy so willingly to his eyes. You tried to maintain your stubborn façade, but the moment he laid his hand on your cunt, you had melted into a puddle of jelly, your mouth spilling open and your body falling limp.

That's right, He thinks callously, Take it like a good girl.

"You like that, don't you?" He asks in that same patronizing tone. It angers you, but the anger is quickly replaced with pleasure, nearly melting your mind into goo. His big hand, cupping your cunt as if he owned it-- owned you.

You don't answer him, and instead, you try to glare at him from behind. But it backfired once you locked eyes with him. His handsome face looked down at you, wearing the same deep frown of his. If you didn't trust the man as you did, you would be terrified just from his scary presence and the easy way he manipulated your body to spread yourself for him.

"Not answering me, still?" He scoffs, his glare deepening.

When you still don't answer, he responds by ditching his hand from your drenched pussy, making you gasp mournfully. Instead, he places both hands on the insides of your thighs, spreading your legs as far as they could go. You remained in the arched position you were in, a bit scared of what he would do if you disobeyed his silent command.

You feel the tickle of his fingers skim against your skin as he pulls down your panties, leaving your glistening pussy nowhere to hide. You bury your face in humiliation, feeling the blood rush to your head. When you don't think it could get much worse, Rick pulls apart your cheeks, exposing your entrance fully.

You couldn't contain the mortified squeal that escaped your lips. Rick had left you nowhere to hide, nothing to conceal your most sensitive parts with. You feel the cool air hit your vulva, and the wetness of your arousal trickle down your thighs. You didn't dare to move as Rick looked at all of you, frozen as you were afraid of what he might do next, frozen in the most vulgar position-- the curve of your ass, the arch in your back-- it was utterly shameless.

"Shit," Rick curses under his breath. He could only find one word that he could describe you, and even that didn't seem to justify what he saw. You were breathtaking-- literally, as he felt his breath be kicked from his lungs as he saw all of you.

"Look at you," Rick coos as he swipes his middle finger along your slit, passing by your clit that had you jumping from the sudden sharp pleasure. You couldn't see it from the way you buried your eyes in your arms, but he brought his finger to his lip, sampling you. "What a sloppy cunt. I barely touch you and this is how you respond?" He mocks, squeezing the softness of your thighs and earning a whimper in response.

"No--"

You're cut off by a high-pitched squeal that shatters past your lips. You felt a sudden wet prod at your cunt as well as the scratchy feeling of Rick's beard tickling the back of your thighs.

You nearly sobbed. His flattened tongue languidly dragged from your clit, all the way to your hole where he dipped the tip of his tongue inside you, slurping and massaging your walls. A deep, almost animalistic groan vibrated against you as Rick tasted you.

You dug your face into your arms as you cried out again. Your legs shook, your walls desperately clenching around Rick's tongue. Your head fogged with pleasure as you felt a coil of pleasure begin to spin inside your stomach. The way his long fingers pulled your sensitive flesh apart, his tongue breaching your walls, his groans that made you feel weak in the legs. It was overwhelming.

He propped your hips higher, nearly lifting your knees off of the couch as he brought his lips down to suction your clit. He let one hand reach over to grab at your hair once more, tugging your head back and away from your arms roughly.

"Don't hide your voice," He says lowly against your cunt, the scratch of his beard adding more ripples of pleasure as he moved his jaw to speak.

It felt so good and you lost any thought of trying to retaliate, eager for more of his wet tongue and soft lips wringing pleasure from your needy cunt. So you obeyed him, and once he let go of your hair, you stayed put in the position he left you in. Once he delved back into your pussy, you couldn't control your moans any longer, deliriously chanting praises and choking out his name, no longer hidden by the couch.

"No" You scream. "-- Rick!"

You didn't even know what you were saying anymore, your brain losing the ability to form coherent words. It was too much. The coil quickly began to tighten inside you the more his sharp nose nudged against your sensitive clit. The way he would move from sucking your clit with his plush lips to greedily licking inside, creating loud obscene noises from your pussy. Humiliation washed over you once again from the vulgarness of your body, responding so desperately and greeting his mouth so welcomingly.

You then feel a long finger sink inside you, gently rubbing in a 'come hither' motion against your plush walls and pressing into that sensitive spot inside you. Your body leaps forward, almost like trying to escape the intense pleasure, but Rick quickly catches you, pulling your body back into him.

"You ain't running, girl." Rick teases against your folds, the vibration of each syllable sending ripples of pleasure down your spine. He laps at your soaked cunt until you're trembling, your walls pulsating in tell-tale signs of your approaching orgasm.

"Rick, Please, Rick," You sobbed loudly, your hand reaching behind you to grip his hair, desperate for something to hold onto. He ignores your pleas and continues to finger you, pulling drawn-out cries of pleasure from your mouth. It isn't until he feels the rapid pulses of your walls, indicating your near-release, that he pulls away entirely. He then flips you around, placing a leg on either side of your hips to trap you beneath him.

You cry as your orgasm is denied, and when you see the smug face above you-- looking irritatingly handsome, you scowl.

You place your hands on his chest, nudging him weakly away from you. Even after you pleaded for more of him--after he brought you to near brink of ecstasy, you were pushing him away stubbornly. So desperate to keep the remainder of your dignity. Your face was scrunched in faux anger, the telltale signs of tears at your lashes. You were panting hard and your legs had pressed themselves together in an attempt to alleviate some of the ache inside you. Even your fingers were digging into his shirt as if telling him not to go.

He doesn't budge at your feeble attempt to push him away. He has his face above yours, looking down at you with a tinge of pride in his cold eyes. His hands caress your sides lightly, a sinister smirk appearing once he sees the way you squirm away from the ticklish sensation.

"Asshole.." You whisper, but your eyes betray you once you look down wontedly at his crotch, looking at the visible bulge.

"Pretty girl," He reflects smoothly, shutting you up with a surprisingly gentle kiss on the lips.

You feel your face flush with heat when he kisses you, the words he spoke to you ringing in your mind, immediately erasing any lingering anger toward him.

Pretty girl.

You moan as you feel your body melt into his touch. You make fists in his shirt, now pulling him closer rather than pushing him away. His beard scratches against your chin, his hand slithering behind your head and holding you in place as he forces his tongue inside you. You feel overwhelmed with how passionately he kisses you, smothered by his masculine scent that had your brain hardwired into thinking of him each time you smelt anything that even resembled it. His hips were heavy on your own, his body trapping you. His unoccupied hand was rubbing up and down your waist, loving the way he felt the curvaceous dip each time he passed your midsection.

You don't know how long the kiss went on, only breaking apart to breathe for a split second before being attacked again by Rick's lips and tongue. You felt as if he was injecting some kind of poison into your system with every swirl and caress of his tongue, clouding your brain with pleasure and erasing every thought aside from him.

Eventually, Rick pulls away with heavy pants, looking at you with half-lidded eyes. You noticed the faint blush on his cheeks and the plumpness of his lips now swollen and red from the kiss. His eyes hardened with lust.

He then straightens himself, sitting upward on his knees as he inches his body up yours until his hips are level with your chest. You watch as he undoes his belt with a snap above you, leaving it still hooked through his jeans as he then undoes his pant zipper, fishing his cock out from his briefs.

You're already licking your lips, eyes strained forward as you admire the long length so close to your face.

He was slowly stroking himself, paying close attention to the tip as he pulled back his foreskin to reveal the sheen of precum atop it. He was girthy more than he was long which had you imagining how amazingly he would stretch your walls to accommodate for his size. His tip looked flushed and desperate, eager for any kind of stimulation. Your eyes left his cock reluctantly and looked at the man above you, and you couldn't help but admire how pretty he looked, his brows scrunched in pleasure and his bottom lip captured between his teeth. The sight alone had your core throbbing.

Gently, he guided your head toward him, canting his hips forward. The wet tip grazed the corner of your mouth, and you stuck out your tongue just enough to lick away the dribble of precum from the head.

"You wanna suck it?" He hums, his hand leaving his cock and rubbing a thumb across your lips. His actions seemed gentler, his expression softening as his eyes dart over the planes of your face, admiring every freckle and beauty mark on you. His other hand was scratching at your scalp, pushing the hair away from your face.

You don't answer which earns a light scoff from the man, but you don't miss the almost invisible tilt of the corner of his lip, then as if you had switched the channels on a radio, his gentleness was gone. He breaches your lips forcefully with the head of his cock which forces you to open your mouth to fit his girth comfortably on your tongue. You gag at the intrusion but quickly adapt to the heavy weight on your tongue. Now with the view of his face staring down at you so intensely, it had you shifting restlessly beneath him, unable to escape his predacious eyes no matter what you did.

He didn't give you much time to process the length and girth of his cock inside your mouth, and he begins to shallowly thrust, barely grazing your uvula. His jaw drops into an 'o' shape as he finds purchase in your hair, forcing you still in front of him and using your mouth for his pleasure. He watches sadistically as you struggle, your one eye closed as you do your best to massage your tongue alongside his thrusts.

"Just like that," Rick coos, bringing his hips closer to your face, forcing you to accept more of his length.

You try your best to accept him all at the angle you are in, proudly taking nearly all of his length, his balls resting at your chin, but you gag when he starts sliding down your throat, which has the man above you moan and tilt his head back. Your body squirms and tears begin to fog your vision, your breaths becoming limited. Rick stalls for a moment, running his fingers across your jawline adoringly and watching as you squirm pathetically beneath him with his cock slid down your throat. Then, he removes himself, his cock bouncing after being released from your mouth. He watches as you desperately gasp for air, nearly choking on your own spit. But you surprise him when you dive forward again and take him between your lips after you regain oxygen.

"Greedy girl," Rick scoffs, wiping a stray tear from your cheek. He allows you to suck him at your own pace now, satisfied with the way you flick your tongue beneath his foreskin and the way you purse your lips around his tip.

You moan at the praise he gives you as you rub the tip of his cock along the velvety walls of your cheeks, creating a vulgar bulge from the outside.

Spurred on by the open-mouthed moan he releases at the sight of you, you run your hands under his shirt, loosened from his pants being undone. You half expected to have him scoff at you and tear your hands away, but he doesn't. He simply looks down at you, inspecting your every move. You feel the hardness of his abdomen flex in response to your touch, and his breaths become louder-- almost sighs. You trail your hands up and rest them on his chest, admiring the way his chest heaves with each breath. You notice the content hum drawl out from his throat from your touch.

"So good for me, so obedient." He praises, but that patronizing tone that you expected to hear from him wasn't there. Instead, you're surprised to feel warm with pleasure at his words, the sudden urge to please him more tugging at your brain.

You suction your lips tighter, bringing a hand to the untouched length of his cock and you match it to the speed of your mouth. You keep a hand on his body, trailing up his shoulders and admiring the strength he held there too. As you felt along his body you noticed raised lesions indicating the scars hidden behind his clothes, and you vaguely imagined the people he killed in order to stamp those reminders onto his flesh.

The thought alone had you moaning around his cock. The deadliest man you've ever met was above you, watching your every move like a hawk even as pleasure contorts his features and soft moans escape his parted lips. The proof of his murders was plain as day on his body-- in his eyes and in his walk, and yet somehow you feel the urge to submit to him entirely and let him do anything he pleases with you.

The remainder of the fight in your body begins to leave and you feel yourself submit to the man before you as the fact that he could literally do anything he wanted to you settles into your brain. Rick watches as your eyes become glassy and your moans more frequent around his cock. You lose any smart responses to irritate the man, finally succumbing to your fate and allowing the pleasure of the man who is fucking your mouth finally win. You bob your head faster, working your tongue to touch everywhere you could reach.

"Thaaaats it," Rick says, watching as you slowly melt into submission. Your mouth loosened and allowed more of his cock to penetrate your mouth. He indulges in a few more deep thrusts into your throat, making you gag and choke until he pulls out and rubs his soaked cock on your cheek, enjoying the fucked out expression on your face. He watches as you nuzzle his cock with your face, pressing dainty kisses along the shaft paired with a shy smile.

Now that was a sight he never thought he would see.

You felt the solid weight of his cock on your face, shiny with your spit as he slowly canted his hips to drag it on your cheek. You could smell the musky scent of his manhood which had you nearly reeling, your patience was wearing thin and the thing you wanted most was for him to be inside you, pounding you to ecstasy while murmuring dirty words into your ear, making you feel helpless in the best way possible.

"Please," You moan, the desperation in your voice so prominent. You were reaching behind your back, finally losing the last bit of clothing and revealing your breasts from their confinements.

Rick shamelessly looks at your chest, running his hands over your ribcage and gently grazing the underside of your tits. You felt his cock twitch against you and you lean down to take him between your lips once more, massaging your tongue beneath his foreskin and humming at the taste of him.

Suddenly, he slides down your body, his cock leaving your lips with a 'pop'. His hands return to your legs, his head dipping down to leave scratchy kisses between your thighs.

"Sit up," He commands suddenly. You obey him albeit being a bit confused. He pulls you close to his body, practically shoving your head into his chest as his hands grab at your ass, lifting you up with incredible strength. You release a surprised squeak that has him snort.

"M'not fuckin you on the couch," He explains as he places a kiss on the junction of your neck and shoulder. The small act of affection was enough for you to melt into his embrace, and so you hook your chin over his shoulder, placing a few kisses of your own on his neck.

He then lifts himself off the couch by his knee, your body tightly secured in his arms. You feel much too aware of the man's hands on the back of your thighs, and the concern that you may be too heavy crosses your mind, but the thought is quickly wiped away when Rick begins walking down the hall to his bedroom, acting as if you didn't have your legs wrapped around your torso-- or your bare pussy rubbing against his clothes and your naked breasts pressed against his hard chest.

He basically throws you once he enters his bedroom, a devious smile quipped on his face. He's on top of you before you have a chance to comprehend what has happened, his lips smashing hard in place of yours and your thighs forcefully spread apart so his narrow hips could slot between them. Once the man is back on top of you, you pull at his collar blindly, your separate hand already making progress at shoving down his pants. He takes your hint and leans back onto his haunches, grabbing his shirt from the bottom and sliding it over his head, tossing it away. He then leans back down to smother kisses along your neck.

"Pants too," You demand, regretting your words the moment they came out of your mouth.

"You think you get a say in this?" He says, incredulous. His hand crawls up to your neck, covering your jugular entirely with the span of his palm. He applies steady pressure to your throat as he levels his face with yours, glaring down at you with a sneer at his lips.

He doesn't give you the chance to apologize, squeezing your throat until you choke when you open your mouth. You feel the intruding prod of his cock at your entrance, making you writhe under him. When he sees the way your eyes widen and tears hug your lashes, he eases his hold, letting you catch your breath.

You break down, your patience wearing thin. All you wanted was for the man to just fuck you.

"M'sorry, please-- Just-- you can do anything to me!" You cry out in frustration, rambling without thought. "I don't know, just-- Pl-Please, -- I need it, Rick--I need you so bad," You sob, the frustration building up until its limit was breached. Your tears now fall down your cheeks, your hands tightly gripped around his wrist to keep his hand from moving away from your throat. It felt like an anchor, a daunting, warm anchor pressing you into the bed. You choke on your sobs as you shift your hips down, trying to get his cock to penetrate you. You were disoriented and frustrated but more than that, you were so fucking needy for the man to just take you and slam his cock inside you, making you scream and cry and beg. You didn't care. You just needed him.

Rick pauses. The way your eyes reddened from your tears-- making the color of your irises become highlighted and sparkly. It had him writhing. Your pretty voice cracked with sobs, chanting his name over and over as if you knew no other names but his. Your nails clawed down his back, trying to push him impossibly closer to you, and your legs were locked around his hips to make sure he couldn't escape.

"Shhhh," He utters, placing a hand on the side of your face which you instantly accept, turning your head to kiss and lick at his palm like a touch-starved dog. You shot a hand to grip his wrist, keeping the hand at your head still as you brought a finger into your mouth, licking and sucking it as if it was his cock.

