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lovebugism · 2 years

Note

oh my god,,,, gurl!!!! THE CUSTOMER'S ALWAYS RIGHT fic is sooo good 😫 my heart literally breaks every time I read this story. Thank you for blessing us with this masterpiece <3

THE CUSTOMER'S ALWAYS RIGHT | square one

summary: eddie makes a confession that's been weighing heavy on his heart. you realize that your future with him is haunted by ghosts from your past. pairing: virgin!eddie munson / f!reader word count: 16.3k warnings: hopper, steve, and robin being the reader defense squad, hints at reader's previously poor mental health, mentions of abusive and toxic relationships, a banshees of inisherin quote, b*lly h*rgrove because he needs a warning. (pretend any typos don't exist pls and thank u!) a/n: guess who's back, back again? ✨✨ i'd apologize for disappearing for a month, but then there'd be apologies in all my notes, so just know that i'm sorry every time i disappear unexpectedly, okay? 🥲 thanks for being so patient! please enjoy this long-awaited installment of tcar ily <3

( PREVIOUSLY ) | ( SERIES MASTERLIST ) | ( NEXT )

Eddie’s got a 1986 Van Halen tape in his boombox and a baby pink heart stitched into the fabric of his shirt. He’s the least metal he’s ever been, but he couldn’t be happier.

You keep your promise to him to patch up his torn Hellfire tee. If anything, you use the absentminded assurance as your excuse to see him again. The night you shared before, all but baring your scarred souls underneath glittering stars and streams of pale moonlight, hadn’t satiated your hunger for him. Eddie left you craving in a way you weren’t used to before — a yearning to be close to him that went beyond the boundaries of physical intimacy.

It was a simple sort of longing. It was a homesickness. A sense of nostalgia for a love you’d never felt before.

You wish you could wear Eddie’s adoration for you like a blanket, wrap yourself in the hand-stitched quilt of many colors and bundle it tighter around your shoulders when the cold comes. You want his softness to hold you in a way you’ve never been able to hold yourself.

You feel swaddled in it, succumbed and cloaked and at peace in all his tenderness. You’ve never been so at ease, so blissfully comforted by the presence of another human being. And Eddie feels all of that, every ounce of warmth you feel, because it pours out of you like rays of sunshine and bathes him in shades of gold.

He didn’t think you could get any softer than you had been that night at Skull Rock, until you were nestled in his unmade bed the next morning. You curled your legs underneath you as you weaved the needle and thread through the tear in his t-shirt, eyes squinted and tongue poking out the side of your mouth in an astute concentration.

All of the sudden, you were marshmallow fluff and honey on toast — made of all things sickly sweet that made his stomach feel suddenly full.

You finish mending the rip in record time and beam when he wears the heart-shaped stitching with pride. The rest of the day thereafter was spent in the tiny confines of his one hundred square-inch bedroom. From there, the both of you came to the silent understanding that you didn't want to spend another day apart.

The weekend had given you a limited sort of freedom, allowed you to pretend that you lived in a world with no responsibilities or anything other than Eddie Eddie Eddie, but adulthood made you no such promises. He had a side job to do to keep himself afloat, and you had a cat that thought it was the end of the world anytime you were gone for longer than a night. Both of those things together meant that the eve of parting was ultimately inevitable.

Every second you spent away from Eddie felt like you were grieving.

You mourned for him in the darkness of your apartment and tried to pretend you weren’t half a person in the cat food aisle at Melvald’s.

You tried to lessen the unbearable distance with phone calls, though it didn’t come nearly as close as feeling his fingers thrumming imaginary beats on your thigh or his heartbeat thudding against your ear.

But his voice filled the emptiness of your one-bedroom apartment and the Eddie Munson shaped hole he’d left just behind your ribcage, and that was good enough for you.

When you weren’t with him, you were roaming around your apartment like some kind of ghost, with the phone tucked between your ear and shoulder and the rotary clutched in your free hand.

You cook yourself dinner with him ranting about his day in your ear. You hold the receiver closer to Bowie and force him to hear her purr when she’s being exceptionally cute. He falls asleep some hours later to the sound of your soft snores, and you wake up the next morning to the sounds of his.

It was pathetic, truly.

You’d be gagging at how sweet it was if it wasn’t happening to you.

But it was.

Every ounce of this sticky sweet goodness was yours, and it tasted just like honey on your tongue.

It was the honeymoon stage times a thousand, all rose-colored and reflecting light — your own personal utopia. It brought with it a heavenly sort of refuge, a bubble of peace you never wanted to pierce.

Eddie basks in the serenity of it all when he finally has you with him again. You’re in his lap, on his lips, and all over him, but it still isn’t quite close enough. He doesn’t think he’ll be satisfied until you’ve successfully melted with him and your limbs have entwined with his like tree roots, destined to remain that way for the next couple of centuries or so.

And it’s weird because he could hardly handle living in such a tiny trailer with Wayne, let alone stomach more than a couple hours with the guys from Hellfire all in one place. But you? You entered his life all at once and now he can’t remember what it was like without you.

He doesn’t particularly want to, if he’s being real honest.

It’s why he’s always less enthused about letting you leave when you’ve both got responsibilities dragging you apart. He begs you to stay with him a few hours more, pleads for you to stick around while he makes a quick deal or an emergency pick-up when Dustin Henderson calls and says he needs a ride.

And you promise you’ll wait on him there, because he makes it virtually impossible to say no to his rosy pouted lips and chocolate syrup puppy dog eyes.

That’s when you run into Wayne for the first time, when Eddie’s out and you’re making breakfast for when he comes back.

French toast and scrambled eggs sizzle on the stove and warm the kitchen with all its cinnamon confections. It makes the man’s face screw up in confusion when he steps inside the trailer because he’s never known Eddie to cook a day in his life. And then his eyes find you — a young, pretty girl all alone in his kitchen with his nephew’s van gone from the drive.

“…Who the hell are you?” he wonders gruffly and pops a cigarette between his lips, totally unbothered.

He’s got no reason to be intimidated by the stranger in his trailer. He’s more confused than anything else, and he’s got this contorted look on his face like he’s blaming the exhaustion from the graveyard shift for his vision of you.

“Oh— my god,” you mumble through the mouthful of whipped cream you’d squeezed into your mouth moments prior. You fight to swallow it all down. “Uh. Hi. I’m, um… I’m Eddie’s... girlfriend?”

It sounds like you’re lying.

In some ways, it feels like you are.

You’ve been spending more time in his trailer than in your own home, but it’s not like either of you has motioned to make anything official just yet.

He eyes you with a tired and heavy gaze, eyes as dark and as infinite as Eddie’s. The man gives you a once-over and then chuckles lowly to himself as he tosses his corduroy jacket onto the back of the recliner and his tin lunchbox to the coffee table.

You shift awkwardly on the other side of the room. “…What is it?”

“When Eddie said he was talkin’ to a pretty girl on the phone every night, I thought he was lyin’,” he admits through hearty chuckles.

It makes you laugh too.

There’s little talking after the fact, besides you offering him some of the breakfast on the stove and him joking that you should come around more often.

You recount the story to Eddie when he returns, utterly mortified about the whole thing. You’re even more embarrassed when the boy finds amusement in your horror and starts to chuckle to himself — not exactly at you, but not with you either.

He laughs louder when you swat at him for it. You clamber on top of him, mattress squeaking mattress under your weight, as you demand him to stop through giggles of your own.

Somewhere down the line, both of you stop caring.

Neither of you is quite sure where the conversation stopped and ended, only that when you started kissing, you couldn’t stop.

They weren’t innocent little pecks, but they weren’t sloppy and full of tongue either. You press your lips together with the intent of being as close as you can to the other, like you haven’t spent every second you could together.

Neither of you will be satisfied until you’ve swallowed each other whole.

And you, you’ve got this ache for him. A swirling of want that’s constantly rippling in your belly for this boy. He’s just not usually under you when it’s happening — and now that he is, the crackling embers have burst into white and blue flames behind your sternum.

Your lips click each time you part, a lewd noise you never want to stop hearing. The sound of it gives you goosebumps, like a good song you’ve just heard on the radio. You wonder if Eddie can feel them as his hands start to creep up beneath your shirt and find purchase along your waist.

You open his mouth with your own and sneak your tongue inside just as you roll your hips over his lap.

It’s the most forthcoming either of you had been in your three-day stint of nonstop talking. Even when you were over at the trailer, totally alone and pressed underneath him, it was otherwise completely innocent. You just make out like a couple of teenagers until one of you wants to make a food run or offers to roll a joint.

And you like that. You like that he doesn’t expect anything from you, but it does get a little agonizing when you’ve tried every attempt to give yourself to him and he just won’t take it.

Like usual, Eddie tenses when he feels you grinding on top of him — partly because he feels a tingle at the base of his spine when he gets instantly half-hard, but mostly because he knows there’s nothing he can do about it.

He keeps preaching to himself it’s not the right time, it’s not the right time, it’s not the right time — but he’s got no idea when it’ll ever be the right time, if it’ll ever be the right time, or if he’ll know it when it comes.

Because he’s had you to himself for days now — no Wayne, no responsibilities, no pressure — with his tongue rutting against yours and your hands fidgeting with the metal buttons of his jeans, and it still doesn’t feel good enough. Eddie doesn’t feel good enough.

He’s not sure if he ever will.

And it’s not you. God, it’s the farthest thing from you. As far as Eddie’s concerned, he’s never had more fun with anyone else. He’s never laughed harder with anyone else. He’s never felt as comfortable with anyone as he’s starting to feel around you. So he’s not entirely sure why he finds the rest of it so hard.

Eddie wants you so bad that the ache of all his yearning is palpable. It’s like the weight of it is what’s keeping him from you — unstoppable force, immovable object, blah, blah, blah.

Either way, it leaves him entirely unable to take things further with you, however much he wants to. There’s something in his way and it’s him.

Your heartache is his own when he has to pull away from you.

“You okay?” you ask him with wide eyes and swollen lips, always so concerned for him.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m good,” he’s quick to assure you. He’s still breathless when he fidgets beneath you, trying to prop himself up on his headboard without rubbing his half-hard cock against your thigh.

When he succeeds, he musters a smile that shakes at the edges. “It’s just… you know, not everything… It doesn’t have to be about sex, you know?”

He makes himself as soft as possible for you when he says this. He gets rid of all the usual teasing lilts that tend to lurk on his tongue as the words spill from his mouth. The last thing he wants to do is hurt your feelings or, in some roundabout way, make you think you’re the problem.

He just wants you to know that that isn’t why he’s been wanting to spend so much time with you. There was never an ulterior motive with him other than all the adoration he holds in his hands and his mouth for you.

The strike of hurt that flashes across your face is obvious to only Eddie, who’s spent enough time mapping out your features to know what twitches are ones of discontent. The slight frown that dips between your brows when they scrunch together for half a second comes like a stroke of lightning. It’s a brief flash of purple in the sky that leaves so quickly that it makes you wonder if it was ever there at all.

You fidget on his lap, not resting as comfortably upon him as you had been just moments before. “Oh…” you murmur through soft, jutted-out lips. “Sorry. I, I didn’t—”

“No, it’s not— that’s not what I—” he tries to assure over your insecure stammers, but succeeds only in tripping over himself in return. He cuts himself off with a breathy laugh, shaking his head while his fingers fidget on your hips. “That’s just not what this is about for me, you know? I just… I wanna spend time with you.”

It’s easily the softest thing he’s ever said to you — to anybody, for the matter — and the marshmallow sweetness of it all wraps around you like wisps of pink cotton candy.

Your apprehensiveness twists into something lighter, a pair of twinkling eyes and a bashful smile.

“Oh,” you hum again, obviously more pleased than before. “That’s nice…”

“No one’s ever said that to you before, have they?” Eddie asks you.

He tries to muster a crooked smirk as the words leave his mouth, but he’s got a feeling he already knows the answer. Hearing you affirm his suspicions will do nothing more than make him angry at all the assholes that had you before him, at everyone who taught you that you were good for sex and hardly a thing else.

It makes him wish that he’d gotten to know you sooner. Maybe then you’d understand that he’d be happy just holding you like this and never doing anything more.

You don’t answer him verbally, just shake your head with your lips pursed softly to the side. You look more innocent than anything he’s ever seen before, even with your lipstick smeared on your chin.

He’s still not quite sure how someone could be so reckless with such a fragile thing — to watch you break and not spend the rest of time grieving to know that you’ll never be quite the same again.

There’s a primal instinct that swims in him then, an urge to keep you in his arms and locked in the confines of his trailer forever and ever. He wants to keep the wolves of Hawkins, Indiana from ever getting a whiff of you again. It’d be more than they deserved, anyway.

“God, you have got to get better boyfriends, sweetheart,” Eddie tells you with a playful lilt in his voice despite the anger simmering in his belly.

“Isn’t that what you are?” you giggle.

His world stops.

“Huh?”

You tense at his tenseness. Only when he’s gaping at you does the weight of your words dawn on you. “…Huh?”

The awkward moment goes as quickly as it arrives, chased out by the fit of laughter the two of you are quickly thrown into. Your entwining chuckles rise like smoke in his tiny bedroom and then settle back over you like a fuzzy blanket.

“Are you asking me to be your boyfriend, babe?” Eddie teases.

“Of course not,” you scoff. “Babe.”

“Oh, right, of course not. That would be way too crazy considering we’ve spent, like, every day together and have made each other come… what is it now? Twice?”

“Three times for me,” you correct with you a smile. “You need to catch up, Eddie Spaghetti.”

“Another time?” he offers with a scrunched nose.

“Whenever you want.”

Eddie is grateful for your lack of urgency, even more so for the kiss you press to the tip of his nose.

You peck him on the lips after — once, twice, and then a thiiird, drawn out time — before moving on to his chin and jaw and neck. Whatever part of him you can reach (which is just about everywhere, considering the vantage point you’ve got sitting on his lap), you sprinkle a kiss to it.

It’s an innocent sort of affection, the kind that makes him wonder how it ever came to be in the first place. What evolutionary measures led to this, to you pressing your lips to his skin to show how much you care about him? Eddie doesn’t really want to know the answer, he’s just grateful that it happened in the first place.

You’re so good at it, loving on him. You’re always so kind and so gentle in your way and it makes him feel guilty. There’s a lingering feeling of undeservedness that settles something heavy at the base of his stomach. How could he ever expect you to be so open with him when he hasn’t done the same for you?

A heavy sigh rattles in his deflating chest.

“I gotta tell you something, sweetheart,” he cautions when your lips smack against the thrumming pulse below the left side of his jaw. “Something you’re not gonna like…”

A billion things run through your head all at once. When you part from him, he can see the rollercoaster of emotions each one of them puts you through.

Your first instinct is that he’s got some kind of partner he’s kept hidden from you until now. It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve gone steady with a guy who’s then told you about some other girlfriend he had — or, god forbid, a wife.

But then you realize that you surely would’ve had some sort of inkling if that were the case. There’s no way Eddie would’ve been able to spend every second of his day with you — and then another several hours on the phone when you had to leave — without someone else coming along to burst your bubble.

And so far, there haven’t been any angry wives, just the occasionally confused Uncle Wayne.

Then you start thinking he’s about to tell you he wants an open relationship. The you’re great, but I’m just not ready to settle down yet spiel that you’ve heard a thousand times before. Usually when people say that, they mean that they just don’t want to settle down with you.

You’ll become some douchebag’s fuck toy for a month or more until the girl next door comes around. He gets her knocked up in record time, his family forces him to marry her, and they begin their cushy lives together in the center of some cul-de-sac — really settle down, as it were.

You’re not sure if you could take that from Eddie. You could grin and bear if it you had to, take whatever attention he’s willing to give you because who cares if he’s giving it to someone else on the side? You’re just not sure how long you’d last like that.

And then you start to worry that he’s just going to break up with you entirely — it’s not you, it’s blah, I’ll always care about blah, please don’t tell anyone about how we blah-ed. That whole talk.

All the rest of your worries stop mattering so much because you’ve only just called him your boyfriend. And here he goes, about to end it all before it can really even start. That’d be just your luck, you figure.

“Did I do something wrong?” you caution after a few moments of heavy silence.

Eddie’s bleeding heart wrenches at your words, at how sad they sound spilling from your mouth, and how you immediately think that it’s got something to do with you.

He shakes his head feverishly in response. “No. No, it’s not you. You’re… you’re perfect.”

“Okay…” you concede quietly, voice trembling with a lingering disbelief.

“I just… I haven’t been totally honest with you, you know?” the boy admits before his glimmering chocolate eyes fly open and he corrects himself quickly. “And I haven’t lied to you or anything. Not— Not exactly. I just… I wanna be honest with you… As your boyfriend and all.”

You can tell by the sudden weight in his voice that he’s serious. But the fine coat of glowing rose that splotches Eddie’s cheeks after calling himself your boyfriend for the first time makes you melt.

You smile to yourself and start to trace the heart you’d stitched into his t-shirt with your finger.

“Yeah. I mean, we are about to spend our two minutes anniversary together and everything.”

“Exactly,” the boy huffs out a laugh. It lacks its usual jest, though, because of the ice-cold anxiety that drenches him from head to toe and makes his hands and feet go numb.

His fingers tremble where the rest on your waist, trying and failing to find a comfortable position there because, right about now, Eddie feels the most awkward he’s ever felt.

“I just want you to know that I… I’ve never done this before,” he confesses quietly and with his eyes squeezed shut. He prays that he doesn’t have to be any less vague than that.

Your face twists in confusion — your brows furrow and your nose twitches and your head tilts to the side like a puppy. And then you’re laughing, a soft little thing of a giggle that normally makes his heart sing, though now he can only feel it breaking.

“What…?” he tries to scoff out his own chuckle. “Why are you laughing?”

“Because you’ve already told me that, dummy. That you’ve never felt this way before…” you answer, reciting his own words back to him. You haven’t yet forgotten how he’d looked at you as you said them, pale skin made silk under the moonlight while he sparkled beneath the beams of it and his love for you.

“No, it’s… it’s more than that,” he corrects. “I’ve never even had a girlfriend before you. Or anything really.”

You still don’t seem to understand. You just look on at him with uncertainty.

A quiet “okay?” tumbles from your mouth entwined with a nervous giggle, because you don’t understand what’s got him so somber. He’s never dated anyone, you’ve fucked half of Hawkins — these are just facts that went unsaid before now.

And maybe it’s because you’ve never been with a virgin before, but the thought that Eddie might be one hasn’t seemed to cross your mind at all.

It’s that exact thought that scares him.

Because if it hasn’t already, maybe it’s because you’re avoiding it altogether. And why would he ever be the exception?

He opts to bite the bullet and hopes that his heart doesn’t get broken after.

“I’m a virgin. Okay? I’m a complete, total, proper adult virgin,” he blurts with a brazenness he’d previously lacked when it came to all this. “And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before now, but I didn’t, because I liked you and I was scared. So if you wanna yell at me or if you wanna break up with me before our five-minute anniversary, I totally get it, but I should probably let you know that it’ll rip my little virgin heart to shreds, so…”

Eddie ends his nervous ramble with a trembling, lopsided smile that does little to ease the leaden tension he’s just manufactured in the four walls of his bedroom.

He can’t seem to gauge your reaction after the fact, which is strange because he always knows what you’re thinking.

He knows when you’re laughing with him and not at him. You scrunch your nose and giggle when he tells you a funny joke, then tilt your head back and cackle when he trips over the punchline.

He knows the exact moment when something’s started to bother you — when you get real quiet in your bubble of reserved stillness and your eyes start to glaze over. To anyone else, it might just look like a person who’s keeping to themselves. Eddie’s starting to learn that usually means trouble when it comes to you.

He knows the difference between your gentle sort of sadness and when you’re damn near inconsolable. When you cried at the end of Stand By Me, you smiled at him with a glassy tear-filled gaze, then rolled your eyes when he tried to comfort you. The tears only spilled over when you laughed because Eddie pretended you’d hurt him when you’d shoved him away.

But when you’re really upset about something, you don’t show him at all — you fight to keep it all to yourself until you’ve squished the problem into a tiny enough ball that you can forget about all of it.

This is something different.

There’s too much crossing your mind all at once for him to get a good read of you.

You just gape at him, like you’re trying to figure out if he’s joking or not, and then fighting to understand what it means when you realize he’s being serious.

And just when you’ve started to wrap your head around it all, when your brain remembers how to make words again and you realize you haven’t said anything in several agonizing seconds, a foreign voice sounds from down the hallway.

Not foreign in that it was unfamiliar exactly, just foreign in that you and Eddie had spent so much time alone that you were starting to forget that there was an entire world outside of yourselves. A great big world, filled with a great many people, some of whom were your friends who tended to get pretty worried about you.

“Edward Wayne— why the hell is the Chief in my driveway?” his uncle curses from the living room, sounding like he’s speaking through a cigarette in his mouth.

Eddie himself is immediately freaking the fuck out because he figures he must’ve gotten tipped off again. He tries to calculate the quickest way to get you off of him and to all of his cubby holes full of miscellaneous drugs so he can flush them down the toilet before Jim Hopper busts the door down.

And even though you’re not the drug dealer who’s had cops on their ass since they were fifteen in this equation, you look a whole lot more terrified than Eddie does.

Your eyes go wide and the whites of them swim with terror as you launch yourself off of his lap. You don’t spare another glance back at him, not even when you nearly trip over yourself when you shove your sneakers on your feet and shuffle out of the room. He’s forced to follow behind you like a confused puppy as you bound through the trailer at lightning speed.

The haste of your movements startles even Wayne, who halts mid-puff of his cig when you’re in and out of the living room before he can blink. The opening squeak of the screen door and metal slamming against metal is the only thing that punctuates your exit.

“Would it kill you to answer your damn phone every once in a while?” the powerful timbre of Jim Hopper’s angry voice, of which only the man himself could pull off, is muffled until Eddie cautiously slinks onto the porch behind you.

