#weeds tr

[kenuis]

Come Through and Chill || plug!draken x fem!reader

You were just supposed to pick up some bud for the weekend... so how did you end up in bed with the hottest plug around?

Cw:weed, pussy eating, finger sucking, ptv, dirty talk, squirting, draken has a big cock (like coke can thick), belly bulge, pet names (baby, angel, good girl), not beta read (we die like men)

WC: 7.9 k I don't wanna talk about it.

Extra: Plug! Draken playlist.

‘Come through as soon as you’re off work, I got you.’

Blinking down at your bright phone screen you blink once, then twice. You hadn’t expected him to respond that quick in all honesty. “Hey girl.”

“Umm hello?!”

“Hey!”

You jolt as your friend calls your name, an amused tilt to her voice as she takes in your blotchy red cheeks. Tucking your phone away lightning quick you clear your throat, slumping back against the counter. “Are you sure you don’t wanna come out tonight?” Shaking your head, you cross your arms over your midsection as she tosses you a knowing smirk. You chew on your lower lip as trays of food and drinks whizz by you. Your legs and feet ache, hours of doing exactly what your co-workers are currently doing wearing on you. Your closest work friend raises her eyebrows as she leans her elbow against the shelf opposite of you. “So what’s the big plan then if you’re gonna be all by your lonesome?” You shrug, tucking your hands in your hoodie pockets, rubbing your finger over the ring that lays on your thumb. It’s a nervous habit you haven’t quite learned how to break. The spinning of the metal helps to center your thoughts as you stand there. You’ve already ordered a meal to take home after your shift, a bottle of wine in your fridge and endless hours of Netflix to carry you through the next few hours that will bleed into your first two solid days off in over a week. There was only one thing you were missing.  Your phone buzzes again and your eyebrows hit your hairline.

`1 location attached.`

‘No rush though, just wanna make sure you find the place okay.’

A place you’d been quite a few times if you recalled correctly. Sure the nights of partying were a little hazy, but you’d been to this particular spot enough times to know your way on your own.

‘I’ll let you know when I’m on my way, it shouldn't be too much longer.’

“Umm, just gonna pick up some smoke and then go home and veg. I’ve worked so many doubles over the past week.” It’s your co workers turn for her eyebrows to hit her hairline. Her smirk grows and the amused tone in her voice quickly turns to teasing as she straightens up to pinch your cheeks. 

“Ohhh you’re gonna go see that hot ass mechanic that was eyeing you up last weekend.”

You smack her hand away, trying to hide the way your face burns. “it’s not like that, I swear.”

“Suuuure.” She grabs your chin in her hand, squishing your cheeks together while she makes you look at her. “Is that why you gave him your number the last time we pulled through there? Cause you ‘just need bud.’” She giggles as she makes air quotes with the other hand. Letting out a snort, you manage to smack her hands away. “I’m serious!” Laughing you grab the to go box as the cook behind the window calls your name out. You grab what you’ve been waiting on and book it out the door, trying to ignore her hoots and hollers of, `it’s about damn time.` 

The night air is sticky, twilight blues and purple mixing with the fading pink and orange that paints the sky that’s about to throw her dark blanket of night over. Your keys dangle from your hand, jingling together as you walk towards your car. I

t’s a perfect evening, with most of the summer heat knocking out of the air the darker it got. Setting your food and bag in the passenger seat, you pull your phone out as you fiddle around with the stereo system. Bobbing your head along to the song that starts, you find the last message thread you had pulled up on your phone. ‘Draken’ complete with a little dragon emoji makes you roll your eyes.

‘On my way. Be there in 20.’

‘Perfect. It’s right under the mat, just like I said. Enjoy, angel.’

Confused. 

That’s the first feeling that creeps up on you as you walk down the hallway to his apartment. Usually it’s louder, a whole crowd that normally gathers here on Friday and Saturday evenings. There’s almost always music going, laughter coming from inside, the smell of food. It’s why you’d asked him to leave what you needed somewhere you could find it. The thought of being around tons of people after a long day of serving customers made you want to curl up in a ball, hidden away from the world.

Checking your watch you let out a small ‘huh’. It wasn’t late at all. 9pm glows up at you from your watch. It was early sure but still by now there would be at least some type of noise coming from the apartment.

Shrugging it off as you walk up to the door, you crouch down. Fingers brushing the rough edge of the door mat, you lift it only to find it empty underneath. Your brow knits together as you lift the entire thing only to find nothing but cold concrete staring up at you. Rising with a groan, you brush your hands off, watching as dust falls to the cement below your feet. Raising a fist, you almost hesitate, but as your foot hits the edge of the mat, another flash of annoyance shoots through you. 

All your weekend plans consisted of were your tv, your snacks, your wine and unfortunately, his bud. Letting out a sharp sigh, you knock, the rapping of your knuckles on the black door breaking apart the silence that hangs heavy in the hallway.

Rocking back and forth on your heels as you wait, you pull your phone out. No new notifications flash on the screen and you open your messages, shooting one off before you knock again.  You hear the chime of his phone and cross your arms over your mid section, waiting as you hear footsteps approaching the door. You turn your head to look over your shoulder, seeing that you’re still alone in the hallway when the door swings open, causing you to stop short and your mouth to dry out all in one swoop when you turn back to look at him.

The first thing you note is that he’s fresh out of the shower. A wafting scent of fresh pine, whatever scented soap he uses drifting across your nose. It tickles your senses, drifting into your nose. But that’s not where your eyes zero in. 

Your eyes flick down to the exposed skin of his abdomen. He’s in the middle of pulling on a black t-shirt, the material catching and sticking to still wet skin. Water droplets roll down the ridges of his muscles, carving a wet path that your tongue would kill to follow. His abdomen is on a brief display for you, each outline of solid muscle searing into your mind’s eye. The deep V of his hips seem like they were chiseled out of marble, something you would find in the finest art galleries.

Your eyes flick back up, trying to pull your attention away from the hard lines and dips in his skin. His shirt flutters into place but at this point none of that even helps. 

Wide eyes catch the dip of confusion in his brows, the way they knit together as dark eyes take in your form in front of him. Trailing down to see the frown that tugs at the corner of his mouth, pink lips opening and forming words. Forming words? Shit, he was talking to you and you couldn’t get your eyes off the droplet of water that trailed down his neck and clavicle, disappearing underneath his shirt. It warps around the gold chain that he pulls out of his collar and your stomach rolls at how insanely attractive the motion of his fingers and the sparkling gold against his skin is. “-okay angel?” Snapping your eyes to his, you swallow dryly . He raises a brow at you now, the tiniest upturn of his lips and the amusement that flashed through his eyes has you flushing. He definitely caught you checking him out. Finally your brain catches up to what he’s asked you. “Everything okay angel?” Blinking quickly, you look down at your feet, shoes scraping the doormat. It reminds you of the reason you knocked on the door in the first place. Looking back up at him, your lips curl over your teeth by a fraction. Frustration returns to your body, grounding you as you seem to snap out of your thoughts.

“Yeah uhhh.” The edge of your shoe catches the welcome mat and you nudge it. “I’m missin’ a little something.” His brows dip again, but then an exasperated sigh is falling from his lips and a light dusting of pink dances across the tip of his nose up to his ears. One hand comes up to scratch the back of his neck, his bicep straining against the arm of the t-shirt he’d just put on. His other hand tucks into the pocket of his gray sweats. “Fuck I got caught up. Lowkey I was supposed to put your shit under the door when I got home and I had to handle something on the phone so I forgot.” He looks so endearingly bashful, the annoyance that has settled in your chest dissipates like smoke. Awkwardly, you scuff your toe against the ground, shrugging as nonchalantly as you can manage. “It’s fine I just, was hopin to get it and go.” 

“Here, come on in and I’ll get it for you.” He moves to the side, a jerk of his chin the only hint of an invite you get to coming inside. Still feeling awkward inside of your own skin, you follow him in, arms still crossed like a shield. You offer him a tiny half smile as you cross the threshold, moving past him. There’s a crackle of electricity as you move past him that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up straight. 

Chewing on the corner of your lip as you turn to look at him, you find heated and amused onyx eyes trained on you, His mouth tugs up in the corner again and a smirk spreads across his cheeks. “Whatcha lookin so nervous for?” He moves past you, his movements, fluid and smooth. When he moves past you, he glances slightly over his shoulder with a wink. “I don’t bite. Come on, my shit’s in my room.” There’s a heat that crawls up your neck and face, and you’re sure that your whole face is on fire as you trail behind him, hands going into your hoodie pockets. You’ve left your shoes at the front door, and your socked feet pad quietly behind him. “Didn’t say you did. Just kinda weird in here when ‘s quiet.” He chuckles as he opens the door to a room you recall being in once. It’d been filled with hazy smoke, and there’d been people packed in here like sardines, passing around blunts and listening to bass heavy music. You also briefly remember that it’s the night he put his number in your phone. You’d been leaning against the desk that night, while he sat in his desk chair right next to you. 

At one point you’d been zoned out, sufficiently buzzed and listening to all the noise around you. A single finger had looped in your belt loop and tugged to get your attention. He’d checked on you, made sure you were good and given you water, watching with eyes that were more alert than they should have been for someone who had smoked as much as he had. His finger stayed hooked in the belt loop of your shorts the entire conversation and he’d only let go when your friends called your name, dragging you out of the room. But not before he’d tugged on your shorts, plucking your phone out of your back pocket. He put his number in and shot you a look that could only be described as heated. “In case you’re ever in need of some good bud.” Recalling the heat that had flowed in between the two of you, you want to bolt out of there like the entire place is on fire. It’s unnerving, it makes your insides hot and the feeling makes something in you burn specifically for the man in front of you to look at you the way he did just a mere week ago. “Yeah, ‘s a lil weird when people aren’t here but it’s nice to have a quiet night in. My roommates are both out tonight. Eatin’ at your joint tonight I think Did you just get out of work?” He takes a seat at his desk, turning the chair so he’s facing you. He pats the bed that’s pushed up next to it, motioning for you to take a seat. 

Hopping up, you nearly groan in relief at being off your feet and something so soft. His eyebrows raise as he pulls out a scale, a jar full of bud and a small green pill bottle from the bottom drawer of his desk. “You good?” If your face gets any hotter, you’re pretty sure you’re going to resemble the surface of the sun. “Yeah I’m good. Just had a long day at work. I opened the restaurant this morning and ended up staying later than I mean to cover one of the other girls who was late and…” You trail off with a shrug as you tuck your hands into the sleeves of your oversized hoodie. “I didn’t realize how much my feet hurt until I sat down.” “Mmmm.” He makes a non committal noise as he measures out product. Long deft fingers are fucking with the scale, placing a pill bottle on it and dropping little green nugs into it. “You said 3gs right?” “Uh yeah. Don’t need much, just a little to relax this weekend. I finally have a weekend off and I’m gonna take full advantage of it.” You grin despite yourself, thoughts of a freshly rolled blunt and food with a bottle of wine and the softness of your couch filling you with happiness. 

“Damn girl, look at you.” The tips of your ears start to feel the same heat as your face as he looks at you with a teasing grin. “Got any specific plans?” “I’m going to melt into my couch and not move for three days.” You bite your lower lip when he fully turns to you, a thoughtful look crossing his handsome face. He twirls the pill bottle in his fingers as he looks at you, eyes half lidded with an emotion you’re not sure you want to name. 

The both of you are friends, acquaintances really and you’re not entirely sure if you’re ready to cross the line to anything besides that. But the way he’s looking at you promises something inevitable. He holds the bottle out for you and before your fingertips even brush it, he snatches it back towards himself, a smirk planted on his mouth. “How about you start your relaxing weekend here?”

Your brows furrow and your lip sticks out in the softest pout. A sharp protest sits at the tip of your tongue and you can’t help the whine that comes out in your tone. “Hey!”

“How about… You start the relaxation now?” Your brow furrows as he speaks, confusion flitting across your face. You stare at him for a long moment, chewing on the inside of your cheek. 

“What do you mean?” “I mean, smoke with me.” He leans backwards in his chair, reaching for a pack of blunts. Honey white owls, the same as he had at the party. It’s a good flavor, one of your favorites and it’s so tempting to start now. His bed is soft and his room is surprisingly clean, and it smells like a mix of his cologne and extremely good bud. Plus it’s one on one time that you two have never had before outside of a stolen moment of him grabbing you a drink in the middle of one of his and his roommate’s parties. “Come on angel, I don’t bite and it looks like you could use the chance to unwind.” “I have food in the car.” It’s the only thing that comes out when your mouth opens even though the word ‘yes’ lingers on the tip of your tongue. “I don’t want it goin bad or anything…” Trailing off, when his onyx orbs stay planted on yours, you realize that any argument is futile and you sigh. The mega watt grin that he gives you speaks of his satisfaction over his victory and he holds his hand out. “Gimme your keys. I’ll bring your food in and put it in the kitchen for ya.” Smacking your lanyard in his outstretched palm, you can’t help but roll your eyes at his instance and the boyish charm that drifts across his face. In exchange, he plops a rolling tray in your lap with strict instructions to start rolling while he gets your things sorted. 

This is crazy. Absolutely insane that one smile from this male had you turning into putty in front of him and you grumble under your breath but get to rolling away. When he walks out it’s silent except for the sounds of the metal grinder in your hands. 

It’s a familiar mindless process of rolling, and you do it quickly and efficiently. By the time he walks back in with your purse in hand you’re licking the end of the blunt wrap to seal it. His eyes flick down to your pink tongue that sticks out from your pretty glossed lips. You don’t even notice as you’re focused on what you’re doing, brow furrowed cutely in frustration. 

“Lemme see how good you did ma.” Your eyes flick up to his at the use of the pet name at the end of his sentence and you give him a bland look that has his lip tugging up in a smile again. You hand him the blunt before leaning forward to place his rolling tray on the desk, not realizing as you do that he’s already walking forwards. Your shoulder bumps into his abdomen, the same chiseled one you spotted earlier when he was sliding his shirt on. 

You scowl when you hear his low chuckle sound throughout the room. “If you wanted to hug me that badly you should have asked.” Your lip curls over your teeth as he plops down on the bed in front of you. “You think you’re real slick aren’t you?” “I know I am.” He throws you a wink as he polyps down on the bed, leaning against the wall as you lean back against the headboard, pulling your knees up. Pulling a lighter from his pocket, he hands the blunt back to you along with the lighter. “Guests light up.” “Thanks.” There’s a soft shick of the lighter sparking, and then a sizzle as you hold it to the end of the blunt and inhale. Draken doesn’t say anything while you take your first deep inhale, instead opting to turn on the bluetooth speaker that rests on the shelf mounted to the wall above his bed. There’s a gentle boom of the system connecting, and then a few notes fill the room before music starts to flow out. Despite your reservations your shoulders relax a fraction as you blow out the smoke you’ve held in, the familiar pepper and citrus taste of the bud heavy in your airway and drifting over your tongue. You take another deep inhale, deep enough to make your lashes flutter and you’re completely unaware of the eyes that are currently glued to your face. 

Draken doesn’t think he’s ever seen someone as pretty as you. All soft curves and shiny locks. A pretty smile that stretches wide over your cheeks. The way your head tilts back a little when you laugh and your nose scrunches. Truthfully, he was floored the first time you rolled up with your friends at one of the infamous house parties. You looked so out of place, skittish and shy until your friend shoved a blunt in your direction and told you to relax. Come to find out there’s a little fire, a spark that simmers underneath the shy outer shell. He can’t help that you’re intriguing enough for him to want to know what it looks like when you strip away all the layers to where you burn. Burn for him. 

Your eyes open as you let out your second inhale and you lean forward, holding out the blunt for him. Your small, soft hands brush past his large calloused ones and the warmth that radiates off of them makes him want to groan as he thinks about how they would look wrapped around his length. He has to fight the temptation to grab one down while he places the blunt to his lips, right in the place where your glossed lips have been. 

The cherry flavor from your lips gloss lingers on the blunt, mixing with the flavor of weed and the blunt wrap. His mind drifts to the thought of what you would taste like. If he sucks your tongue, would you taste like cherry and bud and something else? He inhales and looks at you again through heavy lids. Truthfully he’d smoked half a blunt the minute he’d gotten off work, but the thought of sharing one with you was too tempting to pass up. 

When you’d sunk onto his mattress like it was your salvation he jumped at his chance and for now, he can tell he made the right call. 

Now that he’s got you here though, there’s a little bit of hesitancy that lingers in the pit of his stomach. It’s been a long time since he’s tried something like this with someone who’s caught his attention like you have. It makes his insides churn with anticipation and he can’t help but sigh out his inhale, the smoke curling out of his mouth. One of the first things he noticed about you is that you don’t have the need to fill the silence with empty words. You’re content sitting with him in the silence, and it’s something he appreciates after a full day of dealing with customers. He takes his second inhale before he’s handing the blunt back. His eyes stay on yours when he wonders when this.. Tension that’s been building between the two of you is going to pop.

It’s like a bubble that traps the two of you in it, but instead of expanding, it shrinks, pressing down and pushing you two into each other. It’s been a month and a half since the first time you graced his doorstep and he’s thought of you every other minute since. 

You’re about halfway through the blunt when you let out a sigh, sinking a little further into the pillows. You lick your lips and he tracks the way the tip of your tongue wets your plus mouth. Bloodshot eyes drift up to look into his, and he watches as a smile tugs at the corners of your lips. “Thanks for this. I really needed it.” “Any time angel. You know. You’re kind of my favorite customer. Although you can’t tell anyone else that. They might start askin’ for special treatment and then I’ll be outta a side hustle.” He reaches over and grips your ankle, tugging a little in jest. His thumb brushes over the pretty anklet dangling around it and the minute the metal hits his thumb something shifts. 

He traces the delicate gold chain, running his thumb over the tiny links. It glints against your skin, a little angel dangling from the chain and resting against the hollow of your ankle. A low dangerous chuckle vibrates through his chest even though the energy in the room is anything but light hearted. “Guess I was spot on with the nickname.” 

“Yeah…” Your voice is just as low as his, as if, if you speak too loudly you’ll break whatever tentative vibe has taken over the room. “Um Draken?” “Ken.” He mumbles it as he moves, leaning a little closer. He leans on his elbow with your feet near his abdomen, nearly laying on his side as he blinks over at you. “Call me Ken.” “Ken..” The sound of his name leaving your mouth in a near whimper does him completely in.

Before he thinks too much, before his nerves get the best of him, he places the blunt directly in between your lips. There’s not much left to it, maybe one last hit. “Finish it.” There’s a soft demand in his tone and the feeling in his chest gives way to admiration as you do exactly as you’re told. “Ash tray is on the desk.” He murmurs the sentence out as he presses his lips directly to your anklet. You let out a soft whine before you swallow dryly, half lidded eyes taking in the sight of this big broad man laying the softest kidd on your skin. “I…” “You can tell me to stop when you want me to.” He looks up at you, his nose skimming the skin of your calf. The sight of it, the heat from the weed and the overall tension pops as you shake your head. “Don’t… Please don’t stop.” Your cheeks burn even hotter than before when he grins a heated smile up at you. Your breath starts to come a little faster as he works his way up your leg, large, rough, warm calloused hands moving up your calves to the back of your knees, spreading them wide enough for him to slot himself between. His hands don’t stop moving, massaging your sore calves. His fingers knead the knotted muscles so expertly and gently, you can’t help but melt into the touch. Your eyes slide shut and your mouth drops open in a groan. The moment your attention is off of him, he takes his chance, grabbing you and sliding your hips forward. You yelp in surprise when your back meets the mattress and he gives another deep chuckle, one that shoots a bolt of heat straight to your core. You’ve always been touchy when high, when your senses are heightened to a point where pleasure gets overwhelming. You swallow thickly and open your eyes so they’re glued to his. The music in the room continues to fill the space where both of you linger, and you’re unwilling to break the vibe besides a groan when his hands move from your calves to the top of your thighs. Squirming despite yourself, your eyes finally fall from his to where the backs of your thighs rest on the top of his. He’s broad in between your legs and your heart jumps in your chest as he moves to sit back on his heels. Draken’s - no Ken -  is glued to the apex of your thighs, right where your clothed core rests. It’s right below his growing erection and the sight of you squirming underneath it makes him impossibly harder. “Fuck that’s a fuckin’ pretty sight.” You may have been unwilling to break the silence but a high Ken is also a vocal and touchy Ken. Reaching down, his hands skim up your thighs, over the flesh of your plush ass to your waist. He grips it hard, tugging you to sit up so he can slot his mouth against yours. Even cotton mouthed from smoking, it’s the sloppiest kiss of your life, His soft lips meet yours and he presses hard, claiming your mouth. He consumes you, prying your mouth open with his tongue. He strokes it against yours, one of his hands coming up to thread in the strands of hair at the nape of your neck. His fingers thread into your hair and he tugs, tilting your head back so your throat is exposed. A whimper leaves your throat and small hands come up to clutch at his forearms. 

You push back against him, tentatively letting your tongue meet his, stroke for stroke. There’s little strings of saliva that connect the two of you when he finally finds it in him to pull away. It’s lewd and wet, your eyes glazed over as they flick down to take in the sight. The hand on your waist leaves, coming up to tap on your lower lip. “Open.” The command is stern, growled out in impatience until you obey, mouth dropping open. You cling to the edges of your shyness, and as much as he finds it endearing, he’s waited too long for this. “Stick out your tongue.” You’re practically panting as you do as you’re told and two fingers are laid on the wet pink muscle, rubbing against it. Your eyes widen and another whine slides out around his fingers, muffled and wet. “There we go. Feels good doesn’t it?” This man hasn’t even gotten you out of your clothing and you feel like you’re going to cum already. How he figured out your oral fixation you’ll never know but he’s exploiting it to it’s extent, moving his fingers in and out of your mouth. All you can do is cling to him and suck, little whimpers and moans falling out around his large fingers. Your hips start moving on their own accord, rolling against him until he’s tugging you into his lap, settling your aching core over his tented sweats. His hand in your hair trails down to your hip, rolling you over his erection with a groan. Every noise you make spurs on his insatiable need, and even though he feels impatient, even though he feels like tearing through every layer of clothing you two currently have on, it’s nothing compared to the desperate way your hips are chasing your high. 

“Shhhhh.” The hand at your hip cups your ass, squeezing the denim of your shorts. The seam presses into your dripping core, the pressure of it and his length currently pressing into it with every roll of your hips makes electricity creep up your spine. Your eyes widen and you begin sucking his fingers even harder as the band in your belly starts to tighten. “Go ahead. Go ahead angel, show me how good this feels.”

Your eyes drift shut and your brow furrows just as cutely as he knew it would. A single tear gathers on the corner of your shut eye and with a shudder you come apart on top of him, just from him grinding you down on him and letting you suck on his fingers. He guides your hips against him the whole way through it, waiting until your mouth lets up on his fingers. Waits until the fierce sucking of his fingers eases into small kitten licks and your hips slow to a stop.

“That good baby?”

You can’t believe you feel this good already. Your mind is already halfway numb from a combination of the weed and his overwhelming presence, but a shyness lingers around the edges of your psyche and you can’t help the flush that takes over your cheeks. His fingers draw out slow, gentle as he drags them down your lower lip and over your chin. Realization of how easily he’s turned you to putty in his hands washes over you and your eyes widen a fraction.

Embarrassed, you lean forward, tucking your face into the crook of his neck. His entire chest rumbles with a deep laugh that sounds more like a rumble. “I.. I’m sorry I….”