"I didn't mean to," You beg around his fingers. "M'sorry," You say again but this time with a sniffle. Rick smiles-- the first genuine smile you'd seen today. It was warm and thoughtful, enhancing the handsome crowfeet around his eyes. You had stopped sucking his fingers just to admire it as you felt a fuzzy sensation rise to your chest, alongside the deep ache of your throbbing core.

"It's okay, pretty girl," Rick says, leaning down to kiss your cheeks. He notices the way your body reacted to the name he had given you, the moan that vibrated around his fingers, and the flutter of your lashes gazing up at him. You were looking at him so devotedly, your eyes filled to the brim with trust and affection, and most of all, lust. He knew that when you said he could do anything to you, you truly meant it.

He teasingly rubs his cock up and down your slit, grazing your clit as he drenches himself with your wetness. He reaches down to kiss you, catching your glossy lips in a gentle rhythm, unlike the rough and passionate ones from before. He feels warmth ooze into his brain as if you had him under a spell, melting away any remaining thoughts or worries and forcing all of you to cloud his conscience.

Then gently, he breaches your hole, his attention fixed on the way your jaw drops.

He could feel the way your soft walls fluttered around his cock, adjusting to his girth. Your face had scrunched up in discomfort, but you were distracted when he placed a soft kiss on your brow, his gaze fond.

"So good for me," Rick says, licking at your earlobe and sinking his cock further into you and sighing in pleasure as he bottoms out, his balls against your ass. "Look at you, taking me so well. Does it hurt?"

You shake your head, cupping his face in your hands. You were suddenly hyper-aware of his handsome features. The speckling of black and grey littered across his beard and hair, reminding you that he was much older than you were. How cute the curls on his forehead grazed his furrowed brows, a droplet of sweat running down right beside it. Those ever-so-intimidating eyes were staring at you with such affection that it was overwhelming, almost making you forget the fact that this was meant to be some kind of punishment. But the way he held you so possessively almost had you thinking that there was more than just lust between the two of you.

Rick raises his brow, giving you a teasing look as you forget to answer his question. "Not gonna use your words?" He says without venom in his voice, tightening his grip around your neck as a reminder of what he is capable of doing to you.

He breaks you away from your deep thoughts, and you don't think before speaking, your eyes still trained on the attractive man before you,

"You're so handsome," You say, holding his cheeks firmly as you lean in to kiss him.

Rick raises his brows, flushing at your words as he returns your kiss. He wasn't expecting such a cute response from you, but at least this time you answered him, albeit it not remotely relating to the question he asked. Still, he couldn't deny the race of his heart as you kissed him with your hands cupped around his cheeks, his cock buried deep inside your pulsating walls, and the word 'handsome' ringing in his head. He felt like a schoolboy all over again.

He smiled in the kiss. Maybe you'll never learn to answer his questions properly.

"Need you," You moan after breaking the kiss, your lips grazing his. "Need you so bad,"

"Oh, you'll get it, sweet girl. Don't have'ta worry." Rick teases as he licks your ear. He wanted to push you to your very limits, make your voice raw with pleads. He couldn't deny that he wasn't being mean to you, torturing the sweet teary-eyed girl beneath him-- but he loved it. He loved watching you become glassy-eyed with want, and your insults turning to pleads. It was the best feeling ever, to turn you into a babbling mess of moans and cries.

He pulls out, rubbing his cock onto your clit, slapping it lewdly, watching as you arch your back and drape a forearm over your eyes.

"C'mon!" You sob, "Please just fuck me, Rick! I can't-- I can't take anymore. I've been good!" You slap at his chest angrily, trying to stifle your cries of frustration and hide the fact that you were crying. You weren't looking at him, too embarrassed of yourself.

Rick finally relents and shoves his cock in one go inside you. He peels away your arm to see that face he longed for.

Your mouth falls as he thrusts into you quickly, your hands flying to the pair that are locked on your throat, and your tears finally spill like a waterfall.

Rick's heart nearly leaps from his chest. Your eyes are half closed, your lashes dripping with the residue of your tears, and your eyes are shot red. When he squeezes your throat tighter, strangled cries croak out and your nails drag at his skin, leaving a beautiful sting in their wake. He's thrusting remorsefully, sending your body bouncing back and forth with every pound to your soaked pussy, your tits recoiling up and down in a memorizing tempo.

Each time he slams his cock inside you, another pair of tears trickle down your beautiful rosy cheeks and into your open mouth. He can't help but kiss you, tasting your tears and swallowing your cries.

"This what'ya want? To be fucked like a whore?" He asks, his lips lingering atop yours as he speaks over the loud slapping of skin to skin.

"No-" You manage to spit out over his tight hold on your throat.

"Then what's this? Your walls are eating me up so well, you lyin' to me, girl?"

He sends you reeling forward with a slap to the pussy. Reflexively, you push a hand against his chest to try and slow him down, but he doesn't budge, rather, he pushes more weight atop of you, crushing you with his naked body. You sob, shaking your head.

"You've got such pretty cries," He coos and finally lets free of your neck, allowing you the freedom of deep breaths. You're lightheaded when he releases you, unable to even process his words. "Your cries are just for me, hm?"

"Only you--" You say before getting cut off by a moan once Rick's fingers find your clit. You dizzily wrap your arms around his shoulders, hugging him tightly to your chest as pleasure numbs your brain. "Just you, it's always been just you," You confess deliriously.

Rick hums, satisfied with your answer. He feels his orgasm approaching rapidly, so he begins to rub tight circles on your clit which has you responding by clenching tightly onto his cock. His moans grow louder, more like the grunts of a wild animal and it has you spiraling toward your release.

"That's right. You're mine." He says, then buries his face between your tits.

You hug his head, burying your nose into his curls, breathing him in as you feel the cord inside you become pulled taught. Your hands find his neck and shoulders, enjoying the way his muscles ripple with every thrust. Once again, you're reminded of how powerful this man really is, and it has you tumbling over the edge.

"Yes, Yes! Rick--" You babble, arching your back as you feel the waves of pleasure swamp your body. Your pussy clenches like a vice, feeling every vein and ridge of Rick's cock pummeling inside you, and like a string that's been cut, your orgasm washes over you.

Your cries go silent as ecstasy clouds your mind, blossoming heat tingling in your navel and rising to your mind. Rick fucks you through your orgasm, purposely holding off his own to watch the way your eyes roll back to your head and your trembling body tenses. It isn't until you cry from overstimulation and the trembles in your body turn to full-body shudders, that he pulls out, bringing his cock to your breasts and jerking himself until he comes with a loud moan, painting your chest with milky white stripes. You watch lazily as you feel the never-ending warm spurts of come drench your tits, memorized by the expression Rick makes. His mouth is agape, his abdomen flexing with each wave of pleasure, and his moans become strained as he works himself to the end of his orgasm.

It was the hottest thing you'd ever seen.

After his balls are emptied, he collapses beside you, pulling you in tight against his body, undeterred by the mess he made on your chest. He peppers kisses along your jaw and shoulders,

"You did so well, pretty girl," He says as he caresses your leg-- over the bruise you had obtained. His palm smooths over it, almost as if quietly apologizing for earlier. He then kisses away the tears littered across your cheeks, uttering more praises with every peck.

You're still regaining your breath and your cunt pulsates from the aftermath of your orgasm, but you feel a sweet fuzzy feeling envelop your chest, and you turn your head to meet Rick's lips, melting into his embrace and the warmth of his kiss. The two of you stay like that for several moments, simply panting and kissing each other in each other's embrace.

"Was I too rough?" Rick says momentarily, glancing at the red, irritated marks left by his hands. He suddenly looks concerned, planting small kisses across your jugular.

"No," You say with a small smirk. Only now had you properly replied to a question of his. He notices your smirk and can't help but smile himself, pushing your face back into his chest as he scoffs. Again, some time passes, and Rick speaks up again, only this time, hesitantly.

"I'd like it if this wasn't just a fling," He says, searching your eyes for any flicker of rejection. "I really do like you, even if you are a pain in my ass." He adds with a hint of a smile.

You roll your eyes in faux irritation.

"I've been yours since the beginning," You say cupping his cheeks and placing a featherlight kiss on his brow. Rick looks at you with sparkling eyes, the biggest smile you've ever seen him wear is plastered on his face. He holds you tight against him by your waist, taking your lips roughly in a passionate kiss.

"That's what I like to hear." He says, hugging you into his warm chest.

A/N: Comments, likes, and reblogs are appreciated!

#fanfiction #the walking dead #twd #rick grimes #rick grimes smut #rick grimes fanfiction #twd smut #smut #dacryphilia #manhandling #choking #rick grimes x reader #rick grimes x you #rick grimes x y/n

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cryptidghostgirl · 3 months

Text

Music (Lute x Reader)

Paring: Lute x Reader

Description: Y/n has been dating Lute for years. After her girlfriend gets home from the most recent extermination, she tries to talk to Lute about the person being around Adam makes her.

Warnings: I know that the description makes this sound angsty and like they're gonna fight but its actually really sweet. Fluff. Just fluff.

Word Count: 829, short and fluffy.

Master Lists:

Master Lists

Hazbin Hotel Master List

A/N I came up with this when I couldn't sleep last night. I just think it'd be cute. (Listen, I could fix her.)

"I don't like who you are around him."

Lute let the door fall shut behind her. Her whole body ached and was covered in a thin sheen of sweat, demon blood, and grime. As her eyes fell on her girlfriend, laying on the bed casually with a book loosely clutched between her gentle fingers, she scoffed.

"This again?"

"Yeah." Y/n nodded, closing her book and putting it to the side as she got up off the bed, "I don't like it. He makes you..."

"He makes me what?" Lute spat back.

She was tired. The extermination had taken a lot out of her, been so much to deal with. Lute didn't mean to lash out like this, she just couldn't deal with it right now. It was all too much.

"He... just... when you spend too much time with Adam, you start acting different. I don't know."

"Well, not like I really have much of a choice." Lute exclaimed in exhasperation, letting her mask and her spear fall to the floor by the doorway she still stood in.

"No, I know." Y/n hurried to correct herself, getting to her feet, "I didn't mean it like that, I'm sorry."

"Whatever."

Lute stalked off into the bathroom. The drying blood felt tight against her skin, she was exhausted. The fact that she knew Y/n was right on some level, that being around Adam did change her, made her more volatile and rude, only fueled her anger. The truth was, without him goading her on, Lute would never do half the terrible things she did.

She began to unhook her armor, letting it fall haphazardly to the marble floor of the bathroom. Lute shot the doorway a glance as she heard a slight rustle of fabric. Y/n stood there, leaning against the frame with her arms around her waist, watching.

"What?" Lute grumbled.

With a sigh, Y/n straightened herself and crossed the room. Turning on the shower, she stuck her hand under the water as she messed with the temperature, trying to make sure it wasn't too hot.

"Look, Music, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to start something, I know you've had a long day. We'll talk about it later."

There it was, Music. Y/n had called her that since the minute they'd made things official. When Lute had asked her where the nickname had come from, she'd smiled softly and said something about her being art. Not the overlooked instrument, but the masterpiece that comes from it. All the fight slipped out of her.

Taking the chainmail off from beneath her plated armor, Lute walked over to her girlfriend. Y/n let out a short gasp of surprise as she snaked her hands around her waist, leaning her head on her shoulder.

"I'm sorry I snapped." Lute admitted, her cheeks flushed pink.

Apologies had never been her strong suit. Y/n smiled. Taking her hand out from under the water, she gently took Lute's arms from her waist. Turning to face her head on, Y/n held her hands in hers.

"I shouldn't have pushed it, Muse."

Muse. Y/n’s inspiration, her guiding light. How could Lute have forgotten? All the chaos, all the blood on her hands, and still -- Y/n loved her. Through all the bad, she somehow found the good.

"No, no." Lute looked away bashfully, "You were right. I... I just don't know how to get out of this. There is a person I have to be when I'm around him and... I don't like her either."

"Hey hey hey! Pretty girl!" Y/n exclaimed, dropping her hands and instead holding Lute's face gently, turning it to face her own once again, "We will figure it out. Together, we always do. All I ask of you is that you don't bring it home."

"I know, I wont anymore. It's not fair to you, I know."

"Promise?"

"Promise." Lute nodded.

Y/n smiled, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead as she let her hands fall from Lute's cheeks. Lute caught them in their descent to Y/n's sides and, leaning back in, kissed her lips gently in return. Y/n's cheeks were flushed a pretty pink when Lute leaned away a few seconds later.

"Damn, how many years has it been and you still get all flustered?" Lute teased.

"Oh, hush." Y/n waved her off, looking away, "Take a shower, you smell like... like..."

"Demon blood and sweat?"

"Yeah." Y/n nodded apologetically, meeting Lute's eyes.

Lute laughed. Somehow, Y/n just had a way of making her feel better. It could be the worst day in the world and coming home to that girl would make it all go away.

"I love you." she whispered as steam began to fill the bathroom from the hot shower.

Lute wrapped her arms around Y/n's waist, holding her close.

"Always, Lute." Y/n confirmed, nuzzling her forehead into Lute's shoulder, "Always."

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sailor-aviator · 2 months

Text

Today and Every Day

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Summary: A glimpse into your life with the one and only Jake "Hangman" Seresin starting from your first date and ending with a twist. A fic inspired by the song "Marry Me" by train.

Content Warning: First dates, Proposal, Marriage, Pregnancy, Allusions to smut, Making out, Old Age, Nerves, Tooth rotting fluff, Romance. I think that's everything.

Word Count: 4k

A/N: This fic was written as a part of @ohtobeleah's Galentine's Day Special! I had so much fun writing it, and I hope you all have just as much fun reading it!! As always, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! Until next time!

Jake was nervous. No. He was terrified, actually. He had never been this scared to go on a date before, but here he was, leg bouncing up and down in the driver’s seat as he waited outside of the restaurant he agreed to meet you at. He had met you at the cafe just last week, and already he was smitten. You had been sitting there, typing away on your laptop when he had spotted you as he walked in with Javy and Phoenix. It had taken an incredible amount of self will and determination to finally get up and go talk to you, but he was glad he had because now he was getting ready to go on your first date.

He really, really hoped he didn’t screw it up.

Taking a deep breath, he shoved the door of his truck open, stepping out and into the parking lot. He was a little early, but better that than being late, he supposed. He crossed the street, heart stopping and breath catching in his throat when he spotted you through the window. You were standing in a pretty, blue dress looking around the lobby nervously as you glanced down at your phone, bottom lip caught between your teeth.

Shaking himself from his stupor, he pulled the door open and stepped inside. You glanced up from your phone at the noise, giving him a soft smile that left him breathless all over again.

“Hey,” you greeted quietly, sliding your phone into your purse as you turned to face him. A shy smile curled on his lips as he took you in, a characteristic that felt so foreign to him. Jake was usually a man of confidence, but there was something about you that seemed send him into a tizzy with one look.

“Hey,” he responded. “Were you waiting long?”

“Not at all,” you assured him, smoothing down the skirt of your dress, an action that Jake found absolutely endearing. He tore his eyes away from you as the hostess came back to the stand, flashing a polite smile at the two of you.

“Are you ready?” He asked, gesturing towards the other woman. You turned around, eyes widening in surprise before flashing him a quick smile and a nod.

The hostess seated the two of you quickly, and your waiter had stopped by shortly after to take your drink order. The two of you sat in a moment of silence, and Jake noted that it wasn’t altogether an uncomfortable one, but rather tense and nervous.

“You know,” he spoke after another moment, causing your eyes to flicker up to meet his, “I was actually really nervous for today.”

That seemed to shock you, and you let out a startled giggle before smiling up at him.

“Really?”

He nodded.

“I was too, actually,” you admitted, glancing up at him shyly through your lashes. Jake tried not to think too much about how he wanted to reach out and lay kisses on the spots where your lashes brushed against your cheeks. Instead, he cleared his throat, and leaned forward to flash you a charming smile.