He finds the chief standing beside the Cruiser he’s parked sideways. The door of it is still flung open. A distant beeping sounds from the ignition.

He’s still got on the pressed khakis of his uniform — complete with the golden badge pinned to his chest, darkened sunglasses on the bridge of his nose, and flat-brimmed hat on his head. Even with the majority of his face covered, it does little to hide the anger that radiates off of him like a hot stove eye.

You remain on the porch, shifting your weight on your feet at the top of the steps. “Okay, Hopper, just listen to me for a second—”

“Three days!” he shouts over you, not deterred by your composed nature. “I have been calling you… for three days! Seventy-two hours. No answer!”

Eddie decides to speak up from behind you despite his better judgment. “Yeah, uh, that was kinda my fault,” he confesses with an awkward laugh. “Wouldn’t let her hang up the phone—”

“I’ll deal with you in a second,” Jim interjects firmly and without thinking. He goes back to berating you with an admirable finesse. “Buckley wanted my head on a pike when I wouldn’t file a missing person’s report in the first twenty-four hours, but seventy-two? She was gonna kill me!”

Rather than argue with him, like every fiber of your being so desperately wants to, you make the difficult choice to concede with a heavy sigh. Because you don’t doubt that Robin was on his ass the second she realized you weren’t answering your phone or at your apartment when she and Steve dropped by.

She did tend to be on the overprotective side, after all, which obviously paired well with her melodramatic disposition.

“I’m sorry, okay? I’ve just been… busy.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard the one before,” the man answers bitterly.

“It’s different, Hopper!”

“I’ve heard the one before, too!”

Eddie can only assume that the both of you are communicating telepathically, what with the way your synchronized glares seem to say a thousand words (probably every curse imaginable, if he had to guess) without your mouths ever moving once.

He stands on the outskirts of it all, feeling a bit stuck in the thorniness of such a tense silence, like any slight movement might cut him.

Jim moves slowly, akin to a creeping snake, as his hands raise to remove the glasses from his face. Their lack reveals the ice-cold glare that was previously hiding beneath them.

“Get in the car—”

“—No,” you reject just as the direction leaves his mouth because you knew it was coming.

Jim inhales sharply and smacks his lips against his teeth, like a father whose child is most ardently testing his patience. He plants his work boot in the gravel and his hand on his hips. His steel gaze goes far off for a moment before flitting back to you again.

“…Get in the car or I put you in handcuffs.”

Your breath hitches at the threat. You squint over at him. “You wouldn’t.”

Jim smiles at you, but it’s more threatening than anything else. “We both know that I would.”

Eddie’s eyes flit between the both of you. He can tell that Hopper’s serious and that you’re trying to decide whether or not to call his bluff, with your arms crossed defensively over your chest and lips pursed in a tight line.

You ultimately decide not to. Because Hopper has, in fact, done that before. And even though the circumstances are very, very different, you wouldn’t put it past him to do it again. So you all but stomp your foot like a protesting child and spin on your heel to storm back inside the trailer.

Eddie’s nervous gaze flits between your disappearing form and the storm cloud of a police chief standing in his driveway. When their eyes lock, he realizes he should probably say something. He cocks his thumb over his shoulder and stammers, “I should— I should probably…”

He doesn’t finish his sentence. He catches the front door before it shuts and slithers through the crack of it to follow in behind you.

“Wait, was he— was he being serious about that?” Eddie wonders once you’re back in his bedroom.

It feels a lot less cozy than it did minutes before, less like the bubble of refuge that you thought nobody could pierce and more like a lonely space that feels entirely too empty. You pluck your things scattered around his room, and it starts to feel less and less like home with parts of you gone from it.

“I don’t know,” you answer within a sigh as you collect your cardigan from the back of his desk chair and shrug the thing back over your shoulders again.

“But it’s happened before?”

“Yeah. Once. When I was…” you confess quietly, then trail off. You get your bag from his nightstand and haphazardly shove your scrunchie, sunglasses, and chapstick into the bottom of it. “…When I was in a bad way— it doesn’t matter now.”

Eddie so desperately wants to pry.

He’d wanted to make a joke before, about the handcuffs — something less than tasteful about them and you and Hopper and some good ol’ freaky deaky that you'd scold him for after. But he decides not to now because you sound so strangely solemn about the whole thing, as though it was a story you buried deep with the intent of never bringing it up again.

“You don’t have to go with him if you don’t want to, you know that, right?”

“Of course, I do,” you scoff at his worries, not nearly as threatened by Jim as the rest of Hawkins. You move to stand in front of him in the center of his room and meet his furrowed brows with a soft grin. “He’s not gonna do anything, he’s just pissed. He’ll berate me on the drive back to my apartment and then it’ll be like nothing ever happened.”

That seems to please Eddie well enough, though he’s still a bit disheartened at your leaving.

“I guess we couldn’t keep spending time together like this, huh?” he teases lightly, like the realization of it doesn’t make his chest ache. “Sorta forgot about the rest of the world… whatever that is.”

“It was fun while it lasted,” you tell him with a shrug and a whimsical sigh.

“Wait for me, will ya?” he jokes, if only to make you laugh and to feel like he’s stuck in some sickly sweet ending of a romcom for a couple moments more.

You roll your eyes at his dramatics but let him wrap you in his arms anyway. His hands find purchase on your elbows, thumbs rubbing soothingly along the outsides of them. “How about a kiss, then?” he offers when the urge to feel you because too great to bear. “For our ten-minute anniversary and all?”

“You never have to ask me, Eds,” you assure with a laugh. You rise to the tips of your toes and he meets you halfway.

Home is in your mouth. It’s warm and cozy and safe there. It’s easily the most familiar place he’s ever known, with your bottom lip nestled between his own. He feels homesick when you part from him.

“You’re not mad at me?” he wonders quietly, feeling a bit like a cowering child from where he stands in front ahead of you — eased only when you shake your head almost immediately in response.

“No. I couldn’t be even if I wanted to, I think.”

“Okay. That’s… That’s good.”

“We can talk about it later, if you want. After I get lurch off my ass.”

He tries not to smile too wide, but it’s hard not to beam every time he looks at you. “Yeah. Sure. I’ll… I’ll see you around, I guess?” he stumbles over himself, having forgotten how to say goodbye to you.

It’s equally as hard for you too, it seems, because you nod at him and turn to leave and then realize once you’re halfway down the hallway that you might not survive if you don’t kiss him again.

So you turn and rush back, catching Eddie with his back turned and spinning him around so you can peck him again. You feel his cheeks heat beneath your palm and his sigh against your cupid’s bow and his lips melt against your own.

You etch each tingling sensation into the edges of your mind in the hope that you won’t drive yourself completely insane when you inevitably start to miss him like crazy.

You focus on that and on him when you find Hopper and his stupid proud dad smirk. It’s the only reason you don’t punch him in the jaw and tuck and roll out of the Cruiser when the silence becomes so slowly insufferable.

You’re starting to think Jim left the radio off on purpose. You’ve never known the guy not to drive around without the strumming of an old-school folk song to accompany him. You figure it must be some sort of intimidation tactic, to make you so uncomfortable that you break. You’re a lot closer to that than either of you realize.

You spare a glance over at the man next to you. He hasn’t looked at you once since you get in the car. He’s got one hand at three o’clock on the steering wheel and the other with its elbow propped up on the door as he scratches at the stubble on his jaw.

He’s too at ease not to be bothered. This is obviously some kind of front he’s putting on to conceal his inner irritation.

You give on the lecture you’d been trying to prepare yourself for and exhale sharply through your nose. Your fingers fidget on your thighs as you kick your restless feet up on the console.

“Get your feet off the dash,” Jim scolds without missing a beat.

You huff and obey. “Okay, this is crazy— can’t you just yell at me already?”

He barely wastes a second.

“I cannot believe you right now!” he seethes through gritted teeth, stewing in a dad-like sort of anger.

“It was three days, Hopper!”

“You know what happened the last time no one heard from you for three days?” he shouts back.

You tip your head back against the seat and groan. You should’ve known he was going to play that card.

He waves an accusatory finger between the both of you. “You and me— we had a deal, remember? You let me check in on you. You agreed to that. You visit your little high school friends, and I see you at work, so I can make sure you’re not off somewhere killing yourself.”

Hopper becomes a casualty to the tense silence he created then, when you don’t retort with some comeback of your own and force him to feel every ounce of pressure from the leaden quiet.

He sighs a great big, too loud sigh and shifts in his seat. His softening gaze flits between you and the road. “I didn’t… I didn’t mean it like that, okay? I just meant it, you know, figuratively. I wasn’t… trying to be mean.”

“When have you ever cared about being mean?” you monotone.

“I don’t,” he assures. “I’m just not trying to hurt your feelings, alright? Jeez…”

You try not to take too much pride in the man’s half-apology, though you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t a little bit rewarding.

Jim Hopper’s practically an iceberg. He only melts for his kid, Joyce Boyers, and you, apparently.

It’s why he’s always so damn protective over you. He’s developed this sort of deep-rooted urge to keep you safe after watching you make every wrong decision a human being could possibly make. And when you mess up, because you do mess up, he feels like it’s partially his fault — that, if he’d done more, he could’ve kept you safer.

It makes you feel like a burden most of the time, but you know it’s above yourself and mostly out of your control.

You’d known of each other for a while before you really met, because a troublemaker and police chief in such a small town are bound to. But somewhere down the line, he found you in a valley of mourning for someone that was still alive and you found him in a black hole of grief for someone who wasn’t. The empty and infinite voids within you both were stitched slowly together all over again.

Jim Hopper was the dad you never had. You were the daughter he couldn’t.

And you thought something might change after he adopted El. You figured he might forget about you because it wasn’t like it was his job to watch after you or anything. Playing pretend always felt nice, but you knew it wasn’t real.

It was to Jim, though, who’d developed a similar adoration for you as the one he had for Sara. He hasn’t been able to forget about you in the same way he hasn’t been able to forget about her.

Every night, after he’s scrubbed the day off his body and washed it all down with a lukewarm beer, he lays on his pull-out bed in the small living room of his cabin and goes through a checklist in his head.

He makes sure that he’s checked on El and reminds himself to wake up early to make her breakfast the next morning before he brings Joyce coffee at Melvald’s — Joyce. She always comes next on his list, always right after El, and then you.

He forces himself to calm down when his blood pressure inevitably spikes at the thought of not having heard from you all day. He reminds himself that he saw you at work on his lunch break and that he’ll see you again tomorrow.

Jim hums to himself as he settles more comfortably into his springy cot, deciding that he’ll try a new wine he can’t pronounce when he sees you at Enzo’s the next day and that he’ll drink it while he rambles about Joyce or El’s new boyfriend.

He drifts to sleep with thoughts of Sara.

You’re as ingrained into his mind as every other person he’s grown to love.

He stopped worrying about never getting you out a long time ago. Like a tomato sauce stain on a dress shirt, he knows he’ll never get you out of his head. He knows even more so that he doesn’t want to — no matter how much you annoy him or how angry you make him when you don’t answer his calls.

“Sorry…” you murmur and swallow down whatever mundane argument you could’ve spewed then, at the result of his sudden warmth. You turn to gaze out the window and trace the edges of the puffy white clouds with your eyes. “I wasn’t thinking about that — the… deal, or whatever… Honestly, I was a little too busy being happier than I think I’ve ever been in my life, so…”

You don’t see the dramatic eye roll he gives you in response, but you can’t miss the hearty groan that spills from his mouth.

“What?” you laugh in response. “Have you never been a kid in love before?”

It’s almost jarring how he goes from huffy to concerned in a fraction of a second. His head snaps over to you, jaw clenched and eyes suddenly stern and swimming with a lingering fear.

“Love?” he repeats like he must’ve heard you wrong. “Love— That’s— That’s what this is?”

You shrug. “I don’t know… Maybe…”

His eyes flutter shut for a moment. “Please don’t tell me you’ve said that to each other yet. This guy was just a crush four days ago.”

“No, Hopper. We haven’t. I mean, he literally just told me he was a virgin, so I don’t think we’re even close to—”

“A virgin?” Jim echoes, voice high-pitched and giddy. He beams at you from beneath his bushy mustache and slaps you a little too hard on your arm when he laughs. “Shit, teacup. Are you runnin’ out of options over there or somethin’?”

You twist your body to hit him back harder with your right hand. “It’s not funny, Hopper,” you scold. “He’s nice.”

“You said that about Hargrove once—”

“This is different,” you monotone before the words have the chance to leave his mouth.

“Yeah? How do you know?”

The question stumps you for a moment because you don’t know — you can’t.

You’d never admit it out loud, but Hopper was right; you’re still not quite sure how you ever could’ve thought that Billy Hargrove was a good guy, but you did. You felt a similar feeling of elation with him as you do now with Eddie, an otherworldly sort of happiness that makes you feel like you’re the only person it’s ever happened to.

And here you are now, sometime later and reveling in the aftermath, still gluing pieces of your shattered heart together.

You treat love like a drug. You use and use and use until it stops being a fun thing and becomes a crutch you can’t live without. That’s always when it starts to hurt you, but you’re in too deep to stop craving it.

And you know it’s bound to happen all over again, but you have to believe Eddie’s different or else you might as well fall into the deep pit of despair you’ve been trying this whole time to crawl out of.

He makes you happy, really really happy, and you’d rather gamble that he hurts you than give it all without even trying.

“I… don’t,” you conclude after a few moments.

Jim seems surprised by your admission, shooting you an incredulous look with his untamed brows raised to his hairline.

You meet his look with a wavering grin. “But he makes me really happy, Hop. Like… It feels like it should be illegal or something. He makes me feel so good my heart hurts. There’s like this—”

“Ugh,” the man grumbles in disgust, sullen all over again.

“I didn’t mean it like that, you weirdo,” you chide.

A grin twitches beneath his mustache in response. “I know you didn’t… ‘Cause Munson’s a virgin.”

“Oh my god!” you groan. “I didn’t even mean to tell you that, okay? Leave him alone— and a swear to god, Hopper, if you make fun of him—”

“Hey, there’s nothing wrong with it, alright? I mean, he’s got the expert around to show him the ropes— ow!” You cut off his stupid joke and accompanying sardonic grin with a fist to his shoulder.

Steve and Robin tend to be quite the formidable duo.

They’ve barely got a brain cell to rub together between them, but there’s still something strangely intimidating about them when they’re both angry. It feels a bit like they’re your I’m not mad, I’m just disappointed parents, and you’re the scolded child taking your lashings in the form of a lecture.

It’s what you feel like now, sitting across from them in your designated booth at Benny’s Burgers — the one by the window in the corner. It’s far enough away from the bustle of the entrance but close enough still to gossip about the assholes you used to know from high school when they walk through the door.

“You scare the shit out of us when you go AWOL like that, you know?” Steve confesses, still soft even though you know there’s a more upset part of himself he keeps hidden for now.

His chocolate gaze flits between you and the pile of fries in the middle of the table that the three of you share. He finds the one covered in the most salt and pops it into his mouth.

“AWOL?” you echo with a distant laugh when you realize how much he sounds like Hopper. “It was three days.”

“Yeah, and you fell off the face of the earth,” Robin retorts, half-muffled through the hearty gulp of strawberry milkshake starting to melt in her mouth.

“You guys are acting like I went halfway across the country,” you scoff. “I was with Eddie. At his trailer.”

“Exactly!”

Steve’s face contorts mid-bite. “Wait, you were with him? The freak?”

It makes you roll your eyes. He’d been too busy hopelessly flirting with the waitress at the counter to hear the entire recounting of your absence to Robin, though it was more of you gushing about it than anything else.

“Yep,” you answer.

“You skipped out on movie night to be with… Eddie Munson?” he reiterates for himself, as though there was any correlation between watching the same three movies while gorging on greasy junk food with your best friends and falling more in love with a guy you were already head over heels for as he tried to explain away the unopened box of condoms collecting dust underneath his bed.

Both are equally fun in their own ways, but totally totally different.

“How did you survive without me, Steven?” you joke back in response.

“He didn’t,” Robin quips.

“So… what? You guys just went on some kinda bender? I don’t get it. Did you just fuck the entire time or something?”

“Well, contrary to popular belief, I can actually spend time with someone and not fuck them—”

“Okay, that’s not what I meant and you know it.”

“And to answer your question — no, we didn’t fuck,” you confess, then elaborate more slowly, a tad bit awkwardly. “Because he told me today that… he is a… virgin.”

Your words seem to settle over each of them differently. Robin stills with her lips wrapped around the candy-cane striped straw then furrows her brows, as though their meaning hits her a few seconds after the fact.

Steve, meanwhile, goes entirely agape in an amazed sort of shock. His eyes go wide, his brows fly up and hide beneath the bangs that hang down over his forehead, and his jaw falls open. And then he starts to smile, a subtle hint of a grin on the corners of his pink lips, like he finds it funny.

“I knew it,” he murmurs to himself.

“…Why are you smiling like that?”

His smirk widens. “That freak said he screwed Vicki Carmichael senior year. I knew he was lying.”

“And why do you look so proud of yourself, exactly?” Robin asks him.

“Because now I feel less bad about never fucking her,” the boy explains like it’s obvious. He set his elbows on the table and gestures wildly with his hands. “I always thought the freak one-upped me because she, like, never gave me the time of day after Hargrove came along, you know? But… It’s good to know that I’m still king.”

His delighted grin is met with confused looks from both you and Robin, who look upon him with twisted eyebrows and squinted eyes.

“Are you not aware of how strange everything that comes out of your mouth is?” you ask him, only partly joking.

“At least that settles why he wouldn’t let you give him a blow job,” the brunette girl concludes with a shrug as she slouches against the booth. “Poor guy was probably shitting bricks about it.”

You realize then that it does make sense, why he’d always been so adamant about your pleasure and never his own. Why he always touched you like you were some fragile thing he might break, and like everything was new to him. Because it was new to him. All of it.

And even though it baffles you to no end how he went his entire life without someone wanting to jump his bones (because truth be told, you’re doing a terrible job at hiding your want to do just that), the fact still remains — Eddie Munson is a virgin.

He’s a virgin with an acute infatuation for the local slut, both of you freaks in your own right.

It just adds more intricacy to a puzzle that already feels so complicated.

“I’ve never been with a virgin before,” you admit quietly, mostly to yourself, as you train your gaze on the straw wrapper you curl around your finger. “It’s different… Scary.”

“Why?” Robin wonders aloud.

“I don’t know. I just— I don’t know what to do now.”

“Just do what you always do,” Steve tells you like it’s that simple. He folds his arms on the table and leans in closer to you. “Experience is good. Okay? Experience is key.”

“No, it’s not that. I think I’m just… I’m scared I’m gonna treat him the way, you know, that I was treated. And I don’t wanna… I don’t wanna do that to him.”

You’re not sure when the shift started, when you stopped being a person to people. You only know that you were something less than that. Somewhere between junior and senior year, you become a plaything that anyone could do anything they wanted to with, and you were too starved for physical affection to tell them otherwise.

You liked the attention. You liked feeling loved, even if it was only for a minute and a half, and all you had to show for it was a pool of cooling come on your belly.

Eddie’s the fragile thing now that you were then.

He was a delicate little thing that can break so easily, something you could split in half if you wanted to.

You don’t.

You want so desperately to be kind, but you’re scared you won’t know how to, because no one’s ever been kind to you.

Steve reaches across the table for you, taking a wild stab at an attempt for affection after several months of being scared to touch you — he did enough of that, he thought, and he’d hurt you. But he can see the lingering ache hiding in your glazed-over eyes and feels an overwhelming urge to quell your worry.

Five warm fingers wrap around your wrist, not too tight or too strong, just enough to stop you from cutting circulation off to the tip of your pointer finger and to remind you that he’s still there.

“Trust me,” he tells you with a sudden soft swimming in his caramel-colored eyes and a smile playing on his lips. “You couldn’t do that to anybody. Not even if you wanted to.”

Your heart nearly stops at his words, at the sheer kindness of them, and at the way he holds you in the soft way you’re used to only Eddie holding you. Your eyes go wide when they flit up to him and then start to sting with the weight of unshed tears.

You’re quick to blink them away though, while you playfully shrug him off and joke — “stop being so nice before I get the wrong idea, Harrington” — because it’s easier than accepting his tenderness.

Robin takes one look at his fond gaze, all gooey and dripping with honey, and then at your rolling eyes and accompanying shy grin, and groans at the softness of it all. She slides out from the confines of the booth and grumbles something about getting a refill on her milkshake.

“Some fries too, while you’re up?” Steve offers with a hopeful grin.

He’s met with the girl’s signature scowl.

“Please,” you finish for him.

Robin grins. “Anything for you,” she croons, if only to make the boy pout, before skipping off to the counter.

She leans her elbows upon the red wooden laminate top and smiles that same sickly sweet smile for Benny by the grill — no doubt trying to get her refills for free.

Even though the bearded man seems unimpressed with her presence, you know that he’ll give them to her free of charge. He’s always had a soft spot for her, one of the only people in town who could rival his wit.

The door dings open, a familiar and high-pitched chime that often becomes more frequent as the evening progresses. This time it lets in a foreign, bitter breeze when the door swings open and closed again.

You can feel the chill from a distance — it resembles the crispness of autumn despite being comfortably settled in the middle of March. It nearly takes your breath away, prickles your skin and makes you grimace back a shiver.

When your eyes leave Steve, a difficult feat considering he’s doing an alarmingly good impression of a walrus by sticking fries in his upper lip, you find that it wasn’t abnormally cold air at all. It was a Peter Parker spider sense form of anxiety that had felt like a bucket of ice water had been poured over you.

Billy Hargrove used to turn heads when he walked into a room.

Now he just sucks all the air out of it.

And it’s not like you haven’t seen him since the break up; for a while, the asshole was painted on the backs of your eyelids — he all but haunted your consciousness. You’ll see him around town on occasion, in his sunglasses and jean jacket and too-tight denim pants, while he struts around Main Street with his new girlfriend (otherwise known as, his flavors of the month).

