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schwarzkatje · 27 days

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dark!orphan!ellie x nun!reader || part 3

disclaimer: alright, i'm just gonna say that this is filth in its original form aka contains SMUT that is immoral; offensive to religion if you believe and/or practice the religion implied here; it deals with power dynamics between an educational figure and a supposed pupil even though it has no age gap warning since they are basically the same age; it has violence in the form of slapping; it shows both ellie AND reader being dark characters with questionable morals. so if ANY of this triggers you, i prefer you skip for my but mostly your sake. also, not proofread srry

> for part 1 click here || for part 2 click here

"admit it, you act like a brat all the fucking time because you love it when you get punished," never in a million years would you have thought these words would have exited your mouth. nor would you have entertained the idea of breaking your vows because of something so futile like losing your temper.

except what was happening was proof of how delusional your beliefs and how fragile the rope you were walking on had both been. more specifically what was happening underneath you.

you were straddling ellie, the heels of her feet planted on the mattress and her thighs spread to accommodate your hand as it furiously flicked her pulsating clit and the outer zones of her pussy, drenched in white slick.

the other hand was feigning in her task to handcuff ellie's wrists, as it bore no real force nor did it occur to you that she could break free whenever she decided. you simply ignored it, too drunk off of nothing but a ravaging and ravenous hallucination of retribution. ellie had brought an earthquake inside you, causing casualties in the process, namely what you stood for, the light in your eyes and the faith towards god. in a regained moment of lucidity you could have recognised you were turning into the reflection of ellie's sufferings.

and god, wasn't she willing to dance this macabre tango with you and accept the pleasure that was making her delirious. her hips thrusted up, closer to your fingers, imagining they were your pussy humping her own, riding her in this exact same position that naive you had thought to be a cage for ellie.

"don't lie, you're too – fuck yeah – you're way too good at this. do you fuck the other sisters, when you are done tormenting me, mh?" the contorted expression was the perfect mask to hide the trail of jealousy implied in such an insisting enquiry and to distract from the fact that her eyes would have rolled back to her skull hadn't she been more lucid. "do you suck the pastor's cock when he comes to visit, too?"

"you wish. you wish i had so your fantasies about me get more realistic, don't you?" both your middle and ring finger were exploring the outer region of ellie's intoxicatingly warm hole, with such a slow pace that ellie feared you would stop at any time.

only one hour prior to this enactment of pure debauchery you were busing your mind with paperwork, locked in your room, locked away from ellie. you hadn't planned this.

the exact way you hadn't planned to abandon your dummy remnants of resolution as you let ellie enter your quarters. the exact way you hadn't planned to fight for the umpteenth time knowing it would have resulted in ulterior mortification for you. the exact way you hadn't planned to slap her. for the second time. completely throwing away the memory of ellie promising to make you pay for this the first time you had done it. except, ellie too had seemed to have forgotten all about this threat.

"do it again," ellie had been prompting you, daring you to do it, if not for the fact that she had trapped your wrist, actually impeding the fulfilment of what was acquiring the shape of a wish trough and through. her superior strength had proven a perfect feature to yank your entire body closer to her.

your other hand was holding the bible and you reckoned that once you had dropped it, it would have meant bending irremediably, to the point of breaking, in favour of the evil pulling that had been dancing around you throughout your entire life.

the deaf thud of the sacred text hitting the floor had rivalled with the same echoed sound of ellie's cheek getting slapped once again. the capillaries were fast breaking and the warm sensation over the beaten skin sat rather uncomfortable. not so much so as to hinder the devilish grin that ellie had no shame in sporting.

"at least now you're dropping the act of the prissy nun thinking she's better than everyone," her raspy voice had become lower, almost inaudible. but as subtle – and therefore armless – as it may have seemed, its ability to insinuate just as venom does, with blind cruelty, hadn't left space for mercy. "beating me like the other sisters when you faked compassion the moment they did it to me."

the whole context hadn't given you the chance to develop not even a semblance of pity towards ellie. no, it couldn't have found it in the midst of the scorching flames hell that was engulfing your guts. "you deserve every punishment they gave you. my only mistake was thinking you could gain god's forgiveness," you had inched closer to ellie, mimicking, without having full control over it, her tone and setting a twisted game with the loser's destruction as the prize.

"i'm yet to see how you discipline your bad kids," ellie had taken your free hand, the one responsible for the red heat spreading on half of her face, had brought it closer to her chipped lips, "since you're a sick pervert, i imagine you make them do sick shit as well. what is it? spanking? making them kneel down to eat your pussy?" the last bit of her degrading speech had been accompanied by the wet noise of her saliva coating your thumb and your thumb pressing as though it had had life of its own down ellie's tongue.

"want me to show it to you?" it must have been the devil himself that had smelt how deliciously sinfully your soul was accepting to delve into a grave without possibility to repent. everything had been lost.

"fuck– fucking slut knows hot to– oh man—," that was the agonised prize that your fingers entering ellie and pumping with no care in the world inside her pussy had won for you. there was a spot under ellie, a combination of her own cum and the saliva you had spat on your hand because depravity was the puppeteer moving and angling your strings, and you, brainless and unable to feel shame, followed along, being the only purpose of your tainted existence.

you were becoming obsessed with that sight, your pussy had long started to grind on ellie's stomach, lifting more and more of her black shirt, revealing the toned muscles that helped the friction you were ready to sell your soul to encounter.

fitting a third finger inside ellie, you moaned as though you were the one being penetrated. your teeth were munching your lower lip as a manner to deal with the inexplicable pleasure you were both giving and experiencing. like the previous things, you definitely hadn't planned not only to do this, but to enjoy it as much as an animal in heat would have.

ellie decided she had had enough and pulled her hands out of the pathetic cage that was your numb digits, reckoning they would be of more use gripping the soft flesh of your hips and helping you cover her navel with more your intoxicating precum.

"why can't you always be this obedient? why can't you be a good girl?" your now free hand found a new grip in your own hair, all while indulging in ellie's silent desire to hump harder above her. which meant automatically increasing the speed with which your fingers were claiming her fucked out hole.

ellie sobbed at your words, reading them as indirect praise, the affirmation that like a madwoman she had been searching her all life, the affirmation that frustrated her so much it made her into the shadow of herself.

"oh god please– please, forgive me... oh god, ellie– don't stop..." came out corrupted beyond salvation, tainted by your tears of pleasure and the chocked scream of the most mind numbing orgasm you have ever had, fearing your brain would never recover its sanity.

if you had been captured by the image of ellie, fucked out on the bed where you sleep, ellie too had endured a sight of her own that pushed its limit with you coming on her. it happened during the first second of your high, for this reason you understood that ellie had flipped both of you over, so that now she was between your legs, only when your clothed core met ellie's naked one.

she was humping you like you had been humping her, only with more domineering force due to the position you were in. ellie had her own release in mind and nothing else. there was only the heat stuck in her belly finally exploding with spikes making different parts of her body convulse in quick succession.

the ache of your pussy was no match to the fuelling sensation of having ellie take you like this, using you for her own pleasure after you doing the same to her, putting you in a subordinate position to have full control of what to do to you. "e-ellie come, please come," you begged and pathetically tried to confirm what you wanted by holding ellie's ass to deepen her movements.

she, on the other hand, couldn't resist any longer and with a last thrust she halted flush against you, mere centimetres away from your lips, your legs spread impossibly wide with the only intention of providing ellie with the best position to let go of her built up arousal.

her face had somewhat softened, not taking into account the frown on her forehead, her eyebrows knitted in a desperate expression, almost confused by the force with which her orgasm had deprived her of the characteristic vulgarity and witty behaviour.

she looked... vulnerable. and her lips looked so ready to be kissed and maybe even bitten or sucked. but the delirious feeling of the orgasm had wore off completely by then and anger for a further loss in dignity was covering the entirety of your thoughts. you weren't going to show any more of what you had already done.

you pushed her away, shivering in cold once her body left yours and as quickly as your trembling legs permitted you, you sat on the edge of your bed. facing away from ellie who was waiting for your next move.

"get the fuck out of my room," and with that, a deafening noise produced by the slamming of your wooden door was all was left for you to hear.

#ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x reader #ellie x reader smut #ellie x fem reader #ellie x reader #ellie williams smut #ellie x y/n #ellie smut #ellie x you #the last of us smut #dark ellie #ellie williams x you #ellie the last of us #ellie williams #ellie tlou

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bbonnenuit · 5 months

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The Smiths.

notes: chrollo is yandere, although the fic is lighthearted. the biggest warning is the fact that chrollo looks like he'd listen to the smiths /j, another bigger warning is that reader is an avid the smiths hater. im not tho, all for fun. female reader.

“Daydreaming again, I see?”

It would be a lie to say that Chrollo’s voice isn’t at the slightest bit pleasant to hear. It’s soft and smooth, but accompanied with a confident low timbre that you think might be the source of it’s charm.

You often wish you both don’t share a language to speak over, so whatever he speaks would be foreign yet pleasant gibberish in your ears. And maybe you’d be able to close your eyes and sleep. You’d be able to treat him as the background noise of some radio host talking about something as mundane as today’s newest dramas.

You don’t find the need to chase the impossible ideal this time. One doesn’t need to be a linguist expert in order to know no malice or warning is present in his voice, though one might need a bachelor’s degree and over four decades of experience in psychology to know he truly means nothing behind his calm demeanor.

