#this is my oddly specific dni take it or leave it

[genshin-side-piece]

Love Me Tender

Warnings: Yandere Content, Implied Kidnapping, Implied Captivity, Implied Stalking, Somnophilia, Non-Consensual Touching, Sexual themes, not smut (sorry), my bad writing, anything else I missed, 18+, Minors DNI

Maybe OOC for him? It's hard to say.

Neuvillette's favorite time to be with you is in the dead of night. He enjoys the days, in the sense that he enjoys being near you. Watching you from across the room did bring a sense of comfort from the knowledge that you were safe in his care, but that was all. He garnered no satisfaction in it, not when he ached to be so much closer to you than what he is allowed to be. You denied him that. Despite you being in his home, in his care, you denied him the right to be next to or close to you. He was only ever allowed to be near and even that had not come easily. It was the one concession you had made after doing all you could to avoid him.

In the past, outside of meals, you had always left the room the second he would appear. It was in vain of course. Neuvillette would follow you, like a loyal dog follows its master. His eyes fixed on your form, dutifully watching your every move. Room to room, hallway to hallway, until he finally cornered you in a space where you could not escape. From there he would take his appointed place near the door, keeping you where he wanted you until it was time to change for dinner or on the rarest of rare things, he allowed you to take dinner in your room before going to bed early. It had gone on from the day you had entered his house, lasting for months on end. You would run and he would chase. Oddly, he found it fun. The concept of chasing or hunting you awoke something dormant in him. An instinct that had long been buried due to its lack of use. It became a game between you, a battle of wills to see if he could trap you or if you could manage to get away. You never did of course. He had the upper hand when it came to his hunting grounds. If he wanted you in a particular room or to travel a specific path, he knew which keys to hide and which doors to lock beforehand to get you to go the way he intended. 

His favorite place to keep you was his study. Unlike the other spaces in his house, the study was on the smaller side. His desk dominated most of the space in the room, leaving either a small sofa or a chair beside him as your only two choices if you wished to sit. Any of the other options you had tried, like the corner that was furthest from him, were automatically dismissed. Seeing you was a luxury he could rarely afford. While he enjoyed his hunts, Neuvillette preferred not to waste what time he did have with you moving furniture every time he wished to see your face. His one insistence on the matter had been that you make a choice between resting by his side or the sofa. He had told you he didn’t have a preference of where, even though it was very clear he did. By his side was always preferable, though the thought of you sitting on the floor that first time awoke something that the gentleman in him tried its best to deny. Just the idea of you kneeling beside him was enough to make his c*ck stir. On the nights he didn’t come to your side, he laid awake, practically consumed by it. Your cheek grazing his thigh, his fingers combing their way through your silky hair, your contented little sigh as you rested your full weight against his leg. It was pathetic to think that fantasizing about the most basic forms of contact were enough to bring him to a swift orgasm, but here he was. After many months together, Neuvillette found himself so desperate for your acceptance, for your love, for your warmth that the mere mention of contact would cause him to make a mess of his hand. Maybe it was a good thing you always chose the sofa. If you did bring yourself to willingly be beside him or touch him, he might cum on the spot. 

He had time to work on that or at least that’s how he consoled himself as he cleaned himself up in the dark. The weather had been warm as of late. It had made maintaining a specific distance easy for you. He had to wonder if you would feel the same way once the weather turned cold. His office, like the rest of his house, did have a reputation for being drafty. Since you refused anything beyond the most basic of garments from him, it was only a matter of time before the cold got to you. What would you do then? Would you accept that as your appointed guardian he would have little choice but to punish you for your foolishness by holding you in his embrace as a means to warm you back up or would you suffer the chill for the sake of your own stubbornness?

The answer, to Neuvillette’s great surprise, was neither.

If his study was one of the coldest rooms, then outside of the bedrooms, the warmest place in the house was the drawing room. When the winter months came, the drawing room became a place of refuge for you since your keeper advised you that hiding in your bedroom was out of the question. Even if Neuvillette would happily cover you with blankets and furs should you ask, your pride decided you were better not to. You would rather freeze or in this instance, tolerate him being near you for the sake of staying warm. It had been a small victory for him. One that he relished every time he looked at you. From then on, you allowed him to sit in the same room as you, provided he stayed on his side. If he dared to get closer, he earned himself a scowl worthy of shearing the cliffs of Fontaine into the sea below. That’s if you looked at him at all. On the nicer days, your eyes were always fixed on something else, mainly the windows and the world beyond them.

Your present situation is not fair. He’s been made painfully aware of that through his own experiences with you. In general, Neuvillette understands that humans are meant to be free, or free within the limits that the laws of the land allow. The loss of that freedom should those laws be broken was to remind your kind of their place in this world. You, however, had broken no laws. At least none that were on the official books. In the eyes of Fontaine, you had been a model citizen, therefore you should be free. As far as Neuvillette’s own standards and rules were concerned, your behavior had been less than ideal. Hence his need to lock you away.

Neuvillette remembered the day or rather the circumstances that had caused him to clip your wings. He’d had you on schedule for sometime. You weren’t aware of it, but through his own manipulation of your life, you would wake at a certain time, eat at a certain time, work for a specific length, and finally report home at an appointed hour. Before his influence you had run around as you pleased. Your erratic behavior of running to and fro had made watching you from afar impossible. The schedule he slowly imposed upon you fixed all of that. You being at a specific place, at a specific time made things easier for the melusines to keep an eye on you and report in. Everything had been running rather smoothly, and Neuvillette found himself pleased with the outcome. You were where he wanted you, when he wanted you. Things were as low maintenance as they could be, until you decided to throw a wrench into the machine. 

He had been stuck at the opera for days, knee deep in an idiotic dispute. It was on that day, that you had decided to deviate from your normal routine. Thinking back on it, had things ended there and you had gotten back on track, nothing would have happened. In Neuvillette’s mind, one day's worth of deviation was tolerable. You took days off from time to time. It wasn’t too hard to pick up your routine on those days. You generally slept later or ate at different times, but there was one constant; you always kept yourself to the city. The melusines could find you without too much trouble. The only real inconvenience was that the daily reports about you were thrown off their schedule. He didn’t particularly care for it, but in this instance, it hadn’t mattered. This time, outside of one fact, the reports about what you ate, where you went, and who you spoke to couldn’t be made at all. How could they, when you had vanished without a trace?

There had been no warning, none of the usual signs that you were tired or stressed or in need of a rest. The day you had vanished started like all the others, the only difference was that it had begun with your bed being empty. The report that you hadn’t gone to work as you should didn’t reach him at the opera. Neither had any of the others regarding your lack of contact. Instead, the reports had been delivered, as instructed, to his office at the Palais Mermonia. Words like vanished, missing, and lost didn’t find him until he returned to the city two days later. At the time, he had believed you had been kidnapped. His own panic that you were missing had dismissed the concept that you had left of your own volition. The idea that you had decided to go away to the mountains for a few days seemed inconceivable to him. You hadn’t slipped your schedule while he had been distracted. You hadn’t taken one of the water taxis out of the city while no one was watching. No, in his own paranoid mind you hadn’t left, you had been kidnapped. Neuvillette had many enemies. Despite his own discretion regarding you, they must have gotten wind of you. That had to have been it. There was no other reason for the fact you hadn’t returned. You had been stolen. The very idea that you had been taken triggered something in him; something ancient, something primal. He needed to find you. He needed to hide you. He needed to protect you. Your part would be to comply with his wishes. Refusal was not an option. 

Neuvillette’s search for you was thorough. He scoured the countryside for you, searching above and below the surface for any sign of you or your abductors. No crevice of Fontaine was left untouched. No stone unturned, no ruin not inspected. It took him an additional three days to find you. When he did, the little house that you were staying in seemed anticlimactic. There were no guards nor was there any real fight. Just your utter confusion at the sight of the Chief Justice standing outside your door and Neuvillette’s solemn vow that he would never allow anything like this to happen again.

Even if it meant locking you away, your freedom could stand the sacrifice.

The contempt and rage that followed was something that took Neuvillette completely by surprise. He didn’t believe you possessed such strong emotions, but they were there. All it had taken was the cage door being locked shut to bring them to the surface. All he could do was listen as your cries and protestations lasted for days on end. Initially he had tried to calm you, calm your anger, but it had only made things worse. Stern or soft words didn't make a difference. You just continued to rage at him, so in turn he met you with silence. It wasn’t that he was insensitive to the situation, he knew taking your freedom wasn’t ideal. Where Neuvillette took issue was that he simply didn’t understand your reasons for being upset. The loss of freedom was unfortunate, but was it necessary. The schedule had been designed to keep you out of trouble. His motive in bringing you to his home was to keep you safe. You had deviated from one, so the solution was the other. Could you not see he was trying to help?

