#everybody leave all the minors the fuck alone

[nonuify]

ᝰ.ᐟ — CSC ⟢ ain’t your boyfriend

› nsfw is included ┆ smut & angst — minors dni ꩜. word-count .ᐟ 1.8k. fwb!seungcheol x fwb!reader au

there you stood, lights flashing, music pumping through your soul, your body following the beat of the song that played.

not giving an absolute care to anything surrounding you... except one person.

choi seungcheol.

the one only, he was your local heartthrob.

everybody wanted him & everybody envied him.

but you were the oh so lucky girl to have him.

well not really have him. but mostly having him as your fuck buddy.

it all started as no strings attached, but as time passed the strings were slowly attaching.

everytime you guys felt each other it was like your souls were slowly merging into one another, seungcheol was just so dreamy, you didn't just want him, you needed him.

but alas you were too afraid to confess your feelings to him, afraid of the consequences that would unravel.

but oh how clueless you were.

you were too busy dancing away your sorrows to feel a pair of eyes watching you closely, admiring the beauty that you are.

swaying your hips to the melody that played until you felt a tap on your shoulder, lifting upwards only to find it was yoon jeonghan.

seungcheol’s best friend, of course he knew about yours & cheol’s little arrangement.

jeonghan’s relationship status with you was mostly built on “hello’s & goodbye’s”. so seeing him coming up to you so suddenly was quite surprising to you.

“care for a dance, darling?” he cockily smiled, his body slowly moving closer to you.

turning towards seungcheol, searching for him, hoping that he would give a slight care to you.

only to find him dancing & cozying up with some other girl.

jealousy spread like fire through you, why couldn’t he only see you?.

rolling your eyes in annoyance, dissatisfied with the matter then suddenly a thought popped up into your pretty head.

turning back towards jeonghan, a mischievous smile formed on your lips. If seungcheol wouldn’t pay you attention then why not play fire with his little games?

“sure, i can’t see why not” you giggled, snaking your arms around the handsome man’s neck.

almost instantly jeonghan reciprocated by holding onto your waist.

being occupied with jeonghan, you danced the night away, ignoring a long gaze looking at both of you, when you turned as the song changed you were met with a very angry seungcheol, boring into your eyes.

but he wasn’t alone. no actually he was dancing along with the same girl as before.

as if he was almost trying to make you more jealous?.

‘oh it’s so on choi.’ you thought to yourself.

tension grew between you both as each melody changed on the speakers to the club, both of you not leaving one another’s sight.

“you seem occupied, princess” jeonghan leaned into your ear so you could hear over the loud tunes that covered the whole club.

smiling slightly as you continued to look at seungcheol.

the blonde haired man connected the dots realizing. “ah!, i see you two little lovebirds haven’t gotten into your senses yet” he spoke, chuckling.

tilting your head confused not quite understanding what he meant.

“just follow my lead” he winked before even you spoke up. taking your hand in his, leading you elsewhere from the dance floor.

leaving the club with jeonghan, as soon as the cold air hit you, taking in a deep breath trying to process what jeonghan was trying to do.

looking up at him in-front you,

lost in your mind, would seungcheol even care that you were leaving with another man?

“what the fuck do you think your doing” an angry seungcheol answered your thought.

being the cheeky person he is, jeonghan just shrugged saying “thought you were busy with someone else & little y/n seemed bored so i decided to have fun a little bit”.

giggling at the younger’s answer, making cheol’s attention fully on you.

“you think this is funny? fucking around with a guy infront of me” he said.

scoffing, your nerves were on edge now.

“oh so I’m fucking around now, weren’t you practically humping that girl earlier?” he got quiet, “you know what seungcheol, I’m so tired of this, us! you keep leading me on like im some kind of doll to you” you snapped once more.

eyes softening at you, it him, he realized how much this affected you but it didn’t mean he wasn’t still pissed about you & his best friend.

“look y/n, i know i fucked up so many times & as much as I don’t show it, I hate the thought of you with a person other than me. I’m so sorry that I’ve you on like this. I guess I got caught up in the moment without having the time to think about your feelings.”

“cheol i-“.

“no y/n let me show you how sorry I am, I promise I’ll be better at this even though I don’t know how to but please give me a chance to show you how much I care about you, I promise I’ll try to cut off everything that I made you feel upset about it please baby.” he held your hands, looking up at your beautiful orbed eyes.

he was genuine about this, you just had a feeling or was it just because you were such a sucker for choi seungcheol. I mean who wouldn’t be?

“okay, seungcheol I forgive you but promise not to do this, make me feel like this isn’t going anywhere I’m sick of this no strings attached thing.” you smiled softly still being slightly hurt about this whole thing,

“I promise, princess” he pulled you inside once again, leading you to the bathroom?

“let me show you how sorry I am baby” he smirked.

you did not think in a million years that he would fuck your brains out in the bathroom.

guess he was still jealous about jeonghan.

one thing about seungcheol, is that he’s so fucking hot about being possessive over you.

“f-fuck cheollie !” your head pressed against the wall, his hand forcefully holding it from behind.

“yeah fuck that’s my lil dirty darling, gonna let me fuck your hole s’good till my seed seeps outta you huh” he taunted you, holding your hips so he could thrust into you deeper.

you just could moan out his name in response.

for the whole time cheol pounded in you, he didn’t let you cum. he absolutely tortured in a way that made you crazy over him more.

already feeling your high close up, tired of being denied.

your moans growing more pitched & loud almost so that cheol heard you, knowing

you were once again close he pulled out of you.

“seungcheol!” you whined frustrated, you just wanted to cum all over cock. the blue-ish haired man turned you around to face him “my princess wants to cream all over me, cmon baby do it while riding me like the champ you are” he squished your cheeks together with his hand, making you look oh so cute & pretty to him, your ruined mascara ran all over your eyes till your flushed cheeks.

you nodded frantically, caught in a cock-drunken daze.

pushing him on the toilet, quickly straddling him when he sat. he warmly welcomed you by placing his hands all over your ass, giving it a firm squeeze then an eventual spank.

sinking down on his cock, you bit your lip by the way his length filled the emptiness of your needy hole.

“fuck s’good cheollie” you arched your back more while bouncing so his dick could hit all those percent spots.

“that’s my pretty princess, such a pretty pussy bouncing on my cock like that yeah? gonna milk me dry baby” he wrapped his hand around your waist with one arm, whispering in your ear all kinds of dirty words that made you want to scream out his name.

which you already had done many many times.

the sounds of you & his moans filled the bathroom stall, alongside the god filthy dirty talking he was whispering.

your walls tightening & clenching around his cock, the feeling of his perfectly curved tip hitting every sweet spot was absolutely heavenly, that you could only just slur out his name.

“m-mh s’cheol i-i can’t” your hips giving out, holding his neck while laying your head down on his shoulder, but still giving out an effort by grinding on him.

“awh don’t worry baby I’ll handle it now” kissing the side of your head as he slowly but quickly picking up the pace of jutting his hips upwards.

the erupt sound of moans & heavy breathes coming in once again.

“gonna make you cum so fuckin’ hard baby, make you cream on my dick.” chuckling as he stated.

doing the curtesy of grinding down on him when he bucked his hips was an euphoric experience of its own for the both of you.

dazedly looking at your stomach the tip of his member slowly bulging out everytime he hastily thrusted in you.

“shit s’good, baby” you wailed as your hips met with his once again, your high growing more & more closer.

seungcheol busying away hitting all your spots then the thought of you & han basically grinding on each other popped in his head a fire of jealousy lit in him “how would han like seeing you being such a pretty whore on my cock baby” he pulled your hair in a pleasurable way making you forcibly looking at him with hazy eyes.

“god this fuckin’ pussy is mine got it, angel” he pulled you closer “y-yours cheolie” you chanted too fucked to form more words.

he laughed taunting at how messy you were for his dick, you pouted.

seungcheol seeing how the face you made was so cute he kissed you so passionately almost devouring you whole.

“coupsy m’gonna cum” you whined out, finally you were aching for your release & you were gonna have it.

he picked up his pace but this time with more roughness to it, it seems he was desperate for his high too.

“fuck fuck fuuuck” you grumbled again & again till your gushed out your high all over, your situationship turned lover’s cock.

“that’s it princess, mark it yours” he groaned softly, his high filling you up shortly after yours, his orgasmic expression heavenly as you looked at him.

after your blissful orgasms seungcheol pulled you closer still being inside you.

he latched his head into your neck leaving wet but lovingly pecks all over it.

“I’m sorry baby” he once again apologized mumbling into your ear then shortly kissing it

“you better only get to dance & cozy up to me mister” you giggled but still being serious.

he looked up to you smiling “i promise, you’re the only one for me & will always be” he pecked your cheek as you rolled your eyes.

“how about round two in your place?” you suggested cheekily.

“fuck you make me crazy” he stated, his eyes growing dark with thoughts of him taking you in many positions in his bed.

but the thought that excited him the most is you being his officially now.

! 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ thank you for reading >ᴗ< !! [ divders by @/ cafekitsune. ] [ tysm to @highvern & @miabebe for beta-reading !! and thank you @whipped-for-kpop-fics for helping me with the plot ! 🩷 ]

[barcaatthemoon]

safe || alexia putellas x reader ||

alexia doesn't hear you when you use your safeword.

minors dni, 18+, smut ahead.

alexia's pace was relentless. you could just barely hear her muttering under her breath as she fucked you. every so often you'd hear her speak up, the odd catalan phrase punctuated with forceful thrusts. you were teetering on the edge of an orgasm, but instead of alexia's thrusts getting you closer to your climax, they pushed you away from it.

you tried to move away from alexia a bit, but she didn't give up. you couldn't get even an inch away from her. alexia seemed to chase you down with her thrusts. you couldn't push back against her because you knew that alexia would take that as a sign that you wanted more. your body couldn't even handle what she was giving you, but alexia showed no signs of stopping.

"red." you tried to speak as clearly as you could, but your words came out muffled. alexia was pushing your head down into the pillows as she thrust into you. it was hard, but you managed to push yourself up a bit more. "ale, please."

"that's it baby." it was the first time that you had heard alexia speak english since she started fucking you. usually, that would have been a bit comforting, but she obviously was misunderstanding your tone. she took your desperation for desire, and started to thrust even harder.

"alexia, red!" this time, it was impossible for alexia not to hear you. she practically jumped back to get away from you. once alexia had pulled out of you, you scrambled up towards the pillows and curled into yourself. you felt a bit like you were on the verge of an anxiety attack, and a part of you wanted alexia there next to you.

one look at her told you that was not happening. alexia looked absolutely distraught, enough so that it distracted from your own feelings. however, you couldn't bring yourself to comfort her. alexia sat down at the edge of the bed, obviously wanting to check on you, but unable to tear her eyes away from the floor.

"alexia, will you come here please?" you asked her. alexia looked over at you, but didn't move a muscle. you wrapped yourself up in a blanket and crawled across the bed to lay against her. alexia didn't move, as if she was afraid of touching you. "are you okay?"

"i should be asking you that," alexia grumbled. the fear was starting to subside, but you hated what was coming next. alexia was angry, absolutely furious with herself. "i should have been paying attention to you. i should have been listening. why are you being so nice to me?"

"because i love you, and i know that you weren't doing it on purpose," you told her. alexia seemed to accept that. she did everything that you asked her to. the two of you showered together and alexia held you all throughout the night.

alexia had been a distant in the morning, but you hadn't noticed until the two of you got to training. the media team wanted to make a couple of videos about alexia's resigning, so you hadn't thought twice when she left without you. however, it became increasingly obvious that you needed to talk to alexia about the night before as she avoided you throughout the day.

"capi, do you have a minute?" alexia tensed at the sound of your voice, but she couldn't ignore you now. to everybody else, it looked like you had official team business. irene and mapi walked away from alexia, leaving the two of you alone together to talk. "ale, i'm not mad at you about last night."

"well, you should be. i didn't listen when i should have. i violated you," alexia's voice cracked as she whispered the last part. you sighed as you pulled her in for a hug. "i can't even look at myself. i don't know how you can stand to be around me."

"because i love you, and despite what happened last night, you make me feel safe. i know that you didn't do that on purpose. i know that you'd never hurt me any more than i ask you to, and even then, you're hesitant," you told her.

"you feel safe with me?" alexia asked you. your heart broke at the genuine surprise in her voice. there had never been a time when you felt unsafe with alexia nearby. even before your relationship blossomed into what it was, she was always someone you had trusted.

"of course i do. i think that we could do with better communication, but alexia, there is nothing you could do to make me not trust you," you told her. alexia ducked her head down a little and smiled. "i love you."

"i love you too," alexia said as she lifted her head from the crook of your neck. the rest of your practice went by smoothly, both of you glad that alexia had stopped avoiding you. she was a bit more affectionate than normal, almost as if she was trying to make up for the time she had spent distancing herself from you. either way, you weren't going to complain about the extra hugs and kisses you were getting from your girlfriend.

[niabang]

Take it out on me

Pairings: Yang jeongin × fem reader

Summary: Your boyfriend gets mad at work and you offer a way for him to relieve his stress.

Warnings: smut included MINORS DNI. Mean/hard dom jeongin, sub reader, daddy kink, degradation/ praise (reader receives.), impact play, dumbification? Semi public sex? Overstim, creampie, unprotected sex (please do not do it.) Mentions of other members of skz.

Let me know if there's anything I missed! ♡

You went to the company with your boyfriend today because you were bored alone at home every day after he left for work, so today you begged him to let you tag along, and surprisingly, he agreed.

You watched as he and the members did a dance routine over and over again, and you were beginning to wonder if they had to go through this every day. No wonder your boyfriend always came home exhausted.

You sat at one corner of the practice room watching them, and your eyes fell on your boyfriend, who was now drenched in sweat and had his sleeves rolled up, exposing his contracting arm muscles.

Fuck.

His hair was wet, and he looked so sexy when he was serious. You subconsciously crossed your legs and tried to distract yourself by watching some tik toks.

"Can you just leave me alone? I'm tired!" You heard your boyfriend's voice echo round the room, and you looked up from your phone to see what all the fuss was about.

"You're not the only one who's tired here. I.N, at least do the dance right so we can move on to the next phase." His colleague Lee know snapped right back at him, and things were not looking so good.

"Hey, hey guys, don't fight. Let's just carry on with the choreo, please." Felix appealed to them, but his request fell on deaf ears.

"Tell him to stop complaining about every single thing I do it's annoying." Jeongin said to Felix.

"If one person looks bad, the whole team looks bad, and I'm just trying to make sure you're on the same page as us, you selfish asshole." Lee know might have just added fuel to the fire with that comment because your boyfriend raised a fist to him but just before he could do anything or you could call out to him a loud voice resonated through the room.

"Everybody stop!" It was bangchan. The leader of the group. You were a little scared because you had never seen him like that before, but it worked because the commotion did, in fact, stop.

"What do you guys think you're doing right now, huh?" He said to Lee know and your boyfriend.

Lee know opened his mouth like he was about to say something, but chan shut him down before he could.

"I don't wanna hear it. Everybody take 5." He said that, and everyone, including him, left the room, but your boyfriend stayed back.

"Baby, are you okay?" You asked, getting up from the corner where you sat.

He didn't answer you and just kept on wiping his face with a towel.

"Jeongin, answer me. Are you okay?" You asked again.

"No, I'm not. I'm tired and frustrated. You saw everything that happened." He had made his way onto one of the couches in the practice room, and just the way he sat was making you horny again.

He was reclined on the couch with his legs spread wide, and he was wearing a pair of shorts so you could see his thighs, and you had never wanted to ride them more than in that moment.

"You can take it out on me." You said before you even realised it.

Your boyfriend's head shot up from the frame of the couch he had rested his head on.

"C'mere." He said as he pulled you onto his lap. You were now straddling him.

"Say that again for me, princess." He said while tucking your hair behind your ear and looking straight into your eyes."

"I- I want you to take your frustration out on me... to relieve to of your stress." You said already getting wet from just sitting on him.

"Oh you dirty slut." He said as he grabbed your neck and pulled you in for a kiss."

"Wait what about the others?" You asked him turning to face the door of the practice room.

"We have 15 minutes." He said and pulled you into the kiss.

Your boyfriend was being completely ruthless with you and took full control of your mouth with his tongue.

You started to grind against him for friction, but he stopped you and lifted you up from his thighs, so you were kneeling and not sitting.

All you could do was moan, and you got even louder when he lifted up the skirt you were wearing and smacked you particularly hard on the ass.

"You like that, huh?" He asked as he broke away from the kiss and landed another hard smack on your bare ass.

"When I speak to you, you answer me." He said as he landed what you think was the hardest one yet.

"Yes, Daddy." You said choking back tears.

"That's my good girl." He said as he wrapped his hand around your throat and pulled you in for a kiss again.

He pulled out his dick from his shorts and began to stroke it. He then put his fingers on your panties to see if you were wet, and you most definitely were so he didn't waste any time moving them to the side and placing you on his dick.

"Ahhh." You whined as he slipped into you. You already knew your boyfriend was big, but for some reason, you felt like he was stretching you out more than usual.

He had his hands on both sides of your hips and began to move you up and down his length.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, and it was almost like you could feel every vein and ridge on his dick.

"Ride me." Your boyfriend commanded, and you groaned from the loss of movement because he had taken his hands off your hips.

Your boyfriend knew you couldn't last for 5 minutes on top but he was a sadistic fucker and loved to see you suffer.

You began to bounce up and down his length, and your boyfriend threw his head back.

"Yeah, just like that, baby keep going." He said in a raspy voice and landed a light smack on your ass.

You felt your legs already starting to give out after a while and as if your boyfriend knew he started thrusting up into you from below and he did so fast while landing hard slaps on your ass.

"Fuck fuck fuck please daddy please." You have no idea what you were begging for because it hurt so good you couldn't think straight.

Your boyfriend turned you over so you were now laying on the chair and he was on top.

"Listen to me princess we can't be too loud okay? Take it quietly like a good girl."

You nodded your head and he pushed his dick back into you and choked you restricting just a bit of your airflow.

He was slamming into your cunt so hard and fast you began to see stars. Your moans were getting louder and you forgot that he had told you to be quiet.

You felt a sting on your left cheek and you realised that he had slapped you for disobeying his instructions.

"I told you to be quiet you whore. Do you want people to hear you getting fucked?" He asked you.

"No, Daddy." You managed to blurt out through tears.

"Good." And as he said that, he parted your lips and spit in your mouth, then gave you another slap.

He continued to slam into you but it was impossible for you to say quiet so he now had a hand over your mouth while he continued the assault on your cunt.

"Who's daddy's little cumslut?." He asked after a while and you were too fucked out to answer so your boyfriend brought you back to your senses with another slap.

"Me daddy it's me." You cried out.

"Okay now you're gonna take my cum like the slut you are." As he said that he pressed further into you and filled you with his seed.

You both stayed in that position for about two minutes till you started hearing voices coming towards the practice room.

"Just in time." Your boyfriend said and pulled out of you.

"Keep it in till we get back home." He said as he tapped your thighs and put his dick back into his pants.

"We'll finish things up there." He said and left to join the others.

[eloves-writes]

so it goes…

[coriolanus snow x reader]

desc: part 2 here! as dr gaul’s assistant, you find yourself alone in her laboratory bearing an unpleasant task with her other mentee, coriolanus snow, who you strongly despise. or so it goes … warnings: smut, oral sex (f receiving), slightly public sex, reader is wearing a skirt, think that's it but please lmk if i need to add anything! a/n: thank you so much for all the love on my last fic! and thank you anon for this request, i love and appreciate requests more than you know!!! enjoy this. will for sure write a second chapter if one singlular person expresses interest. mwah mwah mwah ily this work contains mature themes, minors dni

dr gaul’s lab was filled with weird and wonderful (but mostly weird) things. you sat, bored, on your side of the gamemaker’s desk staring at shelves and shelves of creatures of all shapes and sizes with various muttations. according to the clock beside you, it had been 30 minutes since gaul herself had left the room to ‘see to something’. it was often best not to ask questions when things like that happened, but you really wished she would come back soon as your work day technically ended in a few minutes and gaul’s second-favourite mentee came to visit her after hours almost every day. coriolanus snow was not necessarily an unpleasant person, not to you at least, but he was certainly unbearable. he was so up his own ass thinking he was better than everybody else that he failed to realise how much of a pompous twat he was. ‘snow lands on top’. god, those four words were practically all you heard come out of his mouth when he wasn’t sucking up to dr gaul or spewing fake niceties to any authoritative figure who would listen.

as you were thinking about how annoying he is and how pretentious his stupid hairstyle was, the door to the lab was hauled open by the peacekeepers who stood guard outside. thank god gaul was back, you couldn’t wait to get out of here. not that you weren’t grateful for this assistant’s position, because it was a highly coveted role for university students each year and you’d beat them all out for it. even snow. ha. even suck-up snow. fuck. snow.

the tall blond had entered the lab and was walking up to your desk with his usual self-assured smile and red uniform.