You sign yourself to a fate you’re unsure of, and though it’s foolish, there’s nothing you can do anyway. You’re stuck with him, in a moving four-wheeled compartment, that’s also stuck in traffic.

“The music’s good.” Is all you say, and he hums in understanding.

Silence falls over the two of you again.

You almost brought back the colorful reverie you were in before he decided to interject, until he reached for his phone to change the music. Oh, bluetooth, the convenient technology you are. His phone is located on the right of his steering wheel, far away from your reach. If he had reached for the audio system you would’ve been (maybe) able to slap his hand away.

“Hm, I’d rather you pay attention to me.” The lilt in his voice is unmistakable. And you almost gag, was that an attempt in flirting? Blegh.

“I’ll just stare at the cars,” Headlights and astigmatism can make a good duo, you remind yourself.

Chrollo hums again, You can almost laugh, so being stuck in your own daydreams and practically doing nothing is unacceptable, but staring at cars is alright?

You stare at a car, observing the way the light that emits from it’s headlights become blurry in your sights, they almost take shape of stars in your opinion.

So you set your sights on a particularly small black car in front of you, must be a Toyota or Avanza or something. You can’t tell, it’s got four wheels and headlights, so it’s a car. You could care less about what it is. That is why you weren’t all so interested when Chrollo took you a look into his….Rolls… Rolls what? Oh, right, Rolls Royce. It’s a fancy one, you can tell. He was exuding quite an air of importance when he was leading you towards the high-end vehicle located in the restaurant’s parking lot, there were some on-lookers around that spot that expressed interest at the car. It means something when even people of the middle-upper class are showing interest.

Whatever ego that had probably swelled within Chrollo must’ve popped like a balloon, or so you hope, because you did nothing more than give him a thumbs up before letting yourself in the passenger’s seat. You also didn’t miss the way he was preparing to tell you about the car’s compartments and specialties that made it cost years of labor. Ah, you’re certain he didn’t gain this vehicle from labor, though.

Fancy car or not, everyone’s equally stuck in this traffic.

Fancy car or not, doesn’t determine that the song played inside the compartment is free from your judgment or not.

“What song is this? You ask, although you know the answer. You somehow need an assurance that he is lucid.

“Please, please, please, by The Smiths.” He says, pleasant with his song of choice.

What an ironic song and artist of choice.

It’s harder to hide in a cackle than a scowl, you’d almost forgotten. Any voice you let out threatens to come out as sharp laughter and any breathe you intake threatens to become a wheeze. You could hardly contain yourself.

“Oh…” Is all you say before pausing, afraid anything else you will say will turn into a rowdy session of laughter. Unsure if you should speak further or not. But the inquisitive look he offers you somehow serves as a push rather than something that usually wants you to further seal your lips shut in fear you would say the wrong thing and earn his silent ire. It’s far, far harder to hide a cackle than a scowl, but months of training yourself to hide certain expressions whenever Chrollo is around has paid off. “What about Frank Sinatra?”

Chrollo smiles. Is he delighted that you find interest in one of his favorite artists? Though he’s never said it outloud, every long night drive has its silence filled with at least one Frank Sinatra song.

“Would you rather I change the song, dear?” He offers. And you would say yes, but this is one of the rare, rare moments where you are given the opportunity to take a jab at him. Although it’s nothing as deadly as anything a leader of the Phantom Troupe has faced, you won’t kill him or even hurt him for very long. But you are willing to do anything, at this point.

You feign the most pleasant voice you can muster, “Hm… That’s not really what I meant. I just didn’t think you’d listen to The Smiths.”

He lets out a small laugh, “Really? I have always listened to older songs around you, I suppose. I wouldn't say I like it… Hm, but it’s an interesting band.”

So he does like it!

“Why do you think so?” You inquire further before adding, “Do you like this song a lot?”

“Are you intending to interview me, (Name)?” Chrollo cocks his eyebrow, but it is only meant to tease you.

“Must’ve picked it up from someone.” A relentless pursuit, you press on further, “Okay though, but answer my question.”

Silence falls over him, as if he were in his own state of thinking so deeply, but you know it’s mainly a pretense. Whatever he wishes to say after, you know it must’ve been something he had thought of before. In any other situation, this silence often serves as to let a dreadful situation simmer in your mind. But this time… Ah, you’re quite unsure.

Chrollo finally speaks, “I’ll answer you of course.” The smile he gives you is anything but nice when you are very much aware of the condemnation those same lips bring you, “On the condition you’d kiss me after.”

“Okay.” To his surprise, you agreed rather quickly. If that’s the sacrifice you need to make, then so be it. A kiss to soothe his soon-to-be sour, scorned face!

He is satisfied, you can tell. He puts his elbow against the steering wheel, resting his face against his palm. “I don’t know why you’re suddenly interested, whatever designs you have in your head… Hm, I’ll know of it soon.”

No one fucking asked damn. You internally deadpanned, impatience is gnawing at your throat. He reminds you of how you’d write your essays when you have to reach a certain minimum word count by relentlessly dragging around a topic and beating around a bush so much that you end up writing a novel rather than an assignment. Ah… To make him anything alike to you doesn’t sound very right. Whatever, you digress.

Chrollo finally, finally starts. And you’re excited, elated, jovial- ah every synonym of the word happiness comes into mind. You can put any thesaurus at shame by now. “I remember the first time we met, you called me something of a hopeless romantic. At that time, I had only laughed because I found the sentiment rather off. Such nonsense. Me? An idealist of love? Love has always been a tool for me. You could only dream.”

You cut to the chase,“Mhm, although you’ve found a contradiction because you actually enjoy those sappy songs right? Okay, what’s next?”

“You know me very well (You smile, excited). But that's not all (you frown, deflated).” Sweet, saccharine drips off of his voice. “I’ve never paid attention to such things, not for myself at least. I don’t ‘relate’ to those kinds of songs. But ever since I met you, it felt as if the world had shifted for me.”

He doesn’t stop, and for once you are glad he isn't, “My world has shifted and taken a hole in itself, one that has been carved into the shape of you.”

It is interesting how he is able to muse so freely about you, in front of you. Where is the shame and decorum?

“And I do quite like this song, in all honesty.” His gaze meets yours, and grey eyes bore into your soul. “It really does remind me of the one I love so dearly.”

Please, please, please, let me get what I want… Those lyrics loop in your head over and over again. You should be sick with the abundance of affection he has for you that makes you seethe. And you would claw at the leather seats, avert your gaze, and try to block him out as much as you can. But tonight, you feel fucking amazing.

You can barely handle it.

“Dude, come on,” Your voice is off by an octave and you swear you can burst. Chrollo on the other hand finds satisfaction melting off of his face over the term being used to refer to him, outright calling him a bastard or a monster might be better. You make it a mental note to call him ‘dude’ more. “The Smiths is for losers.”

…

“Pardon?’

“The Smiths is for losers.” You repeat yourself before adding, “It’s for guys who can’t get any, for guys who waddle in sadness for something they can’t get, guys who are always up their own ass. Condescending guys who are secretly insecure, manipulative guys, guys who play guitar and get sad then do weed…” You are kind enough to give a long-winded further explanation. Chrollo does not share the same sentiment.

Chrollo’s countenance seems unchanging at first, but it is not a waste, for you saw a split second of confusion, then something of offense written on his face before it smoothes out into the uncannily still expression he always wears. His lips open, then close, as if he’s mulling over an answer.

“Are you insinuating I am that type of person, dearest?’

"I mean if the shoe fits...? Well, what do you think?"

He sighs like it’s obvious, “That you made the wrong accusation over baseless data.”

“I’m not accusing you of anything!” You hold your hands up in mock defense, “Just telling you something everyone kind of agrees on. Things don’t have to be written in numbers or books… Sometimes it’s just a consensus. Everyone and their mom agrees on it."

You are relentless tonight, so you continue again though Chrollo prompts nothing from your newfound talkative nature tonight, something you’re sure he would actually love in a different situation.

“These are the kind of guys girls avoid you know? People call it something of a warning. Like, ‘avoid guys who listen to The Smiths’. I don’t mean to generalize or anything, but guys who listen to songs like that don’t end up to be very well in the head. And I also don’t mean to believe rumors but… Well…” You cough awkwardly, but it’s meant to deliver an unspoken message you know will only further test his ire. But you think you have had enough fun for tonight, you don’t wish to turn the night sour for you after all.

…Or so you thought.

“So I’m just trying to say that you should treat me a little better, you know what I mean? I’m putting up with a lot” Everything you say here are meant to be a 50% insult, 30% jab, and 20% jokes. But the last thing you said, you can’t lie and say that you hope he’d take further thought on that. You yearn to hopefully be able to get out of the hotel room that serves as your grandiose cage more, and when you do, you aren’t being watched by an unknown amount of eyes that you know trail on to you by the shadows. That is all you wish for, really. That is to say, you can only wonder what his standards are for ‘treating you better’.

Ah, the smile he has on his face is different from before. This one is a sign that your fun is coming to a quick halt.

“So that’s what you’re getting at? Resourceful little minx you are.”

Why is he sounding so delighted over your insults, is he a masochist? Is he stupid? It’s your turn to cock your eyebrow.

“Have you enticed me in this long-winded conversation simply because you wanted to be treated a little better? And the way you had agreed so quickly to that kiss… " He puts a hand to his chest, a mockery of an apology. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn’t mean to be so blind to your need for affection. You've gone through lengths to communicate your need, I'm very grateful."

