#it’s like somewhere around the fifth listen these people finally Get It

[crmsndragonwngss]

cUrE hAs nO rIfFs

Please, I am begging, PLEASE listen to music with something fucking better than AirPods

[bagerfluff]

Naughty Boy

Sub/Bottom Casper x Top/Dom Male Reader

Prompt - Teasing

Warnings - Pet names, rough sex, unprotected sex, slight degradation, teasing, clothed sex, anal sex

AN: If you want to get straight to the smut go past the caution tape

You glared at your phone.

This was the fifth time in an hour that Casper has texted you. You were trying to do something important for your job.

If this went well then you would get more money and more money would mean a bigger apartment.

You didn’t buy your current apartment with thoughts of it housing two people. Now that it did, you realized that the apartment was quite small.

But it was hard when Casper texted you every few minutes about how much he missed you and how he wanted you to come home. You regret getting that phone.

You put your phone away and listened to the people speak, but just a few seconds later it dinged.

Everyone looked at you and you had grate your teeth to stop yourself from yelling.

“I’m sorry, something is wrong with my pet. The pet sitting keeps texting me. I'm sorry”, you said while looking at your phone. This time you felt enraged as you looked at the phone.

Casper had taken a photo of himself in a mirror wearing very revealing clothes with a not so PG text.

Your hand tightens around your phone, an erection growing in your pants. You calmed your expression and looked at everyone. You said that it was fine and told them to continue.

You muted your phone and focused on anything else but the erection. But you smiled at the revenge you were going to get when you got home.

“Welcome home, sunshi-”, Casper was pressed against a wall before he could finish his sentence.

Casper smiled into the kiss, grinding his clothed dick against yours. You groaned and pulled away, shoving Casper onto the bed. You stood over him as you removed your clothes.

“You know that I was almost kicked out because of you”, you said while throwing your shirt somewhere. Casper grinned, he wanted this.

It wasn’t his fault that you were busy and he was needy.

You leaned down on the bed, trapping Casper’s head in between your hands. You kissed him before leaning up and removing Casper’s pants.

You didn’t even remove Casper’s shirt or your pants. You pushed Casper farther onto the bed before lifting his legs and staring at his ass.

You rested one of Casper’s legs on your shoulder and pushed a finger into Casper’s hole. Casper moaned while you just laughed.

“You prepared already, what a perfect little slut”, you said before removing your finger. "Did you finger yourself too?" You asked and Casper nodded. "Wish I could have seen that", you said.

Making Casper groan and buck his hips up.

You reached down and unzipped your pants and brought your dick out. You immediately thrusted in and started a rough pace.

Casper, caught off guard at the pace, started moaning and whining like crazy. “Ah~ ah~ ah~, yes~ f-fuck~ yes~”, Casper moaned, moving the leg that wasn’t held by you down to curl around your waist.

You groaned as you felt Casper clench around you, finally happy that you were getting your anger and hornyness out. “It’s like you wanted this”, you said.

Casper didn’t confirm it but he didn’t deny it either. He just smiled and moaned. “Nngggeee~, f-fuck~ m-more~”, Casper moaned feeling his orgasm getting closer.

You knew it was getting close so you thrusted harder. Once you heard Casper let out a loud moan you stopped, keeping your dick Casper’s ass but not moving it.

Casper whined and bucked his hips up. “Why d-did you s-stop, come o-on”, Casper groaned, slowly coming down from his stolen high. “My little reaper, this is punishment”, you said with a smirk.

Slowly moving your dick in and out of Casper, just making Casper whin more and more horny. Casper kept moving his hips to try to get some stimulation.

“You were a naughty boy”, you said, making Casper stop.

You’ve called him that before, before you two got together. It made Casper feel weird before, he didn’t know if he liked it then. But now, that you were fucking him, Casper realized something.

He liked it.

It made his dick harder and he wanted to hear it again.

Casper moaned and bucked his hips, his hole clenching around you. You tilted your head before you realized what Casper was doing. “You like it don’t you, you like being called a naughty boy”, you said teasingly.

Which had the same effect from when you first called Casper that. Casper nodded, “y-yes, please f-fuck me”, Casper asked. You looked at Casper, hair spread out, face read and sweaty, looking so pretty.

“Okay, my naughty boy”, You said before continuing thrusting at a rapid pace. Casper moaned loudly and gripped the sheets with his hands.

“Nnngeee~, yes~ nnnggeee~ yes~, ahaha~”, Casper moaned. You groaned and thrusted harder and faster as you felt your orgasm get closer. “C-cumminggg~!”

Casper moaned before he came over his chest. You thrusted one more time before cumming into Casper. You let go of Casper’s leg and leaned down, kissing Casper on the forehead.

“My naughty boy”, you said, making Casper whine and get hard again.

[majestyeverlasting]

Just Another Friday Night

This piece contains 18+ content and explores the idea of Eddie as a soft dom.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary: Eddie Munson's been your best friend since fifth grade. And on a night you think is going to pass just like any other, you realize you can't keep running from the way you feel.

Word Count: 6.2k

A/N: I hath returned. So excited to finally have this one out for you guys! Hopefully the person who requested this many moons ago is still somewhere in my orbit.

As soon as Eddie feels the pad of your finger meet the skin of his cheek, his lips curl into a soft smile. It brings small lines to the corners of his eyes and reveals the glint of his teeth in the dim light. Concentration sparkles in your eyes like water does beneath the moon. 

Both of you are seated on his messy bed. Him with his legs falling over the edge, and you angled towards him with your legs crossed. His breaths are steady, fingers lax from no longer strumming the strings of his guitar. 

When you finally manage to collect the fallen eyelash from his cheek, you hold out your pointer finger for him to see. If you’d been focussed on the song he was playing rather than studying his face, you never would’ve noticed the tiny hair to begin with. 

“M’kay.” His eyes flick back up to meet yours. “Now what?” 

You raise your finger closer to his lips. “You’ve got a wish to make.”

If there was anyone deserving of one, it was him. It had been almost a year since he crawled out of the Upside Down by the skin of his teeth. Half alive. You remembered all the long nights you’d spent by his hospital bed as he recovered.  

An air of weightlessness washes over both of you after Eddie blows it off your finger. As if somewhere far away, the course of time and happenings shifted in his favor.

“You can finish your song now. Sorry.” Smiling shyly, you tuck your hands into your lap and wiggle to get comfortable.

He smiles wider, but makes a quick work of tampering it back down. 

When he begins playing, you make sure to focus this time, letting the music soak in and flow through you. The passion is palpable, along with the underlying sense of purpose that hangs off the tail end of each resonant note. 

You’d been around to listen to him since the days he played off-tune chords with unsteady hands. As he sat playing now, hair curtained around his face, you knew he could easily captivate thousands if given the chance. 

As the song winds to an end, he looks at you and his fingers slow as the notes dissolve between you. The only thing left for you to do is applaud. Your approval makes him feel like there’s electricity buzzing beneath his veins. 

He absentmindedly strums a few quiet notes to keep his fingers busy, eyes remaining on you. “You’re the first person to hear it all the way through.” 

“Really? I loved it.” Honesty drips like honey from your words. 

He looks down to the fingerboard so you don’t see the faint flush of his cheeks. “Thanks. Lotta practice.”  

When he stands to hang his guitar back on the wall, you watch the way his shoulder blades shift under his t-shirt. You don’t mean to look as hard as you do. There was something captivating about the way he moved. Some days, he couldn’t sit still, but there were also nights like this one where he seemed to have embodied the very essence of ease. 

“So are you gonna add it to your setlist?”

He doesn’t answer right away, making sure Sweetheart is mounted securely. 

“Maybe after I’ve cleaned it up a bit,” he says. “The turnouts have been sick lately.” Gratitude glints in his eyes as they meet yours. 

Playing in front of a crowd at The Hideout was incomparable to selling out a venue like The Garden. But Eddie swore the gratification felt the same. With each new show, it’d been getting harder to find you in the crowd because of how many people had finally started giving him and the boys a chance. He never thought that locating you amid a sea head-bobbing bodies would be a pleasure he ever had. 

“Will I be getting a raise for spreading the word?” You tilt your head and bite back a smile.

He plays along as easily as breathing, biceps flexing as he crosses his arms. “You already eat my snacks, steal my jewelry, and make me drive you around,” he lists. “I don’t know what else there is to offer you, but it sure as hell won’t be Benjamin’s.” 

You have the nerve to blink up at him like a fawn. “It’s not my fault you hardly tell me no.” 

You make it easy to say yes a million times over. Again and again. 

There’s nothing for him to quip back with, so he sighs and studies you for the umpteenth time that night. There’s something amused about the glimmer in his eyes, but a fondness there as well. You’re wearing soft pants and a baggy sweater, looking effortlessly beautiful in a way that only you can manage. 

Guilt wastes no time prickling beneath his skin when you curl in on yourself a bit, self-conscious. You’ve never grown used to the way he makes you feel so seen. Part of you fears he can see right through to feelings you’ve been fighting to keep tucked away. 

He clears his throat and runs a hand through his eternally disheveled hair. 

“Maybe I should get better about that then,” he decides. “Start telling you no more often.” A lighthearted smile pulls at his lips. 

You look over at his alarm clock so you don’t drown within the increasing warmth of his umber eyes. You’re not ready to fall even though that’s what it feels like you’ve been doing for so long. 

He bites his lip in preparation for the weight of his next words, “I’ve been meaning to tell—“ 

“My folks are expecting me back by ten.” It’s the first thing you can think to say despite the fact that they hardly ever give you curfews. “I forgot to mention it sooner.”

“Oh.” He glances to his nightstand to scrutinize the red numbers glowing on the clock. Disappointment swells within him and makes him fidget. “How the hell is it almost ten already? Thing’s gotta be broken.” 

He pats the top of the device as if the right time was suddenly going to appear. “You can’t say for ten more minutes?” You shake your head apologetically. “How ‘bout five?” Another head shake. “Fuck—a minute thirty?” 

A laugh bubbles up your throat, making a helplessly gooey feeling melt down the walls of his chest. 

All too soon, with no success in convincing you, he’s walking you out to your car. 

The night’s chill nips at both of you without reprieve. You hug your arms and break into a jog to escape it faster, leaving Eddie slowly striding behind you in hopes of prolonging his last few moments with you. 

He watches you hop inside your family’s old station wagon and give the engine stuttering life. The headlights are soon to follow, illuminating a cluster of jittery moths. 

The feeling of his stare boring into the side of your face through the window makes you give into the urge to crank it down, handle squeaking faintly along with your movements. 

“Stop looking at me like that.” 

“Like what?” He huffs out a chuckle. “Where am I supposed to look? Up?” He tips his head backwards, and his demeanor immediately shifts. “Hey, the stars are out.” 

You peer through the windshield to see for yourself. Sure enough, countless of them shine like dull guardians miles and miles above lonesome Hawkins. They seem to span forever in every direction. The child in you looks for any surges of brightness or streaks that would indicate a shooting star. 

“The view’s better out here.” There’s a persuasive lilt to his voice. 

You don’t dare get out of the car. If you do, you wouldn’t make it home at all. It was getting too easy to be in his presence, like he was the bread and you were the butter that helplessly melted on top because you knew it’s where you belonged. 

“I really gotta go, E.” You swallow the sadness that wants to color your words as you buckle your seatbelt and settle back into the seat. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

He kicks at a cigarette butt on the ground, and nods. You were always within arms reach, yet lightyears away. 

“Tomorrow,” he repeats. “Copy that.” 

A silence settles between you. The only sounds that prevail are the hum of your car engine, crickets, and muffled peels of laughter carrying from a few trailers down. 

Every time, it was you who pulled away at the eleventh hour before the dawn of something new. 

“Good night, Eddie.” 

•••

The cash register snaps closed with a resonant clamber. A beat later, you’re reaching out to take your change from the middle-aged lady thoughtfully chewing a piece of pink bubblegum behind the counter. The two of you are the only souls in the store. Humming freezers and a quiet instrumental soundtrack fill the air. 

She speaks up as you turn to leave, “You alright there, sweetheart?” 

“Just tired.” You sheepishly raise the bag carrying the Melatonin you’d purchased. 

Even God knew you weren’t going to be able to fall asleep on your own tonight. You’d lie awake thinking of all the reasons why you should’ve stayed. 

You take the time to read her name tag then: Irene. 

Her frown is sympathetic. “It’s a boy, isn’t it?” Warmth rushes to your cheeks. She then leans onto the counter and you feel compelled to take a step closer. “What’s his deal?” She studies your face for any hints before asking a different question, 

“What’s your deal?”  

You shrug lamely, and Irene tilts her head. You don’t owe her an answer, but you can’t help but feel as though you need to hear it for yourself. 

“I’m scared.” 

“It’s okay to be scared.” She blows a bubble and it pops neatly without sticking to her lips. “But it’s up to you to decide if you wanna be scared forever.”

•••

Eddie’s staring up at the ceiling when a faint series of knocks sound at the front door. Instead of moving, he blows out another cloud of smoke and watches as it dissipates into a thin haze in the air. The breeze entering through the cracked window helps filter it out. It isn’t until the knocks get louder that he’s convinced his mind isn’t playing tricks on him. 

What he’s not expecting is for you to be standing at the door. 

“Hi,” you say softly. 

He doesn’t dare question his luck. “H-Hey.” Eddie lowers the joint from between his lips and turns away from you to quickly exhale. “Tonight, uh, doesn’t count.” 

He was supposed to be taking a break from smoking, and you’d promised to help keep him on track. But now, as he stood doing just that for the first time in two months, it wasn’t the joint that captured your attention. It was the reason why, the conflicted look in his eyes that the pungent haze failed to mask. 

His next words get cut off with a cough, and he doesn’t bother trying to say them again. 

You're met by warmth when he motions you inside. Guilt tries to convince you that you don’t deserve another chance, fear says you’re going to blow it. 

“Eddie?” He raises his eyebrows. “I’m really sorry.” 

The way he nods suggests he knew your curfew was fabricated from the start. “Don’t sweat it,” he lifts his shoulder. “I’m gonna go put this out.” He holds up the joint. 

You trail him back to his bedroom, where your eyes roam idly over the posters covering the walls. Different things to say rise to the tip of your tongue, but none of them spill over. 

Eddie turns towards you when he’s done. 

“You didn’t have to lie.” Your shoulders sink as you meet his gaze, but he easily turns to humor, “You could’ve just told me you were tired of being cramped up in a trailer. I probably would’ve agreed.” 

You can feel the ghost of a smile on your face, but you still mean your next words, “I feel like the worst person in the world.” 

His nose wrinkles. “Maybe the fourth or fifth, but definitely not the worst.” 

In spite of everything, both of you find it within yourselves to laugh. It feels good, mending. 

You regain your composure before Eddie, and upon noticing he tries even harder to quell his amusement. It takes a few extra seconds because he’s high, but he finally manages to get himself under control. 

He thinks before his next words, “I wasn’t expecting you to come back. You never do.” A lump forms in your throat as you toy with the hem of your sweater. “And all I can think about every time you leave is how I let you walk away without telling you how fucking much I enjoy you being around.”

You swallow. “I know you do.” 

He shakes his head. “I like hanging out with the guys too—I’ll hang out with anybody if they’re cool.” You watch him with doe eyes as he speaks. “But you, you’re a whole different story. You drive me crazy in the best fucking way ever.” Those words hang thick in the air. “When I blew that eyelash of your finger, I wished—”

“Wait,” you hold out a careful hand, butterflies fluttering in your stomach. “Don’t tell me.” Part of you wants him to, but not at the expense of the wish not coming true. 

That keeps him quiet for a few seconds. He’s still charged from his confession, electricity having taken the place of blood within his veins. 

“You came back,” Eddie states instead. “Why?” 

His eyes don’t leave you, and you take in his entirety for the first time since you’ve been back. Long hair, short sleeve Metallica shirt, faded pajama pants. He doesn’t have his chest puffed out or his chin turned up in that charming way he often does when he’s working a crowd or a group of friends. 

He’s leveled. No guard up, no mask on, just Eddie. 

The one who’s been by your side since fifth grade. Who could make your sides ache on the days when laughing was the last thing you thought you could do. Who got on your nerves almost every time you were together, but still managed to be one of your favorite people in the world. 

“You know how you always say there’s no shame in running?” you ask, shifting your weight. You’d sat in on enough of his D&D campaigns to have heard that phrase uttered. 

He nods. 

“Well, we both know it’s also worth something when you have the guts to stay. So this is me choosing not to run anymore.” From your feelings or from him. 

The room shrinks and grows one hundred degrees hotter when Eddie moves to stand closer to you. He reaches out to grasp your hand, calluses brushing your skin. The chunky metal rings adorning his fingers glint. 

Your next breath stalls as he presses your palm flat against the left side of his chest. The quickened rhythm of his heart drums against it fiercely. A mix of vulnerability and courage are married in his eyes. 

“Same,” you whisper, and his lips twitch upwards. “Here I was thinking this was gonna be just another Friday night.” 

You let your hand fall from his chest. 

A grin breaks across his face like dawn, more tender than it’s ever been. “I’m glad it’s not.” 

Time slows as he cups your face, eyes flitting over every detail as if to memorize it all over again. “You’re so fucking pretty.” He whispers it like there’s nothing to question, like he's been waiting forever. 

You don’t mean to smile as wide as you do. His heart skips a beat, maybe two. He’s done holding back from what he’s been wanting to do for so long. 

Not another second passes before he presses his lips to yours. 

They move with careful earnesty. Despite the fact that it feels like your entire body bursts into stardust, you kiss him back with an innate sense of knowing. You can feel the puffs of air from his nose fanning over your skin, the way his thumbs brush over your cheeks. It’s intoxicating in a way that makes you weak in the knees. Even with the newness of it all, there’s an air of ease and familiarity that you lose yourself within. You don’t worry if you’re doing it right. 

By the time he pushes you backwards to sit on the edge of his bed, he’s taken off your sweater and tossed it onto the floor, leaving your pale pink bra newly on display. 

From your seated position, you watch him pull his own shirt over his head, further disheveling his hair. His milky skin hosts a myriad of dark tattoos and fading scars. Anticipation swirls in your core as he encourages you to lay on your back, propping himself overtop of you. He pecks the tip of your nose before slotting his lips over yours once again. 

A surprised sound escapes you when his lips begin to plant a trail of kisses along your jaw and down the side of your neck, head tilting to give him more access. The moment your conscience catches up to reality, you push at his chest and he immediately pulls away. 

“Too much?” He studies your face. You can’t bring yourself to say no because you don’t want it to end. 

