#no sweeter drug

[roomwithanopenfire]

Six Sentence Sunday

(still with no banner) Tysm @you-remind-me-of-the-babe for the tag!!!

I've been having a bit of a creatively dry week, with what feels like a lot of school work to do, but it's actually not any more than normal, I'm just over it. So, I haven't gotten very much writing done this week.

However, I've still been slowly chipping away at my Natasha Pitch Lives + Simon Rescues Baz + sad angsty vampire hurt/comfort fic (I really need a more straightforward title 😭). I swear, this thing keeps getting longer and longer (I am incapable of writing anything other than the slowest of burns).

It's so hard to choose snippets of this to share, because nothing really feels ready yet, but here's a little bit from closer to the beginning. It's a younger Baz's POV.

“What are vampires anyway?”

My mother somehow sat even straighter in her chair and pursed her lips together. 

“Vampires are dark creatures.” My father said carefully. “They are evil.”

“But I’m a vampire?” I asked.

My father looked towards my mother to answer this question of mine.

“Basil,” She said harshly. “You cannot say that. What if someone were to hear you? You cannot tell anyone about that. Vampires are evil and bad. Do you understand that, Basil?”

“Am I?” I asked. “Are you what?”

“Evil and bad.”

“If you act like a vampire, yes. Now go play outside.”

Look I said Natasha was alive, not that she was nice

And then I'm still working on my Stranger Things Ronance fic. Snippet from the chapter that I'm supposed to post tomorrow under the cut.

“Do you want to be girlfriends?” Robin asked.

Nancy blushed. “Well, yes. I thought that was implied.”

“I suppose the love confession slash I-would-kill-for-you-Robin-Buckley confession covered it,” Robin laughed, before turning, putting on a more serious expression. “Would you, Nancy Wheeler, do me the honor of becoming my girlfriend?”

Here's hoping I can actually get this chapter ready for tomorrow. I've been procrastinating like crazy (on both this and my schoolwork 😭)

I still feel kinda like the world's newest fandom member when I tag people but like 🙈

@run-for-chamo-miles @facewithoutheart @raenestee @artsyunderstudy @onepintobean @shrekgogurt @prettygoododds @rimeswithpurple and (for the ronance snippet) @sweetronancer

[sophaeros]

hi everyone did you know that um. 😊when julian went over to albert's house in 2013 to listen to st justice he asked if it was about him. 😊 yes the song that is a love song to albert's then-girlfriend justyna. haha. just letting you know 😊

albert hammond jr for the talk, 2013 (x)

[momomallowart]

TW! Drugs (specifically that fucked up elixir mint eye brews)

Bad End 💔

[sweetronancer]

crying over nsd rn i cannot

[kurooh]

HAIKYUU BRAINROT.

☆ includes: timeskip! miya atsumu, miya osamu, oikawa tōru, kageyama tobio, semi eita, sakusa kiyōmi, kuroo tetsurō.

☆ warnings: 18+ content, f! reader, drug use [weed], oral (f&m receiving), lingerie, cream pies, dirty talk, slightly rough sex, praise, being tied up, blindfolds, mirror sex, 69, food play, shower sex, not proofread.

waiting in lacy lingerie for atsumu the day before his birthday, rose petals strewn around the floor and leading to the bedroom. your skin illuminated by the soft candlelight of the bedroom, the lingerie accentuating every inch of your body. he gets home, kisses you, fingers you until you cum, whining his name. he reaches towards the nightstand, remembering to use a condom, but you stop him, tell him one of his gifts is going raw. excited, he pushes into you, and doesn’t last long. all he can think of is filling you up, using the cum as lube to keep going.

when the restaurant is vacant, and it’s just you and osamu, he sometimes loves to have dessert. more specifically, you for dessert. you take a can of whipped cream, specially tucked away in the very back of the office mini fridge for moments like these. you make swirls on your nipples, make a sloppy heart on your pelvis. eagerly, he sucks onto your nipples, biting and kissing each as his tongue makes quick work of the cream. then, he kisses down your body, staring at you hungrily as he licks your pelvis clean. he fingers you as you shakily make new designs on your skin. he takes your clit between his lips and sucks, savoring the taste. he thinks you’re sweeter than any kind of dessert.

you run to eita after his performance at a concert, grinding on him ever so slightly when you hug him, squeezing your tits together when you ask why he’s pissy. “get the hell in the dressing room,” he hissed, grabbing your hand tightly and dragging you along. a small breeze rushes up your skirt, brushing against your bare pussy. he pushes you in, turns to lock the door, and turns back to you. you jump onto him and kiss him; he catches you, and stumbles towards his cluttered desk with the lit mirror. with one arm, he sweeps everything off and places you down, yanking up your skirt to eat you out. he buries himself between your thighs, fingering and sucking and licking roughly, just the way you like it. your back arches when you cum, and you moan loudly, but he tells you to be quiet as he picks you up again and presses you against a nearby wall. he lifts your skirt again, yanks his pants down, and presses into you quickly. eita tucks his face into your neck, fucking you hard. his pelvis rubs against your clit as he fucks, causing you to cum on his cock — your orgasm spurs on his own, and though you were both supposed to be quiet, you cum loudly together. with you, he can’t even think about how he’ll have to play everything off with his friends when he steps out.

tōru takes a hit of the pen, slapping your ass and squeezing it as he exhales the smoke over your back. it’s warm and smooth, a contrast to how hot and rough he’s fucking your pussy. your eyes water as your mouth dries up, the heat of arousal itching all over inside your body. he passes it to you, and all you can do is grip it and the sheets as he groans, his eyes falling shut as he grips your hips and listens to the sounds of his balls smacking against your clit, his hips slapping into your ass. “that’s perfect tōru, that’s just how i want it,” you babble, your mind racing with thoughts of him. being high together is occasional, and it’s always some of the best sex with him. he gets off on praise, even more so when he’s high, his loud groans breaking into tiny moans as you cry his name. “you feel s-so good, i love it when you fuck me like this, please don’t stop,” you push your head down into the sheets and raise your ass against his hips more, arms shaking. he collapses onto your back with a wheezy sigh, moaning loudly as his cock pumps all of his cum into you. he always cums a lot, and harder, when he’s high; he cries into your shoulder as you weakly throw your ass back onto him, a signal to keep going.

water rushes over your lower back and ass as you scoot forward, closer to tobio’s thighs. his tip bumps the back of your throat and you fight a gag back, taking him as deep as you can. your lips are wrapped around his base, long strings of spit leaking from your lips; the water washes it away. “mmm, fuck,” he hisses, his hand cupping the back of your head as he tries his best not to slip. “you feel so good.” he pushes you into his pelvis, yanks you back and then down again steadily. he’s always loved fucking your face like this. gasping, his body curls forward, over your head, and he can’t hold himself back as his free hand grips onto the shower curtain. his cock slams down your throat, the feeling so tight your eyes can only water as you let out gurgly moans around his wet cock. when he cums, he holds you down against him, whining curses at the way you greedily swallow all of it. somehow, he doesn’t pull the shower curtain down. when you pull back, he kisses you immediately, tongue meshing with yours. tobio loves tasting a little bit of himself on your tongue.

one night, you and kiyoomi decide to try something new. he ties you up to the bed, your legs spread, your pussy wet, and a silky black blindfold wrapped around your head. you hear the sounds of clothes being folded and placed onto the bed in front of you, and you twist helplessly. “omi, i fucking need you.” he sighs shakily, “of course, my love.” seeing you like this is beyond hot; he’s been dreaming of you looking like this for him. he grabs his cock, and guides his tip to your wet pussy. he slowly rubs his tip through your sticky folds, gasping as he watches you try to jerk your hips forward in a futile attempt to get him inside you. feeling his cock grow harder, kiyoomi keeps the tease going for a little longer until he decides he can’t take it anymore and pushes inside you. he presses inch by inch inside you, his hand landing on your pelvis with his thumb pressed to your clit. “fuuuck!” you feel like screaming at him, begging him to fuck you senselessly, desperate for his cum and all the pleasure he has to give. instead, you rein yourself in a little. “kiyoomi,” there’s something dark and demanding in your voice, even though you’re tied up. wasn’t he in control here? “yeah?” he develops a quick pace, gritting his teeth every time his tip hits the deepest parts of you. “i want you to fuck me until—shit!—until i’m screaming.” “you know i will,” is all he can say as he grips your hips and ruthlessly slams into you.

you look ahead through lidded eyes, into the mirror and at your obscene reflection. you’re on top of tetsurō, his cock stuffing your mouth as the rest of your body shakes in his grip. he yanked your ass down into his face, sucking your clit harder as two of his fingers thrust in and out of you. one of his large hands grips your hip, his nails digging into his skin more as you deepthroat him, leaving crescent moon indents in your skin. you watch as spit drips down his cock, down his balls, onto the towel below you. you feel your orgasm nearing, your pleasure climbing quickly when he mercilessly sucks your clit. he had told you before: “watch yourself in the mirror as we cum together.” you agreed, doubting you’d cum with tetsu. he said, “good girl.” and then pulled your pussy down to his mouth. moaning on his cock while he moans into your pussy, you feel the familiar heat blaze through the entirety of your lower body. you also feel his cock tighten, then begin to pulse as he cums hard in your mouth. as you cum on his fingers, jerking your hips back, you catch a quick glimpse at yourself in the mirror; spit covers your lips, your hair is mussed, and you look so unbelievably fucked out, drunk on tetsurō.

[evansbby]

𝐇𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: sugar daddy!Ari Levinson x naive!reader

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: sugar daddy Ari, age gap, smutt, daddy!kink, ab riding, dirty talk.

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Your sugar daddy decides to dress you up in a costume of his choice for Halloween.

𝐀/𝐍: Random spontaneous Halloween "drabble" that is 3.8k words long lol. Inspired by the hottest daddy of them all, Ari Levinson, and his gorgeous abs. Hence the gif. Enjoy! And Happy Halloween, despite the fact that this drabble is not spooky at all.

“Twirl for me again, princess.”

Ari leans back against the headboard of his king-sized bed, his blue eyes dark as navy as he brings his glass of scotch up to his lips and takes a sip. His gaze is stuck on you as he lounges relaxedly, still dressed in his suit from work. Well, you’d taken his jacket off and loosened his tie for him before he’d patted you on your bum and sent you to your dressing room to try on the new costume he’d got for you.

You’d only been seeing Ari for two months. And by “seeing” you meant you’d only been his sugar baby for about two months, when you’d met him at the cocktail bar where you worked as a waitress. He’d come by one night with a bunch of his colleagues (all of them in expensive suits, clearly extremely wealthy). That notion had been confirmed when he’d pressed a few hundred-dollar bills into your hand at the end of the night, his eyes looking at you expectantly as if he knew you’d give him your number.

You had, of course. What followed was two months filled with expensive gifts, a hefty weekly allowance, a new designer wardrobe, glittering jewels and some incredible sex to top it all off. You’d gotten to know Ari in many different ways these past sixty days. But what you didn’t know he was so big on Halloween.

Your “costume” was for Ari’s eyes only, as he’d warningly told you when he’d handed you the shopping bag. And there was no way you could’ve worn it anywhere else: the baby pink satin negligee barely reached mid-thigh, but it was so breathtakingly pretty, so dainty with the lacy white trim and matching satin white gloves. The back was almost completely exposed, showcasing the pretty pink lace panties you had on underneath (with a heart-shaped cut-out that exposed your bum). A sparkly tiara on your head completed the look.

He'd dressed you as his little princess.

“How come you don’t have a costume, Ari?” You ask as you twirl around for him slowly, trying not to topple over in the expensive white pumps he’d also made you wear.

Ari licks his lips, beckoning you closer with just a look. He’d trained you well in the two months he’d had you, moulding you into his perfect angel who leapt at his slightest command. It was easy, since you were so cute and innocent, and so happy to please him. All he had to do was look at you a certain way and you’d jump to obey him. He watches you closely now, looking so precious and hot in your little princess costume (or lingerie, rather) and your lips part as you eagerly move closer to him, almost tripping in your heels to do so.

He chuckles, “I’m too old to be dressing up for Halloween, sweetheart.”

You pout, “You’re not old, Ari! You’re just perfect!”

He can’t help but smile at your cuteness and naivety; he really had plucked up the prettiest and most innocent little girl with a heart of pure gold.

“That’s real sweet of you, baby. Now turn around and bend over for me so I can see that cute baby ass.” He takes another sip of his scotch. You’d made him his favourite drink the moment he’d walked into his penthouse apartment where you’d been waiting for him like the delectable little treat you were – sweeter than any Halloween candy, and he could ravage you forever without ever feeling sick.

You giggle, feeling slightly rebellious. You’d had a few sips of wine before he’d come home, your anticipations running high whilst you waited impatiently for him. He was like a drug to you, with his rugged good looks and muscular body and charming smile. You were also incredibly attracted to the power he wielded; Ari owned and was the CEO of multiple companies across the globe, and for the life of you, you couldn’t imagine how he’d ever decided to ask for your number that one fateful night two months ago.

“But Ari, since I’m a princess tonight, that means I’m royalty. Which means I don’t have to follow anyone’s orders but my own, right?” You smile triumphantly.

Ari looks infinitely amused as he runs his hand through his unruly hair, his other hand inching down to palm his clothed crotch.

“Little princesses like you still have to take orders from their daddy,” he informs you, a smirk playing on his lips as he watches you teeter in your high heels. “Which, by the way, is what you should be addressing me as. You call me Ari one more time and I’ll take you over my knee. I don’t care if it’s Halloween.”

You pout harder, looking so extra cute that Ari has to pace himself from reaching over and grabbing you right then and there. He’s waited to dress you up in this costume for a while now, though, and he knows he needs to savour it.

“That’s a good little princess,” he murmurs in approval once you turn around and bend over, giving him the perfect view of your cute ass. “Look at those pretty little princess panties, hugging that cute baby ass. You like your panties, baby?”

“Y-Yeah,” you pant, and he knows you’re turned on by his words. “Thank you, daddy, I really like them.”

“You like being my little princess?”

“Yes, daddy. Wanna be your princess forever.”

Ari can’t help but crack a smile at how cute you are, and when you say things like that, he just wants to gather you in his arms and plant a thousand kisses to your face, cuddle with you and buy you whatever you please. But he has to keep a strong resolve tonight, because he’s been waiting for an opportunity to ravage you in your princess costume for ages now, and he’s been working overtime at the office and he knows he deserves this.

“Daddy? Can I stop bending over now? It’s startin’ to hurt.”

Ari swirls his glass of scotch around absentmindedly, a wicked look crossing his face, “Soon, baby. First, I want you to spank yourself.”

You gasp, and then there’s a pause.

“M-Me? Spank myself?”

“You heard me, baby. I won’t repeat myself.”

You reach back gingerly, squeezing your eyes shut because you’ve got your back to him and you know he can’t see (usually, he always demands you keep your eyes open). You give your behind a tentative little slap, feeling embarrassed to say the least.

“Harder, sweetheart. How can you be a princess if you don’t have a firm hand?” You can hear the smugness in his voice, and it just turns you on more. You know your new princess panties are soaked through, and you wonder if he can tell.

“B-But I don’t wanna have a firm hand,” you whimper, already feeling very submissive. You like it when he spanks you (although it hurts but it hurts so good). But you spanking yourself? It’s embarrassing. It turns you on because you’re doing it for him, but it’s still embarrassing.

“Are you talking back to me, baby?” Ari’s eyes are hooded with lust as he openly palms his dick.

“Sorry, daddy,” you bite your lip before giving your ass another slap – harder this time. And Ari exhales slowly as he watches your ass jiggle cutely, and he commands you to hit yourself again, to not stop until he says so. And he watches you spank yourself, turned on beyond belief at your complete submission.

“Fuck, you have such a cute ass, baby. Squeeze it for me.” He orders you, voice gruff and strained because of how horny he is.

You obey, squeezing the soft flesh through your barely-there panties. Ari’s fingers itch to touch you himself, make you mewl with pleasure just with his touch the way only he could. Because he’s the only one who’s ever touched you like that, who ever would touch you like that. You were his baby, his little princess and he’d take care of you forever.

“Stop. Now come here.”

You swallow, straightening up to walk over to him, except he stops you again by just a look.

“No, baby. On your knees. Daddy wants you to crawl.”

You decide to test your luck one last time, giving him your best puppy-dog eyes, “But daddy, I’m supposed to be a princess and not a kitten. And princesses don’t crawl.”

Ari rolls his eyes, “You’ll do as I say. Baby princesses like you still need to obey their daddy because you’re not in charge, got that?”

“Y-Yeah, I got it.” You sink down to your knees and slink over to him, making sure to sway your hips as you crawl because you know he loves that. And you love how he looks at you darkly, his eyes so blown out with lust and want. As if he’s restraining himself from just grabbing you and fucking you. Because you know how virile he is, how high his sex drive is.

“That’s my good little girl,” he coos, making you feel all special. You stop at the foot of the bed and he reaches down, petting the top of your head, stroking your hair like you’re some kind of pet. Your sparkly tiara falls lopsided, but manages to stay on your head. But you like how he strokes you, you like how affectionate it feels, and so you nuzzle up into his palm, wanting him to stroke you some more.

Instead, he grabs a handful of your hair and yanks you up, manhandling you as if you’re his little baby, till he’s got you nestled on top of him, and you can feel his hard dick underneath you. A wicked look in his eye, he straightens your tiara before patting your cheek condescendingly.

“How’re you enjoying Halloween so far, princess?”