You let out a humorless laugh, “Pardon?” He is just truly-! Argh, whatever! “Did you not hear anything else I said?” You make sure to enunciate your words properly, afraid he might have some sort of hearing problems, well he does and you’re certain it has a name. What was it again? Oh right, an unfortunate combination of delusion and selective hearing…

“I know you tend to turn a little childish when you can’t get what you want. That’s not a quality many men like either. So, be a little kinder to me, won’t you?”

“Women don’t usually like mass murderers either. Anyone in their right mind, actually.”

He hums, “That orange container of pills by your nightstand says otherwise. Not the best defense, try again?”

“You'd have some too, you just don't have any because you don't go to therapy."

“Hm, keeping up that attitude won’t make me kiss you any sooner.”

“Then I’ll gladly keep this attitude!”

Unfortunately you don’t. You’re angry enough to have the energy to spew a million insults at lightspeed against him, but too angry to form a coherent thought that you’re certain would give him a decent jab. And to be frank, you’re rather spent. When you (reluctantly) asked Chrollo what time it was, thankfully he gave you a proper response. A quick tap of his phone showed that it was two and a half hours above your usual bedtime. The clothes you have aren’t the most comfortable either, while it’s not short they certainly expose areas where the wind would have too much fun dancing over.

Traffic is clearing as you can see the hotel you are both staying in come into view. You relax at the sight. You can almost feel the warm bath you will be soaking yourself in, what scent will you choose tonight? Rosemary, lavender… Ah, you can smell them already. You prompt to close your eyes for a moment of rest, but you find yourself sleeping on the rest of the way back.

You feel fingers combing your locks stirring you awake, they’re Chrollo’s, obviously. Although you are half conscious, you recognize that scent of sandalwood and amber anywhere, as much as you’re ashamed to admit it.

“Do you want me to carry you?” Chrollo asks, and you murmur something in between a noise of annoyance and a ‘no’. He chuckles at this sight. “Alright then.”

He gives a soft peck on your lips, it’s warm. You almost lean in when the warmth of his lips leave yours, this half-conscious state gives him a moment of your vulnerability he has set his eyes on, the one he relentlessly pursues after so much. But you know that even when he has a grasp at your vulnerability, it won’t stop him from digging for more. Greedy, ruthless man that he is, he will never stop.

“You are absolutely precious, you know that? Even if your mouth tends to run without care” Is that condescension or admiration in his voice? Pity, you can’t tell in the state you are in. You’re drunk from the lack of sleep and the future victory you have in mind.

“Before I answer that…” Your voice is barely above a whisper, Chrollo merrily leans in closer to hear you. Your lips ghost by the shell of his ear…

…

“Name five songs from The Smiths. Are you like an actual fan or is it just FOMO?”

He just sighs.

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#chrollo lucilfer #chrollo x reader #chrollo imagine #hxh chrollo #hxh x reader #yandere chrollo #chrollo brainrot #chrollo is a loser #reader insert #yandere hxh x reader #yandere x reader

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carolmunson · 8 months

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baby, as if | flashbacks pt. 2

welcome back to the jungle, babes. baby as if: masterlist (read with caution.)

welcome to the second part of the flashbacks. here we see what happened, where the sour parts began. here, we semi-answer the questions for why he's like that. tw: 18+ (21+ preferred), p in v sex, drug use, references to violence, active violence (domestic and non-domestic), references to gun violence, references to violence with a switchblade, references to club going/getting lapdances, established couple arguing, verbal abuse, psychological abuse/gaslighting, screaming matches, etc. dead dove, do not eat. for a more extensive list of trigger warnings please look at the master list.

5 Years Ago

“Oh, fuck that’s it,” Eddie huffs, sweat making the underside of his hair curlier than normal against his neck, “Ride it juss – mmm, shit, just like that.”

“S’good?” you whine out, eyes glassy and begging for a morsel of his praise. You both still had your clothes on, panties pushed to the side under your diner dress, jeans shoved down part way while he leaned back on the driver’s seat of the van – parked hidden away beyond the trees outside the diner parking lot. Your lunch break spent sucking him in between your thighs.

“Mmmfuckyes,” he hisses out, voice gravelly and deep, “Always so good, sweetheart. Fuck, this pussy’s all mine, isn’it?”

“All yours,” you yelp while his palm comes down in a loud crack on the side of your ass, “S’yours.” “That’s right, s’all mine,” he whines, eyes rolling while your hips slap against his pelvis. His hips stutter upwards and still, fingertips sinking into your skin where he grabs you, “Shitshitshitshitshit.” “Ooh yes, cum for me, cum for me,” you gasp, riding him through his orgasm, only slightly lucid from your own moments before. He grins at your encouragement, brows pinching in the ecstasy of his aftershocks before he pulls you in to kiss him while you both come down.

“Fuh-hu-hu-uck, I love you,” he whispers while he catches his breath, “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too,” you smile into his neck, pressing yourself flush against his chest to hold him tighter.

His palm grazes your back, a soft hum pouring from his chest before he presses a kiss to your shoulder, “You gotta get a new dress for the diner soon, honey. This one’s a little tight, don’t you think?”

“You callin’ me fat, Ed?” you ask, abruptly leaning back from him.

He laughs, shaking his head, “No sweetheart, not at all. M’just sayin’ it’s showing you off a little more than I’d like it to.”

“How else am I gonna get tips, handsome?” you wink. He lets his eyes roam over your for a moment.

He shrugs with the cock of his head, “When you’re right, you’re right, I guess.”

Eddie leans in to kiss you again, one rough hand comes up to cup your cheek, “If things keep goin’ how they’re goin’ you won’t even need to work at the diner anymore, sweetheart.”

“Yeah?” you mumble against his lips.

“Yeah, I’ll be takin’ good care’a you,” he smirks, mouth pressing against your cheek, your jaw, your neck, “Keep you at home with a couple babies, far the fuck away from Indiana.”

“Oh, I gotta stay home with the babies?” you giggle, “I can’t be an award winning journalist while you’re home with the kids?”

“I can do that,” he laughs, nuzzling against your skin, “Be a stay at home dad, watch you be great.” You give each other a few more kisses – soft and gentle, “I’ll see you at ten, kay?” “Okay,” you whisper against his lips, crawling off of him over the console and getting in the passenger's seat so he can drive you back into the parking lot. You touch up your make up in the mirror while he watches, lower lip tucking between his teeth. “You’re too pretty,” he scolds, “Who said you could look so pretty like that?” “Shut up,” you laugh, dabbing your chapstick on with your finger. You give him a final peck on the cheek before getting out of the van altogether, “See you later.”

Time ticks on at the diner and it’s a quiet night besides of the corner booths of your regular construction guys. You always take your time with them because they tip the best right after payday and even if you hate to admit it – they’re a little funny. They’re cute, too.

The grease and oil on their clothes smells like Eddie after a shift at the garage, smells like your dad’s coveralls. It’s what you expect men to smell like these days, never scrunching your nose the way some of the women do who walk by. “Who do you think’s winning Smackdown this season?” Bryan asks you in front of the guys. “Bry, you ask me something about WWE every time you’re here and every time I gotta tell you I have no clue what you’re talkin’ about,” you laugh, writing out the check and slipping it onto the table. “We gotta educate ya, girl,” the guys chime in, “Maybe one of these nights we can have the remote and put it on. We’ll tell you all about it.” “Over my boss’s dead body,” you roll your eyes, “No rush on the check fellas, let me know if you need anything else.” They always hang around late but you never mind too much, they don’t ask a lot and they never get too rowdy now matter how many beers they clear. Bryan and his closer work buddies have been coming around here since long before you were working behind the counter. He knows your birthday and you know his, you met his mom a couple of times, his grandparents twice. His daddy left when he was a kid, but his papa basically raised him.

The bell on the door clinks and you can smell the acrid tobacco from the Camel’s Eddie smoked when the air whooshes in with him. He smiles at you, soft pink lips splitting his face when he sees you behind the shiney linoleum. Ten o’clock on the dot. You pour him a cup of coffee when he sits on the stool across from you. “How long you think it’s gonna take to close up tonight?” he asks, tossing a glance over at the group in the corner booths. His brows raise slightly before he brings his attention back to you: the smear of your mascara under your eyes, the slight dampness at your hairline – too pretty. “Should be ready to hit the road around eleven,” you pass him a couple of creamers and a sugar packet which he always ignores. Sandra tries not to get mad when you flirt instead of closing up.

He leans up on the stool, lips pulling in for a smooch. You oblige him every time, never realizing all the reasons he does it. He wants those boys to know you aren't on the market, well taken care of by a man with his budding reputation. Eddie Munson wasn't really someone you wanted to get on the bad side of, at least that's what people were saying in town under their chitters of day to day gossip. His posture stiffens when the guys get up to pay about a half hour later, when they make jokes with you, when they imply they'll see you tomorrow. Eddie's jaw clenches and releases, rolling his shoulders when they file outside to smoke their end of night cigarettes.

"Busy night?" he asks once the bell stops dinging. "A little," you shrug, you walk around the counter to clean up their table; smiling to see they've stacked everything together to make it easier to carry. "Good tips?" he asks. You nod, patting your apron while you disappear in the back, letting Peter know that was the last of the dishes. Eddie catches you when you reappear, closing in on a slow kiss. "Thought about you all day," he smiles, "Your dad was pissed, I dropped a wrench twice under the hood of some new customer's car." "Don't test him," you tease, "He's a hard ass." "I'm his favorite," he winks, "Gonna be his son one day, right? He can't hate me now." You start to count out the register, catching his eye in between the change of bills -- he winks each time, making your heart race. But your smile falls when you see his phone start to buzz on the table.