You think this is the first time you’ve been in the same room as him since your split, though. It feels like it must be with the way your throat starts to tighten and you forget how to breathe.

All at once, you’re scrambling for an exit. It’s like Billy’s a fire and his smoke is rapidly filling your lungs. Your legs start to tremble when your adrenaline spike. Your brain tells you to get out as quickly as you can before he burns you.

Steve notices the look of fear flood your features like a dark storm cloud. You were laughing just seconds before the door opened, equal parts with him and at him, but now you just looked terrified — like a child who’s just spotted a boogeyman in her closet.

He turns in the booth to find what haunted thing has just caught your eye and finds that it’s worse than any monster you could conjure up. It’s Billy fucking Hargrove, with his pretty hair and his pretty smile and his pretty girl under his arm.

His presence filled targeted, almost. Like he chose to come to this diner, on this day and at this time just to fuck with the group of you.

“Don’t even look at him,” Steve advises when he turns back to you. “Look at me, okay? He’s not even worth it. That asshole doesn’t deserve to ruin our day.”

And you try to listen to him. You try really, really hard to let him change that subject to the cold fries or Robin taking too long or a combination of the two, but you can’t focus on him. You’re already so overwhelmed at the sight of Billy that you can’t focus on anything else but him.

You settle on the fact that you might just have to drag Steve and Robin out by their wrists because you can’t sit in this booth any longer, and you definitely aren’t hungry anymore.

And that’s when he spots you.

Your eyes lock and you freeze, immediately averting your gaze but catching the sudden sparkle in his own as he grins a sly, sadistic grin.

“No way,” you hear him say with a laugh under his breath. The sound of his voice makes you tense. You hadn’t realized how at peace you’d been all this time without having to hear it. Now it feels like so many little needles piercing your skin.

“Fancy seeing you guys here,” he greets after he’s made a b-line for your booth and dragged Vicki Carmichael along with him. He smiles with all of his pearly whites while he smacks pungent wintergreen gum between them.

When he slides into the booth beside you, he does so without invitation, and forces Vicki to slink in next to Steve.

And like it wasn’t already awkward enough, you know Vicki — like, know her, know her. There was a drunken makeout at a Halloween party in ’82. Then a one night stand with her brother before he left for college in ’83. And then her Tom Selleck clone of a father at a sleepover for her eighteenth birthday in ’85.

You’re not exactly proud of it, but you’ve gotten a rather hefty taste of her family tree, and the fact that both of you know it makes it that much more uncomfortable.

“We’re kinda busy here, Hargrove,” Steve tells him when he notices how comfortable he’s making himself in your booth.

“Ooh… Is this a little date?” Billy teases with a grin.

Steve’s face falls. “…No.”

“Oh, right,” he nods, though the sardonic lilt in his voice tells you that he already knew the answer. He crosses his arms on the tabletop and turns to look at you with eyes bluer than any ocean. They flicker up and down your form. Suddenly, you feel self-conscious in your baggy jean and tank top duo.

“You’ve been seeing that guy, haven’t you? What’s his name again? The, uh— the freak?”

“His name is Eddie,” Steve answers for you, defending him because you can’t find the words to.

“That’s it,” Billy snaps his fingers, then points. He nudges you with his shoulder. The familiar feel of his jean jacket against your skin makes you wince. “God, you must be runnin’ out of steam over there, huh? I mean… the freak? Seriously? You couldn’t do any better than that?”

The jokes were tolerable coming from Jim and Steve and Robin — they weren’t funny by any means, but you could stomach them because you knew they were jokes. But this? This was just to hurt you. And it works too easily because Billy knows exactly how to break you. He knows all the wires to cut and buttons to push because the puzzle of shattering your psyche is one he memorized long ago.

“He’s actually a really nice guy,” you manage through a tight throat, still staring at your fidgeting hands.

“Well, that’s good,” he hums like you need his approval. “It’s about time, right?”

You huff and choose to entertain him despite your better judgment. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He only shrugs. “I don’t know... Just, you know, that found a guy willing to settle for you. That’s all.”

“Settle?” you repeat, trying to laugh despite how tiny your voice sounds.

“You know what I mean, c’mon,” the blonde boy chuckles. “Sluts are fun and all, but they’re not the kinda girls you wanna settle down with. Steve knows what I mean.”

“No, I don’t,” Steve monotones quickly and without thinking, gaze hardened and jaw clenched. “And you need to leave.”

“I”m hungry, Billy,” Vicki whines, feeling every ounce of the tension surrounding her — like syrup or quicksand. She slides her permed bangs from her eyes and tucks a rogue strawberry strand behind her ear in a nervous tick. “Can’t we just get something to eat?”

“Alright, alright. I know when I’m not wanted,” Billy chuckles.

You grumble bitterly under your breath. “Apparently not…”

“I’ll see you around, Harrington,” Billy singsongs with a grin that wreaks of insincerity while his girlfriend slides out from the booth. He turns to look at you and squints. “Don’t be a stranger, alright? Matter of fact, point Munson my way, and I’ll give him a few pointers.”

You’re uncowed by his offer and angered by his mention of Eddie. Your eyes are stern and unwavering as you meet his gaze for the first time since he sat down beside you.

“I think you could learn a thing or two from him, actually,” you retort, words sounding sweeter than the venom lingering behind them.

Billy’s grin only widens, impressed by your arguing. “Ooh… I forgot about the mouth you had on you, sweetheart.”

The use of the nickname makes you cringe. It doesn’t sound nearly as fulfilling as it does when it comes from Eddie. Now, it just sounds artificial — degrading.

He leans in close to you like he’s about to tell you a secret and splays his arm along the back of the booth behind you. The nicotine on his breath makes you grimace; it’s intoxicating when it comes from Eddie, disgusting from the boy sitting next to you.

His eyes are bluer so up close, darker than you remember them being, and you notice he’s trimmed his usual stubble to a patchy mustache. He looks like the grown-up version of the boy you used to know, visually more mature but still the same in his way.

“When he gets bored of you — because, let’s be serious, he will get bored of you — you know where to find me,” Billy murmurs to you, a cynical smirk on the edges of his lips. “I’ll make sure you stay nice and broken in for the next dozen guys that want a taste—”

Steve can’t hear a word from where he sits across the booth, but he’s fuming with fists clenched under the table anyway. He hates how close Billy is to you, more so how uncomfortable you look with the proximity and how his words make you flinch.

“Alright, you need to leave,” he blurts. “Now.”

Before the blonde could respond with a quip of his own, Robin all but teleports to the head of the table. She’s standing in front of the four of you suddenly, carrying a basket of fries and a strawberry milkshake and wearing a frown on her face.

“You’re in my seat, dickwad,” she monotones, even though she hadn’t been sitting next to you before. She’s not the least bit threatened by the Californian douchebag.

Billy smiles up at her anyway. “I was wondering where the third musketeer was! Still a carpet muncher, Buckley?”

“Happily.”

“What do ya say me and you head up to Lover’s Lake later?” the boy offers despite his date shifting awkwardly a few feet away. It’s a joke, for reasons that are more than obvious, and that’s what makes it so unbearably unfunny.

He slinks out from the booth. The lack of his warmth is strangely comforting and you’re able to breathe for the first time in five minutes. He stretches his back out when he stands to his full height in front of Robin, then shrugs with his hands splayed on his hips.

“Maybe you just need some good dick. I mean… we’re gonna die anyway, right?”

“I’d rather,” she quips with a rouge-tinted smile.

The way it makes him laugh is startling. He finds a strange humor in being rejected — in most things, really. You still haven’t forgotten the cackles that left his bloodied mouth when Steve delivered blow after blow to the boy’s face in the middle of his living room, like it was all a fun game to him.

That was, of course, before Billy got the upper hand and nearly killed Steve that night. He laughed about it that too, until Max knocked him out with a baseball bat.

He’s got the same grin on his face now as he did then when he turns to look at you. A pink and pretty smirk, just wide enough to reveal the dimple in his left cheek. It’s nothing short of taunting, like he’s mocking you without having to say anything at all.

“Don’t be a stranger, alright?” Billy repeats. He keeps smacking his gum between his teeth and winks at you before spinning on the heel of his boot. He guides Vicki with him to the counter with a hand on the back pocket of her jeans.

Even when Robin slides in next to you and effectively pierces the bubble of tension that had already started to shrink with Billy’s leaving, you still find it hard to breathe. You have to keep reminding yourself, forcing oxygen in and out with wobbling breaths through your nose, or else you just stop altogether.

The other two move on rather quickly, having no trouble finding their voices again after he’s gone. Their words are muffled, though, like they’re underwater.

“I forgot what an asshole he was,” Robin grumbles.

“Well, I didn’t,” Steve retorts, eyes scanning the basket of fries for the most strategic pick of the bunch. “I can still barely breathe through my nose.”

“That’s because you didn’t go to a doctor, dingus.”

“Because I didn’t need a doctor, Robin.”

“Yeah, because being concussed three times in two years is so healthy—”

Your eyes act like magnets as they stay locked on Billy’s form. He leans in closer to Vicki to tell her something, then pats her once on the ass before walking towards the exit again. The door dings when he swings it open. Through the window, you catch him pulling out a red and white pack of cigarettes — the same brand of Marlboro Reds he’s been smoking since he was in middle school.

“You okay?” you hear Steve say, but it sounds too far away for you to realize he’s talking to you.

Robin nudges you with her shoulder to jog you from your stupor. You blink hard once and then turn to her with wide eyes. “What?”

“You doing alright over there?” the girl wonders.

“Yeah,” your answer is too quick and too high-pitched to be true. “Fine.”

“Like, fine as in you’re actually fine, or fine as in, if I leave you alone for too long, I’m gonna find you living under a bridge like a troll?”

You roll your eyes at her. “Fine as in, if someone bums me a cigarette, I’ll be good as new.”

Steve huffs when you hold out the palm of your hand toward him. He’s the only one of you who smokes recreationally enough to carry a lighter and pack of cigs with him. You swear he only keeps it with him because the weight of them makes him feel cool. You’re grateful for them now, though, and for the escape they unexpectedly provide you.

His fingers are warm when they brush your hand. The metal zippo he drops in the center of it is far colder and carries a comforting sort of weight to it. He thumbs a cigarette from the pack for you, and you take it with a sardonic smile and a sickly sweet “thank you, Stevie.”

Robin gets out of the booth to let you slide out of it.

The door chimes again, this time over your head when you open it.

Fresh, spring air nearly knocks you on your ass when it hits you for the first time. You realize then, that you’d forgotten to tell yourself to breathe and now your vision’s all swimmy. The cool breeze tries its hardest to quell your swelling anger, but you’re still at a simmering boil. Fists clenched over the lighter and cig duo in your palm and your sneakers slapping angrily against the cracked pavement.

That’s what signals your arrival, the raging stomps that echo in the alleyway Billy takes his smoke break in.

The boy takes a puff of his cigarette and smirks on the exhale at the sight of you. All he needs is one glance to see how angry he’s made you. It’s an innocent, childlike sort of rage that’s got you all scrunched face and red — a heartbroken girl on a war path.

“I knew you couldn’t resist me, sweetheart,” he taunts with his signature sarcastic smile. He holds his arms at his sides, like he’s waiting for some kind of embrace from you. “You used to be like that all the time — all over me, you know? Clingy.”

“You know what you used to be?” you ask him once you’ve planted yourself a few feet away from him, fists shaking at your sides in a nearly overwhelming mixture of rage and apprehension.

“What’s that?”

“Nice! You used to be nice! Or do you not remember that?” you wonder rhetorically. Your anger fades slowly, an ebbing tide, as a reminiscent sadness eclipses your fury — a flood of blue in all your red.

The sharp frown between your brows crumbles and so does your clenched jaw as your harsh features crumple like a balled-up piece of paper. You look upon the man that broke your heart with all the shattered pieces of it.

“You used to let me sleep over at your place when I was too scared to sleep alone at mine, and you’d bring me food when I told you I hadn’t eaten all day, and you’d take me on drives when you knew I hadn’t left my apartment in days,” you ramble in a single breath, gesticulating wildly with your hands — waving them at him and at you and the still air between. They fall hopelessly to your sides.

“You used to be so sweet, Billy…” you conclude with a wavering breath. Your chest trembles on the inhale as you straighten out your shoulders and lift your chin, trying your best not to look as defeated as you feel. “And you know what you are now?”

Billy grins that stupid grin at you, the one that almost looks kind. Almost. It’s still soft in all its insincerity, like a parent entertaining their kid that’s gone on some meaningless tangent.

“No, sweetheart,” he answers after a beat. “What am I?”

“Not nice.”

He scoffs out a laugh.

“You used to tell me, all the time, how scared you were about ending up like you’re dad—” he tenses at the mention of the man, of his own monster in his own closet. “—He’d beat you black and blue every night, and I’d bandage all your cuts and put makeup on you when you begged, so you could go out and pretend like everything was normal. And you know what? You’re just like him!”

Billy doesn’t cower when you walk closer to him. He’s got no reason to be afraid of you, but your words hit him in a place far deeper than a thousand bloodied fists.

“What he did to you, is exactly what you do to me… Or do you know see that?” you don’t wait for a sarcastic reply, mostly because you wouldn’t see the indicators of it through the tears that blur your vision. “You’re not punching me, but it feels like you are. You break me over and over and over and I have to pretend like everything’s just normal and that we—”

“Real mature of you. To bring out the dad-card,” he interjects, if only to stop your ramblings so that he might not have to hear the truth that comes with them.

“You used to he nice,” you repeat, you agonize, you deflate. “Or… Or did you never use to be?”

The shell of your mind answers for you, paints itself with all the memories you’ve been trying like hell to forget for the past six months. It’s easier to pretend the bad things aren’t real than unravel all the reasons why they were bad to begin with, you find.

The negative memories come together like renaissance paintings — dark and gloomy and blotted with too realistic tears and spatters of blood. The oil stains the backs of your eyelids, destined to remain there forever like paintings in museum that’ll stand the test of time if you nurse them well enough.

You hadn’t yet been able to forget the screams and the cracks of fists colliding with bone. They tend to keep you up at night, even when you squeeze your eyes shut and beg for your memory to be wiped away completely.

Billy crouches over Steve’s chest and pummels wholehearted punches to the boy’s face, never tiring in their force, even well after the boy goes limp underneath him. You beg for him to stop while trying like hell to shield Max from the sight of it all.

For a while, you’d blamed yourself for it — for Max being there in the first place and for Steve’s cuts and bruises.

You’d taken the girl and sought refuge in the Harrington home after witnessing a rather heated fight between Billy and his father. There was a sudden urge within you to take her far away from it before it ended how it always did — in weeping cuts and salty tears and insincere apologies when the cops were called.

But you made it worse anyway.

For Max, for Steve.

And you apologized profusely for it after, cried to the boy in his bathroom while you nursed his cuts like you were the one who put them there.

When he told you it wasn’t your fault, you didn’t believe him. Not until now. Not until you realized that Billy had always been angry — always raging with an ocean of fear and grief and violence.

When he fought with his sister, you thought it was normal, that that’s just what siblings did. But the way she cried to you after couldn’t have been normal. Neither could the unearthly fury that washed over Billy like a riptide when he found out you and Max had sought safety in Steve The Hair Harrington — angered that it was Steve and that he couldn’t be that for the both of you.

And then there was the fights. The yelling and screaming and crying fights that felt like the end of the world every single time. The kind of fights you shouldn’t be having when you’re eighteen. You thought that maybe there was some normalcy in the cheating and the secrecy and Billy’s accompanying assholery because that was all you’d ever known.

Or maybe because you had to tell yourself that was normal in relationships because you didn’t want your’s to end. Billy was the first guy to give a damn about you in ways that went beyond just sex. How were you supposed to just give that up?

But then there’s Eddie — Eddie The Freak Munson, who was really just sunshine wrapped up in leather jackets and wild hair and chunky rings and metal music. He makes you happy. The sort of happy that makes you suspicious because something bad has to counteract all the goodness he makes you feel.

Maybe that’s what this was.

Seeing Billy after having wrapped yourself in a blanket of Eddie’s warmth made you see somehow more clearly. He loves on you so much that it’s made a mockery of everything else.

Whatever you had with Billy wasn’t normal, it was a goddamn shit show. He loved you when it was convenient and then had you believing it was the real thing, that you wouldn’t find it anywhere else, when you tried to leave him.

It was a lie, all of it.

The realization makes you falter.

“Oh, god…” you sigh, voice fragile like cracking glass. “Maybe you never used to be…”

For the first time ever, you see Billy’s grin shake. The edges of it flitter, like he’s fighting to keep the corners quirked up. And his eyes have gone a lighter shade of blue, the way they always did when he blinked back angry tears as he talked about his father.

It isn’t rage glassing his eyes now. It’s something sadder, but still as real — something you never got from him in the two years you were together.

He tries, still, to cover it all up. He smacks his lips against his teeth, sympathetically. “Sorry it took you this long to figure that out.”

The laugh you exhale then is heavy with sadness. Your smile is far away and so is your gaze as you stumble back from him. You turn your head to the edge of the alley where mom’s with strollers and people in fancy suits bustle on the sidewalk and keep your eyes on the strangers that whiz by you’ll probably never see again.

“This is… This is pointless,” you murmur. His lean form is blurry through the burning tears you blink away. “Every time I see you, it’s just more bullshit so let’s just— let’s just leave each other alone, okay?”

Billy takes a puff from his cigarette. When he sighs, white smoke billows from his plump, pink lips. “That’s a shame… I was just thinking that you were the most interesting you’d ever been.”

The ebbing tide that had just left you rushes back in a bubbling scarlet wave. His words don’t make you sad anymore, they just make you angry all over again because you know you don’t deserve them. And you’re not entirely sure why he’s chosen you to antagonize out of all the other girls who’d made the mistake of falling for him, but you’re too far past the point of not caring to ask.

“Bother me again and I tell Chief Hopper,” you threaten even though you don’t feel very threatening just now. “I know you’re not scared of me, but you’d be stupid to be scared of him.”

“Why’s that?” he wonders before sticking the half-gone stick between his lips again.

“Because he runs Hawkins. And he fucking hates you—” for what you did to me, you almost say. You swallow the words down like bile before they have the chance to spew out. “And… And be nice to Vicki. Okay? She’s too good for you. Don’t do to her what you did to me.”

Your plea for another is the last thing you say to Billy before you turn away from him. You wouldn’t be upset if it was the last thing you ever said to him. You’re grateful for the resounding silence that follows. It’s nothing but the sound of your receding footsteps and the soles of his shoes scrapping the concrete as he snuffs out his cigarette.

There is no snarky remark or insincere plea — just two people who used to love each other that have no idea to exist together anymore.

When you step outside the brick confines of the alleyway, you feel as though a fraying string that had always connected the both of you had been finally cut.

It allows you to take a deep breath in for the first time in months. A lungful of fresh air that cleanses you, body and mind.

And when you catch Steve and Robin idling at the corner and doing a terrible job of pretending like they hadn’t just been eavesdropping, you don’t get upset or angry with them — you don’t feel much of anything, really.

You just hand the boy his lighter and unused cigarette and let them comfort you on the drive back to your apartment.

A misery sandwich. That’s what Robin calls the three of you and the heaping pile you lay in.

Your queen-sized bed is in no way meant to accomodate three moderately sized adults, but you make it work anyway, like you always do.

Steve lays on his back, legs crossed and hands tucked under his head. Robin is on her stomach on the other end of the mattress, arms wrapped around the pillow she smushes the side of her face into. You lay between the both of them — on the both of them. Sprawled out sideways, you’ve got your head on propped up on Steve’s ribcage and your legs thrown over Robin’s thighs.

The awkward position is the most comfortable you’ve ever been.

“I can’t believe that asshole had the nerve to show up to the diner on our day,” the boy rants. “And then sit in our booth, I mean— who does he think he is?”

Robin’s response is mostly muffled by the pillow. “I thought he left, like, forever ago.”

“Maybe he just couldn’t stay away. It’s Hawkins, shit attracts shit, right?” Steve answers with a shrug that jostles your head slightly. It doesn’t little to knock you from your stupor, though, where you’ve been stuck for the better part of the day. You pick at the skin around your nails with little regard for how red and raging it's gone.

He notices this and thumps you on your temple — hard enough for you to feel it, gentle enough that it doesn’t hurt you.

You turn your chin to your shoulder to look over at him. He tilts his own head to stare down at you, honey-tinted gaze somehow stern and soft at the same time. “If he bothers you again, I’ll kill him.”

You’re instantly warmed by his protective disposition. You know that he cares about you, even though you like to joke that he doesn’t. Steve hurt you once, made a promise to himself to make it up to you, and then just never left you alone.

You’re grateful for it.

You’re not sure who’d be the butt of every joke if he wasn’t around.

“Good to know,” you answer, nodding against his side and trying to hide the smile he gives you. You fail. “You think if he breaks your nose again, it’ll pop back into place?”

His face falls. “You’re real sweet, you know that?”

You open your mouth to respond, something along the lines of “I’m always sweet. You of all people should know that, Stevie,” before a knock sounds at the front door. It comes in the several rhythmic raps that Eddie is known to give when he’s got a tune stuck in his head.

Apparently now, it’s the chorus to “Why Can’t This Be Love?” The Van Halen song he said he couldn’t stand before you.

Robin huffs at the sound of the muffled taps. She frowns like a child. “Who the hell…?”

“It’s just Eddie,” you affirm through a half-hearted grunt as you rise from your comfy position.

That brightens the two of them up almost immediately. Her and Steve share a look you can’t place as they grin at one another. Then they turn back to you with identical mischievous twinkles in their eyes. “Your boyfriend is here,” the former of the two singsongs.

You roll your eyes, but make no move to correct her.

When you stand from the bed and make the short journey towards the door, you hear the patter of their feet following close behind you.