You mull over it, trying not to focus on his hard dick directly underneath your butt. “It’s nice. This is the first time in a few years that I’ve stayed in for Halloween, instead of going to a party.”

This was true, since being at college for the past two years meant that you always went out on Halloween.

“Oh yeah? You’d rather be at a frat party right now?” Ari’s hands land on your hips, grinding you down against his dick so that you’re effectively dry humping him. Your eyes nearly pop out of your head, and you made grabby hands at him but he holds you at bay.

“No, no, no!” You answer desperately, trying to lean forward to kiss him but he holds you in place firmly, “Would much rather be with you, daddy. I love you so much.”

Ari can feel his heart melting fast. You’re just so delectable and cute, blinking up at him with those gorgeous eyes of yours. And it had been so easy for you to fall in love with him, you’d told him so only two weeks into your whirlwind romance. He’d taken you out on his private yacht, and he’d bought you the prettiest sailor outfit, and you’d clung to him because you were scared you might fall overboard because of how clumsy you were.

But you’d looked so pretty as the salty sea air rushed over your face, and how you just wouldn’t let go of his hand. You couldn’t stop smiling either, and when he’d kissed you on the deck, holding you firm against the railing as the sun set into the ocean behind you, that’s when you’d whispered it breathlessly against his lips. Like you couldn’t keep it in any longer: I love you.

You’d tried to tug away from him after that, embarrassed at how you’d let your inner feelings slip out so soon into your relationship with him. But you couldn’t help it, he just made you feel so safe, so alive, so wonderful, so you. You’d tried to make a hasty exit, making up an excuse that you had to make a phone call, and praying he hadn’t heard you whisper those three forbidden words…

But Ari had heard you, and his heart had swelled in a way he never thought it could. He’d entered this relationship with you because he needed someone to take care of, and well, you were so hot the night he’d first seen you. So pretty and innocent and lovely. And then he’d gotten to know you, and you were so lively, and made him feel so youthful, made him feel so powerful and important, made him feel like he had to protect you while you danced around his life and made him laugh and cheered him up the way only you could.

He’d held you tightly against him that night on the yacht, not letting you slip away as he’d cupped your beautiful face in his hands, and he’d told you that he loved you too, more than he’d ever loved anyone else. And the look on your face, that look of utter devotion and awe, like you had stars in your eyes – he wished he could bottle it up inside a jar and keep that look safe forever.

That’s how you’re looking at him now, in your cute little princess lingerie, and your lips are begging to be kissed. Ari can’t stand it any longer, and he grabs you by the back of the neck and pulls you down, pressing his lips on yours in a heady kiss.

“You’ve been waiting for tonight, haven’t you?” He breathes against your lips.

You swallow harshly and nod. Of course you had, the moment he’d texted you this morning telling you to be ready for him at his apartment when he got home. That was obvious code that he was going to ruin you tonight, and the pretty princess costume was just the cherry on top of the cake.

Biting your lip, you shyly untuck his shirt from his pants and lift it up, revealing his toned, hairy abs. God, he was the most beautiful man you’d ever seen – with an amazing, buff body that was twice the size of yours. He was bigger than you in every single way possible, and you sigh as your fingers run over the deep ridges of his tanned six pack.

Ari snorts, “Like what you see, princess?”

“Uh huh. You’re so hot.” You blurt out.

“Thank you, baby. Why don’t you give me your panties?”

The way he so casually redirects the conversation has your cheeks feeling hot and your pussy clenching in anticipation. Taking your panties off while straddling his crotch proves to be difficult, but you’re nimble enough to make it work. The lace is wet with your juices and your cheeks heat up even more as you hand your panties to him.

Ari brings the lacy material up to his nose, sniffing in your pretty scent. God, he wanted to be buried with your scent if it was possible. He can’t help but find the gusset, sucking the silk into his mouth and tasting your juices.

“You’re so sweet, princess.” He mutters, before shoving the panties in his pocket.

“I’m all wet, daddy,” you pout, knowing your wetness has seeped over to stain his pants as you sit on top of his crotch.

“Oh yeah?” Ari feigns disinterest, busying himself with another sip of his scotch. “Is your little baby cunt getting needy?”

“Yeah!”

“You want daddy to take care of her? Your little cunt?”

You throb at his words, “Yes, please!”

He makes no move to put his scotch away. “I think I’d rather watch you, princess. You can rub yourself on me to make yourself cum.”

You shudder at how casually he says it, but at the same time bite your lip, “B-But daddy, I feel so empty down there. Need you inside me, pretty please?”

Ari pretends to mull over it, “I don’t know, gorgeous, your baby pussy’s awfully tight. I don’t think I’d even get a finger in.” (That was true, you were super tight, but he could work you open in a matter of minutes. He always did, after all, but he wants you to work for an orgasm tonight).

You grab his hand and push it between your legs, feeling like you’re about to go into heat by how turned on you are. “Y-You could stretch me open, daddy, I-I don’t mind! Just wanna feel you inside me.”

“Maybe later, sweetie,” Ari murmurs, indulgently brushing your hair off your face and pulling your cheek when you pout. Of course, he definitely intended to fill you up real good, fuck both your holes silly with his cock and his tongue and his fingers. But the night was still young, and right now he wanted a show while he enjoyed his drink. “C’mon, baby, it’s Halloween. Even a princess has to work a little to get her treat.”

He picks you up by your waist, placing you on his hairy abs, which are rock hard just like his cock which is still in the confines of his pants.

You grab on to his shoulders to steady yourself, before you start moving. And oh, it feels absolutely heavenly, your quivering pussy rubbing against his hard abs, the hair on his torso catching against your swollen clit and immediately making you moan.

“F-Feels so good, daddy,” you whimper, and it makes Ari smile at how cute you are. How much you love it when he makes you feel good, how you selfishly chase after your own pleasure whenever you can because he knows it’s never felt this good for you before. You don’t have to tell him that he’s the best you’ve ever had – he can see it in your eyes every time.

“Yeah? Is your cute baby cunt getting some relief? You enjoy using your daddy like this?” He mutters lowly, pinching your hip to make you move faster as he takes another sip of his scotch. His cock is incredibly tight still confined to his pants, and he’d have loved for you to grind against his cock instead but he knows he would’ve blown his load because of the friction paired with how hot you look right now.

“You enjoy dressing up like a little princess and giving your daddy a show?” He continues, feeling the beast inside him awaken as you whimper so cutely on top of him. With his fingers gripping your hip tightly, he roughly drags you back and forth over his abs, “That’s right, slutty baby, make a mess all over daddy, you like that, don’t you?”

“Yes!” You cry, getting to that point where everything that leaves your mouth is either a plea or incoherent gibberish and crying. That’s when you get so submissive that there isn’t a single thought in your head, and Ari’s sure he could make you do absolutely anything when you’re in that mindset.

His stomach is wet with your cream, and you’re grinding against him desperately now, and he knows you’ll cum any second because it doesn’t take much to get you to cum. He remembers doing this a lot with you in the early days of the relationship, when he knew for a fact you’d need a lot of prep before you could take his big, fat dick inside your pussy. So he’d made you grind on his torso instead, like how you were doing now, as a sort of practice before the real sex. And it’s like you’d never been pleasured before in your life because you came so quickly, over and over again, squirting all over him and begging for him to put it inside you.

Clearly, nothing had changed in two months.

He downs his scotch before setting the glass aside on his bedside table. Then he licks his lips, hand slipping down between your legs. He spreads your folds and you gasp, rocking your hips faster as you feel more now, your clit rubbing deliciously against his abs.

“C’mon, princess,” he urges, moving you up and down on his abs harder, “make yourself cum, baby, squirt all over daddy like the good little girl I know you can be. Like all good princesses squirt on their daddies. You wanna be a good princess, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I do!”

“Say it, then.”

“W-Wanna be a good princess for you, daddy. Wanna be so good!” Your face is glistening with sweat and tears, and you’re working so hard for your release. He knows all he has to do is rub your clit once or twice, or even just press against it and you’d cum. But he wants you to work for it, so he can praise you for it and then reward you for making yourself cum with minimal help from daddy.

“You’re daddy’s sexy little princess,” Ari murmurs lowly, pulling you down by the neck till your face is buried in the crook of his neck, and you bite at his skin and cry and moan his name as he talks, “you’re doing such a good job, baby, rubbing that baby cunt all over daddy’s abs. You’re so good for me, baby, so fucking good and I love you so much. Daddy loves you so much, honey. More than anything in the world.”

You squirt all over his stomach, your sweet cream covering ever ridge and dip of his muscular torso. You cry and cry, like how you often do when you’re overwhelmed when orgasming, grabbing at his face and kissing him, and he kisses you back fervently, allowing you to make out with him because he knows how overwhelmed and good you feel.

“That’s such a good girl,” he praises you, rubbing your back as you quiver in his arms, and he can feel your pussy quivering too, “such a good fucking girl, you worked so hard, baby and I’m so proud of you.”

“L-Love you so much, daddy,” you whimper pitifully, your poor tiara finally falling off your head, and Ari wants to chuckle at how spent you look, how exhausted you look from rubbing your pussy on him for a couple of minutes. He reminds himself to get you a bottle of water in a few minutes once you’ve calmed down, because he knows he’ll be keeping you busy for the better part of tonight and he wants you to have the energy for it.

But for now, he’ll let you rest for a few minutes. You snuggle up into his chest, breathing hard as you try to catch your breath. Ari pours himself another scotch, and lights up his cigar, taking a long drag before blowing the smoke out in your direction.

“Happy Halloween, sweetheart,” he grins wickedly, and you lift your head up slightly to offer him a weak smile. “Now put your tiara back on, princess. The night’s not over yet.”

AKSHDSAJGA WHAT DO YOU THINK???? PLEASE LET ME KNOW THIS WAS EXTREMELY SPONTANEOUS AFNKLAGNSKAL I JUST AM OBSESSED WITH SUGAR DADDY ARI AND HIS ABS BYE.

anyways lemme know what you think and pls do reblog and leave any feedback thank you ily

[wildwestdean]

sweet and sour

summary: when you get back home after drinking a little too much, a sweeter side of ben slips out to take care of you. though you quickly learn that with him, you can't have any sweet without a little sour

pairing: soldier boy x female reader

word count: 3.2k+

warnings: some (mainly) ooc ben, swearing, depictions of alcohol consumption, drunk reader, angst, mentions of drug use, allusions to past sexual behaviours, fluff, hurt/comfort, nicknames/pet names

a/n: okay so i haven't actually made it to soldier boy's appearance in the boys yet, but i had a burning desire to write for him anyway. so yeah just don't judge pls lol

“What the fuck are you doing?” boomed a voice from behind you. 

You jumped slightly at the sudden noise, but turned with a grin upon recognizing whose voice it was. 

“Ben!” you giggled, meeting his confused gaze with bright eyes as you slightly swayed on your feet. “What’re you doing?”

He raised an eyebrow at you, trying to fight off the smirk forming on his lips as he ignored your question. “Looks like you had a good time out, huh, sweetheart?”

You couldn’t help the heat that rose to your cheeks at the term of endearment, or the string of giggles that left your lips. It wasn’t anything you weren’t used to, but it never failed to make you giddy - especially now. “I did!” you announced, before a frown suddenly took over your face as you remembered why you were in the kitchen “But now I want another drink, and I can’t find anythin’.” 

Ben just stared at you for a moment, taking in your rosey cheeks and glossy eyes; but most importantly, the frown that currently adorned your adorable face. He would never admit it, not even to himself, but he suddenly wanted nothing more than for that frown to disappear. 

“Alright,” he sighed, heading over to you. “What do you want?” 

You watched as he approached, taking in his more casual appearance of a t-shirt and sweats - and, you noticed with a shy grin, a pair of old man slippers. He came to a stop just before you, and you paused as you stared up at his stoic face while he towered over you. You didn’t even hear his question, too distracted by his overwhelming everything to even realize he asked something. 

He softly called your name to rouse you from your stupor, repeating it a little more gruffly when it didn’t work the first time. “What?” you asked, blinking up at his annoyed yet smirking face. 

“I asked you what you wanted,” he murmured. 

“Oh,” you said, your face scrunching together as you thought about it for a few moments. “I dunno,” you determined with a shrug. 

“And you expect me to find something for you?” he asked curtly, his brows rising in disbelief.  

Your brow unfurrowed as you grinned up at him. “Yes, please!” you declared eagerly, oblivious to the fact that he did not want to cater to you. 

He clenched his jaw, extremely irritated with his urge to smile at the sight of your cheesy grin. “Fucking-” he started, before he cut himself off with a long sigh, rolling his eyes. “Alright, fine. Just go sit down or something.”  

“Why?” you asked sadly, the frown taking over your face again. 

“Why?” he echoed incredulously. “When I came in, you were trying to find a drink while just staring at the fucking glassware for over a minute. That’s why.”

“Were you watchin’ me?” you asked smugly, smirking up at him. “Besides, that doesn’t mean I can’t help find a drink!” you argued, completely missing his point. 

His blank expression faltered for a second, a flash of colour fleeting across his face so quick it may as well have never been there. Then he simply barked a laugh, which only deepened your frown. “I bet you wish I was, huh? And you know, that's actually exactly what it means, dollface,” he chuckled darkly, tracing his knuckles along your cheek before suddenly grabbing you by the waist and hoisting you up onto the counter. “So sit this one out,” he said, ignoring your shriek of shock and protest. 

“Fine,” you grumbled, completely bewildered by the ease in which he manoeuvred you; as if it cost him zero effort. Which, of course, you knew to be true. 

“Good,” he said, smiling in satisfaction before ghosting a kiss against your forehead. “Now don’t fuckin’ fall off,” he warned as he walked over to the coffee machine. 

You watched him in confusion, your swirling brain trying to figure out why he was suddenly so much more affectionate with you. You were used to him teasing you, or returning your flirtations and banter, though this felt like more than that. Maybe he was just being extra nice since you were drunk. Or maybe you only thought he was being extra nice because, well, you were drunk. 

“Okay, knock it off,” he demanded, glancing over at you. “Why are you so frowny? I thought you liked your stupid girls’ night thing,” he added, leaning against the island with his arms crossed. 

“I do like my girls' nights! And I’m not frowny” you grumbled, almost offended he would suggest otherwise. 

“No?” he challenged, arching a brow as he took a few steps towards you. “‘Cause last I checked, this wasn’t your pretty smile,” he teased, tracing a thumb against your persistently downturned lips. Your smile naturally grew at that, and he beamed in response. “There’s my girl.” 

Your eyes widened at his words, and your reaction must have made Ben realize what he was doing. With slightly widened eyes of his own, he dropped his hand from your face as if burned and turned away from you once more, busying himself with making your coffee - exactly the way you liked it. 

You watched in silence, your feet softly swaying against the lower cabinets as your mind drifted in and out. “You don’t have any company tonight?” you found yourself asking suddenly.

“Think I’d be in here doing this if I had fucking company?” he asked hotly. “And I’m pretty sure you know when the last time I had company was,” he added bitterly. 

Through all the months of you living with Ben, you had noticed when his parade of bed warmers had started to dwindle down; and you had definitely noticed when it stopped altogether. Part of you likes to wish you had something to do with it, while the other part knew that was insane.

“Okay, grouchy,” you scolded with a chuckle. “Don’t act like it’s my fault.” 

“When the fuck did I act like it was your fault?” he snapped, growing exasperated. 

“Are you almost done?” you asked brazenly, ignoring his question. “I’m thirsty.”

“Coming right up, princess,” he sneered. 

You knew it was meant in a derogatory way based on his tone, yet you couldn’t help the warm tingle that spread through you anyway. 

“Here,” he grunted after a few minutes, nearly shoving the mug at you. He raised his eyebrows impatiently when all you did was stare down at it. “I better not have made this for nothing,” he warned. 

You gingerly took it from his hands, staring at it as if it was a foreign object; because, with a fluttering heart, you realized that he gave you your favourite mug - though you knew it was probably just a coincidence. 

“Thank you,” you said quietly, grinning softly at him before taking a sip. 

“Whatever,” he mumbled, rolling his eyes as he hastily turned his back on you once more. 

“You seem extra grumpy tonight,” you pointed out, watching him intently as you happily sipped away. 

“Who fucking cares?” he grumbled, keeping his attention off you as he made himself a drink - a strong one. He had a sinking feeling that if he looked at you he’d feel all warm inside again, and he refused to let that happen. “Besides. Maybe me being extra grumpy has to do with the drunk girl currently sitting on my counter.” 

“Oh,” you said meekly. “I’m bothering you?”

“You always fucking bother me,” he mumbled, slamming the bottle down. 

“I don’t mean to,” you assured quietly, your vision growing blurry with unshed tears. “I thought we’ve been getting along,” you added sadly. 

“Me putting up with you isn’t us getting along, dollface,” he sneered. 

You inhaled sharply at his declaration, your tears finally breaking loose and running down your face. “I can just leave you alone, then,” you offered, your voice a mere whisper. 

Ben made the mistake of glancing over at you, and the pang of guilt he felt inside his chest really pissed him off. He begrudgingly made his way over to you, standing between your swaying legs as he tried to meet your gaze - but you refused to acknowledge his presence. 

“Look at me,” he ordered, placing a hand on your chin to force your gaze on him. 

“No,” you said, closing your eyes. 

He let out an honest chuckle at your stubbornness, and if you had been able to see him, you would’ve noticed his eyes sparkle with affection. “Look at me,” he said again, much softer this time as his thumbs wiped away your tears. 

