#i said i wasn’t going to become feral over this one didn’t i

[ggigigoode]

Do you come around here? 😃

[bisexualiteaa]

DESPERATELY needing a sequel to the sex pollen! Fic,,, they keep the chems and cooper takes some either on purpose or by accident and poor vaultie is going to have to consider restraining him 👅 he's too feral (in the BEST sense)

A Flame in Your Heart Pt. 2

Cooper Howard x Fem Reader (SMUT!!)

CW: established relationship, cursing, NSFW MDNI, slight deviation from TV show, slight OOC Cooper, perverted thoughts, oral (fem recieving) drug use, alcohol use, dub-con (from drug use but consent is very clearly given!!) sex-chem usage! p in v, p0rn w/o plot, absolute filth, riding, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, multiple irradiated cream pies, fluffy ending, briefly proof read, possible spelling/grammar errors

AN: and just like our man Hancock needing love, had to make sure ol’ Coop got some love too. 😉 I’m glad this one has done so well! I hope I did your ask justice Anon! Thank you again for your request and I hope you enjoy the absolute FILTH that is this sequel. 👅

After your accidental discovery of the sex chem that led to your crazy sexcapade, Cooper decided to pocket the borderline heat inducing drug for a later use. He’d be a liar if he said the idea of *him* experimentally taking it hadn’t crossed his mind a plethora of times since the incident. Would it have any effect on him? Would it make him as sensitive and desperate as you were? Or would his body take it in stride like everything else? He figured there was really only one way to find out the answer to his curiosities. So one night, when you hadn’t any bounties the next day, were stocked on supplies and just had a chance to stay and hole up at the mini-mart, that’s exactly what he did. He popped it, chasing it with whatever liquor was on hand at the time in his flask hidden in his duster, waiting for it to start to take effect.

In the time that he had taken the pill without your knowing, you were running around cleaning the place up some, and then making dinner. Little did he know, you had snuck one for yourself just a little prior when he wasn’t looking, also thinking that tonight would be the perfect night to go all out like the last time. He smirked to himself as he watched you run around everywhere, watching your hips sway as you walked, paying close attention to your ass that was mostly covered in the shorts you were wearing, save for the bottom part of your ass cheeks that poked out some and the back of your bare thighs each time you’d bend over. It had been a while since the last time you two had a chance to do anything intimate other than a short quickie in fear of raiders catching you in, quite literally, a vulnerable position. It was as his eyes began to linger and follow you that he started feeling the unbearable heat you complained about, coupled with the way that he was now painfully hard in his pants in a way he hadn’t been in a long time. He contemplated walking up behind you and pressing himself against you to make it known, yanking your little ripped up shorts and panties down and taking you right then and there, but he resisted. Damn was he hard as fuck though. It was actually beginning to become a bit of a problem for him, he couldn’t move without it brushing against the fabric of his pants, or seem to find a way to sit comfortably unless he had his legs spread. Then he’d think about how pretty you’d look on your knees, not caring about the dirt on the floor as you’d sit between his legs with his fat cock in your mouth. He grunted softly to himself as he slid his hand into one of his pockets incase you would turn around to look at him and see the tent in his pants.

Little did he know that you were doing some of the teasing things on purpose, bending over in front of him when you didn’t need to, taking off your shirt when you complained about it being too hot. You were about ready to skip dinner to head straight for dessert, but you knew you had to play this out, and you needed to play it smart. Poor Cooper on the other hand wasn’t holding up as well as he thought he would, it was as if it got worse and worse in cruel phases. First is the absurdly high body temperature, higher than normal. Then came the perverted thoughts he couldn’t shake as he stared at you, then the throbbing to his dick, and it only intensified the longer he went without some form of relief.

“I ever tell you ya look damn good in them shorts, sugar?” He asked, practically staring holes into you as you’d bent over in front of him to pick up a few stray things off the floor. “Plenty of times, but I’ll always take some more compliments. They’re a hot commodity when they come from you” you said back a little too flirtatiously as you stood back up far too slowly for it not to be intentional, paired with a mischievous grin to match and his dick damn near jumped in his pants. “You bend over one more god damn time, I ain’t responsible for what happens next, little lady” he threatened, making you give a sound of intrigue at his threat before giggling as a heat coursed through your body from the thought. Being bent over the couch again as your legs were spread and his hand rested in your hair wasn’t a half bad spot to find yourself in. In fact you craved that, hoping the chem would help you release that inner whore he liked so much. “Don’t threaten me with a good time. Is it a “not making it through dinner” kinda night tonight then?” You asked teasingly before he did a “come hither” motion with his finger, urging you closer to him before patting his lap for you to take a seat on. “It’s a “not even making it to dinner” kinda night sweetheart. And I don’t think I’m the only one thinkin’ I’d rather have dessert first for a change” he said, making you grin even wider and god how he just wanted to make those pretty eyes of yours roll into the back of your head. You climbed onto his lap, straddling his legs as you sat down with a grin, your hands roaming his chest and beneath his duster to signal him to remove it as you leaned in close. “Well then take it if you want it so bad, honey” you challenged, making him give an amused hum in response before leaning up and pulling you into a needy, heated kiss. You smiled into it as you rolled your hips against his, earning a deep, guttural groan as his hands soon found purchase on your ass, roughly squeezing it in his large hands. He enjoyed the moans that left you from his rough treatment as he made your hips continue to roll against his as your hands traveled along his chest. “I see what left ya so needy for me, took one of them lil’ Date Nights you were trippin’ on a while back. Been achin’ to fuck you stupid” he said, making you giggle as his lips found the sensitive skin of your neck. “Mmm…well we’re certainly in for a treat. ‘Cause I took one too” you replied, making him chuckle.

It didn’t take long before Cooper found his way between your legs, what you hadn’t been expecting was the fact that he had you sat down on his face. Sure he’s eaten you out before, but for a man who needed to feel in control and dominant in just about every situation in life, it was nice to let that go for a little bit. “Fuck! Oh god, Cooper…” you moaned as his tongue violated you, sinking deep into your entrance, then working its way up to tease your clit. You sighed blissfully as your hips rolled against the wet muscle, making him groan as you used him. His hands gripped your thighs roughly, keeping you against him and allowing you to do what you needed to seek release as he devoured you like you were his last meal. “So good f’ me” he rasped out before going to suck on your clit, leaving you screaming for him as it brought you closer. You were embarrassed by how fast the knot in your stomach was already close to snapping, blaming the chem for the way it’d get you so worked up you’d be cumming quicker than you normally do. Or at least you would be if it didn’t feel so damn good. He moaned into you at the taste of you, watching all the faces you made from beneath you so he had the perfect view of you, listening to all your pretty sounds, it was all too much for him to handle with such a powerful chem in his system. You felt him groan into you as you came on his tongue, feeling his body move to buck his hips into the air as he reached his peak without a single touch. You sighed happily as you worked yourself down from cloud nine, bucking your hips against his tongue gently before finally letting up and letting him move. “Well ain’t that somethin’” he said as you both shifted lower to straddle his lap before seeing cum painting his lower stomach and still leaking from his cock that twitched with need.

You gave an intrigued chuckle at the sight, taking his heavy cock in your hands and working it up and down, using his cum as lube. He hissed at the sensitivity he normally never felt, he usually had a remarkably quick recovery time if he wanted to go multiple rounds, but it was apparent that this chem had all sorts of effects that made him feel human again. “Been a long time since I had that happen” he said, making you grin. “Kinda hot if you ask me” you replied, making him give a raspy laugh in response as he softly tapped your ass to get you to stop using your hand already and ride him. He watched as you sank down onto him, moaning as you felt him stretch your walls out before he cruelly slammed himself the rest of the way inside of you. Your body jolted from the sudden intrusion, white hot electricity climbing up your spine from it before he was moving you at his own brutal pace. “Ain’t got time for subtleties here, darlin’, certainly ain’t got the patience to go slow” he said, and judging by the loud moans and way your eyes were rolling to the back of your head already as his tip bullied the apex to your cervix, he figured that was alright by you. “Cooper! Holy shit…” you managed to say through your moans as your hands rested against his chest, doing all you could to hold on for dear life as he used you like a sex toy. “Fuck sugar, always squeezin’ me so damn tight, even after all the times I fuck you” he commented, enjoying the way your face would twist up in momentary pain each time he’d first slide in like he was too big for you to handle. He always loved that, enjoying the way you’d eagerly prove you could take it all, hungry to have him balls deep so that he could reach all those spots inside of you your fingers couldn’t reach. The sound of skin harshly slapping skin, the squelching of your pussy as he drilled into you from below you and your shared pants and moans filled the air like a symphony of pure, unadulterated sin. You just couldn’t get enough of it, and neither could Cooper.

He groaned as he looked down at the sight of his cock disappearing inside of your tight cunt, watching as a ring formed around the base of him from your excitement. He always wondered how a sweet thing like you managed to fall for such a depraved man like himself, but it was moments like this that reminded him that you weren’t as sweet as you lead on to be. He watched as you sat back on the haunches of your feet, your thighs jiggling, tits bouncing as your eyes clenched shut from bliss. “Huh-uh, eyes on me pretty lady” he said, pulling your attention down to him, your half lidded gaze falling upon him made him about ready to cum again if he wasn’t careful. Your mouth hung partially open as your brows furrowed from pleasure, and judging by the pitch of your moans and how close together they were getting, he could tell you were close. “Come on baby, cum for me. Wanna see that pretty face twist up and scream for me” he said, making you bite your lip as your mind clouded over, not a single thought in your head save for his name falling from your lips. “Cooper! Gonna cum, gonna cum!” You warned, your hands coming to you with your breasts to add some stimulation to send you over the edge. “That’s it, go ‘head. Let go f’ me” he responded, talking you through it as your legs clamped against the outsides of his thighs, your walls squeezing around him as you came with a scream of his name.

He wasn’t much farther behind, a few sloppy, uncoordinated thrusts later and your walls were painted with his seed, a groan leaving him as he throbbed inside of you, feeling you milk him for all he could give you. You looked at each other, gasping for air and sweat lightly collecting along your skin but it wasn’t enough to sate the beast inside you both. So rather than enjoying the after glow, you were being manhandled into a new position. This time you were on the couch, on your hands and knees as he lined himself up to your leaking hole from behind. His fingers collected his spend that was dripping from you and down the insides of your thighs, grinning as he pushed it back inside. “Bet you’d love if I fucked a cute little baby into you, wouldn’t ya?” He asked, and the thought sent a pleasant tingle straight to your core at the idea of being bred. You whimpered as he teased his tip up and down your slit, collecting your combined cum together as lube as he chuckled. “Too bad them days are gone” he said, soon lining himself up to your entrance finally and pushing in with little resistance. You moaned and arched your back as he sheathed himself in one thrust, your hands clenching the arm rest of the couch as support. “Don’t mean we can’t practice incase they ain’t” he said, starting his brutal pace once more, leaving you slack jawed as your head tilted back to moan from how he hit all sorts of spots inside of you that you loved. “Yes! Want that so bad” you moaned, making him chuckle. “I bet you do” he replied with a smirk, his hands gripping your hips once more as he fucked you, watching your ass and thighs jiggle from the force of his hips meeting yours. “Wanna be bred, have my babies?” He asked, making you whimper as your walls tightened around him at the thought. “Want that so bad, please!! Knock me up” you moaned, truly lost in a whole different world from the pleasure. He gave a dry chuckle, enjoying the way you were so honest and so carefree when it came to sex, it was like you were a whole different person when he was inside of you. “Bet you do, such a good little whore for me ain’tchya?” He asked, making you moan once more at the use of praise and degradation together for something so blissfully sinful. “Yes! All yours, Cooper” you replied through your pants and gasps as he angled his thrusts to press against that sweet bundle of nerves deep inside of you that drove you crazy.

He watched as you began to melt, lowering your upper body down and leaving your ass up to create the perfect arch for him to keep hitting it. “Yeah, ya like that spot, sweetheart?” He asked, as if the answer wasn’t obvious but he was a little lost himself in it all, never the type to ramble so much during sex but you both realized that chem could do some pretty interesting things. “Yes!! Don’t stop, don’t stop! I’m so fucking close!” You pleaded, and who was he to deny you when you looked this good for him? He gave a devious grin as his hand reached down into your hair, pushing your face into the couch cushions. Not enough to suffocate you, but enough to establish just who was in charge this time. Despite your face being held into the couch, your moans were still loud as ever, not that he’d ever complain. “Cooper!!” You cried as you came powerfully around his dick, your walls squeezing him tight as your release gushed and covered his cock, sending him tumbling over the edge himself as he spilled inside of you once more. “Fuck…I love it when you do that” he said, tapping your outer thigh as a signal to move positions, lazily flipping yourself on your back as he kicked your legs apart once more, already ready to go at it again. “Can gimme one more, yeah sugar?” He asked you, and he knew like this, you’d give him anything he ever asked for. So it was no surprise that your legs locked around his hips as he slipped inside of you for the third time that evening.

As an hour or two soon came to pass, you weren’t exactly sure how long it’d been, time was completely lost on you at this point, you both were just happy to have found yourselves finally sated from the powerful effects of the chem. You both panted, looking at each other with grins at the fact that the most memorable night of your relationship had just occurred once again. “That will never NOT be fun” you replied, making him laugh dryly as he took a swig from his flask before offering it to you once he was finished. You happily accepted as you took a few sips from it, unsure whether it eased or burned your tired throat even more but you didn’t care, it was something at least. “Been thinkin’ whether it’d actually work for me like it did for you, guess we got that answer” he said as he got up to find something to clean yourselves up with, making you laugh in response. “Well, was certainly my kinda date night” you said, watching him walk back over with a wet rag in hand to clean you up then himself before slipping his briefs back on and his shirt. “Too bad dinner’s cold now” you said, making him shrug nonchalantly, earning an eye roll from you as you slipped your underwear and a shirt back on, then dished out two bowls of your famous stew he loved so much. “If it’s made by you, ain’t nothin’ out there that could possibly ruin it” he said, kissing your head sweetly as you handed him his bowl, both of you sitting back on the couch together.

You leaned your head against his shoulder with a soft, happy smile while you watched some of the tapes left behind to play in the TV, having something akin to the wasteland version of movie night. His arm draped around you to pull you into his side, keeping you close to him as he smiled softly down at you. He couldn’t believe that he managed to snag one hell of a woman out here in the wastes, but one thing was for sure, he certainly wasn’t letting you go now or ever.

[irisintheafterglow]

hii i would like to request the premise of a feral gojo over reader getting hurt or in danger 🤤 please don't feel obligated to write tho only if u feel like it :3

cross them, cross me (gojo x you)

wc: 1.29k

cw/tags: brief but explicit violence including descriptions of blood (satoru beats the shit out of a curse lmao), swearing, angst/fluff with a happy ending, established-ish relationship with pet names baby and sweetheart

note: ah feral gojo my beloved. i think i got a little carried away with writing the violence aspect but what can i say! he really did go feral when you got hurt! anyways, hope you like this anon and thank you for the sweet ask <3

likes, reblogs, and replies are appreciated :))

The sound of bones crunching between his fingers is euphoric.

One by one, he takes the Curse’s limbs in his free hand, the other effortlessly holding it by the neck against a wall. Its desperate wriggles and squirms are futile and pathetic. With a tightened grip, the wretched body parts in Satoru’s palm wither and become a limp slug of skin. He’d tuned out the Curse’s howls of agony minutes ago, the world around him falling silent as he focused all of his energy into making the Curse beg for death. The phrase “seeing red” was familiar to him, sure, but the hue tinting his vision now was a deep shade of crimson. Whether that was from the blood or his own concentration, he didn’t know and he didn’t care. 

“What, did you give up?” His taunting smile turns into a snarl when the Curse fails to answer him the first time. It slumped itself against the wall, but he woke it up with a firm slap across its face. It wasn’t allowed to die, not yet. Not until he’d had his fill of its cries. “Learn your lesson yet?” It coughs out a plea for mercy, but he isn’t satisfied. Times like these were the only time his power truly went directly to his head. 

“Gojo.” Nanami’s voice temporarily breaks him from his trance, but Satoru doesn’t bother glancing his colleague’s way. His hand still remains around the neck of the Curse, scathing blue eyes burning holes into its face. “It’s time to depart.”

“I’m not done yet,” he hisses, embedding the Curse’s face further into the wall. The suit of his coworker is pristine and unscathed; his own uniform, on the other hand, was soaked in blood that wasn’t his own. No, he wasn’t done yet. Not until every Curse within a ten mile vicinity knew exactly what would happen to them if they attempted to harm you again.

“They’re asking about you,” Nanami states impatiently with a quick look at his watch. “And I’m working overtime.”

“Five more minutes,” Satoru commands and Nanami has no choice but to obey, releasing an exhausted sigh and leaving his superior to his crusade. “Shit,” he mutters under his breath, realizing that the Curse must have died while he wasn’t looking. He examines the lifeless creature with pure disgust, flinging it so intensely at the wall behind him that its innards splatter like wet paint. “You are below me,” he says to no one in particular, but he can sense the frightened energy of the weaker Curses inhabiting the building. “Touch them and you will meet the same fate.” 

Once he’s exited the abandoned hospital, taken down the Curtain, and found the alley corner where he’d instructed Nanami to watch you, all remaining malicious intent in his body disappears. You’re scowling at him, your default expression when in his presence, and it reassures him that you’ll be okay. 

“What took you so long?” You wince and try to adjust yourself against the wall, swatting his hand away when he crouches and tries to help you. “I thought Nanami said there was only one Curse in the building.” He shrugs and you give him a skeptical look, slightly less potent than usual due to your injured state. “Toying with a Curse while I’m bleeding out? That’s a new low, even for you.” He knows you mean it in a joking matter, but the darkness that passes over his face after he laughs doesn’t escape you. It unnerves you, a little bit, trying to imagine what he was doing to the Curses when you weren’t there.

“What can I say? I was just trying to make you miss me,” he replies with only the tiniest hint of hesitation. He’s put his blindfold back on, you notice, but the subtle dip in his eyebrows tells you that he’s not revealing the whole truth. “I’m gonna lift you now–”

“I can walk on my own,” you protest, rooting a hand on the concrete and trying to push yourself up to no avail. You fall back against the wall and glare at his silently patronizing expression. “I just need a second.” 

“We don’t have a second. We need to clear out before the police get here,” he reminds you and you wave him off. “C’mon, just let me help you.”

“I can do this on my own,” you reiterate while simultaneously failing to stand. “It’s because you’re watching me. Just turn around.”

“If you wanna see my butt, just say so,” he grins and you roll your eyes. “But, really. I’m gonna lift you now, so try not to wiggle.” His arms extend to cradle beneath your legs and lower back and you’re surprised to feel the fabric of his uniform, not Infinity, when your hands try to push him away. 

“Wait, wait, wait,” you stammer in panic. He pulls away immediately and his teasing expression softens. You let him brush the dirt from your cheeks with one of his hands, the other coming to cover yours on his chest. His heartbeat is unwaveringly steady, his body warm beneath your fingers. 

“I’ve got you, sweetheart. We’re okay,” he reassures you. “Nothing’s gonna hurt you now.”

“It’s gonna hurt when I get up,” you whisper back. “A lot.” 

“I know it will, but it’ll only hurt for a few seconds.” Your exhales are too uneven. He had to get you back to the school if he didn’t want you to continue losing blood. 

“Seconds? What about the car ride back?”

“Oh no, baby. We’re not taking the car.” He shakes his head and gently laces his fingers with yours. “I’m warping us back so we can get that wound taken care of faster.” His grip on your fingers tightens, a crack in his composure revealing a glimpse of his own anxiety. “I just need you to let me help you.” After a few more moments, you nod and he doesn’t hesitate, scooping you into his arms before you can even register the searing pain in your side. The world goes white for a few seconds, just as he said, but then your head finds his shoulder and the pulse in your ears quiets. 

You wake later in the day to the sun casting an orange glow through your bedroom window. As you sit up, the pain in your side is still present but significantly dulled. When your eyes adjust to the light, you finally notice the figure slumped in your desk chair, a respectful distance away from your bed. 

“Satoru.” His eyes fly open and he’s in front of you within seconds, searching your face with concern and running his thumb over your knuckles. You give him the smallest smile you can muster and he reciprocates with a blinding grin. “Hi.”