“Don’t get all pouty, it could just be Gare,” he says when he catches your change in expression. The soft breath out of his nose tells you enough. “M’sorry baby, I gotta go,” he says, one foot already hitting the white and black tile below him, “Big move over by Rick’s and they need extra support.”

He leans over the counter again to give you a kiss, but your frown is evident. "How am I gonna get home, Ed?" you ask softly. "Aw, honey," he pouts, voice stuffy with baby talk, "M'so mean, huh? Why don't you call your dad? He'll come get you. Unless you wanna wait for me. I’ll be back in – I dunno, two hours tops. Come back a few G’s richer than I was before." "I'm not waiting around outside the diner until one in the morning," you sigh, reaching for your phone in your apron, "I'll figure something out." Your frustration is evident.

“C'mon, look'it me," he says softly, smiling when he meets your eye, "I’ll get you somethin’ pretty tomorrow." He leans forward to kiss you again – short little pecks, “Whatever.” Kiss. “You.” Kiss. “Want.” Kiss. “Don’t make this a regular thing,” you warn, crossing your arms and trying not to smile after the kissy assault. He nods, leaning in again to kiss you on the mouth more seriously than before.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” he says, gathering his keys and bouncing up off the stool, "Text me when you get home. I love you." “I know, handsome,” you nod.. He blushes at the name, you know it’s his favorite – he never really thought he was handsome before you came around to remind him all the time.

“Hey,” he pouts at you from the door, “Say it back.” "I love you, too," you sing song, leaning on your elbow on the clean counter top. That's how it's been -- always with a promise of something pretty, of something new, of something he wants to see you in, to smell you in, to kiss you in. New shoes, new dress, new mascara, new lip gloss, new, new, new. But you were starting to miss the old Eddie who didn’t have to be on call all the time. Eddie, who'd be excited to see Beau at the shop, who wasn’t too tired from being with Rick and the boys, from making deals all night – from pushing bricks in different states.

When 11 hits you make your way out of the diner, your dad didn't answer your call -- both your parents and Beau fast asleep by now. You light a cigarette, seeing the headlights of a car turn on in the dark parking lot headed your way. "Hey, where's your man?" Bryan says from the driver's side, another friend in the passenger. "Had somethin' to do," you shrug, flicking your ash into the bush behind you. "I can give you a ride, if you want."

You weren't in any position to say no to a ride.

A few weeks pass and Eddie hasn't been able to drive you home from the diner at all these days. Date nights coming in a little farther and few in between. Even Beau had been asking where he'd been lately. But tonight it was just the two of you, back pack filled for a night over at his place. Movies snuggled up on his couch, two different kinds of pizza and the cinnasticks you liked so much -- extra iceing. You could barely stop smiling during your mid-shift, giggling at every text message, every smiley he sent your way.

You jump at the harsh sound of the horn outside, expecting him to come in and give your mom a hug like he usually does. He's idling outside of your family's house, knee bouncing and fingers tapping on the steering wheel. Hair tied up, bangs curly and over flowing on his forehead, damp with sweat.

“Is that Ed, honey?” she calls from the kitchen, organizing pins back in her trusty tackle box of hair fixins that she keeps in the cabinets closer to her hair cutting chair.

“Yeah!” you yell back, shoving some essentials in your purse before running toward the door, “Um, I’ll probably see you tomorrow!”

“Okay, tell him I said hi!” she offera while you head outside. He flashes his high beams at you, honking the horn again while you squint under the harsh bright lights. Your keys jingle in your hand while your sneakers sink into the mud from the summer rain, hurrying to open the door.

“Hi handsome,” you smile, but he doesn’t look happy to see you, “You okay?”

“Babe, what’re you wearing?” he asks while he looks you over, “We’re goin’ to the club.”

You look him over, blackest black slim fit slacks, shoes shined, leather jacket newly conditioned while all the hardware glinted back at you in the light above him. You look down at your sweatshirt and jean shorts, your dirty sneakers, “Oh, um, I can go change.”

He sighs, big and heavy, leaning his head back on the headrest, “We don’t have time, I gotta meet Rick beforehand.”

“You didn’t – you didn’t tell me. I thought we were just going to yours tonight,” you say, hoisting yourself into the passengers seat, “So don’t act all – I don’t know – fuckin’ exasperated with me for not dressin’ up.”

He takes a deep breath through his mouth and out through his nose, eyes closing and fingers tightening on the wheel while you click your seatbelt into place, “M’not exasperated with you. But now I gotta leave you at Rick’s ‘cause I’m not gonna be late for this play just cause you don’t read your texts.”

Your furrow your brows at him, his tone feels clipped, sharpened – he was tense like a stretched elastic, waiting to snap, “You didn’t text me.”

“Yes I did,” he huffs, pulling out of the driveway and onto the street, “Why don’t you check?”

You do, even going as far to open your text conversation, his last message from the last hour in his shift: see u in two hours, qt :)

“It’s just from when you texted me from work,” you say, turning the screen toward him, “See?”

He scans it, knee bouncing, fingers drumming, he swipes his hand under his bangs to push away the sweat, “You have bad service or something? Did you delete it?”

“No, babe, I think you just didn’t press send,” you laugh lightly, “Unless you got some other bitches you were supposed to meet tonight.”

His head had never whipped so fast around, “Why would you say somethin’ like that, hm?” he snaps, “What’s wrong with you?”

“Ed, babe,” you say softly, “You serious? I was joking. It was just a slip up, I’ll hang at Rick’s.”

“Well it’s not funny,” he says, leg bouncing so fast it shakes the van at the red light you’re stopped at, “I don’t like that shit.”

Your heart sinks, watching the whites of his knuckles flex and relax on the wheel. Your suspicions might be right about why he was acting like this tonight, “You gonna kiss me hello, or no, Munson?”

His shoulders slump, turning to you to lean in for a kiss, but you catch his eyes in the streetlights – pupils blown to block out his pretty brown irises. Your brows pinch and you reach out to hold his chin in your hand.

“Wait – are you -- are you fucking tweaking right now?” you ask, the anger present on your face.

“Stop it,” he sighs, rolling his eyes and dragging his face out of your grip to look back on the road, “I had a little blow, m’not tweaking.”

“So you’re gonna do this play all revved up? Thought you weren’t ever gonna touch your own stash,” you snap. Eddie wasn’t innocent and you weren’t either, but he was always – always adamant on not touching what he sells.

“I’ve been awake for two days,” he boredly explains, raising his voice to drown out your disappointment, “I needed a boost.”

He grabs your hand from your lap, pulling your knuckles up to his mouth to kiss them, “Don’t be mad, please?”

“I’m not mad you just…you don’t have the right personality to be playing around with that shit,” You huff, savoring the feeling of his soft lips on your fingers.

“M’not playing around with it, it was just for a boost,” he pleads in a whine. You stay glaring at the windshield while his thumb caresses your hand.

“Baby…” he says sweetly, casting his hook, “Don’t be mad, baby girl. I’m sorry.”

Line. Sinker. You try not to grin but can’t help it, warmth pools through your body when he talks to you like that. He presses a kiss to your fingertips this time.

“Do you love me?” he asks. “Unfortunately,” you groan sarcastically.

“I love you more,” he says, keeping your hand with his on his lap, “Love you the most.”

You get to Rick's, hand in hand with your boyfriend while he guides you inside. To anyone else it would look like a party but the group was too small, it's what Eddie would call a gathering. He says his hellos and you say yours before Ed finds the man of the hour in the corner with Steve Harrington -- budding favorite dealer amongst Indiana's elite. "Harrington," Eddie nods, his arm skating around your waist. They nod at eachother mid conversation, you both wave. You try not to listen to whatever they're talking about, not wanting to get caught up in the stress. The smoke in the air burns your eyes against the neon pink light fixtures burning on the wall. You wonder where Rick ordered these one's from -- or stole them. Something. "Alright baby, I'm gonna head out with the guys but I'll be around later, alright? I'll come get you," he promises, pressing kisses on your cheek that offer you whispers of his cologne. It's not too long before a joint is perched between your lips, hearing the revs of cars and Steve's motorcycle outside, all headed to he same place. But Eddie didn't show up -- popped up two days later with a cross tattoo on one of his knuckles -- fresh. His eyes were dark, under eyes darker -- tense and overwhelmed -- but much richer than he was two days before. Not showing up became regular. Countless texts and calls of: ‘Sorry baby, things are running late.’ ‘Sorry baby, have to run some plays for Rick.’

‘Sorry baby, gotta go to Michigan with some of the guys.’

'Sorry baby, I'm just so tired.'

Bryan drove you home every shift for two months, ever since Eddie stopped coming by. Started spending his nights at clubs and bars to deal, ignoring your calls and texts for days on end.

You let Bryan start kissing you goodbye.

Four and a Half Years Ago

Eddie got another cross tattoo a month after his first, hunkering down and laying low for a while, especially now that his daddy was out of jail. No one liked Mack Munson the way they liked his son, not the same criminal he was. Mack did crime for sport, how far can you go? How many people can you hurt? How many envelopes can you push until you've pushed too many? He's normally out for a few months before he's back in again, but that's easy when you've got no where to go.