“y/n, good evening.”

“snow.”

his pleasant facade dropped for just a moment at your monotonous response.

“where’s dr gaul?”

you passive aggressively put down the pen you had been tapping on the desk.

“i don’t know,” you replied blandly, studying his face like you trying to read his mind. “she left like a half hour ago to ‘see to something’, but she’s not been back. i’d suggest you leave and speak to her tomorrow instead.”

coriolanus pulled a face as if thoroughly surprised that anyone could be anything less than cordial to him. it was a subtle change in expression, but you figured that’s what he was thinking.

“that’s quite alright, y/n,” he smiled mockingly, “i’ll sit right here and wait. nowhere to be tonight.”

“shocker,” you murmured, watching as snow sat in the empty chair opposite you.

the two of you stayed sat at gaul’s desk for almost 10 minutes before either of you said anything else.

“how is the apprenticeship going?” snow asked, trying to fill the awkward silence by feigning interest.

“it’s great. thanks. thrilling, actually. i’m having the time of my life. this is so much fun,” you retorted.

coriolanus raised an eyebrow and shifted in his seat. “you know, every one of gaul’s students wanted this apprenticeship. if you’re not enjoying it, i am more than certain that you could find somebody to fill the role.”

you huffed sarcastically. “oh good try, snow. i’m not giving it up that easily.”

“so i’ve heard,” he muttered.

before you could respond to that, the laboratory doors hauled open again and dr gaul finally returned.

“ah, coriolanus, good,” she welcomed, entering with purpose in her stride. “i have a small ask of the pair of you.”

there was no way in the whole of panem that this would be a ‘small’ ask, coming from her. coriolanus’ eyes widened in apprehension.

“don’t make that face at me, coriolanus snow.”

“sorry.”

“good. i must continue to deal with a situation that has arisen, i need you two to feed chupa before he gets too hungry. that’s all, then you both may leave and i shall see you," you watched her search for a rhyme, "before tomorrow’s eve.”

then she turned to leave, with you and coriolanus pulling faces of horror. ‘chupa’ was a particularly hideous and dangerous looking creature that gaul had advised you, on multiple occasions, to keep your distance from. and now she was asking you to feed him? sometimes it was like she wanted you dead.

“wait a minute,” you said hesitantly. gaul moved only her head to look at you and you regretted opening your mouth immediately. “sorry, dr gaul, you want us,” you motioned to yourself and snow, “to feed that,” you pointed at the cage where the beast appeared to be smirking.

“yes,” she replied plainly. “he will eat anything, but he most likes the small green snakes.”

with that, she left the lab again.

coriolanus looked at you, looked at chupa, then looked back at you. “what the fuck is that?”

you snorted, enjoying seeing him uncomfortable. “do you want to get the snakes, or shall i?”

“you get them,” he spoke quickly. “i don’t like snakes.”

you were suspicious at this apparently strong aversion to the slithering reptiles. perhaps they’d scared him when he was younger, and never shook it off. or perhaps one had bitten him. you imagined him flailing his arms and screaming and it made you chuckle to yourself as you took a jar half-filled with thin, forest green snakes. they weren’t venomous, in fact they were quite amiable and undeserving of being fed to the ugly brute in the cage beside you. regardless, you removed two snakes from the jar and placed it back on the shelf.

coriolanus was keeping his distance, making you do all the work. lazy asshole.

“can you open the cage?” you directed snarkily. he tentatively unfastened the top of the cage, standing closer to you than he ever had before. up close, he looked like a real person. a real person who was just as real as everybody else in the capitol, not any better. he smelt better than a lot of them though. like cologne and fresh roses. you mentally chastised yourself for noticing and tried to focus on the task at hand.

your snake-holding hand slid towards chupa’s mouth, which opened to reveal a large set of sharp fangs that seemed to be moving upwards

“be careful of the fangs,” snow warned from behind you.

“thank you coriolanus, i’m so glad you told me that. i was truly about to stick my fingers into his mouth,” you retorted sarcastically, starting to feed the snakes to the disgusting creature.

he mumbled something incoherent that sounded something like “i wish you would.”

“sorry what was that, snow? did you say something,” you asked, becoming more irritated by his unhelpful presence.

as chupa finished the tail of the second snake, he bit the air above him in an attempt to get your hand for dessert, making you rapidly withdraw your hand from the cage and leap backwards. coriolanus dropped the lid in shock and it thankfully fastened itself.

when you had leapt backwards, you had leapt backwards straight into snow’s arms that he had instinctively wrapped around you in protection. his arms were stronger than they looked through his uniform jacket, and his chest much more toned. it felt beyond strange to be this close to him. but something deep inside of you suddenly yearned to be closer, and you slowly rotated yourself in his arms to face him, hands pressed against his chest.

coriolanus was looking into your eyes like nothing else was in the room. like he had never seen a person’s eyes this close before. he was looking at you like you were most incredibly fascinating thing he had ever seen.

and maybe you were; he had grown used to the capitol women throwing themselves at him. he didn’t struggle to take them home, had no issues finding a date to all the various events he attended. then there you were- snapping at him and poking fun at him, and not even waiting until his back was turned to roll your eyes or pull faces. in what he deemed a cruel twist of fate, you were the only girl in the capitol who didn’t look at him like he was god, and you were the only girl in the capitol he truly felt something deeper than momentary lust for.

his lust for you was not momentary. it was perpetual. and having you this close to him, safe and protected in his arms, confirmed for him that you needed to be his. the world bent to the will of coriolanus snow. and so would you.

in an instant where your body no longer obeyed your better judgment, you pressed your lips to coriolanus’.

he kissed you back like you were a source of oxygen, using his advantageous hold of you to force you to walk backwards towards the rows of bookshelves behind gaul’s desk without separating your lips. he swiftly checked the door to make sure nobody had snuck in before your bodies were eclipsed by the cover of the well-stocked shelves and you were roughly pushed up against them. snow continued to kiss you, moving down to your neck to leave marks sure to raise questions the next morning, then down to your collarbone, unbuttoning your blouse as he went so that his path was clear to mark you with his mouth all the way down to the waistband of your skirt. his kneeled down before you and pushed up your skirt, looking up at you for approval. you nodded, still caught up in the moment. this was fine. this felt good. it really felt good when snow removed your panties and placed your legs over his shoulders, holding you up at the waist and running his tongue along your folds, earning a loud moan from you. he withdrew his head from you skirt to shush you, before returning his tongue to your centre and flicking it against your clit. you bit onto your knuckle to absorb the sound of the whimpers escaping you. where the fuck had he learned to do this? it felt heavenly, his mouth drawing you ever closer to release with his large hands digging into your hips to keep you in position.

“coryo,” you whispered. “coryo, i’m close.”

he began to hum in acknowledgement, sending you right over the edge. a moan slipped from your mouth as you came, feeling your slick drip onto his face. he continued to lap at your juices as you rode out your orgasm, a blissful haze washing over you. if these were the skills making snow so cocky, you couldn’t fault him for that particular trait any longer. he lifted his head and smiled at you like a man who was very aware you’d just cum on his face by his manipulation. he helped you take your legs from his shoulders with a satisfied smirk when they wobbled under the weight of your body, then he kissed you again, softer this time, to force you to taste yourself on his tongue. you reached your hand forward to his crotch, palming him through his constricting pants. he indulged you for a minute, then removed your hand and lifted it to his lips like a true gentlemen.

you felt a little disappointed to not repay the favour, finally feeling content with your formerly repressed lust for the man.

but then he leaned down to your ear and whispered in a low tone, “you can owe me one,” before giving you one last lewd kiss and leaving you stood behind the bookshelves in the head gamemaker’s office with messed up hair and a realisation that you really wanted coriolanus snow to come and visit after hours again tomorrow.

[ghost-proofbaby]

NOW WE'RE STANDING IN THE RING, BREAKING EVERYTHING THAT WE'VE BEEN BUILDING UP SO LONG. I DON'T WANNA DO THIS - BREAK IT UP.

☆ pairings: rockstar!eddie munson x fem!reader

☆ warnings: no use of y/n, strong language, angst, everybody's a hypocrite, minors dni

☆ WC: 3.2K+

thank you to my love @hellfire--cult for the divider!

masterlist

You can’t tell if the ride on the elevator is all too short, or if it drags out entirely. 

The entire ascension, you find the fire again. All the pain and anger that had fueled you to be acting out so cruelly in the lobby. And yet the bell that signals you’ve arrived to your intended floor still dings all too soon. 

It’s hard to get lost. The moment you step off the elevator, you can clearly see only three doors – two of which sit within an indented section of the wall and face one another, clearly the bathrooms. 

Behind the other one, Eddie Munson, no doubt. 

You still cling to that notebook as you take all your steady steps towards the door, turning over all your fury in your head. Turning all the lyrics over in your head. 

All those songs, all those lines – and he’d never picked up the phone and just called. 

You can only assume that it was all written more recently. Before he’d seen you again, even. And if he had still been writing about you, he could have tried calling you. He could have said all that he’d written to you directly, rather than hiding it all within songs that there was no guarantee you’d ever hear. Instead of singing them to crowds of adoring fans rather than to your face. 

You don’t knock on the door – you just open it. 

Music immediately surrounds you as you step in, loud enough that they clearly hadn’t heard you enter. Grainy guitars, deafening drums, billowing bass. And finally, amongst the madness, you can hear Eddie’s voice singing. 

“Do you wanna see how far it goes? Do you wanna test me now, my love?” 

Yes. Yes, you certainly fucking do. 

It’s not Eddie’s live voice coming through the speakers. It’s clearly a recording as he sits beside the producer, hunched over and nodding along, face twisted as he seems to dissect the music in real time.

One flourish of his ringed hand, and the producer is clearly hitting pause. 

“Do you think we can add in that synth I recorded earlier here-”

“Eddie.” 

His hand drops the moment he hears your voice. The chair he’s sitting in nearly tips from the speed in which he spins it around to face you, resembling a statue as he takes in your silhouette in the doorframe. 

You can only imagine the image he’s faced with. 

You, all your vexation and all your torment painted so clearly across your features. Your knuckles, looking physically strained from how tightly the metal spring of the notebook digs into your palm. Your chest, heaving with every breath, as if even being within his vicinity right now was torturous. 

And it was. God, it was. 

Salt in your wounds. Dagger in your stomach. Poorly bandaged contusions you’d never taken the time to balm and soothe. 

“Sugar,” he breathes out, earning him a strange look from the producer, “What are you-”

“Can we talk?” 

Your voice is quivering, strained from trying to keep a level head until the two of you are alone. 

“Right now?”

“Right now,” you almost add on the given alone, but Eddie is one step ahead of you. As he stands, he also waves his hands a bit, clearly dismissing the producer. 

“You want me to leave?” the man asks, standing slowly, looking curiously between the two of you, “Where do I even go? Matt said we’d be working for another few hours, at least-”

“Go to the fuckin’ lobby or something,” Eddie spits out, having a hard time pulling his eyes away from you, “I don’t-” He pauses, his eyes finally finding sight of that notebook in your hand. Clearly, he hadn’t noticed it before. “-care.”

All the blood drains from his face. He’s so pale, you’re worried that he might pass out any second now. 

He doesn’t look prepared for a fight – if anything, he looks terrified of whatever you may swing at him. 

The producer leaves, not without a few mutterings under his breath about not this again, but you don’t even bother to dig deeper into it. If Eddie frequently gets into fights in this studio, that’s his problem. 

Maybe he shouldn’t write songs about girls he’d hurt, and never pick up the phone.

He seems to be waiting on you, but you’re waiting on the click of the door. All that hurt, all that seething is burning in your chest, waiting for release. There’s no need to have any witnesses to the downfall of both of you. 

“How was your mor-”

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence. One click from the door, and you’re storming across the room to slam that notebook into his chest, uncaring of how much it might hurt. 

You hope it hurts. You hope it aches like your palm that had held it, like your chest that feels as though it’s been pried wide open. 

“What the fuck is this?” you spit out, already choking up with tears. 

“What do you-”

“Where the fuck do you get off on writing all those- all those- all those fucking songs about us?” You don’t care that you’ve cut him off – it’ll be the least harmful thing you do during this argument. You’re desperate, rabid and crumbling as you push the notebook harder for emphasis, unable to let go just yet, “All those goddamn songs, lines about wanting me to come home, lines about us. Fucking pages of them! And not one single call. Not one single text.”

The first tear falls, and you’re quick to let go of the notebook so you can swipe it away. You’re not crying in front of him right now. You’ve done enough of that this morning, over old photographs and times you can never get back. 

“I’m sorry, excuse me?” he laughs nervously, looking between you and the notebook he now has ownership of. He flips open the cover, and his face falls when he sees the first page, “You were reading my notebooks?”

“Who even cares at this point?” you hiss out, taking a step back, needing physical distance now. “It was the only way I would ever find out how you really feel, right? It was between that, or having to hear it on the radio, right?” 

His face goes through several revelries before he settles on an emotion, mouth agape as he shakes his head slowly at you, brows furrowed and all his creases exposed, “Are you seriously pissed off right now that the rockstar wrote songs about you? That I wrote about you, which is what I do for a living?” 

“Your job isn’t to write about me!” Thank God for soundproof studios. Your voice is rising, tone cracking with emotion, “I’m not fucking mad that you did that, I’m mad that you never called-”

“I did call!” he yells back at you suddenly. Not out of intimidation, not even out of fury. He has to do it – he has to match your volume just to be heard. “I called hundreds of times. Before the tour ended, when I got back, when I saw you were gone. I did fucking call-”

“I’m mad that you fucking left!”

Silence fills the studio. Eddie has no retorts left as your words weigh down the moment, ricocheting off the walls and puncturing every delicate foundation of whatever closure bullshit you two had begun to falsely build. 

You finally throw your head back in bitter laughter, blinking away the unwelcome tears, “I’m so goddamn angry because you left me.”

“What?” his face falls, almost crumpling in the same manner as it felt your chest was, “You told me to go on those tours. You wanted me to get out there with the band. Not to mention, you left too. You left, seemingly without a goddamn reason. You said it yourself, just now-”

“It’s not about the physical leaving,” you interrupt, bones growing weary, tired from it all. Weighed down with memories and weighed down with emotions that should have been dealt with years ago. “I lost you long before you stepped foot on that tour bus that last time. You…” you pause, breathing erratic, coming out in harsh puffs, trying to build the courage for what needed to be said. 

“I what?” he’s all but begging now, the need to scream over each other evaporating into thin air.

“You stopped saying you loved me.” 

The words are out there now, and you can’t take them back. Two long years of him writing songs, of you washing away a stain that won’t ever fade, of something broken that can’t seem to be fixed. 

You reach out, but not to try and steal back the reason from him. No, that’s not possible. Instead, you take the notebook back from him and begin to gingerly flip through the pages as the tears fall and the words pour out.

“All those phone calls, all these songs, and you still never say the words I needed to hear,” you’re not just talking in past tense any more. It all seemingly blurs together, the past and the present nothing more than watercolors as they spill across the page and merge together. You can’t tell where the hurt from the beginning lays and where the hurt from now feathers at the edges. It’s all the same, and it all remains a stain, “I never needed elaborate metaphors or pretty words, Eddie. I just needed to know you still fucking loved m-”

You cut off as the door to the studio suddenly swings open. You’re frozen, rooted in spot, hand glued mid-flip as Eddie’s messy handwriting stares up at you from the page you paused on. 

Eddie looks ready to fight. To scream at whoever may have interrupted this crucial moment – a moment for you to finally say what you needed to, a moment for him to finally get his answers. 

He doesn’t, though. Not when a fairly livid, almost frazzled Matt is standing in the doorway, glaring at both of you.

“Ah, good,” he says, stepping fully into the small space that had just been a war-zone for you and Eddie. The door slams shut behind him due to its own gravity, “You’re both here. Makes my job easier.” 

“Matt?” Eddie crinkles his nose, “What the Hell are you doing-”

“What am I doing?” Matt walks until he’s standing in front of the coffee table, and motions to the couch with a flick of his wrist. Eddie is quick to follow the silent instruction, taking a seat, but you’re slower to move. You are not Matt’s dog, refusing to be at anybody else’s beck and call at this moment. And so you continue to hover, “What are you doing?” 

You become the pet he needs you to be when he suddenly tosses a magazine down on the coffee table, and you realize that maybe, just maybe, Matt has good reason to be commanding you. 

The vinyl front cover stares up at you, shining beneath the lowlights of the studio, but the image is clear. 

You and Eddie, walking into his apartment building. And in bold lettering, simple textually strokes in blinding white, is a headline that weighs you down enough to make you take the last few necessary steps around the table to fall into place beside Eddie on the couch. 

EXCLUSIVE GOSSIP ALERT: Rockstar Eddie Munson Spotted Canoodling with Mystery Flame! (pg. 89)

Matt’s eyes dart between you two before he finally sighs, “We need to talk.” 

—

The sweat of your hands is making the corners of the magazine pages curl. 

It’s the detail you choose to focus on rather than all the honking and commotion surrounding the car you’re currently sitting in, or the chilling AC that has blasted your right cheek to the point of numbness. The radio is off, the tinted windows are rolled up to dull the music of the city around you, and Matt hasn’t said a word since you’d buckled yourself into his passenger seat. 

Following Matt’s abrupt interruption of you and Eddie, contained chaos had ensued. A symphony of Eddie immediately coming to your defense, claiming the two of you weren’t even canoodling in the photos on the front cover. Of you, only being able to utter a shocked question of how? 

How did they get those photos? How did they print them so fast? How, how, how?

In the last twelve hours, as your life had been piecing together old rotting bricks only to once more fall apart entirely, some cheap gossip journalists had been formulating a front cover that truly felt like it was ruining your entire life. You didn’t know who all had seen the magazine, you didn’t know if the news had spread far and wide across the internet, and you certainly didn’t know what happened next. 

But then Matt insisted you all return to his office. A guarded ivory tower to discuss exactly what you were questioning – to figure out where you go from here. 

Eddie had been quick to suggest you ride back with him in the car that had brought him to the office; you had been quick to shoot down the offer and ask Matt for a ride instead. 

That’s how you ended up here. A magazine you wanted to burn at the stake in your lap, stuck in traffic on a busy street that more so resembled a parking lot at this point. 

“We need to talk about it.”

The first words Matt has spoken to you since the drive began. Not a question, not a request – you were going to talk about this shit show. No running from it, it seems. 

“I don’t know how they got the photo,” you blandly reply in monotone, staring down at the two photos clearly taken back to back, merged together with some pretty impeccable photoshopping. Doesn’t erase the fact that they’d definitely caught you’re bad angle, “I didn’t even see any paparazzi-”

“I don’t care about that,” Matt waves off as the light you’d been stopped at for several minutes now turns green, and there’s just enough of a gap in bustling pedestrians crossing the street for him to make the right turn he’d been signaling the entire time, “One thing you need to learn right here, right now, is there will always be paparazzi around when you’re in public with Eddie. You won’t always see them, but you should always assume they’re there.” 

The ceasing of that irritating clicking is heaven sent. One less commotion to cloud your reeling mind. 

“What do you care about then?” you mumble, finally side-eyeing the older man beside you. 

“I care about what you are to Eddie.” 

“I can promise you, I am noth-”

“Don’t feed me the same bullshit excuses he has, please,” Matt sighs as the rolling car slows, and he signals once more to turn into the parking lot of one of the many impressive skyscrapers towering over the street, “I’m not an idiot. Eds may seem to think I am half the time, but I’m not,” a confining parking space is where the SUV finally settles, but Matt makes no move to turn the vehicle off as he turns to look at you fully, “Look, just level with me. Because as of right now, the only thing I know is that you went to high school together. I need to know where exactly you stand with Eddie, not just because he’s my client, but because of the conversation we’re about to have.” 

Your heart fully drops, “What kind of conversation are we about to have?” 

“A hard one,” Matt instantly replies, not missing a beat, “A very, very hard one. With so many moving factors, it’s gonna give you a headache. And I want to warn you of it, give you a fair chance, because you seem like a nice girl. You’re not used to this circus like me and Eddie are – you deserve a fighting chance at what’s about to be asked of you.” 

What’s about to be asked of you. 

You had a few guesses, simply based on the grave look on Matt’s face. Simply based off of all the research you used to do back in your room in Hawkins’, when the joke of you managing Corroded Coffin felt more and more like a real possibility. 

“An NDA?” you guess, trying to seem indifferent. You should have seen that coming. 

“More than an NDA, dear.” 

Your head snaps in his direction, brows furrowing, “What could you possibly want from me that’s more than signing a piece of paper that promises I won’t tell anyone what’s happened last night?” you hold up that magazine from your lap, giving it a fluttering shake for emphasis, “Wasn’t that the point of showing us this?” 

