#i just wish they would bite SOMEBODY THE FUCK ELSE

[technoxenoholic]

i am so sick of finding brand new mosquito bites in progressively more annoying places every day stop eating me you pieces of shit

[flowercrowngods]

based on this post, because at this point i think it's safe to say @unclewaynemunson is actually my muse or something (hi anna i hope this is okay even though it’s, like, way angsty and way too long huh)

🤍 also on ao3

Two days after Starcourt, concussed and beaten, Steve has a seizure.

His ears are still ringing when the doctor gives him a stern glance over the rim of his glasses and pronounces him unfit to drive. No, in fact, he claims Steve poses a real danger to himself and others if he sat behind a wheel again.

Immediately, Dustin and Robin jump to promising that they won't let him do that, and in another life Steve is sure he would be grateful, or at least reasonable about it, but in this one he has a horrible second where the floor falls out from under him and he wishes, for just one second, that his head had been shaken a bit more, just enough to–

It makes him nauseous even thinking that. Everything does, lately. He closes his eyes against the offensive brightness of the hospital room and lets the sound of Dustin's and Robin's voices wash over him as he takes a moment to really take in what the doctor's orders entail.

He can't drive anymore. No more late night drives to watch the street lights pass and lull him into a safer state of mind than his bedroom walls could. No more driving the kids to their DnD sessions, no more taking Robin anywhere at the drop of a hat, no more bickering, no more reign over the music, no more stern glances through the rearview mirror, no more "Shut up, Wheeler, or you're leaving the car."

No more "Thanks, Steve!", no more "I'll bring some of mom's cookies if you drive us to the arcade", no more "You're the best" or "You're a lifesaver" or "I owe you one".

No more place for him in the group, no more use for him, no more...

No more. Nothing. Now he's just Steve, would-be lifesaver, 'has-been babysitter', 'could-have-been somebody until he lost his license to drive because he wasn't quick enough, wasn't good enough, wasn't strong enough'. Just Steve.

He doesn't know how to be that. Who is Steve Harrington without his car, without the one thing he was good for anymore?

The pit in his chest is deep enough, dark enough to pull him in, and for a moment the very thing he is good for is misery.

He waits until a nurse makes everyone leave for the night, and then he cries. It makes his head hurt, pressure building behind his eyes, but he's used to being in more pain than any teenager should be in, so he curls in on himself and hides underneath the blanket.

Here's to hoping the others won't notice just how useless he is now. Not too soon, anyway. He wants another month. A painless month filled with laughter and hugs, and then they're free to leave, to pull back slowly. Calls unanswered, radio channels changed so he won't reach them, sheepish apologies and rain checks, because now Nancy will drive them. Or Jonathan. Hell, maybe Max will take the risk just to avoid him.

---

He gets a week of daily visits in the hospital, the doctors and nurses insisting on keeping him here, a watchful eye on his vitals, scanning his head three times during his stay, insisting he has head trauma of a severely worrying degree.

Nancy picks him up from the hospital and it's awkward, tense, too much left unsaid between them but there's no one else to do it. Steve's hands are shaking, gripping the seatbelt the whole way home – and then his heart falls when he sees his Beemer in the driveway. The glorious, trusty, wonderful, best fucking car anyone could wish for. His baby. His.

He throw up into the brushes when he realises that he won't get to take it on one last ride. Maybe he shouldn't be so attached to a car. Maybe he's being pathetic about it. At least he can explain away the fat tears in his eyes now, and Nancy doesn't press.

The first thing he does when Nancy is gone is calling Robin, and she's excited when she says, "I'll come right over!" and Steve wants to ask, how, but he keeps his mouth shut, biting his lip. It's stupid, but the thought of someone else driving Robin over makes his skin crawl.

"Alright," he says instead, his voice raspy, and he hangs up before she can detect something in his voice.

After that, he goes outside again and runs his hand along his Beemer. It's shining in the sun; he had it cleaned the other week, the full program, every step in the book to celebrate four years since he got her.

"Four years, huh," Steve says, his nail catching on a minor scratch that isn't even visible but might be more familiar to him than even his home. "Damn good four years."

He's talking to his car. God, it's so stupid, it's so stupid, it's so stupid–

Steve's knees give out and he gives in to the desire that's burning under his skin sometimes, the desire to just sit down and ignore the world. Because everything is less real when you're sitting down somewhere you're not meant to be, and the ground is warm, and Steve just wants the world to go. His head is leaning back against the warm metal of the driver's door, and he closes his eyes for a while, his head still spinning, his ears still ringing, everything still awful.

After a while, there’s a shadow followed by a weight settling down between him, a head landing on his shoulder, a hand taking his.

"I'm so sorry, Stevie," Robin says. The lack of dingus makes it more real, somehow. More tragic. More pathetic.

"I'll live." And it feels a bit like a lie.

---

He gets his month. A month filled with barbecues in his backyard, the kids coming by after school to check on him, and Robin has practically moved in. Joyce picks him up on Friday nights for dinner at their house for a change of scenery.

It’s a good month, though Steve feels trapped. Caged. A bird without his wings, a boy without his car. Steve without his one purpose, the one thing he was good for. He has to be picked up because they don’t trust him walking, or they have to come to his place. And soon the worried glances that are thrown his way are too much, caging him further, reminding him of what this is. A pity party — quite literally. No one trusts him anymore, there’s always someone jumping to help him, not caring or listening to his protests.

And he can’t leave, because “What if you have a seizure in your room?”

It makes him want to scream.

Maybe it shows, or maybe everyone’s just fed up with him now that he can’t provide his taxi services anymore, but after summer the Byers dinners stop and the kids pull away.

“Told you that’s all I’m good for,” Steve says with a mean, pained huff as he hangs up the phone. Claudia said Dustin isn’t home, but he could hear the kids in the background. It hurts more than it should.

“What is?” Robin asks from her place on the floor with her back against the wall.

“Nothing.”

She frowns. “Come on, dingus, you can’t start and then—“

“No, I mean it. Nothing. That’s what I’m good for now that I can’t drive them anymore.”

“Bullshit!” she says, and it comes out so harsh that it makes Steve flinch. He swallows. Right. Robin isn’t hear to listen to him whine about how he feels like he has no place in this town, in this group, in this life anymore now that his head is so fucked up he can’t even be trusted to live alone.

That’s why Robin is here, right?

The babysitter becomes the babysitted… or something.

She doesn’t care, not really. She doesn’t listen. She doesn’t ask.

“Steve, they’re kids.”

“Yeah, well. So am I.”

He turns away from her and ignores the tears threatening to fall. The door to his room falls shut and he would love to lock it just to make a point to the world at large, a point that it can’t shut him out if he shuts himself in, but he knows it’s too risky. If he has a seizure, Robin needs to get in.

He can’t even stay in his room alone without supervision anymore. What kind of a fuck-up is he becoming, where does it end? He’s already managed to chase away the kids, even Dustin only checks on him sporadically anymore, and it hurts. He wants to know why, wants to know what he did, how to take it back, how to get them back.

But then he remembers how it all started. Dustin needed a ride and someone to take a beating. Both of which he can’t do anymore without risking life and death of himself and others. He’s a safety hazard. He’s useless. He’s Steve fucking Harrington, which doesn’t mean anything anymore.

---

And then it’s spring, and Chrissy Cunningham is found dead in Eddie Munson’s trailer. The group is back together again, the Party assembled once more. And Steve, for a just one second, hopes that he can get it right this time, that he can do this again. One last time. Because Vecna slash Henry slash One surely is it.

But then they turn on him — even Eddie looks confused, which is a rather adorable look on him — the moment Steve tries to get a word in.

“You’re not coming with us, Steve.” That’s Dustin, and Steve just rolls his eyes, but then Robin joins in.

“Yeah, no, I’m with the gremlin on this, dingus.”

“Hey!”

“Oh shut it, Henderson.” She turns to him, her eyes softer but no less burning another hole inside Steve. “We can’t risk it, Steve.”

“Risk what?” It’s a challenge. His shoulders squared, his jaw clenched, he’s challenging her, and it’s cruel.

She holds his eyes, her expression icy, like he’s stupid. “We can’t risk you dying. We can’t risk you getting a seizure mid-fight or just by being in the Upside Down.”

“Hey, woah,” Eddie tries to get a word in, but Steve won’t hear him as the desperation, the loneliness, the feeling of being caged like a bird and still the only human left on a desolate planet, all that breaks free.

“We all know that dying in a fight is the only thing I’m good for anyway.”

The silence among their war council, as Max dubbed it, is deafening.

“What?” Lucas sounds small when he asks that, and Steve closes his eyes. He hadn’t meant for him to hear that. Any of them, actually. They weren’t supposed to know.

“Steve, that’s not true.” Dustin’s words are filled with disbelief and worry, and Steve hates the worry, it makes his skin crawl, it makes his heart race, it makes his fists clenched and it makes him want to scream again.

“What else then, huh?” he asks weakly. “What else is there? None of you even talk to me anymore since Starcourt. Since summer.”

“Because you were pulling away,” Nancy explains, though her words are weak and her mouth clicks shut when Steve looks at her.

“Because we’re scared.” Max this time, and Steve doesn’t want to look at her, doesn’t want to tell a child that she’s not allowed to be scared for him— not more than he is, anyway. It doesn’t make sense for him to be hurt. They don’t want him to die. That’s a good thing, right? They didn’t want to see him hurt, so they looked away. It makes sense.

But it also hurts.

Steve shakes his head and pinches the bridge of his nose before all but running from the trailer. He doesn’t make it far (“Stay close so we won’t have to worry”), just needs some fresh air and to sit down somewhere the world will become a bit less real again.

The stairs it is. He tries to breathe through the lump in his throat, clenching and unclenching his hands to get rid of the anger and the hurt and all that excess energy.

He doesn’t want to die, is the thing. The very thought makes him nauseous and panicky. He wants his life back. His car. The freedom to just jump in there and get away. He doesn’t want the cage or the worry or the hovering or the loneliness when he isolates himself from all that.

Face buried in his hands, Steve almost misses it when someone comes to sit beside him. The thick smell of leather and cigarettes tells him who it is without looking up.

Eddie doesn’t speak for a while, just sits with him as Steve calms down.

And then, after a while, he lights a cigarette and asks, “You get seizures, Harrington?”

Steve nods. “Sometimes.”

Eddie hums. “That sucks.”

He nods again, and then that’s that. But even though it was a rhetorical question and Eddie didn’t even need an answer, it feels pathetically good to be asked about something. About himself. It only makes the pit inside his chest deeper, cutting into his soul with a sharp edge, this tiny little moment of normalcy. He wants to cling to it. He wants to talk to Eddie. God, he hasn’t really talked to anyone in so long.

“Before Starcourt — remember, the mall? The fire? Yeah that was, uhm. More monster shit. And Russians who thought I was a spy and then… yeah. Anyway. Uh. We used to be friends, I think. The kids and I. They used to care — or I like to think that they did. And then I got one too many head injuries, and the seizures started, and then they… It became too much. For them, for me. And the caring stopped. And, like, it’s fine or whatever, but I still care, and I can’t let them do all that alone. I know that all I was good for was taking them somewhere with my car, but I can’t drive anymore, so now I’m just… I’m just Steve. No titles attached, no use or function or point.”

Eddie just stares at him, puzzled and intrigued and even a little sad, and Steve wants to laugh it off when the silence stretches.

“Sorry, that’s kind of a sob story, you—“

“Wait here,” Eddie says, stubbing out his cigarette before disappearing back into the trailer. Steve watches him with a confused frown but stays put. A minute later, the door flies open and a scandalised looking Max appears, followed by the rest of the crew.

“You what?!”

“Uh,” Steve blinks. “I what?”

“Eddie told us you think you’re useless and that we don’t like you and that all you were ever good for is driving us from A to B with, like, no personal value whatsoever,” Dustin fills in, sounding no less bewildered. “Is that true, Steve?”

And God, the kid is so good at making all his questions sound like dares that Steve instinctively wants to swallow and negate it, tell them that Eddie misheard, that he’s fine, that everything fine.

But then Robin’s whispered little, “Steve” stops him from doing that. In fact, the sadness and confusion on their faces makes the dams break once more, confronted with months of spiralling and no one to drag him out, no one to listen.

Tears spring to his eyes and he gets up from the stairs to properly face them. He shrugs. It’s as much of a confirmation as anything.

And then Dustin sprints forward and tackle-hugs him, burying his face in Steve’s chest with no intention to let go anytime soon.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles into Steve’s shirt and Steve runs a hand through his hair immediately.

“It’s okay, Dustin.”

“No! It’s fucking not okay, Steve, stop saying that. You’re my big brother, you’re my best friend, you’re my hero! You’re the coolest guy I know and nothing’s gonna change that, okay?”

“Then why’d you leave?” His voice is so small, but Dustin only hugs him tighter.

“Because you were hurting and I was… I feel like all of that is my fault.”

“Why would it be your fault, Dustin?”

He shrugs, and it breaks Steve’s heart. Dustin thinks everything is his fault just like Steve thinks it’s his.

“It’s me who got you into the thing with the Russians. I insisted. And you were tortured for it, Steve! You… You told us to go, and we did, and then we came back and you were— you-“

“Hey,” Steve whispers, curling himself around and over Dustin. “Hey, no, it’s okay. It’s not your fault. None of that.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

“I’m sorry I pulled away, Steve,” Dustin sniffles and looks up at him. “I swear it’s not because I think you’re useless. It’s just… I’m so scared.”

And it makes sense, somehow. The anger leaves Steve when he whispers, “Me too. And I don’t like it when you’re all scared and worried. I hate it.”

“I know. Sorry.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Shut up.”

And then they’re both laughing with tears in their eyes. Lucas and Max join them with their own promises that Steve isn’t worthless to them.

“Did you read my letter? You know, the one if…”

“No,” Steve says. “You told me not to.”

“Right. Anyway, read it. Whatever happens, I want you to read it. Because you’re my brother and you mean too much for me to, like, never let you know. But, uh. Billy died. And I hated him, but it fucked me up. And then you almost died, and then you almost died again; and then you just… collapsed. And I thought, I cant do this again, not with someone I actually like. Not with you. And I didn’t wanna watch. I watched Billy. I… I can’t watch you die, Steve.”

She’s crying by the end of it, and Steve pulls her against his chest. Shit, he hadn’t meant to make anyone cry like that.

“It’s okay, Max, I get it.”

“Not okay,” she shakes her head again. “I know it’s not. But—“

“I know.” He’s stroking through her hair. “I know.”

“Uh, guys? I hate to break up the heartfelt confession time,” Eddie chimes in. “But I think our window is closing.”

Right. The end of the world.

With one last squeeze to Max’s shoulders, he lets her go and they gather their things. Discussions about Steve’s joining their mission have been put on hold while their window is still open. They can continue this later.

Nancy drives while Max holds Steve’s hand in the back. They don’t talk and she has her headphones on, letting Kate Bush work her magic, but it’s fine. It feels a bit like healing.

He catches Eddie’s eyes on the other side and holds them for a while. Eddie smiles before looking away, and Steve does the same.

---

In the end, Steve doesn't climb the rope with them. He stays behind in Eddie's trailer even though every fibre of his being screams at him to join. But Nancy has a point when she explains to him that she and Robin got this. It's the first time he stays behind, and he hopes it will be the last.

They hug him before leaving, all of them. Promises are made to talk about this later, after, and he nods.

"Go save the world for me," he tells Robin, holding her tight, unwilling to let go.

"Only for you," she promises, and kisses his cheek before pulling away. "You better be right here when we come back."

He shrugs and gives her an encouraging smile. "I've got nowhere else to be, Buckley. Now go." The last words are whispered and it feels like goodbye. Steve should join them, he should be there! But his head is pulsing and he knows that one wrong move could leave him half blind with a migraine, and they don't need one more handicap.

The one thing he can do, though, is helping them climb the rope, and it makes him feel ridiculously proud, seeing them land safely on the other side, smiling up (or down?) at him. Robin and Nancy wave one last time before heading off.

That leaves him alone with Eddie and Dustin. The latter is already climbing the rope, itching to finally do something, preparing the trailer for their plan.

Only Eddie is left, and Steve looks over at him.

"Will you be okay, Steve?"

"Sure."

Eddie sighs and looks up at the gate, disbelief and resignation and even a hint of fascination in his eyes.

"It should be you," he says, and Steve frowns, confused. "You're the hero here."

"No," Steve huffs, smiling at the metalhead. "No, I'm no hero. The real heroes are already up there, and in California. The real hero died after Starcourt. I'm just the driver who lost his license, the boy with the bat. The protector who needs to be protected."

Eddie looks at him again, that kind of intense stare, the one that shows Steve that Eddie sees something in him. He wonders what it is, but isn't sure he wants to know.

"I think you're wrong, Steve." He says it with such gentle conviction that it takes Steve's breath away for a second, and something passes between them as they hold each other's eyes.

Eddie opens his mouth to say something, but then–

"Eddie!" Dustin is calling for him from the other side, and the boys snap out of their daze.

Steve steps into Eddie's personal space and pulls him to his chest. "Make him pay," he says. "But stay safe. Come back, okay? First sign of danger, you abort mission. Come back, Eddie. I'll be right here."

"Yeah," Eddie rasps, and he squeezes Steve once more. "Catch me when I fall through that gate in two hours?"

Steve laughs, a sad little thing, and he pushes Eddie away from him, hands steady on his shoulders. "Sure, big boy."

"Hey, that's my part."

"Say it when you come back, then."

This thing passes between them again, and then Eddie goes to climb the rope. Steve's hands find their way to his hips, steadying him, but Eddie is strong enough to pull himself up without problem. Huh.

"In the meantime, wrap your head around the fact that you're the one I'm coming back for, pretty boy."

And then Eddie is gone. Steve watches as he falls through the gate, landing on the mattress with more elegance this time, and then he, too, grins down (or up?) at Steve.

He gives a little wave, and then he is alone.

Plenty of room to think when your friends have gone on a suicide mission and you're the one who has to stay behind. The one who will have to do the explaining when things go south. The one who will have to watch and listen, helpless.

It makes him regret the past few months, the self isolation, all the times he pulled back, all the times he didn't push for an explanation or a conversation, all the times he hadn't asked the kids if they're alright because he was too caught up in all the ways that he wasn't.

God, he wants them to be okay. He wants to talk about this, wants them to tell him he's more than the driver without a license, more than the protector who needs protecting. He wants Eddie to come back and explain what he meant, say what he wanted to say. He wants...

He wants his old life back. But more than that, he wants them in his new life just as much. He wants to be brave enough for this new life and find a new purpose. Create one if he can't find it.

But he can't do it alone. He refuses to do it alone even one day more.

"Come back to me," he whispers, looking up at the gate from where he's sitting on the floor, back against the wall. "Come on guys, you've got this. Please work. Please, make the plan work."

And then, miraculously, it does. Eddie falls into his arms with an undignified squeal and the rest of the Party soon follow. They're unscathed, miraculously, and Steve cries as he holds them, all of them, in a group hug that makes the trailer smell like relief and grief and a new life ahead of them. Slowly, with an unnatural sound, the gate above them closes, and then silence reigns.

They cling to him now. Refuse to let go. Good thing he has nowhere to go as Lucas gasps and sobs into his chest, explaining what happened, that Jason almost destroyed the walkman, that Max could have died. And Steve runs shaky hands through his hair, pulling in Max, too, so the three of them can just hold each other for a second.

Dustin and Eddie are hugging beside them, and Nancy and Robin hold hands, a different kind of horror in their eyes, but they smile wetly at Steve as their eyes meet.

It's over. It's done.

They did it. They really did it.

Steve closes his eyes and holds Lucas and Max tighter. They don't complain.

---

Three days later, Steve's house is brimming with life again like it hasn't in months. Turns out, Hopper survived, and he hugged Steve for a whole five minutes, telling him he did good, he did great, he's a hero. Again with that shit that Steve doesn't believe, but he doesn't have the heart to tell Hop, so he just buries deeper into their embrace.

"It's good you're alive," he tells him, and the Chief sobs out a laugh.

"You too, kid. This town would be lost without you."

"Yeah, right," Steve laughs back, and then that is that.

Except, it isn't, because when he returns to the living room with Hop, Joyce and El in tow, everyone's standing, looking at him with timid expressions. Robin and Eddie are holding hands this time, and so are all the kids. They all look like they have something to say, and the only thing missing is a large banner that says INTERVENTION.

"Uh, what's going on?"

Dustin is the first to clear his throat, but only after Erica kicks him. "We wanted to apologise. For leaving you when you needed us the most."

Oh. Steve's shaking his head, placating words already on the tip of his tongue, ready to explain to them how that's not their fault, how that was all him, he could have said something, he could have asked, he could have–

"Steve," Nancy says, effectively cutting off any protest he could have voiced. "Just listen, okay? Don't say anything."

He looks at Joyce, who nods, and Hopper who looks about as lost as he feels.

Dustin continues then. "You deserved better, Steve, you really, really did. We all did, I think, but you... You put yourself in harm's way from the get-go."

"Yeah, you came to protect me when you didn't even like me." Jonathan this time. "No thoughts, just protection. I owe my life to you. Every single one in this room does, y'know."

"And what you got for it is severe head trauma and... us abandoning you." Nancy.

"You're not just the driver, Steve. You never were just a driver to us." Hell, even Mike is in on this? "You're annoying, you suck, and you don't even try not to act like you're everyone's big brother."

"You're family, Steve." Oh, baby Byers. That's what gets his eyes stinging and his lip trembling, so he bites down on it so they won't have to see. It's futile with the way they're smiling.

"Yeah. You're so much more than our babysitter," Lucas explains. "You're the best basketball coach."

"You actually listen to my music and read comics with me," Max continues with a smile. "You suck just a little less than everyone else in this town."

"Hey!"

"No, she has a point."

Steve's not keeping up with the who's who anymore, he's trying too hard to keep it together.

"You teach me new words," El says, smiling. "You give me your clothes, you take me shopping, you teach me how to deal with meanies."

And the list goes on. Everyone has something to say to him, something beyond the ways he can be useful. Something that he is to them, something meaningful, something that sounds a lot like purpose and family.

"And we were so scared, because you were hurt. Because of us. You were protecting us, and look where it got you. You're a hero, Steve. As real as they get, you are one."

"More than Wonder Woman," Max agrees. "More than Superman. You're Steve! And that's... He’s our hero."

"He’s our brother," Dustin says.

"He’s my son," Joyce adds, taking his hand.

"He’s our friend," Erica, Mike and El say in unison.

“He’s the one we stay for.” Robin’s eyes shine as she smiles.

“And the one we come back for.” Eddie’s smile is gentle, confident, and captivating. Steve can’t look away, even through his own tears.

---

In the following months, Robin gets her license and Eddie develops a sixth sense for whenever Steve needs to just sit in a car and ride around town, watching the street lamps pass and letting them lull him to sleep. There’s an upside to being a passenger, he finds, because he falls asleep like this a few times, always waking when Eddie kills the engine. He drives for hours sometimes, admitting with a blush high on his cheeks that he didn’t want to wake Steve.

Somewhere on the highway to Indianapolis, between three and four in the morning, Steve looks at Eddie in the soft glow of the night, and finds that he’s fallen in love.

And in the weeks and months and years that follow, he realises that that’s something new he’s good at.

[hrryshoney]

#1 😏😏

oh i got youuuu, sorry this is so late but i hope u enjoy friend :) i have severe writers block so let’s see if i can pull myself out

1. “What if I just continued to rile you up?”

It has been a night. Matty had brought you out for a night with the guys, a little bar and some karaoke. You knew you would have a good time regardless, but when you heard Charli was going to be there it sealed the deal for you. Why would you ever miss out on a night with your closest, and most fun, friends?