“Hey,” he murmurs, adjusting his position so that your legs can swing off the side of your bed. He rests on one knee in front of you, holding one hand in his, the other continuing to caress your face. “How are you feeling?”

“A little shitty,” you admit. “But, not nearly as shitty as earlier.”

“I’m glad,” he smiles. “Need me to get you anything? A snack? Two snacks?” Your laugh feels warmer than the setting sun and you shake your head, lightly tugging him to stand up and crawl under the covers with you. “I guess this works too,” he mumbles against the top of your head, pulling you close until you’re snug against his body. 

“What were you doing in the time you were killing that last remaining Curse?” He hums thoughtfully and you swear his muscles flex protectively around your body. 

“I’ll tell you about it tomorrow. For now, we both need rest.”

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

[eds6ngel]

Please friend, I need Eddie and his equally feral grungy little girlfriend. Think like Allison Reynolds from the Breakfast Club before they gave her the hideous pink makeover. I want these two clowns to match each other’s energy, both of them nuts about D&D and metal, and I want her to be the one member of Hellfire who is in charge of drawing these insanely intricate drawings of everyone’s player characters.

being eddie's grungy gf would include ...

a/n: i think this calls for some headcanons! and i suppose this is my reminder to watch 'the breakfast club' as i still haven't gotten round to it ! :')

warnings: SLIGHT SMUT!! (one mention of sex, two allusions.) fem!reader. artsy!reader. grungy!reader. kissing. one mention of people calling eddie a 'freak.' tons of fluff and comfort !!

𝜗𝜚 you guys met in your sophomore year.

𝜗𝜚 eddie had been looking to set up a d&d club at the end of the year, knowing his middle school friends (jeff & gareth) were now going to be in high school with him.

𝜗𝜚 eddie didn’t know that you played d&d at the time, but he had sneaked a glance at your notebook during art class and was very intrigued into your drawings, many which consisted of your own monsters, fairies, dragons, anything magical and mystical.

𝜗𝜚 he knew the opportunity was even greater when you were pinning ‘battle of the bands’ posters in the school hallways. he couldn’t believe it was you making those incredible designs.

𝜗𝜚 asked you right there and then if you could help him design a poster for his new club.

𝜗𝜚 you were unsure at first, wondering what the hell this random dude who was in your art class wanted a poster for.

𝜗𝜚 however, you were immediately on board when he mentioned it was for d&d.

𝜗𝜚 you were technically the first member to join his club. it was you and him against the world at that point.

𝜗𝜚 you asked some of your artsy friends who were also in the drama club if you could rent their space on friday nights for weekly campaigns.

𝜗𝜚 they reluctantly said yes just because it was you. eddie was happy as it was one of the few groups of people outside of his own friend group that weren’t calling him a ‘freak’ upon arrival.

𝜗𝜚 over the summer, you and eddie met up to discuss how the whole ordeal would work. his trailer had basically become your second home by that point.

𝜗𝜚 you had started cooking meals together, you would go out to benny’s for a quick evening bite, you even started sleeping over at his.

𝜗𝜚 you began with bringing over a sleeping bag to camp out on his floor, but it soon turned into the two of you just sharing his bed. platonically, of course.

𝜗𝜚 it wasn’t until jeff and gareth came to visit the two of you so you could start drawing their characters for eddie’s visual reference that they encouraged eddie to grow some balls and ask you out.

𝜗𝜚 it took him a couple more weeks, but he finally got there.

𝜗𝜚 luckily you felt the same and you shared your first kiss that day.

𝜗𝜚 and by the time your junior year rolled around, everything was settled in place.

𝜗𝜚 eddie let you sit on his lap during campaigns, to which the boys always complained about.

𝜗𝜚 and after the boys had left, you got up to some… not exactly PG activities on his throne.

𝜗𝜚 or your throne, should you say. eddie said that the throne was all yours, since you decorated the entire thing.

𝜗𝜚 it was actually a 50/50 split effort.

𝜗𝜚 you were the couple who annoyingly blasted metal music out of his van on late night drives at 2am.

𝜗𝜚 hopper stopped you once as you had been getting noise complaints from locals.

𝜗𝜚 you and eddie both agreed it was only because it was metal music and continued anyway.

𝜗𝜚 eddie didn’t realise how feral you were until you got together. you were pretty excitable when you were simply platonic friends, but this was a whole different level.

𝜗𝜚 he didn’t care though as he loved it (and it also transferred to the bedroom.)

𝜗𝜚 sickly PDA couple alert ! eddie’s kissing you all the time ! the boy cannot keep his hands to himself ! he’s infatuated by you !

𝜗𝜚 always sharing cassettes. the both of you never buy new albums individually anymore. you either listen to them together and nerd out, or you share them back and forth.

𝜗𝜚 friday night dates after d&d ! i repeat, friday night dates after d&d !

𝜗𝜚 followed by some truly amazing sex. thank god wayne took the late night shift on fridays. and you hoped it never changed. because it was always the best ending to your week, and you didn’t want to change it for as long as you lived.

taglist: @cosmorant @ye0nvibezzn @tlclick73 @agxxb

[nezuscribe]

so...bakugo has a problem with spoiling you. and at first, bakugo thinks that sort of thing is outrageous. he’s not a fan of pda, gifts, or anniversaries. that could probably be partial because he never had a good enough girlfriend that lasted long enough to celebrate these things with, so he just never saw the need for them.

all of his friends would gush about how much they looked forward to the cards from their significant other, the flowers, and the shower of compliments, but he didn’t seem to affect by it that much.

and, sure, maybe sometimes he wanted to spend it with somebody. sometimes he longed to hold somebody’s hand when he was working late into the early hours of the morning, a comfort he had longed for ever since he outgrew the childish need for touch. but, he was a busy man. he couldn’t outwardly look for something like that until it fell right into his lap.

yeah, well, that was until you.

and when you literally bumped into him on an early morning jog, looking off somewhere else to notice the 6’5 foot brute coming your way. he wasn’t sure how he managed to work his way through the awkward small talk, especially when you were such a cheerful person (at five in the morning, no less), and he had a date with you the following night. it turned into frequent meetings at each other's apartments, you spending some nights at his office, sprawled over the couch in the corner as you ranted about the annoying women at your work who kept piling shifts on you. and, much to katsuki's chagrin, he fell for you. in the way he promised himself he’d never fall for anybody. but it's fine, he'll be there to catch himself until it gets too much.

until he couldn't and you became his only lifeline. falling didn't seem to be so bad if somebody was gonna be there to catch him - undeniably cheesy, he's well aware - and he finally understood why kiri was raging on and on about his girlfriend. finally.

"for you," he said one night, a black velvet sitting on his palm, open-faced as he looked up at you eagerly, a tad bit of worry in his eyes as he was terrified you weren't going to like it.

and he was suddenly becoming a little nauseous because you weren't saying anything and although the pearl necklace was really light it was sinking into his hand.

"um, babe...." you pause, your fingers dancing over the chain of the necklace as you worriedly look up into his red eyes, "am i forgetting something?"

and he shook his head, taking the initiative as he moves behind you, taking the pieces of delicate jewelry out from its box as he gets to work with his fingers, surprisingly nimble as he latches the lock together, his hands shaking a bit as he tries to catch a glimpse of your view in mirror adjacent to the two of you.

"nah," he presses a hot kiss to the place where your neck meets your collarbone, snuggling deep into it, almost feeling feral at the smell of your perfume as his arms pull you closer to his chest, "just a little somethin' i thought ya'd like."

so after that, he's dead set on gifts, after all, he's just got so much money and nothing to spend it on, so you've become the prime focus of his bank account.

and every time you tell him you don't want gifts, that you try to push them off, he doesn't listen, saying that it's the least he could do since he can't actually give you the world (no matter how much he wants to). he knows you're not materialistic, far from it, but he doubts there's somebody in the world that actively hates receiving gifts.

if your eyes linger on a channel coat or burberry perfume he's quick to put it in the cart. he'll observe you, see what things you secretly try to fawn over, and makes sure to surprise it with it the next time you come to his office. pulling it out of his desk drawer, wrapped in a bow as he winks with his signature, "for you."

because the thing is, bakugo doesn't really know how to show his love. he's not good with his words or emotions because he's still working on those, but even if your scowl is lined with an all-grateful smile whenever he gifts you something, he knows he must be doing something right.

just give him some time, and he'll figure everything else out. he just needs to learn how you show affection, and learn other ways of expressing it (minus the gifts, he's not giving that up).

so, for now, take those prada boots without complaint. 'cause there's a pair of versace pumps waiting for you next to your nightstand. all wrapped and pretty, just for you, from your loving 'ki.

[xx-like-a-villian-xx]

For The Last Time | One

“It had been months since you’d seen each other, five and three days to be exact (not that he was counting or anything), months since you had broken up with him. You said it was for the best, that your careers were more important but Noah didn’t think so.”

What I thought was going to be a lil angsty one shot has become a multiple part cry fest ahhh. Here’s part one <3

I'm posting this because it's in my drafts x

My ao3 is HERE

Also let me know if you want to be tagged in any upcoming posts :)

CW: post break up, angst, Noah has lots of feelings, “talking” about feelings, loads of swearing

(Dropping this because it was burning a hole in my drafts and I just wanted to get it out there)

18+ MDNI | Noah Sebastian x Reader

“Thought I’d find you here.” Your voice reached Noah’s ears like a siren song and it was infuriating.

He turned slightly, watching you approach him in that dress, that fucking dress that hugged every single curve on your body so perfectly it made him feel crazy, feral. He had been trying his damned hardest to avoid you all night and of course you found him, cigarette between his tattooed fingers, on the balcony, moping.

“The party is wild in there.” You gestured to the balcony doors that were muffling the sound of chatter and loud music inside.

“Yeah, I just needed some quiet.” His voice was gruff when he spoke and it only made you roll your eyes.

It had been months since you’d seen each other, five and three days to be exact (not that he was counting or anything), months since you had broken up with him. You said it was for the best, that your careers were more important but Noah didn’t think so.

You see, Noah would have walked through fire, jumped in front of a bullet, he would have stolen the moon from the fucking sky if you asked him to but you didn’t feel the same and as much as it hurt to watch you walk away, he did because he loved you. Issue is, he just couldn’t get over you.

He had avoided you like the plague for months but it was getting progressively harder because you shared friends. Usually it was easy, he left when you showed up, he asked around to see if you were going to events so he could make excuses not to go. It was fine, he hated socialising at the best of times so it was no skin off his nose.

Then you showed up to the album release in that fucking dress and his heart just about dropped out of his ass. And the worst part? You had some six foot four Doberman energy gym rat on your arm. That’s when he found himself storming out to the balcony with a half drank bottle of Hennessy and a pack of cigarettes he had stolen off the kitchen island.

He didn’t dare look at you again, instead his eyes stayed trained on the twinkling lights of the city when you joined him at the railing, your warmth burning his skin like acid.

”How have you been?”

Well that was a loaded question. What was he meant to say? ‘Oh yeah, I’m fantastic, nice to see you, Y/N. Who’s the hunk?’ Nah. He would rather put his hand in a blender.

“Fine.” He wasn’t in the mood to talk to you. Instead he stubbed the cigarette out and took a long swig of the cognac, letting it burn down his throat in an attempt to quell the anger boiling in his blood.

He could feel you shift uncomfortably next to him and he had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. What did you have to feel uncomfortable about? You practically tore his heart out and curb stomped it. And to add a cherry on top of the shit icing, you decided his fucking album release party would be the best time to hard launch your new man.

Noah really, really wasn’t in the mood and he was practically begging the gods to make you just go inside and forget about it, enjoy your night and have fun but instead you reached out, took the bottle from his hands and took a huge swig.

Fuck.

“Shouldn’t you be with your date, Mick is it?” He finally grits through a clenched jaw.

You chuckle lightly. “It’s Mike, and he’s talking to Folio about fishing.”

Betrayer, of course he would be. Trust Folio to be rubbing shoulders with the enemy over fucking fishing poles.

Noah hums, running a hand through his recently cut short hair.

”It suits you, you know, short hair.” He turned to you fully with furrowed eyebrows. What was your game?

God you looked fucking beautiful, your hair was pulled back into a bun at the back of your neck, curled strands framing your face. Sharp wings of eyeliner made your eye colour stand out beautifully in the low light, along with those dark lashes and your lips were painted a shade of red that could only be described as unholy and fuck, he just wanted to feel them on his again.

”You think?” His voice was weak and he internally kicked himself for even looking at you because his knees felt weak and his stomach felt like it might explode.

You smiled that smile that he fell for all those years ago, reaching your hand out to brush a stray piece of hair from his eyes.

Yeah, he was well and truly fucked, done for, so fucking completely in love with you. He was never getting over you.

“Hey, we’re about to play the album.” Nicholas’ voice from the balcony door made you jump back away from Noah.

”See you inside, yeah?” He nodded at your words, watching you walk back inside to Mike, planting a soft kiss on the guy's cheek and Noah wanted to vomit.

Nicholas was staring at him with a smirk.

”Shut the fuck up.” Noah pointed at his best friend, grabbing the bottle of Hennessy before pushing his way inside.

︵‿︵‿୨♡���‿︵‿︵

Noah had been shifting uncomfortable in his seat, your narrowed eyes burning into him for almost an hour. You were clinging on to every fucking lyric he wrote and he knew he was in for it the moment you could get him alone again.

So as soon as the album had played through and chatter started up again, he was up on his feet, moving across the room before you could get to him.

”Hey, Noah isn’t it?” Oh for fuck’s sake. Mike held a hand out to him,

Noah hesitantly shook it with a smile that he was faking hard, gritting his teeth. “Yeah, nice to meet you…Mike?”

The taller man grinned. “Yeah, I’m Y/N’s boyfriend but I’m guessing you already know.”

Yeah, he fucking does know.

“It’s so sick that she knows you guys, I’ve listened to your last two albums and they go hard, man.”

Noah nodded, smiling, looking behind the guy to see you storming towards them with clenched fists.

“Look, Mike, I’m sorry to cut this short bu-“

“Hi babe, what are we talking about?” Fuck, you were now standing next to Mike, staring up at Noah with a false grin that screamed ‘I’m going to fucking kill you’.

”Oh, I was just telling Noah how much I fuck with the music babe.” Mike was completely unaware of the frustration bubbling in your bones, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

”That’s lovely.” You cooed, planting a kiss on his cheek. “Could you give Noah and I a second to talk, Folio is looking for you I think.”

Shit, shit, shit. There was no way he was getting out of it now. Mike leaned down to pull you into a kiss before strutting towards Folio and Noah just about wanted the ground to swallow him up right there and then.

”Downstairs, now.”

He had no choice but to follow you down the stairs like a lost dog, shuffling his feet as you stomped down the steps. As soon as you reached the outside, you turned to him with flailing arms.

”What the fuck is all that, Noah? You think that’s okay, airing our dirty laundry out like that?” You were seething, face turning beet red.

”It’s music, Y/N, not everything is about you.”

“Oh so ‘someone else’, ‘the death of peace of mind’ and what was the other one? ‘Bad decisions’? They’re not about me? Right…so the pretty much direct fucking quotes from our break up aren’t there? Sure.” You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest.

”First of all, it’s ‘somebody else’. Second of all, why does it matter? You’ve clearly moved on. I mean fuck me right?” He laughed incredulously, running a hand through his hair. “You said that you didn’t want to be with me anymore because your career was taking up all of your time and energy and then you show up here with a new guy, smushing face with him in front of me and my brothers like nothing happened. We were together for six fucking years, Y/N!”

He took a deep breath, chest heaving. You stared up at him with glassy eyes full of fire but he was past caring by that point.

”So forgive me, darling, for pouring my heart into my music. Our break up is still a fresh wound. I genuinely thought that we were gonna be end game and yeah, I’m not fucking over it. Did you even listen to ‘Just Pretend’, huh?”

A tear fell from your lashes onto your cheekbone, your face softening and Noah couldn’t watch. He hated the bullshit, the anger, the sadness. He just wanted to wrap you up in his arms and go back to when everything was okay, back when you were still his. Fuck, it was too much.

”Look, I’m sorry for shouting. I just find it really hypocritical of you to be going off at me like that when you completely blindsided me tonight.”

You nodded your head quickly, wiping the tears away with the back of your hand. He was right, you had no place to be upset when you had hurt him, really fucking hurt him.

Noah could hear Jolly calling his name from inside and he sighed. “Maybe we can talk about all of this over coffee sometime next week. It’s a conversation we really need to have, cut the loose ends so both of us can move on, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Your voice was quiet as a mouse, eyes trained on your shoes.

He wanted to reach out, pull you into his chest and comfort you but it wasn’t the right time, he didn’t think it would ever be. You had someone else to hold you and he was upstairs waiting.

“Text me, my number is still the same.”

With a sad smile, he turned, making his way back inside.

[branded-rose]

Lute leaned against the door heavily once she shut it behind her. The open living area of Adam’s dwelling seemingly emptier than it had ever been.

Stagnant silence permeated the air, leaving it thick and heavy. It wasn’t right.

She shuffled past the decently sized kitchen, noting the wine bottles and dishes that Adam had left. He had insisted that after extermination day he’d clean.

The one time he’d actually made some level of effort. Figures.

The exorcist turned away from the mess, her feet carrying her back towards the bedroom without any level of thought.

She didn’t know why she’d come here, to Adam’s place. What had propelled her to return to his living quarters given he wasn’t actually there? Her apartment at the barracks would’ve made more sense.

But they didn’t smell like him…

The blood loss was starting to become increasingly more apparent.

Every step was agony. The muscles in her legs felt like they were filling with lead.   

Stopping would mean she lost though. That she was weak.

She wasn’t weak. She had to keep going.

-Adam would want her to keep going.

The mere thought agitated her. The weight of her uniform agitated her. The typically light chainmail under her tunic oppressive in that instant. She needed it off.

Easier said than done with only one arm.

She bit down the fingertips of her glove and she hurriedly yanked her head back, slipping the arm free as the stiff fabric fell to the stone floor.

She then unlatched the belt at her waist, letting it join the glove on the floor with a clatter.

She then worked the sleeve of her tunic off, yelping as she lost grip on the fabric. A growl tore through her teeth as she furiously tugged and pulled to free herself.

After a considerable amount of effort she managed to free herself of the fabric, the heavier chainmail giving her pause.

This shouldn’t be so difficult!

Lute steadied herself against the bedroom doorframe, sweat beading on her forehead.

She avoided looking into the dark room. Not wanting to recall the last moments within it. Her jaw tightened, a series of shallow breaths passing through her lips as she lifted the tunic up over her head.

She jolted as the torn muscles in her left shoulder spasmed, her body stiffening.

That instant, the doorframe was the only thing keeping her upright.

She cursed, her chin jumping skyward as she forced the cloth and chainmail over her head, her wings flapping once to realign feathers.

Dots danced in her vision as the uniform fell to the floor.

She then paused for a long moment, exhaling through her nose before kicking off her boots.

Breathe. Pause and breathe…

This was PATHETIC!

She punched the doorframe in front of her, gripping it tightly as she leaned forward. Her teeth grinding together as every single muscle fiber tensed.

What was she even doing??? Struggling to breathe, barely able to walk a few steps while that traitor and Lucifer’s brat celebrated her failure??

This was NOT how today was to end!

The exorcist’s nails dug into the frame as her chest tightened, then heaved.

A feral growl ripped from her throat followed by a scream.

And then everything went black.

---------------------------

Post-Extermination day. I very much doubt Lute is able to process any negative emotion without a HUGE physiological response from her muscles and without reading it as anger.

Lute © Vivziepop/A24

Artwork © Branded-Rose

[im-a-writer-sometimes]

Thank You, Doctor (Miguel O’Hara - Epilogue)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Epilogue

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader

Word Count: 800

Warnings: deceased family member, pure fluff, implied smut (sorry horndogs, you’ll have to use your imagination)

🕷

The first thing you noticed was the tightness of the air. It felt like you were being compressed as you stepped back onto the streets that used to be your whole world. You’d become so calibrated to the world you’d known the last months, this place now seemed foreign to you.

Not so foreign that you couldn’t find your way to the little church your mother used to drag you to as a kid, dolling you up in the best dress she could afford, letting you smother on lipstick once you’d turned ten to try and incentivize you. You smiled at the memory, walking past the tall oak doors and through the low iron gates that led to the cemetery out back.

You were ashamed at how long it took you to find your mother’s grave, but you did, sitting down in the grass and pulling your knees to your chest. 