“I think I just need a second. Sorry.” Embarrassment clings to your words, but you muster a shaky laugh. “I’m not used to this kinda thing.” 

Eddie had experienced his share of sporadic flings, but his feelings never ran as deep as they do for you.  

“You’re okay,” he soothes. “I may like pushing your buttons, but ‘m not gonna do anything you don’t want me to, alright?” 

In all your years of knowing him, he’d never given you reason to believe he’d ever discount your feelings. Or that he was even capable of doing so. 

You raise a hand to cup his cheek. “Let’s keep going.” 

“You sure?” He turns his head to kiss your palm. “Absolutely positive?” He dips down and playfully nips at your collarbone. “Cross your heart?”  

You bite your lip to keep from giggling, but fail when he begins to move lower. He drinks in your laughter like it’s an elixir. 

He continues a disorderly line of kisses down your stomach, and your mind is beyond hazy by the time he reaches the waistband of your jeans. You don’t utter any words of protest when he kneels to pop the button open. The subsequent sound of your zipper being pulled down might as well be thunder with how quiet the room has grown aside from it. 

Your panties are the same pink as your bra, trimmed with thin lace that makes Eddie dizzy. Without waiting for him to ask, you lift your hips for him to pull down your pants. Once they’re on the floor, he runs his hands over both of your thighs, trying his best to memorize the feeling. You briefly close your eyes when his fingers ghost over the soft fabric of your underwear. Nerves bundle low in your stomach to the point where you feel like a live wire laying exposed before him. 

“You’re gonna be the end of me,” he says like a scripture. 

“Me?” you peer down at him in disbelief. 

“Yeah, you. Who else?” He lifts the thin waistband of your panties and lets it snap back down to your skin. “I’m gonna take ‘em off.” He only makes the announcement to give you a chance to refute it. 

Rather than doing so, you brace your feet so you can lift your hips for him once more. 

You’ve known him for the better half of your life. If anyone, your trust can reside in him. 

A string of awed expletives slip past his lips when there’s nothing left between him and your heat. To stop himself from staring, he turns his face into your thigh to suck a bruise into the plush skin. You don’t realize that’s what he’s doing until you feel the tiny pinch that stings so good. 

Your silence is perceived as permission to switch to the other leg to do the same. You can hear your heart in your ears, and regard it as a reminder that you’re alive and breathing during a moment you never thought would come. 

You’re marked now, his.

He runs a gentle finger from your clit to your wet folds, and your own sensitivity surprises you when your thighs snap closed and trap his hand. 

“Sorry,” you breathe, slowly blooming them open again. You make the mistake of meeting his gaze, where fondness seems to radiate like imperceivable rays of light. 

After pressing a kiss to the space just beneath your navel, he stands and climbs onto the bed with you. You sit up and look to him for further direction. 

An easy smile spreads across his face as he settles with his back against the wall where a headboard should be. 

“C’mere,” he stretches his legs out in front of himself. 

You crawl to him and sit so that your back is pressed against the warmth of his bare chest. It isn’t until you shift that you feel his erection pressing into your rear. 

You peek back at him with hot cheeks. “Sorry.”  

Eddie drops a kiss to your shoulder. “You’ve apologized five hundred times tonight.” You shrink in on yourself because you know it’s true. “You’re not allowed to anymore, capeesh?” 

You nod. 

“Now prop your legs up, buttercup.” You can hear the smile in his voice that hopes you caught his rhyme. 

You press your feet into his sheets and spread your knees into a V. 

His pointer finger finds your clit without warning, applying just enough pressure to hitch your breath. You’ve touched yourself before, but had never taken the time to truly gain an understanding of the deeper pleasure there was to be felt. 

Here Eddie was, showing you what you didn’t know about yourself.

He switches to rubbing your bundle of nerves with his thumb while his middle finger glides through the slickness of your folds, making you clench with want. You reach between your legs with the hope of helping, or perhaps egging things along, but Eddie tuts. 

“Hands off or I’ll stop.” His tone is gentle and commanding all at once. 

Even though you follow his instructions, he still withdraws his touch. A protest ends up dying in your throat when you feel his fingers undoing the clasp of your bra and pushing the straps down your goosebump-laden arms. It soon joins the rest of your clothes on the floor. You’ve never been so bare in front of another person. 

“Jesus, look at you,” he murmurs. His large hands raise to cup your breasts, fingers experimentally pinching both of your pebbled nipples. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen a more beautiful sight. 

You watch with hooded eyes and parted lips. Caught off guard when he grabs your hands and redirects them to your chest to take over for him. You tentatively pinch your nipples in the same way he’d done, sending minute shockwaves through your body. 

“There you go,” he coos into your ear. A gasp falls past your lips when his hand dips back between your legs to ease the tip of his middle finger into your entrance. As he pushes it in further, your toes curl tighter. 

But his touch disappears yet again, making an exasperated breath leave you as your head falls backwards onto his shoulder. 

“Eddie,” it’s a whine. “Are you teasing me?”

“No. I forgot to take my rings off.” They clink as he drops them onto the nightstand. “But I think I will now since you just had to say something.” The charged promise of those words sends a chill down your spine.

You’re begging three minutes later. A melodic mix of weakened pleads, his name, and incoherent bargains that only make him smile. 

He’s trapped you on the edge of a freefall. Your thighs ache from tensing, and the strong pulse of arousal between your legs consumes the entirety of your mind. His two middlemost fingers pump in and out of your entrance with no sense of urgency, curling into that spot within you that makes you want to shatter. Whenever he senses that you’re about to topple over the edge, he pauses to let a few seconds crawl by. 

It’s scary how good he is at reading you. At holding the reins. 

“I can’t anymore,” you breathlessly insist, pressing back into him. “Eddie, please.”

“Sure you can.” He suckles the spot beneath your ear. In your head, you scream at him in frustration but in reality you squeeze your eyes shut. 

He doesn’t know who he’s teasing anymore. Listening to you whimper and feeling you squirm has him twitching and straining in his boxers. 

Somewhere along the line, he remembers mercy. 

As soon as the cord within you snaps, your back arches and your walls flutter helplessly around his fingers. Your orgasm crashes over you in strong heated waves, each one fizzling out in their own time, making you tremble. 

When your breaths grow even again, he slowly pulls his fingers out of you as you watch, awed and silent. You place a hand on his thigh to ensure he stays close. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” he promises. 

The two of you sit in silence for a while, basking in the warmth of each other’s body, the new air between you. It’s as if you’re waiting to be roused from a dream. 

“I wanna keep making you feel good,” he eventually murmurs into your ear, smirking when you shiver. “Will you let me do that?” 

The feeling of his erection pressing into your backside suddenly registers in your mind again, and you reach behind you to curiously palm the outline through his pajama pants. He feels it in his bones. 

“You can do whatever you want,” you tell him.

Eddie grabs your waist and gently pushes you forward so you know to let him get up. You settle in the middle of the bed and pull your legs up to your chest in a halfhearted reclaim of modesty. 

He stalks over to his dresser and scans the cluttered surface with his lower lip pulled between his teeth. You trace his back tattoos with your eyes. After pushing a few stray trinkets aside, he makes a sound of frustration.  

“What's wrong?” you ask. 

He continues looking. “Coulda sworn there was a condom lying around up here.” 

After a beat, you crawl to the edge of his bed so you can peek into the drawer of his nightstand. There’s notebooks filled with song lyrics, old magazines, a Walkman, batteries, guitar picks. No square foils in sight. 

“Can’t we still…” your words fade when he meets your gaze, but he gives you an encouraging nod. “You know. If we’re extra careful, right?” Your voice is just above a murmur by the time you stop speaking. 

The innocence seeping from your gaze makes a helpless fool out of him. 

The next thing you know, he’s pulling his pants and boxers down in one go, cock springing up towards his belly as you watch with owlish eyes. A dark tuft of hair curls at the base, and the head is a pretty shade of rose that’s beading pearlescent pre-cum. A prominent vein snakes along the underside. 

You’re more than ready. It’s the lightning in a bottle type sureness that you can’t believe you’ve come to know so well. The second he starts moving towards the bed again, you reposition onto your back. 

Though you don’t utter a single word, every unspoken thought from your mind seems to shape his smile. It’s not entirely proud, there’s a hint of softness to it. Something giddy residing just beneath the surface that takes the edge off the intensity of his gaze. 

A comforting heat radiates from his body as he positions himself overtop of you. 

He reaches between your legs to collect the tell tale sign of your arousal on his fingers, and your eyelashes flutter. “Nice and ready for me, huh?” 

The tone of his voice makes you want to hide. You feel small and on top of the world at the same time. Eagerness is written all over your face. And in the way your chest rises with quicker breaths. How your fingers are curled into the sheets. 

“I’ll take that as a yes.” You’re glad he does because you’re certain all words would fail if you tried to speak. 

All you can do is blink up at him, propping your legs on either side of him as he lines himself up at your entrance. 

It’s overwhelming at first, incomparable to his fingers. But he takes it slow, watching your face the whole while. Before you know it, you’ve stretched to take the entirety of his length, and his eyes are glued to where you’re joined. 

He bottoms out with a satisfied grunt, hair falling into his face. The fullness makes up for the dull ache. Especially as he begins to slowly pull out in preparation for another pump. A gasp escapes you the second time he eases back in, and your face scrunches with the new depth that comes with hooking your legs around the back of his thighs. 

“If you wanna stop at any point just tell me, okay?” He tries his best to keep his voice steady. 

“Okay,” you whisper shakily. 

He finds a rhythm before long, cheeks flushed right along with his chest. He looks beautiful like this. Even his pleasured sighs and huffs rush straight to the pit of your stomach. 

“Lemme hear you,” his voice comes out gruff. “Stop holding back.” 

You swallow a moan. “‘M not.” 

Unconvinced, Eddie rolls one of your nipples between his fingers, and your breath stutters on its way out. You don’t remember being this sensitive earlier, and a few more pinches have your mouth gaping open just as he expected. 

His thrusts grow pointedly harder, forcing the fire building in your core to burn brighter. 

“Oh, god—Eddie,” you finally choke out, gripping onto his biceps. 

He swears he grows impossibly harder, orgasm creeping even closer from its place in the distance. You’re so soft, so warm, so wet, squeezing him in a maddening way. Your blunt fingernails move to dig into the back of his shoulders, leaving crescent indents in their wake.

“Say my name again.”

“Eddie,” you sigh, helplessly clenching around him. “Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.” You sound dreamy. It rushes straight between his legs, and he can feel that familiar coil beginning to wear thin. 

Hearing you say his name like that was going to do him in. 

A sudden burst of confidence finds you. “You’re so deep—gonna make me come.” 

His hips falter and something shifts in his eyes. He starts drawing circles over your clit.

“I wanna feel you fall apart around me,” he says, and you nod because you want that for him. “But not until I say, alright?” 

Your stomach drops. 

When you don’t answer, he slows to a torturous pace that makes your head spin. “Gotta answer me so I know we’re on the same page.” 

“We always have been,” you half slur, drunk on him. 

As Eddie looks down at you, he sees a large fraction of his world woven into the delicate furrow of your eyebrows, the way your eyelashes meet the very tops of your cheeks, the part of your cherry-tainted lips. 

He lowers himself so that his chest is grazing yours as he continues thrusting, pubic bone dragging over your clit. The feeling of his warm breaths fanning into your ear makes you shudder, and when you arch up, you’re only met by more of his warmth, more of him. There is no escape, nowhere to run. Only accept. 

“Wish I could, shit, wish I could bottle this feeling in a fucking jar and keep it forever,” he grits into your ear. “Never felt anything this good… five stars from me.” He’s fighting to hold himself together. 

You miss half of those words because you’re on the verge of an ascension. 

“Eddie,” you breathe, somewhat startled. “Eddie, please. Can I come? I’m so close.” 

“How close?” 

Your voice goes airy and high because he’s hitting just the right spot. “‘M right there.” 

“Tell me how good I’m making you feel.” Whining, you claw into his skin with the intent of making it sting, but it only makes his shoulders shake with a chuckle. “I’ll shut this whole show down if you wanna play that game—” 

“So good!” you whimper, giving in. “You’re making me feel so good. Just… please.” You clench around him in hopes of earning an okay.  

It almost makes him fold, come right on the spot, but he still forces out a, “Not yet, angel. I gotta practice telling you no, remember?” 

His constant denial was only adding fuel to the fire of pleasure burning within you and he knew it.

By his next thrust, he could tell the beginnings of an unraveling had begun sweeping you under. Even though he sees it coming from a mile away, he nearly passes out himself when you let go.

Eyes closed, your walls flutter around him in a strong, rapid succession that carries on for a while. You’re being lifted somewhere higher than you’ve ever known. The world fades around the edges, and the distant sound of Eddie’s voice washes over you as your jaw slacks open.  

There you go, that’s it. Couldn’t hold back any longer, huh?

Only when aftershocks begin to spark through you do you realize how deep your breaths have grown, and the new laxity of your limbs that makes you feel like you’ve become one with his bed, trembling weakly. A wonderful ache resides between your legs. 

A gentle weight soon meets your lower stomach, and your eyes flutter open just enough to see. Eddie has pulled himself from within the warmth of you, and rested his slickened tip against your warm skin. You watch dazedly as he strokes himself a few good times before jolting and releasing onto your belly. 

All you get is a glimpse of his blissed expression before he leans down to tuck his face into your neck. You lift a hand to his head and gently scratch at his scalp as you feel him begin to place soft kisses to your throat. You can still feel his cock against your belly, and you work your other hand between your bodies to wrap your delicate fingers around him. 

His whole body shudders, and when you lightly circle your thumb around the tip your name breathlessly falls past his lips. 

He grunts and makes you stop when you start to do the same lazy motion again, and you chuckle weakly. 

“Oh, is that funny?” he asks, wrestling a smile. When you bite your lip and nod sweetly, he pushes himself up so he’s propped higher above you. “You wanna know what else is funny? I don’t think I ever gave you the green light to come.” 

You blink up at him innocently. “I couldn’t help it.” 

He begins tracing the underside of one of your breasts and you suck in a breath, gripping onto his wrist. He pulls from your hold, and that same hand trails down your body, over your ribs and down your sides. His fingers leave a tingly buzz in their wake. You try not to squirm too much because his spend is still on your stomach. 

“I’m trying to decide if I should do something about it or be nice,” he says, ghosting a finger over your oversensitive clit. 

When you whimper, his fingertips move to revisit one of the marks he left on the inside of your thighs, and the ticklish sensation makes your muscles tense as you huff out a tired laugh. He playfully quirks his brows at that reaction, but you can see the warmth in his eyes. 

You smile when he leans down to give your lips a sweet peck. “I’ll be nice,'' he promises. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” 

•••

When midnight comes, sleep has found neither of you. You’re both fighting it, trying to stay awake so you can continue sharing hushed stories, soft caresses, and smiles that warm you right along with the sheets covering your bodies. 

Your eyes are the first to begin fluttering, and Eddie stops talking when he notices. 

“No, keep going,” you murmur. “I’m listening.” 

“We can talk more in the morning,” he says. You shake your head no, and he chuckles. “Yes. Go to sleep.”

Before you have the chance to say anything else, he reaches out to turn the bedside lamp off. You press yourself closer to his body after he settles back beside you. 

Neither of you say anything for a while, so you begin to assume he’s dozed off. When he speaks up again, his words are soft and honest, “This is what I wished for. A moment just like this.” 

You mean to tell him that you think you’re in love.

-

Thank you so much for reading! Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated.

For more fics, see my pinned post! 

To join my taglist, turn on notifications for @taleseverlasting

[greeneyessmize]

Penolise analysis time!

Show Penolise had to break so we can get a healthy Penolise. Let's talk it out.

I think we really need to see how the dynamic of Penelope & Eloise's friendship was unhealthy for both of them.

- Penelope deferred to Eloise's thoughts and wants almost all the time. She might try to cajol Eloise to her way of thinking, but it was nearly always a gentle thing that she easily let go. She never fully contradicted Eloise and put her foot down.

- Penelope deferred to Eloise out of fear. Who was Penelope's one friend that she was able to be close to in a socially acceptable and public way? Eloise. As someone who as a bullied kid got down to only one friend at times? I sure did my best to always be on their good side no matter how I felt about things. No matter the cost or what hurt was still held.

- Eloise has been encouraged to have her voice, to have it loudly, and has been rarely contradicted in any meaningful way even in her own family. She thusly values her own opinions above all. She states herself that she just can't understand why others don't see the world like her. And her cutting comments to nearly everyone around her shows that if full HD color.

- Eloise is the fifth of eight children. Even as the second daughter in that brood, she doesn't have much say over things that matter in the home or in her family. So, she stretches for every scrap of individuality and independence she can find. She has to be different at any cost. And she must always be right.

These factors combine into what we have witnessed in the show so far:

- Penelope clams up to keep peace with Eloise as much as she can, she keeps LW a secret because she must have something somewhere where she is in charge and allowed to express herself freely and actually influence people and events. She gets that nowhere else in her life.

- Eloise runs rough shod over any dissent from Penelope because Pen is so mild in her disagreement that it can't even penetrate Eloise's ego. It's always Eloise's ideas, Eloise's adventures, Eloise's desires. And since they are hers, surely then must also be Penelope's too.

When Eloise discovers that Penelope is LW, not only does it feel like a betrayal for the scandals revealed by Pen, but it shatters the mirror she assumed Penelope was.

Eloise has to learn that Penelope was always her own person with separate thoughts and feelings and ideas and triumphs. She has to learn to listen. She can't yet, but she needs to listen to Penelope's story, all that she ignored and all that Pen withheld. Moreso, she needs to try to understand why Penelope has written the things she has. This will be the only way for Eloise to start to grow up. Eloise has to learn that her perspective is only a small part of her relationships with other people.

Penelope needs to show Eloise who she really is. She has to be comfortable showing when she disagrees. She has to give herself permission to be herself. This is hard because to Penelope, she is only loved conditionally. She is only loved by her mother for doing as she is told and for briefly having Debling's attention. Her sisters never even gave her that. Her dad? Pretty much absent. And the second Eloise found out she was LW? Gone.

I think when they finally manage to perform what I outlined above, that we will see Penolise 2.0 and it's going to be so much better. It can have balance, it can have understanding, and be a deeper friendship than either of them knew was possible.

[eluminium]

Skizz Week 2 day 5! This one is short and sweet! Just the hermits being helpful in the silliest ways. As always, thank you to @skizzlemanweek for today's prompt!