Eddie was different -- making a name for himself in all the right ways. Oh, a kid at the park's bike got stolen? Eddie got him a new one. Wayne's car broke down? He covered the cost to fix it. Mrs. Costner couldn't pay her heating bill? Don't worry, Eddie will be there with the cash before you can say 'hypothermia.' Even the cops were starting to let him slide if he could spare a few pills, a few ounces, a few dollars. It felt good to be bad if he could get some good out of it. Not that he was telling you anything, this was through the grapevine. Checking your phone to some of your friends with pictures of him at the club. 'This your man?'

Maybe.

He'd come see you sometimes at the diner, fresh and clean, nails shined and silver shinier. Eddie would look at you with those love sick eyes, watching you work in the overhead light. Your smile, your laugh, the way you hold one hand on your hip while you pour coffee. His phone would buzz and then he'd leave, sometimes without saying goodbye.

Your boyfriend, the ghost. Sex felt different when he offered it, he seemed distracted. You could've sworn you saw a girl's name pop up on the screen when he had a call come in but he'd flip it over before you were sure. Forehead to forehead, panting while he held your face in place to look at him. I love you, I love you, I love you. It was hollow, the dark blackness of his oversized pupils daring you to not say it back. You always did. How could you not?

Bryan was different -- he was long car rides and shared doughnuts. He always let you play your favotite songs on the radio. You weren't walking on egg shells, he liked when you bantered with his friends. There wasn't an underlying dread beneath every interaction the way it had become with Ed.

And Bryan's pupils always stayed the same size.

You aren't expecting to see Eddie's van outside the diner when you finish up your mid-day shift. The fall weather turned the sun down hours ago, but the night was still young and abuzz with life. You'd planned on going out since you had the weekened off, but it seemed like Eddie had different ideas for you.

He shoved the diner door open, looking disheveled and out touch, reeking of cigarettes he chainsmoked before he got in. "You done for the night?" he asks while you come around the corner of the counter with your jacket on. "Yeah, um -- why're you here? You didn't text me," you ask quietly, following him out into the crisp air. You wave your goodbyes through the newly repaired window to a dissapointed Sandra -- even if Eddie paid for the fix, she still didn't like that boy.

"We're goin' for a ride," he mumbles, "Gotta talk to you about somethin'."

You heart sinks and then hammers when you get in the passengers seat of the van. Fear floods through your veins, even overpowering your disappointment when you see a lipgloss in his cup holder that you know doesn't belong to you.

You take the moment that he's distracted from a phonecall with Gareth to text Bryan that you won't need a ride, shoving the phone in your pocket where he can't see. Eddie takes you to the lake where you both used to sit in talk in the summers when you were first getting to know each other. This visit didn't feel friendly in the same way, this time you knew he wasn't going to awkwardly reach for your hand or fumble over his wors like he used to.

“So you fucked some other guy?” he asks, flicking his cigarette into the lake, “You cheated on me?”

“I – Eddie -- we've barely been seeing each other. You've been dodging for months,” you explain, “I thought we were done.”

“Did I say that? Did I break up with you?” he snaps, “Cause I’m pretty sure your dad still thinks I’m your boyfriend. Pretty sure all the guys still think I’m your boyfriend. And now I look fuckin’ stupid ‘cause you’re goin’ around with some asshole.”

You shook your head no, feeling his anger radiate off of him, so quick to find it these days, “M’not goin’ around with someone. We aren’t like, together or anything. He took me on a few dates, he drives me home, we kissed, we–”

“You fucked him,” he spits, “And I know you did cause you can’t fuckin’ look me in the eyes. You at least owe me that much.”

You reluctantly make eye contact with him, your reflection shining back in his wet angry gaze. You take a deep breath through your nose and out through your mouth shakily, “Yeah, I fucked him. At least he’s fucking around for me to fuck.”

“Oh, s’that what this is?” he scoffs, “Not getting enough attention? God for-fuckin’-bid huh? God forbid I got shit to take care of so I can help out my uncle and get ‘im set up in an apartment. God forbid I start movin’ up the ranks so I can start making some more cash. And-and-and god fuckin’ forbid I take some different shifts at the garage so I can sleep in a little after being up all night tryna not get busted by Hopper and his fuckin’ pig brigade. So sorry I wasn’t comin’ home to you with flowers every night, I had to take care of some other shit. I mean Jesus Christ do you ever think about anyone but yourself?”

Your eyes meet the earth again, watching the way your calves flexed and unflexed, the crease and re-crease of your sneakers.

“You’ve been at the club, Ed,” you murmur quietly, “So you’re not so innocent either.”

“At the club?!” he balks, “You mean sellin’ drugs at the club?”

Your eyes burn with tears because he’s not hearing you, “You’re n-not just selling at the club. The girls’ve been showing me p-pictures. You’ve been hooking up there long before I started seeing Bryan.”

He lights another cigarette, letting the smoke billow out into your face, “So his name’s Bryan, huh? Okay.”

He takes a step toward you, sticks and wet grass crunching under his boots, “And what’s so great about Bryan, baby?”

You swallow thickly, suddenly aware of his looming presence, how big he can make himself seem when he’s angry. He takes another crunching step towards you, only a foot between the ends of your sneakers and the tips of his Docs. You feel the smoke of his next drag kiss your face again, hear his arms cross over his t-shirt.

“You forget how to talk, princess?” he bites. You shake your head no, matching his posture by crossing your arms over your chest. The straps of your tank top bite at your shoulders uner your jacket when you do, your bra straps pulling along with them.

“He cares,” you say quietly, “He’s not…he’s not giving me up to go, I don’t know, have strippers dance on him so he can make a buck at a bar.”

“He cares? Is that what you call it?” Eddie laughs bitterly, “So it wasn’t me caring about you when you’d call me every night from your dorm? Not me helpin’ watch your little brother when you needed to take an extra shift or two? Helping your mom with her errands? It’s not me caring when we’d drive out to the dunes cause you wanted to put your toes in the sand – you know how much money I lost that day?”

Your eyes pool with tears when you remember that day, he’d tossed his phone in the trunk. Nothin’s as important as bein’ with my girl, baby.

“Buying you a new TV for Beau so he can play video games in his room and not bother your dad? Fuck, takin’ your dad out to lunch so we can talk about the future I want with you? But I don’t fuckin’ care? Askin’ him your ring size but I don’t fuckin’ care?!” his voice raises with every sentence.

You wince when he shouts, not expecting the anger to be so explosive. His pupils are blown, but that was starting to become more expected than before. He shakes his head, "You know what, babe? You're right. I don't fuckin' care. I don't fuckin' need you." Eddie tosses his cigarette to his feet, stomping it out. "Plenty of other pussy to keep me occupied, right?" he asks, head tilting when he looks at you, "Since that's who I am, huh? Didn't bother to ask me if I was fuckin' around did you?"

"S'not like you'd tell me the truth," you argue back quietly, voice meek while you hold back your tears. "Pffft," he scoffs, "Better watch that attitude on you, girl. You're gonna run that mouth to the wrong person one day. Not every guy is like me."

He crunches back toward the van, lingering his eyes on you while he stands at the open door on the drivers side. His face is pale in the light of the moon, eyes aching for you to say something. Almost yearning before he hardens again. "Bryan can pick you up, right?"

Four-ish/Three-ish Years Ago

Bry asked you to be his girlfriend two weeks after your fight with Eddie. Pulled out all the stops with that union money; good dinners, nights out on the town, all the boys knew how to do was drink beer and party. You finally started to understand WWE in a way you weren't sure you were supposed to, but it was as fun as it was ridiculous. Boys nights became boys nights plus you, the crowd favorite. Pulled in for soft kisses on football Sundays and baseball games, borrowed jackets if it got chilly. Eddie never let you wear his jacket. After a month you were sure that you'd made the right decision. The soft way he looked at you, his sandy hair, the callouses on his hands from a hard day of work. He was a good boy, good enough that Sandra made sure to give them discounts every time him and his friends came in. You only thought about Eddie when you'd run into him or that crew in town, cigarette between his full lips and a snarl to match.

Eddie didn't like to be made a fool of the way you'd made a fool of him. After another month, you barely thought about him anymore -- you had other things to worry about.

Bliss has its costs.

The first time Bryan hit you it was a blip in time, followed by a water fall of apologies. Before you noticed how much beer he was backing when he was out with the guys, why he started off so nice. You never saw him after he got too drunk -- angry and ruddy in the face. Stumbling into his apartment where you'd be there waiting for him. He stopped liking it when you'd joke around with his friends. He stopped liking it when you'd come to boys nights. He stopped letting you listen to your favorite songs in the car.

But when he was good, he was so, so good.

When he was bad, he was horrid.

Eventually, your parents noticed that you stopped coming around. You never showed up at the shop, stopped bringing Beau to and from camp and school. Your mama never saw you, you hardly came home. Your daddy would text you in the morning and ask if you’d be in the diner that night to get a glimpse of you. Bryan would snatch your phone at every incessant call.

“Why do your folks wanna talk to you all the time?” he’d ask, “Did you tell ‘em you wanna leave?”

You got so many bouquets over the next five months you could open a flower shop or a funeral service. Either way, they were more often than not. The 'sorry's' never stopped coming and the bruising started to match. You went through concealer like the diner went through cooking grease -- opting to start wearing readers to work to detract from the caked up product on your cheeks, by your lips, on your throat. But no matter how bad it got your heart would soar at his smile, at his gentle touch, at the softness of his kiss. You knew now why it was so hard for all those other women to leave.