You let out a resigned breath, slowly looking up at him. 

“There she is,” he cooed, a small smile growing on his face. “Hey, darlin’.” 

“Hi,” you replied solemnly, your face scrunching ever so slightly in confusion over the interaction.

He didn’t speak for a while. Instead he just stood there, staring at you with your face in his hands as he tried to figure out what the hell to say next. 

“Look, just- stop crying, alright?” he said awkwardly, almost nervously. 

“Is that your idea of being comforting?” you asked dejectedly, almost laughing in disbelief. 

His grip on your cheeks tightened ever so slightly for a fraction of a second, before loosening again. “You and I both know that offering comfort isn’t my thing.” 

“You could at least try,” you muttered snidely. “I’m tired of being the only one of us who tries.” 

“What the fuck does that mean?” he snapped, letting you go and taking a step back in order to glare at you. 

You scoffed, frustratingly swiping away angry tears that began to stream down your face. “It doesn’t matter.” 

A heavy silence blanketed the two of you, and you picked up your mug to idly sip at it once more as he stared you down. He suddenly let out a frustrated huff, swearing and muttering under his breath as he turned away from you and grabbed his glass. With disbelieving eyes, you watched as he left the kitchen without a second glance. You weren’t a stranger to arguments with Ben, but this time, it felt different.

You stayed where you were perched, silently finishing your coffee and trying to make sense of everything that happened. You worked yourself back up into another frenzy as you thought everything over, and by the time your mug was empty you slammed it onto the counter with so much force you were surprised it didn’t break. Hopping off the counter, you began to stumble your way to your bedroom while angrily grumbling to yourself. A new inferno was set alight within you when along the way you came across Ben, nonchalantly lounging in the den as if nothing ever even happened. 

“How many fucking times do I have to tell you not to do that inside?” you snapped, watching in growing contemptment as he merely glanced in your direction before turning his attention elsewhere, smoke billowing over his face.  

“Tell you what, princess,” he muttered, taking another long drag from the joint he held. “I’ll stop smokin’ inside, as soon as you start payin’ for this fucking place.”

Without so much as giving it a second thought, you marched over to him and ripped the joint from his hands. He raised an eyebrow as he watched you with curiosity, a smirk already forming on his lips.

“I said,” you seethed, grabbing the ashtray from the side table as you stared him down. “Stop.”

He stayed silent, watching as you crushed the joint in the tray before tossing it back on the table with a clang. The corners of his mouth twitched as he fought back an amused grin before he steeled himself. 

“I’ll go ahead and give you ten seconds to leave,” he announced calmly, though you knew him well enough by now to notice the hint of warning in his tone. 

“Or what?” you challenged, stubbornly crossing your arms. 

Normally, you knew when to stop trying to push his buttons, but you had just enough alcohol still coursing through you to keep on going this time. 

He leaned forward, his presence completely imposing despite the fact he was sitting and you were standing over him. “Do you really want to find out?”

You shifted nervously as you took in his expression, and you knew he was both pissed off and annoyed; then again, it was rare that he wasn’t. 

“Whatever,” you finally muttered, turning away to leave. 

It wasn’t due to you being afraid of him - yes, he was intimidating as all hell, but he had never once actually physically hurt you. Despite the many times the urge struck him, and no matter how much he despised it, he quickly learned that you’re the one person he could never lay a harmful hand on. No, you simply left because you were growing exhausted over this whole night, and you just wanted some peace and quiet. 

“Thought so,” he grumbled behind your back, snickering as you momentarily stopped in your tracks. 

“Oh, just go to hell, Benjamin!” you exclaimed, whipping the closest thing you could grab towards his head. 

He caught it easily, laughing heartily when he realized what it was. “Thanks, doll. This is just what I needed,” he teased with a grin, rattling the pill bottle as he held it in the air for you to see. “It’s the only way I can fuckin’ put up with you.”

You stared at him carefully, and you could tell just by the look in his eyes that he only said it to get another rise out of you, but you couldn’t help the way your bottom lip trembled as you fought back more tears. 

His face instantly fell as he noticed your reaction, and while it was his intention, he instantly regretted it. With a heavy sigh, he tossed the bottle aside and stood up. 

“What are you-” you began to ask as he made his way over to you, but he cut you off. 

“Just shut up for once,” he muttered, a trace of a lighthearted chuckle in his voice as he shook his head. 

You opened your mouth to fire off more insults when he shocked all the words out of your vocabulary by wrapping his arms around you. He rested his chin on the top of your head, and even though you felt insurmountable anger towards him, you quickly found yourself melting into his touch, your arms tightening around his torso. A few moments passed by before he let out a small sigh, his fingers tracing a feather-light pattern along your back; a gentleness neither of you knew he was even capable of. 

“Look, I-... I didn’t… mean it,” he finally said. His tone was tight and awkward, and you knew it was a near impossible thing for him to actually admit. Honestly, hearing those words from him was nothing short of a miracle. 

“Thank you,” you said quietly, knowing this was the closest you would ever get to an apology from him. 

“How about we get you to bed, huh?” he asked lightly, trying to diffuse the situation. 

“Yeah,” you said, pulling away from him. “I’ll get out of your hair.”

You quickly left before he could respond, making it to your bedroom and locking yourself away in the bathroom to get ready. You took your time, carefully scrubbing away all the traces of the club, and the rest of the night, that you could before slipping into your night clothes. 

The first thing your bleary eyes noticed when you reentered your bedroom was Ben, paused in the middle of your room with a glass of water in his hand. 

“What are you doing?” you asked curiously, rubbing at your tired eyes. 

He let out a heavy exhale, looking at you with an expression you’ve never seen on him before. “Was just… bringing this to leave for you."

“Thanks,” you replied awkwardly, meeting him halfway to take the glass from him.

He stared at you for a moment, watching as you made your way to the bed and under the covers. He wanted to say something, but he wasn’t sure what. 

“I’ve been trying, you know,” he suddenly grumbled, unable to take the tense silence any longer. 

“What?” you wondered aloud, glancing over at him. 

His face was scrunched in concentration as he stared at something straight ahead, unable to bring himself to meet your gaze. “With you. To be… I don’t know… better.”

His words took you by surprise, and you felt a little guilty for making him think you never noticed. “I know that,” you admitted softly. 

“I don’t think you do,” he quipped, his voice more aggressive than he meant it to be. “You bother me all the fucking time.” 

“You know-” you began to argue, anger starting to simmer deep within your bones again. 

“Stop,” he all but growled, holding up a hand. “Just fucking listen for once.”

You glowered at him, folding your arms as you sank further under the covers, as if seeking some kind of protection, while waiting for him to continue. 

It took him a while to speak up again, and you almost thought he’d never continue, but he hesitantly explained himself. “You bother me… because you make me different.” 

“What do you mean?” you asked tentatively. 

“I don’t know,” he admitted, chuckling humourlessly. “I’m a dick. I don’t care that I’m a dick. But you- I’m around you, and I want to be less…” he trailed off with a sigh, unsure of how to go on. 

“Less dickish?” you offered, fighting off a smile. 

“Yeah,” he agreed, awkwardly clearing his throat. “Yeah, I guess so.”

You hummed thoughtfully, thinking over your response. “In case you haven’t noticed, you don’t exactly send me running for the hills, Ben.”

“I know that,” he said passively. “I just… I don’t know. Don’t think that I don’t try.”

He finally turned to look at you, and you could see the pleading in his eyes; the hurt. You sighed in defeat, sitting up and gesturing for him to take up the space beside you. He hesitated, raising a brow in contemplation before making his way over. You peeled back the covers for him, and he carefully slid in; cautious, as though he thought it was a trap. 

Neither of you were sure what to do next, and after a few minutes of awkward silence, you laid down to settle in for some sleep. Ben followed suit, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you in close; you instinctively nestled against him, relishing in the warmth he provided.  

“I hope you don’t think I’m drunk enough to forget that you were actually sweet tonight,” you said suddenly, your voice a playful whisper. 

He let out a chuckle, his chest rumbling beneath your cheek and forcing a small giggle from you. 

“Just don’t expect it all the time,” he declared, a playful undertone in his voice as well. “I’m mostly sour.” 

Though despite his declaration, his grip tightened to pull you in a little closer. 

“Well,” you said, closing your eyes and relaxing against him. “Sweet and sour does happen to be my favourite combination.” 

“And thank Christ for that,” he muttered, more to himself than anything. 

You smiled to yourself, hearing his words despite them sounding far away. You had a fleeting intent to respond, but your mind grew too heavy, and you quickly fell asleep to the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath your head - though, not before you felt him placing a lingering kiss to your hairline, paired with a murmured goodnight, sweetheart.

tagging: @roseblue373

[yandere-daydreams]

tw - afab!reader, non/con, implied drug use, breeding kinks, obsessive/delusional behavior, gojo talks about his ex during sex and you can't change my mind. happy valentine's day <3

“This is my first Valentine’s with somebody to celebrate with, y’know.”

Satoru’s slow, melodic voice was just barely outpaced by his idle movements – his hips rolling lazily against yours, each thrust more languid and lethargic than the last. His blunt nails dug into your skin where his hands had your wrists pinned over your head, and somehow, he’d managed to turn the feeling of satin sheets against your back into something rough and cutting. The taste of chocolate and bitter wine clung to the inside of your mouth, but you shouldn’t have been drunk enough for your thoughts to be this clouded, this muddled. A few hours ago, you’d been sure that amount of wine could ever get you into bed with Gojo Satoru, and yet, here you were, suffering silently underneath him as fuck you like he had all the time in the world.

“I mean, there was Suguru, but he wasn’t really the romantic type. I’d be lucky to get a box of chocolates, n’ I was still the one handing out most of the affection. To little thanks, of course.” Were you in his bedroom? You had to be. This was definitely his bed, and with your head lulled to the side, you could see scattered tea candles littered over dressers and bedside tables, forgotten clothes left in crumpled piles on the carpeted floor. You might’ve been wrong, though. When he wasn’t on campus, Satoru lived in a luxury apartment – the best money could buy. Luxury apartments didn’t have bars over the windows and locks on every door. “Not that I mind spoilin’ you,” he backtracked, his voice taking on the faintest notes of a teasing inflection. “It’s just—It’s nice to feel appreciated, sometimes. Suguru was always the selfish type. I’m sure you’ll be a lot sweeter with me, though.”

One of his hands fell away from your wrists, soon reappearing at your chin. Taking you by the jaw, he eased your head back, forcing you to face him properly. He wasn’t wearing his sunglasses, let alone a proper blindfold, and even in the dim light, his star-bright eyes were almost unbearable to meet. You tried to jerk out of his hold, to straighten your back, but your body refused to respond, your limbs little more than dead weight and numbing static. The only part of yourself that you could feel was your pussy – soaked and hot and vice-like around his cock. You wanted it to stop, to go dry, to make this as unpleasant for him as it was for you, but his public bone scraped against your clit and instead, you clenched around him. A low groan bubbled past Satoru’s lips, his eyes fluttering shut as he bowed his head and nuzzled into the crook of your neck. “Already bein’ sweet with me,” he babbled, now partially muffled by proximity. “Just wanna be my little sweetheart, huh? Wanna be good to me?”

His pace picked up, his hips starting to move against yours in earnest. The force seemed to knock some intangible block out of your throat, and suddenly, little whines and whimpers were flooding out of you, cracked moans trickling past your lips in little, stunted hiccups. You tried to spit something coherent out, to tell him to slow down, to get off of you, to stop, but your tongue was too heavy and your lips wouldn’t cooperate and all you managed was a string of pained gibberish, dented and beaten by pitiful, dazed sounds. Satoru only cooed in response, nipping at your collarbone, the curve of your neck. “So, so good for me.” He drew back, leaving just enough distance between you to slot his lips against yours. His tongue raked over yours, and by the time he pulled back, he was breathless and you were dazed beyond any hope of full consciousness. If he was bothered by your glassy eyes, though, your slack features, you couldn’t tell. He was smiling when he pulled away, his expression nearly as gaze as your own. “Hey, baby…”

If you were able to, you would’ve screamed.

“If I knock you up, think we can do this again next year?”

[hawkinsbnbg]

nightingales

Written for @steddieangstyaugust Day 13: "Please, stay."

tags: mutual pining, mildly dub-con, slight daddy kink (1 word), hurt/comfort, hookups to lovers, idiots in love, post ss2/post starcourt

rated: M | words: 3k | ao3

"Please stay."

That halted Eddie's movements briefly. Only briefly. And then he resumed zipping up his flies and buckling his belt as if nothing had been said.

Eddie's heart trembled in his chest, begging him to obey the voice of his Adonis, but he resisted. Because he had gone into this with his eyes wide open and head cleared of any delusional thoughts.

He knew his place, knew how to get his job done, knew what parts to hide safely away from prying eyes and protruding ears, knew just the way to make every night worth the time.

And knew he wouldn't find real love in one Steve Harrington—the town's sweetheart and golden boy—however lovely their rendezvouses had been so far.

"You're drunk, Harrington," he dared a look over his shoulder, sighing when he found the bane of his existence was already snoring softly.

Unable to help himself, Eddie cursed under his breath and stepped over to the bed once more to tuck Steve under the blanket neatly, safe and sound, and lingered for a bit to admire how young and carefree Steve looked while asleep.

Mouth slacked, eyes closed peacefully, features softened from all the edges, so unlike the bone-deep exhaustion that clouded those pretty hazels with gloomy shadows.

At least, after their little arrangement started, Steve seemed to have benefited from it judging by the lack of his heavy eye bags.

Two months ago, Steve had come asking for something to help him sleep and somehow left with a bag of weed after blowing Eddie's brain out.

It was so surreal that Eddie thought he had hallucinated the whole thing while high off his ass.

Except, Steve kept seeking him out, going from paying for drugs with intense blowjobs to something more, something Eddie could give him without affecting the Munson household's finances.

Since then, Steve would wait for him at the Harrington's residence considering it was easier and safer that way, and Eddie would do his best to pound Steve so good he would conk out by the time they were done.

And yet, more often than not, Steve would already have taken a few swigs from daddy dearest's pricey liquors and would be quite tipsy by the time Eddie arrived.

Not that Eddie hated it. He was obsessed with a tipsy Steve actually. Because tipsy Steve was always sweeter, more open and pliant with everything Eddie gave him, more expressive and vocal in a way that made Eddie weak on the knees.

Then again, tipsy Steve also got quite a loose mouth.

He asked for things Eddie would be dying to give him, he said things that were too good to be true, he sang Eddie's name like prayers, and he always begged Eddie to stay.

None of that helped Eddie's stupid heart to stay at bay at all. Because the moment Steve's pretty mouth pressed on his ear and whispered "Daddy", he was a goner.

Nonetheless, Eddie hadn't survived to this day to not being aware of how dangerous Steve Harrington was.

A rich straight boy who was curious about the world around himself. Who would stamp on Eddie's heart once he got bored and decided to move on. Who would leave Eddie behind to go get a perfect family with a beautiful wife, two kids and a half, and a white-picket-fenced house.

It didn't take Eddie long to make up his mind.

He looked at Steve once more before turning on his heels to leave the room, somehow feeling less hollow and cold after two months of witnessing them together.

So long as Steve needed him, he would be there. And Eddie would make himself sacred when the time came.

———

"Stay the night?"

Eddie glanced up from the task in his hands—wiping Steve down with a warm washcloth—and smiled humorlessly.

"You know I can't, Harrington."

"Why, though?" Steve asked softly, eyes still hazy and bottom lip jutting out petulantly.

"My uncle will worry sick if I stay overnight outside," Eddie offered a half-truth considering Wayne had stopped giving him curfews since he started dealing.

"I'm flattered you wanna keep me in your chamber, princess," he leaned forward to press a kiss on Steve's forehead. "But I gotta go."

For a fleeting moment, Steve seemed sobered up enough to regard him with an unreadable look, like he could see right through Eddie's lie.

But the moment just passed as quickly as it came when Steve let out a teary yawn that shouldn't be as endearing as it was.

"Good night," Eddie whispered as he pulled the blanket up to cover his sleepy boy.

"G'night," Steve smiled, small and sweet, and was off to dreamland within seconds, leaving Eddie sitting by his side and gazing at him longingly.

———

When Steve wasn't drunk, he would be more tense and on guard, which Eddie could completely understand given their circumstances.

What Eddie couldn't understand, though, was that Steve still asked him to stay.

"I, uhm, have nightmares," Steve averted his eyes, he did that a lot lately, like he was afraid Eddie would figure out the secret in them if he looked too long. "It'll help to have someone hold me while I sleep."

It was so sly of him to use that card on Eddie, knowing full well how much of a bleeding heart Eddie was.

Therefore, Eddie knew the decision had been made for him even before he opened his mouth.

"Alright, I'll stay, but only 'til you fall asleep."

It was the right and wrong thing to say.

Eddie realized with great displeasure that he didn't like the way Steve's eyes dimmed right after having brightened up just seconds ago.

When Eddie left that night, he tried to not think about the disappointment on Steve's face when the younger boy woke up to his cold side of the bed in the morning.

(He failed.)

———

Steve didn't ask him to stay anymore.

And Eddie pretended that it didn't crush his heart just a bit when Steve refused to receive the aftercare.

In response, Eddie simply fucked him harder for that so he wouldn't have any strength left to protest by the end of it.

It was worth all the glares and pouts Steve shot his way when he just gave up on the charade after a while and let Eddie take care of him again.

"Stay, please?"