Prompt 5: Work / Rest

The first thing he notices is the darkness. His base is completely coated in it, which he finds pretty strange. Usually, he can see moonlight peaking through the various openings to his base, or at least one torch somewhere! Actually, how did he even get in bed? He doesn't remember going to sleep last night. Eh, he's not slept at all lately, so a memory gap isn't the most unimaginable thing.

The second thing he notices is that he's tied to the bed, but not uncomfortably so. He can still shift around and even grab things on the nightstand next to him. Whoever tied him here clearly took great care in doing it, even using softer leads and knots to make sure his skin wouldn't be rubbed red. Heck, there's even a few extra pillows strategically placed so he won't hurt his back or neck! How sweet!

The third thing he notices is that someone is in the room with-

WAIT.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-" He eloquently yells as he sits straight up, now fully awake and aware. And tied to his bed. HE'S TIED TO HIS BED???

In the darkness, three instantly recognizable laughs taunt him. One of them lights a torch, and yep. Just as he suspected. It's Gem, Grian and Scar. His fellow Magic Mountain people have betrayed him!

He scowls at them, which makes them laugh harder.

"Awww, don't look so grumpy! It's not helping with the wrinkles," Gem says with a wink. Little does she know that he's fighting for his life to hold that scowl on his face. Watching his friends laugh makes him want to laugh, okay? Even if they're laughing at him tied up on his own bed.

Grian approaches him, finally getting himself together after having had the laugh of his life. Skizz raises an eyebrow, and Grian only grins. "It's for your best, homie buddeah!"

"Oh yeah, for my best, totally. I'm not buying that for a second, G!" Skizz counters, crossing his arms. He's grateful that he always sleeps with something on, otherwise this would have been way more awkward. For them, not for him!

Gem walks to stand beside Grian. "It is, though! I found you passed out on top of your pyramid yesterday! ON TOP! How- How did you even do that?!"

Oh, so that's what this is about. How much he's been working lately

Well… Erm…. UHMMMMMM… Shit, they kinda have a point.

"I plead the fifth!" He squeaks, knowing he's been cornered. Gem gives him the most unimpressed look. "You're going to stay in this bed for today. No working! We don't want you to get sick again!" She says with an accusatory point.

Now, normally Skizz would fight this. Say that he's got everything under control. But honestly, he is really tired.

"Fineeeeeee. Only because you asked so nicely," he surrenders. They've gone through all the effort to make sure he's comfortable and also they TIED HIM TO HIS BED. Might as well take advantage of it.

"Wait wait wait! We're not done yet!" G interrupts, before he points to Scar. "We're not gonna leave you tied to your bed alone. Scar is gonna stay and make sure you don't try anything."

"Hey! You told me I was gonna get to talk about the Sequal trilogy and that new Outlaws game-!"

"SHHHHH YOU'RE SPOILING IT!"

Skizz rolls his eyes. Of course. He'd been goading Scar into his rant-able topics lately just to piss off Grian.

"You know this is not very good revenge, right? I like listening to Scar talk about what he loves!" He points out. He doesn't like how Grian gets an evil glint in his eyes.

"Well, you keep saying that…So we're gonna put it to the test. We'll leave Scar here with you, and see how long it takes until you break. Your comm is on your nightstand for when you give up."

Now this is something Skizz can get behind! A challenge where he basically does nothing and wins!

"Bring it on, G!" He smugly comments, knowing that he's using the tone that will activate Grians own competitiveness. He sees it work in action as the avian's face hardens.

"You guys are..something special alright," Gem comments with the most deadpan tone.

Grian grabs her shoulder and pushes her towards the exit. "You two have fun! See ya!" is the last he gets out before both he and Gem leave Skizz's base.

Scar and Skizz meet eyes.

"Between you and me, Skizzy, I know they put me here to make sure I didn't try to work, either. They're not very subtle." Scar says with a wink.

A hint of surprise crosses Skizz's face. "Really?" Scar nods in response.

"You don't have to stay here if you don't want to, I can just-"

"Nonsense!" Scar cries out, wheeling himself closer to Skizz's bed. "I wasn't going to get any work done anyway, and now instead of being bored in my base, I get to hang out with Skizzy Wizzy! Now, don't you think it's really stupid that Disney made Kylo Ren and Rey kiss-"

And the conversation goes from there. Back and forth, back and forth. Star Wars to TOOL to Watches to Poker and on and on and on. For any other Hermit, it would probably be a nightmare scenario. But for these two talkative nerds, it's a dream come true.

If this is what constitutes "mandatory rest" on Hermitcraft, Skizz can't help but feel even more grateful that he gets to be in such a wonderful place, with such wonderful people.

[anonymouschishiyaimaginesandmore]

ToxicFriend!Chishiya

Minors, do not read! Contains mentions of smutty behavior!

MASTERLIST (up-to-date)

This is Part 4 !!HERE!! is Part 1 !!HERE!! is Part 2 !!HERE!! is Part 3

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Alice in Borderland/Imawa no Kuni no Alice characters or original stories, only the plot of this fanfic. Alice in Borderland/Imawa no Kuni no Alice characters and original storyline belong to Haro Aso, who made the Manga the Series is based on.

Trigger Warning: Explicit Smut, Toxic Behavior, Complicated Consensual/Not-Consensual Behavior, Harassment, Stalking, Summery: Chishiya x Female Reader

ToxicFriend!Chishiya who made you his personal mattress since he fucked you the first time, after breaking up with his fake girlfriend. The way you moan his name and scream as he hits your g-spot repeatedly making your inside hug him so hard he could cum then and there, get his head spinning and he can’t help but smile every time he pumps you full of his cum, knowing your plead towards him to use protection has gone ignored for yet another time.

ToxicFriend!Chishiya knows you feel bad every time he rolls off of you, after cumming yet another time, but you still never tell him not to. Never push him away. Never say no. And It’s all because he tells you he needs you. That he needs this and that only you can give him the warmth of a human body that he craves so much, tho it’s all just bullshit that he knows will hit just right into that caring heart of yours, where he started to dig a hole a make a place all for himself since he first laid eyes on you.

But ToxicFriend!Chishiya still sees how you blame yourself for something that isn’t your fault and never will be. You think that you are using him, sweet friend Chishiya, after that terrible break up he had to go thru and that you pretty much caused, cause well it was you who told him about it. Told him about his fake paid hooker girlfriend that he only used to get closer to you, cheating on him and here you were, yet another time, having him inside you while lying on your bed with your face in the pillows and your ass in the sky, getting pounded in the most delicious way possible that you totally enjoy. Really you do, it’s just that as soon as it’s over, and you look to the side, seeing him on his back, breathing like he just ran a marathon, you remember that you are only friends and the sex hasn’t changed anything between you, beside that none of you is looking for other partners anymore.

ToxicFriend!Chishiya is still coming over daily, listening to your blabla about your day and you listen in return to his, only to end up with your pussy all stuffed to the brim, somewhere in someone’s apartment somehow. Dang it, you couldn’t even blame it on the alcohol, because you stopped drinking after the fourth of fifth time in a row of him having you all to himself. It was rather that somehow, he is hitting a nerve and all you wanna do is be there for him.

This wonderful and caring side of ToxicFriend!Chishiya, that he actually doesn’t inhabits, but hey, don’t blame you, cause how should you know how much of a manipulative toxic man he is? After all, if there is something ToxicFriend!Chishiya knows best, it’s how to play people around him and you are nothing than just his newest toy, tho he has grown quiet fond of you.

Anyway, after screwing around for more than a month, ToxicFriend!Chishiya hoped that you would have finally gotten rid of your concerns, but you wouldn’t be your usual self if that would be the case, right? Always wanting the best for him, you don’t consider yourself that to be. After all, it feels more like you trapped him in a circle of sex, where he does nothing but fucks his worries into you, instead of facing them and to get over it and finding someone else. But he doesn’t. Oh no no no no no.

ToxicFriend!Chishiya doesn’t even think about moving on from you. For now. Because who knows what the future will bring. He wants you and he wants you all to himself, but your guilt is stopping you, from, in his eyes, surrendering your whole self to him, so he has to pick up his game again, making you understand how good he is for you. In fact, he is the best, you just can’t see it, since you don’t see him with his eyes. Oh, if only you could.

ToxicFriend!Chishiya has grown quiet used to hire sexual workers for whatever he needed with you. In other words, prostituted to manipulate you towards him and it always had worked yet, hasn’t it? So why changing a bulletproof sure thing?

ToxicFriend!Chishiya likes to play all sweet and caring for you, as he one day approaches you, sitting on your couch and taking your hands in his, while searching for your orbs to lock his eyes with. He needs your full attention and for you to see every played emotion in his face, so you totally fall for his act, otherwise things wouldn’t work out completely.

ToxicFriend!Chishiya is a dedicated man and as much as he is dedicated to have you, he is also 100% into his plan to finally have you completely without you questioning your situation.

ToxicFriend!Chishiya tells you that he has thought about the last weeks, he really did, and how your relationship has taken its turn, that is also true, but he believes he is using you to fill the hole his girlfriend has left in him and as much as he enjoys, physically, what you two do, he thinks its best to stop, so your precious friendship, that he appreciates so much, wont gets destroyed by his need for warmth.

Now, everyone who knows what ToxicFriend!Chishiya is really planning, could now be thinking, wtf you doing my friend you a taking a step back, but ToxicFriend!Chishiyas a genius. A mastermind that is looking for his kind and yeah, his next move will set him a step behind, but in the long run, he will make 2 steps forward and that is still a one-step win.

You nod, somehow baffled because, well how else are you supposed to react after him basically doing what you didn’t have the guts to, tho you instantly also feel something else. The realization that the wonderful sex the two of you are having every day and that you oh so grew accustomed to, will now end. But its ok, you tell yourself. It’s the right thing to do, the only right thing. After all ToxicFriend!Chishiyas mental health is more important, than one hell of an orgasms right?

Well, it would have been good to know that this train hasn’t only departed long ago. It crashed full speed into a plain, that flew into the sun, made it explode and on top of all this, caused what little normal self ToxicFriend!Chishiya still had to burn down into nothing.

So here he is now. Insane man, telling you what you already have been thinking for so long now and making you feel even worse for him being the one who finally, not only brings it up, but also makes the cut. What a good friend you are, you could kick yourself into your ass right back to your old family home.

You don’t deserve ToxicFriend!Chishiya, is all you can think off. He is so kind and sweet and a wonderful man unlike all the others you have been with yet, but deep down you know what he is saying is the right thing, so you nod, again, agreeing with him and going back to normal, like you have been before the first time he squeezed your tits so good while fucking you over his kitchen counter. Fuck. You want to kick yourself for already missing the wonderful sex.

Anyway, ToxicFriend!Chishiya knows what he is doing with you, so he hires yet another male prostitute. What a surprise! One he knows is exactly your type, since he fed the man all necessary information about you. What you like and what not. What your favorite music is and what books you read. Even what your political view is. Everything the guy needs to get under your skin and just as ToxicFriend!Chishiya predicted, he does and not only that.

After ToxicFriend!Chishiya pretty much cut you off from his cock-resources and with that from all the sex you have gotten used to. Daily. Several times. Your libido has been going crazy. You felt your pussy itching all day and after going to see a doctor and finding out that, physically, everything was alright with you, no STD or something that could explain it, you had to come to the conclusion that your fucking pussy was weeping like crazy for some dick. Sadly, that same pussy has gotten so used by the same pleasure bringing cock…ah you meant guy, after all ToxicFriend!Chishiya is more than just his cock, yes yes he is. Anyway, you have gotten so used to your neighbor taking care of certain parts of your body, that your fingers weren’t able to fill that hole anymore. Like, literally.

It’s like ToxicFriend!Chishiya fucked you lose or something. Destroyed your vagina for anything else and you soon had to come to the realization, that also included other man. Fuck him. Him and the addicting sex the two of you had. So sinful, so erotic so…not you, and still, here you were, craving him like a crazy bitch in heat.

So, you thought that your libidos problem could be easily solved right? The new guy you met, so caring, it was like he was made for you. Hearing him talk was like looking into a mirror, so for the first time in your live, you actually slept with a guy before being in a relationship with him. And it was, to put it mildly, terrible.

Exactly like ToxicFriend!Chishiya has planned it.

It was like the guy didn’t even knew what he had to do. Rutting back and forth like a mad man and all you did was lying there, hitting your head repeatedly against the headboard. WTF???? You could swear he has been so perfect only to turn out so terrible. You even peeked once at your watch to find out how long he has been going at you. There was no nicer way to say it. You hoped he would soon either give up or finish, but damn again, even after half an hour, boy was still looking strong, while you could do nothing else then yawn and hold both hands over your head to try push your body away from the beds frame and with that a possible concussion.

Then finally, that poor excuse came and the way he did…you wouldn’t forget it for years, maybe even decades. The way he suddenly started screaming obscenities at you calling you a dirty whore and yelling at you that you will go to hell, like you are some terrible car driver, that just cut in front of him at the intersection and later stole his parking lot. And you? You again just laid there and took it, because you have been too awestruck to say something, until he pulled out, took the condom off and shot his load right onto your face and you…you chased him out like the piece of garbage he was.

You even told ToxicFriend!Chishiya about it. How could you not? He has become not only your neighbor, but also your dearest friend, tho you planned not to share anything of your hopefully new relationship and dating experiences with him, when you decided to start dating again. Then again, you were so in shock, you just had to tell him, how much it took you aback when he begun yelling after rutting for what felt like forever in silence, only the high creeking of your bed frame filled your bedroom from wall to wall..

And what did ToxicFriend!Chishiya do? He nodded understanding, however you saw the pain in his eyes for a moment, when you started to talk about being intimate with someone else. Pfft, as if. You reminded yourself to not bring it up again, like ever again, because how could you hurt someone like him, who even after everything he had gone thru with his girlfriend and then with you, was still such a good friend. Just perfect him.

In reality, ToxicFriend!Chishiya had a hard time not throwing the table and stomping out of your apartment to this piece of shit he hired. Of course, he told him how to behave in bed. How to disappoint you terribly and even scare you so you would thing about what an awful choice you made, but nutting on your face? Nah ah, that wasn’t part of the deal. If someone was allowed to dirty your soft and beautiful skin, it was him and only him and surely not that piece of a paid nutcracker.

ToxicFriend!Chishiya made a silent note in his head to have some words with this guy before he hires the next to disappoint you deeply in your ability to judge people, but also in today’s dating life and how hard it is. Seriously, with people out there like the insane blond asshole, its motherscrewing dangerous to say the least.

A week later, because you are just not the kind of person to give up that easily, ToxicFriend!Chishiya could tell, you were already on your next first date with a man a tad older then you and what you normally date. Someone who, you of course didn’t know it, was also a prostitute, hired to toy and shatter you into pieces. But hey, what were the odds? Judging by the fact, ToxicFriend!Chishiya knows your work path and schedule and what clubs and bistros and small café you like to visit, pretty high.

This one invited you to a concert that was one of your favorite bands. How nice right? Well, it was less nice, when he, during the concert, like mid-music, lowered his pants and not only rubbed himself on you but then had the audacity to stain your favorite jeans with his dirty pervert jizz. You practically ran out of the concert, home and into ToxicFriend!Chishiya arms who invited your distraught self over to his place for a glass of wine and a good talk and you couldn’t say no, exactly how he planned it. You sobbed to him again, how awful it was and that you can never listen to this band again, without remembering this old guys remains on you. And the sight of his small shrimp…

Did you learn it this time? No, you told ToxicFriend!Chishiya to his face, after he gave you a small tad-talk, that you won’t give up that easily. No way everyman was a pig, right? There have to be normal ones, even some that are somehow likeable right? Again, you registered the second his smile dropped, and he looked like a kicked dog at your words. And you instantly felt terrible to bother him with your problems and talking about being on a search for good guys, when the nicest one, the best you ever met, was right in front of you. What a terrible human being you are. So terrible.

ToxicFriend!Chishiya almost had you on your knees again, sucking him off like he is a god, but no, he couldn’t do that just yet. He had to show you how much better he is then all the other ones out there.

Can’t you see? Soon you will.

And with other ones, ToxicFriend!Chishiya meant the guys he will pay to cross your way. Because after all, he is the best for you, he has decided that long ago and if only you could understand this finally, things wouldn’t need to go that way, breaking your self-confidence until you were nothing then a piece of clay for him to mold the way he wanted.

The next three months you dated the hell out of the single community and with every passing man, your expectations on man lowered. After all, it couldn’t be that all of them were shitty people, so if you believed them to all be bad fuckers and having an awful personality, couldn’t it be that you were the problem? After all, in all of this, you are the common denominator and ToxicFriend!Chishiya was counting on that.

The guy that you have been going with to very expensive nice dinners and who seemed so shy all the time, only to have a heavy and surprising orgasm, as you kissed him goodbye at your door. He came in his pants and at first, dear lord, you thought he had a heart attack. You were so worried. Anxious he could die in your hands that you even went as far as to run to your neighbor and knock on ToxicFriend!Chishiyas door to ask him for help, tho your date asked you not to. And when he came out, rushing to your aid after seeing your tear stained and fear covered face, he had to tell you, looking as uncomfortable as possible while doing so, that your date just got heavily aroused by your lips, he had to shoot his whole load, and damn it was a big one wetting his white pants and staining them forever.

The walking embarrassment even had the guts to call you the next days and ask you for a next date. NO WAY IN HELL!!! You have never hung up your phone that fast in your whole life.

After that, you couldn’t look ToxicFriend!Chishiya in his face for a whole week, before he reassured you he wasn’t thinking in anyway bad of you. He told you that you were still the wonderful, sweet thing in his mind and that nothing could change that, not even all the stories of terrible fucks and perverts staining your pants or theirs. Such sweet words. If only you could have looked him directly in his eyes instead of peeking constantly at his delicious, clothed cock, you maybe would have seen the dirty smug grin he send your way, warning you of your impending mistakes. But you didn’t and so your adventures went on.

Your next guy made it past your door pretty fast, since you were sexually so frustrated you just needed something between your legs. You didn’t even care about all the stuff he said to you that just fitted your type or how beautiful he called you again and again. You just needed his cock and nothing more and after you had okay-ish sex with him and he went out to grab himself a glass of water, and for you too, since he was a gentleman, you just had to look at his phone as it vibrated right next to your head so constantly, someone must have died.

You didn’t want to. Didn’t plan to. You were never the kind of person to do such things, but something felt odd about him, tho you couldn’t pinpoint it. Sadly, you were right. The messages on his phone were from a group chat he and at least 6 other guys were constantly writing in and what did they wrote about? You.