But now, you were wishing you had declined his offer. Not because you weren’t having fun, but because Matty wouldn’t know self control if it slapped him in the face.

When he had a few drinks in him, Matty was all over you. But he knew what he was doing. And that almost made it worse. That the alcohol hadn’t in fact been muddling his brain, and that he just loved to tease you. Whether he was burying his face in your neck to press kisses up the expanse of your skin, or if he had his arms wrapped around you practically hanging off your body.

Or, when he had his hand on your thigh. Innocent enough, he was caught in conversation with somebody you couldn’t remember the name of. He trailed his fingers up and down your leg, tapping them lightly every so often. You were fine with it, happily zoning out looking at one of the TV screens above the bar.

But then he started moving his hand higher up your thigh, the fabric of the skirt you were wearing getting slowly bunched at your waist. You turned your head to look at him, realizing he was still fully immersed in his conversation. What you could see, though, was that hint of a smirk on his face. And then you knew, he knew what he was doing. And he was having fun with it.

Your hand moved from where it was resting under your thigh to grab his, smoothing your palm on the back of his hand. When he didn’t stop, you squeezed him, trying to intertwine your fingers with his. Matty moved his hand so it was on top of yours, squeezing back and then moving your own back beside yourself.

You assumed he was done then. Until his hand moved back to the exact spot he was previously in. Rubbing circles into your upper thigh, and pressing down when he felt you squirming in the booth. His friend payed no mind to you, as what was happening all took place out of sight. Matty’s hands moved diligently below the table.

He kept this up for what felt like hours, and Matty’s friend just talked so much. You had to say something, or else you would go insane. “Matty?” You looked over at him, trying to cross your legs. You were stopped when you felt his hand tense, his strength not allowing you to complete the action.

When Matty looked back at you with a winning smile, you knew you were in for it. “Yeah, honey?” He tilted his head as he looked at you, and you were all too aware of his friend watching the conversation. You kicked his foot under the table, and Matty’s hand only moved higher up your thigh, his foot lightly brushing your ankle. “What do ya need?”

You knew he only had three drinks max tonight, and he just wanted to watch you squirm. You cast your eyes to the man across from you, then back to Matty. You squinted at him and bit your lip, hoping he would get your message without you having to spell it out for him. “Can we talk, please?” You pouted your lip out, fluttering your lashes at him. You saw him bite the inside of his cheek, raising his glass to his lips with his other hand to hide the expression on his face.

Matty regained his composure, letting his attention leave you to turn back forwards. “Luke, mate, can you give us a minute? I mean,” Matty looked at you from the corner of his eye, purposely lowering his tone. “Women, am I right?” He smiled condescendingly, and you watched Luke’s eyes go wide in understanding with a nod. You clenched your jaw and looked at Matty, lightly punching his shoulder.

“Fuck you.” You said, a giggle slipping through your serious facade. Matty flicked you back, his hand still not leaving the spot on your thigh. Your skin felt warm, now.

“Oh, you know you want to.” There was that grin again. You rolled your eyes, and you felt your skirt moving again. You looked down at Matty’s hand, and realized the better half of your legs were now completely on display. Though they were hidden by the table and booth, you were still in a public space. With people.

“Not here.” You said in a sing song voice, scooching away from him in the booth. Though, his hand still lingered on your leg. You could never truly reject him. “Don’t tease me.” You whined, throwing your head back against the wood backing. “You just want a rise out of me.”

Matty raised his eyebrows at you, a look of faux offense crossing his face. He brought his free hand up to his heart. “What do you take me for?” He chuckled at the expression on your face, still massaging your thigh. You swore you could feel him touch the fabric of your panties. Your hand came down firmly on the table.

“Matty!” You squeaked out, almost too high. You checked your surroundings, but realized everyone was either too drunk or immersed in the loud music to care. “I take you for a tease. Now, knock it off.” You tried to keep your expression stern, but it faltered when you felt his breath fan across your neck.

“Aw, baby.” He pouted his lips at you, speaking in an almost patronizing tone. “What if i just continue to rile you up, huh?” Matty’s fingers tucked themselves under the waistband of your underwear, fingernails lightly scratching your abdomen. “What are you gonna do about it?” He leaned in, nose skimming across your cheek. He licked his lips, and you rolled yours between your mouth as to not let a sound slip out.

Matty lowered his head, pressing kisses to your collarbone. Lightly sucking the skin of your neck, his teeth grazing the area. His hands continued their path, and you could feel the pad of his fingers on your clit. Barely touching, but making your mouth fall open. “I- Matty.” You closed your eyes, biting your bottom lip hard.

Matty’s fingers circled your clit, then dipping down to gather the wetness from your hole. “Be good for me, maybe I’ll let you cum.” You nodded your head at him mindlessly. He smirked, fingers continuing their assault. He rubbed his middle and ring through your slit, coming back up to pinch your clit. You let out a quiet whine, looking around quickly to make sure no one was in ear shot.

He somehow leaned in even closer to you, his breath on your ear causing goosebumps to rise on your skin. “Fucking slut getting stuffed with my fingers in public.” He took two fingers down to your entrance, circling there before thrusting them inside of you. Your eyes went wide, and you tried to bring your hand up to your mouth as casually as possible. “Don’t want them to hear you? But you’re so eager for it. Should at least let them hear how good I make you feel.” His dark brown eyes were almost black now, fingers moving in and out of you at a steady pace. His thumb coming to press down on your clit.

You shook your head, “O-only you. Only you get to hear me.” You don’t know how you managed, but you pushed the sentence out. You tried to clench your thighs, but Matty’s strong hand was in the way. His opposite hand coming down to rest on your thigh, prying them apart.

“That’s right, baby. Only me. Only I get to hear you, and see you, and fuck you. Only I get to treat you like the whore you are, right?” Matty’s tone made you dizzy, but you couldn’t help but agree with him. It was the truth. It was only ever him. You slightly bucked your hips into his hand, punching his fingers deeper inside of you. He pulled them out for a second, pinching your clit and then shoving them back inside of you.

“Matty,” You lowered your voice, head falling on his shoulder. Your chest was heaving. “I need to cum, please. Please let me.” You pleaded, needing to feel release. His fingers sped up, and the pressure on your clit increased. You spread your legs further for him, and you were so close you could practically taste it.

Then, it stopped. Matty’s fingers were out of you, all contact from your clit was gone. His hand left your thigh, and your panties. You opened your eyes and looked over at him, the feeling of pleasure now dissipating from your stomach. You were sure you looked crazy. “Alright, darling?” He asked, smile on his face as he brought his digits to his mouth to lick his fingers.

“Are you fucking serious?” Your tone was incredulous. You felt shaky from your ruined orgasm. Looking around once more to make sure nobody’s attention was on you. “All that just to stop.” You chuckled, knowing you sounded like a brat.

“I told you if you were my good girl that I might let you cum.” He said, shrugging his shoulders. Matty moved, slowly getting out of the booth. “Gonna take you home and let you prove yourself to me. Then I’ll give you whatever you want.” He winked as he sleeved on his leather jacket, holding his hand out for you to grab. You complied, stepping out of the booth and letting him lead you through the crowd of people. When Matty opened the passenger side door of the car for you, you clenched your thighs together once more.

With him in the driver seat, he pulled out of the bar’s lot. The familiar drive home laying out in front of you. Matty’s warm hand was back on your thigh.

[manicpixiedreamcurl]

No Happy Endings (Unless Fairy Tales Come True).⁺˚*･☾

Pairing | Eddie Munson x reader

Warnings | 18+ only, minors DNI. Porn with smatterings of a plot. Cheating (reader cheats with Eddie as do others), oral (female receiving), protected P in V sex, kinda sad Eddie but only for a bit, brief mention of uncomfortable sexual situations, readers first orgasm, little bit of Eddie with somebody else. Some generalisations about gender and sex for plot reasons.

Word Count | ~9,300

Request | Once upon a time I made an offhand comment in the tags of an ask saying it’s possible Eddie’s fucking lots of cheerleaders behind their boyfriend’s backs. Then an anon threw it right back at me and it’s haunted my thoughts ever since.

A/N | The initial comment was offhand. Reader is not a cheerleader, she’s just pals with cheerleaders. Also cheating is bad etc etc. I also don’t really think Eddie would do this, but I’m taking my Eddie just wants to be loved thing to its logical endpoint; Eddie is become slut, destroyer of pussy.

.⋆｡⋆✮˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆. 

Can we-,” she groans softly, biting her shiny lip as she looks at him over her shoulder. “Can we, uh uh, turn the music off?”

Eddie’s gaze shifts from watching himself disappear inside her to the flushed cheeks of her face, her long fluttering eyelashes. 

“No, we can't."

"But-" Eddie grasps her cheerleader ponytail, silky in his fist, and pushes her face forward into the mattress, whatever she was going to say now muffled by his sheets. 

She doesn't seem to mind. That little squeak she makes when she's close starts picking up when Eddie grinds a little rougher into her, liking what was supposed to be a silent punishment for her request 

Eddie has to hold back a scoff, has to stop himself from leaning over to turn the dial on his stereo as far right as it’ll go, instead. 

He likes her, as much as he can like the sexually frustrated popular girls he brings back here. She just ignores him in the halls, instead of overacting disdain for him in front of her jock boyfriend’s face. 

That, and her pussy clasps his dick like it’s in love. 

But that’s the new Iron Maiden album she’s talking about, and he’ll be damned if he turns it off for a girl who’ll kiss her boyfriend tomorrow morning with the mouth that moaned for him tonight. 

In the next thirty seconds she cums around him with a shudder, back arching, presenting her ass to him like she wants it spanked. But he's not allowed to do that, lest her boyfriend bend her over tomorrow and find a lasting mark in the shape of Eddie's hand, darker where his rings are. 

That's the image that makes him cum, the real reason he does this. Some time this week or next, the basketball player that thinks this girl loves him will call Eddie or one of his friends a freak, maybe shove him in the hall or write dumb shit on his locker. And it won't hurt like it used to. What pain there is will be buried deep under the thought that now gets Eddie through the monotonous nightmare that is high school, that lets him grin in the face of almost every mouth breathing neanderthal that thinks Eddie's the dirt under their white sneakers.

I fucked your girlfriend stupid. 

Eddie rolls off her and settles back into his pillows with a long sigh, tugs the condom off himself carelessly. He searches his bedside table half blind, flicks the lighter when he finds it, smoke curling up from the new cigarette between his lips. All the while, he listens to the sounds of a woman dressing. Rustling fabric and whirring zips, the drag of a hairbrush through touch-messy locks.

Eddie doesn't watch. It's not for him. 

He doesn't get the intimacy of watching a pleasured woman put herself back together. No coquettish looks over naked shoulders or flirty wiggling hips. Neither does he get the kisses, or the girlish smiles and shy waves in hallways. He doesn't carry anyone's books, or cuddle up with take out and a movie. Eddie doesn't get gentle hands in his hair or a lap under his head.

He doesn’t even get his name, cried out in pleasure, from these girls who wish he was someone else.

But he does get their moans, real and desperate. And that's enough. What more could he expect?

"Hey, so, I thought I could maybe come by next week, around the same time?" 

Eddie glances over. She's pristine now, like he’d never touched her. Not for the first time, he spies the little cross around her neck and doesn’t bother holding back the scoff.

"Sure," he nods, used to this routine from her and all the others. She'll get cold feet around the three day mark, tell him she has to stop doing this. Then she'll show up anyway, looking sad and guilty until he fucks it all away. Eddie takes a long drag and watches her stand there awkwardly, wanting to leave but not wanting to be rude. 

Then she remembers who he is. "Okay, bye then." 

She's out of his room in a second, heading to his front door at pace. If Eddie feels a prickle of hurt in his chest, he knows just how to beat it away. 

"Tell Rory I said hi!"

.⋆｡⋆✮˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆.  

Eddie's face hasn't lost the pleased smirk since you approached him after school. 

It appeared the second after you asked, in a way that you’d clearly practised, if you could buy from him. Standing there by his van, surrounded on all sides by your classmates finding their own way home, he’d fixed you with a look. Dark eyes you'd never properly taken in scanned you shamelessly. With his tongue pressed to his top lip, Eddie crossed to the passenger door and opened it with a swing and mock gentlemanly gesture. "Alright, hop in. We'll get you what you need."

Now, sitting to his right with your knees pressed together nervously, you can't help but keep looking over at him for seconds at a time. You’d thought that by this point you’d have convinced yourself not to go through with it. That sitting next to him this long would get it through your head that this is Eddie Munson, and even considering this is crazy.

He’s not your boyfriend. That should be the first thing you think, but instead you’re caught up in the knowledge that last week you would not have looked at him twice, in a relationship or out of it. They would never have considered going home with Eddie, and neither would any of your friends. Or so you thought, before a group of them, cheerleaders all, had admitted what they’d done with him. In his trailer, in the woods behind school, in this van.  

“It’s not the fifties anymore!” Stacey had said, smile all pity for your clear confusion. “We all love our boyfriends.” This had prompted a chorus of agreement from the five other girls who’d admitted to meeting with Eddie. “But it’s not like we’re going to be with them forever. Why not get some experience with somebody…good? Even if he is a complete loser in literally every single other way.”

You’re trying to wrap your head around it as you look at him. You hadn’t thought of him as a loser, exactly, but certainly unpopular. And that wasn’t you being unfair. It’s like he rebels against it, being liked. The way he jumps at people in the cafeteria and makes himself the fool in class. He wears t-shirts with monsters and screaming faces on them. He carries around a pocket knife. You’ve seen his initials carved into enough desks to be sure of it. 

But then, Bea had told you, all earnesty. “It’s kind of different with him. He won’t…pressure you, if you change your mind.”

You’d watched five girls nod in agreement with varying degrees of willingness to admit it. 

It had shocked you to your core at the time. But now that same core is warm at the suggestion. In truth, Eddie Munson is better looking than you'd ever let yourself think. Those wide eyes you'd got a good look at earlier are framed by long dark eyelashes. His lips are plush and pink, framed sweetly by boyish dimples. His hair looks clean and soft, his hands on the steering wheel look strong. 

When you look up from those hands, you find that the smirk has been replaced by a grin. He's caught you staring, and you are left with a hot face and a mind that searches for a way to change the unvoiced subject. 

"Who is this?" You ask, gesturing to the radio, the melodic wailing and electric guitar unfamiliar to you. 

Eddie raises an eyebrow. "Black Sabbath? Ozzy Osbourne?" 

You nod, realising you have no way of building on that information even as you open your mouth to reply. It closes again, and Eddie’s face sinks into irritation. 

"I have a pretty good radar for silent judgement, you know."

"I wasn't." You shake your head in earnest at his disbelieving look. "Honest. I don't really know enough about it to judge."

Eddie hums, then smiles sardonically. "Certainly hasn’t stopped anyone before." 

You chew your lip, wondering how you're going to turn this around. You don't even know entirely what you're supposed to do. Seduce him? That doesn't seem likely to work at this point. Ask him directly to what, fuck you? Treat you like you don't have a boyfriend waiting for your call? 

As it happens, you don't really need to do anything. Eddie pulls up outside his trailer and looks at you with a tilted head. "So, how do you want it?" When you blink, he gestures between you. "This. You’re welcome in the castle, but we can fuck in the backseat if you prefer."

You can't imagine how you look to Eddie after that. Something fishlike, with widened eyes and an open mouth. Embarrassment floods through your veins, that despite your admittedly weak efforts to seem casual and aloof, you may as well have written your intentions across your chest and flashed him. 

"Have I really been that transparent?”

Eddie narrows one eye, shrugs in a yeah, kind of, gesture that has you covering your face with your hands. 

“You must think I’m a terrible person,” you mumble into your palms.

“Mm? Oh, cause of the boyfriend thing?” He breathes a laugh through his nose. “Nah, I don’t care about that.” When you don’t respond, Eddie sighs. “Who’s your boyfriend again?”

You glance through your fingers at him, find those wide eyes directed entirely at you. “Kenneth Hunt.”

Eddie smirks and tilts his head forward to hide his face for a second. When he looks back up at your worried expression, he shakes his head as if getting rid of a thought then stares at you straight. “Couldn’t care less about the guy. Far as I’m concerned, you’re doing the right thing here.”

You drop your hands to your knees, rubbing over the skin with your sweaty palms. “You’re just saying that cause you wanna get laid.”

Eddie’s pink lips curve into a smirk again, eyes bright with mischief and anticipation.“I think you know exactly how easy it is for me to get laid without you, sweetheart.” He opens his door, barely paying you any mind when he continues. “You’re already here, but finding somebody else would be inconvenient, at worst.”

Eddie walks to his door with confidence, a trademark bounce in his step. Your eyes shut tight, allowing yourself a second to breathe without him looking at you. Maybe you thought you’d have more time, a little longer to decide if you really wanted to do this. You had the $20 bill in your purse ready in case you chickened out and actually ended up buying weed you’d have dumped in a random trash can on the way home. 

Even now, you are wondering if you are the sort of person who can go through with this. At the start of your relationship, the very thought of being with anyone else would have disgusted you. 

It is not a surprise when you realise that it just doesn’t anymore. 

When Eddie turns after getting the door open, he finds you walking up after him. His lips purse in a smile and he ducks his head, gesturing for you to enter first. 

You don’t know what you were expecting a drug dealer’s home to look like. Certainly, this homely, cosy room wasn’t it. The whole place is obviously masculine; in need of dusting and lacking the subtle decoration of women. But it looks like the home of a middle aged man, not that of the rebellious boy whose hands are already touching eagerly at your waist.

There’s even a pair of grey slippers by the door. 

A shiver runs up your back when Eddie’s mouth finds your shoulder, the sting of it warm even through your clothes. You make space for him to drift up to uncovered skin, wanting to let go when you feel soft lips and warm breath on the sensitive place where your shoulder meets your neck. Instead, you allow curiosity to come out.

"You, um, really like mugs, huh?" 

"Hmm?" Eddie says, pausing his seduction to glance where you are looking. "Oh. Right. No, my uncle used to collect 'em? Same with the hats." 

"How come?" 

His fingers twitch at your waist. "He, uh, used to drive trucks for a living?" Eddie shrugs, a hand coming up to tuck hair behind his ear in a gesture you might read as bashful if he were anyone else. "Picked 'em up wherever he went."

"One way to keep a travel log, I guess." You smile, and for just a second Eddie smiles back. Not the pleased smirk or the sardonic grin he’d given you talking about his music. A genuine, happy thing that softens his eyes. 

You pull your bottom lip into your mouth with your teeth. He really is good looking up close. You can’t help thinking that maybe he would have been from a distance, too, if you’d ever allowed yourself to look. 

Eddie seems to sense the change in your demeanour. If you were less desperate, you might regret prompting the loss of his shy, pleased expression. As it is, the return of his mouth to your neck has you rubbing your thighs together, seeking friction already. Teeth scratch the skin of your jaw, a tease of coming roughness that has your toes curling in your shoes.

“C’mon through,” he says, turning your acquiescent body the direction he wants it to go, walking behind your clumsy legs. 

“Okay, this makes way more sense,” you laugh. This room is all him. Records and cassettes, multiple guitars, clothes everywhere. The smell of smoke, the smell of Eddie. 

A messy bed. A dirty ashtray. An open pack of Trojans.

Eddie hums dismissively, pressing himself to your ass. He feels hard and ready, twitching against you at the soft, feminine sound of surprise you let out. Experienced fingers smooth up your thigh, until his hand is digging into the softness at the top, a single thumb playing with the frilled elastic of your panties. 

“How do you want it?” His thumb smooths along cotton, finds the split of your pussy through the fabric and your cunt clenches. “Hm. How about I get you warmed up first, yeah? Play with this little pussy till I can slide right in.”

Eddie presses his thumb up where you are wettest, humming happily at the heat of your cunt while your knees shake, ready to collapse and leave yourself open to whatever he wants. 

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s how I want it.”

“Well, good,” he laughs, his free hand pulling up the hem of your skirt. “‘Cause that’s how you’re going to get it.”

Your eyes flutter at the feeling of Eddie's callused fingers dipping under the waistband of your panties. He stops a minute to play with the curls of hair on your mound and smiles against your neck at the pleading wiggle of your hips. When Eddie’s fingers pull your lips apart, exposing your sticky cunt to his touch, he sighs approvingly into your ear. "There she is." 

His fingers tease gently at your entrance, gathering wetness and rubbing at the smooth lips of your cunt while you both stare down at his hand working beneath the fabric of your panties.

“Fuck,” you breathe, knowing he must be feeling exactly how excited and ready he has you. Eddie fills your clenching cunt with two fingers, the stretch of them walking that blissful line between pleasure and pain. Your body jolts at the intrusion, but the sound you let out is pleased, a quiet gasp and whimper that prompts Eddie to breathe a laugh into your neck.

“You like that?”

You nod rapidly, hips jumping at every slow movement of his wrist, the aching stretch and drag of his fingers in your cunt. The press of callused pads against your walls, catching perfectly against the sensitive skin of your walls and-  

“Oh, fuck.” 

Eddie curls his arm tight around the front of your waist when he feels you start to slide away, steadying you against him with a delighted laugh. "This is the best fucking part with girls,” he tells you, angling his wrist just right, your mouth falling open to allow you to gasp air into your lungs in between groans. “You’ve got all these fun little spots to work with.” He squeezes your waist for emphasis, presses his lips to your ear. “Want to know my favourite?”

Eddie’s thumb finds your swollen clit, and you know in an instant exactly why girls forget they have boyfriends when he touches them. 

He starts fucking your cunt with his fingers, pressing tight to the perfect spot inside each time while his thumb rubs tight, focused circles on your sensitive button. Your thighs shake around his hand, and Eddie coos a mocking tone that only serves to make you clench tighter around him. 

You can hear it. The building wetness, louder every second, but you can't think to be embarrassed, not when Eddie's tucked his chin on your shoulder to stare down at your body, rolling and flinching to the rhythm he sets.

"Oh, god. Fuck, fuck-" 

Your toes curl in your shoes, hips chasing his fingers and their magic though he makes no move to stop. Together, the sensitivity of your clit and your clasping hole build until you're crying out, reaching behind you to press a hand to Eddie's cheek. It’s a sudden need, an ache to see him, the person giving you this, the person determined to bring you to this blissful peak you have been desperate to reach for a long time. The ecstatic tremors people are always talking about. 

Eddie’s face turns to yours at your desperate touch. He is all flushed cheeks and prettiness; excitement in those wide eyes, his tongue peaking out in his concentration. He hums a questioning tone, and you moan back, mouth open and breathing in the smoke and mint of his breath. 

Eddie's lips are soft looking and pink. Simultaneously, or perhaps one follows the other, the thought crosses your mind that he might kiss you, and you cum on his rough fingers. 

Your body seizes up, caught between searching for more of the pleasure he brings and trying to push him away as it reaches a painful edge. Eddie's fingers are steady and unrelenting until the hand on his cheek is pushing back to tangle in his hair and you are gasping. You ache for more of his touch, the high it seems only he is capable of giving you. 

You wonder if it’s always like this, after. The feeling that parts of your body are more his than yours, now.

"Please, fuck me." 

Eddie grins, dimples pressing sweetly into his cheeks, giving your clit one last mean rub just to feel the jolt of your body pressing to his. His fingers are wet with your slick when he brings them between your faces, expression a little crazed. That pink tongue appears again to lap at his middle finger, his eyes fluttering then fixating on you.  

Your mouth opens before he even asks. Eddie presses his fingers, still dripping with you, against your tongue. It's musky and salty and natural. Nothing amazing, but the way Eddie's watching you take it gives you half a mind to suck on the digits, just to see how he might look at you while you do it. 

He pulls his hand away before you can make good, running the pads over your bottom lip. 

"It's my favourite," he murmurs, big eyes set on your drooling mouth. 