It was said so quietly, and if Eddie wasn't always paying attention to Steve, he wouldn't be able to catch it at all.

Eddie swallowed dryly, wanting nothing more than to return to Steve's side and scoop him in a cuddle until they both drifted off in each other's arms.

But reality was always cruel. And Eddie had learned that the hard way. He couldn't afford to make mistakes now when everything had been going smoothly so far. Especially when his traitorous heart was constantly on the verge of running away from him.

"I can't–"

"Sorry," Steve let out a sigh. "Just... Just forget about it."

When Eddie finished dressing, he turned to look at Steve and was greeted by a sun-kissed back.

He squashed the urge to come closer and run his fingers on it, mapping out the constellations and tracing love lyrics with his lips on those moles and freckles.

Instead, he walked over to the door and saw himself out.

"Have a sweet dream, Stevie."

He lingered a bit, only leaving once he was sure Steve had fallen asleep.

———

They didn't meet quite often anymore. Steve was busy with his summer job and Eddie was well... hung up on the what-ifs.

What if Steve was also a trailer kid? What if Eddie wasn't a drug dealer? What if they both came from normal families that loved and accepted them for who they were? What if then?

Eddie liked to think they would always meet each other at some point in their lives no matter what the circumstances. Eddie liked to think they were star-crossed lovers who couldn't get together because of the period they were living in. Eddie liked to think Steve also loved him back.

And yet, Eddie had seen Steve flirt with endless girls at Scoop Ahoy, making eyes with some guys who looked like college jocks, who could guarantee him a good time once he dropped Eddie like a sack of potatoes.

Eddie had stood on the sideline and watched with burning, acidic jealousy as Steve threw his charm carelessly at everything that could breathe and walk on two legs.

When Steve turned to look at him with that same charming smile, Eddie realized it was time for him to wake up from his dream.

And so he did.

———

"Can you come tonight, Eddie?"

"Sorry, man, I've gotta sell all of this new stuff by the end of tonight 'cause the bills are due next week, ya know?"

"'S okay. Uhm, see you later?"

"See you later."

———

"Are you busy tonight?"

"Yeah, sorry 'bout that. I have band practice until midnight. And Wayne will be home by the time I'm done. So..."

"Yeah, I got it."

"Uh-huh."

"Rain check?"

"Rain check."

———

Eddie turned up the volume of his music until it drowned out the ringing of the phone.

———

Eddie bit his nails, watching Steve's beamer park outside the Mayfield's trailer, watching him talking and laughing with that red-haired little girl, watching him finally get back into the car and drive away once the sun set.

He didn't know if he should feel relieved or disappointed when Steve never looked at the Munson Trailer once.

———

Eddie jolted up by the sharp knocks on the trailer's door. A quick glance at the clock told him it was only two am, too early for the police's raid and too late for his customers to linger outside.

There was only one answer to that and he hoped Franklin would be cowed away by a broken beer bottle just like the other night.

Stumbling out of his bed and pulling up his jeans hastily, he blearily thanked his lucky star that Wayne wasn't home yet.

Because for all the patience the older man had, he didn't doubt Wayne would pull the shotgun on Franklin and well, Eddie wouldn't be sorry for the drunken bastard but he didn't want Wayne to get involved in his mess too much.

On his way, Eddie picked up his weapon from under the couch as he passed by it and marched straight to the door.

When he threw it open, scowling and ready to swing at his enemy, he was greeted by not Franklin but Steve Harrington instead.

Eddie faltered, feeling sick with worry and cold dread as he took in the sight of the younger boy.

"Jesus Christ," he dropped the bottle, ignoring the clang! it made on the floor, to hover his hands over Steve's face. "What the fuck had happened to you, Harrington?"

Steve honest-to-god giggled.

"S'not important anymore," he slurred and swayed on his feet, eyes swollen in purple and red, face caked in blood and bruises and scratches. He was a bloody mess.

Eddie pulled him inside as gently as possible, trying to stay level-headed for both Steve and himself because it wouldn't do either of them any good if he panicked now.

Carefully, Eddie guided Steve to the couch, flipping on just the lamp on the side table, knowing from experience that too much light would cause discomfort to someone who had just got beaten to a pulp.

He poured Steve a glass of water, watching him drink it slowly before getting up to retrieve the quick aid kit, clean towel, and wash his hands thoroughly with soap in the bathroom.

Once he was done cleaning the cuts on Steve's face, he applied some antiseptic cream on the injured areas—which didn't look that bad after the blood was gone.

During the whole time, Steve remained oddly silent, eyes slightly glazed over like being high or in shock, just watching Eddie do all the work and only letting out a few quiet hisses when the cuts burned.

Eddie had apologized plenty for that, wishing he could share half of the pain Steve was feeling at the moment.

Then he asked Steve about the other possible injuries and concussions, not wanting to overlook anything and receiving a simple "Yes" to both questions.

("Christ, we should bring you to the hospital, Stevie."

"No, no hospital. Please."

"... Have you had anyone besides me checked your injuries, yet?"

"Uh, yeah, the paramedics. They cleared me after a bit. 'Cause there's nothing really bad, though.")

"Can I sleep now?" Steve sniffed, sounding small and lost, making Eddie's heart ache terribly.

"Not yet, Bambi," Eddie smiled softly when those pitiful doe eyes looked at him. "We gotta bathe you first, wash away these dirt and grimes before bringing you to bed."

And he wasn't lying, either. Wherever Steve had been all night had soiled his cute sailor uniform and turned him into a real Cinderella.

"C'mon," Eddie guided him up with a hand around his waist while ducked to shoulder one of his arms. "The quicker we do it, the sooner you can get your beauty sleep."

Fortunately, Steve didn't protest and allowed Eddie to half-carry him all the way into the bathroom.

———

Eddie took in a sharp inhale when he got to see the damage beneath Steve's clothes. It was far more severe than he had anticipated and he wondered if the paramedics would've let Steve go had they seen this.

Sighing inwardly, Eddie used a washcloth and gently scrubbed all the mud and blood off Steve's body, shushing the younger boy softly when he whimpered at the stings and dull aches.

Eddie had half a mind to kiss them better, but he reined in his desire to soothe Steve's pain and concentrated on making the shower as short as possible.

By the time they left the bathroom, Steve was trembling minutely but the fog in his eyes had dissipated and he seemed more conscious than when he appeared on the Munson Trailer's front porch.

After putting on one of Eddie's old Metallica tees and a pair of red flannel pants by himself, Steve ran a hand through his dampened hair and gave Eddie a crooked smile.

"Sorry for bothering you this late."

"I wanted to help," Eddie corrected him quickly.

"Of course, I know you would," Steve swallowed, eyes flickering back and forth from Eddie's eyes to his pale tattooed chest. "But I'm still sorry for having turned up without calling ahead. I was lucky enough I didn't ruin your uncle's sleep."

"He'd do the same for you, you know that right?" Eddie raised an eyebrow, chest tight with possessiveness at the sight of Steve wearing his clothes, standing in his bedroom, and smelling of his shampoo.

"Look," Steve spoke up before Eddie could say anything. "I gotta go now."

"No," Eddie reached for Steve's hand and held on it tightly. "You're not going anywhere."

"Why?"

Eddie clicked his tongue in mild annoyance, wanting to know what made Steve think it was wise to sleep without supervision while having a concussion and cracked ribs.

"I'm not letting you go back to your place alone like this."

Steve snorted and rolled his eyes, a hint of King Steve peeking through the veil. He tried to pull his hand back but gave up once he realized Eddie wouldn't let him go.

He settled with a tired sigh instead.

"I don't want your pity, Munson."

"I'm not pitying you."

"So what is this?" Steve hissed as he raised his captured wrist and shook it lightly for emphasis.

Eddie only tightened his grasp further, paranoid that Steve would slip through his fingers like sand.

"It's not pity," Eddie met those hazel eyes, still burning with that same fire he always loved. He brought Steve's hand to his lips, pressing shaky kisses on those bruised knuckles.

He still wanted to run away. But the idea of leaving Steve caused him such unbearable pain that he just knew would break him down if he ever did it again.

"I care for you, Steve," his voice cracked as he confessed quietly, "I care for you a lot."

Steve breathed in sharply, eyes glassy with unshed tears and lips quivered.

"Then why did you never stay?" He asked softly. "Why did you always leave even when I begged you not to?"

Eddie stepped in closer and used his free hand to hold on to Steve's as well.

"'Cause I was scared, sweetheart," he whispered. "Scared of having my heart broken. 'Cause I knew, always do, that I don't deserve pretty things like you. That I can't give you all the good things that you deserve."

"So I'm begging you now," he blinked away his tears and looked at Steve beseechingly.

"You don't have to–"

"Please, stay," he pleaded. "Please give me another chance to show you how much you matter to me. Please trust me to make it right this time. Please."

Steve became worryingly silent at that. But Eddie still waited patiently, knowing it was a lot to take it all at once. Even Eddie himself was reeling from what he just said.

"You ignored my calls."

"I'm sorry."

"You always left although I begged you not to."

"I'm sorry."

"You lied to me."

"I'm sorry."

"You didn't tell me what I did wrong," Steve mumbled, lips wobbling and nose turned pink.

That cut him deep.

"No, sweetheart, no," Eddie tugged him closer and embraced him gently, heart swelling with fondness when Steve melted in his arms.

"You did nothing wrong, baby, it's all my fault," Eddie sniffled, walking them both to his bed carefully. "I'm so sorry for making you think that way."

As Steve let out a wounded noise and started shaking with small sobs, Eddie cried with him and stroked his back soothingly, knowing he would kill and die for this boy in a heartbeat, knowing that he could never not be in love with Steve Harrington.

When they finally settled on the mattress together, Eddie spooned Steve from behind and pressed kisses everywhere he could reach.

Steve giggled quietly, too exhausted to say anything but still leaning into Eddie's warmth all the same.

Eddie knew they still had a lot to discuss to make their newly found relationship really work, but as he listened to Steve's soft snoring, he was certain they would be fine this time.

As long as they were together.

[roomwithanopenfire]

someone bookmarked No Sweeter Drug with the only note being "Gay" like yes but I'm so curious about your bookmark organization

[miley1442111]

heyy, i love your writing! I was thinking a rafe x fem reader, where Rafe says they don’t have anything, she was just a hook up etc when he was actually just scared of having feelings for a girl for the first time in his life. she gets with JJ to make him jealous and it works, but instead of being that mad Rafe Cameron he just open his heart and his fears to her (even end up crying a bit)

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

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

mistakes and misjudgements

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

a/n: hi! thank you so much for requesting! I love this idea!

pairing: rafe cameron x fem! reader

summary: i suggest you look at the request

warnings: kissing, toxic relationship, rafe is confused, cursing, drinking, suggestive mentions, mentions of rafe's addictions (i think that's it?)

not entirely proofread

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

Rafe walked past the bar, his eyes searching for yours. You, the pogue bartender at the club, had caught the Rafe Cameron’s eye, and he wasn’t about to let you go. 

He was met with Jj. His smile dropped, while Jj’s smirk rose. 

“What can I get you, Cameron? A vodka cranberry? I can mix it with the blood of the people you’ve murdered?-”

Jj stopped talking when Rafe leaned in closer. 

“Just a water, thanks.” 

Jj nodded and walked to the fridge to grab him a bottle, and then you walked up, and he watched as Rafe’s demeanour changed. He was softer, sweeter, and funnier. Jj almost laughed out loud at the way Rafe pushed some hair back from your face, that sickly sweet smile on his face. 

Jj moved you over, his hands on your waist and handed Rafe his water. “Water for the gentleman.”

Rafe’s smile dropped. “Thanks man.”

“Oh, Jj, this is my boyfriend, Rafe,” you smiled, introducing the two.

Bile rose in Rafe's stomach. Were you two dating? But that came with so much more than just the fun dates you two were indulging in. That would mean he’d have to be vulnerable with you. And the fact that you hated his drug use, something he’d been struggling to stop for a while now. And he knew you were too good for him, it was only a matter of time before you figured it out yourself and-

His mouth moved before his brain could stop it. “Woah,” Rafe deflected. “I’m not her boyfriend, we’re just… casual,” he shrugged. 

Your face fell and Rafe had never felt so bad. “Right, casual.”

You hated that word. You hated how he used it. You hated how you thought, even just for a second, that you would settle for that.

Jj’s smile widened. “Well, there’s your water. See you ‘round Kook,” and with that, Jj turned his back on Rafe and turned to you. “You alright?”

You nodded, more annoyed than anything else. “He’s such an asshole.”

“I hate to say ‘I told you so’, but I did warn you-” before he could finish you hit him with a towel, which ended up in a towel fight in the bar, neither of you aware of the searing eyes of Rafe Cameron. 

Maybe he’d fucked up. Maybe he did want to be your boyfriend. 

Maybe. 

Jj was appalled at what Rafe had done. Casual? What was wrong with him? He had the prettiest, kindest, most amazing girl on the island, if not the world, and he was throwing it away, for what? To fuck other people? That didn’t make any sense. So you two made a plan.  

He was going to ask you out. Now, Jj liked you, yes, but as a friend. You liked Jj, yes, but again, as a friend. So you two could ‘go out’ with each other and make Rafe jealous. For the simple reason of principal, you had to make Rafe pay, it was only fair. 

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

When you walked into the party, you immediately found Jj and clung to him for the whole night. Everyone was talking about you two, especially since most people thought you were dating Rafe. 

You two danced, drank, and even made out, and by the end of the night, you knew you’d sent a message Rafe’s way by the amount of texts you’d received.  

Rafe: Wtf are you doing with him?

Rafe: Text me back.

Rafe: Stop being so close to him. Come talk to me 

Rafe: Please Y/n.

Rafe: I got the fucking message now stop it.

Rafe: You have my attention, you always do. Get off of him.

Rafe: Please come talk to me.

Rafe: Y/n stop.

Rafe: Please. 

Rafe: I know I fucked up, come on. This isn’t fair.

Rafe: I made a mistake Y/n, I’m sorry.

Rafe: Fuck this, I’ll be at Tanneyhill when you’re ready to talk to me like an adult. 

Rafe: Please talk to me. Please.

You chuckled as you read through the messages, Sarah by your side. 

“Oh my god! That’s why he was so upset leaving the party!” she laughed. 

Your stomach dropped. Rafe shouldn't have been upset, he didn't care about you, right? You were just another girl he was talking to and planning on fucking, right? “What do you mean?”

“Oh yeah, Kelce was telling me he was super worked up and upset all night so he left. He didn’t even do anything but he was pacing the entire night. Top though he’d had a panic attack.”

“Shit,” you cursed under your breath. “Hey, I think I might call it a night,” you turned to the group. 

“Aww come on! The night’s just started,” Kiara pleaded, you chuckled and shook your head. 

“I’m tired!” you lied. “And I have work tomorrow.”

You needed to talk to Rafe right now. 

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

The walk from the beach to Tanneyhill was quick but full of quiet and anxious scenarios. You didn’t mean to make him upset, you just wanted to show him what he was missing. He embarrassed you earlier, and you wanted to get him back. You never meant to cause harm. 

You knocked on the door, hoping he was ok, and internally hoping it would be him to open the door, considering you were wearing a very short dress that you knew Rose would turn her nose up at. 

The door swung open to reveal… Rafe. 

But he looked… upset? His eyes were red-rimmed and his nose was sniffly, he’d been crying. You’d made him cry. 

“Hi,” he sniffled, and your heart just broke. Your Rafe had been crying over you.  

You cupped his cheeks and pulled him closer. “I’m sorry,” you whispered and he shook his head, trying to hold back more tears. 

“It’s fine,” he whispered, his voice hoarse and tired. 

“It’s not. I’m so sorry Rafe,” you pressed a kiss to his cheek and that was all it took, the floodgates opened and he wrapped his arms around you, allowing him to be held by you. You sank down to the steps and let him cry into your neck for a few minutes. You softly brushed through his hair with your fingers and whispered hushed apologies and promises of everything being ok. After a few minutes he was coherent enough to speak. He pulled back, wiping his eyes with his hand as you sat beside him, confused and feeling awful. 

“I got so… jealous for a while, seeing you and Jj at work. I have no idea why. A-and then at the party, I saw you two just laughing a-and ha-having fun,” he hiccuped. “And I realised that I-I’m not like that. I’m not f-funny. I don’t make you laugh. I’m not ve-very fun to b-be around.” 

Your heart broke as you saw the little known insecure side of Rafe Cameron. Obviously, Jj and Rafe were different people, but you enjoyed Rafe’s dad jokes, just as much as you enjoyed Jj’s dry sarcasm. You and Jj had known each other practically since birth, so obviously you were more relaxed around him than with Rafe. Especially with Rafe, at the beginning you were so tense on every date, always worried that you were going to say the wrong thing, since this was your first real relationship. 

“I love being around you,” you cooed, cupping his cheek. “I think you’re funny. You make me laugh all the time.”

He nodded. “B-but I’m not like that, I’m… different. I’m not e-easy to be with, with the d-drinking and the baggage, and the drugs. I know that, a-and I promise I’m trying to change, t-to be better f-for you, it’s just h–hard. A-and I’m so scared that I’m going to lose you i-if I do the wrong thing.” 

“You’re not going to lose me,” you promised. “I swear.”

“But you and Jj-?”

“I was… trying to make you jealous,” you admitted, slightly embarrassed. 

“Oh,” he sighed. “That’s g-good. ‘Cause I really like you. And I want you to be my girlfriend.” 