“You were all I had,” you said, your words swallowed up by the gloomy, overcast sky. “My only place in the world.” You dropped your cheek to your knee, smiling sadly. “Once you were gone, I tried to carve out my own place, but I didn’t fit. I know why now. It wasn’t your fault, or my fault. But now—”

You lifted your head, scooting closer so you could rest your hand on the top of the grave. 

“I’ve found a place. Somewhere to belong, Mom. You wouldn’t believe where if I told you,” you laughed. “You always told me love isn’t about passion and fire and adventure. Those are nice, but you said love is about feeling safe. Feeling seen and heard. All those things you never got.” You ran a finger over her name—Captain Mary Y/l/n. “Well, Mom, I think I’ve found that too. Too soon to say, but I’m saying it anyway.”

You touched the flowers on either side of the gravestone, finding them both still fresh. It made sense; as chief of police, your mother had been a beloved pillar of the community. Your world hadn’t been the only one shattered when she passed.

“I just wanted you to know,” you said, standing up and brushing the dirt off your pants. “You only wanted me to be happy. I think I’m getting there, Mom.” You started walking and then paused, turning back over your shoulder. “Also, Dad’s a multiversal criminal from another dimension. Was a multiversal criminal from another dimension, I should say.”

You thought you could hear her laughter in the sudden burst of wind, ruffling the leaves of the few trees poking up through the graveyard.

You were walking away when you felt a sudden stab of pain on your lower back, brushing a spider off of the sliver of skin showing between your shirt and pants. You watched it as it hit the ground, legs twitching. You narrowed your eyes, looked back at the grave.

“You’ve got a sick sense of humor, Mom.”

When you used your new bracelet to portal back to base, it was the dead of night. You didn’t have to think where to go; you’d arrived at the cafeteria before you even knew where you were going.

Miguel stood from his seat at the sight of you, and you smiled. 

“I didn’t think—”

“I’d come back so soon?” you said, crossing the room. “I know. But you let me go anyway.”

He simply watched you, still standing as you sat down in the seat across from him.

“I had some goodbyes to give,” you said. “Just one really.”

He slowly sat, eyes scanning over you as if he still didn’t believe you were here. In front of him. “No te merezco,⁸” he said, tilting his head as he watched you. “You still owe me nothing.”

“Then I guess that means we can start over,” you said, reaching out your hand before you. “My name is Doctor Y/n Y/l/n. Pleasure to meet you.”

He grabbed your hand and used the leverage to pull your forwards until your noses were nearly brushing. “Miguel,” he said. “The pleasure’s all mine.” When he kissed you, it was soft. No trace of that half-feral man who’d defended you against your father. He was unremarkably soft, tracing a finger along your jaw as you pulled apart.

“I wouldn’t mind continuing this introduction in your room,” you said, and, finally, his smile sharped into something more wild.

“Whatever you want, mujer implacable.”

When you woke the next morning, you had to slowly untangle yourself from Miguel’s arms, smiling at the way he instinctively reached out, mumbling something incoherent in Spanish. You picked up his t-shirt from the floor and tossed it over yourself, flicking your hair from beneath the collar. That was when you saw yourself in the mirror.

You squinted, stepping closer. 

You were bigger, that was for sure. There was muscle definition where there hadn’t been, and you simply stood there, staring. You reached out to touch the mirror, and to your horror, your fingertips stuck to the surface. Your other hand immediately reached for the small bump on your back where the spider had bitten you. You almost laughed.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you said.

🕷

(8) “I don’t deserve you.”

Thanks for reading, folks!

[yaut-jaknowit]

Little specific, but an autistic trans-masc reader with vic’tao and uihoy? maybe a little bit of a breeding kink? I think it would be cute with them trying to figure out why their mate keeps making too much or no eye contact at all, keeps suddenly jumping up and down, and what the scars under their chest is

The Eyes are the Window to the Soul

Pairings: Vic'tao (Male Yautja) x Autistic!Trans-Masc!Reader x Uihoy (Male Yautja)

Word Count: 1616

Summary: The two Yautjas are playing their chess-like game with you paying attention. It’s confusing to be honest but you try and its fun to watch them play. When Vic’tao checkmates Uihoy, you jumping excitingly and cheer on the younger Yautja. This is a usual sort for you but Uihoy finally brings up the question. The average ooman’s he’s seen don’t do that. During the entire time, you make direct eye contact with him.

Author Note: Nothing wrong with being specific! I hope I wrote this the way you wanted and didn't step over any lines.

Masterlist

Ao3

On a console in the cockpit, the two Yautjas you’ve grown to learn and love sat in their designated chairs. Serious, thinking expressions were pulled upon their faces. It was cute to be honest. A peaceful smile was etched onto your features as you admired the two.

The yellow Yautja with blue stripes grunted and moved a piece across this game board. Uihoy scoffed and easily countered with his own pawn. A very complicated game of chest that wasn’t all on one board. Parts of the board were vertical and intersecting with other vertical or horizontal pieces.

For the time being, you stood off to the side and watched quietly, learning. It was the smart way to play. Once you learned their tactics, you could join in on their turf. One day, you could possibly even beat them at their own game.

Vic’tao flicked his tongue out then proceeded to swipe off three of Uihoy’s pawns. Your jaw dropped at an incredible move then you jumped excitingly on the balls of your feet. A smug look washed over the yellow Yautja’s face while he looked at his other mate. “The old man can’t learn new tricks,” he snarked and leaned back in his chair, arm resting at a ninety-degree angle. “That such an old play that I bet your ancestors know.”

Despite anger being a normal reaction for Uihoy to fall into. All the purple Yautja did was raised a brow at his Yautja mate. “So, that’s how this going to be? Got one taste of victory and suddenly Vic’tao has gone feral,” Uihoy grunted and rolled his bright eyes. “Like the same way when little hunter allowed for Vic’tao to breed. One taste is all it takes.”

The spit in your throat nearly got sucked down into your lungs. You coughed and stared at the older male in disbelief. He’s become bolder with that statement as evidence.

A snarky look was thrown your way from Uihoy as he played his turn. Yet, it didn’t even steal any of his pawns back nor any of Vic’tao’s. A useless play in your mind.

More rounds of swapping plays and pawn alike occurred over the course of another hour. Interested to learn more, you stayed captured into the game. You decided to sit down between them on the ground and watched from below. Either of them attempted to coax you into their lap but the floor won. Neither took offense. If you didn’t want to, you didn’t need to. There was nothing wrong with that.

Somewhere during the game, Vic’tao requested a pause. The two agreed to stop for now. A pout crossed over your features as you watched as Vic left the room.

With the game paused, you shuffled on your knees up to the console and pointed to a spot on the boards. It was a darker spot. “Why is this place darker than the majority of the circles?” you asked then looked over your shoulder at Uihoy, eyes directly staring into his without moving.

Said Yautja scooted until only his butt was on the edge of his chair. “Well, if a pawn lands there, said pawn transforms into a…” he trailed off, mandibles pulling tight to mouth, thinking. Must be a word that was difficult to translate over or might not even have a translated word. It was about one-third of Yautja and English that don’t mix happily together.

He hissed then looked at you a little lost. “Would it be similar to a pawn turning into a queen?” you offered to him, hoping he knew the basics of human chess. “A queen is one of the most powerful figures on the board.” You decided to add that piece of information, so he hopefully understands it.

Uihoy snapped his fingers and pointed at you. “Yes! Practically,” he exclaimed then glanced at the board then back at you. Your eyes still on him, watching with rapture that he found slightly strange. He didn’t understand why you felt the need to look into his eyes whenever you were speaking with him. Same with Vic’tao. He almost had the heart to tell you that’s a challenge in Yautja body language. But, you were only ooman.

At this point, the cockpit doors slid open to reveal Vic’tao returning. Not empty handed though. Three waterskins and a bowl of fruit. Your favorite fruit. You immediately got to your feet and started to bounce with your arms in the air.

The bowl was handed to you with a waterskin. You sat back down on your comfortable spot on the floor and resumed your attention back on the game. Uihoy was given one as well and thanked the yellow male with a soft head bump. Vic returned to his chair and took a sip from his drink, body lax.

Both hunters resumed their game with vigor, ensuring they each didn’t lose ground in this battle. One would capture three pawns only to lose two of their own, vice versa. Then, they were able to steal back their lost pawns.

A give and pull game that could take weeks with two highly skilled players such as these two to finish it.

The fruit you were gracious given slowly disappeared over the course of three hours. Every once in a while, your two mates would sneak one for themselves. You’d playfully crinkle your nose at them when they proceeded with snatched a treat. They’d treat it as a game so they didn’t get caught by you. Like the hunters they are, they were nearly successful each time.

Later, at the end of the day, the three of you were winding down for the night. The usual of brushing teeth, changing of clothes, taking a shower or bath if you felt the need.

With your shirt off as you cleaned your teeth, Vic’tao came up behind you in the reflection of the mirror. His large hands palmed at the side of your ribcage. The much larger figurer leaned down to lick the shell of your ear. You watched him passively through the mirror even as one of his claws ghosted over the two noticeable scars that lined the bottom of your pecs.

You shuttered against Vic and slightly tensed. The male read the room swiftly and let his hands fall from that spot. He tilted his head and looked at you through the reflection before. “What are those scars from? They look purposeful?” he questioned and rubbed his cheek against yours, eyes soft. You had the opportunity to opt out and set up a boundary about that. But he’s one of your mates. Any knowledge you share with him will be kept safe.

Through the mirror, you find his eyes again. “They are from a surgery I had,” you answered at first ominously. You reached behind you for one of his hands and held it close. “I used to have breasts… but I didn’t like them. They didn’t match the body I was meant to have. So, I had them removed.” Your grip on his hand tightened. Vic’tao carded his fingers through yours and returned the gesture.

“Now, I feel more like who I’m supposed to be. I feel… safer, freer. This is the body I was meant to have.”

There wasn’t many who you’ve talked about this with. You could count on one hand all those you’ve told this story to. That includes the medical physicians you were forced to relay this story over and over until you could get this surgery.

Behind you, Uihoy made an appearance and strolled over to the two of you. The purple elder nudged his cheek bone to yours in a soft, loving greeting. You knew he had heard your words as well. Them and their incredible hearing.

“We adore you and whatever you decide to do. We love and care for you no matter what, our little mate,” Vic’tao chittered into your ear, taking words he knows Uihoy would love to say. Uihoy was happy Vic could translate his words for you into proper English. “You are ours, till the end of time, till our hearts stop beating. We will be here for you.”

Your body filled with the need to bounce as you kept direct eye contact, flickering between the two of them. Somehow, you refrained from doing so.

The love the two of them held for you went beyond anything you knew of. Never in your life have you experienced such adoration from anyone. “I’m incredibly lucky to have ever met you guys,” you whispered, careful not break the soft feeling that’s been created.

Uihoy was the first to smile pressed his closed mandibles to your cheek. “Let’s go to bed.” With your free hand, you grabbed Uihoy’s and lead the two of them to the shared bedroom. The same bed you’ve shared countless times before.

Like the giant he is, Vic’tao settled down and took the majority of the space until Uihoy kicked him. Vic grunted and scooted over, still on his back. Both of his arms and legs spread eagle, again, dominating all the room possible. You rolled your eyes and watched as Uihoy curled up to Uihoy. Last but not least, you maneuvered your body between the limited space they offered to you. A perfect place for you to squeeze into on your side, facing Uihoy.

The purple Yautja threw an arm, over you and cuddle you close to his form. You tucked your curled wrist under your chin and snuggled close to Uihoy’s warm body. Vic’tao slithered his closet arm from underneath your curled body and wrapped it as well around your torso. Both Yautja having a firm grasp on you.

[slayfics]

Im like in love with how u write inosuke so I was wondering if you could do fic where reader and inosuke rough house like wrestling n stuff then it gets heated

You and Inosuke fight over the last shrimp tempura.

Warnings: story is suggestive

You were outside eating with Inosuke on the patio of the Butterly Mansion. Both of you were taking a short break from the tasks of the day to refuel. The weather was lovely so you both decided the patio was a great place to eat lunch.

However, It didn’t take long for trouble to stir up, it never did with Inosuke.

“Hey! That is the last shrimp tempura!” Insouke yelled, his nose flaring with anger at the sight of you grabbing the last piece.

“Yeah so? You had 5 already, I’ve only had 2!” You yelled back in response.

“What does that matter?” He said, placing his hands on his hips. “Give me that one,” he reached out toward you.

“No!” You laughed attempting to push the demon slayer away. Inosuke took this as a challenge and fought even harder to grab at the shrimp knocking you over as a result.

You crashed onto the floor, Inosuke going completely feral trying to wrestle the shrimp from you. The demon slayer opened his mouth wide and went to bite the shrimp in your hand. You quickly pulled the shrimp away causing Inosuke’s open mouth to make contact with something he didn’t intend.

Both of you instantly froze as Inosuke’s mouth bit down on your neck instead of his intended target of the tempura.

EEP~

A small squeak escaped your lips as a shiver ran through your body. Insouke let go of your neck, his body having a reaction of his own that he didn’t understand.

Why was he suddenly feeling warm and fuzzy? Insouke stayed on top of you frozen unsure of what to do. His face was an undistinguishable mess as he stared down at you.

“You- you bit me!” You finally exclaimed.

“Uh-“ Inosuke was at a loss for words.

“That’s it you’ve gone too far now pig head,” you said, playfully taking a hard bite of his arm.

“Hey- cut it out!” he exclaimed, wiggling under your bite. You laughed in return, causing Inosuke to make a split decision. “This shut you up last time-“ he said, biting down harder this time on your neck.

EEP~

“You’re doing it wrong,” you said bravely.

“Hu? What do you mean I'm doing it wrong?” Inosuke asked dumbfounded.

“I’ll show you!” You said pulling at the demon slayer and bringing him closer. You bit down on his neck sucking softly at the same time. Soft moans you’ve never heard before from Insouke escaped his lips.

“What kind of attack is that? I want to try it too!” He said, biting down and sucking softly on your neck.

EEP~

The both of you took turns biting each other's necks, each bite becoming full of more passion and gentleness that you had no idea Inosuke was capable of.

“Hey are you guys done eating-“ Tanjiro had come outside to join you both but was stunned at the sight he saw. He wasn’t sure if he should break you two up from the fight or give you both privacy.

“Hu?” Inosuke let go of your neck realizing his friend had approached. “Oh uh-," he quickly got off of you, clearing his throat.

You stumbled to gather your own composure again. “Oh hi, Tanjiro-," you greeted the demon slayer. “Um here Inosuke,” you handed him the forgotten shrimp.

“Uh no it’s ok- you can have it,” he said with a blush tinting his face, causing a blush of your own to arise.

Tanjiro’s face was painted with shock. Inosuke had never turned down food before.

“Thanks, Insouke,” you said, smiling at the demon slayer.

Thank you for requesting Inosuke! I always have so much fun writing for him. I hope you enjoy it~

[shadowqueenjude]

One thing I am certain SJM will simply gloss over is Lucien's SA trauma and how it may impact his desire to have sex, so I wrote this little scene where I explore it!

Elain pulled away from Lucien, sensing his unease. As she’d climbed on top of him, deepening the kiss, Lucien had stiffened. Elain had paused the kiss, scenting a mixture of fear and shame and sorrow on him, hearing his irregular heartbeat. Then, she’d pulled away entirely. “Elain, I-I’m sorry,” Lucien said, voice barely above a whisper. Elain didn’t respond, staring blankly into space. It was just the same as it had been with Graysen; she was unwanted, and yet with him, it was worse, it was so much worse- “Did I do something wrong?” Elain croaked. She wasn’t very experienced, after all. Perhaps she simply wasn’t good at…it. “No, Elain, it was just…”  A sigh. “It was me.” When Elain finally gained the courage to look back at Lucien, she found that he was shaking all over. “What’s wrong?” Elain asked, hovering over him and placing a hand to his forehead. “Are you sick?” “Elain…” he said the name gently, lovingly. “This ailment is entirely mental. The sickness has long passed, but my memory has not abated.”  It didn’t take long for Elain to figure out what Lucien meant. “Who.” She was not sure she would ever get used to this feeling: the protectiveness, the desire, the pure feral rage this mating bond brought to her body. She had read up on it, and all the books on bonds had claimed that the male feels the mating bond pull and urges more strongly; yet Elain could not imagine anything more powerful than this. Perhaps their mating bond was simply stronger, for it had snapped almost immediately upon them both meeting each other. Lucien sighed. “Ianthe. The former High Priestess. But she is dead now; killed by your sister. It is only her ghost that haunts me. I tried to sleep with many others to get the feeling of her grimy fingers off of me, but then I got mated to you not long after and…” Lucien took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m making a mountain out of a molehill.” How could he ever think it was an overreaction? A product of abuse and mistreatment, of being overlooked in favor of others his whole life, to try and minimize one’s own problems so as to not be a burden. Elain’s anger surged, demanding to be satisfied, so she reached for that connection she had with the Mother, a connection she hadn’t dared explore after the Cauldron had lured her astray. The Mother hummed in her presence. Lovely Elain. What is it you seek today, Seer? You’re the goddess. Shouldn’t you know? A laugh. Of course I know. But I would like to hear you say it. Is Ianthe rotting in hell? A pause. That is none of your concern, dear. Considering what she did to my mate, it is very much a concern. Such rage and violence does not become you, Lady Elain. Where is the kind girl I gently held in my palms and gifted with magic? Elain hissed. Maybe that girl got a little bit tired of being kind to those who don’t reciprocate. Or maybe this girl is still that gentle soul, but the mating bond demands vengeance. You are better than this, dear Elain. Rest assured; Ianthe is getting due justice served to her. You know what to do, Miss Archeron. Elain took several deep breaths as she slowly broke the connection. The Mother was right; Ianthe was gone and in hell. She musn’t let rage overcome her. She should focus on the present-her present. So, Elain willed magic into her blood, and her hands began to glow with the soft light of Dawn. Healing magic gifted by the Cauldron. She placed two fingers to each of Lucien’s temples and whispered, “Show me.” Lucien obeyed. The healing magic combined with the mating bond allowed her to sort through his thoughts and see what was going on. Calanmai. Elain remembered Feyre telling her about it.

A servant resembling a tree insisting that he must do it while Tamlin resolutely refused, saying he would not perform Calanmai without Feyre there. The panic of the servants. Lucien’s slow dawning of horror as all the faces turned to him. Him discussing with Ianthe that the rite would probably choose him, and this would be a one-time thing. Her cat-like grin as she eagerly agreed. His body glowing, his body covered in whorls of paint as Ianthe clawed at him like a wild beast. The morning after, the absence of any feeling at all, so much worse than wallowing in misery. And Elain never let her hands drop from his face. She couldn’t take away the trauma or the hurt, nor did she want to; however, she could soothe them, help the good memories overpower the bad. Elain’s joy when she’d gone to her first ball. Elain’s joy when Feyre had returned from Prythian for a brief time. All the moments she and Lucien had shared together. When she was done, they simply stared at each other for several minutes. “Thank you for showing me,” Elain said quietly. “Thank you for making the memories less painful,” Lucien whispered back. He took one of her hands, interlacing it with his own. Then he placed their linked hands over his chest. His heartbeat was a healthy, steady beat. Then, Elain crawled back onto the bed, throwing her arms around his neck. “You’re very warm,” Elain muttered into his shoulder. Lucien chuckled. “It’s the Autumn Court fire in my veins; it makes my body warmer.” “Perfect for cuddles, then.” Elain nuzzled her nose against his neck. “Exactly.” Lucien wrapped his arms around her back, tucking her in close. They didn’t move for a long time.

[tilvcei]

► 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆

⭢ In which: you become ghostface newest target but figure out who’s been behind it all the whole time which shocks you, you loved ethan but he was so obsessed, maybe you were his everything.

☆ | Warning(s): blood , gore , death , suggestive language

☆ | note: when I saw Jack champion as Ethan Landry? I became obsessed recently. now I have a huge obsession with his character. and you will too ;)

☆ | gender: she/her (reader)

You had love for Ethan. you really did. but when it came down to certain things you didn’t like talking about, he dropped the topic. and that’s what you appreciated about him.

But also, he was crazy about you. feral if that’s what you wanna call it. very protective — yes he has that shy demeanor but when you actually take a good look at him in this moment? you can see he isn’t that innocent. if he can kill, he can do much more.