He only smiles. Your heart only sinks further. 

“I’m going to ask you one last time; what are you to Eddie, really?”

A muse. A stain. A ghost. Something to haunt every avenue he’ll ever take for the rest of his life. A mistake better left unspoken between the two of you. A blip in his past, impossible to avoid. Something better left dead and buried, but the Universe just won’t seem to let the two of you rest. 

“I’m his ex-girlfriend.” 

How do you define an ex, though? Did you ever really end it? How can something be over if neither party has ever been willing to say the words? 

Matt nods slowly, smiling almost sadly, “I figured as much. Thank you, at least, for being honest.” 

“Can I ask you something, and you answer me honestly?”

The car carrying Eddie is probably nearly here. They had probably gotten swept into traffic while following behind Matt’s car. A few extra minutes added to their journey as they’d tried to navigate the nightmarish streets of New York. 

Come to think of it, you don’t even know if he’ll be using the same front entrance as you and Matt. 

“You won’t always see them, but you should always assume they’re there.”

He could use the back entrance, if there was one, to avoid the paparazzi. 

Technicalities you had never had to consider before. You’d only experienced a fraction of Eddie’s fame firsthand, in the beginning, when it was still reasonable to show him off. To brag about him in public, to pronounce your love from every rooftop. Hiding had never been an option – it hadn’t needed to be an option. 

“I know what your question is,” Matt says carefully, “And we both know I won’t say anything until we’re inside that building with Eddie.” 

“Is he even going to go through the fr-” you start to question, but cut off just as you see a familiar black SUV pull up to the front doors of the building. 

You have your answer, it seems. 

Matt unbuckles his seatbelt, and you take it as your sign to do the same. But just as you begin to reach for your door, Matt’s hand on your forearm stops you. 

“For what it’s worth, I am sorry for what I’m about to ask the two of you. Especially now that I know the truth.” 

Your heart finally arrives to the point of no return, unable to answer as the organ is buried six feet under within the grave that should be meant for yourself when it comes to the history books of Eddie Munson. 

Just what was Matt about to ask of the two of you?

You open the door without responding. 

eddie's taglist: @capricornrisingsstuff @thisisktrying @mediocredreams @vol2eddie @corrcdedcoffin

@ches-86 @alovesongtheywrote @its-not-rain @feralchaospixie @cheesypuffkins87

@thebook-hobbit @babez-a-licious @eddies-acousticguitar @aysheashea@kellsck

@cosmorant @billyhvrgrove-main @micheledawn1975 @eddiesxangel @siriuslysmoking

@witchwolflea @tlclick73 @magicalchocolatecheesecake @mizzfizz @nanaminswhore

@mikiepeach @ali-r3n @hawkebuckley @alwaysbeenfamous @darkyuffie-blog

@vintagehellfire @lilmisssiren @elvendria@loveryanax@stylexrepp

@princessstolas @fangirling-4-ever @eddiesguitarskills @babez-a-licious @josephquinnsfreckles

@writinginthetwilight @trixyvixx @kittydeadbones @munson-addict @bluejeangenies

@cryingglightningg @joannamuns9n @missmarch-99 @rhirojo@findmeincorneliastreet

[goobtopia]

crime and punishment [farleigh start]

!! 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT !!

based on this request

summary: after a dinner party at saltburn you confront your long time friend, farleigh, about his odd behavior surrounding felix’s new friend from oxford.

warnings: 18+, SMUT, f!reader, (kinda) p*rn without plot, kissing, praise kink, mentions of p in v sex, thigh riding, nipple play, dom!farleigh, wealthy reader, mention of bullying, swearing, farleigh is both mean and whiny you’ve been warned

[requests are open]

☆ masterlist ☆

-

“Are you gonna tell me what’s wrong or keep giving me the silent treatment?” You crossed your arms in the entryway of Farleigh’s room. He refused to look up from his Dostoevsky summer reading or give you any kind of acknowledgment.

You sighed, finally entering the room so you could sit at the edge of his bed making sure to shut the door behind you. With you facing him and your legs tucked under your body, he obviously couldn’t focus on the passage enough to continue reading so he sighed, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” This was classic Farleigh, so upset or so angry that he’d just shut it down instead. It was something of a compliment you guessed, when Farleigh didn’t care to hurt anyone with his words informed by his loathing his insults were quick and harsh. I once watched him send Gavey crying in the quad after spilling coffee on his lecture notes and heard he was in and out of the school counseler’s office after that.

“If this is about earlier…” You trailed off, unknowingly hitting the nail on the head for Farleigh and you jumped when his hard cover book made a deafening crack as it closed. “No, why would I be upset about earlier? It’s not like everyone has been up Oliver’s ass all semester, so much so that you take his side and make me look like a jackass in front of everybody.” He was calm, spoke in a sickly sweet voice as the book was discarded near his pillows.

You never pulled punches with Farleigh, he knew this, which is why he shouldn’t have been so surprised when you defended your actions, “Farleigh you made yourself look like an ass, like when everyone stopped laughing because it was literally painful to watch.” He ran a hand over his khaki colored corduroy pants, his fingers adorned with expensive silver rings, as he rested his ear against his shoulder. A sign he was licking his wounds after you walked out to check on Oliver leaving him alone to sing the rest of his shitty song.

“You get so… prideful around him, like you’re trying to prove something. I’ve never seen you like this.” The way Farleigh kept attacking Oliver was far from his usual pettiness, no Farleigh was always quick but even the butt of his jokes would find themselves laughing about it eventually. Here it was like he was taking everything just a step too far, you didn’t understand how Oliver got under his skin so badly.

Sure, he didn’t come from your world but it wasn’t like he was being a nuisance, there was no reason in your mind to embarrass him by picking a song for him that Farleigh was sure Oliver didn’t know. “Well, he’s a fucking creep. He’s sneaking around with Venetia and he’s cozying up to you lately, he had you using his lap as a couch coushin in there.” He looked disgusted by the thought.

You hadn’t thought anything of it honestly, if Venetia was settled in her brother’s lap in a platonic fashion you figured it was all in the spirit of the night. The closeness and camaraderie we found amongst yourselves in these nights, that was like tradition to you. “Farleigh…” You trailed in a tone reeking of disappointment in one of your best friends, “What? You don’t think so?” He quipped.

Your silence spoke for itself and he scoffed, “Well then you’re a fucking idiot.” Your voice, while not loud, cut through the air like a knife, “Hey. You do not speak to me like that.” You pointed your finger, straightening your back out. Next thing you know he’s pinning you down by your thighs, using this new leverage to lean into your face.

“What are you gonna do about it? Run and tell poor little orphan Ollie?” He nodded, silently coaxing an answer from you. “You’re being mean Farleigh.” You whisper, showing weakness for a moment not even thinking about the fact your friend doesn’t ever touch you like this. Somehow, it’s the least of your worries.

With a heaving chest he looks down at your lips, focusing in on them as they draw into a tight line with the silence. “I wouldn’t be so mean if you hadn’t been,” His tongue runs over his bottom lip. “…misbehaving.” You lost the ability to breathe for a moment, suddenly forced to face the lines that were most definitely being crossed. This was uncharted territory for the both of you.

One hand came up to your face, pressing his thumb lightly into the center of your chin making sure to slowly bring it up and gauge your reaction. His knuckle hooked over your bottom lip until the pad of his thumb grazed the wetness of your tongue. You closed your mouth around it instantly, earning a groan from the tall boy towering over you.

Swiftly he removed himself, pocketing his hands under your thighs and throwing your weight on top of his so you were open for him across the thick muscle of his leg. “You gonna be good for me?” You nodded, bracing yourself on his shoulders. “Yes, I am.” You said without hesitation, some new fire ignited you craved to fuel.

You were pulled by the nape of your neck to meet his lips in a fervent kiss pressing your whole body against his. Lips slid against each other as they danced in harmony, tongues exploring one another as you began grinding your hips against him hoping to relieve some of the pressure building in your core.

His free hand locked onto your hip to stall any movement as he pulled away from you, “Take it easy babe, just let me touch you.” You could’ve melted right there, his hand traveled up your nightgown and grazed over the seam on the side of your panties. “Oh really?” He sounded almost proud in his surprise at your lack of pants.

He explored further, reaching up to your right breast and grazing his nail against your nipple. Your hips stuttered involuntarily, amusement written on his face as he watched your face screw in pleasure. “F-fuck” Your voice cracked, feeling that stimulation go straight to your core.

“You gonna let me have a taste?” He pouted, twisting the nipple in between his fingers leaving you breathless and desperate for more. “Yes, fuck, please just put your mouth on me.” You whined, and Farleigh didn’t need to be asked twice. Your gown was ripped from your body leaving you in just a little pair of panties and nothing aside from your stark nakedness.

Of course, he had to take a moment to admire your body, so soft and beautiful, like unwrapping a gift he’s always yearned for. “Farleigh, please.” Your voice sounded pathetic almost, but you were worried if either one of you paused for too long you’d come to your senses and stop. And empty fear seeing as it would probably take an act of god to seperate the two of you at this moment.

“Shut up, I wanna see what you’ve been hiding from me all these years.” His hands explored practically every inch of you, his eyes grazing against your stomach, your breasts, you thighs. He couldn’t stop imagining what your hips might look like settled on top of his own, stuffed to the brim with his cock.

He couldn’t wait anymore, he unbuckled his silver and black belt, letting it hit the floor somewhere before jimmying them halfway off all with you in his lap. Now your sex was making indirect contact with a small sliver of his skin between his boxers and pants. “I’m gonna spend some time with these,” He began to explain, giving each breast a squeeze. “But you’re gonna get off on my thigh before I do anything else. Understand?” You nodded with confidence, hiding your dissapointment in him. All you wanted was for him to be inside you, tending to that most sensitive part of you and he was making you do it yourself.

But you could give him a show, make him so insatiable he’d have no choice but to turn you over and fuck you after seeing the way you grind into that muscle. “Yes, I understand. I’ll be good for you.” You cooed in your most sultry voice. It must’ve been an effective plan because his head dipped to tend to you almost instantly.

With lips and teeth scratching against the sensitive skin of your nipple, you felt like you were going crazy. You didn’t need to be reminded of you task because your hips did all the work for you at the feeling he provided. It was like your breasts had a direct line to your clit, making any friction against it double in intensity.

Your hips weren’t thrashing against him by any means but you were still racing to reach that high, something Farleigh helped along by bouncing his thigh against you. Farleigh switched breasts, leaving a free hand to guide your motions along him in frustration. “God I can’t wait to fuck you.” He humbled against your chest, “Been so good for me, haven’t you? My good girl.”

You barely registered the words, not that it would’ve changed anything. If being Farleigh’s good girl meant pleasure like this you didn’t care.

You were getting closer, mumbling harder as you threw your head back in pleasure. Farleigh could barely make out any of your words besides: fuck, please, so close; he guessed he didn’t need the details. He grabbed the middle fabric of your panties, pulling them to the side so your clit was bare and began to catch onto Farleigh’s boxers, creating a new devilish form of friction against that bundle of nerves.

“I’m gonna cum.” Your voice was light and broken. It had come embarrassingly fast but with Farleigh’s tongue flicking against the second most sensitive bundle of nerves, there was no way you could’ve helped it. No doubt it was boosting Farleigh’s ego, something that was far from necessary.

He lifted his head, keeping one hand aimed at the pleasure points on your chest, “Look at me. I wanna see that look in your eyes.” You sped up, keeping eyes contact with him as your jaw felt slack and that impossibly tight knot in your core finally broke, letting pleasure avalanche over your senses. Farleigh kept on you with that look of amusement at how quickly you came undone through his own manipulation.

You sadly clenched around nothing as your legs shook a bit and you slowly rode out the high, not wanting to keep the same pace now that you were so sensitive. Farleigh pulled you into another kiss, this one deeper but more sensual than before. There was no rush now, neither of was going anywhere.

“Fuck you’re never leaving this bed.” He confessed between kisses, promising you this wasn’t just a one-off thing. “Not until I’m finished with you.”

[archive-doll]

Little drabble about tiger!ghost thanks to you anon ♡

trigger warning for alcohol and cigarette consumption, inlove!ghost, scent kink, mention of body fluid (spit) during kisses ♡. Mention of self-harm in the past from his side. broken nose! The underlying smut is there, all in Ghost's mind. Gender-neutral reader! (wear some makeup)

He's so silly and cute, he's ready to throw himself on the ground for reader in a worshipping way.

Minor do not interact. Forgive my grammar. Enjoy.

He's a deviant. Everybody carved that into him from an early age. Long before the scars, the self-hatred that made him hurt himself, the war that tainted his soul and shaped his body into an unsightly thing, the tip of his tail now missing. An oddity of life, biologically speaking. Hybrids are the laughingstock of society, even when they have the physical shape of a tank like he does. Round ears on top of his dirty blond hair, half a tail remaining, and golden strikes slithering along the edges of his frame.

He's frightening. Ghost is intimidating to most of the people he has ever met. His butchered face, blue veins that mix with the golden scars on his flesh, reminders of a dying man, it all caused the wide stares he receives on a day-to-day basis. He's a fucking monster. An atrocity.

But, here he is. Sitting down on the edge of some disgusting sidewalk covered with discarded chewing gum, broken glass, and smelling of piss. Mask pushed over his broken snout, some flimsy bandage over where the flesh broke apart under the sparring of the cartilage, a cigarette between his rigged teeth.

The most important, though, is the pretty delight by his side, a little bit intoxicated, who kneels in front of him. They're at a respectful distance he can concede, but with the brightest smile he's ever seen. Like they simply came to admire the stray cat in the alley.

Ghost is blinded for an instant, ashes falling from the tip of his cigarette between his spread thighs, eyes hurting from the vision that they are. Soft and beautiful babe with some acne on their cheeks he wants to kiss and shiny makeup painting their eyelids.

And they're talking. To him. They are talking to him, looking at him, a little bag dangling between their fingers. And yes, their words are a little slurred, and their eyes are a little dazed. But they're breathtaking. Simon has half the mind to look around to see if there is anyone here, but he knows they are alone. He can hear the gentle thrumming of their heart.

Anyone sees him and leaves. It's all that ever happened in his fucked up life. With the exemption of Johnny, the highland cattle buff who isn't scared of anything, no one ever sees him in the darkness and closes the distance. But they did.

They do.

"Your ears are very pretty," they say with a little giggle, and he can feel the blood rushing in his skull at the sudden praise. "So colorful!" There are stars in their eye as they coo his way. Or maybe it's the bad lighting that makes them shine, but Ghost has half the mind to make a wish upon them.

He tries to talk, after a moment where you simply gaze at him with something akin to tenderness of all things, but no word comes upon him. His mind is blank with your melted butter scent, swirling with cooked apple, and his tail salutes in attention with the desire to lick it from the source.

"Oh! Uh, you forgot this earlier," they seem to remember, doughy chin tilting down as their precious hands shift and turn into their minuscule bag before tugging something of it.

It's his wallet. Ghost must be out of his mind, half dying from lack of sleep to forget it behind. Ghost never forgets.

"Do you not want it?" There it is. A little shyness there, a slight curl of their plushy lips he wants to lick their spit from. He's starting to feel territorial now. Thinking about how their scent would change when he drags his teeth along the arch of their spine. Would they flail and tremble?

His cigarette is forgotten on the ground, still burning when he grasps at the wallet. All of the training he received in the military keeps his hand from reaching for them. But his hands shake.

Ghost never shakes. Never waver. A simple smile from you and everything he knows, all that he believes in, is shattered.

"Oh, um. I left my number in there. Call me, maybe? Bye-bye!"

He watches them leave, that little sway of their hand making his heart beat again in his ribcage, mind empty. The air shifts behind him, and his eyes blink. Once. Twice. Before, with a snap of his wrist, he snatches his tail with half the intention of breaking it off.

It makes them giggle, though. The voices are quiet as his claws dig into the tar when he raises to his feet.

"Lil' bird. Ya hav' to drink some wat'r," he grumbles as he stalks behind them, ready to coddle them into his bed.

© archive-doll - all rights reserved. reposting or modifying, including translating or use on AI is not permitted. original characters are not my own but the stories and the writing are.

[strniohoeee]

Belong To The City

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT THIS IS A 18+ STORY BEYOND THIS POINT

Pairings: Chris Sturniolo X Female Reader ⚠️SMUT⚠️

Enemies-ish to lovers, friends-ish to lovers

Synopsis: Chris is such an arrogant asshole to Y/N, but when she snaps back he loses all control and pulls her to the side ⚠️THIS IS SMUT SO LEAVE ME ALONE⚠️

Warnings⚠️: This is straight up smut okay, so any young person PLZ PLZ go away and get off tumblr and go to bed please. Oh god what’s in here?? Manhandling, spit, mean Chris, crazy dirty talk. Mannnn idek this shit is intense, and I’m not even a Chris girl, but I put my whole pussy into this one

Song for the story: Belong To The City-PARTYNEXTDOOR

Right now I was currently standing in the corner of the living room of the triplets house as they had a party going around for completing the tour. It was mainly a celebration party for Chris, but Nick and Matt would never admit to that. However for me it was like my eternal hell. I absolutely hated parties especially ones full of all these LA “influencers” who were only here because they wanted to see who’s pants they could get into first. Same boring game over and over, so I stand in the corner at most parties with a drink in my hand observing everyone else, listening in on conversations and cringing at how embarrassing some of these people were. It brought me great joy, and I could ignore how badly I wanted to claw my way out this sweaty body infested house.

I went to take a sip from my orange solo cup, and noticed it was empty, so I made my way over to the kitchen. In there was Nick, Matt, Tril, Chris, Madi and a few other close friends of ours. Although I love the triplets, and they know how much I hate parties I always am on my best behavior for them!

“Yooo look who decided to join the party” Tril said bumping my shoulder. I just give a slight upturn of my mouth

“Haha so funny….” I replied back rolling my eyes

“Hey! Lighten up! Let loose, this is a celebratory party “ Tril answered back grabbing me by my shoulders

“You’re clearly very drunk, I’m having a great time watching all these people embarrass themselves trying to get into y’all’s pants” I replied back looking at all the drink options. My eyes light up once I see the strawberry Malibu

“Woahhh get into our pants?? Says who” Matt replies looking around curious

I pour a shot and gulp it down, and then another before I go to pour my third shot I look up and answer

“Nearly every single person in here” I replied down my third shot after pouring it

“You should slow down on the shots” when I bring my head down after downing my shot I lock eyes with Chris

“Ouu is the king of parties telling me to slow down on drinking??? Are you okay? Are you feeling sick?” I said laughing along with everybody else

“No I’m just saying you tend to get a little out of hand when you’ve had a little too much Malibu” Chris responded shrugging. To this Nick giggles and has a light bulb moment

“Oh my fucking god like that one time you drank Malibu at that one party and puked on that guys dick” Nick says giggling….he was completely sober, so why in the fuck was he saying such a thing. My eyes pop out of my head

“First of all not true, and second of all you guys always purchase Malibu knowing it’s my favorite and then get upset when I wanna have fun” I said back with an attitude

“Maybe control your liquor intake and you wouldn’t be choking on dicks” Chris retorted back laughing hard with Matt while they leaned on each other for support like it was the funniest shit ever

“I can promise you I’ve never choked on a single dick, and I also promise you I’ve never sucked dick while drunk before…that’s a rookie mistake fuck face” I say back throwing ice cubes at him from my cup

“That’s not how I interpreted it when you were gagging on my dick, but I mean hey” He said back with the most smug smirk I have ever seen. My blood was boiling, my skin was on fire, I was seeing white hot rage.

Back in high school Chris and I got really close one year. It was actually the summer going into senior year, and to say I had a crush on him was an understatement. I really liked the kid, but I knew he’d never see me that way. But for some reason we had a really romantic summer, and at the end of it we decided to be each other's first everything. That being said I had never seen a dick nor touched or sucked one, and he was pretty large, so I did in fact gag a few times. Needless to say after that summer we never spoke about it again, and we actually acted like we never liked one another after that, so there was always this weird tension here and there

“You’re such a fucking dick” Was all I could get out, I was angry but I was hurt mostly. It was something we swore we’d keep to ourselves, and here he goes airing it out to his brothers and our friends, and making me feel embarrassed.

“Chris not fucking cool” Madi said giving him a disgusted look.

“Oh come on it was a harmless joke I swear” He said acting shocked that nobody liked what he said

“You fucking idiot you always take shit too far” Nick said smacking him in the back of his head. I looked over to Chris with no emotions

“No, honestly it’s fine he can’t eat pussy for shit, and when I did let him go down on me he was crying from all the emotions, talking about some “aww you’re wet for me” pfft you wish….hes a fucking joke in bed” I responded giving him a bitchy smile. Everyone’s jaw dropped and Chris just clenched his jaw and scoffed. He pushed himself off the edge of the sink and walked over to me. He grabbed me by my upper arm and yanked me hard towards the direction of his room downstairs. As he was walking me with him harshly like a scolded child all I could hear was laughing and and them going “OUUUU” like I was some school delinquent getting told to step out of class.