You smiled. “I’m all yours Rafe, and we’ll work through it all together. I’m here for you, always.”

You took his hand in your and smiled. 

His other hand came up to cup your cheek, and he pressed his lips to yours in a soft kiss.

You'd get through it all, together.

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

obx masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, obx, the bear, marvel, top gun, the hunger games, challengers :)

[thebearer]

would you ever write something about protective baby daddy carmy, maybe it’s only a few weeks until the baby is born so super big belly and coming to family or making her spend all the time at the restaurant so he doesn’t miss the birth

"Make way, wide corner!" Richie bellowed, arms waving back and forth, guiding you through the kitchen like you were an airplane landing.

You glared at him, a snarl in your expression as you waddled around the corner. It was hot and you were so fucking pregnant, due any day now. "Shut the fuck up, Richie." You huffed, flinching at the heat of the kitchen, a wave of nausea coming over you.

"Richie, leave that poor woman alone. What's the matter with you, huh?" Tina snarled, glaring harshly at Richie. "How're you doin', Mama? How's the baby?" Her tone dropped to something sweeter, kinder for you, hand rubbing over your swollen abdomen. Normally, it bothered you when people touched your bump, but Tina was different. It was comforting with her.

"Miserable. Swollen. Hot." You muttered, looking down at your growing belly where baby girl was still jabbing at your ribs.

"I mean this in the nicest way, but... has the baby grew more since last week?" Sydney's eyes were skittish and wide, darting carefully from your stomach back to you.

You snorted lightly, running a hand over the swell of your abdomen. "She dropped a few days ago. Getting ready for launch." You muttered.

"Oh, that-that's, uh, terrifying." Sydney nodded, awkwardly. "Sorry, that's not what you want to hear, but, uh..."

"No, you're right. It is." You laughed, a little uneasy. It was fucking terrifying, all of it- pregnancy, birth, motherhood in general. It was scary.

"It also is so fucking painful because now everything is heavier and my back feels like it might snap." You gave a fake forced smile.

"Oh, poor Mama. That just means she's close. Only a few more days?" Tina beamed. "How much does she weigh?"

"They think eight pounds." You groaned, Sydney's eye bulging expression.

"Ay dios mio..." Tina muttered under her breath. "Well, you'll be so drugged up, honey, you won't even feel it."

"I'm praying for a C-section." You scoffed lightly. "Carmen's already said he's gonna be a wreck either way."

"Yeah, and he will be, won't you, Cousin?" Richie cackled, clapping his cousin on the back as he passed by.

"Be what?" Carmen muttered, too in the game to even see you there. "Chef, have you finished prep?"

"No, Jeff. Talking to your beautiful baby mama." Tina cooed, giving your arm a gentle squeeze.

Carmen's eyes lifted to you, brow furrowed when he looked at the time. "Hey, baby, I lost track of time." He muttered, lips brushing over yours in greeting, hand gliding down your growing stomach.

"We know you did, Cousin." Richie scoffed. "I went and got her."

"You drove with Richie?" Carmen's eyes flashed to you.

"C'mon, Carm. I'm a good fuckin' driver, alright? Quit busting my balls." Richie snorted, rolling his eyes at him.

"He drove safe, Carmy." You reassured, hand rubbing down his forearms sweetly.

Carmen hummed, rolling his eyes gently, but moved you through the kitchen after Sweeps almost hit you with a pan rounding the corner. "Here, come in my office."

"Is it cooler in there?" You moaned, lip jutting in a pout. "I'm about to stand in the freezer, Carmy, it's so fuckin' hot in here."

"I know." Carmen had learned, knew better now, than to do anything but agree with you. He'd been on the receiving end of your wild hormones too many times, your lashing tongue or worse- the fucking tears.

"I put the fan in here, and I have that neck thing in my little fridge, ok? You should be laying down anyways. Not supposed to be up." Carmen frowned lightly , pushing the door open to his office.

The couch was now used as your temporary napping place throughout the day. Carmen had put the bear in overbearing- a joke you told him that he did not find that humorous- when you became pregnant, and it only got more and more severe as months went on. When you got into your third trimester, put on bed rest the last few weeks, Carmen had taken it beyond serious. Insisting that you come stay with him at the restaurant. He was terrified at the thought of something happening or you going into labor when he wasn't around.

You'd agreed, reluctantly, really only because you wanted Carmen close and... because you were in a restaurant. Any type of craving would be satisfied easily for you.

"I think if I lay down, Carmy, I'm not making it back up for family." You yawned gently, rubbing your eyes with the heel of your hand.

Carmen grinned, reaching to turn on the fan besides the couch, pointing it at you so it would blow the cool air over you. "That's alright. I'll bring it here to you." He muttered, pulling the blinds closed for you.

You sat down, propped against the pillows, head lolling to the side to look at him. Carmen sat beside you, hand rubbing over your stomach. "Where's she at today?"

"Same place she was this morning. Right under my ribs." You grin, moving his hand under your left boob, pressing to the side when her fluttered kicks were.

Carmen beamed, eyes brightening as his hand ghosted over the spot there. "Talk to her, Bear." You muttered, eyes fluttering shut. This pregnancy fatigue was no fucking joke. "She likes your voice."

"Yeah?" Carmen grinned, perking at the compliment.

"Yeah." You nodded. "She likes to hear her Daddy's voice. Makes her kick like fucking crazy."

Carmen leaned down, cheek resting on your stomach gently. "Hi, baby. Are you bein' good?" He muttered, your body flushing with adoration at the gentleness of his words. "You ready to come out soon? We're ready for you to. I know your Mommy is."

You snorted, a breathy laugh cut short by a sharp kick to your ribs. "Keep talking." You muttered, moving his hand a little further to wear the kick was. "Bring out the cookbooks again."

"Yeah?" Carmen hummed, eyes crinkling with amusement. "Your Mommy thinks that's funny, but when you come out knowing how to make bruschetta, she's gonna be blown away. Won't she?" Carmen's voice lilted, a tone of baby talk that had you swooning. It was new, something he just recently started doing in the recent weeks. While you were nesting, so was he, in a different way. Getting used to the idea of being a dad, the anxieties he felt traded in for an excitement.

Carmen could feel it, tiny kicks pressing through your tight, stretched skin. His baby, kicking to the sound of his voice. His heart swelled. "See, she agrees with me."

You laughed, running a hand through his hair. "I know she does. Already got you already, hm, Berzatto?"

"Gets it from her, Mama." Carmen jested back, a playful twinkle in his eyes that had your heart soaring out of your chest, tears welling in the corners- damn pregnancy hormones. "Learnin' from you already."

You smiled wordlessly, a watery grin that had Carmen a little on edge until you reached out, pulling his hand to your lips, pressing a kiss into his palm. Carmen's hand cradling your cheek, free hand going back to where the baby had been kicking, soothing it gently while your eyes fluttered shut.

[annwrites]

i’m fuckin’ begging you

— pairing: billy hargrove x fem!reader

— type: part of a series

— summary: the morning after you & billy have your first intimate moment together, it's like he's reverted back to who he was in hawkins. you go to a drive-in theater that night in tx with him & have a mental breakdown in a restroom over his treatment of you. he then shows you his love in shades of black & blue, & when you go to finally leave for good, he tells you just who it is, exactly, that you belong to.

— tags: billy going back to being a MASSIVE asshole bc he's terrified of commitment & vulnerability. billy gets into his first fist-fight over you. billy staking a claim. ANGST.

— tw: drugs, violence

— word count: 7.4k

— a/n: yeah, he's toxic, but we're all about that on this blog, so.

The smell of salt air wafts into the Camaro's cabin, and the sound of crashing waves and the call of seagulls envelope the two of you. You'd finally made it. Billy was home and you'd stayed with him every mile of the way. You were his. Completely.

He sits in the front seat of his Camaro, you atop him in his lap, legs spread, him buried inside of your warm wetness. He grips your bare hips under your sundress, gently rocking your hips against him.

He reaches up, cupping your cheek, your soft hair tumbling over your slender shoulders as you smile warmly down at him, eyes full of adoration, kindness, care. When had someone last looked at him in such a way? No judgement, no hatred, no harsh words or actions against him.

"Billy." You call softly to him.

He tucks a lock of hair behind your ear. "Say it, baby, please. I need to hear it."

You reach up, resting your left hand atop his shoulder, fingers burying themselves in his hair, a silver ring glinting against the bright California sun high in the sky, a breeze washing over both of you through the open windows.

"Billy," you say again, sweetly.

His other hand that's not cupping your face gently squeezes your hip. "Please, angel, no one has said it to me since my mom left. Please... I feel it, too."

"Billy."

As you continue rocking your hips against his, his brows furrow. Something isn't right. Doesn't feel right.

"Billy."

His eyes slowly open, sunlight streaming in from a window to his right and you're hovering overtop of him, brows furrowed. "Hey, you need to get up. We have to be checked out soon."

He sits up suddenly, pushing you away from him, nearly causing you to fall off of the bed. "Get the fuck off of me," he says, standing.

You roll your eyes. Clearly not a morning person you now knew.

"Good morning to you, too," you say sarcastically.

He turns back to you. "What time is it?"

"Twenty till."

"Why the fuck did you let me sleep so long?"

You withdraw a little at his harsh, aggressive tone. "You were tired and I just wanted to let you rest."

He walks over to his bag.

"Don't worry, I got all our stuff together."

He turns back to you with a sneer. "You went through my shit?"

Your hands begin to shake. Where was the Billy from last night? You were so sure things would be far different today. Going forward in general. Easier, sweeter, kinder.

You stand. "No, I just put your things away. I didn't go through it. I was trying to be nice."

He unzips it, pulling out an outfit, dressing himself, not looking at you. "Get your shit and get down to the car."

You walk over to your bags, shrugging them on. You don't speak to him again as you open the door. Before you can step over the threshold, he calls to you.

You look back to him, hopeful for an apology.

Instead, he says, "Don't ever touch my things again. Got it?"

You nod, then exit the room.

You sit silently in the passenger seat as Billy crosses the Texas border—his tire had been ready to go before the two of you even pulled up to the auto shop. And once the car was ready, he'd immediately hit the road, not even bothering to stop somewhere for breakfast.

You glance to him out of the corner of your eye and wonder if maybe his attitude was from a hangover instead. He hadn't seemed drunk. And while you had a slight headache, you felt fine yourself. If you weren't hungover, then surely he wouldn't be either. Would he?

"Are you okay?" You ask quietly.

He glances to you, then looks back to the road. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"You're...you seem upset."

He rolls his eyes. "Just tired of being stuck in this fuckin' car all the time and having to do all the driving and every ounce of the work around here."

You wince. "I would if I knew how..." You say softly.

"Yeah, well, you don't. And I'm not about to start teaching you so you can burn up the fucking clutch, causing just one more problem to be added onto my plate."

You look out the windshield, tears burning your eyes. "Do...do you regret last night?"

He grows quiet for a moment, jaw flexing. Hard. Then, "Like I told you before, shit like that doesn't mean anything to me. We both got off. Doesn't need to be more than that."

Your lip quivers and you look out the passenger side window at the other passing cars, your stomach tying itself in knots now. How could you have ever trusted him in allowing him to touch you like that? He'd told you what sex—any kind—meant to him. He was consistent in that at least .

He then reaches over, retrieving a cassette from the glovebox and pops it in the radio, Metallica's For Whom the Bell Tolls blaring through the speakers.

When Billy stops to get gas, you watch from the rearview mirror as he eyes up other girls walking around in Daisy Dukes, mini skirts, and the like. Even whistling his approval at a couple. A tear slips down your cheek and you wipe it away.

Once the car has finished filling, he goes inside and you hang your head, crying softly for just a moment. How could you have ever done that? He'd told you his intentions in getting you drunk—he'd done it to take advantage and he had.

You hadn't felt that way while it was happening, though.

What you had felt had been…something more. You couldn’t acknowledge what. Not now. Not ever.

You’d finally given him exactly what he’d wanted since day one—another notch in his belt, just for you. Well, perhaps not exactly, but something. You felt dirty.

Used.

Cheap. 

Pathetic.

Had the things he’d told you while drinking even been true? About his mom? About how he felt about you? You begin to doubt every single thing he’s said and done since you first met. Or, at the very least, since you got into his car that night.

When you glance in the side mirror, you see him heading back and you quickly gather yourself as best you can manage, not looking his way as he enters the car.

He tosses a plastic bag full of junk food between the two of you, but you somehow know you’re not to touch it. 

“I’m hungry, too,” you say softly.

He takes a bite of a Snickers, then glances up to you. “Your legs aren’t broken and you have cash. Go get somethin’.”

You exit the car then, carefully closing the door behind you.

“Hey!”

You turn back to him, leaning down to the window. 

He leans across the way toward you. “From now on, you start paying for all your own shit. I’m done being your meal ticket. Got it?”

You nod, staying silent. You stand, turning away, then hear him yell “hurry up” as you head inside.

Feeling…not like yourself, you stare blankly at the selection of chips in front of you. Your stomach growls, but you feel like whatever you eat will just come right back up. 

You then walk up front to the attendant behind the counter. “Excuse me?”

The older man turns to you, pausing from putting away cigarette cartons. 

“Do you have a public restroom I could use?” 

He nods toward the back left. 

“Thank you,” you say, walking away.

Once inside, you lock the door behind you, pressing your forehead to it, your sweaty palm slipping off of the metal handle as you begin to cry. Hard.

Your head spins with so many thoughts you’re unable to grab a single one to focus on before the next one hits you. 

You wonder if, perhaps, you should’ve stayed in Hawkins—who cared what happened to you in the long run, anyway? You think of your mother, wondering if she ever cared for you, if she ever thinks of you as often as you do her. You think of Steve and how, while he’d only seen you as a friend and you felt the same toward him, it was someone like him that you needed—someone kind and considerate and non-violent.

You think of Billy and how you had been right to see him as a monster. Had been right to stay away from him in the first place. 

God, what had you done to yourself agreeing to get in his car that night? How much better off would you be right now if you’d kept walking instead? You’d had another opportunity on the interstate, but had caved yet again, returning to him. 

You’re not sure you can hold out until California. Parting ways before then…it may be for the best sooner rather than later. For your own safety, if nothing else.

Surviving your father had taken everything in you. But now you had nothing—truly. A few hundred waning dollars, a watch to pawn, and some clothes. That was it.

You suddenly feel terrified for your future. 

You take a moment to gather yourself, realizing you’re now hyper-ventilating and you turn the sink on and splash handful after handful of cold water onto your flushed face, washing the tears away.

When you return to the car, Billy immediately makes a snide comment. “Took long enough. I thought you were getting somethin’ to eat?”

You stare out the window at a happy couple across the way, knowing you’ll never have that. You’re too broken for it. 

“They didn’t have anything I wanted.”

“Whatever,” he says, turning the car over. 

As he begins to drive away, you finally tear your eyes away from the man and woman and suddenly realize: there’s not a single person in all the world who loves or cares about you.

You want to throw yourself from the moving car at the thought.

A couple hours later and you’re beginning to feel sick from the heat, but remain quiet. You should’ve at least gotten a bottle of water or two back at the station, but you’d had other things on your mind. 

Billy glances to you, your sullen state, and rolls his eyes. “You’re really starting to harsh my fuckin’ buzz. The hell is the matter with you today? I know it’s not your monthly or I would’ve found out as much last night with my hand between your legs.”

You feel sick at the memory. “I just don’t feel well.”

“Maybe it’s because you didn’t bother to grab anything while I waited for your ass back at the Exxon.”

You stay quiet, tears burning your eyes. 

He tosses a bag of Doritos at you. “Here, eat those. Even if they are fuckin’ mine.”

He only notices how badly your hands are shaking when you try opening the bag. 

He frowns, turning back to the road as you begin to eat one.

"Thanks," you say softly.

An hour later, Billy finally stops and you’re now seated so far away from him, you’re damn-near climbing out the window. 

He slams his door behind him, leaving you sitting there as he walks up to a taco stand, ordering lunch for himself.

You nearly stumble out of the car, dizzy from your low blood-sugar, but trail along behind him and then order a couple tacos for yourself. 

You go to follow him to a table, until he walks over to a blonde girl who’s wearing a pair of colorful shorts and a tye-dye t-shirt, asking if the seat across from her is free.

You sit some ways away, taking occasional bites of your food, sipping at your water, trying to keep everything down. You grip the edge of the table, taking deep breaths.

You’re fine. You’ll be fine.

You have no other choice now but to be. 

Unless…what if you bought a bus ticket? If you went back…what would happen to you? Would…would your dad follow through on his threat? 

Tears sting your eyes when you wonder what your gravestone would say. Certainly not ‘beloved daughter’.

You push your food away, lying your head down, fighting against your gag reflex.

Billy sits across the way, flirting with the girl in front of him. 

“So, do you live around here?” She asks, taking a bite of her food. 

“Nah, doll, I’m just passin’ through.”

He glances to you for just a moment and his brows furrow when he sees you hunched over, face buried in your arms, taking shallow breaths.

She turns, following his line-of-sight, then looks back to him. “Are you with her?”

He smirks, looking to Candy—Candace—he forgets what the fuck she’d told him her name was now. “Not like that. I’ll be rid of her ass once we hit California.” 

He ignores his stomach twisting painfully when he says it.

“Oh, wow. Long ways to go, huh?”

He shrugs, leaning in toward her. “No reason we can’t get to know one another now.”

She laughs, shaking her head and standing, tossing her paper plate in the trash. “Sorry, but I’m not like that. Good luck getting to Cali, though!”