How to get you and what to say. You were seriously a whole damn topic to be discussed. They were telling eachother about a side that someone was running, all dedicated to you and your hobbies and favorite food and what even where you worked etc. and those guys? They were talking about it, sharing information and even batting which info would be the one that would grand any guy entrance to your panties.

You threw him out. Literally. Never have you ever been such a Xena, then when you threw phone, clothes and what else he brought into your apartment, from your balcony right onto the streets, but hey you weren’t a monster, right? You let him leave thru the door, naked and hoping he felt just as much as shameful as you did, believing such a guy and even sleeping with him. You felt so dirty and violated and who did you turn to in this time of need? Yes ToxicFriend!Chishiya, tho you told yourself not to again and again.

He was holding you while you cried in his arms, wetting his dark shirt and white cardigan, telling him how awful you feel. You haven’t cried this hard since your last boyfriend cheated on you in your own apartment. Damn, how stupid you are. Dating man after man, one worse than the other, and now there is even a group out there with information about you, trying to get you laid like you are nothing then some dumb bet straight of some rom-com-movie. And ToxicFriend!Chishiya, the always so loyal friend that he is, reassures you that he will take care of it.

He tells you he will look for someone to search for this side and take it down immediately and this chat? Everyone and everything that participated in it, will be searched out and taken down too if he has to. After all you are ToxicFriend!Chishiyas precious friend and no one is allowed to hurt you. He takes your sobbing chin in his hand and looks you into your eyes, as he whispers to you so softly and alluring, how much you mean to him and that he can’t stand to see you hurt.

You ask ToxicFriend!Chishiya if there is something wrong with you. If there is something in you, that attracts that kind of man. Are you just that easy to get? Or are you just that desperate? Are you a broken woman looking for man to treat you terribly, because you believe that’s what you deserve? What is it that makes you go always for the bad boys but never for the good ones?

ToxicFriend!Chishiya shakes his head in front of you. He says that he doesn’t know if there is anything wrong with you because in his eyes you are perfect. When he looks at you, all he wishes is to make you happy and he cannot understand this man toying and playing with you when they could have you forever. Just thinking about it makes his head spin. He says that those men are trash and that it can’t be your fault. That you are just your normal you. Believing in love and looking for someone who does too, but he tells you that there are man out there especially targeting sweethearts like you, so they can watch you bleed under their terrible acts.

ToxicFriend!Chishiya looks at you with longing, as he caresses your cheek, wiping away tears you shed for trash you will never know what really thought of you. That you are a poor girl who fell into the net of a toxic man like him. But he will never tell you than, no. Not when he is so close to have you so willingly. So, he tells you again how perfect you are in his eyes. That you are the best thing that ever happened to him and if he was in those guys shoes, he would never let you go.

Touched by ToxicFriend!Chishiyas honeyed words, you lean forward and place your lips on his, carefully as if that small act alone could destroy everything the two of you had built up so painstakingly. And for a moment you two remain that way. Two people kissing eachother in the most chaste way possible. So modest and sweet. Almost like diabetes. And just like this illness had its terrible effect on humans, ToxicFriend!Chishiya has his on you. He lets you take control, let you set the pace, so every following move comes from you, but he makes sure not to come over as not willing enough, so you might pull away, thinking you have done something wrong, and he didn’t want this too. No no, he is a mastermind, remember? A genius who has set up his trap and you walked right into it.

As soon as you open your mouth and ToxicFriend!Chishiyas tongue slips in, things are less coy and innocent. With no sign of prudish behavior, you swing your leg over him, sitting on his lap and grind like a horny teenager, while kissing him furiously. Your touch starved and underfucked-self has found its way to the surface, devouring ToxicFriend!Chishiya with your mouth and hands and every roll of your hips down on his groin, hearing the sweet moan drown out of that sinful throat, while the bulge grows under you, prominent and begging to be released from its prison. You smile happily into the kiss, trying to make him feel how much you want this. How much you need him. And that you will take every little bit he is willing to give you, even if it should be only the tip of his fucking godly cock.

None of the countless guys you screwed and dated the last months were like ToxicFriend!Chishiya. None of them knew how to please your body. How to take you in every possible way and make you nothing but a moaning mess under them.

Fucking you like you believed, deep down, you deserved and if ToxicFriend!Chishiya was willing to, where was the problem? No way you would go back to those losers that didn’t know how to stuff your pussy properly. No way you would let any of them roll over you ever again. No way.

No, no one except ToxicFriend!Chishiya, because he always knew what he had to say to get you into his hands and inside his pants, no matter what, and right now you were pudding between his fingers and juicy in your panties.

It didn’t matter. Soon, that unimportant piece of cloth would be gone and replaced by ToxicFriend!Chishiyas dick, like you both now agreed to, should be.

[princessamericachavez]

911 6x13 CODA

“Are you sure she isn’t mad at me?” Buck asks for the fifth time as Eddie pulls over by his place.

It’s always a little strange, when Eddie drives them. Usually, if it’s the two of them, it’s Buck at the wheel. Eddie isn’t sure why it is —he doesn’t mind driving and does it well enough and often enough when he isn’t going somewhere with Buck— and he doesn’t know when it started. At some point, maybe around the big Earthquake a few years ago, Buck drove him somewhere for the first time and then they never stopped. He’s used to having him on his left, that’s all, and the switch throws him off a little… like when you flip a picture of yourself on your phone and get the angle others see of your face, rather than the one you know from the mirror, or when a married couple exchanges bed sides during a trip.

But Eddie had insisted on driving tonight. He didn’t want to spoil the surprise.

“I told you, Buck, it’s fine. The chief was joking. Mostly.”

“Mostly?”

Eddie sighs, dramatically, and rolls his eyes to drive the point home that Buck is worrying over nothing.

“I mean, she’s probably pissed that you outplayed her, but it’s a friendly game. I’m sure she didn’t take it personally.”

Buck’s mouth still twists unhappily and Eddie feels frustration raising in his chest. He’d been so close tonight to erasing that frown that has permanently settled into Buck’s expression. He’d gotten him to relax and smile and have fun like before. Why can’t he make it last?

“Buck,” he calls, with that tone that usually means ‘stop spiraling’ or ‘maybe not now’ or ‘we’ve talked about this’. It works perfectly, like always. He can see his best friend’s eyes snap back into focus as they find him. “Stop worrying, would you? It’s okay. I promise.”

And just like that, like Eddie’s words hold some unavoidable truth, Buck’s shoulders drop with relief.

“Fine, fine. Sorry, I just-“

“I know,” Eddie smiles.

He does. He knows how Buck can’t take people disliking him, or being mad at him, or possibly cutting him off. He’s learned in the past several years that Buck cannot fathom that he might mess up or piss someone off and that they won’t immediately leave him forever. As if Buck was easy to discard at the faintest fault.

“Listen, did you have fun?”

Buck blinks, confused. Eddie swears he could kill him sometimes.

“Buck, did you have fun tonight?”

“Uh, yeah…” a smile breaks across Buck’s face, a hint of that cocky confident smirk he’d had on all night. The sight of it warms Eddie’s chest.

“Good,” he nods. “That’s the point.”

“I thought the point was testing my new abilities,” Buck snorts, giving him a mocking suspicious squint.

“Oh, yeah, that too. But we’re gonna have to finesse your lying if we are taking this to Vegas because you can’t pretend worth shit and if we get caught there I think we’ll be in far more trouble than some nagging from the Chief.”

Buck barks a laugh, loud and cheerful, that finally eases Eddie’s own tensions and reminds him tonight was completely worth it.

“Yeah, I don’t think Bobby is going all the way to Vegas to bail us out.”

Now it’s Eddie’s turn to laugh. Though he’s pretty sure their Captain would come to their aid, at least for the pleasure of scolding them.

“Thanks, Eddie,” Buck sighs, still smiling. “I had fun tonight.”

“Me too.”

In fact, Eddie’s had more fun the past couple days than in the last two months. He’d nearly forgotten how much better it is at work and at home when Buck is around. He’d missed having his partner’s crazy antics and curious facts and earnest smile around. With Buck, Eddie felt like a version of himself he barely knew growing up. Somehow lighter, giddier, closer to his son’s sunshine disposition than his own.

Unaware of Eddie’s thoughts, Buck has taken their exchange as a goodbye and is gathering his cut (pun intended) of their winnings. They’d split them equally, even if they were technically all Buck’s. It was just something they did. He didn’t question it, neither of them did anymore.

“Hey, you wanna come in for one last beer?” Buck asks, clutching his half of the prize.

Funny enough, this is the question someone asks after a first date to invite people up for more than drinks. Funny enough, Buck has probably made this same offer to dozens of girls before. Funny enough, Eddie is tempted to say yes. It’d be so easy, such a normal thing for them to do, but still…

“I can’t,” he sighs, and tries not to think about the way Buck’s face drops. “I promised to help Pepa with her home renovations tomorrow morning and then we’ve got a long shift and Christopher somehow talked himself into bringing cookies for his entire class on Monday and I don’t even know when we’ll get to that, so I’m probably going to be baking tonight-“

“His whole class?!” Buck arches his eyebrows. “Eddie, that’s forty seven kids!” A fact that he probably knew even before lightning rewired his math skills. “Your oven can fit a sheet with maybe ten cookies at a time, twelve at most. With a cooking time of twelve minutes each, that’s gonna be-“

“Buck! Enough with the math, okay? I know. I know…”

He really does know. He knows it’s going to be a long night. He knows it’s going to suck. He also knows that it’s important for Christopher and that he should’ve gotten to it earlier on the week (but then the cookies wouldn’t be fresh and Chris had been very adamant about making a good impression with them).

Eddie wishes it was easier. He wishes he had enough time to do it all. He wishes he could manage everything, that he could be a single father and work a full time job and go out with his best friend some times and still manage to help his son with his school projects. It’s just too much sometimes. And he-

“I’ll do it.”

Eddie blinks out of his silent spiral to look at Buck, who seems entirely at ease with the statement like he isn’t saving Eddie’s life.

“What?”

“You know Bobby’s still got me working short shifts,” he shrugs. “I’ll be off early after our shift on Sunday. I can pick Chris up from Pepa’s and we’ll make the cookies at my place while you finish yours.”

Not for the first time tonight, Eddie’s chest feels like it’s about to burst with something embarrassingly close to adoration. He didn’t even ask, didn’t even say- but ever since they met, Buck has had a nearly supernatural ability to anticipate to Eddie’s needs, to be there when he didn’t even know how to ask for help.

“What would I ever do without you?” He sighs.

It’s a light statement. Something he’s said before between them when Buck makes life easier and happier just by being there. It’s also the wrong thing to say. There’s a heaviness to it that catches them both off guard. Because Eddie knows now what life might feel like without Buck. Three minutes and seventeen seconds without him. Three days of sleeplessness and terror. The overwhelming possibility that his absence would become permanent and stretch forever… And Buck, something flashes across his face too, something akin to pain and fear.

Fuck. Fuck he shouldn’t have said that. He cannot bare the thought of undoing tonight’s happiness with the wrong words.

“Thanks, Buck,” he adds, putting a hand on his shoulder that somehow manages to ground them both. “I’m sure Chris will love that.”

The smile that breaks through Buck’s face could light the whole night in a flash.

“Really? You think?”

“Are you kidding me? He loves any excuse to spend time with you. And he still claims your cooking is better than mine.”

It works. Buck laughs loudly and the tension dissipates like smoke clearing out after a fire.

“Claims,” Buck snorts dramatically. “It’s just facts, Diaz!”

“Uh-huh, sure, sure,” he teases back. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

“Is this your way of asking to save you cookies on Sunday?”

“Well, you could do that, or I could deprive some poor little kid of theirs and blame it on your lousy maths.”

Buck’s eyes sparkle with amusement as he gives Eddie’s shoulder a gentle push, breaking the invisible touch barrier between them for the second time tonight.

“I’m good at math now, Eds. You can’t say that!”

“Well, the kids don’t know that,” he chuckles.

Buck laughs. So Eddie laughs too, because it’s nearly impossible not to share on Buck’s joy (part of the reason he’s smiled tonight more than in the entire past two months combined).

“Okay, okay, gotta put these in the freezer before they thaw and Bobby kills me,” Buck sighs, opening the car door. “Rain check on that beer?”

“Rain check,” Eddie agrees, like it’s a promise.

Buck gifts him that golden smile in return and Eddie- well, his chest feels about to burst once more.

“Okay,” Buck says, closing the door with his bicep. “Get some rest, Eddie.”

“You too, human calculator.”

Buck laughs again, loud like thunder and bright like sunshine. Eddie carries that sound with him all the way to his house. He’s going to get quite a bit of ribbing from the Chief and Mehta next week, but tonight was definitely worth it.

[heaven1oo4]

have been watching bridgerton and CANT STOP THINKING ABOUT ROMANTIC TENSION WITH OMINIS

also listened to this playlist while writing heh

Get this: You’re a pureblood Gryffindor promised to another boy in your year before you were even born. Two pureblood families coming together. After your father squandered most of your family’s money, this arrangement could not be more dire. This is your duty, to your parents, to your family name, but especially to your younger siblings who’d be set for life with this union. You were content, just fine with signing your life away to be wed to man you did not love if it meant your siblings would live happily, wishing for nothing.

Then one day by chance you become acquainted with Ominis Gaunt, quiet yet carried this powerful aura around him. It was chance that you even spoke, nothing more than a few moments quickly forgotten. However once, became twice, then thrice. The man was blind yet it seemed every time you looked up you caught his gaze. It was bewitching. Leaving classrooms, you’d brush past each other, in the library you’d “accidentally” grab the same books. You chatted about your similar tastes in novels at first. Then he'd talk about the adventures he'd go on with Sebastian and the new fifth year, you'd urge him to tell you more, how you wished you could go on escapades. The excitement in your tone kept the usually quiet man talking. He knew the feeling of being trapped by customs, to hear the elation in your voice when you asked him to tell you another story, he'd speak his mouth dry to keep you so happy. You worked hard to stifle your infatuation with him lest your future husband find out. It felt dirty to go behind his back, but the exhilarating feeling from being with the boy who made your heart race far outweighed that shame.

Fast forward to the Yule Ball, your date is off somewhere with his friends, trusting you to be a good girlfriend and stay at your table, obedient and pliable just like how everyone thought your were. Fiddling with your dress, a hand appears infront of you. You look up to see Ominis, hand open for you to take. “May I have this dance?” There’s whispering from people at and around your table. Doesn’t he know? You’re spoken for already. Of course he must, everyone knew. You know you’re supposed to say no, this wasn't one of your meetings tucked away in the corner of the library. But before your mouth can conjure up a polite decline, your heart speaks for you. Your hand clasps his open one and a smile graces his handsome features.

You let him guide you to an empty space on the ballroom floor. You’d thought his blindness might have it be hard for him to dance but he settles his hand on your hip confidently. One step forward, one step back, a comfortable rhythm. You stare at your feet making sure you’re doing it right. You finally look up, Ominis’s milky eyes staring at you. He senses you finally meeting his gaze and his smile grows wider. “Are you ready?” Before you can even say anything his grip on your hip tightens and off you go. Taking the lead, he twirls you around, your laughter making him giddy. Dips and turns, you’re smiling and laughing together, like you were the only two in the room. This is what you wanted, fun, excitement, a proper dance with him.

The music shifts to something slower, intimate. Suddenly you’re aware of where you are and the prying eyes. You’re tempted to let go but Ominis leans down to your ear “Will you let me be selfish this one time?” he asks softly. Your heart races, you don’t want this to end. You want to be selfish too, you want to have this moment in time all to yourself, a moment to be happy with the man who has your heart. “Yes”. His hand on your hip finds itself on your lower back, hot against the open skin. You’re closer than ever, sharing breaths as you resume your dance, slower, sensually, enjoying the short time you have together. It felt so good to be so near, a drug you could never have again. You heart aches knowing that reality would find you both soon but for now, you’d cherish every last second. As if Ominis could read your mind, a small breath leaves his lips, almost as if he’s afraid to let the words escape his mouth. “Find me tonight, in the Defence of Dark Arts Tower, I’ll be waiting for you there”. It felt like you were crossing a line, all your previous meetings had been in the day, in public, if anyone questioned you two you could easily say you were two friends having a chat. This was different, in the dark of night, your fleeting touches could last forever, and all the words you've ever wanted to say could finally leave your thoughts. Ominis would not have to resist leaning in to kiss the lips he wished he could taste so much, he could freely tell you all he's wanted to say since the start of your charade.

Quick and loud footsteps halted your answer. “Y/N, we’re leaving, now” The angry tone of your boyfriend broke you away from Ominis’s gaze. You quickly pulled away, not wanting to make a scene. Anything to make sure word of this doesn’t get to your parents. Before you could walk away, a firm grasp held onto your hand. You turned once more to look at Ominis. While his face was relaxed his eyes betrayed him. Desperate as if to say “I see you, I feel you, your heart beats the same as mine. I can't let you go” You nod, a silent agreement that you’ll leave your dorm tonight and meet him. Slowly he lets your hand leave his, the lingering warm touch evident to you both. A soft reminder that this was far from over.

[creative-caramel-coffee]

Desperate to Decompress

Pairings: Weems x Reader (Platonic)

Word count: 2.6K

Summary: Reader needs some time for herself to gather her thoughts and hides herself away. When Ms Thornhill notices your absence she reports to Weems, who goes to investigate.

TW: depictions of neurodivergence (implied), overstimulation (implied), hiding, crying, disappearing, crying, flinching (is that a warning idk),

A/n Ok so before i get attacked for this, this is a self-indulgent fic because i often hide myself away when i feel like this (I have ADHD) so this is based off my experiences. Neurodivergance presents slightly differently for everyone. Im not saying this is the only way it can be, just this is how it is for me. Enjoy :)

It had been simply too long since you had had enough time by yourself to decompress. You loved Enid and Wednesday; they were mostly the best roommates you could ask for but sometimes you really just needed a break. Silence and a place with no people.

It felt as if you had been slowly had your brain being scrubbed with each social interaction, any more of it and you would snap. It had happened before; people were just too present and loud and the more you tried to keep going the more the annoyance grew. It wasn’t personal, it was simply you had enough of it all.

You simply needed space and time to decompress, but with a shared dorm and a school full of teenagers there weren’t really any places to hide away from everything. You just needed somewhere silent, devoid of people and preferable hidden where you could sit with your headphones in listening to whatever song you had been playing on repeat for the past few days and your sketchbook in your lap. A snack to eat and some juice maybe. The introvert in you was screaming for help and you knew if you stayed around people any longer your social battery was just about dead. And when it died so did all of yourself control, all of the annoyance and repressed anger would come out and nobody wanted that, not even you.