Even with his justifications though, it would be a lie to say that he didn’t feel guilty about what he had done. Your safety was of the utmost importance to him, but he desired nothing more than for you to be at peace with his decision. Neuvillette had brought you here for your own good. The world was a dangerous place and you, well you were far from safe in it. Your little disappearing act had shown him how incapable you were without him. That the schedule he had imposed upon you from afar was not enough. You needed a heavier hand to guide you, to keep you, to protect you. He knew you would be happier if you could be free, but that was no longer an option. Maybe that’s why he could never bring himself to be harsh with you. Neuvillette knows that on the surface, he could make your relationship be what he wanted it to be. Should his patience run much thinner, he could take a firm stance with you. He could apply force. It would be nothing for him to attach a leash to the invisible collar he made you wear and keep you at arm's length at all times. You could be bent, you could be broken, and most of all you could be rebuilt how he wanted you to be. Then, his dream for a life with you might be fulfilled. If he remade you how he wanted, you would smile at him like you do other things. He wouldn’t find himself envious of the sun, the music from the phonograph, the books you are permitted to read, and even the birds that play on the other side of the window. You wouldn’t love all of them more than you loved him.  He would be worthy of the smile he yearned for. The same smile he adored from afar and the same one that vanished the second you see him. His very soul shattered every time your lips fell into a thin line across your face, never failing to draw that same line across the room and his own heart.

That's what made the dead of night so special.

In the night, after sleep had claimed you, the hard line that you had drawn between you and he vanished. The darkness that consumed the world hid the truth of the entire situation perfectly. In those precious hours, he could pretend that you loved him. He could pretend that you understood his reasoning for his actions towards you. In his own mind, Neuvillette could make you accept that you were something delicate and rare. That you were unable to guard yourself from a world so keen to harm you. That you needed him to help you. He had imagined your gratitude a thousand times over. Decant thoughts of you thanking him for being your savior, of you falling into his arms, of your sweet lips on his, of your soft cries as he plunged his c*ck into you over and over.

It was untoward for him to think of you like that. He shouldn’t really. It was ungentlemanly to do so. But some things couldn’t be helped. When the night washed away the scowl that was reserved solely for him, Neuvillette found it all too easy to let his mind wander. He embraced the privilege of crossing the threshold of your bedroom and pretending that the smile you often wore in your sleep was for him. He could approach you without hesitation then. He could indulge himself in the feeling of your hair in between his fingers as he brushed it away from your face, the warmth of your skin as he ran his hands over the parts of your body that your nightgown or the heavy comforter refused to hide. He could work out his own frustrations by your side, his one hand fervently stroking his c*ck, while the other traced the lines of your thighs.

The entire charade was a ridiculous one. Something that in the cold reality of day he would dismiss as folly and nothing more. Logic, in this case, would always win out. You weren’t grateful to him. There was no way you ever would be. You didn’t understand his reasons for confining you. You would never understand his reasons. How could you? In your short life span, you had been blessed with peace. The world as you knew it hadn’t been torn asunder. You hadn’t witnessed the destruction of all you hold dear. If you had, perhaps you might share his view that you needed to be kept safe. Then, maybe Neuvillette wouldn’t have to reduce himself to being nothing more than a pathetic figure, pining for you in the dark.

Because god how he wanted you, how he needed you, how he loved you. On his worst days, when the burden of the nation was to the point that he felt the weight of it would crush him, he had you. His corner in the drawing room tied him over until the stars climbed high into the sky. Then, in the darkness of your bedroom, with only the moon light to serve as witness, Neuvillette could wrap himself in around you and wash his own worries away with the tears he spilled into your hair. Whispering a silent prayer that when the dawn came, perhaps today would be the day that you would see that he is yours. 

#yandere genshin x you #yandere!genshin #yandere genshin #yan genshin x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere neuvillette #neuvillette #genshin neuvillette #genshin impact neuvillette #this was a bit of a struggle #Neuv is a difficult character to grasp #bravo hoyo

[sansundertale14x1]

why NauseAxe_404 loves your writing so much…

based on this silly tweet, I’m gonna use ‘Nick’ for this- for ease of writing (and for my poor poor hands.)

no pronouns but ‘you’- little post cuz I haven’t written in a while.- use of the in-game website: "Dumblr", no it's not a typo;-; Proshippers DNI

word count: 878

content warning: brief explanations of canon violence, creepy stalker-ish behavior (NOTHING SEXUAL ATTACHED), Nick being a weirdo honestly.

vvv that isn't my art, and this entire writing is a fanfic for a game " Monster x Mediator" made by HeadLocker! I really recommend playing the game or watching the gameplay, cuz it's really fantastic!

Story under cut :3

Nick’s in love with your writing…(if you already couldn’t tell), but it’s difficult for you to understand why.

Usually, when you'd open up your laptop, it was after a tough shift at your crap job and you just wanted to do something to fill in the time after dinner and before bed. It was always on the shorter side, 100 words each, and was normally just a quick and crappy self-insert fic to satisfy your creative urges from doing a boring-ass job all day. You never really thought your tiny one-shots would attract any attention, but the man you've been staying with proves otherwise.

"NauseAxe_404" is what he called himself, but you've just been calling him 'Nick' for now. He had been reading your old Dumblr blog for who knows how long, and he's taken a major interest in your little shitposts...So much, so that he had taken the time to print out every single one of your posts and personal information pinned to his room's walls. It's extremely creepy...but also sort of charming?

For the last few days or so, you've been held in Nick's hotel room, practically glued to a desk with a typewriter...slowly making your way through a 100-paged fic that he specifically requested of you. Though you technically could stand up and leave...you'd really prefer for your skull to stay in one piece...and not have a bullet put through your temple.

Nick has been staring at you almost the entire time...which only certified in your mind that he is not human. Every time you turn to see if he's still there...like an unmoving fortress, he always is. It's been a solid 8+ hours of you sitting there and writing...and your stomach starts to emit loud sounds of hunger. You pray he didn't hear that, and continue to type away at the dated machine. However, to your dismay, his deep voice chimes in.

"...What page are you on...?"

Nick asks, seemingly trying to speak quietly for you, but his naturally booming voice isn't giving you any favors.

"...uhm..."

You take a moment to review what you have done...it doesn't look like much but it feels like it took AGES to write out...

"About...10? It's not a-"

"That's wonderful, Superstar!"

He cuts you off just as you begin to speak.

Of course, he's going to be ecstatic. You can't fathom why he seems to be so hopelessly in love with whatever you slap on the paper. You're curious..so you begin to speak.

"...uhm...Nick...why do you..take interest in my writing?"

You softly speak, trying to be careful with your words...you can't afford to overstimulate this man.

For a chatty guy...Nick was oddly silent at the ask of this question…or at least for a few seconds.

“I was trying to find a way to ease the boredom and loneliness of this fucking hotel, so…huff…I joined Dumblr and started to search for writing…that was…huff….purposeful…and that could fix me..”

No way in hell your crackfics could change this man...He must've come out of the womb like that. (or...however the hell he was made..)

"...I came across your first post years ago..huff...and fell in love with the way you wrote your love interest....huff...I knew you were talking about me when I wrote all those comments~"

You never looked at comments due to embarrassment...and you honestly didn't think anyone would even care to comment in the first place.

"....you weren't responding to me...huff...so I might've found everything about you in the meantime...huff...just so I could notice you in a crowd...I always will~"

Okay, now it's getting creepy. You hope that by just turning back around and continuing to write maybe he'd shut up...You guess it's sorta your fault for striking up a conversation with the creep.

"All the other writers don't know shit about writing...huff...1k word counts...huff...long and complicated stories that don't make any fucking sense..."

There goes the rambles. You stop typing for a moment to process what the hell he just said. He either is really balls-deep into this fantasy of you being a perfect human...or he's just trying to fluff you up so you'll continue writing for him. He's really delusional, that's it. It's seriously hard to believe your crap was life-changing for Nick.

“Simplicity is the most important part…huff…not describing some stupid walk sequence for 3 sentences…huff…it’s a waste of space..”

"....maybe you just like simpler writing...?"

You softly reply, yet again praying that you didn't accidentally strike a chord with this guy. He stares you down, and even if you aren't looking back at him, you can still feel the burning of his eyes on the back of your head.

"That's possible."

Oh, it's highly probable. He gets so emotional over the tiniest bit of anything, so...He just doesn't need too many words to evoke a reaction...It checks out because you also like to write a straight-to-the-point sorta piece.

"but don't let your mind wander for...huff...too long...my superstar...you've got at least 90+ pages to go~"

Shit, he was right...time to get back to work.

#monster x mediator #fanfiction #nauseaxe 404 #nick mxm #your biggest fan #fanfic #fan work #twitter link #me yapping #my writing #writing #creative writing #on writing #writeblr #writers on tumblr #writers and poets #not my art #i love him #tw weapon #tw mention of murder

[finniestoncrane]

NSFW Alphabet: Gotham!Riddler x Reader

One of my NSFW A-Zs. Feel free to send me more character requests. This one is about muppet-smile over here, Gotham!Eddie. request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi minors DNI!! 🔞 cw for nsfw stuff, kinks mentioned throughout

A = Aftercare (what they're like after sex)

Precious, sweet Ed is getting straight up as soon as he's finished to bring you a glass of water, a snack if you're hungry, and collecting your clothes from the floor and folding them neatly for later. He'll get back into the bed behind you, holding you close and resting his chin on your shoulder while he grins his silly little smile and nuzzles your neck. You're definitely being praised and thanked like there was no tomorrow.

B = Body part (favourite part of theirs and their partner's)

He loves his neck. It's slender but strong looking, and he likes the way his Adam's apple looks. Trace your fingers along it and he'll come undone. In a partner, he likes strong and unique facial features. Cheek dimples, cleft chin, bumpy/crooked/bigger nose, scarring. He likes something interesting to look at when he's gazing lovingly at you.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum)

Ed can take it or leave it. It doesn't bother him, he doesn't find it disgusting at all. In fact he's pretty comfortable with everything you find inside a body, and rarely gets icked out by much. But it's still a mess he'd rather not deal with. If he can cum inside of you, with or without a condom, great. Otherwise, he'd rather finish into some tissue.