“Gonna go all the way tonight?” Steve teases and jabs you on the shoulder. “Do you want us to leave?”

“No, nothing is happening. And yes, I think you should leave,” you monotone playfully.

Robin rushes past you suddenly and grabs the brass door handle before you’re able. She swings it open without thinking twice about it. Her sudden appearance, coupled with the fact that it isn’t you, startles the man on the other side of the door.

Eddie’s umber eyes go wide, brows raising and disappearing beneath his fluffy bangs, as his head jerks back.

“Eddie Munson,” the girl full-names the stranger she’s never spoken a word to before now. She leans against the doorway and effectively blocks the boy’s view of you. Steve, who squeezes himself in beside her, doesn’t make it any easier. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“You too, Buckley…” he wavers, trying to peer past them for any sight of you.

“Perfect timing, Eds,” you call out from behind them. “They were just about to leave.”

He’s relieved at the sound of your voice — even more so at your appearance when the two in front of you step off to the side to toe on their sneakers.

You don’t look much different than when he saw you last. You’ve put on some makeup that’s started to smudge after the long day and changed your baggy sweatshirt for a more fitted tank top and boxers, but other than that you’re still the same. Still familiar and comforting in your way, a home away from home.

His smile is a tired one and it wobbles at the edges. “Oh, shit, am I— am I interrupting something?”

“No,” you’re quick to reassure him. “You’re saving me, actually.”

“Oh, give me a break,” Steve scoffs. “You love us.”

The boy pulls you into a hug before he leaves, and it’s not the rarest thing in the world, but embraces like this do tend to be few and far between. He whispers “use protection” in your ear and then a sharp “ow!” when you jab him in the ribs.

He and Robin smile kindly at Eddie when they walk by him and out the door, but waste barely a second before turning back around and grinning wildly at you. Steve flashes you a thumbs up while she mouths a cartoonish ‘good luck’ — like it’s the first time you and Eddie had ever been alone together. Like they were just on your ass about having been with him this whole time.

You usher Eddie and shut the door behind them. A quiet sort of peace settles on the apartment like a weighted blanket. The boy revels in every bit of its warmth.

Exhaustion drips from him like syrup. He’s sticky with it. His eyes have lost their usual twinkle, weighed down now with the burden of his fatigue. His face has lost most of its color, leaving a pale sheath of monotoned skin, and his hair is wilder than normal, with an unintentional sort of ruggedness to his curls.

It’s what being without you has done to him.

“You okay?” you ask him softly. It almost makes him want to cry.

“Yeah,” he answers anyway and idles in the spot where your kitchen meets your living room. “Just had a pretty shitty day. Wanted to spend time with you.”

“Me too… About the wanting to spend time with you part— and the shitty day part, too, I guess.”

Eddie smiles at your rambling, but purses it to the side to conceal it from you. “And since it is just about our…” he trails off and bends his elbow to check the watch on his wrist. “…Twelve hour anniversary, I picked us up some takeout.”

He sets the plastic bag on the counter. The red logo of Oriental Jade on the side of it makes your stomach roll with a distant hunger. You hadn’t realized how starved you were feeling after you abandoned your early dinner at Benny’s. It makes you more grateful for Eddie, who always seems to be on the same wavelength as you without even trying.

“Keep this up and we’ll be married before we hit hour twenty-four,” you joke as you rifle through the cartons — chow mein, sweet and sour chicken, dumplings, the works.

Eddie settles in next to you, propping his elbows on the countertop. “Well, I’m pretty sure the courthouse opens at nine, so… What were you thinking for the honeymoon? Hawaii? Bora Bora?”

“How about a cabin in the woods where no one can find us?”

“Hmm… Spooky. Sexy. I’m into it.”

You settle in the living room and eat on the couch while She Ra re-runs play on the television. You try to teach Eddie how to use chopsticks, though he can only work them with his non-dominant hand and all the wrong finger placements. You think it’s cute to watch him fumble with them, and you giggle about it until you’re scolding him for trying to feed Bowie some noodles. He laughs as you swat at him.

When all the containers are fully scrapped clean and tossed in the recycling bin, you migrate to the bedroom — which is perhaps too raunchy a phrase to use when the two of you only bury yourselves under the covers to talk shit.

Eddie drags out the chunky box fan you use when the air conditioner goes out in the summer — because it always goes out in the summer — and props it on the chest at the foot of your bed so the covers will billow around the both of you. “And it’s perfect because we can stay in the fort forever and not get hot,” he tells you, all giddy about it like he's a kid again.

“What if I get cold?” you retort.

Without missing a beat, he answers, “Well, lucky enough for you, I know several ways I can warm you up, sweetheart.”

He ditches his leather jacket and strips down to his boxers and settles in beside you underneath the blankets. The two of you lay shoulder to shoulder while you trace absentminded patterns on the palm of his hand and tell him about your day.

You make sure to leave out all the re-traumatizing-Billy-Hargrove bits, though. You focus mainly on the tense drive with Hopper and the small fight you’d had with Steve on the drive to the diner later that afternoon about the lyrics to Love My Way (both of you had been wrong).

Eddie tries his hardest to focus on your story and your fleeting touches, but he’s too far in his own head. You tell him all these things but he can’t stop thinking about himself — about whether or not you might’ve brought him up somewhere in between.

He wouldn’t have blamed you, if you had. Steve and Robin are your closest friends and, for whatever reason, so is Chief Hopper, you’re bound to bring him up eventually. He was just hoping it would’ve been in a better capacity. Maybe about how kind he was or what a god he was in bed — not how he could only be one of those things because he’d never been anything in bed.

“It doesn’t make things weird between us, does it?” he wonders out of the blue.

You halt mid-sentence and turn to him with furrowed brows. “What?”

Eddie realizes then, that the first half of the conversation with you had only happened in his head. He prays that it’s too dark beneath the covers for you to see how red his cheeks get. “Just… What we talked about this morning. About me… you know…” He finds it hard to say the words. Or any of them at all.

“Why would it make things weird?”

“I don’t know. Because I wasn’t… totally honest with you, I guess? I feel a little bad about it, you know?”

“It’s okay,” you assure and turn on your side to be closer to him. Eddie stays on his back, more than happy to let you cuddle further into him. “I guess I do wish you’d said something before, though.”

His chest tightens. “I’m sorry. I just… I didn’t know how to—”

“I’m not saying it to make you feel bad!” you interject quickly when you catch the spiral of regret he was about to twist himself into. You curl tighter into his side, tossing a leg over his thigh and wrapping your hand around his bicep in an effort to melt with him. When he turns to face you, your noses nearly brush.

“That’s not how I meant it. I just meant that, if I’d known before, I wouldn’t have… I would’ve taken things slower. I wouldn’t have been so, you know, so all over you.”

He hates how apologetic you sound. Like there was ever an ounce of him that would want to take back what happened that night at his trailer or a part of him that might hate how much you love on him.

“I liked it. I do like it.”

“Maybe we can just start over,” you offer. “Pretend like none of that ever happened.”

Eddie knows there’s no way in hell he’ll be able to forget about a single damn thing — not his cum stained jeans and how you looked so pretty washing them for him, not the feel of your tits in his mouth or you wrapped around his fingers, not how you made him blow his load all over his fist just by talking to him.

He goes along with it anyway, though, just for you.

“Okay...” he nods slowly, then squints over at you. “You’re still my girlfriend, though, right?”

“Of course I am,” you giggle.

He grins proudly to himself. “Well then… Hope it’s not too early to have our first kiss then?”

It makes you roll your eyes because it’s such an Eddie Munson way of asking to kiss you. You told him earlier the day that he never had to ask you — in fact, you’d prefer it if he’d just kiss you out of the blue and take your breath away without you ever knowing it was coming. But there was something foreign and sweet in his little reassurances.

“Kiss me silly, Eddie Spaghetti,” you beam. He twists on his side to press tiny pecks to your smile.

It’s rather strange, you find, to kiss someone this way without the intention of it ever becoming something more. You kiss him just to kiss him — just to map the outline of his cupid’s bow and memorize the pattern of his tongue. Just to feel him, as much of him as your mouth will allow you to.

With one arm curled under his head and the other cradling your jaw, when his watch alarms — high-pitched beepbeepbeeps in quick succession — it’s sudden and close to your ear.

Your lips click in protest when they part. His are pink and swollen and glossy with your spit. He smiles with them. “Happy twelve hour anniversary, sweetheart.”

“How long are you gonna make that stupid joke?” you laugh like your heart isn’t swelling so much you’re scared it might burst entirely.

“Uh, I was thinking… forever. Yeah. That sounds about right,” he concludes after a moment of feigned thought. He turns his watch off again and you swear you see him set for another twelve hours from now.

“Forever?” you echo.

“Uh-huh. Forever—” he presses his lips to yours once. “—And ever—” Twice. “—And ever.”

Eddie kisses you until you’re flat on your back and surrendering to each of his tiny little pecks. You twist your hands in his hair and let him love on you a little while more. You giggle when his mouth trails from your lips to your chin to your jaw to your neck. Please don’t get bored of me, you beg silently within your laughter.

I don’t think I could even if I wanted to, he answers with each kiss his sprinkles to your starved skin. How could I, when you’re the most exciting thing that’s ever happened to me?

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #stranger things x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things #eddie munson fic #virgin!eddie munson x reader #virgin!eddie munson

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heliosheart · 3 months

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this show, oh my god????

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Just realized I made a typo so I attached the one with the correct lyrics lmfao thank goodness for the edit button

#digital art #artists on tumblr #procreate #iwtv #iwtv spoilers #iwtv s2 #loumand #louis de pointe du lac #the vampire armand #interview with the vampire #the last dinner party #louis x armand #vampires

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nectardaddy · 2 months

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'88 Ford | Kita Shinsuke

chapter ten | a crime of passion

masterlist

ignore timestamps

track ten. . . beneath oak trees

spinoff -> serendipity , a soon to be collection of random situations and insanity between kitayn because I'm too in love with them to let them go

cw/notes: hurt/comfort (I'm sorry yall I have no excuses anymore but it works), good but intense feelings, kita is the sappiest man alive™, this is the last chapter before the epilogue :'), dylan gossett is carrying this fic I love his music, IT'S HAPPENING IT'S HAPPENING!!!, ignore typos if you see them I was so excited

Dusk was quickly approaching, the sound of crickets being the tell tale sign before the sun dared dip below the horizon. The pair finding themselves within the acres of rice, mud and dead crops crunching underneath each step they took. Walking aimlessly, as it seemed like the right thing to do, side by side; contrary to how the man usually walked behind her.

She felt his fingers brush against her own, calloused and warm, as she walked next to him. The sensation making her feel like a little girl again, nervous and jittery, for once in her life not knowing what to do. Anger couldn't take a foothold here, the interaction making her heart swell instead of burn in fury. A fire that subsided long ago, now left with embers and a swirling stomach - he noticed.

He took her hand. Interlocking their fingers together without a word and a crimson driving to his cheeks he hoped the sunset would hide. A boldness in the motion that almost made him nauseous if he thought about it too long, shoving down the nerves to the very pits of his mind. He was terrified.

"You meant it, right?" She blurted out the question amidst the sound of crickets and evening air, almost breathless as she looked over to him in worry. An anxiety washing over her as she thought back to the interaction only an hour ago; realization of how interrogatory she was hitting her in the chest and shoving her down.

"Lovin' you?" Her question made him falter, stopping his steps to look over to her with a small frown pulling at his lips. There was a gentle pull on her hand, not noticing he had stopped and tried to keep going. Halting when there was tension and looking back at him, taking a small breath when she did. There's no way I deserve a man like this. The handsome man with pretty brown eyes. A golden hue from the sun set cascading down him that made him seem almost ethereal, contrasting his dirt ridden appearance. She felt herself fall in love with the man all over again. "I don't think I've ever been so certain about something in my whole life."

Oh my god. She felt her breath leave her lungs at his words, locking eyes with him without a word and letting the statement process. Letting a moment of development rock her to her core and leave her at a lack of words. All she could do was squeeze his hand, grasping it with all she had in her to fight the lump she felt forming in her throat; her other hand reaching up to cover her mouth. Eyes becoming blurry as she broke eye contact with him, looking to the ground with a shaky breath hidden by her palm.

Dammit, why am I crying? I look fuckin' stupid. She didn't mean for this to happen, to be so overwhelmed by emotion it caused a crack. And a crack is what make dams break. Feeling him squeeze her hand back made the dam completely collapse in on itself. Hot tears slipping down her cheeks as she stared at the ground, if she looked up she would unravel wholeheartedly.

The man didn't say a word to her disposition, knowing full well if he did her anger would take its place. So he stayed silent - she needed this moment. Silent as he squeezed her hand once more for good measure, silent as he gently pulled her towards him. Not a singular word as he wrapped his arms around her, hugging her tightly and promising himself he'd never let go. He couldn't let go if he tried, his heart decided right then and there he didn't care if he lost his job anymore. This was an unmatched feeling he would be chasing for the rest of his days.

"I love you so much." He decided to speak after a brief pause, the evening air filled with her quiet cries. "I realized it when we were in the rain together, but I think I've been in love with you since I met you." Fuck, why would you say that to me?

She grabbed at the fabric of his shirt in desperation, grounding herself as the words made her want to spiral all together. Trying to hide the fact a sob wanted to escape her lips, she furthered herself in his chest and took a deep breath.

"Then why did you avoid me, Shinsuke?" Shakey, murmured words left her throat. The whole interaction left him in awe. "Why did you ignore me even though you love me? Why did you tell me everythin' about me was important to you and run away?" His shoulders slumped and he felt his heart shatter, millions of tiny pieces promoting an onslaught of regret to hit him square in the face.

"Because I'm an idiot," a breathless response, one that was the first thing to come to mind. He sighed. "And I was scared."

"I scare you that much?"

"No." He shook his head and sighed once more, closing his eyes in shame. "I like your righteous anger, it's your dad I was afraid of. 'Thought I'd lose my job."

She loosened her vice like hold on his shirt at his words, his latter statement tying up loose ends of her confusion. Oh, jesus fucking christ, he's serious. There was another pause, crickets chirping louder as the sun began to drift below the horizon - until she laughed. A sad, sorrowful laugh that cut through the tension like a knife. He felt it. Felt her lungs regain air they desperately needed as she took a deep breath, only to laugh again. Lifting her head from his chest to show him tear stained cheeks, a black eye, and a sad grin.

"You are a fuckin' idiot," spoken between giggles that left him confused. Scrunching his brows, dumbfounded, until she opened her eyes to look at him. "My dad knows! He's the one that told me you were in love with me, you moron!" Another laugh, turning into a fit of giggles as she couldn't help herself but to watch his confusion turn to embarrassment.

"What?"

She couldn't contain her amusement, finding herself holding onto him to keep herself upright in fear of toppling over from laughter. "Shinsuke-" she gasped between chuckles, "oh my god y'really are too good for this world! My dad knew the whole time! I told him I loved you and he said he already knew!" More laughter, to which he finally joined in at his own idiocy. Thinking to himself he'd rather laugh than to feel any singular ounce of regret more - this was nice. It was peaceful. Laughing in a field of rice seemed healing almost.

A laughter than died down after a short time, all smiles as she locked eyes with him. "You're so beautiful." A breathless sentence from him with a soft smile, every syllable laced with care and adoration. He looked at her as if she were the only person in the world that mattered, because to him she was.

"Even with a black eye?"

"Even with a black eye." He repeated, "how did you even get one this time?" Cautiously bringing a hand to her face, brushing over the skin of her cheek with warm fingertips. Stopping as his thumb traced over the bruised undertones on her cheekbone. He felt as she smiled, the corners of her eyes creasing as her lips pulled upward. Felt as her cheeks increasingly became warmer from his words and his touch. Felt himself fall deeper and deeper in love with her as every second passed.

"A crime of passion." She rolled her eyes before meeting his once more. Absentmindedly leaning into his touch, making him chuckle. "And y'say 'this time' like a bad thing."

"Never," he shook his head. "They always deserve it."

His hand never left her cheek, to him it felt like a crime to pull away. Vowing right then and there to never, ever pull away from her again as long as he lived - he'd rather die than run away from her again. "You're doing an awful good job of suckin' up to me right now."

"Good. That's what I was goin' for."

Another moment of silence striking them, looking to one another with anticipation. A silly feeling swirling in her stomach as she watched brown eyes flicker in between her own. She couldn't help but let out chuckle. "Just kiss me, you idiot."

"Anything for you." Finally closing the gap between them. She melted right into the palm on his hand.

taglist (open for serendipity! ask to be added)

@wyrcan @chizunata @seroh @chemiru @froyaoya

@h3xi2g0n3 @localgaytrainwreck @mollyrolls @causenessus @diorzs

@rory-cakes @phoenix-eclipses @pattys-got-cakes @girlkissersco

@jaynawayna @aliensstolemyheart @le000xxgrd @cherrypieyourface @theycallmenanamisgirl

@softpia

#haiykuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu smau #haikyuu!! smau #hq x reader #hq smau #kita shinsuke #shinsuke kita #kita shinsuke x reader #shinsuke kita x reader #hq kita #haikyuu kita #series: 88 ford

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yeahyeahchloe · 1 year

Note

love love LOVE your works! 💗 So i randomly had an idea, hear me out!

drummer abby and bassist reader. I literally can see abby getting jealous if a fan approaches the reader and gets a bit touchy (not like a wired way, like hugging her ecc)

oh anon...i love me a jealous gf...

drummer!abby x bassist!reader

synopsis: You just wrapped up your last show of your tour, and run into some fans backstage who are acting like a bit more than just fans...

cw: smut18+, minors and ageless blogs dni, strap use (r!receiving), slight choking, some angst, fluff at the very end, me being too lazy to give the bandmates names, my mid smut writing (im learning lol), my excessive vocabulary

(a/n: pls lmk if u see any typos! )

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

The crowd thundered with screams and applause as the final guitar cord strummed the final song, of the final tour.

Stage lights shown onto your face, encouraging your skin to sweat and your eyes to water.

You decided to relish in the feeling, as it was the last of it you would experience for a while.

Turning around you spotted a face adorned with pride and glee, showcasing a stoic grin.

Blue eyes met yours and that grin seemed to break just a small bit wider.

You, and the rest of the band inevitably had to step off the stage for the last time, and the second you were behind that curtain you were immediately wrapped in a strong hug.

But the hug was unfamiliar.

Very unfamiliar.

"Oh my god, I love you! You looked so incredible up there it was seriously like an angel on Earth or something!" said the body that was previously hugging and was now holding both your hands.

The girl was accompanied by another, who was standing slightly behind her, each holding a starstruck expression.

You quickly got over your initial shock and went into greeting mode.

"Oh! Thank You! Means a lot you enjoyed our last show,"

"Its seriously like nothing I've ever seen. And its so cool back here! My Dad runs tech so he let me in,"

Figures.

"Mhm, I bet,"

"Oh! I almost forgot, I made you something!" The girl reached into her pocket, pulling out a bracelet adorning the lesbian flag colors with a name in the middle.

Gracie.

You glanced at her wrist to see she had one with your name.

"O-oh thanks!" You said, now slightly creeped out.

"Ok, picture time!" she grabbed your waist pulling you in tight as her friend snapped a picture, "Thank you!! I'll see you on my feed," she attempted a joke at this point you wouldn't find funny, and walked away.

Turning around to your bandmates you made a wide-eyed expression and let out an exasperated sigh.

"Jesus what was that?" one of them asked.

"No fucking clue," You answered before realizing Abby had gone, "Hey, where's Abs?"

"She left just a second ago, towards the dressing rooms, looked pissed as fuck,"

You nodded in thanks before walking in the direction of yours and Abby's shared room.

You knocked before entering to find her getting her things together.

"Hey Abby," you greeted timidly.

"Can you get everything you need? 'm tired 'nd I wanna go to the trailer," she said, only glancing my way.

You knew when Abby was frustrated it was best to let her cool off, so you simply gathered your things, walked over to her to show you were ready, and she placed her hand on your lower back to guide you out of the room and to the trailer.

Once inside you both set down your stuff, and you decided that you would talk to her now.

You walked over to her as she sat on the slightly small bed and sat down next to her.

"You okay?" you wearily asked.

She managed a soft "mhm fine" before getting up and walking to where her clothes were, pulling off her shirt leaving her in her bra and jeans.

"Tell me what's wrong," you said, walking up to her slowly.

"I said I was fine, jesus," she grunted, rummaging around for her pajamas.

"Abby," you asserted, finally getting her to look at you, "Please,"

She turned away before saying "You're just too fucking nice to people sometimes,"

"What?" You asked, half not fully catching what she said, half wanting her to go on.

"I mean if some fucking weirdo comes over and hugs you, why wouldn't you deck them?"

"Okay, are you talking about that fan? What do you expect me to do; be a dick and shove her off?"

"Yes-No-I don't fucking know," she stuttered before stomping off back to the bed and taking a seat once again.

You sat next to her, in the same spot you were originally in before asking much more gently, "Abs, what's actually wrong?"

She sighed, "Its just, her fucking hands were all over you, and then she gave you that ridiculous thing like she was trying to claim you or something and it pissed me off,"

"Abby, are you jealous?" you asked, slightly teasing.

"Oh fuck off. I have no reason to be, nobody will ever make you feel as good as I do," she said, turning to you, her eyes now displaying her anger had morphed into lust.

"Yeah?" you asked, breaths becoming shorter.

"Yeah, and I'm gonna prove it to you,"

Before you could get another word in, her lips passionately, yet aggressively slammed into yours.

You immediately reciprocated the kiss and reached your hands us, one cradling her face and the other holding her still bare upper waist.

Both her hands creeped around your hips and gripped them harshly as your tongues met, lifting you and placing you straddling her.

You felt her move her lips from yours and quickly move them down to your neck, kissing and licking up until she got to your ear before whispering "you're mine, and no one's gonna fucking change that,"

Your hips grinded down on to hers as you let out a breathy moan at her words, and the new found bulge you felt in her pants.