He sighs as she walks away, his eyes trained on her back-end, even if it doesn’t serve to stir any excitement within him.

He comes over to you then, seating himself heavily on the other side of the metal picnic table. “What? Are you sick?”

You don’t respond. 

He reaches for your food. “If you’re not eating it, then I am. No point in letting it go to waste.”

Still nothing and he wonders if you’ve fallen asleep, until you finally raise your head and he feels the blood drain from his face at the look of yours—flushed, sweaty, your eyes a bit glassy. 

You stand. “I’m going to sit in the car.” When you go to step away, you sway on your feet and then he curses.

“Sit the fuck down and eat your food. Now. I don’t need you getting sick all over my car. Because if you do, I’m not paying for the fuckin’ detailing.”

You do as he says, sitting, pulling your taco toward you, even if it doesn’t even seem all that appetizing to you. “You could always leave me here,” you state.

There’s no sarcasm in your voice. No playful tone. Nothing. 

He leans back a bit. “Don’t tempt me.”

You raise your bottle to your lips, your hands shaking and some water spills on your shirt. 

His face falls as he watches you struggle. Either you were sick from the heat…or you were back to the way you were the other night: filled with fear…of him.

He looks down to his food, his own appetite suddenly gone. He eats it anyway.

Once the two of you are back on the road—your stomachs full, even if neither of you had had an appetite—he turns his radio back on, but leaves it at a comfortable level.

Meanwhile, you think of the watch you’d taken. If the two of you stopped tonight, once you got yourself a room, you’d go in search of a pawn shop. You’d take whatever they offered you. It wasn’t like you were in a place to barter. You then also consider finding out about bus fare. Perhaps to California. 

It won’t be cheap, but even if it takes every cent, you’ll be better off. 

Billy changes lanes, passing the car beside you, then sighs dramatically. “I told you before what sex—all that shit—means to me: nothing. So, what, you’re going to pout now because I don’t want to settle down after one taste? Like it was something to write home about to begin with?”

You put your hand over your mouth. “I’m going to be sick.”

“Fuck,” he says, quickly merging back over, people laying on their horns as he skids to a stop on the shoulder and you wrench your door open and heave over the side of the car.

He then reaches a new level of guilt he never thought possible. He reaches toward you, hand hovering over your back, and then he rethinks the decision, placing it back on the wheel.

Once you’ve emptied your stomach, you reach into the glovebox and wipe your mouth with a napkin, closing your door and settling back against the seat, your skin now slick with sweat, head pounding, a vile taste in your mouth. 

You then look to him out of the corner of your eye, your body shaking. “I’m sorry,” you say quietly.

“It’s fine,” is all the reply he gives before merging back into traffic.

It’s evening when Billy pulls into a motel, and you exit the vehicle before he’s even shut the engine off, going inside to get yourself a room.

When he follows after you a moment later, he catches the tail-end of your conversation, watching as you go to hand the woman behind the front desk some cash. 

“Alright, so that’s one room with a full-size bed for fifteen.”

He grows angry at the thought of you sleeping away from him, even if he’d told you just a few hours earlier to start paying your own way. Being upset with you for doing as he’d asked... What the fuck was wrong with him?

He steps up beside you, snatching the money out of your hand, stuffing it in your back pocket. 

“I want a queen. One room,” he states, glancing from the woman, then glaring at you.

You shrink away from him, your hopes of getting away from him for just one night now ruined.

Once inside the room, you nearly collapse on top of your bags as you drop them onto the floor. You then wander over to the bathroom and softly shut the door as you sit to relieve yourself. 

You cringe when you look at yourself in the mirror after. Your skin is a pallid shade, stray hair clinging to your face and there are dark circles beneath your bloodshot eyes. But you simply don’t have it in you to care enough to bother fixing yourself up, so you exit the bathroom as-is.

Billy watches as you wander over to one of your bags and reach inside, pulling something out and stuffing it in your pocket. You then go to leave, until he speaks. 

“The fuck are you doing?”

You just shut the door behind you and he curses, throwing his jacket down as he follows you out. “Hey, get the fuck back here!”

You don’t listen.

He then grabs you roughly by the upper arm, squeezing harshly as he pulls you back to him. “I asked you a goddamn question.”

You fight back against the fear which fills you at his presence now. You know how to play this game. You’ve been doing it your whole life. When a man gets angry: be silent, demure. Respond only minimally. Enough to give them what they want. They won’t hurt you then. Probably.

You reach into your right pocket with a shaking hand and extend it toward him, palm open-faced. “I need to pawn this. My money won’t last long between here and California. Or wherever it is that I end up now.”

His grip loosens, taking the watch, looking over what used to be your dad’s Rolex.

He then looks to you and watches with a pained expression as you reach up, gingerly rubbing the portion of your arm that he’d just had squeezed within his grip.

He hands the watch back to you. “Keep it.”

You look up to him. “I can’t. When my money-”

“I paid for the room, didn’t I?”

Your eyes search his for a moment. “I don’t think I want to go to California anymore.”

His stomach drops. “What?”

You look down to the watch glinting against the sun, the silver still polished—looking like new. “I said West. And in another state or two I’ll be there. I think that’s where I get off.”

His heart begins to pound. You want to leave. You want off this emotional fucking rollercoaster he’s subjected you to every goddamn day. Just as soon as you begin to feel comfortable, he gives you another blow to contend with, leaving you on uncertain ground.

He doesn’t react. Doesn’t beg you to stay. He won’t. If you want to leave him too, then so be it. He never needed you in the first place, clearly. 

He ignores the way his heart squeezes painfully at the thought of an empty passenger seat. An empty bed.

It’s just the heat that’s making his eyes sting.

“Good riddance, then.”

Your chin wobbles as you turn around, heading back up to the room, head hanging between your shoulders, your form utterly fucking defeated.

Billy eventually, after showering—while you’d sat on the bed staring at nothing��went down to the lobby to ask about local attractions. He needed to get out of that room. He couldn’t take seeing you like that. Couldn’t bear what he was doing to you. 

But he doesn’t know what else to do. He’s not…sappy and romantic and ‘boyfriend’ material. Whatever it is that you’re after—he ain’t it.

He can’t be.

When he returns, you’re still sitting there, hand holding your hurting stomach.

He places his hands on his hips, already regretting inviting you. “You want to go see a movie? They’re having a showing of The Terminator near here in less than an hour.”

You look up to him with empty eyes. You’ve never looked at him like that before. Haven’t looked like that since the night he found you beaten and bloodied on the side of the road.

Something inside him breaks at the realization.

You shrug.

He opens the door. “C’mon then.”

Once he’s parked—you’d desperately tried to give him money for your ticket, terrified he’d use paying for yours against you at some point, but he’d refused to take the change from you—he leans back against the seat, setting his radio to the correct station.

He rolls his head to the side, looking at you and his heart drops when he sees you turned toward your door, away from him.

He wants to roll it all back—this entire fucking day. How, in less than ten hours, had he managed to do so much destructive damage to not just you, but your relationship as a whole? He’d had an opportunity before him—you—for a better life. A fresh start. Something good, and pure and loving. And he’d not stopped until your heart was crushed to a pulp in his fist.

But the way you’d looked at him last night in bed, the way you’d touched him and kissed him and held him…something had shifted between the two of you. Something big. Something he couldn’t even fathom. He knew what he felt. But what if you didn’t? Or, what if you did, but he turned out just like his dad? He then thinks he’d spent all day doing it—being that—his spitting fucking image. You didn’t need to hit someone to hurt them. To abuse them.

What the fuck did he do?

He glances to the cars around you, then spots a couple up ahead in the back seat of a Barracuda on top of one another.

He smirks. "At least someone's getting laid. Lucky bastard."

You open your door then, nearly falling out of the car. 

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

“Restroom,” you reply barely above a whisper, walking away.

Once you’ve shut yourself in a stall, you sit on the toilet lid and lose it. You begin to bawl so hard you can’t breathe. You’ve not cried like this since your mom left you behind. You double over, wrapping your arms around yourself, shaking, tears and snot streaming down your face. You cry so hard you make yourself sick.

You lean over the toilet, vomiting up stomach acid, which only serves to make you cry harder. 

And you make the decision right then and there: once Billy is asleep, you’re leaving for good. He always sleeps through the night. It’ll give you plenty of time to get away. You’re unsure how late bus stations are open, but you’ll do whatever you must to leave him in the past where he belongs. 

When you exit the restroom—the cool night air washing over you, cooling you down—you take a moment to glance up to the wide sky above you, now filled with stars. And you feel so fucking lonely and empty at the sight. A sight which used to comfort you. Now...

You then slowly step over to the concessions. 

“Can I have a small vanilla shake, please?”

Once you’ve paid, you’re handed your drink, but a voice calls out to you before you can walk around some. You refuse to go back to his car until you’ve at least put something back on your stomach.

“You alright? Looks like you’ve been crying.”

You look to your right and see a man, maybe twenty or twenty-one, leaning up against the side of the concession stand. He has a pair of black cargo shorts on, a black t-shirt with a yellow smiley face on the front, and bleach-blond hair. 

Your wrap your clammy hands around the cool cup in your grip. “I’m fine,” you say quietly.

He crooks his head to the side. “You sure? Might not be able to help, but I’m a good listener.”

You shift from one foot to the other, considering, and then decide to come over to him. You want nothing more to do with Billy. He’s shown who he truly is all day long. Had months ago. What was the saying? When someone shows you who they are the first time, believe them. You should’ve taken such advice.

It would’ve saved you a lot of heartache.

You look up at him, leaning your shoulder against the building, taking a sip of your cold drink.

He extends a hand toward you. “Chris.”

You smile slightly, holding your own out. “Y/N.”

He takes your wet hand in his and presses a soft kiss to the top of it. 

You laugh lightly at the unexpected gesture.

“Don’t tell me your asshole boyfriend is responsible for your tears? A girl like you is way too pretty to be crying over some worthless chump.” He folds his arms across his chest.

“No. It’s…it’s complicated.” To you maybe, but clearly not to him.

He leans his head against the building. “It serious?”

You take another drink. “No. We want different things.”

“Like?”

On the one hand, talking to a strange man again is probably a bad idea. On the other, he ogled and spoke to how many girls today? You could do as you pleased. He had no say in your decisions. Not anymore. He never should’ve in the first place.

You shrug. “I just want someone who will be nice to me.”

“What, that’s supposed to be a tall order? Doesn’t seem all that hard to do to me,” he says, running the back of one of his fingers down your arm. 

You step the least bit closer at the tender gesture. It just feels good to be touched. To have someone listen.

He continues. “What’s he want?”

You sip your shake again. “Your guess is as good as mine,” you say quietly. 

He shifts his stance. “Do you want to be with someone like that? A guy who leaves you guessing, crying, all alone? Sounds like a selfish prick to me.”

No, you don’t want that.

You look down. You normally wouldn’t open up like this to a complete stranger, too worried what they might think, but it’s not as if this day can get any worse. “What if I can’t do any better?”

He smirks. “Talking to me, ain’t ya?”

You both laugh at that.

He then glances around. “I don’t normally do this, but I have something that might make you feel better.”

Your brows furrow as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small red candy. He looks at you again. “You ever dropped acid before?”

Your stomach drops. “N-no.”

“You want to?”

You shake your head. “No, thank you.”

He sighs. “C’mon, it’s not that bad. I mean, it’ll make you forget all about what’s-his-face. We could get out of here, have some fun as a bit of payback. What’d’ya say?”

He grabs you by the wrist then.

Billy groans in irritation. You’d been gone nearly twenty-fucking-minutes at this point, already missed the whole beginning of the movie. He glances around, looking for you, but you’re nowhere to be found. He lets you out of his sight for a fucking second and this was what he got for it…

He exits his car, going in search of the restrooms, really ready to give you what-for, even if you missing the movie is his fault. He knew you had just wanted to get away from him. And he can’t exactly get angry at you 'wasting' his money on your ticket, either, since you’d all but begged him to let you pay for yourself. 

And then he spots you, standing near the concessions, some bleach-blond asshole squeezing your face in one hand, the other holding something near your mouth while you shake your head, trying to pull away.

He sees fucking red.

As he nears the two of you, he hears him say, “C’mon, Y/N, we’re just having some fun. So open.”

You drop your milkshake on the ground, vanilla going everywhere and the prick looks at Billy then, eyes widening when he sees the aggressive look which has overtaken his features. 

Billy grabs him by the right arm, pulling him away from you before sucker-punching the side of his face.

He falls to the ground and Billy gets on top of him and just pounds away, landing blow after blow. He eventually hears something break—likely his nose, but he doesn’t stop. “Don’t ever fucking touch her again! You hear me, you fuckin’ piece of shit?” He grips his face then, Billy’s mere inches from it as he screams, “You fucking hear me?!”

His face is so swollen and bloodied, he can barely even make Billy out so as to respond, so he just punches him again. 

You’d stood to the side, horrified, hands covering your mouth as Billy wailed on Chris, beating his face into a bloody pulp, until a crowd began to form. You then rushed forward, grabbing Billy’s arm, his fist still raised in the air. “Billy, stop, you’re going to kill him!”

Then you hear someone yell in the distance, “I’m calling the police!”

You tug harder, forcing him to stand, and then he kicks Chris in the stomach as hard as he can and he doubles over, curling into the fetal position as Billy spits on him. “Fuckin’ loser.” He quickly grabs your hand, leading you back to the car. “C’mon.”

He opens your door, buckling you in, then closes it. 

When you glance up, you see a man getting out of a Plymouth as Billy walks around the front of the Camaro. Billy then points at him. “Get back in your fuckin’ car!”

He gets in the driver’s side and kicks up grass and dirt and rocks as he quickly backs out of the lot, speeding away.

You sit beside him, shaking violently, tears stinging your eyes and you gasp as he nearly hits someone as he swerves into another lane for a moment after taking the on-ramp to get on the interstate. Perhaps five minutes later does he get back off again, now on a lower, more deserted back road.

He flies across the asphalt and your heart pounds as you watch the speedometer climb to over eighty. 

“Billy, slow down. Billy!” 

Ninety. 

“Billy, please, you’re scaring me!”

It’s once he’s hit over one-hundred-and-ten that he stomps on the brakes, your seatbelt nearly choking you as the car lurches forward. Once you’ve slammed back against your seat, you stare at him, eyes wide, tears streaming down your cheeks, chest heaving. 

He’s deathly silent beside you, breathing steadily as he himself stares at the dark road ahead. His eyes are hard, brows furrowed, knuckles bloodied.

You shake your head, unbuckling yourself with trembling hands. “I-I’m done. I can’t do this anymore.”

You open your door, until he reaches across the cabin and slams it back closed again. When you look at him, he grabs your face gently, but firmly, his eyes wild. “You’re fucking mine. You understand me? You’re mine.”

Before you can even reply, he crushes his lips to yours so hard your teeth knock together. He plunges his tongue inside your mouth, his right hand coming to grip the hair at the back of your neck, his other squeezing your hip so hard it hurts.

The only thing you can hear is your heart pounding in your ears and his lips smacking against your own.

He pulls back. “Next time I see another guy touching you, I won’t stop until I have fucking killed him.”

He brings your lips back to his own.

You remained silent on the way back to the motel. Silent tears slipping down your cheeks, afraid of what you’d now gotten yourself into.

You look at him out of the corner of your eye and wonder how he can now seem so calm. He’d nearly beaten a man to death not even half-an-hour ago. Had also acted more possessive toward you than you’d ever seen him before. What was that supposed to mean, anyway—'you’re mine'?

You’re almost too afraid to ask, unsure that you want his definition. 

Once he’s parked, you both exit the car and head inside, and once the door is closed, you slump down into a chair.

He paces back and forth, hands on his hips, glancing up to you every few moments, your head in your hands, elbows atop your knees.

“Are you okay?” He asks gently, now a bit calmer.

You look up to him, your lower lip trembling. You choke out through tears, “No, I’m not okay! None of this is okay! What is wrong with you?”

He stops pacing. “I had to get the fuckin’ creep off of you-”

“So you almost kill him?”

He waves his hand. “He’ll be fine. Who even gives a shit?”

You shake your head in disbelief.

“What the fuck were you doing talking to him, anyway? You told me you were going to take a piss,  not hook up with some random-”

You stand then, temper having finally reached its boiling point. “Are you fucking kidding me? This again? You have treated me like garbage all day long! Looking at and flirting with girls and making me feel so worthless!” You begin to sob. “Do you have any idea the things I’ve been thinking? I…I never should’ve trusted you in the first place! I don’t know what I thought about you. Maybe that you could be different. Or that I could fix you or… God, I’m so fucking stupid. Just like my mother. But y’know what? I get it now. I get why she did it. She had no other choice. So, I might as well follow in her footsteps with that, too.”

You walk over to your bags, pulling your backpack onto your shoulders.

He panics. “W-what’re you doing?”

“I told you I’m done and I meant it. I’m leaving.” You grab your other bag. “I won’t waste years of my life on someone like she did. I have to get out before it’s too late.”

Just as you turn your back to him, taking a step toward the door, he breaks. What the fuck has he done? “Please don’t go. I’m in love with you.”

You halt. 

“Listen, I…I know I fucked up. Today…fuck, baby, I know. I just…last night…”

You slowly turn back to him. You’ve never heard him grasping for words before. Never seen him so unsure of himself. And what he’d just said… Love. 