“So, let’s get to know each other,” he suggested, a wicked twinkle in his eyes. “If you could attend any concert from any time period, who would it be?”

Jake hadn’t been this nervous in two years. Of course, the last time he had felt like this was on your first date, and now here he was, about to get down on one knee and ask you to be his wife. Truthfully, he had gone ring shopping the day after your first date. He had known from the moment he first laid eyes on you that you were it for him, and the date had just confirmed it.

The two of you had eaten and passed the time in giggles and more ridiculous questions, a conversation that soon became more in depth and personal, and Jake found that the longer he spent with you, the more he didn’t want the night to end.

So, at the end of the meal, he had asked you if you wanted to go for a walk along the beach, and you had happily agreed.

That was two years ago, and now the two of you walked along the same beach, hand in hand as Jake ran his other one nervously through his hair. You peered at him from the corner of your eye, brow furrowing and causing that cute little crease that Jake loved to kiss away.

“Are you feeling okay?” You asked him finally, stopping and turning to face him with a worried expression. You reached up to feel his forehead, humming as you dropped your hand.

“You don’t feel warm,” you muttered, tilting your head in confusion, the little crease deepening as you try to determine what on earth could possibly be wrong with your boyfriend. Jake let out a nervous chuckle, squeezing your hand in reassurance as he takes a steadying breath.

“I’m fine, darlin’,” he told you, but you didn’t seem convinced, eyes still sweeping over him to try and find something wrong with him. “‘m just nervous is all.”

“Nervous?” You questioned, shaking your head slightly. “What on earth for?”

Jake took another deep breath before dropping down onto one knee, smiling at the way your face morphs from confused concern into tearful surprise.

“Darlin’,” he began, pulling the tiny, black box out of his pocket and popping it open to reveal a stunning diamond ring, “the day we met in that little cafe was the beginning of something extraordinary. The past two years have been filled with laughter, tears, the occasional fight, and so much love. I wouldn’t trade any of it for anything in the world, do you hear me? The best day of my life was when you agreed to make it official and be my girlfriend, but I’m hoping you’ll top it here by agreeing to be my wife. Will you marry me?”

Tears streamed down your face as you covered your mouth to keep the sobs from spilling out. You began to nod frantically, wiping the tears away as you sobbed out a laugh, the pretty smile he loved oh so much coming into view.

“Jacob Seresin, of course I’ll marry you,” you laughed, reaching out for him to pull him into a soul-crushing kiss. Jake smiled against your lips as he moved to stand, hauling you into his arms as he rocked the two of you from side to side. Pulling away only when the two of you needed air, he slipped the ring onto your finger, stroking the soft skin as he continued to grin.

“I love you,” he said, looking up at you finally. You squeezed his hand, smiling up at him gently as you placed another kiss to his lips.

“I love you too.”

“Jake, you could power a whole city with how much you’re moving,” Javy griped, placing a reassuring hand on Jake’s shoulder. “Calm down, man.”

“Sorry,” Jake grimaced, glancing down the aisle towards the doors leading into the sanctuary of the church. The pews were filled with friends and family from both sides, eagerly awaiting the start of the ceremony.

“I’m just nervous,” he grumbled, eyes still trained on the doors where you would appear any moment.

“But why?” Javy frowned, following his best friend’s line of sight. Jake didn’t answer for a moment, chewing on his bottom lip as his foot tapped against the marble floor and his hands clenched and unclenched at his sides.

“Jake?”

“What if she changes her mind?” Jake blurted out, eyes finally looking at Javy with panic lacing through the green. “What if she realizes that I’m not good enough for her? That I’m the worst choice she could possibly make?”

Javy stared at him for a moment before ducking his head down. For a moment, Jake was horrified that his best friend realized that he was right and didn’t know how to tell him, but then he realized that Javy’s shoulders were shaking, and the fear was replaced with indignant confusion as Javy reached out a hand to Jake’s shoulders in order to steady himself. Javy stood back up, wiping a stray tear as he almost broke out into another round of laughter.

“You really are an idiot sometimes, man. You know that?” Javy wheezed, patting Jake on the back. “That girl is so in love with you, it’s not funny. Besides, she could definitely do worse than you.”

“Like who?” Jake mumbled, glaring at the other man. Javy’s grin was wide as he answered.

“Like Bradshaw.”

Jake laughed at that, the nerves easing out of him slowly as he nodded.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” he conceded, head snapping back to the doors as the music picked up. One by one, your bridesmaids came walking down the aisle, and Jake’s heart sped up as the last girl made her way down the aisle. The quintessential theme began to play as everyone stood up, and Jake felt the tears spring to his eyes as you finally came into view.

You were beautiful, dressed in your white gown. Jake always thought you looked beautiful, of course, but knowing that you were currently walking down the aisle to become his wife?

He wiped at his eyes, and he heard Javy let out a low chuckle behind him.

“You got this,” he whispered, and Jake let out a low laugh. Yeah, he did have this, and he never wanted to let this go. Your eyes were trained on him the entire walk down the aisle, a smile plastered on your face and Jake swore he could die happy right then and there.

You stopped in front of him, and Jake was only vaguely aware of the ceremony going on around him. Of course he spoke when he was supposed to, but other than that, his focus was locked on you, and it seemed you were in the same boat.

The second Jake heard the priest say “you may kiss the bride,” he was on you, hands cradling your jaw as he kissed you breathless, dipping you slightly as one hand came down to rest on your waist. You kissed him back, excited giggles escaping past your lips as the two of you got lost in the moment. Finally, Jake pulled away, green eyes sparkling as his thumb caressed the apple of your cheek.

“Mr. Seresin,” you purred, looking up at him through your lashes, not unlike the way you did on your first date.

“Mrs. Seresin,” he beamed, leaning in for another kiss.

“Honey, you’re making me nervous,” Jake chuckled, watching you bounce around the house, your nervous energy positively infectious. You glanced at him before quickly looking away, fighting back a smile as you scurried about with the laundry on your hip. You had never been good at keeping secrets from him, but he always thought it was cute how you tried.

“There’s nothing to be nervous about,” you assured him, placing the basket on the coffee table and picking up one of the many articles of clothing bunched together.

“I’m sure there isn’t, sugar,” Jake continued, picking up a t-shirt to help you fold. “But when you’ve been scurrying about the house for two days with that secretive little smirk of yours, it gets a man’s heart pumpin’ and mind racin’.”

You paused in your folding, watching him for a moment before snorting and continuing your task.

“I think you’re being a tad paranoid, babe,” you teased, setting down the t-shirt you had just finished folding. Jake moved to grab another t-shirt, opening his mouth to say something when he stopped. His brow furrowed in confusion as he lifted up a plain, white onesie.

“Is this Michelle’s?” He asked, giving you a questioning look. It wasn’t unusual for you to wash the clothes of your friends’ kids, but last he checked none of them had babies this small. Michelle had had a baby about half a year ago, but the bright, new bundle was already well past the size of the onesie he currently held in his hands. You smirked at him, continuing to fold the laundry.

“You know Michael is too big for that.”

“Then which of your friends has a baby that I don’t know about?”

“You know about all of my friends’ babies, Jake.”

“Is one of your friends expecting again?”

“Not one of my friends, no,” you grinned, waiting for him to catch on. He stared at you for a second, studying you like you would give him the answer. It wasn’t until you gently cupped your own stomach that his eyes went wide and tears kissed his lash line.

“Honey, are you serious?” He asked, voice barely above a whisper. You bit at your bottom lip in excitement, a grin breaking out across your face.

“Sweetheart, please tell me you’re serious,” he begged, a smile tugging at the corner of his own lips, a shout escaping from him as you nodded in excitement. He tossed the onesie to the side, crossing the distance between you two to scoop you into his arms. He peppered kisses across your face, giggles breaking out between the two of you.

“You have no idea how happy I am right now, darlin’,” he beamed, cradling your face in his hands. “I’m gonna take such good care of the both of you, I promise.”

He placed another kiss to your lips before dropping to his knees in front of you, gently splaying his hands across your belly.

“And you, little one?” He whispered almost reverently. “I’m gonna be the best daddy to you. Make no mistake about it. You’re not even here yet and you’ve already got me wrapped around your little finger. I’m not gonna let anything bad happen to you ever, you hear me?”

He placed a kiss to your stomach, peering up at you as he rested his cheek against you, thumb stroking over your shirt.

“You’ve given me the best gift I could have ever asked for,” he murmured, heart so full as he stared up at you.

“It’s too quiet in here,” Jake muttered, leaning back in his recliner. You walked into the living room, handing him a beer with a knowing smile on your face. Jake frowned as you moved to sit on the couch, grabbing your hand and pulling you onto his lap with a grunt as you giggled.

“That’ll happen when your kids move out,” you reminded him with a smile. Your youngest had officially moved off to college a few days prior, and it came as no surprise to you that Jake was not handling the change very well.

Your home had been filled with the constant laughter and chatter of three, beautiful kids for twenty-three years now, and while you were sad to see your kids leave, you were happy to see them grow into the adults they had become. Jake, on the other hand, missed his children terribly.

“They should visit more,” he griped, resting his hand on your thigh, stroking his thumb up and down as you settled into him.

“Jake, they visit almost every week,” you snorted, resting a hand on his chest with a shake of your head. He gave you a look before taking a sip of his beer.

“And it’s not enough,” he retorted with a scowl. You rolled your eyes with a scoff before a smirk overtook your features. You leaned into him, wrapping your arms around his neck as you began to place lingering kisses across his jaw.

“You’re telling me,” you hummed, lips ghosting over the shell of his ear, smirk deepening as he shivered, “that you can’t think of any reason as to why having our kids out of the house might be beneficial to the two of us.”

Jake arched a brow at you, turning to look you over as a matching smirk pulled on his lips.

“Dunno, darlin’,” he murmured, maneuvering you so that you straddled him, “might need some convincin’ that it’s a good thing.”

“Well, I can be very persuasive,” you purred, lips moving down to place hot, open-mouthed kisses along the length of his neck. Jake let out a low groan as you found the spot you knew drove him wild, nipping at the skin before laving your tongue over the same spot.

“Oh, I’m well aware, sugar,” he grunted, hands encouraging your hips to roll against his as he threw his head back in a moan. “You managed to get three kids out of me. Despite my protests, might I add. Practically cornered me until I gave you what you wanted.”

You pulled away with a mock glare, Jake whining at the loss of attention.

“I most certainly did not,” you scowled with a raise of an eyebrow. Jake tried to move your hips once more, but you remained unmoved as you glared at him. “In fact, I distinctly remember you begging me for each one of them.”

“Agree to disagree,” he muttered, leaning up to press his lips against yours. You moved to pull back and argue, but Jake held you firmly against him as you giggled into his mouth. His tongue stroked against your own, and your fingers found purchase in his graying locks. You ground down against him, Jake rewarding you with a delicious moan.

“What was that about convincing me that an empty nest is a good thing?” Jake panted, pulling back to look at you. Another grin spread across your face as you moved to stand. Jake stopped you and you looked at him in confusion as he smirked.

“Where do you think you’re goin’?” He asked, running his hands up and down the backs of your thighs before gripping your ass with a hearty squeeze.

“The bedroom?” You supplied, amusement clear on your face.

“Thought part of the fun of being an empty nester was that we could do it wherever we wanted?”

You snorted. “The kids still have keys, Jake, and I’d rather not have our kids walk in unexpectedly on us ‘doing it’ as you so eloquently put it.”

Jake’s eyes widened in shock before nodding firmly. Giving your ass a quick swat, he helped you up off his lap before standing, tugging you quickly towards the bedroom.

“I’m confiscating those damn keys the next time they’re over, sugar,” he warned, grinning as you burst into a fit of giggles.

Jake watched from the porch as his grandkids ran around the expansive yard, screaming and giggling in delight as they chased each other. He still remembered the days when his own kids, their parents, would run around and cause mayhem around the house. He chuckled as the youngest, Ryan, toddled after his older cousins, a toothy grin on the toddler’s face.

His children and their spouses all sat by the fire pit, talking and laughing about something or other, just content to be all together once more, and Jake felt a surge of love at seeing his family together again after so long.

“What are you smiling about over here, honey?”

He turned to see you walking over towards him, a cup of tea in hand as you offered him a loving smile. Your hair had long since grayed, now a stunning silver that reminded him of starlight. The wrinkles around your eyes creased as you looked at him, and though he knew you were self conscious about them, prodding at them with your fingers and a scowl every morning, he made no secret of how much he loved them.

“Evidence of the years spent together,” he’d tell you before kissing each one.

Now he held his arm out for you to sidle up against him, aged hands resting on his back as he let out a contented sigh.

“You remember when our kids would run around out here?” He asked you, his own hand smoothing up and down the length of your back as he peered down at you. You turned your gaze to the yard, your eyes holding ardent adoration as you looked at your many grandchildren.

“Oh I remember,” you chuckled, resting your head against his shoulder as you took a sip of your tea. “You’d come in with mud on your shoes and I’d just about kill the lot of you.”

“You loved it,” he snickered, kissing the top of your head as you sighed, looking back up at him.

“I did,” you admitted. “I do miss it sometimes. And, while I love these critters we call grandkids, I’m always happy to ship them back home to their parents.”

Jake laughed at that, his own wrinkles creasing at the sides of his eyes as he squeezed you tighter. The two of you stood in contented silence as you watched the kids wear themselves out. Sarah, your middle child’s youngest, came running up to you with an excited gleam in her green eyes, words coming out in pants as she fought to catch her breath.

“Gramma, can we go look at the photos again?” She asked, clutching at your sweater and bouncing on the tips of her toes. You chuckled, smoothing a weathered hand over her blonde hair.

“Of course we can, my darling,” you cooed, motioning for her to lead the way. You turned back to give Jake a kiss, patting his cheek lovingly before following after the little girl. Jake watched you go, hoping the two of you had many more days like this to come.

“Are you going to go talk to her, or are you just going to keep staring like a creep?”

Jake startled from his daydream, green eyes wide as Phoenix gave him a knowing look. Javy slid into the seat next to him, nudging his shoulder as he took a sip from his to go cup.

“She’s right,” he said, gesturing over to where you sat two tables down, typing away contently at your laptop. “You look like a creep just staring at her like that. What are you doing? Thinking about your whole future together?”

Jake scowled at his best friend, shooting another glare at Phoenix for good measure.

“Don’t you two have something better to talk about?” He groused. Phoenix tapped her chin, pretending to think.

“Nope,” she said finally, popping her lips together as she gave him a grin. “Why don’t you go and introduce yourself?”

“I dunno,” Jake muttered, giving you another glance, his heart stuttering nervously as he took you in once more.

“Since when have you ever been the type to be nervous about talking to a girl?” Phoenix snorted, raising an eyebrow at Javy who just shrugged in return.

“‘m not nervous,” he muttered, fidgeting with his fingers as he glanced back at you once more. “Just don’t want to bother her is all.”

“Oh well,” Javy began, pushing his seat back and moving to stand, “if you’re not interested, then I guess I’ll-”

“Don’t you dare,” Jake snapped, grabbing his best friend’s wrist and standing. Javy gave him a triumphant smirk as Jake sighed, clearly bested. He pursed his lips, sparing his friends another glare before gathering up all of his courage and walking over to where you sat.

“Excuse me,” he said, causing you to jump, eyes wide as you gazed up at him. Jake swore his heart stopped then and there. He flashed you a charming smile, one you happily returned as he gestured to the seat next to you. “Is this seat taken?”

“Not at all,” you smiled, gesturing for him to sit. He did so, leaning forward on the table as he looked at you, nerves still fluttering in his stomach as he got a better look at you. You looked at him curiously as he continued to stare, raising an eyebrow at him. He cleared his throat with a sheepish smile, stretching out his hand for you to shake.

“Hi,” he said, noting how soft your hand felt in his as he gave it a squeeze. “I’m Jake.”