He shifts, moving the both of you. Your world spins and all of a sudden you find yourself still in his lap, but now he’s got his back against the headboard. “That was the hottest thing I’ve seen in a long fuckin time.” Opening your mouth to apologize for a second time, you don’t even have the chance to say a single word when his mouth claims yours again. This kiss is hotter than the last one, a new burning passion to see you fall apart coming through every stroke of his lips. He swallows your whines, only breaking apart from you whip your shirt and hoodie off of your frame. You can’t even believe for a second that you let him, raising your arms to help. The sight of you sitting there in your pretty lace bra lights an even hotter fire in onyx orbs. Fingers dance up your spine while he brings his lips to your neck, kissing and sucking a line across your jaw and down your neck. You melt, hands slipping underneath his shirt to trace your fingers along the ridges of his abdomen. You trace every muscle with curious fingertips until you splay your palms flat on his stomach pushing his shirt up and over his head. “You’re so fuckin’ pretty.” The compliment flows from his lips as he sucks on your collar bone. You’re grateful you have the next three days off, because the marks he’s leaving are going to be impossible to cover up. Another soft whine leaves your lips as his tongue flattens and runs over the swell of your breast. The sight of it makes fire lick up your insides but a flash of silver in the middle of the pink muscle makes you stop cold. He has a fucking tongue piercing. 

Currently he’s using that to his advantage as he slides your bra off, gathering both of your breasts in his hands and kneading the fat as he pushes them together. “Pretty fuckin’ tits. Fuckin’gorgeous.” His thumb swirls over your nipple before he’s dragging his tongue over it so the ball of his piercing flicks it hard. You squeal, squirming in his hold. You’re tempted to dart out of his lap, roll off of him and take a breather but he bucks his hips up at the same time he scrapes his teeth across the stiffened peak and your head tips back, another sinful moan falling from your mouth.

He shifts and the world spins again, your back hitting the plush mattress as he leans over you, raining kisses down your rib cage, sucking on the skin so hard it bruises. He does this in a path all the way down your abdomen, and you never thought you’d be this needy after already cumming, but there is a pulsing want and ache that only he can fill pulsing in between your legs. You’re practically panting by the time he reaches the spot you need him the most. 

Your thighs are practically shaking when his big hands grab the back, pushing them towards your chest. A sharp nose runs up the seam of your shorts up to the button. “W-Wait, I…” “God you smell so fuckin good. I gotta taste you baby. Need to see how pretty she looks after she came for me.” Dark lashes brush his cheek bones as he looks up at you and pops the button of your shorts open with his teeth. You swallow thickly and thread your fingers into his hair, almost tugging it free from the ponytail it’s in as you lift your hips for him to slide your shorts off. 

The rumbling growl that leaves his chest makes your eyes roll back, and your weeping hole to clench around nothing. His thumbs come up to your folds, spreading them open for him as you buck your hips up, chest heaving with deprived pants. “Please. Please.” You beg without even really knowing what you’re begging for, just needing something, anything to relieve the fire that’s starting to consume. Your high still hasn’t worn off and the extra sensitivity from where his touch presses into you is driving you close to the edge. “Ken, please.”

“Look at me.” His rough tone is demanding, drawing your attention to him as your mouth twists in desperation. “Keep your eyes on me or I stop. Ya hear me angel?”

You nod, but his hand darts out to grab your jaw, squeezing your cheeks until you speak, your tone cracking a little with want. “Yes, I hear you.” “Good girl.” His eyes stay on yours as he dips down, releasing your jaw in favor for spreading you wider. He purses his lips, before he lets out a long string of saliva, thumbs spreading you open again so he can watch as it drips in between your folds. You clench even though you’re achingly empty, a soft gasp filling the air in between you too. It bleeds into loud keen when his mouth finally touches you. 

He sucks one of your folds into his mouth and your hands tighten in his hair as he alternates, sucking them until they turn puffy, swollen and aching with need. He moans into your pussy, running his tongue through your slick until the ball of his piercing flicks harshly against your clit. A squeal sounds from above him and he does it again, over and over until you’re bucking wildly onto his tongue.

He should prep you. He needs to prep you but your walls are already to spasm around his tongue and he’ll be damned if he lets you come anywhere but his cock. 

Pulling away and sitting up just enough to work his dick out, he thrusts forward, his heavy, thick cock smacking against your abdomen. Your eyes fly open and you look down, letting out a desperate whine when you realize his length extends well past your belly button. 

He’s got the prettiest, heaviest cock you’ve ever seen. Swollen and red, the slit weeping pretty pearls of precum that streak your stomach as he lets his length smack down on your abdomen again. “‘S not gonna fit.”

You look up at him with wide watery eyes, lips parted as you pant despondently. But no matter how much your voice shakes, your hips move, trying to slip him inside as desire takes over every cell in your body. “Ken, ‘s not gonna-” He chuckles breathlessly, sweat starting to break out on his hairline as he draws back to rub the aching head of his cock along your folds. “‘S gonna fit angel. Imma make it fit.” Slowly, he pushes in, head tilting back as he starts to push in despite the resistance he’s met with. You’re so fuckin’ tight he’s pretty sure that he’s already ready to blow his load and he’s only got the tip in. “Goddamn. Fuuuuuck.” The little high pitched whines that fall from your plush mouth and he can’t helo but reach down and grab your waist in his broad hands. Grip bruinsingly tight, he fucks into you, pulling out and fucking back in shallowly, inch by agonizing inch. Your pussy is gripped around him so tight it’s practically strangling his cock. “Relax ‘f me. God you’re so fuckin’ tight angel. Need you to relax.” A shuddering breath leaves your mouth, and his thumb drifts down to the little bundle of nerves that pokes out, working it in slow circles. Your thighs shake even more as you give. Your walls relax, eyes rolling back as his entire length finally sinks into you. A wet cry leaves your throat as tears leak from your eyes and the man above you lets out a moan so deep you feel it in your own soul. “There it is. Fuckin’ took the whole thing. Such a good girl.” Your hands grip the sheets, lower lip trembling as a tiny sob leaves your mouth. “Ken… so full. I’m so full. ‘S too big Ken. ‘S too fucking bi-” Before you can finish your sentence he’s pulling out and sliding back in, using the grip he has on your waist to drag you up and down his length. You cry out, loud and high as he bumps into your cervix. Your chest heaves and you squeeze your eyes shut as he starts to move you up and down. He’s so big and broad and strong all you can do is lay there and take it as he moves you up and down, eyes glued to the way your slick is coating his cock, how some of it sticks to his abdomen. Strings of slick connect the two of you as he moves you, practically the length of his cock, soaking even his thighs. One of his warm palms spreads out over your abdomen and he pushes down on the bulge that’s appeared. His mouth practically pours out filth as he pushes on his cock pushing through your stomach and you scream his name. “Fuck baby. Look at that. Pokin’ through your stomach. You look so fuckin sexy like this. So fuckin pretty all fucked out on my cock. You like that baby?” You nod, sobbing as he starts to move you faster, your clit hitting his pelvis with every rough smack of his hips. The orgasm that hits you, hits you out of nowhere, hard and fast and so overwhelming that you see nothing but pure white. “‘M cummin’ fuck fuck fuck fuck ‘m cummin!” Your legs kick out and shake as your cream around his cock, a frothy ring of white forming as he fucks you. He hasn’t let up, his grip still tight on your waist as he moves you, rolling his hips into and fucking you onto him. His head dips down into the crook of your neck, heavy pants brushing past the skin of your neck as you sob and keen through your orgasm. Your hands fly up to bury into his hair, moving until your arms are wrapped around his neck. All you can do is hang on as he fucks up into, using your body  for his pleasure. “Takin’ my cock so fuckin’ well angel. You were made for it. Made to take my cock.” His breath stutters on the sentence as your velvet walls pulse around him and you whimper, your nails digging into his muscular shoulders. His masculine scent envelopes you, and everything about him crowds your senses as he drives into you. The entire room is filled with the sounds of your slick squelching around his cock, the cries that fall from your mouth and the filthy words he breathes harshly into your ear. 

“I’m gonna fill you up. I have to. Have to fill this fuckin’. Perfect. Pussy.” Each word of is enunciated by  a sharp thrust of his hips and you practically wail out his name. 

“Can’t.. Can’t take anymore Ken please.” Bleary, misty eyes look up at him, blinking past tears as your body jolts with the force of each thrust. His pace is picking up and he’s huffing out deep breaths, and you can tell by the way his abdomen tightens that he’s about to cum. His thrusts are getting sloppier, but you’re right on the edge with him, walls starting to clamp down again. “Ken I can’t!” “You can.” He places a soft kiss right under your jaw, dragging his lips up until they’re resting against yours. “I know you can. Give me one more baby.” You try  to shake your head but your mouth falls open when a hand snakes between you two again and starts to make firm circles on your swollen puffy clit. “Ken.. please I…” 

Your cheeks heat and your hiccup out an embarrassed sob. You’re not inexperienced by any means, but you’ve never had something that feels like this. That feels this overwhelming and good. You’ve never had someone who fills you this much, who hits every sensitive spot, whose cock is so big it sticks out from your tummy and pushes past your cervix with every sharp thrust. There’s a foreign feeling that’s settled in your stomach and it increases the more he plays with your clit and with every thrust that rams into the tight ring of muscle inside of you. Words tumble out before you can stop them and the minute  they’re out, embarrassment and lust flood you in the same instant and it makes you dizzy. “Ken please.. Feel like I’m gonna go to the bathroom!” A rumbling groan is the only answer and his thumb speeds up its pace, his thrusts sloppy. “Fuckin’ squirt baby. Squirt on my fuckin’ cock. I know you can. Make a mess ‘f me.” Another sharp thrust and a pinch of your clit sends hurtling into oblivion as you do just that. Your last release comes squirting out of you, coating his hand, his thighs, the mattress, his abdomen. You feel it run down the swell of your ass as you cry, your nails clawing at his back as you call out his name, sobbing and cumming as he doesn’t relent, panting and groaning into your neck. Hot ropes of cum start to coat your insides, filling you to the brim as he moans. It’s unhinged and messy, his cock head pushing past your cervix to coat your insides, filling your womb almost overly full. Your name leaves his mouth in a rumbling shout before his teeth sink into your shoulder, biting down to muffle the moans that leave his throat. 

His hips finally slow and he lays his forehead into the crook of your neck, his hands drifting down to your quivering thighs, massaging them as you both catch your breath. You let your palms lay flat on his broad back, running them up and down as little shuddering breaths leave you. 

Finally moving to look down at you, he blinks the sweat out of his eyes, brushing the hair out of yours. Both of you are a mess, covered in sweat and slick, your entire body marked with his love bites and his back scratched from your nails. 

Bliss and submission is written over your face and your eyes drift shut as his palm comes to cup your cheek. You’re so good for him, it makes his chest squeeze tight. He’s already softening inside of you, and surprisingly, you both still feel a little high, the combination of pleasure, euphoria and rapture making it that much more heightened. 

Both of you hiss as he slides out of you, moving so he’s hovering over you and bringing you to relax your legs completely. There’s a few moments of silence, soaking in each other’s presence.The air between you two settles into something you’re not sure you’re ready to name and you turn your head to say something to him, but find him already staring at you. He pulls you onto his chest, uncaring of the sticky sweaty mess you’ve become. His hand drags up your spine slowly, gently, and he pushes your head down so it’s tucked onto his shoulder. Ken is gentle as he continues to rub up and down your spine, grounding you and bringing you back down to earth. Humming contently, you drift until a rumbling laugh rouses you, and you move your chin until it rests on the top of his chest and you’re looking into those dark alluring eyes. Your hand comes up to trace the dragon tattoo on the smooth skin on the side of his head, following the inky black swirls as he continues to dance his fingertips up and down your skin. “So… wanna smoke again?”

All works belong to @ kenuis do no repost anywhere else without permission.

#✧.*Isla. grimoires #✧.*grimoire. Tokyo revengers #draken x reader #ken ryuguji #ken ryuuguji smut #draken smut #ken ryuuguji x reader smut #tr #tokyo revengers #ken ryuuguji x you #draken x you #✧.* tw: weed #banner by benkeibear

[toji-girl]

there for you | k. ryuguji

synopsis: Life sometimes doesn't go the way you want, people make mistakes but this one wasn't a mistake, it was one of the best things that has ever happened to you, no matter the hurt it caused others.

wc: 2.8k

tags: 18+ ONLY content + explicit smut: minors and empty blogs DNI + not beta read + repost from my old blog + angst with the smut + cheating from reader + high sex [ducon] + weed + shotgunning + you're married to Mikey + fighting between you and him + slight sexting + fingering + squirting + unprotected sex + creampie + spitting + daddy kink + if Mikey is one of your favorites this might be your cup of tea [I do love him] 

an: this was my submission for the REDDIT-INSPIRED COLLABORATION hosted by @ohkento!

People would say that sleeping with your ex-brother-in-law and best friend's wife while he's out of town on business, would be an asshole move, right?

They just didn't know the circumstances of what led up to it. Only you and Draken do. A dark secret you both are taking to the grave.

You didn't mean to send the half-naked picture to him. Well, maybe not the first one, at least. He complimented you endlessly on how beautiful you looked, and how lucky he is to see such an art form. 

As of late, he's been giving you more attention than your own husband has, which isn't acceptable in any shape or form but you still ate it up greedily like a starved puppy.

And you'd be lying if you didn't think the tall, dark-haired man wasn't cute, and you knew him when you met Mikey at a young age.

Your mother forbade you to hang out with such 'trash' even after you and she got into endless arguments, and you ended up running away with him and Mikey pretty much, but it was thrilling to do so. Mikey wouldn't put you in any real danger though.

But he made sure you'd have your fun and also had his friends watch over you, especially Draken, who developed a serious crush on you before he started liking Emma but then after you and his friend got together it was all swept under the rug for a multitude of reasons. 

Now after being married to Manjiro for almost a decade the flame that once was strong and could burn down the world was a barely-there flame. The slightest breeze would put it out leaving nothing but smoke that would whoosh away as well.

And a part of you hated to admit that your mother was right when she said that Mikey would end up hurting you, and he did but it wasn't in the way she thought. His long business trips were weighing on you more than you really thought they would. 

He was gone more than he was at home, which made you feel like one of those cliche lonely housewives, but if it was true, then it isn't too far off. Mikey reverted back to his old ways months ago.

Between the fighting and everything else.

Draken got the front seat when he was around which was more times than not, a lot of the times he'd bring his son to see you and his uncle but his mini him stayed attached to your side thankfully this time it was just the three of you sitting in the living room talking. 

"You're going to be gone for an entire month? What - what about me Mikey? I can't even tell you the last time you hugged me or held me, your little missions are so much more important than me? Our marriage?" You asked in a pinched tone as you stared at him. 

Having an audience to the downfall of your marriage brought tears to your eyes as did the blank stare your husband gave you, his eyes blinking owlishly watching you cry for him. 

You stomped to the bedroom, sure to slam the door enough to rattle the walls, and if you had to guess a few of your husband's wounds popped back open bleeding into his soul.

The very same one, he said you fixed and mended, but you didn't believe it anymore. You worked hard on getting him back, doing everything you could.

When he gets back home from trips, you'd greet him at the door naked with dinner on the table only for him to tell you he was exhausted.

Not that you'd ever blame him, you know what you were getting into when you married him, but you didn't know it could hurt this bad.

And you always thought that your sex life wouldn't die out either, until it has. You can't even remember the last time you saw your husband's dick or his interest in you.

Many times, you pleaded for him to get help, talk to you, or anything of the sort but he flat out refused which left you alone and frustrated.

"Hey...he's gone. Can I come in?" Draken asked from the other side of the door as he rapt his knuckles on the heavy wood with a sigh.

You wiped at the tears flowing down your face while you sniffled and pressed the heel of your palm into your eyes. "I really don't care."

He pushed the door open and stepped inside with his hands in his pockets looking at you unsure what to say. "I'm not mad at you, your best friend is not the man I married."

Dark eyes softened as he crossed the threshold into uncertainty to sit down next to you. Draken is very familiar with the term 'a shoulder to cry on becomes a dick to ride on.'

"I know. He's - you know, Mikey. I've talked to him, and said it would end up like Emma and me did." He replied with a shrug. 

"Thankfully, we don't have a kid - oh, that was not nice of me. I'm sorry, Ken, I'm just a big ball of emotions. What did he say to that?" You questioned softly, curious on his answer of another failed marriage, his own sisters no less.

You both turned your heads at the same time and looked at each other. "Not much, I don't think anyone can help him anymore."

His sentence felt like a turtleneck sweater that was too tight as your throat formed a lump, making it hard to breathe or swallow.

Draken pulled his hands from his pockets and rubbed his large palms over his jeans. "Call me if you need anything." He told you before standing up giving you one more glance before leaving you alone.

Morning came with a heartache knowing Mikey was already gone, and you knew he didn't sleep in the bed last night. Everything came as it always did, doing the same things daily until it was time for bed.

Later the next night you lay in bed taking pictures in an attempt to feel good about yourself capturing a few good ones sending them to Mikey, unknowingly they went to Ken as well who saw it immediately.

It went unseen on your husband's phone, but not his friend who was staring at it feeling all his blood rush between his legs at work which was not a good place to pop one of those around all the guys.

Incoming message

Ken: Tryin' to get me in trouble?

You read his text feeling flustered thankful it wasn't a totally nude one, but he could use his imagination to see the rest of you bare for him, your flesh looked so biteable, his teeth ached to sink into you.

But you couldn't lie the attention was nice even though it was from Ken, the relationship was already complicated, to begin with, and this was pushing more boundaries but you sent another one anyway.

Outgoing message

You: No, but maybe I am now. Come by for dinner?

He ducked into his office and locked the door looking at the picture you sent him, your bra off and bare tits out for his greedy eyes to take in. Now his dick was extremely painfully hard and throbbing now.

Dark eyes scanned his screen reading your invitation with an arched brow knowing he needed to say no and delete the pictures, not reaching down with an open palm to rub against his bulge.

He pulled away and tapped his reply before sliding his phone into his pocket knowing he was going to end up fucking you later if you ask, it's been a long time since he's been with anyone.

He knows you're lonely, plus it's not right with how Mikey is treating you and his son isn't with him this week who you happen to be the aunt of, instead, he's with his ex until he picks him up on Monday.

You waited for his answer for a few minutes feeling dread fill your stomach as you slipped your wedding ring off and pulled your bra back on when he FaceTimed you. Hitting the answer button you looked at him on the screen. "Keep it off. I want you for dessert."

His voice was dark as he looked at you then the curves of your breasts. "I get off in an hour, see you then." With that, he hung up leaving you an estimated time to get ready for him.

In that time, you cleaned up, made dinner, and changed your pj pants into shorts keeping the tank top on without the bra when you let Ken inside. "Smells good, thanks for the invite." He murmured with a grin.

"Not a problem, also I rolled us a joint if you want to smoke that before we eat?" You suggested taking his coat from the harsh winter wind that blew outside pushing against the door with a groan.

He grinned and nodded letting you lead the way into the kitchen where everything was already set up. Being a gentleman Ken pulled your chair out and poured the wine then lit the end of the joint.

The conversation was pleasant, something you appreciated. Not once did he bring up Mikey or Emma, nor did you. The white smoke curled around you two while soft music played in the background. 

Long slender fingers stroked your shoulders playing with the strap of your tanktop. "You know the first picture was a mistake but then you replied almost immediately to it, at work might I add." Ken shrugged. 

"You look sexy what can I say?" He murmured moving his hand to the back of your neck giving it a squeeze as he leaned in pressing his lips against yours blowing smoke into your awaiting mouth with a kiss. 

Ken pulled away to puff on the joint before giving it to you to serve dinner where you both shared a plate feeding each other, the eye contact so intense your heart beat like a heavy dream in your chest. 

After more conversation about your day, he helped you clean up and sat back down on the couch with you draping his arm over your shoulder grabbing the remote to change the music, the beat more sensual and the lyrics turned sexual in nature making you flustered. 

You looked up at him with a lazy smile, your eyes red and glassy as your hand stroked up and down his arm. "Tell me you want this too, beg me to touch you." He murmured squishing your lips together. 

"I want you to touch me, Ken, please." You whispered and let him pull your tanktop straps down slowly until it was pooled around your waist baring your tits to his greedy large palms that cupped them. 

A sigh escaped your lips when he dragged his thumb over your pebbled nipples leaning in to taste your lips again, his tongue tangled with yours in a passionate kiss that left you breathless and wet. 

Ken pulled the rest of your clothes off just as slowly leaving behind a trail of wet open-mouthed kisses as his hand slid down between your legs his finger pressing into the wet slick spot with a squelch. 

You parted your legs wider for him letting him have more access to your bare pussy with a low growl. "So wet, all just from a little bit of kissing? How cute. She's weeping for me." He husked in your ear. 

No matter how bad you wanted to look at him you couldn't so you opted to close your eyes and let him pump two long slender fingers inside you, his thumb caressed your clit in a soft circle dripping spit down and pooling around where he was buried knuckle deep. 

He nipped at your bottom lip feeling his cock throb between his legs as you palmed at him tugging at the band of his sweatpants letting the heat rise between you two. "Want you so bad please, baby." 

Your hand slid into his boxers stroking his cock from base to tip slowly as he curled his fingers hooking them against your g-spot. "Look so good for me like this, wanna cum 'f me? Be a good girl and squirt for daddy." Ken demanded testing the waters for that kink. 

This time you looked at him as you let go of him to hump his fingers wildly as he sunk to his knees between your legs stroking your clit with his fingers pushing you over the edge until you squirted. 

Ever the gentleman he was, Ken lapped up the mess lewdly as he withdrew his fingers from you to tug his sweats and boxers down freeing his aching cock that bobbed from the sheer weight of it. 

You both looked at each other then down between your legs as he hooked his arms under your knees and pulled you closer to the edge of the couch rubbing the tip between your pussylips. "You sure still?" 

It's been months since you've done anything like this, borderline a year, and you didn't care about anything else but him fucking your pussy making it a puff cream like you deserved. "I am yes! Please!" 

The room filled with the musky scent of sex and desired pants as he thrust the tip inside your tight pussy with a strained grunt, his fingers squished the fat on your thighs keeping your legs spread obscenely wide for him to bare witness sinking into you with a guttural moan. 

You both let out unashamed moans, feeling how you mold around his cock. It felt even better while floating from the joint, Ken bottomed out, leaning down to kiss you deeply. 

His tongue met yours as he rolled his hips nice and slow, making sure you felt him as he scattered kisses all over your face. "You feel so good." He whispered against your neck softly. 

With your legs wrapped around him, he used his  strength to flip positions, putting you on top of him. "Go slow. You're getting greedy with it." 

Your eyes focused on his as you sat down, fully feeling the air get knocked from your lungs as you gripped his shoulders. "Because I want it." 

He huffed, blowing a chunk of dark hair from his face as you leaned in and sat up, letting the tip of his dick stay inside of you before sitting down again, repeating the motion while kissing him. 

It couldn't be helped. His soft lips felt nice against yours as he held your hips guiding you into riding his cock until you see fit. His teeth finally found your neck biting down at the soft flesh nipping it gently. 

Ken left soft love bites that would disappear in an hour all over your shoulder as he fucked into you from below. "You're so pretty riding me. I might keep you as mine." He huffed loudly letting his head fall back against the couch watching you fuck him. 

Your pussy clenched around him as you ground down now rubbing your clit against his pubic bone hearing the soft wet suctioning sounds of where you two met in an erotic dance that left you moaning from swollen mushroom head kissing your cervix. 

His hands squished your ass cheeks together, hitting a certain spot when he rocked up into you. "Good girl, want me to cum in you?" Ken asked as he leaned forward to kiss your breasts again, his mouth latched onto your nipple suckling hungrily as you nodded wildly.

With your fingers buried in his hair that came free from his braid, you tugged on it pushing him closer to you chanting his name like a prayer that poured from your open mouth like a river. "Draken!" 

Ken grunted as he gripped your asscheeks feeling your pussy ripple around him wet and so fucking tight he couldn't help it any longer and filled you to the brim with thick cum that seeped from your cunt. 

The both of you stayed like that coming down from your high as you buried your face in his neck, the reality of what happened finally hit you like a truck as your phone rang, Mikey's name popped on the screen as Ken looked at it then you with a heavy sigh. 

Sex clung heavily to you as you cupped Draken's cheeks pressing soft honey kisses along his face. "Thank you for making me feel appreciated and beautiful, I know this is beyond the scope of wrong but I really enjoyed our time together, don't leave me tonight please." 