He sighs, settling his hands back on his hips, looking down at the stained carpet beneath his boots. “I only realized it this morning. How I felt. I mean, I knew I felt it before. But I tried to play it off as anything but that. I didn’t want to acknowledge it—admit it. I mean, fuck, what if you didn’t feel the same? What if I got rejected?” He looks up to you. “I don’t know how to do any of this shit—being with someone, having feelings for them. Loving them, letting them love me. It’s not my style. Or wasn’t. Fuck, I don’t know. But I just…started seeing you differently the more we spent time together.

“And I guess I thought today…if I pushed you away, then the feelings might dissipate? I mean, look what happened the last time I loved—trusted—someone. She left.”

Your brow twitches. “And I don’t know that feeling?” You ask in anger.

He takes a step closer to you. “I know you do. I just-”

You cut him off. “Just stop, Billy.”

He shuts his mouth. 

You drop your bags, sitting back down again and thinking. You want to be understanding. But he's making showing kindness toward him incredibly difficult to do.

Finally, after a very long stretch of silence—him beginning to sweat, thinking you’re about to leave again—you speak. 

“I get pushing me away,” you say softly. “You said it before—that I had no friends back in Hawkins. And fear of abandonment was why. If I didn’t let anyone in, then they couldn’t walk away. But I’ve tried with you. Over and over again. And every time, you swung from one extreme to the other.”

You look at him. “You’ve given me whiplash you’ve done it so much. And today…” You trail off, a lump forming in your throat. “Do you have any idea what you put me through?” You ask in a whisper.

He pulls over a chair, sitting in front of you, taking your hands in his. “I put you through hell, I know.”

You shake your head, looking away from him. “You made me feel so…” Your chin wobbles. “I felt so alone. And for the first time I realized not a single person in the world wants or cares about me.” 

A tear slips down your cheek and then another one.

And he nearly does the same at him making you think that for even a second. He’d broken your heart.

You continue. “I thought a lot of horrible things today. Thought about throwing myself out of your car.”

His throat bobs.

“About going back home, not caring what happened to me—if he followed through on his promise. I decided at the movie that I was going to leave while you were asleep tonight, too afraid to do it while you were awake.” You look at him. “That’s what you’ve made me feel toward you: afraid.”

You look down to his bruised hand and pull your own away. 

“I don’t know how to trust you anymore. Last night I thought was…” You shake your head. “It doesn’t matter what I thought anymore. You’ll never change. I left Hawkins to get away from another man just like you. I would've been better off had I just done things on my own.”

You know you’re wasting your breath, so you stand again, grabbing your things.

Just as your hand settles over the door knob, he breaks down crying. “Please don’t leave. I’ll do fucking anything. Please, Y/N. I…I can’t lose you, too. Please, God, I’m begging you, stay.”

You go to turn the handle and then he comes over to you, falling on his knees beside you, pressing his face into your stomach, crying harder.

“I love you. Please. I’ll change, I’ll do whatever it takes. I’ll be whoever you need me to be. Just don’t walk out that door, I’m fuckin’ begging you.”

You sniffle, telling yourself over and over again not to cry. That he doesn’t mean it. It’s just another manipulation tactic, but you know this time is anything but. He’d never cry in front of you—anyone—unless the tears and the words leaving his lips were true.

“How can I trust you now?” You ask through gentle sobs.

He presses his cheek against your stomach then, hands gripping your soft hips. “Just let me prove to you that I can be better. The kind of man that’s worthy of you.”

He finally stands, cupping your face in his hands. “Angel, I know I don’t deserve you. Fuck, I probably never will. And I know you deserve a hell of a lot better than me. But you’re all I want. I’ve never wanted anything as badly as I want you. I…I need you. Just, what can I do to fix this?”

You turn your head, looking at the door and his heart begins to break. 

“If you want to leave, I won’t stop you. Just…” He steps away for a moment, reaching into his bag, and he pulls out a wad of cash and doesn’t stop counting until he’s reached a grand. “Take this,” he says, shoving it into your hand.

Your eyes go wide and you look up at him. 

“If you want the gun too-”

You shake your head. “Billy, I-” You sob, covering your mouth with the back of your other hand. You throw the money down on the table. "I don't want your money. I don't want anything from you. Not anymore."

He grabs your face again. "Just...let me ask you one thing. Please."

You blink up at him through teary eyes.

"Do you love me?" He asks, brushing stray tears away with the pads of his thumbs.

Your face crumples. "I wish I knew how to stop."

He lets loose a breath of relief. "Sweetheart, we had one bad day. A really shitty one, I know. But this is what I do when there's a risk of getting close to someone—I rail against it as hard as I can. And it always works—they walk away. Most of the time I'm the one who does. But I couldn't this time. Waiting for the other foot to finally fall, though, I was constantly on the edge of my goddamn seat waiting for it to finally happen.

"I thought... I thought it's what I wanted. I don't. I know that now. I want you. Now. Maybe...maybe forever. I guess we can figure that part out together. If you'll still have me. If you could ever fuckin' forgive me for all the shit I've done—put you through. It's not always going to be perfect. I'm going to piss you off and keep getting on your last nerve for my own amusement. I'll never stop being a pain in your ass. But it's only because I-" He sighs. "Because I love you. So, please, just stay. I think... I think that we belong together. Who the hell else is going to put up with me the way you have? Who else could ever understand the shit I've been through but someone else who's been through it, too?"

You stare up at him, sniffling, tears slipping from your tired eyes, your hands shaking at your sides, body slightly trembling. Every part of you is screaming at you to finally do it: run. Every part except your heart.

You know it might be the biggest mistake you've ever made, but it wouldn't be the first time.

You bury your face in his chest then, fisting the back of his shirt in your hands and you begin to wail, letting it all out. Everything. Your mom abandoning you in the middle of the night, your dad taking every ounce of anger and frustration out on you, your loneliness, your sadness, your hopelessness, your fear, the torment Billy has subjected you to.

You cry and cry until your legs give out, both of you sinking to the floor as he wraps his arms around you, holding you close.

He rests his cheek against the top of your head. "Never again," he promises, gently rocking you.

It takes every ounce of strength you have left to believe him.

[diejager]

Hello there, love your stuff! How would the monster au boys react to their human reader being on their period? Because I can totally see Soap smelling blood on the reader and thinking that they are injured, but then getting confused when they tell him it’s a period. ☺️

Sweet blood Cw: blood, period, tell me if I missed any.

I completely agree, Soap, even with the intellect and understanding he needed to be a demolition expert, dismantling and building explosives and weapons from nothing, he’s oblivious of some things. Despite his skillful in sights and decisions, he falters in some aspects in a domestic scene and anything related to it. He struggled at first, trying to understand why there was a smell of sweet blood waffling off you as if it clung to your clothes, the smell ingrained in every little groove of your body —you smelled much sweeter as well.

It made something on his mind swoon, instincts reeling for unknown reasons until he asked you himself after someone found him sniffing the air like a mutt and following you like a lovesick pup. He seemed so confused with the notion of you bleeding once a month and only understood when you told him it was your period - or menstruation in more technical terms - and that it was all natural. He brought up to you a memory of his older sister smelling of blood, old yet new, unripe yet ripe, it followed a lunar cycle and that made it easier to understand.

Unlike Soap, the other’s are more knowledgeable of your plight, coming prepared to help you with whatever you would need. Despite their inexperience with menstrual cramps and cycles, they knew the gist of it, what it entailed whenever someone had one, few of them actually had first-hand experience with it. Ghost had Beth and his mom’s experience, their grumbles and annoyed sounds. Gaz from the few girls he dated in high school, soothing their pains when they curled forward, holding their abdomen. Alejandro and Rudy knew of it from the girls they grew up around in Las Almas as children, running around and skipping school when they didn’t feel well. Price - despote his busy life - had a few flings and Laswell’s grumbling to sit through when their cramps started. Horangi and König both saw and heard from the women in KorTac, their swift mood swings and short tempers once a month made them prepared.

If you needed a heated pad warmed in the microwave, Rudy and Gaz were already there with it in hand, wrapped in a fluffy towel to prevent yourself from burning your skin. If you needed water and painkillers for your unbearable cramps, Ghost and Kónig would gladly get you a cup of water and a few pills from their own bottles, strong painkillers for headaches and muscle pains that were probably weaker than the cramps you felt. If you needed a massage, something to soothe the ache in your back and limbs from your hormones getting out of control, a chaotic mess around your body, Price and Alejandro wouldn’t mind setting aside their work to give you a massage, to press and burn the ache through experienced and warm hands. If you needed a distraction from the whole nausea and sickness, Horangi and Soap would jump at the opportunity, a cuddling feline holding you down with his whole body or an enthusiastic and praise-hungry wolf making tricks to please you.

Alone, one could do a lot to help you through your period, reminding you in advance to take your med, bringing you whatever you would need and taking care of you, but together, they worked like a well oiled machine, every member fitting in like a cog, moving in synchrony. They went over and above to satisfying you, dropping their duty to rush to your side at the slightest sound of displeasure. There’s nothing they wouldn’t do for you, from going to a drug store miles away for a specific med to carrying you around in their arms or back.

From that first occasion, Soap goes around with his nose raised and mind ready to help you at the drop of the hat if he gets a whiff of sweetened blood from you. He even has a bag in his room with pads, painkillers, soft towels, fluffy blanket, heated pads and a list of food you crave during your period.

Taglist: @craxy-person @crowbird @dead-cipher @iwannabealocalcryptid @iizx7y @mxtokko @yeetusspagheetus @capricorn-anon @perfectus-in-morte @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @tallmanlover @distracteddragoness @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @konigsblog @havoc973 @angelcakes-22 @cassiecasluciluce @ramadiiiisme @ramblingsofachaoticthinker @ki-cant-spel @im-making-an-effort @love-dove-noora @jinxxangel13 @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @mul-pi

[pseudowho]

Monster

Your colleague, Higuruma Hiromi, has seemed so tired, for so long. You'd do anything to help him...right?

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, Vampire!Higuruma, blood consumption, male masturbation, female masturbation, thigh fucking, PIV, m!receiving oral, f!receiving oral, sex-pollenish/aphrodisiac effects and vampirism

(dis)honourable mention to @delirious-donna for helping me to decide on the location of this flagrant sluttiness.

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Higuruma Hiromi was driven to skin-clawing distraction by daydreams of the taste of you, in more ways than one.

You never knew this, of course. Late-nights alone in the office invariably turned into debauched scenes of Hiromi, fucking into his fist and wishing it was your pussy instead; teeth piercing his own blood from his hand and being lapped up by his whining mouth, wishing it was your throat instead. Too many times had he needed to wipe droplets of blood and milky cum off his paperwork, shuddering with the remnants of his orgasm, his cock still semi-hard in his fist.

His latest cunning plan to sate this desperate hunger, had been unsuccessful. Sat at your desk, and breathing deeply of one of the scarves you had left in your drawer, had set his cock hardening against his thigh humiliatingly fast. Hiromi had tugged at the roots of his own hair, head thrown back and growling in frustration. Fumbling around in his bag, he had clumsily slopped lube into a pocket-pussy, and withdrawn the unit of packed red blood cells he had managed to steal from the local hospital.

Messy, and sweaty, Hiromi had drunk from this pack, while the slick sounds of his frantic self-pleasuring and fractured, sandy moans filled the empty office. Your scarf, steeped in the smell of you, remained draped over his face and nose the whole time.

With each passing day you grew sweeter, and riper. He could not cope. He could not cope. He would not last.

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One day, you hoped, you might arrive in the office before Hiromi. Whatever the time of year, he arrived before the break of dawn, and left after the sun had set. Vitamin D supplements had entered into your head as the next possible way to help him, and you shook yourself for being so ridiculous-- although...

"I...you don't have to buy me coffee every morning," Hiromi whispered, something tender coiling in his belly when you slipped a large black coffee and a bagged pastry onto his desk, "let alone breakfast."

"Well," you hummed, benign, "would you eat or drink if I didn't feed you?" Hiromi narrowed his eyes, a challenging little smile within them. A scoff.

"If I lied to you, would you believe me?"

"You're a great lawyer, Hiromi. But not smart enough to lie to me."

His laughter, rich and genuine, burst in you, a stunning puff of petals. You couldn't laugh with him, as your heart stalled in place. How could you not help him, when a match struck in his eyes, just from looking at you?

"Not that I ever would." Hiromi assured, low and smooth. His eyes never left yours once. His gravity threatened to pull you straight into his arms. "Lie to you, that is. You're the only thing that..." Hiromi trailed off, clearing his throat. He looked back to his papers, pale. You missed the tremor in his hands. You couldn't feel how he held himself back from taking you, in every way, here on his desk.

If only he knew you would let him.

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How the fuck did he find himself in the driving rain, three floors up, looking through your balcony windows? How the fuck had it gotten this bad? You were a drug. Forbidden fruit. Hiromi had not drunk from a person in so long, instead surviving on a knife's edge, from stolen blood bags and wild deer. He couldn't recall what came first; needing to be inside you, or needing you inside him. It all equated to hunger, anyway. He was starved.

Even a morsel would do. That's how he found himself outside your bedroom, in a storm, watching you fuck yourself in your bedroom when you should have been sleeping. The rainwater seeped through his black suit, doing nothing to cool the hot, velvet throb between his legs. His hair was swept back off his forehead, drenched, squinting against the biting wind as he marvelled at the image of you.

Clearly, you were unable to distract yourself from the ache in your belly, and the little memories of past orgasms that throbbed through your clit. Every time the thought of Hiromi fucking into you had crossed your mind, you reached for something in your drawer that would never satisfy that urge like he would.

You lay on your belly, stretched and stuffed all the way to your cervix with a dildo and rabbit. You had spent your generous paycheck on an expensive toy, one that thrusted. You knew, deep down, humping the dildo inside you with a pillow between your legs, that it would never be able to replicate the real thing. You felt the blunt little punch of the mechanical dildo against your belly, fucking it into you, as if it would soothe your spiritual famine. Your pleasure was dulled, without the accompanying tenderness of the man that you wanted...needed.

You wore an oversized t-shirt, and nothing else, and Hiromi watched how your back arched and undulated, rolling your cunt against the pillow. You gripped another pillow between your arms, biting into it, mewling at the deliciousness of being filled with something, anything. Hiromi's animalistic senses could hear your little cries, and the muffled buzz of your toys. He could smell the silky arousal that spilled out around your dildo. He could taste you on the air, almost.

It took every ounce of self-restraint not to allow his inhuman strength to take over, punch a hole through the glass and step in, silhouetted against the moonlight. Hiromi would allow his own musk, a curious trap in the art of seduction and predation, to seep over you. Hiromi would watch as you became pliable, supple. You wouldn't fight as he shushed you, pulling the dildo from you and licking it clean. You would whimper for him to replace the emptiness he had left behind, and he would, of course, oblige you. He would press you down by the back of your neck, as if you would ever resist him, and promise you that it wouldn't hurt. He would drink down your cries and your blood as he fucked you down against the sheets, his mouth lapping so fervently at your throat.

He hadn't even noticed how close to his own peak he had come, but as you tensed and keened against your pillow, he felt the dangerous tug of his balls tightening against the base of his cock. He wasn't even touching himself, how could he possibly--

"...H-Hiromi...haaaaah please please fuck me please...oooooohhhh 'm cumming--"

Hiromi came with a shout, with next to no warning, to hear you cry out his name. He convulsed, hunched and doubled-over, cursing and feeling thick ropes of his seed pulse through his jerking cock, diluting with rainwater and trickling down his thighs. He was stunned, panting against the glass, and he nearly swallowed his own heart when he heard the rustle of sheets, and a timid little voice pipe through the dark.

"Hello? Who's there?"

By the time you had pulled the dildo from yourself with a shiver, and opened the balcony door, there was nothing left behind but the churning storm. Clinging to the underside of your balcony, still panting and covered in his own cum, Hiromi knew that something deep within him had fractured completely.

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You were astounded to find yourself alone in the office as the sun set. Hiromi had left before you, with a sickly-looking smile, and a languid wave of that long, pale hand. While you were thrilled that he was going home at a normal time, you couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment. He knew you were staying to work late on a case...and had, apparently, chosen this one night to leave before nightfall.

Night had, indeed, fallen fast. The sunset blotted out quickly behind grey rolling clouds. Another storm swept in, dragging the night along with it. You opened a window, seeking the earthy petrichor to balm your weary soul. You sunk your lovesickness into a bitter coffee, as if it was enough to replace the lackadaisical cleverness of the man who haunted your every waking moment.

You tried to distract yourself, awash in case notes. The hours dragged, long and lonely. Rubbing your eyes as the clock struck midnight, you stood to collect the key to lock the office, only to find it missing.

"Shit..." you murmured, sitting back at your desk to rummage in the drawers. You rummaged in all the drawers-- your boss's, your colleagues, Hiromi's...

The lights above you went out with a click. One by one, throughout the length of the office, the lights went out, out, out, and you were plunged into darkness. You felt a lick of ice down the nape of your neck, and every hair stood on end. You were being watched.

"Shit...shit... where's the key... where's the fucking key?" You hissed to yourself, terror crawling across your skin.

Hiromi was barely himself anymore as he stalked you from the shadows. His belly was a cavernous pit. The unholy combination of starvation and desire stirred the monster within. He lay in waiting, allowing you to be drawn in, running to him while you thought you were running away.

You had tried every nook, every pigeon hole, every secret hook throughout the office, but fear made you sloppy. You couldn't go home too late, when the streets were empty. Not with all the tales of hungry beasts hunting for lone prey in the night.