D = Dirty Secret (something they keep hidden)

He has, on occasion, considered choking you during sex for just a little bit longer than you might be able to handle. The control, the panic, the adrenaline of having someone's life in his hands is all very exciting to him. But he wouldn't dare mention that. He has a piece of paper saying he's sane after all, and wanting to instil fear in his partner isn't necessarily normal.

E = Experience (how experienced are they in bed)

Bless his heart but he's not very experienced at all. Which he seems oddly shy about, but really it's endearing and suggests he's into making a connection with someone first, which makes you feel nice and wanted. He's also big into learning and finding things out, so he'll be quick to figure out how to do things right and how to do them to your preferred specifications. It's a nice adventure for you to go on together.

F = Favourite Position

He’s a missionary man! Traditional, puts him in a position of control, plus he gets to gaze down at you lovingly? Ticks all the boxes. BUT it also lends itself to something a little bit more raunchy and passionate if he wants to hold your legs up against or over his shoulders.

G = Goofy (are they serious in the moment?)

Yeah, he has a bit of a dark streak. But even his horrible, heinous crimes and schemes have all had a little bit of mischief in them. So you can bet he's light-hearted and a bit silly in bed. Wouldn't put it past him to throw a riddle out every so often, if the moment calls for it. Which is never does. But when has that ever stopped him before?

H = Hair (how well groomed are they?)

His pubic hair is just as tidy as season 1 Ed's actual hair. And the thing is, it kind of just grows like that? Weird. It's immaculately groomed, a nice length and always strangely tidy. His armpit hair is feral and unruly though omg.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment, romantic aspect)

He's such a romantic, caring and thoughtful person, so he loves being intimate with you. He'll extend this romance into everything he does for you. Kissing, holding your hand, taking you on sweet dates, making you breakfast, and especially when you're making love, because what he does isn't fucking. He holds you and takes time to respond to your body, making sure it's as pleasurable as possible for you.

J = Jack Off (masturbation headcanon)

Only if the notion takes him. It's not compulsive or even something he thinks about. He likes edging and torturing himself, so even if he has spied you wearing something tight, or has somehow miraculously managed to kiss you without it leading to anything, he'll savour the build up of desire until he has to have you. He likes to help you masturbate you, or watch you touch yourself while he sits back, not allowed to touch. But if you could let him taste your fingers afterwards that would be just swell.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Ed's kind of a hybristophiliac, on both ends of that spectrum. He likes it when people are attracted to his crimes and he's also attracted to people who commit crimes, or can at least convincingly play bad for him. By nature, the man is a cuckold, and likes watching you with other partners occasionally. He needs a lot of aftercare after this though, which involves you telling him he's better than anyone else you've been with and no one does it like he can. He enjoys the look and feel of leather. Wearing it, touching it, being spanked and spanking with it. PVC also works, the shinier and more 'wet look' the better.

L = Location (favourite places to do the do)

Ed's usually a bed kind of guy, only because of the romantic intimacy of having you in the place where he sleeps. However, he'd love to bend you over the counter while you were cooking together. Something about the cute teamwork drives him wild. And he'd be lying if he said he had never thought of, regardless of how grossly inappropriate and kind of really weird it was, fucking you on the M.E. table. What? Leave him alone!

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

His partner wearing his clothes. The idea of you smelling like him, or just loving him so much you want to mirror him? Hng. He definitely would ask you to wear his glasses sometimes, to see how cute you are, or to see if he can fuck you hard enough that they fall off.

N = NO (something they wouldn’t do)

Choking. For reasons.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving)

Ed's ok at giving oral sex, although he can get a bit pedantic, which might often seem more tedious than passionate. But his heart is in the right place. He enjoys receiving though, particularly the idea of just soaking his cock in your mouth without you really sucking or licking. Just let him keep it in there. He also likes getting his ass ate, a lot. When you put your tongue flat against him and moan so it fibrates through his body??? Oof. And he's surprisingly filthy, in that he would want you to spread him and spit in his hole.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual?

He's a slow and sensual lover boy. There's enthusiasm and passion, but it's romantic and gentle more than rough and intense. He just prefers being able to bask in a feeling or an emotion or a particular sound you make, truly absorbing it and revelling in it before moving on to the next thing. It's experimental for him too, and being able to be slow and precise means he can take better notes on what makes you make various noises.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex)

Ed's not a quickie kind of guy. He needs time to plan and prepare. He doesn't do anything half-assed, and he likes the anticipation of a sexual encounter. If you were desperate, he might indulge you, but for him, sex should be something you look forward to and dream about rather than something you go at hard in a random moment.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment?)

Ed will try anything once. And just like murder, it's safe to say he'll probably become a little bit addicted to it. Any type of roleplay or fetish you want to dive into, he's more than happy to work it out with you. In fact, risks, when calculated and deemed to be acceptably safe (a bit of an oxymoron) excite him. He'll experiment with some public sex, he'll make out with you when he knows the police are coming, he'll take you to the roof and dry hump you on a ledge. He's a freaky lil guy.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Ed's a bit average in this area, which there's nothing wrong with. He's not above pacing himself so that you can cum multiple times if you need to, but he's not really quick to action once he's spent the first time. He's spindly and sprightly though, and despite his long limbs making him a little bit clumsy, his movements are usually smooth and paced enough that he can last a very long time.

T = Toy (do they own toys? do they use them?)

If he owns a dildo, it's a glass one. And it's green coloured. Otherwise, he's not necessarily into toys. However, he definitely likes ropes. Definitely up for playing around with shibari and kinbaku and is OBSESSED with how your skin looks under them. The patience, skill and mastery are all huge turn-ons for him.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He's not much of a tease, he knows how cruel it is to be tortured and mocked and wouldn't even want to do that in a playful way with someone he loved. But, he will sometimes hold back on you until you've told him the answer to a riddle, just to see the cogs in your brain turn as you try to desperately work it out to get your reward.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make)

Good luck getting him to shut up, to be honest. He loves praising you during sex. He's forever telling you how good it feels. And aside from that, he barely makes any effort at all to conceal his satisfaction. Moans, groans, breathy whimpers and lots of whining are all permanent fixtures.

W = Wild Card (a random headcanon)

He has a definite pet kink, and enjoys training and implementing rules and regulations for your play. He's got a collection of collars and leads that match his outfits for you to wear. His vibes are always soft-dom though, so there's lot of aftercare and plenty of calling you a very good pet who is very well behaved.

X = X-Ray (let’s see what’s going on in those pants)

His cock is long and skinny, like the rest of him. He's working with 7 inches of slightly below average thickness, but it curves up and to the left so he has a unique sensation when he's inside of you.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

His sex drive isn't anything more or less than an average person of his age. The important thing though is that Ed is a hopeless romantic at heart, and prefers the pining and sexual tension to actual sex sometimes. So while he has an average sex drive, he will postpone anything sexual to increase the anticipation and desire in himself and a partner.

Z = ZZZ (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Not until you're asleep, at least. And even then, he's striving to stay awake just a little while longer so that he can adoringly watch you as you sleep next to him, playing with your hair, stroking your arm, and kissing your shoulder before wrapping himself around you and snuggling up close. It's important that he gets to cherish you when you're at your most peaceful and satisfied.

#q #finnie writes #riddler #the riddler #batman #riddler imagine #the riddler imagine #riddler smut #fanfic #the riddler fanfic #riddler fanfic #riddler x reader #riddler x you #edward nygma #edward nigma #edward nashton #the riddler fanfiction #gotham #gotham!verse #gotham riddler #gotham!riddler

[findroleplay]

Hello!

They/Them, 18+.

First, I'll list some general things I'm looking for and then the fandoms!

General

Discord only

Be 18+, (fairly) active and communicative.

Be okay with headcanons.

Ideal preferred length is about one full Discord message (can do up to three full messages though)

Please don't make me carry the plot. Bring your own ideas.

Don't be a dry texter/writer. I love OOC chatter, sharing thoughts, playlists, memes- being friendly with each other.

Fandoms

Pokémon

Human OC RP. Can involve canon, but only as minor/side characters (I don't do double-ups, but it's ok if you ship your OC with a cc)

No self-inserts or blatant canon character rip-offs

Eeveelution enthusiast? Dni. Most felines and canines are so overrated it hurts. Would love to see some underrated mons!

I love personalizing Pokémon, if they aren't blank slates explained in two sentences. It's so fun when they have a strong personality and a team dynamic!

Both journey, action-loaded and slice of life RP is cool with me! (would prefer a mix)

Undertale + AUs

Muses: Ink (main; fav), Dream, Classic, Swap, Reaper, willing to try Nightmare

Fav ships: Drink (platonic too), Inkmare

I tend to go about this with a lot of humor, especially if writing Ink. That doesn't mean I'm not open to seriousness!! But Undertale didn't take itself that seriously either

I'm honestly not very good with fighting scenes. Not opposed to writing one, but a fighting focused RP won't work out with me

Feel free to suggest rareships!!

BATIM (Bendy and the Ink Machine)

Mostly looking for Henry/Sammy, but honestly, knowing how small this fandom is I'll hear you out as long as you fit my general requirements (so yes, OCs are allowed)

Oddly specific request? Half-dead fandoms? Maybe. Can't help my cravings! Please leave a heart if you're interested in any of these and I'll reach out!