A feral, desperate part of you wants to ask if he means he likes yours best, this boy who must know the taste of so many. Your eyes flicker to his own pouty mouth, but he doesn't give you the time to lean in the way you might want to. 

"Get on the bed." Eddie releases your body, leaving you cold along your back and where his arm had held you tight around your waist. Body thrumming, you settle yourself back on his mattress, toeing off your shoes and opening your legs to let your skirt slide tauntingly up your thighs. 

If you were coming to realise how attractive Eddie was before, one orgasm deep you are convinced of his beauty. He looks even better like this; flushed and a little sweaty, his messy hair the work of your fingers. You watch him, panting, while he removes the heavy leather jacket and his shirt, throwing them carelessly to the floor. The tattoos that decorate his pale arms and chest have you sinking deeper, wiggling your hips to try and find friction against his mattress.

“You gonna take your shirt off?” He asks with a smirk. “Let me see your tits?”

You glance down at them, wondering not for the first time what the appeal is, and look up to find Eddie’s lithe hands pulling at his belt. The clink of the buckle makes your cunt clench, watching his fingers pull leather through metal. Your own hands find the hem of your top to pull it up and over your head, face heating at his unashamed gaze on the newly exposed skin.

“This, too?” You ask, reaching behind you to the clasp of your bra.

His lips curve. “You know many guys who’d say no?”

“I’m asking you.”

Eddie blinks, eyes flicking up to yours. You see him swallow under his pale throat and then he clears it, hands losing their grace to frantically undo the button and zip of his jeans.

“Yeah,” he nods, teeth abusing his pillowy bottom lip. “That, too.”

You pull at the clasp and let it fall. Eddie moans at the back of his throat, his hand slipping into the exposed check fabric of his boxers. The desperate movement of his wrist under cotton, brought on by the sight of you, could fool you into thinking he was new to this. Dark eyes drift back and forth like he’s trying to pick his favourite, a pink tongue peaking out in a show of concentration.

You laugh, shaking your shoulders to give him a show, and it’s like you’ve reset him.

Eddie grunts, takes a long breath, and pulls his thick cock from his boxers. He drags his hand over his length in a smooth stroke, the excited boy that had you giggling just a second ago replaced in an instant by a man showing off.

He has a right to it. You search for friction from his mattress at the sight of him, long and thick. A dripping head exposed when he pulls back pink skin around swollen flesh. He'll hit the end of you, that spot he’d found with his fingers. And he’ll split you apart while he's at it. 

Eddie tears open a condom wrapper with his teeth, smoothing the wet rubber down from his tip until it's stretched transparent and clinging to his heavy cock. He tilts his chin up proudly at your unashamed stare, his dick twitching. 

"Turn over." 

Happy to do as you're told if it gets him inside you faster, you turn your back to him and fall to your hands and knees. Once you are staring at his headboard, a ringed hand finds your shoulder, pushing you down until your chest is flat to his sheets, your ass up and on display for him. 

"You still want it, right?" 

You hardly think you can be hearing him right. You turn your head as best you can with half your body held flat like this, but he is out of eyeshot, your gaze only finding a stack of amps and a pile of wires that further mark this room as his. Unable to catch him, you settle for wiggling your hips, grinding into the air, your humility lost to his fingers and the sight of his cock. "Uh, no, my pussy's in the air waiting for somebody else to come along. Be serious, Eddie." 

A half there chuckle sounds above you, and a quick warm kiss is pressed to the curve of your back as his hands flip up your skirt. "Fuck yes," he breathes, eyeing your ass cupped sweetly in wet panties until he gets his fingers in the elastic to pull them down to your knees. 

You feel exposed, your most intimate place bare and open to his gaze, but you are as hot and wanting as ever, whining low into his sheets. The hand on your shoulder drifts down your back to your hip, his thumb rubbing gently over your skin when his cock meets the entrance of your pussy. 

"Relax," he says, the first gentle push of his hips not enough to get him inside when you're this wound up, body resisting the intrusion. Eddie keeps stroking your hip, lets you clench and unclench your fists and toes in your effort to let go. "'m gonna make you feel real good," Eddie assures, the promise in his tone a comfort. "Just as soon as you're ready, okay?" 

You mewl, wanting that more than anything. With a long sigh, you let the soft caress of Eddie's warm hand and the ease of his voice soothe you until your body is loose and supplicating. 

"That's right. Let me in, sweetheart." 

The slow stretch of his cock pressing inside you is an aching, brilliant burn. Your fingers curl into the bed, stuck between pushing back onto him and giving in to whatever pace he wishes to set. He stops before he reaches the end of you, panting in the air, hand caressing your hip. You whine when he pulls back, pussy clenching up in a desperate attempt to keep him inside. 

“'m tryna be gentle,” he laughs, pressing his face to your shoulder with a shaky breath. "This pussy needs looking after, ‘kay? S’too tight to force it, so don't rush me."

You nod, rubbing your cheek on his sheets, surrounded by the smell and feel of him. Eddie works you open slowly with his cock, pushing deeper before taking the sweet stretch away over and over again until you’re shaking with need. Your pussy flutters around the invading inches of his cock, twinges of pain slowly giving way to sweet pangs of pleasure.

“Doin’ so well,” he soothes, breathing harshly through his nose. “Want it all, don’t ya?”

“Want it all,” you repeat

"You need it a little harder?"

"Mm, yeah. Need it harder." 

Eddie gives you one last slow roll of his hips, his strong hands drifting up to grasp at either side of your waist. 

With the first rough thrust, you are crying out. His thick head meets that spot his fingers had located inside you, mapped out and known to him already. Eddie’s cock, heavy and hot, slides easily through the soaked walls of your cunt, your body happily inviting him to use you just like this. 

The aching stretch, the drag of his cock inside you, the dirty tease of his heavy balls smacking your clit with the way he has your hips tilted. Almost as good as all of that is the sound of Eddie above you. 

Masculine groans and fuck yeah's. Boyish laughter when your cunt squeezes happily around him, the delightful humiliation of it only encouraging your pussy to keep clasping his cock. 

"Feels good, yeah? Yeah. S'good for me, too, baby. It's a sweet little cunt you're giving me."

You shudder, whining at the sound of that. You don't exactly think it; you just know somewhere that it's true. If Eddie will touch you, fuck you, talk to you like this? Give him your pussy is exactly what you'll do. If he wants, he can have it to keep. 

You can feel that perfect incline wanting to happen again. Eddie has you mewling under him, your hips squirming to encourage his thick, warm cock deeper with every thrust he gives you. 

You have hit the familiar wall. Pleasure mounting and mounting, going nowhere. Only now it’s Eddie fucking you, and you trust him already to take you exactly where you need to go.

"I wanna cum again," you whine, barely noting the stutter of his hips. "Wanna cum. Please." 

He doesn't reply for too long, waiting until a frustrated cry leaves your lips. "I like the sound of you begging," he answers, the salacious grin on his face audible in his tone. "A little more wouldn't hurt."

Your toes curl in half irritation and half need, hating him a little despite the pleasurable prickle his teasing causes to dance up your spine. You consider screaming into his sheets until he gives you what you need. You could grab his hand and force it between your legs, or else try to draw the ecstasy up yourself if you didn't think he would only stop fucking you as punishment. 

Eddie presses deep and then deeper still, the head of his cock rubbing perfect at the end of you, and you know then that you have no use for pride when it comes to him. 

With shaking arms, you push your chest up from the mattress until you are resting on your palms, elbows locked straight. When you look back, you find Eddie flushed and sweaty, dark curls stuck to his forehead and his pink cheeks. His brown eyes are round and surprised to be looking into yours, shifting back and forth between your left and right. 

"Eddie," you say, his name leaving your mouth as a moan. "Please make me cum. I need-" You stutter and gasp at his fingers tightening a bruising grip on your waist, your clit throbbing in response to the demonstration of the strength in his hands. "I need you to do it for me, Eddie." 

He blinks at you, pink lips open to let out his pretty groans. Then he's nodding, and his right hand disappears from your waist to find your clit. 

"Thank you," you breathe at the first circle of the rough pads. Your pussy twitches as relief spreads through your body, already attune to what Eddie's touch there will bring. At once, the places he has found on your body take you to an edge that you would willingly throw yourself from. "Eddie. Eddie, Eddie- fuck-"

Your arms give way when your cunt throbs violently around him. Eddie follows you down, his chest curling over your back. He keeps his fingers working you through your high, wrapping his other arm around your front to hold you close. Reaching back to tangle your hand in his hair, you feel his lips, his warm cheek, at the sensitive skin of your neck, his aching closeness just as good as his cock at bringing about this ecstasy. 

"Shit. Shit, you're so fucking good," Eddie groans, voice a pleasant vibration on your skin. His cock twitches and jumps inside your aching hole, and you feel the sudden warmth as his cum collects at the tip of the condom. 

Your bodies twitch through aftershocks together, then slump as one to the bed. Eddie's chest holds tight to your back, his hairy thighs bracketing yours. For a few sweet, fuzzy moments, you are alone in the world with him. 

You scratch gently at his head, fingers still lost in his messy locks. Eddie breathes a long sigh then makes a gentle happy sound like a relaxing cat. 

You laugh softly, and lose him. 

Eddie's comforting weight vanishes along with his warmth as he sits up. With a sigh, he pulls his softening cock out, your pussy aching with the significant loss when he's gone.

Once you think you can control your limbs, you roll over onto your back and stare at his ceiling, searching your chest for guilt over what you’ve just done. It's not your boyfriend you can hear pulling off a condom, not him searching a cluttered side table for a pack of cigarettes. It's not him who tosses himself back on the bed beside you with a bounce. 

But you don't find shame. You're too busy feeling the relief that nothing is wrong with you. Your body is capable of what it should be, and in truth you are giddy with it. So much so that you find yourself laughing into the air, covering your face with your sweaty hands and shaking your legs at the knees. 

“Where did you learn to fuck like that?”

When you take your hands from your eyes, Eddie has a cigarette hanging from his lips, a lighter in his hands waiting to be flicked. “Uh,” he starts, grabbing the unlit smoke so he can speak with both sides of his mouth free. “I don’t know. Practice, I guess. And then you just gotta, y’know, pay attention to what the girl likes, ‘n’ what she doesn’t like, I guess.” 

You collapse into his pillows, watch him return the cigarette to his plush mouth and take a long drag, breathing out away from your face. 

“What do I like?”

Dimples appear on the cheek closest to you, shallow crow's feet at his eyes. “Liked me sweet talking you while I bullied your cunt.”

The way your pussy clenches has you believing him, curling up at his side and watching him settle himself. “Mm. Yeah. Do you like that, too?”

Eddie blinks for a second like he hasn’t heard you correctly, tilts his face down to where you are lying on his mattress, gazing up at him with a dreamy smile. “Uh, yeah,” he nods, hair a beautiful mess, shifting with his movement. “But I kinda just like fucking, honestly, so…” 

He laughs awkwardly, eyes shifting between you and his cigarette on a loop.

You nod. “I guess it’s just easier for guys.”

Eddie considers this, shrugs. “Yeah, in my experience.” He grins to the side. “Some days a strong breeze does it for me.”

You snort, reaching out to trace a line along the tattooed chain that curls around his torso. Eddie squirms a little like it tickles, but allows you to follow the links with your finger. You bite the inside of your lip, wondering where this need to tell Eddie everything you’re thinking came from. 

“Got a confession,” 

“Shit.” His eyes go wide, blinking fast with worry. “Shit, please don’t tell me I just took your virginity.” You smile, shake your head, and feel the tension leave his body. “Jesus, don’t scare me like that. What is it?”

You watch him take a drag from his cigarette, the slow rise and fall of his tattooed chest. “I, uh. No-one’s ever made me…finish, before.”

Eddie’s nose scrunches up sweetly. “Christ, that’s almost as bad. You came for the first time staring at my unmade bed.”

“I didn’t notice,” you tell him, swirling a finger around one link. Your teeth dig into the gum behind your lip. “Could’ve been looking at anything, probably, and I wouldn’t have noticed.”

Eddie licks his lips quickly, his gaze moving from your mouth to your eyes. “If I’d known it was your first time-”

“Not my first time-”

“Your first time reaching the big O, experiencing le petite mort, uh, blowing your lump-”

“Blowing my lu-”

“If I’d known,” he says, pressing a hand to his chest. “You’d have had a sweet view of this most handsome of faces between your thighs.”

You pause your touch on his stomach, blinking at him. The image is as invasive as it is appealing; those big eyes watching you while his mouth works your sensitive pussy. Your clit throbs at the thought even while you squirm with a touch of discomfort. "You really do that, Eddie?"

"Did I or did I not tell you pussy was my favourite taste?" Eddie asks, sounding a touch irritated until he takes in your expression. "You never even had your pussy eaten, sweet thing? Nobody even tried?" 

When your head shakes timidly, Eddie huffs like he means it. “Man, what is the point of sex education? Everyone’s fucking anyway, but all these boys don’t know what the hell they’re doing.” He shakes his head, looking genuinely aggrieved for you. “Need a whole semester on how to find the Goddamn clit, or else find the patience to try looking for it in the first place.”

His genuine irritation has you amused and fond in equal measure. “Who would teach that class, Eddie?” You laugh, thinking of the man who’s been teaching sex ed since your parents attended Hawkins High. 

“Hey, Coach Wright only pushes that abstinence only bullshit cause that’s what the man dictates," he snickers, clearly imagining it himself. "The man in this case being the Indiana Department of Education.”

“Of course,”

You like him like this. A boy you would have described as scary forty-eight hours ago, laughing with you, joking like old friends. If you feel any shame, it’s not for a boy across town you always thought too highly of. It’s for this boy here, who you really didn’t think of much at all. He is kind enough to be angry on your behalf. To look after you the way nobody else ever has.

And he’s pretty. You’re happy to admit it now. He is so pretty that when Eddie licks his lips and blows smoke from them, and the image of him between your thighs returns full force. What it would be to have those eyes on yours, the softness of those lips somewhere you can't see, only feel. 

You swallow, rubbing your thighs together to deal with the growing throb of your clit. 

Eddie catches the movement and blinks at you with a slow smile. He snuffs out the cigarette in the ashtray on his bedside table before turning to you with a little sigh. "You're desperate for it, huh?" 

“Yeah,” you breathe. Abandoning any possibility of playing coy, you touch at the lithe muscle of his arm. “But, not, I mean- You don’t have to. It’s already-” You look at his pleased face, hoping he hears what you want him to know. “It’s already better than it has been for me. Like ever, Eddie.”

Eddie smiles at you shyly, gifting you the sight of one dimple and the sweet shine of his soft eyes. “I’m happy to hear that. I mean, I’m not happy that it wasn’t good before. Happy that it was good, that I was good. To you. You know?” You nod, heart aching, more endeared to him with every word he speaks now that the cocky boy you pushed you into this room and bent you over to take his cock has been replaced by this blushing one who is clearing his throat nervously under your adoring gaze. “Right, yeah. Gonna eat you out now, ‘kay?”

“Okay, Eddie.” 

With gentle firmness, he leans over your face to help you lie back into his pillows, his hair falling around you and tickling your cheeks. Eddie mumbles an apology and tucks it back behind his neck only to find you staring up at him, expression soft and wanting. You watch each other. His eyes flicker, and you think, not for the first time, about what it would be like if he kissed you.

"Just to be clear,” he says, voice soft until- “It wasn't talking about Coach Wright that got you going again?" 

The reverie is broken with his laugh and your mortification. "Oh my God, Eddie, obviously not!"

"You sure? Cause I pride myself on giving, and if you need my flawless impression to make this the best it can be, I will do that for you, sweetheart." He presses a short kiss to your collar while you giggle, shaking your head at him. His lips linger at your chest, his wet tongue gliding over your nipple, lips sucking till you gasp. Just as you’re about to moan his name, he releases the pebbled bud to laugh. When he looks up, his eyes are watering with mirth. "You have some amount of nerve to look me in the eye and call that running!"

"Stop!" You cry, toes curling at the too accurate impression of the old man's crackly Southern drawl as Eddie giggles into the softness of your stomach.

"My grandmother Mabel moves faster, and she's been dead near twenty years, God rest her soul!" 

"Eddie, I hate that!"

"Oh?” He says, running a finger around your belly button. “You want dirty talk? Why, you look so damn sexy climbing that rope I could-"

You squeal, kicking your legs either side of his torso, and reach down to press a hand over his mouth, feeling the humidity of his laughing breaths against your palm. "Sto-op," you whine, waiting till he's finished laughing and is blinking slowly before moving your hand. Eddie smiles at you, dimples on display, and kisses your stomach again, down to the top of your thigh. His tongue peaks out at the sensitive skin there, hot and wet, and the throb in your cunt reminds you why he’s there.

Eddie chances a look at you, and you see in his expressive eyes that he's thinking about speaking. Instinct brings your hands to his hair, brushing back some of the damp curls at the front. His eyes flutter, some tension in his body gives way, leaving him with a cheek resting on your thigh. 

He swallows then speaks. "You want me, then?" 

Your chest hurts. You don’t look away. "Yes, Eddie. I want you." 

His eyes close tight for a few seconds, until you drag your fingers through some of the displaced curls, scratching soothingly with the pads of your fingers at his scalp. He hums softly, blinks again, then sighs as he sinks down between your thighs. 

“Ah, there she is,” he says, any traces of vulnerability lost the second he catches sight of your pussy, wet, swollen, and waiting for him. “Oh yeah, she needs more, for sure. Should’ve told me earlier, baby. I would’ve helped you out.”

“I didn’t-”

“Shhhh,” he breathes, hooking a leg over his shoulder and pressing the other aside and up so he can push in close, the soft plushness of his lips brushing your mound when he grins. “Wasn’t talking to you. ‘M having a conversation, here.” Eddie kisses at the curls of hair above your cunt, drifting down until his breath becomes a teasing caress. He gives your twitching clit a single kiss, lips wrapped perfectly around it, and your legs jump either side of his head. “Yeah, you were saying?”

“You’re so fucking weird,” you laugh, half caught between amusement and desperate anticipation, covering your face with your hands while Eddie mumble apologies to your cunt for the second interruption.

“She’s just jealous, sweet thing," he murmurs, leaving wet kisses down to your entrance, his nose bumping your aching button. "She doesn't understand our connection." 

He licks, broad and hot, up the length of your cunt with a satisfied groan. "Tastes so fucking good."

Eddie's head shakes, pressing his mouth to your weeping pussy, lapping at your soft entrance. You listen to the sound of his tongue, his satisfied lip smacks and grunts, and realise he was entirely serious about loving this. Your toes curl at every stroke of his tongue, soothing the ache his cock left behind. 

You are taunted by the way his nose keeps brushing your clit, teasing the sensitive bundle of nerves that is desperate for his mouth. If it weren't for the building ache, you could watch Eddie like this for hours. Hair messy and sticking all over his face, eyes closed in bliss. The way his head moves like he wants to get deeper, taste everything you have to give. 

Your fingers tighten in his hair, give a gentle tug, and his soft eyes find yours.

They remain half closed from satisfaction, the warmest brown lost to dark pupils. They are still the prettiest pair of eyes you've ever seen. 

"Feels good," you whine, tangling one hand in his curls. With the other, you smooth down your mound to the top of your cunt, exposing your clit with two fingers so he can see the sweet button he's been torturing. "But I need you here. Please, Eddie." 

He pulls himself from your entrance with a gentle gasp of air, the bottom half of his face soaked with you. Your talkative boy doesn't say a word, just nods desperately before lathing his tongue over your clit. 

Your thighs lock around his head without you even noticing. Your body is desperate to keep him there, though there really is no need to try and force him. Eddie will kiss your clit till you're crying if you promise to say his name like that every time it feels good. 

He circles his tongue around the top of your cunt, playing with the nerves and watching the drop of your chin, the slow but constant nod of your head while you cry out. You feel your pleasure building under his mouth, the now familiar crest approaching. Your clit twitches with your thighs and Eddie groans happily, sensing the approaching high he's drawing out with his worship of your pussy.  

Eddie gives you the perfect satisfied sound from the back of his throat, wraps his pillowy lips around your clit to suck gently at the swollen button. Your cunt numbs for a split second, close to pain, then sends flashes of ecstasy through your body as you cum. Eddie’s name comes just like he wanted, in a stream of grateful whines. 

When your limbs lose their tension, legs falling limp against his shoulders, you think this must be what it feels like to be high. Even the final press of Eddie's lips to your oversensitive clit only draws a soft grunt from you. The loss of his warmth is sudden and sharp, but you don’t let him go for long. When you feel him flop down beside you on the bed you search for him and find his hand, as strong as you had thought it would be. You press your fingers to his palm until he holds your hand properly, grounding you enough that you feel ready to speak.

"That was amazing. I mean," you breathe a laugh, turning to look at him, finding him staring up at the ceiling. "Holy shit, Eddie. You have some kind of gift."

He doesn’t glance over, blinking those big eyes at any sight but you. The movement feels natural, to try and get his attention by bringing your joined hands to your mouth. You leave a kiss to his knuckles and Eddie finally looks at you, eyes shiny. 

"Can I," you murmur into the back of his hand. "Can I stay for a while?" Your face heats at the poorly hidden surprise on his face, but you push forward with a nervous giggle. "Kinda need to wait until I can feel my feet again, anyway." 

"You can stay as long as you want, sweetheart," he nods, swallows, then corrects himself. "As long as you need.”

You chew your lip, leaning in a little to just rest your temple at his shoulder. "Good, cause I actually kind of need to know why one person needs so many amps."

You feel the subtle shake of his laughter under your head, soothing and warm, and curl up at his side, pulling at his arm until it clasps you tight. You let yourself enjoy the happiness in Eddie's voice. 

"A metalhead can never have too many amps, Princess," he assures. "Allow me to explain…"

.⋆｡⋆✮˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆.  

A little part of him hates you. 

He didn’t demand you look at him like he was special, important to you, or moan his name like that when you came. He didn’t invite you in so you could ask him about his amps, or his handmade Corroded Coffin poster, or Wayne’s collection of mugs. He didn’t ask you to stay, you just did it. 

Eddie let you stay too long, and held you in his arms too tight. He’d spoken too much, answered every question and asked his own before listening to more than he should have. He let himself get a taste of what it might be like to be wanted by you all of the time, not just when you are left disappointed by whoever you came to him to replace, forget, or punish. He might as well have smoked a whole twenty pack of Camels, the way all that sweetness turned to ash in his mouth. 

“What are you going to do now?” He’d asked, when his van stopped outside of your Mom’s pretty front garden. He’d stared at the petunias and felt stupid for even asking.

“Call my boyfriend.”

He’s glad it was dark, glad you were staring at your hands so you didn’t see him flinch. Eddie used the minute of silence after to mourn what he never had, then he’d felt you shift beside him. Your lips found the corner of his mouth, your eyes and his shut tight to savour it. An almost kiss, more fitting than anything else you could have given him. 

“Thank you, Eddie,” you’d whispered, warm breath spreading over his cheek. Cool where the tears were. “Tonight was…special.”

Eddie watched you walk inside, then slammed the heel of his palm into the dashboard until his wrist ached. 

Bea showed up at his trailer the Sunday after. She flashed the stretchy green fabric covering her mound under her pleated skirt and Eddie thought about all the times pulling at the elastane and hearing it snap back onto sensitive skin made his cock jump, trying to will that reaction when she placed her vanilla scented skin against his, rubbed her fingers over his crotch. She took his wrist to pull him towards his room, and he felt panic overtake any excitement in his chest. 

Would he lose the scent of you on his sheets if she lay herself down where he wants you to be? 

“Can we, uh, slow down?” Eddie had asked, planting his feet in the hallway before his room, feeling the pause before she replied as a physical presence between them. 

“Slow down and do what, exactly?”

Eddie’s lips twitched. Let me tell you all about my Uncle’s mug collection, he almost said. 