"Yeah, feel that? Knew I was gonna fuck you tonight, got ready just for you," she whispered in your ear once again, sending waves of exitment throughout your entire body.

She moved her lips back to yours to continue kissing you as she took your shirt and removed it exposed your tits to her.

Abby took her mouth away from yours and hungrily moved them down to your nipples, sucking and biting at them, eliciting a moan from your chest as you grabbed her hair tightly.

You felt her hands reach down and unbutton your jeans before flipping you on your back so she was now hovering over you.

She quickly moved down, removing your pants and underwear together, revealing your sopping wet pussy to her.

"Fuck, you're so wet. Who makes you this wet?" she asked, toying at your lips, pulling them apart so she could see all of you.

"Mmmh you do," you answered her quietly, aching for her to touch you.

"What's that? You have to speak up sweetheart," Abby said, now looking up at you.

"Fuck, Abby, you make me so wet, you're the only one who makes me this wet," you whimpered in response.

You saw Abby smirk before placing a small kiss on your clit before removing her own pants to reveal her strap, looking as ready for you as ever.

"Do you want my cock baby?" She asked, sliding it up and down your pussy, teasing you.

"Shit-yes, Abby please. Please I only want your cock,"

Abby didn't even have to ask and she had you begging, it gave her an insane ego boost that only got her off more.

"Good girl, learning so fast," she praised before painfully slowly sliding her strap deep inside of you, stretching out your walls with each inch that entered.

She pulled out just as slow as before, and without warning, slammed into you at an alarming speed.

Screams of pleasure roared out of your chest as you felt her hips clip yours with every deep thrust.

Abby sat above you, seemingly watching every square inch of your body with pride as she fucked you senseless.

"That's right, my perfect girl taking my cock, perfect little thing," She groaned, feeling intense pleasure of her own from the sight of you mixed with the way her strap rubbed her clit deliciously at every move.

"Oh, god Abby! 'S too good...always so good,"

Abby loved it when you praised her, it made her feel like nobody else could ever compare to her.

And she fucking needed that right now.

She slithered a hand down to wrap around your throat and she squeezed lightly, just the way you liked it.

Abby saw the way your eyes were repeatedly rolling back at each moan as they became higher pitched and she knew you were about to cum.

"You gonna cum for me, huh angel? Cum on my fucking cock?" She asked, burying herself impossibly deeper.

All you could muster up in response was a weak nod and a feverish moan.

"That's right, go ahead, let it go,"

As soon as you heard those words you felt your orgasm wash over you in a wave and Abby's relentless pace slowed down to an eventual stop.

She slid out of you before getting a damp washcloth and cleaning you up, before slipping the both of you under the covers.

Abby wrapped her arms around you and pulled you close so that your head was resting under her chin.

After a long beat of silence you spoke up, softly saying, "I don't think I would ever love someone like I love you,"

Abby pulled your head out from under yours, and leaned down to give you a long, lovingly kiss.

"I'm sorry I got mad, I mean, I was jealous. I just-I just never want you to leave me," she spoke softly with vulnerability in her eyes.

You cupped her face with both hands, placing a kiss on her forehead before whispering, "You aren't ever going to have to worry about that,"

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

#tlou #x reader #abby anderson #abby anderson x reader #abbyanderson #abby x reader #this is kinda bad sorry #im so sleepy #im tired #love yall #i hate being sick #poopy #yeahyeahchloe

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nicodeangelosuckers · 2 months

Text

A/N: this is my first fic so Please don't judge. Also I finally watched the new descendants movie and I didn't see many fics of chloe and red yet so I kind wrote what I wanted to read.