Dark eyes widened at your request. It was something he wasn't expecting, he figured you just wanted his dick but it was clear how truly lonely you are and it made him mad as hell at Mikey for treating you this way and how lucky he is that he's the one there for you. 

#tw: infidelity #tw: dubcon #tw: weed #Ken smut #ken ryuguji smut #ken ryuuguji x reader #ken ryuuguji smut #ken ryuguji #Draken smut #Draken x reader smut #tokyo revengers smut #ken x you smut #draken x yn smut #tr smut #tr x reader smut #tokyo revengers x reader smut

[str4wberry-t00th-anon]

im high and yknow what that means!!!!!!

want- NO!! need a big bro boycunt to eat out for hours as a grounding technique and cause i got fixated and dont wanna stop

who cums on my face over and over and starts crying and pushing me away cause

"ewww why would you let your lil bro touch you like that" he'd think, but he got me high,, what did he expect?? this was clearly what he wanted deep down

and now it feels too good and he cant stop cumming to his little teenage bro using his cunt as a fidget toy

#forced intox #ftm nsft #t4t nsft #intox kink #fauxc3st #brocest #brotherly love #tr@nny #f@ggot #gay fauxcest #weed #mary jane #intox cnc #power play #dabs #penjamin #high nsft

[nonmicapacito]

L3 $3n$4z1oni $ono M3zze Verit4

#life #gif #love #trs #weed #meus #vita #frasi #aforismi

[the-percival]

I ffucking burnt my mustache peach fuzz off

#I was trying to light a joint #I'm so glad you can't see it #Weed tr

[headkiss]

you’ll always know me

part 1, part 2

pairing: rockstar!eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: even as the crowds at his shows get bigger and bigger, eddie munson still has you, his very best friend. or, (for my swifties) eddie munson is your dorothea.

word count: 8.6k

warnings: fluff, a little angst, childhood best friends to lovers (sort of), weed and smoking, librarian!reader, first kiss, so many uses of the words “i miss you,” and some idiots in love !!!

a/n: hiiiii!!! this one took so long but i really love rockstar!eddie and i hope you do too!!! this is inspired by tis the damn season and especially dorothea by taylor swift <3 thank you to my love @inkluvs for encouraging me on this one ily!!!

♫♩♪♬

It’s surreal to watch someone close to you grow so much bigger than the town you live in.

To know that the person you see on the news, at award shows on your TV screen, is the same one who used to push you on the swings at the playground, who used to walk with you to and from school, who grew up beside you, closer than anyone else ever could have.

Closer than anyone ever would, still.

To most people, he’s Eddie Munson, lead singer and guitarist of Corroded Coffin. To you, he’s Eddie, the best friend you’ve ever had.

You can go back years and years, and Eddie’s woven into your life for so much of it. So is his music. You can pick out the points: watching Corroded Coffin play for the first time in middle school, watching their first gig at the Hideout, being in the front row for it all wearing the widest smile, having the loudest cheers.

Even the late night phone calls you’d get when he’d be stuck on lyrics, when he wanted someone’s opinion and chose to dial your number instead of his bandmates’.

(“Hello?”

“I can’t get this line to sound right.”

“Let’s hear it, Munson.”)

You’re often in disbelief of where he is now. Not because you ever doubted him, but because even after so long, it’s strange not to see him every day. You’re insanely proud of him, but that doesn’t mean you don’t miss him.

Because you do. You miss him so much.

A box sits on the top shelf of your closet, one filled with newspaper and magazine clippings, articles about the band’s success, positive reviews about their shows and their albums. Things to show that Eddie’s dream came true, and that’s a rare thing.

There’s only one kind of tabloid you choose not to keep: the ones booming with rumors you selfishly hope aren’t true.

‘Lead singer of Corroded Coffin has a new spark? Read more to find out who’s caught famous bad boy Eddie Munson’s eye.’

You see him constantly in pictures, through a screen, but you only really ever see him on holidays, when he’s able to come home. When he comes bursting back into your life in vibrant fireworks with his stupid, pretty smile and stupid, shining brown eyes. When he comes back only to leave all over again.

You only have yourself to blame, really, for letting it tear you up. Because more than anything, you’re happy for him, so happy you could never express it properly, but still, there’s an ache in you when he crosses your mind, when the feelings linger.

Life in Hawkins for you consists of working at the library, reading your days and thoughts away, hanging out with the gang when you’re up to it, and that’s about it.

Eddie always knows where to find you when he does come home, usually barging into the library with his arms open for a hug, one you rush into easily. You always spend the couple days he has in Hawkins together, being the you and him you’ve been since you were kids. But the lingering reminder doesn’t fade, the reminder of him having to leave looming over you like a storm cloud.

Eddie Munson comes home sporadically, unknowingly taking your heart with him wherever he goes. And when his inevitable departure takes place, you’re forced to regrow what’s missing from your chest. Every single time.

-

Besides his uncle Wayne, who could only ever see him as a troublemaking kid, you’re the only person who’s never treated Eddie any differently.

Not in high school when he was labeled a freak, not even when the fame rose so suddenly it felt like a tidal wave. You kept him afloat. You keep him afloat.

He knows he should call more often, he knows that even if the phone works both ways, you really don’t have a way of keeping track of which hotel he’s in, which state, which country, even. He knows that falls on him.

Your phone number’s burned into Eddie’s memory. He could never forget it, and still, he can’t seem to find the time to dial it. He’ll get called away, or he’ll just be getting back from a show and barely have the energy to shower before getting in bed. Worse, he’ll get the panicked sense that you won’t pick up anymore.

At least he’s never missed your birthday. That, he’ll always make time for, usually phoning you at the same time that a bouquet of flowers arrives at your door. And somehow, even when he’s away, you don’t miss his birthday, either.

Eddie’s sitting on the small couch in his dressing room, waiting to go on stage, thinking of you the way he often does.

He wonders if you think of him, too. If you miss him or if you’re angry that he’s gone so often, that he can barely even manage a fucking phone call. Though, you were never the type to be angry. Never with him, at least.

He wants to hear your voice, wants to hear you tell him ‘good luck’ before going on stage like you used to. He peeks at the table next to the couch. Eddie’s not sure how much time he has before he needs to go, but he figures it’s worth a try.

Just as he’s about to pick up the phone in his dressing room, there’s a knock on the door.

“Munson! You’re on in five!”

He’ll call you later, then.

-

“Beginning descent to the Indianapolis International Airport.”

The muffled sound through the airplane’s speakers is followed by the ding of the seatbelt signs being turned on. Eddie shifts in his seat to look out the window. He’s got his own little cubicle in first class, and though this is how he always flies now (other than when he finds himself on a private jet, which is even more unbelievable), he’s still not used to it.

He’s itching to get out of this seat, then he remembers that he’s still got the trek through the airport and the drive back to Hawkins. It’ll be worth it to see Wayne, who he doesn’t see nearly as often as he should, and get his classic hug with a slap on his shoulder.

It’ll be worth it to see you, who makes Hawkins feel more like home. You, who reminds him of the person he’s always been, the parts that get lost on the road. You, who hugs him tighter than anyone else ever has.

His hands clench into fits in his lap.

As soon as Eddie steps off the plane, his security team finds him. He’d assured them that he’d be fine, really, but this is how it is for him now. Through baggage claim and all the way to the car that’s waiting for him outside, security takes a step whenever he does.

Shutting the car door as he slides into the backseat, Eddie tips his head back and sighs.

The car ride feels shorter than usual, the city fading into trees and fields until the ‘Welcome to Hawkins’ sign comes into view. The gravel crunches under the car’s tires as it pulls into the trailer park. Wayne’s got enough to get a better place now, Eddie made sure of it, but he never did. He’d never admit it but Wayne’s sentimental, and the trailer houses too many memories to let go of it.

After all, it was home.

Stepping through the front door there’s the smell that he’d never noticed until he’d been gone for weeks at a time. The settled dust, the faint smoke of cigarettes, coffee, and the room spray Wayne inevitably uses to try and cover it all up.

Eddie drags his bags inside, waves to his driver, and shuts the door behind him.

Then, Wayne’s warm rasp, “my boy. Get in okay?”

He’s wrapped in his uncle’s classic hug quickly, the pats on his shoulder and all. Eddie closes his eyes and soaks it in, just for a second, “yeah. It was fine.”

“Good, good,” Wayne says, pulling back and grasping Eddie’s shoulders, getting a good look at him. “Take a shower.”

“Is that your way of telling me I look like shit?”

“Nah, that’s me telling you that you smell like airport, boy.”

“It’s great to see you, too,” Eddie says, smiling.

He and Wayne have the kind of relationship that time doesn’t really affect all that much. Whether Eddie’s away for a week or a month, or two, or three, they fall back into things like he’d never even left.

He knows Wayne’s probably lonely, probably hiding more than he could imagine, but he also knows that he loves him, and that’s always a good thing to know, to feel. Loved.

“Shut up, you know I missed you,” Wayne shakes Eddie’s shoulders and lets go, “now go wash up and you can tell me about your last show over some coffee, sound good?”

“Sounds good. I missed you too, Wayne.”

Eddie carries his bags into his room, leaving them open on the ground rather than unpacking. He’ll just have to pack them all over again, anyways.

Before long, the trailer’s small bathroom is filling with steam as Eddie steps into the shower, dropping his neck back and letting the water run over his shoulders, his back. He stands like that for a bit, simply letting the heat melt away at the tension in his muscles.

By the time he steps out, the mirror is completely fogged with steam, and Eddie wipes away at a section to look at himself. The bags under his eyes, the mess of his hair that he doesn’t bother taming, the small scratch on his chin from one of his rings. He shakes his head and heads into his room with his towel around his waist.

He throws on a pair of plaid pajama pants and a faded band tee, his hair soaking the back of it drop by drop.

In the kitchen, Wayne’s got two mugs of coffee sitting on the small table, a seat already pulled out for Eddie to take.

“Thanks.”

He nods, sipping from his mug as Eddie does the same.

In the silence, he can’t help but think of you, of how close he is to you now. Mere minutes away. He wonders what you’re doing, if you’re reading in bed after your shift, if you’d just showered like him, if you’re thinking of him, too.

“I saw her the other day,” Wayne says.

They both know he means you.

“How’s she doing?”

“Well, I’m sure you’ll ask her that when you see her tomorrow, but she seemed good.”

“How'd you know I’m gonna see her tomorrow?”

“Come on, kid. You go to the library the day after you get in every time and think I don’t notice?”

Eddie looks down at the mug in his hands, his face warm. It shouldn’t matter, shouldn’t have him feeling all shy and nervous, like he’d been caught, but it does.

“She misses you,” Wayne adds.

“She tell you that?”

“Doesn’t have to. I’ve known that girl since she was little and running after you on the playground. I can tell.”

Wayne has always said that you’re as good as family, after all. Eddie used to joke that his uncle liked you more than him, and you used to laugh and joke back that he was right.

Eddie’s suddenly very excited to sleep, only to get to tomorrow quicker.

“I miss her, too.”

“Yeah, kid. I know,” Wayne leaves it there, switching things over, “I saw you almost eat shit on TV the other day.”

“Come on!” Eddie groans. He’d tripped over a fucking wire on stage. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“It was still fuckin’ funny.”

“Of all the shows, you just had to tune in for that one.”

Wayne asks about the tour, about how Eddie’s liking it this time around, about whether or not there’s anything new he’s working on.

In return, Eddie asks about the mechanic’s, about whether or not Wayne’s back has been acting up (which earns him a light slap on the back of the head), about what’s changed in Hawkins since the last time he’d been home.

Even through the smiles he shares with his uncle, Eddie’s wondering how you’ll react when you see him tomorrow, picturing how it’ll feel to be near you again. He gets that feeling in his gut, the butterflies that are nerves and excitement and questions and feelings rolled into one.

He’s pretty sure he dreams about you, too.

-

Your shifts at the library are always long; full days of scanning and shelving books. You’re lucky to say that you actually like your job. The smell of worn pages, the peacefulness (save for when Dustin comes barging in with his stack of overdue books that you let him off the hook for every time), the interactions that are almost always short and sweet since it’s meant to be a quiet place.

Your eight or nine or however many hour days go by much quicker now than they did during your high school job at the grocery store, that’s for sure.

You’re pushing the put-back cart between shelves, humming a random song quietly as you place the books where they belong, sometimes pausing to straighten things out. It’s the middle of a weekday and you’re the only person in there anyway. That is, until the small bell on the front desk dings.

“Just a second!” You call, squeezing between the cart and the self beside it to walk over to the front desk. You think your heart stops altogether.

You’d recognize that head of hair anywhere, the dark, frizzy curls. Hell, you’d recognize that damn denim vest anywhere, even the stance of the person wearing it. “Eddie?”

He turns around at the sound of your voice, and something lifts from his chest when he sees you. A grin spreads wide on his face, splitting his cheeks and crinkling his eyes in the corners, “there she is.”

Usually, when he comes home, it’s on a holiday and you’re expecting him, watching the door and waiting for him to walk through it. This time, you had no idea he’d be coming home. It’s the best surprise you could get.

You’re practically running into his arms, and he wraps them around your waist easily, yours tossed around his shoulders. Your face is buried in his neck, breathing him in, making sure this is real. “What the hell are you doing here?”

His hands clutch at the fabric over your sides, his head twisting so he can place a kiss over your hair, “had a break from tour. Missed home.”

And sure, Eddie hadn’t really realized just how much he missed it until he came back, it’s crystal clear now, with you hugging him. He really, really missed home.

You want to say something stupid and emotional like it hasn’t felt as much like home until now, or I missed the sound of your voice and the smell of your shampoo, but that would probably reveal a little too much.

“Just home you missed or…” you tease, pulling back to look at his face, his brown eyes that sort of sparkle. Your hands stay on his shoulders, his on your waist.

“I missed Wayne, obviously,” Eddie replies, acting oblivious and smiling at the small furrow in your brow.

“Eddie!”

“Aw, come on.” He tugs you in for another hug, his cheek squished against the side of your head. “‘Course I missed you, trouble.”

Trouble. You never knew you could miss a single word so much.

Eddie started calling you ‘trouble’ when you were kids, sometime in middle school when you’d stolen a bunch of his mixtapes and only returned them weeks later, when he finally noticed. He’d snatched them out of your hands and muttered ‘you’re trouble’ and it just stuck.

“Thank you,” you say, laughing when Eddie pulls back frowning at you. “And I missed you, too. Duh.”

“Duh.” He mocks. He lets go of you fully but doesn’t go far, leaning an elbow against the desk, “you’re doing okay?”

“I’m good. Things don’t change all that much around here, you know that.”

“I’m not asking about around here, I’m asking ‘bout you.”

You tug at the hair tie on your wrist. “I’m fine, Eddie. Promise.”

He nods, and there’s a small lull in the conversation that pinches at your chest for some reason. The sort of silence that never used to be there when it came to you and Eddie, always filling it with conversation or letting it be comfortable. Now, there’s something like awkwardness stretching and it stings.

Because it shouldn’t be there, because he’s Eddie and you’re you and you’re best friends and that’s all there should be to it. But it isn’t. You’re the same people, but so much is different.

“You working late?” He asks.

“Until we close.”

“Care for some company?”

You tilt your head at him, “you really wanna hang around the library for the last four hours of my shift?”

“Sounds like fun to me. I’ll even push the cart for you, and you can tell me what I’ve missed while I was away.”

It’s funny that he thinks he’d ever have to convince you to spend time with him, when you’re practically pulling at any thread of him that you can, when you’re taking anything he has to give you. Two days, a week, a couple of phone calls.

It’s all better than not having him at all.

“Only if you tell me what I’ve missed, too. Like all the cool celebrities you’ve met.”

“Not as cool as you, trouble.” Eddie taps your nose, smiling at the way you scrunch it in response.

“Shut up and start pushing the cart, Munson.”

He stands straight and salutes, “yes ma’am.”

You’re still smiling when you shake your head, “idiot.”

Eddie really does spend the rest of the day with you, pushing the cart while you re-shelf books, sitting in the extra chair behind the counter while you file returns, ducking when someone else walks in.

He asks you about Robin and Steve, Dustin and Lucas, how the kids are finding school, whether Nancy’s been hired at a big paper yet. He asks you about your family, and most of all, about you.

He hangs onto every word you say. And not once do you say anything to make him feel bad for being away, if anything, you can’t stop telling him how proud you are, especially when he talks to you about what’s in the works.

“I always told you you’d make it, Munson.”

“Wouldn’t have done it without you, trouble.”

-

The next morning, you’re sitting across from him in the corner booth by the window at Benny’s for breakfast. The same way you did every Friday in high school, at the same table.

Whenever you wind up at Benny’s when Eddie’s away, you tend to avoid that booth. It’s pathetic. Like his absence is clearer than ever sitting there when he isn’t. When he’s not putting whipped cream on your nose or stealing food off your plate.

Now, it’s his presence that surrounds you, his smile and his laugh, his foot nudging yours under the table.

The menu is sticky under your fingertips where you hold it, faded from sunlight and discolored from coffee spills that stain the page. You don’t really need to be looking at it—after years of coming here, you’ve probably got the thing memorized—but you need the time to collect yourself. To remember that this is Eddie, and there’s nothing to be nervous about.

You need the time to stuff down that flutter in your gut and in your chest.

On the other side of the booth, Eddie takes your distraction as a chance to really look at you. The details he can’t seem to picture when he’s away like the flecks in your eyes or the exact shade of your lips.

He never realizes just how much he misses you until he’s home. Until he’s sitting across from you and listening to the sound of your voice clearly instead of through a crackling phone’s speaker, until he gets to see the way your eyes light up slightly when you laugh.

It sort of hits him all at once, and he’s thinking, God, I should call more often. I should visit more often.

After a couple of minutes, you look back at Eddie, “you know what you want?”

“I’ve been getting the same thing since high school, trouble. Don’t need the menu.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll go order,” you say, placing your menu back in the holder by the window.

When you start sliding your way out of the booth, Eddie places a hand over yours on the table, “I can get it.”

You look down at your hands, his skin on yours, like you’d expected to see something there. A spark, a burn scorching your skin in the best way.

“I know you can,” you say, smiling at him. “But it’s my treat, okay? I want to get it.”

Eddie always feels sort of guilty when he’s not buying, because he has more than enough money to take care of it, more than he knows what to do with. Sometimes (often), people expect him to pay, even. And just like you’d known how he was feeling, you shut it down with a flash of your smile.

You shift to squeeze his hand before getting up and heading over to the counter, leaning on your elbows as you wait your turn.

Still, Eddie’s looking at you, his hand in the same spot on the table.

He knows that, despite it not being a busy morning at Benny’s, people are looking at him, whispering the way they did even in school. Only now, they’re saying they can’t believe it, look at him now, instead of calling him a freak. And just like in school, having you around makes the talk bearable. Hell, it makes it disappear, if only for a little while.

When the waiter finally comes over to take your order, you send him a kind smile, rattling off yours and Eddie’s orders.

Eddie watches the entire interaction. He tells himself it’s because he doesn’t want to make eye contact with anyone else, that it’s because he’s just making sure you’re alright. It’s certainly not because of how pretty he thinks you look today, not because of how hard it is to keep his eyes off of you.

The waiter is a younger guy, probably around your age. Someone Eddie doesn’t know. He seems to tell you a joke because you laugh, bright and sunny, and Eddie suddenly wishes that Benny was the one taking orders.

Because he should be the one to make you laugh like that, to be on the receiving end of your grin and crinkled eyes. Because there’s this weight in his stomach that feels a little too much like jealousy. Because you’re his best friend and he fucking misses you.

Eddie looks down at his hands and twists his rings around and around until you come back, the old booth squeaking as you sit down.

“You okay?” You ask, always noticing his nervous habit of fiddling with his rings.

She’s my friend, he reminds himself. My best friend, that’s all.

“‘Course I am.”

“The guy at the counter, Dan, wanted me to tell you he’s a fan.”

He shakes his head, “I can't believe I have those. Especially in this town.”

“Excuse me? Your biggest fan is sitting right here, in this town, Munson.”

He probably thinks you’re joking with the way he chuckles, chest rumbling. But, you’re not. The shoebox full of clippings says enough, and you don’t think he’d ever let you live it down if he knew about it.

“She want an autograph?” He teases, the heaviness in his stomach melting away. Your biggest fan.

“In your chicken scratch? Yeah right.”

It’s not long before your food arrives, plates of waffles and fruit, sides of bacon and hashbrowns. Of course, you inevitably end up with whipped cream on your nose and food missing from your plate.

It’s your favorite kind of breakfast.

-

You’re sitting in the passenger seat of Eddie’s van—the same van he’s had since high school, that he refuses to replace—heading towards Steve’s place. It’s not unusual for either of you to be meeting up with the gang, but Eddie’s still nervous.

“Are you sure about this?” He asks you.

They don’t know he’s in town, and as sure as you are that they’ll be thrilled to see him, Eddie isn’t convinced. You place a hand on his shoulder and squeeze lightly as he drives.

“Everyone’s gonna be so happy to see you. Don’t you trust me?”

“‘Course I do,” he says easily, without thinking, “just haven’t seen anyone in a while, you know?”

“We all miss you, Eddie. It’ll be fun!”

Logically, he knows nobody’s gonna kick him out, or treat him any differently, but it doesn’t stop him from getting nervous. You wanted to surprise everyone, and how could he say no to you? So, here he is, gripping the steering wheel too tight and worrying too much.

Pulling into the driveway, he nods, “here we go.”

You hop out of the van before he has it shut off, but he catches up quickly. He follows you to the side gate of the house, watches you unlatch it and stroll into the yard. The sound of voices mingling hits his ears as you walk around the house and find your group of friends sitting around in lounge chairs.

“Look who I brought,” You announce.

Your shout is followed by eyes flicking towards you, then Eddie who stands beside you. Then, a chorus of his name, plus Argyle’s “rockstar!”

“Hey guys,” he says, waving shyly.

It’s odd to feel this way around these people that he’s known for years. Robin and Steve who’ve rented him way too many movies for free, Nancy and Johnathan who are probably why he graduated high school, and Argyle who was always his most loyal customer.

All of these memories and he feels a little too much like a stranger. At least he’s got you, who feels like one of the only sure things in his life. No matter how long goes by, you’re there, and he hopes you always will be.

“You want a drink?” Steve asks, leaning to reach into the cooler beside him.

“I’ll take one, thanks,” you say, catching the can Steve throws to you.

“I’m driving,” Eddie says, jingling his keys.

“Eddie Munson being responsible,” Robin teases, “they grow up so fast.”

And just like that, he feels a little better. These are his friends, and even though he’s not around all of the time, and even though he may not be as close to everyone anymore, they’ll still be his friends.

You sit down on the empty lounge chair and pat the space beside you for Eddie, sending him a smile that says both ‘told you so,’ in your snark he can practically hear, and ‘everything’s okay,’ in your kind way.

He plops down beside you.

“How’s everything going?” Johnathan asks him.

Not wanting all of the attention on him, Eddie keeps his answer short, “busy, but it’s a ton of fun.”

“Everything you ever dreamed of?” Robin adds.

“You could definitely say that.”

Though, Eddie has this strange feeling that he’s missing something whenever he’s gone. It’ll go away, but somehow, it always finds him again, when he’s debating on calling or not, when he’s hit with a memory of you in the front row at the Hideout when he’s on stage.

He looks over at you and finds you smiling softly at him, eyes fond. He can’t believe he’s the one you’re looking at like that.

Eddie blinks and turns back to the group, “how about you guys? How’re the jobs?”

The chatter picks up and surrounds him, but Eddie can’t stop thinking about the way you were looking at him just then. He’s never had someone look at him like that, like there’s nothing but affection there.

It’s platonic, he tells himself. She’s my best friend.

You feel happier now than you have in a while. Things feel more complete when Eddie’s around. Things feel right. It’s all of your favorite people with no empty chair, it’s falling back into a friendship that’s existed for years.