“I don’t know, I just- I need a minute. We could talk.”

Her hand dropped his wrist, found her hip instead. “Okay, but you know that’s not what this is, right?”

“Yeah. No, I know. I mean-” He sighed, thought, fuck, what have you done to me? “I know what this is. I’m not your boyfriend, but I’m not a sex toy, either, okay?”

"Don't act like you don't get something out of this too, Munson."

Edde ran a hand through his hair and thought about how you'd pulled his face to yours with it, how much you wanted to hold him, see him while he made you feel better than anyone else ever had. The way you’d stayed after like it meant something.

"Not what I want," Eddie said, walking decidedly back to his front door to throw it open and gesture to the cold air. "You may take your leave." 

"Whatever," Bea mumbled, her arm crossing her body, the insecurity brought on by rejection apparent in her stance. Eddie felt a touch of guilt about it. "I know one of them probably gave you puppy eyes and made you think you might have a shot, Munson, but just so you know, none of the girls are interested in you for more than this. We do talk, you know?" 

The guilt vanished, swiftly replaced by hot sharp shame that stung his throat. 

"I mean, don't fool yourself, Munson. You're fun, but you're nobody's boyfriend."

"Just…get out."

When she was gone, her baby blue sports car pulling away from his home, Eddie threw himself into his bed and allowed himself a moment to breathe the smell of you before he covered his eyes with his fists and swallowed tears

You're all he can think about. Sweet memories mixing with terrible dread, the knowledge that the dream will end abruptly for him on Monday. It's the same story as all those other girls. You'll be back with your boyfriend by then, resentment worked out by Eddie's cock. Maybe in a week or two you'll show up at his trailer, wide eyed and wanting. 

The only thing worse than that would be if you never came around again. It’s sick, he realises, but he’d put himself through it for the way you look when you cum, would go through even worse for the way you say his name when you laugh.

Eddie wonders if he can avoid the sight of you when he gets into school, keep you out of sight and until you leave his mind. But he's not at his locker longer than ten seconds when he swears he can sense your presence from the drop of his stomach.

Eddie looks up, and there you are. Walking with your boyfriend. Kenneth Hunt (dubbed Kunt by Gareth in what Eddie felt was a stroke of genius), worse than a bully. Puts on a real nice front for teachers and parents and girls. He rarely takes part in the real shit, just stands on and watches like being there while his friends shove Dustin or Jeff into a locker makes him tough. He’ll throw some insults occasionally when he’s feeling particularly brave. He’s pathetic.

But he has you.

“Fuckin’ idiot, Munson,” he mumbles, hating himself for believing for even a second that it wouldn’t have ended this way for him. Soon, as you pass him, one of two things will happen. 

You will bury yourself into that prick’s chest, bat your pretty eyes at him and act like you need protection from the freak. 

Or you’ll ignore him, flounce past like you didn’t fall apart on his fingers and his tongue and his cock. Like you didn’t lie warm and comfortable with him in his bed for hours. Like he didn’t make you smile. Like you didn’t almost kiss him. 

His chest already aches, and he’s thinking seriously about skipping his next class and hotboxing his van just to forget he ever let you in anywhere; his van, his room, his stupid, throbbing heart. 

Only, Eddie blinks at you, trying to work this scene out. You aren’t cooing in Kenneth’s ear. Or putting on that baby voice girls do with boys they like. Your face is scrunched, fingers curled into fists rather than pressed lovingly at his arm. Actually, you’re hissing at each other, the frustrated sound of a public argument trying to be kept private. 

“Baby, I seriously don’t understand where all this is coming from!” 

“I explained already,” you answer, exasperated, shaking your wrist from his hand. “I just don’t think we’re right for each other.” 

You’re approaching, and his naïve heart calls for you, hope a dangerous warmth in Eddie’s chest. 

You look up. Your eyes find his. 

“Since when, though? I just-”

“Hi, Eddie.” You wave, giving him a pretty smile, your head tilted shyly.

“Hi,” he breathes. He wouldn’t have been able to hide his excitement if he tried. But you aren’t trying, so why would he?

You bite the inside of your lip and scan him up and down, taking in his dark mess of curls, his ripped jeans and his Reeboks as you walk past with a subtle, flirty smile. Kenneth pauses, losing ground on you to instead stare at your retreating form. He turns to Eddie, jaw loose, eyes displaying his desperate attempts at joining what to him must seem like completely unconnected dots.

Kenneth’s fists clench, and he shakes the very idea from his head. “Freak,” he bites, taking off after you.

Eddie huffs a laugh, because the insult doesn’t matter anymore. Not when this new knowledge is so sweet. 

He watches the letterman jacket jog up after you, and thinks, I fucked your ex-girlfriend stupid. 

[pavlovianfuckery]

how about a fucked up game of hot potato because why not

anyone else a greedy indecisive bitch or is it just me? no? this got messy as fuck and i'm sorry, i was just unbelievably thirsty

Going to bed on the night of your birthday is a somewhat gloomy affair. The day itself had been...fine, you supposed. Sure, there had been a bit of a party, a cake and a few thoughtful gifts from your closest friends. But that had been all. Nothing wrong with any of it. Still, you couldn't help being just a bit disappointed that the only one you had truly wanted to see today had been conspicuously absent. It's stupid of course, something so insignificant as somebody turning a year older would be laughably far beneath the notice of someone like him. And still.

Annoyed, you fully expect to have several sleepless hours ahead of you, so when you drift off as soon as your head hits the pillow, it's a pleasant surprise. Even more so is where you find yourself when you enter the Dreaming.

You'd been in his chambers before, of course. It might not have been very often or for very long, as the fleeting moments before waking up always seemed to pass so quickly. Arriving straight here was new. When his arms envelop you from behind you can't hold back a smile.

"Hey. I missed you today."

"Then I hope my absence can be forgiven," his voice is sly as he continues, tightening his arms around you a just fraction, "but I must confess, I wanted you all to myself when offering my gift."

Leaning back into him, you simply bask in the feeling of having him close.

"What kind of gift would that be? Nothing nefarious, I hope."

He rests his chin on your shoulder and clicks his tongue in mock disapproval, breath tickling your ear. "'Nefarious'? You wound me. That would depend entirely on what you wish for."

"I see. So the gift is a wish, then? Can I wish for anything I want?"

"Within reason, yes. Do you perhaps have a request in mind already?"

Being spoilt for choice isn't your strong suit and usually, this kind of situation would leave you at a loss and unable to make any choice at all, but for once you do know what you want. The real question is if he will go for it or not. Possibly mistaking your hesitation for reluctance, he makes you face him.

"I do have something I would like, but it's...silly." Biting your lip you turn your eyes away, unable to keep some embarrassment from showing.

"I have already seen your every fantasy, every dream. Nothing you could request would shock me," he reassures you."So go on my sweet, make your wish known, for I long to hear it."

"It's more of a combination of two different things, now that I think about it."

"Fortunately for you, I find myself in a very generous mood this evening." His tone is dry but his lips twitch into a small smile.

"Okay, so, first things first. Could I..." you take a deep breath, "Could I have more of you?"

"More in what sense?" The question doesn't faze him in the slightest, which bodes well for the other half of the request.

"In the 'more than one of you' kind of sense." Your cheeks are blazing and you almost can't believe that you just said that, but at least now the cat is out of the bag. Or one cat, at any rate.

"While we are here, in my realm, you certainly could. Is that what you want?" The way he looks at you when he asks makes lust coil in your belly, hot and heavy.

"Sort of." You plant a quick kiss on the corner of his mouth, "Do you remember..." you fiddle with the collar of his coat a bit, still feeling a bit shy about the whole thing, "when you showed me some of the things you used to wear, way back when?"

"I do." Judging by the look in his eye, he can tell where this is going. "As I recall, you rather enjoyed that."

"I did. Very much, in fact." The way he preens at that is kind of adorable.

"And was there, by any chance a...favourite?" He looks at you through lowered lashes, the way he fishes for another compliment not nearly as subtle as he would probably like to think.

"Well, you see, that's the problem, I don't think there was." You've never seen him confused before, but this comes pretty close. Figuring it's better to rip the bandaid off sooner rather than later, you go on; "I adored every version of you. How could I choose only one? I want all of you."

"Is that your wish?" You have a sneaking suspicion that he will be insufferable after this, because he looks like a cat that has eaten an entire flock of canaries, eyes gleaming. "To have one of me for every era? All at once?"

"Can I?" The thought makes your insides quiver, want making you almost dizzy. "You're not...upset with me or anything?"

That makes his eyebrows shoot up, or as close to it as you've ever seen.

"My love, how could your request possibly upset me? If anything, I am flattered that you would hunger after me so." He cups your chin in his hand and brushes his lips across yours. "I would deny you nothing, but I do have terms of my own."

"Tell me." The eagerness in your voice makes him smile again and you almost regret the whole thing immediately, because if there is one thing he doesn't particularly need, it's an ego boost.

"As it happens, my request is also twofold. Firstly, I get to watch." He slides his arms around your waist and pulls you close, and his breath is hot against your ear as he continues; "Secondly, you may have each of me only once, and after you have had your fill, I fully intend to have my own turn with you as well."

"That sounds," the thought of him watching you like that makes the words stick as if your tongue was made of flypaper and you struggle to swallow, getting the words out. "Sounds fair. Why only once though?"

"I admit my motive for that is entirely selfish; I want you lucid enough by the end of it for me to enjoy properly." The way he says it is almost a purr, and if your knees weren't weak before they're certainly starting to get there now. That he would even be willing to indulge you like this wasn't a given, but him outright enjoying it makes you almost giddy.

"Okay. So, this is a bit embarrassing but...I have no idea how this is supposed to work. I didn't really think that far ahead," you admit a bit sheepishly. "Is there anything I should keep in mind at all?"

"Did your appetite get the better of you?" That earns you an outright chuckle, though not unkind. "No matter, I will take care of you," he strokes your cheek with a soft smile. The emphasis on 'take care' doesn't go unnoticed, and it makes anticipation buzz under your skin. "The only thing I require of you tonight is that you enjoy yourself. You need not treat them any differently than myself because, in every way that matters, that is what they are."

"And you're sure that you're alright with this? I don't want you to feel like you're being left out or anything like that." You frown up at him, feeling terribly selfish.

"Your concern is touching but unnecessary, my love." He rubs his thumb over your bottom lip, his tone airy as he continues, "Anything I create for you will be connected to me, and in part, I will share in the sensations."

Flicking his eyes over your shoulder, he steps closer and kisses you deeply, pushing you to take a few steps back until you hit something solid and pair of arms circle your waist from behind. Your heart is beating against your ribs like a bird in a cage and when another pair of hands join in and slides under the hem of your shirt, it feels like all the air leaves your lungs at once. When you whimper into his mouth, he pulls back and has the absolute gall to smirk at you.

"Go on now, indulge yourself to your heart's content. I will be right here, awaiting my turn."

And with that, he saunters over to the sturdy chair by the desk and sits down, in what might be the most nonchalant way you've ever seen. Leaving you there with, well, all of him.

It's a bit like being thrown to a particularly polite pack of ravenous wolves. Being surrounded like this is a bit disorienting and with the way they all eye you hungrily, the thought that you might be in over your head this time flashes in your mind. It's surprisingly gentle though, the way you get passed from one version of him to the next, all of them stepping in close, taking turns, putting you at ease. You've always marvelled at the softness of him, of his skin, but in this mass of bodies and mouths and grasping hands, it feels like you could drown in it.

The way they undress you is no less gentle, one pair of hands passing you to the next until your bare skin is pressed against the myriad of fine fabrics. Some questionable decisions aside he has always dressed well, every texture brushing your skin feeling nothing less than luxurious. It's intense, all the teasing little touches and kisses from every direction, and they don't stop even when you feel like you might implode. The entire time you can feel the way your Morpheus watches you, his gaze on you an almost physical weight.

It's overwhelming, and your knees start to buckle. For a moment you think that you might just sink to the floor, but strong arms steady you as the closest one pulls you to him, the cloth of his tunic so lovely against your heated skin.

"It's alright," he murmurs against your lips, "I've got you."

Pushing one leg between yours he guides your hips, encouraging you to grind against it. It feels better than it has any right to, and when he backs the few steps away to the bed and hauls you on top of him, you don't resist. You're not expecting to come like this, humping his leg like a bitch in heat and ruining his trousers, but the rest of him won't stop touching you and he's watching you and it's simply too much. His slightly longer hair tickles your cheek as you hide your face in the crook of his neck, and with one last slow drag over his thigh, you come, without even meaning to.

Some silly part of your brain feels like you should be apologizing, but when you open your mouth to do just that, this version is gone and you're alone on the bed. You shoot a confused look at your Dream, sitting leisurely in the chair still.

"Did you forget my terms, my love?" He looks like butter wouldn't melt in his mouth as he reminds you, clearly enjoying himself.

Not letting it get to you, you simply set your sights on the next one. It's not as easy as you might have hoped. It's a lot like being a kid in a candy store at this point, they all look so tempting and you just want to devour every single one.

You've always enjoyed a good suit though, and the suit he'd chosen for one of the more recent versions of himself was very good. His hair is shorter than you can recall ever seeing it, and with the ruby shining at his throat, he looks every bit the distinguished gentleman. The sharp lines of the suit are a stark contrast to the rest of him, making the plush pink of his lips look even more inviting. That's probably not the effect he intended, to look kissable rather than imposing, and the thought almost makes you giggle. It doesn't stop you from approaching him and doing just that, though, grabbing hold of his lapels as you do so.

The kiss leaves you winded, the fabric of the expensive-looking suit jacket rubbing deliciously against your nipples.

"This is a good look on you," the words are a bit breathless in their delivery, but they do come easier now, inhibitions crumbling away. The shorter hair feels a bit strange in your hand, not being as much to pull on. It still works though, and he gives easily enough, letting you bite his neck gently, scraping your teeth over the creamy skin. "You should wear a suit more often."

He's a bit too perfect though, still too composed. Undoing the buttons of the vest takes some doing, but you manage it, fingers barely shaking at all. The dress shirt is a lot thinner than what you're used to, and having him so close with almost nothing separating your hands from his skin is maddening.

"Perhaps I shall," the slight curve of his lips makes you want to kiss him again but he grabs your chin, his grip surprisingly gentle as he runs his thumb across your bottom lip. "Tell me what you would like."

You can't resist flicking your tongue out, licking the pad of his finger as you consider your options. When you suck the digit into your mouth he blinks at you slowly, and you can feel him stir through his trousers. It makes your mouth water, makes you know precisely what you want.

"I want to suck you." It comes out as a sigh, full of longing. "Want to come with you in my mouth." Stroking his thighs through the deceptively thin fabric feels wonderful, the muscles of his legs firm under your hands. "Can I? Please?" When you meet his eyes, they are barely blue anymore, the way they reflect the light betraying his true nature.

"You may."

He makes dropping to your knees so easy. Something about kneeling at his feet like this feels right, and as he gets his length out and rubs the tip over your lips you can't stop a small whine from escaping.

"You have the prettiest cock I've ever seen, have I told you that?"

"No." He strokes your hair, gently encouraging you. "Show me."

It's not an order, not quite. Still, he doesn't have to tell you twice. Everything about him is so smooth, his skin like silk as you run your lips over him. At first, you simply lick at the head, teasing fat drops of pre-come out of him, lapping them up like the most precious of pearls. The way they coat your tongue is heady and it always makes you feel oddly powerful, this tangible proof of the effect you have on him. Using your hand to cover what your mouth can't, you start working him in earnest, putting on a bit of a show as you let the drool drip down your chin, drawing the loveliest noises out of him.

The long, shaky exhale as he hits the back of your throat makes you ache.

"Touch yourself for me."

You can't respond, but you can do as he says, so that is exactly what you do. It's hard to do it effectively, but you don't have to be very precise, just the sounds you coax out of him as you bob your head is enough to bring you a good part of the way on their own. From here you can see your Dream from the corner of your eye, and it looks like he wasn't being disingenuous about the "sharing the sensations" part. His cheeks are flushed, legs spread wider than before as he breathes heavily, his eyes never straying from you. Even from here, you can tell that he is painfully hard, the tightness of his jeans does nothing to hide it.

Just to see what he'll do, you decide to press your limits, just a little. In the waking world, you probably wouldn't be able to do it very easily, not like this. But this is the Dreaming, so you relax your throat and take him even further. When you swallow around him the noise he makes above you is a strangled thing and he grabs onto your shoulder, steadying himself.

"Do that again."

When you do, the Dream watching you sags in his seat, knuckles white as he grips the armrests. It doesn't take a lot after that, hearing him and tasting him and watching the way he watches you. It's not as fast as the first time, but you still come faster than you wanted to, your own fingers pushing you over the edge with a few shaky rubs. With the way he fills your throat, you can't even moan as you spasm around nothing, regretting that you hadn't asked for more, to be filled there too.

You wish you could have kept going a while longer but you had agreed to the terms and he holds you to them, though it's less of a surprise this time around. Still just as frustrating though.

"I wasn't finished with that one," you pout at him.

"You were, though." His breathing is still a bit uneven. "Would you rather argue with me, or enjoy the rest of your gift?" Before you can respond he continues, "Or have you perhaps changed your mind? I can take it back if you'd prefer."

"Now you're just being mean." It gets you to your feet and moving again though, not wanting to risk finding out that he's serious. He always looks good so making any kind of choice is still difficult, but you manage. This one you trap against the edge of the desk with your body, caging him in with your arms.

"Why the fuck," you ask, kissing his neck, "are you dressed like a priest? On second thought, don't answer that."

"You seem to like it well enough," he murmurs as you grind your hips into his.

"It's absolutely ridiculous." Twisting the voluminous sleeves you wind the fabric around your hands, using it to pin his wrists to the desk as you bite his neck, perhaps a little bit rougher than you had originally intended.

"Never have I met a creature quite as greedy as you, my love," he groans as you mark him, bruises staining his pale throat prettily. "I would lay my hands on you, if you'd have me. Let me please you."

The way he says it makes it sound so good, so tempting, that you let him go, let him lay you out on top of the desk. This way you're close enough to touch your Dream, so you reach for him, pulling him down for a kiss. Being crowded like this feels better than you had ever imagined as they take turns kissing you, touching you, until you're almost dizzy with lust again.

"Is this..." you pant against his lips as one of his other selves sucks one of your nipples into his mouth greedily, "is it alright, like this?"

Every bit of worry or shame evaporates as he slides a finger into you, though, making you abandon the kiss in favour of watching his hand between your legs. The sleeves might look ridiculous but they feel lovely dragging over the insides of your thighs as he pumps in and out of you slowly. He's always known how to touch you well, and this time is no exception as he adds a second finger, hooking them just so. The way his fingers drag over that one spot inside makes you tremble.

"Can I have some more?" You can feel him grin against your skin at the question, but he doesn't bother to tease you, just adds a third finger, his thumb settling over your clit, just barely touching. The way he ghosts the pad of his finger over it makes you squirm, wanting more still, for him to rub you properly.

"Patience, my sweet," he admonishes you, "I will take care of you, if you let me."

With that, he plunges a fourth finger in and gently presses down on your lower belly, trapping that sensitive spot between the palm of his hand and his fingers. The way he massages you is slow and methodical, as if he has all the time in the world to pull you apart. Every brush of his thumb is light as a feather, and while it makes you want more, you don't strictly need it. You can feel your peak approaching, slow but inevitable.

"If you keep that up I'm going to, "you tangle your hand in his hair, gasping, "make a mess of your desk."

"I know." The way he looks at you then is so smug and just all-around indecent that you can't decide if you want to punch him or kiss him. You barely have time to settle on the latter before pleasure overcomes you, washing over you in powerful waves. You can't remember the last time you were this wet and he's not stopping, whispering encouragements against your lips as you pulse and gush over his fingers with a pitiful little whimper.

The last spasm has barely finished when he leaves you empty, splayed out alone on the desk. Or, not quite alone. This time, the choice isn't yours, another Dream stepping in between your legs before you've barely had time to catch your breath. Compared to the softer fabrics you're accustomed to, the fine leather makes him look sleeker, meaner, though no less inviting.

"This is...different." Running your hands over it, you revel in the buttery feel of it under your fingers. "I think I like it though."

"Of course you do," He doesn't bother to hide the pleased look on his face.

"Hold on, is that..." you pull him down closer, craning your neck to see. "You never told me you had an earring."

"Should I have? It hardly seems important." There is a small wrinkle between his eyebrows, confusion over why something so small could be significant at all. It's pretty adorable.

"Maybe," you hum, wrapping your legs around his waist, petting his hair as you catch the small ring in your teeth, giving it a little pull. He seems to enjoy that, letting out a short exhale of breath as he grinds his hips into you. He's half hard already, uncaring of the mess.

"You can have me like this, if that is what you want." Preoccupied with the earring still you don't respond right away, so he adds, "Unless you would rather play with my jewellery?"

"Sorry." You let it go, albeit reluctantly.

"No need to apologize. If you enjoy it so much, perhaps I should wear it again." His eyes sparkle with mirth as he kisses you, clearly amused by your dumbstruck expression as you imagine the present iteration of him with an earring. "Now, turn over for me."

When he asks like that you can hardly refuse, nor do you want to. At this rate, you're not sure how much more you can take. Being in the Dreaming can only stretch your limits so far, and you're starting to approach yours.

"Wider." The leather of his boots is smooth against your calves as he pushes your legs apart. Once you're arranged to his liking, he leans over you and kisses the back of your neck, his tip prodding your entrance as he rocks his hips gently, not entering just yet. Your Dream is watching you intently, reaching out to twine your fingers together.

"Are you enjoying your gift so far?" The small smile on his lips makes it very obvious that he doesn't expect you to respond in any coherent way. When his other self slides into you, burying himself as far as he will go, they both moan, his grip on your hand tightening.

The pace he sets is slow and deliberate but not very gentle, his grip firm on your hips as he nearly lifts you onto the tips of your toes. Still sensitive from your last orgasm, the way he drives into you with inhuman precision is its own form of torture, pushing you towards the next one with relentless focus.

"Morpheus please, I can't," the words come out in a garbled kind of plea, "it's too much, I can't."

"You can." He sounds so certain, not leaving you any room to argue as he presses himself against you and pushes you down to prevent you from wriggling. "You will."

And he's right, you can feel it. It's a slow burn, like petals unfurling, and it feels like you could swallow him whole, the intensity of it turning your legs to jelly. This isn't the kind of release you can chase, all you can do is wait for it, for him to bring you there.

"You feel so good like this, so plump with pleasure," he sighs, rolling his hips into yours. "Let me feel you." Just hearing his voice brings you closer, he's watching and you're so very nearly there, and then your Dream is kissing you, drinking your every sound like a man parched and he's still talking.

"Come with me." He bottoms out then, and it's either the 'with' or the way he swells so deep inside of you that does it, but you do. It's like melting, like falling, but he catches you, holds you there as you go limp underneath him, hardly able to breathe. He hurtles over that edge right along with you, groaning as he does, but the noise your Dream makes right into your mouth is downright filthy.

Being left empty is no less jarring this time around, but you're more interested in him, the damp spot at the crotch of his jeans. He notices you looking, and lets out an amused little huff of not-quite-laughter, leans his forehead to yours.

"Don't worry, my love," he nips at your bottom lip, eyes dark. "I fully intend to have my turn with you still." He leans back in his chair and drops a kiss on the back of your hand. "Enjoy the rest of your gift. I will be waiting for you."

Flopped bonelessly on top of the desk, you do your best to catch your breath and clear your head. If you had known exactly what you were getting into, you might have been a bit more restrained and not asked for all of him like this, but you're not going to back out now. He's not really letting you either, his mind set on giving you exactly what you asked, for better or worse. When the next pair of hands touch you softly, gliding up the back of your legs, you lean into it, refusing to let him get the better of you as you turn to face him.