Also i wrote this on my phone so sorry for any typos

~~~~

Red was laying on her bed in the dorm her and chloe had to share thinking about what had happened when she heard chloe sit on the edge of her bed.

"So are you excited to go back to our time tomorrow? "Chloe said looking down at red.

Sitting up red said " I don't know if excited is the right word, but I'm definitely ready to see if we changed my mom ". Her voice faltering at the end.

Chloe put her hand on Red's leg. "Hey, whats wrong?" She asked concerned.

"Nothing its just... what if we didn't change anything? What if my mom is still the same or worse?"

"Don't worry thats not gonna happen. And besides if it does we get to do this adventure again " she said hoping to cheer red up.

It worked red let out a small laugh. "How do you do that?" She asked.

"What do you mean?" Chloe said slightly confused.

"You... its like I can't be said when I'm around you. You keep making me feel better and I don't know why." Red said looking at chloe.

"Well its easy to make the people you like feel better" chloe said with a smile.

Red was stunned no one had ever done or said anything that made her feel like this before. She kept thinking of everything they had done together over the last couple days.

"Red..." chloe said finally getting her attention. "Are you good you kind of zoned out for a minute.

Red didn't respond. she just looked at the gorgeous blue haired girl sitting in front of her. And before she knew what she was doing she leaned forward closing the gap between them and capturing Chloe's lips in a soft kiss. It took Cloe a moment to realize what had happened before she leaned back into the kiss. Atleast until Red pulled away and started rambling.

"Oh my God! I'm so sorry! I shouldn't have..." was all she got out before Chloe shut her up with another kiss this one slightly more passionate.

Chloe finally removed her had from Reds leg and brought it up her body to her neck. The girls unwillingly broke the kiss when they needed air.

Staring into each others eyes Chloe was the first to speak. "That was..." "amazing?" red finished. "Yeah " was all Chloe could get out.

#descendants #red x chloe #red #chloe charming #red charming #charminghearts

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crucifiedfaerie · 11 months

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Gibson Girl | Pt. 1 ༉₊˚✧

Kylo Ren x Fem!Reader

➴ Summary: After a run in with the Supreme Leader, he can't seem to get you out of his head- or leave you alone.

➴ Song: Gibson Girl - Ethel Cain

➴ Part Two | Part Three

➴ Word Count: 3.4k

➴ Warnings: 18+ MDNI, fem!reader, dom!kylo, kinda slowburn ??, kylo is kinda really manipulative, stalker!kylo, um he's right behind me isn't he?, the mask STAYS ON, how does he not get hot in there ??, mean!kylo to soft!kylo, alcohol plus unbalanced power dynamic so dubcon, SMUT (unprotected PiV sex, fingering, hitting, slight sadist!kylo, degrading, scratching, a teeny tiny bit of blood- nothing serious), fluff if you squint, angst if you squint harder, typos and me being illiterate probably

➴ Taglist: ( @enviedear )

A/N: i haven't written a fic in a good four years so apologies if my writing is a little rusty. my partner and i have been watching the starwars movies and the kylo ren brainrot is so real. i need him expeditiously !! i've also been reobsessed with ethel cain recently and gibson girl is sooo kylo coded so i was inspired to write. i really hope you like it, if the response to this is good i might consider making a part two possibly ?? i do have a few other fic ideas for kylo/ben that are stirring around in my brain sooo im excited to share those eventually

It seems as though you've seen the Supreme Leader around more times in the past two weeks than you ever had in the two years you've been working as a technician on the Finalizer. Like a shadow clad in metal and black leather, he seemed to follow you.

It started two weeks ago with an honest mistake. You had woken up late that morning. Rushing out of your chambers and down the hall, you turned the corner a little too quickly, fearing youd be late to work.

When you crashed into him, you thought you had run into durasteel, the way he didn't move an inch. You, however, bounced backwards, hitting the ground and sending the toolbox in your hands flying.

It wasn't until the air that was knocked from your lungs had returned that you realized this dark mass was not made of durasteel. Sitting on the floor, your eyes trailed from the boots in front of you up to the dark expressionless mask you knew only belonged to the most feared man in the galaxy. Kylo Ren, the Supreme Leader of the First Order.

At this realization you scrambled to your feet, picking up your tools as you went and fervently apologizing. You did want to keep your head attached to your shoulders, after all.

"Supreme Leader- I- my apologies sir! I didn't see you th-"

Your string of incoherent apologies was cut short by him wordlessly lifting a gloved hand to silence you. With wide eyes you stared at him as he lowered his hand, bending down to pick up the wrench you had dropped on his boot in the commotion.

He placed it in the toolbox that shook as you tightly grasped it. As he pulled away the leather of his glove brushed against your bare hand, sending a chill down your spine.

He stood there, staring down at you. Past the near-blinding glint of the cold hallway lights bouncing off the dark metal of his mask, you could see your own mortified expression in the reflection of his visor. Your gaze flickered down to the hilt of the saber he kept on his hip and you winced at the mental image of that crimson colored plasma beam he could send shooting through your abdomen at any moment.

Oh gods, im done for. Any second now.

You were pulled from the morbid thoughts of your impending demise by his deep, modulated voice.

"Do not be late." He said sternly, not a speck of emotion behind his words.

You nodded quickly, "Yes Supreme Leader, I- thank you sir!"

You ran down the hall and as you turned the corner, for a split second you saw he had turned to face your direction. Despite that cold mask, you could feel his eyes on you, burning holes through it.

In the days that followed, he began to frequently make small appearances in your life and that feeling of a pair of mystery eyes on you became a familiar sensation. Whether you were eating in the cafeteria, working through a tangle of wires behind a control panel, or simply walking down a hallway, you'd feel your stomach drop. When you looked around there he would be, a creature in a mask, staring you down from afar. After averting your gaze, pretending you didn't notice him, he would continue on and disappear into the darkness of the Finalizer.

To say you were scared of him was an understatement. Was this just an elaborate plan to kill you for dropping your wrench on his foot last week? It couldn't be. If he wanted you dead he would have sliced you in half in the hallway, gods know he's done it to people before.

Fear wasnt the only thing he made you feel. As you knelt on the floor, trying to run a diagnostic test on the navigational software, your mind wandered to who could possibly be underneath that expressionless mask and modulated voice. Was he really the terrifying creature everyone rumored him to be? Or was there a real human under there? A human man with pretty eyes and rough hands from years of training. You let your mind wander to how they would feel in your-

Your thought was cut short by the hairs on the back of your neck standing straight up.

Speak of the devil and he shall appear.

When you turned around he was so close you jumped and dropped your datapad on the floor. The cracking noise made your heart sink. He was standing right behind you, looming over your small frame that was crouched on the ground. He stared down at you, his masked head tilted as if he were pondering something.

"Supreme Leader. W-what do I owe this pleasure?" You managed to choke out.

Kylo reached out a hand to you, and you obliged, your trembling hand dwarfed by his own. The stiff leather of his glove gripped you tightly, lifting you up to stand in front of him.

The modulator in his mask crackled as he spoke "No need to be so terrified, little star." He chuckled a bit but his usual sternness was still present. "I've only come to ask for you to join me in my quarters tonight..." He paused, "you intrigue me."

Your brain went foggy at the sweet nickname he gave you and it felt as though you might pass out at the thought of being invited to his room. Never had you seen Kylo Ren be so kind to anyone, so why you? Your face flushed with pink as you tried to find the right words to say.

"Intrigue you? Sir I can assure you there's nothing intriguing about me, I'm just a techn-"

"Nonsense." He leaned down to get eye level with you, his helmet inches from your face. "I expect you to be there tonight after lights out. When I want something I do not take no for an answer... and I always take what I want." His voice was dead serious but you could almost hear the smirk that was under his visor.

He released your hand from his tight grip and took a step back from you. With a swift turn, he walked down the hall, not giving you a chance to respond. You stood there stunned for a moment then sank down the durasteel wall, reeling from what just happened.

Kylo Ren, the Supreme Leader of the First Order, wanted you in his quarters. Tonight. After lights out.

Later that night, as you were getting ready, you felt like you weren't even in your own body. When you looked at the clock and saw it was 10 minutes until lights out you thought you might throw up from nervousness.

What do you even wear to see the Supreme Leader in his quarters at midnight? Oh gods I'm gonna pass out.

When you were finally satisfied with how you looked, you took a deep breath and exited your chambers. The cold quiet of the flagship's hallways sent a shiver down your spine.

What am I doing? Why would he invite me here? I should just turn around and go back to my quarters.

Your legs felt like Andorian jelly as they moved you down the dark, secluded hallway towards the front of the Finalizer. You ask yourself so many questions as you attempt to suppress every nerve in your body. He was terrifying, but there was something alluring about him, something so... attractive. Something that made you feel like a small insect being lured into a spiders web. And you liked it?

Once you reached the end of the hallway, you realize it's a dead end. The tall, dark double doors enlaid with silver told you this was probably his door.

Do I knock?

Before you could even finish your thought, they opened, seemingly on their own.

The familiar crackle of his modified voice called out to you sternly, "Come in."

You obliged, taking a deep breath before you stepped into his quarters. The room was dimly lit, illuminated only by the warmth of the fireplace. As you looked around, his space was about what you expected it to be, minimalistic and decorated in hues of red and black, but grand enough for a Supreme Leader.

And there he was, sitting in a red lounge chair in front of the fireplace. You saw him pick something up off the coffee table before he stood and approached you.

"I can sense your nervousness, little star. Take this and come with me." Kylo handed you a glass of whiskey before taking your other hand and leading you back towards the fireplace, motioning for you to sit in the chair across from his.

As you sat, holding the glass in one hand and feeling the velvet cushion beneath you with the other you realized you hadn't said a word to him yet.

"Supreme Leader sir, its an honor to have been invited here by you. Your quarters are... magnificent."

He chuckled. "I'm glad you like it, but there's no need to bother with honorifics when you're here. You may call me Kylo."

"K-Kylo..." You tested out his name, unsure if he was being serious.

This has to be a dream. This cant be real. He can't be-

He nodded, speaking as he poured another glass of whiskey for himself. "I invited you here only to get to know each other. It would be rude of me to expect my guest to be so formal with me."

You felt your face get hot and you look at the floor illuminated by the fire. "Apologies if this is too forward... but how can we get to know each other if I dont even know what you look like?"

I shouldn't have said that. Surely he'll kill me for even asking. Stupid. Stupid.

He fell silent for a moment and stared at you. You internally panicked, thinking your forwardness had angered him.

You've really done it this time.

Kylo reached up and you heard a click followed by a quiet hiss emitted from his helmet. Pulling the helmet up slightly, he revealed the bottom half of his face, and oh gods was he beautiful. His dark locks fell down and brushed his jaw which looked as if it had been carved from marble, and you think you caught the beginnings of a scar lining it.

"Compromise." He flashed a dark smile before taking a sip from his glass. Kylo's unmodulated voice was smooth and deep, a sound you could find yourself getting used to hearing. You watched his Adam's apple move as he swallowed the dark liquor down.

After setting his glass back on the table, Kylo lowered his helmet and clicked it back into place.

"I haven't been able to get you out of my head since our run in. You interest me so much." He mused.

You sighed shakily. "I dont mean to disappoint you s- Kylo, but there isn't much that is interesting about me or my life. Especially here on the Finalizer, most of my days tend to be the same."

You had taken only a few sips of your drink but your head was already getting foggy.

He ignored what you said, seemingly more eager to tell you something he's been wanting to say for two weeks now. "Your mind is what intrigues me most. I can hear them, your thoughts, and they are so loud." You could almost hear the smirk on his face.

He what.

"You what?" You choke out, your face going bright red.

No. no no no.

He chuckled darkly. "No need to be embarrassed, little star. I enjoy listening to your thoughts of me. How late at night you think about my hands groping your body. How you fantasize about being immoral in a complete stranger's lap. How right now you're thinking about me hurting you..." He paused, "I cannot lie to you, my thoughts have been plagued with yours for weeks now. Thats why I invited you here, so I could show you everything you wish you had."

You tried to speak, but couldn't find the words. Your face was flushed with pink and the whiskey was starting to take its toll on your thinking skills.

He stood from his chair and stepped towards you, taking the glass from your hand and setting it down on the table next to his. Towering over you, he leant down closer to you. His gloved hand lightly trailed down your face and snaked it's way behind your neck, his fingers weaving through your hair. He tightened his grasp and pulled down, forcing you to look up at him.

"Tell me, sweet thing. Are you scared of me right now?" He already knew the answer but wanted to hear it.

You nodded, looking up at him with wide eyes. "Y-yes Kylo."

"Good." He said coldly. The tone of his voice changed, as if his sweetness earlier was simply a ruse to lure you in. He pulled you up by your hair to stand, and in one swift motion he had you thrown over his shoulder.

He carried you away down a dark hallway, the light from the fireplace growing dimmer and more distant as he took you deeper into his quarters.

Like a little insect caught in a spider's web.

Once he entered his room, Kylo threw you on his bed carelessly, nearly knocking the air from your lungs.

He immediately went to work on your clothes, pulling your shirt and pants off, almost ripping them in the process. You were left only in your underwear, writhing from the heat growing in your core.

Kylo admired your body, running his cold, leather clad hands along your thighs roughly, spreading your legs. He had been waiting for weeks to do this. The seam of his glove brushed across your clothed clit, causing you to let out a whine.

"Such a pretty voice... I want to hear more of it." He said sternly before pulling your underwear to the side and running two gloved fingers down your folds, coating them in your slick. You gasped at the contact.

Without warning Kylo pushed his fingers inside your entrance, curling his fingers upwards causing your back to arch. As he pumped his fingers into your cunt, he went to work on your clit with his thumb. His other hand snaked its way up your body, stopping once it was wrapped tightly around your neck.

Waves of pleasure washed over you as he stretched you out with his fingers. You felt your climax quickly approaching "Please- sir. Please m'gonna-"

He pulled his hand away and you groaned at how empty you now felt. You rubbed your legs together to get a little bit of friction, but were halted by the sharp sting of his hand coming down on your thigh. You let out a loud yelp.

"Needy little slut." He raised one hand and an invisible force spread your legs fully and froze your entire body in place, while his other hand worked to undo his belt. "You don't get to cum until I say you can, understand?"

You only whined in response. He slapped you hard and grabbed your face forcefully, leaning down closer to you, his visor millimeters from your face. "Say it. say it!"

"Mhmm yes sir I understand!" You whined loudly. Your face stung and you could taste copper.

He let go of your face and finished freeing his cock. You nearly pass out from the sight of it.

Oh gods help me, how is that supposed to fit?

He chuckled at your thought as he lined himself up at your entrance "Don't worry little star, we'll make it fit." He said evilly before pushing inside, watching you as your face contorted from the pain and pleasure of his cock splitting you open.

You nearly scream, letting out a choked whine as he bottomed out, pressing forcefully on that bundle of nerves deep inside you. You tried to adjust to his size but without any warning he withdrew himself before slamming back into you again.

His thrusts were erratic, unrelenting on that sensitive spot, hitting it with every snap of his hips.

"F-fuck... Kylo- you're gonna make m-me cum." You whined, feeling tears prick your eyes as you were reaching your breaking point.

He reached up and grabbed your throat, squeezing, which made your head feel lighter. "Shut the fuck up and hold it." He said coldly. It sounded like a whisper coming from the modulator of his mask.

He pounded into you with such power, and it sent shockwaves rippling through your body. You screamed as he thrusted into you, showing not a speck of mercy on your much smaller frame.

Kylo felt your walls twitching around him. "You wanna cum so bad don't you?" He cooed, feigning sympathy for you.

You nodded your head desperately.

"Beg for it then. Beg to cum on my cock and I might just let you." He growled.

"P-Please-" You whimpered, on the verge of tears.

"I said beg!" Kylo struck the side of your face again, harder this time.

"Please! Please let me cum Kylo!" You cried.

He let out a satisfied groan, gripping your hair and tugging to make you look up more. "Go ahead then, little star. Cum for me." You could hear the smirk behind his mask.

An invisible hand went to work on your clit as he continued to ram into you with unrelenting speed. This sent you over the edge, the tight feeling in your abdomen burst as a wave of euphoria washed over your body. You dug your nails into Kylo's back. Despite him being clothed, you know you did it hard enough to draw blood. You heard him wince but the raw pleasure he was inflicting on your body was too much for you to care about that.

He's cold blooded so it takes more time to bleed.

His thrusts became sloppy and harder as he neared his own release. He had come completely undone, his emotionless façade gone as he whispered sweet nothings and strings of curse words through his mask.

"Fuck-" He said your name, lingering on it, drawing it out in a sickly sweet way. "Gods- your body- its so- I'm in love with it. Fuck."

A few thrusts later, Kylo buried himself inside you to the hilt one last time, bottoming out and groaning as he pumped your cunt full of his cum.

You felt his cock twitch inside you as he looked down at you, hands pressed into the bed on either side of your head and breathing heavily through his modulator.

Kylo pulled out as he stood up and you felt his cum leak out of you and down your thigh onto the bed. You watched as he tucked himself back into his trousers and redo his belt. He went into the refresher attached to his bedroom to retrieve a towel and you felt the bed dip when he returned.

He wiped his cum away gently with the towel and you yelped from the sudden overstimulation.

"Shhh" he cooed, still stern. "I'm only trying to help." Kylo threw the towel to the floor and sat on the bed, back leaning against the headboard. He pulled you closer to him so your head rested in his lap. You watched as he pulled his gloves off for the first time and you took a mental note of how strong his hands looked.

He ran his long fingers through your hair and you sighed, closing your eyes. "I could get used to this." You said sleepily.

The last thing you heard before you succumbed to sleep was, "Me too, little star." Even through the crackle of his modulator, it almost sounded like he was deep in thought.

When you awoke in his bed the next morning, Kylo was gone. As you rolled to the side of the bed, you could still smell him on his bedsheets.

On the bed next to you was a black box wrapped in red ribbon, with a note attached. You opened it and inside was a new datapad, with a fresh, uncracked screen. The note read: "Little star, apologies for the broken datapad. I expect you'll be here when I return later. -K.R."

You smiled as you sunk your head back into his pillows.

#kylo ren x reader #ben solo x reader #starwars x reader #kylo ren #ben solo #starwars fanfic #kylo ren fanfic #ben solo fanfic #star wars #crucifiedfaerie #saint writes - !#fanfic #the force awakens #the last jedi #the rise of skywalker #gibson girl

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rosyjn · 1 year

Text

Roommate- human!jake sully x reader NSFW

THIS IS MY LONGEST FIC YET BTW! (If you see typos pls let me know)

You hated being a human on Pandora. You showed up in January 2154, young and alone. The head of security, Miles Quaritch, constantly demonized the natural life of Pandora. He claimed the indigenous were “savages” and that everything that lives in the forest wanted to kill us. Most of the time, you were confined to the boring human base, nestled next to a forest.

About a week after arriving, you befriended Grace Augustine and began to help her out with her lab work. She was almost like a mother to you. Norm was pretty much your brother, Trudy being a sister. It was your lab friends that made life worth living. The first time you ever left the base was with all three of them, to go collect samples with Grace. And you swore Pandora was the most beautiful place in the universe. The floating mountains, waterfalls, forest life, bioluminescence- your eyes were glued out the door, and you'd take polaroids until your camera ran out of film. Since then, you were thoroughly invested in the avatar program, and dedicated your time to perfecting it. Though you never got an avatar yourself, you were fine with that.

Around 6 months after you showed up, a new member of the avatar program showed up. His name was Jake Sully, and he wasn't supposed to be there. His twin brother Tom had died before you even came to Pandora, and Tom was who Grace actually needed for her project. Jake was, unfortunately, the only person who could take Tom's place. When Jake arrived, it was Lyle Wainfleet who informed you of what he looked like before you met him. For some reason, Lyle thought it was funny. He had stormed into the cafeteria, sitting down next to you while you ate a small cup of macaroni and cheese.

"Wainfleet, what? It's my dinner break right now, a bitch needs to eat!" you snap, turning away as he settles down at your table.

"Y/N, Pandora's got her first meal on wheels," he cackles, whispering to you.

"The fuck are you talking about?" you squint, crossing your legs in annoyance.

"Tommy Sully's dead, they've got his brother here-" he continues.

"What.." your expression softens, a scared look plastering across your face. You never knew Tom, but how are you going to break this news to Grace?

"Tom Sully's brother is a crippl-" he raises his eyebrows, trying to speak more clearly for you.

"I don't care about his brother! How are we gonna tell Grace?" you set your fork down into your bowl of food, your appetite already having disappeared.

"Bout Tom?" he grumbles. You nod. "Don't matter, they got the same genome, anyhow. The experiment oughta work either way."

"You don't get it, whatever. Tell me about this new guy," you sigh, checking the time on your wrist.

"His name is Jake Sully, he's a cripple. His legs don't work anymore, some spinal incident or sumth'n. Gets around in a wheelchair now. Good looking guy, Grace is gonna hate him though," he smiles at the last sentence.

"Not funny," you shake your head. "Y'know where he's staying?"

"Yea, residential building 3, unit 01." he looks down at the table.

"Stop playing with me!" your eyes grow wide and you punch Lyle's shoulder, making him laugh again.

"I'm not, that's where he's livin'! What's your problem?" he pushes your hand off, brows furrowing in confusion.

"Oh god," you grumble, burying your face in your hands. His face lights up in realization.

"Looks like someone's got a new roommate!" he teases, getting up from the table and hurrying out of the cafeteria before you can scold him. You accept your reality and get up to throw away your trash, knowing you have to head back to work. How the fuck did you end up with Sully? You knew at some point, all the unimportant people have to room with some other nobody. It's a rule- human camp shouldn't take up too much space. But you were enjoying your time alone. Your apartment was decorated all girly, and you knew it might change now. You just hoped to god that Jake wasn't as bad as he sounded.

When you entered the lab again, Grace was already pissed.

"Who’s got my goddamn cigarette?!” she growls as she sits up, returning from her avatar form. You anxiously watch as an assistant scurries to a nearby drawer, grabbing a box of Newports. “Guys, what’s wrong with this picture?” she waves a hand at the assistant, “Thank you,” and relaxes when she finally gets a lit cigarette in her mouth.

“Grace Augustine is a legend-“ Norm explains from behind you. You spin around, thinking he was just joking with a friend. A gasp leaves your mouth when you see it- Norm walking, guiding a young man in a wheelchair through the lab. That’s Jake, it must be Jake. You sigh and your eyelids flutter as you watch them head towards Grace, knowing that she’s not going to tolerate this switch-aroo. But you cant help but notice the new guy, weirdly handsome. His eyes are striking, intense in a way.

“Norm, hi!” you smile, walking up to him. It’s almost like a desperate attempt to stall Jake from meeting Grace. It’s stupid, you know at some point they’ll have to collide.

“Hey, Y/N! We’ve got Tom’s brother here! Doesn’t he look just like him?” Norm gestures to Jake, stopping in his tracks. You take a look at him- the first good look you’ve had so far, and he is hot. His face is built so well, and you can see his strong shoulders through his tight shirt. But, his gaze is what really makes you melt, the look on his face…

“Hi! I’m Y/N! How are you? Nice to meet you!” you extend a hand out, bending your knees a little bit to get on his level. Your intent was to shake his hand, which works well. He holds out a large, warm hand and gives a firm handshake. You smile and exhale, but it appears Jake isn’t trying to hide that his eyes are traveling back and forth from your cleavage to your face.

“I’m doing good,” his voice is deep and intense and it makes your heart flutter. “See ya at lights out,” he winks at you and you let go of his hand and back up a little. Norm’s brows furrow at this comment, and his nostrils flare a little.

“Oh, uhm, okay!” you awkwardly smile and back away further, getting closer to Norm.

“Who the fuck?” Grace’s voice booms from behind you, and you jump a little. You slowly inch away, leaving the situation. Norm follows. When the two of you are already on the other side of the room, the tense dialogue between Augustine and Sully fades.

“Y/N, you alright? Is that guy hitting on you?” Norm grabs your arm gently, with a concerned voice. “That comment, about lights out, what did he mean?” he questions.

“My god, didn’t tell you yet. We’re fucking roommates,” you whisper yell. “He just moved in today, building 3 unit 01,”

“If you don’t feel safe at any time, tell me, okay? What type of guy is he?” Norm’s hand leaves your arm, and he leans back onto a table.

“I don’t know! This is the first time I’m meeting him!” you facepalm. “So, if you’re wondering… I don’t know anything about him yet,”

“Okay, just- tell me if he bothers you,” Norm says.

“Of course,” you promise, smiling. He creeps away to do lab work, and in the meantime, you walk over to Jake to strike up a conversation.

"Hey," he says, turning himself towards you.

"Hi, what's up?" you sit down across from him, and he comes closer, tilting his head.

"I saw all those polaroids you've got hung up in your bedroom, you look cute in 'em," he leans back in his wheelchair, pretty much ignoring your question.

"In my bedroom?" you question, almost feeling like your privacy has been invaded.

"What, I'm not allowed to check out my new place?" he jokes.

"God, I'm sorry," you laugh and look down at the floor, listening to the noises of everyone pack up for the night. Once you're reminded that you have to live with this guy, you wish time moved slower. "Oh, how was Grace? How did that conversation go?" you change the subject.

"Why don't I tell you about it at home?" he suggests, making a dreadful feeling develop in your stomach. It's something about the thought of sleeping in the same space as this guy, who you now have a crush on, that makes you nervous. What if he walks in on you in the shower? What if you walk in on him? The thought of him calling your place "home" already was enough to make your heart speed up. You know it's stupid, that you're unnecessarily anxious.

"Sure, I'll walk you back, just hold on a second. I've gotta say bye to everyone," you get up from your chair, pretending to not notice Jake looking at your ass. You circled the lab, helping everyone clean up and hugging your friends. Norm and Trudy gossip in the corner, concerned for your safety. You assure them over and over that everything is fine, even though you can feel Jake undressing you with his eyes from across the room. You ignore all their speculations, walking away with your new roommate following.

"They hate me, don't they?" Jake shakes his head as you enter the hallway with him.

"Don't stress about it, they hate everyone. It doesn't help that you're an ex-marine. The marines here are ignorant to what the scientists think," you raise your eyebrows, digging in your pocket for your key.

"I'm not ignorant, I can promise you that," he nods, a smile growing onto his face. You take your key out of your pocket, continuing your walk home. "Not a long commute, huh?" he says.

"Yeah, everyone gets their home depending on where they work. You and me got real lucky: the first unit in the building," you happily approach the door, putting in the key and twisting it. It gets more and more noticeable- the way Jake stares you down. You try to ignore it, kicking off your shoes. "I think I'm just gonna go take a shower," you tell him. He nods, relaxing as you walk off into the bathroom.

You slip off your clothes, reaching for the shower handle and twisting it. As you look in the mirror, waiting for the water to warm up, you can't stop thinking about Jake. It drives you nuts. How can you live with him when his face makes you so horny? Of course, the quickest solution comes to mind. When you step into the shower, your hand immediately slithers down to your clit, where you rub in circles over and over again, warm water coating your body. Soft little noises leave you, you hum in satisfaction at the thought of getting on your knees for him.