You just saw him twist someone’s guts. why wasn’t it obvious to you before? he was part of the killings. as well as Quinn and their father. the whole family was crazy, Sam got you tangled all into this but it wasn’t her fault you agreed to this anyways.

At the moment you were standing in the middle of Tara and Sam as they were surrounded by the family of Richie. you could see the anger and rage in their eyes. you get it, they lost their brother due to sam killing him. but he was so obsessed with the movies, it was his fault. not hers.

"He was obsessed with the movies! it wasn’t like sam had a choice. he attacked her first, what was she supposed to do? not fight back in her defense?" you questioned, your arm was still bleeding from when Quinn ‘accidentally’ stabbed you.

Ethan turned to you, "you’re really going to let that bitch put that in your pretty little mind? she’s the one in the wrong. Richie did nothing wrong! nothing! And she fucking killed him without any regret. she’s just like her damn father." Tara put a hand on your shoulder but Ethan glared at her.

"Don’t. don’t you fucking touch her!" Ethan yelled, Tara pushed you behind her while staring down Ethan, “No, no you stay the fuck away from her!” she yelled back, Ethan kept glaring at her.

"You keep gettin’ in the way. but I’m gonna fix that real soon, Tara." Ethan threatened, you backed away in fear. what happened to the Ethan you once loved and knew? what happened to the shy Ethan? the dorky one?

He then looked over at you with a smile, he looked at the blood on the knife and realized it was yours. his face turned into one of concern.

"Oh, baby I’m sorry if I hurt you. it wasn’t even aimed at you, it was for Sam. but here, cause Y’know, I love you so much." Ethan said with a crazed laugh.

He licked the blood from the knife, moaning while he did so which caught you off guard. Tara looked at him like he was crazy, what the actual hell was wrong with him..?

"Run!" Sam yelled, Tara grabbed your hand and the both of you started running, you were inside the museum of all the ghostface items and things every person was killed with, you slipped but returned your footing and dashed up the stairs.

"Are you really trying to take what’s mines, Tara?" You heard Ethan say in a low voice — and it scared you, if you were honest. a shiver ran down your spine.

You kept running and leaned against the railing, which broke and caused you to nearly fall. but Tara and Sam were quick to grab you by the wrist and stop you from falling all the way down. but you were hanging and nearly almost done for.

"My hands are slipping, just let go!" you said, Tara felt tears fall from her eyes as she started sobbing, "just hang on okay? just hold our hands, it’s gonna be okay." Sam reassured.

You screamed when a hand grabbed you by the ankle, "help! get off me! someone help!" you continued to yell. Tara held your hand tightly.

She saw Ethan at the bottom with his knife in his hand, a smirk plastered on his lips as he sucked your blood off his fingers.

"You heard her. now you’re hearing me. let her go, Tara." Ethan said with a low growl, "go to hell!" Sam screamed while glaring down at him.

Then your hand slipped, "shit, (Y/n) no!" Tara screamed, you fell to the ground with a thud and groaned in pain. you hurried and crawled away, but Ethan grabbed you by the legs and dragged you back, "No, no, no!" you yelled, looking for any weapon you could find close.

He turned you around and looked down at you with a crazed smile, his eyes glossing a bit because he had you right where he wanted you.

you were all his.

"Ethan, please. please don’t kill me, please." you begged, this must’ve triggered something in him because he went stiff, a frown on his lips appearing.

He cupped your cheek, "baby..why would you think I’d hurt you? wh..what? no, never. once this is all over you can leave with me, my dad, and sister. we wouldn’t have to worry about anything, it’ll be just us. ‘kay baby?" Ethan said while placing a kiss to your cheek.

you continued to sob, you tried pushing him away but you knew nothing was going to work. you were his and only his. It’s not like you didn’t mind it but you didn’t want it this way.

"Shh, my pretty baby. it’s gonna be okay." he whispered in your ear, something sharp stung you in the neck, you realized it was a needle — wha- what? why did he..?

Your eyes felt droopy, "’ts gonna be okay baby, I promise you." then you went limp in his arms. he got you exactly where he wanted you.

in his arms and only his arms. you were so good to him, no one was ever like that to him before. you were different — completely. that’s why he loved you so so so much.

nobody could take that away from him. not even family.

Note: Part two or..? I think this is good, amazing even. I really love the character so here’s my dedication to our precious bby Ethan & jack :))

[millenialfanfictionaddiction]

Being Karasuno's Manager:

Yaku Falls for Miss Manager

Yaku Morisake featuring Nekoma and Karasuno x Female Manager

Warnings: light swearing, fluff

A/N: This is an request from @lilacveiledsea!

Ahh Yn you are one lucky lady

Seriously Yaku 🥰 he’s such a sweetheart

Demon senpai to some but not to our precious Angel Yn

You unfortunately fortunately were the 2nd year manager for our lovely bby crows

Kiyoko didn’t want to leave you alone so she said you should get another manager 😂

Honestly such a caring move

And trust me, you’ll need it

Not only managing the demon first years but our feral second years as well

But it’s all good because these boys adore you so much

Your relationship was strictly platonic with all of them, despite their very visible crush on you

Honestly, you preferred someone a little more… mature?

Sure let’s go with that 😌

So before Yachi joined the crew it was just you and Kiyoko

Dream team honestly

Kiyoko dealt with all the technical things and you, well you dealt with the children

You and Daichi were a dream team

Daichi was the hard ass disciplinarian and YN was out sweet, consoling angel

“HEY DORKS CUT THAT OUT!” Daichi would scream

“Please be careful! We don’t want you to get hurt!” You’d add

It honestly was so perfect

The atmosphere around Golden week was so exciting

The boys were ready to face their unknown rivals, Nekoma

This was the first time they would be facing Nekoma so everyone was fired up

When you arrived, Kiyoko took care of monitoring the children while you began to gather the water bottles

The crew was talking with Nekoma, Daichi and Kuroo being BeStIeS 🤪

Tanaka and Yamamoto being weirdly twin like and Asahi being the scary, non-scary person scaring all the children

You noticed Suga was talking with someone who looked to be the Libero of Nekoma

You didn’t really have a chance to look at him because you were busy carrying things

BUT 👀 trust when I say he definitely saw you

The sunshine’s on your beautiful hair, you started to glow and Yaku absolutely fell in love

You smiled as Ennoshita offered to help you, Yaku becoming jealous that the smile wasn’t for him

“She’s cute right?” Suga interrupted his thoughts 🙃

“Uhh yeah, who is she?” Yaku questioned, eyes still watching you

“She’s our second year manager AND she’s single,” wing man Suga says

“Good to know,” Yaku says as you walk into the gym

Inside is when you first noticed Yaku watching you

You noticed how cute he was and you blushed when your eyes met his

Suga 👉🏻👀 📝

Kiyoko 👉🏻😐😳😏

team work makes the dream work 💅

“Hey YN why don’t you ask Nekoma if they need help with their water bottles?” Kiyoko suggests as your eyes widen

“O-ok,” you say, turning to head over to them

Nekoma watches you approach

Kuroo smirks

Yamamoto faints

And Yaku, Yaku stares 👁️👄👁️

“Hey, umm I’m YN and I was wondering if you needed help with the water bottles?” You as ask Coach Nekomata nodded and thanked you

Inuoka was just about to ask if you needed help when Yaku spoke up

“ILL HELP!” He may have yelled a little louder

Kai and Kenma 👉🏻👀👀

Kuroo 👉🏻🤨😏

You 👉🏻😳 ok-

Please he was so cute!

“Here let me carry those for you,” Yaku says as you nod

Kiyoko, Suga and Kai 👉🏻😍😍😍

“Is it just me or is Nekoma’s Libero hitting on Yn?” Daichi asks

Tanaka and Noya 👉🏻🔥👄🔥

Meanwhile-

“Thank you so much for helping me,” you blush as you continue to fill water bottles

“Call me Morisuke please,” Yaku says with a smile

“Thank you Mori,” you say

Yaku dies 😫

As you walk back to the gym, you enter and EVERYONE is looking at you

“Uhh what happened?” You ask Yaku

Yaku 👉🏻😐😑

Please he knows what’s going on

“It’s nothing Yn, they literally are all just sharing one braincell and it’s not functioning right now,” he says as you giggle a little

Yaku 👉🏻 💀

While you observed the game, you continued to sneak glances at Yaku

He didn’t pay much mine but again he was in the game but during timeouts 👀 Yaku would practically stare at you

You blushed as Tanaka and Noya growled

“Knock it off!” You said smacking their heads, “don’t ruin this for me!”

The team 👉🏻😐😳

“Dang Yn and Daichi did a switch,” Yamaguchi said as Tsukki nodded

After the game, Suga and Yaku talked while Noya stared at Yaku

“You are an excellent Libero, even if you are annoying when you stare at OUR Yn,” he says as he runs away

“Ignore him! YN doesn’t belong to anyone,” Suga adds

Yaku nods as he looks over to you as you help clean up

As the boys are prepared to leave, Yaku says ‘it’s now or never’

He runs to you, as you stop and stare

“YN can I have you phone number?” Yaku asks as you smile and nod

“I’d like that!”

Yaku literally swoons as you type your number into his phone

“I’ll text you later!” Yaku yells as he runs back to the team and waves to you

Suga and Kiyoko 👉🏻🥹 our baby is growing up

You smile ad you walk back to your team who are all watching you

“Please don’t make this weird?” You groan as you get on the bus and the team follows asking you a million question

What you don’t realize is Yaku is going through the same thing

Yet he doesn’t regret getting your number, quickly going to text you

“Hey Yn it’s Mori 🙂”

[lis-likes-fics]

Full Moon

Pairing: Alpha!Eddie Munson x Omega!Reader Word Count: 2.8k words Warnings: NSFW, smut, unprotected sex, a/b/o themes (knotting, claiming (biting), heat, mentions of ruts), cunnilingus, multiple orgasms, swearing... A/N: I never knew how much I needed alpha!Eddie until I read one and suddenly became feral. Enjoy this, hopefully there will be plenty more to come! Special tag: @akiratoro420​.

Eddie held the company phone to his ear, listening to the repetitive ring through to the other end as he untangled the cord that was moments from being twisted into a knot. “Enzo’s. How can I help?”

Eddie’s lips curled into a teasing smirk at the voice on the other end, a voice he had become well-acquainted with since he began calling this line. “Your customer service voice is getting a lot better, Tony,” Eddie replied, his grin widening at the exasperated groan on the other side.

Tony’s voice flooded with false venom as he bit back, “What do you want, Munson, I’m busy.”

Eddie laughed as he shook his head, his hair bouncing in a fluffy mess he had simply run his fingers through this morning before getting out the door, rather than combing it out like a sensible person. “Calm your tits,” he said. “Just wanna talk to Y/N real quick.”

“She hasn't been in today.”

Eddie slowed, mouth closing at the answer he’d received as he thought over it. That couldn’t be right. “She hasn’t?” he wondered, tilting his head to the side as he tapped his finger on the desk.

“Nope,” Tony said with a heavy sigh. “It’s actually super weird. She usually calls in or something when she’s gonna be late or isn’t going to show at all, but no. Radio silent.”

“That’s weird.” It wasn’t like you. When you were finally able to get a job at Enzo’s, you were excited. You would never jeopardize your position there by refusing to call in. “She was fine this morning,” he mumbled that part under his breath, brows knitted together as he thought. He’d seen you this morning before he left the trailer. You were curled up on the bed, still fast asleep when he kissed your head and left for work.

“Yeah, well, we haven’t seen her.” There was a moment of silence as Tony just shrugged, shifting the phone to his other ear as he proposed a suggestion, “But, hey, everything’s weird on a full moon, right? I mean, a whole batch of sauce just disappeared today, and all the wines were rearranged. Couldn’t find shit.”

“Yeah…” Eddie wasn’t really paying attention, his mind preoccupied with you and what could be going on to make you miss work.

Tony sensed this and just rolled his eyes, “I gotta go, dude. If you want something–”

“Nah, I’m good. Seeya,” he said, hanging up the phone as he scratched the back of his neck. He let out a sigh as he ran a hand through his hair, a few tangles stopping his movement for him to work through them. He started walking away from the phone with the shake of his head before he remembered something Tony had said, stopping in his tracks with wide eyes.

Full moon.

Oh, shit. “Oh, shit.”

~

Eddie rushed back home quicker than he’d ever done anything in his life. He had to leave a note behind with his boss to tell him that he had to leave for an emergency. Eddie fumbled with his keys as he neared the door to the trailer, nearly dropping them to his feet as he tried to capture the right one between his fingers. He ripped the door open as soon as it was unlocked, closing it behind him just as quickly.

Your scent wrapped around him in an instant, heavy and thick in its strength as he stepped into the enclosure of his home with you. Eddie made his way to your bedroom, guilt heavy in his heart as he got to the door, opening it slowly to see you.

It didn’t look like you had moved since he left—you were still curled up in the bed—but there was a noticeable difference between then and now. You’d been nesting, laying in a pile of Eddie’s clothes and blankets as you wrapped yourself in his scent. His dresser drawers were not in their places and the door to his tiny closet was wide open. He could hear the faint sounds of your whimpers and whined, your heavy breaths as you dug yourself deeper within the pile.

His heart squeezed in his chest as he stared at the lump in his bed that was your body, limp within the pile. He walked further into the room, “Hey, little omega.”

He saw you shift, lifting your body up just a little bit to turn around to see him. The smile that spread over your tired face was so beautiful, Eddie thought he would melt if he wasn’t so overcome with the smell of you drenching his mind in a potent lust. “Alpha?” you spoke, your voice small and hopeful.

He smiled back at you, kneeling by the bed and reaching a hand out to touch the top of your head. Your eyes fluttered from his touch, and you leaned into him. You were already naked, overheated as a layer of sweat covered every inch of your skin. You nuzzled your cheek into his hand.

“Fuck, you’re burning up,” he said as your searing skin pressed against his.

“Missed you,” you whined, kissing the palm of his hand as you reached out to touch him. He noticed you take in a deep breath of him, your hands balling into fists in his shirt before tugging on it to get it off.

“I missed you, too, omega,” he responded, leaning forward to kiss your forehead. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t here. I didn’t realize your heat had started today. The moon really fucked you up, didn’t it?”

You just whined in response, set on getting his shirt off of him so you could add it to your nest. It was the perfect piece, it smelled so heavily of him, your lover, your Alpha. He abided eventually, letting you take it off of him so you could stuff your face in it intently. “Want you,” you mumbled after a moment, staring up at him with dark, lust-blown eyes.

“I know. M’right here,” he kissed your forehead again. It only offered a dollop of relief, feeling his lips on your skin. But you needed more, you needed so much more. “I’m gonna help you. You want that? You want me to help you?”

“Please,” you whimpered. “Please, Alpha. Need you.”

He stood, straightening his stance as he towered over you. He began unbuckling his pants, his eyes never leaving yours as you watched him strip. You reached out and touched the skin of his belly, fingertips ghosting over one of his tattoos there. He preened under your touch, smiling drunkenly at you as you reached both hands out to cup his hips and bring him closer. You pressed your lips to his skin, both sides blessed with your kiss as you buried your face in his warm skin.

After a moment, he moved again. He got to his knees atop the bed, uncovering you in the items of clothing you had acquired to set somewhere else on the bed, doing his best not to ruin your nest so he could access you. He was practically straddling you now as you turned over onto your back, looking up at him now as you reached up to touch him, to feel his skin.

He bent down, his hands on either side of your head as he leaned forward to kiss your lips. You melted, sighing deeply into his mouth as you pressed yourself closer to him. One hand lifted to curl around your chin, slowly tilting your head so his lips can press to the underside of your jaw.

You whined again, still latching onto him in a desperate plea to be closer. “Hurts,” you mumbled.

“I know, omega,” he said. “I know. I’m gonna help.” His hands were all over you in no time, running along your skin like they were attached. His body was pressing into yours, offering a weight that you so craved. His kisses traveled down your body, moving quickly to satiate your needs, to take the pain away.

His hands supported your hips as he lifted your body up to bring you to his mouth. His hot tongue met your hot pussy and you mewled, breathy and high-pitched. He wrapped his lips around you, stilling your hips so he can work, greedily licking up the arousal that leaked out of you like a stream. His moans were nearly growls, low humming sounds in his chest that reverberated around both your bodies.

He loved the taste of you, sweet like honey. It was only better during your heat, stronger and endless. Your whining was not lost on him as you tangled your fingers in his hair, tugging and pulling. “Alpha,” you sobbed, the pleasure wracking through you not great enough to calm the tremors of pain aching through your body. “Need more. I need you, please.”

“I know. I’m gonna take care of you,” he mumbled against your slick before licking you up just a little more, addicted to the taste of you. Another helpless whine slipped from your throat, and Eddie came back up to your lips. “S’okay,” he promised, kissing all over your damp face. “I’m right here.”

“Alpha.”

Eddie’s fingers stroked the sides of your face as he lined himself up with you, “I’m gonna make it all better, omega.” He pressed himself inside of you, sliding his cock into you, slowly at first before his impatience got the better of him.

A long sigh slipped from your lips as your eyes closed, relief beginning to swell inside of you as he filled you. You were already feeling better, the pain subsiding into something much more bearable as you latched onto him, folding your limbs around his body to keep him inside of you.

Eddie buried his face in the crook of your neck as he started thrusting slowly. “Fuck, omega,” he growled into your skin. “You take me so well. Fucking made for me.”

He rocked inside of you, pace slow and measured. Your legs tightened around his waist, trying to bring him closer, deeper. More, you needed more. “Need you,” you begged, tears slipping down your cheeks, which he kissed away.

“You need more?” he guessed, already shifting to accommodate your desires as he thrust a little quicker into you. He wrapped an arm underneath you, lifting your hips up to allow himself to fuck deeper into you. You gripped his shoulders, your sobbing moans helpless in his ear.

“Poor little omega,” he said. “So desperate for her Alpha’s knot, huh?”

You arched your back into him as the head of his cock pressed against a special part inside of you. You couldn’t respond, couldn’t do much but cling to him and moan as the pleasure tore through your body like a rampaging storm. Your body buzzed as you trembled, head falling back against the pillows that smelled like your Alpha.

“Fuck, cum for me, omega,” Eddie demanded. “I want you to cum for your Alpha.”

And you did. His words shot straight to your core, throbbing and white-hot with lust as you clenched down around him. Your pussy squeezed him, sucked him deeper as you came around him with a cry that split your throat. Eddie’s breath was heavy in your ear as you came, almost drowned out by the sound of your heart thumping in your head.

You gushed around him, more slick for his cock as his thrusts picked up, spurred on by the feeling of your tight heat wrapping around him. “Good,” he panted. “So good for me.”

A rough growl escaped his throat after a moment, his breath coming in short, harsh puffs as his face buried in the crook of your neck. His plump lips and hot tongue lapped along your throat, tasting your pleasure through your flesh. His nose traced along your ear, slightly extended canines sharper with the euphoric scent of your heat as he longed to claim you once more.

His thumb moved between you as he began stroking your abused clit, which had gone relatively untouched but highly stimulated with the haze setting heavy over your head. "I'm close, omega," he breathed into your ear as your legs only clasped tighter, pulled him in closer as the lust-cloud built in your mind.

Your gasps were desperate as ever as you were reduced once more to endless strings of pleas and cries. "Knot me, Alpha, please," you begged. "Fuck, please knot me."

He rutted into you a couple more times, thrusts short and rough while the sparks lit in his body. "Cum with me," he demanded, softer with the weakness of his approaching release, almost as much of a plea as your own for his knot.

You were putty in his arms as you obeyed, trembling with the whining cry bursting from your throat. You could feel his knot swelling inside of you, buried as far as he could go. Your hands held him by his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as his teeth clamped around the juncture of your neck and shoulder. The euphoria blinded you like the strike of lightning, the spasms shooting through your body sharp and exhausting.

You felt so full, holding tightly to his body. The pleasure of heat was an unmatched craze of ecstasy you cherished with your dear Alpha.

As your body calmed beneath him, you could feel your clouded mind clearing of its haze. Your glossy eyes no longer murky with a burning need. You let out a long sigh, turning your gaze back to your Eddie's face as a lazy smile found your lips.

You fell limp against the sheets. Your limbs, which were so tightly fastened around him, now loose connections to his body as you laid back. You felt Eddie's lips on your skin again, kissing you everywhere he could reach, peppering your neck over the bite he'd embedded in your skin in the swell of the moment.