Chris firmly walks me down the steps into his room slamming the door shut behind us. All that could be heard now was PARTYNEXTDOOR blasting from upstairs. When he’s a little more into his room he fully throws me down to the floor, and I fall smacking against the wooden floors.

“Ouch you fucking prick, I’m not a fucking ragdoll” I said as I get myself up and try to shake off the embarrassment.

“Yeah? Well you ain’t shit to me after that little stunt you pulled up there” he said towering over me by a few inches.

“Oh me? I’m the bad guy?? Yeah let’s not play victim” I said back to him crossing my arms over my shoulder

“Oh no let’s not! But let's tell the truth shall we” Chris stated back flashing his white smile. I go to cut him off, but he immediately speaks loudly over me.

“Truth is you did choke on my dick because it’s too big and you can’t take it, truth is you were the one crying when I was going down on you, you were fucking trembling and shaking moaning like a little bitch…..fucking thighs shaking like a complete untouched virgin” He said laughing at me now with his arms crossed over his chest

“We can fake orgasms you know” I told him sizing him up

“When your cum was dripping down my chin? Yeah that wasn’t fake mama, and the way you just laid there limp like a fucking used slut” He responded laughing in my face. God why were his words making me hot and bothered? WHEN DID CHRIS BECOME SO FUCKING HOT?

“Fuck you” was all I could manage because I was genuinely getting turned on by the way he was treating me and the memories of him abusing my pussy.

“Yeah you wish” Chris said rolling his eyes

“I’m not 17 anymore I’ve got experience now, I bet you couldn’t make me cum” I told him…well more like challenging him.

“Please I’d have you used and abused by the end of this party babe” he said stepping closer. Fuck this man really got it….

“Is that a bet?” I asked, raising my brow with my arms crossed over my chest. He roughly grabbed my hands smacking them out the way and grabbed me harshly by neck pulling me in for a kiss. Our lips smashed together just tongue and teeth fighting for dominance, it was hot and it was messy.

He turned us and had us back peddling to his bed. Once my shoes hit the edge he pushed me back, as I laid back he pulled his shirt off along with his hat. I decided to take my shirt off as well

“Fuck Chris you’re so hot when you’re not speaking” I said to him as he came lower to continue kissing me

“Could say the same about you too” He said as nudged my head up and started to leave wet kisses all down my neck to my breast. He stopped and lifted back to look at me

“I can’t wait to have you moaning and weeping on my cock” He said with his droopy eyes lazily looking over me. I just grabbed him by his chain and pulled him forward to continue kissing him. He had me lift up so he could remove my bra. Once my bra was off he separated from my mouth to look down at my chest. His eyes shimmered. I will say I had a last minute puberty incident at 17 I was a size C, but now at 21 I’m a size DD.

“Since when did you get boobs” He asked, laughing while kneading them and moaning a little bit. I let out a sigh/whimper at the feeling of his large hands caressing my breasts.

“Don’t be a fucking weirdo” I said back to him rolling my eyes. He just chuckled and came down to take one of my hard nipples into his mouth while kneading the other one. God I was getting so wet just by this interaction alone, and I know he’d make fun of me for it once he got to removing my bottoms.

He continued to massage them as I let out little moans and gasps of breath. I could feel my underwear being completely soaked right now. My pussy was throbbing, and it was aching a painful ache. I so badly needed him to touch me. He was doing this so he can hold it over my head in the future about how wet I was for him. He hovers over my boobs and spits on one of my nipples. A shocked gasp came from my mouth followed by a moan. He does the exact to the opposite breast and uses his flat palms to massage the spit in. My eyebrows were knotted together and my mouth was hung open. He was doing this all so I could beg him to move on from my breast, but I was enjoying this, so that wasn’t happening.

“Next time I’m fucking your tits, and coming all over them, and then leaving you here like a dirty whore covered in my cum” He said to me biting his lip

“Fuck Chris don’t say shit like that” I responded trying to rub my thighs together for some friction. He looked at this and smirked.

“Now let’s get down to what I’m really here to do” after saying that he took my bottoms off leaving me in my underwear. Of course today I have on light orange underwear making my arousal very noticeable.

“Aww she made a mess for me” he said ghosting his thumb over my pussy, my body shudders from the touch

“Chris I don’t fucking care of course I’m wet you were stimulating my breast, now let’s go if you do get me to cum I’m trying to cum tonight not tomorrow” I responded clearly annoyed. He just laughs and nods his head slightly.

He slowly starts to remove my panties, and as he takes them off there’s a very visible string of my arousal connected from my pussy to my underwear. He just looks up at me and smirks, and I throw my head back and moan as the cool air in his room is causing some release to my untouched core.

Chris pulls my legs apart propping them up on the bed as he situates himself in between my legs. Once he’s comfortable he grabs both legs on either arm and spreads my thighs back. I throw my head back at how hot he looks right now.

“You’ve made such a mess, let’s make it more messy” he said and as he finished that sentence he gathered all the spit in his mouth and let it dribble down onto my wet pussy. I let out the most quiet “fuck” of my life as I watch this unravel infront of me.

As soon as he's done with that he immediately goes down and licks from my hole up to my clit. I was propped up on my elbows but my top half goes limp and I fall back moaning

“Holy shit Chris” was all I could say. He’s sucking my clit and licking it lightly grazing his teeth on my clit hit spit and my slick are mixing together creating the most ungodly sound ever. It is only then that he moans against my clit and my thighs shut around his head

“Fuck Chris oh my god….if you keep doing that I’m going to cum on your face” I said said gripping the sheets. He goes down to lick my hole and his pointy nose is banging against my clit in the most delicious way. Allowing me to moan out for him once again slamming my thighs shut around his head.

He detached from my pussy to look at me, and it’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen….his fucked out eyes, his nose,lips and chin covered in my arousal and his spit and his cheeks are all red and rosy. He immediately goes back down to my pussy this time adding his middle finger while sucking my clit. As he’s sucking my clit he’s motioning his middle finger in a come here motion and then moans against my clit. I let out the loudest scream as I could, shaking and cumming all over his mouth and finger. Seeing flashes of white and my body coming off the bed. I had no warning. I was just hit with an intense orgasm. I was breathing heavy as i came down from my high 100% fucked out.

“What’d I say trembling and thighs shaking like a used slut” Chris said as he was removing his pants and I was just there basking in the feeling of the best orgasm I’ve ever had. I look up and see Chris stroking his hard dick while watching me pull myself together

“Chris that was the most intense orgasm I’ve ever had” I stated watching his hand move up and down against his rock hard dick. I was already getting aroused again. He comes closer and takes his right hand swiping it against my pussy collecting my cum and his spit as I shudder from the sensitivity.

He uses that to stroke his dick “Should I fuck you, or should I use your cum as my lube to get off and paint your skin like the dirty slut you are?” he asks, still stroking his cock. All I could do was moan and beg him to fuck me.

Once again he spits on my pussy and on his dick using it as extra lube. He’s looking down as he places the tip at my entrance. We both lock eyes as his dick enters me, both of our mouths dropping and our eyebrows kneading together. Both of us whispering fuck. He slowly starts to go in and out.

“Fuck Chris you gotta move you feel so good I wanna feel you pounding me” I told him he bites his lip and nods starting to pick up the pace

30 seconds later he’s rapidly thrusting into me like there’s no tomorrow rubbing my nipples and then going back to my clit. I’m a moaning bitch right now, and I’m about to cum on his cock I can feel it, so I started clenching his dick.

“Fuck Y/N keep doing that I’m going to fucking cum all over you” He said into my ear with his arms on either side of my head as his chain dangles in my face and his sweat starts to fall on me.

“Chris keep touching my clit I’m going to cum so hard again” my breathing was becoming more rapid and my moans were becoming silent as my mouth would just stay open and my eyes shut. He backed up a little bit so he could look down at me while rubbing my clit.

“Fuck open your eyes I wanna hold eye contact while we cum” he said, and I did what I was told I opened my eyes just as I was about to cum, with one more thrust I came so hard on his dick clenching down and moaning while looking into his eyes. As soon as I came down from my high he pulled out and kept the eye contact while pumping his cock, and soon enough he came all over my lower stomach with his mouth wide open and bitchy whimpering moans spilling out of his mouth.

He collapsed down next to me while we both sat there in silence not moving for 5 minutes. Then Chris got up and got a warm wet rag to wipe me down with. He came back with it and was staring at my lifeless body there still shuddering.

As he’s wiping my stomach down he states “exactly what I said a fucked out used slut” he looks at me chuckling

I turn my head to him “Chris you just let out the most whiniest moan as you came on me” I said as we both laughed.

“You know I didn’t mean for my joke to hurt your feelings I truly thought you were over the feelings for me. I’m not over my feelings for you, but I thought saying that would help me get over it” he said after wiping me down

“Chris I was never over you. I lost my virginity to you, that’s a soul tie and you’ll forever have a special place in my heart” I told him looking at him. He helped me sit up so we can sit face to face

“Good because I have never wanted someone so badly in my life as much as I want you” Chris responded back moving my hair behind my ear. I just smiled at that and looked into his eyes

“Let me take you on a date, and try again. None of that high school shit I want this for real” He said looking into my eyes for an answer

“I’d love that” I said going in to kiss him. As I pulled back we hear a knock at the door

“Are yall done fucking the parties over and we need help cleaning” Nick said from the other side. Chris and I both looked at each other wide eyed laughing because we totally forgot there was a whole house party going on upstairs.

“Uh yeah we’ll be right out” we both said.

The end 😀

Okay I warned yall this is just a little bit of the type of shit I write, and I used to write this at 14 LMFAOOOO. But anyways leave some NICE comments. All young people under 18, that are rude are gonna be blocked cause I can’t do this shit. My mouth is crazy I’m from New York😁🤞🏽

I’m writing a sweet Matt smut next will either be up later tonight or tomorrow 😘🧎🏽‍♀️

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

Down Bad - A Joel Miller Drabble

Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI) Pairing: Pre Outbreak Joel Miller x Female Reader Word Count: 800 Summary: You get ghosted after a one night stand with your handsome neighbor. Warnings: Drinking, smut remembrance, angst. A/N: Happy Tortured Poets Department release day! Thank you to @beskarandblasters for the amazing Taylor Swift Drabble Challenge AGAIN. I previously wrote Paper Rings for it. TBH, I stayed up until 3:30 AM listening to TTPD last night with @ohheypedrito and your girl is STRUGGLING TODAY, but well worth it. What an album.

Masterlist

One night out with your friends, one shared glance, one half smile, one opportunity, one drink bought, one phone number drunkenly tapped into his phone. 

One date, one heated make out session in his truck, one moment of being heaven struck, one naked body left alone in your bed as he quietly leaves without a word. 

One text telling him you had a good time, one week since you’ve heard from him, countless hours of yearning for your neighbor. 

Across the street and two houses to the left, Joel Miller lives. Well manicured lawn, cute daughter who goes door to door selling Girl Scout cookies, large truck parked out the front dinged and well used. 

You’ve been down bad for him since you first moved in, a quick introductory hello and wave one early morning as you took your dog for a walk, how could you be so attracted to a total stranger?

That stranger ignoring you from that moment on, leaving you feeling nuts. Sometimes you’d take your dog for a walk when you’d notice him mowing the lawn, sneaking a glance under your sunglasses, watching the sweat make his skin glisten. Teenage crush vibes, teenage petulance coming out because you can’t have him or his attention. 

You never see him with another woman there, only his loud, precocious brother Tommy who stops to talk with you whenever you’re outside. You know he likes you, but you’re too drawn to his older brother’s beam to even want to lead him on. 

That night shared between the two of you, it almost feels like an evil experiment. He fucked you, fucked you hard, stared into your eyes as he came all over you, devoured your cunt as if he was starving, made you cum so hard it felt like you were floating in a cosmic cloud of sparks, then he left you naked and alone. He owned your body, like it was some sort of hostile takeover. 

You’re barely even sure it happened, like if you speak about the existence of that night, everybody will tell you it never happened, that you’re nuts.

Why did he leave you like that? Why did he strand you the way he did? Why can’t you have him? Why cant you have an us? 

Doesn’t he know what you would do for his attention? How you feel like you could just die when you think back to that night? You’re pathetic for him, isn’t it romantic?

You replay the words he uttered against your skin as he fucked you. “You feel so fucking good, like you were made for me.” 

The taste of your sweat against your lips makes you almost want to cry as you try to run the thoughts of him away on the treadmill at the gym. The last time you sweat like this his cock was stretching you, his hand holding your cheek, his tongue languidly licking into your mouth. 

——

After a night of staring at the ceiling, sleep not visiting you, tossing and turning not being able to get the thought of the weight of his body against yours, you decide to sit out on your porch with coffee in hand, staring at the sky as dawn approaches. A door slamming across the street startles you. He’s outside. This is it, you live in the same old familiar town, he can’t escape you, you can’t escape him. You trudge across the street, only clad in your shorts and your old Rangers shirt. You wave at him to get his attention as he finishes lifting his tool box onto his lift gate. 

You see him swallow as you stand at the edge of his driveway. 

“G’morning,” he nods. “Quite early.”

“It is. Could’t sleep.” 

“Happens to me too.”

“Mm,” you tap your foot, arms folded across your chest. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No, not at all.”

“Then why are you ignoring me?”

“S’complicated.”

“Try me, it’d make no difference.”

“Alright,” he runs a hand through his hair, “you’re too good. I don’t think it’s smart… for me to be with someone right now. Too much going on, ’n it’s safer if we just leave it at that. It’s better for you.”

“So, you fuck me, whisper all those sweet things in my ear, make me feel like I’m the chosen one, then just leave? How romantic Joel.”

“Never said I was the romantic type.”

“No, you’re just the fuck ‘em and strand ‘em. I guess.”

“Listen,” he looks down at his watch, “I gotta get goin’, got an important job to start. I really would like to talk more, I respect you too much ’n I really like you, I just think it’s better if you find someone else.”

“Right, well, see you around neighbor,” you bite.

Fuck it, you can’t have him. 

[drtanner]

I think it's worth remembering that whenever someone seems to make a really weird leap of logic that makes no sense whatsoever to you, it's almost certainly a reflection of their own internal values.

For example:

What they say: "If we let the gays marry, the next thing you know, people will be marrying their dogs! Or their cars!"

What they mean: "I see women as Marriage Objects that belong to their spouses with no autonomy. Allowing same sex marriage expands the list of possible Marriage Objects and I don't approve."

What they say: "If whites become a minority in this country, we'll become second-class citizens!"

What they mean: "I'm fully aware that minorities are treated like shit in this country and I don't want to be treated that way myself. Also I can't imagine a society that isn't run by the majority having dominion over everybody else."

What they say: "They're asking for £15 per hour as the new minimum wage, but why stop there? Why not £50 per hour? Why not £500?"

What they mean: "I'm so opposed to any increase in minimum wage for The Poors that all of these amounts are equally ridiculous to me."

What they say: "If we introduce UBI, no one will ever work again and the economy will collapse!"

What they mean: "I'm fucking exhausted and the only reason I'm still going to work is because the threat of homelessness and destitution is leveraged against me at all times like a gun to my head. If I had the means to stop working I'd lie down and sleep for ten years straight."

OR: "I'm already so rich that I don't have to work for my income, and I can't imagine anyone else being any less lazy or workshy than I am."

What they say: "Queers are all groomers! Leave the kids alone!"

What they mean: "I should have my hard drive checked."

If you've ever heard the saying that "every right-wing accusation is a confession", this is what we mean. ( b ._.)b

[mrfleshwizard]

Real.

Lucifer didn't even bother to talk to Adam about his behavior. "How do you know that he didn't?" Becouse in that book on the start there was NO mention that. The whole point of that story was to show Lucifer in the pure white light (you cannot concived me otherwise). If he did talk to Adam, he would mention it in the book, but he didn't. If he did do it than why he wouldn't mention it? That would make him look even better. So, yeah, he probably didn't.

"But Adam wouldn't listen-" Maybe becouse you banged his wife? I also wouldn't listen to person who my "wife" had affair with. He could try harder. You could take a form of the animal, just help Eve and Adam. Adam was literal child with adult body. He didn't know right from wrong. He needed an right teacher and Lucifer was an AUTHORITY. A fucking authority. He's job was to help humans and take care of them as a person who is older (just like the other angels) but no? Why he should do that? He's Lucifer after all! The biggest victim of the world!

Lucifer never cared about Eve. He humiliated her to make fun of Adam. (woah how mature/s) He couldn't came up with something different becouse OR he doesn't know her at all OR he doesn't know Adam at all. There are only two options.

"He refrence to the apple!" It's even worse. Imagine how Eve would felt? How SHE would felt that man who RUINED her life and her children lives and all humans life uses her like some trophy to her husband face. Eve was blamed for fall of the humanity even of it wasn't really her fault and that fucker made it worse.

That monster is responsible for every war, every illness, every death, every crime and he so proud of it. If was him I couldn't look on the minor after what I have done to innocents, how many people Die nervously of my selfhness let alone be proud of it. There nothing to be proud of.

He didn't get any punishment at all. He was rewarded. He got his wife, he give humanity a "free will" (even if they had it before), he got whole fucking kingdom, he became a KING, he became powerful, but I guess he too lazy to take care of it. He really must hate doing his duties or whatever that is spelled. (english isn't my first language) But he cries about hE dIdN't NoThInG wRoNg! Like dude you did EVERYTHING wrong. You're all existence is wrong. But no! YOU ARE THE VICTIM! YOU AND NOT ADAM OR EVE WHO HAD HUNDRED TIMES WORSE. WHOSE CHILDREN PAINFULLY DIE. And I'm not talking about Cain and Abel only. They probably had more children that Die becouse... come on, they live in the wild, they were the first parents. Starvetion, wild animals, infections, illness, accidents, cold and who knows? Maybe even sucide. Lucifer never lost a child Adam and Eve lost at least two. AT LEAST TWO.

Adam and Eve suffer starvetion, the very cold winter, they were forced to kill animals who they been friends with. Eve give birth without doctors when Lilith probably had many. Adam had to work as a farmer Lucifer never worked, at least he never was forced too.

Lucifer have a life who many of people want to have, but he doesn't care.

Adam and Eve got worse punishment than Lucifer and he acts like he is the victim.

"But his family-" They did a good thing.

Lucifer deserved to fall. Not Lilith becouse she was a CHILD WITH ADULT BODY. But Lucifer? He absolutely did.

Also can we talk how ugly he is? He supposed to be the beautiful but he a fucking abumimation. Does his power is to kill people with his ugly ass face?

I don't understand how people like him. I want him dead. That's not even a joke. I Hope Lilith will be a villain and leave his ugly ass. She deserved better than him. Everybody does.

I don't care that he likes ducks. Fuck his ducks I want them also dead. I would tell him how male ducks copulate with female ducks (they are kind a like dolphins) only to ruin his day.

If feel bad for the cocktails or something like that. You know the birds who are comperad to the Lucifer? I feel bad for them. They deserved do much, so much better than being comperad to that freak.

I'm serious. I want that poor excuse of an devil dead. Like very dead-dead. Like he wouldn't come back.

[barcaatthemoon]

changes || mapi leon x reader ||

the natural changes in your relationship with mapi.

minors dni, 18+, smut ahead.

mapi could tell that something was up. the locker room was a weird mix of tense and seemingly excited. there were rumors of new signees, but mapi hadn't had time to look at them. however, when she arrived at her locker to see a jersey sitting next to it with your last name on it, she realized what was going on.

"are you fucking kidding me?" mapi turned to alexia, as if the woman had personally sought you out to sign. alexia tried to ignore mapi, but the brunette's glare was too much to ignore. "her?"

"she's good, and we could use the extra help on the field with jenni leaving," alexia reasoned. mapi huffed as she hurriedly changed into her kit to get out onto the field. the less time that she had to see you, the better. if mapi was ever to have an enemy, it would have been you.

she knew that there wasn't really a good reason for the two of you to hate each other, but it had been that way for years. whether it be through playing internationally or in your clubs, you and mapi had always clashed on the field together. she knew that alexia was hoping that things would be different with the two of you on the same team, but mapi knew better.

"what is the deal with her?" ona asked as she glanced over to where mapi was glaring at you. everybody knew about you, but they didn't really know you personally. this was a brand new club to you, and you were going to keep your distance because surely these girls were all already mapi's friends.

you didn't understand the rivalry between the two of you. it had started back in international youth teams, and spiraled since then. emotions had run high for you back then, and in the year since, you had mellowed out a bit. many girls who you had once played against were now your friends, with the exception of maria.

maria seemed to hold onto the resentment from your youth. for you, it all stemmed in a single game. it was your chance to show how good you really were, and mapi had shut every single one of your attempts down. you knew how that it was just her having you marked, and that it wasn't personal, but back then it felt personal.