When conversations split off into smaller ones, you lean your head on his shoulder, and the words sort of slip out of you, “it’s really nice to have you here.”

His heart beats louder, he leans his head on top of yours, “it’s nice to be home.”

And it is. Eddie loves touring, he loves playing his music, and he loves his job, but at the end of the day, he’ll always be this boy from Hawkins, and he’ll always be happy to be home, to be with you.

Catching the moment, Argyle—always sharing his thoughts—says, “sick, you guys are finally together.”

You and Eddie both sit up, like you’d been caught doing something you shouldn’t, even when you’ve sat like that countless times before.

Everyone’s eyes seem to be on the both of you now, and you have a tiny panic inside. Have you really been that obvious with how you feel? Does Eddie know and he hasn’t said anything because he doesn’t want to hurt you?

You laugh awkwardly, “what?”

“Like, dating,” Argyle explains.

“Me and Eddie?”

He’d been frozen for a second there, surprised that Argyle thought that. Was he seeing something Eddie couldn’t? No, no way.

“Just friends, guys,” Eddie says. “Come on.”

You swallow, forcing out a word, “exactly.”

“They’ve always been like this,” Nancy says, which explains enough but also sort of nothing at all.

Just friends. It’s something you know, you remind yourself constantly. It’s all it’ll ever be, and still, hearing Eddie say it out loud has your stomach feeling heavy. Just friends, get over it.

Even as conversation picks up again, as you laugh with everyone, the two words play in your head over and over. Then, after saying your goodbyes, once you’re in the van with Eddie again, it fades, because if you can’t be in love with him, you can be his best friend, and you’d much rather have that than nothing at all.

Once he drops you off, Eddie thinks and thinks about what Argyle had said. He goes over memories, over how he feels around you, and it hits him like a huge punch to the gut.

He thinks he has feelings for you. Big, huge feelings.

-

It’s the same day, a different sky, the sun sunk behind the horizon to give way to a sky full of stars and a bright moon.

Eddie’s van is parked by Lover’s Lake, the back full of blankets where you both sit, the doors open to look at the sky and the way the moonlight reflects on the water.

There’s practically an indent in the ground in the spot he’s parked, the one that’s been your go-to for ages. From day picnics to nighttime smoke sessions, it’s another place on the list of the ones that are filled with memories of Eddie.

Beside you, he’s got a joint in hand, the flick of his lighter catching your ears over the crickets and the breeze. You watch him inhale, his chest expanding, the smoke slipping from his lips. You turn back to the water.

“Your turn,” he says, handing you the joint.

You grab it between your fingertips and bring it to your mouth, feeling the smoke trail down your throat, further, then you’re breathing it out, clearing your throat at the tickle.

“Out of practice?” Eddie teases at your small cough.

“My favorite weed dealer went out of business,” you say, nudging his shoulder with yours, “so, yeah.”

He takes the joint back from you, “you don’t smoke when I’m not around? You know Argyle’s gotta have some stock.”

“Oh, he definitely does. A little too exotic for my taste. Besides, he won’t give it to me for free.”

“Getting cheap, trouble?”

You shrug, shoulder to your cheek, and give him an innocent smile.

It feels easy, the joint being passed back and forth between sentences until it’s done and stubbed out, the flow of conversation, the comfort that’s there. It’s always been easy with him, even when it hurts a little.

Eddie’s got on his worn denim vest, still full of pins, and you tug at it, “think this thing has a permanent weed smell by now.”

“I think that’s just part of my natural scent,” he replies, playfully flipping his hair over his shoulder.

His curls graze your cheek—that’s how close you’re sitting, thighs touching—and you giggle. You’ve had so many nights just like this one with Eddie, and it feels like some kind of reward that you get to have them still, even when they’re far less regular now.

“Doesn’t this make you think of high school?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely,” Eddie’s hand is on his knee, his pinky twitches, reaching for your leg, “hell, I’m even wearing the same clothes as in high school.”

“How does it feel like yesterday and also a lifetime ago?”

Eddie looks over at you, the warm glow of moonlight and stars on your skin, the way your sweater hangs off your shoulder, the shine in your eyes that’s part weed and part nostalgia.

“A lot’s changed since then,” he says. “I’m not a loser anymore.”

“You’re still my loser.”

How is it that even when you’re calling him a loser, the idea of being yours in any sense of the word is enough to have Eddie’s heart swell in his chest, a balloon floating up and up and he has to swallow to push it back down.

“Stop being cheesy,” he plays it off, ruffling your hair.

You shove his arm away, “I just miss you!”

Eddie looks at his arm, your hand still holding onto it, he follows your arm with his gaze until it lands on your face. He thinks you’re beautiful, the prettiest girl he’s ever seen and no groupie could change that.

“I miss you, too, trouble.”

Something shifts, the air growing thicker, a sort of understanding between the two of you. There’s something here, something that could be a disaster but could also be so, so good. Could be everything.

“No way you think about me when you’ve got crowds and fans and-“

“I think about you a lot, honey.”

Honey. He’s probably called you that before, but never like this. Never dripping sweet and sincere, never looking at you like he wants to do something you can’t even let yourself imagine in fear of being let down, of hoping too much.

Eddie’s hand shifts from his own leg to yours, thumb running back and forth, burning you even through the fabric of your pants.

“You do?”

“All the time. You’re my best friend.”

Right. Friend.

“You’re mine, too, Eddie.”

And suddenly you can feel his breath fan across your cheek, your lips. His face is close to yours and the hair that falls over his forehead tickles yours. Just a second ago he’d been saying the word ‘friend,’ and now it feels like he’s going to do something to contradict that.

Against all odds, he does.

Eddie couldn’t help himself. Maybe he’ll blame the weed, or maybe he won’t, but before he knows it he’s reaching up with the hand that isn’t on his leg to cup your cheek and tilt your head. And he’s kissing you.

He’s kissing you.

It’s so delicate, so much you’re afraid to even breathe, like it’ll break in an instant. Eddie’s fingers squeeze your leg, urge you to kiss him back and there’s no way that you wouldn’t. Not when his lips are actually on yours, not when he tastes like weed and mint gum and something perfect.

It could be seconds or minutes that you’re kissing, tilting your head even more to feel him, clutching his sleeve tightly. It never deepens, but it doesn’t have to, it says enough.

When you pull away, it’s not one or the other who does it, it’s natural, like it’s been rehearsed time and time again. Eddie leans his forehead against yours, his hand still on your cheek.

“Was that a bad idea?” He asks you, voice low and quiet.

“Maybe. I don’t know.” And you don’t, because there’s no way of knowing what’s gonna happen next, if things will be ruined, if this will fade away like it never happened, or, maybe, just maybe, if it’ll start something.

“Was it okay?”

“More than okay.”

You don’t talk about it that night, and you don’t want to just yet. You’re fine with enjoying the pink-tinted haze at least until tomorrow.

-

Eddie’s barely been gone for two days and you’re not sure what to do with yourself. After that night, neither of you brought it up, and as much as you wanted to, you couldn’t. You were scared. And anyway, it was probably just the weed for him.

You’d never kissed before. Sure, you’ve come close, faces inches apart when you’d share a bed, whispers away, but nothing ever happened. Until now.

Now, sitting on your bed, chin resting on your knees, you’re reeling from knowing what Eddie’s lips feel like and missing him all over again. Rebuilding that piece in your chest.

Somewhere else in the country, in the world, Eddie’s position isn’t so different from yours. He’s sitting on the edge of his hotel bed, forearms on his knees, head bent. He wants to call you, and he’s figuring out what he’ll say when he does.

He misses you every time he isn’t home, but it’s never felt like this. There’s never been this ache in his stomach that won’t go away because of it. Fuck, he misses you more than ever.

The last trip back to Hawkins was different than anything else, because he brought back these feelings with him and he keeps reaching up to press his fingertips to his lips, like the memory of your own lingers there.

Sure, he’s had silly, sticky thoughts like waking up with his arms around you after a nap and thinking he could wake up that way forever, but he’s always pushed them down. Now, it seems, he can’t, the images too buoyant to ignore, floating back up every time.

Sucking in a deep breath, he sits up and reaches for the phone, dialing your number that’s stored in his memory. His leg bounces as the phone rings.

You’re startled by the screech of your phone on your bedside table, head lifting to look at it shake on the receiver. You reach over and pick it up.

“Hello?”

“Hey, trouble. It’s not a bad time, is it?”

Eddie. His voice crackling through the phone sends a spike down your spine. You clutch the phone a little tighter.

You’d expected Robin, or Nancy, even Steve. Because there’d been a time, earlier in Corroded Coffin’s career, when Eddie would call you at least three times a week, and then the calls grew less frequent until they sort of died out to holidays and birthdays.

So, maybe a couple of years ago, you’d have expected Eddie’s voice, but not today.

“Eddie, hi. Not at all.”

“I- um, I just wanted to call,” a small pause, he clears his throat, “how are you?”

“It’s only been two days, you know how I am.”

“I mean right now.”

You twist to lay on your side, legs curling in towards your chest. You smile to yourself like an idiot. “Right now, I’m good. It’s lame, I already miss you.”

“I miss you, too.”

The reply comes easily to him. There’s no thought to it, because in the past 48 hours, he hasn’t been able to stop missing you for a second. The warmth of your hand in his, the sunshine sound of your laughter.

He’s not sure why everything’s so big now, his feelings amplified, only quieted now, by the sound of your voice.

“Did you have a show today?”

You have a way of asking that makes it sound like you really care, Eddie thinks. He loves his music and he knows you know that. It means the world to him to do what he does, confusing feelings or not.

“Not today. We spent the day on the bus. Show’s tomorrow.”

“Nervous or excited?”

It’s something that you used to ask him before every small show in Hawkins, and the memory has a grin spreading on Eddie’s face. “It’s always both. More excited, though.”

“You should be,” you say. “You guys are really great.”

“Yeah? Who’s your favorite band member?”

He’s fishing, and you tease him rather than bite, “hmmm. Gareth.”

“Fuckin’ trouble. You liar.”

“You asked!”

“You answered the question wrong, honey.”

There it is again. Honey. You’re sort of glad he can’t see you right now because you probably look way too happy, burying your face in your pillow for a second before replying.

“You know you’re my favorite, Munson.”

“Yeah I am,” he sounds far too proud. And then, he’s softer, “I’m not keeping you up, am I? Time zones fuck me up.”

“No, no.” Even if he was, you wouldn’t tell him. This is better than trying and failing to sleep the way you so often do. “It’s not that late. What time is it for you?”

“Not that late,” he says, even though the clock on the nightstand reads 1:14AM. “So, what’s happening in Hawkins right now?”

“Mmm, it’s getting warmer. My window’s open and the crickets are loud as fuck.” You twist the phone cord around your fingers, “it’s donation week at the library, so I’ve been shelving new books for a change.”

Eddie listens to every word you say, asks you questions like if you’d kept any books for yourself (you had, but swore you’d give them to the library when you were done) and hums between your sentences.

Somewhere along the way, he’d laid down while listening to you, eyes shut as he tried to picture what you might look like right at this second. If you’re in your pajamas or not, whether your hair would be a little messy, baby hairs a halo around your face.

Then his eyes grew heavier, your voice putting him at ease even with the sounds of his bandmates laughing from somewhere in the hotel.

“Eddie?” You ask after he’d been silent for a bit.

“Hm?” He hums sleepily.

“I lost you for a second there.”

If he wasn’t half asleep, he’d feel worse. “Sorry, getting sleepy.”

“You wanna hang up?”

“No, uh- keep talking to me? You have a nice voice.”

You smile, cheeks pinching with the size of it.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll keep talking.”

And you do, you keep talking and talking until you can hear the sound of Eddie’s tiny snores on the other side of the line. You’re smiling again at that.

Even after you’re sure he’s asleep, you don’t hang up right away, not until your own eyes are growing heavy. You put the phone back quietly, like you’ll wake him if you’re not careful. You whisper a soft ‘goodnight, Eddie,’ as you do.

There’s a small stiffness in your fingers from how tightly you’d been holding the phone, and still, you’d let your hand cramp for hours to talk to him.

The next morning, Eddie wakes up with the pattern of the phone pressed to his cheek where he’d left it last night.

-

The TV sends flashes of color flickering across your living room and over your face. Usually, you’d be in bed by now, but it’s the night of the MTV awards and Corroded Coffin is nominated. You couldn’t miss it.

You’re not really paying attention to most of it, the sounds of performances and hosts and thank-you speeches filling your ears as you read your latest book. At least, you’re not paying attention until Eddie’s category is announced.

That has you shutting your book and sitting up, grabbing the remote to turn the volume higher.

They show the nominees, give far too long of an introduction before tearing open the envelope holding the winner’s names. You don’t know it, but you’re practically white knuckling the blanket on your lap.

“And the MTV award goes to… Corroded Coffin!”

You stand and place a hand on your chest, feeling your heart beating—racing—for the band, for Eddie. This is huge, it’s a dream, and it’s his. If you could, you’d give him a suffocating hug right now.

Eddie’s voice taking over, thanking his fans and Wayne, the boys and their team, then, thanking Hawkins and the people there, even when they gave him hell.

If you knew the right number to call to talk to him, you’d dial it in an instant.

Lucky for you, your phone rings the next night, late enough that you can only assume it’s Eddie given you don’t know anyone else who’s probably in a different time zone right now. You pick up quickly, fumbling with the phone a little before bringing it up to your ear.

“Eddie?”

“How’d you know it was me?”

“Ummm, my amazing intuition? Telepathy?”

“Telepathy, she says.” There’s a soft chuckle on his end, you close your eyes and lean your head back to thump against the wall behind you. “How’re things, trouble?”

“I feel like I should be asking you that, mister MTV winner.”

Eddie’s been calling more often again, whenever he gets the chance, really. Even so, he never thought you’d be keeping up with him that way, that you’d care enough to watch an award show and remember what he’d achieved.

“You were watching?” He asks, heart thudding.

“Of course I was. I’m your biggest fan, remember?” You’re sitting with your back against your headboard, knees bent, hand absentmindedly pulling at a loose thread in your pajama pants. “I’ve got cheerleader pom-poms and everything.”

“You do not.”

“Do too. They’re super metal, all black.”

“Yeah, cause pom-poms are super metal, babe.”

Another pet name in the rotation, uttered like it’s easy, natural. You bite back a smile.

“Whatever. Mine would be,” you say. “I’m glad you called.”

“Me, too.”

“I wanted to call you yesterday,” you admit, twisting that loose thread in your fingers, “after I saw you won. I’m really proud of you, Eddie.”

They’re words he hadn’t been expecting, but ones he’ll be thinking about over and over. He wants to keep making you proud, he thinks, and he’ll pour that into everything he does whether he means to or not.

“Thank you,” his voice is quieter, almost shy. “I wouldn’t be here without you, you know?”

“You would. You’re talented, and there’s no way that could stay hidden in this town, you’re bigger than it.”

Somehow, it’s easier to be so open with him on the phone. You don’t have to look at him, get distracted by his tongue running over his lips or the way his bangs get caught in his eyelashes sometimes. This way, all you have to do is speak, nothing more.

“Trouble-” he can’t even find the words to say, because there’s affection laced in your tone, seeping through the phone and into his head and, fuck, he wants to kiss you for it and he can’t. “I really miss you.”

“I miss you, too.” There’s some silence, and the overthinker in you worries that you’ve said too much even though you meant it with every part of you, that you’ve given yourself away. “Anyways, I should go, let you celebrate your win.”

It’s what he would be doing if Eddie’s thoughts hadn’t been so full of you and your mouth and your voice. It’s what his bandmates and friends are surely doing in some club around here.

“You don’t need to. I’m not doing anything.”

“No?” You try to lighten your tone, to joke the way you usually do, “don’t have groupies knocking on your hotel room door right now?”

Instead of playing along, Eddie’s voice is serious, still soft in the way he speaks to you, but serious nonetheless, “I don’t entertain them, honey.”

“You don’t?”

He’s tried. But ever since you kissed him, probably since before that, too, Eddie can’t seem to look at anyone else, let alone have someone else kiss him and tarnish the memory of your lips on his. He’s only ever thinking of you, it seems. So no, he hasn’t fooled around lately.

“Not in a while. I’m trying to write for the next album. No distractions.”

No distractions. He says it like that’s true, even though he can’t seem to fully focus, like there’s a piece he’s missing. Like every lyric he’s written since he’s been back isn’t somehow about you.

He’s so, so fucked.

“Look at you, Munson. Squeaky clean.”

You hope he can’t tell that you’re sort of a mess, a stupid blossom of hope planting itself where it shouldn’t. He’s your friend, he’s always been just your friend. But you kissed and it felt like something changed, and you can’t seem to let go of that.

“You sound surprised,” he teases, gathering his wits the best he can.

“Can you blame me? You used to have multiple lunchboxes reserved for your weed.”

“You loved those lunchboxes and you know it.”

“Yeah, I did.”

And then, like that moment was simply a blip, easily brushed over, your conversation turns back to your normal. Jokes with underlying affections, teasing while picturing what kind of smile the other wears when you laugh lightly into the phone.

Time runs away from you, and by the time you hang up it’s well into the early hours of the morning, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

-

After hanging up, Eddie’s got this sinking, aching pull in his stomach. He knows what it is, has had bouts of it before where he misses Wayne’s hand patting his back or the way his mattress is worn-in just the right amount back at the trailer, when he thinks about what his friends might be doing or what science project Dustin’s got going on.

But it’s never felt this heavy. Eddie’s the most homesick he’s ever been.

He’d listen to your voice forever, but in that moment, he’d give anything to see your face, to see the shake of your shoulders when you laugh, the curve of your smile.

What the hell is wrong with him?

Eddie wipes his palms on his thighs before standing and walking out into the living room of his band’s suite hotel room. The guys are still up, and they’re all staring at him like weirdos.

“What?” He pauses in the doorway.

“Did you tell her you’re in love with her yet, or what?” Jeff, the electric guitarist, asks him.

“What?” Eddie says again because there’s no way he heard that right. He’d only just come to terms that he had feelings. This is much bigger.

“You’re joking,” Gareth pipes in, “you don’t even know it? Dude, you’re all ‘I miss you, trouble, you’re my favorite person ever.’” He does a knowingly terrible impression of Eddie.

“I do not sound like that.”

“You kinda do,” Jeff says.

“Why else would you be spending hours in that room on the phone, man? Come on,” Gareth sing songs the next bit: “you’re in loooove.”

Then Eddie thinks and thinks and thinks. The warmth that blooms when he hugs you, the jealousy he felt when he thought that server at Benny’s was flirting with you, the difficulty to say goodbye, the way your kiss haunts him in his sleep.

These idiots aren’t usually right about things, but just this once, maybe they are. Eddie Munson is probably, very likely, definitely in love with you.

Yeah, he’s so fucked.

♫♩♪♬

thank you so so much for reading!!! if you enjoyed please please please consider reblogging and letting me know what you think! it helps and means so much <333 i have plans for a part two, and if you’d like to see it, some support would help a bunch! ily!

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson blurbs #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson request #eddie munson requests #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x fem!reader #rockstar!eddie munson #rockstar!eddie x reader #rockstar!eddie #eddie stranger things #stranger things eddie #stranger things imagine #stranger things fic #rockstar!eddie au

[princessbrunette]

thoughts on jj x bunny!reader ??

oooof, yes. i think it’s time we revisit the au where it’s bsf!jj and kook, prissy, well groomed bunny!reader.

୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 ⋅🐰 ˖°

you’re total opposites. yes you want to fuck eachother. yes you’re both oblivious to this.

your parents were never a fan of the pogue boy from the start. especially your father. he didn’t like the way that dirty pogue with the big smug smile would shake his hand at the door when he’d come round to pick you up, still wearing that black backwards cap and an expression that said ‘i’m probably balls deep in your sweet innocent daughter. you’ll never know.’ they’d scowl when they’d watch you disappear down the driveway with him, clutching his arm, practically rubbing all up on him in your tiny skirts. sometimes he’d even look back at them with a cheeky grin, like he just couldn’t believe it either. it was obscene, but they couldn’t stop you. you were soft, yes — but what bunny wanted, bunny got — and it just so appeared that bunny wanted to slum it with some blonde stoner from the cut, so for now they’d have to bite their tongue until you learn your lesson.

jj can’t spoil you like he wants to, no— he’s broke, and plus there wasn’t much you didn’t already have. but he’ll be damned if he didn’t give you the princess treatment, it was the least he could do for perving on his sweet, innocent best friend who knew no better (right?)

what this entails, is never having the power to tell you no. you need picking up from a kook party because you’re too tipsy and he certainly doesn’t trust rafe cameron to see it to it that you’re safe? he’s already outside, and has been for twenty minutes. you wanna learn how to smoke weed because you’ve never done it before? it’s better off he teaches you anyway, right? he would put his foot down with you, clearly needing some guidance and ‘taming’ if you will, but it’s harder than it seems.

“please, jayj?” you cling to his arm stood at his side, plush tits pressed against his bicep and eyelashes batting up at him routinely.

“nah, don’t do that.” he groans, shutting his eyes.

“pleaaaase?”

“you know it’s like, really not fair to pull the doe eyes on me. disappointing you is like… choking out a baby rabbit or something.”

“so you’ll come with me?” you muse hopefully and his eyes flutter, bordering on a roll as he licks his lips.

“fine, okay? fine.”

“weak.” john b passes by, clucking his tongue with a smug head shake.

“weak and pussy whipped.” pope follows him, bringing his can to his lips.

he’s also always getting looped into all of your girly shit somehow. “lets uh, keep this our special little secret, yeah cupcake?” he’s likely to say from your bedroom wearing a robe too small for him with cucumbers on his eyes, a victim of your ‘spa day’— which he secretly agreed to because he saw the potential of some possible feel-ups. maybe a massage, or showering together. not this shit.

you’ve also heard the phrase. “aint no way you’ve tied a pink ribbon to my bike again, princess.” more times than you can count. again, girly shit.

it does pay off though, the pogue tucked up in your pristine bed when your parents are out of town, whistling jokingly when you arrive back from the shower with just a towel tied round you.

“ooo—wee, aint that a sight.” he calls and you giggle, walking over to his side.

“not ashamed of anythin’ around you, jayj— just that comfortable. look!” you pull the towel off, giggling and doing a spin as you reveal your still dripping naked figure, pretty much the blondes wet dream presented before him.

it’s safe to say he nearly loses composure, but he’ll settle for you riling yourself up based purely on his reaction and praise, writhing your naked body on his lap only fifteen minutes later, humping him through his sweatpants.

“th—this isn’t normal for best friends, jj!” you mewl, body still warm and damp as he paws at you anywhere he can get his hands on.

“sure it is, sweetcheeks. don’t even trip.”

୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 ⋅🐰 ˖°

#bimbokendall #jj maybank prompt #bunny!reader

[halsteadlover]

𝐌𝐫. & 𝐌𝐫𝐬. 𝐇𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐝

*Gif and pics not mine credits to the owner*

• Pairing: Jay Halstead x Fem!Reader.

• Requested: no.

• Summary: you and Jay finally got married but even on your weeding day you can’t seem to be able to keep your hands off each other so you sneak out during the party to have a quick rendezvous.

• Warnings: smut (18+), dirty talking, lots of cursing, fingering, oral sex (m. receiving) unprotected sex (don’t be like them fellas!!!), semi-public sex, so much fluff you’ll drown in it.

• Word count: 7800.

• A/N: PLEASE READ THIS ONLY IF YOU’RE 18+ minors stay away. I’m actually shit at writing summaries y’all can tell. I’m so excited for this fic so y’all better eat this up 😭 I really hope you’ll like it, please let me know what you think and comment, like and reblog, it’d mean the world. Stay safe and love you all xx

“And I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride.”

It was surreal.

You and Jay were finally husband and wife and you couldn't believe it.

“I can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you,” he had whispered on your lips when you exchanged your first kiss as husband and wife, your heart bursting with joy and happiness.