-

#roleplay #rp #oc rp #pokémon rp #undertale rp #BATIM rp #bendy and the ink machine rp

[cinnabites]

my personal oddly specific dni list

dni if you...

pay for anything on tumblr

don't leave reviews when buying from independent artists

are not cringe

don't think suitcase ii is aroace

use snapchat

use tiktok

don't give your plushies a little kiss on their little heads every night

dislike cats

dislike rats

say vanilla to describe things that are plain

have airpods

dislike rap music

think loud cars, lifted trucks and things alike are cool

walk in the middle of walkways and take up way too much space

think piracy is wrong

have a headdress on animal jam

financially support any corporations that have even considered dipping their toes into the NFT market

didn't have a slime phase

like harry potter

willingly listen to the radio (classical music channels are exempt)

don't have a bandcamp account

use wattpad

don't use adblock

don't remove tracking information from links whenever possible

don't have at least 100 hours of playtime on animal crossing or stardew valley

don't occasionally meow

were a normal kid

make fun of children

#/silly #long-ish #bonnie.txt

[evilsexy]

dni if you took french in highschool, are shorter than 5′6, hate math especially if you hate calculus, own pants that are not black jeans, your first anime was death note, enjoy sweetened coffee, like milk chocolate, can type without looking at the keys, are pisces anything, obey the speed limit ever, don’t know how to use chopsticks, have cried during a movie, prefer main characters over side characters, kin a blonde haired anime boy, have ever smoked weed, or can’t tolerate spicy foods

#this is my oddly specific dni take it or leave it #e

[kassandras-one-braincell]

Kassandra x Fem!Reader - Entangled Amongst the Vines

In which Kassandra fucks you stupid in Markos’ Koan vineyard. [explicit]

Can be found on AO3 here.

Minors DNI.

Tranquil would be the first word that you’d associate with vineyards: leaves gently rustling in the summer breeze, the Aegean sun washing the Koan fields in a gentle glow, intensifying the glorious hues of the vines and their sacred gifts. No soldier, mercenary nor bandit would dare shed blood amongst the vines and risk tarnishing the beautiful grapes. The perfect place for a late afternoon stroll with your misthios.

Kassandra stared wistfully at the fruits surrounding you both. “Poor, innocent grapes. They have no idea they’re about to be butchered and made into shitty wine,” she muttered, as if she stood in a slaughter dock rather than a vineyard.

While you had heard some…less than pleasant stories about Markos’ wine, you couldn’t have imagined it being too terrible. “Surely it isn’t that bad,” you chuckled, admiring the vibrant burgundies of the grapes, ripe and almost bursting with sweetness. “How could someone manage to make anything disgusting out of these? They look delicious.”

The look of horror she shot you made you snort. “I’m telling you, it tastes like goat piss. Borderline poison.” Her nose wrinkled in disgust at the memory. An oddly specific comparison.

“Oh, and you’re familiar with the taste of goat piss, Kassandra?” You cocked your brow and grinned.

“I’m telling you, Dionysus weeps for every amphora Markos sells.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

Kassandra rolled her eyes, flashing you a smile that could melt steel. “I was trying to dissuade you from sympathy-drinking any when Markos inevitably asks you to sample some. I prefer you alive and healthy, you know.” Your expression didn’t waver. She sighed, the corners of her mouth remaining upturned. “Of course I haven’t drank goat piss. Happy?”

“Hmm, I’m not so sure. After hearing tales of what you did to that poor goat in Kephallonia…”

She broke down into hearty laughter, your favourite sound echoing throughout the green fields of Kos. Eyes crinkling at the corners, hand clutching her stomach. Positively radiant, enough to fill you with a swell of warmth.

Some minute later she returned to the mortal realm, catching her breath, beaming at you. Kassandra adored your wit, something she reminded you of frequently, her smile conveying it all. “Oh, but the look on the Cyclops’ face was beyond worth it,” she reminisced.

You idled down the rows of vines in content silence, fingers interlaced, absorbing the beauty of the greens and reds. With each step the grapes seemed to appear brighter, juicier, glistening in the Koan afternoon sun. Kassandra evidently thought the same, and plucked one off a particularly delectable looking bunch, popping it in her mouth. She groaned softly as she sank her teeth into the delicate fruit, savouring its flavour, leaving you salivating like a rabid dog. They looked so refreshing, and the damned heat was almost unbearable. But you really didn’t want to deal with an angry farmhand catching you grazing on his crop.

“That,” she began, “was fucking divine.”

“They certainly look it,” you trailed off, battling off the urge to join her.

“Have one.” She eased a second off of its stem and offered it to you. With a longing sigh, you shook your head.

“They’re not mine to eat,” you said, desperately trying to keep your resolve intact.

“Please, the drachmae in Markos’ purse all come from payments I never got in Kephallonia. They’re practically my grapes.” Kassandra rolled it in her fingertips. “This is definitely the juiciest one of the bunch.” Fucking tease.

“Kassandra…”

Her smirk meant she knew you were cracking. “It’s getting warmer, you know.”

With a huff, you relented. “Oh, to Hades with it,” you mumbled, taking the grape from her fingertips. You bit into the fruit with your front teeth, laughing when a stream of juice squirted out of the end, spraying Kassandra’s neck. And it was divinity; the flesh was perfectly sweet, the skin just bitter enough to linger on your tastebuds, mingling with the sugary juices. With a hum you finished the other half of the grape. “These are the best grapes I’ve ever tasted,” you breathed out, regretting nothing. Your eyes drifted to the infinitesimal droplets scattered across your misthios’ neck. “Sorry about that.”

But Kassandra made no move to wipe off the juice. Instead, she had a wolfish grin plastered on her handsome face, one you were far too familiar with.

“Gods, what’s on your mind, woman?” you asked, shivering in the sweltering heat at the pensive hum she gave.

“Just thinking of the ways I could make you do that.” Nonchalant, sensual promises seeping through every word. Blushing furiously, you scanned either side of you for any farmhands.

“Kassandra, we’re in the middle of a vineyard,” you hissed, understanding every implication in her words. Her smug expression never faltered.

She took a step closer to you, eyes gleaming with a hunger for something other than fruit. “No one’s around,” she said, her voice hushed and far too inviting to be fair. Her hand brushed a stray lock of hair out of your face, lingering to cradle your head, thumb caressing your cheekbone.

“Anyone could find us,” you warned her, cursing yourself for leaning into her touch.

“You’ll just have to keep quiet then, won’t you?” Your eyes followed her thumb as she swept it across your lower lip, the soft flesh tingling in its wake. The smirk in her voice was tangible. “Think you can do that for me?”

As she snaked an arm around your waist – and fuck, she made it sound so enticing – you instinctively relaxed, despite your brain being a maelstrom of temptation and inhibition. “No, not with what you’re like…” you mumbled, earning a chuckle. After all, you both knew Kassandra could play your body like the finest lyre until it produced the sounds she craved.

“Then suppose somebody does find us,” she began, and gods you were already hooked on her sinful speculation. “They’ll see a misthios pleasuring her beautiful lover…” She trailed her thumb down your neck, pressing the scarred pad into the hollow of your throat firmly enough to elicit a groan. “Fucking her nice and deep…” Her hand journeyed down your side, fingers brushing over a hard nipple that betrayed your debauched emotions, settling at your waist. Ever having a penchant for making the filthiest words sound like silk. “And they wouldn’t dare tell a soul, not unless they want a pissed-off mercenary on their tail.”

“You’re insatiable.”

“Is that a yes?” Your eyes met, hers muddied with lust, yours undoubtedly equally as foggy. Thighs pressed together in an attempt to relieve a newfound ache, you nodded enthusiastically. Aphrodite herself would spread her legs for the smirk Kassandra returned.

“At least take me to where the grapes aren’t ripe enough for picking,” you pleaded, hoping that portion of the vineyard would be marginally more secluded. As thrilling as this sounded, you didn’t want to actually get caught in the act.

“Smart,” she replied, taking your hand in her larger one.

You waded through the rows of vines until the deep burgundy fruits were meddled with green and amber, lacking the plumpness of those you sought before, anticipation coursing through your veins until your heart hammered against your chest. Kassandra swiftly scanned the area for any farmhands before pulling you into an embrace, dipping down to ensnare your lips in a kiss.

You rose to your tip-toes to return it, softly moaning into her mouth, seeking the solace of her lips. She kissed you with unbridled passion, slow and rough, utterly dizzying. Maddening in that it betrayed nothing of how she intended to take you, heightening your excitement. It rendered you drunker than any wine ever could.

When she pulled away, you couldn’t help but whine, wanting – needing – those salacious lips against yours for just a moment longer. But feeling them suckle at a spot on your neck that she knew drove you insane was a good compromise, especially with her hand hiking up the front of your chiton. You were grateful you decided to don a shorter one today, allowing her access to your clothed mound with limited restrictions.

Torturously slow, Kassandra began to rub firm circles against your clit over your undergarment, moaning at your slick soaking through the fabric. The sound you relinquished was nothing short of whorish. Immediately, the hand you wasn’t bracing on her bare, muscled bicep for balance flew to cover your mouth.

“I didn’t expect you to be this wet,” she whispered, nipping at the darkening skin on your neck. Honestly, neither did you, but your body was always so responsive whenever your lover promised to wreck you. Heat from her fingertips assaulted your senses, the friction of slick cloth against your core almost good enough to make you forget about your surroundings. Almost.