"Do you need rest?"

Probably.

"No."

"Very well." If he doubts you, he doesn't show it, leaning over to take the tip of your breast into his mouth.

Something about this version of him is a bit too immaculate, too polished. Everything from the too-rich fabrics of his clothes to the touch of makeup around his eyes makes him look decadent, like a dessert that is just a bit too heavy to stomach more than a mouthful of. There is an honest-to-god ribbon in his hair, tied in the most infuriatingly perfect bow you've ever seen. The effect is maddening; he looks like something you'd like to ruin. And judging by the way he looks at you as he kisses his way down your body, he absolutely knows it.

It's a simple thing for him to haul you to the edge of the desk, leaving you open to him. All his finery makes him look entirely out of place kneeling between your legs, but you can't quite find it in you to care as he kisses you there softly, giving your clit a little flick with the tip of his tongue. Everything is just this side of too sensitive and you flinch away on pure reflex, but he doesn't let you close your legs, keeping them apart with his hands.

His breath is hot on you as he gently laps at you, soothes you with his tongue, almost impossibly soft. Rather than devour you he cleans you, his eyes fixed on yours as he takes every part of you inside his mouth, working his way from the outside in. And in.

The way his cheeks hollow as he sucks at you is nothing short of obscene. The sight alone is enough to make you want him all over again but then he opens his mouth, shows you his tongue coated in his own release and you throb. Watching his adam's apple bob as he swallows makes your mouth go dry and you're not sure what kind of noise you just made but it must have been something to make him smirk at you like that. When he puts his mouth on you again, you bury your fingers in his too-perfect hair.

He is nothing if not determined, wholly uncaring of the fact that you're nearing the limit of how much more you can take. Slipping first one finger into you, then another he sighs, kissing the inside of your thigh.

"I love seeing you like this, all undone for me."

When he puts your aching clit between his lips and gives it a few slow gentle sucks, you can't help clawing at him until the ribbon in his hair comes loose.

"Morpheus, please!" Everything is hazy around the edges and you're not sure if you're begging for more or less or something else entirely, "please, oh please, pl..."

And then there is a mouth on yours, muffling your cries, hands cradling your face. There is almost too much of him like this, so much to touch and his other self is still devouring you like you're the sweetest thing he's ever tasted until you're a quivering mess under his tongue, tense like a bowstring. It's a slow kind of falling apart and you can barely make a sound as he wrenches your release out of you, dragging it out hot and slow, bordering on painful. His hands are the only thing holding you up as he kisses you as if he could swallow you, take you into himself and keep you there.

When the waves of pleasure recede it's almost a relief, finally letting you breathe. Opening your eyes, you think for a split second that you might cry, the way he's looking at you is so soft. No tears fall, but your love for him rises and swells in your chest until it feels like you might burst at the seams, choking you as you wind your arms around his neck, tangling your fingers in his hair.

"Take me to bed? Please?"

And he does, they both do. You want to undress him, to peel him out of all those layers, you do, but you're shaking and your fingers can't quite obey, fumbling the buttons until he simply lets all of it fade away and you're pressed between both of them with nothing separating you.

It's a remarkably tender thing, the way they tangle their limbs with yours, kissing every inch of your skin like you're something precious. You vaguely remember how he said that he wanted you "lucid enough to enjoy" but that isn't what he ends up getting, not quite. He doesn't seem to mind though, even as he puts you on your hands and knees.

Despite the exhaustion starting to set in, having his cock right in front of your face like this is a temptation, one you don't bother fighting. Even your mouth feels clumsy as you take him in, wanting him in any way you can get. When his other self starts easing into you from behind you can't keep a whine back, overstimulated nearly to the point of tears.

"Shhh, just let me..." He whispers, pressing kisses to your back, long hair sliding over your skin like strands of silk, "just let me..."

And you do, letting him sink in as far as he will go. He rocks against you so gently, like he's worried you might break. At this rate, it feels like you might. Trapped between the both of them like this, the only thing you can really do is let them, let him, use you. When he puts his hand between your legs and starts stroking you, it feels like he might actually drive you mad.

"Just one more, my sweet," he whispers, his breath tickling the back of your neck, "one more for me, then you can rest."

Every slide of his finger over your swollen clit feels like ice, like fire, and you can't even move away. You feel like a worn-out spring being wound up too tightly, but he is utterly determined to coax one more climax out of you, not stopping even when you start whimpering. When your walls start fluttering around him, weakly at first, you swirl your tongue shakily over the tip of his cock, the shared sensations making him moan.

"You're doing so well," he pants, stroking your hair with a not-quite-steady hand.

You can tell that he's just as close as you are, swelling inside you and on your tongue, and you want him to come with you, properly this time. The noise he makes as you take him into your throat is a shattered thing, he's barely holding on and his eyes are black and that finally makes the tension inside you snap with a strength that wracks your entire body. When you swallow it's more on reflex than anything else but it's enough to push him over the edge right along with you, pulsing down your throat and in your cunt with a sound that isn't exactly human, either.

As you come down from your high everything is a bit of a blur, every part of your body is aching as the tension finally drains out of you. The only thing you have energy for is collapsing on the bed in an ungraceful heap. He wastes no time pulling you to him though, chest heaving for breath you know he doesn't strictly need. When you start shivering, he conjures a blanket to cover you, holds you close. He's never been a selfish lover but the tenderness of the gesture still makes your heart constrict in something like pain, knowing he might not be there for your next birthday. You've always known what he is so you try not to mourn prematurely, covering your worry with humour instead.

"Dream?"

"Yes, my love?" He kisses the top of your head softly, content for now.

"Do Endless have birthdays?"

[wizardrousactivity]

They Promise. 2

CW: Pregnancy, relationship arguments, reader is fairly young (early twenties)

(Short chapter, trying to make them longer but I've been very busy.) Part | Next>>>

And then again, you remember it all again - A painful birth was ‘gifted’ to you, without anybody there for you to witness your son. What was supposed to be a special moment, you half-near crawled out the hospital with how your knees gave out. If it wasn’t for a good samaritan to give you a pity drive home. “Somebody else drove me home, I felt more cared for when a stranger helped me.”

“You guys are full of bullshit..” You bear witness to the way both get slightly more anxious, it's not told through their actions yet through their eyes - the guilty look that reigned deep in blue and brown eyes.

You move their hands out of the way, biting the inside of your cheek while your lips begin to wobble again. The overwhelming feeling of sadness washing over when you make your way to the once-shared bed, sheets stinking of their aroma still. No matter how many times you would clean and change them.

They kept trying to touch you, just feel you like they used to, but every time their hands moved with their thoughts you would reject their affections. “Why would you do that to me? Am I not good enough?”

The way you respond to everything breaks their heart, yet they can't bring themselves to be collective and respond like they usually do, not in a situation like this. “You can’t just remain fucking stoic- say something!” 

König and Ghost remain silent, their tongues going dry inside their mouths, along with that familiar sourness building inside their linings. You sigh, gaze softening. “Why won’t you just tell me anything..?”  silent and deprived now. Your breath nearly ceases, unable to take in more oxygen with the way your emotions build up in your throat.  “We couldn’t risk you.” Is all that Ghost croaks out, watching you fall apart again at the weight of his words. Watching how you desperately try to carry yourself despite the deprivation of humanity you face. “That's all you have to fuckin’ say to me? I carried this baby for 9 months! I was alone- I gave birth in a hospital all alone!” You retort, the baby continuing to cry in the background - its shrills don’t go unheard, at least to you.

You scurry over to the crib once again to hold your child, embracing it with tears - apologies flooding out of your mouth directly to it, even if it can’t understand you.. “Just.. go downstairs, I’ll talk to you in the morning.”

And with that, they obey. Putting their hands up and heading downstairs as to your wishes, leaving you alone and once again isolated in your room. It’s nothing new, as you sit on your bed numb and tired. Your eyes droop thinking of how it could’ve come to this, should you even have met them in the first place. Were these two charming men you met - the right choice?

You don’t remember their sweetness anymore, the only thought filling your head of them - was how they left you stranded. How one day, they looked at you coldly, something that hasn’t been done in a while.

Sinking into the mattress, the baby rests on your chest. And you doze off, escaping the world you live in. Just to wake up again.

[bowsellie]

vampire

"oh what a mesmerizing, paralyzing, fucked up little thrill"

warnings: smut (as always), vampire!ellie and related content (blood, biting, death), references to canon compliant major character death, depictions of grief including weight loss and depression, Jackson!au, no use of y/n, oral (r!receiving), fingering (r!receiving), strap-on usage (r!receiving), strap is referred to as Ellie's cock, period sex, pet names (good girl, baby, etc.), continued consent :)

Ellie Williams had been acting different lately.

You had expected it, really, since the unexpected death of her on-again-off-again father figure, Joel. In fact, most of her behavior was along the lines of what you expected from somebody grieving. Talking to people less, weight loss, odd waking hours...but something about it was different.

This was what you were considering when you looked out your window to see Ellie pacing down the street, a nightly tradition she'd picked up in the weeks since Joel's funeral. You felt comfortable staring more than usual, knowing you weren't visible inside the dark of your living room. Only the candle flickering in your window gave any indication that you were awake, and she didn't seem particularly focused on your window out of all the others on the street.

There was a time she would have been, though. Just a few weeks ago, Ellie's presence on your street would have been shortly followed by heavy breathing, sweat, and moans in your bed. Obviously, you'd been giving her space, but...it seems everyone else had, too. You couldn't remember the last time you'd seen Ellie have a conversation with somebody.

Something between genuine concern and a selfish need to be the one to check on her boiled in your gut. Maybe this is why you opened the door and called out, or maybe it was something in your bones saying tonight would be important. Either way, you found yourself repeating her name on your doorstep, watching as she turned her head.

"Come inside Ellie, it's freezing out here! Just for a little bit?" you asked, almost pleading. You should've grabbed a blanket or something--snow was collecting in your hair and eyebrows as Ellie moved eerily slowly towards your house. What if it wasn't Ellie? What if it was.... You shook of the thought. Of course it was Ellie.

After entirely too long, she stood on your steps and allowed herself to be ushered in through your door. The uncanniness had worn off as she stepped into your house, smiling reservedly and thanking you as you made her a cup of hot chocolate.

"You're not even wearing a coat, Ellie. You've gotta take care of yourself," you scolded gently, wrapping her in a blanket. Your fingertips brushed her neck, and the skin was ice cold.

"I've been freezing no matter what I do lately. No use," she explained.

"Are you still on leave from chores? I haven't seen you around lately."

"Yeah, they said I can come back whenever but I've been sleeping through the days still. I wish I could just snap out of it."

As she spoke, you examined her face. New lines had formed as the skin had sunken in, veins visible around her eyes. There was almost no color in the tips of her fingers, and despite the snow refusing to melt from her hair and lashes, she wasn't shivering. Odd.

You moved a little closer to her on the couch, kicking up your feet to get comfortable. "Well, I'm not going to give you the I'm-here-for-you spiel that I'm sure you're sick of getting. I know we weren't like...every day friends either. But I'm an insomniac, too. So if you need to be out and about at night, feel free to come here."

She met your eyes. "I probably shouldn't do that."

"Why not?" you asked, leaning forward to hear her voice better. It was like something shifted in her with this movement, like you had broken an invisible barrier. Ellie leaned forward so your noses were barely touching, and she breathed in slowly.

"I've just been feeling...off lately. I can't explain why. But when I think about you, or anyone really, I just want to...bite them."

You leaned back and giggled. "Glad to see you're feeling well enough to fuck with me, I guess. But really, the offer stands."

This didn't seem to land, though. Ellie leaned over, putting one hand on either side of your body, and smiled. Your eyes drifted to her lips, looking quickly away when you convinced yourself her teeth looked longer than normal.

"I'm not fucking with you. Test me, though. See how long I can go without sinking my teeth into you."

And who were you to deny Ellie Williams? She was as hot as ever, and maybe someone warm to lay with was exactly what she needed. So you leaned forward and captured her lips in a messy kiss, which she quickly took over. The clashing of tongues and lips was interrupted occasionally by the scrape of teeth, something unusual for her usually soft mouth.

Ellie shifted so her whole weight was on top of you, one leg next to your waist and one between your thighs. She pushed forward slightly, causing you to moan into her mouth. She took the opportunity to capture your bottom lip and

"Fuck!"

You pulled away, wiping your lip and looking down to see bright red blood. You expected the nervousness in Ellie to pop up, quickly apologizing, but when you met her eyes she only looked more hungry.

"I told you," she said, reaching out a thumb to wipe the last bit of blood from your mouth. She popped it into her mouth, her tongue peeking out as she licked it clean. "Whatever happens tonight might be irreversible for you. It's up to you, baby."

Whatever fear should have arisen at her words went straight to your pussy. Maybe something had broken in you, but the sight of her licking your blood of her finger was suddenly the hottest thing you've ever experienced. So you nodded hastily and shoved your mouth against hers.

Ellie's hands started to roam, groping your tits and pulling them out of the spaghetti strap you were. She kissed her way down your neck, popping a pebbled nipple into her mouth and swirling her tongue around it. You moaned at the sensation, pressing the ache between your legs harder into her thigh and arching your back into the wetness of her mouth. Ellie scraped her teeth over the nipple, pulling gently before letting go and leaving hickeys towards the other side. Giving it the same treatment, she began to snake her hand down your stomach and hips. As curious fingers reached the hem of your sweatpants, you tugged her hair to pull her away from your chest.

"I'm on my period, if you mind. I totally understand if you do, but..." you began explaining, trailing off as the hungry look in her eyes returned.

Before she could confirm or deny her continued interest, Ellie was pulling your bottom half free of the pajamas and panties you had been wearing. Pushing them aside, she spread your legs and dove into your pussy.

Ellie ate you out ferociously, tongue in so many places you could barely keep up. Your mind went blank as she overwhelmed your senses, hands tangling in her hair. One hand reached towards your still exposed tit, grabbing like a lifeline, while one moved down towards your hole. She pulled back as she inserted two fingers at once, watching as you threw your head back with a scream.

"That's it, good girl. Taking me so well. You taste incredible like this."

Dried blood smeared from the side of her mouth, but she returned to suck your clit before you could point it out. The stretch of your cunt being worked up combined with the pressure on your clit quickly cannonballed into one of the strongest orgasms you had ever had, ending only after Ellie pulled away and removed her fingers.

She reached her clean hand up to you and pulled you off the couch on to shaky legs. "If you're going to get my cock, I want you to take it in your bed. Got it?" she asked, leading you down the hallway to your room. Already fucked out, you could only nod and mumble a barely coherent "mm-hm".

Within falling distance, Ellie pushed you on to your bed and crawled between your legs, grinding the bulge beneath her pants into you. Already sensitive, your legs began to close and shake around her. As your arched backed and your moans stuttered, she pulled away before you could cum again.

"Not so fast, baby," she whispered, tucking a strand of her behind your ear in an oddly gentle gesture. You leaned your face towards it, vaguely registering that her hand was just as cold as before. Before you had time to contemplate, however, your thoughts were interrupted by the feeling of silicone rubbing between your lips. Pressing in slowly, little by little, Ellie leaned over and began panting in your ear.

Leaving kisses with each thrust, she nipped and licked from your ear down your jaw to the junction between your shoulder and your neck. Fucking you hard, you asked her to repeat herself when her strained voice asked "can I bite you?"

Why would she asked that? Hadn't she done it before, didn't she know? Your stomach twisted--excitement, nervousness, confusion. What was different this time.

"Why wouldn't you be able to?"

"You can't go back," she explained, more and more desperate as her thrusts became sloppier and sloppier. You knew she was getting close, and the pressure against your already sensitive clit was getting to you. "You can't go...fuck, baby. Please. Please."

"Yes, fuck, yes. Bite me, Ellie. Bite me please." You begged, both of your moans reaching a louder volume than before.

You felt her teeth, sharper than usual, against your skin. Her tongue darting out to lick the salty sweat. A pressure, a release, an orgasm as your skin broke.

You and Ellie screamed in unison, dual orgasms wracking your bodies as she clung to your neck.

And then, you felt nothing.

Nothing but cold and thirst.

[guiltyreverie]

Remedy

Part 1 || Part 2

Pairing: Gojo x reader

Content tags: enemies to lovers; slow burn; afab!reader; clan issues

Warnings: slow burn, gojo being a dick (even geto can’t save him here), enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, gojo dating around, pain :)

Word count: 6.5k

“Say something. Anything,”, he grasps your hands and you push his hands away, almost disgusted at him for behaving this way, “I’m begging you.”, he looks at you with a defeated expression.

“You’re un-fucking-believable, Gojo.”, you almost spit at him but you take a step back away from him to avoid such immaturity and shake your head.

It’s been almost two weeks since you went to Gojo’s house and he finally got the stick out of his butt to realize just how badly he screwed up - it took him two weeks to notice, mind you.

“Are you always going to be an immature asshole, insulting me whenever we disagree, Satoru?”, you aren’t yelling yet, but with all your pent up anger and worse, hurt, it’s going to be only a matter of time.

He interrupts your well prepared monologue, “No-“

“Shut it.”, he immediately shuts up and looks at you like a kicked puppy. “I’m talking now, no interruptions, you hear me?”, he nods along afraid of what you’d do if he actually interrupted you again.

“I did not deserve to be treated like- like a himbo in front of your entire family!”, you stutter, your anger consuming you to the point all your prepared insults and thoughts just crumble and you aren’t able to form coherent thoughts. You take a deep breath and run your hand through your hair: “All I wanted was for you to open up because I care about you and I worry for you,”, Satoru widens his eyes and opens his mouth only for him to close it again like a fish when you give him a ‘don’t you dare speak’ look, “but even that seems to bite me in the ass with you, Gojo. I’m done with whatever kind of friendship we had, do what you want, I’m out of here.”

“Y/n”, he grabs your arm to hold you back from turning around but you quickly shake it off.

Your steps halt for a second and it seems like all your inner turmoil just disappeared and you’re left with some sort of clearance: no anger, no hurt, no frustration, nothing.

You coldly glance at him and shake his arm off then keep walking - a silent goodbye.

He wanted to run after you, catch you, you were slipping off his grasp but he knew if he didn’t respect your wishes now, he’d completely lose you and there would be absolutely no way you’d ever forgive him.

With every step you took you felt the tension in your shoulders ease and when you finally stepped outside the nagging sense of freedom was gnawing at your skin as if it was finally breaking free you suddenly could breathe the breath you were holding in and relief washes over you - the chapter about Gojo Satoru was over what you fail to realize is that it’s an entire book about him

Saying goodbye to your feelings towards Satoru was easier than you had initially thought - maybe you were in denial or in a state of apathy but it helped immensely.

Even when you finally see him after a few days your body gave out no reaction - no thumping heartbeat, no goosebumps, nothing; you were so indifferent towards him, towards anything really, you had become a mere shelter of what you had once deemed as yourself but there was no changing it - at least some of his comments were true it seems.

He’d glance at you several times even when somebody else was talking to him and despite your best attempts to ignore him you still feel him staring; it irks you, makes you feel naked, you knox he’s trying to read you; figure out what’s going on im that pretty little head of yours and it’s only a matter of time before you break under his excruciating stare.

Your mouth opens before you can even stop yourself: “What?”, he is startled - he didn’t expect you to actually talk to him first.

“You’re pretty.”, your eyes widen in surprise and you flick his forehead.

“Compliments aren’t going to make me forgive you.”

“It was worth a shot.”, that boyish smile reappears, the same smile that makes you feel giddy and almost always makes you want to drop down your guard and let him in; for a split second you think that smile is worth your ruin and you have to shake yourself off of those thoughts, let the rationality take over again otherwise you might catch yourself falling into a hole you can’t come out of.

You shake your head no, your eyes distrusting, to someone like him you probably just look like a scared bunny but you didn’t care, you let him in once and see where it got you.

“Anything important you need to discuss?”, you stare blankly at him.

“Hmm, something important...”, he grabs his chin contemplatively, “well if I say ‘you’, how would you react?”

“Gojo, be serious for once in your life!”, you scoff at him.

“I am.”

“No, you aren’t.”, you roll your eyes.

“See, y/n, that’s your problem, you always assume what’s going on in my head and why we can never see eye to eye.”, he’s starting to whine.

“I wouldn’t have to, if you’d just say what you think for once in a while,”, you sigh, “but as we have seen at the dinner, sometimes I really don’t want to know what’s going on in your head.”

“C’mon, sweetheart, I wasn’t being serious, I just wanted to rile you up a little.”

“Well you seriously hurt me, so I guess you did rile me up in some way.”, you want to forgive him, but the part of you that was always at odds with Gojo, the part that was always insulted by Gojo couldn’t; The two of you don’t know how to be friends with each other and maybe it should just stay that way, and hopefully someday you’ll become acquainted enough to get married.

The odds weren’t looking good for the both of you and it would always just be a matter of days or weeks when you’d just start to fight again, that’s how you guys always were and how you’d always will be, you can’t deny this.

“I’m sorry, it was never my intention to actually hurt you.”, Gojo grabs your face and looks at you with so much intensity and honesty, add his height to the equation and you can’t help but feel intimidated by him, “look at me, y/n, look at me and tell me I’m lying. We both know I’m not.”.

The two of you stare at each other for what feels like minutes but you don’t know how much time has actually passed and you sigh.

“You’re on very thin ice, Gojo.”

Smooch - you felt a wet and warm sensation; Satoru had just kissed your cheek sloppily, you’re too shocked to even react - He had kissed you; suddenly you’re unable register anything other than your face heating up and the inner little devil voice in your head craving more of this.

When you finally manage to pull yourself together you push him away stunned and flustered: “Gojo! Have some shame, won’t you.”, he grins that boyish smile once again and you can feel the ice on your heart thawing little by little - a sense of doom overcomes you. You hate this, you hate him, you hate yourself for letting him crawl back to your heart.

You take a step away from him, a bubble of anxiety rises within you, you need to breathe, a task which you find really hard to do when you catch yourself once again staring at his blue eyes that look at you with the same anxiety you’re feeling - were those his or your feeling reflecting in his irises? You weren’t sure, maybe both.

“Look, you screw this up and it’s final, no more redemption, apologies or whatever else you come up with are gonna work anymore.”, you look at him trying to read his stoic expression but as always; it’s hard to find out what’s going on inside his head. “I’m tired of opening up just for it to bite me in the ass afterwards.”

“I know and I promise, I did not mean to hurt you.”

You nod, he deserves the benefit of the doubt, at least for your own sanity and your future together.

To your surprise he did seem to pull himself together and although you two still bicker at any chance you get or he ends up teasing and annoying the hell out of you, it was different than before - it was more lighthearted, less intense, you liked this dynamic between you. You guys hang out even more together - Haname even complains about how he is taking up all of your time and in response he ends up bragging about that towards her and you end up scolding him for his immaturity.

Sometimes the three of you would hang out together but other times Satoru would drag you out by yourself or Haname would explain she had enough of him for a while and needed some girl time and right now was one of those occasions.

Haname and you end up sitting in a nice restaurant and enjoying each other’s company, god you loved her so much.

“Yknow, I’m not trying to be all sentimental but remember when we ate here for the first time?”, she grins at you happily, you can’t help but roll your eyes at her playfully.

“God, you sound like a 80 year old lady reconciling with her long lost friend.”

“I mean, you do have been kinda M.I.A. these weeks.”, she wiggles her eyebrows like a mad woman and you scoff.

“I have not.”

“You have.”

“How have I been M.I.A.?”, you gasp in surprise - you had fairly often talked to her the past few days.

“Uh-huh”, she hums, “baby, even when you’re with me, you’re still hung up thinking about your boyfriend.”, she grins, a glint in her eyes, that tells you she knows exactly what’s going on inside your head - even without telling her.