Class was dismissed and it was time for the fifth lesson of the day. Your head was feeling slightly buzzed and you knew you needed it all to stop as soon as humanly possible. So, whilst walking between classes you slipped into your dorm under the guise of retrieving your biology textbook for botany class which was starting soon. Once the hallways had drained of teenagers as they all funnelled into classrooms in small streams, you hoisted your backpack over one shoulder and snuck through the halls.

You found it never worked the way you needed it to if you told people where you were going, that way it felt like there was still something expected of you. No. You never told anyone where you went or when you left on trips like these and that wasn’t going to change now you were at nevermore. You needed to know you weren’t going to be bothered by someone. Complete isolation or complete meltdown. That’s the options.

As you finally made it to where you wanted to be you clicked twice and descended into the nightshades library. A few days ago, you had been expecting the impending need for a shutdown and hidden a small blanket, snacks and a lamp behind some of the books. Now it came time to use them you pulled out the supplies.

Gently you set out the blanket like one might have a picnic, the soft touch soothing and relaxing. You set down your backpack and kicked off your shoes. Popping in an earbud in each ear you pressed play and took out your pencils and sketchbook. The sigh you heaved was involuntary as the stress began to melt. It felt like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders and you felt the annoyance that had been growing over the past days begin to trickle away.

You threw yourself into your drawing needing something mindless but engaging to do. You sketched scenes that were stuck in your mind's eye from the past few days of the term. Enid’s colourfully painted nails. Wednesday's typewriter. You drew and sketched and felt your mind begging to unwind and detangle all of the twisted emotions from the days.

Meanwhile Ms Thornhill glared at your empty seat in her class.

“Ms Sinclair, do you happen to know where Ms L/n is thats more important than my class?” She asked a slight edge on her voice.

It wasn’t annoyance at you as much as the fact her favourite student was absent, and the school board had cut her budget once more deeming the carnivorous plants a non-essential item and a point of risk for students.

“Umm I’m not sure?” Enid said looking slightly confused. “She was with me in out last class.” She said. The botany teacher huffed in annoyance.

“Open your textbooks to page 348 and start taking notes on the phenotype selection of white budded roses.” She said and the sound of textbooks being haul from bags began. “Until i return i expect no funny business. One more broken pot and the whole class has detention next Thursday.” She said and stalked off to the principal's office.

Now she was out of the classes eyesight she quickened her pace. Her anger faded to worry. It was unlike you to simply disappear. Sure, you had only been at nevermore for a few weeks now, but the risk of you being lost or injured was never none. Standing in-front of the big wooden doors she shifted her weight from foot to foot and before she could knock the doors opened.

“Marilyn.” Principle weems said in surprise before she collected herself and stepped to the side. “Come in. What can i help you with.” She asked and the two women walked over to the couch. Weems patted the spot beside her, and Ms Thornhill perched herself next to the shapeshifter.

“I’ll make this brief as i have a class left in the biology classroom.” She began and Weems nodded. “It's Y/n.” She began before sighing.

“Whats the matter with her?” Weems asked placing a hand on her teacher's knee.

“She hasn’t shown up for the class and its unlike her to simply disappear without telling people where she went. Im worried Larissa. What if she’s lost or worse yet injured?” She said and weems patted her leg.

“Never you worry. I will find her and make sure she is dealt with straight away. If that’s all i recommend getting back to your class before all your flowers have been deadheaded.” Weems smiled.

“Yes. That’s probably best isn’t it.” Ms Thornhill agreed and nodded standing and shooting her thanks to the principle before exiting.

Now the teacher was gone weems stood and collected the keys from her desk and left her office. She began at your dorm. Knowing which one it was as she had visited many times to see Wednesday and reprimand her for her repeated behaviours. You had been there for some of it but never really said much other than things like ‘I’ll get out of your hair’ before leaving.

It's not that Weems disliked you or any of her students really, she was just very busy and was now realising maybe she should have payed some closer attention to you. This was your first boarding school and your file had stated you were … different. Incredibly smart and well put together but it did say you were sometimes prone to randomly disappearing. Weems suspected this would happen sooner or later although she hadn’t the faintest as to why you did what you did. Maybe she should have given more of her time to making sure you had adjusted and settled in alright.

She frowned looking into the empty dorm. Noting the backpack, she often saw you with was also gone along with one of the two blankets from your bed.

She scanned the room once more before turning and leaving to search elsewhere for you.

Time didn’t really matter to you when you were like this. You simply stayed wherever until you no longer felt the overwhelmingness of it all anymore. You couldn’t let others see you like this. Vulnerable. You were most vulnerable like this. You simply needed space. You had no clue how much time had passed, and the sketchbook’s pages were slowly being filled with intricate portraits and landscapes from the past few days.

After a while you had resorted to the photos on your phone for reference. You hummed quietly to the music which was probably why you didn’t hear the sound of high heels on the steps until they were in front of you.

Looking up you saw the unimpressed face of Principle weems looking down at you with her arms folder. Using a finger, she flicked the chord of your wired headphones to dislodge one of the earbuds. You flinched slightly at the movement so close to your face and the feeling of everything crushing you almost seemed to return. She had found you. She had found you before you had the time to find yourself. You could feel the tears begging to escape. You were exhausted emotionally and couldn’t take one more trial of your mentality.

You hadn’t really noticed weems lecturing you until she grabbed your bicep loosely to haul you up. You flinched violently this time, the touch almost seeming to burn. Weems demeanour switched almost immediately as she came to an understanding. She put her hands up in surrender and crouched in front of you, an impressive feat for someone in heels. You saw her lips moving but the sound still didn’t seem to be reaching your ears, or more rather, your brain.

After moment weems simply sat and folded her legs pretzel style and lent against the wall next to you. She had stopped talking seeing how it hadn’t really reached you at all.

She seemed to be taking a note from your book and simply resting. She laid her head against the cool stone and shut her eyes slightly. You two of you sat in silence for a bit as you twirled you pencil anxiously. After a minute you realised the tears on your cheeks were present and you brought up a fist and began to harshly scrub at your eyes. A soft hand caught your arm and this time the touch didn’t seem to burn as much. Weems guided your hands to her lap as she held them and ran the pad of her thumb over the back of your knuckles gently.

“Darling are you ready to talk?” She asked and when you didn’t respond she softened. “It's ok if you're not-“

“Im fine.” You said and pulled your hands from her grip. “I should probably head to class anyway.” You said and began putting your stuff in your backpack. You felt a hand in your shoulder and stilled.

“Darling, I’m not expecting you to do that right now. Your clearly in need of a break. How about instead of sitting down here in the dark and the cold you come join me in my office. I can make us some hot chocolates and we can talk or just sit in silence, whatever you need love.” She said you felt the tears gather once more on your waterline. Weems brushed a gentle thumb over your cheeks and wiped away the tears.

“Oh darling.” She said softly and opened her arms for a hug. You shuffled into her lap and she wrapped her arms around you holding you tightly. The pressure helped and she seemed to notice.

“If you would like i can order you a weighted blanket for when I’m not available.” She said softly and smiled at the nod she felt against her chest.

“Yes please.” You said in a small voice.

“Alright.” She whispered into your hair and pressed a soft kiss to the crown of your head. “Let’s go get some hot chocolate when you're ready.” She said and you began to pull away. She held you closer. “That doesn’t have to be now if thats not what you need.” She said and you nodded again into the lapels of her blazer.

“Now darling. If you ever feel like this i want, you to come to me and we can sort something out for you. However, i must thank you for the exercise, being stuck behind a desk most days usually prevents me from a half hour fanatic search of the school grounds and she gently laud her chin on the top of your head as she felt you laugh slightly into her chest.

“I think I’m ready for that hot chocolate now.” You said softly. “If thats ok.” You added and she slowly unwrapped her arms from you.

“Anytime darling.” She said and helped you to your feet beating you to your backpack and putting it over her shoulder.

“I’d love to see your art sometime if you're ok with that. I love seeing my students' talents shine.” She said and you smiled softly and gently wiped your face to try and look less like you had been crying.

Weems wrapped your hand in hers and led you the short distance to her office. Once inside she set down your bag by the couch and told you to make yourself at home before disappearing into her private quarters and returned a minute later with two steaming mugs of her famous hot chocolate.

You sat in silence sipping the drinks before you set yours down and got ready to speak. The principle followed suit and placed down her own mug and dusted off invisible lint from her lap.

“It just … it all just gets too much sometimes. And i know i should tell someone but i feel like i just need to get out. Like one more second and I’ll snap.” You began and slowly all of the pent-up stress began to pour out into your words. Principle weems sat and listened wordlessly before you finally finished her hands where on your knees.

“I think it’s perfectly alright to be overwhelmed sometimes. And i have an idea. I find i myself often get trapped in my work and negate to listen to what i need. What I propose is…” she said pausing and folding her hands in her lap. “Anytime, and i mean anytime, day or night, you feel like this… you come find me and we take a break together.” She said and you smiled softly. “Do you think you can do that? Hmm save me from my work darling?” She asked with a small smile, and you nodded.

“I guess.” You said playing with your fingers.

“Good.” She nodded and you felt yourself relax further. “Now I’d like you to stay with me for the afternoon, i can see it in your eyes that your tired and i would like to offer you my space to relax. I can assure you it's much nicer than the floor of an older hidden library. Or at least i hope it is.” She joked and you chuckled softly.

“I’ll make us some food as I’m sure you missed lunch and then we can relax and maybe even take a look at your art. From what I’ve seen and been told in passing, you are quite the artist Ms L/n.” She smiled and you ducked your head embarrassed.

She smiled and went to retrieve some food for the two of you.

That afternoon you sat with the principle and snacked whilst she looked through your sketchbook sounding praises at your art and even asking for a commission for her office.

“I need some more colour in here.” She noted and you smiled. For once you decompressed but this time you weren’t alone. And you knew from now on you would have Larissa with you if you ever needed her.

MASTERLIST

[estellamiraiauthor]

All right, this was not really an official ask, but in response to the lovely @alinacapellabooks and for anyone else who’s interested, I would like to explain exactly how I “got the idea for a Phantom of The Opera retelling set in early 2000s Japan, in the tail end of the visual kei scene”.

I’ve posted some of this before somewhere but it might have been on my now-deleted Twitter?

No spoilers, but it might be a little long, so more under the cut!

I had wanted to write a Phantom retelling for a long time… I was first introduced to the story through the Lloyd Webber musical, but I read the Leroux novel shortly thereafter, and started seeking out the different movie adaptations, so I never really thought of the musical as the “definitive” version. I loved how the same core elements could be respun as romance or mystery or horror, in different settings, with characters that were usually the same archetypes but also a little different each time.

It was Phantom of the Paradise that REALLY convinced me that I wanted to do my own take on the Phantom story someday… that film is just SOOO wildly different from any other version but also unbelievably good, both as a retelling of several different stories and also just as a story in its own right. So as early as high school I had started to play around with the idea… I know I still have about ten handwritten pages of a “Phantom of the Space Station” which was supposed to be kind of The Fifth Element meets The Ship Who Sang… but the characters never really gelled as their own people, and eventually I moved on to other things.

Then in 2005, after the release of the ALW movie, I started reading a lot of fanfiction… and again, I tended to like the ones that took the basic components of the story and retold it in a different place or time. I started writing again, first with a fairly cliched “university theatre professor and student” idea, and then a Star Wars crossover where the Phantom used a Jedi mind trick to hide his face, tutored “Christine” in the Force, and she’d eventually get strong enough to “unmask” him.

The Star Wars one was starting to feel a LITTLE more like a story that maybe only I could write, but the characters weren’t really coming together and there wasn’t necessarily a lot of overlap between those two fandoms, so I was still kind of searching for an idea for “my” retelling.

Around the same time, I was sort of struggling with being a visible minority myself. Although I love Japan, I was struggling both with sticking out physically and with having something that had always been a personal strength (language) suddenly become a weakness, so I was starting to build this image of a Phantom character who was struggling not only with a seemingly hopeless love but with kind of a loss of identity.

I was also looking at gender-bent retellings, as that’s something else I’ve always enjoyed, not necessarily for Phantom specifically, but it always interested me to see how gender could change the character dynamics of a familiar story. I’d read some gender-bent fanfic, but female Phantoms were kind of a hard sell. I mean, the Phantom has almost zero self-esteem but he also has the confidence of a mediocre white man? Believing that the universe owes him a wife? I hadn’t really found any fanfics, at least, that managed to create a female Phantom who really made psychological sense as a character. (Many years later, I can recommend The Monsters of Music by Rebecca F. McKinney as a VERY different take on a straight female Phantom that I did enjoy immensely.)

But the male “Christines”? Those I LOVED… a shy, less than confident male protagonist with a heart of gold? *chef’s kiss* So I started thinking, why couldn’t they both be male? And having a female “Raoul” could help that character be the “socially acceptable” option, since nobility isn’t much of a factor in modern-day fics.

The final piece—setting it in Japan in the visual kei scene—clicked into place when I was listening to X Japan’s Blue Blood Album in the car one day. I was listening to “Unfinished” (the song Teru ends up singing to himself in the first scene), and lyrics like “Go away from me now. Just leave, and forget me. No need to be hurt anymore.” just had SUCH Phantom vibes… he loved Christine so he let her go, right??? So… visual kei Phantom. It was perfect. I’d been active in that subculture myself around that time. I hadn’t been in a band, but I’d dated a few guys who were, and had been backstage and in the studio enough times that I knew how things worked from the other side. And it was a modern-day setting where it wouldn’t seem TOO out of nowhere for someone to choose to wear a mask instead of just, facial prosthetics or something? And it’s also a subculture that places a LOT of emphasis on physical appearance, which worked with the whole idea of becoming disfigured as sort of losing a part of his identity.

Everything just came together and felt RIGHT in a way that none of the other ideas I’d had really did… and I guess the rest is history?

[cumikering]

Nick Reyes x reader

1.2k | whump, fluff The Stars Listened: How Infinite Warfare should have ended (bc my heart can’t handle it)

Five. Mere five survived out of the 767 men and women that day.

That's less than 7%, which was about the same chances of recovery of the sort of coma Nick was in. You didn't hear the doctor too well in the empty hospital hall as the world fell silent and your vision blurred.

On May 8th, Nick and his valiant crew assaulted the SDF shipyard in Mars’ orbit. Lt. Nora Salter fired on his position on his command and the breach pulled him out of the control centre. He tried reaching his crew, but shrapnel cracked his helmet and suffocated him. Kloos reached him just before space took him.

You stayed at the hospital where Salter, Kloos, Boats and Brooks did too for observation. You’d only met Salter, and getting to know the other three allowed you a miniscule relief from your cruel mind. You bought them their favourite foods, any comfort item and assisted them how you could.

You could only imagine how much their souls tore to lose hundreds of their brothers and sisters-in-arms. Yet they were beyond kind to you about your bereavement as if they weren’t suffering in their own way too. For that, you couldn’t thank them enough.

But one by one they were discharged, yet Nick laid still, his scruff grew heavier - the sight unfamiliar as he preferred clean shaven. You enjoyed assisting him in achieving the look, like you often did on Sundays after a breakfast of pancakes – his favourite.

For days on end, the TV droned on and on about the victory, about the 767 heroes of the Earth, about Nick Reyes the commander of the UNSA Retribution. Reasonably, it was all the people cared about. There might be peace, but it meant nothing to you without him.

Outside, the sky darkened, dull and starless. The air hung heavy, looming. Time stood its ground, expanding infinitely and May 8th felt far further behind than it was. Your thoughts ate at you, your mind whirring relentlessly as his chances dissolved with each hour. The ticking of the clock echoed like a premonition.

Nick had always been a wonderer. A devotee of the unknown, of space - loved the moons, planets and constellations. He told you to look up to the sky when you missed him, promised he’d always be there somewhere among the glimmering stars even if your eyes didn’t meet. Each time he came home, he brought a photo and pointed at the radiant star he spoke to about you, keeping him company. It made him less lonely in the vacuum.

You turned to your lover. That day even that he was next to you, he’d never been more unreachable. He was more tubes than man regardless how many hours you sat by him, no matter how many cards and flowers and wishes people of Geneva brought him. You couldn’t be prouder of how widely he was loved, yet the weight didn’t budge.

You would have done anything to tell him again how much he meant to you, just one last time.

Nick woke on the fifth day. It was a finger at first, a twitch of an eyebrow, then his toes. Medical personnel crowded him as he took in his surroundings. Your tears of joy poured when you met his weak smile. His eyes twinkled all the same despite the fatigued gaze.

You could finally breathe. Colour crept back, the chains around your chest gave away. He was there. He was back. The stars listened.

Days later, the late afternoon glow poured through the large windows of your home. You led Nick to the couch, fabric warm from the sunlight. He winced as he lifted his hoodie off. You pulled it over his head, his shirt under rode up to reveal the fading evidence of his injuries.

"Stay," he said, tugging you to sit by him. He carefully laid his head on your lap, avoiding his bruises. He sighed. "Finally some alone time with you. I've missed you so much.”

You caressed his face, taking in the fine lines of his face, the way his lips curved, his bright, gentle eyes. “I missed you too, Nick. It’s not home without you.”

"Do you remember our first date? I was on your lap like this too, looking up to the prettiest smile ever. You made me fall so fast.”

You chuckled. “Of course I remember. You’ve always been so smooth.”

“Only for you, my little star.”

Already, life slipped back to the good days. Just the two of you, looking at each other, safe in your own little sphere.

“You know, when I told Salter to fire, I had you in mind. I was ready to die, but I didn’t. I watched the shots, like fireworks in the darkest sky. I thought about my parents, my crew. Gibson, Mac, Omar… My heart was so full, so proud of what we did, thinking of coming home to you.

“When my helmet broke, I wondered what you’d feel when you finally read my farewell letter, when my death is not just a worry. Then my memory played backwards. I remembered your laugh, our last dinner, our anniversary, first trip, first date... My chest burnt, but I wanted to see you again more than I wanted to breathe. You were all I could think about.”

You didn't realise you were crying until a tear fell on his cheek.

“I love you, Nick. I haven’t said it enough.”

“Was it not you I heard when I was out? You said it wasn’t my time yet, said you love me a million times. Some would say that’s plenty, but I’ll never get tired of hearing it.” He smiled, reaching to wipe your tears away. “Thanks for staying with me.”

You leaned into his touch, eyes shut. “It’s nothing you ever need to thank me for.”