"Hi, Eddie," you mutter to him, the syllables hardly forming together.

"Welcome back, sweetheart." He kissed your lips, smiling proudly at you and your messy display.

He heard you whine weakly, lifting up on his elbows to see your face a little easier to figure out what the problem was. Your face was screwed up in inconvenience as he followed your gaze to a corner of your nest fallen out of place.

"I gotta fix it," you pout, brows furrowed as you reach lazily for what had fallen off the bed.

"I'll help you fix it later," he promised. "Just relax." He bent down and kissed you again before pulling you tightly to his body and turning you around, adjusting the both of you so you lay on top of him, still connected by him fully buried within you.

"I'm sorry I wasn't here. I didn't realize the moon would mess with your heat," he remorsed, his hand running through your hair as he petted you affectionately.

"S'okay," you nuzzle into his neck. "I'm glad you're here. I missed you."

He kissed your forehead. "I missed you, too." He took a breath, hands resting on the small of your back as his thumbs stroked along your bare skin. "How are you feeling?"

"Better," you mumbled. "A lot better. Thank you."

He smiled proudly, "It's my pleasure."

You snorted a laugh, laying your cheek back on his chest and stroking your hand along the side of his face. Your exhaustion weighed heavy, but the creeping of your heat still lurked beneath the surface to attack you again soon. You sighed, admiring Eddie's face as he held your hand and kissed the meat of your palm.

"I should call in. They'd kill me if I just disappeared and then showed up out of nowhere," you said.

Eddie hummed, "I can do it. Tony's covering for you right now anyway."

"You sure?" you peaked up at him, stroking your finger along his bottom lip.

He puckered them, darting his tongue out to lick the tip of your finger and bring it gently between his teeth with a large grin. Your bubbly laugh sounded through the room, your eyes closed and your body shook in response to your joy. Eddie groaned lightly under you, the sound dropping into a little chuckle at the end as your laugh made you squeeze around him. He let go of your finger and rubbed his hand along your back, "Yeah, I got it."

You leaned forward, kissing his lips long and soft to savor the feel and the taste of him as it soothed you. You pulled away from his lips to look at his pretty face, moving a delicate strand of hair off his forehead to tuck behind his ear. "We've got a long heat ahead of us."

He laughed and smiled wickedly at you, "Yeah, well, my rut will start tomorrow, so buckle up."

A chuckle lit in your chest and an ember sparked in your gut at his words. "Fuck, yeah," you smiled, leaning down to kiss him once more.

Eddie the Banished taglist: @hb8301​ @lovemegood​ @munsaniac @digital-charlie​ @katsukis1wife​ @eiriancrow​ @littleblondesoprano​ @alexxavicry​ @samz31​ @sparkletash​ @fandomgirl17​ Stranger Things taglist: @activebliss​ @sweetcoffeebearr​ @life-on-needs​ @killerqueen-ofwillowgreen​ @sw34terw34ther​ @hellfire1986baby​ @gublur​ @allofmaris​ @redwineandnicotine Tag yourself here...

[deskofninak]

i'll take your chaos and your crooked // Mattheo Riddle x GN!Reader

Masterlist

Summary: After the Battle of Hogwarts, the Ministry forces the Slytherin students to return to Hogwarts and complete their final year as a poor attempt at rehabilitation. Mattheo Riddle is a solitary figure marred my self-loathing. The two do not make a good combination.

Notes: Muggleborn reader, hurt/comfort, suicidal ideation.

If you or anyone you know is struggling with suicidal ideation, please seek help. You are precious, you matter, I love you 🩷

Word count: 1090 words

Happy reading! :)

Being Mattheo’s tutor in Potions goes down about as well as you’d accept. It begins with some tense sessions and the boy himself is pretty closed off. But you are not one to be easily deterred and slowly become acquaintances with him, if not friends.

Until one day, Mattheo comes to the tutoring sessions with bruised, bloody knuckles. Apparently, someone had orchestrated a string of Howlers to come at Riddle throughout the day, shouting obscenities and blaming him for his father’s actions. What’s worse, most of the professors had turned a blind eye. The other Slytherins had just held him back from finding out who the perpetrator was. In his blind rage, he’d punched a wall and split the skin over his knuckles. Irascible as he was, he refused to go to the infirmary.

You tried to focus on the lesson but you could tell he was distracted, and you were a little worried about his wound festering. Could bruised knuckles get infected? You’d tried to tentatively ask him what led to this predicament but he’d only gazed darkly at you until you’d sighed and gotten back to the lesson.

You were a Muggleborn and for reasons you couldn’t fathom, you’d never been that scared of Mattheo. Which was quite foolhardy, you were aware. You just had the intuition that Mattheo wasn’t a bad person. He struck you as a very sad, lonely boy scratching out at the world like a feral cat. You tended to do well with animals. But Mattheo wasn’t someone who responded well to displays of affection so you couldn’t exactly reach across the table and pet his curls until he felt sleepy.

So you cared for him in other ways, beginning with tracking down who had orchestrated the Howlers. It turned out to be a fifth-year Gryffindor (no surprises there). You ‘accidentally’ dropped some vials onto his bag in the next Potions lesson, and it had cheerfully burst into flames.

Mattheo had watched you with confusion, and you had sheepishly winked back.

And it kept happening. Every time someone was rude to Mattheo, they found their dorm room flooded, or they’d lost their favourite quill because it had sprouted wings and taken off. Mattheo watched the events unfold with ever-growing bewilderment. You were clearly at the scene of each crime but no one seemed to suspect you. It was frankly a bit annoying, and he confronted you during your next tutoring session.

“Do anything interesting over the weekend?” he asked.

You’d started, taken aback at his desire for conversation after weeks of silent study sessions. “Good. Yeah, normal.”

“Didn’t realise turning a Ravenclaw’s hair turquoise was normal for you,” Mattheo muttered back, just loud enough for you to hear.

You flushed. “Just a bit of harmless fun.”

Mattheo raised an eyebrow at you. You huffed, turning back to the books.

Oh no, he was not done yet. “Why?”

You looked back up at him and feigned a blank look.

This was starting to become tedious. “Why are you pranking the people who are pranking me?”

You seemed to have decided to choose the path of obliviousness. “Who says I’m pranking anyone?”

“Me,” said Mattheo, “I can place you at every crime scene.”

“You don’t have to call it a crime scene,” you muttered. “I just don’t like people messing with my friends.”

Mattheo ignored the way the word friend pressed into his side like barbed wire, and pressed on. “Why do you care? They’re coming at me because I’m the Dark Lord’s son. You’re a Muggleborn. Of all people, you should understand. You should side with them.”

You seemed uncertain now and were frowning at him in a way he’d come to horribly adore over the past few months. “You really think that low of me?”

He blinked and leaned back. No, he didn’t think that low of you. He did, however, think that low of himself. He believed that he deserved every piece of hate tossed his way. He took it in gladly because it was so much better than his ‘friends’ abandoning him and everyone pretending he did not exist, it was better than his own anger deserting him and letting him experience every bit of his loneliness and self-loathing and despair. Merlin, it made him want to end it all sometimes. He’d tried once, standing on top of the Astronomy Tower, but he hadn’t been able to find it in himself to step forward.

“Don’t go,” you said, urgently. He thought for a moment that you’d read his thoughts but then realised he’s gotten up, as if subconsciously heading to the Tower again.

He shook his head at you, almost pityingly. “We’re done here.”

“No, we’re not,” you pressed, getting up, too.

He breathed your name in refusal and pressed his eyes shut. It was too much, it was all too much.

“Don’t do that,” you said. “Don’t call me by my first name like you’re saying goodbye.” He opened his eyes and you were standing in front of him now. “Say my last name like you can’t stand me. Tease me and tell me I’m too serious for my own good. Tell me you hate how long I drag our study sessions. But don’t you dare shut down on me.”

There were tears shining in your eyes, and he realised that maybe you understood more than you’d ever let on. And maybe he was more aware of his own feelings than he’d let on, he thought, as he brought up his hand to brush the tears rushing down your cheeks.

Your lower lip was trembling and, almost without thinking, he reached forward and kissed you, if only to erase the image of your teary eyes from his mind. And then he was drawing you into himself, gripping your waist, lips moving against your own, and your hands cupped his cheeks so gently it shattered and pieced him back together at once, and you were so soft against him, soft as kindness and soft as the possibility of a safe future.

He drew back, and looked at you and your wide-eyed worry for him. There were tears clinging to his lashes.

You whispered again, “Don’t go.” The image of the Astronomy Tower was wiped clean by the image of your tear-stained face. He slowly lowered his head into the crook of your neck, and you gently scooped him into yourself, one hand rubbing soothing circles on his back and the other lightly scratching at his scalp through his curls.

He didn’t go.

xxx

Hope you enjoyed this! If you see a typo or a mistake, let me know. Comments and reblogs are much appreciated. :) - Nina

[fishwithtitz]

The Five Times I Hooked Up with Mary Goore (and the One Time I Couldn’t) - Chapter 4

stunning artwork of a scene from chapter 1 by @dominaarts that I've been dying to share!

Summary: A miscommunication between Thomas and Des results in a night of Dahlia and Mary dog sitting together. When a record breaking storm rolls in, Dahlia's faced with the decision on exactly how much vulnerability she wants to reveal. Rating: Explicit, 18+ MDNI Mary Goore x OFC / 15.4k words Warnings: language, thigh-riding, p in v sex, mentions of recreational drug use, alcohol, storms, thunder, slight angst

A/N: Thank you for your patience and support as I've taken the time to write this. This was a difficult chapter to write as it starts building the foundation for the turning point of the story and I wanted to get it just right. Leave a comment if you'd like to be added to the taglist 🥰 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5

ao3 link

Hook-up #4: Thomas’ Room

Codependency was something I tried really, really hard to avoid. I’d long prided myself on my 

feral independent streak and would be damned if anyone, man or woman, made me reliant.

But I had to admit, I really missed Des. 

This was the shitty part of relationships. It seemed that when the people you love found someone that they wanted to devote themselves to, their time seemed to be sucked along with it. I understood where she was coming from. The novelty of a budding relationship is a unique and addictive feeling. I don’t blame her for chasing the high. 

While she tended the fire that she and Thomas were building, she was opting for spurts of lighter fluid rather than bits of soul-sourced kindling. And now her fire was growing and spreading, sometimes out of control, and it seemed like all of her time and resources were devoted to managing it. Which meant that some of her other relationships had to be put on the backburner until the flames could be brought to a dull roar. 

As if a sign from the universe, the stars finally aligned (or perhaps just our schedules), and Des and I were able to spend the afternoon together. It was exactly what I needed: some time with my best friend. 

After grabbing a couple of iced coffees from the boutique coffee shop downtown (at her insistence, of course, because the higher price was reflected in the quality of the roast, or something like that), we walked to one of our favorite thrift stores to pillage through the inventory. I felt a certain warmth creep through my chest as we entered the store. The smell was a bit musty, perfume-like, a permeating oxymoron of both dirt and cleanliness. It reminded me of our friendship: unlikely, brutally opposite at times, but unique and complimentary. 

The shop worker greeted us with a nod and a smile from the front counter and went back to browsing through her magazine as she sat on her high-rise stool, painted fingertips skimming over something about interior design. Des and I beelined to the back racks in the furthest room from the front of the shop. We knew that this was usually where they kept the good stuff. 

Thrifting was an exercise of equal parts skill and patience. It was best to go in with zero expectations of both finding anything or looking for a specific piece. My most successful trips had been ones where I’d happened upon things I didn’t even know I’d wanted (or like, for that matter). In fact, I’d long ago learned not to become discouraged when a trip turned out to be a bust. Busts were to be expected. The goldmines, however, outweighed the insolvencies. 

“It feels like forever since we’ve gotten to do this,” Des said as she stopped in front of a circular rack of short-sleeve knit shirts. She began sliding the hangers across the scraped metal, pausing to glance over each shirt as she did so. 

“It has been,” I replied. It wasn’t said with malice; more so, my tone conveyed a neutral honesty that I knew we’d come to appreciate about each other. Despite this, I could tell I’d struck a cord at the slight fall of her facial features. 

Des took a half-step back and turned to me with a sad smile. “I know I haven’t been around as much. I’m sorry.” 

“I understand.” And I did. She knew I did. But the morose feeling was still etched into her features in soft hatched lines and so I quickly added, “Not everyone can be a hot musician with Heraculan biceps. I’ll take my spot in line.” I gave her a wink, which seemed to soften her expression. 

I turned back to the rack and started thumbing through the medium-sized graphic tees. Quite a few were worn crewnecks of casinos or bars from around the state, though a couple school spirit shirts were peppered in. I nearly shuddered at the smiling beaver mascot that reminded me of puberty. 

Des broke my focus. “What about this one?” She held up a small white t-shirt with an image of Strawberry Shortcake on it. “Your muse!”

“One time I tell you about my obsession with Strawberry Shortcake and the Big Apple City as a child…” I mumbled, rolling my eyes as I continued culling through the rack. Des laughed and set the shirt back. 

“I don’t think your tits would fit in a small, anyway. Plus, it had a stain.” She pushed a couple more shirts to the side before turning her torso to me. “Speaking of cake, I heard you and Mary had a get together last week.”

A week had passed since I’d last seen Mary. I’d received another text a few days after our night of baking telling me that the cake was killer and his mom was impressed, but it’d been radio silence since. In any other situation with any other person, I’d probably feel irritation or some sort of anger; an inward creeping as to why this guy wasn’t at all interested in seeing me after a weirdly uncharacteristic close-knit evening. But this was Mary. He wasn’t known for punctuality or routine. On the contrary, Mary was a bit of an enigma, coming and going as he pleased, with zero rhyme or reason to his decision making. He seemed to do what felt right to him in the moment — whatever that may be. Or at least that’s how things appeared. 

The hanger I was sliding across the rack stilted, the fabric of the shirt still pinched between my fingers. My eyes widened slightly, and I failed to control the blush that crept into my cheeks. I refused to meet her stare, but knowing Des, she was giving me an all-knowing look. 

“You know, when I suggested that you make a cake for his mom’s birthday, I didn’t think that meant that you’d be doing it together,” she teased.

“Neither did I!” I said. Although I’d meant for it to come out nonchalantly, I’d sounded more defensive than intended. I tried to brush it off by swirling the iced coffee in my hand, ice cubes clinking and clashing as I brought the straw to my lips to take a sip.

“I didn’t know you and Mary were that close,” she speculated. 

I choked on the watery coffee that had been midway down my throat and brought a hand up to wipe at my mouth, coughing a little into my palm.

 Before I had a chance to respond, she cut me off, wide-eyed, a smile tugging at her mouth. “Wait, no. Doll, you didn’t!”

I looked over at her with a surprised defensiveness that completely gave away the truth. Shit. Time for damage control. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

Des’ smile only widened. “Dahlia, did you sleep with him?”

I didn’t know how to answer. It wasn’t as if I was ashamed to admit it. Mary was attractive. Sure, his reputation was a bit strange and extreme, but to those in the metal scene, it wasn’t anything too out of the ordinary. But there was something that I liked about keeping Mary and I’s friendship hidden. Or were we friends with benefits?  Was it even a friendship? 

“You totally did!” Des said in response to my silent rabbit hole. I sighed and started to aimlessly shuffle through some sweaters on the next rack. Des began to laugh and looked at me coyly.

She walked over to the same rack that I was currently stationed at and rested her hand against the metal bar, leaning into it. “I swore I saw you two making out on the couch a while back at Thomas’, but he told me I was seeing shit,” she added, shaking her head in disbelief. 

I hummed a noise in response, barely audible. My fingertips traced along a loose thread of a knit sweater and I rolled it between them, trying to focus on the scratchy acrylic yarn instead of the beet red burning in my face. 

“That WAS you two! How long has this been going on?” I didn’t think it was possible for her eyes to get any bigger. They reminded me of saucers. Or satellite dishes. Maybe of the middle-aged woman at my work that thrived on office gossip and smelled like cat piss. 

I rolled my eyes and pulled a sweater off the rack to pretend to check the tag. “Nothing is going on,” I said. 80% Polyester, 20% Cotton.  “We’ve just hooked up a few times. That’s it.” 

Des cocked a curious brow. “A few? Wow, add that to my list of shit I didn’t expect.” She brought her half-drank iced coffee to her pink lips and took a slurp of the drink. I couldn’t tell if I was more annoyed at the sound or at her. 

 “So, what’s he like?” She grabbed a cardigan from the small section and pulled it up to inspect it, holding it to her thin frame to gauge the fit. “I bet he’s into some spooky, dark shit, like bloodletting or autoerotic asphyxiation or something. Oh! Or a piss kink!”

The garment I was holding was slammed back into the rack with more force than I’d meant. “Des! What the fuck?” I whispered loudly, trying to make a point that this was not something I wanted to talk about in public. Sure, no one else was in the back of the store, but that was besides the point. 

She held up a hand in defense. “Sorry! He looks like the kind of guy that’d be into that stuff.”

I brought the hand to my face that wasn’t holding the slippery, condensation-covered cup of coffee. With a sigh, I rubbed my left eye. “I am not having this conversation.”

Des brought her hands down and tilted her head with a look of disagreement. “Oh, come on! Why are you always so uptight about talking about this stuff?”

I took a step towards her and lowered my voice just slightly. “Unlike you, I don’t feel the need to advertise my sex life, thank you.”

“I don’t advertise it, I just…reflect on it. It’s what normal girlfriends do — talk about the guys they’re with.” She turned to the next rack that was uncomfortably close to the one we had been rifling through and pulled a pair of corduroys out to give them a look over. “Who else would I talk to about it?”

She had a point. I breathed out a sigh and set my cup on the display atop the circular rack. “I guess you’re right.”

I looked up at her to see her sporting her signature smirk. “I’m always right. Now tell me, what’s he got hiding in those tight jeans?” She waggled her eyebrows for emphasis and I let out a chuckle, shaking my head.

“You are the last person I need to explain the intricacies of the male anatomy to.”

“Come on, Doll. I need details!” She whined, tossing the corduroys back onto the rack. 

“Curiosity killed the cat, you know.”

“Good thing cats have nine lives.” She stuck out her tongue at me and I reached over to make a swipe at grabbing it, earning me a chuckle and a shove. 

I laughed too, and if I was honest, I felt a semblance of relief that the weight of my secret had been lifted from my shoulders, even if just minutely. 

She took another annoyingly loud slurp of her iced coffee, the drink now edging the bottom line of the cup. Peering at me from above the lid, she broke contact with the straw. 

“Now, spill.”

🜏🜏🜏

It was early evening on a Friday. I’d managed to get off of work a little earlier than expected — a relief given that I’d worked overtime these past few weeks to try to save up enough money for an unexpected car repair. The extra time turned out to be just what I needed to pack some last minute items in my backpack for the weekend. 

Des had asked — practically begged — for me to “do her a solid” and pet sit for her for a couple days over the weekend. My confusion rang heavy in the air when I realized that one, she didn’t have any pets, and two, neither did Thomas. 

“It’s his parents’ dog. He’s supposed to watch it this weekend, but he was able to book a couple last minute shows out of town that would be really good for the band,” she’d explained. Then, in almost overly characteristic Des-fashion, she gave me the eyes. The fucking Puss in Boots look. 

And those damn Dreamworks eyes had me hesitantly agreeing to watch the pawned pooch at Thomas’ place.  

It didn’t sit well with me. He was supposed to be watching his parents’ dog. But instead, he was having a friend of his girlfriend stay at his place to watch a dog she’d never met. I’d just hoped the dog was nice. 

After walking my bike to the back porch to lean it against the siding hidden from view from the street, I rounded back to the front door and gave it a few cursory knocks. As if on cue, loud barks began to sound — distant at first, but louder as the seconds went on — and I could just make out the scuffle of feet and claws against the hard floor. 

The door swung open and Des was restraining a black blur of tail and tongue and teeth. He wasn’t overly big, per se, but from what I could tell from his overexcited movements, he had to be at least forty or fifty pounds. 

“Hey! Come in—” she strained, holding the excited dog back as it wagged and wiggled in her arms. 

I slipped past the dog and kicked off my shoes on the hinged side of the door as she slammed it shut. “Brutus!” Des grunted as she tried to crouch over him and use her body weight as leverage. 