You scowl at her: “He’s not my boyfriend.”, and try to save at least some of the dignity that your cheeks starting to flame up as if you had just entered hellfire are taking away from you.

She looks at you with a pointed look: “I didn’t even mention his name.”

If you thought your face couldn’t get any redder than now, you were proven horribly wrong now.

“It’s not like that.”, you roll your eyes, a little pang hits you in the chest, “he doesn’t even feel the same way”, you shrug and gulp down the tension that’s building up in your throat. “We’re just facing the fact that we’re going to end up together either way and decided it might be better to get along instead of hating each other’s gut.”

“What I’m hearing is, you like him.”, she smiles at you.

You nod hesitantly.

“Well, how are you so sure, he doesn’t feel the same?”, she looks at you, her gaze clearly saying ‘don’t assume what other people are thinking’

You shake your head at her and gesture to the couple a few seats behind you: “That’s why.”

She turns around to the spot you pointed at before she gasps loudly, catching the attention of several people in the room, including Satoru, who was sitting in front of a pretty girl and then smiled at you guys before focusing back on the girl in front of him; she seemed to pay no attention on everyone but him.

“Why. Are. You. Letting. This. Happen.”, she hits your arm in between each word.

You smile at her sadly, you had already accepted this situation but it still felt like salt being rubbed into a wound you didn’t even know was still open. “Just because I like him, doesn’t mean I’ll stop him from finding someone he likes.”, you shrug once again and stab the fork into your steak. “We’re arranged, Haname, I can’t force him to like me romantically.”

She looks at you as if you had gone insane: “And you think that makes it ok for him to see other girls without your permission?”

You chuckle coldy at her: “No, that's where you’re wrong.”, you take a bite of the steak and swallow it down, the same way you’re swallowing down all of your feelings regarding this situation, “He did ask for permission and I gave it to him.”

She shakes her head at you: “You’re a fucking idiot.”

“Thanks, I know.”

“Don’t you think it’s unfair to the girls to be dating someone who is already promised to someone else?”, she scowls at you and you can’t help but feel offended.

“Don’t you think I don’t know that?”, you scoff at her and can’t believe she’s trying to make you the bad guy in this situation. “I already told him, he’s just going to break their hearts and if he wants to relieve some steam he should be upfront about it.”

She looked relieved: “Good. What happened then?”

“Nothing - he just said to let that be his worry.”, you sigh, “anyways, can we drop this, I don’t like talking about it.”

She looks at you sheepishly and considers her next few words as if she was talking to a scared child: “Y’know, if you’d just tell him how you feel, you could save yourself the pain.”

“And give myself the pain of embarrassment?”, you chuckle, “or of rejection? Besides, I don't want him to treat me like a fragile little thing just because my heart beats a little faster whenever I see him.”, god you really didn’t want to talk about this topic anymore - it makes the formerly delicious steak taste horrible and makes you want to throw it up at the next chance you get.

“Baby, your heart beating a little faster whenever you see him is an understatement - your eyes practically search for him whenever he isn’t there and when he is? Full of hearts.”, she raises her eyebrows as if trying to make her point come across clearer, “not to mention, whether you like it or not, you basically crumble at his attention, girl- you’re completely whipped.”

“No way.”, you look at her as if she’s the insane one now. “I do not!”, the urge within you to throw a fry at her grows stronger.

She laughs and makes weird googly eyes at you while saying: “See, this is how you look like.”

You shake your head and laugh - you'll get over him, you’re sure of that and give the two of them one last quick glance before you shove down any type of remaining angst deep into your chamber of unresolved issues.

It seemed like you couldn’t be any more wrong, though because whenever he gives you his boyish smile your legs still feel like pudding or when he wraps his arms around you, you can’t help but lean in a little closer - as Haname said, you were whipped, it doesn’t matter how much you deny it.

Although the next time you’re faced with his charming smile you’re almost about to throw up.

“I really do like her, y/n”, he smiles.

Please shut up, you almost wince out, but you can’t, you can’t let him see what you’re feeling, not when he was finally genuinely happy after Geto left. It pained you to know there would always be someone else behind the reason for his smile and never you. You could laugh and joke around with him but you’d never be the one holding his heart and you wished you could more than anything else in the world but you’d rather kiss a curse than ever openly admit it to him.

When you finally break out of your thoughts you notice Satoru is staring at you nervously, as if he was waiting for a reply and you try to gulp down any sort of distress you were feeling; he didn’t sign up for a girl unable to handle her feelings for him.

You try to smile sheepishly at him but your voice still comes out shakier than you had planned: “I’m sorry, ‘Toru, I wasn’t listening.”

He ‘tsked’ and poked your cheek: “What’s gotten your pretty little head so deep in thought that you can’t focus on this dashing young man in front of you.”

“It’s nothing”, you breathe out and he looks at you in disbelief and you reassure him again “It’s really nothing,”, you give him a pointed look, “just got my head in the clouds, I’m fine”, it seems like you try to reassure yourself more than him.

He still gives you the same look but then shrugs it off: “No pressure, if you don’t want to tell me. I was asking if it was fine to ask her out to be my girlfriend.”

Absolutely nothing could have prepared you for this, if you felt like he had punched you in the guts before, this time it felt like he threw an entire planet at your gut - you really were going to puke now.

“I- Satoru..”, you didn’t know what to focus on, your vision started to get blurry, you really were about to fucking crack and you wish you could erase your feelings when you can make out his worried expression - you felt guilty, horrible and most of all you yearned, you yearned for him and it’s slowly killing you as if you were an animal at the butcher’s house slowly bleeding out, simply because you know, this will always be one-sided affection.

He grabs your shoulders and he almost violently shakes you and you finally get a hold of reality, Satoru is in front of you and you’re probably terrifying him with your weird behavior.

Your voice cracks: “I’m sorry, Satoru,” you felt incredibly selfish but on one hand you knew this would be the right decision, “I can’t agree with that.”

He looks at you, startled for a second and then he realizes what you’re saying; his expression quickly goes from confusion to anger. “Why?”

“Look-“

“What, y/n? Can’t handle me being happy?”, he let’s go of your arms, his jaw is tense and his once blue yet warm eyes felt like nothing but an eerie ice cold lake.

You wince, you can’t handle him being angry at you, especially when it’s rightfully placed anger - you felt terrible. “We are arranged to get married, Satoru.”, you look at him, you were truly sorry and incredibly selfish, so fucking selfish.

“So what? Does that mean I have to deprive myself of love completely, y/n? Am I unable to love anyone that isn’t you?”, his voice is getting louder and you have to hold back a whimper - your tears that already risked coming out were now falling continuously.

“Don’t you think it’s unfair?”, you finally manage to get out, your voice was as unsteady as you felt - god you wish you hadn’t agreed to this in the first place. “I’m sorry, Satoru, I really am.”, you try to grasp his hands but he shakes them off and you have to gulp down the aching pain of betrayal in your chest, “but don’t you think it’s unfair to the girl, to hope on a love, knowing you’re promised to another?”, you tried to maintain a pretext of reasoning, of sense, but deep down - in the deepest parts of your heart - you knew it was because you couldn’t handle seeing him with someone else, not with the knowledge that she’s his girlfriend.

He scoffs at you in disbelief: “Cut the bullshit, you wouldn’t care less about a stranger, it’s about the fucking family image, isn’t it?”

“No, it’s not-“

“Fucking save it.”, he interrupts you and you had never - not even in your arguments before - heard Satoru speak with such disgust directed towards you and he walks away.

You felt absolutely utterly terrible and finally let out the sobs you’ve been holding in - this is all your fault, you whimper to yourself. You were a hypocrite - telling him to go out with someone but the moment it gets actually real you deprive him of exactly that.

You stay at the place for probably several hours - you didn’t really count - but you stay there until your breathing finally evens and you’re able to go a few minutes without crying; you had cried your soul out that night until you were only left with the biggest headache and a void inside of you, you knew were unable to ever fill again.

Slowly you get up, your legs felt weak after sitting for so long but you had to get a grip, you had to at least go back to your room.

Just why did you have to open your mouth and ruin all the good stuff happening between the two of you, you felt terrible your own pain colliding with the guilt of your intertwined fate; two forces clashing into one another creating a cataclysm in your very own mind. You wanted to curse at everyone, hate everyone for putting you in this position: entrapped in freedom - you were kindly speaking a mess.

The room was silent - only your irregular breathing was audible, which was quite contrary to your very loud mind. You wanted to apologize, take everything back, undo what you did but sooner or later this would’ve happened anyways. Imagine explaining to your girlfriend you had your own engagement party to attend, at least that’s what the logical side of your brain told you - your heart was wondering how long you would’ve been able to bear seeing Satoru love someone else.

It was all pointless now; the pure anger - almost seething hatred - in his eyes was enough to tell you he would never feel the same, the two of you will probably never even be on good terms again after this.

To your own disappointment your premonition had been right: when you showed up to class the very next day he had sat himself as far away from you as possible and didn’t even bother to look at you. When you try to reach him when the class is over he was already away from the entire campus.

“You look like a truck ran you over. Twice.”, she states, visibly concerned.

“Thanks.”, you reply sarcastically.

She steps closer towards you and wraps her arm around yours: “Wanna talk?”

“No, thanks.”, you shake your head, “I’ll talk it out with him first, when we’re both more collected.”

“I don’t know, babe. It seems bad, maybe waiting is the wrong solution.”, she raises her eyebrows contemplating, “I mean, you guys, no matter how bad, have never sat apart.”

You tense up even more than before: “I know.”

Several days pass after that, you had finally started to collect yourself; instead a comforting void in the former emotional chaos had ignited in you and you figured you were finally calm enough to reach out to Satoru and talk to him.

Just when he’d sit down in his seat you take up the spot next to him and the teacher immediately enters the classroom, although he doesn’t acknowledge your presence and immediately turns towards the blackboard you were determined - you needed to sort this out now or never.

“Satoru”, you whisper.

No response.

“Pss, Satoru.”

He gives you a side glance but turns back around.

“Satoru”, you stand up and the attention of the entire class is on you.

Now he genuinely looks at you - albeit he’s probably wondering if you had finally gone insane but you didn’t care.

You take out your hand and wait for him to take it so you can lead him outside. The teacher demands an explanation but he only gets a simple ‘sorry’ from you before you focus back on him.

“Please.”, you whisper, you felt desperate to fix this, you wanted everything to go back to normal so bad, even if that meant having to let him go to another woman.

He sighs and reluctantly gets up: “Excuse us, teach, we’ll be back before you know it.”, he doesn’t take your hand and walks out of the room, you awkwardly let your hand fall down and follow him. Impatiently he’s tapping his foot and almost looks like he could rip open your skull, you gulp - maybe he hasn’t cooled down yet.

You hadn‘t noticed before, probably because Satoru was never the one to actually get mad at you but right now - he was more intimidating than any curse you‘ve ever met and you felt like a defenseless little child standing in front of him, he towered over you, like always but the cold anger in his eyes made you feel so small, in a way you never felt before.

A part of you wanted to run away - let everything stay the same, ignore the storm but a bigger part inside of you knew, if you didn‘t speak up now the storm would never vanish and you’d be trapped in its chaos for eternity.

You take a deep breath and sigh: “I’m sorry, Satoru.”

“For what?”

It takes a few seconds to sort your thoughts - what were you sorry for? Him? Or yourself?

“For everything.”, you breathe out, “reacting the way I did, but also for agreeing to let you see her in the first place.”

He raises an eyebrow - he looks angrier than before and he immediately opens his mouth, probably to curse you out, but you hush him and plead with him to let you finish first.

“Look, it’s not because you’re seeing her or because I have feelings for you, it’s just-“, you bite your lip in frustration, “that relationship is going to be doomed from the start. Yes you’d be just boyfriend and girlfriend now but in a few years? How would you tell her that you can’t go any deeper because you’re already promised to someone else? It’s unfair and absolutely selfish to do that to her.”

“You have feelings for me?”, he repeated in confirmation, it seems like he still hasn’t processed your revelation.

Your eyes widen in surprise and for a second you almost curse yourself for letting it slip: “I thought you knew.”

He shakes his head and you’re ready to throw yourself out of any skyscraper; you briefly close your eyes and calm yourself down - it’s okay, so what if he knows, you try to reassure yourself.

For a second he seemed to have calmed down before the anger seemed to consume his facial features once again: “Why don’t you just say you can’t handle seeing me with someone else because you have feelings for me? Why make up all these other excuses?”

“Because it’s not-“

“Don't fool yourself, y/n. That’s exactly why.”

You grow more and more frustrated, yes you had feelings for him, but it also seemed like you were the only one rational enough to realize just how doomed his little “relationship” is, despite your feelings for him.

“No, Satoru. I’d never prioritize my dumb little feelings over your happiness because I have feelings for you.”

He chuckles sarcastically: ”Yeah, right. Then why don’t you just let me be happy for now. Before I’m chained down to you.”, you felt like puking, does he even realize how much his words hurt? “See, in the end, you will end up with me by your side anyways, I can’t escape it, let me enjoy being with someone I like.”

Right now it feels like he’s stabbing you with a knife over and over and you can’t help but think - he’s doing this on purpose. Be it out of anger or frustration or whatever else it may be, he wanted you to feel pain, that was his goal and god you wish you didn’t care for this bastard but you did and that would be your most likely downfall.

“You’re being a complete asshole right now.”, you say, your voice filled with exhaustion - you didn’t want to argue anymore nor care for him nor actually have anything to do with him, “look, I am sorry for going on about it like this and for hurting your feelings in the process, believe me, but I don’t think I deserve to be treated like this either.”, you shake your head, you hoped he’d finally understand where you’re coming from.

“Awww,” he coos exaggeratedly, “did I hurt your feelings?”, you scoff, how did you even like this man in the first place.

“Thanks for letting me know where I stand.”, you smile coldly, visibly uncomfortable, “I’ll kindly step out of your way now.”, you were done with this situation, you had spoken your mind and apologized but if he didn’t wish to fix things, you wouldn’t either.

The storm between the both of you had stilled, you went radio silent with one another, aside from the occasional mission you had together, in which you’d also just exchange the most basic necessities or the occasional family meetings where you two would go back to pretending you’re deeply infatuated with one another. It was complete radio silence between you guys - you weren’t gonna lie; you missed the playful banter, you missed him, but it wasn’t worth being hurt over and over.

Soon your second year passed and you had even reached the end of your third year; the elders had announced your engagement party - the skyscraper sounding once again as tempting as the waffles in front of you. Your mother, Satoru’s mother and you had gone out to buy an engagement dress and accessories for you and they really didn’t hold back.

They chose a beautiful white long backless dress ornamented with various pearls on the neckline and back, the sleeves were covered in lace and it was absolutely stunning, you had bought matching white high heels and got yourself french nails.

You knew this engagement party would be extravagant and the wedding would top that by at least 20 times but looking at the location you were absolutely stunned, it was beautiful and straight out of a fairy tale; the tables were decorated with white and lilac flower everywhere fairy lights were strung up, even a photo venue and the symbol of both of your clans were stitched into handkerchiefs meant as gifts for the guests - your moms had gone out of the way for this.

There’s a bittersweet taste in your mouth upon looking at the venue - it was beautiful but you wish you also had a just as beautiful bond to your soon to be fiancé. You sigh to yourself and thank the both of them for all their work before you take off to get your hair and make up done for the evening and get dressed.

When it’s 8pm Satoru rings the doorbell to pick you up; you give yourself one last look in the mirror to check if everything is alright then grab your purse and open the door hastily.

His eyes trail up and down your body - you thought you looked good but now you weren’t so sure anymore, not when you’re met with him in a dashing black suit that made him look absolutely handsome, for a second you wondered if you looked good enough for him and you had to refrain yourself. After all this time there’s a small part within you that still cares- longs for him - that always wants to know what he thinks of you and you doubt you’ll ever stop caring for him like that.

You try to refrain from nervously biting your lips, you want to ask him ‘how do I look?’ but the fear of rejection, of being hurt, stops you from asking exactly that, instead you simply nod at him as a form of greeting and close the door behind you.

You shakily whisper: “Let’s go.”, you didn’t even bother looking at him and simply made your way towards the car and stepped inside, not waiting for him.

The car ride is silent, which is a huge contrast to the booming cluster of conversations inside the engagement location. When you two enter side by side, Satoru uncomfortably close to you, his hand at your lower back, the guests are silent for a second before everyone cheers loudly and you smile at everyone gracefully - maybe if you acted good enough you might actually start feeling that way.

“Y/n, Satoru, come, let‘s take pictures!“, your mother grabs the both of you and drags you to the photo venue; she was brimming with excitement and you smile to yourself - at least her happiness is worth the sorrow.

She forces the two of you into several poses, Satoru looks visibly annoyed and you have to pinch his side; you give him a pointed look and try to get rid of that scowl on his face. How would this seem authentic if he‘s frowning in all of the pictures that are probably going to be hung up everywhere in both of your houses. He briefly looks at you before he shakes his head and seems to put himself together and a smile reappears on his face and your breath stills - his smile is fake but nonetheless his beauty couldn‘t be any more real.

Suddenly Satoru‘s mother pops between you guys and scolds the both of you: “How can we have engagement pictures when there’s at least 5 inches of space between you?”, she pushes you closer to each other to the point your shoulder hits his chest and you do your best to not take a step back away from him.

“Come on, guys!”, your mother yells, visibly annoyed at the lack of romantic affection between you, “a kiss or two hasn’t hurt anyone.”, ‘yet’ you add mentally and groan.

“Come on, mom. It’s embarrassing.”, you grumbled and give desperate look at Satoru who had a tinge of amusement glinting in his eyes, “we don’t do PDA.”

“It’s your engagement!”, she sighs and gives you a pleading look and you breathe out in defeat.

You feel Satoru’s chest rumble in your back and he chuckles deeply: “Well, let’s give our dear mothers what they want, don’t we?”

You almost do a double take - Who are you and what have you done to Gojo Satoru? Before he wouldn’t even look at you and now he’s willing to kiss you? It felt so surreal to the point you don’t even realize that you guys had been facing one another and Satoru was waiting for your response.

The nod you give him is so subtle, you aren’t even sure he saw it until he starts to lean in and you are absolutely sure you are going to freak out. The huge space in this hall suddenly wasn’t enough, your breathing was starting to become uneven and you wanted to push him away, you needed the distance and yet your body was acting completely different. It was leaning closer towards him until your lips finally meet one another.

Kissing Gojo Satoru was one of the last things you expected to do tonight but here you were. His hands softly grab your face and you lean in even closer into him. Despite his soft hands there was a certain rough touch into the kiss - it’s like he put in all of his anger, hatred for and at you in it and it was addicting to say the least. A bridge inside you broke and you were falling deep into the river and drowning in your feelings and yearning.

When you two finally part it feels like mere seconds passed but your heavy breathing suggests otherwise. The two of you just keep staring at one another, you feared that if you broke the eye contact everything would go back to the way it was before, so you remain silent; the warm tone of the fairy lights being the only thing surrounding you.

Faint laughter seems to finally break the bubble you have created and you step back in shock; the realization of what just happened finally dawned on you.

“Excuse me.”, you push yourself away from him and step out of the venue; you needed to collect yourself and you can’t do that with Satoru around.

The cold air hits your burning cheeks and you finally seem to calm down now the only thing filling your head was confusion - Satoru confused you. He went from hating you to radio silence to kissing you; yes, it was because you guys were urged to do so but he could’ve also simply rejected them. You close your eyes for a brief second and sigh to yourself - men. There was no point in dwelling and overthinking this in a few minutes he’ll either go back to ignoring you or being an asshole.

A jacket suddenly appears on top of your shoulder and you flinch back in surprise.

“It’s cold.”

“Thanks.”, you smile at Satoru and wrap his jacket even tighter around you.

He smiles back and you have to wonder just why he is out here with you, when he could be enjoying a glass of wine inside.

As if Satoru could read your mind he chuckles and runs a hand through his hair: “I know we haven’t been on the greatest terms the past few years.”

“You don’t say.”, you reply sarcastically and he rolls his eyes in response.

“It’s just, I’m a fool, y/n. Unsure of what he wants and feels and I’m sorry for dragging you down into my pile of bullshit.”, you didn’t know what to say, how to go about this - this pulling and dragging between the both of you, you were tired of it.

“You might be unsure of what you feel, Satoru, but for someone who claims to hate me he sure was into the kiss.”, you point out as a matter of fact, you two kissed each other in there like you both had been each other's lifeline.

He chuckles: “Yeah, I might feel a little more than just hatred for you.”

“A little?”, you frown.

“More than a little.”, he grins, “but I can’t believe you haven't moved on already.”

You scoff and he looks at you so sure of himself and you can’t help but shake your head while laughing.

He stares at you and you awkwardly stop laughing: “What?”

He looked sorry: “How can I make it up to you?”

“How about you start with kissing me and we’ll figure out the rest.”, you grin at him and once again you’re ready to open your heart to the man in front of you.

“I can work with that.”, he grins before grabbing you by the arms and pulling you closer towards him, your lips colliding - you could get used to this type of remedy.

[kis3memore]

Wicked Games

introduction, chapter 1

Summary: Chris is suffering from a nasty addiction and is desperate to find the right person to help him get out of it.

Warnings: slight smut, male receiving, cursing, drug use, alcohol use

WELCOME!! I was scared to post this, but then I was like, you know what? fuck it let’s do it. Anyway, this is my first EVER series on here I’m excited and nervous at the same time!

I hope you all enjoy this introduction!.. ig I’ll call it that.

...

"Watch your teeth," Chris tells the girl who is currently on her knees in front of him, she looks up at him as he grabs a fist full of her hair guiding her head up and down. He throws his head back, "Fuck, there we go, much better,"

He looked back down at the girl as she swirled her tongue around the tip of his penis, making him groan. "Come on, don't tease me," He huffed, turning his head towards the door as he heard shuffling and laughter. He looked back at the girl who was still going to town on him and let his eyes roll to the back of his head, leaning his head back and looked up at the ceiling, feeling dizzy as his vision started to spin and all the laughter from the other side of the door seem far away.

Of course, it was edibles, a joint, and only who knows how many shots he was gone. But to him, he felt amazing, like nothing would feel better than how he felt right now. He loved every minute of his high and wished it would never go away, but it did, and that's when he turned miserable again.

He does take knowledge of his bad addiction, every time he thinks about it he feels about cleaning up and staying sober, but he always ends up not taking his own advice. What's terrible is that he blames people for his addiction, "nobody cares to even help me sober up or even care to encourage me to stop," He felt alone in this world and is in desperate need of someone to save him, he doesn't care who he just wants that somebody to care about him.

His high was ruined when the girl on her knees in front of him decided to scrape her teeth on him once again, he winced looking down at her, "Yeah, you're done here," He pushed her off of him earning a confused look from her. He picked up his pants, buttoning them back up, "Go bite someone else's dick," He hated when his high was ruined, it put him in a bad mood, but that didn't stop him from getting high again.

He walked out of the room, leaving the girl shocked, probably still on her knees. He didn't care.

"Smoke some, drink some pop one"

The song blasts through the house, which holds a party every year school starts. The house belongs to one of the popular hockey players, who invites Chris to every party he hosts. This is the time and place where Chris can easily let loose. He makes his way back to the corner where he always goes with his best buddy, Nate.

"Oh wow, that was quick," Chris laughed, eyeing the joint that was held in between Nate's fingers, "Give me that," He pointed to it. Nate shook his head, moving it away from him, "Nah, you stole my first one. You ain't taking this one," Chris's face dropped, "I almost got my dick eaten off, and you're seriously doing this to me?" Nate's eyes widened as he heard what Chris told him, but then he laughed, shaking his head.