On the way to the wedding venue Jay did nothing but kiss and caress your ring finger, still in disbelief you really decided to marry him. You were his, forever.

You couldn’t stop grinning.

Everything seemed more beautiful. The colors were brighter, the air cleaner, the sky bluer, the trees greener.

Everyone present including colleagues, friends, family could see how happy you both were, how much you doted on each other, how much you were in love. There wasn’t anyone who hadn't thought at least once how much they would’ve liked to experience a love like yours. So pure, genuine, crazy, overwhelming.

Jay didn't take his eyes or hands off of you for even a second.

He kept looking at you and the more he saw you smiling, laughing, so happy and carefree, the more he couldn't contain his disbelief. God, he would’ve given you the fucking moon if it meant always seeing that smile on your face. You were so unbelievably beautiful especially in that white dress, which hugged your body so perfectly it seemed to be sewn on you.

My wife.

My wife.

My wife.

He kept repeating in his mind.

How the hell did he get so lucky?

His hand circled your hips with a firm, possessive grip, while his thumb caressed the fabric of the dress that covered your skin. He couldn’t help but stealing kisses from you from time to time, between a ‘congratulations’ and another, whispering how much he loved you and how fabulous you looked in your wedding dress.

“Did I already tell you how stunning you are, my love?” Jay asked as his eyes ran up and down your body, holding you to him with so much passion and desire you felt like you were dying in his arms.

You both had inaugurated the dance floor by doing the first dance and while those present watched the scene with emotion, some of your relatives took videos with their cell phones, unaware of the things that Jay was whispering to you and just seeing with how much adoration you looked at each other.

You smiled as you talked, slowly swaying to the song’s rhythm, unaware of how much your eyes sparkled as you looked at him. He looked at you with just as much admiration, his cheeks aching from how much he was smiling, his heart exploding with joy. Even someone blind could tell how much that man loved and adored you, how much he venerated you, how much he worshiped the land you walked on.

“You're not half bad either Mr Halstead,” you replied with a cheeky smile, unable to take your eyes off him and how wonderfully the suit he was wearing looked on him “God, I just want to rip your clothes off right now,” you continued, not realizing you had actually said it out loud.

Jay's arms tightened around your hips, pulling you further into his body and trying to hide how that one sentence made him feel. “Baby don't talk to me like that… I'm already trying so hard not to drag you away right now. You really want to make me lose my mind?” He warned you in a low tone, his lips brushing your ear before leaving a soft kiss on your cheek. He then sighed with frustration making you chuckle. “I don't think I can last the whole day.”

The song came to an end before you could respond and before you knew it everybody was drunkly dancing around you.

Your feet were sore as you and Jay danced with friends and relatives and you would’ve paid gold to take off those damned torture machines.

Seriously, why did heels have to hurt so much?

You were hot, sweaty but happy, like you had never been before. Jay wasn't much for dancing so he eventually went to talk to some other guests but he was having the time of his life and couldn’t take his eyes off you as he watched you dance, the way your body moved to the music, the way your curves were hugged by your wedding dress, the the way you sprayed happiness from every pore.

The love he felt for you was so unconditional, powerful and intense in such a way it took the air out of his lungs, it made the blood boil in his veins, it consumed him deeply, burned him from inside.

He had never once in his life felt anything like this, not until he met you. It felt like constantly being punched in the stomach every time you looked or smiled at him, it felt like his heart skipped a beat every time he heard your laugh, making it dance to that melody he couldn't wait to hear for the rest of his life. That kind of love was so profound that even when you were sad or cried, he felt like a piece of him was being ripped out of his body, especially when he couldn’t do anything to make you feel better.

He lived for you, breathed for you only, to a point he couldn’t even function when you weren’t by his side.

“Okay, okay, enough, I'd like to dance with my wife now,” Jay's voice made you turn and you almost tripped over your own feet when your eyes landed on him.

He was standing behind you, looking at you with a gorgeous and mischievous smile on his lips, his hands shoved in the pockets of his suit. He exuded confidence from every pore of his body and you couldn’t even explain how you managed to get that man. He was so charming, so dreamy and insanely hot, he completely took your breath away.

My husband.

Wow. How the hell did I get so lucky?

You smiled at him and the friend you were dancing with raised her hands in surrender. “She’s all yours Halstead but treat her right or I’ll kill you.”

His eyes traveled down your body, running his tongue over his bottom lip after biting it as his gaze devoured you with so much intensity and desire that every cell in your body lit up on fire. “She’s in excellent hands Clara, don't worry.”

“Ugh you’re disgusting. Stop eye-fucking my friend in front of me.”

You laughed as he wrapped an arm around your waist, now looking at Clara. “Can you blame me? C’mon look at her.”

“I’m still here and I can here you, you know,” you intervened, giggling as your arm encircled his hips too.

“I'm watching you Halstead, just remember that,” she warned him with an amused look and pointing her finger at him before walking away and going to grab another drink.

Jay then let you go and turned your body to his, holding out a hand towards you, finally meeting your gaze again. “Would you give me the honor of this dance, Mrs Halstead?”.

The way that name slipped from his lips made you melt like a snowman under the heat of the sun's rays, God how much you loved the way it sounded.

Mrs Halstead. Fuck me.

“The honor is all mine Mr. Halstead,” You grabbed his hand and before you knew it you were already pressed against his chest while his arms wrapped again around your hips possessively, almost as if he was afraid to let you go.

“My gorgeous wife” he whispered while swaying to the rhythm of the music. A rush of shivers ran down your spine forming goosebumps all over your skin. “Do you have any idea how much you drive me crazy? I’m so obsessed with you baby.”

His lips left small, sweet kisses on your lips, making you have a hard time to respond. You giggled as his beard tickled you meanwhile he planted chaste kisses along your cheek and neck. He inhaled your scent deeply, a scent he’d never could live without.

“And I’m so obsessed with you.” You wrapped your arms around his neck as his hands slid down the small of your back, resting chastely on your ass. “You make me so insanely happy Mr Halstead.”

Anyone who saw you two would say you were just a beautiful couple dancing happily on the best day of their lives.

But the things Jay was whispering in your ear were far from innocent, they would’ve made even a porn star blush.

“God I can't wait to take this dress off you,” he had said as your bodies moved in time to the music. He had turned you around, pressing your back against his chest and wrapping his arms around your waist. There was a lively song playing at the moment, the bass so loud you could hear it across the room and you couldn't deny you were grinding against him more sensually than you would other times on purpose.

You couldn't control yourself, not when it came to him.

Jay had the ability to make you give in with just two simple words whispered in your ear. Normally you couldn't keep your hands to yourself for a long time, your sexual chemistry had always been high and this moment was no different. You wanted him so badly you almost forgot you were on the dance floor celebrating your wedding.

You almost moaned when you felt his erection pressed against your ass, hard and sore, repressing the instinct to get on your knees and pull down his pants in front of everyone.

“Baby,” he murmured against your ear, leaving wet kisses on your neck. “God the things I would do to you now…”

Your stomach tightened in a vice as the heat in your lower abdomen continued to expand. “Tell me darling. What would you do to me now?” You replied in a question, pressing your ass further against his dick.

God I hope no one notices.

Jay let out a sigh that went straight to your pussy, making your legs clench in desire. “Fuck please stop, I can't take this anymore,” his arms tightened around your hips even more, as if trying to let out the frustration. He felt like he was exploding and the more you kept grinding against him, so sensually to the music’s rhythm, the more he wanted to rip your dress off and fuck you in front of all the guests.

You turned towards him again, placing your hands on his chest and caressing him slowly and sensually while batting your eyelashes seductively as you looked at him.

Jay thought he’d come in his pants just from the way you were looking at him.

His eyes were now hungrily fixed on your lips, which he wanted so desperately wrapped around his hard dick.

“So?” You urged with a smirk on your lipstick-covered lips. “What would you do to me baby?”.

Jay placed his hands on your face, caressing your cheeks with his thumbs. “You really want to know what I would do to my wife right now?”.

You were so desperate you nodded as if you were possessed, God, you would’ve done anything that man asked you. That man that was now your husband.

It's so surreal.

He licked his lips as his eyes moved up and down your body for a moment, quickly but at the same time imprinting every detail of how that dress looked on you in his memory, before returning his eyes to your face and tracing with them the outline of your lips.

“It would be better if I showed her, don't you think?” he whispered against your lips, making you forget again you were in public and not just the two of you.

“Wouldn't it be better if I just showed her the way I would take off her dress and get on my knees for her? Wouldn't it be better if I showed her how much I want and desire her by licking her pussy and every bit and drop of her wetness until her legs tremble? By fucking her so hard until we both forget our names? By being buried so deep inside that sweet little cunt of hers that she’s gonna feel me for days?”.

He pressed his lips on yours in a chaste and sweet kiss, in stark contrast with the things he was saying to you. “And show her how hard I am inside my pants just by looking at her in this dress? Show her how happy I am that she’s my wife? That I get to keep her forever?”.

That's it.

You slightly pulled away from him and grabbed his hand before leading him away from the dance floor and out of the wedding reception, not caring if someone actually saw you two leave. Your free hand held the edge of your dress as the two of you walked down the hall. He followed you like a puppy, a stupid, inebriated smile on his lips, his body quivering with anticipation and frenzy.

You arrived in front of a door that marked ‘storage room’ on its nameplate and looked around noticing that no one was there. You opened the door and pulled Jay inside with you and before you could even fully turn towards him, his hands were already on your face and his lips had captured yours in a kiss that took the breath out of your lungs.

He closed the door with his feet as he devoured you in a passionate and devastating kiss. Never letting you go, he removed one hand from your face before locking the door, returning his full attention to you immediately after.

He didn't know why but that was one of the most beautiful and breathtaking kiss you had ever exchanged, so overwhelming it made his knees weak and his stomach twist.

It may have been the fact that was the first real and passionate kiss as a married couple, maybe it was because he could finally call you his wife, because he could do this for the rest of his life, but all of this drove him like crazy.

“God I want you so much baby,” you breathed out in a little moment of separation. He didn't give you room to do or say anything else because he started kissing you again so intensely that a hit train would’ve been less crushing.

You slightly parted your lips and his tongue slid in your mouth without hesitation as they moved in sync against each other. Your dragged your hands along his chest, touching every bit of his body you could reach, almost shaking from the frenzy and desire of wanting to touch his heated skin.

A deep moan vibrated in his throat when you sucked on his tongue, making him lose that shred of sanity he had left. He pushed you against the wall, his body pressed against yours as he continued to kiss you passionately and greedily.

“You'll be the death of me,” he murmured against your lips as he planted kisses up your jaw and down to your neck. His tongue wet your skin as he nibbled it, his lips sucking at the same time making you gasp and writhe in pleasure. “I want to fucking rip this dress off you.”

You giggled – since the feeling was pretty much reciprocated – eyes still half closed as you enjoyed the sensation his lips gave you. “Don't you dare, it was expensive as fuck.”

He suddenly pulled away from you and a cold feeling took over you at that distance. His eyes traveled down your body and how your wedding dress hugged every single curve perfectly, fuck, it felt like it had been sculpted on you, like it was made just for you to wear.

He just wanted to take a good look at you, imprint in his memory every single detail of you in your white wedding dress.

But the way he looked at you, God. He was like a predator about to haunt his prey, glaring at it with desire, ready to capture it and devour its flesh with voracity and hunger. You felt so beautiful, like you could rule the world, like you were unstoppable, and you could only thank your husband for that.

“Fuck baby…” His chest rising and falling heavily due to that ardent kiss. He bit his bottom lip so hard he thought it’d start bleeding. He shook his head slightly as he continued to look at you lustfully, as if he could hardly believe you really existed, that you were actually his. “My beautiful, perfect wife…” He sighed. “I could just come from looking at you damn it.”

You pulled him back to you by the collar of his jacket and had to use all the strength you had in your body not to tear it off him along with that shirt. You kissed him again as your hands roamed down his body. You just couldn't take it anymore, you felt you’d explode soon or later if you didn't have him immediately.

You slipped his jacket off his shoulders, dropping it to the floor and hastily unbuttoned his shirt, eager to finally touch him, feel his skin against yours.

He did the same, unzipping your dress and you pulled away as he helped you step out of it. You didn't care if it got dirty or even ripped, you were just eager to finally have him, to feel him, your mind too foggy to think about anything other than Jay. But he took your dress instead of dropping it on the floor and placed it on an empty chair there.

This gesture made you smile with happiness and with every passing second you couldn't help but think about how you couldn't have chosen a better man to be your husband.

It was only then that Jay realized what you were wearing underneath your wedding dress, that vision alone almost making him fall unconscious on the floor. You were wearing one of the sexiest and most breathtaking white lingerie he had ever seen you wear and this made him regret not dragging you out that dance floor sooner.

My fucking wife.

“Baby… Jesus Christ…” he sighed heavily as he looked at you with so much lust and hunger, his mouth and his eyes wide open. “You… Wow… You’re so fucking beautiful… Holy shit…”

“I guess you like it then,” you giggled like a schoolgirl and grabbed his hands, pulling him back to you. He wasted no time touching you, caressing your curves and sliding his hand down your back until he grabbed your ass. He squeezed and massaged it with so much passion you were sure he’d leave some marks.

“Is this what you were hiding from me under that dress? Fuck if I had known I would’ve fucked you on that damn dance floor in front of everyone.” He started to grind his pelvis with yours and making you moan when his hard dick pressed against your intimacy.

“Jay please…” you sighed as he continued to grind against you, making you lose your mind. God you wanted him so much you it hurt.

His lips kept brushing his lips against yours, pulling back when you tried to kiss him and chuckling at your frustration.

“My sweet beautiful wife,” he murmured and placed his lips on your neck, on that particular spot that he knew made you lose your mind. A small moan left your mouth as he began to lick and suck at your skin again and you tilted your head, giving him more access. “I can't wait to be inside you.”

You grabbed his face and pressed your mouth on his, kissing him voraciously and passionately. It was like you were burning inside, as if your soul was trying to escape from inside your body and merge with his.

You had reached the point where you couldn't hold on for a second longer, you wanted your husband, you wanted him to take you there against those cold walls while all the guests danced in the wedding reception unaware of what you were doing.

You frantically unbuttoned his pants and pulled them down along with his boxers and freeing his hard erection, after sliding his shirt down his arms and leaving him naked in all his glory. You wrapped your hand around his erected dick and he let out a throaty moan, so fucking sexy you found yourself squeezing your legs together for some relief.

“Fuck yes…” he groaned as he struggled to continue kissing you while your hand pumped up and down on his dick. “I want to fuck this pretty mouth so bad,” he placed a hand on your cheek as his thumb caressed your lips. You took it into your mouth, licking and sucking it while your eyes were fixed on his.

He stopped when another loud moan left his mouth and he tilted his head back, his mind too clouded with pleasure. “Shh… You don’t want anyone to hear us don’t you love?” You smirked as you let go of his thumb.

“I don't give a fuck, I just need you,” he whimpered in an increasingly desperate tone.

“Yeah? How bad do you need me baby? Tell me,” you whispered sensually, biting his bottom lip as you slowed the pace of your hand and earning a frustrated verse from him.

“Fuck… Stop playing with me,” he warned you while at the same time his hips buckled up to meet your hand’s motion. You drew imaginary circles on his tip with your thumb, wet from the stain of precum. “Fucking tease,” he hissed before kissing you again. It was a sloppy and messy kiss, his tongue exploring every inch of your mouth, your saliva mixing with each other.

“Now get on your knees.”

Your pussy clenched at the sound of those words and you were never so happy to obey. You were about to kneel down but before you could, he picked up his jacket from the ground and placed it in front of you, making you smile like an idiot.

If there was one thing that Jay cared about more than anything it was knowing that you were comfortable, everything else came second and this was one of the many things you loved about him: how thoughtful and caring he was, even at certain times you always came first.

“I love you so much, you know that?” You kissed him sweetly, making him smile.

“It’ll be better for you since I put a ring on that finger.” He chuckled. “And I love you so much more.”

Your heart exploded in your chest and you kissed him one last time before kneeling down, your eyes still in his as he watched with attention every little movement you made.

You jerked him off again before moving your face closer to his dick, sticking your tongue out and he almost fainted… Fuck, he wanted to take a picture of that moment so badly, he would’ve printed it out and hung it all over your home because that vision alone was pure heaven.

Maybe it wasn't a proper thing to do to compare the image of you with his dick in your hand and your tongue sticking out to heaven, but he was too distracted to think about it.

A deep, guttural moan escaped his mouth as you traced a long wet line with your tongue from the base of his dick to the tip, which went straight to his pussy, forcing you to squeeze your legs together again.

“Ah holy shit…” he sighed, breaking off with another moan when you drew circles on his tip with your tongue just as you had done with your thumb not long before, tasting the saltiness of the leaking precum. “Fuck baby please stop torturing me…”

You smirked before wrapping your lips around his veiny dick and taking it fully into your mouth, starting a steady rhythm as you bobbed your head up and down his shaft.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he whimpered in pleasure as the heat of your mouth enveloped him. His eyes were half closed, his lips slightly parted as he struggled to maintain control and not make any noises. But it was so fucking hard, especially when your eyes were looking at him with so much sensuality they took the air out of his chest, not when your mouth was making him more ecstatic than any drug that existed.

“Yeah baby just like that… Oh yes… My sweet girl…”

He threw his head back, giving you a perfect view of his neck, his prominent jawline and veins and that alone was one of the hottest, sexiest things you had ever seen in your entire life.

His moans filled that little storage room and you hoped for a second no one was passing by or they would’ve surely heard him, but this thought immediately vanished, too caught up to his pleasure to care about the rest of the world.

Jay began to move his hips, fucking your mouth and hitting the back of your throat with the tip of his dick. “Shit, shit…” he loudly moaned “God you’re so fucking pretty with my dick in your mouth.”

And it was true.

You were so breathtakingly beautiful. Especially with your watery eyes, the mascara running down your cheeks, your lips swollen and pink as they continued to grind on his shaft, back and forth, again and again.

You tried not to gag while he continued to fuck your throat with particular voracity but it was almost impossible, just as it was becoming difficult to breathe as his dick kept completely filling your mouth.

“Y-yes baby… Oh fuck… That mouth of yours will be the death of me.”

Even though you were the one on your knees, you felt so powerful. Damn it, how much you loved knowing you were the only one who could make him feel this way, that you were the only one whose mouth he could fuck so mercilessly it almost made you choke on his dick, knowing that his moans, his sighs and whimpers were only and solely for you, knowing that it was only you who was making him lose his mind so badly.

He placed a hand on your head, threading his fingers into your styled hair, tugging and making you moan onto his dick. God you loved it when he did that, and he knew it.

Sensing you were having trouble breathing, Jay pulled his dick out of your mouth, taking it into his hand. “Stick out your tongue.”

You did as he said, feeling every cell in your body go up in flames.

“Such a good girl. My baby is so good for me."

He smirked as he began to slam his dick against your tongue which left a long stream of saliva on it, his other hand still in your hair as he continued to maneuver your head to his liking.

“You like that huh? You like being my pretty little slut?”.

“Fuck yes baby, please use me.”

He put his dick in your mouth again, letting out some of the most borderline pornographic moans you’ve ever heard along with strings of obscenities and profanities.

“My wife is so dirty… Oh god yeah… She likes being dirty for me?” He groaned and you managed to nod while looking at me through your lashes. It didn't take long for him to feel the orgasm starting to build inside him and he had to stop, not being able to hold on any longer.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck stop baby, you're gonna make me come,” he panted as if he'd run a marathon, stepping back and letting his dick pop out of your mouth. “I… Fuck, I need to be inside you.”

Before you could say or do anything, he helped you get on your feet and pressed his lips to yours still swollen, wet and pink from the killer blowjob you had just given him. He pressed your back against the cold wall but you didn't care, you were too hot to notice.

A moan escaped your lips this time when he moved your lace panties to the side with his fingers and slid them over your pussy.

“Fuck… Baby, ah yeah…”

“So fucking wet god… You drive me insane, I can't wait to be inside this pussy,” he kissed your neck as his fingers drew imaginary circles on your clit giving you the pleasure you so much needed.

Your hips began to slowly rotate following the same movement he was doing, your mind clouded with pleasure as you felt yourself already on the verge of an orgasm. God you were so horny, you didn't think you'd ever been this eager to fuck him.

“Look at that, fuck me, you're soaking my hands baby…”

“Bab-… Fuck yes… Please…” you babbled senselessly, struggling to keep at bay the moans and sighs that had taken the place of Jay's and were filling the storage room at that moment. “I… I can't…”

You wrapped an arm around his neck while grabbing his bicep with the other hand, trying to find some support because you felt like you’d collapse on the floor at any moment.

Your lips nibbled and sucked the skin of his neck making him sigh in your ear, on one hand to keep your almost uncontainable moans and on the other because you wanted to mark him, because you loved seeing what you did to him, you loved knowing he has only yours.

“Ah yeah… Fuck…” you hissed, biting down on his skin when he penetrated you with two fingers.

“Yes baby, fuck yourself on my fingers. Show me how much you like when your husband touches you like that.”

“J-Jay… Oh shit… I need you please…” you managed to stammer between moans. You felt like you were about to come but you needed to feel him, you needed his dick inside you.

Jay pulled his fingers out and you almost had a heart attack when he brought them to his lips. Without his eyes ever leaving yours, he licked away every trace of your fluids, humming with pleasure as he tasted you.

“You taste like heaven, I can't wait to lick every fucking drop and make you come on my face.”

“Jay I'm about to lose my goddamn mind. Please hurry up.”

He chuckled and brought his hands to your ass, pressing your half covered pussy by your panties still pulled aside against his dick, making both of you sigh with desire.

“What do you want baby? Tell me.”

You grabbed his face with your hands, pressing your mouth against his and sliding your tongue inside his when he slightly parted his lips. His hands continued to massage your now red ass, pressing his fingers hard as you kept grinding against each other.

“I want my husband to fuck me against this wall,” you whispered against his lips, pink and swollen from your impetuous kisses, your noses brushing.

My husband.

These simple words made him feel a sensation he couldn’t quite describe, an explosion of emotions that caused an electric shock to go through his entire body, which made his heart beat wildly and his legs feel like jelly.

It was pure melody.

It was so sweet and sexy at the same time, it made him was so happy he felt like he was touching the sky with a finger. He was your fucking husband and he couldn’t still fathom the idea he really managed to make you his wife.

Jay crashed his lips against yours again, sucking out that little trace of your soul you still had left in your body. He was eager to possess you, to feel you, to show you how much he loved and wanted you.

His hands lowered to your thighs and you took that as a sign to jump into his arms. With almost astonishing ease, he lifted you up and you wrapped your legs around his hips and your arms around his neck.

Your back was pressed against the cold wall but it didn't bother you, you couldn't even feel it. With one hand he held your thigh, while the other stroked his dick a couple of times before aligning it towards your entrance, penetrating you with a single slow thrust and making both of you to let out a loud and deep moan.

“Jesus Christ, fuck…” he moaned, using every ounce of his will and strength not to come instantly. His other hand settled on your thigh again and his fingers pressed so hard they felt like they were going to tear your skin at any moment.

Jay had his face buried in the crook of your neck, his lips wide open as if trying to get some air, his breathing quickened.

“Shit baby you feel so good inside me,” you breathed out as his dick stretched out every corner of your vagina. He wasn't even moving and you were already falling apart. “Please move…”

Jay pulled out of you slightly just to penetrate you again, this time with more force. He started moving his hips slowly, in and out of you, making you crave for more. But it didn't take long for him to start fucking you like his life depended on it, his thrusts now stronger.

He was thrusting so deep you could feel him in every corner of your body and a piece of you disintegrating with each passing second. Your arms held him close to you, your fingers on his shoulders while your nails slid across his skin, leaving marks that would probably stay there for days.

“God baby I can't get enough of you, f-fuck…” he groaned in your ear as his lips left trails of wet kisses on your neck and his tongue licked your sweaty skin.