"go away ona, i don't want to talk about it," mapi practically growled. she was much closer to snapping with you around, and it was something that ona realized they'd all have to get used to. ona just hoped that it wasn't going to be a permanent change in attitude.

…

"fuck, come on!" you shouted as you rubbed your thigh. you thought that you were alone in the training room, so when you heard footsteps, you jumped. you looked around the room, surprised to see mapi limping around with an ice pack on her knee. "oh, it's you."

"don't sound too happy," mapi muttered. your face fell, unsure of why she was still being so mean to you. the two of you barely ever interacted during practice, but today had been put on the same team for the 5-v-5. mapi had played things a little high for a couple of the drills, which meant she had gotten you some great passes. if it wasn't for the bad blood between the two of you, there would be a lot of potential for a team up.

"what's wrong with your knee?" you can't help but ask. it's not that difficult to tell yourself that it's just because you're teammates. there was no way that you cared about mapi outside of the pitch. it wasn't like you had been catching yourself thinking of her randomly throughout the day or anything.

"pina, she jumped on my back and my knee buckled. it's no big deal. what's wrong with you?" mapi didn't hide the concern in her voice. you had hobbled away early during practice, and mapi knew you better than to think it was just to get out of drills. they had been ready to start your favorite one of practice when you left.

"it's an old injury that acts up sometimes. i'm good though, barcelona didn't waste their money signing me," you reassured her. mapi's face fell, wondering if that was how you thought she felt about you. truthfully, she hadn't been happy to learn that you came all the way here, but she respected you as a player. mapi knew firsthand how good you were, more often than not having been a thorn in her side when the opportunity arose.

"do you need ice or something?" mapi asked. you shook your head. icing your leg hadn't helped it at all. the tapes would help for a bit, but you needed something more. mapi tilted her head as she watched you try to rub your discomfort out. it was risky, but she stood up and stood in front of you.

"what are you doing?" you asked as you watched mapi move your hand away. hers replaced yours, working through the knots much better than you had been able to. "mapi-,"

"don't mention it, please," mapi said quietly. you nodded and closed your eyes as you leaned back against the bench. mapi was grateful for your eyes being squeezed shut because it allowed for her eyes to roam over your body. things seemed to be just fine between the two of you until her fingers pressed a little higher up than she meant to, pulling a very breathy sigh from your lips. "lo siento."

"don't mention it," you told her. mapi noticed the way that your voice shook like you were barely holding it together. it wasn't the first time that you had crossed her mind, but it definitely was the first time that she had ever really thought about putting her hands on you like this.

…

there's a definite shift in your relationship with mapi over the next couple of weeks. the two of you aren't exactly clambering to spend time together outside of training, but everybody could tell that something had changed. you opened up more to your teammates, no longer afraid that they'd all follow maria's lead and decide to hate you.

"hola maria," you greeted happily as you sat down across from the woman. she furrowed her brows as she looked at you, a slight pout on her lips. "it's rude not to say it back."

"don't call me maria, it makes me feel like i'm in trouble," she said.

"that's your name though," you said. she got up and stood in front of you, encroaching on your personal space. "what am i supposed to call you then?"

"mapi." she grabbed onto your chin and tilted your head up so that you were looking at her. there had been a weird bit of tension building up between the two of you that everybody was waiting to come to head. alexia seemed to watch the two of you with a particular closeness, occasionally with a look of disbelief on her face.

"fine. hola, mapi," you corrected. mapi smiled down at you, leaning in almost close enough to kiss you.

"hola, (y/n). are you coming out tonight? the girls want to go dancing." the invitation had been extended to you in the parking lot, but you hadn't accepted it just yet. you knew that tomorrow was a recovery day, but you also knew that meant twice the amount of drinks as normal. the spanish girls could handle their liqour a lot better than you could, having spent most of your adult life not drinking much.

"promise to keep an eye on me and make sure i don't drink too much?" you asked her. mapi nodded, smiling as she let go of your head. the two of you paired up for some of the drills during practice, something that had become fairly normal. after practice, mapi walked you out to your car, promising to pick you up whenever it was time to go out.

…

the club was absolutely packed, and you hated it. somehow, the entire team had been talked into going, which meant you knew a good amount of the people there, but it was still far too crowded for your liking. that was why you had sat down in a booth across from alexia and refused to move no matter what.

"are the two of you having fun?" you and alexia both glanced over to jenni, who looked disappointed. mapi and leila were right next to her, both of them looking at the two of you expectantly. "come on, it won't kill you to dance with us."

"it might, you don't know that it won't," alexia shot back quickly. you smirked as you watched jenni's face harden a bit. there wasn't a doubt in your mind that alexia would be in for it whenever they got home. jenni didn't like to brag about the things that she got up to with alexia in their bedroom, but the two of you had a habit of chatting in the gym.

"well, if you die, i'll just give you cpr," jenni said as she tugged alexia out of her seat. leila followed the two of them, trailing close behind jenni. that left you and mapi to stand there and stare at each other.

"come on, if ale can get up, so can you," mapi said. she was much more gentle in getting you onto your feet. she also seemed to be content to wait until a slower song started to get you out there.

you didn't fight with mapi as the two of you swayed to the beat of the music. her hands fell onto your hips as she pressed herself up against you. you welcomed the warmth of her body, not having realized how long it had been since someone touched you like this. your mind quickly went elsewhere, but when you felt the press of mapi's lips against the side of your neck, you realized that maybe she wanted this too.

"kiss me," you said as you turned around. you knew that mapi couldn't hear you, but she could read your lips well enough to know what you wanted. and even if she couldn't, you weren't being subtle at all. your eyes hadn't left her lips, not until she was leaning in. excitedly, you surged forward and closed the gap between the two of you.

mapi's lips were soft, a contrast to the way that her teeth nipped at your lip. you let out a little yelp, one that had mapi laughing as she held you in her arms. you swallowed as you looked at her before nodding towards the door. she nodded, and the two of you left the club wordlessly.

"my place or yours?" you asked mapi. she got into the passenger's seat of her own car, having given you her keys after her second drink. you were pretty sure that she hadn't drank much more after that, but in your mind, it was always better safe than sorry.

"yours. i have never been there before," mapi answered. you started her car, jumping a little as the engine roared to life. mapi laughed at that, placing her hand on your thigh to calm you down a bit. she knew that her car could be a bit much for someone driving it for the first time, but she trusted you. you had proven yourself to be one of the very responsible members of the team, especially tonight when everybody else had chosen to get nearly blackout drunk with a few expections.

mapi seemed surprised to see where your apartment was. you had truly gotten a good location, extremely close to the training grounds and nearby several restaurants and stores. mapi was a bit jealous, even if she did like her apartment. it was close by alexia and jenni's, so she could always go annoy them whenever she felt like it.

"it's a bit messy. i had a hard time finding something to wear tonight," you warned her. mapi didn't seem to care. her eyes dropped down to your outfit, appreciatively checking you out once again. it had been hard to keep her eyes off of you earlier in the night, and she was beyond relieved whenever you hadn't pushed her away on the dance floor.

"with how good you look, we'll be lucky to make it to your bedroom," mapi told you. you clenched your thighs together as you unlocked your door. once the two of you were inside, mapi pulled you in for another kiss. this one was firm without being rough. mapi established her control very early on, but you had expected as much.

you kicked your heels off before jumping up into mapi's arms. she carried you down the little hallway, stopping momentarily to press you against the wall to kiss you a little harder. you moaned into that kiss, grinding your hips against her just a little. mapi could already feel the heat coming off of your core, and she realized that she couldn't wait to have you.

"bedroom?" mapi asked. you pointed at the door at the end of the hallway. mapi pulled you away from the wall and walked you right over there. she set you down just long enough to let you move the dresses and clothes scattered about on your bed. you turned around to see her half-naked in front of you. "like what you see?"

"fuck yes," you breathed out. mapi smirked as she moved towards you. your hands immediately flew down to touch her stomach, fingers running along the taunt and toned muscle of her abdomen. mapi's head dropped down to rest on your shoulder, breathing heavily as your hands moved along her body.

"touch me." mapi guided your hands down between her legs. you were surprised, having assumed that she wouldn't have let you in so quickly. you had heard the way mapi talked about having sex with the girls she had picked up before, and it had all sounded very one-sided. although, you supposed that her letting you touch you like this was even more exciting because you did't expect it.

your fingers were met with skin made slick from arousal. mapi was panting in your ear as your fingers teasingly stroked between her lips. mapi bucked her hips forward as your fingers approached her clit. mapi's hands grabbed onto your shoulders for support as she tilted her hips just enough for your fingers to wind up at her entrance.

"one at a time," mapi told you. she sounded desperate, so you let one of your fingers slip inside of her. mapi hiked her leg up as she bucked her hips to try and ride your finger. you quickly lifted her with your other arm, pulling both of you back onto the mattress.

mapi stayed on top of you, riding your finger as you tried to comfortably adjust yourself beneath her. you could tell whenever the one finger wasn't quite enough for mapi, and slowly added a second. once again, you were patient as mapi set the pace that she wanted. you matched her thrust for thrust, not daring to go faster than what she was.

"please, i need more. i'm so close," mapi begged you. she was a lot more prone to whining than you had originally thought, but it didn't bother you one bit. you liked the vulnerability that mapi was willing to show to you, especially considering how volatile your relationship had been in the beginning.

"do you want another finger?" you asked. mapi shook her head, and suddenly, you realized what she needed. you dropped your other hand from her hip down between her legs, allowing for your fingers to brush against her clit. you felt a surge of wetness along with the first spasm of her cunt around your fingers. the next few came in controlled little waves, matching the rhythm set by the fingers against her clit. there was only so long that she could hold off on cumming, and once she had let you, you felt her body tense up around you.

mapi lifted herself off of your fingers before settling down in between your legs. she placed her hands on your waist and bunched them around your dress. you lifted your hips up off of the bed, allowing for the bottom of your dress to move up around your waist. mapi licked her lips as she looked straight ahead to be met with the sight of your definitely ruined underwear.

"i can't wait to taste you," mapi said as she leaned in. your breath hitched as you felt hers ghost across the insides of your thighs. it wasn't fair to see her so composed immediately after an orgasm. you felt like a wreck, turned on and no longer distracted with something interesting to focus on. you were left to lay there and think about how uncomfortable the now-sticky fabric of your underwear felt.

"please hurry," you whined. mapi hooked her fingers around your underwear and pulled them down slowly. she gave a quick teasing little lick between your lips, moaning in pleasure at the taste of you.

"so sweet, i could spend all night licking up every drop." the thickness of mapi's accent made you want to clench your thighs, but her hands kept them apart. she kept you spread open as she took her time to admire you. it was touching her that had gotten you so worked up, and once the two of you were finished, mapi planned on being insufferable about it.

"just please, i want to cum so badly." you looked at mapi with a pout. she bit her lip as she pushed her finger against your entrance. "two, not just one. i need to be fucked, mapi, fucked."

she gave you a quick nod and pushed another finger inside of you without hesitation. her fingers moved at a quick pace, nearly fucking the breath out of you. you threaded your fingers in her hair and pulled her head forward, directing her so that her mouth was on your clit. mapi didn't need instruction past that.

her tongue worked magic on your clit, moving with fluidity and precision. your hips were bucking wildly as you ground yourself against mapi's face. she let you push yourself closer and closer towards an orgasm until you were on the edge of it. that was when she wrapped both of her arms around your hips, keeping you still so that she could truly control when you came.

you hadn't meant to scream her name out at the top of your lungs, but it had still happened. mapi relished in the sound of it echoing off of your bedroom walls. your neighbors would be pissed, but you'd apologize later on, if you could even face them again. mapi liked the sound of her name spilling from your lips that she didn't stop there. you were physically pushing her off of your body to get her to give you a break, and even then, she was looking at you as she "patiently" waited for another turn.

"in the morning," you promised. mapi pouted as she settled in the bed next to you.

"that is so far away," mapi whined. you rolled your eyes at her as you pulled her in for a kiss. "just one more?"

"no, it's late, and i'd like to actually get some rest now. god, you're so needy, maria," you teased. mapi's brows furrowed as she stared at you, obviously not happy with the use of her full name.

"well, now you owe me one in the morning," mapi told you. you laughed it off, already having planned on having sex with her again in the morning. you knew that the two of you had opened up a can of worms, one that you'd be exploring for at least a couple more weeks. you hoped that it would blossom into more, but you didn't want to push mapi for anything too serious when you'd only recently become friends.

[anthemofgvf]

Groupie Love: Jake Kiszka x Reader Fanfiction

"you're in the bar, playing guitar, i'm trying not to let the crowd next to me. it's so hard sometimes with a star, when you have to share him with everybody." description: being jake’s groupie was heaven on earth, yet sinful in every desirable way. while the world reveled in his public, entrancing persona, you reveled in the boundaries of reality and fantasy intertwining in secrecy.

word count: 6.9k+

trope: groupie! reader x jake

taglist for future fics

warnings after cut…

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

warnings: good amount of plot, mentions of drinking, alcohol, smut (18+ minors dni), swearing, unprotected sex, hardcore dom! jake, choking, spitting, praise/begging/degrading kink, rough sex, spanking, fingering, oral (male and fem! receiving), bit of fluff, some aftercare

disclaimer: this does not follow the real events of the starcatcher tour for the sake of the plot. thanks!

a/n: would also like to mention that yes, this IS based off of the Lana Del Rey song with the same title. As soon as I heard it, I immediately thought of Jake and writing a fic based off of it. If you haven't listened to the song, now is the perfect time to do so! hope you all enjoy :) <3

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

There was something so addictive about secrecy. To share such vulnerability with someone where no one's eyes could witness, but only you and another alone. To know each other by touch alone if every sense was stripped away, yet hiding the true reason why you could pick them apart in a crowd from that feeling. And while you two were friends with one another publicly, behind closed doors, you were both fucking like animals. There was no better way to describe your relationship with Jake. You were just one of his secrets, hidden in a closet, and you had accepted that.

You had met him after one of Greta Van Fleet's shows when their careers were just about to skyrocket and thank God you were able to catch him then. You hadn't really listened to their music before or even heard of them, but local concerts under 30 bucks as a fun night out with friends was always on the table. If it weren't for their small fanbase and lack of fame, you were positive you wouldn't have become Jake's personal groupie.

After hooking up with him in the venue's bathroom, twice, Jake simply couldn't have enough of you. And you, you were entranced by him and his sexual drive. You both also enjoyed each other's company in the short period of time you knew one another, so, you and he exchanged numbers and kept in contact. Whenever he was in town, you'd be next to him, and when he was gone, you were with someone else. More often than not, you two were spending time with one another purely for sex, but it was rare for you to leave immediately after. After all, Jake cared about you regardless of the label of your relationship with him, and you were enjoyable to be around.

There was no discussion of monogamy, so it was mutually decided that seeing other people was no issue. Sure, no one compared to the guitarist, but there was always someone to run down your time in the day when boredom struck, and you were unable to be at Jake's beckoning call. Even though Jake would always call you his, it was words that withheld no meaning. Only in moments where you and Jake were together alone did they obtain meaning, but you knew never to take him seriously.

Jealousy is a bitch, though, and it possessed you. It rotted you to your unchaste core. You could easily pretend it didn't bother you that other girls have had Jake the way you have or have even looked at him in that manner. Of course, you'd be lying to yourself if you said there wasn't a single sliver of selfishness towards him. How many girls Jake had been with next to you was a mysterious number, but you didn't choose to spend your time thinking about how many girls he's said the same things to as you. But, rather, feel empowered that there were fans in their crowds at shows that desperately wanted your place. Fans that screamed his name, made signs and t-shirts for him, dreamed of being more than just a fan in the crowd. That was something you had over them. That's what made you special. That's what gave you your title of a so-called 'groupie'.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

They had closed their most recent tour with a show in Nashville, and of course you were in attendance. Jake had even asked if you'd be there, knowing well enough that there was no way in hell you'd be skipping out on it, because you knew where the night would take you. Besides, you hadn't seen him in months. You hadn't been with him in months. You had grown a sense of longing for him after a short period of time away from the guitarist.

Before Greta Van Fleet had a larger fanbase, you were able to sit in the seats and get escorted backstage to Jake so you could watch as a fan. But, due to suspicious speculation amongst fans, and you and Jake wanting to continue the secrecy and keep the reputation of "just friends," you were granted a backstage pass and allowed to come into the arena or venue they'd be performing at before fans would arrive. Every place was different, so the execution of reaching him was always tweaked, but no matter what, you and him both knew you'd see one another after the show. You preferred to hang in the sound booth rather than backstage, anyways.

Rarely did you come early to be in attendance for soundcheck. Sure, there would be absolutely nothing wrong with it, but you always enjoyed watching him look for you amongst the fans, and his eyes light up in the slightest that had your heart stopping only for a second at the sign of recognition, feeling as though your breath had been taken from you and forcing your body to freeze. It never got old feeling his eyes latch onto you.

And you never got tired of watching him perform on stage. Now, with the new introduction of 'Mirador,' you got to watch him nearly twice as long. And, God, you never knew he could sing that well. That certainly was a turn on for you. Now your mind was wandering off to the thought of him singing in your ear.

You rarely tore your eyes from him while he was on stage, and he knew that he was hypnotic. He liked knowing that there were people who only cared to watch him and come to Greta Van Fleet's shows to be in his presence. Thrusting into his guitar as he spoke to himself and the crowd, hairs sticking to his cheeks with the accumulated sweat and still breathlessly giving his performance his all. You kept your eyes locked on his stomach and watched as the sweat beads dripped down his tender skin, and his hair whipping around and throwing his head back as he skillfully played on his instrument, exposing his Adam's apple to the fans that kept their eyes glued on his every move while he struck the next few chords of the song. You'd always convince yourself while swinging to the music that he was performing more theatrically for you, but you'd never been proven right nor wrong yet. He was entrancing to watch, and sometimes you found it unfathomable that you were a person in his life. A person who knew things that most didn't, a person who saw things most people didn't.

Your adrenaline always arose as soon as the four boys left the stage, and the lights illuminated the venue. Hearing different conversations from a multitude of fans that surrounded you, shuffling of feet and complaints of exhaustion. But there you were, hanging out in the sound booth waiting for security to come to your aid to escort you to backstage.

You wore a silver halter top that accentuated your chest, with a pair of velvet-blue flared leggings and converse. Thankfully, your shoes weren't shown due to the coverage of your pants, and it truly did not matter what clothes were on your body. They would be thrown on some floor in less than an hour, and that's all you cared about.

Eventually two men from Greta Van Fleet's team made their way to you once the venue was near empty from fans and began leading you backstage to the green room. You always loved that feeling in the pit of your stomach; it excitingly tumbled and twisted with each step closer you were to him. The awkward silence never faltered while the security guards guided you to backstage, but that gave you enough time to collect yourself before seeing Jake.

Your eyes were first met with Sam cracking open a beer, chatting with his girlfriend and keeping to themselves. When they saw you, they smiled without a word, and allowed you to keep moving. While you and Jake became "friends" the more you two saw each other, you had been brought around the band from time to time. More likely than not, it was for some sort of party, large gathering, or simply catching the boys after the show - uncommonly anything intimate. They knew what your purpose was, but they never questioned you. Either they simply didn't care, or they didn't want to ask questions they did not want answers to.

Danny was nowhere to be found, most likely in his dressing room, but the twins were walking into the green room, laughter erupting from Josh as he cracked his large, infamous smile that put his perfect teeth on display. His presence always soothed you when eyes seemed to be peering down your neck from your presence. Both were still in their stage attire, which was usual when you'd come so soon after the show had ended.

Josh had noticed you first, closing his mouth to a smirk that raised with the right corner of lips and pierced his cheek to reveal his dimple. Once Jake laid his eyes upon you, they were already following down your body, finally greeting you with a crack of a smile that told you his mind was already somewhere else.

"Y/n! It's so good to see you again," Josh greeted you with a tight hug, "nice seeing your face after so long." He patted your back and pulled away with a grin still plastered on his face.

"It has been long enough," you huffed a laugh. "Tour was good?" You flicked your eyes to Jake.

He gave you a slow, steady nod. "Was great. I'm sure you'd love to hear all about it, huh?"

"I wouldn't want anything else." You huffed a laugh, sticking your tongue in your cheek at his light sarcasm.

"I expect you'll be sticking around to celebrate the end of Starcatcher with us?" Josh said as he began to walk away. You followed his movements with your eyes as he walked over to a small fridge, turning to Jake who gave you a blank stare. Josh wasn't hinting at your intentions with Jake, but rather what would occur after-the-fact. He shrugged at you suggestively, but you couldn't depict what his choice was.

You chose to be safe. "We'll see, Josh," you directed your attention to him for a moment, "if I don't, I'll be sure to say goodbye to you before I head home."