"This is legit the second time you almost went dickless," Nate said to him. Chris looked away from him, watching people walk in and out of the house, "Just give me that damn blunt," He heard Nate scoff, taking another hit before passing it to Chris, who gladly took it from his hand, "Thats what I thought," Taking a hit immediately, Nate shakes his head eyeing him as he does so. The look he gives Chris is mixed with concern and disgust, He's worried about his best friend's health and his addiction, but also disgusted with himself, the guilt he feels washes through him constantly as he is always the one to supply him with stuff and never has the guts to say no.

Chris looked back at the crowd behind him, his eyes landed on someone he couldn't stand, and his face turned sour from even looking at him. Taking one last hit, he passed the blunt back to Nate.

"Life of the party arrived," Chris said, turning his head again towards where "the life of the party" was. Mateo Hansley, on the football team, everyone knows him, but Chris despises him ever since he found out his ex was cheating on him with him. To this day, his ex still tries her all to get him back, and he sometimes finds himself considering it, but Nate pushes him back from it, telling him it's not a good idea, "Oh how cute, I'm surprised his stuck up girlfriend is not with him," Chris looked back at Nate, "Who's that?" He asked him.

"You don't know? Y/n Laurier, snobby little bitch, cheer team," He still didn't have a clue, squinting at Nate, who sighed, looking over at Mateo, "Best friends with the girl you took to the room over there," Chris now had his eyebrows raised, "Damn well, I hope she knows her bestie loves to bite off dicks," Nate laughs at him shaking his head, finishing off the blunt before he gets up from his seat, patting Chris's shoulder, "Lucky you still have yours,"

"Come on mister I'm always feining, I think we need some air and maybe touch some grass while we're at it," Nate said to him as he began to walk through the crowd and towards the door that led to the back yard, Chris rolled his eyes. "I think I'm okay," He muttered, taking the seat where Nate was sitting before he got up. He observed the crowd in front of him, looking at the people dancing, taking shots, smoking, and seeing people making out with one another.

"You look lonely," He sat up straight and looked around, trying to figure out if he actually heard that or if it was just his high messing with him, but no, he found someone actually sitting next to him, A girl he had never seen before, she looked at him with raised eyebrows, he looked back at her with the same expression, he opens his mouth to say something back but she beats him to it, "I'm real, and I'm really sitting next to you" She laughs at him, he does the same rubbing his forehead while shaking his head.

"Um, are you okay?" He snaps back to reality for a bit, looking behind her at the group of girls taking shots together, the girl next to him stays staring at him, waiting for him to speak, Wow this guy is high in the clouds, her mind said. "Oh yeah, I'm perfect! Also, I’m not alone I'm with my friend," He smiled at her answering her question, watching her nod awkwardly, You can just get up and walk away you know.

He wondered why she was still sitting here, getting annoyed a bit. "So, like, the real question is, what are you doing here alone?" he asked her this time. Her eyes traveled all the way down to his shoes, examining him like he were some object. He looked away from her quickly, biting his lip so that he wouldn't curse her out.

"I'm not alone I'm actually with my boyfriend, but who knows where he is right now," She shrugged letting out a breath, he looked at her suspiciously now, "And who's that?" The question came out of his mouth slowly. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, "Mateo Hansley," She answered, and he widened his eyes. Speak of the devil, holy shit.

"I need to touch some grass," he mutters before getting up quickly and walking away. She sits there confused, watching him walk out the door leading to the backyard. "Stoner," she shook her head but then shrugged. Standing on her feet now, she continues to search for her boyfriend.

…

oh wow, yall read the whole thing???? was it good at least???

thank you so much for reading the introduction to my first series!! it’s short i know, but the chapters will be long, let me know what you guys think of it so far!

[vagabond-umlaut]

a grin ain't toothy without the canines

Chapter 4 of functio laesa Gojo x Fem!Reader; Geto & Reader [platonic]; Canon Divergent AU; Isekai. Fluff & Angst & Drama & Humor; Reincarnation; Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies; Incredibly Self-Indulgent; Eventual Happy Ending; Eventual Friendships & Romance.

I wish we were never given homework. I love reading the textbooks, but copy-pasting them into notebooks? Not so much, bestie. (*^_^*)

Chapter warnings: The 'fantabulous friendship' between Reader and Geto. Guest appearance by a non-canon curse.

Training with Geto is worse than your WORST NIGHTMARE EVER.

That bitch is mean. He is evil. Unkind. Cruel. Has a heart of ice. Has no heart at all. 

So much so that you've no idea why, or how on earth, you once considered him to be someone good. Someone who is currently smirking at your defeated downtrodden self in the dirt, face devoid of every gram of sympathy and care you once were idiotic enough to believe he had for you.

Crouching to your level, the object of your fury queries, mockery thinly veiled by his soft speech, "Where did that enthusiasm from four weeks before run away to, Miss?"

"Nowhere," You snap back with a mighty angry frown— only to will it to dim in the same instant, seeing the razor-toothed cursed spirit still lingering less than six feet away. You weren't kidding when you admitted being weak cursed energy-wise.

Okay. Yeah. Fine. Whatever. It is okay. Just take a deep breath in. Then let it out. Repeat the cycle. Deep breath in. Deep breath out. Inhale. Exhale. Girl, you have got this; you have got this; you have— "Thinking of ways to worm your way out of training, Miss?"— OH BLOODY HELL, NO, YOU HAVEN'T. You have to show this piece of shit—

"Never," You answer, mustering a chuckle that comes out more a scoff than anything else. An error not regretted, by the way. "I was just thinking how quickly and effortlessly you switched from a saviour persona into a villain in less than a month. Amazing... Unbelievably so. Really."

Something... crooked and twisted flickers in Geto's face in reply, sparking that familiar fear in your mind— you stamp it down, though. Being honest-to-God sick of this. And note that weird something too gone from the man's features in the same beat, replaced by geniality as he balances on his haunches to look at you. And requests, voice too airy for one in his place, "Sorry I didn't catch you. Come again?"

Wow, okay. This time, there isn't any flicker or whatsoever. The displeasure is sub-texted below his words in bold capital letters. Still, you don't find yourself giving a flying fuck. Thanks to feeling even sicker of this than ever before. [Did you have such a sweet temper in your previous life too? You don't think so... But then again, you were never so sorely beaten in it—]

Casting the poor remains of your sword then the cursed cause behind it a cross glance, you look at the man before. And huff.

"You're one hell of an actor, did you know that?" You begin, deciding not to bite your tongue even once now, "When I leaked few deets about your life here the first time– the first and only time and purely accidentally, mind you– I thought you would be mad at me. For breaking our deal and whatnot. But no. You weren't mad then. You acted the perfect guise of a good guy then; forgiving me without me saying sorry, cracking jokes, teasing me, blah-blah-blah," You shift your voice suddenly to a bolder, graver pitch. You don't like how it grows shrill, though. Geto frowns. His fugly curse inches closer.

Paying both the mind they deserve, which is none, you continue, "Honestly, I was pretty shocked but slowly, I grew used to it, and the many other ways you were nice to me— under the impression they were to persist. But no. The moment I dropped my defences by a micron, you turned into the meanest bully ever!! Taunting me instead of helping me correct my mistakes while training. Giving me backhanded compliments whenever I did something well, no matter how rare that was. Making me– a novice– stand against those horribly powerful curses you ha–"

"Me ignoring your slip-up wasn't me being the good guy," Geto interjects rudely. Despite not wanting to, you bite your tongue to still it. Your dislike for the sheer power imbalance here doesn't cancel it. No, it doesn't, no matter your wishes.

Your trainer's frown lifts but the solemnity stays. "I didn't mind it too much because– one, you never spoiled anything regarding my future, and two, it explained how you know so much about this world, especially about curses, despite possessing so less cursed energy, it's difficult for you to be a mere window."

Ouch, that fucking stung, this bastard—

"And before calling me a villain another time..." Trailing off, Geto leans back onto the heels of his palms. You shoot him a mildly narrowed look. Only to receive a patronising smile in return, besides the remainder of his sentence, "Why don't you learn to land one proper hit, Miss? I might be a villain, alright, but the curses you'll meet on your first mission a fortnight later will be way worse. I can assure you of that."

Anger. Confusion. Finally, the horrified anger that comes only when you grasp you've been lied to— no, worse, been manipulated... You skid through these three emotions faster than lightning, realising–

These training sessions haven't been for whatever bloody reason Geto told you. This bitch has been training you, only so you can survive whichever game he has crafted for you to play against the curses. A life-altering chunk of info, you're certain, he has extremely conveniently kept from you– 'cause you're just some silly, ridiculous, worthless monkey, aren't you? 

It takes you not even an instant to shoot back your reply: A WELL-AIMED FIST TO HIS FACE.

Poor razor-toothed curse. Watching its mama getting punched by some weird stranger lady.

Divider by @benkeibear. Header from Pinterest. I don't own the characters used here.

[belowzion]

Below Zion: Rethinking Valentino

Hello everyone! Today I wanted to show you how we've been rewriting Valentino. As stated in my previous blogs, the characters are given different feels to make them as distinct from their show counterparts as possible so that eventually this can be its own thing. While still inhabiting the pimp lord aspects, Valentinos way of thinking, motivations and even what he does in his past-time should change how this character works and why I grew a fascination in writing about his character recently. Make no mistake, he is a villain and funnily enough, a stark contrast to Charlies ideas.

"Oh, the sex work is great! Tino is garbage. See, I haven't left the industry. I just ran from that self-rightous prick…" - Hip-Lash, one of Angels best friends, left the 'industry'. Hasn't seen Angel for 30 years. To understand where Valentino comes from and why he is the kind of person he is, some context is needed. In Below Zion, sinners are completely incapable of making pacts with other people. Their power instead depends on how sinful they were in life. If you sinned too much, you get thrown into Penance Machines, where you are excessively tortured and bleed out all that sinful energy for runes! Runes pass off as currency in Hell. But if you were not a cannibal serial child killer, you get to enjoy some amazing powers! Or if you got bailed out of these machines through some higher power. While nothing too crazy like what Alastor might be capable of, these sinners are still very powerful with the Wrath they possess. Valentino is no exception. His hazbin is an interesting case of a person hiding the true degeneracy that they possess deep within them. See, Valentino, known before as Mikhail "Milo" Tarentino, was a yoga teacher, originating from India! The guy, not really enjoying his position in India due to the fact that yoga was already quite popular there, decided to move to Italy where yoga wasn't as prevalent! Tarentino was a social butterfly, able to get many contacts and many students into his class! However, his true debauchery also began here. He would often have sexual intercourse with his own students, coercing them, grooming them and eventually fucking them! It does not help the matters that most of these women were married.

"Oh goodness, I did not expect to have a new neighbour! Welcome! I actually remember you, you know? You agreed to collect dirty things for Butcher Pete." Sledge nods. "So I did." "Gross job. Glad they had rubber gloves my size." He says, raising a paw, and wiggling his pudgy fingers… It reminds Alastor a little of one of those asian lucky-cats… cute. "Why ya callin' him 'Butcher Pete'?"

"Oh! No reason! There is just a very catchy song that I wish I NEVER paid any attention to the lyrics of!"

He says as he spins his microphone!

"Would you like to give it a listen? It reminds me of the kind of sinners that I find often here in Lust…" "Sure."

From Als staff - a combination of magical and technological - comes out a very upbeat tune! "Hey everybody, did the news get around? About a guy named Butcher Pete! Oh, Pete just flew into this town, And he's choppin' up all the women's meat!

He's hackin' and wackin' and smackin'! He's hackin' and wackin' and smackin'! He's hackin' and wackin' and smackin'! He just hacks, wacks, choppin' that meat!"

And also... this.

"Yeah, I see your point there, Al... but I got a question for ya~" He says with a sinister grin~

"Very well, i shall bite! Shoot!" "Say, have you ever had a pump and dump at a family reunion~?"

"[Oh no...]" The T.V Demon grows... concerned for what is about to be retold.

Velvette begins to giggle maniacally!

"I know Some of those words! Likely Not in the context You Want them to be in, though!"

"Then you do know the context I am referring to~ Don't worry Al, I am not talking about ones own family reunion, obviously, but somebody else's."

"You Are talking about FILTH then. No Val, i have done Nothing of the likes!"

"Oh come on, never had the fun? I had this one where I was invited to one of my students', I was a yoga teacher back in the day, you see? Anyhow, I eventually found myself banging different women. See, because they are all related, they had like, slightly different mommy boxes, but I was test driving 'em, right? Seeing how evolution has shaped each one a little differently so that you can find one that's just right?"

[No, Val stop, Al is already-]

"I call this goldilocksing~"

"And this relates to hunting... hoooow...?" Velvette seems perplexed...

Val thinks for a moment...

"I forgot what I was getting at, my bad~" He says as he takes a puff from his cigarette.

Al... looks grossed out. He thinks about this... And shivers in mild disgust again, a few moments after the first time.

As you can see here, Valentino kept his "trade" a secret in his human life, but he was also very good with it. Being able to get around fucking the entire female half of a family. Living in Italy though, he envied the mafia families that always seemed to be able to get what they wanted. More so because one day, one of those families caught Tino and his disgusting tendencies and... lets just say that he was never found on Earth again.

This eventually landed him in Hell. While he did sin quite excessively, it did not compare to the likes of Velvette, Alastor, Eve, Angel Dust or Agatha. However, he did gain one very prominent power from this... The red mist. The mist he puffs out whenever he smokes, the stench that leaves his body, the morphine that binds people to him like soul contracts!

Its an addictive substanance. Some people even describe it as off-puttingly as possible by saying that its his "musk". Valentino, while possessing not a terrifying amount of strength compred to some other powerful sinners out there, he possesses an ability that can dominate each one of them without trouble.

One such case being Angel Dust.

See, Angel, being the son of a ruthless mafia boss, when arrived in Hell, he wanted to become famous and wealthy immidietly! Get rich quick without much work! Well, with work he loves to do~

This is where Valentino steps into his life, offering him such opportunities while... making sure Angel inhales his mist as much as possible. Keep him addicted, don't let him get away~

Valentino is especially abusive towards Angel both sexually and physically. However, this stems not from his actual love for Angel Dust, but his hate.

Valentino, ever since he arrived in Hell, has gained a sick fascination towards punishing the sinners that think they are hot shit.

"He has a… self-rightous attitude lets say. If he thinks you had it too good and don't appriciate the stuff you have… he'll get ideas~" -Velvette

Valentino is the essence of Hell. He punishes the winners of hazbin, not the losers. Seeing Angel Dust, being this mafiaso that loved and CRAVED sex in every opportunity and got what he wanted without ever thinking about the implications, gives Valentino this certain feeling of moral superiority. He feels like a punisher, a true demon of Hell that is there to become Angels worst nightmare for all the horrible things he has done in his life.

It gets better due to the fact that Valentino knows he is weaker than Angel, yet due to his addictions, he wins over him. Its not some pact that binds Angel, its his own Lust... and Sloth. His desire for easy success and wealth led him to this disgusting mess.

When Charlie rolls around with the idea of redemption, of course he hates it. To him, punishment is well deserved and bad boys like Angel need to be made an example of.

This also presents the reader with an interesting question. Does Angel deserve what Val does to him considering that he was CERTAINLY not a good person in his own hazbin? Or does he deserve redemption? This is literally Charlies ideology, being asked to the viewer. Should the sinner be punished or redeemed? Angel was a despicable human being that murdered, tortured, raped and was bound to many external substances. Does he deserve punishment in the hands of Valentino? Or does he deserve redemption in the hands of Charlie?

Valentino is also not just doing this to Angel. This goes for ANYONE he thinks they had it too good for too long...

Welp, that was all! Valentino is an asshole pervert fueled by hatred!

Please do write feedback, I'd love to hear your ideas if you think of any!

[vvh0adie]

cloud 9.999

pairing: namjoon x reader | type: drabble | words: 0.9k | rating: 18+/M

All you can think about is Namjoon as you yearn for him to dominate you.

⇴ genre/au: light angst | fluff ‖ office | coworkers | unrequited love | kink ⇴ persona: team manager!namjoon | office worker!reader | horny!reader ⇴ cw: cussing | dissociation | capitalistic helplessness | pining ⇴ dynamic: dom!namjoon x sub!reader ⇴ sw: sexual daydreaming | mentions of cunnilingus | mentions of vaginal sex | mentions of kissing | mentions of cuddling ⇴ a/n: I don't know what to put here. May get a rewrite if i'm ever into office romances.

masterlist | inbox

© vvh0adie 2022- [do not AI train/copy/repost/translate]

✧༺♡༻✧

Click the box.

Type extremely large number in said box.

Click the next box.

Type extremely extremely large number in said box.

Click the next next extr-

You flop your head onto your desk, simultaneously releasing your new track of keyboard jazz as you furiously left click your mouse. The symphony progresses, a groan escaping from the innermost depths of your gut.

What the fuck are you doing with your life? Is this really all life has to offer? Surely not? Because you could very well be on a yacht surrounded by the snobbishly rich, sipping on martinis, or maybe even at some pretentious assholes art exhibition -at least, then, you’d have some drama and thrill to your monotonous life.

But to be honest, that’s not something you dream of. You’re just letting your mind wander -well your mind is always wandering, so this is more of a misdirect. Besides, those types of people are rarely ever happy themselves, looking for the next best thing when they already seemingly have everything, or either they find themselves on long-running reality tv. You don’t wish for riches, or fame. Hell, you don’t wish for labor period, but you definitely wish for a ticket off this plane of existence.

You’d rather be at home, cozying up in your heaviest and fluffiest blanket, while eating your favorite snack and reading some book that could whisk you away from this reality where you can imagine yourself as somebody else or live vicariously through your favorite characters.

“You should go home,” you hear a deep, melodic voice grace your ears. You take a deep breath before sitting up to meet the gaze of your co-worker, Namjoon.

“I can’t… well, I won’t let myself because I just want to get done.” Your bottom lip pokes out as you look at the digital spreadsheet of mostly empty boxes.

“Yeah, but you’ve done enough for today. You’re even further than everyone else, including me and y’know how I am.” He scrolls through your spreadsheet, slightly leaning over you. “Besides, I’m technically your boss, so I can just force you to leave,” he says, but you’re barely paying attention.

You gaze upon his side profile, admiring his long lashes and plump, two-toned lips. You won’t deny that you’ve thought about it. Kissing him, that is… no, fucking him. Having him over you as he ravages your mouth with his tongue, slowly and passionately fucking into your tight, wet pussy with his massive cock.

You want him to dominate you: choke you, bite you, smack your ass, make you cry and beg for sweet release as he praises you for being his sweet lil’ sex kitten. You want that spark of arousal from watching him lead your team to burst into flames as the two of you share a night of passion.

Your eyes slowly caress his features, landing on his full lips that would look so pretty wrapped around you swollen clit and french kissing your glistening core, then, to his arms that would hold you tight as he thrust into you till finally landing on his broad, golden chest that you wanted to lick and suck as he moans your name, praising you for making your ‘Oppa’ feel good.

“You’re really out of it, aren’t you?” Namjoon chuckles, his soothing, baritone voice, making your thighs squeeze together from the heartbeat radiating in your bundle of nerves.

Eyes still baring into his chest, you lick your lips, but he never suspects that you’re pining after him because you’ve always had a habit of dissociating, your mindless gaze always in the “strangest” of places. He actually finds your little escapes from reality quite cute. Had it been anyone else, he’d probably chastise them for daydreaming and slacking off, but you’re different. You try your best to complete tasks just so you can go back to having your head in the clouds.

When you look up he has a hand over his mouth, giggling. You watch in awe as the apples of his cheeks bloom and his eyes grace you with a smile. He’s so handsome; you have to restrain the urge to jump him in the heat of passion just to taste him one good time.

He seems to settle, but his eyes wander up to your forehead before he’s a giddy mess again, “What?”

“It’s- You-,” he can hardly contain himself as your brows raise above your big eyes, accompanying your slightly parted lips. You look so cute, completely clueless to the cause of his tickled ways until he finally points.

You begin feeling around your hairline, looking at Namjoon for guidance as he hides behind his hands, shaking his head to your cold hands.

Then, you feel it: three little square indentations from your previous serenade of the keyboard.

You begin giggling with him, your two cubicles, like the blanket fort you build at a sleepover.

Even though the situation appears sweet in nature, your mind still wanders to how the two of you could be like this all the time, engaging in childish pillow talks right after devouring each other’s succulent essence and grinding your hips together in a mess of cum, slick and moans. Maybe you could stay a little while longer just to be close to him, but you’re definitely going to find release in his angelic visage when you get home.

masterlist | inbox

[thelifeofplums]

Own Worst Enemy

Trigger Warning - Violence (not from the demon bros), verbal abuse (yes from the demon bros), general feeling of unfairness, feeling unworthy, self-depreciating thoughts, replaced MC, negative thoughts

The silence at the table was an unfamiliarity to you. And so were the brothers’ gazes, paying you no attention or care and ignoring the situation you were in with their eldest sibling, Lucifer.

You had never felt so alone, like a lone star in a grand and empty sky, as the quiet among the brothers reminded you of the many events that led you to this situation. 

Disappointment. 

It was what the brothers no doubt felt about you as they had each expected something of you that you couldn’t give or do. No matter you’re own skills and experiences, apparently you weren’t as perfect as you wished you could be for them.

A victory in a game you detested. The ability to party every night without becoming drained. Giving deep and meaningful discussion about a book you had lost interest the moment you had opened it. A new dish you were expected to perfect instantly. The expectation of staying calm and collected for the comfort of somebody else. Keeping a perfect image for the sake of somebody else’s reputation. And a faulty mission which you knew would only cause trouble for you.

Maybe it was your own fault for these ridiculous expectations. Had you not proven your ability to handle difficult situations, the brothers wouldn’t think to ask of such simple tasks that weren’t as simple as they seemed. 

“You’re inability to meet the average grade for your classes is a disgrace to this family and to Diavolo.”

Your teeth grinded against each other at Lucifer’s words of disappointment. Though you hardly had the energy to bite back, you felt your anger of their ridiculousness and “inability” to leave you alone. 

“I’m sure my brothers’ antiques have been keeping you occupied but you should understand that it’s your choice to indulge in their requests and that the consequences that come after are from your decisions,” Lucifer continued, “Your tasks here in the Devildom come first before you play around, and it is what’s expected of you as a human in the exchange program.

You inhaled sharply before letting out a scoff, looking away from the glaring demon. Your grip on your fork tightened and you felt sick to your stomach. 

How dare he place the blame on you? It wasn’t your fault that no one seemed to remember that humans had limits. 

You sort of wished they’d notice that they were hurting you with what they had recently been saying and doing. Hear them apologize to you and tell you they were idiots for making you feel useless. It was your pride which made you feel this way. Your own form of pride that made you want to laugh, certainly when the very pinnacle of it was berating you about your actions like a parent would a child. 

Lucifer noticed your dry laugh and you felt, more than saw or heard, him grow more irritated, “You think this is a joke? Y/N, you were chosen for a reason and that makes you responsible for-”

“You can’t be seriously saying that you chose me for a reason. Weren’t you the one who told me I was only chosen because my file happened to land at your feet?” It didn’t scare you to interrupt the demon. You had been through worse, no thanks to the very person who was giving you bullshit about the program. If anything, you knew what to expect and couldn’t bother being worried about it when you couldn’t handle this nonsense anymore. 

Before Lucifer could say anything, you stood abruptly from your seat and gazing around the room at the brothers who said nothing to you. 

You scoffed again, ignoring the burning sensation of hurt in your heart, “Is this what I get for dealing with your bullshit every fucking day?! I try to make you all happy but so sorry if I’m not what you expected.”

Seething, you couldn’t stop the words from flowing out in a wave of anger, “Maybe you should just have seven different versions of me so you can all be satisfied, huh? All with the ability to be the perfect me you want me to be, would that make you all happy?!”