You tried to answer but the pleasure was so intense, so high you couldn’t get anything out of your mouth other than a moan or a whimper. It felt so fucking good you couldn't even describe it.

A particularly loud moan escaped your lips as he gave a particular deep thrust, making you almost jump out of your skin as he hit your G-spot. “Oh my fucking god… Just like that… Oh yeah baby…”

“That's it, moan for for me princess. You’re being so good.”

He raised his head from the crook of your neck so he could look at you. You opened your eyes and met his eyes shining with luxury and passion, his pupils so dilated you couldn’t see the green of his irises.

His dick twitched inside you as he continued to fuck you against the wall mercilessly, and seeing you so deeply in the throes of pleasure, your mouth slightly open, your cheeks flushed, your eyes half closed… He was going crazy.

You kept looking at each other’s eyes, extending the deep connection between you two to another level. It wasn’t just your bodies that were fucking, but your souls too and you would’ve payed gold to stop the time and live this moment over and over again, forever.

“I love you so much baby, God I love you.”

“Fuck.” He crashed his lips into yours in a messy and sloppy kiss due to the continuous gasps interrupting you. You rested your forehead on his, both covered in a thin layer of sweat.

“Mine.”

He kissed you as his dick soaked with your fluids continued to thrust in and out of your pussy.

“Mine.”

He kissed you again.

“Mine.”

He kissed you once again, sucking and biting your lower lip but stopped by another moan as your walls clenched around him making him struggle to even stand still.

“God… Oh yes baby keep going… Please…” you spluttered and closed your eyes as you felt your orgasm take over you.

“Don't close your eyes, please look at me… Ah Jesus… Fuck yeah keep clenching around me like that, you’re such a good girl for me baby.”

You did as he said as you placed your hands on his face looking into his eyes and feeling that sensation of pressure twisting and clenching your insides.

“I love you, fuck… S-so much…” you cried out again now, your mind completely gone. Your eyes started to water from the intensity of his thrusts and you felt like you were going to implode in that same instant. “I'm coming, I'm coming, I’m coming please don’t stop…”

A loud moan escaped your lips as an overwhelming orgasm hit you like a truck, almost giving you a heart attack. Your arms encircled his neck again, your nails scratching the skin of his shoulders.

You didn't know if you could die from an orgasm but damn that was exactly how you felt. It was like someone made you fall from a ten-story building without a parachute.

Jay exploded in an orgasm after a few more thrusts, filling your pussy with his cum until the last drop before pulling out. He exhaustedly rested his head on your shoulder leaving small, sweet kisses on your neck.

The silence that now reigned in the storage room was only broken by your panting while you both tried to catch your breath as if you had just run a marathon.

You felt so good in that moment, like your body was floating in space and you didn't know if it was the thrill of being discovered, if it was the wedding, but that was the best sex you had ever had.

“God I can't feel my body anymore,” you murmured and he chuckled as you stroked the hair on the back of his head, leaving kisses on his cheek in the meantime.

That little room smelled of him, you and sex and you had never smelled a more sublime fragrance.

“Can we stay here forever?”.

“I'm afraid we still have a party to attend,” he tiredly chuckled again. Jay raised his head to look at you, a stupid smile on his lips, his heart happy. “Do you have any idea how fucking beautiful you are angel?”.

You smiled and gave him a kiss on the lips, this time sweet and gentle in contrast to the ones exchanged so far. “And you're a flatterer Mr Halstead, I know I look awful right now, my makeup is all ruined.”

“You’ve never been more beautiful than you are now Mrs Halstead. You look like you've been fucked properly.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, already starting to imagine the jokes and teasing your friends would make as soon as they’d see you, not to mention the embarrassment in front of your relatives and family.

You decided you’d think about this at the right time.

After both of your regained a bit of strength again, Jay carefully put you down but wrapping an arm around your waist when your knees buckled and you nearly fell to the ground.

“Wipe that stupid grin off your face,” you commented with mock annoyance when you noticed the smug, proud expression he was looking at you with and the way he was trying not to chuckle.

“I take full credit,” he laughed and before you could respond he silenced you with a kiss, making you forget what you even wanted to say.

After getting dressed, Jay helped you put your wedding dress back on, zipping it up your back and helping you fix your hair and what was left of your makeup as much as he could. He left a kiss on your right shoulder as his hands stroked up and down your arms. “I don't want to go back there.”

He kept planting kisses on your shoulder and up towards the crook of your neck and your jaw until he reached your cheek which he insisted on, making you smile stupidly. His arms wrapped around your hips from behind, pressing your body against him and holding you until you were almost breathless.

“Where did the ‘we have a party to attend’ go?” You teased him, meanwhile placing your hands on his and caressing them.

“I want you all to myself, I'm not ready to share you with other people again, plus now I want to fuck you again.”

You laughed, feeling your cheeks heat up. “Already?“.

“Already? Baby I would spend twenty-four hours a day and seven days a week buried deep inside you, don't act like you don't know me c'mon.” He kissed you again. “And above all seeing my cum dripping out of you and this damn lingerie drives me crazy, you can’t seriously expect me to resist you.”

You turned to him and cupped his face in your hands before pressing your lips against his as his arms encircled your hips again. A flock of butterflies exploded inside your stomach and he kissed you breathtakingly, making you lose the ground beneath your feet.

“I love you so much,” you whispered between kisses, forgetting again that the two of you had been locked in that storage room for God knew how long. “I'm so happy I married you.”

He smiled as you kissed him again, almost making you kiss his teeth. He’d never get tired of hearing it, no matter how much you had said it. “God baby I love you so much more.” He held you even tighter, as if he wanted to somehow get under your skin and steal your soul, which he had actually been doing for so long.

“My wife, my wife, my wife,” he continued to whisper, stealing several more kisses from you, kisses that he actually couldn't even manage to give you because of the way you couldn't stop smiling.

“You make my heart so happy.”

“Stop you're going to make me cry,” you hit him lightly on the shoulder covered by his jacket, feeling your eyes fill with tears.

God, could you love someone so much it hurt? Because that's how you felt.

You loved that man so much. So intensely you couldn't sleep when he wasn't there, so much you missed him even when he was just a few meters away from you, so deeply you couldn't imagine a life without him since the moment you met him.

You had always dreamed of an everlasting love, the kind that took your breath away just by thinking of it, that fairytale love, that love you had always read in novels and seen in films and Jay Halstead gave you all this and much more than you ever imagined or deserved.

He was peace.

He was home.

He was everything you had ever wanted and more.

Jay took your hands in his, bringing them to his lips and leaving a kiss on both of them, focusing in particular on your ring finger. His eyes shone like the ring’s stone at that moment and you looked at them mesmerized, thinking about how lucky you were to be able to do this all your life.

“We should go back there…” you murmured in a low voice, already sad for having to break that little bubble in which you took refuge even if not for a long time.

He snorted like a child but nodded. “I can't wait to have you all for myself.”

He intertwined his fingers with yours before unlocking the door and peeking out for a moment to see if anyone was nearby.

“Shit,” he muttered, immediately closing the door again when he saw a waiter walking down the hall holding an empty tray.

You let out a laugh when you saw his expression and he covered your mouth with his hand. “Shh, they'll hear us.”

“Baby we were fucking against the wall ten minutes ago, I'd say we're a little late for that don’t you think?” you whispered back, taking his hand away and looking at him with a raised eyebrow.

He playfully rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah whatever. Now kiss me.”

Before you could say anything he pulled you towards him by your hips, pressing his lips on yours. His body was pressed against the door and yours against his, your arms around his neck and his around your waist as his hands slid on your ass while you made out like teenagers hiding from your own parents.

“I'll never get tired of kissing you, it'll never be enough,” he whispered against your lips, nibbling and sucking your lower lip, making you sigh.

“I know what you're doing, stop it. Until proven otherwise it's still our wedding and we have to celebrate it,” you admonished him, dropping your hands to his chest and slightly pushing yourself away from him. You got a sound of disappointment in response, just what a child would do.

“You know what’s a great way to celebrate? Having sex. C'mon baby, come here.” He tried to put his hands on your hips again but you took a step back, crossing your arms over your chest in mock disappointment.

“We have a whole life to have wild sex. You don’t want to celebrate your wedding with your wife?”.

“Drop the act baby, I’m not falling for it,” he boop your nose with his index finger, a gesture that immediately made you smile even though you tried so hard to hold it back. “Of course I want to celebrate with you, that's not what I meant. This is the best day of my life.”

He chuckled before grabbing your hand and moving away from the door. He opened it again and like a few moments before, he checked no one was coming. When he realized that no one was passing by at that moment, you both left the storage room and he closed the door behind you.

You both smoothed your dress even though it was totally useless, anyone from a mile away could tell you had some hot sex just some moments before.

But you didn't care, it was your day, yours and Jay's and damn, you were free to do whatever you wanted even if it meant sneaking out of your own party to have sex in a storage room.

Okay, it wasn't a very proper thing to do but what could you say, all couples consummated their marriage on their wedding night, you and Jay had just rushed things along.

So you walked hand in hand with your fingers intertwined towards the wedding reception, both of you with a stupid and joyful smile on your faces and happy as you had never been, ready to get drunk and finally start your life together.

General tag list: @hngbrooks, @alexxavicry, @mrspeacem1nusone, @halstead-severide-fan, @allivzs, @omniaimy, @cursedashes, @klovesreading, @kmc1989

Jay Halstead tag list: @burgstead, @bebataylor84, @ares-kelani-wayne, @ixna-mikaelsxn, @sande5098, @smoothdogsgirl, @withakindheartx, @jess2013, @maddu-oliveira, @lovemesomepietro, @onechicagodrawings, @jinxtan18, @ready hit-it, @rainroo2, @tinfoilhat2719, @upsteadlovingheart, @nevaehstreater18, @sophiatellerrhodes, @dedlund82, @kellykidd, @rippI3s, @stephanie708, @annahargrove, @smutlOver, @kuroe-san, @caroldanverwife, @baby, @nosy09, @luvreading67, @danielmarie, @saiyuo12, @nachodaze, @waywardhunter95, @deanstead, @fighterkimburgess, @ephemeral314, @mads-weasley, @itskellysev, @lovemedlife, @atarmychick007, @amazedbyitall, @glodessa, @xeleni-dutchnurse, @ossypooh, @itriedtoexplain, @randomwriter1021, @averyhotchner, @ellavanderberg, @mrshalsteadxx, @junevoidzombie, @nocturnalherb16, @croissantthief, @jayhalsteadsbadge, @youngblood199456, @dreamss-wavess, @halsteadloversworld, @laaaauuraaaaa, @firerusher, @itserickalove, @23victoria, @slytherlight, @goingwiththewind, @notanordinaryprincess95, @cadyfanninger, @acewritesfics, @iloveest, @instantpizzacat, @wickedlovely121, @hart-kinsella, @novabckly

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[commodorez]

What was the purpose of the panels of blinking lights on those big mid-century computers? Were they showing calculations in progress?

Excellent question, this is one of my favorite subjects! Blinkenlights serve a number of functions. Hollywood tended to use just the lights to make it look like a computer was busy doing something, but real computers had more than just lights on their front panel. Let's walk through a few examples of use cases with photos of computers I've seen over the years at museums and vintage computer festivals:

Some front panels were built to be used for diagnostics. Computers like these were primitive enough that they required constant care and debugging to do their jobs, especially the early vacuum tube machines (everything pictured here is transistorized). You could tell what peripherals were being used, but also check the status of registers, carry flags, status flags, data, various buses, etc. It was also a way to see if a program had "gone off into the weeds" and started doing things that were irregular, possibly due to a software bug, or a problem with the hardware.

On many of these machines, you can enter programs directly into the main memory using the front panel, but it's an incredibly tedious process -- something to be avoided if possible. Consider it a last fallback.

Other times, it's a starting point, which we call "bootstrapping" (this eventually evolved into the term "booting"). You aren't likely to program everything on such a limited interface, but you are more likely to enter in a small program that can tell the computer how to run a more complex peripheral, like a paper tape or punch card reader, or maybe some type of magnetic storage device. Once you can get a program loading off of a larger permanent storage device, you can load up software to interface with a terminal of some kind which is much easier.

Eventually, the microprocessor made home computers a possibility, but many were only equipped with a front panel out of the box. You would have to add in a serial card, more RAM, possibly some ROMs, and either a teletype or glass terminal in order to get a more sophisticated and intuitive interface from the computer, capable of programming in a higher level language. Some were considered more like trainers, or hobbyist devices, and simply lacked that ability, meaning all you got was a front panel with switches and lights.

I made my own front panel to see what the experience was all about:

Then everything changed in 1977, with the introduction of these three machines: the TRS-80 Model I, the Commodore PET 2001, and the Apple II. They were what you might call "appliance computers" and they had no need for a front panel.

Hopefully that answered your question!

#front panel #blinkenlights

[tsubaki-petals]

(starter for @tr-mha-fan)

Tsubaki simply observes as an upperclassman of hers, Nene Yashiro, tends to the school’s garden. The other girl seems to be lost in thought, sometimes pulling at the weeds with more force than necessary, but otherwise Tsubaki approves of the way she cares for the flowers.

Tsubaki is in her apparition form, meaning only a select few can see her, but if her theory is correct, then it doesn’t matter. Not if Nene is really Hanako’s so-called assistant that he won’t shut up about.

She isn’t sure why she is staring at Nene so intently. Maybe she is bored.

Or maybe her magenta eyes remind Tsubaki of someone.

Nonetheless, it dawns on her that it might seem just the slightest bit creepy, but the thought only comes to her when Nene startles, dropping her gardening tools on the ground. Hesitantly, Tsubaki looks around, as if expecting someone else to be there, but in truth she knows the reaction was her fault.

Nene is looking directly at her, after all.

#closed rp #tbhk rp

[vivwritescrappythings]

The Boy is Mine (Viv’s Version)

eddie munson x gn!reader

When I read about this I thought it was such a fun idea that I just had to participate! Thanks @carolmunson for putting it together :) I wrote a short little fluffy blurb to get it out of my system. As always, not proofread.

You and Eddie have a romantic night in the trailer making Christmas cookies.

tw: Eddie can lift reader, established relationship, allusions to sex

Word Count: 2k

masterlist

—

You bounded up the trailer steps two at a time, warm light spilling out of the windows and diffusing into the winter air. You were supposed to be there an hour ago, but your shift finished late and the snowstorm made the drive a disaster. You'd tried to call but the line was busy.

You grabbed the handle on the front door, finding it locked. “Eddie!” you shouted, pounding the palms of your hands against the door as a frantic knock. Snow was still coming down in droves, getting caught in your hair and on your clothes. It was so cold out that you were already sniffling and fingers stiff, your hands laden with full shopping bags. You’d conveniently forgotten your winter jacket before you left your house that day–in your defense it was sunny that morning. “Eddie! Let me in, I’m gonna freeze out here!”

Finally, you heard the deadbolt on the door open. “Look who decided to actually show up. Thought you came to your senses and went off to date some football player.” You heard him before you even saw him, a tinge of annoyance in his tone. He stood in the space of the door, wearing the terrible Christmas sweater your grandmother had made him last year over some well-loved sweatpants with cigarette sized holes in the dark gray fabric.

You just wanted to bury yourself in his warmth and never let go.

The pout on your face was inevitable, Eddie always coaxed it out of you whenever he insinuated you shouldn’t be together. “Aw, don’t be like that. That’s not even true,” you said, your brow furrowed. “My stupid manager made me stay late and the roads were icy and you know I’d never–”

Eddie cut off your rambling with a laugh, pushing the door open wider and pulling you across the threshold with an arm looped around your shoulders. “I know baby, I know,” he murmured into your temple, stamping a kiss there as he shut the door behind you. His big hands ran up and down your arms, an attempt to will some warmth back into you.

“You’re freezing,” he mumbled, looking down at you with wide brown eyes. He reminded you of a puppy when he was like this, all soft and sweet and so concerned with you.

You nodded as he curled you into a hug, mashing your face against his chest and making quiet tutting noises like a mother hen. He smelled like weed and cigarettes and the cheap vanilla shampoo he used, the familiar scent making you relax along his lanky form. His chin propped against the crown of your head, the two of you absorbing the feeling of one another in the living room.

“Come on, if we don’t start now we’ll never finish.” Your voice was muffled in the uneven knit of his sweater.

“Fine, fine,” Eddie breathed, freeing you and taking the grocery bags out of your hands. He swept them off to the kitchen, leaving you to take your soggy, snow-laden sneakers off before following.

“So remind me why we’re doing this again?” Eddie asked as you came to stand behind him, your mismatched socks slipping against the tile. You wrapped your arms around his narrow waist, your cheek pressing against the back of his arm as you watched him pull the groceries out and set them on the vinyl counter.

The question made you roll your eyes. “Because traditions are fun and nice to have, Eddie. We need traditions.”

You knew his family life wasn't quite normal growing up, he missed out on all the silly little practices and traditions that you had grown up with. They were some of your favorite memories, you wanted to give him the opportunity to make some of his own.

He chuckled, the sound breathy in his throat as he shook his head. “Traditions, got it.” He inspected each item, twisting it in his hands before moving on. You watched patiently around his arm, thumbs tracing circles over his sweater. “But why couldn’t our tradition be getting high and watching movies on the day before Christmas Eve?”

You groaned, gently shoving his shoulder with your palm as you pulled the small notebook out of the back pocket of your jeans. “Because we get high and watch movies every weekend. We need to do something special. I copied down my mom’s recipe, making Christmas cookies will be fun.”

You flipped it open to the page that had the recipe scrawled across it in your loopy script. You’d bought everything before you’d gone to work and stole a few of your mom’s cookie cutters from the junk drawer–simple stars and gingerbread men. You made them with her every year on the first of December, a tradition you wanted to pass along to Eddie.

“Yeah babe, fun.” His inflection was different from yours, sarcastic rather than eager. It was his turn to curl an arm around your waist and rest his chin on your shoulder, reading the recipe along with you.

“You are being such a downer. If you don’t stop, we’re gonna have a problem,” you said, twisting in his arms so your back was pressed against the counter as you looked up at him. His frizzy, curly hair was a mess, brown locks twisting in every direction as you looked up at him with a scowl.

He grinned, the smile stretching across his face as he leaned down to nuzzle at the hinge of your jaw. “I’m sorry, I’ll be good,” he muttered, his hair tickling your nose.

You giggled, squirming in his grip as he left a playful bite on your neck. “You better, or you’ll have hell to pay, Munson,” you threatened, but you both knew the words were empty. There wasn’t a bone in your body that wanted to hurt him.

He rolled his eyes, his hands grabbing your hips to turn you back around. “Alright, what do we do first?”

Eddie pressed you firmly against the counter, his lanky body curling over yours so he could read the instructions. “We need measuring cups, and a big bowl.”

He hummed acknowledgment, moving away from you to dig through a cabinet near the sink. “I ran out of like, nice cups, is this okay?” Eddie asked, making you turn around to see what he was talking about.

He held an acrylic cup with a printed cartoon of Snoopy and Woodstock on it, the clear acrylic starting to fog. You snickered, shaking your head. “Measuring cups, Eddie. Measuring cups.”

—

That should have been your first indicator of the uphill battle that baking with him would become. Normally, he just watched, trying to sneak a taste of the batter or steal chocolate chips. Now you knew why.

Eddie was a disaster in the kitchen, clumsy and off in all his measurements. You’d taken the reins of scooping ingredients into the big mixing bowl, letting him crack the eggs and beat everything together.

“You just want me for the heavy labor,” he eventually complained, switching hands on the mixing spoon as he shot a sidelong glare at you. You'd forgotten to bring the electric mixer from home.

There was an absentminded sound of acknowledgement from your throat, but you didn't even turn to look at Eddie in his mock distress. You were spooning flour into a measuring cup, brows furrowed in concentration. “Well you’re so good at it,” you said, a giggle caught in your throat as you carefully dumped the flour in.

“You’re a little shit,” Eddie sneered, the smile on his face giving him away. He reached out with his free hand, pinching your waist hard enough to make you squeal and jolt.

Flour exploded in a dust cloud, covering you and the kitchen counter in a fine white powder. You coughed, frozen in place as Eddie burst into laughter. The spoon that had originally been full was now empty, paused in the air as your mind caught up with what happened.

“Eddie!” The shout was shrill and petulant. Before you could stop yourself you were delving the spoon into the paper bag and flinging a heap of flour at Eddie’s head.

It dispersed into his hair and across half of his face, making his hair look like a powdered wig. He gasped in mock horror, shaking it out and sending flour across the kitchen tiles. Of course, it didn't fix much–the two of you were starting to look like low-budget horror movie ghosts.

He was already moving, a ringed hand disappearing into a shopping back as he stepped toward you. “You think I’ll let you get away with that?” Eddie grabbed you by the waist, managing to wrestle the top of the vanilla frosting tub with his teeth.

You were laughing wholeheartedly, wheezing as you tried to get out of his iron grip. He messily dipped his fingers into the container, scooping out just enough frosting to smear across your cheek and down to your lips and throat.

You scoffed, plunging your hand in the flour to press a white handprint across the side of his face. The palm of the print was centered on his eye, fingers stretching across his forehead and the thumb looping on the bridge of his nose. “Guess you’re marked by Saruman now,” you teased, stamping a frosting-covered kiss to his lips.

Eddie’s eyes sparkled, his hands moving from your waist to the plush of your thighs to lift you up and set you on the counter next to the mixing bowl. The remainder of the frosting on his fingertips smeared into your jeans. “So that makes you Saruman, then?” he asked as he licked the icy off his mouth.

“Well you’re obviously Gandalf the Gray,” you said, ruffling his curly hair with a hand. The flour dispersed, floating down to cover his shoulder and the floor like the snow outside the trailer. “So if I had to be one of the Valar I don’t think I have many other options–maybe Radagast? But we certainly don't know enough about the blueses to make a choice.”

“Look at you, talking Lord of the Rings to me,” Eddie murmured, licking up your throat with the vanilla frosting serving as his guide.

“And you like that?” You shivered at his wide, warm tongue on your skin, shifting your knees further apart so he stood between your legs. His wide hands palmed at the fat of your thighs through your jeans, inching their way up to your ass.

“Love it,” he said, a smile curving the corners of his pink lips upward. You couldn’t help the heat that washed over your face at his praise, your nose knocking gently into the squish of his cheek as you leaned toward him. Eddie was always generous with praise, showering you in compliments and acknowledging even your smallest accomplishments.

You twisted your fingers in his curls, shaping them into neat springs at the nape of his neck. “You’re gonna give me an ego, Eddie,” you murmured, your tone a bit more shy than you’d intended.

His grin widened, umber colored eyes sparkling with mischief. He pulled you off the counter in a quick motion, holding your knees on either side of his waist as he staggered out of the kitchen to the connected living room. You made a soft noise of surprise, your arms winding around his shoulders for support as he carried you.

“You want an ego? I’ll give you an ego, baby,” he said, his voice dropping an octave to a deep rasp. He dropped you unceremoniously onto the couch, your head cushioned by a throw pillow as he sunk to his knees in front of you.

“Eddie, the cookies,” you muttered halfheartedly, your teeth digging into your lower lip as the heat traveled from your face to the pit of your stomach.

“They’ll still be there when I’m done. Just want to show you how much I love when you talk dork to me.” He was already kissing his way up your thighs, biting at your flesh through the rough fabric. His long fingers were pulling your sweater from where you'd tucked it in.

“This could always be our tradition,” you said with a giggle, a hand already carding through Eddie’s hair.

He laughed, calloused fingers playing with the button of your jeans. “Whatever you say, baby.”

#eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x gn!reader #reader insert #stranger things fanfiction #just a little fluffy little guy #joseph quinn

[dearsnow]

WON’T STOP RUNNING (‘TIL WE REACH THE SUN)

- it’s just you, your best friend, the sunset, and a heap of buried feelings in a big grass field. (jacaerys velaryon x gn!reader, modern au, fluff)

word count: 808

a/n - a fic for a fandom i’m not hyperfixated on anymore 🤯 it’s a bit rushed and not proofread, but i hope someone can get some enjoyment out of it anyways 😭 somewhat based on woodland by the paper kites

You smile, squinting at the pink and yellow sky. Jacaerys is in front of you, hair set alight by the dying sun and a sparkle in both of his eyes. “Come on, don’t waste the moment!” He shouts, urging you forward.