Kassandra noticed your eyes dart to the side, checking for any passers-by, and adjusted her rhythm, caressing your bead with quick, rough strokes, alternating between circles and sweeps. You were aflame, crying a symphony into your palm, brain no longer occupied with thoughts of being discovered. All the tension in your muscles unfurled as a familiar warmth built in your core, slowly, slowly, far too fucking slowly because gods she’s slowing down—

“That felt good,” you whimpered, all but sobbing when she stopped.

A wicked smirk crept onto her lips. “You know I like taking my time,” she purred, relishing your frustrated whine.

“I need your fingers, fuck—”

“They’re on you, aren’t they?” She dragged her fingertip over the arousal-stained patch of fabric.

“Fates, Kassandra, don’t make me beg,” you demanded, pitifully desperate for those long, thick, marred fingers to fill you and make you see stars.

The misthios laughed – a husky, hot thing – and slipped your undergarment down to your mid thighs. “As the lady commands…” She ran her fingertip across your folds, collecting a river of dew as she went, revelling in your sharp intake of breath. “You’re loving this. Being fucked where anyone can see,” she mutters, delicately kissing your cheek as she rolled your clit between her finger and thumb. A trickle of arousal escaped you at her words, dripping onto her hand.

Finally, finally, after coating her fingers with enough of your essence, Kassandra pushed two fingers into you, met with no resistance. Mewling in appreciation, you let the hand covering your mouth fall to her broad shoulders, digging your nails into the firm muscle, forming a pattern of crescents that you knew she loved. Groaning, she sank her fingers in knuckle-deep, crooking them, angling her hand so its heel was flush against your clit. “Fuck,” you whispered as she dragged her fingers along your walls, effortlessly locating the ridge inside you that would inevitably send you spiralling over the edge, having mapped your body into her memory.

Languidly, she thrust into you, ensuring her scarred fingers brushed against that criminally good spot with every delicious come-hither, drinking in your delighted cries that you tried so hard to withhold. Her palm ground into you, rocking against your clit with every schlick of her fingers inside you. The stimulation from before paled in comparison, her fingers spearing into you so intensely that jaw slackened. You rolled your hips against her hand, yearning for release, needing to chase it, but standing on the tips of your toes made it nigh impossible to seize control of your pleasure. Ever attentive, Kassandra picked up the pace, earning a sob.

“Like that?” she whispered, as if the answer wasn’t obvious from your moans resonating throughout the vines with reckless abandon. Your response: an embarrassingly loud mewl, which she swiftly stifled with her lips. All it took was a few deep thrusts and an exquisitely rough slam into your sweet spot for you to clamp down on her hand, walls pulsating around her fingers as you came. “That’s it, fucking beautiful,” she growled against your lips, the arm around your waist tightening to support you. You moaned out a string of curses, trying to pry your shaking thighs apart to release her hand.

But her fingers remained hilted inside you.

“Wh– What are you—”

“Remember the grape you had?” Kassandra murmured, sucking a mark into the crook of your neck. You nodded slowly, still catching your breath. Her hot tongue ran over the bruising skin, making you shudder, gasping from overstimulation when you twitched around her digits. “Remember what I said?”

Oh, Fates.

Ever so carefully, she rocked into you again; your eyes fluttered shut as you tried to ground yourself, clinging onto your lover for dear life. “Shit, that’s– Fucking—”

“Do you want me to stop?” Kassandra asked, her sensual tone laced with concern.

“Please don’t,” you begged, a wanton mess. You were so sensitive but craved whatever she wanted to give you.

Without another word, she gently began undulating her hand back and forth, fingertips pushing into your sweet spot with every oscillation. Never going deeper, shallower, maintaining a steady pressure in your core. It was incredible. Her lips trailed delicate kisses over your neck, coaxing drawn-out sounds of your pleasure, eagerly tasting the beads of sweat cascading down your skin.

“You’ve never felt this before, have you?”

“Mmh.”

“More, love?”

“Mhm.”

Ensuring her hold on your waist was secure, she quickened the tempo of her ministrations, pounding her digits into your front walls. Lightning shot through your veins, engulfing your skin in chills, utterly ruining your ability to do anything except claw at her shoulders and sob. Fuck, it felt so intense, too intense, and the sensation building within was scarily foreign yet wonderful. Without a shadow of a doubt someone overheard you with nothing inhibiting your cries of bliss, but you didn’t care. You couldn’t think.

“Fuck, Kass, Kass, Kass—”

She grinned into your neck, breathing heavy from exertion, slamming into you harder. “Cum on my fingers, love,” she ushered, ravenous, addicted to your unabashed sensuality. That was all it took; that intense pressure burst, tipping you over the edge with a coarse wail, a waterfall of fluid dripping down Kassandra’s hand. All the while she fucked it out of you, only relenting when your knees buckled and you collapsed forwards into her. She caught you with ease, caressing soothing spirals into your back to calm you. Breathing ragged, you allowed her to support your weight through the aftershocks, smiling when she sweetly kissed your forehead. Some moments passed before you mustered the composure to stand, legs still faintly trembling.

Once she was certain that you could support yourself, she brought her soaked fingers to her lips and sucked them clean, the sight just about enough to kill you.

“That,” she smugly declared, tawny eyes locking with yours, “tastes better than any wine.”

#kassandra x reader #kassandra of sparta #ac odyssey #smut

[eddiesasspbrak]

Familiar

Eddie is dragged to a comedy show by his coworkers and something about the comedian is so...familiar.

Part of my “I’d rearrange the alphabet to put U and I together” series

Read on AO3

A B C D E

7k+ words

Minors DNI

Something about this man felt familiar.

When Eddie’s coworkers invited him out for a drink, he was inclined to say no. He wasn’t one for socializing outside of the workplace and drinking in front of them added the risk of getting drunk and saying or doing something stupid. The last thing he needed was a joke about his behavior going around the office for years because of the one night out he chose to let loose.

Then there was the Myra of it all. If she knew he was going out for a drink, she would harass him through text and phone calls until he came home. He knew she had an app that allowed her to track him via GPS and he couldn’t figure out how to turn it off. She could just as easily find out where he was and show up, ready to cry or scream to manipulate him into doing what she wanted. Of course, Eddie would let her because she was his wife and he’d chosen this life with her.

Still, there was a part of Eddie that wanted to be carefree for one night. As long as he limited himself to two drinks and stayed hydrated, he would be ok. He texted Myra and told her that the pub they were going to was run by a potential new client for his insurance firm and she believed him easily. He rarely lied to her, so it was easy to get away with it when he did. There were some bigger secrets he kept from her. Like how he wasn’t sure he loved her as more than a friend and how he realized he only liked men and often dreamed about reliving some college one-night stands with other men he’d met along the way. It wasn’t important for her to know.

A simple lie about where he was going and why was innocent enough. He wasn’t interested in any of his coworkers romantically or sexually, so it’s not like he’d have to lie any further to cover up an affair. He didn’t have it in him to cheat anyway. He may not have loved his wife romantically, but he’d be damned if he took the cowards way out. If he found someone else he wanted to be with, he’d end it with her first like a decent human being.

His coworkers were ecstatic when he agreed to go with them. He never wanted to go out with them. The club they were going to had special events that required tickets and one of them had acquired nine at a discounted cost thanks to a connection with the club owner. Eddie didn’t have much interest in the comedy act that would be going on around them and planned to stay focused on his level of intoxication instead. A night of freedom was just that and he was going to enjoy himself no matter what he had to do to accomplish that.

There was a line going down the street of people waiting for admission. Due to Harold’s connection, they were able to bypass the line, much to Eddie’s relief. Standing in a line in the heat for hours was not worth getting a few drinks. Inside was already bustling with people and Eddie’s attention went immediately to locating their waitress and flagging her down.

The jokes at his expense already began as his coworkers made comments about him letting loose. They’d never expected him to be a drinker. They thought for sure he’d sip on water and iced tea (not the long island kind) all night. When he ordered a shot and a beer (the shot was mostly ordered to shut them up), they quickly quieted down. Though he was actually a light weight from years of barely drinking at all because of Myra. He could tell they were trying to assess if they really knew the true Eddie Kaspbrak and he could easily answer that for them. No. Nobody knew the real Eddie. Not even Myra.

The room went dark, a spotlight trained on the stage and the crowd erupted in applause as the comedian for the night took the stage. Curious, Eddie followed suit and looked up the man. They had a relatively close table, able to see the guy perfectly from where they sat. Eddie immediately recognized him. He’d seen his shows on Comedy Central a few times. He used to think he was funny but in the last few years, his routine completely changed, and Eddie didn’t think he was good anymore. It was like someone else entirely was writing his material. Myra always hated him.

As he began his routine, a strange feeling struck Eddie. There was something oddly familiar about this man. He told himself it was just because he was familiar with his work, but it was more than that. He had this feeling, like a distant memory, that he had spoken to him before. He’d called out his name, touched his hands. Maybe it was a dream. After all, he wasn’t unattractive, and it wouldn’t be the first time Eddie had had a dream about a celebrity he was attracted to.

He barely listened to the jokes as he chased the fleeting memory, trying to figure out just what had happened in his dream. Hopefully, nothing too graphic as he was in public with the people he worked with and he didn’t need to get himself worked up. Especially given the actual man himself was on stage.