A/N: Aaaahh!! So what did you guys think?? Don't forget to follow my sideblog - @sailoraviator-library and turn on post notifications if you'd like to be notified of when I post! As always, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! You can also find me on AO3 under the username sailor_aviator. Until next time!

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cutielando · 4 months

Text

safe haven ~ rafe cameron

my masterlist

Rafe needed to feel loved.

All of his life, he tried to fight for his father's love and always ended up on the losing side. His father would always put Sarah above him and there was nothing he could do that would change that.

Being deprived of love for such a long time made falling in love with you feel so foreign and strange, but it ultimately saved his life.

Since the moment he had laid his eyes on you, he knew he was done for.

When you agreed to be his girlfriend, he swore he could feel his lungs receiving a new lease on life.

The love you provided him with was nothing he had ever felt before. He had never before felt so cared for, so safe and loved with someone before. He didn't know who he had to thank for sending such an angel his way, but he would do it for the rest of his life.

Loving Rafe was the best decision you had ever made. Teaching him how to love and showing him what being loved felt like has been your biggest accomplishment to date. Seeing the broken boy who had spent years and years fighting for someone to love him, to make him feel seen, suddenly loving with all he had in him brought you happiness like never before.

After every bad argument with his father, he would come to you. After every single bad day, after anything, his first and only stop would be you.

You reveled in the fact that you were the only person he trusted enough to go to in time of need. The only person he would even think about going to, no matter the problem.

It most commonly happened when he would get into yet another fight with Ward, it had become something of a custom in the last couple of months.

Tonight was no different.

You had been doing some homework, wanting to get it out of the way so you could enjoy some free days in the upcoming period when you heard a loud knock downstairs.

"Y/N? Rafe's here" you heard your father call from downstairs, which had you worriedly climbing down the stairs.

It wasn't uncommon for Rafe to always be at your house, but he usually always told you he would be coming over. It was never like this.

You thanked your father who just smiled at you and retreated back to the living room, leaving you in the entrance hall with your boyfriend.

"Baby? Why didn't you tell me you were coming over?" you asked once you stopped in front of him, wrapping your arms around his tall and muscular body.

"I wasn't planning on coming here tonight, but I just had to see you" his words were muffled by his face pressed in your neck, and by the way his muscles were tense and rigid under your touch, you knew what had happened.

Ward, once again.

"Let's go upstairs and we can talk about it, okay?" your voice was soft, making Rafe's insides turn to mush.

He nodded as he pulled away from the embrace, taking your hand instead and letting you pull him upstairs to your bedroom.

He knew he wasn't being fair to you, coming to you for comfort every single time his dad would lash out at him. He knew he needed to man up and get a grip, but how could he when you provided so much warmth and safety and love to his soul?

How could he not need you when you were his breath of fresh air? The only thing he needed to survive and keep going? No, it was impossible.

When you had finally reached your room, you closed the door behind you and sat with Rafe on your bed, laying down and cuddling him to your chest.

You slowly started running your hands through his hair, scratching at his scalp and twirling some of the longer strands of his dirty blonde hair around your fingers.

Rafe hummed slowly and closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of being in your arms after having had such a long and awful day.

"Do you want to talk about what happened?" you whispered, not wanting to disturb the peaceful atmosphere that had settled in the room.

Rafe didn't answer straight away, which you figured was a sign that he didn't want to discuss what had happened with his father, but he soon started talking in a tired, worn out voice.

"He thinks I'm turning soft because of you. Not taking care of business the way I usually did before we got together, shit like that. He doesn't see how good you're for me and how much better I'm doing since we've been dating, how calmer I am and the fact that I'm clean. It's a change he doesn't seem to think of as productive so he automatically hates it. Told me to either break up with you or pack my things and get out of the house" he explained, your heart breaking slowly with each word that came out of his mouth.

You knew from the very beginning that Ward thought you were a 'bad influence' over Rafe just because he started getting his life together after you became a couple. He stopped drinking, he's been clean for 2 years, his violent outbursts were almost non-existent and he was seriously preparing to take over the company from your father. Your father had decided that his retirement age was coming up and talked to Rafe about him taking over the company, which meant even more distancing from Ward.

Unfortunately for Ward, that also meant that he could no longer count on Rafe to do illegal things for him, 'take care' of the opposition or scare people shitless, Rafe refused to be involved with that.

Hence, this.

"Oh, baby. I am so sorry" you squeezed him tighter, planting kisses on the top of his head.

He shrugged, only squeezing you tighter and burying his head deeper into the place between your neck and your shoulder.

"I'm gonna need to find a place to stay, was thinking about going to see some places these days before I go and pick up my things" he explained further, making you confused.

Did he really think he would be staying anywhere else other than your house?

"Don't be ridiculous, love. You're gonna stay here with me. We have plenty of rooms where you can keep your things and plenty of space. My parents adore you, they love having you around and they hate your father. Imagine all the time we're going to be able to spend together from now on" you finished on an excited note, making Rafe chuckle.

He loved your ability to turn every single bad thing into a positive one, shine light in the darkest of places.

"I don't want to feel like a burden, especially not to your parents" he commented, even though he wanted nothing more than to stay there with you and your family.

"Don't be silly, you and I both know just how much my parents love you. They're going to enjoy having you around all the time, especially my dad"

Rafe and your dad had a very special relationship. Ever since you started dating, your dad had been the father Ward never was to Rafe. He took him under his wing, showed him the ropes and prepared him for when he would hold the ropes. They would take your family's boat and go fishing for a day or two to bond, they would prepare BBQs together, hang out, watch football games. They sometimes spent more time together than either of them did with you.

Your mother had the same adoration for Rafe as your father. From the moment she had realized how serious your relationship was, she did everything in hew power to show him how much she appreciated him for taking care of you, for being by your side and loving you as much as he did. She too was the mother Rafe had once lost and she provided him with the motherly love and touch he desperately needed.

He was part of your family, whether he knew it or not.

"I can't thank you enough, baby. I love you and your parents so fucking much" he raised his head and took your face in his hand, bending your face just enough to pull you into a deep kiss, pouring every single emotion he felt towards you into the kiss.

You kissed him back just as passionately, determined to never allow Rafe to feel like this anymore.

You would make sure he knew how important and loved he was even if it was the last thing you would do.

After all, you were his safe haven.

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cherry-leclerc · 2 months

Text

method acting ☆ cl16

genre: series, glimpse of angst, fluff, humor, strangers to friends/roommates to lovers, a bit of back and forth

word count: 4.2k

cherry here!...and it all comes crashing down.

ch. one ch. two ch. three ch. four ch. five ch. six

Chapter 5

Life, as you fear, is falling apart as you're confronted with a serious case of writer's block that puts your career on the line. As a solution, you're roommate helps you plan a solo trip to the Amalfi Coast for a much needed break but it doesn't take long for you to meet a certain Monegasque who lays passed out on the beach.

For years, you spent time behind a screen, mindlessly running after Eleanor with a notepad, messy hair sticking out like a madwoman. It must’ve been quite the sight for your fellow colleagues. A constant cycle of proving yourself to others—to your own fucking parents—that what you were doing was going to be all worth it at the end. It was only right that you were utterly exhausted.

Now suddenly, there’s this boy. He has the prettiest watercolor eyes you’ve even had the pleasure of admiring, the cutest dimples, a charming nose, most feathery lashes, pinkest lips, and above all; a heart of gold. You’ve been thrown the toughest battles—the kind you would’ve fought alone if it weren’t for Amelia and Roman—but the universe has rewarded you.

In the span of a month, Charles has completely won you over. From his boyish grin to his dominating smirk. There was just something about him that fell into place with you; like a puzzle piece. The Monegasque never failed to make you feel giddy all over, butterflies soaring freely inside your stomach.

Only now, there were a different type of eyes lurking back at you. Livid, you almost flinched at the thought of them turning red. Resentful, the kind you only thought you knew. Broken, like the glass plate laying at your feet.

But the worst had to be the betrayal, written all over them.

And you knew at that moment. This was the last and only summer.

“Wouldn’t it be scary if I just zip down because a shark bit my leg?” you ponder, gently threading through the tides. The green eyed boy tilts his head in amusement. If he hadn’t taken the time to understand your wild imagination, or dark humor, then he would’ve rolled his eyes and yawned. Instead, he slowly nudges your calf, lighthearted, droplets sliding down his face.

“Not so much as scary, but rather impossible. Sharks don’t swim near the Amalfi Coast.” You nod, though there’s a skeptical aura that lingers as you fix your snorkel. The brunette sneaks a loving glance, taking in your rosy state, scrunched nose when you swallow a gallon of sea salt water. He laughs. “You should keep an eye out for jellyfish, eh. Now those are a problem.”

“Jellyfishes and I are friends. They would never intentionally hurt me. C’mon, let's go back.”

The day had started early. Four fucking a.m. The Monegasque had hurled you out of bed, declaring that time was running out and he needed to spend all of it with you. The day prior, he had promised he would always text, call, and visit. It made your heart flutter and pounce all at the same time.

Hence, snorkeling. It was a fun and quick activity, so naturally you agreed with a killer pout as you squinted at the bright sun, despite it being the crack of dawn. Signaling to a glimmery oyster, you excitedly nod when he makes his way over. Once you reach the surface again, you clap with delight. “Can you open it for me?”

He doesn’t answer, but rather focuses his attention on snapping it wide. You can feel your eyes shimmer at the sight, an electrifying pearly white. Almost greedily, you pinch it in between your fingers, bringing it up to parade. “That is absolutely stunning. Oh my God, do you think I could turn it into a ring?”

His lips curl. “I’d say so.”

After that, you both settle into a comfortable silence. The sun was blazing hot at this point, and still there was a breeze. Just when your face would start to dry up, you would dip back in and beam at the Monegasque. He grins, crinkles, hugging the corner of his eyes. He allows himself to swoon when you wink up at the rays of sunshine. “So, I was thinking…”

“Mhm,” you murmur, orbs trained on your newly prize possession.

Nerves fill the brunette’s veins, sharp hands gently massaging his jaw, letting out a shaky breath. You furrow your brows, cocking your head to the side. Is everything alright? Charles sheepishly smiles. “Well, I, uh, was wondering…” He trails off when your lips wobble, hinting that you knew what this was all leading up to. “Would you like to go out on a date? With me,” he adds shyly.

“You were kind enough to seek me a gem,” you hum. “I would love to, Charles.”

“Wonderful,” he sighs in relief. “I-I-I know we sort of skipped a couple steps a few days ago,” he stutters anxiously. Your cheeks burn up at the reminder of him in between your legs. “So— but—I’m definitely glad that we’re able to—ouch!” he yelps in pain, teeth gritting. You fill up with panic, frantically eyeing the clear water.

“What? What?” you urge. “It’s a shark, isn’t it? I knew they would find a way!” The 26 year old barely had a chance to fill you in on what was really going on, but couldn’t really do much when you zoom out, popping the pearl into your mouth safely, floppy arms threading fast to the point that they became sore.

“There’s no—oh my word.” He grimaces, a painful expression mapped out as he, too, follows you out as quickly as he can. As he limps over to you, you scream, shiny jewel falling straight onto the ground.

“Charles, Charles, Charles.” Your stomach drops, fingers jittery, “There’s a jellyfish wrapped around your ankle…”

“You’re all caught up,” he grunts. “Get it off!”

You squeal when he lifts his leg up at you. “I can’t! Can’t you kick it off or something?”

He clenches his jaw, heavy pants filling the air. “And risk getting stung again? No, thank you. I drive for a living! I need this thing off.” He flings his leg and the transparent sea-creature disconnects, landing straight into the water. He stares back astonished and you simply laugh loudly and maniacally. You did it! “Yes, now pee on it.”

“Oh—hell no. What is this? A kink of yours?” Your nose scrunches up with clear disgust, as if you just caught a whiff of a baby’s diaper. Charles scowls. It’s supposed to help—do you think I want to do this? You gag, adamantly shaking your head. “No, no, I’ve read about this! We can add vinegar!” Briskly grabbing your essentials, you grip his wrist, already dragging him to his car.

He tears up—though, denies it—almost kicks you, and groans like a baby, but survives his injury. “Better?” Barely. Washing your hands, you share a stern glare. “At home remedies. Godsend.” He sulks deeper into his seat, wet hair trapping his face. Once you dry your hands, you plop down next to him, pecking his lips. “Grump.”

A beady eye pops open before snapping back shut. “I’d like to see you get stung.” You gasp theatrically, playfully swatting his shoulder. He chuckles, hauling you atop of him. You almost giggle like a teen, but manage to tune it out. “How ‘bout our date?”

“How about you rest? Cha, we can go out tomorrow.”

His bright eyes dim. “But we only have a few days left…”

Your mood comes crashing down as well, downcast eyes flickering like fireflies. “Then I should get ready, no?” His lips turn upward. “Meet me by the door in fifteen.”

It’s a rush, digging through your suitcase, trying to find the perfect dress, the perfect flats. You lose a good chunk of hair as you comb through it, due to the salty water, but manage. You briskly fly through your makeup routine, slather your body with perfume and lotion, and dash back downstairs, finding him already standing there.

Charles was at edge up until that moment. His tenseness slips away as soon as he sees you, looking as beautiful as ever. There’s a harsh tan going on, but even that makes you all the more breathtaking. He’s not too bad himself and you know it when you blush. From his linen navy blue shirt to his denim jeans, you swoon.

“You smell like honey,” he stammers. “You look lovely.”

“Grazie.” A beat. “You got a few new ones.”

He’s generally a cool guy, but you always strike him with some type of new feeling. He burns up, softly grazing his nose where a few freckles pop up. “That always happens when I’m out in the sun for too long. Ready?” You purse your lips, skipping towards him.

When you were eight, you had your first date. You suppose that really depends on how you see it. You mother had tried to become friends with a few ladies from the local book club and you always found yourself tagging along. Obligated, more so. His name was Joey and he had two missing teeth, so every time he spoke, a lisp would come through. It made you giggle cutely as you would lick your melted ice cream off your forearm. Eventually, your mother felt the right to storm out, pulling you away, and you never saw or heard of him again.

At eighteen, you had your last. You should've known from his name alone. James. He was tall, blond, a complete know-it-all, but he had noticed you. The crush slowly died the moment his eyes trailed to the next pretty girl, and the next, and the next.

Now, you’re mid-twenties and this feels like the right choice. He isn’t missing a row of teeth, he buys you ice cream and never once rushes you, he’s tall and proud, and has a set of chocolate curls. Most importantly, he has eyes for you and only you. It was as sweet as it could get.

“Can I ask you something?” Charles raises a brow, humming along. Twirling your pasta against the metal fork, you prop your chin on your palm. “What were you doing that day at the beach? Where we first met.”

Crimson red slashes his already burnt face as he chokes on his wine. “I wouldn’t want to ruin your perspective over me.” He drums his long fingers. “I was taking a nap.”

“Oh, well, I know that, but you were basically a goner!” You teasingly whistled. “I’m a curious little monkey, so please, enlighten me.”

The Monegasque tsks, relaxing his wide shoulders. He circles the restaurant instantly before leaning in across the table. “That day I was feeling particularly stressed. I was dealing with a lot of things and I don’t remember much after that. Except when a friend gave me a so-called magic potion.” He takes a sip to fix his dry throat. “Oh it did wonders, I tell you.” Absolute wonders, he mouths.

Your eyes widen. “Like…drugs?” you hiss, bewildered at the possibility. He cringes and nods, floppy hair bouncing. Your mouth forms a silent O, then nibble on your bottom lip, letting go. “I didn’t take you for a—”

“Me either.” You hear the sound of plates crashing down as you flinch and you both turn your attention to the apologetic waiter. The older couple look pissed, bitterly curse out the poor man, and blink as if they weren’t the vulgar ones. Charles rolls his eyes, then sighs. “I don’t think I could ever understand people like that.”

“Ruthless?”