I straightened up and watched with choked giggles as she tried, and nearly failed, to keep him from charging me. “He’s — umph — he loves people —” said grumbled as the dog, presumably named Brutus, broke from her grasp and hounded over to me with a tail so violently wagging that I was afraid his hips would fly right off. He knocked into me with surprising force for his size and I toppled over to the ground. A slimy, velvety tongue began to attack my face and neck and I shrieked out in laughter as we rolled around on the floor. 

“Brutie! Brutus, off!” Des yelled. I could barely hear her over my screeches and giggles. 

A couple of moments passed and the dog calmed, crawling comically into my lap before curling up and looking at me with a panting smile. I ran my hand along the top of its head, scratching behind his pointed black ears. 

“Sorry, he really, really likes people. Not much of a watchdog,” Des said.

“It’s fine. He’s cute,” I replied, moving to scratch under his chin. “What breed is he?”

Des snorted. “Fuck if I know. Thomas says he’s a mutt. I think he’s a rescue.”

“Those are always the best ones,” I countered, earning a nuzzle into my hand from the furry canine nearly falling out of my lap. 

After a while of chit chat and petting the mammoth-sized wannabe cat splayed in my lap, I peeled my backpack off and set it against the wall and stood up  to follow Des into the kitchen. She explained Brutus’ feeding schedule (“He will try to convince you that he’s starving to death. Do not fall for it.”) and his typical routine, then showed me where Thomas’ parents had left the vet info in case of emergencies. It seemed pretty straightforward (easier than I’d expected, honestly), and I felt grateful that Thomas’ backyard was fenced off. A lost dog was the last thing I needed in life right now. 

Just as Des was setting the written feeding instructions back down on the counter, the door leading to the garage opened from down the hallway, and a pair of heavy footsteps came thunking toward us. 

Thomas came into view. He ran a hand through his hair, pulling at the locks a little as he glanced around the kitchen and dining area, turning a bit in his spot as if running through an imaginary list in his brain. By now, I’d seen Thomas in a variety of moods: ecstatic, embarrassed, exhausted, angry, piss drunk, and of course, the moments where he was absolutely enamored with Des, but I’d never seen him look so stressed before. His eyes looked tired yet his pupils were wide, countering the lines that were settling in around the corners of his eyelids. I’m not sure that he even noticed his shirt was inside out. 

“We found the pedalboard at the guys’ apartment. Some asshole put it on top of the fridge,” he sighed and put his hands on his hips as he looked up at the ceiling as if he were trying to visualize what he needed to do next. After a beat, he looked back down and his eyes met Des’ quizzical look. 

“Don’t ask. I don’t even fucking know.” He seemed to finally register that it wasn’t just his girlfriend in front of him and his demeanor changed a little. He straightened, almost toughened, and gave me a confused quirk of the eyebrows. “…Dahlia, what are you doing here?”

I mirrored his look. “Uh, Des said you needed me to house sit?”

Thomas looked between myself and Des, his face moving from a look of confusion to a look of what could be argued as annoyance. “Really?” he asked, taking another step closer to Des. “I thought I mentioned I’d figured all that out, babe.”

Desiree looked up at him with an innocent smile and rolled her lips between her teeth. “Whoops. Must have slipped my mind.”

He sized her reaction, clearly unconvinced. “Okay. Sure.” I was certain he was going to add something, but his potential dialogue with Des was cut off when the garage door opened again and the telltale sound of clunking boots against hard flooring cut through the air. I felt my heart simultaneously drop and expand in my chest. I had come to know that sound. 

“Everything is tied and tarped. I feel like fucking Patrick Bateman sans nailgun and Huey Lewis and the News.”

I had really come to know that voice. 

Mary rounded Thomas and Des and joined the impromptu party in the dining area. I shoved my hands into my pockets and rocked back and forth on my feet as I felt his stare bore into me from feet away. It was clear there had been a mix up, and although I couldn’t be certain that Des had something to do with it, I had a pretty good idea of what had happened. 

“What’s going on?” Mary asked as he looked around the uneven circle of his friends. Brutus trotted over and began to sniff at his pant legs and Mary reached down to scratch the hound’s forehead. Mary’s long hair hung around him in strands, the ends clumped together in damp sections as it fell from around his shoulders and back. 

“Why is your hair wet?” Des asked him. I was sure it was her way of breaking the awkwardness. 

Mary looked at her with an air of obviousness. “Shower,” he replied. 

“Oh…weird,” she said, and I had to stifle a giggle by turning it into a cough. 

Thomas rolled his eyes. “He’s full of shit. It’s raining outside and he’s been helping me load and tarp equipment in the truck.” Thomas reached out and clasped a hand to Mary’s shoulder, which to be fair, was dotted with what appeared to be wet raindrop marks. “We all know you hate bathing,” he added. 

Mary scoffed and shoved Thomas. “Fuck you guys.”

The air turned uncomfortable again, bordering sour, and it was Thomas who broke the silence. 

“Well, it looks like there’s been a miscommunication on who’s looking after this asshole,” Thomas started, looking directly at Des as he spoke although it was clear he was referring to the dog. She continued flashing her innocent smile, eyes still large as if concurrently seeking forgiveness and feigning ignorance. 

I felt compelled to speak up. I hated awkward silences, and I especially hated being the butt of one. “It’s not a big deal. I can head out if Mary’s got this,” I said with a shrug. 

“—It’s pouring out there!” Des quickly countered, looking between Thomas and I. 

Her defensive quip caused me to crinkle my eyebrows in response. “Bullshit, I was just outside and it was fine.”

I looked over at the sliding glass door to my left and sure as shit, the glass was coated in fine droplets sliding down to puddle at the deck below. The sky hadn’t been much more than overcast on my ride over, but it now swirled with tones of ash and charcoal. A storm was approaching. 

I sighed and rubbed my eyes. “Shit, well…I rode my bike over here.”

I could tell that the cogs were turning in Des’ mind as she tried to decide if she’d respond with comfort and support of her best friend or her boyfriend: the ever present dilemma. I felt a pang of guilt plague my stomach. 

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll figure it out. You guys go,” I offered with a small smile. Forced, of course, because now I was stranded at someone else’s house with someone else’s dog and of course a particular…someone else. 

“You sure?” she asked. I could see Thomas eyeing me from behind her, his own expression mirroring her words. It was clear this was just as much of a surprise to him as it was to Mary and I. 

My gut told me to stay focused on the couple ahead of me, but my impulsiveness won over, and I glanced at Mary. He was watching with a look of amusement, arms crossed over his chest as his head batted to and fro between speakers. I swallowed lightly.

“Yeah, go. Go! It’s fine.” The voice was mine, but the words were clearly not my own.

A few uncomfortable and quick words were shared, and both Des and Thomas grabbed their overnight bags and popped them into the cab of the truck before driving off down the quiet residential street towards the gig a few towns over. And I was stuck in the ranch-style home with Mary Goore, an overexcited rescue dog, and an approaching storm. 

🜏🜏🜏

After piling into the car and sloshing down the road en route to the gig a few cities over, Des and Thomas were mid conversation about the situation that had happened just moments before. 

“Don’t tell me you’re doing what I think you’re doing.” Thomas started, fingertips tapping against the wheel as they sped down the interstate. 

Des rolled her eyes. “They’ve been fucking!” Her voice was defensive. She quickly added, “Did you know that?”

Thomas kept his eyes on the road and drummed his fingers along to the song playing in the background. “No, and I don’t—” he sighed, removing one hand from the wheel to grasp at the back of his neck, “Jesus Christ, Desiree, you can’t play matchmaker on this one.”

Des crossed her arms over her chest. “Why not? Have you seen the way they look at each other?”

Thomas briefly turned his head and gave her a serious look, sternness that nearly reminded her of her father. “Don’t stick your nose in where it doesn’t belong,” he said. 

“What is that supposed to mean?” Des shot him a look that dripped in sass. Any other time it would have spurred a different set of emotions in him, but not this time. He held his ground. 

“Just — fuck, baby, I’ve known Mary for a long time and he’s not really one to settle.”

Des scoffed. “You think getting with Dahlia would be settling?”

“No, not like that.” Thomas sighed again in frustration. “He’s not big into commitment. Doesn’t like to be tied down. Mary’s…not a relationship kind of guy.”

It was quiet for a few seconds as Des pondered his response. “Well, I’m not saying they need to get married or anything,” she reasoned, “I’m just giving them a little push, is all. A weekend together, alone, no one to barge in and no expectations. It’s the perfect recipe for them to realize what they have going on.”

Another silence filled the cab of the truck. The sound of steady rain pelted against the windshield, only for the squeaky wipers to flick it off rhythmically, creating its own song and dance that counteracted the punk tune on the stereo system.  

After a moment, Thomas relented. “Don’t come crawling to me with those big, sad eyes when this ploy of yours blows up in your face.”

“What big eyes?!” Des craned her neck over and stared him down, though it was clear she couldn’t hide the smile bursting through her tough facade. 

“You know exactly what I’m talking about, babe.”

Des winked in his direction and the tension seemed to melt away. She reached over to grasp at his hand — the one that had fallen to his lap after drumming on the steering wheel —  and laced their fingers together. 

He let out a long breath and relaxed into the touch before grumbling, “They better not fuck on my bed.”

🜏🜏🜏

When Des and Thomas left, it was like they sucked what little comfort there had been straight out of the room. Sure, the house was occupied by two people and a dog (which some would even consider to be too crowded; three’s company and four’s a party and all that), but there was a timidness that I felt that seemed to have grown since my other outings with Mary. Maybe it was the unexpectedness of it all. Or perhaps it was my own lack of control in the situation. Regardless, I’d planned on staying a couple of days anyway — what was so bad about waiting out the storm to ride home?

I stood there, hands in my pockets as I continued to rock on my heels, before deciding to break the tension. “I should probably pick up my stuff,” I motioned to the general area my backpack was in and then quickly turned to retrieve my things. 

Backpack in hand, I headed to the bathroom to unpack. I’d packed light (because in all honesty, who did I have to impress), but I was searching for any and all excuses to put some distance between myself and the awkward situation I’d been thrust into. I pulled a toothbrush and toothpaste out of a plastic bag I’d jammed into the front pocket of my rucksack, mirroring the action with my face wash, moisturizer, and small bag of makeup essentials. I futzed for too long with the placement of the items, moving them from sinkside to against the wall and back again, before I gave up and sat back against the wall opposite the vanity. 

A few minutes went by and I felt a low growl erupt in my stomach. It was nearly six o’clock and I’d had yet to eat anything. I pulled out my phone, deciding to order takeout, and scrolled through the suggested nearby restaurants before settling on a well-rated Chinese place down the street. 

I was ready to press send on my order, but I remembered the elephant in the room and groaned, heaving myself up and making my way out to the main area of the home. Mary was nowhere to be seen. I turned around and upon noticing the garage door was ajar, I walked the short distance down the hallway and slipped into the adjoining garage. 

Mary was sitting in a camper chair in the empty space, lit cigarette between his fingers, with Brutus at his side. He was tossing a rope toy to the dog somewhat lazily, taking drags of the lit stick every so often. The garage was partially opened, just enough to let in the cool, damp air of the storm, and raindrops pittered in at the edge of the threshold. 

As soon as I shut the door to the house, his eyes shot up to meet my own and he nodded in greeting before tossing the toy to the opposite end of the garage for Brutus. 

“I’m ordering Chinese — you want anything?” I eventually spoke, body still against the steps connecting the sunken garage to the house. 

Mary let out an exhale of smoke and tapped the cigarette into a coffee can on the ground. “Whatever’s fine. I’m easy to please.” His telltale smirk painted his lips and I could see the mischief swirling behind his eyes. “But you already know that,” he added. 

I felt my eyes nearly roll out of my head and hopped down off the step, rounding him to sit in another nearby chair. As uncomfortable as his digs were supposed to be, they had the opposite effect. I didn’t do “awkward” with Mary that well. Sexual tension was another story. 

I added a few more items to the order and typed in my card information from memory before submitting the order, quickly clicking my phone off and stashing it in my pocket. My focus was broken when Mary interrupted the silence. 

“How’d you get roped into this?” he asked, head turning to glance at me. 

I sighed and rubbed the side of my face, showing my slight annoyance. “Desiree.”

Mary laughed, a warm chuckle that I’d grown to appreciate, and he ashed the cigarette into the can below him. “You’d think they’d learn to communicate with how they fucking act around each other.”

I stretched out my legs, sinking back into the camper chair. “Oh, I’m sure it was communicated…” I remarked.

Mary looked at me quizzically, head turned towards me again to flash those phthalocyanine eyes that somehow looked brighter in the odd lighting of the garage. I brushed off his look, not wanting to get into the specifics of the conversation I had with Desiree or the fact that she knew about our history. “The dog seems to like you.”

“Brutus and I go way back,” he said. 

“Really?” I said with raised brows.

Mary laughed out again in response, that ever-present balmy giggle that pulled at the corners of his lips sending a wave of warmth through my body. “No, I’m just fucking with you. I’m good with animals,” he paused and his lips curled into a grin, ”when I’m not microwaving them, of course.”

My mind raced back to our first encounter together. The streetlights on the walk towards the abandoned warehouse. Paper bags with shaved ice and forties. Shitty gas station snacks. And our conversation about reputation. Namely, his reputation. “Oh, of course.” My tone was one of mock seriousness, and I couldn’t help but giggle at the memory.

I watched as he took another drag from the dwindling cigarette and then turned to look out at the half-closed garage door. The raindrops pelting against the shingled roof and cracked concrete driveway were the only audio that suffused the space, with the occasional exhale of pillowy smoke from the musician next to me. 

It was Mary that broke the silence again. He always seemed to be the one to do that. “Thanks again,” he started, hand waving around aimlessly as he spoke, “y’know, for the cake and shit.”

“Yeah, of course. I’m glad your mom liked it.” I spoke earnestly and my expression was one of sincerity. It felt foreign.

“She fucking loved it. She was surprised I had anything to do with making it,” he laughed and tapped his cigarette into the can. 

“Oh come on, you can’t be that bad of a cook,” I replied.

He raised an eyebrow at me as he turned to face me. “I’ve burned water.”

My jaw dropped just enough that I was sure it looked like I’d catch flies. “I…didn’t think that was possible.”

He shrugged and turned back to face forward, the cigarette now a stubby, crinkled nub between his middle and pointer fingers. “You should know by now that I’m full of impossible surprises.”

I leaned forward, turning my torso to point towards him while I pulled my legs criss-cross into the camper chair. “How on earth do you woo a woman if you can’t even cook fucking Kraft Mac n’ Cheese?”

“Women aren’t typically after my cooking skills. Or lack thereof,” he flicked the remaining ash of the cigarette down and it missed the can. He didn’t notice. “I’ve got other talents,” he paused, “Wooing isn’t really my style.”

I let his admission ring in the dampened air. It wasn’t surprising. From what I’d heard, he’d never had trouble landing women — particularly after gigs. “The life of a musician…” I trailed off. 

Another silence built as the rain colored the absence of our conversation. I could hear Brutus’ slight snores as he lay curled at Mary’s feet, seemingly tired from their earlier game of fetch. A breeze broke through the cracked garage door and swirled around us, bringing a chill into the otherwise comfortable space. I pulled my hoodie a little closer, feeling the cool air dance across my cheeks and the skin peeking through the jacket. 

“I think I’m gonna head in. I’ll let you know when the food is here.”

Mary didn’t say anything in response — merely nodding and taking out another cigarette from the worn Marlboro carton — and I made my way back inside with a heavier mind than I’d come out with. 

🜏🜏🜏

I’d puttered around the house for what had seemed like ages, but in reality was likely only a handful of minutes. As familiar as I was with some of the rooms at Thomas’, I had to admit that there were areas I’d never been to,  namely his room or the basement. As rude as it might have been, I’d given myself a self-directed tour of the place, noting the half-completed projects he seemed to be working on to fix up the house. I wasn’t sure if that was a sign of Des domesticating him or if the house really was a secret pride-and-joy. 

Eventually, I found myself in the den, sinking into the worn plaid couch that already held too many memories. I pushed them down and reached for the remote to the TV, opting just to hold it as my thoughts zoomed. I could probably put on a movie to kill some time until dinner arrived. It wouldn’t be long and it would serve as a nice distraction. 

I got up and thumbed through the impressive number of DVDs stacked next to the TV. Most of them were action or horror (no surprise there), and I settled on a film I’d never seen before: The Amityville Horror. I told myself that the fact that a young Ryan Reynolds was on the cover had absolutely nothing to do with the choice. 

After some cajoling, I figured out how Thomas’ TV and DVD player were set up and popped in the disc, pressing play on the machine before sinking back into the couch. The blue screen transformed to darkness as the credits played and I waited to be taken to the home screen. 

Mere seconds into the film, I heard a knock at the door and I paused the movie to jog up and out of the sunken den to the front door. I was met with an absolutely drenched delivery driver holding out a large brown bag in one hand and a soaked receipt and pen in the other. I shot him a look of apology and took the receipt, signing and adding on a much more generous tip than I’d originally intended, before trading him for the food. His eyes lit up when he saw the receipt and he dashed back to his clunker parked out front. 

I ended up parking the heavy bag of Chinese on the kitchen table. My thoughts were broken when I heard Mary coming in from the garage, heavy footsteps once again thunking down the hallway.  A pitter of claws trotted behind him. 

“Food’s here,” I said, already opening the bag to take out the various containers. 

We grabbed our respective containers and utensils and made our way to the den, me sitting on the couch while Mary sat on the floor, his back against the edge of the couch with his legs spread out wide. I opened up my container of sweet and sour pork and doused it in sweet and sour sauce, mixing it up with the cheap excuse for chopsticks that they provided before settling into the back corner of the couch and pressing play. 

“You’re watching this trash?” Mary said, words muffled by a mouthful of Beijing beef. 

I rolled my eyes, though he couldn’t see it from his position on the floor. “I’ve never seen it.”

“It’s a shit remake.”

I grabbed a piece of pork between my chopsticks and lathered it in sauce before popping it into my mouth. “Well,” I said while chewing, “no one’s making you watch it.”

He shrugged his shoulders. “I’ve got nothing better to do.”

“Gee, thanks,” I said with a hint of facetiousness. 

“Don’t get your panties in a twist,” he all but grumbled, reaching in the container to grab a piece of beef with his fingers.“You knew what I meant.”

I shuddered as I watched him pop the piece of meat into his mouth with his fingers. “Are you…eating that with your bare hands?” I asked with a surprised chuckle. 

He shrugged his shoulders again. “Chopsticks are frustrating. Why use those when I have built in chopsticks right here?” He pinched his fingers in the air, just high enough that I could see them from my spot on the sofa. 

I paused, reaching into the takeout container to fish around for some sort of accompanying vegetable. “I…don’t know how I feel about that, to be honest.”

“You didn’t seem to mind my fingers the last time you were on that couch,” he retorted, tone dripping with cheekiness that I knew was accompanied by a smirk I couldn’t see from my vantage point. 

I sighed, trying to pay no mind to his constant coquettishness. “Well, they weren’t covered in Chinese food when that happened.”

“They could have been.”

I reached over and grabbed one of Thomas’ throw pillows from across the sofa and tossed it down directly at his head. Mary yowled and grabbed at the back of his head. 

“Hey, ow- fuck, you almost made me spill!”

I waved my chopstick dismissively. “Shh, I’m missing what’s happening.”

“Not missing much…” he grumbled, grabbing another piece of beef with his fingers. I looked down and dug into my food again, picking at some snow peas, and took a bite to keep me from my desire to respond with something sarcastic. 

I watched the screen as the beginning of the movie continued to unfold with the dreary undertone of music and darkened filter plastered over shots of the house and rainfall outside. 

I knew that in fiction, rain was often used to signal something darker, uncontrollable, and innately scary. While a gentle storm could symbolize rebirth or the washing away of something unclean to show a new beginning, a thunderstorm was different. Thunderstorms were brash, explosive, and undeniably cacophonous — a symbol of power, wrath, danger, and darkness. As the scene cut to a shot of the rainy setting, I couldn’t help but liken it to the rain pelting the windowpanes of the window behind the couch. They were both intense storms and I wondered what symbolism life could be trying to show me, if any at all. 

We watched mostly in silence, with the occasional jolt from me during a poorly timed jumpscare or a shake of the head and grumble from Mary (which after the third shove of my foot into his shoulder, he got the message that he was being obnoxious). 