“With how much we destroyed, SDF won’t be a threat for at least decades. It’s what I’ve always wanted when I volunteered. But more than that, I want this with you. This is for you, for us.”

“Do you think if we wish hard enough, we’ll have a forever?” you whispered.

“We can try, but I’m already beyond grateful of this sliver of time with you, from now to whenever it is. It might just be a speck in the infinity of the universe, but it’s the entirety of my soul in ours.” He brought your hand to his lips. “I love you, always. No matter where I go.”

A tear fell again. You looked out the window at kids running down the street, wind danced in their hair, giggling like the war in the skies was but a distant nightmare. Maybe there would be a generation that couldn’t imagine it, untouched by the horrors of loss. Maybe even one or two of your own.

“Want to help me shave?”

You turned to him. His eyes were the warmest oceans, gleaming in the sun.

You smiled. “It is Sunday.”

@sofasoap @b1rds3ye

[coltermorning]

Dominating Love Pt. 2 (RDR2 Fanfic, Arthur Morgan x F!Reader, 18+)

Summary: Arthur continues to agitate you to the best of his ability, putting not only you but the whole camp on edge. When you finally snap, the resulting punishment is to the detriment of you both, pushing the two of you to a rage that is unexpected in its clarity.

Author’s Notes: This is part two. Click here for part one, and if you want me to keep writing about these two let me know!

Tags: Arthur Morgan x reader, smut, low honor Arthur Morgan, rough sex, oral sex, name-calling

AO3 Link

~

Dominating Love

Word count: 7931

Part Two

After three long days of self-hatred and regret, Arthur Morgan tucked tail and returned to his gang’s camp at Horseshoe Overlook. He didn’t feel like showing his face, especially not to you. You had every right to be angry with him, but he couldn’t face that—didn’t want to. He wanted to be with you again, to feel your skin on his, but he knew it wouldn’t happen. He had screwed up enough to know that to be fact.

As he rode nearer and nearer to camp, his nerves set in. It was an unfamiliar feeling. He almost never got nervous after years in his line of work, but there they were: bundled nerves so deep in the pit of his stomach that he thought about turning around and riding in the other direction. He didn’t though, gritting his teeth and riding on. The camp needed him, and he wouldn’t abandon the people who relied on him for longer than necessary because of a foolish mistake he made. It was his fault, and he would have to deal with it.

It was a little after noon when Arthur rode into camp. He hitched his horse and scanned the overlook, the tree line, and everywhere else for the sight of you. You were nowhere to be found. The thought of you in trouble somewhere all alone panicked him, but he quickly pushed the feeling away. You were too much of a minx to get yourself into any real trouble. It would likely be the other way around—an unlucky group of bastards having your wrath unleashed on them. Arthur chuckled at the thought as he made to start his usual camp chores.

You didn’t show up for the rest of the day, and as night fell, despite the fact that he knew you were probably fine, Arthur began to worry. He shouldn’t have listened to you, shouldn’t have let you run off alone just because you had guilted him into agreeing to it. There wasn’t much he could do about it now, though. You could be anywhere. Riding off to look for you was useless, and that left him with only one option: to wait on you—something he despised.

~

This was the most well-rested you had been since birth. As the sun rose and you woke beside the warm fire you had built the night before, you realized it would be your fifth day away from camp. More importantly, it would be your fourth day away from Arthur. Alleluia.

You sat up and stretched, looking around for your mare. She stood a good ways away down by the river that fed into the Upper Montana. You smiled at her. She was one of the better horses you had ever come across. The sun glinted off of her blood bay coat, turning her back blazing red. You sighed, wishing you didn’t have to go back. The thought surprised you. You loved the gang and the camp. Both provided you more shelter than you had ever known. You only didn’t want to see everyone because they always picked on you and Arthur after your days away from camp. You mainly didn’t want to face Arthur, the smug bastard. You picked at the grass beside you and shredded a piece, anger boiling over again at the thought of the man. It just wouldn’t do to stay away, though. You loved the gang more than you hated Arthur, and you sure as shit weren’t going to let him keep you from camp because of a childish spat the pair of you had. You sighed again, throwing the grass down. It was decided, then. You were going back today.

After eating and smothering the remaining embers of the fire, you saddled and packed up your mare and swung onto her, ready for the small journey that would take you back to Horseshoe Overlook. It would be a few hours, a last few peaceful hours full of nothing but beauty and a horse and the lack of Arthur Morgan. The thought made you smile.

After a much too short ride, the camp came into view as you plodded along the familiar path. It was still morning, and everyone was busy with their regular chores. It was true that you normally got to shirk some responsibilities with Grimshaw due to your talented marksmanship that had you winning scores with the men, but she would still be angry with you. Especially if Arthur beat you back and it looked like you had taken your sweet time returning to camp. Sure enough, upon arrival, you spotted his horse in the wood line. The sight of it made you frown. Your familiar anger set in like an old friend, and you decided from that point on you weren’t going to say one word to him today. Even if work called for it, you would keep your mouth glued shut with spite.

You hitched your horse and dismounted, feeding her and giving her a loving pat before walking off to find Grimshaw. A familiar voice rang out from your left, and your shoulders scrunched up to your neck from the sound of it. “Bout time you graced us with your presence.” You set your jaw and didn’t grant Arthur a response, looking straight ahead and continuing to walk instead. You didn’t let the smile reach your lips at the thought of how angry he would get over being ignored, but the satisfaction remained just beneath the surface. “Hey, I’m talking to you,” he said, closing the gap between you and spinning you around to face him. You stood your ground, flashing a wicked smile at him before turning back around to continue walking. “Oh, I see. The silent treatment. Real mature.” You gave him a very vulgar gesture without turning, off to find Grimshaw.

Sure enough, the leading woman in camp was not pleased at all by your absence. She had assigned you enough work to last all day, and you had been working for hours catching up on things you knew she only designated out of spite. It was enough work for three people. Your body ached. Hell, even your bones ached by the time she declared your work done for the day. You were about to find your bedroll and fall into it when Karen asked you to join her near the campfire. It was still early, and the fire would feel nice on your tensed muscles, at least for a little while. So, you joined her for a drink.

Of course, after only fifteen minutes, this drew Arthur’s attention like a shark to blood. You felt his presence ambling nearer before you saw him by the way everyone around the fire seemed to look to you in unison. You heaved a big sigh, making your annoyance known. You still vowed not to speak a word to him even though it was currently making camp relations a bit strained. No one wanted to be around the two of you when you were at each other’s throats, much less when you were making him so angry that his only choice was to take it out on everyone else for the day. You didn’t care. You hated him enough to keep it up.

“What’re you looking at?” he spat at them. Javier and Bill mumbled curses under their breath.

“I can’t quite tell,” Uncle responded, chuckling at Arthur.

“Real funny,” Arthur said as he stopped to stand beside you. You tensed so badly that your muscles protested, reminding you that you should be in bed instead of dealing with this. You waited for him to bait you with some nasty quip.

Instead, Karen faced him down. “Why are you giving us so much grief? It ain’t like we have to put up with it.”

Arthur opened his mouth in response, but before he could get a word in, Dutch placed a heavy hand on his shoulder. “I need to speak to you two.” He looked at everyone else around the fire. “Find somewhere else to be.” As they all mumbled and slowly scattered, your brows knitted together. Dutch usually liked to make an example out of everyone, a lesson out of everything, and you hadn’t the slightest clue what he didn’t want to say in front of the others. It rattled you a little. “Sit, Arthur,” he said, motioning to the log you sat on. Arthur sat beside you, and you swore you could feel the wrath rolling off of him in waves at having to obey like that. Dutch circled in front of you, standing over you both a few seconds before speaking. You recognized the danger in his expression, the look making the hair at the back of your neck stand on end. “I heard about what happened with Hosea.”

Now you understood. The pair of you had almost gotten him killed. Dutch was a very protective man, and that wouldn’t easily be forgiven.

You sat in silence, waiting for Dutch to speak first. “Well? What do you have to say for yourselves?”

“Ask her, it was her fault,” Arthur said. Where you usually would have given him a cutting response, you stayed as still and quiet as death.

Dutch gave Arthur a hateful look before locking those smoldering eyes on you. You made it clear you were speaking only to him, not Arthur, turning slightly. “We didn’t see the gun the farmer had until it was too late.”

Dutch closed his eyes and took a long breath like he was attempting to calm himself down with it. “That is precisely why you were there. To make sure something like that wouldn’t happen.”

Guilt riddled your gut and found a home there at his words. He was right. Arthur had been distracting you at the time, but Dutch was right. You should have been watching. “I know and I’m…it won’t happen again.”

“I am very close to saying there will be no ‘again.’” Dutch’s words surprised you, and the emotion found your face as you looked up at him open-mouthed. “And you,” Dutch said, turning his hard gaze on Arthur. “Don’t try and act innocent. I know she’s smart, and I know it wouldn’t have happened if anyone else had been with her.”

You had lost your voice, amazed that you had let your anger with Arthur cloud the fact that you had almost gotten Hosea killed. But Arthur hadn’t yet lost his will to argue. “Dutch, that ain’t fair-”

“It’s perfectly fair,” Dutch interrupted. He leaned forward toward the two of you, crouching down to your level. “Now, I don’t know what’s going on between you two, and believe me, I’m far from caring, but if you don’t find your heads and use them, you aren’t leaving this camp until you learn to put the safety of everyone else here before your own emotions. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Dutch,” you answered quickly.

You felt the hesitation from Arthur and knew what it meant—he would submit to Dutch’s wishes, but his reluctance proved how unwilling he truly was to do what he asked. “Sure,” he finally answered with his low drawl, like it killed him to say it.

“Good. Now stand up. Both of you.” Dutch stood back up, and you and Arthur reluctantly rose to your feet. “Shake hands.” Dutch crossed his arms, waiting, as you both turned to him with expressions of utter defiance. He held his hand up to silence you. “I don’t want to hear it. Shake hands so I know you’ll stop acting like children.”

You threw your hand out, and Arthur looked down at it a moment before reaching out his own with obvious discontent, shaking your hand in a too-tight grip. You let go quickly, turning and stomping off toward your bedroll before you were forced to be in his presence a second longer.

As morning came, your body ached from the work the day before had brought. You also pondered Dutch’s words with worry. You couldn’t afford to be screwing up jobs. It would only land you with Grimshaw permanently or worse: kicked out of the gang. That couldn’t happen. You wouldn’t let that happen. As much as you hated giving Arthur any sort of friendliness when he had caused all of this, it was your only option. You would have to at least try. You owed it to yourself.

When he attempted to get you to talk to him again, you answered him. It wasn’t the friendliest of responses, but it was at least something that would keep his anger at bay. He had said something about you finally deciding to help out this morning to which you responded with, “Mhm. Doing my part.” You didn’t think he caught the double-meaning, too upset with failing to rile you.

When he picked on you the second time, you again shot him down. “You know, you do work around camp well enough. I don’t blame Dutch for not wanting you out on jobs,” he said after Susan praised the hard work you were doing.

Before he could speak another word and dig himself into a deeper grave, you said “I don’t either, not after a messy score like that.” That one really stumped him, and as he grumbled and stalked off, you grinned.

The third time was different. He finally hit a nerve, and you couldn’t stop your anger from spilling out. You had finished your work for the day and stood near the cliff edge, pondering if this was how things would be from now on. Arthur sauntered over to you. You saw him out of the corner of your eye and braced yourself for whatever was making him so sure of himself. “So,” he said, coming to stand on the far side of you and resting his hands on his gun belt, looking out across the river. You didn’t immediately answer, so he continued. “I’ve been thinking.”

You thought about saying something along the lines of that being surprising, but you kept your thoughts to yourself. “Mhm.”

He moved in close, his bicep touching your shoulder, his head leaning down toward yours but remaining looking out as he whispered. “I think there’s something going on between you and Dutch.”

“Excuse me?” you asked, stepping away to look him in the eye. You were somewhat offended by the statement but mainly confused by it.

“That has to be it,” he said with a gleam in his eye. As he leaned in toward you, you knew whatever was about to come out of his mouth was going to be idiotic, but you certainly didn’t expect his next words: “How else would he get a little bitch like you to mind him so well?” Your face dropped. No feeling, no anger escaped it, but white-hot rage pooled in your stomach all the same. “I’ll have to ask him for some pointers-”

Before he could utter another word, you were on him like a hellcat, using his close proximity to your advantage as you punched, slapped, clawed, and kicked. He was on the ground in seconds, cowering. All he protected was his face and upper body, so you used that to your advantage and kicked him in the balls. Hard. He recoiled, his hands shooting downward to his crotch as he cried out in pain. You used the opportunity to reach down, yanking his head up by his hair to make him look you in the eyes. “You say shit like that again and I’ll gut you,” you growled. You shoved his head back down before looking up to see what a grand mistake you had made. A few of the gang members had run over to see what the commotion was, and Dutch hovered just beyond them, his smoldering gaze set on you.

After what felt like hours trapped within a moment, he pushed through the crowd and stalked toward you. Just as you began to find your words to apologize, he pushed past you and moved to Arthur’s side. He crouched down, asking him if he was all right. You felt ashamed, stupid for thinking you could handle your temper around Arthur, for thinking you meant nearly as much to this gang as Arthur did. You heard Dutch’s voice grow louder. “Good, then get up.”

He yanked Arthur to his feet and Arthur winced, walking curled in on himself with every step. Dutch yanked his arm along like a child in trouble, and when they made to pass you, Dutch sidestepped and grabbed you too. The sudden feeling of being manhandled along with your anger that hadn’t yet simmered down had you fighting him, yanking away with every step. “Let go of me!” you yelled, but his grip was iron. It was no use.

The whole gang watched as Dutch dragged the pair of you all the way across camp to the hitching posts. Once there, he let go and shoved you both, sending you shuffling a few steps past him. “I tried telling you, both of you. Now go on and leave,” Dutch said loud enough for everyone to hear as his voice cracked on the last word.

“Dutch?” Arthur pleaded, the hurt in his voice not a result of the pain in his body but rather for the threat of being told to leave for good.

Dutch held up his hand to silence him. “You may join us when you’ve sorted this out. Until then, even if it takes weeks, even if it takes months, I don’t want to see your faces in this camp again. Do I make myself clear?”

You just stared, open-mouthed. The coldness had reached your eyes, but you didn’t care to hide it, even if it was Dutch on the receiving end. This was your home, and Arthur had just taken it away from you. Dutch hadn’t given you a choice either, had grouped you in with the bastard. Tears began to form at the corners of your eyes, and before you let them show, you turned and stormed to your bedroll to pack your things and leave.

You made quick work of it and were on your mount headed out of camp when you heard Arthur behind you. “Hey, wait up a minute,” he yelled out, sounding out of breath, whether from trying to catch up to you or from shock you couldn’t tell.

You seethed, anger pouring out of every place it could find daylight. “Don’t you dare say a word to me,” you threatened once he had ridden to your side.

“Y/N-”

“Arthur, I swear to god,” you interrupted. You locked eyes with him, hate rushing out of you and toward him with so much force it was nearly a physical thing. That shut him up. Finally, you thought.

You didn’t know where you were going, just that it was habit that took you down the path toward Valentine. Arthur rode beside you in silence. You wanted him to be on the opposite side of the world but knew that his silence was better, a precious thing that you didn’t want him to waste on someone else. By the time you hitched in front of the saloon in town, your anger had subsided again, leaving a hollowness in its wake that made you feel dead inside. Alcohol would help. It would burn up the pain that was trying to eat you alive.

You stepped inside and up to the bar, not caring whether Arthur was there or not, blocking everything out in an attempt not to think about Dutch’s words. Weeks and months kept flashing across your mind. That was too damn long. “Whiskey,” you told the bartender, sliding your money across the bar.

You heard another coin scrape across the bar top beside you, but you ignored its owner. “Same here,” followed his gruff voice. You leaned over the bar, searching your hands like they would give you some sort of answer. They wouldn’t, and you knew the alcohol wouldn’t either, but you couldn’t help it. You couldn’t remember feeling this broken since the gang had found you and taken you in.

After too much whiskey and very little memory of the remaining day’s occurrences, you had fallen asleep in the hotel. You awoke the next morning with a pounding head and moaned in pain and regret before immediately tensing from the warmth of a body next to yours. You looked over to find Arthur, but he was clothed. You were clothed.

His eyes opened slowly from the sound you had made. He assessed the situation and ran a hand down his face, moaning with the same pain. “Shit. What the hell happened?”

“You tell me,” you said. Arthur had a tendency to get rowdy and violent when drunk, so you surmised that he remembered more than he was letting on, sentient enough the day before to get you both to the hotel in one piece.

He looked over at you and yawned, still waking up. “I remember…you wanting to come here. So I took you.”

You sat in silence a moment before laying back down. The room still spun slightly. Arthur shifted to rest on his side and looked at you, waiting. “Didn’t think to get two beds?” you hissed.

“They were all out.” So he did remember.

“Hmm,” you said. You weren’t really up for arguing with him but couldn’t resist saying it. “So, what was going through your filthy little mind last night when you crawled into this bed with me?”

“Nothing,” he responded, surprising you. “I wasn’t thinking at all.” You turned your head and met his gaze, those pretty eyes of his dangerously close, honest and searching yours.

You didn’t let your filter catch the question before it left your mouth. “Why haven’t you given up on me?”

“What?” he said on an exhale.

“Why haven’t you left me somewhere to fend for myself already? It’s not like I don’t deserve it.”

He pondered this a while, blue eyes shielded in thought. Then, “Why haven’t you dropped me?”

“Trust me, I’ve tried,” you quipped, turning your head to look at the ceiling. That earned you a low chuckle from him.

“Yeah, you ain’t kidding.” The pair of you sat in silence a few moments before he spoke. “Listen, I’m…sorry. For what I did up in the mountains. For acting a fool in camp.”

You didn’t move a muscle to look at him or speak. Deep down you appreciated it, but it made even more guilt build up inside your gut, knowing he had just been doing what he always did that day, and you had snapped at him over something minuscule, causing all of this. This was your fault. The pair of your were banned from camp because of your temper, not his. Given, he wasn’t completely innocent, but he wasn’t the cause either. You were. This was all you. And suddenly, your anger was hard to hold down any longer. It was all you knew. The one thing causing all your grief was the one tether you could hold onto, the one thing keeping you from drowning. So you let it out. “You should be. Sorry sack of shit.”

You knew your words cut him deep when he didn’t immediately answer. He was trying, really trying, to throw you a lifeline. Reaching out his hand. And you had chopped it clean through the bone. It riled him. “For god’s sake,” he breathed out.