“Took the words right out of my mouth. It’s ugly. Makes them look so out of touch with reality, which I suppose is true.” Green eyes flicker to the waiter once again before getting up to help. Tonight is really only the first time he’s gone out without his supposed disguise, so it’s obviously made your stomach flip at the thought of someone recognizing him.

Which they do.

“Charles Leclerc?” The accent is thick—and clearly Italian—as they step closer, phone already whipping out. The brunette turns, a lopsided smile drawn. “Holy shit! It’s really you! Can I please have a picture?” After a few minutes of chatter, the Monegasque excuses himself from the group, looking a bit suffocated.

“Being tackled in public? That’s what stresses you out, right?” His breath gets caught in his throat, but doesn’t make a move to shut the claim down. He answers by turning his attention to his lap. You sigh. “What did you take and who gave it to you?”

“You probably don’t even know him—Daniel. He’s quite the man, knows lots of people, and thought it would help. It did. Coke. I-it was my first and only try, I promise.”

You release a further breath. “You’re old enough to know your wrongs from rights. I trust you.” He eases up. “Doesn't mean you should rely on that.”

Charles looks up with a frown. “I feel like a fucking scumbag. I mean, does it make me a bad person to dread meeting fans sometimes? They’re always supporting me—it’s the least I could do.”

“You’re only human, Cha. You have your good and bad days. They would understand.” He shrugs, smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Do you remember what you told me that day you cooked that godforsaken meal?”

He nips the air. “You said it was delicious!”

You snicker, glad to see his humor coming back. “I lied. No, but you told me I had to stop pleasing everyone around me. Focus on myself. You said that. And I advise you to do the same.”

He’s heard this countless times. With Charlotte, which he only tuned out angrily, blaming her for not understanding his duties. Carlos, narrating how he of all people should understand. Pierre, smacking his head before walking away, already annoyed that too many people had tried to help, how he got called out on repeat. But with you, he simply nodded, somewhat agreeing. Not completely, but enough. That itself was a lot when it came to him and his stubbornness. Something inside of him told him he would do whatever you asked him to. It was a scary—liberating—feeling.

The last time he felt this was with…

A wave of realization slithers across his features. Charlotte. That last person he felt this familiar feeling was for Charlotte. And even then, their relationship felt foolish compared to anything he’s ever felt for you. There were sparks flying when you fluttered your doe eyes back at him, when you called him out on anything he does with a witty sense of humor…

He’s been fucked ever since the tiny ballerina kissed the hot-headed Stormtrooper.

“My words of wisdom are pretty clever,” he voices, smirking. “You’re right. I should focus more on myself.” Pause. “Thank you. For everything. For taking the time to get to know me. Not many bother these days.”

You want to cry at the gratitude written all over his handsome face, the sound of his disbelief, like a kid who genuinely thought they’d be picked last for a game of tag.

“You're very important to me, Charles.” You gently take his large hand into your smaller one. He stiffens. “You won’t ever forget that, right?”

“Not even if I try, no.” Then he presses a warm kiss onto your skin, and you feel him smile against it. “Anything you say or do would take me forever to overlook, to erase.” More pressure expands through your already firm chest, ragged breaths. “Something tells you’re a once in a lifetime type of person. How could I ever let that slip away?”

You excuse yourself in a flash, tears threatening to spill after his touch felt words. Just when you thought you couldn’t feel more two-faced, he somehow squeezes your heart around his fist, and you deserve every ounce of shame, of guilt.

After a round of paper towels that you dab as harsh as soft Kleenex, you force a bright smile in the mirror, shooting a quick thumbs up and storming back out to your date.

The 26 year old was concerned about the hazy interaction, perturbed eyes blinking as you got up as if you had just seen the Devil himself, unbeknownst that you felt like one. He’s left anxiously waiting, tapping his shoes against the shiny tiles, leg bouncing up and down with anticipation. Cursing underneath his breath, he stands up and makes his way to the women's restroom. He receives a few baffled glances when he bolts down the hallway.

“Jesus Christ,” you yelp, finding Charles right in front of you when you swing the door open. His green eyes narrow like knives, carefully analyzing your pink nose, red rimmed eyes. “You scared me—”

“What did they say to you?”

You frown. “What are you talking about?”

His hands make their way up to cradle your face, thumbs grazing your temples. You raise a neat brow. “Did anyone follow you? See you? Were they rude? My fans aren’t normally like this, I promise they’re sweet, but if they did anything to you, I swear to God—”

Instantly shaking your head, you let out a nervous giggle. “No one said anything, don’t worry. I just really had to pee. Promise.”

This is what he was most afraid of when he first opened up to you, to go out in public. Charles was terrified at the image of your privacy being invaded, much like his. For hurtful words or actions to be aimed at you. And then you blink up at him with a sour expression because he knows you just cried, he obviously grew protective. Leaning down, he meekly kisses your forehead. “What’s wrong then? You hate me that much?” he jokes.

You bite back a smile. “Something like that. How about we go somewhere dear to us?”

Added to the torment of what you were feeling, you didn’t think things could get any worse—and yet.

Today. By today. Get it done.

Aghast, your delicate fingers come up to your berry lips, pinching at them nervously before biting down on your thumb, re-reading Eleanor’s message. Friday. You originally had until Friday. It’s only Wednesday. Sure, only a forty-eight hour difference, but still. You wanted to hold onto the most valuable time possible if you could. You try convincing her to change her mind, but it was a worthless battle. You knew once she had her mind set on it, then that’s exactly what had to happen.

By today.

You’re sobbing, panting, your vision is blurry as you type on your phone, angry as you fiddle against the tiny screen. Who could you really be mad at? Eleanor? No. Charles? No. The universe? Tempting, but no. It was all you. If you hadn’t mentioned having a possible exclusive for the sake of saving your job, then you wouldn’t be tangled in this mess.

You can’t go down that way, it’s ladies only!

I’m terribly sorry, but I have to check on my wife.

You recognize his urgent voice, deep and raw. His words aren’t true, but it fucks you up just the same. Hurrying to slip your phone back inside your purse, you quickly fix your appearance before opening the wide door, finding Charles mid-knock.

“Jesus Christ. You scared me.”

“Back where we started,” the green eyed boy chirps when he spots the tiny pub that sits atop of the hill. “It feels as if we were just here yesterday. This is fantastic.”

“I didn’t think you loved it that much,” you poke fun, bumping your hip against his. His watercolor eyes flicker to yours for a brief moment, then focusing back at the old shed.

“Things can surely change in the span of a month.”

The implication was as clear as daylight, but it only flew past your head as you enthusiastically ran up, smiling back at him. Nico is still there, serving drinks with a cheshire grin, when he spots you. “I remember you! How have you been, cara mia? Is Italy treating you well enough?”

You buzz, tippy toeing as you sheepishly try to spot the main reason you came back. “Oh, definitely. I think I might stay. Do you, um, happen to have—”

“Got it right here,” he says, gloved hand wrapping around the familiar liquid. You blush, ordering a round—bottle—and making your way back to the Monegasque. As soon as the tray hits your table, he throws a dubious stare, thanking the older man. “Huge fan, Mr. Leclerc.” He extends his Ferrari merch with a timid grin. “Do you mind?”

Charles returns the warm smile. “Not at all.” He signs away sloppily, but professionally. Nico zooms cheerfully, eager to boast out to his co-workers. You giggle. Very nice, very nice. He shrugs nonchalantly. “Does my kind gesture get me a kiss?”

“We’ll see,” you mumble, looking away before he spots your pink cheeks.

He sighs dramatically. “Do you really think it’s for the best if you drink this crap again? Do you remember the last time you had a sip?”

“I’ll go easy. This shit is good.” Throwing your head back, you gulp down the sweet alcoholic drink, eyes squeezing tightly before you huff. “Exactly. Try some.” The brunette does, but steady, a careful eye always lingering onto you. You don’t get drunk this time—rather tipsy. You tell yourself it's because you don’t want to wake up with a killer headache tomorrow, but you know that’s far from the truth. It’s simple. You just didn’t want to forget the last moments you had with him.

His adoration would only last so long.

Clicking your phone open, you clumsily had it over to him. Record me. He huffs, but amusement colors his orbs. “Here we go again…” You snicker playfully, marching over to the lady at the piano. You’re back, she pronounces.

“I am.” You laugh. “Do you happen to play guitar?”

She shakes her head sadly before lighting up. “But Nico does. Nico!” she screams as the man rushes over. “You play song for pretty girl standing right here?” Volentieri, he chirps, looking for his rusty instrument. After a bit of discussion, you twirl back, walking to the center stage.

“I can still recall, our last summer. I still see it all.” Charles laughs, throwing his head back like a little kid as he reminds himself to keep your phone steady. “Walks along the Seine, laughing in the rain. Our last summer, memories that remain.”

The guitar is a lone act, but fills up the room as if there were a band. Occasionally, the keys of the broken piano fill the room as you smile gently. From the way you dance to the way you smile, Charles lives for every moment, taking in your happiness.

You should have seen the foreshadowing. The song. The plates that crashed during dinner. The stare. It was all laying right out in front of you, and you stupidly chose to ignore it until it was too late.

“Our last summer, walking hand in hand…” You trail off the moment his eyes turn dark, furrowing to the screen then back to you, as if trying to come up with a possible explanation. He stands up abruptly, chair squeaking so loud that everyone’s heads turn to look. “No,” you whisper in disbelief when he walks out, leaving you like an open love letter.

“No, no, no, no, no.” Flying down the stairs, you trip a couple of times, concerned glances shared between Nico and the older lady. None of it matters as you run after Charles.

Anger must give you wings because he’s long gone when you reach the open air. Dirt crunches underneath your heels as you desperately try to catch a sign that he’s around. When he’s not, you instantly call a cab, rudely directing him to your shared Airbnb.

He loves you; he's sure of it the moment you tuck a strand of hair behind your jeweled ear, slightly hesitant as you try to refresh Nico’s mind over what song you wanted. He even practices a few strings before winking over at you.

He knows it the moment you reach a certain note that makes your voice crack, smiling shyly, giggling through your singing.

And you loved him all too late.

Draft is perfect. Green light, publish it. We can talk about your promotion when you get back. Congratulations. Hard work really does pay off.

He recognizes the name as soon as it blares across your screen, still recording you, spinning across the stage without a care in the world. He feels inanely invasive when he clicks on the email, but pushes the feeling away with the fact that this appeared to be good news, and was there really any harm to that?

Charles Leclerc: The Man Behind the Helmet.

He reads through, spotting your name swiftly.

Sat down with him…

High on the beach—a desperate tactic to release some much needed stress during the off season…

Golden pin, prancing horse. Gifted from the late, Hervé Leclerc…

Fearful of what’s to come once Hamilton enters the picture later in 2025…

He’s skimming but it’s enough for him to wonder if he’s experiencing true headache right now. Your voice cuts off, turning pale as you blink back at him. Fury enters his veins as he storms out, not caring about what you must think. He hears you chasing after him, but manages to climb into the first cab he sees.

What he hates the most is that he still feels like a complete idiot for leaving you behind. For marching out without a single word.

For being so stupid.

taglist: @blueflorals @starmanv @coolio2195 @lovrsm @weekendlusting@chanshintien @brune77e @myownwritings @timmychalametsstuff @milasexutoire @alesainz @c-losur3 @darleneslane @togazzo @urfavnoirette @namgification @lpab @d3kstar

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ghost-proofbaby · 1 year

Text

so scarlet (it was maroon)

in which eddie gets everything he dreamed of - except you. based off of "maroon" by taylor swift.

→ warnings: smut, severe angst, hurt/no comfort, 18+ minors dni

→ pairings: rockstar!eddie x fem!reader

→ wc: 11.3k+

→ a/n: don't mind me, just trying to see if tumblr will let me finally post this. this is cross-posted from ao3 (and wattpad)

ao3

"When the morning came, we were cleaning incense off your vinyl shelf 'cause we lost track of time again. Laughing with my feet in your lap, like you were my closest friend"

“You’re fucking with me,” Eddie sits up to stare at you, lit joint still dangling between his ringed fingers and the last of his latest hit lingering in a ghost of white smoke on his lips.

“I’m not,” you laugh at his reaction, tilting your head forward just enough for where you were sprawled out on his bed to get a better view of him, “I’m scared to take cold medicine now.”

“There’s no way you got high off of the recommended dose!” he cackles, shaking his head in disbelief, a hand coming down on your shin to ground himself. You watch his shoulders shake with laughter, how his curls come down to curtain around his reddening cheeks and his reddening eyes, how his doe eyes are pinched shut and crinkled in the corners.

A map of a million lifetimes, branching out from the corner of those eyes. A million lifetimes, a million possibilities, a million futures. And every single one of them begins and ends with Eddie.

If you stare for too long, you’re going to say something you regret in your high, so you sit up as he had in order to snatch back the joint, “Stop babysitting. Aren’t you the one who’s always chastising me on ‘puff, puff, pass’?”

He feigns offense, mouth wide open and face scrunched up adorably so, as you take a delicate hit. The smoke enters your mouth quickly, wasting no time as it barrels down your throat and curls into every crevice of your lungs. Your chest aches slightly at the intrusion.

His eyes never leave yours. He watches the glaze continue to intensify over them as you slowly exhale. His thumb begins to trace gentle arches over the bare skin of your leg as his warm palm shifts upward, inching until it’s over your knee and resting on your thigh. “You’re fucking ridiculous.”

“Learned from the best.”

“That you did, sweetheart. That you did.”

He holds his free hand back out for the joint, and your fingertips brush as you return it to him.

“So what? Was it better than this kind of high?” he teases before bringing it to his lips. They’re pursed in preparation, and you only lose your concentration for a moment before remembering to answer him.

“I dunno, Munson. You’ve got some good shit here but… Dayquil might be giving you a run for your money,” you mock, tilting your head and leaning in closer to him. He’s grinning again, looking up through shy lashes before he takes his hit.

This time he doesn’t exhale immediately into the cloudy air of the room. Instead, he takes you off guard as he shifts on the bed and pulls you closer. Soon enough he has you in his lap, draping one arm around your waist as he takes the hand not holding the joint and gingerly grabs your jaw.

You already know the drill. You’re familiar with the process of his shotguns as his fingers tap your cheeks and you let your mouth fall slightly open, leaning to meet him halfway. He still doesn’t exhale, not until his lips have grazed over yours lightly, teasing before he finally seals the two of you together. The kiss is messy, as it always is with him; your tongue can’t differentiate between the taste of him and the taste of the smoke as he presses the kiss deeper. You’re not even sure you breathed in enough to capture any of it, but none of it feels like a waste as he’s biting your bottom lip, hands pulling your hips impossibly close. The joint is eventually discarded on one of the ashtrays on his bedside tables as you lose yourselves into each other. His nose presses itself into flat against yours between hot breaths.

“We can’t-” you pull back, a trail of saliva chasing you before Eddie follows, capturing you in another kiss that you pull back from, “The joint-” another interruption with another desperate kiss, “The incense-”

“The incense will be fine, baby,” he insists, pouting slightly, “It’s not going to burn the house down.”

He kisses you once more, wasting no time to fall backwards into his pillows and dragging you with him. For a moment, you’re straddling him, hovering over him, but he quickly turns and presses your back into his sheets before he’s rolling over on top of you, caging you in. You don’t mind it. You never mind him taking up your space, your breath, your mind.

A hand comes up to rest on your neck as you take a moment to press both hands into his chest, forcing distance. His eyes snap wide open, and they’re shining like a dozen moons at once, even with his pupils blown out.

“And if it does? It if does burn down the house?” you whisper, hands beginning to wander, one finding its way up and around the back of his neck, toying with the curls in its path. The other smooths over his shoulder, prepared to pull him back in impossibly close even without an answer.

He’s looking down at you with all the love in all of Hawkins, in all of the world, as he smirks and answers, “Then I say let it burn.”