In your rage, you hardly noticed Mammon glancing at you with a guilty look.

“Y/N-”

The prickling of tears stung your eyes and your voice cracked, “Just give me a break! I don’t think any of you realize how fucking impossible it is to please every single one of you when there’s only one me! AND I TRY! I TRY! But none of you seem to give a shit!”

You brought your hands to press against your wet eyes and you let out a scream of frustration before running out, hating how they made you feel like this. Like...like you weren’t doing enough for them. Or that you weren’t enough for them.

It didn’t come to mind where you were running to. With no destination, you could only think of getting as far from those demon brothers as you possibly could. You didn’t want to be around them, didn’t want to be reminded of how imperfect you were compared to them.

The surface you ran on changed from carpeted floor to hard pavement and the air shifted to a fresh mist, it’s chilly dampness working to cool you from your strong emotions.

You didn’t know for how long you ran but you could feel yourself run out of breath, panting loudly and feeling exhausted from everything that had happened.

Coming to a stop, your breath hitched with a sob and you fell to your knees, feeling powerless to the oncoming emotions that drowned you and your awareness. 

It wasn’t fair. The demon brothers had no idea how you wished to be perfect for them but how could you when you were only human? And then with them shoving it in your face with unhappiness and disappointment. Did they not think at least once that maybe you were trying to be the best you could be? And so what if the best you could be wasn’t the best they wanted you to be, why should you have to kill yourself for them to feel happy?

It was as if they forgot a simple gesture could get you killed in this world, and maybe if they’d remembered, they could be more understanding.

It just wasn’t fair.

“Oh, you poor thing.”

The slithering sensation of those words shot you like an arrow and you jumped before realizing the speaker’s close proximity. 

It’s serpentine face grinned a fanged smile, a tongue darting out as if to taste the air you breathed out. The way it looked at you reminded you of the first day you had arrived and of Beelzebub who had thought you were his next meal. 

It took you only a second to notice the three other similar looking demons that surrounded you, wolves cornering a lone sheep, and you opened your mouth to let out a scream. But the closest snakelike demon covered your mouth, its scaly skin similar to Levi’s tail but nowhere near the same. 

You yanked at the clawed hand keeping you from calling out for help, nails digging into the skin but failing to struggle free from the demon’s grip.

No. Oh no. No. No. No. This couldn’t be happening.

You needed to summon the brothers. You needed their help. You needed them to save your pathetic self. 

Fresh tears pooled at your eyes, blurring your vision as you could only think of how stupid you were for letting your feelings get the best of you.

You expected better from yourself.

“A lonely little human like yourself, crying in the cold of the night, how could we ignore you when you so desperately need our help, hm?” One of the demons in front of you cooed, crouching down to gently stroke your cheek. The cold and slippery feeling of its hand made you shiver and you shook your head. 

“Mmph...! Mmmmph!” You tried to speak through the hand covering your mouth, but your summoning words couldn’t make it. 

“Don’t struggle, sweet thing,” the demon keeping you silent hissed softly into your ear, “We just want to help you.”

“You’re clearly in pain but I promise you, what you’re feeling will go away once you give us your soul,” it continued, “We’ll reward you greatly if you give it to us willingly, you won’t need to worry of rejection or humiliation...and you would live your life feeling nothing. No pain, no fear...just nothing. Doesn’t that sound perfect?”

An idea flashed in your head and before the demons could do anything more, you bit down hard on the hand which kept you silenced. The monster behind you screeched in pain, its rotten blood spilling in your mouth, and you darted away from it’s grasp. Immediately, you started to speak the words which would summon the very people you had been angry with. 

You may be prideful but anyone in the face of death would suck it up. And so would you.

“Hear me, Denizens of the Darkness, you who are born of-!” 

You were tackled to the ground, a hit to the face rendered you shocked, interrupting your summoning. 

“Shut it up properly this time, you idiot! We don’t need the seven lords knowing we’ve got their human pet.” 

Something was shoved into your mouth and before you knew it, the demon whacked your head which brought a blissful darkness which consumed your conscious.

*****

“...Y/N...need...get out...”

I’ve heard this voice before.

Within the darkness, you could hear her. A voice you had heard countless times before...

Lilith?

You didn’t hear it again and so you opened your eyes.

“...Huh?”

You were lying on the pavement of the walkway in the bustling Devildom. People passed you by without giving you so much as a glance and you sat up, confusion swirling in your head.

What am I doing here?

Without thinking, you brought your hand to your head as if it had been hurt. But you felt nothing...

Why did I do that?

Was it possible you had sleepwalked all the way here? After all, you had no memory of lying on the walkway and falling asleep on it.

Perhaps you had gone out drinking....had you gone out alone? That wouldn’t make sense, Asmo would have gone with you or his other brothers.

Asmo!

You shot up, looking around to gauge where you were in the Devildom. Though it didn’t take you long as you recognized the path to the House of Lamentation. 

Maybe the demon brothers knew how you had gotten here and so you headed home. 

But you couldn’t help but think you were missing something. Was their a conversation you had forgotten? Or maybe you were supposed to get something from the market, which would explain why you were in town, but was that the case?

You ran up the front steps of the House of Lamentation, opening the doors.

“...They’re certainly taking their time.”

“Of course...what’d you expect from them?”

“...makes me glad we decided to...”

The voices of the demon brothers guided you to the common room and you were getting ready to greet them. 

With a smile on your face, you entered and just as you were about to say hello, you stopped. 

Somebody stood in the middle of the room, a pleasant but blank look on their face. You suddenly thought of how they looked just like you...?

“Y/N, didn’t I tell you we needed groceries for tonight’s dinner?” You barely registered Satan’s voice as you stared at the new person in the house, “I told you Beel had eaten everything, how could you forget that?”

“Don’t bother Satan, we all know Y/N can’t do anything right.”

What? Why were they saying those awful things?

“W-What’s going on here, guys?” You stuttered out, unable to tear your eyes away from the stranger.

“We realized you needed to learn how to be a better you, so we made a new version of you who will show you how to...” Lucifer’s voice trailed off as your ears could only hear the sound of your beating heart.

So you weren’t just imagining the similarity between you and the person standing in the middle of the room. 

They weren’t a stranger. And they certainly weren’t family as they looked just like you. No...they were you.

A perfect reflection of yourself stood silently in the room, like a puppet without a soul. They were the spitting image, every detail, every line and crease were not forgotten. 

You had been remade. Replaced by your own self.

Welp, I didn’t think I’d write a replaced MC au but here I am..............I’ll blame the fact I couldn’t sleep tonight, if it weren’t for that I probably wouldn’t have thought up of all the stuff for this fic lmao. 

Anyways....To be continued~

Part 2

[fullstcp]

'The Good Witch' by Maisie Peters Sentence Starters

THE GOOD WITCH

"Did you think I forgot about you?"

"Let's call this the calm before the storm comes rushing through."

"It's Armageddon."

"Still argue like my mother and suppress stuff like my dad."

"Still miss you, but I know now it'll pass."

"I will try forgiveness, but I will not forget."

"Am I better yet?"

COMING OF AGE

"Was it a love affair or just a lot of late nights?"

"If it was a first kiss, how come it felt like a snake bite?"

"I wish I would've seen it sooner."

"I wasn't your cliché."

"This is my coming of age."

"Baby, I am the Iliad, of course you couldn't read me."

"I'll leave you behind, but that don't mean it's easy."

"You stole my love and I paid."

"But you couldn't keep what you couldn't tame."

"I let you butcher my big heart."

"It's my song and my stage."

WATCH

"Nobody actually happy and healthy has ever felt so desperate to prove it."

"It looked like a film Michael Cera would act in."

"It felt like a face slap."

"I fought it but I saw it and it sawed me right in half."

"You still get to me, but I still let you."

"You got every single thing you want. And I just watch."

"I know that I should know better."

"I just keep looking back at you."

"I saw you and your girlfriend."

"Sure, I don't know she's your girlfriend."

"Well, fucking sue me cause at least then we could talk."

"Now you're living the goddamn dream."

"You broke my heart and my self esteem for a girl/guy who's a remix of me."

BODY BETTER

"I was good to you."

"Did I just not do it for you, superficially?"

"You were it for me."

"It was nothing I did and nothing I said."

"And I know I gave you all of myself, one hundred percent."

"Loving you was easy, that's why it hurts now."

"The worst way to love somebody is to watch them love somebody else and it work out."

"Do you love her/him/them?"

"If you love her/him/them, was I just an idea you liked?"

"I don't know how I still can't make it make any sense."

"I thought it would be us for life."

"Will you tell me just one more lie?"

WANT YOU BACK

"I was the DJ and the darling of your passenger side."

"I know it didn't last."

"What was cheap to you, to me, was all I had."

"The issue is, I know all of this and I still want you back."

"If you told me what would happen, I think I would've begged."

"So you got to be a coward and I salvaged a little self-respect."

"I'd be yours again tomorrow if you wanna."

"I still want you back."

THE BAND AND I

"He said he'd make a move and then he went with 'Excuse me?'."

"It was letting go of everything but you."

"If we're living the dream, I hope we never wake up."

"It was breaking down, it was falling in love."

"It was magic, babe, pure and strong."

"It was a far-flung wish when we were young."

YOU'RE JUST A BOY (AND I'M KINDA THE MAN)

"I take in clowns like a one-woman circus."

"You're kinda awful, but you're not awful on purpose."

"Don't you know that you're losing this?"

"I'm on a one-way trip to take over the world."

"What's a girl/boy gonna do when she's/he's in love with you?"

"It's sad and it's true and I'm in love with you."

"You were my best friend."

"I'm not gonna wait, now I know better than that."

"Goodbye from your biggest fan."

"Goodbye from the bigger man."

LOST THE BREAKUP

"I know you remember."

"I'm the best thing that almost happened to you."

"I'm the greatest love that you wasted."

"You got two types: country and western."

"Wow, hey, it's been forever."

"Do you wanna get a drink, like together?"

"I'm kinda busy but, like, stay in touch."

"Oh, shit I won the breakup."

"You lost the breakup."

WENDY

"You're laughin' like a kid."

"You're calling like the future then you're closed up like a fist."

"Lost my page when you kissed me."

"She/he almost loses her/his way cause she/he follows him/her after one look."

"I know the girl/guy that you want and it scares me."

"Behind every lost boy/girl, there's always a Wendy."

"You're evasive on the phone until you're sorry on the floor."

"I'm throwing you a bone because you want me and you're sure."

"If I'm not careful, I'll wake up and we'll be married."

RUN

"I've heard some things that I will leave unrepeated."

"If a man says that he wants you in his life forever, run."

"He/she likes a promise if he/she don't have to keep it."

"He/she hates a sentence when he/she has to mean it."

TWO WEEKS AGO

"I wish it was two weeks ago."

"I wish we kissed when we first wanted."

"When we said goodbye, wish I hadn't let go."

"I loved you, babe, but I bet you knew that."

"Knew you loved me, babe, when you told me that."

"I was happier than I'd ever known."

"That last kiss, couldn't look at you. But I wish I did."

"I was yours so fast."

"God, I loved you, babe, did I tell you that?"

BSC

"We don't speak cause it's too tricky."

"But if I'm tricky, why'd you kiss me?"

"It's funny and I'm laughing, baby."

"You think I'm alright. But I'm actually bloody motherfucking batshit crazy."

"It kept it in, but it wrecked my organs."

"I'm gonna throw you down the river."

"You made me Little Miss Unstable."

"I can write you out the way I wrote you in."

THERAPY

"When we met, I told you I've been treated carelessly."

"You couldn't have loved a girl/guy any harder than you loved me."

"I'm just talking to your memory."

"I was abandoned, but you swore that you'd be there for me."

"Your touch will last for centuries."

"You gave me the world and you gave me your word."

"It built me like a promise until it broke me like a curse."

"I knew loving you was letting you leave."

THERE IT GOES

"I'm dating, but just dating for sport."

"I'm doing better, I made it to September."

"I can finally breathe."

"I had to let it go."

"The love we had was eating me whole."

"He/she kissed me right in front of my friends."

"I don't need your light to be lit."

"The way I loved you, I will not be embarrassed of that."

"I just should've known when to quit."

"The loss is yours."

"The universe is shifting and it's all for me."

HISTORY OF MAN

"I couldn't believe it. How you could just stop wanting me."

"She begs him, he says he doesn't understand."

"She loves him more than anyone ever has."

"You didn't even falter."

"You didn't look back once, did you?"

"Given half the chance, I would've made him weaker too."

"You walked out without sweating."

"He stole her youth and promised heaven."

"Women's hearts are lethal weapons."

"You are still my great obsession."

"I beg you and you don't understand."

"I hold on, I try to hold your hand."

"I save you a seat and then you say you wanna stand."

"So you'll lose me, the best you'll ever have."

HOLY REVIVAL

"I swore that I'd be a non-bullshit tolerating kind of girl/guy."

"No getting attached to men you can't have."

"Last year, I had to focus on survival."

"My ex was a bitter man, middle child."

"Now I'm in my holy revival."

"I have two friends. I listen to them like the bible."

"That is really not important."

"It's about what he represents."

"Which is me getting obsessed by someone fundamentally wrong for me."

"I'm not doing it again."

"It's just me and myself."

"You're just kinda dumb."

"I'm just kinda done."

"No telling the truth."

YOKO

"Funny, you know, you were the whole wide world."

"You fell for the moment so you lied to the girl/guy."

"I gave you option, and you chose wrong."

"I meant, "Don't go." It came out as "Goodbye"."

"You said, "Fine." When you should've said, "We could try"."

"Now we're seeing other people."

"Thought you knew how I felt, now I doubt it."

"We should've talked it out when it happened."

"I couldn't talk to you."

"You misunderstood the secret."

"The universe doesn't always come through."

"Sometimes you can't be the hero and tell the truth."

"And you misunderstood me leaving as something I wanted. I didn't want it at all."

"You should've put me above those people you didn't even know."

"You have a phone, you should've called."

"You misunderstood a lot of things."

"You misunderstood me too."

THE SONG

"I'm older now but I still don't really know things."

"I thought that we were forever and ever, I guess I was wrong."

"You were the one and now you're not."

"I'm gonna fall out of love by the end of the song."

"I could reach out but it's your turn and it's your shit."

"I've been trying peace and love and telling the truth."

"I got drunk, told everyone that I broke up with you."

"I was obsessed but I was young."

"You were my whole life once."

GUY ON A HORSE

"I hear you talking over me, like, is that smart?"

"You'll be lonely in your fifties."

"I tried to be nice but I can't keep it in anymore."

"I think you wanna start a war."

TRUTH IS

"He's/she's just something you regret."

"He's/she's not a savior or the best you'll ever get."

"Time will heal, but I'll always be a little bit broke."

"You weren't love but I think I confused it."

"All I ever did was care."

"I'll never get back months of my life."

"Did I give you any reason?"

"Did I love you?"

"Did you think that I deserved it?"

THE LAST ONE

"I'll always see great heights in you."

"I'll be the last one in your corner when the count's done."

"I'm still your number one fan."

"After the crowd's gone, I'll be the last one."

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

“Go away.”

His gruff voice reached you before you’d even reached his camp. You stopped in your tracks and your eyes found him kneeling by his pack, his hands busy. He hadn’t even looked at who was coming. “Daryl—” He swore under his breath and stood up, turning to face you. “What fuckin’ part of ‘go away’ ain’t clear enough?”

But you weren’t about to be run off by his barking. When it came to you, Daryl was all bark and no bite. “It’s clear. I’m just choosing to ignore it.” His scowl deepened, but you saw a quick flash of vulnerability. You strode closer and he didn’t retreat, didn’t turn his back on you, didn’t go hide in his tent. “I wish you’d come back,” you said softly. 

Daryl look at the gentle creases of worry in your forehead and he almost caved right there. “Pfft... Why? Nobody gives a fuck anyway,” he retorted, bending down again to dig through his pack just to distract himself from the wash of feelings you always managed to dredge up in him.

“I give a fuck,” you said. “Why else would I be here?” Daryl sighed heavily, feeling his walls continuing to crumble. “The only reason ya want me over there is so I can watch out for everybody. Tha’s all I am to those people anyway, somebody who’s a good shot, somebody to do all the dirty work nobody else will do. S’fuckin’ waste of my time.” You frowned. “That isn’t true,” you countered strongly. Daryl took a few powerful strides toward you, his manufactured swagger on full display. “Then why? Why should I move back over there, huh?” His voice was sharp, edgy. 

You crossed your arms and looked him squarely in the eye. “Because I miss you, you stubborn ass.” In a cascade of rubble and dust, the last of Daryl’s walls crashed down with those words.

Prompt: “No one gives a fuck anyway.”

[fanficsforheartandsoul]

You’re Somebody Else | Ghost x Fem!Reader | Prologue

Update: I split the prologue because I feel like the pacing fits better if it’s split into two parts.

Note: This is based on a request which I changed a bit since I did not play any other Call of Duty game besides Modern Warfare 2 (2022). I did a bit of research tho for the older games so I hope it’s not complete bullshit that I’m pulling out of my ass, also related to the military stuff xD 

Thank you for this first request of my current favorite character :)) 

Also a warning, this series will be angsty as hell but I’m not planning to make it very long, as I learned my lesson with a certain witcher fic xD 

This fic has religious undertones at least in this part, I hope I don’t make anyone uncomfortable with this. I grew up Christian (tho I’m an atheist now) and I thought a bit about how I would react if I was suddenly in a parallel universe where I and several other people are supposed to be dead.

Warnings: Death, Mentions of Gore, Angst, COD Typical Violence, Mentions of Original Characters, Mention of Religion and Hell, Inaccurate Depiction of Medical Stuff, Injuries and prolly Military, Transmigration (lol)

Summary:  You watched him die and yet he’s somehow still alive. You’re certain that you’ve died too and yet you’re still kicking. Is this a message from the universe? A second chance to make things right? To confess? You want to believe it but you quickly realize that he’s not the same man you knew and loved. Yet your heart is fluttering when he touches you. Can you love this new version of him?

Word Count: 1.2k

Taglist: -

If you want to be tagged in my stories send me a pm with the fandom/character name! Or comment on the fic :)

Masterlist

Part I, Part II, Part III, ...

“Fucking hell, there’s so many of ‘em!”

Lynx fires her rifle next to you and you do the same, feeling the recoil on your shoulder. You only waste a millisecond to check if your target is actually hit and then immediately focus on the next enemy. 

Below your position the LZ is hot and the hill on the other side is bombarded with mortars. 

You know it’s hell down there and yet you wish you were between those trees instead of the elevated bush area from where you currently provide cover fire. 

He is there and in this very moment you want to be by his side. No matter the heavy gunfire. 

“You still see them?!” your partner asks from your right, and you affirm her question as you kill another hostile. 

Roach and Ghost are steadily moving forward in between the onslaught of Russian soldiers and growing relief trickles through your veins with every step they take. 

But then they run out of the tree line and before either of you can react, a mortar shell explodes right in front of them, and Roach is sent flying. 

“No, fuck, NO!” Lynx yelps and the panic in her voice is earth-shattering. 

“He’s not dead, Anna!” you shout and grab her by the shoulder, stopping her from standing up. She bites her lips but thankfully remains on the ground, just inching a bit forward, desperate to spot her lover alive. 

You pray that your words are true and thank fuck they are; seconds later Ghost drags a shooting Roach away from the trees and the red flare that the masked man popped for Thunder-Two-One. 

“Jesus Christ”, you hear the woman beside you whisper, “I’ll beat his ass when we’re back home!” 

A nervous bubbly laugh escapes you and you hope that you all can return to base safe and in one piece. 

“Move, Ghost! We’ll cover you!” you speak into your mic. 

His voice rings through your earbud “copy that, Nomad!” and you breathe out shakily. Yeah, everything will be fine. 

With your eyes you watch how Thunder-Two-One sends a merciless spray of machine gun fire into the tree line, but you can’t see beyond the smoke and instead focus your scope on the few enemy soldiers that emerge from the grey fog. You take them out one by one. 

You’re about to send another bullet into an approaching hostile when your radio crackles. 

“Gold Eagle is on the ground. Watch for snipers on thermal, over.” 

Lynx makes a noise beside you. “Isn’t it just us and Adle-“ 

Blood suddenly sprays and you blink. Your lips taste iron, your right eye is watering and with one glance to your right the sounds of the battlefield all turn into white noise. 

Instinctively you press yourself against the grass, your left cheek touches the damp ground and with wide eyes you stare at Anna’s unmoving body. Your partner is dead. Shot in the head. 

Based on the whizz of the bullet and the spray of blood that hit you it must have been a sniper who killed her. For a second you think the Russians sneaked up on you, but then you remember the words through the radio; Watch for snipers… 

Realization trickles through your veins. Someone must have betrayed you. 

Your heart sinks and within a millisecond you make a decision. 

You roll to your left, gripping your rifle tightly and a bullet passes overhead, barely missing your shoulder. But it did miss and you’re rolling down the side of the hill. 

The tumble returns your ability to hear, and the sound of the helicopters combined with your racing heartbeat is deafening. 

The small incline of your hiding place saved your life for now and although you know deep down that your luck probably won’t last, you are thankful in this very moment. 

Tears well up in your eyes but you rub them away with your sleeve. A red smear appears on the fabric, and you clench your jaw. Focus, you don’t have time for this right now!! 

You know that whoever killed Anna is probably relocating right now to get a good shot at you, but you don’t care. 

You need to know what’s happening to him, if he dies- 

“Ghost?! Lynx is KIA, someone cut us! Do you copy?!” 

You anxiously wait for an answer, but your radio stays silent. 

Breathing out shakily, you lift yourself from the ground and rush behind a tree to shield your right flank. The dust that is kicked up by the many helicopters, which gathered on the plain, is making it difficult for you to spot the man you’re looking for, but the big Boeing helicopter used to transport the General is a good reference point. 

You position your rifle and adjust your scope to find the heli. 

The clouds of dust are thick, but like a miracle you spot the General- leaning over Roach, Simon laying motionlessly beside them, his grey sweater showing a bloom of red as if he was shot-

Your scream is stuck in your throat, and you watch frozen as Shepherd retrieves the DSM from Gary and simply leaves while four Shadow company soldiers step forward. 

Tears well up again and this time you let them fall as the world begins to spin. 

“No, no, no, please-!” you whimper, sucking in air through your clenched teeth and without a second thought you rush forward. 

You make it about 60 meters before a bullet through your right shoulder throws you off balance and sends you straight to the ground. Hot flaming pain shoots through your body and the brute force of your crash and your rifle painfully pressing against your ribs take the air out of your lungs. 

Dazed you lift your head, heavy from the weight of your helmet, and for a moment your vision is blurry; you blink to regain focus. 

In the distance you see the soldiers clad in black, carrying Gary’s and Simon’s limp bodies to a spot without grass. They drop them like two sacks of potatoes and the pain in your heart is worse than the one of your bullet wound. 

A wail escapes your throat, and you try to lift your body from the ground, to crawl forward, but your limbs feel like lead, and you don’t have the strength to move. 

Your radio crackles and your ear bud lets Captain Price’s voice come through: “Ghost, come on, this is Price! We’re under attack by Shepherd’s men…” 

You can hear gunfire from his side and in one last effort you pull your rifle from underneath you. 

The fact that Taskforce 141- you were betrayed by your superior, the man who you considered a father figure at one point in your life, that he killed the man you loved- love… That fact stokes something inside of you and that barely gives you the strength to position your rifle. 

Weakly you watch how the Shadow company bastards douse your friends, your brothers, the ones you love with gasoline and Shepherd’s plan dawns on you. Bile rises in your throat and you sob through clenched teeth.

You place your finger on the trigger but in the end, you don’t get the chance to pull it. 

The general casually drops his cigar and Gary’s and Simon’s corpses go up in flames right as a bullet enters the back of your head.