“What,” you spat, a statement more than a question.

He turned, sitting up to look at you. “You’re really that wrong in the head, are you? Thinking you’re all alone, that you don’t deserve anything good.”

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” you spat, throwing the sheets off of you and getting up.

“I see it, Dutch and Hosea see it. Hell, everyone in that goddamn camp sees it. You’re broken. And you think pushing us all away and hating the world is gonna fix that? Trust me, it ain’t.”

His words were lined with honesty, like he had gone through the same thing. You turned on him. “Don’t act like you know me. Like you know what this feels like.” He had risen to sit on the edge of the bed and just stayed there, shaking his head. “You’re wrong, wrong about me. I don’t hate it all, I love it all, everyone, too much. And it just gets me hurt, crushes me over and over again. I’m clinging to that camp like a lifeline, knowing full well I just ruined what little bit of good I had there.”

He met your gaze. “You didn’t ruin it.”

“Yeah, I did. It’s what I do. You think they won’t remember me almost getting Hosea killed, me beating you to the ground, their golden boy?”

His eyes hardened. “I ain’t their golden boy. Far from it.” You rolled your eyes, and he went on. “I’ve pulled the same shit you have my whole life with them. They ain’t gonna abandon you. I won’t…abandon you.”

Realization dawned on you. This was about him. He was making it about him. He had been hurt the same way his whole life, and now that he saw it happening to someone else, he was protecting you for his own sake. “Leave me the hell alone,” you spat, getting up and grabbing your boots, stomping toward the door.

He was up in a heartbeat, slamming the door shut as you opened it. “Why can’t you see,” he said, grabbing your arms and spinning you, forcing your back into the door as you dropped your boots. “Why can’t I make you see,” he spoke through gritted teeth. You felt the anger coming off of him and matched it.

“Get off of me you piece of shit,” you muttered, trying to fight him off. To no avail. “This makes you feel big, doesn’t it? Trapping me? Saving me?” You spat the word in his face, and his gaze turned feral.

“This ain’t about me you little-”

“Oh, it sure as hell is. Tell me, does your dick get hard at night thinking of coming to my rescue?”

“Shut the hell up,” he growled.

“No, you know it’s true. You know I’m just a means to an end. I’m you, Arthur-”

He slammed you against the door. “No you ain’t!”

You winced but pushed on. “I am. I’m you, and I’m seeing it now, why you always want to fuck me so bad. It’s the closest thing to saving me, saving yourself. Isn’t that right?”

He pushed hard, and you began to lose your breath at the weight. “You’re wrong,” he growled.

“Am I?”

“You’re wrong,” he repeated.

“Tell me then. Enlighten me,” you said, almost at a whisper from how much force he was using to push you against the door. You worried your bones would crack.

“Fuck you,” he spat.

“Tell me, you bastard,” you said through gritted teeth.

The anger was swallowing him whole. You were glad it wasn’t you for once. “No.”

“Tell me.”

“No,” he repeated, his lips pulled back over his teeth in a snarl.

“Tell me!” you screamed, and he let go with one hand, slamming it into the door beside your face.

“Because I fucking love you!”

It suddenly made sense. All of it. His refusing to let up on you for one damn second. You could see it all as clear as day. But that didn’t keep you from being floored by his words, from letting the weight of them hit you harder than any anger, than any pain.

The pair of you stood there, breathless, staring. “Prove it,” you whispered before you could stop yourself. His lips crashed into yours. The force of his strength against you let up, instead pushing into your mouth. He kissed you so hard you thought your head would break through the door. His tongue pushed past your teeth, running along the top of your mouth, your teeth, your tongue. It earned him a groan from you filled with frustration and lust that only spurred him on. He pushed harder and harder, devouring you, until he took your arms in his hands again and spun you, shoving himself against the door with you in front of him. You hesitated for less than a heartbeat before understanding—he wanted you in control. The thought ate you alive. You wanted him then and there.

You pushed forward and kissed him, the pair of you tearing at each other like animals. You pulled his suspenders off his shoulders, unbuttoned his shirt and his union suit, ripping them down to reveal that broad chest. He heaved in breaths, each one a holy sight for your devouring. You couldn’t resist and reached for his throat, shoving his head back into the door to hold him there as you ducked your head and latched your mouth onto one of his nipples. He growled at the contact, no doubt humiliated by it, but he let you continue. He let you. The thought fueled the fire that began to burn within you.

You flicked your tongue over the small nub enough to make him squirm before releasing him. You shoved him once against the door, backing off of him slightly. “Don’t move,” you said. He just looked at you with hardened eyes, trying very hard to listen. You could see it was killing him. You rushed forward again and untucked his shirt, yanking it up and throwing it behind you. You unbuttoned his pants and the remaining buttons on his union suit, sliding your hands around to cup his ass and slowly bringing his clothes down with them. You ran your hands around his hips and to his front, flicking your eyes up at him as you did. The gaze that looked down at you was damning. Your core tightened in response, flexing for those eyes. You looked back down so as to keep your patience, and just before you touched his length, you stopped. He let out a harsh breath of frustration. He was rock hard, and the sight made the corners of your mouth tug upward. You silently wondered if his arousal was from your touching him like this or from your obvious acceptance of his confession. You settled on both as you took his length in your hand.

He winced, his hips bucking forward slightly. “Easy,” you purred, grinning at his eagerness. You kept one hand on him and used the other to pull his pants and union suit all the way down. He stepped out of them, and you threw them both behind you as well, leaving him bare.

“What about you,” he breathed, motioning to your clothes with his eyes.

“Patience,” was all you uttered before using both of your hands on him. His body tightened, like a coil being forced downward only to inevitably spring back. His hands clenched and unclenched, wanting so badly to touch you, to make you his. But this time, he was yours. You put your mouth just below his belly button, sucking the skin and hardened muscle there while you hands worked his shaft just below. The noises that started to come out of him were sinful.

You teased him, flicking your tongue close enough to his length for him to imagine what you could do with your mouth on him, but just out of reach. You sucked his skin as you ran the pad of your thumb around his tip, spreading his precome along it. Your other hand barely brushed the underside of his cock, causing no friction but no release either. Just a tease. He began to squirm. You moved your hand to his balls and cupped them, making him groan. The sound sent more heat between your legs. You didn’t squeeze in the slightest, your small way of apologizing for being so rough with him last time, not to mention kicking him there yesterday. You ran your thumb from his tip slowly downward, all the way to his base. You heard a thump and released your mouth from his abdomen to look up. He had tilted his head back against the door with his eyes closed tight. You chuckled, unable to resist. His movement left you with no choice but to surprise him. Still cupping his balls and moving your hand back and forth very softly, you grasped his base and took him into your mouth.

“Christ,” he hissed, squirming in your grasp. You began to move, slow and erotic, using your tongue like you knew how. Only, when you considered it, you hadn’t gotten to do this to him before. He had fucked your mouth before, but this was very different. His arousal pooling in your hands, his body reacting to every flick of your tongue on his shaft so delightfully. It was a pleasure to watch, to do it to him. And you would get your due. That you were sure of.

You kept your movements light, your touch unfocused enough to keep him at bay and drive him mad all the same. After a few minutes, you took him out of your mouth with a loud pop and rose to your feet, meeting his eyes. He huffed out breaths like each one was precious. You could tell he was frustrated. Unfortunately for him, it was only going to get worse. You smirked at him before walking to the bed and sitting, leaving him staring after you. “Come undress me,” you taunted.

His gaze was blown wide with lust, his thoughts and judgement no doubt clouded as he moved to you quickly, starting with your shirt. He undid each button but didn’t peel the shirt away before he moved to your pants. You stood up. “Kneel.” He stopped and looked at you with surprise, like he was too distracted to understand your words. When they clicked, he grimaced but folded his lumbering form to the ground, kneeling before you to resume unbuttoning your pants. “Ah ah,” you tisked. He closed his eyes in frustration but moved his hands away, looking to you for what to do next. You made him watch as you took your shirt off, peeling each sleeve off your skin slowly. You weren’t wearing your usual short chemise and were instead bare. He swallowed, taking in the sight of your breasts just above him. “Now,” you said, motioning for him to resume. He did but lingered on the sight of your upper body, blue eyes brushing over the raised skin. He finished unbuttoning your pants and saw that you wore nothing under them as well. You thought you heard a small groan escape him. “Go ahead,” you told him. He pulled your pants down slowly, running his warm fingers down your sides, your skin lighting on fire with his touch. You wanted him so badly, his submission, his beautiful body, him. You were running out of patience.

You held your resolve nonetheless as you stepped out of your pants. He moved them for you and sat back, his eyes slowly moving upward until they stopped right between your thighs. “All yours,” you said through a wicked smile. “Come return the favor.” You sat on the bed, laying back, and he huffed in frustration. This teasing was getting to him.

He rose to his knees and ran those sinful hands along your legs anyway, moving up and up, tracing lazy circles as he did so. He pulled you slowly toward the edge of the bed, toward his face. You thought you would explode with wanting. When his thick fingers finally touched your folds, you let out a gasp. A sound rumbled through him in response. He began running one finger along you, nearing your entrance but continuing, making you squirm like you had done to him. Without warning, he slipped a finger inside of you, and you bit down to keep from moaning. “Want to hear you,” he said, the arousal in his voice making you clench around him.

It was a command but a reasonable one, so you allowed it. He began pumping in and out of you slowly. You thanked the heavens for giving him such broad fingers as he worked you over, inserting a second. Your body reacted to it, your muscles tightening with desire. He still moved slowly, building you up, but you knew you wouldn’t come like this. You were growing impatient. “Arthur-” you chided before he interrupted you by placing the pad of his thumb on your clit. You gasped. He hummed his pleased response. Then he began to move.

His thumb flicked circles, making you move into his touch. His two fingers from his other hand picked up their pace, and he curled them. It was pure bliss on your body that melted into every touch, every caress. He went faster and faster, his thumb erratic on that bundle of nerves. You climbed and climbed, wanting to clench around him and come for him, for how well he was doing.

You felt the sudden absence of his thumb and almost squealed in protest until his mouth replaced it, his tongue finding that rhythm instead, the heat of his mouth surrounding you. “Arthur,” you moaned, unable to stop yourself. For the first time, you didn’t care. He was yours and he knew it, and it didn’t matter that you were moaning his name. That erotic movement against your clit warranted it.

He hummed his approval, and the vibration sent a shock through your body. You were going to come. As if he knew it, he switched, moving his tongue down to your core and his hand to your clit. He began to devour you, rubbing such erratic patterns with his thumb that you huffed out each breath. His tongue lapped at your heat, pressing into you with a familiar warmth that you craved more of. He split you wide open, building and building and building you up until you were bound to crash. The constant pleasure from his thumb became faster, became urgent. Demanding. Your body finally submitted to it, and you came hard at the thought of the taste of your release in his mouth. You yelled your pleasure and didn’t care if the whole world heard it.

He was slow at stopping, taking his time to clean you up with his mouth. The feeling of it drove you mad as you came down. His tongue finally slipped out of you, and you looked down at him as he wiped his face and crawled up, bracing his arms around your head and smiling down with a shit-eating grin. “You wipe that grin right off your face before I do it for you,” you said with a matching one.

He had never done that to you before, had never had the patience or restraint to, but god had someone taught him well. You silently thanked whoever that was as he said “So good for me.” You flipped him off, still with a smile, and looked down at his length, thinking about how you wanted to take him. His cock was leaking, no doubt aching at this point. You loved him behind you, but you had gotten enough of that to last you a lifetime. This was different. This was special, even if you hated to admit it. His muscled form remained over you, waiting on your command. You relished the sight. You met his eyes and found fire there, surprising you. You were pure bliss, pure contentment. The desire within him rattled you. You moved, asking him to lay on the bed. He obliged, pressing his back down against the sheets and looking up at you as you moved over him. You had no idea where this sudden restraint was coming from, but you were more than grateful. He was more than proving his earlier statement.

You wrapped your hand around his length and lined yourself up with him. He hissed at your touch, at the anticipation, before you slid onto him, sitting down so that you were flush with his body, split to his hilt. He let out a loud sound, one that made you blush, but he continued to hold your gaze with that sinful mouth open in pleasure. Then you moved.

Whether it was from your previous climax or from his thickness inside you, you couldn’t be sure, but you clenched and sputtered around him mere seconds into moving on him, holding another orgasm back so as to build it up. He let out a weak groan as a result that made you speak up. “You come when I tell you.” A statement, not a request. He gritted his teeth as you ground down on him, his head tilting back and hitting the bed.

You were fairly unfamiliar with this as well, only doing it once before with him when getting the upper hand late one night. You remembered how he had begun to fight back before realizing how good it felt, fucking up into you while holding you down with a bruising grip. In the end, though, he had grown impatient and flipped you over and around, fucking you from behind until you were drooling into the blankets and screaming each other’s pleasure.

This time was becoming not much different as your pace picked up and his hands found your hips. You began to pant and he did too, his cock splitting you wide with pleasure over and over again. His fingers dug deep—you were sure of the marks that would form there. Marks that would make you smile and would make you wet with the thought of their origin. He lost some of his resolve, his restraint, as he began to match your rhythm and fuck up into your heat. He slammed your hips down on him with every thrust, and you snapped them forward to make him hit you deep each time. You were both grunting messes within seconds, and through the sweat and haze of pleasure, he found his words. “I think I like you riding me, little whore.”

He couldn’t resist the words, and you couldn’t resist the smile that reached you face when you said “Don’t come. My turn.” The most evil form of punishment. You slammed down on him one last time, spasming around his hard length as you came, yelling again. You stopped suddenly, utterly, leaving him sheathed inside you, and he lost it, growling in anger. “Don’t worry. I haven’t forgotten,” you said, a little bitterness in the last word for the last time the pair of you were together.

You sat a moment longer before turning on him, sitting back down on his cock with your back facing him. You peeked over your shoulder to find him exasperatedly staring at your ass, open-mouthed, hands frozen in the air like he didn’t know where to place his focus. You didn’t blame him, though. The angle really felt that good. Then you moved. After two orgasms, you were becoming a little overly sensitive. It was pleasure mixed with pain as his shaft pushed into you again and again, the angle touching that spot deep within you Arthur had discovered the last time you were together. It had you moaning, humming around him. “You don’t stop that and I’m gonna come,” he mumbled, his hands again finding your hips as he snapped his own into you. You smiled and bit the inside of your cheek, trying to stop the pleasure from escaping your mouth. Instead, you reached for his balls. The second you touched them, you could feel his body writhe beneath you, and he rose behind you, wrapping a strong arm around you to keep you pinned down on his cock. He went impossibly deeper with the new angle, and you couldn’t stop yourself. “Arthur,” you sighed, uncaring that he had earned a kernel of control back, unconcerned about anything but the painful pleasure that rolled through you every time he fucked into you from below. His pace became erratic. You knew he wouldn’t last long.

He suddenly moved his fingers back to your clit with the arm he had wrapped around you, and you felt fire, actual fire, burning you from within. It was too much. “Wanna f-feel you,” he managed, grinding into you so harshly and running his finger around so ruthlessly that tears pricked your eyes from overuse.

Your body yielded to his request, and you came again, screaming his name this time. You didn’t think you would ever come down as he let out a pained whimper, wanting to come but remembering he had to have your permission. You relented quickly. “Come, Arthur.” He obeyed. His come painted your walls as he yelled out his pleasure.

After pure stillness for a few moments, he leaned back and hit the bed, and you followed, slipping off of him in the process.

“Fucking hellfire,” he murmured.

“You got that right,” you said as you both heaved in breath after breath. You looked over to him, his face inches from yours. His eyes were closed. “You love me,” you stated. His eyes opened and found yours.

He also found the grin waiting beneath them. “Shut up,” he said in his familiar drawl, pushing you off of him and moving to rest beside you.

You chuckled at him, high on something you were entirely unfamiliar with—contentment. “Hard not to,” you said, the grin pushing through into your words.

“Oh, god,” he sighed. “I’ve made a monster.”

You laughed out loud. The morning pushed in through the windows around you, the sounds of Valentine reaching your ears. Despite your sleep-filled night, you were tired. Your head still throbbed, whether from being hungover or being fucked relentlessly, you weren’t sure. You didn’t care. You turned on your side and curled into Arthur, leaving the sheets beneath you. The sheen of sweat on your body made it too hot for them anyway. Within minutes, you were asleep. 

That was what your day consisted of—sex and sleep. Arthur fell asleep beside you, but you were pleasantly awoken by his fingers exploring the space between your legs a few hours later. You couldn’t resist him—he was intoxicating before but downright overwhelming now that he was letting you have your way with him. For the second time that day, you had sex with him, but you let him fuck you from behind for good measure. He deserved it. You once again dozed after, but when you woke, the third time was different. The third time was caring. The third time consisted of him on top of you, tenderly pushing into you, holding your gaze. The third time, he made love to you. And it was all that you had been needing, all of the reassurance in the world that what he had spoken earlier was true—that he wouldn’t abandon you. And it wasn’t for his own conscience, but for you, for a love that he gave to you willingly, not expecting anything in return. But return it you did that very evening as the pair of you ate together in the saloon. As he looked to his plate oblivious to the world around him, you saw him for who he was and loved him for it, for not giving up on you. 

“Arthur,” you said, making him look up at you with those breathtaking eyes. “I love you too.” And he smiled. 

[justsomerandomfanfic]

do you have any advice on doing matchups for people? i wanna open them up for my followers, but i’m nervous for my first time! 😫😫 yours always seem so perfect for the people you do them for!!

I would love to help, so hopefully my advice does help! <3 I totally understand the nerves, but it's amazing that you want to do matchups for your followers. Here are a few tips that might help you get started: (There is more information under the cut!)

I would start with making a request rules sheet (if you have not already), in which, you can write what you do or do not allow/what people should add to their matchup request that can be helpful in the matchup process; ie. physical features, personal likes/dislikes, hobbies, etc.

Out of all the information people give me, I take characteristics and hobbies into account. If someone asks for a matchup for Star Wars for example, and they like to read and/or kind of have a bubbly personality, I would probably match them with Luke Skywalker; usually when I am reading their request, whatever character from their chosen show/movie pops in my head first, is usually who I choose for them. If that makes sense. (For some reason, some characters just click!) :)

I usually follow my gut, or what feels right for that person. Sometimes it is difficult to match someone with a character, especially if it's a large fandom they have chosen. That's why I narrow the information that I want to just physical traits, personality, and hobbies. Sometimes, it can be stressful if there is too much information given, it can get to a point where you don't know what to use; in my opinion.