“Richie!” He heard his own, younger voice calling out in his head. If they were children in his dream, that opened another line of questions that he couldn’t quite answer.

Harold was laughing beside him and clapped a hand down on Eddie’s shoulder. “He’s funny, right?” He asked.

Eddie focused on what the guy was saying for a second, wondering if he’d reverted back to his actual funny jokes. He only heard the tail end of a joke, specifically, “try telling that to my girlfriend.” Eddie scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“That dude does not have a girlfriend. He’s full of shit.” He mumbled mostly to himself.

“Are you sure? Maybe he’s talking about an ex-girlfriend.”

Eddie wasn’t sure how he knew, but he believed with every ounce of himself that Richie Tozier did not and never did have a girlfriend. He didn’t know why. Richie had never once talked about being gay. No one really speculated that he was either. Other than the fans who shipped him with other comedians he was friends with and that was all fantasy. Part of him wondered if it was just his wishful thinking. Not that he would cheat on his wife and hook up with a random comedian if he were gay. And interested in Eddie.

The show went on and Eddie kept himself delightfully tipsy but not drunk. Enough to get through the painfully unfunny jokes but keep himself from making a fool of himself. His coworkers were laughing along with the rest of the crowd while Eddie quietly heckled. He didn’t want to draw attention to himself, but he just couldn’t keep his mouth shut. Usually something that only happened when he was comfortable with someone. His coworkers seemed to be enjoying this side of him but the people sitting at the table next to them, did not.

“Dude, shut the fuck up. I can’t hear the jokes.” The man sitting closest to him snapped.

“You’re welcome.” Eddie quipped and when he looked back toward the stage, Richie was looking right at their table.

Their eyes met and he stuttered his words, an unreadable expression passing over his face before he caught himself and picked back up where he’d messed up making a self-deprecating joke about forgetting his lines. Eddie sat frozen, a chill going through him. He’d felt something and he was sure Richie felt it too. For the brief second their eyes were locked it felt like he was looking up at an old friend. Part of him wanted to get up and leave with some lame excuse to his coworkers that his wife needed him home. He didn’t need this uncertainty of being drawn to someone he’d never met like he was a past lover. It was unfamiliar and made it hard to breathe.

A memory of a conversation with Myra clicked into his mind. She’d been talking about soulmates, saying that they always find one another from one life to the next and the connection is instantaneous. She was talking about the two of them and Eddie had just nodded along, not contributing because he knew she was wrong. If there was such a thing as soulmates, she was not his. The idea that Richie fucking Tozier could be his soulmate was ludicrous and he felt like a jackass for having that thought at all even if it was just a passing thought.

“I have to pee.” Eddie mumbled as he staggered to his feet and made his way through the tables toward the bathroom. As he pushed through the door, forgetting to use his elbow instead of his hand, he heard Richie on stage saying, “I’m Trashmouth Tozier, goodnight!” and he felt dizzy. Echoes of his own voice calling out “Trashmouth” filled his ears as he made his way to the sink, pressing his hands against the cold porcelain to support himself.

Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe he was drunker than he realized and that’s why his head was spinning. Either way, he felt like he was strapped to a chair, his eyes pried open being forced to watch images flash by on a screen. Images that were being crammed into his brain through his ear making his head throb, but he couldn’t actually see them. That distant dream you can vaguely remember when waking but it slowly fades away into oblivion again.

“You ok?” Eddie startled at the voice. He hadn’t even heard the door open.

“I’m fine.” He said, turning on the tap and splashing water in his face.

“Too much to drink?” Eddie didn’t respond this time. He just wanted to get out of there, go home and sleep. The intruder on his mini breakdown wasn’t taking his silence as a hint though. “Don’t I know you from somewhere?”

Eddie finally lifted his head, taking a look at the guy though the mirror. What he saw, had him whirling around, a bad choice with the way he was feeling. He stumbled back against the sink, catching himself and hitting his wrist against the edge of the sink. Richie was leaning against the side of the stall door, his hands in his pockets.

It took a second for Eddie’s brain to reconnect to the present situation. When it did, the first thing to tumble from his lips was, “that’s a really shitty pickup line.”

Richie cracked a smile. “All pickup lines are shitty. I’m being serious though. Do you come to my shows often?”

“No. First time.”

“Did you enjoy the show?”

“Not even a little bit.” Eddie hadn’t meant to say that. He’d intended to lie and say it was great, but something about this guy made him want to be honest. He wasn’t afraid to tell him the truth. That feeling of familiarity sat tugging at his mind.

“Yea, I kind of noticed. I didn’t see you laugh once.”

“That room was packed. No way you were paying attention to me. You’re attempts to hit on me are really lame.”

“I was, though. I was trying to place where I know you. And I always watch the crowd to see if everyone is laughing. It’s kind of a blow to my confidence when there’s someone out there who doesn’t find my jokes funny.”

“They aren’t funny. They’re full of shit. Your old stuff was better.”

Richie appeared shocked. “So, you’re familiar with my work then. I thought you said this was your first show.”

“First live show I guess. I used to watch your stuff online. Before you stopped being funny.”

“Let me get this straight…you’re a fan but you don’t want me to hit on you in a public bathroom?”

“I’m not a fan, there’s no way you could get anything straight and I’m technically married. So, no.”

“Technically married? Like, separated? Getting a divorce?”

“No…I’m…I guess I’m actually married.”

“Oh.”

Eddie felt sick again, the waves of nausea crashing down and making him want to puke. He sounded disappointed and Eddie hated that. Why did he get married? Oh yea, because he shoved himself in the closet and she was obsessed with him. He used her and that knowledge was a constant pit of guilt sitting solid in his gut on a daily basis. He’d been so freaked out on their wedding day he’d almost run away. Having sex the first few times was awkward, and he had to drink quite a bit at the reception to even get hard and then he thought about the guy he used to hook up with in college. Tall, broad shoulders, thick biceps and thighs. He could hold Eddie up against the wall while he fucked up into him hard and fast.

That was not a memory he needed in his head while standing alone in a bathroom with someone he was definitely attracted to. Immediately he was picturing Richie pushing him up against the bathroom door, fucking him while he held a hand over his mouth to keep anyone from hearing his loud, slutty moans. A shiver went down his spine and he had to look away.

“Well, if I were hitting on you that would suck.” Richie chuckled awkwardly.

“What do you mean if?” Now distracted by Richie’s bullshit, Eddie was back to treating this perfect stranger as if he’d known him for years and was close with him. Could he really blame it all on the alcohol and the feeling of familiarity? Was it because he was attracted to him and really wanted to feel those big hands on his skin? “You were clearly disappointed when I said I was married.”

“I…have a girlfriend. Didn’t you hear my jokes about her?”

“That was bullshit. You didn’t even write those jokes.”

Richie’s eyes widened as his genuine smile returned to his face. “Why are you so sure I didn’t write my jokes?”

“Because your jokes used to be funny and they aren’t now.”

“Maybe I used to have someone else write for me and I write for myself now.”

Eddie hadn’t actually thought about that being a possibility. He was just so sure that the old jokes were his own words. He was beginning to think maybe he insulted him by saying his new stuff is bad since he didn’t write it when Richie began to laugh. He tried to keep it together, but the way Eddie’s eyebrows furrowed together, and his lips dropped into a frown of concern was so cute he couldn’t contain it. Eddie’s eyes snapped back up to Richie’s face and all at once his expression changed to one of annoyance.

“More bullshit. I take it back, you’re not funny at all and never were. And you’re definitely at least bi.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I can tell.”

“Ah, I just kind of assumed you were married to a woman, but I guess I was wrong. Cause like, only fellow gay people can tell right?”

“What kind of dumbassery is that? And I am married to a woman.”

“Oh. Wow. I cannot read people at all. I really thought you were gay.”

“I am.” Eddie felt like his heart stopped. He’d said it out loud for the first time. He used to think he was bi but ever since realizing his truth, he’d never said it out loud. Why the fuck was he blurting it out to this man in the middle of a public bathroom where anyone could walk in? He just couldn’t understand what was making him feel like an old friend he could confide all his deepest darkest secrets to. This was dangerous and he needed to leave. “I have to go.”

Eddie made his way to the door but was stopped by Richie using his long legs to get in front of him. “Wait, you can’t go without telling me your name.”

“What? Why?”

“You know my name.”

“You’re a celebrity. Everyone here knows your name.” Richie made it clear he wasn’t going to move until he gave it up and Eddie sighed in annoyance. “Fine. I’m Eddie.”

“Eddie…?”

“Kaspbrak. Now can you please move? My coworkers definitely think I’m taking a massive shit or passed out on the floor.”

“Sure thing Eddie Kaspbrak.”

Richie stepped to the side and Eddie wasted no time crashing through the door back into the dim light of the club. Outside the door stood a big buff bodyguard and a line of men stood waiting to pee. He’d actually stopped anyone from entering the bathroom after him. He definitely intended to seduce Eddie into fucking in the bathroom stall. Ignoring this, he made his way back to the table and found his coworkers still there discussing the show.

“Hey, Eddie, we thought you ditched us.” Harold grinned.

“No, sorry, there was a line in the bathroom.” He kind of lied. There had been a line, he had just sort of been the cause of it. “I do have to go though. I’ll see you all at work Monday.”

They each said goodbye and then Eddie was off into the night before Richie decided to follow after him. He wasn’t sure he could ignore the desire to drag him back to this car and ride him in the backseat if he saw him again. Better to rush home before he made a mistake.