Unbeknownst to me, the movie had a quick sex scene, which with anyone else would have been a non-issue watching. But with Mary, I felt oddly different. I found myself wondering what he was thinking as we watched the main characters move intimately against one another. Because, if my memory served me right, the last movie we watched together had something similar, and he had reacted in very specific—

 My thoughts were interrupted by yet another jumpscare and I squeaked in surprise, nearly dropping my empty takeout container. Mary chuckled and turned around with a smug smile.

 “Everything okay back there?” he asked. 

“Just fine. ‘Surprised me…” I grumbled, pretending to dig around in the empty container for more food. I was sure he could see right through me. I was easy to spook.

Eventually, I set my empty container on the side table and reclined back into the couch again. It felt weirdly quiet, and I noticed that Mary had gotten up at some point and left. 

“Seems he found something better to do with his time,” I thought. Not that it mattered, anyway. I hated the kind of people that talked constantly during movies, and I could tell Mary was doing his best not to criticize nearly every piece of dialogue and every scene. 

“Here.” The voice snapped me from my thoughts and my eyes refocused to the space in front of me, noticing an uncapped beer just in my line of sight. I took it with a thank you, noticing Mary had one of his own as he decided to sit opposite to me on the edge of the couch instead of on the floor. I tried not to think anything of the change and cast my eyes towards the movie. 

“Did….did she just put a whole ass bong into her purse?” I asked after watching the babysitter in the film try to hide her bong after smoking in the bathroom. I took a swig of the beer Mary gifted me and looked over at him. 

He laughed. “I’m telling you — this movie is idiotic at best.”

“I hate that I’m invested enough that I want to see how it ends,” I replied after a minute, adjusting my position on the couch to spread out a leg, my foot barely missing the side of Mary’s thigh. 

“I’m happy to tell you how it ends,” Mary countered, taking a pull from his own bottle.

I shook my head in reply. “Might as well finish it. In your words, we’ve ‘got nothing better to do,’” I grinned at him with a chuckle and set my eyes back on the screen. 

After the movie finished, we both stretched out our limbs, and I stood to collect the empty containers. 

“That’s 90 minutes of my life I’ll never get back,” Mary grunted with a sigh. 

I rolled my eyes. With how things were going, I’d be surprised if they didn’t roll straight out of my head and onto the shitty shag carpet on the floor. “Oh come on,” I began, “It wasn’t THAT bad…”

“Well, it sure as shit wasn’t good,” he chuckled sarcastically.

I let out a defeated breath. “Okay, I’ll admit that it wasn’t the best movie I’ve seen.”

“Clear from it,” he postured, lounging back a little as he took a swig from his beer “The original does a much better job of staying true to the book and creating that building suspense th—”

His words were cut off by another loud crack of lightning. This one sounded close, and by the looks of the fulmination that painted the windows, it was. 

I let out a shriek when the lightning and its ancillary crash cracked through the den and beyond. My hand flew to my mouth in surprise and I soon rubbed it over my eyes bashfully. 

“Shit, I didn’t know you could make that noise,” Mary chuckled, eyebrows raised in an expression of slight surprise. I looked over and flashed him the middle finger, a scowl on my face, which only increased his laughter. 

“How about we put on another movie,” he suggested, then added quickly “—but I pick.” I thought about it, pondering the many choices of movies that Mary could choose on a night like tonight, and shook my head. 

“Maybe music is a better idea?” I replied. I walked to the edge of the den and started up the few stairs that connected it to the hallway. “I’ll toss these while you get it set up,” I called over my shoulder. 

When I returned, Mary was finished messing with the stereo system and Sonic Youth’s Daydream Nation was playing softly through the speakers. I took a seat on the floor, copying Mary’s earlier posture with my back against the front of the plush furniture, and spread my legs out and crossed them at the ankles. 

“Didn’t take you as a Sonic Youth fan,” I said as I settled into the space. 

Mary smiled and turned his head towards me. “I told you I’m full of interesting surprises.”

I suppressed a giggle. “I was thinking of other types of surprises when you said that.”

“What kinds of things were you thinking of?” he asked, brow quirked.

I felt my cheeks flush at the coy look on his face and looked away, trying to figure out a way to change the conversation. Mary just laughed. 

“Wow, doll face, I didn’t expect to take up that much real estate in your mind. I’m flattered.” He put a hand to his chest and stared over me with a broad smile. 

“Stop it.”

He cast me a look of confusion. “Stop what?”

“That thing you do!” I began. My voice raised a little in volume and pitch. “The thing where you act all smug and ooze sex appeal!”

This seemed to intrigue him and he turned to face me from his spot in front of the entertainment system. I knew that if his shirt was off, I’d be able to see the flexion of the muscles in his abdomen. I mentally kicked myself for even thinking that. 

“Sex appeal? I didn’t know you were so pious.”

I felt myself bristle and sat up a little straighter. “What? No, it’s not about piety.” I ran my hand through my hair in frustration. “You just don’t have to make everything an innuendo!”

At this, the crusty metalhead in front of me had the audacity to laugh. “Wow,” he chuckled, “way to act like a total prude.” 

“I am not!” My eyes shot daggers at him and I’d hope they’d materialize and hit him straight in his smirking face. 

“I’m surprised you made it through that sex scene…” he looked up at me from under a raised brow.

I huffed. “You of all people should know that sex doesn’t bother m—” I cut myself off as I felt fire heat my cheeks. 

“You were saying?” he snickered. 

“Oh, fuck off Goore.”

“Sure thing. Wanna watch?”

“I’ll leave that to Brutus.”

As soon as his name was said, Brutus’ ears perked up and he let out a whine. I realized it had probably been hours since he’d been outside.

“We should probably let the dog out,” I said. As soon as he heard the word ‘out,’ Brutus sprung up and began trotting to the sliding glass door in the kitchen. I got up with a slight groan, muscles stiff from sitting on the floor, and Mary followed. 

“I can take the dog out by myself, y’know,”

“Yeah, but the view is so much better if I come with.”

I felt frustration pool in my chest at this and he seemed to sense it as well, adding, “Chill out, I was just  grabbing a couple more beers.”

After coaxing Brutus outside with some choice words said in the nicest voice I could muster (and maybe a push on the bum), I waited at the sliding glass door for him to return from doing his business. A towel was thrown by slider and I grabbed it to wipe down the dog on his re-entry. 

I watched through the window as the storm really began to rage. Fat water droplets ricocheted off the glass pane like rubber bullets and thunder rumbled a low death rattle. Mary came up behind me and put the two bottles on the kitchen table. He fished around in his pockets for his bottle opener on his key chain. 

A loud, booming sound followed by a high pitched crack and a monstrous thud rattled the foundation of the house. I let out an embarrassingly loud scream and jumped back from the sliding door. My body collided with Mary’s more solid one behind me, and immediately his hands found my upper arms to steady the both of us. I leaned back into him, not caring enough about self-restraint as my head tipped back against his shoulder. 

My chest heaved as my adrenaline dissipated, and I could feel Mary’s hands rubbing up and down the lengths of my arms. I swallowed thickly, then clenched my eyes tight. I felt his breath arm against my ear as he leaned in. 

“You good, Doll?”

His voice was smooth, oddly soothing, and the reverberations that pulsed through my ear and into my chest were much different than the shaking of the foundation from the subsonic boom moments prior. 

I nodded and looked out the window. A mature tree limb, one measuring at least 15 feet long, had fallen to the ground in the backyard from the force of the thunderstorm. My immediate thought went to Brutus and I feared for the worst, but as if on cue, his body came running towards the door like a bullet. His little black body began pawing at the door and yet, I felt frozen in my spot to Mary. His body stayed pressed against the back of mine, hands still rubbing little circles against my triceps. Neither of us moved to open the door. 

Brutus’ bark seemed to jolt us both from the haze. I slid the door open and immediately wrapped the medium-sized dog in the towel to dry him off. The little black mutt followed me as I walked back into the wood-paneled den and I sunk down on the couch next to Mary with a sigh. 

Mary handed me another beer and I graciously accepted. “You know,” he started after taking a sip of his own, “I’m not used to women screaming around me unless my name is involved somehow.”

“Is it usually preceded by ‘fuck off’ or ‘get the fuck away from me’?”

“I was thinking it comes after ‘harder’ or ‘fuck me,’ actually,” he said, pausing a beat before casting a look of cautious puzzlement. “Who pissed in your Cheerios?”

I chewed on my cheek as I picked at the label of the beer bottle. “I hate storms,” I admitted with a sigh.

“I hadn’t noticed.”

The squall of the storm caused the windows behind the weathered old sofa to vellicate. Stills from the movie of torrential downpour around the boathouse flashed into thought. I recalled the swirling blackened sky from the sliding glass door from moments before and found myself comparing the dread from the film to my stomach sinking the moment the tree limb fell heavy against the hard ground. What if it had fallen on the house, or the dog? What if it had been a consequence of a lightning strike and started a fire?

I shook myself from spiraling. “I’m not afraid of a lot of things,” I pointed out, “but storms...they freak me out. They have ever since I was little. Loud noises and all.”

Mary chuckled at this. “You listen to thrash metal,” he countered. 

“That’s different!” I ran my hand through my hair, gripping at the back of my scalp in frustration. “Storms are destructive. One minute it’s a normal day and the next - bam - people lose their homes, their jobs, their communities…decades and centuries of history even. It’s chaotic and terrible and…unpredictable. It’s fucking armageddon.”

Mary had turned to face me from his spot on the couch, one leg semi-crossed over the other. “Big bad metal chick like you afraid of some thunder and lightning? Color me surprised, dollface.”

The asshole had the audacity to smirk at me. So, I reached out and smacked him in the shoulder. 

“Ow! I was being serious!” His tone was playful as rubbed at the spot on his shoulder. “You’re not the kind of person to let a lot of emotion show.”

I felt myself bristle. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shrugged. “I dunno…you just don’t seem afraid of anything. Kinda just ‘go with the flow’. It’s weird to see ya all panicked and shit.”

I scoffed and clicked my tongue. “You obviously don’t know me very well.”

“Oh, I know you inside and out, dollface,” he grinned. 

My cheeks blushed garnet. “Only some of me,” I grumbled.

“Really? What else you got hiding?” he chided, sitting up a little straighter, a little closer. “Got any secret pockets in those pants?”

Now, it felt like my whole face was on fire. I remembered the cargo pants he made fun of me for on our first excursion, and the tongue-in-cheek wording was absolutely purposeful. I rolled my eyes. 

Any other time I would have had a quick quip or nonverbal response lined up to banter with him, but another crackle of thunder roared through the sky, and instead, my body physically flung itself up an inch off the cushions in a reactive jolt. My hands gripped onto whatever was near me — which in this case, was the right arm of the couch and coincidentally, the right arm of Mary. 

The sound of the thunder was replaced with the onslaught of water against the windows behind the sofa and I let out a breath I didn’t remember inhaling. I looked down at my hand gripping onto Mary’s forearm, fingers digging into the demon ink staring up at me across otherwise pale flesh, and I quickly retreated. 

I cleared my throat. “S-sorry,” I choked, “Reflex.”

Mary didn’t seem phased at all. He turned towards me, his upper torso craning to meet mine perpendicularly, and a hand came to my knee. “What helps?” he asked plainly.

“I…what?” 

“What helps?” he repeated, his tone still matter-of-fact. 

“Oh. Um…” I swallowed and looked down at his hand resting on my left knee, right over the fabric of my pants. I wracked my brain in a feeble attempt to think of something that had aided my fear in the past.

But I couldn’t think. I couldn’t even breathe properly as the heat from his hand sunk through to my covered skin. I imagined that hand six inches higher, resting on my thigh as he spread them apart on the rooftop all those weeks ago—

“Distraction!” I blurted out. I hardly even recognize my voice as I did so. I finally looked over to meet the stare I’d felt carving into my irrationally fearful form and saw those fucking eyes, green and honey and framed with brows that were pursed in a way that conveyed allure. I finished letting out my caged breath. “Something to keep my mind off things and give me another sense to focus on. My parents used to, uh, read to me. Make up stories. When I was old enough, I’d hum songs or picture scenes from movies…”

Embarrassment flooded my bones. I felt childish, weakened, exposed like a raw nerve or a root scabbing from crisp air. We didn’t talk much about our pasts and he wasn’t somewhat I typically indulged with this kind of vulnerability. But as I searched his eyes for a crinkle of amusement or a flash of judgment, I found none. Instead, I found focused pupils and a heady stare. 

He broke the pregnant pause. “Maybe I could distract you with something different.”

I rolled my lips in and stilted the air in my lungs. His hand weighed heavily on my leg. 

“We’ve tried music. And movies,” he began, briefly casting his glance towards the middle of the living room where the TV sat against the wall and we’d sat and listened to Sonic Youth. “We drank shitty beer and ate shitty Chinese—”

“—I liked the Chinese—” I interrupted in a murmur, still watching as he soaked in the visual of my legs pressed together, his hand firm and steady. 

“—so in my eyes, we’ve used sight, hearing, taste, and by association, scent. Which means, we’re missing one…”

Touch, I thought to myself. A shiver whispered down my spine. While his words trailed off, he mimicked the action with his hand. The firm hand that once sat solid on my knee began to travel up the expanse of my left leg. His fingertips ghosted my inner thigh with just enough pressure to make a point. 

I gathered up the courage to look up at him again and this time, the verdant hue of his eyes was overtaken by wide pupils that bore into me like he was clawing his way to comfort. 

I’m not exactly sure what happened next. The haze in my brain matched the low visibility from the storm outside. But before I knew it, I could feel the warmth of his proximity, the grip of his hand tightening on my leg as his other one gripped the nape of my neck, tugging and pulling me into him like a life preserver. 

His kiss was exactly as I had remembered. Soft yet slightly chapped, starting as a fervent pressing of lips on lips that moved into tilted heads and the drag of a tongue against my own parted mouth. I reveled in the feeling and gripped onto his shirt with both hands, fisting it like he’d float away if I let go.

Had I been more cognizant, I’d have laughed at the fact that his action was much more than touch. It was scent (cheap cologne and leather and musk) and it was taste (cheap beer and filmy cigarette residue that I was surprised I could crave) and sight (technicolor behind my eyelids that erupted against dark) and it was sound (of the smacking of lips on lips and the occasional clang of teeth, the rustle of fabric and the springs of the couch as we shifted to accommodate one another). 

And down we fell, my twisted torso mirroring his own as I lay plush against the flat seat of the couch. Mary moved to encapsulate my form with his own, knees brushing the worn plaid upholstery as I parted my legs to gift him space. My hands found the tops of his shoulders and as I gripped, his own hand moved from its entrapment on the nape of my neck to cup my jaw, thumb bruising against bone. I fought the urge to wrap my legs around his body and hold him in like he was to me. Touch. I didn’t care.

But before I could, he slotted one of his legs between my own, the other digging between my left thigh and the seam of the couch. I let out a groan as he pressed the meat of his thigh against my center and he smiled against my lips, nipping at the bottom one. 

Touch. I craved that movement as heat built deep within my abdomen and pooled down past my navel. Shamelessly, I rocked my hips against his leg to chase the feeling of pressure, of grazed fabric on fabric. Testing the proverbial waters. 

Again, a smirk against my lips. His free hand gripped squarely onto my hip. But instead of a teasing nip or squeeze, he pulled away just barely, breath ghosting against my face. 

“That feel good, Doll?” 

I couldn’t begin to think of how to respond. Instead, I canted my hips up again, slower this time, enjoying the friction of denim against my own clothed core. I suppose that was enough of an answer, because he held his leg firm and pressed a kiss to the corner of my mouth. 

He hummed. “You gonna use me to get yourself off, dollface?” he breathed in question. His voice was lust-dipped and low, barely above a whisper yet it rang so heavy in my chest that I could swear it was deeper than the thunder. 

I let out a noise in response (something like a mix between a whimper and a hum) and again rocked up into the muscle of his leg as I pressed my forehead to his, eyes squeezing shut to focus on the sensation blooming between my thighs. 

“Use your words,” Mary all but tutted, voice still low in timbre. 

“Yes,” I sputtered. Fuck dignity.

He hummed in response and captured my lips with his again, pressing hard as he kissed me with purpose. His hand on my jaw moved to grab my other hip and he let his body fall into mine as he pulled my body up into his leg in time with my own movements. “Keep going,” he murmured against my mouth. Touch. Sound.

Unabashedly, I moved my hips into his thigh with the help of his strong grasp. The friction changed as I felt my own arousal begin to dampen the fabric of my panties and I groaned into the kiss at the feel of the cotton gliding over my clit with each quickening movement. 

Mary’s mouth moved across my jaw and down to the crook of my neck and shoulder, and he began to work at the skin there, biting and sucking along the sensitive areas he’d been cataloging since our last time on this couch. My eyes fluttered open half-lidded in the darkness and I raked my hand through his long hair, gripping it against the scalp as I moved senselessly against him, chasing a release I knew he could provide me. 

“Fuck, you’re so eager,” he growled out against my skin. I swear I could feel the pounding of his pulse through our mashed chests and his words only increased a need that I’d been suppressing since he’d fucked me breathless against my kitchen countertop.

Mary’s distinct scent clouded me, wet-straw colored hair hung in my peripherals, cigarettes and cheap beer and the taste of his kiss covered my lips and tongue, fabric rubbed against fabric and wet mouths primed heated skin, and every explosion of his body rocked and pulled and ground against mine into a sensory explosion. Smell. Sight. Taste. Sound. Touch.

No more storm. No more thunder. No more rain. We made our own natural disaster. 

And I was distracted. Fully distracted in that I didn’t recognize it was my voice that let out a breathy ‘so good’. So successfully distracted that the beeping of the notification on my phone was easily discounted. In fact, the subsequent beeping that followed seconds later was also minimized. And the one after that. I could feel the fuzzy feeling building deep below my navel and I chased it with every movement of my body against Mary’s, and the feeling of his own hardness growing against my thigh made me that much more desperate. He was clearly getting something out of this, too. 

“Take what you need,” Mary’s muffled voice sounded against my clavicle. “Take whatever —fuck— take whatever you want, babydoll.”

So, I did. I ground furiously against him and reached for the peak of my climb, oblivious to the buzzing and chiming of my phone on the coffee table beside us. Except, we’d forgotten we weren’t alone, and not everyone was able to ignore the phone’s noises. 

Brutus’ deep, loud barking rang through the sunken den unexpectedly, causing both Mary and I to jump in surprise, Mary’s head knocking against the side of my jaw. He rose up on his forearms instantaneously and gripped his forehead with a loud ‘fuck’ and I matched his reaction as I cupped my jaw and let out a slew of expletives. 

The light from my screen illuminated the once sleeping dog’s face and I groaned out as I haphazardly reached an arm towards the table to feel for my phone. I unlocked the device and was met with a litany of notifications from Des. I groaned and slammed my head back against the couch cushion. For working so hard to get Mary and I alone together, Desiree sure knew how to cock block. 

I brought the phone up and with squinted eyes, I read over the text messages that had gathered over the last hour. 

Des: how’s it going over there? 

Des: i heard the storm is supposed to get even worse

Des: is brutie doing okay? He gets whiny with loud noises sometimes

Des: shit someone on instagram posted that the power is out for like 5,000 people. you still okay?

Des: wow. okay. don’t answer me. you guys must be really busy 😏

Des: there are condoms in the bedside drawer 😘 cum stains wash out best with cold water ❤

Des: you still never told me about his dick btw

By now, Mary had sat back on his haunches and the pressure of his thigh was completely gone from where I most wanted it to be. “Who is it?” he asked, rubbing at his forehead. 

“Desiree,” I replied in a neutral tone.

Mary let out a sarcastic laugh. “What does she want?” He leaned down to try to get a peek at the phone screen and I snapped it to my chest tightly. 

“Just checking in to see how we’re faring the storm!” I said a little too quickly. I cleared my throat to try to force down the nervous lump that was forming. “And wanted to see how Brutus is doing with the thunder.”

I expected Mary to eye me suspiciously, but if he had caught on to anything, he surely didn’t show it. I typed out a quick response to Des, explaining that yes, we were okay, and no, Brutus wasn’t being a handful, before adding a quick ‘fuck you’ and an eyeroll emoji to her later comments. 

I set the phone down on the table and looked up at the man currently straddling my body. My heart began to speed up again as I took in my surroundings. It was dark in the room, but the light from the storm outside and the glow of the kitchen nearby illuminated him with chiaroscuro that any Renaissance painter would envy. Judging by the bulge in his jeans, the interruption wasn’t enough to sully his erection, and he looked down at me as if he was waiting for me to say the words to continue. 