Really, it all depends on what the person sends you. As said above, I use the things that stand out to me the most, whether that be their favorite color or where they like to go on the weekend, I usually just write something cute featuring those things, to make it more personable.

Lastly, I write it out in bullet points, each around a sentence or two. For me, I start the first one or two points with how they meet, before doing the next three points featuring their likes or hobbies. And I usually write in either the requestor's pov, or both the requestor's and the match/love interest. I also ask myself questions, and answer them in my matchups. (You can organize yours in any way that you find easy, comfortable, and fun for you.)

For example, I have this down below;

First Point: How did they meet? Where are they when they meet? If this place plays music, what are they listening to? When at what point in the fandom do they meet? Post or pre events? Was it love at first sight? Was there some tension? Enemies to lovers? Or had they been friends since childhood?

Second Point: What are they both doing? Are they interacting? Is there anyone else around them? Friends? What's the situation? What are their thoughts on one another? What made them want to start dating?

Third Point: Are they on a date? if so, where? Is it somewhere the requestor likes or the love interest? Is their favorite food there? A favorite drink? Or are they participating in the requestor's favorite hobby? Or are they spending time together indoors? If so, what are they watching that the requestor likes?

Fourth Point: What are their feelings? Has there been a timeskip further into their relationship? Where are they now? What hobby or cute thing are they doing?

Fifth Point: Conclusion. Are they happily in love? What are they doing that the requestor loves to do? Final information and cuteness can be added.

(I think matchups are just mini drabbles, so I write mine like a fanfic that's been split into five pieces, but everyone's matchups are different!)

(P.S. It helps me to separately write their request down in a notebook, and highlight their likes, dislikes, hobbies, and so on; so I don't have to scroll or go to a separate tab to find their request and read it again.) :)

I hope that helps? I feel like I am rambling! But, that is basically what I do. What I truly know is this really takes practice. But, you can totally message me, (if you feel comfortable in doing so), if you need any additional help with anything. I would be more than happy to help you along in the process!

Good Luck!

-Chloe

[luvutothemoon]

“That room is booked for someone else, sir,” The hotel desk clerk informed him.

“It’s not. My secretary told me room 512.”

“I’m sorry, sir.”

Harry sighs, annoyed. Did Sarah get it wrong, or had he only been half listening? Maybe he couldn’t read his handwriting. “Is there another room?”

“No, sir. The hotel is full. You’ll have to find another one.”

Before he can answer, a loud female voice a few feet away from him is appalled.

“What the hell do you mean the room is already booked?”

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” another hotel clerk says to her.

“Didn’t you know it was booked when you booked me?”

She shrugs helplessly.

“Who’s it booked to?”

“I think that would be me,” Harry speaks up. The woman looks at him, annoyed, a hand on her hip. He extends his hand, “Harry Goldblum.”

She takes it and shakes, “Dr. Bridget Foster-Riley.”

“Have you payed already?”

“Yeah, I just did.”

His room- or rather their room- has been payed for, too, already by the company. “You take the room. I’ll find somewhere else.”

“It’s late,” she states simply.

“People book hotels late.”

She picks up her suitcase, and starts walking away. “Come on. Get the key.”

The hotel clerk hands him the key, and Harry has to run a bit to get caught up. “What exactly are you doing?”

“This is a hotel, right? The room has to have more than one bed.” She stops at the elevator and presses the up button. “By the way, if we’re going to be sharing a room, you might as well call me what everyone else calls me.”

“And what’s that?”

“Brie.” The elevator dings and they get on. “What are you here for?”

“Business trip. You?”

“A little getaway. I’m just here for the night.”

“Are you expecting someone else?”

“No, it’s just me.”

They’re quiet the rest of the way to the fifth floor. Just as quietly, they make their way to their room. They walk in, Harry gets the lights, and— there is only one bed.

Brie grunts her disproval, “figures.”

“You take the bed,” Harry says, moving towards the chair by the window. “I’ll take the chair.” He plops his suitcase down.

“Do you want the shower first?”

“You take it.”

She shakes her head, “I showered before I left. I drove.”

“I flew.”

“I can tell. Your suit’s wrinkled.”

“Maybe I’m a guy with wrinkled suits,” he suggests, taking his shaving kit from his suitcase.

“No, you’re not,” Brie says with finality. She opens her suitcase, picking out the things she needs right now. “Are you hungry? I can order room service.”

“I’m good. But go ahead and get something.” He moves past her and into the bathroom with his things.

As soon as the door closes, she sits on the bed. “Great,” she mumbles to herself. “Stuck with a very attractive man… I bet he’s married.”

*********

About two hours later, they’re in bed— Brie in the big, comfortable bed, and Harry in the little chair. Brie is about to fall asleep when there’s a crash and cursing from her roommate. She groans, “get over here.”

“What?”

She sits up and turns the light on. The thing that fell over had been Harry’s suitcase. “Get over here. Neither one of us is going to get a wink of sleep if this carries on.”

He’s hesitant.

“Oh come on, Harry! We’re both mature adults. It’s not like I’m gonna f*** you the second you get in this bed. Although, that isn’t an entirely unpleasant thought. You’re very attractive.”

“Thank you?” And he’s not sure if he’s thanking her for the compliment or the bed.

Brie scoots over a little to give Harry more room. She waits until he’s settled to turn the lights off. Settling back down, she asks, “so I bet this is the weirdest business trip you’ve been on, huh?”

“It ranks up there.”

She can smell him. He smells like shampoo-- and not the hotel kind— aftershave, and something else she can’t pinpoint. She turns away from him, “good night, Harry.”

“Good night, Brie.”

*********

When Brie wakes up that morning, there’s an arm around her. It’s not hugging her, or touching her inappropriately; it’s just there. It’s simply draped across her midsection. She puts her hand on this person’s hand; she can tell it’s a man’s hand. His fingers twitch beneath her touch, and for a very brief second, she thinks if she closes her fingers around the hand, it would turn and do the same to her.

But before she can follow through on that thought, the hand moves and whoever is behind her shifts. She turns towards them, and she’s met with soft features and brown hair.

And now she remembers. So she sits and watches him. And surely this isn’t creepy, right? They’re sharing a bed- she’s entitled to watch. At least, that’s what she reasons with herself.

Harry stirs a little bit before he stretches, yawns, and sits up. He rubs his eye, then runs a hand through his hair.

“You hog the blankets,” Brie tells him, surprising him a little. She’s combing her fingers through her bed head while looking at him.

“You do somersaults while you sleep! I bet my legs look like a bruised kumquat.”

She blinks, “a kumquat?”

“It was the first thing that popped into my head,” Harry shrugs.

“What the hell does a kumquat look like?”

“Aside from my legs? It’s like a mini orange.”

“Oh.” She nods, trying to picture it. “Do you want breakfast?”

“Yeah, that’d be good. I’ll order, you can have the bathroom first.”

“I want pancakes and bacon and strong coffee.” She gets out of bed and plucks a small bag from her suitcase. “If there’s an option for fruit, order me raspberries.”

“You got it,” he says, reaching for the telephone. It’s definitely been an interesting time, but it hasn’t been a bad time. Under the right circumstances, he thinks he might enjoy Brie’s company. She seems like fun.

*********

When Harry’s finally home, and he’s unpacking his suitcase, he finds a piece of paper in his shaving kit. Curious, he picks it up and looks at it. The message makes him smile and chuckle.

Harry,

Considering we’ve skipped a ton of steps and went straight to bed, I think it’s high time we actually get to know each other. So how about dinner sometime soon? My treat.

My number is 555-7384. I look forward to seeing you.

The woman who slept next to you in 512,

Brie

PS, you aren’t going to hog the covers next time. I won’t let you.

[dxfiedfxte]

Thread move/continue for the new editor from here || @belovedblossoms (Chiaki )

       After some long thought about making this decision to ask, Chiaki had finally decided to ask about Minato to take her somewhere haunted. Originally, she had thought about one of those scary haunted houses or mazes people have every year for fun. But she found herself reaching a little further...to go somewhere that’s actually haunted and full of the paranormal. Considering he was already very experienced with it all, she trusted him to find the perfect place and he did so quick to her surprise. A schoolhouse in Hokkaido...pretty far but Chiaki didn’t quite mind the trip if it meant she can spend the time with her boyfriend and learn something new about this place and truly see his Ultimate Talent at work too. And through most of the ride they entertained themselves with games or she simply took her naps against his shoulder until they arrived by nightfall. 

     As he was prepared with his equipment and she had some essentials including for safety reasons, they were good to go for the night. By the time they went past old buildings and all, she couldn’t help but immediately have that feeling of dread. She had to admit to herself, she was scared. But she was with Minato and she trusts him; it’s only a matter of her getting through this with enough courage on her side. She already made the choice to ask and go with him now. As they arrived to their location, Chiaki took a good, long look at it now. She listened to Minato’s warning to stay by his side at all times and to let him know if she ever feels unusual during it. Apparently it was true that spirits can sense and take advantage of emotions from living beings, she recalled him mentioning to her before. “R-right. I’ll let you know immediately if it ever happens. And I’ll stay close...”

     She then felt his hand holding onto hers, a bit of blush took on her cheeks even though she should be used to it now. She noticed he too looked it over, probably reminiscing of the first time he came here for his famous show that really took him trending. He’s probably well prepared and knows the ins and outs...maybe. And then, it was time to enter. It was fairly dark with nothing but the light of the sky outside the windows. Chiaki looked around to see how dilapidated and worn everything was, even the creaking sounds were so eerie yet as if it was straight out of a movie. She held his hand tighter and walked a little closer to him as they were only just beginning. 

   “So...when you said you’ve started your work here the first time...what did exactly happen here? Did they do something to you or to mess with you? Just to look out about them all.”

From the moment the couple off the train, and took a step through the forest that surrounded this school, he feel some of the memories already starting to come back to him. With his experience here, Minato knew exactly what to expect, using his knowledge of it, he was able to prepare much more appropriately now, and he wanted to ensure that he had everything here for Chiaki's first paranormal experience was a memorable one, but more importantly, a safe one, especially since he was here in this location, the round school house -- an absolute hotbed of unexplained activity here, even some forces that were malevolent, which only upped the scale of danger about this place and some of its several, many spirits.

As they passed through the forest there, he could already feel the familiar feeling of unease that accompanied the forest, thankfully, the school wasn't too deep in the forest, and Minato still remembered the correct path to follow. The two approached the old building at the steady breaking of dawn. Stopping for a moment to give it a few glances, he saw the memories of his place flash by him like a DVD on fast-forward times three.

The Round Schoolhouse was the fifth episode of his first season, the first episode to reach a worldwide audience on a very high scale, which on its own was a good thing, but it was the things he and his three-man crew experienced here that gave them all the reason to remember it, he was sure some of these spirits would recognize him, which could potentially increase the level of activity here, but that was something he was well aware of in coming back to this unforgettable haunted location that gave the rural town of Bibai, Hokkaido a reputation for having one of the most haunted places in Japan.

There was a lot of history surrounding this particular location, in the seventies and eighties, several people would try and come to this place to try and encounter spirits, just like what he and Chiaki were doing right now. Since then, many things added to its reputation. Reports of children coming from a nearby playground to play in the forest, only to never come out of those woods again.

To top it all off, there were also several accounts of spiritual mediums coming here, and finding so much negative energy, that they leave and refuse to come back, while other mediums would push themselves further, only to go completely insane the next day after leaving for overstaying their welcome in that old school. With all the dark, negative energy around here, it was only natural for him to want his precious girlfriend to be safe, even more, the case since Minato and Takashi had been scratched during their investigation here three years ago.

[{ 🦋 }] - "Okay, good. This place has a lot of activity, and I'll be using a few devices, but making sure that you're safe is always going to be my top priority over anything while we're here."

After giving her the last bit of important information about the potential change in emotions, and staying close, the two braced themselves, joined hands, and eventually stepped through the door. The moment they stepped in, the door behind them closed, immediately accompanied by a feeling of dread, as well as the feeling of many eyes watching them from the darkness in all directions followed by an eerie silence, and he knew Chiaki could feel it, evident from the slight tightening of her grip of his hand.

Reaching into his pocket, Minato took out a flashlight and clicked it on, and held it in front of them, the bright white beam of light cutting through the darkness of the old abandoned school as dusk set in, the previously orange-yellow sky now becoming dark, the moon and the stars the only source of light outside. Now that it was nighttime, it was only a matter of time before things would gradually begin to pick up, just like his last visit here.

As Minato lead the gamer girl through the dark halls, making sure not to let go of her hand, they stop as she asks him a question regarding the things Minato and his team had experienced during their investigation, so he turns to look at her, remembering every single part of the investigation clear as day.

[{ 🦋 }] - "Lots happened during our investigation. Objects were knocked off tables, things were thrown everywhere, several loud noises all around us, and sometimes disembodied voices were heard. We also saw things in the corners of our eyes, and two of us were scratched. So it varies on the type of spirit, and there is a lot here."

He explains to her in full recollection, he wasn't going to lie to her, the more she knew about this place, the better. Almost as if on cue, without warning, not even a few seconds after his answer.

B A N G !!! A loud slam echoed somewhere down the hall. The very same hall they were currently walking down together. It sounded like someone grabbed something, and threw it hard against a wall. The sound caused Minato to quickly dart his head forward to look ahead of them, shining the flashlight down the hall immediately trying to see if he could spot what was thrown, although he had no luck, which could only mean one thing -- that sound came from further down the hall.

[{ 🦋 }] - "That was fast.. sounds like they're welcoming us here early..." He continued to stare down ahead of them for a few more seconds, before speaking again.

[{ 🦋 }] - "Let's go check it out, and see if we can find what was thrown. You ready?" He asks, checking to make sure she's ready before they would proceed.

[ayearwithoutwater]

Five.

How much of hunger is actually thirst? In the aftermath of my breakup, I wanted one thing but knew intuitively that I needed, in reality, another.

By the time that July arrived, I was an emotional mess. I’d spent the prior three months trying desperately to avoid anything and everything that would remind me of my breakup, which, naturally, meant that it was all I could think about. I counted down each date until the sixth arrived, trying and failing to divorce my birth date from the date of our separation. When the sixth of each month became the seventh, my tension would give way to temporary relief, only to return as the subsequent sixth encroached.

Henry haunted my dreams. In some of them, he was back in my apartment. He sat on the edge of my bed in my tiny studio apartment and turned to look at me, no longer avoiding my gaze. When I apologized to him, over and over, he listened. We laid it all out, acknowledged our mistakes, and agreed to try again. He forgave me.

In my other dreams, our breakup had never even happened. It was a concept that didn’t exist, that didn’t even cross my mind. Instead, our partnership, ever facile, simply went on.

In each of them, it was his vulnerable, fully realized self that had finally emerged. It was the pair of round frame glasses that he only ever wore in his most private moments, it was the sharp jawline that beautifully structured his face, it was the tender smile that he reserved only for me. It was the way he had looked at me on our most fateful day that I could never, will never, forget.

Those dreams were the worst. I would wake up from them slightly disoriented with my pillows stained wet from tears that I didn’t even know I was crying whilst asleep. Every morning, my heart broke all over again.

I didn’t want to, couldn’t, be on my own. I begged people to occupy my time. Friends flew in to visit me, old flames recounted their experiences dating me, internet strangers read tarot for me. Renee, my adoptive elder sister and former coworker, told me that I wasn’t myself, that I wasn’t the steadfastly confident individual she knew me to be, that she wanted to put her hands on my shoulders and shake some sense back into me. At her wits’ end, all she could do was buy me dinner.

She was right. I wasn’t myself—I was deeply lonely. I had come to, somewhat vexingly, shape so much of my life around Henry in the one year we shared, much more than I had done with any man I’d ever dated before, despite those relationships having been two- or even three-fold in length. But, resultant of years of endless internal debate, that’s an easy contradiction to resolve: he was the one I had wanted the most. Absent his presence, which he had so willingly chosen to remove, I slotted person after person into the niche he’d formerly occupied.

The loneliness I felt wasn’t just the malaise of being single once more; by then, I’d been through plenty of breakups, and returning to singledom wasn’t difficult to navigate. Rather—and this is how I found myself explaining it, over and over—I felt that I had been forcibly ripped in two. I was dealing with both the acute loss of my other half and the pained knowledge that I would never get it back.

There’s a joke somewhere online that Wendy Williams often made about getting over someone: to do so, one gets underneath someone else. I had nothing to lose, so I tried that, too. I hooked up with men just to feel the ghost of intimacy.

Unsurprisingly, it almost never worked out.

I’d spent much of my twenties interrogating my relationship with sex. The pressure men put on themselves to participate in sex is well-documented; it seemed that everyone was doing it, and I wanted to fit in—I desired and wanted to be desired. I wanted to be like everybody else. But, it was something I only consistently did with my long term partners (who had taken four-fifths of that decade), which I theorized engendered the mental strings I tied between sex and intimacy. Therefore, despite wanting to engage in what I assumed to be average human behavior, I couldn’t. I couldn’t divorce intercourse from emotional intimacy.

I wondered for a very long time whether there was something wrong with me. With all the introspection I’d done and all the (demisexuality) theory I’d read, why did I—do I—not feel comfortable hooking up? I knew what it was, I knew what it could be, I knew what I could do. I still felt compelled to go fishing, to test whether my puzzle pieces fit with anyone else’s, but I didn’t have fun. I didn’t like it. Do I pathologize myself? So be it. Simply put, my most intimate self is locked away within me, expressed only with partners I can trust deeply.

Given that context in which I existed, without the life partner I had so recently lost, I no longer had a willing recipient for all my affection.

In the rare instances that my libido did return, I decided to try. In one, for example, I drove to Tustin to meet up with a guy, telling myself while on my way there that I was going to have a good time. I did, when I finally made it into his apartment—just not with him. Instead, I let myself get sidetracked petting his dogs, apologizing profusely for disappointing him and wasting his time. After I left, I sat in an In-N-Out Burger parking lot attempting to console myself with a cheeseburger and fries. In my car, I faced the reality that I was thirsty, not hungry: I didn’t want sex—I wanted intimacy.

In the life I imagined I would have had with Henry, I would have known him. He would have told me in much greater detail about his split upbringing between Asia and America, like mine in reverse. He would have taught me more of his mother tongue as we explored his hometown, where he would have shown me all his favorite places as well as the ones that no longer exist due to the passage of time. I was after the deepest partnership possible, wherein we could communicate with only eye contact, forged over a lifetime of trust and communication.

And, in return, he would have come to know me, too.