He sauntered over to you with a beer in hand and patted your back with a soft smile. "Always a pleasure, y/n."

Leaving you and his twin alone, Jake ran his hand to your side and found the small of your back, pressing light enough to signal movement forward and follow him to his dressing room. You dared to look at him, to examine the light sheen of sweat that resided on his forehead that he forgot to wipe away once he exited the stage. And you knew he could feel your eyes lingering upon him, but he liked to be looked at. He liked the attention.

His dressing room door was already open, welcoming your entrance and waiting for your arrival. You eagerly stepped into the neatly decorated room and scanned the area for familiar artifacts of his scattered about: sunglasses, bracelets, necklaces, and his attire to be thrown on after his stage wear was stripped from his body.

He turned his back to you quickly and closed the door, locking it swiftly behind him. And once he turned around, he was wearing a softly cracked smile. It was always so intimidatingly perfect, how his eyes rested into a look that only told you that he was going to devour you.

"Barely said a word to me since I've arrived," you said innocently with your hands behind your back, "what's with the shyness, Jake?" You began to slip off your shoes as his eyes faltered from your own to do the same.

He took slow steps towards you to increase the intensity of your heartbeat in anticipation. He knew you craved the taste of his lips, the feeling of his hands on your figure. He always remembered what made your heart bang against your chest and your face flush into a pink hue.

His index finger cradled your jaw as he focused your eyes on him intently. "Was it so wrong of me to want a more private 'welcome home' from you?" His voice was coarse with the words slipping off his tongue smoothly like butter. Close to a whisper - the tone of intimacy.

You flicked your eyes to his coy smirk, then back to his dark brown eyes that peered at you so attentively. He was always so patient in these moments for an answer back.

"All this is, is private. Doesn't mean I don't enjoy the gesture, though." You wrapped your arms around his neck after motioning your pointer finger back and forth between the two of you, and in return, he pulled you into his chest and squeezed you against his body tightly.

And there he was, breathing softly down the side of your neck, inhaling your sweet scent, and feeling the figure and warmth of your body in an embrace. You buried your face into the crook of his neck that you made room for with your arm to feel the skin that rested there to remember how it feels to be so close to Jake once again.

"You're a good singer, Jake," you said lowly into his ear, "better than I had expected."

You felt him chuckle against you, but his laughter came out in small breaths. He was amused by your playful banter and humbling words that he knew were harmless.

He unwrapped himself from you but kept the close proximity between the both of you. His tongue darted out and ran across the middle of his bottom lip, cracking a coy grin as he looked down at you with half-hooded eyes. He was effortlessly seductive.

"You're lucky I like you, y/n." His hand raised to the side of your face as he slowly began to caress it, watching the motions of his fingers as they began from your temple and journeyed to your jaw. "Because if I hadn't known better, I'd think you were disrespecting me." He gave you a playful, lazy glare.

You gave him a small smile, allowing your fingers to focus on toying with the silver jewelry that hung dangerously low on his exposed skin.

"Well, you and I both know that you love to play that game." You said softly to yourself. Loud enough for him to hear, but quiet enough to showcase your lack of desire for a response.

You took the opportunity to run your hands onto his chest, letting them reach to the waistband of his trousers, and looking to him innocently with a smile. And he smiled back at you softly, waiting patiently for you to be finished reveling in his presence and this moment.

You placed your hands onto his neck, thumbing at the skin and looking at him for direction, for initiation. So, he cupped your jaw and placed a gentle, longing kiss onto your lips. You practically melted into his mouth and encouraged his tongue to begin roaming around the inside of your mouth as you began to dance your own in his. The kiss grew deeper quickly, and you both remembered the addictive taste of each other. The swift routine of throwing each other clothes began, where you're tugging down Jake's pants to leave him in his boxers, and he's tossing off his cropped, black jacket to land onto the ground.

Your hands traveled into his damp hair and tugged him deeper into your lips as his fingers played at the waistband of your leggings. The muscles at your stomach began to tense up at the sensation of the pads of his fingers toying at the idea of diving down into your underwear and satisfying you.

His mouth pulled from yours for a moment to throw off your top, which you assisted him in doing, and allowed it to fall wherever it landed. As soon as he got the sight of your bare breasts, he encapsulated his mouth onto yours, and massaged one in his hand, while the other hand held its place at your waist.

You snaked your hands in between your glued bodies and cupped his hard cock with a light squeeze, eliciting a deep, rumbling groan from his throat and into your mouth.

"God, how I've missed you." He said into your mouth, tugging at your bottom lip. His lips began to travel to your neck, pressing rough, sloppy kisses onto the skin. You contemplated telling him how much you missed him, but you knew that he knew you did - you were like putty under his touch.

Your head titled back to allow Jake more access to your neck. One of his hands ditched your body and tugged at your hair to gain dominance, keeping your neck bent back as far as possible so he could taste your skin. His other hand traveled to the small of your back to keep you on your feet, and you swore you would've fallen to your knees if it weren't for Jake holding you up. With your eyes shut, you tuned into the feeling of his wet tongue trailing its way up your neck and to your jaw, then suckling down to your collarbone. His mouth always felt like a beautiful curse against your skin, while compelling, still so unbelievably relieving.

Your hands stuck onto his hair, tugging and pulling as his lips trapped your right nipple in his mouth. His tongue swirled circles around it, with his index and thumb massaging the other with the movements. Soft moans escaped your mouth, but you were sure to monitor any sound out of you.

His eyes peered up at you as he removed his mouth from your body and grabbed your face with his hands clasped at your jaw.

"Pants off, now." He instructed lowly, and while you slipped off your underwear with your velvet flares, he was throwing off his boxers and revealing his throbbing cock. You could hardly focus on anything other than him inside of you at this moment, with your head dizzy at the thought of his length filling you up to the hilt.

He never got sick of the sight of you naked, running his hands down your waist and to your hips while a deep sigh escaped his mouth. You watched his eyes focus in on your clit, with his thumb dancing around the area and causing your knees to grow weaker and weaker. Your hips bucked forward, and your motion only caused a light snicker to come from his mouth.

"Get on your fucking knees." He demanded as he pushed you down by your shoulder, although you were quick to follow his instructions and obey.

His length rested onto your left check, and his hand reached down to lift your chin to look up to him. He loved how submissive you looked before him. The way your eyes lit up to the sight of him bare in front of you, along with his devilish grin that captivated you.

He held your eyes with his own. "Good to know you're still such a good girl for me." That sentence had sent a shiver down your spine, with how intimidatingly dominant Jake was. There was something about his small, cracked smile, and the light squint in his eyes that always had you feeling shy and overexposed. Yet, you were always so comfortable being vulnerable around him.

He tapped at your jaw, which signaled for your mouth to open, and you allowed his thumb to travel onto your tongue, sliding the finger out and dragging your bottom lip down with the motion. You slid your hands over his thighs, kissing the head of his cock and slicing your tongue onto it. He groaned at the sensation and landed his hand on the back of your head in preparation.

And you grabbed his length, wrapping your lips around it and beginning to bob your head up and down at a slow pace. You took all of him for a moment to elicit a harsh groan - a response you craved hearing from Jake and pulled off his cock to purse your lips and spit onto his tip with your hand aiding you in coating him.

You immediately resumed bobbing your head up and down, while your hand at the base of him began working slowly with a twist of your wrist. He deeply sighed, looking down at you to see his cock disappear into your mouth. You were irresistible to him with the way you took him into your mouth so effortlessly.

"Fuck, just like that, y/n." He winced lightly as your tongue swirled around his tip. His mouth was slightly hung open as he admired the view of you below him. Hearing your name had never sounded better coming from someone's mouth.

The unoccupied hand of his landed at the side of your face with his thumb caressing at your cheek. He was being gentler with you than usual, which could only mean he intended to be rougher with you later on. You didn't mind the lack of degrading, though. It was good to soothe into things after being away from him for so long.

His breathing was deep, and the muscles at his stomach were tensed up as you quickened the pace of your mouth and hand. Your other hand massaged his balls lightly, which evoked a deep sigh from him. Hushed slurs drew from his lips as you worked your way up and down him, spit dribbling down your chin. The back of your throat fought against taking his whole length, but as long as he felt good, you could care less about your own pleasure. You loved to feel as though you belonged to him and were the only one making him feel this good.

His head was thrown back, while the hand that tousled with your hair on the back of your head had a harsher grip. It was as if he was innocently guiding you, but really, it was to steady himself as he cautiously bucked his hips into your movements. Jake had his bottom lip tucked behind his teeth, fighting against his own release so quickly.

He grabbed your hair and held it back for you, tugging you off of his cock and raising you up to your knees by the pad of his index finger resting under your chin.

"Think you deserve something in return, huh?" He said as his hands relaxed from their places and found your waist. The rhetorical question had you pressing your thighs tightly together with a whine trapped behind your closed mouth.

He was slow with his hands, letting them fall down to your hips, then scooping you off of the ground whilst you wrapped your legs around his waist. He carried you over to the long table that sat before a mirror, setting you down and immediately forcing your legs open for him. He was quick to step in between your legs and place a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss on your lips as his fingers traveled down your stomach and to your heat.

His right hand rested at the inner of your thigh, his thumb at your pubic bone and mere inches from your clit. He rested his forehead upon yours and listened intently to your unsteady, choked breaths, while he traced his index fingers and middle up and down your pussy agonizingly slow. Your back arched into him with a whine, closing your thighs together cautiously in hopes his fingers would caress you. But instead, he forced your thighs back open, and removed his forehead from yours with enough space to just barely see the entirety of your face.

"Don't. Fucking. Move. Be a good girl for me, yeah?" He glared at you, practically spitting in your face at your small movements in a silent plea to have him touch you. But you nodded vigorously. "If you want me to touch you, you're going to have to beg for it. Don't act like you have forgotten how this works."

The way he was looking at you was sending butterflies into the pit of your stomach, and it was nearly overwhelming to you how lust-filled his eyes were.

You threw your head back, sliding your right hand onto his bicep and sighing heavily with shut eyes. "Jake," you whined out, "please."

"Please what, y/n?" He urged you further. He loved playing this game.

You brought your head back up and looked at him in mere agony, desperately saying, "please touch me."

A devilish smirk twisted onto his lips as he flicked his eyes down to your pussy, leaning down and pursing his lips to allow spit to dribble from his mouth and onto your folds. As soon as the spit hit your pussy, he was gathering it onto middle and ring finger and locking his eyes onto yours. He captivated your attention just to mimic the way your mouth fell open as his fingers eased themselves into your entrance. He even repeated your deep exhales as his fingers curled inside of you and began to pump in and out of your entrance. You couldn't contain your moans and allowed them to fall out of your mouth while Jake admired your breathless state.

His calloused fingers added an extra layer of sensation to what you were feeling. He began kissing at your neck, humming onto the skin and trailing his mouth to your ear.

"Feel good, y/n?" He asked in a pitiful, mocking tone. He knew the answer, yet he wanted to hear you say it. Just another thing he did to control you and what you said.

"Yes, yes Jake." You moaned. "Please, don't stop."

He tugged at your earlobe and said, "so we do remember our manners, hm?" in a teasing tone.

Your hand reached for the back of his head as he continued to suck at your neck and travel down to your jugular. Your other hand was gripped tightly against the edge of the table to keep yourself upright while Jake meticulously drew every sound possible from you by his touch. His tongue flattened against the skin and slid its way up to your jaw. You never realized how deeply you missed Jake until you were finally with him.

You had your eyes shut with furrowed brows as you allowed your head to hang back. Every movement Jake made with his fingers, his mouth, his hand that found its way to your breast and massaged it - you were in euphoria. Only did he make you feel this good, and you made it known with your lack of words and preferred usage of pleasured sounds.

Then your eyes were shooting open and your fingers gripping harder at Jake's hair as you felt his tongue circle at your clit. You looked down at the sight, seeing him kneeled down before you as he devoured at your pussy. He hummed in satisfaction of the taste of you - sweet like honey, and your mouth hung open in an "O" shape, unable to utter a sound. Finally, an exaggerated groan rolled off of your tongue, and your head was able to be thrown back with your head fuzzy in ecstasy.

Your hand that rested at the back of his head landed back onto the table, clenching and unclenching, which Jake was quick to notice. His hand immediately found yours and folded his fingers into your own, giving you something to squeeze onto you. The small note of intimacy made you crack a small smile, but quickly allowing it to fade away as Jake grasped harshly onto your hip to keep you in place and reminding you where your focus should be.

He lapped at your folds as he kept a steady pace in and out of your pussy while your thighs squeezed tightly around his head. He switched between sucking at your clit and allowing his tongue to do all the work. You were grinding your hips to the motions of his tongue, and while normally you were ridiculed by him with a slap at your thigh, he allowed it after being away from one another so long.

You were clenching around his fingers, which elicited a pleased hum from him. He could tell you were close to your release, and that's exactly where he wanted you to be before stripping it away from you so suddenly. The tightened knot in the pit of your stomach completely dissolving, not unraveling, always had you whining in annoyance.

He flattened his tongue once more and dragged it up your pussy, then pushed himself up by slapping his hands on the tops of your thighs and levering himself that way.

You encapsulated your mouth onto his by bringing him with your hands harshly slapping against his face. He groaned into your lips with satisfaction, while you wrapped your hand around his length and began stroking it. At some points in moments like these, you felt like you just barely had some sort of dominance over Jake, and he was submitting to the pleasure you were granting him. He found it harder to kiss you back, resting his forehead against your own with eyes squeezed shut. As if anything you had asked him to do, he would without hesitation. And his face even showed how resistless he had become under your touch, contorting and softening with his eyebrows pulled in and mouth parted open.

You kept your eyes open to see the way his face shifted emotions, watching him grow restless with your position of being in charge. He wrapped his hand around your own and stopped your motions, looking down at his cock and focusing on lining himself up with your entrance. You quickly propped one of your legs up onto the table to allow easier access for him and impatiently waited. As spit dribbled down from his pursed lips and onto his cock, with a few more strokes, he was easing himself into you and resting his forehead onto your shoulder.

"Fuck, y/n," he drew out in a long breath as he was fully rested inside of you. He was slow pulling himself out, but quick to slam into you.

He raised his head off of your shoulder and met your eyes, seeing yours with the lids of them resting halfway, mouth opened in an 'O' shape with eyebrows softened. You made it known to him that you were all his - and always will be, but in this moment, you were whatever you needed him to be. Through your lust-filled brain you imprinted the memory of how perfect Jake feels inside of you, how he knows exactly where his fingers need to dance onto your skin, or where his hands should rest. He was wickedly talented at the art of pleasure, and he knew what made your body tick. He was in tune with your body, which he oh-so adored, and wasn't going to go anywhere until he felt satisfied enough.

You had one hand sprawled behind your back onto the table and the other on Jake's shoulder, throwing your head back as he slammed into you and rattled the items that lay astray on the tabletop. If anything were to fall, neither of you paid mind to it. What mattered was the sensations that ran throughout your entire being, your heartbeat increasing with every second, and your body accumulating a sweat that began at your hairline.

His breaths were heavy, daring to look at you while his pace increased. The corner of his lips curled into a malicious smirk, forcing your lips onto his by pushing your head towards him after landing the back of his hand in your damp hair. His other hand was placed beside your thigh to keep him up, but every once and a while, it would travel to the outer of your thigh and squeeze tightly.

Your kiss shared with him was a sloppy mess, with both of you breathing into each other's mouth and unable to contain your moans from sputtering out from your lips. His tongue danced alongst your own, toying with it before resting his back in his mouth and pulling from your lips to kiss your cheek. He reached your ear with his lips, tugging at your earlobe, and allowing you to hear his restless, guttural groans that tore at your core with pleasure.

"You're all mine, you know that?" He groaned to you. "Your pussy is for my pleasure only - no one else's. You understand?" He continued his fast-paced thrusts while borderline whispering these words to you.

You swallowed harshly, breathing out a small, "yes," as you were unable to utter anything else. It was already a battle enough to keep yourself quiet to minimize the noise anyone in the green room could hear, but yet, they all knew why you were with Jake. And frankly, Jake didn't care about the noise. In fact, he encouraged your cries of ecstasy. He demanded it from you.

He wrapped his hand around your neck tightly, forcing you to look at him as he withheld your breath.

"Say you understand, y/n. Say that you understand that no one else can have you but I." He breathed, lessening his tight grip around your neck to allow you to speak for him.

"I understand, Jake," you said as your eyes rolled back from the way Jake was thrusting into you, "I'm all yours."

You didn't have to refocus your eyes on him to know he was smirking - you could just hear his lips curl. Now he was quickly pulling himself out of you, and in a swift motion, lifting you off from the table and barely giving you time to land on your feet before turning you around and bending you over. You were face to face with yourself, seeing how your makeup had run, and your lips were swollen and darker tinted than normal.

But then you saw him, and how he looked from behind you. His eyes landed on your ass, and in a near second, you saw his hand raise and swat against the skin. You jumped with a light whimper trapping itself behind your lips as you bit down on your bottom lip. His eyes met yours, and there he was, giving you the smallest hint of a smile, and forcefully pushing himself all the way inside of you.

One of his hands rested at your hip with a harsh grip, and the other was at your shoulder while he watched the movement of your ass each time it hit against his stomach. He was entranced by the way your body moved, how good it felt to be inside of you, how perfect you looked fully exposed to him.

He whispered something near incoherent, but you were able to pick it up.

"Good, good fucking girl. That's it, baby." He said as he kept his eyes locked on your rear. You watched his lips drop open, his hair moving with his motions and his eyebrows softening and furrowing with each sensation that drove through his body. He grabbed at your ass once more, giving you another swat to make sure he would leave his mark on you as if the bruises caused by his mouth weren't already stained onto your body.

You moaned his name, begging him not to stop as he was hitting the spot you craved to be caressed the most. You dared to reach your fingers down to your clit to reach your orgasm, but as your hand began to make its way there, Jake immediately caught on, and grabbed ahold of your hair and tugged you far back enough to where your back arched away from his chest.

"Greedy now, are we?" His hand from your hair released itself to forcefully grasp your throat with his pointer finger and thumb harshly pressed at your jaw to look towards him. You didn't know what to respond with, other than to rest your hands onto the edge of the table and allowing your knuckles to turn white.

You dared to hold eye contact with him, and he squeezed your cheeks with the intent of forcing your mouth open and spitting onto your tongue. You swallowed the substance without thought, looking at him as you raised one hand to hold onto the side of his face. And the grip he had onto your face wasn't harsh enough, because you felt your head turn forward and lean back with a loud moan as your orgasm grew closer, and the pads of his fingers rubbed vigorous circles onto your clit.

"Greedy little whore." He whispered into your ear, looking at you through the mirror. He watched the way your breasts bounced, how your body twitched, how you were nearly unresponsive with the amount of pleasure you were receiving. You truly were all his.

"Jake, please," you begged quietly. There were more words you wanted to say, but they had fizzled and left your mind, and you could only focus on the way Jake was pumping in and out of you at a quickened pace.

Strands of his hair began to stick to his cheeks, and his silver necklaces that he had on left a cold sting onto your back as they would barely graze the skin. Every single sense in your body had become heightened and intensified, along with your entire body tensing up that had your entire body running hot. All you could do was chase your release, to tune into the intoxicating sensation of Jake delivering as much pleasure to you as possible.

"God, I'm gonna cum." He warned as his thrusts became inconsistent, yet perfectly paced to reach his high. "Gonna cum with me?"

There was only one answer to that question, and he knew that. But hearing you say it helped send him over the edge. It helped him feel more in control of your orgasm. Hell, you were surprised your release hadn't overtaken you yet.

"Yes, Jake, just please, don't stop." You moaned.

And as you felt the tight knot unravel in your stomach, you began to fall forward with your legs trembling, and Jake coming to your aid by bracing his arm across your chest as he fucked you through your orgasm.

“That’s it darling,” he soothed, “there you go.”

His head fell forward as he finished inside of you, draining himself fully and leaving himself with a heaving chest. His arm fell from your chest and landed his hand on top of yours on the edge of the table, with the other hand teasing at your sensitive clit once more just to feel you twitch a final time around him.

After you nearly grabbed his wrist to move it away from the overstimulation, he landed his hand onto your waist, and stayed inside of you for a moment. His eyes found yours in the mirror, and he pressed a soft, long kiss onto your cheek.

"You okay?" He said to you.

"Yes, yes I'm okay," you giggled, "more than okay."

He chuckled at your statement. "Just making sure." He said as he looked at you.

His lips traveled onto your neck with soft, relaxed kisses, reaching to the end of your shoulder and stopping there as he pulled himself from you. You tried to turn around to face him, but as he saw your legs nearly give out, he came to wrap his hands around your waist, and keep you on your feet. If it weren't for the warm liquid dripping down onto the insides of your thighs, you would have forgotten that Jake had finished inside of you.