You started hearing stories about Eddie -- more erratic than he was before but somehow more beloved around his part of town. A violent type of Robinhood that you didn't want to cross. Gareth came by the diner one night when you had finally gone in, sitting across from you with a smile while you caught up on a slow Tuesday. Told you all about it, about him, about what was new with the guys. It felt nice, like old times -- a fondness in your chest blooming when you watched him leave.

Two days later, your phone buzzed in the darkness of Bryan's apartment -- RESTRICTED popping up on the screen. You didn't have to guess who it was; Gareth wasn't coming in for a late dinner. He was doing rounds. He was keeping tabs on you.

Bryan had passed out on the couch hours ago, the deep steadiness of his snoring echoing through the living room. You reach for your phone, tip-toeing to the back porch while you consider denying the call -- but you know he'll just keep calling. He hates being left in the dark.

You answer shakily, “Hello?”

“Where are you?” you hear him ask in a low voice, menacing, “Sandra told me what’s goin’ on. Where are you? Now.”

“Nothing’s goin’ on, Ed,” you say quietly.

“If nothings goin’ on then why’re you whisperin’, hm? You keepin’ quiet for what?” he challenges, “Are you at his house?”

“I’m not telling you where I am.” “You think I won’t find you? I got eyes all over this place,” his laughs, “You don’t think if I tell Sandra I’m comin’ to save your ass she won’t give me your schedule?”

“There’s a reason she doesn’t give it out to you,” you hiss, “It’s literally illegal. Can you stop your fuckin’ hero shit? You think you’re any better?”

“Hero shit?” he growls, “Your mama keeps calling me crying on the phone asking if I’d seen or heard from you at all. Your daddy hasn’t slept in days thinking maybe this asshole finally snapped your fuckin’ neck. You keep skippin’ out on shifts at the diner and you wanna shit on me for tryna help? Fuck outta here.”

“I’m fine,” you say through gritted teeth, “Stop. Calling.”

“And yeah, sweetheart, I do think I’m better,” his voice raises, blaring through the receiver, “When’d you ever hear that I’m beating on the bitches I take home? Who am I beating on? Don’t make shit up just ‘cause you wanna be stubborn.”

"Fuck off," you hiss. "Why did Gareth tell me you got bruisin' everywhere, hm? Why did Sandra stop me the other night at Melvald's to tell me to call you? I know she doesn't like me, so it must be serious -- right?" he challenges.

"I have it under control," you growl. "Yeah?" his voice lilts, argumentative and ready to go, "Well fu--" "Who're you talkin' to?"

Bryan takes your phone before you can answer.

When you show up to your shift the next day Sandra can barely recognize you, tears welling up in her eyes when you come in the door.

You do your best not to meet her gaze, simply nodding when she asks 'Was it him?'

You woke up late, knowing you couldn't miss another day or the owner would fire you -- already on probation for all the work you've missed. Didn't have a chance to shower let alone do your makeup, not that you could bare to touch some of it.

The morning is slow, she let's you sit in the back and cry it out to Paul while he flips burgers and flap jacks on the grill. You prep, chopping up whatever he could have you chop, anything to keep you back with him unless Bryan thought it was a good time to show up with his buddies.

He passes you a lemonade and two Advil at noon, winking in the way grandfather's do when they know you've had a bad day.

"Here ya go, sugar," he smiles. You smile back, igorning the sting of the tear in your lip reopening at the gesture.

"Thanks, Paul."

The bell dings during another slow period and you smell Camels before you catch a familiar whiff of Creed Aventus.

"She's in the back," you hear Sandra mutter through the server window.

“Oh, girl, what did he do to you?” You know that smoky voice anywhere, it pours like ice down your back. “You can’t be here,” you shake your head, stepping away while he steps closer to you.

“Hey, look,” he starts with his hands up, soft and gentle, “Look, look. Sandra called me, I’m just coming to pick you up.”

“I have to be here,” you assure, “I can't leave early, he's gonna know.” “That’s fine,” Eddie shrugs, “I’ll tell him you’re comin’ with me.”

You shake your head no, “It’s fine Ed, I can handle this. Please just go home.”

“I’m not doin’ this with you,” he shakes his head in response, gruffer this time, “This isn’t for me. Your folks, they – they miss you. Beau misses you. Asks me if I’ve seen you every time he’s at the shop. I can’t be lyin’ to Beau like that. Don’t you miss him? Don’t you miss your folks?”

Your lower lip wobbles when you think about Beau, all the basketball games you missed for his youth league. The voicemails of him begging you to come.

"C'mon, Sandra said it's okay if you dip out early," he says, ecouraging you with caution -- like you're a feral cat about to run away, "Come with me, I'll take you back to his so we can get your stuff." "Eddie please," you beg, "Please don't get involved -- he'll get the cops on your back I --" "I'm not worried about cops," he chuckles, a knowing smirk flickering on his lips, "Get your jacket, come get in the van." "I can't..." you urge again, throat tight with a threatening cry. You turn around, back to your chopping, drowning out the blood pumping in your ears with the beat of the knife.

"You can, c'mon." You ignore him, feeling his eyes on you, narrowing down to burn holes in the back of your skull. He doesn't have the same patience he used to. You hear his soft sigh, the cross and uncross of his leather jacket, the tinkling of his chains and hardware.

"Baby..."

The dam breaks as his smooth honey voice; it had been so long since someone had called you that. Said it like that, so low and pretty, like he means it. You let out a choked sob when you feel his palm slide over your back and around your shoulder.

"Oh, baby, baby, come here," he whispers, pulling you into him while you fall apart. Tears streaming over the bruises on your cheek bone, the tear in your lip, over your jaw.

"Let's go get your stuff, okay?" he asks, rubbing your back against the polyester of your work dress -- you got a new one in a size too big when Bryan said he didn't like how your old one fit, "Come on, let's go get in my car."

"Prince of the trailer park," Bryan grits toward Ed when he knocks on the door, "To what do I owe this white trash surprise?" "Comin' to get her stuff," he respons nonchalantly, "You gonna let me in or what?"

"Her stuff?" Bryan asks, sick smirk sliding over his face, bleary eyes peering into the van parked by the sidewalk. "What's she tellin' you?" he asks, arms crossed over his white tee, freckled arms flashing against the fabric.

"Nothin'," Ed shakes his head, "Just comin' to get her stuff." Bryan takes a step forward and that's all it takes to get Ed ready to go, arm out to keep his distance, to keep himself between your boyfriend and the van.

“I’m not playin’ around today, man,” Eddie warns, “Let me go grab her stuff and this doesn’t have to be a problem.”

“Problem? You’re ninety pounds soakin’ wet,” Bryan laughs, his couple inches on Eddie helping to bore over him, “What’s she telling you?”

“She hasn’t had to tell me anything,” Ed repeats, “S’all over her face. You’re all over her fuckin’ face man, now let me in the door before I do something you don’t like.”

Bryan lunges, but he’s not quick enough, the soft click of a gun cocking puts him back at attention. “My uncle did two tours, Bry, you think I don’t know my way around a trigger?” Eddie smirks. You watch from the van, horrified, heart racing when you see the black metal gleam in broad daylight. Ignoring Eddie’s demands to stay in the car you throw open the door and run to the sidewalk.

“What the fuck, Ed?” you rasp out, voice heavy with your earlier cry, “Put that shit away.”

Bryan catches your eye, looking at you with a fuming rage, “This is all you, huh?”

“No, it’s not – I didn’t say anything,” you plead up at him, “I promise.”

“Listen pal,” Eddie continues, another step forward while his heavy boot finds its way over the door frame, “We can make this real easy if you let me.”

They bark at each other like rabid dogs when the doors close behind the three of you, a barrage of insults from Bryan’s liquor soaked mouth. You grit your teeth, jaw tight while you decide what’s worth it to keep and what’s not. Your eyes glaze over with tears and the whirl of the place around you.

When did Eddie start carrying a gun?

When you’ve fit as much as you can in your duffle you make your way towards the door; hearing Eddie’s low growl of the threat when Bryan makes it way over to you.

“If you think for one second you’re gonna see or hear from her again then I promise you, you are sorely mistaken,” he mutters, the scrape of metal on metal rings in your ears when his rings slide over the short barrel.

“If I remember correctly, you’re not around too to find out are you?” Bryan bites back.

Eddie chuckles smugly, a tight pulled smile across his face with his dimples deep on his cheeks, “I got eyes on every corner, chief. Don’t test me.”

“We’ll see about that, huh Munson?” Bryan nods, eyes settling on Eddie’s knuckles – another fresh cross tattoo blazoned across pale skin.

“We won’t see about shit,” Eddie nods back, “I always keep my promises.”

He takes you to his place -- his uncle in a nice little apartment in the city now so the trailer's his. It looks the part, new repairs and updates the other people in the park couldn't believe when he started making them. You fret and worry the whole way there, not looking at him once for the ride, not even a thank you.

"He won't come to mine," Eddie soothes in the car, "I got a friend outside your folks place, too."

"Mhm," you nod, watching the town woosh by while he presses on the gas, two turns and it's just trees lining the street.

"You're okay," he says when he pulls in, hopping out to open your door from the otherside, "C'mere."

You follow him in, collapsing on his bed the moment you make it into his room. His sheets are fresh, they smell like him on his side, pillow laced with a few strands of his wavy hair.

"You know you're the only one I ever let in my bed," he says softly, kicking his boots off in line with his other shoes. "Hmm," you hum, too despondent to reply.