After you finally finish, a feeling of shame washes over you. This isn't right, this is weird. It's weird to touch yourself at the thought of your roommate. You decide you need to get rid of this crush; to find an outlet or something. You can't keep yourself like this. Your brain rushes with thoughts as you wash your hair and body. "I'm gonna get over him, I'm gonna get over him, I'm gonna get over him," you whisper to yourself, the sound of the water making you almost silent. "I can't get wound up like this, not for him. None of my friends like him.." you tell yourself. They're all silly, desperate ideas to make you feel calmer.

Stepping out of the shower, your mind is in a tranquil state. You do your skincare, comb your hair, dry your body, put lotion on, etc. You're clean- clean and fresh. Now, you can go to bed. You can just go right to your room, put pajamas on, and sleep. You wrap your naked body in a flimsy towel, wet hair hanging down past your shoulders as you walk out the bathroom door.

"Fuck," a voice from behind you startles you, and the towel almost drops. You clutch it turn around quickly, fear filling your heart. Your cheeks flush red when you see Jake, watching your body attentively.

"Oh, hi- I was just- going to bed..." you awkwardly shy away, feeling bare. You're in nothing but a small, wet towel.

"No you're not, come here," he pats his thigh.

"Jake, what?" you nervously chuckle.

"Sit, here in my lap," he orders again, patting himself harder this time.

"I- don't have anything on," your voice grows soft.

"I know,"

"Not even underwear,"

"I know, why do you think I'm asking? Come here, sit." he growls. At this moment, it's like you've lost all your self respect. You feel like his little slut. You slowly walk towards him, before straddling him on his wheelchair. You clutch your towel tight when you sit, trying not to show yourself. Your breath hitches when your wet cunt presses up on his sweatpants, and he looks you dead in the eye. "What were you doing in the shower, hmm?" he interrogates, intimately moving a wet strand of hair out of your face.

"We've only just met," you push his hand away, shaking your head. "This is too much," you tell him.

"Then why are you still sitting here, pussy pressed up on my leg?" he grabs your hips, holding them tightly. Your eyes widen and you look down in shame, but you don't move. "Yeah, I know how you feel about me. Go on, please yourself." he starts to move your hips ever so slightly, the friction teasing your clit. Your eyes flutter shut as Jake rocks you back and forth with his strong arms.

"Can I tell you something?" you ask through breathy moans.

"In a second, after you cum, okay?" he replies.

"Mhmhmm," you whine, trying to signal a yes. Suddenly, you feel like that scary distance between you and Jake has been filled. Filled with the sound of you whimpering and getting rubbed on his leg, filled with the horny gazes that he gives you and the quick shower masturbation that you sneak. Jake's hands hold you tightly, fingers digging into your plush hips.

"Ditch the towel already, will ya?" he grunts, his hands traveling up to your chest and pulling your towel off of you. You gasp at the cold air that rushes in against your bare body, and your nipples stand upright. Jake throws your towel onto the floor, hands kneading at your breasts now. “Little slut, just met me and you’re already soaking my pants,” he leans back in his chair, reaching for the band of his sweatpants while you desperately pleasure yourself.

“I really wanna tell you something, oh god, I really wanna tell you something,” you mewl, throwing your head back.

“What?” he whispers, pulling his now erect cock out of his pants. You don’t notice, you’re just overwhelmed with pleasure.

“I wanna, wanna get on my knees for you..” you mutter, eyes still clenched shut.

“Hmm?” he slowly strokes himself, watching your body.

“I touched myself,” you lean into Jake, trying to make your words clearer. “Touched myself, at the thought of it,” you finally open your eyes again, only to be met with the sight of his cock. You gasp, the vision being enough to tip you over the edge. You melt into his arms, his dick grazing your lower belly as you slouch into him. He takes you in, holding you sweetly as you finish all over his leg. Your nails dig into his clothed shoulder, and the pinching sensation makes him growl.

“Fuck,” he remarks, gently moving you out of the way to see the arousal stains you’ve left on his pants. With your arms still wrapped around him, you look down, growing shy when you realize how wet you are. “On your knees, now. Show me what you touched yourself to,” he pushes you off of him and you practically crumble onto the floor, legs unstable from the orgasm you had.

“Ah,” you sigh, taking his cock into your hand shyly.

“What did you picture when you were pleasuring yourself, hmm?” he teases. You slowly bring your head to his tip, giving it small licks and kisses. He’s circumcised, groomed well, but not completely hairless. You don’t mind. You keep licking his tip, before expanding to the shaft, salivating down it. His cock throbs, the blood flow making it hot.

“Mm, tastes so good,” you smirk before opening your mouth and engulfing him fully in your mouth, the tip tickling the back of your throat. His base presses up on your nose and he whimpers. For the first time ever, you’ve heard him whimper. You pull away, a string of saliva connected to your lips, and take a deep breath.

“Fuck,” he strokes your head, pulling and holding your hair into a ponytail which he kept a grasp on, keeping your hair out of your face. You go back in, mercilessly sucking him off. The room fills with slurping and choking noises, along with crude moans and breathing. His cock throbs and twitches in your mouth, occasionally squirting out little bursts of pre cum. You grip onto his legs to hold your body steady, even though your knees were beginning to hurt from pressing into the floor. Your head rhythmically bobs up and down.

“Close?” you ask with an aching jaw.

“Mm, yeah,” he sharply exhales, his grip on your hair growing tighter. You keep up the pace, not going any faster or slower. “My god, you’re fucking good at this. Who taught you how to give a blowjob?” he grunts, making eye contact with you. You take his cock deep in your mouth, your lips and tongue pressing tightly against his girth. It hurts so good. The way he pulls your hair, the sting being so pleasurable. The way your jaw hurts from stretching your mouth open wide. The way your knees hurt from sitting on the floor: it’s all the most perfect pain.

“Mmm,” you hum against his tip, making him spill over the edge.

“Shit!” he grunts, spilling a fat load into your mouth. You close your eyes as it squirts out, coating your tongue and the insides of your cheeks. Little droplets of the warm, salty liquid spill out onto your lips, where you lick them up enthusiastically. You met Jake Sully a couple hours ago, and now you’re tasting his semen.

“When was the last time you came like that?” you wipe your mouth, getting up off the floor on wobbly legs.

“C’mere, you can hardly walk,” he says, reaching out and pulling you into his embrace, where you relax, sitting on top of him. You rest your head on his shoulder and curl up into a ball in his lap, he holds you sweetly and strokes your hair. “Where’d you learn to suck dick?” he asks.

“Um, I mean- I was never taught,” you close your eyes.

“Beginner’s luck, huh?” he chuckles.

“I guess,” your voice is raspy, probably because you just had a dick down your throat.

“C’mon, where do you wanna sleep?” he begins to move his wheelchair.

“Next to you,” you say, picking your head and and looking at him. You notice his features up close and trace little shapes on his cheek. “So pretty, Jake. You’re so pretty.” you remark.

“So, my room?” he ignores your touches.

“Anywhere you want,” you lean in, kissing him on the mouth. He takes his hand off of the wheel, holding your face as he kisses back. It’s a sweet kiss. Jake closes his eyes, stops in his tracks, and holds you.

“Your room, then,” he pulls away, smiling at you. It’s the first real smile you’ve got from him. You melt like putty into him while he heads towards your bed. The comforter is white, the sheets are pink, the room smells like you. Smells like home.

He sets you down gently onto the bed, and you crawl in, immediately relaxing in the warm blanket. He gets in after you, taking his shirt off before he tucks himself in.

“Love you, Jake.” you whisper, turning over in bed and cupping his cheek. He turns to look at you, but doesn’t meet your eyes.

“Babe, you’re gonna have to put some clothes on, or else I’ll be hard all night,” he jokes. You ignore that remark, and stare at his abs instead. But your eyes travel down, and something pokes through the blanket under his torso.

“No way,” you shake your head. “You’re an animal!”

“Yeah, I’m also hard. Come here, ride me.” he pats his torso, leaning back completely.

“I don’t wanna be limping tomorrow at work,” you complain.

“Fuck work, come here, ride me.” he orders. Annoyed (but also insanely horny), you hop onto him, straddling him yet again. A euphoric smile crosses his face as you line his wet cock up with your dripping entrance. “Push down now,” he holds your hips tightly, slowly shoving them down. But you resist, confusing him.

“I’m nervous,” you whine.

“Why? What’s wrong?” he kneads the flesh on your ass.

“Don’t know, it’s just-,” you stutter.

“You just rode my thigh and then sucked my dick, there’s nothing to be nervous about.” he teases. You sigh in response. He’s right. “Go on now, I’ll help ya,” he holds you tight as you lower yourself on his cock.

“Mmph!” you grunt, arching your back as the tip stretches you out. Jake gasps, pushing you down further until your clit touches his base. His dick stretches you out far, your walls clench around him tightly. “Oh, oh god,” you pant, toes curling with pleasure. His tip brushes up against your cervix and you cry out.

“Fuck, you’re tight. Relax for me, okay? Take a deep breath,” he pats you lovingly. Your brows furrow as you watch his cock go in and out slowly, and little squeaks come out with every shallow breath you take. “Deep breaths, want me to do ‘em with you?” he offers.

“Y-yeah,” you whimper. His hand traces along your belly and he breathes in slowly through his mouth, making it especially loud for you to follow along. You follow along with him, his cock still balls deep inside of you. Your muscles relax, allowing you to take him with less pain.

“Hurting?” he asks, his grip on you loosening.

“A little, in a good way,” you moan, slowly speeding up. You can feel little vein and twitch, and the slight curve that he has in his dick. Your warm, wet pussy squeezes him tight. It clamps on him harder with every little movement you make. “My god!” you yelp, the stimulation starting to become too much for you.

“I know, I know, just come for me, okay?” he bounces under you as you ride him. “Come all over my cock, real quick, okay?” he grunts.

“Yes, yes!” you throw your head back, stomach coiling as your orgasm nears. Your legs shake more, and Jake grabs your hips again to keep bouncing you. Your hands hold into his pecs for balance, your eyes clench shut. All the deep breathing flies out the window, and you’re back to desperate panting.

“Goddamn, gah-,” he whimpers. Your hands squeeze his chest tightly and your cunt squeezes his dick when you come. You fall forward into him embrace, legs shaking. Your heat contracts around him. You pull your hips away, his wet cock coming out. A squelching noise becomes audible when it leaves you, his cum dripping out of your hole after it. The substance was more watery, after you’d already milked him a few minutes earlier.

“Oh my god,” you hug him, tucking your head into the crook of his neck and desperately trying to catch your breath.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay.” he coos.

“I think being your roommate will work out just fine,” you kiss his neck.

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sergeantbarnessdoll · 9 months

Text

Needy Soldier » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

Pairings: Boyfriend/Avenger/Beefy!Bucky Barnes x Girlfriend!Reader

Summary: Bucky is in desperate need of Y/N.

Warnings: Smut (18+), language, sub Bucky/dom reader, dirty talk, kissing, hickeys, fingering, (f & m receiving), unprotected sex, riding, mommy kink, praise kink, size kink, Bucky’s dog tags, pet names for Y/N (doll), pet names for Bucky (baby, baby boy)

Written on my phone. I’m sorry for any mistakes and typos.

Header made by @buckys-wintersoldier

GIF IS NOT MINE! Credit goes to the creators.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!🔞

“Doll.” Bucky whispers, trying not to interrupt your conversation with Natasha.

You reached behind you, placing a hand on his arm without looking at him and continued talking to Natasha.

“Doll.” He whispers louder, tapping on your shoulder.

“Buck, not right now. I’m talking to Nat.” You say.

Bucky huffed and pouted. He wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, knowing how much you love it when he does that. You shivered when you felt his stubble against your skin when he placed kisses on your exposed shoulder. Your eyes widened when you felt his bulge against your ass.

“I’m sorry, Nat.” You apologized. “Can we continue this conversation later?” You asked.

“Of course. Have fun you two.” Nat says, winking and walked away.

You sighed and turned around to face Bucky.

“What’s gotten into you tonight?” You asked him.

“Need you.” He whispers in your ear.

“I’m right here, baby.” You say, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“No. I need you.” He says with emphasis.

It didn’t take you long to realize what he meant. You bit your bottom lip and looked around the room to see the Avengers talking amongst themselves.

“Let’s go to our room.” You say, grabbing his hand.

You lead him to the elevator and quickly got on it. You grabbed his open jacket and pulled him down towards you for a kiss when the elevator doors closed. Bucky steadied himself by grabbing your waist. The elevator dinged and the doors opened. You grabbed his hand and went to yours and his bedroom. You closed the door and locked it behind you. You used all of your strength to push him up against the wall and kiss him hungrily. Your hands slipped under his t-shirt, rubbing his abs. One of your hands went lower, stopping on top of his bulge and gave it a squeeze causing him to gasp.

“Please.” Bucky almost whimpers.

“What is it, baby boy? Tell me what you need so badly.” You say.

“I-I want you to suck my cock.” He says, feeling his cheeks heat up.

You giggled and sunk down to your knees. You unbuckled his belt and got to work on his jeans. You pulled down his jeans just enough for his hard cock to spring out, his tip leaking with precum. You wrapped your hand around it, pumping it in your hand a few times.

“Pl-Please.” He begs with a whimper.

You swiped your thumb over his tip, using his precum as a lubricant. You licked the length of his cock before wrapping your lips around his tip and sucked on it. You slid the rest of his cock in your mouth, pumping whatever you couldn’t fit in your mouth and began sucking him off. Bucky threw his head back against the wall when he felt your tongue on the underside of his cock.

“Fuck!” He moans.

It took everything in him not to pull your hair and fuck your mouth. You looked up at him, batting your eyelashes and moaned around his cock.

“Oh god, yes!” He moans.

Your hand left his cock, taking the rest of it in your mouth. You gagged a little when his tip hit the back of your throat, but relaxed your throat. One of your hands held on to his thigh to steady yourself and the other one massaged his balls.

“Fuck, mommy!” Bucky moans loudly.

You hummed around his cock, pleased with his reaction. Bucky made eye contact with you when he looked down. The way you looked up at him while batting your eyelashes innocently almost made him cum on the spot.

“Oh fuck! Don’t stop!” He moans, loving the feeling of your tongue on the underside of his cock.

Bucky felt his orgasm building up soon than he liked.

“I’m gonna cum!” He moans.

You took your mouth off his cock making him whine and look down at you.

“I don’t know if you deserve to cum.” You say, slowly pumping him in your hand.

“B-But I’ve been a good boy all day.” Bucky says, trying to reason with you.

“Good boys don’t interrupt their girlfriend’s conversations with her friends.” You tell him.

Bucky pouted, feeling bad for interrupting your conversation with Natasha earlier.

“I won’t do it again. I promise.” He says, sticking out his bottom lip.

“Hmm…” You think to yourself, still pumping his cock in your hand. “Alright. I’ll let it slide this time. The next time, you interrupt another conversation, I’m handcuffing you to the bed. Understand?” You say.

Bucky nodded his head in agreement. You pinched his hip, a yelp left his lips.

“Use your big boy words or you’re not cumming.” You say.

“I understand, mommy.” Bucky says.

“Good boy.” You praised.

You wrapped your lips around his cock again and bobbed your head faster than you did before. The words “yes!” and “oh fuck!” left his lips when he felt his orgasm getting closer and closer.

“Fuck, mommy! I’m going to cum!” He moans.

“Give it to me, baby boy.” You say.

Bucky threw his head back against the wall, a loud moan of your name leaving his lips as he came in your mouth which you swallowed. He leaned against the wall, a panting mess. You stood up and kissed him hungrily.

“Mmm.” You hummed against his lips. “Be a good boy and unzip my dress.” You say, turning around.

Bucky unzipped your dress and watched closely as you took it off. He couldn’t help but place kisses along your shoulders.

“I have the most beautiful doll.” Bucky says against your shoulder.

You walked to the bed as Bucky watched with hungry eyes. You stopped at the end of the bed, hooking your fingers in your panties and bend over to take them off. Bucky licked his lips at the sight of your wet pussy. You beckoned him over to you. He walked over to you. You stood on your tippy toes to whisper in his ear.

“Strip for me, Soldier.” You whispered, placing a kiss just below his ear.

You laid down on the bed with your legs hanging over the edge, propping yourself up on your elbows and watched as Bucky took his clothes off. He stood in front of you naked and his cock hard, waiting for further instructions.

“Get on your knees and make mommy feel good.” You tell him.

You spread your legs wide open as Bucky got in between them. Bucky placed kisses along your inner thighs, making his way up to your wet cunt. He licked in between your wet folds before latching his lips on your clit, his tongue circling it. A moan left your lips as your head fell back. You reached a hand down to his head, your fingers tugging at his long hair. His stubble scratched your inner thighs just the way you love it.

“Oh fuck!” You moaned. “You always know how to make mommy feel good, baby.” You say, looking down at him.

Bucky moans against your clit in response, sending vibrations against your clit. Your jaw dropped, breathy moans leaving your lips. Two of his metal fingers sliding inside of your pussy caught you off guard.

“Oh Bucky!” You moaned.

Your moans encouraged him to move his fingers faster. Your elbow gave out and you fell back on the bed. You other hand joined your other one, tugging on Bucky’s hair.

“You’re being such a good boy for mommy.” You praised. “Do you want me to ride you, baby boy?” You asked.

Bucky moans in response, sending vibrations against your clit.

“Faster!” You moaned.

Bucky’s tongue moved faster against your clit, his fingers moving in and out of your pussy, trying to get your orgasm to build up. Your cunt clenched around his fingers when they hit that one spot inside of you.

“You’re going to make me cum if you keep doing that.” You moaned, moving your hips against his face.

It was Bucky’s mission to make you cum. He always took your pleasure seriously. His tongue moved faster against your clit and his fingers thrusted faster in your pussy. You felt your orgasm building up to the point where it felt like you were going to burst. A loud moan of his name left your lips as you soaked his face. Bucky stopped his movements with his tongue and fingers, removing them from your pussy. You laid there panting as he sat up from in between your legs. Once you caught your breath, you grabbed the chain of his dog tags and pulled him down for a much needed kiss, moaning when you tasted yourself on his lips.

“Still want mommy to ride that big cock of yours?” You asked.

“Yes please, mommy.” Bucky says politely while nodding his head eagerly.

“Lay down for me.” You instructed.

Bucky laid down on the bed, patiently waiting for you to make the next move. You got on top of him. Your legs were on either side of his hips, straddling him. You picked up his hard cock, pumping it a few times before lining it up at your wet entrance. His tip slipped past your tight entrance causing the both of you to gasp. You slowly sunk down on his cock. His tip instantly touched that one spot inside of you. You placed your hands on his muscular chest, lifting yourself up off his cock, only leaving his tip inside of you and went back down. You rode him at a decent pace, but Bucky wasn’t having it.

“F-Faster please!” Bucky begs.

You obeyed his command and started bouncing on his cock faster. Bucky quickly became mesmerized by the way your breasts were bouncing, making him lick his lip. He couldn’t help himself but reach up and place his hands over your breasts, rubbing his thumbs over your nipples. His fingers pinched thumb causing you to gasp. Bucky was please with your reaction and did it again causing your pussy to clench around his cock this time which made him moan at the feeling.

“You’re so needy for mommy, aren’t you, baby boy?” You say.

“I’m always needy for mommy.” Bucky says with a moan.

“You’re mommy’s needy little soldier, huh?” You say.

Bucky whimpers and nods his head yes. You moved your hips faster against his. Your clit rubbed against his lower abdomen causing you to moan. Bucky felt his second orgasm building up causing him to whimper.

“Can I cum, mommy?” He asks with a moan.

“Not until you make mommy cum.” You say.

Bucky threw his head back and whined. You gripped his jaw, tilting his head down to get him to look at you.

“You want to cum or not?” You asked.

“I want to cum.” He says.

“Then stop your whining and make mommy cum.” You say.

Bucky’s metal hand went down to your clit, his metal fingers rubbing it in circles causing your cunt to clench around his cock. You felt your second orgasm building up. Your jaw dropped, his name leaving your lips as you came on his cock.

“Cum for mommy, baby boy!” You moaned.

It didn’t take long for Bucky to cum. Ropes of his cum was released inside of your pussy. Your bouncing came to a slow stop. You sat on his cock panting while your hands were pressed against his chest to hold yourself up. You leaned down and kissed Bucky sweetly before getting off of him. His cock slipped out of your cunt and you laid down next to him.

“Come here, baby boy.” You say, patting your chest.

Bucky laid his head on your chest and wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him. You ran your fingers through his long hair.

“I love you, doll.” Bucky mumbles before falling asleep.

“I love you too, baby boy.” You say softly, kissing the top of his head.

🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

-Bucky’s Doll

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just-some-random-blogger · 4 months

Text

Edge Of Ever After | 3

Part 1 2 3 4

Sandor runs his fingers down my spine and sighs, "everything I ever touch goes to shit." He grabs my hip and pulls me close. I turn to him and nestle my face into his chest. He traps me in his arms, "but you... you turn my shit into gold."

Sandor Clegane x Reader | 5k+ | cw: fem!reader, wife!reader, smut (slight dubcon, piv, degradation), mentions/depictions of violence, heckling/cat calling, sunshine x grump, remnants of forced marriage, slow burn, angst, emotional unavailability, emotional vulnerability, The Hound being abrasive, miscommunication, fluff, typos, etc.

A/N: hello everyone its been a while a;sjkhdfa;sklfhas;lkfhs it feels weird to post fics on tumblr again after my tumblr got sent to JAIL but its only fair that i continue posting this here <3 (i post this on my ao3 first then bulk post here).

When Sandor enters the Brown Wood meeting hall, he is greeted kindly by many of the people who wished to seek audience with his wife. He vaguely overhears a conversation about someone's babe, but it's cut short.

She turns to him, just as the townsfolk flock over to him like a moth drawn to flame. She smiles, then shoos them away, concluding the meeting for the day.

Sandor watches how she commands the room. One by one the people trickle out of the hall. He watches as she sighs and rubs her belly. He watches as she walks over to him and asks him what he needed.

His eyes remain on the hand she kept on her stomach, "I wanted to… …" gods, have they upset her.

She raises her brows, "to?"

"… are you alright?" He takes her other hand with grave reluctance, "are you hurting?"

Immediately, she drops the hand she had on her stomach and grows rigid. Sandor catches the discomfort she masks with a smile.

She shakes her head, "I'm well."

Sandor frowns. He gently rubs her skin, in case his palms were too rough, "… I wanted to show you… the strawberries."

Her eyes twinkle, "oh? Have they begun to bloom?"

Sandor is winded by how brightly her face seemed so suddenly. He motions with his head, "want to see for yourself?"

The two of them head to the garden.

"Heel, pups. Dammit," Sandor hisses when the three dogs run in front of them.

With one sound and a look, the pups turn to Lady Clegane and move out of the way. Sandor grumbles and nudges them out of the way as he passes, "fuck off."

"Sandor."

"They started it!"

When they get to the garden, the puppies run around the yard, no longer interested in their masters, but instead the birds that had made the unfortunate mistake of resting dormant on the Brown Wood grounds.

Sandor was a natural fast walker, considering his stature. He's always loathed slow walkers. And though he could never loathe his bride, in this moment, he particularly itched to show her the strawberries sooner, so he took her hand and pulled her towards the garden.

He didn't notice the squeak that fell from her lips when he did so. All he knew was that she had to slightly catch her breath when they stopped.

Sandor bends down and turns to her, glancing once at the pups to see what they were barking at. When he realizes the fuss was over birds, he turns back to her and speaks, "I have a strawberry now."

She peers down and knits her brows, "… where?"

Sandor raises a brow and looks at the branch, "here."

She walks closer but only spots it when the man points at the marble sized greenish fruit.

"Oh!"

Sandor turns back to her and nods, "there are many of them already. Do you want to see?"

Before she can reply, Sandor is already examining his garden, looking for something to show. He doesn't just walk off however. He reaches his hand out to her, rather absentmindedly, and mutters something about caterpillars.

He doesn't notice how she sucks in a breath before taking his hand. He doesn't notice how her lips curve when he tells her the things the gardeners taught him.

Sandor doesn't even notice how her eyes water when he tells her that they could trade tasks, she could do the gardening and he could talk to the townsfolk, so not to burdened by their worries; she scratched the tears away by the time he looked.

The only thing he notices is how her face fell.

Gods, he done it again.

"… what's wrong?"

Sandor's insides feel like their being pulverized when he catches the way her lips quiver. It's even worse when she smiles and says, "nothing."

A line forms between his brows.

"I am just… I'm am pleased to see you look so happy."

Sandor knits his brows.

She gives an airy laugh but tears stream her cheeks in spite of it.

Sandor stutters out her name, cautiously reaching out to her.

"No," she chuckles, bringing his hands to her cheeks, "I am not sad. Truly. I am happy. I am happy for you."

Discomfort doesn't leave him when she says this. He wipes her cheeks with his thumbs and nods, "aye. I am happy because of you."

She laughs through tears again.

He feels an overwhelming urge to kiss her.

And so he does.

He pulls her close and leans down. He kisses her like he means to drink in all the sorrow she was lying about. His one hand cradles the back of her head, the other brushes down the small of her back.

He ponders how she chuckles between kisses. Maybe, she wasn't lying. He pulls away and examines her face.

She chuckles again and rubs his chin.

She sighs and licks her lips, "I like it when you kiss me like that."

His brows quirk, "like w-"

She kisses him again. He is caught off-guard when she grabs him by the collar. Sandor can't help the groan that rumbles in his chest as she brings her arms over his shoulders. He snakes his own around her torso and lifts her up.

When she pulls away for a breath and tries to wrap her legs around him, he jostles her body up, allowing her the momentum to do so. He wastes no more time keeping their lips separate. He kisses her as he heads inside.

Unfortunately, Sandor had to see to get to their chambers, so he has to pull away. She makes him cuss when he kisses her neck. He nearly kicks the fucking door down on his way in. He does the same to the chamber door then slams it shut.

Sandor throws her on the bed and heaves like a rabid dog as he looks down at her body and her wanting face. He feels himself go hard with how she licks her lips as he undoes his top. He's never loathed clothes quite as much as he did this moment.

And then she stands up and tilts her pretty face up at him. He towers over her as she grab his hands and slowly pushes them away.

"Let me," she mutters, tugging his top out of his trousers.

He has to bend to help her get it off and it amuses her. She giggles, "you're so tall."

He stirs at the sound of her voice. He wraps an arm around her waist and kisses her mouth. He can taste the sweetness of her laughter on her lips.

He huffs when he pushes him away.

She rubs her nose against his, "lie down, puppy."

His eyes widen.

She bites her lips, feeling nervous over his shock. She manages to convince herself to power through and grabs his arms. She pushes him toward the bed, "lie down."

He doesn't have to hear it another time.

Sandor sits down on the side of the bed, then sequentially gets on his back. His feet stay put on the floor and he keeps his head up to watch her closely. He is visibly straining in his pants and the sight makes her face warm. She bites her lips harder and slowly lifts her skirt up.

"Fuck," Sandor hisses, heart pounding in his chest and his cock.

She removes her smallclothes then slowly crawls on top of him, stopping just before his pelvis.

"Fuuuuccckkk," he sighs, dropping his head. His hands dig into her hips as she undoes his trousers, "you're driving me mad, seven fucking gods, woman."

She hums and giggles softly, "that's right, Hound. I'm a woman."

"H- fuck-" whatever he meant to say gets crushed into a groan when she grabs his throbbing length then aligns herself on him.

He rips at her skirts when she sinks down and leans on to his chest. She rubs his body hair, "your woman."

"Fucking hell," he rubs her sides, "all fucking mine, that's right."

She whimpers when his hands squeeze her breasts. She clenches around him, making him throw his head back. She heaves, "you take such… good care of me… wanna do the same."

Sandor nearly passes when she begins to move. She starts out slow then eases her way into a quicker pace. He groans through his open mouth as she leans further, allowing her to move more surely.

"That's it, love. You feel so fucking good, fuck."

She is encouraged, "like this?"