----

When Eddie arrived home, Myra was unsurprisingly still awake waiting for him. He told her the meeting went well but she should head to bed without him as he needed a shower to wash the smell of the club off of him. Really he just needed to be alone and it was the only option. He’d banned her from sneaking into the shower with him after she tried to use two in one shampoo and conditioner on him. That wasn’t a thing and he only used professional hypoallergenic products recommended by his stylist.

Once under the hot stream of water, he closed his eyes, resting one hand against the wall to help support himself. That night wasn’t the first night he’d been tempted to go home with a stranger, but this time was different. He hadn’t actually touched him, but he swore he could feel his hands on his body, his fingers in his hair. A shiver went down his spine, his skin tingling where imaginary fingers traced over his body. The sound of his name from Richie’s mouth filled his mind as if he were there, whispering it over and over.

Before Eddie could even think, his fingers were wrapping around his dick, already hard just from his own imagination. He closed his eyes, focusing on how his face looked so close and in person, the sound of his laugh, the way one side of his mouth lifted up higher than the other when he smiled. He let his mind run wild, imagining what would have happened if he’d given in and stayed in that filthy bathroom with Richie.

“Eddie…Eddie…” His voice echoed in his head, making him shiver. With the door blocked by his bodyguard, there was no need to cram into a tiny stall, he thought. Instead, Richie would bend him over one of the sinks, his hands gripping the cold porcelain, his bare belly pressed against the edge. He wondered what it would be like to be fucked by Richie. How big he was, how long he could hold out. Had he even been with a guy before and did he prefer to receive? It didn’t matter really, because this was his fantasy and in it, Richie was perfect and knew exactly what Eddie needed.

In real time, Eddie had his shoulder pressed hard against the shower wall, one hand still jacking himself off, the other knuckle deep inside him while in his head Richie was pounding into him. He was close and part of his brain told him to bite down on his lip to stay quiet, so he wasn’t heard. He told himself it was because they were in a public bathroom, but he knew the real reason, the one who was likely listening outside the door for any noise. She would barge in and say she thought he fell in the shower if she heard any unusual noise, so he bit down until it hurt because he didn’t want to think about that. Not when Richie was deep inside him, moaning out his name and Eddie was close, so close…

He took a sharp inhale, spilling over his fingers and onto the shower floor. He knew that wasn’t great for the pipes as it washed away, but just a little wasn’t so bad, right? His head was a muddled cloud of post orgasm bliss and while the fantasy was quickly fading, he could still hear Richie’s voice echoing his name in his head. Over and over while Eddie reaching around the shower curtain for toilet paper to clean off his hand, while he quickly washed himself up and let the water run cold to calm himself down before leaving the safety and privacy of the bathroom. It continued as he shut off the water and wrapped himself in a towel and then his robe, repeating as he wiped the fog from the mirror and stared into his still wide pupils. It wouldn’t stop, he couldn’t will his voice away and then… “Eds!” the voice was younger, but he was absolutely sure that it was Richie.

The shock caused him to gasp, that same dizzy feeling he’d felt in the club coming back to him. A knock came from the door a second later followed by Myra’s frantic voice. “Eddie? Are you ok? I thought I heard something!”

Trying to calm himself, he took a deep breath before responding. “I’m fine. Just thought I saw a spider. I’ll be out in a second.” He knew she’d been sitting there ever since she heard the water start up. She always did. He could hear her footsteps going back down the hall toward the bedroom and he knew if he didn’t hurry she’d just come right back and demand he open the door. Grabbing another towel, he dried his hair a bit before bringing out the dryer. His mom had told him at a young age that it was never good to go to bed with wet hair and Myra felt the same way.

Hair dry and head calmed, he left the bathroom and the fantasy of Richie Tozier behind.

----

SpaghettiMan: Is it cheating to masturbate to someone else?

Eddie sat at his desk at work a few days later, the guilt of his almost-but-not-really with Richie sitting in his stomach all weekend. He’d wanted to talk to his friend about it, but it wasn’t safe to communicate with her at home. He’d met her in an online support group a few months before. She was also in a bad, controlling marriage though her husband was violent toward her and constantly accused her of cheating. They didn’t know each other’s real names, it wasn’t allowed in the group, but they’d become close and had moved to a private room where they could talk just the two of them. He’d created a stupid username that had been stuck in his head for years without any explanation but definitely hid who he really was. Now, he waited for her to respond, chewing the inside of his lip.

WinterFire: I’m sorry…what?

SpaghettiMan: I had the opportunity to cheat and I didn’t! I’m a good man…but I did go home and masturbate while thinking about them.

WinterFire: Wow, um…ok. I guess it’s better than screwing your wife while thinking about them, maybe?

SpaghettiMan: Oh god…

WinterFire: Does your wife know?

SpaghettiMan: Of course not! I don’t even sleep with her anymore unless she gets me really, really drunk.

WinterFire: So…who was it?

SpaghettiMan: What?

WinterFire: The almost. Who was it?

SpaghettiMan: Is that important?

WinterFire: Absolutely. If you want me to judge you then I need all the details.

Eddie’s fingers hesitated over the keys. He hadn’t told her that he was gay. It was anonymous, but if he gave her the name of a celebrity thought to be straight, it would open a whole can of worms. He decided it was ok to tell her about himself, but he wouldn’t give away Richie’s name.

SpaghettiMan: It was…a guy.

WinterFire: Oh

His heart pounded in his chest as he watched the typing bubbles appear and disappear several times. Part of him had always been afraid that she was really Myra pretending to be someone else to get information out of him, though he didn’t know if she was actually capable of that. Finally, the chat chime came from his speakers.

WinterFire: So, you’re bi? Or pan?

SpaghettiMan: I’m gay

His fingers shook as he hit send. Twice now he’d admitted it in just a few short days. It was terrifying and liberating all at the same time. Like the weight of the world was lifted off of his shoulders for just a moment while laced with fear of the unknown. How would she react? Before she could, his fingers were flying over the keys.

SpaghettiMan: I thought I was bi for a long time. I slept with men in college but also some women.

SpaghettiMan: I met my wife and she loved me, and I thought I loved her, so we got married and then I realized.

SpaghettiMan: I didn’t want to hurt her but also she’s…well you know what she’s like from the stories I’ve told you. I don’t know if I could get away if I tried. She’s so manipulative, I don’t know what she’d do if I told her the truth and left.

WinterFires: Hey, it’s ok. You don’t have to defend yourself to me. Sexuality is a crazy thing.

WinterFires: I’ve for sure had more than one woman in my bed. Sometimes at the same time.

She added a little winking emoji after that, and Eddie felt himself calming down.

WinterFires: Maybe this is something you should tell the group. I want to help but I’m not really sure what to say. I don’t think what you did counts as cheating, but I do think you need to find a way to tell her the truth. She deserves a man who can handle her toxic ass and actually wants to sleep with her, and you deserve to be happy and live your truth.

He contemplated what she said for the rest of the day. She wasn’t wrong, but if it were that easy, he’d have done it already. Still, he trusted her and her opinion so the next meeting they had, he’d bring it up. He’d already said it twice, what was once more?

----

As the days went by, Eddie couldn’t get Richie out of his head. He haunted his dreams, sometimes they were younger and sometimes they were nightmares where they were running from…something. He could never fully remember the dreams all he knew was that Richie was there. Sometimes there were other people. Always five, always blurred so he couldn’t see them. Only one had any discernible features – red hair. Beyond that, it was as if he was looking at them through foggy glass.

One thing was certain, Richie Tozier had burrowed his way into Eddie’s brain and taken up permanent residence. He started watching his older routines again, finding clips online and on streaming services. Eventually he made it to his new stuff. And, while he still didn’t think the new stuff was funny, he couldn’t stop watching.

When the weekend rolled around once more, he felt like a teenager who hadn’t seen their crush all week. So, against his better judgement, he approached Harold with an invitation to go back to the club for drinks. Harold had definitely been surprised but had agreed and invited along a group of their coworkers to join, making a night of it. Eddie told Myra they had to go back to the club to go over some paperwork with the owner. This time, the lie made him feel guilty. He wasn’t lying to enjoy a night of relaxation; he was lying so he could attempt to see the man he was interested in. This definitely counted as cheating, right?

The line wasn’t as bad this time as there were no big-name comedians performing, so they’d waited their turn to be allowed inside. His coworkers chatted happily while Eddie felt like he was going to crawl out of his skin from nervous energy. Where were the odds he was even there? He’d only been at the club last weekend because he had a show. He was paid to be there. This was stupid. He was stupid. He should just fake illness and go home to his wife. But then they were at the front, paying admission to see a band he didn’t know, and he didn’t stop.

The inside was the same as before, but this time a band occupied the stage playing a song he’d never heard before. They claimed a table and Eddie’s eyes scanned the room for a familiar face. There was no sign of him, or his big bodyguard. Of course, he wasn’t there. Eddie was just a one time attempted pick up and he hadn’t thought of him since. Anything Eddie had imagined was just that…imaginary.

“You ok Kaspbrak?” Harold asked.

“Yea, I’m fine. I just suddenly feel really tired. I think going out today was actually a bad idea.” He felt so sad and then felt stupid for feeling sad.

“What? Really? You created this night out and now you’re tapping out just as it’s getting started?” Harold looked disappointed.

“I’m really sorry. Maybe I’m coming down with something. We can try again next week, ok?”