"Scooch," he mumbles, warm palm pushing gently at your arm. You make room for him, hearing his jacket slide off and his belt get undone. If it was a year and some change ago the sound would've sent your reeling with need, now it just sounds hollow.

He slides in next to you, encouraging you to flip over so he can see you. You haven't looked in those soft brown eyes in a while, it almost hurts. His brows furrow and then soften, yearning the way they did before he left you by the lake.

"You hurtin'?" he asks, hand reaching up to run over your hair, "Can I get you something?"

"I took some Advil at work," you answer, the ache at a dull thud in your face. Exhaustion starts to overtake you while you sink into his mattress, the first time you've felt safe in months.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asks, thumb sliding feather light over the bruise on your cheek bone.

"Didn't want you to be right," you croak out. "Sounds like you," you smiles back. He comes in closer, arm snaking around you like he used to.

"I missed you," he whispers, "All the time."

Your eyes water, "Don't...don't do that."

"Baby, I'm being honest," he urges, "Couldn't stop thinking about you."

"You don't mean that," you sniffle, your heart sinking while he pours out more confessions.

"Of course I mean it," he says, looking at you with desperation behind his gaze. He leans in slow, warm lips brushing yours, careful not to press to hard on the swollen corner of yours. You relent, letting him kiss you, letting his hands roam over your waist and push you in from between your shoulder blades.

"Didn't you miss me?" he asks. The pit in your stomach knows that you didn't -- you didn't miss him breaking off dates, you didn't miss the ignored calls, you didn't miss him fucking off for who knows how long. You didn't miss finding lipgloss in his car, hair strands that weren't yours.

But you missed this. The way it feels to be told that you're the only one allowed in his bed. The only one he sends someone to keep tabs on. The only one he misses.

You nod, your body moving this time to get close to him.

"I'd never hurt you like that," he mumbles against your lips, "Not my baby. Not my girl."

He holds your eyes in his when he puts you gently on your back, gingerly pulling off your diner dress. He presses kisses down your neck, across your chest.

"Let me make you feel special," he says down at you, light shining behind his head like a halo, "Let me show you how special you are."

He still knows your body like he wrote the schematics for it, pulling soft needy moans out of you like a never ending string of chords he's always known how to play. You almost forget the thumping pain in your head, peppered in gentle kisses at every wince. 'I love you' weighing heavy on his tongue when he keeps eye contact, but never passing his lips. Never passing yours. Maybe neither of you have to say it.

You both settle afterwards, two rounds have pushed you past the point of exhaustion -- fast sleep in his arms after a bottle of water and two more Advil out of the palm of his hand.

You wake up in darkness, a sea of dark blue and black with a soft green glow of his side table clock. A little past midnight.

Your head pounds, dehydrated from all the crying. You search for your phone in the blankets -- noticing the bed next to you is empty while doing so. You peer over the mattress, no light coming in from under the door.

"Ed?" you call out, but no one responds. You sigh, finally finding your phone somwhere under your hip. Your inner thighs ache from having his hips slam into them hours before, hips in their full extension while he pushed into you deeper and deeper.

274 missed calls. All from Bryan.

Your blood runs cold, looking out the window to see Eddie's van missing. A car you don't recognize sits a trailer away, humming with muffled music, a shadowed figure inside behind a cloud of smoke. A gentle moment of ease flits through you -- at least someone was looking out.

i just woke up, where are you? who's the guy outside?

You wait for a bit, going through your socials to make sure Bryan is blocked on everything. You delete all the messages, not bothering to read them so your fear doesn't spike again.

Your phone buzzes.

i'm out.

You swallow, hoping he's not making good on any promises -- not after that show earlier this afternoon. But you don't have to wonder past the next scroll on Instagram.

Grainy with a filter is a photo posted 45 minutes ago from a friend of a friend, a bottle girl at the club that all the boys love the most. With two girls on each thigh there sits Eddie in a VIP back room, laughing at someone in the background -- whiskey neat in one hand, cigarette in the other. The caption makes your heart hammer --

'our king on his throne. ♡'

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #dark!eddie munson #dark eddie munson #stranger things fan fiction #modern!eddie munson #modern eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson #eddie x y/n #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fan fiction

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midastouch-zaza · 25 days

Note

R! Is Sullyoon's boyfriend. One night, a succubus that's identical to his girlfriend enters his dream and wants to fuck him, but instead he's the one fucking the succubus.

(Or is it only just a dream tho? Possibly, she's in the succubus outfit just like in his "dream"?)

When you woke up that night, you immediately noticed that something was off. The whole atmosphere of your room was odd, it was almost if you were not completely lucid; but the most strange thing was that your gf, Sullyoon, was not laying next to you and was not in the room in general.

Suddendly she basically appeared at the side of your bed, wearing such a different outfit for her style: a black corset with a crisscross strap on her chest, ending with a short skirt barely covering her silky thighs. But the detail that really stole your attention were some new...features: in fact the girl was presenting a couple of red scarlet wings, another couple of horns on her head, and, in the end, a long black tail with an heart in the end.

"Mmh, this sexy boy looks so hot while sleeping, you really made me excited", she said in a sultry voice, getting on the bed and crawling towards you. "I can't wait anymore to get a taste of you, sweetie", she spoke in such a different way than usual, but you would lie if you didn't admit that you were getting horny.

And she must have noticed that too, because she quickly put her hand on your clothed bulge, rubbing through your pants. "Is this big fat cock for me, sexy boy?", she asked, biting her lips, before taking your shorts down. Smirking, she moved her head closer to your shaft, beginning to lick your balls.

She kept working on your intimate area, slowly moving up, till covering your tip in kisses. It was exciting, but things were going too much slow for your taste. "Sorry, baby, but you know me, this won't do it", now it was your turn to grin, turning her smirk into a puzzled face.

You didn't give her any answer, but just pushed her head down, making her engulf your whole cock. She gagged and almost choke on it, her eyes got watery, feeling your tip hitting her throat. From there you started moving your hips, fucking her pretty face, using her horns to move her head up and down.

"Yes, choke on this beast, you slut", you growled, pumped by the warm pleasing feeling around your cock. She squeezed your legs, trying to "survive" to the face fucking, and she barely managed to do that, especially when you released your seed in her mouth.

She was busy coughing and gulping down your cum and didn't notice that you moved behind her. She realized that just when you pushed her forward, making her laying on her chest on the mattress. "I'm not still done, whore", you warned her, lifting her skirt, finally admiring her fat booty in all its beauty.

"No no, wait a seco-", her words got stuck in her already used throat because you slammed your hard shaft in her pretty pussy. You blocked her arm behind her back, starting to pound without any mercy, making the girl moan like a whore. She was loving how much your dick was stretching her.

"I'm gonna breed you, bitch", you growled, while slapping her ass until leaving the mark of your hand on her booty cheek. And, given that you were already there, you had a fun idea: with a sharp movement, you pulled her slim tail. That move alone made Sullyoon cum, covering your still thrusting cock with her juices.

"Kinky slut, take my cum", you told her, fucking her through her climax, making her eyes rolls back and her tongue sticks out due to the pleasure. The pleasure made her pussy clench around your cock so strongly that she basically milked you out, leaving an huge dump of cum inside her ruined pussy.

After that...the darkness. You woke up the next morning being sure that it was just a fantastic dream. "Good morning, honey", Sullyoon said cheerfully, standing on the doorstep. "Come to have breakfast with me", she told you, leaving the room. You nodded ready to leave the bed, when a thought popped up in your mind: why the black dress she was wearing was so familiar?

#kpop smut #kpop thoughts #girl group smut #kpop x male reader #girl groups x male reader #nmixx sullyoon #nmixx smut #nmixx x male reader #sullyoon smut #sullyoon x male reader

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multi-fandom-imagine · 10 months

Text

«Lipstick Stains || Spencer Reid ||

A/n: Let me know if you want a smutty part 2 👀.

Prompts used:

[ lipstick ] sender is wearing lipstick, and uses that fact to mark receiver with a few lipstick stains.

you know you matter to me, right?

[ caress ] sender soothes a nervous receiver by stroking their hands up and down receiver's arms

[ absentminded ] sender casually takes receiver's hand in public, laces their fingers, and doesn't let go.

“Want to make them jealous?”

i promise you a weekend you'll never forget.

i have something special planned for tonight.

If it was one thing Spencer would avoid doing it would be this. He always dreaded attending his high school reunion but in the moment his mother was more lucid she mentioned it to her so he felt like he had to attend the damn thing.

At least you were here, Spencer didn’t know what he would do if you weren’t by his side right now. Well that was a lie….he wouldn’t be here if you didn’t agree to come.

“Is this you.” You were bent down in front of a case, eyes glued to a class picture. “You’re so cute Spencer.”

Feeling his cheeks burn, Spencer adverted his eyes for a moment. “Y-yup…now how about we get this over with.”

Pouting for a moment you gave him a nod standing up as you smoothed out your dress, Spencer by your side. His eyes nervously darting around as you two reached the check in table.

“Uh Sp-.”

“Spencer Reid….how are you pipe cleaner?�� The woman gave Spencer a wide grin. Spencer not realizing that he grasped your hand tightly, his cheeks burning with embarrassment. Though the woman paused as she turned to look at you, her eyes ranking over your form. “And who might you be, a friend…god knows he couldn’t pull-.”