He doesn't have the words to agree and merely hisses.

Eventually, Sandor can't just lie down. He slowly begins to buck into her and gods does he love the face she makes.

Like a man starved, he pushes himself up, sitting himself down, and kisses her neck. He wraps his arms around her and guides her movements. He brushes his lips down her neck and hisses, "that's it, love," he nips her neck, "so fucking good for me. My lovely wife."

Sandor loosens the ties at the back of her dress. He is frantic about it that he eventually gives up. He resigns to yanking enough of her dress down to expose her breasts. He promptly licks a stripe on her soft flesh and leaves marks wherever his mouth can reach.

She tangles her fingers in his hair and tugs at the roots, "Sandor."

He hums and kisses her jaw, "my love."

They share a kiss until she has to break away and catch her breath from her rigorous movements.

He brings his hand under her skirts and squeezes her thighs, " 'm gonna come."

She squeals when she feels him rub her sensitive nub.

He hisses, "so fucking wet. Mmm, fuck, I'm gonna come inside your hot cunt. Then I'll pin you down and come some more."

"F-fuck, Sandor-"

He hisses as he clutches her neck. He doesn't put any pressure but he still has her whining, especially as he grazes her skin with his teeth. He says hotly, "I need you to be a good girl and make me come first."

She grabs his shoulders.

"Don't you want me to fill you up?"

She hums, "y-yes."

"Good girl."

She bounces on him harder.

"Fuck," he grabs her hips and helps her through it, "yes, yes, yes, just like that-"

She comes first, and she comes hard.

Sandor has to maneuver her roughly to chase after his high, and by the time he does, she's a shaking, loud mess, babbling only his name, cause that was all that's left in her head.

It takes a good while before he finally slows. He makes sure that he rides out the pleasure and fucks every drop of his seed into her softness. Then, they both go limp on the bed.

Sandor heaves. His wife does the same atop him. She can feel her cunt spasm. She can feel their hot spend leaking, but she's too tired to care.

Sandor rubs her back as he sighs, "you're incredible"

She is too dazed to say anything but, "Sandor."

Sandor wraps his arm around her waist, "I'm here, my love. I'm here."

She nuzzles her face into his neck.

He sighs in content.

"Sandor."

" 'M here."

"Is this enough for you?"

"…"

"… what?"

She lifts her head and sucks in a breath. She sighs deeply before replying, "sex… and strawberries?"

Sandor looks at her face. He is in awe of her beauty. What treachery it is for her to believe it isn't.

His silence make her eyes glass.

He grunts as he brings them back into a sitting position. He kisses her neck and rocks her back and forth, "honest to every god in the sky-- old, new, or otherwise, if I died this second… I would die the happiest I have ever been in my whole life."

Her heart throbs. When he looks at him, she knows he isn't lying. Still, she can't help to want to disagree.

And Sandor can see it. He sighs.

"I will tr-"

"Let's go to Volantis."

Her expression drops.

Sandor tucks her hair back, "this is more than enough for me… but it isn't for you. I want to be enough for you too."

She is unable to speak.

"I don't trust that fucking leech, Littlefinger, but if there is a chance…"

Her eyes blur with water.

"… at least we can say we tried."

The next second, she wraps her arms around him and shudders into his shoulder.

"Sandor."

A crack of thunder startles me, and the two horses beside us.

I watch as my husband grumbles something under his breath and hands me the lead on his horse. He steps out of the shade of the tree we were under gets drenched in the pouring rain water. Well, more drenched.

To be fair, I was still getting wet too, but it was not as bad from where I stood.

I adjust the hood covering my face to look at him. He looks around then back at me. He shouts over the rain, "we've no choice but to walk!"

I fix my hood and hand him his lead. I follow after him and we slowly trek through the wet ground, the reason why we were not on horseback. He says it was a horse ankle killer.

"You know!' I scream over the rain.

Sandor's clanking armor is still audible through the pouring rain.

"They say rain is a sign your journey will be great!"

"Yeah, and who told you that?!'

"My aunt!"

"Your aunt's a dumb bitch!"

I shoot daggers at the back of his head, "Sandor!"

"Tell her to shove mud up her arse!"

"Stoooop!" I whine.

Sandor and I continue through the sludge with our horses walking by our sides. I can vaguely hear him grumble under his breath and my worry for him, and the horses especially, begin to worsen.

"Puppy!" I call, slightly frantic, "maybe we should find some shade for a moment!"

Sandor does not look back at me, "it won't matter! The rain won't stop any time soon!"

I look at my poor steed and wipe her dripping face. I am overcome with guilt when she shakes her mane.

Without warning, a crack of lightning lights up the dark sky then a roll of thunder effectively spooks my horse, causing her to stand on her hind legs and her lead to slip out of my grip. Sandor's horse remains relatively calm, beyond the huffs she gives.

Sandor is quick to come to my aid, or rather my horse's. He pulls me back, so not to be trampled on, then manages to grab hold of her lead, shushing her until she was as calm as she could be in the middle of the storm.

I watch as his hood falls off. His face is immediately drenched with water. I frantically put his hood back on and my husband turns to me. He shakes his head disapprovingly then leads both of the horses himself. He screams louder than needed, "IT'S NOT TOO LATE TO TURN BACK, GIRL!"

I watch him as he continues to walk. I come up behind him.

"I bet your wench is worried sick over you! I bet her and your pups are at the door, praying for your return!"

"Stop calling Lucy names!"

Sandor looks over his shoulder only to look forward again and grumble.

I really don't mean to pick a fight, especially not in this weather, but I also really didn't want to go back, not when the whole of Brown Wood knew we would be leaving for Volantis to get rid of the curse. In hindsight, my integrity took the best of me in that moment. I could have just said I wanted to travel… but the again, I did not want them to think we would be leaving them to fend for themselves purely for my wanderlust.

I decide not to speak a word, but then I catch a light from afar.

"SANDOR!" I gasp and point, "LOOK!"

The Hound turns and sees the glow of a fire.

"I think it's an inn!" I exclaim, heading towards it at once.

I hurry over to the direction of the light and thank the gods when I find that I was, in fact, correct. A sizable inn was now only a few paces away from me. I turn around, seeing the struggling man and our horses slowly coming towards me.

I'm about to run back to him, but he barks out, "GO IN AND GET US A ROOM!"

I nod and rush towards the inn.

I push the door open and sigh when I feel warmth envelope me. I cautiously enter and hover by the door. The place is packed. It seems everyone here was caught in the storm, judging by how some of them were still dripping, and others had towels around their shoulders.

I look at the puddle that builds beneath my feet and feel guilty at the mess. The wooden floors were already muddy and I did not want to add to it.

I shrug off my cloak and wring it out of the open door, proceeding to do the same to my skirt and my hair, at least as much as I can.

"Oooh, lovie, oh dear!" a voice says. I turn and see an old woman approaching me, "don't bother with that and just come in."

I give a bashful smile as she reaches out to me, "what will you be needing? Some towels? Soup? I'll be happy to help, for a price, of course."

I nod, "both would be lovely. I'd like two sets of each and a room for me and my husband."

She nods, "of course. You arrived just in time. We have the one room left. I'll need you to pay upfront though, because our Golden Deer Inn is bustling, as you can see."

"Oh, of course, of course," I nod and prepare my coin purse. As I pay her, I remember, "oh. We also have two horses. I would like them to have a towel and some hay as well."

I pay her handsomely and her face brightens.

"As you command, my lady," she curtsies after taking my coin. "Go find yourself a seat, I'll bring you and your husband some supper in a jiffy. If you need anything else, or if anyone bothers you, holler for Trysha," she places a hand on her chest and nods.

I nod back, "thank you, kind Trysha."

"Of course."

Trysha walks off and so do I. I shudder as I look for a vacant table, rubbing my arms as I gaze upon the packed room. I quickly realize there is none and rub my hands. I decide to head for the fireplace and at least warm myself in the meantime.

A man seated by the warmth stares at me, suddenly uninterested in his meal. I ignore him and slowly move away.

"Oi, you, girl!"

I feel agitation build in my stomach.

"You! At the fireplace!"

I suck in a breath and ignore the call.

"OI!" the voice calls louder, "OI, YOU!"

When another voice screams through the bustle of room and I hear someone stand, my instincts takeover and I turn around. A man, stood by a table of six, is looking at me.

"So ye'rent deaf," he says, making the men at his table laugh and turn to me.

I gulp and simply stare at him. I roll my shoulders back, feigning confidence. I raise my brows in expectation.

The man with a cut on his chin rolls his jaw and chuckles, "ye wonna share a table with us? You look awfully sad and lonely o'r there. All wet and exhausted."

I feel sick as he motions to the men at his table, their eyes on me like I was nothing but meat, their next meal, "we could keep you warm."

The group cheers with laughter. One raises their pint and another whistles.

"I am not interested," I say firmly, "I am waiting for my husband."

They laugh and howl like wolves. One of the table speaks, "that's what they all say."

"I don't see your husband here."

"Come on, don't be shy."

"You dogs leave her alone!" Trysha hisses as she reenters. I immediately feel relieved at the sight of her. She walks up to their table holding two bowls, "I will not have you disrespect my customer when you lot haven't even paid for your grub!"

The man glares at her, as if testing if she'll back down.

Trysha narrows her eyes, "if you're not scared of me, which you should, you'll be scared of my sons."

And as if on cue, a large man walks in serving a plate of roast chicken to one table. The man with a thick chest and thick arms to match scowls when he spots his mother, "these blokes bothering you, ma?"

"And that's just one of them," Trysha mutters. She turns to the man, "I'm not sure yet, love."

"Ligh'en up, woman. We were only playin'," the stood man sits down, "isn't that right, sweet'eart?"

Trysha, her son, and the men at the table turn to me.

I cannot give them the satisfaction. I grip my chest and shake my head, "you brutes have a sick sense of humor and the gods will soon punish you for it."

Trysha's son squares up, "you botherin' the lady?"

"We was jus' joking!" another says, "she's a stuck up bitch."

Suddenly, that man is grabbed by the collar. Trysha's son pulls him to his feet and he begins to choke, "now, I've had a long day. It would be my joy to break all of your stupid faces, but then I'd have to mop off blood on the floor."

Trysha steps back as the rest of the table stands.

"Go on," her son says, pulling out a knife, pressing it to the man's neck, "apologize to the woman and I'll let you pay for your meals once you've finished."

"You mad fucker!" one of the six scream.

The man being held hostage begins to wince when the blade on his neck draws blood. Immediately he begins to apologize, "I'M SORRY, I'M SORRY!"

The large man releases him and demands they pay up and leave.

They collectively reach for their coin and leave some on the table before leaving.

Trysha turns to me and smiles, "your table's ready."

I watch as the men exit and slowly come towards them. I watch as her son clears the table. He steals a glance at me and mutters, "sorry about those fucks."

I offer him a smile, "you need not apologize for their uncouth nature."

I place a hand on his shoulder as he takes all the plates and pints. He stills as I ask, "may I ask for your name?"

He looks at me and clears his throat. He straightens up and mutters, "Riley."

Trysha places the bowl on the table and then wipes off the surface.

"Thank you, Riley," I smile.

Riley clears his throat and nods. He then walks off.

"Right," Trysha says, "I'll go get you your towels."

"Thank you, Trysha."

I sit down and keep my eyes on the front door. I begin to sip of my soup, surprised by how flavorful it was and relieved by how it warmed me up.

I perk when the front door opens but deflate when I see a group of men enter.

Trysha comes out with towels, the converses with those said man, telling them the inn was fully booked, but they were welcome to stay for a meal if they liked. The men talk to themselves and Trysha walks over, handing me the towels.

I thank her for it and she smiles, "we have some pie and mead, if you'd like."

I wipe my face the wrap myself with the towel. I nod, "yes, I would. Only one pint of mead, however. If you have any more stew," I pull out some coin, "I'd like a bowl as well."

Trysha smiles and nods, "I'll have Riley bring you some roast pork too."

As Trysha walks off, I continue slurping my soup. When I turn back to the front door, my sight is obscured. The group of men who entered were now at my table. My heart leaps into my mouth.

"Pardon my companions and I. We have travelled far and have grown weary. Do you mind if we share a table with you? None else are currently available."

I look at the four men and feel uncomfortable under their scrutiny. Though they appeared more civilized then the ones before, I was still uneasy.

I manage a smile and motion to the bowl of soup across me, "I'm waiting for my husband."

The man looks at the other bowl, "ah. … But otherwise, you would let us sit?"

His adamance makes my stomach churn. I take a breath and shake my head, "I do not know you, ser. I do not like to dine with strangers."

The man seems taken off-guard by my response, judging by the way he chuckles dryly. He turns to his friends, who now carry sour expressions on their faces. The man seems emboldened by this and releases anger, "it is not as though you own the seat you are on. Why won't you let us sit?"

I turn uncomfortably to my soup then back at him. I muster up the resolve to speak, "I was ushered personally to this table by the innkeeper. What I do here is my business."

The man stares at me. I can see how the comment seeps under his skin.

"Squirrel?" a loud voice calls out.

My heart races and I gasp under my breath, "Sandor." Against myself, my eyes begin to water.

One of the men look over his shoulder, and it is enough for me to catch sight of my husband, face dripping with rain water and worry. Thank the gods he spots me as well.

His face immediately shifts and he marches over to me. Without another thought, he grabs two of the four men and yanks them away from me.

I instinctively stand but could do nothing but watch as the Hound drags the two bodies out of the inn with him. The other two follow after, unsheathing their swords.

The whole place goes silent as screams sound off from outside.

I gulp.

Riley walks in. He sees me standing and presses his lips together. He places the tray of food on my table and slowly asks, "everything alright?"

I turn to him an debate if I should tell him. I don't.

I flinch when the Hound enters the next moment. Riley looks back and Sandor sheathes his sword. My husband stops when he sees the man beside me.

"Did you kill them?" I mutter frantically.

Riley turns to me and Sandor speaks, "who's he?"

"He's the innkeepers boy. He brought the food. Did you kill them?"

Sandor eyes Riley as he slowly walks over to me. Riley eyes him back and moves out of his way. The two of them stare at each other and I have to pull Riley away from him.

"Stop it!" I hiss, "Riley's no trouble ," I lightly nudge the said man away, "you're merely hungry."

The Hound glares as Riley hesitantly walks off. He looks at me one last time and finally goes back whence he came after I give him a nod of encouragement.

Sandor looks down at me as I take the other towel and wipe his face.

He grunts, placing his hand on my arms, keeping my towel on me, "I leave you for a few minutes and there's another man swarming you."

He pushes my arm down. His brows knit as he examines my face. He looks irritated, but more than this, he looks worried, guilty even.

I sigh and shake my head, "Riley saved me from a different group of men."

Only fury is left on his face, "what different group of men?!"

I sigh once more and sit down, pulling him down with me. He sits beside me and I recount what happened. His face is hard and his body rigid after he hears it.

"He should have slit their throats when he had the chance," the Hound spits on the floor to his side, "fucking craven."

"Sandor…"

He grabs the pint of mead, some of the liquid splatters on his hand and the table. He downs it in one go. His armour clanks as he sets the cup down with a bang.

I knit my brows and grab his arm, "I'm glad he didn't kill them."

He looks livid as he stares at me.

"Please tell me you didn't kill those men."

He chuckles dryly. He yanks his arm out of my grip, causing me to yelp when his armour cuts me.

I turned to my hands, thankfully finding no blood, and he immediately freezes. The next moment, he is overcome with guilt. He clenches his jaw and releases a deep breath. He takes my hands, examining it. Sandor shakes his head, "I didn't slaughter the fuckers, no. Just broke some bones they didn't need."

"Sandor…"

He shakes his head quicker. He releases my hands, "you're too kind for your own good, far too kind."

"I'm kind for the both of us, my love."

Sandor stares at me upon hearing this. I wipe his face with the towel again.

"Men are dogs… you know this, sweet squirrel."

I leave the towel on his shoulders and shrug, "I happen to like dogs more than men."

Sandor says nothing.

I brush his beard with my thumbs, "my puppy."

He sighs and takes my wrists. He pulls my hands away and shakes his head, "I'm not a puppy."

"No, you're my puppy."

He rolls his eyes, "eat. We need to get changed quickly."

I press my lips into a frown, "okay, puppy."

"Enough," he says. He begins to feast on the roast pork.

I raise my brows at how quickly Sandor was eating. I stare at him as he chomps through half a chicken as though it was a sweetie. He washes it down with some mead and muffles through a mouthful, "tastes fuckin' shite."

He grabs a spoonful of stew and stuffs it in his mouth.

"Sandor," I call through furrowed brows, ceasing to eat.

He seems not to hear me with how violently he was chewing.

"Sandor," I speak louder, placing a hand on his arm.

His cheeks are stuffed as he turns to me. His mouth is slightly open, as he stopped mid-chew.

I giggle and sigh, "you don't have to eat so quickly. You've stuffed your cheeks like a squirrel."

"Hmp," he continues to chew and muffles out, "you think you're so clever with that?"

I squint as I watch him swallow so much in one go. He takes another bite of meat.

"Beating up shitheads cost two chickens at least. Why do you think I'm always hungry?"

The notion sounds ridiculous, and yet I knew better than to contest it. In fact, I feel somehow guilty at the thought. I cannot help the chuckle that leaves lips though. I turn to my plate and shake my head, "forgive me. It's not funny."

"Quit it and eat then," he pushes my plate towards me.

He continues to inhale his food and I continue to watch with both parts amusement and concern. I consciously chew slower consequently. That is, until, Riley walks up to our table.

Sandor immediately tenses we he does.

"Are the burly brown horses yours?" Riley asks.

"Why d'ya ask?" the Hound retorts without missing a beat.

"My brother had to move them to another stable. They were too big."

Sandor takes in a breath before responding, "fine… anything else?"

"…"

"Ehm, my mum told me to tell you that she prepared hot water in the tub in your room."

I smile, "oh, thank you. Please tell Trysha I am grateful for it."

"She probably meant for me to to tell you so that you'd go before it's cold."

"Oh," I look at my plate, "alright, we'll finish up quickly."

"If you like, you could bring it up," Riley offers.

"Oh, we can? That would be splendid," I immediately stand and gather my plate. Sandor stands and grabs the satchels of our stuff from under the table.

"I can help," says Riley, picking up the rest of the plates.

We head up to the second floor and Riley leads us to our room. It's a modest psace with minimal furniture. The tub is in the corner, the water in it steaming. The bed was on the other corner, and beside it was a table with two chairs.

Riley places the plates on the table, so does Sandor, then myself.

"If you need anything, just come down and look for someone to help you," Riley says to me.

I smile and nod, "thank you. We will."

With that, he walks out and I close the door behind him.

"Don't smile at him," says Sandor, coming up behind me to lock the door. I watch him as he walks back the table, sits, and continues to eat.

"Why not?"

"Because he'll fall in love with you."

I snort at the ridiculous notion and walk over to him. I place a hand on his shoulder then turn around. I remove the towel around my shoulders and undo the ties in my hair, "help me, please."

Sandor knowingly undoes my dress.

"I don't think that's how it works."

"…"

"Falling in love, I mean."

Sandor pulls the wet dress off me and grabs me by the hips. He spins me around and looks up at me, "then you've learned nothing, little girl."

I press my lips tightly together as I am rid of my drenched clothing. My husband pulls the sopping dress down to my feet and I step out of it, kicking it aside.

Sandor eyes my body. The shift I still on me was effectively stuck on me with how wet it was. I watch him as he looks at me. My breathing gets heavier as I notice him clench a hand when he leans back on his chair.

I am reminded of my cold I actually was when a shiver runs down my spine and my skin breaks out with gooseflesh. I continue to comb out my hair with my fingers, but do so quicker. I huff in realization, "I won't be able to do my hair as good without Lucy."

The Hound lifts his gaze up and drags his chair closer. He parts his legs and positions me between them. He slowly reaches for the hem of my shift, pushing it up.

My breath hitches.

"Mmm, we should go back home," he mumbles, hand coming in contact with my thigh.

We both hiss at the feel; I, at his heat, him, at my chill. Sandor hisses, "gods, you're freezing."

My toes curl when he rubs my flesh. I lean one hand on his arm and huff, "w-well, I'm wet."

He chuckles, hands hiking up to my waist. I squeak when he drags my smallclothes down and looks up at me, "are you?"

I feel my face burn at his question and find myself pushing him away. I pull my pants up and point a finger, "so are you!"

I hear him laugh as I rush towards the tub. He sighs, "what's gotten into you, pretty squirrel? Don't like it when I'm filthy?"

I bunch my shift up then snap as I turn over my shoulder, "are you getting in, or--"

The sound of a chair skidding fills the room. I hear footsteps, but before I feel him behind me, he stops.

"Actually… I'm a lot grimier than you. You should bathe first."

I turn around and look up at Sandor. He seems to be breathing quickly. I lick my lips and remove my clothes. I feel his stare as he watches me get into the tub. The warmth is so welcomed. I sigh in relief as I scrub myself with my palms.

Sandor walks over and kneels at the side of the tub. His eyes are glued on my legs.

My heart races and I tut him, "no, husband."

He turns to me, "what?"

"We can't do anything tonight."

He stiffens and scowls. Slowly, he becomes dejected, "… is it because I broke those fuckers' bones?"

I whimper at the thought, "gods, Sandor, how many bones did you break?"

"…"

"… … … not letting me touch you won't fix them…"

I laugh begrudgingly and move towards him, "it's not that," I cup his cheeks, "though I do not encourage you to break bones."

He scowls again, "they're lucky I maimed them and not hung them by their entrails."

"Sandor," I whimper, shaking my head.

He pouts, about as much as Hound could.

I raise my brows.

He sighs, "… forgive me."

I frown, "all is well," I rub his cheeks, "I just don't think it would be proper for us to couple at an inn. That's all."

He is dumbfounded. He stares at me, as if trying to assure whether or not I was joking.

I was not, obviously.

"Fuck," he sighs, "I've forgotten you're a lady. A proper lady."

I furrow my brows at that and continue to wash myself, "one if us has to be."

He chuckles leans on the side of the tub. He watches me as I clean my chest. I feel conscious as I rub my breasts.

"I can help."

"No. You are filthy."

"Rude."

By the time I finish, I ask him to get me a towel and he does. He does not hand it to me however, instead, he opens it up and instructs me to stand. And so I do. I fidget a bit under his hot gaze, especially with how unabashed his eyes rake me over. He wraps me in the towel and plucks me out of the tub.

I squeal as he walks over to the bed. He drops me on the cushion.

"Sandor! I'm wet!" I scold as I quickly crawl off the bed.

He removes his shirt and walks back to the tub, "so you keep telling me."

I glare at him as I wipe myself down. I watch as he strips, turning away when I see his bum. I clear my throat to mask the tingle on my cheeks, as well as my giggle. I few moments later, I hurriedly run off towards our bags to get dressed.

"Don't you dare put on a lick of clothing," Sandor says as he scrubs himself down.

"Sandor," I whine, "I am serious. We cannot-"

The Hound emerges front he tub, dripping wet as he walks towards me. He yanks the towel off me and wipes himself down. I instinctively wrap my arms around myself.

"On the bed," he nods as he wipes his face and chest.

"… d-did you even clean yourself?"

"Clean enough to get dirty with your come, lover."

"Sandor."

He chucks the towel somewhere without looking and forces me back by walking closer. I press my hands on his chest to try and stop him. He hisses and stops, but not for the reason I think.

"You're fucking ice, girl," he grabs my wrists. He rubs my pulse before kissing it. He nods towards the bed, "we have to fix that. On the bed."

"But-"

"Or I'll put your smart mouth to good use."

My heart races as I walk backwards 'til my calves hit the bed. I slowly sit down and scoot up to the middle of the mattress, circling myself into a ball in an attempt to cover myself.

The Hound chuckles as he stalks over, "such coyness from my bride."

My stomach flips when he places a hand on my knee.

"Open up," he mutters, "lest you forget I've fucked you like a bitch in heat before."

I gasp out his name.

He chuckles and says my name, as if to taunt me.

I can hear my pulse in my head. I can also feel it sharply between my thighs.

"I've tainted your innocence far too much for you to act shocked," he says under his breath. "Now, on your knees."

I gulp. I feel my breathing shorten as Sandor takes his hand off me, only to grab his hardening length. I make a sound as I catch him stroking himself, pressing his thumb on his tip. I slowly shift on my knees. I prop myself on my arms and bite my lip in both agitation and expectation.

Sandor doesn't waste any time in climbing behind me. I shudder when he grabs both sides of my arse and slowly squeezes them.

I whimper when he releases me with a laugh. I whimper louder when I feel his fingers touch my center. My body tingles when he rubs my slick folds.

"Well, well, well, you are wet."

"Sandor."

"D'ya like being called a bitch?"

I make a visceral sound when he fidgets with my clit.

"Mmm, my bitch?"

My arms begin to give out as his two fingers pump shallowly into me. I groan into the sheets and arch my back. My hips involuntarily buck against him.

He hisses and grabs my hair. He clamps on my roots and tugs slightly, "that's a question I need an answer to."

I whine and push myself up again after he releases my hair and ends his prodding. I catch my breath and press my forehead on the mattress. I breathlessly reply, "I-I… yes."

Sandor moans in satisfaction and grabs my hips.

We both let out strangled groans as he mounts me. He slowly thrusts and kneads the flesh on my sides, "good girl."

His words ignite a spark in my belly. My toes curl. I clench around him. He hisses.

He moans as he quickens his pace. He deeply plunges into me one, only to stop himself and barely move at all. He releases as shaky breath, "d-does my good girl need to be bred like a bitch?"

My voice gets louder when each rut of his hips get rougher. I lean down and release my lewd noises into the sheets.

"No," my husband growls, grabbing me by the hair again, "I need to hear you. I need all of them to hear how I take my wife."

With his reminder, that we were fucking in an inn, I tense and try to muffle my sounds, "n-no- f-fuck, Sandor-" I let out a sharp cry when he rubs my clit.

He releases my hair and grabs my hip, "ooooh," he coos, "think you have a choice, do ya?"

Against myself, I make noises that are louder than I'd like. I still muffle them as much as I could but it becomes hopeless as I grow breathless.

Sandor heaves like a bull plowing through dirt. He cusses, louder and faster as he chases his rising high. The sound of his thrusts fill my ears. The wet slaps are so powerful and lewd I can only hope it was still raining outside. I feel my thighs begin to falter as the promise of hot release coils in my belly.

I choke on my spit when I come. My throat is hoarse by the time I do. I am completely limp as Sandor uses me to pleasure himself. My belly shivers. My thighs barely do any work of keeping me up. He slaps his hips into me roughly, desperate and erratic. He finally comes to a halt after a guttural grunt.

I feel my cunt flutter and clench on his cock. I feel warmth cascade in my belly. I squeak when he rubs my clit. He laughs, as if wanting that reaction.

I whine as he slowly pulls away.

"Fuck," he hisses. His hands are the only things keeping my body hoisted up.

I shiver as I feel his come drip out of my swollen cunt. I shakily whine.

"Oh, fuck," he says again, mind wild at the sight of his come leaking out.

I wince loudly when he plunges his fingers into my whole. I twitch, eyes watering at the oversensitivity, "S-San-"

"As beautiful as your cunny looks leaking with my come," he hums.

I whimper and trembles as he pumps in and out of me a few times.

"I'd rather knock you up now, so we don't have to fucking go to Volantis."

"Sandor."

"Mmm? You need to lie down?"

I slowly look to him, but squeak instead when he turns me over. He pulls his fingers out of me as to get me on my back, and I immediately feel come gush out.

He checks my thighs and clicks his tongue disapprovingly, pushing his fingers back in. He then crawls up to my side and kisses my shoulder. He grabs one of the pillows and tucks it by my bum. He slowly pulls out and rubs my belly, "that should do."

I grab his hand just as he's about to moves away. He freezes, looking at me in expectation.

My eyes begin to water at a memory of a similar scene, "the last time you did this, you left me alone…"

Sandor is struck with the realization, "… oh…"

I scratch my eyes to mask the twinge of the memory.

"I just want to clean you up, my lady."

I release his hand. A pit of dread forms in my stomach but I manage to nod, "alright."

Sandor stands and does just that. He wipes me down with a towel and even helps me get dressed into my nightgown. He bashfully asks me if he can finish his meal and by then, my dread is gone. I chuckle softly and, allowing him to do as he pleases.

Still undressed, he seats himself on the table.

"Wait, shouldn't you wash-"

Sandor eats his chicken with little care for what I have to say.

"San-"

"I love pussy flavored chicken."

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