He didn’t wait for a response as he stood and headed for the door. As he exited onto the nearly dark street, he wondered what he was doing. He was married, what was he planning to do? What if Richie had been there? It wouldn’t make a difference or change his circumstances. If he wanted to pursue hot guys in clubs, he needed to first get a divorce. He was acting on impulse and it was time to reign it in.

Part of his mind kept telling him to go back. Just because he wasn’t there, didn’t mean he wouldn’t show up. That was precisely the kind of thought he was trying to remove, so he ignored it and kept walking.

----

The rest of the weekend, Eddie stayed home and watched things that had absolutely nothing to do with a certain comedian. He had lunch and dinner with Myra and on Sunday, over a dinner of all her favorite foods, he told her.

“What are you talking about? Don’t be silly, Eddie.” She said with a wave of her hand, dismissing what he’d just said.

“I’m serious, Myra. When we met and got married I thought I liked women too and maybe on some small level I do, but I want to be with a man. I want a divorce.”

She slammed her glass down on the table, her face turning red. “Who? Who is this man you want to be with?”

“There isn’t anyone specific. I just think it’s time I find someone.”

“You already have someone! Me!”

“You know what I mean, Myra. And you deserve to find someone too.”

“You’re just being ridiculous. You’ve got a fever and are delirious. I’ll call your doctor in the morning.”

“I’m not sick, I’m not delirious. This has been on my mind for a long time. I’m sorry. I never wanted to hurt you, but it’s time.”

“I won’t hear anymore of this!” She stood from the table. “I’m going to have a nice hot bath and then I’m going to bed. In the morning we’ll both be thinking a lot clearer and you’ll see that this was just foolishness.”

Without giving him a chance to respond, she left the room. A moment later, Eddie could hear the water running in the bathtub. Sighing, he cleared the table, loaded the dishwasher and put away all of the leftovers. With her still in the bath, he went to the room they shared and packed a bag with pajamas, toiletries and a suit for work. He was in his car and headed to a hotel before she emerged from the bathroom.

----

Eddie was sat at his desk the next day, chat window opened on his screen and feeing exhausted. He’d tossed and turned all night, anxiety about how difficult things were about to become plaguing his mind. He’d checked out of the hotel that morning, his things in the trunk of his car, but he figured he’d be back there or at another hotel that night.

SpaghettiMan: I did it. I told her everything (mostly) and slept in a hotel last night.

WinterFires: Holy crap! Good for you, dude! I’m proud of you.

SpaghettiMan: Thanks. It was pretty awful. I actually left when she was bathing, and my phone has been turned off, so I have no idea what she’s doing or thinking right now.

“Hey, Eddie.” He turned in his chair to see one of the assistants standing close by. “You’ve got a visitor. They said to meet them out in the parking lot.”

“What?” He looked toward the front entrance and saw no one standing there.

“Yea, it’s kind of weird. Do you need me to call the police or…?”

“No, it’s ok. I’ll handle it.”

SpaghettiMan: She may have just shown up at my work. I have a visitor waiting in the parking lot. If I’m not back in ten minutes, I’m probably dead.

WinterFires: Oh shit, be careful ok?

Eddie’s stomach twisted in knots as he road the elevator down to the ground floor. He tried to see who it was through the front windows but there were several people outside and he didn’t know who it was waiting for him. He went to the desk in the lobby and approached the security guard.

“Hi, so I’m Edward Kaspbrak, I work upstairs. I’m about to go meet some stranger out in the parking lot. I’m sure it’s nothing, but if you see anything go down can you…interfere?” He felt so stupid.

“Do you…want me to go out there with you?” The guy looked out into the parking lot out of curiosity.

“No, that might be bad. Just…if a woman tries to force me into a car, call the police and tell them it was my wife.”

“Right. Ok.” The guard seemed confused and maybe a little amused, but he watched as Eddie exited the building and stood close to the window to observe.

Eddie stayed close to the building and scanned his surroundings. He didn’t see Myra, but then a tall figure with a hood and sunglasses waved in his direction. So, not Myra. A hitman maybe? Or someone hired to kidnap him and take him home? Either way, he looked back to the security guard in the window and then made his way through the parked cars to where the person was standing.

“Before you say anything, I’m guessing my wife sent you. I don’t know what she’s paying you or what she told you to do but know that I’m planning to leave her enough money in the divorce to be comfortable for a few years. Also, there’s a security guard watching us, and I’ve instructed him to call the police if you try anything.” He tried to sound confident, but his voice squeaked on the last bit.

The person smiled and removed their glasses. Richie.

“You’re a hard man to find Mr. Kaspbrak.” He grinned, tucking the glasses into his jacket pocket.

“Why are you here?” That might have sounded harsher than he intended.

“I’ve been looking for you since that night we met. I went back to that club a few times, figured it was a place you frequented. I saw the people you were with last time, but you were nowhere in sight.”

“I…was there. I just left. I was sick.”

“Well, I talked to them anyway and they told me you all worked together and after a few rounds they told me exactly where to find you.”

“Are you stalking me?” Eddie ignored the flutter in his chest and his quickly increasing heartrate.

“Flat answer, yes. I wanted to see you again. I haven’t been able to get you out of my head and I needed to find out why.”

“I…me too. What the fuck is happening?” Eddie took a step back, suddenly feeling breathless.

“Fate?”

“No, I keep having these dreams where we’re kids, and I’ve never seen you as a kid but I know it’s you and there are five others but they’re all…”

“Blurry?”

“How did you know that?”

“I’ve had the same dreams. And there’s this thing that’s trying to kill us. I think. I just know we’re scared of it.”

“You’re lying. You’re full of shit. You’ve been talking to someone. Winter…you’ve talked to her. You are her, aren’t you?”

“Who? I haven’t talked to anyone. I swear, I’m telling the truth. It’s been going on ever since I saw you that night.”

Eddie felt sick, a panic attack creeping up on him as it became harder to breathe. “Whoa, shit, you ok?” Richie asked, stepping forward. “Do you have your inhaler?”

“How?” Eddie asked between shaky breaths. “How did you know I use an inhaler?”

“Uh…lucky guess?”

Eddie shook his head and took a deep breath, holding it for ten seconds and letting it go then repeating. Richie stood close by and watched, concern in his eyes.

“Look, people are starting to stare and if I get recognized it could be a whole thing so why don’t we go get lunch somewhere and I’ll tell you everything that’s happened to me since we met, ok?”

Eddie nodded, letting out his breath in one long blow, finally feeling himself begin to calm down. “Fine, but you’re paying.”

----

Two weeks later and they weren’t any closer to finding out what their dreams meant or why they knew strange facts about each other they shouldn’t know. However, dinners and drinks and long nights talking until the sun rose, and they didn’t care anymore. Maybe it was fate bringing them together. Some cosmic thing that can’t quite be explained.

They agreed that they wouldn’t pursue a relationship until Eddie’s divorce was final, which would probably take a while with all the fits Myra was throwing. He couldn’t take care of himself, he needed her, she might be pregnant, etc. Eddie would listen to her and then make it clear that he was going forward with the divorce. Getting her to sign would be another obstacle all together but Richie put him in touch with a good lawyer, so he was hopeful.

He was driving back to his hotel afterwork, stuck on yet another call with Myra, her begging him to reconsider. This time she had decided that it was ok if he kept male lovers behind closed doors as long as they stayed together, and he gave her a baby. She was planning it all out when another call came in. The ID read “Derry, Maine” and a chill went through him. He told Myra to hold on and switched over.

“Eddie? It’s Mike.”

Oh.

----

So maybe Eddie had an entire life that he couldn’t even remember. Filled with friends he’d known since childhood. And Richie. That’s what was happening with them. Why they seemed to know each other. It was because they did. Intimately. They were friends for years and then in the 8th grade, they started dating. They dated all the way until they each left Derry and then…nothing. They both just, forgot. As did the others.

Eddie was frantic as he stood outside Richie’s door, knocking rapidly until his knuckles began to hurt. When Richie opened the door, he had his phone pressed to his ears, his eyes wide as saucers.

“Yea, I’m gonna have to call you back.” He said, dropping the phone to his side.

“Was that Mike?”

“No, Mike called just before. That was my manager wanting to know why I’m canceling my shows to go back to my hometown I didn’t even know existed until fifteen minutes ago.”

“Do you remember?”

“What, that we were in love and ready to start our adult lives together and then we completely forgot each other?”

“Yea…that.”

Without missing another beat, both surged forward and wrapped each other up in their arms. Richie stepped back into the apartment, pulling Eddie with him and shutting the door.

“I can’t believe you married a woman.” Richie laughed.

“Fuck you.” Eddie’s voice was muffled by Richie’s shoulder, but the message got across. “I cheated on you. A lot.”

“Hey, me too. Forget about it. It was…another life.”

Eddie pulled out of Richie’s embrace but stood close, looking up at him. “I still can’t do anything until I’m divorced. I just…can’t.”

“I got it. But I feel nineteen again like we haven’t lost anything when we really lost like twenty years.”

“I don’t want to think about that. I can’t.” Eddie shook his head as if willing the thought away. “So…are we going to Derry?”

“Our friends need us. Don’t we have to?”

“What if we forget again…”

“I guess we’ll just have to rely on fate to bring us together again.”

“So, back to Derry.”

“Back to Derry.”

#It (2017) #it (2019) #reddie #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #Ro writes