The grass field around you is large and slightly slanted. Wild grasses cover the expanse, tall and blowing in the breeze. It’s nearing the end of spring, but the flowers and weeds are still in full bloom. As you move forward, legs picking up speed and wind whipping around your face, the stalks and leaves around your feet brush against your ankles.

Jacaerys is leading, running so fast you think he would be flying if he wasn’t firmly stuck to the ground. You, of course, like always, follow.

It’s been four years since you met the boy in your 7th grade chemistry class, but it feels like a lifetime has passed since. You were fourteen and awkward, and in all honesty, so was he. 

He seemed like the coolest person in the world; he had money, friends, these glasses with thick frames that were just beaten-up enough to be “stylish”. His hair was parted to the side, he had a little bit of acne, and his front tooth was twisted. Despite that, despite everything, no person could deny that he had a certain charm- you least of all. When he was seated next to you, your heart began to pound in your chest.

You also had an awkward phase. Multiple, if you really wanted to dig into it, but he stayed by your side the whole time. You just clicked like that, in a way neither he nor you had ever clicked before. 

He’s changed a lot since then. He discarded his glasses for contacts, though he still keeps a pair of thin frames tucked inside his backpack, he has a nicer, longer haircut, and his mom forced him into braces the year after you met him. You will always see him as younger, though, and the redness around his cheeks and forehead will never let him forget it.

“I’m coming, slow down!” You pant, stumbling over your own feet. “You’ve been insufferable since joining track.”

“And yet you suffer me.” He jokes, turning around to walk backwards. “Wrestling just wasn’t enough.” He’s strong now, something you so often forget. Gone are the days of being able to beat him in an arm wrestling competition.

The sun shines over him. He looks ethereal in the light; it makes you want to push him over to make him stop being the most beautiful person you’ve ever seen in your life. So, like a best friend would, you do.

He grabs onto your hand at the last moment, but the damage is done. He falls backwards, landing on a soft plush of grass. In a moment, you feel a tug on your arm and see the world spinning out of view. You fall on top of him, laughing so hard you think your lungs might explode. He’s got a grin on his face as you roll to the side.

“Getting violent, huh?” He laughs. “And here I was, thinking that you loved me too much to try and kill me.”

“Oh, I love you, sure. That’s why I always want to kill you.” You stare up at the sky while he stares at you. “It’s like when you see a cute baby animal and just want to squeeze it.”

He squints his eyes. He’s always been able to see under your words, getting through the cracks in your voice like he was meant to know something deeper. But, like the gentleman he is, he’ll never call you out on something that he wasn’t supposed to know. He’ll savor the moment for now. The comfort of knowing you love him in one way or another, just like how he loves you, is a quiet reassurance. 

“That’s sweet.” He scoffs. He gets up slowly, looking down at you still enveloped in the grass. His hand reaches out, offering an easy trip up for you. Your heart starts beating wildly at the idea of his palms touching yours, as if you’ve never touched him before. Of course, though, he has a trick up his sleeve.

He pulls you up and spins you around, causing you to trip on the side of his foot. Your footsteps stutter and he takes off, sprinting down the field while you’re still trying to regain your balance. 

“No fair! God, fuck you.” Your eyebrows are furrowed as your voice rings out, but the sound of his panting laughter puts a smile on your face. 

“You better catch up, ‘cuz I’m not stopping ‘til I reach the sun!” He calls. 

You roll your eyes as you chase after him, the sun sinking lower and lower on the horizon.

Taglist (bolded are unable to be tagged): @mmmimilan @its-halleys-comet @savagemickey03 @persephonesportal @lovelyliliya @the-jess-life @spaceandstars @bbosica @hopelesswritergall @watercolorskyy @ghostheartbeat @cecespizza01 @panelhone @writervaul-t

#solar eclipse. #house of the dragon #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys velaryon #jace velaryon x reader #jacaerys x reader #hotd x reader #hotd fic #hotd #jacaerys strong #jacaerys imagine #jacaerys fluff #jacaerys x you #prince jacaerys #jacaerys targaryen #hotd jacaerys #jacaerys fic #hotd fanfic

[mariacallous]

My father was a short-order cook, a strictly stovetop kind of guy. Israeli salads and scrambled eggs. I never saw him approach the lower half of the oven, except to clean it within an inch of its life. It would take me until my 30s to realize that he did not grow up with anything like the ovens we had in Canada, and that there wasn’t much in his childhood home to place in a stove. 

He was born in Mandatory Palestine in 1936 to Yemenite parents, who themselves were born in Ottoman Palestine. All four of his grandparents left Yemen in 1881 in what was known as the First Yishuv. 

For my father, an oven was a primus — a portable camping stove that uses kerosene or paraffin oil. As a 12-year-old boy during the 1948 War of Independence, he ate grass and weeds (mostly mallow, known as kubezeh) that he had to forage for himself. So, on balance, his short-order cooking made sense. 

When I grew up and moved to Israel and other new immigrants asked me about my background, my father’s lack of culinary skills became a source of repeated disappointment. 

You must have had tons of jachnun and zhug? 

More like zero. 

I thought you said he was Yemenite. 

My father did put an awful lot of Mexican salsa on everything from spaghetti to chicken, and ate onions like apples for breakfast, but Jewish food for me was Ashkenazi all the way. Well, you can’t go back.

Recently, I introduced a new dialogue project with my EFL (English as a Foreign Language) college students (anything to get them talking). Each student had to film herself discussing her favorite family recipe. I teach in Jerusalem and my students come from a range of backgrounds that include Morocco, Algeria, Syria, Ethiopia, Russia and France. 

Occasionally I have a student with a Yemenite background. This particular student, we’ll call her Shira, introduced her recipe by stressing how often she eats it at home, and how delicious and nutritious it was, particularly for keeping on weight. This made sense as Yemen was (and still is) a very poor country, and many of their recipes are inexpensive and calorie dense, something important in an undernourished population. 

Then, to my amazement, Shira described my father’s “hot cereal” recipe, as I had always called it. He used to mention that his mother made it for him year-round, including on Passover, but I took that to mean it was a family recipe, not a Yemenite Jewish one. 

My father made this for me on the rare winter mornings when he was not off to work before I woke up. I remember the satisfied look on his face as he stirred and stirred groats, tossing out tidbits about his mother and his life in pre-state Israel like rare coins while he watched butter melt into the milk. He wasn’t much of a talker when it came to his past, but perhaps the familiar smell loosened his tongue. 

For a few minutes, I would be drawn into his world of a mother who sold her own saluf (Yemenite flatbread) and zhug to passersby for extra money and chatted in both Arabic and Yiddish, rather than my usual stance, which was “Why can’t he be like all of the other fathers in my Jewish school and pull out the AlphaBits and Fruit Loops?” Nowadays, this recipe is a family favorite, particularly on Passover and if we are having sleepover guests on Shabbat. 

I remember Shira’s surprise when I told her I was familiar with this recipe and thanked her for choosing it as her assignment. Turns out my birthright wasn’t entirely lost to me, it just took me longer than most to realize it. Better late than never. 

Cooking notes 

This recipe is endlessly adaptable:

My kids prefer it with half a cup less water and half a cup more milk. Some people omit the milk, just as they would for oatmeal. 

I’ve seen recipes that add a teaspoon of sugar and margarine instead of butter, though I’ve never tried it. 

On Passover, we substitute crushed matzah for groats or wheat. 

On Shabbat, we bake this mix in a jachnun pot on a low heat (225°F or 100°C) overnight in the oven for cold Saturday mornings, which yields a very soft mixture.

[chrissshub]

LUST A.K.A THE HEART’S YEARNING

FT. KEN “DRAKEN” RYUGJI

PAIRINGS: Plug!Draken x fem!reader

WORD COUNT: 5.6k

cw: dubcon, use/mention of marijuana, public sex, vouyerism, slight exhibition, fingering, grinding, riding, overstimulation, premature ejaculation, cervix fucking

XOXO, CHRIS: I know it’s been a little minute since I wrote for tr but let this make up for it, ‘kay?

Within the haze of flashing lights and wispy spirits of smoke around the room or maybe even the weed baking in his system but…he swears you’re an angel.

In a room full of people, drinks, laughter, all he sees is you.

You in the pretty yellow dress standing from across the room, taking on the role of observer rather than a participant. That pert glossy pout that puckers whenever a free spirit wanders too close your way. It might even be the glint in your eyes begging to save you from the madness.

And maybe fate’s begging for him to play your knight in shining armor but for now, it’s taking a lot for Draken to focus strictly on you.

Left and right is all he’s got and both his left and right are compromised by pesky customers and drunken girls itching for a taste of him. It’s easy—too easy for someone of integrity to fall into the pit of content.

He needs a challenge, just the right person to make him question his very ways. It’s a gamble but he’s betting even the thought on you. His hands sink into the flimsy leather cushion, the six-foot-four hull of a man rising to the air. Just Draken’s presence alone is enough to turn heads.

 Yet should the sole of his boot even hit the ground, he’s suffering beneath the most sickening of stares. Hues of blue, green, brown, and not a single one could amount to what yours holds in stores.

He’s gaining on you, cutting into your world with just a few feet to spare. This isn’t like Draken at all—breaking his silence just to be known to one person. He’s usually okay with letting those that pique his interest pass him by—but for a special case like you, the risk’s worth taking. It’s that bet he’s made to himself, wishing that you’d be just what he needs.

Draken’s suffering beneath more than just those stares, he’s succumbed to symptoms of suspense. Waves of heat

Slicked with the sweat of nerves, his hand slipped deep into his pockets, clutching at the inner black cotton of his sweatpants. Ringing ears replace the shuddering bass of the stereo and his poor heart is laced with the heaviest pangs.

It takes your presence to ease Draken from his thoughts. Just to see you leaned against the room’s white wall, arms folded behind the curve of your spine without a care for disturbance—his disturbance.

Draken brings his tongue to the soft plush of his lips, a single wet drag combing at the shielded confidence. He has to talk to you. Being near you wasn’t enough to satiate that urge bubbling in the depth of his tummy. Words, a laugh, even a staged cough would do, just something had to escape him.

“Having fun?”

That’s the first thing that comes to his mind. It’s a simple question, one that actually holds more meaning than he’d expect. Draken’s anxious to pick at your mind, take you and whatever courses through that pretty brain of yours as his own.

And the very question he’s doubting wasn’t in vain—He’s gained your attention, your sights finally settling onto his. The twinkle in your eyes already soothes him, offering him a chance to drop that reinforced guard he wears. 

He can feel it, his heart slowing, his ears drowning out the world to take in yours. Your head falls into a tilt, lips pursed and prepared to offer him some reply.

“Fun?…gonna have to get back to you on that. It’s an experience, though.”

A smile ends your response to him but begins Draken’s intrigue in you. Your lips curl so perfectly that it’s almost breathtaking, an artwork he’s blessed to admire.

He’s sold— falling over himself over a smile. Draken’s made up his mind—you’re the one he wants. It’s shown all through his body. His shoulders finally lose that tense waiver of dominance, his eyes ease from his usual sweltering gaze just to match your own.

Now he’s really looking for the words, something to keep you inclined to him. “I kinda noticed you over here. Just leaning back and taking it all in. Thought I’d join you.”

“I will take the company…Draken, right?”

A brow perks at your words. To say he’s surprised is an understatement of sorts but that still won’t replace the truth from his mind. Truth is, Draken is shocked that you know him. He isn’t one to judge from looks but he knows someone like you shouldn’t know someone like him.

“You know who I am?”

“ ‘Course I do. Draken,” your lips curling into a grin. “You’re the campus plug who barely says more than he has to. I hear all the girls talking about you.”

There’s a certain delight that breaks across Draken. It’s all over his face. The frown he’s prone to wearing sheds into a grin and the pale sheen of his skin bleeds with an amusing blush.  

That’s all he needs to break character—to know that you’re aware of who he is. You know exactly what kind of business he’s set deep into, all the trouble that’s bound to find him…but here you are, giving the man a smile worth more than he’s ever sold.

It’s no wonder why he’s so anxious. You’re perfect, all he wants but shouldn’t have. It’s selfish of him to want you. The wandering eyes of others fall onto you both, selfishness turns protection at the flick of a switch.

He’s racking through his brain to find the next topic, something to keep you in his presence for just a second longer. But all it takes is the bat of your lashes to shatter whatever composure Draken held. Suddenly, he‘s craving the warmth of your thighs around his waist, your nails etching into his skin, the heat of your lips smothering against his own.

His mouth may have run dry with what to say but his thoughts are dripping with lust. Draken’s searching for some way to mark you as his own. All he can conjure up is breaking away from the scene, away from whoever and whatever threatens his intentions for you.

“You wanna…go outside with me? Better than being stuck inside this place?” The suggestion endowing his slender digits pointing towards the beckoning door.

“Sure,” you hum, offering the man another modest curl of your lips.

At your lead, Draken’s following right behind you. He feels driven to be in all honesty. He’s hanging on every inch of you, taking in the delicate sway of your hips, the soft mumbles of excuses and thanks blessing the air; everything. It’s something he’s only ever heard about from others caught in Cupid’s arrow, the tunnel vision befalling his blown pupils.

For the first time in his life, he’s in a room full of people and his attention is set on you alone.

The groupie girls, pestering customers, all disappear the moment he’s in reach of the front door. The frame becomes a portal to him, introducing Draken to another world. The night’s brisk wind pulls him from his reflections and right back into the reality he’s worked for—you at his side and away from all that wasn’t him.

He’s leaned against the house’s white beam just to watch you settle onto the porch couch, your body sinking into the plush cushions. Or the way your hands fall into a polite fold over your plump thighs, tugging at the clingy yellow dress adorning you.

“Y’know, you’ve been looking at me like that all night.”

“Like what?” the coy nature laces within his voice.

He can’t play dumb for long, he knows that. Shame crowds, faint prickles of heat surfacing at the highs of his cheeks.

“‘M sorry if I’ve been, it’s just that you’re so pretty I can’t help myself. I just like good girls, y’know?”

He’s managed to steal a giggle from your lungs, his eyes hinged over the toothy smile consuming your lips. Though, silence falls over you and Draken, leaving the bare flickers of stares to fill the space. 

He’s avid to keep you alone for as long as time wills it. You’re on a whole different level than what he’s used to. He understands it’ll take more than a few smooth words and smirks to keep your attention, a fact he’s prepared for.

“Mm, here, I’ve got something for us, if you wouldn’t mind.”

Draken’s got the better of himself with the haste he carries and the suggestion put into the air. He’s so excited to have you alone that the adrenaline’s made him nothing but a drunken fool. Setting himself beside you wasn’t the issue, it’s what he’s had yet to consider, what it means for him to move nothing but sheer instinct. 

You’re so much closer than before, so much that his brain can’t help but spiral on a dizzying spree. Your warmth brushed against his leg, the faint scent of your perfume reaching his nose.

To ground himself, Draken’s hand stinks deep into the pockets of his black sweatpants. The bare curve of his digits catch onto the sole remedy to the fool he’s made of himself thus far. The muffled ripple of the frail paper rattles in his hold, Draken perked onto the treasure he’s set to indulge.

“Uh…have you ever…smoked weed before?”

“No,” the tinge of reluctance clings to the last letter.

“Do you wanna try it now…with me? Only if you feel up to–”

“I don’t mind. I’ve been so interested in it lately, why not try it with the best of the best?”

You really shouldn’t have said that. Though, it’s not your fault that you aren’t aware of what you’ve done to the man.

Right before your very eyes, the college’s enigma plug…is blushing…at your hand. The swarm of red engulfs the tips of his nose and the high cushions of his cheekbones. He’s even shaking now as he dips back for the lighter.

“Y-You–uh– wanna take a hit?” he mumbles, flickering the sliver wheel of the lighter. The flare of flames brushe along the twisted head of the blunt, the heat catching onto its prey. The immediate smell of musk hits the air and fills your nose, violent stings attacking your innocent awareness. 

You can’t help but observe Draken from beside you as he places the tanned end to his lips. He’s so calm compared to you. Nothing’s interfering with him, not the heat consuming the blunt, not the smell that wrecks your senses, not even the thick cloud of smoke that threatens his very sight.  his to the trivial task.

Through all that, he still isn’t breaking.

“Put this end in your mouth,”  he directs, hovering the end about your mouth. You give a single nod of compliance before parting your lips around the filter, sealing it within the plush pout.

“Like this?” your muffled inquiry chiming towards his ears. Draken can’t hide his amusement. The chuckle that barrels from his lungs is great but the smile gracing his lips couldn’t begin to compare. 

You’re cute, the cutest girl he’s had at his side. Something so simple as your urge for assurance pulled more care from his heart than he believed to carry.

“Just like that, Gorgeous. ’M gonna light this part here again ‘nd when you feel even the slightest bit of heat, inhale and hold it in, ‘kay.”

At the sudden strike of the smoke building in your lungs, a heavy cough is all you can retract. Licks of staggering stings dance along your lash line, the webbing tears colling the roused heat beneath your skin. His hand lays along your hunched back, the pads of his thumbs softly swirling about your hunkered spine.  

Out of courtesy, Draken’s hand reaches to retrieve the blunt from the weary hold you carry over it.

“No, no sweetheart. Lemme show you.”

The tips of his digits set along the filter of the blunt, tugging the bit from the tight pout of your lips. With a grin, he welcomes to fill his hefty lungs, his chest rising only for the tunnel of his lips to push

In the corner of his eyes is when he’s noticing it, your lips grazing along his own. Just between the sliver of what sight his squint gives him, he’s blessed to see the thick cloud of smoke streaming from his mouth into your own. The dusting about your lips, down to the thinned glare of your eyes.

“Where’d you learn that at?” He’s spitting out, the lids of his eyes breaking their narrow glare.

“I saw it in a video once. I look pretty cool, so—”

The last bit of your thoughts have no chance of escape the moment Draken leans in. He’s finally at his limit, that slick move of yours bringing him to his own end.

At the alarming smother of your cushiony lips, he’s whimpering a song of relief. Soft, delicate, gentle is all Draken is, his lips catching onto yours. He’s doing his best to hold onto the lit joint, but only the heavens know how desperate he is to touch you.

Draken’s the first to pull away, capturing another drag of smoke with a jumbling statement.

“I’m gonna teach you everything I know, Pretty.”

He’s swift to invite you upon his thigh, pulling the arch of your spine to rest along his chest. His mind leads him to elsewhere, lust consuming his every move. He’s tugging at your dress with rich desire.

 All he needs is the subtle lift of your hips to continue his endeavors, bringing the hem to rest along your waist. Just as he’s got you right in his mist, Draken’s reminded of what his goal truly was, the very thing that’s brought you to him.

“I got you. Just breathe it in and out. ‘M all you need to relax right now.”

You decide to take him on for all he’s worth. The trust you put into Draken seals itself the moment your lips clasp around the blunt. The clouds of smoke flood your senses, striking every bit of your body into a new tune. A burst of heat swallows you in, consuming your body in waves of blissful adrenaline. Your eyes hang low, the muscles loosen from their trained form, and your thoughts are free of any true restriction. 

You can finally notice it, the world around you in a different light. The night’s wind cuts cleaner against your skin, and the strums of Draken’s fingers along your clit sank into the very depths of your core.

“Good, do it again fr’ me” he’s praising, burying his boyish smile within the crook of your neck. The fresh build of smoke from your lungs sweeps over his skin, free of laggard breaths or deathly heaves. He’s pleased—more than pleased with how quickly you’ve picked up the craft. He can feel it too, the change of your chest easing off the tension with each pull you take.

You’re a quick learner, a quality he can’t but admire. He has to do it now, show some gratitude for your quick ways. That’s why the heavy hold upon your hips wanders far off into forbidden places, dusting along the ridges of your black panties. His lips come to nip at the curve of your ear, the fan of his breath grazing over your flushed skin.

“See, it’s not so bad. Lemme reward you, it’s what you deserve.”

The pads of his fingers slip past the plush fat of cunt’s lips to rest heavily against your clit, the faint thumps of your heart melding into his touch. He’s lusting after you, yet reduced to using your pussy to satiate the hunger. He’s gentle with you, pulling at a lick of his force to tease your clit into a daring swirl. His digits pass over the cute bulb with delicate care, ensuring that every nerve beneath his touch knows of his care.

 Draken’s drinking it all in—the swelling heat of your clit, the cute twitches falling frail at his touch, all now finally in his grasp. He’s so far gone into his fantasy that he’s almost missed the little squeak cracking from your voice.

“D-Dra..Ken,” the slurs of your voice breaking the air. “Am I ‘pose to feel…like this?”

Draken’s trail of pecks breaks away from the pulse of your neck, his lips needing to rest right along your jaw. His kisses come with a smirk, the very curve of his lips etching into your skin.

“Aww, like what, Baby? Gotta tell so I can fix it.”

“Heavy, like I really need something…now.”

Chuckles burst from Draken’s chest. The pads of his fingers slip from the honeyed warmth of your walls to cup at your clit, bestowing a flutter of pinches upon the raw bud.

“Feelin’ it here, right? That’s what it does to you. Don’t you think I’m feeling it too?”

All it takes is a second for you to fully compute Draken’s words. He’s right, he is  feeling that same longing pull, that same sensation of all his blood rushing to fill out every inch of his cock. That alone could explain the sitting snug between the plush curve of your ass.

He’s pulling you to face him, that same greed driving him mad. You’re forced to press the swells of your chest against his own, closing any and all space existing between you both. 

The look on his face has you eager—dark eyes blown with lust, a grin smeared from corner to corner, all with his skin thrown into a blushed fury. It’s a cute display for him to put on, all his wants and desires laid bare. You’re eager to accept his offer, unsure of how strong your own urges were set to grow.

“Now, I can fix it for the both of us. You just gotta tell me what you want, and it’s all yours.”

“But what if someone sees us?” you offer as a rebuttal.

“So?” He scoffs heavily. “ They’re just gonna know you’re all mine. No other way I’d have it.”

That’s all you really needed to hear, Draken’s word bringing some sense of reassurance. Lithe hands are quick to settle along the broad strip of his shoulders, joining the melding silhouette your bodies create. It’s almost mindless how you move about the man. 

It’s a heavy daze but you can’t help it, the ache sitting between your legs is for Draken to ease and him alone. So when your fingers inch to tug at the waistband of his sweats, he isn’t set on denying you. He’s helping you, dipping his hips until the constricting band sits midway of his thighs.

The heavy curve of his cock strikes the lips of your cunt, sinking through the puffy mounds. He’s nuzzled so deep between your folds that you can feel everything he’s enduring—every twitch, every pulse, even the fizzing heat consuming the fat tip.

The thought alone is too much for you to handle, knowing that the plump lips of your pussy are babying every bit of Draken’s throbbing fat length with messy kisses. 

Restless is the first to set in, leaving guilt to follow. It’s a picture-perfect moment for you, sitting in the arms of the most coveted man on campus. Yet with the weight of his length smothering your clit like this, time could only ever be your worst enemy.

Friction is what you’re chasing, desperate to relish the sheer heat of all that is Draken. It’s no wonder that your hips press against him, burying himself within the fat of your pussy. You can’t look him in the eye for what’s to come, but you can’t help it. That same heat he’s feeling is ruining your composure, leaving you to search for some quick alternative.

Your hips pick at the slowest and taunting of paces, pitting your puffy pussy to strum along Draken’s length. You can’t help the gasp that escapes from your throat, selfless whimpers dribbling into the crisp night air. Your folds cling to the plumped veins, the slicked sheets etched with the thickened curves.

The vast palm of his hands crash upon the curve of your ass, his digits gripping onto the rippling fat. He’s forced to ground you, pinning you still upon his bare thighs. Amidst the heavy huffs and gasping whimpers comes the realization, your eyes falling in line with Draken’s.