After seeing that animalistic side of him, you had nearly forgotten how caring he was, and how important it was to him to tend to you after practically using your body. And while one hand stayed at the small at your back, the other raised to your cheek, and his thumb softly swiped against it in a back-and-forth motion.

You two allowed each other to catch your breaths, keeping your eyes locked onto his and smiling at him softly in your hazed state.

"Do you want to stay after for a bit before you head off?" He said to you, finally having his breathing under control.

"Don't want me to stay over for the night, or are you already sick of me?" You said to him with a knowing grin.

He chuckled at your response and placed a soft kiss onto your lips. "Go on and get dressed and we'll head back to mine when you're ready to, alright?"

You nodded at him and began to clean yourself up, which he helped with, then aiding him, and getting dressed to make yourself presentable to walk out of the dressing room and accept the stares from the rest of the band and any of their team members who witnessed the sounds that erupted from Jake's dressing room.

But they all knew why you were there. After all, you were Jake's personal groupie. And you enjoyed the lifestyle. You enjoyed Jake, and he enjoyed you.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

taglist:

@hollyco @songbirds-sweet @ageofhearingloss @sacredjake @mountain-in-springtime @ignite-my-fire @gvfsstardust @jakesguitarsolo @gold-mines-melting @digitalcalamity @demolitionndann @lipstickitty @bluee07 @lexii-nv-c @joopsworld @gvfgal @gvfpal @hellowgoodbye @writingcold @stardustcatcher @absolutely--mental @hippievanfleet @gretasfallingsky @dont-go-home-without-me @threadthatssacred @indigofallingsky @audgeppp @sinarainbows @brujamagik @bowievanfleet @laneygvf @idontlikelizards @josh-iamyour-mama @starshine-wagner @lyndz2names @jaketswine @jjwasneverhere @mulberrimouse @starcatcher-jake @lallisonl @jordie-gvf @peaceloveunitygvf

[danosrosegarden]

Creepy Eddie idea: him being really gross with a dental hygienist. Just absolutely slobbering around her fingers as she pokes around his mouth, little shop of horrors levels of “gonna cum in my pants” when he gets nicked by the sharp tools etc.

appointment day - edward nashton x gn!reader headcanons (NSFW)

{contains: descriptions of male masturbation, and very minor mentions of pain and blood. (don't worry, he's into it)}

♡ The air smells like stagnant alcohol. The chairs are small and uncomfortable. The people sitting in scatters around him in this waiting lobby look cold, detached. Edward hates appointments like these. He even booked one in the morning to try to avoid the crowd! No avail. He placed two fingers on the side of his throat, trying to feel his pulse woosh. It was a habit that an old therapist had dug into him. Feel the patter of your pulse. You are here. You are alive. And it's going to be alright, Edward. It's going to be alright.

♡ Edward Nashton? He flinches, his head snapping to where the meek voice called his name. And there you are. Dark scrubs. A blue mask pulled down under your chin. His mouth wiggles in an odd, warbly smile.

♡ He's not sure what exactly about you kickstarted his heart. Maybe it was the way the whirring overhead lights made your eyes glimmer. Or maybe it was the kind, soft smile you beamed at him as he stood up and followed you into the pristine white room. It was the uniform, wasn't it? Everybody loves a good pair of scrubs.

♡ The small talk is plain and simple as he lays down in the chair and you adjust the bright light above his mouth. How are you, Edward? Yeah, that humidity out there is brutal. Any plans for this weekend? Me neither.

♡ He's prepared to get this over with and go back home to where he's alone and safe. But something, some small, single ember flicks to life in his gut when you say it. Go ahead and open reeeal wide for me, hon.

♡ He feels his cheeks begin to sizzle. For fuck's sake. He could shrivel up and die from the embarrassment that immediately begins to flow through his veins. He'd been through this process every six months. What the hell made this visit so different? What made you so special?

♡ It sure didn't help that your touch was so gentle. Your words so sweet and encouraging. Your smell so intoxicating. No! Christ, dude, cut it out.

♡ He'd probably end up in tears over the guilt afterwards, but he can't help that his mind is suddenly flooded with thoughts of what he'd do to himself as soon as he got home. He'd try to memorize your bewitching scent and glittering smile as much as he could here and now and leave it for when he was alone again. He thought of the sweet relief he'd feel when he could finally touch himself.

♡ He fell deeper into his thoughts as you put your mask up and scraped at his teeth. He wouldn't want to give it to himself too quick. He'd take his time. He liked the build up. It would start off almost agonizingly slow, just letting the cool air lace itself around his dribbling cock. He wondered what you might be like, if you were there with him. How those gentle hands might feel wrapped around him, squeezing, tugging, teasing. His cheeks burned harsher and hotter as you poked and prodded around. He wondered what those fingers might be like ungloved, in his mouth--

♡ "Just a bit of blood, hon. That's normal. Just gotta floss more often." He tastes the coppery tinge of blood with his tongue as you floss.

♡ He nods and tries not to squirm as he feels the piece of floss dig into his gums. It aches so good. His eyes flutter as you readjust the beaming, bright light. God, it's all so intense.

♡ You wash Edward's mouth with a spray of water. You shut the light off and moved it away from his face, and he sits up. "No cavities!" you announce with a wide grin. "Good job."

♡ Fuck, how good those words sounded as they dripped from your lips.

♡ Edward sits in his car for a moment after waving goodbye to you and scheduling another appointment at the front desk, feeling the weak AC blow on his face and the sweltering sunshine pouring in from the windows. He could only hope to see you again in half a year from now. He smiled as he buckled his seatbelt and turned his key. Even if he didn't, he'd still have the memory of you tucked in the back of his brain.

[ghost-proofbaby]

SO SCARLET (IT WAS MAROON)

CHAPTER TEN: RIGHT WHERE YOU LEFT ME

DID YOU EVER HEAR ABOUT THE GIRL WHO GOT FROZEN? TIME WENT ON FOR EVERYBODY ELSE - SHE WON'T KNOW IT.

☆ pairings: rockstar!eddie munson x fem!reader

☆ warnings: no use of y/n, strong language, angst, minors dni

☆ WC: 5.9K+

☆ A/N: lyrics used towards end of the chapter belong to the following sleep token songs (in order of appearance) - chokehold, ascensionism, and take me back to eden. 10/10 recommends listening to them <3

thank you to my love @hellfire--cult for the divider!

masterlist

When you wake up, you’re shocked to find cold sheets beside you. 

Your hand stretches out on instinct, joints cracking as you barely slip into consciousness, and it’s the one thing capable of jolting you awake. These aren’t your sheets (they’re too nice to be your sheets), this isn’t your bed (there’s a cologne across the fabric that no longer stains your own mattress), and the bed is cold. Not even whispering of the warmth of who should be in bed with you, no trace of him having been tangled up with you the entire night to be found. 

Eddie had been here. You know he had been here. Last night couldn’t have possibly been a dream, or a hallucination, or some cruel twisting of reality done by your brain out of the terrible yearning that is bubbling back up to the surface of your chest. 

He had been here. And now, he’s gone. 

It reminds you too much of those mornings you’d awake while he was on tour. The mornings you’d roll over in a shared bed, only to find the other owner was still a country away. Mornings where you took your coffee cold and alone, and took your updates from some online source posting blurry photographs of the man you were waiting up on rather than from his own two lips. 

Bile almost rises in your throat until you properly sit up, and you properly remember. 

Eddie. Kisses. His guitar. His song. Whispered falsetto of taking aim, painful words about the way love is a weapon. 

You weren’t stupid. You weren’t dense. And Eddie Munson was a rockstar, not an actor. 

The room is still dreary, faintly lit with the wisps of daylight peering through the curtains over the window. You can’t tell if it’s stormy out, or it’s early out, but neither really matters. Neither really explains why you’ve woken up in a bed alone, after a night of playing pretend. 

Eddie’s lips, trailing down your skin. Eddie’s hands, bruising your hips and holding you to him in all the ways you begged him to. Eddie’s legs, entangling with yours beneath sheets he used to not be able to afford and blankets that kept the rest of the world as far away from the two of you as possible through the night. 

You swear, for just a moment, your back is still warm with the imprint of his chest curling against you. 

With every movement you make, you wait for Eddie to magically appear out of thin air. To jump up in front of you, to smile at you with that toothy grin and greet you with some ridiculous good morning. You keep waiting as you kick off the covers, and as your feet meet his cold floors, and as you make your way to the unfamiliar bathroom attached to the bedroom. 

Waiting, waiting, waiting. 

You sort of fucking hate waiting. Especially when it came to Eddie.

There’s no sign of him in the apartment. It becomes clear once you’ve brushed your teeth, almost hesitating to use the toothbrush available until you realize how ridiculous that would be. He had his tongue down your throat last night, amongst other places – he could bare for you to borrow his toothbrush just this once. You make your way out of the room, down the hallway, to the kitchen. 

Nothing. No Eddie. No breakfast. No reminders to call Matt and no ambulances on speed dial. 

You feel like a fool. 

“Talk about karma, hm?” you mumble to yourself as you lean against his kitchen island, staring at the fridge, weighing your choices. 

You could stay, make yourself breakfast, enjoy the luxuries at your disposal. 

Or you could leave. You could get out now while he’s not here to stop you, erase the night from your skin and memory. There’s still time to pretend that none of it ever happened. There’s still time to scrub the stain he’s once again left across not just your skin, not just your mind, but your entire existence. A newly reopened wound, and you still had time to make amends and stitch it right back up. No blood stains necessary this time around. And things were always easier the second time around, right? 

Wrong. 

Something keeps you rooted in spot. Maybe it’s the nostalgia, wrapping its way up around your bones. Maybe it's the wishful thinking, the smallest of hopes that Eddie will eventually burst through the front door and wash away the doubts. 

Or maybe it’s the post-it note that you’d initially missed, barely clinging to the surface of the fridge as it leaves behind a sticky residue. 

Went to the studio, I’m in trouble with Matt :( Help yourself to anything in the apartment. If you leave, just make sure to lock up behind you. I’ll text once I’m done. 

It’s written in messy penmanship, the font of someone in a rush. The phrase ‘if you leave’ is only slightly neater, as if written slowly and given more thought than anything else said. 

As if Eddie might have hesitated, for just a moment, at the thought of you leaving once more. 

You’re probably imagining things. You’re probably making up that difference in your mind, projecting onto what you want him to feel so desperately. It shouldn’t make a difference in if you stay or if you go. It shouldn’t. 

And yet, it does. 

The hours pass by slowly. Morning bleeds into the afternoon as you keep yourself entertained and take Eddie’s encouragement in full stride; you make yourself a decent enough breakfast from what food he does have in the fridge, and you almost make a note of scolding him for having little to nothing in there. But then you remember that it isn’t your place anymore, and your toast is nearly burning, and so the mental note of any slaps on the wrist is pushed away. You wander about the living room, taking in what photos he does have displayed. There’s not much – a few awards, some nice recounts of the band’s successes, but nothing that is Eddie. No photos of Hawkins. No photos of friends. No photos of Wayne. You hadn’t realized just how empty, how vacant, the place had felt until you properly inspected it all. 

There’s only one trace left behind of Eddie. The man you once knew and loved, not Eddie the Rockstar. Eddie, the caring best friend. Eddie, the doting boyfriend. Eddie, the one you’d once spent all your days weaving a future with, threads intertwined and dreams perfectly aligned. 

A single photograph of just him and Gareth. Or at least, what’s been framed to appear to be of just him and Gareth. 

Eddie, front and center. Gareth to his left. At a quick glance, it seems like one more homage to the band, maybe even to his friends. 

It’s more than that, though.

Your hands can’t work fast enough as they grab the frame, not even thinking clearly about how Eddie might feel if you rip the back off the nice piece of memoriam. Your heart is racing out your chest, breaths starting to come out in harsher and harsher puffs as you struggle to flip the clips and remove the backing cardboard. 

You find exactly what you knew you’d find. Exactly what you’d dreaded you’d find. 

Yourself, staring back at you. 

Creased over so purposefully, the section of the photo containing you has been prestigiously folded to appear as though you’d never existed. You, with a fool’s grin and eyes squinted out of appearance. You, hand on Eddie’s shoulder as you’d lifted yourself up dramatically on your tippy toes, body full of pride beyond the point of containment. 

A version of you that you can remember crystal clearly. 

“Wait, wait!” you had squealed, the stick of beer on concrete floors meeting the rubber sole of your shoes audible as you’d ran across the bar, “Don’t you dare take that photo without me, assholes!” 

You’d nearly slipped in a puddle of only God-knows-what as you’d made it to where the boys were gathering, but Eddie’s hands had already been there to catch you before you’d met an untimely demise. 

“Woah, woah, woah,” his face twitched with concern, but his smile wasn’t fading, “Trying to kill yourself there, Sugar?” 

“No, I’m trying to get into the photo with my favorite people,” you’d corrected, looking around Eddie to shoot a smile Gareth’s way, “Gotta make sure they don’t forget me in the history books in ten years, when they put you guys’ into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.” 

Gareth snorted immediately, shaking his head, his own head of curls bouncing with the movement, “Right. I’ll believe it when I see it.” 

Eddie’s hands left your waist, leaving you to bounce on the balls of your feet as you looked back to Jeff still poised with a camera. “Don’t be such a pessimist, Gar.” 

“Don’t call me Gar.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Should I use the full nickname? Would you prefer Gare-Bea-”

“Okay,” Eddie cut you off with impeccable timing, putting his hands out between the two of you, “Can we not kill each other after we’ve just played our biggest show yet?” 

Biggest show yet, indeed. Everyone had come out to show love to the boys you’d been rooting on from the hot floors of garages for several months at that point. More than just a few drunks being forced to listen to the live band playing at their favorite joint, and more than just a few friends who’d spared their evening to show support. 

Everyone was there. The bar had even made an exception for a few of the boys in Eddie’s Hellfire club, and that alone had already gone to Dustin Henderson and Mike Wheeler’s heads. 

“She’s right!” Dustin added without any prompting, standing to the side and looking just as giddy as you did, “You guys are gonna be goddamn rockstars!” 

“Language, Henderson!” Steve Harrington scolded, scowling at the younger boy, “Jesus, we let you guys come to a bar one time to support Eddie, and you immediately start acting up-”

“Can we please just take the photo?” Jeff waved the camera as he looked between you, Eddie, and Gareth, “Please?” 

Surprisingly, every single person listened. 

Gareth resumed his cool-guy position, clearly trying to not show just how excited he was. Arms crossed as he didn’t move any closer to be more fully in the photo, offering the limited effort of leaning in. 

You knew he was just playing it cool. You’d seen the smile light up his face, even behind the drumset, the moment the boys had seen how large of a crowd they’d garnered. 

Dustin jumping up and down beside you, waving his hand, trying to just get a glimpse of his blurry palm in the shot. 

No one could even be mad at him, the air was too thick with excitement. He was only exerting it the way all of you craved to do so badly, guided by his youth and genuine love for his friends – his mentors. 

And then there was you and Eddie. Eddie wasn’t hiding his joy at all, those dimples you so adored in full throttle as he looked at the camera with starry eyes. All that hard work, all those late nights, finally beginning to come to fruition. He didn’t have to say it – you knew. You knew he was beginning to see the shape of a rockstar forming that you’d always been able to view. Seeing himself in the spotlight that you’d always shone on him, blind faith and all. 

He was proud, and you were prouder. 

On your tippy toes, hand curling around Eddie’s shoulder like an anchor as your chin tilted up and your teeth flashed to the camera. You probably looked ridiculous – you felt ridiculous. But there was no time for some elegant pose or faux cool act like Gareth or Jeff. You were bleeding out all your pride and all your happiness, and it was all for the warm body beneath your palm. The boy you’d be holding dearly when it was all said and done at the end of the night, letting him collapse into your solace as he giggled and muttered his disbelief at how well the night went once you were both safely back in his bed. 

“Say cheese!”

Jeff was all but ignored, only Gareth loudly proclaiming the word through gritted teeth. 

You squeezed Eddie’s shoulder a bit tighter, and he smiled a bit wider as you whispered, “I’m so proud of you, Rockstar.”  

You didn’t realize you were crying until the first tear drops onto the photo, narrowly missing your overly exuberant face and landing instead on the back of the part of the photo unseen from this point of view.

The part that was on display. The part that Eddie would let the world see. 

The tears can’t become more; you can’t let them. You weren’t going to break down in sobs in the middle of Eddie’s apartment. Not after the night before, not after what felt like the precipice of progress. Not after the beginning of what felt like a peace offering. 

Closure. You were both so close to closure, and yet had never felt further. 

Instead of putting back the backing of the frame like you should, you pull out the entire photograph, slowly unsticking it from the glass so you can unfold it to witness the entire picture. You thought it might feel wrong to see this version of you standing beside that version of Eddie, but it doesn’t. If anything, it makes the burn of nostalgia worse. 

The night before, Eddie had asked you a question. 

“Do you know how many times I played this moment back over in my head?”

And you didn’t know. You never found out, never bothered to ask him for the answer. But you couldn’t but wonder if he knew how many times you’d played moments like the one in this photograph back, over and over in your mind, until it drove you to madness. Just how many late nights in that lonesome apartment, haunted by the memories, it had finally taken before you’d had no choice but to move. How many breakdowns had been spurred on in public when you’d heard his song playing in a gas station, or you’d seen a magazine that he’d occupied the smallest corner of the cover of. 

How many times, during those moments, you’d thought back to nights like the one in this picture, and wished you could go back. 

Even now, even with progress on the horizon, you want to go back. Everything in you screams for this time rather than the present. You want small crowds in the Hideout and an overly hyper Dustin Henderson to annoy you all. You want Eddie kissing you in the bar’s bathrooms, everything reeking of stale beer, and you want the only interruption to be the others banging on the door to let you know it was time to go, not Eddie’s cell phone ringing with a call from his agent. 

You want, and you want, and you want. 

For an innocence neither of you can return to. For a life both of you left behind in ashes. For a love that had seemed so infinite, not as though it might be a momentary time bomb waiting to blow. 

You want to take past you by the shoulders, and shake her so hard that there’s a chance she’ll listen to you when you demand she just enjoy it.

Enjoy all the late nights spent in diner booths with all the boys, none of them witness to the pathway of a heart that Eddie’s thumb is drawing on top of your hand. Enjoy all the grand firsts, and enjoy how everything feels like the ends and beginnings of your world when you’re that young. Enjoy Eddie while you can, even when he annoys you, even when he finds a way to get perfectly on your very last nerve. Enjoy it. 

Because one day, it would all be gone, and you’d be crying over a photograph in the apartment of the man you once thought you were going to marry. 

Now is the time to stop. Now is the time to put the photo back, gather your things, then leave. Put away the shovel and walk away from the grave of the past. 

You can’t do it. 

It turns into some wild scavenger hunt, lacking in guidelines and etiquette as you search through the rest of the apartment. Not truly snooping, but certainly scouring every corner for any other possible remnants of you. Small markings, brutal stains. Proof you weren’t the only one left maimed at the end of the day. Proof you weren’t the only one stained. 

Nothing else is found, because nothing else in the apartment is seemingly as personal as that one photograph. 

You’d noticed the apartment was barren, but hadn’t taken the time to see just how far the emptiness went. His living room, his kitchen, his bedroom – not a single sign of the Eddie you once knew. Only the new Eddie. The Eddie with awards, with a reputation, with adoring fans. 

The Eddie that you couldn’t tell if you really cared for all that much.

The first sign of life only creeps into your vision when you crack back open that door to his makeshift studio. Guitars he once only spoke of owning, a keyboard that tells you he’d finally taught himself how to play piano rather than only speaking about it as a one-day, notebooks and loose-leaf pages scattered across the coffee table that’s situated in front of the comfortable couch. 

It reminds you of the coffee table back in the Munson trailer. Of his desk, back in Hawkins. 

There’s no sporadic Hellfire campaigns across the pages, though. No small doodles in the corners of the crumbled pages. 

Your curiosity gets the better of you as you take the same seat you’d occupied the night before (or technically, the earlier morning). No guitar fills your lap – only the weight of the first notebook you could get your hands on. He’d told you to help yourself to anything in the apartment, and he’d never said that the studio was explicitly off-limits. 

There’s rings of coffee stains across the front of the notebook, half the pages visibly used from the side while the rest stay pristine and uniform. Before you can overthink it, you’re flipping the cover of the spiral notebook open, holding your breath as you read across the first line of penned words that you find. 

When we were made, it was no accident. 

Lyrics. They’re clearly lyrics. You keep reading, out of order as your eager eyes drink it all in. 

I’d turn my walls to gold to bring you home again.

You turn the page. You refuse to linger. You refuse to over analyze. 

MAKE IT REAL. ‘Cause anything’s better than the way I feel right now. 