I felt my chest tighten and another crackle of lightning peppered the room in flushed white. What was I doing? This was Mary: resident bad boy, metal enthusiast, best friend of my best friend’s boyfriend, and come to think of it, a guy who never seemed to show up with the same girl at his side. I didn’t sleep around purely from the fact that it was impossible for me to avoid catching feelings. Blame it on the oxytocin release.

But nothing we had done was wrong and nothing had been the result of deeper feelings, right? We were two consenting adults, two friends that enjoyed each other’s company. Couldn’t that be enough? Sex didn’t have to equal commitment or a deeper connection. It could be loose, free, fun. It was what Des always encouraged me to explore, anyway. Right? 

Despite my reasoning, I felt a weight pressing on my sternum and threatening to rise up my throat. His stare was piercing, and all I could smell was leather and cologne and cigarettes, and the taste of him on my bottom lip, and his weight on my legs, and my breath felt like it was going to rip my lungs open and—

“We should turn in for the night,” I blurted out.

I searched his face for any sort of reaction and was met with a split second of confusion before his demeanor went calm. 

“Sure, if that’s what you want.”

Take what you want rang heavy in my ears from just moments before. 

“Y-yeah, it’s getting late and I worked today, so…”

He stood up from his position over me and I sat up against the arm of the sofa. I chewed my lip, battling the decision I’d just made for the both of us. 

“I’ll take the couch, you can have Tommy’s bed,” Mary said nonchalantly as he took a swig from the forgotten beer bottle on the coffee table. Oddly chivalrous. 

I shook my head almost immediately. “No, I’ll take the couch.” Mary opened his mouth to protest, but I held firm. “I am not sleeping in Thomas’ bed. That sounds like the 7th circle of hell. My best friend is frequently naked in that bed and who knows when those sheets were last washed.”

Mary laughed at this. A deep chuckle and a shake of his head as he motioned towards me with the beer bottle between pointer finger and thumb. 

“Oh, don’t tell me you’ve never seen her naked.”

Embarrassed, flustered, and wholly unsatisfied from practically humping the metalhead in front of me, I scoffed. “Not like that and not by choice.”

Mary grinned in enjoyment of my response. “Stay up late and play with each others’ tits after a pillow fight?”

A frustrated groan breached my lips. “You’ve been watching way too much porn, Goore,” I said. I reached for one of the long discarded throw pillows and lobbed it at him, feeling a hint of disappointment when he dodged it easily.

He held up both hands, one still holding the bottle. “Suit yourself,” he began, backing up while still facing me, then adding with a smirk, “don’t get too scared with the storm.”

I watched as he turned and made his way down the hallway, beer in hand as he ventured to Thomas’ room. Leaning back into the cushions of the couch, I sighed. 

🜏🜏🜏

My fingers curled around the stiff microfiber blanket that I’d lazily thrown over myself as I’d sunk into Thomas’ well-worn plaid couch.

I tried to coat myself in the scratchy throw to avoid the feeling of the couch cushions on the exposed skin of my legs and arms. It was a touch-memory that brought me back to flying high in the same den, legs straddling the man that now slept peacefully down the hallway in the master bedroom. 

As much as I didn’t want to reconcile with the feelings of fear, I was on edge. The movie set my panic into motion, but the worsening storm was what lit the engine. It had progressed from the percussive pelting drops against the windows and siding to roars of wind and sprays of harsh rain that sounded like fire hoses. Thunder boomed every so often and I heard its fallout whip through the trees with horrid whistles — true cries of the damned. 

I let out a shaky breath and reached my hand down to pet the dog curled on the bed on the floor. Focus on the fur. Soft. Spindle it between your fingertips. Smooth. Warm. My heartbeat started to calm and my lizard brain crept back into its recesses. 

My eyes relaxed in their shut state and I nuzzled a bit harder into the pillow. I felt my exhaustion begin to take hold. And just as I began to float into the downward spiral of sleep, a boisterous crack sliced through the sky. It reminded me of the jet planes that flew at the air shows when I was little - the ones that broke the sound barrier - and my shriek that followed rivaled in volume. 

Bright white lightning strobed through the windows of the house. A quick succession of flashes flickered like a searchlight on the fritz. The house went dark again. 

The dog's ears perked as he sat up and I followed suit, blanket bunched around my knees and clutched with firm fists to my chest. Just like after a blinding camera flash, my eyes were shot. I could just barely make out the shapes of the furniture and walls. 

“You okay?” a voice asked mere feet away from me.

Startled, I let out another quick scream before slamming my palm tight against my mouth. My eyes continued to adjust and I noticed the figure turned from swirling black mass to humanoid to Mary within a split second.

“I’m fine,” I breathed out. I brought my hands down to grip onto the couch cushions. Mary stood before me in his boxers. Messy hair tousled around his shoulders and chest in waves a la 1980s glam rock (though I was certain that bedhead was a more likely culprit) and willed myself not to search through the inky black of the den to determine if he was wearing a shirt or not. 

“Do you usually scream like a banshee when you’re fine?” he quipped as he crossed his arms over his chest. 

No shirt I noted. 

I rubbed my hands against my face, pressing my fingertips into the sockets of my eyes. “Just not a fan of storms.”

“Yeah, so you said.” A moment passed. The only sound in the air was the howling wind from outside until he broke the quiet. “You sure you’re good out here?”

“I’ve got Brutie.”

“Alright,” he sighed. After a moment, I could feel he’d left again, and I willed myself back into the couch cocoon I’d built myself. 

I must have fallen asleep. Be it the adrenaline crash or the exhaustion, I wasn’t sure how I’d finally managed. It was in vain, however, when another loud burst of lightning and thunder rumbled through the house. The same strobe of light pulsated briefly, and in the distance, a booming crash. Before I knew it, I was on my feet. 

Fuck this fuck this fuck this I whispered to myself as I sped through the house. My hands reached out in front of me as bumpers to the still unfamiliar landscape, and after padding down the hallway in bare feet, I reached around for the doorknob to Thomas’ room. 

His room was better lit than the living room. The orange-y glow of the one working street lamp in the distance painted the walls with a near apocalyptic hue and illuminated Mary’s sleeping form on the bed. He was facing away from me, but I could tell he was out (shocking considering the resonance of the lightning and thunder). 

I bit my lip and crossed my arms over my shoulders as I shifted my weight from foot to foot. I didn’t even know what I was doing here. I sure as hell didn’t want to sleep in Thomas’ bed, and the thought of sleeping next to Mary made me more anxious than anything. Well, except the storm. What was I thinking? I felt like a child standing at the foot of their parents’ bed after having a nightmare, waiting with fearful eyes and too-small pajamas for them to invite me in for the night. 

Duller thunder hummed outside and I was reminded of the fear that had clenched my chest just minutes prior. I suppose it wouldn’t hurt having another person with me, could it? Clearly, the dog wasn’t enough.

I slowly sank onto the opposite edge of the bed, making myself featherlight, and lifted one leg up along the mattress as my other foot held firm against the floor. Mary didn’t move. I swung the other leg up onto the bed and pulled the covers down before sliding under, the shifting sheets whisper silent, and leaned back against the pillow. 

I lay board stiff, hand on my chest, and watched as the tree branches dappled the streetlight in whooshing patterns across the ceiling. Like dark sparkles, it lulled me into a sense of calm, and I let my eyes fall shut again. The bed shifted and I felt Mary turn over, arm flopping out towards the middle of the bed to land hand first into my arm. His eyebrows crinkled in his sleep and his eyelids fluttered wearily at the feeling of his skin against my own. 

“Doll?” he asked, eyes stained with sleep. 

I turned my head to face him, hands still clasped against my chest. “Sorry, I—” I began, taking a moment to let out a shaky breath, “ — I freaked out.”

I braced for a chuckle, eyeroll, anything that was typical of Mary, but it never came. Instead, he lifted up the blankets as if to silently beckon me over. “C’mere,” he croaked, voice clearly still lethargic. 

In any other situation, I’d take pause, but this wasn’t any situation. I scrambled over like a child. He tucked his arm around me and brought me to his bare chest. I could smell the fragrance 

of the shampoo he used as I rested my head in the crook of his neck (I guess he’d been telling the truth about that shower), and my own arms came up to curl against his skin. An arm flopped around my middle, pulling me impossibly close, and our knees brushed under the blanket. 

Surprisingly, I felt calmness wash over me. I likened it to the bear-like embrace, skin-on-skin, some sort of instinctual response to the comfort of another human. But his heartbeat pumped strongly beneath my fingertips and I could feel his steady breath floating across the top of my hair and down my neck, and in that moment, I wondered if it was a little more than just human instinct. 

A beat percussed in time. I traced my fingertips along the skin of his arm, ghost-light, dipping down the valleys and peaks of muscle that I knew flexed taut when he strummed his Epiphone SG. Goosebumps appeared under my digits and he shifted under the sheet. 

“Tickles,” he murmured atop my head.

“Sorry,” I whispered, bringing my hands back to rest against his torso. Sandwiching them between the cotton of my oversized tee and the smooth skin of his pecs would have to do. 

It was quiet — so quiet that I assumed he had fallen asleep again. But his soft breaths were broken by his even softer voice. “You’re cute when you’re scared,” he said. 

I let out a chuckle. “Gee, thanks.”

He hummed and although I couldn’t see it, I could hear his tongue wet his lips, jaw pressing against the top of my head from the movement. “It’s different from the typical Dahlia.”

My mind raced back to our earlier conversation, the one where he’d accused me of hiding my emotions. Is this what he meant? Was fear what he considered transparency? I looked up at him quizzically, breaking the connection of his chin using my crown as an actual headrest. 

His eyes were open, and despite the foreglow of the streetlights and darkness, I could better feel his stare than see it. His hair was still a step down from a rat’s nest, tangled from sleep, and strands hung down around his angular face. His cheeks were beginning to stubble with five o’clock shadow. Breaths pushed past his lips steadily, even, but beneath the pads of my fingers, I could sense his heart pumping solidly in his chest. Only a hairline fracture separated our faces. 

Outside, a whistle of strong wind thwipped against the siding of the house like a widow’s cry and my body instinctively tensed. His arm that had lethargically slung across my waist impulsively tightened and he pulled me even closer. 

“Hey…” he soothed. His brows were drawn in concern, and his hand traveled from the c-bout of my waist and up, up, up my tricep. It was less of a greeting and more of a reminder to land back in the present, to focus on my senses (touch, taste, smell, sight, sound), to remember I was right here, right in this moment, and I wasn’t alone. 

The mortar holding the bricks built around my heart began to disintegrate. Every block melded in a bond pattern to cage in my overcommitting self, to protect from obsession, from the inevitable swoon that I had felt with Brody and had ripped out from under me — they began to fall, piece by piece. 

It was the both of us that drew our mouths to meet. The kiss was lazy, sleepy, languid at first, morphing into prolonged pecks that added a harmony to the pattering rain, gusts of wind, and bouts of thunder rumbling the outside earth. His hand continued to rub against my upper arm and beat by beat, the kiss heightened, and slowly, surely, lips met tongue, and then teeth, and I was angling my neck to the right to keep him from digging into the pillow. 

Mary shifted. His fingers gripped my arm as he moved to lay halfway on top of me. Our legs tangled together, and as he slid his own against my calf, barely stilling, I was certain he’d just discovered that my nightwear consisted of only an oversized t-shirt and panties. 

I could sense his erection pressing through the thin cotton of his boxers against my thigh. My brain zapped back to hours prior when he had boxed me in on the couch and let me take pleasure from his strong quads. A fire raged within me that rivaled my hair spilling across Thomas’ pillows like a red sea.

Mary’s hand moved to skim under the hem of my shirt, tracing against my hip bone before it, too, went up, up, up, hovering just over the curve of my breast before cupping it. His finger traced the outline of my nipple. Once again, surroundings faded. Nothing else existed at this moment, here, right now. 

I exhaled shakily against him. Our lips were still passionately pendulating in a rhythm that the both of us had mastered by now. I took a leap of faith and pressed my thigh to his crotch, earning me a squeeze to my chest and his own shaky exhale. 

Releasing my breast, Mary swept his hand to the waistband of my panties. His fingers, rough and calloused from frets and strings, dipped underneath. He sat up slightly and broke the kiss. The smooth cotton was seesawed down my legs in a series of yanks from the free hand, and he quickly repeated the action on his own boxers, tossing them aside before returning his hand back to my chest. 

“Mary,” I breathed out.

“What?” he echoed. His eyes searched for something as he drank in my expression. 

I swallowed lightly. “I-” I began, not knowing exactly what I was saying.

But he did. “I’ve got you,” he said. His other hand came up to brush a strand of hair from my eyes. 

He kissed me again and fully framed my body with his own. I relaxed back into the pillow and he sat back to dip his hands underneath my shirt, pushing it up and off with a temporary break in our lips’ union. As he slotted himself between my legs, I looked up at him, body completely bare. I felt the anxiety creep into my chest and I was certain I looked visibly unsure — not at the prospect of what was to happen, no, but what would follow. How this would, or could, change things. 

“So goddamn pretty when you’re spread out like this,” he murmured as his hands roamed up and down my torso. I took the moment to soak up the image in front of me. His lean torso was flexed as he ran his hands along my breasts and stomach, and his cock stood heavy against his pelvis, bobbing with every movement of his touch.

He gripped himself with a soft moan, stroking slowly, methodically, and his eyes raked over my form. This wasn’t our first encounter, no, but I felt truly naked for the first time. 

With oddly found confidence, I reached forward to grasp at the junction of his shoulder and neck. I pulled him towards me and his other hand shot out to brace himself against the squeaking mattress. His stroking continued and I jolted when his knuckles came in contact with the ache between my legs. Without any spoken words, he lined himself up and then embraced me, hand on my shoulder as we met chest to chest, covering me like a blanket. 

His pause was obvious — an unspoken ask of consent to proceed which I answered with a soft kiss. I trusted him, and I assumed he trusted me. We both craved the connection, to complete the incomplete. 

As Mary pushed in, I melted beneath him. His tip pushed past and he groaned and buried his face in the curve of my neck. My hands darted out to grip onto his back and pull him close. I wanted to feel him take up space in my ribs. 

Inch by inch he sank before canting steadily. I could feel every bit of him as he rocked in and out, pulling and pushing as my heat gripped him, and for some reason it felt different. Not just raw, but whole. I took in every bit of him physically, but as we moved together in the nightglow, I also consumed the parts he’d been dressing up in leather and denim and metal and dissolved it into my flesh. I took him. 

And through my euphoria of connection, I barely registered my small eruptions of noises that highlighted each stroke of his cock to my core. I focused on the sensation of sprinkled electricity spreading from my cunt outwards, and his hot breath on my neck that I drank in like I was oxygen-starved. 

Mary’s hips began to stutter as he thrusted a little harder into my own and my legs moved to wrap instinctively around him. I keened out louder, and he lifted his head to look at me again. 

The eye contact was searing. Hot. It charred my retinas, but this time, I didn’t care. He must have sensed the vulnerability because his hand cupped my jaw and he ran his thumb across my cheekbone before our foreheads met together. 

“I’ve got you,” he repeated, “Fuck, I’ve got you.”

Like his own hail Mary. I believed him. He had me now — I was in his clutches, both literally and figuratively. 

His pace increased to match my ever-racing pulse. It was still steadied, sleepily focused, and I dug my fingers into the flesh of his back as I clenched down against the movement of his length, nearly trembling at the pull at my navel as each drag of him spurred fire. It was building, and I let it. My breath began to stutter and I felt tears at my waterline. The sensory overload was rhapsody and the simple, obvious connection was juxtaposed by the chaotic climax lapping at my center. I was so close it almost hurt. 

I moaned his name in a half-whimper and he must have felt my urgency and desperation and the increased slick coating our joined union because he crushed his lips to mine. His thumb dug into the side of my chin as he drove firmly into my aching need. But the jerking of his hips was almost too much and I could tell he wasn’t far behind me. 

As my thighs began to tremble at his sides, he broke the kiss. I looked at him with desperate longing. 

“Let it go, Doll,” he murmured to me. 

And unlike every other situation in life where I found myself stubbornly resisting direction, I obeyed. I followed his demand and allowed the fuzzy heat of my release to unfurl around him. I cried out in rapture and he swallowed the sound with an opened mouth kiss at the moment of impact. I tensed around him and my pussy spasmed with every lunge of his hard cock.

“Good girl,” Mary praised as gripped hard onto my shoulder and pressed his head to mine, lips separated, and I was enveloped in a curtain of golden-brown tangled strands. He began to move faster against me and I knew my orgasm had spurred something deep within him as he moaned out, “So good for me, taking me so damn well.”

His thumb brushed the breadth of my lip and dipped into my mouth, pulling down just barely against my tongue and teeth. I looked up at him with full eyes, grey hues drowned by pupils swimming from release, and I inwardly begged him to complete me as aftershocks of a violent orgasm short circuited. 

“So tight,” he grunted in response. “Fuck— feel so good around me, babydoll.” His hands moved to grip my hips and with a few more jolts of his hips, his cock twitched and he groaned, features melting as he spilled inside of me. His body jerked with each spurt and his fingers dug into the flesh covering my pelvic bone as he rode out his high.

Mary collapsed into me and I allowed my eyes to close as we savored the aftermath. I’m not sure how long it was, minutes, maybe more, but eventually he pulled his softened dick from me and I let out a long breath of satisfaction. My hand moved to rest against my chest as I digested the gnawing deep within me that questioned what this was. 

Mary fell to his side and pressed a quick peck to my lips before rolling onto his back and mimicking my sigh. A brief silence filled the sweat-scented air, and I moved my hand to grasp at his, squeezing it, only to receive a slight squeeze back.

Our ragged breaths eventually calmed and I opened my eyes to the textured plaster of the ceiling. 

“You good?” Mary asked after a minute. I rolled my lips inward as I thought about the weight of those two words. 

“Yeah, I’m…I’m good— I’m great,” I replied.  It was the truth. 

He hummed in response and pulled the flat sheet over himself. 

“Glad I could distract you,” He said as he nestled into the right side of the bed. Before turning, he added, “get some sleep.”

My eyes searched for patterns in the swirls of the painted gypsum of the ceiling as stillness settled in. Mary’s quiet breathing turned to soft snores. Despite the calm, serene relief from a shared orgasm, my chest was tight from the inward battle of how unbelievably intimate that experience was and how deeply I was freefalling into a mess of adoration for the man next to me.

I wondered how he could so easily turn to the side and fall asleep.

🜏🜏🜏

Despite the after effects of the record-breaking storm, Des and Thomas were able to make it home a couple of days after they’d left, right on schedule. 

They greeted Mary with their normal affections (a pat on the back from Thomas and a warm wave from Des), and the conversation immediately turned from a Brutus report to a play-by-play of Thomas’ shows out of town. 

Des noted there was no sign of her best friend, which wasn’t a surprise. She’d received my text the day before that I was heading home and that Mary was fine staying the additional time. And despite her prodding, I’d remained tightlipped.

Both she and Thomas were unaware of the telltale morning after where I’d woken up to sunbeams instead of lightning, choosing to pack up my belongings and head out early to check on my own pet at home. 

They were also unaware of the brief goodbye between Mary and I as I readied to leave — him, acting cool, aloof, and casual, as if nothing had changed, while I tried my best to mirror his demeanor with little success. Because as much as I tried to build the bricks back up, I’d let him in the night before, and he’d taken root inside the boundaries of my chest. 

I suppose that just like a day spent thrifting, I’d gone into every interaction with Mary with no expectations, and each time I’d come out with something I didn’t anticipate. The goldmines outweighed the insolvencies. I didn’t know if I wanted him to be aware of this.

Above all, I was happy for my momentary blissful unawareness (at least until later during a phone call with Des) of Thomas’ outburst upon entering his bedroom after Mary had left. His exclamation of “god damn it!” rang as loud as the thunder two nights previous, causing Des to dart in with a “what?” on her lips and the expectation of disaster. 

Thomas sighed, stained top sheet in hand. “They fucked on my bed.”

taglist: @soup-14 @copiasghoulfriend @thew0man @na1ven3vy @portaltothevoid @copias-juicebox @the-lisechen @anamelessfool @discountdemonwarehouse @oaksdottir