"And I chose you, the one I was dancing with in New York, no shoes. Looked up at the sky and it was maroon."

Within a year of graduation, Eddie had made it very clear he wanted to get out of Hawkins. Corroded Coffin had been slowly but surely crawling their way to popularity outside of Hawkins, and when the moment was right, he came to you with an offer you couldn’t refuse.

“Come with me. Move to New York. I know, it’s insane, but-”

“Yes.”

“Yeah?”

“Absolutely. Was it ever really a question, Eddie?”

He was it for you, and so when he’d been prepared to beg you on his knees to move with him, it had been a no-brainer. You packed up all your belongings without second-thoughts, said goodbye to the town that never really deserved either of you, and started your life in a big city.

The apartment was small and impossibly cramped, but the first night you two arrived, it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter if it was in the dingier part of town, or that you two were going to be penniless the next several months as you barely scraped by with rent. The moment you walked into that one-bedroom apartment, you knew it was yours, and you knew with certainty then that you had done it - you had escaped the bleary town and come out the other side.

“Holy shit,” he sighs as he places down one of the last few boxes you’d brought with you amongst one of the several piles littering the living room. You’re sitting on top of one particularly sturdy stack of boxes, the top one serving as a seat most likely filled with your books from home.

“Yeah,” you breath, looking around, completely stunned, “Holy shit.”

Eddie turns in a full circle, almost as if he was drinking it all in, before he faces you once more. His face is a blank slate only for a second before the serendipity and sudden gaiety takes over his features. He’s unexpectedly running in your direction, arms wrapping around you and lifting you off the boxes as you squeal, swinging you around effortlessly.

“We fucking did it!” he cheers over your giggles. When he finally finishes spinning you, letting your sock-clad feet find stability on the hardwood floors, he still doesn’t let you go. He only pulls you into his chest tighter, “We did it. We’re in New fucking York.”

You smile brightly, pressing your cheek painfully against his t-shirt, nodding as you echo, “We did it.”

The moment pauses as he pulls away as suddenly as he had picked you up, still radiating happiness.

“Hold on, wait here. I’ve got an idea.”

He jogs over to one of the stacks of boxes at the entrance of the kitchen as you just laugh, “Not like I’ve got anywhere to run off to, Munson.”

“You better not!” he calls over his shoulder, digging for whatever his brilliant idea was.

You disobey him indirectly by wandering across the living room, steps slow and careful as you approach the large window offering a lackluster view. All you could see, for the most part, was the large brickwall of the neighboring apartment building. It was old and faded, scattered marks of paints from clear graffiti at random intervals. The city had clearly tried to wash away the few remnants of whatever art the random city vigilantes had covered it with, but the reminders of what once was remained. A nod to the fact that sometimes, no matter how hard you try to wash away things, their legacy lingers stubbornly.

You don’t even hear Eddie setting up one of his old boomboxes with a favorite mixtape of the two of yours until it begins to play from the speakers, probably a bit more loud than you should have if you were attempting to be considerate neighbors.

But neither of you cared.

When you turn, you find Eddie approaching you steadily to the beat of the song playing. He takes a step with each beat, swaying his hips in clear exaggeration.

He’s only several paces from you when he holds out a hand, grinning like a fool as he says, “Dance with me, sweetheart.”

You take it, immediately. There’s not a trace of hesitation as you let the boy who held the sun in your eyes drag you across the barren living room, not even dancing to the beat but growing dizzy with love regardless. You let your own happiness mingle with his. As he spins you for the hundredth time, dipping you low and dramatically, you imagine that this is it - this is as good as it could possibly get. Because you’re with your boy, and you two are dancing to your own beat as the mixtape ends, and there couldn’t possibly be a more perfect person than him.

He brings you back up to him as he stands up straight, and not a word is passed as lips crash together. An eager kiss, all teeth and revelations and silent promises of forever. It’s saccharine sweet as his tongue passes over your lips, begging for more closeness. Your chests are so tightly pressed together that with each breath he gasps in, you’re forced to exhale.

“I love you,” he mutters, pulling back momentarily and staring into your eyes. His arms cradle you so carefully, as if scared that when he lets go, you’ll completely disappear from him, “I love you so goddamn much, it hurts. I can’t believe this is real.”

“It’s real, so you better believe it, rockstar,” you reassure him, “Now shut up and kiss me.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” he mutters, already so close to you that his lips brush against yours before he’s back on you, hot and heavy.

You’re not sure how exactly it happens, or who first starts encouraging the steps taken towards the hallway, but you end up with your back against the wall as Eddie leans completely into you. You both feel drunk on each other, giddy on your current reality. After a particularly harsh tug on his hair, in sync with a yearning squeeze on your hip, he whispers ‘jump’ into your kiss. Hands find the back of your thighs, molding them into his knuckles as he carries you into the bedroom.

The room is only filled with a few artifacts: boxes of both of your clothes, Eddie’s prized guitar propped up in one of the corners, and a mattress on the floor only covered in a comforter and no sheets yet. The afternoon light is golden as it flutters in through the open window, the sounds of the city muted by your breaths.

He’s impossibly gentle as he lowers the two of you down onto the mattress, careful as he lets you unwrap your legs and flop back. Even with his carefulness, you find your own eagerness causing your movements to be too rough, bouncing back slightly and bumping noses with him. You both take a break to laugh.

“Careful, you klutz,” he warns, balancing himself up on his forearms as he looks down at you in adoration. You don’t respond, instead lifting yourself to capture his lips in yours, pulling him down. Your teeth clash with his as you both continue to giggle into the open-mouthed kiss.

He gives in, hands roaming as they slip below your tattered shirt you’d worn for the occasion of moving. His warm hands find home on your chest, squeezing softly and thumbs flicking your already pebbled nipples in order to pull gasps from you. He lets his head drop to your neck, his messy curls tickling your nose as he presses wet kisses down your jugular. Each kiss is in sync with the heavy beating of your heart.

He stops when his path leads him down to your collarbone, sucking and nipping before releasing blooming skin to glance up at your face, twisted in euphoria. “This is real, isn’t it?”

His voice is so soft, you almost don’t hear him. But you look down at him, a boy made of contradictions - of sunshine and moonlight, of passionate and tender actions - and can only smile in serenity.

“Yeah, it is.”

It’s the only encouragement he needs to continue his worship, leaving no patch of supple skin unkissed.

"The burgundy on my t-shirt when you splashed your wine into me, and how the blood rushed into my cheeks. So scarlett, it was maroon."

It could have been hours later or days when you’d finally tired yourselves out. It took an impossible amount of willpower, but eventually, you two had untangled yourselves from each other, leaving the warmth of your comforter to continue unpacking.

Or rather, you were unpacking. Eddie had taken to stretching out on the bed, back propped up on the bare wall behind him with his guitar in his lap, strumming mindlessly as he watched you begin to pull your clothes from one of the boxes. You took your time, smoothing out any wrinkles that had formed during the move, focused as you hung your shirts on hangers and put them away into their home in your new shared closet.

Eddie pauses whatever song he had been practicing when he catches sight of a particular shirt you pull from the box.

It’s a white t-shirt. Nothing impressive, but what piques his interest is the splotch of once-red-now-maroon painting the center of the fabric. It’s faded, feathered at the edges, but he knows the story behind that stain all too well.

“You really kept that shirt? Even after I ruined it?” he chuckles, shifting his guitar off his lap, scooting towards the edge of the bed.

You hold it up, laughing as well, taking in the stain that refused to wash out, “Yeah. Sentimental value or whatever,” you tease, looking down at him. You take his breath away like this, in nothing but his Judas Priest shirt that barely reaches your thighs, nothing but underwear on underneath, hair in tangles from your previous activities. But you’re glowing, a glow that he’s been lucky enough to witness on multiple occasions, and it takes everything in him to keep his hands to himself, “Never really wear it, though. Guess I should get rid of it, huh?”

“No,” he answers you far too quickly, “Never. Keep it forever. We can frame it, hang it in the hallway.”

You know he’s not serious, but the thought still makes you smile. You’d never really get rid of it, far too attached to the memories it held, even two years later.

Another Harrington party. Another sea of almost-adults getting far too drunk, far too rowdy. You’d been to your fair share of them, but they never really got easier.

There’s an excitement in the air you can’t place. Maybe it was from graduation, still nearly six months away but on the horizon nevertheless. Or maybe it was simply from the holiday - Halloween. Whatever it was, it buzzed through the air and across your chilled skin.

Your costume was last minute. A half-assed attempt at a pirate costume. It had been thrown together with things you could already find in your closet, for the most part - one of your more flowy white t-shirts, black jeans you’d taken scissors to the knees of in an act of temporary rebellion, heavy boots originally bought for hiking. The only real clues as to what you were had been aiming to disguise yourself as were the cheap eyepatch and doltish pirate hat you’d bought when shopping with your friends for the occasion. But you’d long forgone your eyepatch as the alcohol impaired your vision well enough without the loss of use in one of your eyes.

The hat was a cheap velvet-texture, deep maroon in color and an extravagant black feather barely holding on by the factory glue used to secure it.

Your friends had long since abandoned you. One of them went off with a jock who had caught their eye, the other getting dragged into a very serious game of beer pong. It hadn’t bothered you too much - it had left you to your own devices, nursing a cup of whatever punch had been spiked in a dark corner of the kitchen. You watched your classmates trail in and out for their own dose of alcohol without much interest. Until he walked in.

He was glued to the side of the host himself, Steve Harrington. You overheard a couple of scolding sentences coming from Steve’s lips, something about ‘cutting him off’ and how he needed to ‘compose himself’. It was entertaining, at the least, to watch the boy fumble with himself.

“C’mon, you’ve got to have more whiskey around here somewhere, pretty boy!” he whined, leaning into Steve as he lost his balance momentarily.

“No, Eddie! I mean it, you’re cut off! Now stay here or so help me God-” Steve appeared irritated, but was far more patient than you would have been as he carefully guided his friend to lean on the counter across the room from you. He left the room in a hurry, and you snickered under your breath as the predictable happened right before your eyes - once Eddie was left alone, he immediately began to pilfer for more alcohol.

It takes him a second, to your amusement, before he reappeared from the lower cabinets he had crouched in front of, letting out a loud ‘Aha!’ with a bottle of red wine in hand. He wasted no time in digging through multiple drawers as if it were his own house before he found a corkscrew, and the entire time, your eyes continuously flickered to the entrance of the entrance, waiting until Steve returned and would catch his friend red-handed (literally).

He never did, though. Eddie has enough time to begin struggling with the cork, curses and mutters falling from his lips as you watched on. You’re only pulled from your watchful gaze when you hear a loud pop, and hear a triumphant ‘Fuck yeah!’ from the boy.

Maybe you thought you should intervene, considering you were clearly not as far gone as Eddie, but you weren’t quick enough. You’d walked up behind him, about to announce yourself and stop him, when he turned suddenly, a red cup in hand that was nearly overflowing with red wine.

Eddie hadn’t expected you to be so close, hadn’t even realized he wasn’t alone in the kitchen. Immediately, the cup collided with your chest and the red wine sloshed down the front of your shirt.

You gasped, jumping back slightly, as he cursed, “Oh, shit! Fuck, I’m so sorry.”

Wide, brown eyes found yours, looking sincere in their apology.

He looked around before grabbing a random kitchen towel, unfortunately also a starch white, and began to try and dab at your shirt clumsily.

“No, no, it’s okay,” you insisted as you felt your cheeks begin to burn. He continued to attempt to rectify the matter, clearly panicked. You have to eventually grab his wrists, pulling him and the now-ruined towel away. He looked back up.

It was almost like slow motion. His eyes met yours and you felt time stop. Your fingers stay pressed into his wrist, feeling the beat of his pulse, for far longer than necessary.

“It’s fine,” you said once more, finally prying your grip from him. You might have been a little too drunk to care, and you’re sure that sober you would be disappointed in the comfortable t-shirt now being collateral damage, but for now, it didn’t matter.

“I had no clue you were there. I’m- Fuck, I’m drunk. I’m an idiot. Sorry,” he slurred, looking down at you.

You shrugged, playing it off, “Shoulda announced myself sooner. Don’t be sorry, it’s a problem for sober me.”

You really had liked that shirt. It was a shame.

“You know, if you really wanted more alcohol, they still have punch left,” you jabbed a thumb over your shoulder, in the direction of the crystal bowl on the counter you had just been leaning on.

Eddie’s face scrunched up in disgust immediately, “Ew, God no. That shit’s way too sweet.”

You bit your lip to fight laughter, “And wine is any better?”

“It can be, when shared with someone as pretty as yourself,” he has a shameless, flirty grin on his features, raising his eyebrows suggestively at you. You broke, laughing softly and shaking your head.

He had a point. The punch wasn’t very good.

“Alright, then, mister ‘you’re cut off’. I suppose I’ll join you in your antics,” you turned to the sink, dumping the remnants of your punch before turning back to him and reaching for the bottle of wine he still held.

His hand flew out of reach, tsking immediately, “Nope. Allow me.”

It wasn’t a good idea, but you let him take your now-empty cup regardless. He put it down on the counter and focused intently on filling it, nearly emptying the wine bottle as he topped it off just as full as his own had been.

“Jesus, you’d make a shitty bartender. You’re definitely overpouring right now.”

“Hush,” is all he replied as he finished the task at hand, setting down the empty bottle once he poured the last few drops into his own cup, attempting to make up for what was now soaking your shirt. It had started to dry, becoming cold and uncomfortably sticky, but you were too distracted with the boy in front of you to care. “M’lady,” he finally handed back the cup, looking far too proud of himself for not making another mess.

“Thank you,” you teased, giving a messy and exaggerated bow, careful to not spill the wine.

Once your glass is back in your own hand, his began to fumble into the pockets of the leather jacket he wore. It led to him spilling some more of his wine onto his own shirt this time, and you considered how lucky he was that he was wearing black.

“Here,” you gave him no choice as you gingerly took the cup from his hand, freeing him up to find whatever it was he was so desperate to find in his pockets. You take the moment to glance over his costume: he was wearing black jeans, a black t-shirt, and a black leather jacket. On his face, a pair of small, circular sunglasses were perched haph-hazardly on his nose, the lenses a barely opaque red. You noted the obnoxiously long necklace swinging against his chest, a large silver cross at the end, “What are you even supposed to be dressed up as?”

He yanked a pack of cigarettes successfully from his pocket, grinning like a fool, “Ozzy Osbourne. Duh.”

“Duh,” you mimicked, handing him back his cup of wine before turning more serious,“From Black Sabbath, right?”

His eyes lit up. “You know Sabbath?”

“A little bit,” you shrugged, but that was enough for Eddie.

He slung an arm around your shoulders, cheesy grin and all, as he rattled the pack of cigarettes against your ear. “Say, you smoke?”

You didn’t, but for him, you did. “Yeah, yeah. I could use some fresh air anyways. Lead the way, rockstar.”

"When the silence came, we were shaking, blind and hazy. How the hell did we lose sight of us again?"

“Eddie, you have to call them back and tell them you’ll do it!”

“No! I can’t!”

“You can and you will.”

The fight had started over Eddie’s casual mention of a phone call he’d had earlier that day. It had been six months of New York, of bliss, of living in a pattern of waiting. Every day, you were both waiting; waiting for the next show Corroded Coffin would book, waiting for the next chance he’d have to send off yet another demo to another record label, waiting for the shimmers of what could be his big break. It had been comfortable while it lasted - the two of you were still wrapping your head around having your own routine. Of having something that’s yours.

The phone call today was the end of that waiting game.

The management of a slightly larger band, extending an offer to Corroded Coffin - they wanted them to be the opener for their next tour. It wasn’t an overly large one, it hardly spanned over three months and most of the venues were painfully small compared to what you believed Eddie should be playing, but it was an offer. Gigs, travel paid for, an opportunity for exposure right at his fingertips.

He had told them no.