“S-Shit, slow down Y/N! Just gimme a sec –fuck!”

He’s red. It’s the first thing you notice. He’s red with the blend of lust and exhaustion left to consume his visage whole. He’s almost sensitive to the touch, his skin roused by the slightest fan of your breath.

It’s embarrassing of him to admit it too, the reason why he’s caught in such heat. Draken’s enthused by you, the anticipation thick across his mind. Reality’s never been so good to him, blessing the likes of him with fantasy like you.

“W-We can sit like this all night, but we both know how it’s gonna end…right? I mean, your pussy’s just begging to be stretched. ‘M not even inside and you already feel so good like this.”

His voice comes as a form of rapture for your eased self of mind, the deep slur of words guiding you deeper into your high. A flurry of nods spill from your head. The drunk sobs of misery rip from your lungs. The lust inside you is reaching its breaking point, a point where only bubble babbles and whimpers give way to your true desires.

“I want it, I know I do. Fuck me, Draken…please?”

Draken’s hand gravitates to comfort you, his digits cupping at your chin. He’s pressing just one last kiss over your swollen lips for good measure, a blissful sigh slipping from his chest.

“Shhh, don’t go crying on me. Gonna put it in...just like this…”

He’s easy with you, handling your body with the utmost care. His hands bring your hips to hover above the dribbling slit of his cock, the fat tip plugging at your entrance. His hips fall into a mindless habit, coaxing you to open up to him with lazy bucks. 

Bit by bit, you’re easing to his advances, your slit latching onto the head at last. A single drive of his hips is enough to close the distance between your bodies, the clasp of skin crackling through the air. His cock’s dragging inside you, licking your walls into a roused flutter.

“I can feel it, ‘m stretching you out, aren’t I, Pretty girl?”

It’s a fact he knows too. Truth is, he is stretching you out well, bullying your walls to take every bit of him. He’s aware of what he's asking of you. He knows just how fat his shaft can be when he’s like this, how thick his veins can become utterly flushed with blood, even the pretty pink crown that’s grazing past your sweet spot.

There’s a hellish burn crowding at your poor slit, the pricks of heat melding into the sweetest pleasure. You’re inviting him to fill every inch of your pussy apart, so much so that your back’s taking comfort in the enduring arch befalling your spine. It’s so much to take and too much to hold, but all the little cute noises of your pussy gargling around Draken’s cock make up for all the hardships he’s laid before you.

Hunger leaves you without a lick of patience. He’s already so deep that you can’t help it, the urge for relief looming near. Your hips are left to fall into a gentle rock, pitting his girth to writhe against your sticky walls. Each swirl of your hips pulls him deeper, so deep that the fat head has no choice but to nuzzle at your cervix.

“Oh, just look at you. Takin’ me so well, Baby. But shit…I wanna fuck you too, y’know,” he’s muttering in ear. You can’t even form a word before Draken slams you down to the flat of his lap. He’s sneaky now, wearing the very grin he’s met you with. He has you wrapped around his finger, his pretty muse longing for some form of relief.

His motive’s simple, really; to fuck you so good that he becomes all you ever want.

So it’s no wonder that he’s playing with you like this, using the hold upon your ass to lazily bounce you on his cock. It’s nowhere near what you need but having the heavenly fat of his underside grazing past your sweet spot came close enough. 

He’s desperate to get you drunk off him before he’s started with you. Before he can slouch back against the green paisley patterned cushion, before he can lift your hips just high enough in his care.

A passing glance is all Draken can afford to give you in his fleeting moments of composure, his darkened hues taking in the rare sight before him—you hanging on by the very hair of reality.

“I’m gonna fuck you so full,” is all the words Draken lets you hear before he’s back to plugging your pussy to the brim.  At the very curl of his hips, he’s sinking deeper and deeper inside you, flushing out the latent rush of heat within your walls. His hips impose fluid rolls to overwhelm you with a reaching endeavor, his cock dressed in feverish drive.

He’s snapping back into you with timely haste, pulling the lewd crashes of skin through the heightened air. You’re just too tight for his mind to handle, too warm for his true self to remain hidden any longer. He’s overwhelmed your poor pussy with each stride he takes, a pushing tide settling in tune with his hips, burying himself to the hilt.

Whether he’s willing to admit it or not, there’s something about you that mentally breaks Draken. Maybe it’s the cute pout you’re wearing, the cries of his name rolling off your laxed tongue, or the way you squeeze at his aching cock that has the man cracking under the heat of it all. 

He’s grown insistent on drowning you in everything that’s him, every stride to strip along your walls, every circle his thumbs draw into your skin, even down to the very breath he’s fanning across the crook of your neck.

He’s even going as far as to ditch his known persona of few words for sobs and uncontrollable songs of groans for the night. All he can do is blame you and that pretty pussy he’s falling for that’s sucking him for all he’s worth. 

At your touch, Draken’s reduced to a shell of himself. The heaving breaths, uncontrollable twitches seizing his thighs, that knot in his belly begging to come undone.

Draken knows you’re close. He knows the signs all too well—your lungs barely grasping air, your eyes settoff onto a rolling tour, the tremors that quake throughout your strained spine. 

He’s also keen on that fact of how close he is too, the heat in his veins fizzling to the surface of his skin. The gummy clasp you hold over his cock pulls a twitch deep from within the heavy bloat of his balls. Yet, all it takes is for the single flutter of your walls to bring his wishes to fruition. 

“‘M…’m gonna cum…holy shit, you’re gonna make me cum so hard, Y/N!”

It’s taking all of Draken’s strength to part with your pussy. All the warmth dressed around him is gone the moment his hips drop from your own. He isn’t given a bit of mercy before waves of ecstasy break across his body, forcing the thick ropes of white to gush from his throbbing tip.

The shimmering fat of his length tells all that needs to be known, the tanned skin glistening with sheets of your essence and his cum. Even the heaving hulls of air he’s longing to grasp furthers the story.

However, curiosity gets the better of you, guiding your hand to slip between both your bodies. The tips of your fingers drift about the messy fixture that’s been made of Draken’s poor cock. It’s not until your touch reaches the base of laid hairs that you finally take charge, lithe fingers building a fist around the slicked girth.

“C’mon, I was so close too. Just go a little bit longer, please?”

Your woes catch onto Draken’s ears. The guilt’s clouding his heart. He can’t take it, seeing you bat your dewed lashes in misery he brought upon. By his own hands, he’s planning to make amends. The grip he sets along your ass drifts to cup beneath your legs, bringing the supple fat of your thighs to bracket his own.

“I know, I know. G-Go on then…fuck yourself, Beautiful.”

A whimper cuts through the grit of Draken’s teeth. He’s weak at the infallible bliss your pussy holds. He’s barely gotten hold of his crumbling reality but the pumping drive of your fist had any and all integrity tossed to the wind.

“W-Wait, Wait, I just need a sec—”

In your ears, you’ve heard all that needs to be said. It’s greed that compels you to teeter above his poised twitching bellhead, brushing the sensitive tip with the webbed gasp of your slit. 

Your own anticipation wasn’t near enough to prepare Draken. With a sudden drop of your hips and he’s introduced to your lustful warmth all over again. He’s fitting in with such ease now, that rich burn reduced to a messy squeal of rushing slick.

It’s almost unbeknownst to you how keen you’ve become for release. You have yet to notice, how every drop of your hips snuffs the bullying chub of Draken’s cock, or the wreckage you’ve made of him. He’s sobbing, tears of an empty bliss spilling down his cheeks. It’s only joining the steady streams of drool dripping from the puffy pout on his lips.

He can feel it, the swift rush of blood flooding his veins once more. He’s growing inside you, carving your walls to match every bit of his length like his personal toy. He knows you feel it too, your widening eyes shattered at the breaking realization. You’ve become sloppier with the pivoting falls too, your hips bearing a perilous cadence.

“F-Fuck, right there!  I’m cumming, Draken. I-I’m–”

It’s a timely manner when you finally reach that deserved high. Just when he’s finally filled his cock with lust is what brings your pussy to a stumbling shudder around Draken, encasing him in a fluttering hold. A stripping wave consumes you whole, leaving your legs numb in its wake. 

And just like that, you’re mocking his very own tremble, a tremor so strong you can’t do anything but fall into his beckoning warmth. You’re like putty in Draken’s care, your body limp and spent from every ounce of recoverable energy.

Draken’s hand rips from your ass to brace his cock, the uncaring fist breaking the shared bond from your messy cunt. He can’t believe it, how just a few strides of your hips strokes has him fucked dumb and ready to cum all over again. 

As badly as he’d love to ruin your womb, he’s settling for the cute pucker of your hole to lay waste to the ropes of white ripping from his slit.

“S-Shit, look at what you did to me, Y/N. Made me cum so soon,” he’s shivering with a weary grin. He has all rights too, considering the mess you’ve made out of each other. Streaks of white dripping between the mounds of your ass, his thighs coated in the heavenly gloss of your essence. It’s a beautiful mess, one that he couldn’t have made without you.

Your hands paw at the curve of his shoulders, calling upon what force you had to meet his drowsy dark hues with your own.

“I’m sorry, did I overdo—”

Your words are cut short by the sight your eyes fixated themselves onto. It’s simple, Draken expressing the very peak of his exhaustion. Yet, it’s everything you’ve had yet to see from the enigma he’s known as.

 It’s Draken with a selfless smile on his lips as he hums to himself. It’s Draken, the campus plug with the feathery black strands of hair cascading along the curve of his jaw and the prominent bulb of his throat bobbing with each breath he pulls into his lungs. It’s shameful to admit it but just having the raw form of him beneath welcomed a familiar heat to swell at your tummy.  

“I could…um…go for more…more of the blunt of course,” you mutter slowly, your eyes catching onto the bright grin curling at the corners of his lips.

“Oh yeah?” He’s chuckling as he picks his head up from the couch’s frame.

His sights land him, you cradled in his arms and the very blunt still clinging between his fingertips. With a sigh, he’s brushing off the built column of ash attached to the joint. 

Whether it be lust, love, or none of the above, all Draken knows is that he’s far from finished with you. Not after tonight, not after tomorrow, and maybe not ever. But for now, all he can do is bring the bud of his blunt to his lips, welcoming fate with a single inhale.

“Let’s finish this blunt off together then, yeah?”

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[authorluvgxbby]

HII! I hope you’re taking care of yourself :) I wanted to request TR boys sneaking in your room at 3am to wake us up and do some stupid stuff with them but they end up confessing afterwards. If not then that’s totally okay have a nice day/night!!

I Just Wanna Be Yours

Includes: Kazutora, Hanma, Ran

Note: I recommend playing I Wanna Be Yours By Arctic Monkeys for a better experience! Enjoy!

Warnings: Mentions of weed, mentions of alcohol/alcohol consumption (not underaged drinking), slight suggestive teasing in Kazutora's part. Rest is fluff.

Kazutora

Usually every other teenager would jump at the chance to sneak out in the middle of the night to do god knows what unholy things as a result of them surely getting grounded for life by nagging parents. But, you were different. 

Unlike your friends who always stayed out, doing their own thing, you decided to spend your weekend enjoying time to yourself while relishing in the joy of getting a full eight hours of sleep before transitioning back to dealing with your stressful weekday routine of high school. Your mom was out of town working, so there wasn’t any point in sneaking out. Besides, you preferred staying home compared to running the streets.

You enjoyed the time alone and getting a good night’s rest was a bonus!

You had already freshened up and changed into a comfortable set of pajamas. Slipping into the warmth of your comforter and numerous pillows, you sighed in content. 

There was nothing better than getting ready for bed after relaxing on a Saturday. 

Everything was just perfect. The room was cool, your bed was warm to perfection, and your eyes were already droopy, ready to be closed for rest. Nothing could prevent you from sleeping through the night. The moment your head made contact with your pillow, you were out like a light. 

But of course, all good things must come to an end. 

It seemed as if you hadn’t fallen asleep at all when you were suddenly startled by the sound of what seemed to be small pebbles knocking against your window. 

Your eyes flew open at the small pangs against the glass. You quickly sat up, heart beating partially fast at the sudden disturbance. You glance at the window, and then to your nightstand where your digital clock sat. Squinting, you briefly check the time that glowed across the small screen: 3 A.M.

Who on earth could be up at three in the morning throwing rocks at my window??

You certainly didn’t know. Anyone who knew you knew better than to disturb you on your weekends. 

Once again, the pang of rocks against your window rang in your ears. 

Groaning, you rubbed your temples. 

“This is ridiculous…” you muttered, already annoyed at the disruption of your precious sleep.

Reluctantly, you slipped out of bed and quietly padded over to the window, determined to find out who could possibly be disrupting your sleep at this ungodly hour.

Unlocking your window, you slide it up, and peek your head out.

“Pssst! y/n!,” a familiar voice whispers from below.

Cocking a brow, you look down, only to be met with a pair of golden eyes and a familiar head of blonde and black locks.

“Kazutora? I-Is that you?” you replied in the same hushed tone.

“Quick! Throw down the rope will ya?”

He must be joking.

“Go to bed!” you deadpanned.

His eyes were wide, “W-what? Please! It’s cold!”

You sighed tiredly, glancing back inside your room and back to your pleading friend. 

“Wait there!”

He smiles in reply, nodding as he waits for you to throw down his entrance to your window. 

Searching your closet, you found an old knot of sheets you had made into a rope. After all, this wasn’t the first time Kazutora has shown up to your window asking to be let in. However, it was the first he’s ever come unannounced. He knew better, so why not warn you ahead of time?

You tie one of the ends to your bedpost and throw the rest of it down. Afterwards, you settle yourself on the edge of the bed that faces the window. Patiently, you waited for Kazutora to climb through, which didn’t take very long. 

Less than five minutes later, he managed to get himself halfway through. Soon he’s slumped against the floor, grinning like a dork at you.

Frowning, you crossed your arms.

“Don’t tell me you're mad at me for waking you up?” he quipped.

“Kazutora…it’s too late to be pulling stunts like this. We’re not little kids anymore.” you huff, giving him a pointed look.

His grin staggers, flashing a guilty grimace. “I-I know, it’s just…I didn’t have any plans so I was hoping we’d go on–I don’t know–a little adventure,” he pauses, glancing back at you and then shooting his gaze at the ground, “like we used to…” he sighs.

Your harsh stare softens and your shoulders relax. 

“If you wanted to hang out, you could’ve said something,” I whispered. 

He perks up, hopeful eyes captured by your own. There’s a pause, a quick silence.

“You know I won’t say ‘no’ to you Kazutora.” You breathe out.

There’s more silence between you two, and at the moment, you didn’t even care that it was late and you were losing sleep. You didn’t want him to leave, but it was hard to really sit in the same room with him right now. It was tense, and neither of you dared to speak up. 

There’s a sudden shift in weight next to you on the bed, looking back up, you turn to the side, meeting your friend’s slightly flushed face.

“Hey, um,” he clears his throat, “that…was a lie.”

Your brows furrowed. “Hm? What do you mean ‘tora?”

Situating himself more comfortably on your bed, he folds his arms, holding your curious gaze.

“The truth is…I just…I wanted to be with you. I-I missed you, I guess.” 

You blinked a few times, processing his words carefully so as to not mistaken his intentions. But, once it clicked what was going on, it was pretty clear to you as to what the poor boy was trying to say. So far, he was as red as a tomato, and it killed you at how cute he looked. You got the hint, but you would rather hear it from him.

“What’s that mean?” you asked coyly, leaning in towards him with a grin. You dropped your hands to your sides, awaiting a response from the struggling juvenile.

He takes a shaky breath, swallowing thickly as he considers his next words. 

“I just…I couldn’t stop thinking about you s’all…” he mumbles.

Clicking your tongue, you get on all fours, slowly crawling towards Kazutora until he’s backed up and eventually trapped between you and the mattress.

“Kazutora, do you…like me?” you teased.

He nods, his head hazy and spinning from the close proximity. “I-I do!”

After the small confirmation, you were satisfied, immediately collapsing on top of him and snuggling into his chest. 

“Good. ‘Cuz, I like you too!”

Groaning, he envelopes you in a warm embrace, returning the small ounce of affection.

“W-why didn’t you say something sooner then?!” he whines.

“Because you're cute when you’re nervous!” You laughed airly.

For the rest of the night, he stayed with you, falling into a deep sleep in the comforts of your warm bed.

Hanma

There wasn’t a night that went by that Hanma didn’t appear from your bedroom window. He was always welcome to use the front door. You even went as far as to give him an extra key to your apartment. 

However, according to your manic friend, using the door “wasn’t as welcoming” compared to using your window as an entrance. Either way, you didn’t mind Hanma’s company or his random appearances. 

It was comforting in a way. It was like a fresh touch of color to your daily plain routine.

Tonight was exactly the same. 

Hanma had recently texted you not too long ago, saying he’d drop by to hang out. Per usual, you had opened your apartment’s window, waiting for Hanma to climb down the apartment balcony staircase. 

From there, you would wait in your bed with a book in hand as you waited for Hanma.

Ten minutes later, there’s a knock on the wall. Turning your attention from your reading, you meet with the familiar wicked smile of your awaited guest.

“Hey there sweetcakes. Missed me?” 

Rolling your eyes, you bookmark your page and place the book on your nightstand.

“Hardly.” you lied.

Hanma scoffs, climbing through the opening of your window with a noticeably big plastic bag in hand. 

Tilting your head slightly to the side, you eye the items in the bag with a questioning stare. 

“What's in the bag?”

“Hm? This?”

He grins, proudly raising the bag in his left hand as if he had just found gold, “I’d thought we would make some weed brownies and try ‘em!”

“W-weed WHAT?!” you choked, baffled at how calm he was at the sudden proposal of doing something very much illegal.

He cocks a brow, “Hm? What? You don’t like brownies?” He questioned thoughtfully. 

You were ready to smack him upside the head and scold his ass right on the spot, but you caught yourself and recollected your composure before losing your cool.

“Hanma…it’s not normal for ordinary people to spend the night making weed brownies.” you sighed, smoothing the lines on your forehead.

“Where the hell did you even get the weed?”

“I know a friend,” he simply shrugs, walking over to you and casually situating himself next to you on your bed. 

Both of you rested against the headboard of the bed, enjoying each other’s company in the quiet with nothing but the rambunctious sound of the ongoing city of Kabukicho filling the gap between the two of you. 

“Have you ever made a weed brownie before?” you chimed, staring at the chipped ceiling of your small apartment. 

“Yeah, plenty of times.” he muffledly replied, lighting the cigarette that rested between his lips.

“Let’s make some tomorrow.”

He gently blows a puff of smoke, smirking as he turns his head to you, “Sure thing Sweets.”

You chuckle at his ridiculous pet name, while a warmth spreads across your chest, rising to your cheeks. 

“Hey…” he pipes up, turning your gaze towards his own. “I’ve, um–been meaning to tell you somethin’.”

“What’s that?” you asked warily, a small grin gracing your tired features.

“...I really like you y/n.” he sighs, once again exhaling a large cloud of smoke from his thin lips. 

You knit your brows together, eyes searching his expression for any foul play. 

“Hanma…” He turns his gaze back to you, “did you eat a weed brownie before coming here?”

He flicks your forehead.

“Ouch! Hey!” you rub your forehead while using your other free hand to swat his shoulder.

“That’s for asking dumb shit. Of course I didn’t.” he scoffs, mildly glaring at you.

You huff, settling down in your spot as you process his sudden confession. 

“But, why?”

“Hm?” he furrows his brows, taking small puffs of his cigarette before resting it between his fingers. “Why what?”

“Why do you like me?”

There’s a heavy silence weighing down on the two of you. Hanma stares at you for a little longer, before turning his attention to the blank, dull walls of the room. 

“I like you because you're different.”

You return to face him with your own stare. 

“Different, how?”

He smirks and returns your fixated gaze, “Give me a chance and you'll see~” he winks. “You won’t regret it.”

You did give him a chance. And you never regretted it at all.

Ran

You weren’t expecting a visit from Ran. Especially through the window of your run down apartment building. 

You just came back from taking a double shift from work. It was well past 2 in the morning and all you wanted to do was crash for the night. 

Trudging through your apartment, you kick off your shoes and sling your bag on the couch. 

You make your way over to the fridge where you kept a bottle of wine. Grabbing the bottle you take it with you into your bedroom. 

Once you close the door behind you, you turn around and are met with a familiar lanky figure in your bed. 

“Oh, great your home.” Ran casually exclaims as he thumbs through a random book from your shelf. 

He glances at you and then down to the wine bottle in your hand. Cocking a brow, he folds his arms and says, “Rough night?”

“Yeah,” you sigh dejectedly, trudging over to his spot and settling next to him in the bed. 

“Mind if you share that?” he asked, nudging his elbow gently to your side with a tired smile.

You hum, handing over the bottle while you stare at the static TV screen. “Go ahead.”

He gently grasps the bottle, easily unscrewing the cap and downing a good mouthful of the bitter liquid before handing it back to you.

“You should seriously get that thing fixed.”

“I don’t mind the static…” you wearily say, downing your own mouthfuls of the harsh liquor.

“You had a rough night yourself?” you asked, looking over to him to study his features more closely. He’s usually covered in cuts and bruises, sometimes after getting into another brawl. Tonight was just that.

Ran’s once porcelain, smooth skin was now littered with small cuts and a few bruises. Nothing major to damage the face. You could even go so far as saying he looked more handsome when he was a little roughed up. Of course, you would never admit it out loud. He’d never let you hear the end of it.

“You could say that.” he chuckles, turning his attention to the static of the TV. 

“Wanna talk about it?” you asked.

“...would it make me feel better?”

“You tell me.”

He stays quiet for a moment, shaking his head.

“I got into a fight.”

“Well duh, I already know that dummy.” you sigh, pinching your bruised cheek.

“Ow, so mean.” he pouts, turning to face you again. 

You suppress the smile creeping on your lips and press them into a firm line.

“Why did you start a fight?”

“Bold of you to assume I’m the one who picked a fight first.”

You give him a pointed look, ignoring the lousy answer. Your eyes narrow as you press for the truth. 

“Ran.”

Now it was his turn to sigh. “Ok, so I did start it first, so what?” he huffs, staring back at the TV. 

Your gaze softens at his hardened tone. You gently take his hand and squeeze down gently. 

“Why?” you voiced softly.

Once again he goes quiet, attempting to find the proper answer to your persistent questions. When he does, he doesn’t look at you, he just continues to stare at the static screen of the TV.

“Because they mocked the woman I care about the most and I’d be damned if I didn’t teach them a lesson about bad-mouthing you.” he muttered irritably, his hand tightening around your own. 

You were shocked, not just by the subtle confession, but also by his angered expression.

For the first time, you saw Ran Haitani angry with someone else besides his little brother. And deep down, it touched you knowing that he cared. 

Smiling, you wrap his arm around your shoulders, scooting closer to him and pulling the covers over the both of you. 

“That’s fine with me.” you whispered against him.

"Really?" he whispers back.

You hummed," Yeah. I'll let it slide this time. But afterwards, not more pointless fighting."

He smirks.

"Yes Ma'am."

For the rest of the night, the two of you sat in each other’s company, eventually falling asleep in a warm embrace.

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[poweredinpeace]

2Tim 3:13 But evil men and impostors will grow worse and worse, deceiving

and being deceived.

Evil begets evil and grows worse if left unchecked! There are no exceptions to the rule! But what is the rule? The rule is truth

which begets justice, without favoritism; one law applies to all small and the great.

Evil is always with us, it never dies out rather it is prevent by justice and is quickly exposed by truth. Evil spread like weeds without justice plucking them out of society; evil is an impostors of good unchecked evil itself is deceived by evil!

2Pet.2:2 Many will follow their immoral{TR reads "destructive" instead of "immoral"} ways, and as a result, the way of the truth will be maligned.

Matt.24:12 And because iniquity shall be multiplied, the love of the many shall wax cold.

#politics #science #technology #parenting #pets #photography #quotes #student #architecture #art