The first three words are angry, aggressive, large. Screaming off of the page. And the remaining ones are small, almost cursive as they flow together like a whisper. Like the writer couldn’t handle telling the world something so vulnerable, so loudly as he had his demand.

Below, a phrase takes up an unexpected amount of space, circled around several times, a few stray question marks penned around the edges.

Diamonds in the trees, pentagrams in the night sky.

You recall all of Eddie’s doubt when you’d interrupted him writing a song last night. The muttering to himself, questioning what the words might even mean. It seems that was not an occurrence saved solely for you – it seems, when he’s been left to his own devices, the process always remains. 

You turn the page again. 

This time, you’re met with the largest conglomerates of lyrics yet. Spreading across the available lines preset for him, but also spiraling about the page. Written in the margins, forced to fill the gaps between the lines. There’s a sinking feeling in your gut before you even read the lyrics, based on the title alone – Take Me Back to Eden. 

I dream in phosphoresces, bleed through spaces. See you drifting past the fog.

You’re holding your breath again. 

I’m a winged insect, you’re a funeral pyre. 

Your eyes wander further down the page. 

I need you to see me for what I have become.

The word become is angrily underlined, over and over, until the pen had torn through the page in the slightest. 

Something rises up within you, and in a panic, you jump to the bottom of the page. 

I guess it goes to show, does it not? That we’ve no idea what we’ve got until we lose it. 

The first fatal blow – you can practically hear Eddie’s voice singing the line to you. 

And no amount of love will keep it around, if we don’t choose it. 

Another blow. Flashes of simpler times. Times when Eddie was yours, when the world didn’t lay claim to him the same way your own shaking palms would. 

No amount of self-sought fury will bring back the glory of innocence. 

It doesn’t matter how small he’s written it. No matter how tiny and insignificant he attempted to make the line, it cuts deeper than any knives that have ever passed through your flesh before. Deeper than the knife of losing him, so terribly slow. Deeper than the knife of hearing Corroded Coffin in public for the first time, playing out of someone’s car on the street as they listened to the Alternative Rock station. Deeper than the knife of burying his mother’s ring at the back of your closet, no longer yours to wear but somehow still yours to keep. Deeper than the knife of seeing him sitting there, in your office, completely unaware for the first time in two years. 

You slam the notebook shut before you can end up bleeding all over the pages, tears gathering once more and wounds all ripped back open mercilessly. 

The glory of innocence. 

All the reels of memories that had hit you as you’d held the photo in the living room come barreling back, striking you down, hitting you exactly where it hurts. 

Because he had felt it too. He had experienced it too. 

The nostalgia, the want for the past, the need to go back in time when things were simple – innocent. When the stakes were low and love was more than just a ghost wandering through your graveyard in passing. 

Self-sought fury. 

All the headlines, all the self-destruction. Every news article that had chipped away at the great Rockstar’s reputation. It hadn’t been the Eddie you’d known, just as you’d immediately thought; it was a new version of him, a new shell of him, seeking out damage wherever his furious hands could grasp it. 

But you’d never self-imploded. You’d never gotten your fury out, never got to kiss strangers in bars or destroy hotel rooms to move past all that you had lost. You’d been sitting in silence, a brewing pique that you’d let fester for far too long. All the hurt, all the fury, all the heartbreak. 

You didn’t have songs to write about all that. You didn’t have notebooks filled to the brim with those emotions. 

All you had was a shovel, and a deep hole inside yourself that you never thought you’d excavate again. Deep, russet brown eyes that had once lit the pavement for your future, now patronizing your past from the grave. 

A grave you hadn’t been digging alone, apparently. Worlds apart, and you two still had been seemingly in sync with the murder of who Eddie Munson once was. 

But the grave is excavated now, and you don’t think too much as you all but sprint out of the room, a clear destination in mind, that damn notebook in hand. 

—

Google is your greatest friend, your greatest tool, in the end. 

You don’t have the right connections at first. No numbers saved in your phone that you could call for the information, no emails beyond Matt to reach out to. And if there’s anything you’ve learned in working in a business where emails were the sole form of communication, it’s that no one would reply to you as quickly as Eddie had been. 

You didn’t have time. So you decided you’d already crossed a line, and you’d scoured the address of the recording studio that Corroded Coffin uses. 

You’d almost lost hope until you’d seen a paparazzi photo of him leaving said studio. Most news outlets had clearly been paid to keep hush about the location, but some were still the scum of the Earth, and some had left behind evidence. It took more effort on your part than expected, and more scrolling through fan forums than you were proud of, but you’d found it. 

You’d found the address where you would find Eddie Munson. 

Hell hath no self-sought fury like a muse scorned, you suppose. 

That’s what had hurt the most. In hindsight, you’d always known he’d write about you one day. He was an artist, and he had always pulled inspiration from his real life experiences. You’d just always been under the assumption that when the day came, the words on the page may be a happier tune. Something softer, something less hurtful. 

He wasn’t even insulting you, but it certainly felt like he was mocking you. 

You’re blinded by pain as you storm through the front door of the surprisingly small studio, finally feeling the need to lash out after two long years. Two long years of silent misery, silent suffering. You’re no longer the same person who had taken the cowardly way out. There is no instinctive running away from this, no gathering up your existence and disappearing from his life. 

This time, you want to fight. You want to scream at him all that you had felt as well. You wanted him to know the damage done, whether it was the right response or not. 

It probably wasn’t. And there was probably something to be said about the fact that this time, you were willing to fight with him over it. 

“Good afternoon, ma’am,” a young receptionist greets you from the front desk, “Do you have an appointment?” 

“Nope.”

She doesn’t deserve your venom, but she’s getting it straight out of your clipped tone regardless. You’re not here to play niceties with her – you’re here to see Eddie. 

She’s clearly taken back from your straight-forward answer, “Oh, I see. Unfortunately, the studio is currently occupied, but we can-”

“I know the studio’s occupied,” you reply blandly, eyes looking for the elevator, “I’m here to see the bastard currently occupying it.” 

“I- excuse me?” 

You spot the elevator, feet working faster than your mouth as you start to walk over to it, “I said, I’m here to see Eddie Munson. I know he’s in the studio currently, I know him-”

“I can’t let you do that.”

“You’re not really in the business of letting me do anything-”

“Ma’am.” 

You hadn’t noticed the security guard until his hand comes down on your shoulder. The receptionist girl is wide-eyed, looking nervous enough that if you weren’t in the middle of your own spiral, you might feel bad. 

“Let go of me,” you shakily demand, standing still under his hold, “I just need to speak with Ed-”

“No one goes in there without permission from the band or their management,” the man gruffly replies. He may have a good foot on you in height, and the stretch of his muscles beneath the plain black t-shirt might be impressive, but you’re almost convinced by the adrenaline racing through your veins that you could take him. One swift kick of the legs, and you could get to the elevator – you could get to Eddie.

Fight with Eddie. Call Eddie out for all the pain he’d let fester within you for far too long. Probably not even realizing you were calling yourself out in the same breath. 

“Then fucking call them,” you snap, reaching up to swat away his hand, “Call them, and tell them my name-”

“We’ve been given strict instructions to not interrupt them-”

“I could give two shits if we’re interrupting!” you finally yell, fulling tearing yourself away from the strange man’s grasp, “Fucking call Eddie, and tell him-”

It’s the sudden call of your name that breaks the tense moment entirely. Not Eddie’s voice, not even Matt’s voice, but a different voice from your past that has hardly changed.

Standing before you is Gareth Emerson, almost looking entertained at the current exchange happening. 

“She’s with us, man,” he chokes out, clearly holding back laughter as he locks eyes with you, “I can take her back up.” 

“Are you sure?” the security guard presses, looking at you with narrowed eyes, “If this is some insane groupie, Matt will kill me if-”

“I’m not a fucking groupie!” 

You have no reason to be so angry, so defensive. But you’re already a wounded animal, and you’re primed to bite at the slightest inconvenience. 

The wounds of the past are gushing, and being reduced to nothing more than an insane groupie is salt in the blood. Callous, burning, hurtful. 

You’re not just a groupie. 

“She’s not a groupie,” Gareth echoes after you, and his words are far more effective. The guard takes a step back, and Gareth finally lets out a snort that he tries to cover with a cough, “C’mon, Hellfire. Let’s take you upstairs before you burn this whole place to the ground.” 

You swallow down any shock at the old nickname, and you rush to join Gareth’s side, being sure to knock an elbow into his side on your way past him. 

“No one even calls me that anymore,” you mutter, still half-angry, guns still ready to begin blazing in Eddie’s direction once he’s in your sight. 

“Maybe that’s because you haven’t been around the only people that did call you that,” he points out, tone entirely unaffected by your elbow.

“You guys didn’t trademark Hellfire.”

“No, but we sure as Hell made a name for it back in Hawkins.” 

You two stop in front of the elevator, and neither of you make a move to press the call button. You’re all deep breaths, trying to settle yourself as Gareth continues to stare at you. 

“You haven’t changed one bit, you know.” 

His words have you looking up sharply, brows crinkling as you let them sink in, “Excuse me?” 

“I thought you might have changed,” he says, face softening, “You know, the years and city changed you or something. But you’re still… still that same girl we knew. All fiery, always ready for a fight.” 

His last sentence is laced with a bit of sarcasm, some light-hearted joking you hadn’t realized you missed until you’re face to face with it. 

You swallow hard, and you know your own face melts to match his, “That… I… I have changed. That guard was just being a dick.” 

“He was doing his job.”

“Yeah, well,” you sigh, feeling the wisps of fury slip out of your grasps. You almost feel like a toddler, prepared to stomp your foot just to emphasize a losing argument. “He should do his job worse.” 

“And you say you’ve changed,” Gareth teases, bumping his shoulder to yours, “Bullshit, Hellfire. You just let the suits at your job get to you. Maybe you should stick around this time, remember who you were.” 

The words shouldn’t make your chest tighten, but they do. 

Who you were.

Leaving behind Eddie meant more than just leaving behind a failed relationship. It meant leaving everyone. And that included Gareth. That included the version of you that you’ve missed so terribly today that you’ve gone grave-digging, pulling back all emotions to the service. It’s not just anger, it’s not just nostalgia. It’s something deeper and something you can’t erase. A stain on the deepest parts of you that you can’t rid yourself of, even if you’d wanted to. 

Neither of you have pressed the elevator button yet. 

It’s impulsive, but there’s a decision to be made that you won’t overthink. You’re brimming with impulsivity anyways, “Give me your phone number.”

“What?” 

“Give me your number,” you repeat yourself, already digging out your cell phone as you balance Eddie’s notebook in your other hand, “And I’ll stick around this time.” 

You don’t necessarily mean it in the same way he implies, but you mean it in the way that counts. 

You hand your phone over to his waiting palm, and for a moment, it feels like a weight has lifted. 

Even if it all burns down with Eddie. Even if you find the closure you’ve been so desperately seeking out with him, it doesn’t mean you have to leave the others behind. People like Gareth, like Grant, like Jeff – there’s still room for them, somewhere in your new life. You had grown up together practically, at least during the years that had counted, and there was no need to erase them from your history. 

You could find a way. You had to find a way. 

Compartmentalize, rationalize. Justifications and explanations were plentiful. You would find a way to meet the you that once existed and the you that was left behind in the rubble, somehow, someway. 

When Gareth hands you back the phone, there’s a smile twitching in the corners of his mouth, “We should meet up for dinner sometime. I know the rest of the guys, Jeff and Grant, they miss you. And we know this killer pizza place.” 

You don’t fight your returning smile, “Yeah. We should. I think I’d really like that.” 

“Right,” he claps, looking around to clearly see if the guard and receptionist are still watching. They’re momentarily distracted, it seems, by some sort of delivery driver, “Well, I’ll leave you to it. Our studio’s on the third floor.”

“Wait,” his finger has already jabbed at the call button, the sounds of an elevator creaking on its quick descent to you sounding from behind the metal doors, “Aren’t you coming back up with me?” 

“Oh, God, no,” Gareth’s nose scrunches, and his overgrown hair bounces as he shakes his head, “I think I’ve had just about enough of Eddie for the day. The rest of the guys left about an hour ago, anyways, and I’m guessing you two might want some privacy?” You nod at his questioning tone, “Perfect. Then, in that case – third floor, like I said.”

“Thank you, Gareth,” you blurt out, fighting down all the nostalgia. Part of you is aching – part of you just wants to see the other boys again, no longer needing the fight with Eddie, “I- I missed you guys too, for what it’s worth.” 

“We know,” he jokes back, although there’s something in the way he says it that makes you think that maybe they didn’t know that. He finally glances at the notebook in your hands that you’d nearly forgotten about, lively eyes turned simply sad. “Just go and give him Hell, yeah? You’re not the only one who's lost themselves.” 

There’s no chance to ask what Gareth might mean as a ding sounds and the doors slide open. The boy that you have genuinely and sincerely missed nods his head, signaling for you to get in, and you do just that. Mentally preparing yourself with one last gulp of air, one last look at Gareth, before you ready your boxing gloves once more. 

You’re not the only one who's lost themselves.

The doors slide shut, and you punch the button for the third floor. 

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[solivagant242]

losing you pt. 4

remus lupin x f!reader

warnings: strong angst, losing a relationship, minor swearing (?)

pt. 1 pt. 2 pt. 3

amberly is used as the MC here since i used to write a lot of fanfics with her, but feel free to self-insert or use whatever name you like <3.

________________________________________

Remus’ POV:

Remus wakes up slowly and unwillingly, squinting slightly in the sunlight that’s draped over the bed and carpet by now. Rubbing his eyes, he gropes for his phone and checks the time: 6:37 a.m.

He rubs his temples. The migraine bothering him yesterday has somehow vanished into thin air, probably courtesy of the freshly replenished ibuprofen that Amberly always leaves on his nightstand. For once he can stand and move around without needles and lancets of pain poking and prodding at his brain. 

Amberly…

Remus bites his lip as he makes his way to the kitchen. The uneasy nightmares that plague his sleep had momentarily displaced the memory of her tears the previous day, but now they were returning in full force and bringing heavy guilt with them.

I shouldn’t have snapped at her.

He expects to find his girlfriend curled up in the little window alcove just like always, pale hands wrapped around a warm mug of tea and brown eyes narrowed as she flips through the pages of some thick and dusty book. Expects to see her smile that always, always appears when he’s around. 

Except lately, whispers a little voice at the back of his head. 

But he doesn’t see anyone. Doesn’t smell any fresh bread on the table, doesn’t feel the slight warmth emanating from the toaster oven or hear the whirring of the coffeemaker or whistling kettle. The kitchen is in the same state as when he stormed out of it last night- spotlessly clean and tidy.

Except that all the lights are out and there is no Amberly.

And when he goes to peer through the small window above the sink, the shards of the cup are gone, cleared away and stored who knows where. As if it had never happened. 

Even more guilt floods Remus’ heart. He bites his lip, trying to stave away the regret and shame eating at his thoughts. I had a really bad headache and she just wouldn’t leave me alone- why does she always have to be in my space, clinging around and trying to make me feel better-

The guilt recedes into a dull, sickly ache at the pit of his stomach.

He pads down the hallway, thinking that perhaps she’s in their little living room or the library, or even in the bathroom-

She’s not there. 

Her shoes are gone. So is her gray coat and her fraying blue- and- gray scarf.

Did she not come home from Pads’ last night?

Remus bites his lip, pushing his hair back from his forehead. Irrational fear is starting to swell at the back of his throat- what if she’s not coming back?

And it would be all your fault, whispers that insidious little voice at the back of his mind. You pushed her away, just like you do with everybody.

But all her things are still here-

You were horrible to her. 

He sinks down on the couch, covering his face with his hands. For the first time in many, many days, he finds himself missing Amberly. Missing her soft hair and bright eyes, her warm hands that always soothed the knots in his neck and shoulders, missing the faint aroma of lavender that laces her clothes and skin. Missing the way she would bring him breakfast in bed when he felt sick, bring him lunch, dinner- fuck, she’d done anything for him. Anything and everything. And it had become routine, since he knew that no matter what she’d come back to him.

Now he’s not so sure. 

Remus feels suddenly like he’s drowning and stands abruptly to open the window, letting crisp autumn air flood the room. 

A sound- a crackling, popping backfire- sputters through the air and he peers through the pane to the road.

Sirius’ motorcycle pulls up into their tiny driveway. Pads’ pale skin is flushed from the drive over, and his dark hair is tousled-

-because Amberly, who’s climbing off the back, is wearing his helmet. 

Remus’ heart pinches twice, painfully, as he looks at her from the outside. Looking past the person that he’s been shoving away, ignoring, drawing into his own pain, and seeing instead the girl he’d fallen in love with.

She’s gotten thinner. He hasn’t really noticed it, not of late- because you don’t give a fuck about her, whispers that painful part of his mind again. But her coat hangs loosely on her frame, and there are dark shadows under her eyes.

She’s never able to sleep when we fight.

But I never had a problem with it, so I didn’t care, did I?

For that matter, her eyes look big and glassy, and her lips are dry and chapped. Remus realizes that he can’t remember the last time he did something for her- the last time he’d rubbed her favorite hair cream through her curls or the last time he’s made her coffee. 

She’s been pouring herself into him, and he’s done nothing but throw her efforts back in her face. 

Guilt strikes him like a truck as he watches her speak to Padfoot for a few seconds, the older boy resting one leg on the curb, hands on the handlebars, as he says something with that little half-smirk all the girls in Gryffindor always loved. She laughs, her eyes crinkling at the corners, and Remus is torn between pain and jealousy. 

When was the last time she laughed like that?

Amberly finally turns, pushing her hair out of her face. She’s freshly showered, he realizes; she must have stayed the night at Pads’ place.

Which ordinarily wouldn’t be a problem- God knows the three of them (five, if you counted James and Lily) are in and out of each others’ houses at all hours of the day and night to hunt for food (Sirius), borrow books (Amberly), or fall asleep on the couch (Remus). But this time the little curl of jealousy in Remus morphs into something much bigger and uglier and angrier. 

She was with Pads and she left me alone.

Amberly comes to the door and opens it, not looking around her. She sets her bag down on the counter and goes to the sink to wash her hands. Her shoulders are relaxed. She doesn’t look upset. Or sad. Or anything, really. Just- calm?

It scares Remus, even though he doesn’t want to admit it. 

He comes out from behind the corner. 

Amberly jumps, hand going to her heart. “Good grief, Moony! You scared me.”

Her voice isn’t angry. Just absentmindedly cheerful and mildly surprised. 

“Did you stay at Sirius’ place?” he asks, trying to keep any emotion out of his voice as he stares at her, trying to discern her feelings.

Amberly nods, her back to him as she reaches for a glass and fills it with water from the faucet. “Yes. It was late and raining a bit, and he didn’t want me walking home by myself.”

“You could have called me.” It comes out harsher than he’d like, and Remus clears his throat. “I could have gotten you.”

She takes a sip of water and her hand tightens, ever so slightly, on the counter where she’s rested it. “I figured you were asleep, and I didn’t want to wake you.”

“Why is it always my fault?”

This time his words are very, very harsh, and Amberly visibly recoils. Remus’ jaw twitches.

Amberly takes a deep breath, turning back to the sink and rinsing out her glass to place it in the dishwasher. “I didn’t say it was your fault. I just didn’t want to wake you up since I know it’s hard for you to sleep.”

“I’m not some invalid, you know”- Inwardly Remus is kicking himself, hating himself, at the angry words pouring from his lips, but he can’t seem to stop. It feels as though his pain is taking physical form in this black anger spouting out of him. 

She closes the dishwasher, being careful not to let it slam. Her voice is careful and controlled. “I know. Should I call you next time, then?”

“Sure. Go ahead,” spits Remus, breathing harder. He can feel a burning headache starting at the base of his skull, intensifying the helpless, guilty rage that’s swelling in his chest. “Although why would I bother? You and Sirius are so close, after all; why don’t you just bloody ask to talk to him and hang out with him and have him drive you home?”

This time Amberly whirls around to face him and her soft brown eyes are lit with golden fire. “Are you seriously going to say that, Remus? He drives me home one time”-

“Fucking sure,” snaps Remus, anger brimming in his throat. “It’s not like you even want to be around me anymore, is it?”

Something like a sob catches in Amberly’s throat. “That’s what you think? You really think I don’t want to be around you? Remus, do you know how much I’ve tried to be around you? Tried to help you, make you feel better”-

“Well, maybe I don’t want your help!”

The words ring loudly through the open kitchen. 

Amberly’s wide eyes brim with tears. 

Remus stares at her, breathing hard, and he doesn’t know where the next words come from, some dark and filthy crevice of his mind that should never see the light of day. 

“Maybe I don’t want you.”

Her lips part, a tiny bit, and the softest of strangled sounds escapes her mouth. 

Guilt pours over Remus, so heavy he can barely stand, and he reaches out a hand- “I didn’t mean that, I don’t”-

But Amberly has already pulled out her wand and vanished.