“I’d have to leave. I’d be on the fucking west coast until December. I’d miss your birthday!” Eddie continues to argue. The two of you were standing in your living room, finally filling out. Shelves had collected framed photos, small knick-knacks that partially came from you and partially came from Eddie. You finally had a couch. It wasn’t a nice one, but it was a couch and it was yours. Something that belonged to both of you.

“You’d be playing shows! Selling merch! Gaining fans! This is your chance. Who cares if you’re not here for my birthday? We can celebrate over the phone, who cares?” your voice was breaking from frustration, not understanding how Eddie isn’t more excited. Instead of the joy you had expected to find on his face when he revealed the news to you, all you could see was fear. He was petrified. You finally drop your voice, taking on a soothing tone as you step in front of your boyfriend, taking his face in shaking hands, “Eddie, I’ll have other birthdays. But this? If you don’t do this… there might not be other tours.”

You could feel tears building up, some from exasperation, but most for the boy in front of you. This was his chance. He was your entire world, and you couldn’t let it pass him by.

He has tears mirroring in his own eyes, searching your face frantically, “I… I don’t want to be away from you. Not right now, not when we’re just figuring all this shit out.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” you tearily laugh, “Where would I even run off to, huh? No, stop this bullshit - don’t be an idiot. You go pick up that phone right now and tell that band they have an opener, and a damn good one at that. Right now.”

He’s frozen, leaning his cheeks into your touch, eyes fluttering closed. He just wants to live in this moment. He doesn’t want to think about the enormity of the decision in his hands - he just wants to stay here, in your arms, in the space you two had come to call home.

When your thumb swipes one of his escaped tears from his cheek, he caves. His voice is a ghost of a whisper. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll go call them. But- But when I get back, we’re celebrating the hell out of your birthday, do you understand me? Fuck Christmas, Jesus has had, like, thousands of birthdays. When I get back, all I care about is you.”

You believe him. You believe him with your entire being, never once worrying about him missing something as trivial as the celebration.

“We sure will. Now go on, rockstar. Catch your big break.”

He finally smiles for the first time since he broke the news.

At the moment, all you saw was a world full of beginnings for your boy. This was it, the moment you’d been waiting for, and you couldn’t have been happier for him. The rose-colored glasses never gave you the chance to see it was the beginning for the two of you - the beginning of the end.

"Carnations you had thought were roses, that's us. I feel you, no matter what."

“I miss you.”

Those three months couldn’t have dragged on slower if they tried. But Eddie kept good on his word; every night, like clockwork, he called you. The two of you would take about anything and everything: he’d tell you about the latest crowd that included people who seemed to actually enjoy Corroded Coffin’s set, you’d tell him about the takeout you had for dinner after nearly burning your shared kitchen down, he’d mention the names of cities you could only dream of visiting, and you’d indulge him in theatrically stories of your latest customers from Hell at the small dinner you waitressed at.

“I know you do. I miss you too, Eds,” you sigh over the line, curled up on his side of the bed, even though it had finally stopped smelling like him. Long gone were the scents of late night cigarettes and woodsy cologne, replaced by a nauseating sweetness of your own shampoo and perfume. You hated it, but you’d never let him know that. Not when he seemed to actually be so happy. His breakdown over the offer seemed to fickle now, as it was clear he was enjoying himself. He was living out his dream. Something neither of you had fully processed yet.

“Hey, just two more weeks, right?” you whisper, eyes staring into the shadows across the room. Two more weeks. Fourteen days, and he was all yours once more.

It was your birthday. And it had been the most lonesome to date - a few coworkers had convinced you to go out for drinks after closing up the diner, but the entire time, you had just been anxious to get home and prepare for your phone call with Eddie. Just as the two of you had said, you had committed to somewhat celebrating over the phone.

“Do me a favor. Go into the kitchen real quick,” his voice instructs over the line, and you perk up slightly.

“What? Why?”

“Just trust me, sweetheart.”

You do as he asks, making your way out of the bedroom and down the hall. The apartment is dark, and a bit cold, but you don’t pay it any mind as you make your way to the kitchen.

“Okay, I’m in the kitchen. Now what?”

“The drawer to the left of the fridge. Open it.”

“Our junk drawer?”

“Yes, the junk drawer,” his tone is teasing, never growing irritated with your endless questions, “Open it.”

You hadn’t really touched the drawer since Eddie left, normally only discarded random pens and junk mail filling it. But you're shocked when you find the drawer more organized than you remember it - and in the center of it is a pack of candles.

“Candles?” you ask softly, a smile playing at your lips as your free hand reaches down to grasp the package. You flip it around in your palm, heart warming at the notion, but still feeling confused, “Babe, I appreciate it, I really do, but I don’t exactly have a cake, or even a cupcake, to put these in.

“You don’t? Damn it. If only I had thought of that,” he hums in a teasing tone, making you lower the hot phone from your ear and glare down at his caller id that illuminates the screen, “Well. What a shame. Hey, do you know the time by chance?”

“Munson, I’m gonna kick your ass,” you mutter, turning to look at the clock over your oven, “It’s 7:59. What’s your game here?”

He doesn’t answer, leaving you further puzzled, instead mumbling what sounds like to himself, “Three, two-”

“Why are you counting down?”

“One.”

A loud knock echoes through the apartment, causing you to jump.

“Okay, what the fuck is going on?” you hiss over the line, gripping the candles impossibly tight.

“Go answer the door.”

“If you’re on the other side of it, I’m kicking you straight in the-”

“It’s not,” he interrupts, “I wish it was, sweetheart. It’s not. But just trust me, yeah? One last surprise, promise.”

You grumble your entire way to the door, still holding the package of candles as you stop in front of your front door. You pause, taking a deep breath.

“That doesn’t sound like you’re opening the door.”

“Give me a second. Jesus, for all I know, you hired a hitman and I’m about to be brutally murdered when I open this door,” you bite back, and you can hear his guffawing laughter over the line. Your chest burns, wishing you could hear it in person instead, imaging the glee on his face in the moment.

“Not a hitman. That’s for after we have life insurance, baby,” he drawls, and you finally muster the nerve to reach out and twist the knob. You swear you can hear chattering on the other side of the door.

It takes you some struggling as you refuse to let go of the candles, but when you finally swing the door open, you gasp.

There in the threshold stands your friends from Hawkins. Robin Buckley, Steve Harrington, Nancy Wheeler, and Johnathan Byers. It’s clear that Nancy and Steve are mid-argument when you open the door, but Robin stands there, proudly showcasing a birthday cake in front of her, shit-eating grin on her face.

“Surprise!” she yells, capturing the attention of the rest of the gang that you and Eddie had left behind. Everyone faces you now, beaming, as you immediately go teary-eyed.

“Oh my God,” you gasp out, dropping the phone and candles to the floor, in shock. Steve steps in first, chuckling as he pulls you into a hug. It’s only then that you notice the bouquet in one of his hands, cellophane crinkling from how tightly he’s holding you. He shuffles the two of you out of the way just enough so that everyone else can enter.

“Your face! God, Munson was right, that was so worth it!” Robin barks as she steps up to the kitchen table and sits down the cake. She’s the next to hug you, yanking you out of Steve’s grasp and nearly crushing you, “Happy birthday,” she whispers happily into your ear, swaying the two of you as she continues to embrace you. You catch sight of Steve over her shoulder, wearing a look of amusement, chuckling and shaking his head.

Jonathan is the one with half a mind to pick up your abandoned phone and candles at the sound of muffled yelling over the line. He wastes no time, putting Eddie on speaker.

“Hellooo? World’s best boyfriend here, remember me? Wow. Can’t believe you’ve already forgotten me. Guess I’ll go fuck myself.”

You laugh as Robin finally lets you go, reaching up to swipe away the tears of jubilation.

Nancy rolls her eyes. “She’s in shock. Give her a second, Munson.”

Jonathan continues to hold your phone as you’re passed into Nancy’s arms and then his. Each whisper their own soft ‘happy birthday’, rubbing your back gently until your focus is back on the phone.

“Edward Munson-”

“Ah! There she is! She lives! And remembers me!”

“Fuck off,” you half-sob, half-laugh. It may not have been as good as him standing there, on your doorstep and embracing you, but it was damn good, “You’re so dead when you get home.”

“Dead? Wow. Weeks of planning only to meet my demise,” he sighs dramatically, “I suppose it’s a good way to go. At the hands of the most beautiful girl I’ve ever laid eyes on. Beat that, Harrington.”

“Way to stay humble,” Steve chimes at the mention of his name, still grinning. He suddenly remembers the flowers in hand, suddenly thrusting them in your direction as he says, “From Eddie, by the way. He told me if we didn’t get you flowers, he’d castrate me.”

“And I meant it! That’s still on the table if you guys don’t make this her best damn birthday ever.”

“I’m sure he would,” you sniffle, reaching out and gripping the flowers. Your heart cracks slightly, not knowing how to tell him that despite how absolutely endearing the surprise had been, it’d be impossible for them to make this your best birthday.

He wasn’t here. It could only make the top of the list if he were here.

You feel no resentment, though, as you bring the flowers to your nose, smiling until your cheeks ache. “Red carnations. Pretty,” you hum, lost in the moment.

There’s a beat of silence before Eddie’s voice rings out across the room.

“Carnations? Harrington, I said red roses. You’re a dead man walking.”

"And I lost you, the one I was dancing with in New York, no shoes. Looked up at the sky and it was maroon."

Once Eddie returns home, it’s just as he promises - he almost doesn’t even make it through the door when his lips find yours at 3 AM, his suitcase thrown off somewhere to the side of your entryway. He’s too busy to care about anything else but you at the moment.

“Fuck,” he gasps between kisses, “I fucking missed you. God, I missed you.”

You’re silent as you nod in agreement against him, just eager to feel his touch once more. You’d waited three months too long for this moment, ever since he first left through that door for the tour.

“Needy, baby?” he teases, just as breathless as you are when the two of you finally pull apart, him kicking the door shut behind him. Your hands are grabbing weakly at the lapels of his jacket, too eager to be embarrassed, “God, always so needy for me. Just how I fucking like you.”

He’s always talkative, even during sex, but you have no patience for it tonight. “Shut up.”

“Aw, now that’s no way to greet your boyfriend you missed, is it, baby?” he eggs you on, looking down at you and your swollen lips with a wicked grin.

You open your mouth to snark back, but he refuses to give you the chance before he’s picking you up, lifting you up and throwing you over his shoulder.

“Eddie!” you shriek, but laughter laces the protest. Your hands grip the back of his t-shirt as he begins to walk down the hallway, and you start to kick your feet out of defiance, but a sharp smack sounds through the quiet apartment as he playfully slaps your ass, putting an end to the kicks.

“Yeah, you better warm up those vocal chords,” he chuckles. The moment you’re back in your bedroom, he’s quick to toss you onto the mattress, finally mounted on a frame. The comforter flares around you, your head sinking into a pillow as Eddie is quick to remove his jacket and shirt, climbing up the bed between your legs, “Gonna have you chanting my name like a goddamn prayer, sweetheart.”

He removes your pajamas as he has a thousand times before, but it still doesn’t feel fast enough. You find yourself squirming, trying to help him pull off the flannel pants and t-shirt you’d stolen from his side of the closet, but he stops all movements immediately.

He shakes his head, hovering above you, his hair like a curtain around the two of you as your top lip brushes his bottom one and his mint breath fans over your face. “Slow it down for me, yeah? Wanna enjoy this,” he murmurs.

You obey, stilling below him save for your chest, rising and falling rapidly with waiting breaths. He finally dips down, his pick necklace tickling your collarbones as his mouth covers yours.

A culmination of three long months is spent into the kiss. All the restless nights, long phone calls, endless yearning. You can tell that he had missed you, longed for you, just as much as you had him.

It’s languid, the way your body reacts to each of his touches. As far as it was concerned, no time had passed. He does as he had said, taking his time, savoring each kiss he presses down your throat and over your breasts. He’s memorizing each crevice of you, every soft curve he’d dreamt of for 91 days.

Your squirming resumes when his hot breath reaches your navel, but he doesn’t scold you, bringing his hands to your hips and pressing them down into the mattress. “Let me show you just how much I missed you. Let me take care of you, baby.”

He’s enjoying it, the sound of your whines a better soundtrack than any of the music that had damaged his eardrums during the tour. His fingers dance over your bare skin, skimming right over the band of your underwear and tracing lines down your thighs. It’s agonizing - the waiting is terrible.

Terribly worth it, as it turns out.

When he finally decides to speed up his teasing, bringing a finger to brush across your clothed slit, you gasp. Your hands twist into the sheets at each side of you, but he isn’t having it.

“Now that’s not where those belong,” he mumbles, a hot breath over your panties sending shivers down your spine. He’s quick - his fingers suddenly hook into the waistband, and he’s pulling them down and off over your ankles with an eagerness finally matching your own. He throws them aimlessly to the bedroom floor, joining the rest of your discarded clothes recklessly. Neither of you care - you won’t be needing them the rest of the night.

He settles into the mattress, a leg thrown over each of his shoulders before he grabs your hands and guides them to tangle into his hair. He’s still taking his time, sucking his way up your inner thighs and leaving flowering bruises in his wake. Once he reaches where you want him to most, where you’re aching for him so pitifully, he pauses.

He repeats his earlier words, “God, I’ve missed you.”

He takes you by surprise as he dives right in, tongue flattening and licking a long stride up, starting at your entrance. His nose bumps over your clit before his tongue begins to dance circles, painting a secret language between the two of you over the sensitive bundle of nerves. One of his hands joins him, middle finger circling your entrance slowly before he presses in. He sets a pace quickly, pumping the finger a few times, tongue working magic, before he adds a second one. They curl with intention, pressing into the spongy spot of your walls that he knew like the back of his hand. It’s the exact spot that makes your back arch off the bed.

He pulls back his mouth, fingers continuing to pump and curl vigorously as he looks up at you dreamily. He eases one of his arms over your hips, pressing down, holding you in place.

He’s a dream. A goddamn dream. He’s finally here, looking up at you, grinning like a Devil as he watches you unravel at his hand.

“So pretty. Always so, so beautiful, but especially like this,” he says more to himself, but you hear him, a moan falling from your lips. His mouth returns to you, lips latching onto your clit, sucking harshly.

“Fuck,” you breathe into the still air of your apartment room, not caring if the neighbors hear but your chest too heavy to grow much louder, head fuzzy and all-consumed by him, “Eddie.”

He was right. His name falls from your mouth in pants, chanting to him as if he were your God.

It only spurs him on, fingers working expertly as he alternates between sucking and lapping at your clit. You can hear how wet you are for him, how close you are before the knot forms in your abdomen.

“Oh my God- Oh, fuck. Right there,” your hips buck involuntarily into his face, and he loosens his grip on your hips, letting you, “I’m gonna…G-Gonna…”

“Gonna cum for me, pretty girl?” he encourages, fingers curling harshly, “Cum on my face, baby. Do it.”

He puts his tongue back to work, You force your eyes open to catch sight of him, buried in your pussy, admiring how pretty he looked from this angle. The sight of his tousled curls, twisted tightly in your grip as you yank mercilessly, is all it takes for you to finally come undone.

A broken prayer, repeated over and over as a warmth rushes over you. Your vision goes white, eyes tightly screwed shut, toes curling and thighs clenching over his ears. It doesn’t phase him, continuing his assault until he’s sure you’ve come down. You have to tug on his hair, more intentional this time, to pull him away from you due to how sensitive you grow.

He rises, letting your legs fall limply against the mattress as he wears a boyish grin on his slick lips. Slowly, he makes his way up to you, back to the virtues of patience as he takes his time to finally kiss you. You can taste yourself on his tongue, a bitter sort of sweetness, as he cradles your face.

“You good?” he gently asks against your lips. You can barely move, nodding lethargically.

“So good,” you croak, a smile breaking out. Your eyes crack open to see him looking down at you with pure adoration, “I missed you.”