Why, then, as you approached the expansive boardroom at the end of the corridor, did you find yourself becoming so...mellow? You felt light, airy. You floated on an otherworldly, heady musk, so alluring. It reminded you of someone...but who? You couldn't remember, so many drinks deep into this odd botanical tonic. It throbbed through you, intoxicating and warm and your heart was beating between your legs by the time you swayed into the boardroom, undoing your hair, loosening the buttons of your blouse--

"...I'm sorry. I can't let you leave."

You blinked, slow and drunk. Frowning as your vision cleared, you saw Hiromi, illuminated by moonlight. He sat in the executive's chair, at the head of the great boardroom table. A flash of lightning set his features in dramatic clarity, his Roman nose casting deep shadows across his profile. Still, you thought, with your little hum or surprise, he looked pale. Tense. Tortured.

"...Hiromi...Hiro..." you whispered, padding over to him, barefoot. You couldn't remember when you had shed your shoes. Hiromi's skin prickled. The way your voice, sweet and breathy, ran straight to his cock, had him biting one finger between gradually lengthening canines, his other fingertips steepled against his deeply frowning forehead.

"...wouldn't leave anyway...not when I've...finally got you all to myself..." You slurred, grinning, a happy drunk. Hiromi couldn't help but bite one lip, smiling back at you, as you sat with a thud on his lap. His deadly, predatory pheromones increased against his will, to feel your soft, plush curves pressed to his lap. Hiromi trailed one arm around your waist. The part of him that screamed for him to stop, was trapped in a glass box in his mind.

"Yeah?" Hiromi whispered, one pale hand cupping your jaw. "You've been wanting me all alone? Tell me." She wants this it's okay it's not a trap she'll help me she'd always help me god she's so beautiful--

"I have. For months. I dream about you." The words left your mouth unbidden, dragged from you by some irresistible force. Hiromi drank them down, needing to hear you confess your desire for him.

"And what do you do?" Hiromi urged, his voice rough with need. "What do you do, when you dream of me? Tell me. Now."

"I touch myself and...and wish it was you, instead." Hiromi shivered.

"Until you cum? To the thought of my cock inside you? Until you're calling out for me?" You nodded, hurried and floppy. Hiromi cursed under his breath, a thumb brushing over your lips, salivating at the memory of you on your bed, crying out his name.

"Yeah," you promised, almost tearful now with the weight of your confessions, "I do, I cum so hard, but it's not enough, it's not the same as-- as--"

You slid a hand up Hiromi's chest, his sloppy tie and partially unbuttoned shirt, and were surprised by how cool he felt. He groaned beneath your touch, and you shivered, turning and pressing your chest to his. Hiromi panted beneath you, his face contorted, barely restrained. His hands felt so strong, trapping you to him by your waist, and you were sure there would be bruises left behind.

"Let me taste you," Hiromi convinced, his voice low and persuasive, "just once...you're going to help me." His fingers tangled in your hair now, angling your face up, and you blinked slowly, dazed and unquestioning. His teeth were sharp, bared. You could feel the length of his cock, throbbing against your belly. The frantic rise and fall of his chest made you feel like you were on a little boat, rocking over waves.

You had barely begun to nod, before he pulled you in for a kiss so deep, your head swam. Hiromi groaned into your mouth, forcing your lips to part with his own, devouring you with bliss and fervour. You had never felt so alive, your little heart beating like hummingbird wings. The taste of him was sinful. He wanted to carve out your soul and tie it to his, enshrined, fit for worship. By the time his tongue had plunged into your mouth, you were loose and supple on his lap.

Every ounce of uncertainty had left you. Just as Hiromi's mouth began to trail across your jaw, towards your neck, your hand slipped beneath his belt. Hiromi's lips released the lovebite he had just made above your pulse point with a pop, and his head flung back against the executive's chair's headrest. The moan that left his lips was more pornographic than you had ever dreamt. His silky foreskin seared beneath your touch.

"--f-fuck, god, I-- squeeze me harde--- oooohh-ooohhh shit...hnnnn--'

Hiromi's hands gripped the armrests, white-knuckled, and the two monsters inside him fought a bloody fight to see you slip to your knees between his own, batting his thighs aside. Your hand had released his cock, and if he didn't have it back again, or your blood in his mouth, he would break.

"Will you help me, or not?" He hissed at you, imploring you to spill your soul to him. Lost in this curious haze, you found yourself unable to refuse him an answer.

"...always help you, Hiromi." You mumbled, your fingers deftly undoing his belt. Your teeth unzipped his trousers, and the way Hiromi blushed when your eyes shot him such a filthy look, made you giggle. Maybe I'm the one in danger, he thought vaguely. You hummed, rubbing the pre-cum wet tip of his freed cock against your lips, glossing them. Hiromi's teeth bared again in a snarl, and he panted, bucking up into your hand. You teased him, stroking his length slowly, rolling his aching balls in one hand. Hiromi was frayed, furious with so many unfulfilled needs. He snapped.

"Open your mouth and let me fuck it or I swear--" Hiromi's uncharacteristic threats broke off into a strangled moan, when you took him into your mouth, hot and wet and all at once. Sucking at the tip, curling your tongue to cup the underside of his cockhead, you let the bobs of your head, and swirls of your tongue run smooth and sloppy.

The very air around you felt steeped in wildflowers, and the bizarre pseudo-alcoholic rush heightened every sensation. Even though there was clearly something very wrong with the man you had lusted after for so long, his taste his moans his fingers in your hair his trembling thrusts into your mouth, felt so right.

"--more tongue...deeper deeper yesssss...good girl, fuck-- f-fuck, good girl...wanna come in your mouth-- swallow it-- swallow me--"

You obliged him, and your consciousness remained dragged just a millisecond after your movements as you sunk your mouth lower, swallowing around his cockhead until your nose brushed his downy black happy-trail, and your throat constricted around his tip. Hiromi felt a slam of pleasure behind his navel as his orgasm hit, everything in him tightening with his release.

Hiromi's cries, so frantic and needy, crescendoed through the boardroom, and you felt cool ropes of cum spurt against the back of your tongue. Hiromi watched you swallow around his jerking cock, certain he must be dreaming the eroticism of this. By the time your dewy eyes opened again to look up at him, his cock still hard against your white-spattered tongue, Hiromi had lost all composure. Something white-hot and terrifying rolled off him, and you pulled away, spit and semen connecting you in a thread to his twitching cockhead. Your heart clenched, suddenly feeling a flicker of fear.

"...Hiromi? What's wrong?" You asked, cautious as you rose, scooting backwards onto the boardroom table and sliding yourself away from him. Hiromi stood, slow and deliberate. Something had changed within him. Every action of his seemed clipped, hyper-efficient and intentional. You felt your heady drunkenness increase, a thick pulse of desire shooting through your core, and you tried to ignore it with a whimper.

A flash of lightning illuminated you both-- for the briefest moment, you swore you could see the shadow of great wings behind Hiromi's lean, predatory form. A rumble of thunder rattled the boardroom. Drifts of rain swept the glass wall.

"...knew you'd work it out in the end." Hiromi cooed, his words licking at you, coaxing you back. "Clever girl. I told you I couldn't let you leave, didn't I?" He began to crawl along the table towards you, seemingly weightless, his movement so fluid-- so inhuman.

"You won't-- you won't kill me." You stated, as much to convince him as yourself. Hiromi swallowed, his pupils dilated, still crawling to catch up with you. As you darted back, he leapt forwards, dragging you to him by your ankle and caging you against the table beneath him. Only then, did you see the turmoil in him.

"I'd never. I could never. I wouldn't, ever." Hiromi spat, beseeching. You softened. He saw how you squirmed beneath him, knew how his hormones had ensnared you, making you desperate. Seeing you clutch your thighs together for relief, your nipples pebbled and almost freed beneath your blouse, Hiromi gulped again.

"I'm so-- so hungry." Hiromi growled, canines sharp against his lower lip, "And I need-- need-- I can make this good...for both of us. I can make you, if I need to, but I-- I'd rather not. Trust me. Please." He did not need to beg or force, when you were already undressing beneath him, as if you hadn't been waiting for him to take you since the first time your name had fallen from his lips.

"I trust you. Just...just...please." You begged now, and Hiromi shuddered, his eyes black as another flash of lightning flashed on his exquisite profile. He watched you, breasts heaving, now in just your bra and underwear. A burst of pheromones from him left you whimpering, your neck stretched to the side. He raised one strong, fine-boned hand to circle your throat, protecting it from himself as his mouth moved down your body.

"...so close already, aren't you? My beauty...best thing I've ever tasted." Hiromi whispered, his lips ghosting over one freed nipple, pre-cum dripping where his cock dragged against your thighs, "Need you sweeter...before I drink you." You whimpered beneath his mouth, suckling on your nipple until you cried out, your hands tangling in his inky, grey-streaked locks of hair. His hand kneaded at your other breast, relishing the softly yielding squish beneath his fingers.

Your thighs parted for just long enough to clamp Hiromi's cock between them, slick with his dripping pre-cum and your arousal. Hiromi gasped, canines grazing against your nipple, and your thighs clamped harder, Hiromi jerking with a cursing groan above you. He rutted spontaneously, sliding his cock between the plush of your thighs with a shaky, prolonged moan. Hiromi stayed this way for a few minutes, lapping and kneading at your breasts, fucking himself between your thighs. His pleasure threatened to peak again, and he hissed, slipping his cock free of the hot glove your thighs had made for him.

"Don't...don't." Hiromi growled, nipping your belly in warning as he slid himself down, shooting you a look to burn. "I'm not cumming on this fucking table, when I could cum inside you." Your breath hitched with the promise, feeling so weightless as Hiromi stripped your underwear from you. He took a moment to admire the glistening petals around your core, before sinking his tongue and nose between them with a moan.

Hiromi didn't allow you to last. Already so close to your peak, Hiromi's essence pulsed through you with your taste on his tongue. You were washed through with a skin-prickling, burning orgasm, plundering through you like wildfire. Hiromi had gripped you, and would not let you go, and with his mouth desperately lapping at your clit, your orgasm simply did not end.

You were a wreck, writhing and twisting and begging, all frantic cries of his name, alternately trying to shove Hiromi's head away and pull him closer. With one particularly hard push against him, Hiromi drew away, and bit onto the soft inside of your thigh in warning. You squealed as he drew blood.

You almost heard his heartbeat stop, enthralled by the droplets of blood running down your thigh. His tongue darted out, capturing them before they hit the table, your blood and arousal mixing on his tongue. You suddenly felt the danger you were in, in the jaws of a god as Hiromi's eyes turned up to you, settling on your neck. His eyes stayed fixed, his mouth puckering around the bite wound on your thigh, sucking just once before sealing the wound with a trembling tongue.

"...I'm going to fuck you, now." Hiromi stated, blunt, in warning, as he crawled back up your body. His cockhead grazed over your folds, and Hiromi grasped himself, lining his cock up with your fluttering core. "And you'll stay still...or I...I can't...you'll get hurt."

You couldn't possibly have refused at this stage. Hiromi was possessed by something stronger than himself, and you yearned to heal the fractured core of him. Grasping your wrists in one of his hands, and pressing them above your head, Hiromi coiled one hand in your hair, tilting your neck to the side.

You felt the insistent press of his cock filling you, as his teeth punctured your skin. You jolted, crying out, and Hiromi snarled against you, gripping you tighter. Hiromi felt the hot, salty, copper tang of your blood flooding his tongue, and his hips took on a life of their own. He slammed into you, again, and again, tasting your delicious little squeaks, bound beneath him with no means of escape. The human core of him was disgusted; the monster relished every second.

Allowing his otherworldly bliss to roll over you again, Hiromi felt you go languid and supple, your pussy clenching involuntarily around the bullying pace of his cockhead against your belly. Breathless moans muffled into your neck, interspersed with his gulps. Hiromi burst with adoration for you, and how well you were taking him. He had never felt so alive.

Hiromi felt your pulse fluttering in your wrists, and, convinced it was growing weaker, released your throat with a whine and a gasp, pressing his tongue against you again to seal the wounds. Hesitating only briefly, Hiromi fucked into you harder, faster, crimson dripping down his chin, dopey and lovesick. His hand tangled in your hair, pressing a bloody kiss to your cheek, feeling his orgasm creep up his back. His fingers plaited with your own above your head.

You were his, completely, happy to be used. The fervent thrust of his blunt, leaking cockhead against your sweet spot, his sandy whispers and gasps-- "...the best fucking medicine...I swear to god-- keep me forever, please, shit-- cum inside you, gonna cum inside you-- fffuck--" -- and the waves of Hiromi's strange, floral aphrodisiac, sent you tumbling over the edge again. Hiromi cursed, moaning, to feel you clench, writhing and arching beneath him, your cries rising in pitch as Hiromi fucked into you with total abandon, mesmerised by you.

"--more more moremoremore please-- Hiromi-- don't stop--"

Hiromi gritted his teeth, drawing himself out for as long as he could. Feeling the pummel and stretch of his cock inside you, slick and wet, set your eyes rolling back. When you bit into Hiromi's shoulder, he broke, buckling onto his elbows with a roar. His second orgasm blinded him, his balls emptying in violent contractions, thick white seed filling your belly and cunt in long, agonisingly pleasurable spurts. Hiromi swore, cursing and convulsing, crushing your body beneath his.

By the time Hiromi's vision returned, he was more human than he'd felt in months, as if giving into the monster was the only thing keeping him at bay. You floated back down to earth with him, feathersoft, on your bed of meadowsweet. A faint blush spread across Hiromi's nose at the sight of you, fucked-out, messy and spread beneath him.

"...I understand we have some important things to talk about," Hiromi said, bizarrely formal for a man whose cock was still inside you, "and I understand if you don't want to see me again after this, so we can organise a public date and time--"

Hiromi's voice muffled, still trying to talk as you pulled him to you by his tie, shutting him up with a kiss.

[kmt123whatsthetea]

Fred and George Weasley headcanon

What would they be like with the new employee at Weasley Wizard Wheezes?

A/N: until I get any ideas, I'm going to try writing shorts and headcanons. If you have any requests for shorts or requests for stuff they’d do with the reader etc, I’ll be more than happy to write them.

T/W: NSFW, Our favourite twins being pervy, maybe slightly dark (unknown ownership and the reader is innocent and unaware of the pervy twins’ antics), spanking, pinching, groping, nicknames, praise, drugging? (mentions of aphrodisiacs, sex pollen, and love potions), Smell kink? (like perfume and scent sniffing)

Both twins

- They’d be all over you, fact

-At first, they thought you didn't mind their attention, but then it dawned on them that you were innocent enough to not notice (that didn't stop them)

-One would ask you to bend down and get something or stand on the step ladder to reach higher stock, the other would be enjoying every glimpse of your underwear

-They would definitely get you a uniform, which would be a very short skirt and a top that shows a lot of skin (they just tell you that its standard uniform and that some of the products stain clothes)

-And if your uniform is ‘crooked’, they’ll happily adjust it for you

-You were so eager for the job that you barely even read your contract (luckily for them)

-In small print was a paragraph that stated that you belonged to them and that they could do anything they wanted to you, ANYTHING

-Making mistakes has its advantages

They won't dock your pay or give you a warning, they’ll just pinch your thighs or give your ass and pussy spanks until you learn your lesson (Fred started this punishment)

-If a customer takes a liking to you or tries to make a move, the twins will slip him some puking pastilles (they have their ways)

-If a customer is mean, they’ll let you sit on one of their laps whilst they comfort you (again, this customer will be getting some puking pastilles for making their favourite girl upset)

-Anything new they make, they try on you (or so they tell you. They only want you to test the new line of ‘potions’ that they have made *cough* aphrodisiac and a sex pollen potions *cough*)

-At first, they wanted to compete for you, but they realised that two heads are better than one

-If Ron comes in and tries to make a move, they bar him from entering (until Molly finds out and sends them a howler)

-They’re waiting for the right moment to spike you with a love potion

Fred Weasley

-Fred is more handsy

-If your thigh is showing, his hands are already there

-If you’re on the stepladder, he will definitely grope your ass and tell you that he's making sure you don't fall

-One of his sneaky tricks involves dropping a small box that has small pieces inside onto you, he's just hoping that some of those pieces will fall out between your tits and he’s more than happy to reach between them to get them out

-If its George’s day off and a customer makes you upset, you will have to hold him back because he will whip his wand out (his magic wand, you dirty minds)

-He’s more possessive of you, and more handsy, and meaner (he will make sure you make a mistake just to punish you)

-Fred has taken a liking to calling you Kitten

George Weasley

-George is sweeter

-He can be just as sneaky as Fred, but he’ll praise you more often than he’ll punish you

-If you get tired when you stand at the till, he won't let you use the chair. As far as he’s concerned, you’re only allowed to sit on his lap or not sit at all (so he’ll just sit down and make you sit on his lap)

-If a customer is mean to you, George will stroke your hair (whilst you’re on his lap) and press small kisses to your cheek, which you think he’s doing to make you smile but he’s doing it cause he loves how you smell

-There have been times where you pout to him about Fred’s punishments, but he just strokes your hair and pretends to feel sorry, saying something like “you should have been a good girl and then Fred won't pinch those pretty little thighs”

-If you come to work and it's raining outside, George will let you change into a shirt of his whilst your clothes dry (he won't wash that shirt, he’ll keep it and smell it whilst his hand works wonders *wink* *wink*)

-George has taken a liking to calling you bunny