You start to run your hand down his chest, reaching the zipper of his jeans before his hand stops you.

“No, not yet. We’ve got plenty of time for that. Just wanna hold you right now, baby,” he nearly pleads. You can’t deny him, not with his eyes shining like that, so you allow him to fall into place on his side of the bed before you curl up against his bare torso.

The two of you stay that way for what feels like hours, his arms wrapped around you as he traces out constellations on your bare shoulder blades. Just outside of your solace, a bubble you’ve trapped yourselves in, you can hear the faint call of the city. Honks from cars on the street, shouts from pedestrians, the occasional siren. It’s all background noise to this moment.

“I have something for you,” he suddenly whispers as you teeter on the edge of sleep. You hum in response, lifting your head lazily. He pats you gently, signaling for you to let him stand before he walks to his discarded jacket by the door. When he returns to your side, he's gripping a small, white box, tied with a scarlet ribbon.

“A gift?” you ask, excitement helping wake you up as you sit up quickly, “For me?”

“For you,” he affirms, taking a seat beside you. Your knees bump as your hands fumble to take the box from him. A soft glow from one of the restaurants on your street floods between the curtains and into the room, a soft neon pink illuminating your features as you carefully unravel the red ribbon.

As the silk falls, you hardly can contain your excitement before lifting the lid off the box.

A necklace.

Your eyes trace over it, already fawning with appreciation for your boy, but then you catch sight of exactly what the necklace is.

“Your mom’s ring?” you can’t hide the emotion that shakes the timbre of your voice. It cracks into a million pieces.��

At the end of the delicate silver chain, sits his mother’s ring. The one you hadn’t even noticed missing from his barren right hand.

“Happy birthday,” he whispers, pulling you in and pressing his lips into your temple. You’re still too stunned, too overcome with a million and one feelings all at once.

“Eddie… I- I can’t… this is-”

“I want you to have it. I think she’d want you to have it, too,” he insists, taking the box from your grasp and lifting the necklace from its cotton cushion, “I know it’s not a lot, but I just… I wanted to get you something that let you know how important you are to me. Something for you to always have as a reminder that I’ll come back to you. You’re it for me, sweetheart. This is- this is real to me. The kind of real that lasts forever.”

You can tell he’s growing emotional, too, as his feather light touch brushes your hair to the side, bringing the necklace up around your neck and clasping it securely. When the ring falls to its new home at the base of your neck, cool against your skin, you can feel tears falling. He’s quick to swipe them away, his own watery irises peering into yours.

“You’re everything to me,” he says this with vindication. With such assuredness it terrifies you, burrows into your bones and claims you.

In this moment, you know he has forever stained you. There was no washing this mark he has left you off - there would forever be a piece of your heart occupied by the brown-eyed boy in front of you.

All you can do is lean forward, hands gingerly threading through his bangs as you push them back to plant a kiss on his forehead. A crimson blush spreads across his cheeks and neck at the act of tenderness.

When you pull back, he immediately lifts his fingers to the necklace he’s just gifted you, fingers careful but determined as they tug you back to him, kissing you with everything in him. He pours his soul, his body, and his heart into it.

“I love you,” you exhale against his swollen lips.

“And I love you.”

You believe him, because he believes himself. That’s the thing about endings - no one sees them coming.

"The mark they saw on my collarbone, the rust that grew between telephones, the lips I used to call home. So scarlet, it was maroon."

The next year proves you right. After that tour, Corroded Coffin became a phenomenon. A record deal falls into the boys’ laps quickly, multiple one-off shows selling out locally before the news finally comes that they are officially in the position to record their debut album.

The two of you celebrate with cheap wine, but it’s as sweet as champagne in your contentment.

The recording of the album is brutal. Night after night, you attempt to wait up on Eddie, eventually falling victim to drowsiness before he would wake you with his arrival from the studio in the early hours of the morning. You never minded, only happy for his warmth as he crawled right into bed with you, collapsing into you and letting the world melt away.

Long gone are the days of struggling paycheck-to-paycheck as the boys’ can hardly keep up with printing enough shirts for their shows, merchandise selling out in the handfuls.

You catch sight of a young girl wearing one of their shirts one day in the grocery store, and can’t help the flood of pride that overtakes your chest. Your boyfriend, your Eddie, was finally having all of his dreams come to fruition; the world was finally seeing him as the rockstar you’d nominated him as since that first night.

You can tell that it’s tiring. Eddie is exhausted by the time the album is finished, but you can also sense the satisfaction he felt at finally completing it. When the first demo arrived, he wasted no time in electing you to be the first to listen to it. It was an entire ordeal - the two of you ordered your favorite take-out, curling up on your couch and pressing together as the same boombox that had played that mixtape on your first night in your home now plays his songs.

Your reaction was exactly as he had expected, as he had hoped for.

You had always been his number one cheerleader through it all. With each new song, you were gushing to him with admiration and reverence. Pointing out lyrics that tugged particularly taut on your heartstrings, praising the guitar solos and vocals he’d worked tirelessly to perfect. You don’t leave a single stone left unturned, claiming this was your new favorite album.

“Careful, sweetheart. You’re really stroking my ego here,” he warns, but his smile shines as brightly as your own.

“Eddie, this is… this is… it’s fucking incredible!” you cheer, completely at a loss for words. You weren’t exaggerating - to hear all of his hard work paying off, to have watched him grow from covering Metallica in a stuffy garage to this left you starstruck. You were in absolute awe.

He blushes, playing with his hair and bringing it up to hide his emotional reaction.

The album could fail. It could become nothing more than a whisper in the night, but the fact that you liked it was all that mattered to him.

You look at him earnestly, taking his cheeks in your warm and soothing palms, “I’m so fucking proud of you, Eds.”

And you were. You continued to be. The album was a hit.

It climbed the charts with ease, just as you expected. Local alternative stations played it on loop. You were sure to hear it at least once during taxi rides, and had even heard it playing softly over the speakers at the gas station on the corner by your apartment complex. Eddie had been with you, and took pleasure in getting to inform the cashier that it was his song playing, his band was on the radio.

It was New York, so the cashier couldn’t have cared less, but it made you glow with pride.

But with a hit album came a new slew of responsibilities for the band, including a headlining tour.

The night that the band’s manager called Eddie, informing him they were set to start planning the tour, he’d run into the room, so frantic you were worried something bad had happened.

“Holy shit!” he yells, causing you to shush him once you recovered from the scare he’d caused you. He ignores you, grabbing you off the bed, lifting you up and spinning you, just like the very first night, “Holy shit! We’re going on tour! A headlining tour! I’m going to be a goddamn rockstar!”

Once you process his news, you become just as animated in his arms, “What? No fucking way!”

“Yes fucking way!”

“Oh my God!”

“I know!”

You hear banging on the wall from the neighbors, probably shouting at the two of you to quiet down, but neither of you can contain your excitement.

“I’m going to be a goddamn rockstar, baby,” he laughs deliriously, placing you back down so that you’re face-to-face with him, “A rockstar.”

“You’ve always been a rockstar, pretty boy,” you giggle, cheeks sore with elation, “The rest of the world is just finally getting the memo.”

The planning takes a while. Part of you is grateful, selfishly drinking in and enjoying the time you have left with him before you’re sure he’ll have to leave for an extended period. The names of cities you had never had the pleasure of becoming acquainted with once again enter conversations, talks of how far and wide the band would travel becoming Eddie’s favorite topic.

You’re proud of him, you really are. But reality seeps its way into the crevices.

What starts as the possibility of a brief, three month tour - something the two of you had already faced and defeated triumphantly - quickly turns into six months. And it doesn’t stop there. Six months could become eight, easily, with adding in a few pit stops to radio stations to guarantee continued radio-play. There’s talks of signings, of meet and greets, of music festivals. The more time given to planning, the more time given for the band’s popularity to grow even more.

The entire thing expands without consideration, lifting Eddie right up with it, right out of your reach.

The night before he’s set to leave for tour, your anxieties are getting the best of you. You had helped him pack, going over the list of necessities with him three times too many. He had everything he needed, packed tightly into a suitcase - everything except you.

That night, you sit on your side of your shared bed, watching Eddie pace with excitement. You feel guilty that your own anticipation can’t quite match his. All you can think about is how long he’ll be gone: eight months, two hundred and forty five days. Five thousand, eight hundred and eighty hours. Over three hundred thousand minutes. You’d done the math.

“Fuck,” he sighs, finally throwing himself down onto the bed beside you, “I still can’t believe this is happening.”

You can’t bring up your insecurity, your fears, to him. Not when he’s so happy. Not when he’s finally getting everything he’d dreamt about for so long, worked so hard for. No, it would be selfish to share your unease at the time and distance about to spread between the two of you.

Besides, you had done it once before. Not on this scale, of course, but you convinced yourself it would work out all the same. He would call as often as he could. He’d be coming home to you. It would pass - it would work out.

“It’s real, so you better believe it, rockstar.”

An echo of the past. A time that felt so far away from the two of you now. This time around, as you say them, you don’t feel the same joy coating your tongue.

Your tone is supportive, so Eddie doesn’t taste any of the disdain. Later that night, as he’s kissing you, hips rolling to meet yours in a sacred promise, fingers intertwined in yours as you pant each other’s names back and forth, he still doesn’t taste it. All he tastes is euphoria. And he brings you right to it with him, over, and over, and over again.

Euphoria tastes metallic by the end of it.

He leaves bruises painted up and down your neck, covering your collarbones and chest like an art piece hanging in the Louvre. You can’t help but wonder how long it will take for his marks to fade, for the physical reminder that he was here and in your arms to disappear from your grasp.

As he makes love to you, it begins to feel like a goodbye, because it is.

He doesn’t mean for it to happen, but it does.

The first month follows similarly to how his first tour did. Nightly phone calls, whispered love confessions and discussions of each other’s day. For a moment, you convince yourself that all of your fears and anxieties had been silly. They almost recede from your mind completely, fading with his love marks on your collarbone.

But then it begins.

Phone calls become less frequent. Every night because every other night, until they’re eventually weekly. At some point, you only have the privilege of hearing his voice over the line monthly. It is a slow burning fire, turning everything you had built with him to ashes. Conversations that once could drag on for hours turn to ten minute discussions that end in him rushing off the phone, someone on the other end of the line demanding his attention more urgently than you did.

You can’t even fight it. You need him, but they need him more.

You know you’ve lost him when he stops saying he loves you. It’s subtle, you don’t even believe he’s noticed, but one night’s phone call is cut particularly short, and the end arrives.

“Hey, baby, I’m sorry, but they need me for soundcheck,” he says, the line staticky with white noise, making it hard to hear him.

He’s never felt farther away, and they’re not even on the west coast leg of the tour yet.

“Oh,” you whisper, disappointment gripping your lungs, “Oh, that’s fine! Go, they need you.”

“Yeah,” he chuckles. You miss hearing that in person, that soft laughter in the shell of your ear over inside jokes and one too many glasses of wine. “Rockstar duties and all. We’ll talk more later?”

“Of course. Go give ‘em, Hell,” you keep your tone light, but the tears have started to build up across your waterline, “I love you.”

The line goes dead before you can even finish your sentence. The dial tone echoes back to you, and it doesn’t matter how hard you strain, no words of affection can be deciphered in its deafening ringing.

That’s when you break.

The flood comes, tears racing down your cheeks as you roll over and clutch the pillow that you’re not even sure was once his. The bed no longer has a clear boundary, a side that belonged to him and a side that belonged to you. It’s all muddled together now. You’re not even sure you’d recognize the smell of his cologne now.

A heart has never broken so quietly. The sobs are there, but no sounds escape your mouth as you whimper. You had always known it would be hard, everyone had warned you, but you had always assumed you could take it, because Eddie would be by your side, hand slotted with yours as it was the two of you against the world. But now you stood in the storm, and the space beside you was eerily empty. It was all a bit much. A gaping hole forms in your chest that night, gory as it bleeds scarlet red for a boy a world away, and you know that there is not a single bandage in the world to heal it.

He doesn’t call back after that, and the hole tears larger.

There’s a few texts here and there. But none of them ever say the three words you so desperately crave from him. You feel like strangers.

After two months of radio silence, save for two text messages from him, you’ve made up your mind.

He never calls, so you never tell him. You gather what belongings can be called solely yours, which isn’t many, and you write a letter in your cowardice. You find an apartment on the other side of town. There’s a nice job waiting for you, something that pays better than waitressing.

You leave your key on the kitchen counter beside a vase with wilted carnations.

"I wake with your memory over me, that’s a real fucking legacy (it was maroon)."

Six months later, the ache never fades. He calls. When he returns from tour to find an empty apartment, cursive letter calling it quits, he calls. You almost consider changing your number at one point.

There’s a flood of text messages. Small letters on a shining screen filled with all the words you needed to hear so many months before. All of the things he should have said, now revealed too late.

You don’t reply, because if you reply, you’ll change your mind.

You tell yourself it’s for the best. That in order for him to achieve what he’d wanted, he couldn’t have someone back home weighing him down. You were a road bump on his path to everything he was destined to be, and this was for the best.

At some point, he gets the message. You wish he hadn’t, selfishly so, but he does. The phone calls stop. The text messages don’t light up your phone at midnight anymore. You keep up your end of the lease on your once-shared apartment, sending checks to pay your half of the rent until the lease agreement has ended. You have no clue if he moves. Returning to that side of town would simply hurt too much.

A new normalcy is found. It is a lonely one, but it is one all the same. Sparse phone calls are still exchanged with your friends from Hawkins, but none of them ever bring up Eddie. You’re sure they know, that he had told them, that they had witnessed the aftermath (if there had been any). They were always his friends first, though, and so when the calls dwindle, it doesn’t surprise you.

It’s a year later when someone mentions his name to you. You had kept up well enough with Corroded Coffin, the last remnants of your past life being something you couldn’t get rid of. You knew they were thriving; they were in the talks of releasing a second album, and going back on tour soon. His name is mentioned when a coworker brings him up.

They ask you if you want to attend the Corroded Coffin show with them next week. They have a spare ticket and would prefer to not go alone.

You lie and say you have plans.

But the only plans you have on that bustling night are the ones spent in your apartment. Your one-bedroom apartment is in a nicer part of town, better views out of the window now. When you pull back the curtains, you don’t find a brick wall forever tainted by what once was - you can see the entrance to a music venue that’s sign currently advertises tonight’s show.

CORRODED COFFIN, ONE NIGHT ONLY - SOLD OUT

You avoid the window at all costs as you get yourself ready for bed that night. Neighbors had already off-handedly warned you it would be a noisy night, claiming you’d feel as if you were at the show yourself based on proximity. On your way home from work, you bought earplugs.

But the night grows older, a chill in the air as the clock strikes ten, and you can’t help it. You’ve been laying in bed for hours now, earplugs in, only feeling the faint thrumming of intense bass for less than an hour when you finally stand up. You approach the window timidly, scared of what you find. Maybe a ghostly reflection of him, standing in the street, holding up a boombox playing a mixtape of your favorite songs.

It’s a bitter hopefulness that is full of childish dreams.

When you stand in your window, curtains pulled back and earplugs finally disregarded on your nightstand, Eddie Munson isn’t standing on the street. All that is there is the neon glow of a red sign that shatters crimson shadows across your cheeks.

He’s not on the street. He’s too busy on the stage inside, being the rockstar he had always been destined to be. The one he could be now that you had let him go.

All that you see as you look out the window is your own tired reflection, donning nothing but a wine-stained t-shirt and a delicate, silver chain around your neck, a ring you couldn’t bring yourself to return resting heavily between your collarbones.

"That’s a real fucking legacy to leave."

reblogs, likes, and comments appreciated! <3

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #oooo look at me trying to post this several months later #and at 2 am no less #i'm just in a silly goofy mood and curious #will it post? will it stick? will it get me thrown in shadow jail?#time will tell!#also i made that divider myself i'm very proud of myself #formatting is bad but hey #it is what it is!

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