Biting back a scoff, you wanted nothing more than to slap this woman across her face. “Fiancé actually.” Giving her a fake smile you held out your hand so she could see the ring. “His mothers, I’m so lucky.” With your eyes ranking her from you grasped Spencer’s name tag pinning it to his chest. “Maybe if weren’t such a bitch you might find a man like Spencer but then again real men don’t like bullies.”

Stund the woman didn’t know what to say to you though she didn’t get a chance to reply as she watched you pull him away.

•

“God, these people suck.” You muttered glancing at everyone. The few people that approached you told you stories of Spencer yet the only thing that you could think of was how they bullied Spencer.

Spencer frowned as he laced his fingers through your own squeezing it for a moment not letting go. “I know.”

Facing Spencer you then gave him smile, with your free hand you stroked his arm up and down to ease his nerves. “Want to make them jealous.”

Spencer could feel his cheeks burn, from your tone of voice he didn’t know if he could trust what you had planned. “I do not think Hotch would approve of two of his agents getting arrested.”

Snorting you let your fingers run through his curls, a whimper escaping his lips. “Why Doctor Reid, that’s a dirty mind you have. I’m not telling you to fuck me in front of these assholes. I’m just suggesting we show them you can’t be bullied anymore.”

Your lips brushed against the nape of his neck, the man’s hands now clutching your waist as you started to leave marks across his neck. Glancing up you then pressed your lips against his cheek satisfied seeing the red stains littered across his cheek and neck.

Puffing out your chest you glanced back at his former classmates watching you both, your name came as a hasty whisper between his lip.

“I just can’t help myself around you.” Weaving your fingers through his own as you tugged him through the crowd of people.

Cheeks still red, Spencer felt his heart pound in his chest. Part of him was excited, you stood by his side the whole night, defending him when you didn’t have too and once you reached the rental car Spencer pulled you in for a deep kiss, his arms wrapping around your waist as his teeth grazed your bottom lip.

Breaking the kiss, Spencer then cupped your cheeks as his thumb ran across your cheek. “I promise you a weekend you’ll never forget.” He whispered.

A smile formed on your lips as you pressed your body tightly against his. “That so? Well I wanted to surprise you but I do have something special planed for tonight.”

Shuddering, Spencer could only image what it might be but right now he just wanted to get back to the hotel and see.

#drabbles #drabble #criminal minds x you #criminal minds x y/n #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #reader insert #spencer x reader #spencer x you #spencer x y/n #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!readr #spencer reid x you

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qin-ling · 9 months

Text

paved in gold - excerpt

sequel to as lions. as lions tldr: time-travel fix-it in which TGM mav wakes up in 1986, relives TOPGUN, and makes some distinct changes to certain fates. paved in gold is set approximately a year later.

i’ll preface this to say aug/sep has been hellishly busy for me and i’ve been having enormous difficulty finding free time to work on this—but i’m too excited by the premise not to share a little of what i have. 😔

—

It’s too warm.

Maverick wakes in darkness. For a second, he’s groggy, slow, lost, surrounded in unfamiliar shadows, unfamiliar shapes, dimly lit in the amber bars of the streetlight beyond the blinds. The nightstand is strangely bare. No phone, no tangle of cables. Just a watch and a pair of dog-tags, glinting.

Then he remembers, and—oh. Notices the weight of the arm around him. There’s the culprit.

The arm loosens as he shifts, as he settles down again, before drawing him into a firm chest and the cradle of another body atop the sheets. Maverick grumbles, but soon sighs, mollified, when a large hand charts a lazy path beneath Maverick’s cotton tee.

Blearily, he asks, “Time?”

“Five,” says Ice, sounding far too lucid for what just came out of his mouth. Maverick feels the gentle drag of his nose against his ear; despite Ice being a veritable hot water bottle, the tip of it is slightly cold.

He smells like mint and Maverick’s shampoo. Already up and about, then. Nothing new. Their circadian rhythms are so rigid that Maverick only checks the alarm clock before bed out of sheer habit.

He closes his eyes again to the gentle press of lips against his nape. His heart thumps against Ice’s palm; something Ice clearly catches, because his mouth curls against Maverick’s skin.

A year now, and Maverick’s still not entirely used to the affection. A year, and Maverick still starts, sometimes, when Ice leans in.

“Rise and shine,” says Ice, a soft gust of breath against Maverick’s ear, raising gooseflesh up and down Maverick’s arms.

“You were the one who climbed back in.”

“Couldn’t resist.”

“Little old me?” says Maverick playfully. He rolls backward just as Ice sits up—carefully. In the muzzy darkness, Maverick can just barely make out the shape of him: already dressed, his khakis perfectly ironed and creased in all the right places.

“Calling yourself little, are you?” And old, Ice doesn’t say, but Maverick hears it anyway.

He stretches out into the warm spot Ice left behind. “Nothing wrong with it. Works in my favor.”

“Only in the cockpit.”

“Only place that matters,” says Maverick, with a breezy smile.

Ice returns it. He gets to his feet. “1100 hours,” he says. “Don’t forget.”

Maverick slaps a hand over his heart. “I’ll always be where the captain wants me to be.”

“Is that so?” says Ice, who was present when the base commander visited the TOPGUN complex that spring and Maverick was nowhere to be found. In Maverick’s defense, he’d been helping Stomper with a family emergency. Easier to ask for forgiveness than for permission, all that. Viper had nearly popped a blood vessel.

“You know it,” he says.

Ice only shakes his head. He reaches over to pat the hand still on Maverick’s chest, and Maverick grabs it, hangs on. Ice smiles. “See you in a few.”

“See you,” says Maverick. Reluctantly lets go.

He watches until Ice disappears from sight. A moment later, the front door opens and closes with a quiet click.

It’s still dark outside. The days are getting shorter and shorter, and in a sense that’s a blessing. Ice doesn’t like to linger—especially in the summer, when daylight stretches long and neverending.

He loiters a few minutes longer in bed, seeking the elusive peace of earlier. The duvet is still warm, the pillow next to him sweet with the familiar scent of Ice’s cologne. It melts something in him, even after all this time. Reminds him of a tidy home office, well-lit and welcoming; of an arm around him on the flight deck, steering him through the crowd; of a glaringly bright ready room twenty-odd years ago, Ice asleep against Maverick’s shoulder.

The ceiling fan whirs over his head. It’s the only sound in the silence of the early morning. It clicks with every rotation, lists slightly to one side.

Maverick gives himself one more moment. Then he gets up.

#icemav #tg: as lions #qin writing #i want to talk about this darn thing so bad #actually i never intended to write a sequel but the ideas continued to propagate #now here i am after months of daydreaming

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fillinforlater · 1 year

Text

Spaceship: Horizon - Season Finale: How did we get here?

Male Reader x Miyawaki Sakura & Choi Yena

Length: 2480 words

Tags: a lot of what the fucks, a lot of fucks, sudden sex, sex as a reward, threesome, friendly rivalry, blowjobs, forced deepthroat, 69, pussy eating, face sitting, snowballing, cowgirl, overstimulation, very numb, very exhausted, very confusing, commander!Sakura / dorky!Yena / puzzled!You

TW: Kinda forced with a lot of plot point coming together. Feel free to back read ;)

Inspiration: A lot of ppl wanted Kkura, other wanted Yena, and I wanted to finish one of my many plans I had for this season finale. This series is super old, hell, I don't even remember all the things I set up and names lol.

Credit: @midnightdancingsol for the late edit. Really saved some stuff, tbh. You're the best.

(A/N: FInally, we are! Season two wrapped up after HUGE holes in between lmao. A lot my newer reader might not even know this series exists lmao. This was always supposed to be my flagship, but yeah, I guess others are more well-liked. Enjoy this season finale, it (probably) won't be the last!)

“Hm! Look, he is waking up, Commander!”

“Stop calling me that, Yena! These titles are absurd.”

The ceiling above you is familiar. The cushions below you are familiar. The two do not evoke positive memories, unlike the two familiar voices that argue for a brief period of time, before they stop.

Two pairs of eyes look down on you. They sparkle in excitement and thrill—at seeing you, perhaps?

“Sakura? Yena?” you call out the two names you associate with those orbs and reach for where you assume their bodies are. Texture—an arm, a hand. This is reality and not some weird lucid dream. You have experienced enough of those in the past to be cautious, but luckily, both Sakura and Yena are real.

“Welcome back!” Yena shouts. She wraps an arm around your nape and her following hug leaves you breathless for a second, her sizable breasts for another.

“Back?” you respond, mildly confused, although it is nothing new to you that this girl says random shit again and again without explaining herself.

“Aw, Commander, look at him! He is a literal war hero and doesn’t even know it.”

Yena giggles, thus Sakura gives her a quick slap on the butt. It was certainly not a kind slap, but the idol does not look angry at all. The excitement and amusement do not disappear from her. It’s all absurd. It would all make more sense if you died and went to heaven. No more aliens that want you to record porn, just the weird, dorky, sexy guide from the spaceship and your favorite idol. Sounds like heaven, alright.

“War hero? Damn, I can’t even remember the battle I fought, but it explains why I’m dead.”

Sakura shakes her head.

“Yena, please, this poor guy is completely lost. Enlighten him about everything he asks for. We got the time.”

Yena suddenly straightens her posture. Like a news anchor delivering important, serious information, she tries to stare at you, but her attempt fails. Her laughter echoes off the walls and through the large room. She repeatedly slaps her thigh in loud amusement. Sakura looks pissed.

“Yena! Get your act together!”

“But how would you tell him? It sounds so weird when I try to put it into words!”

“Weird?” you say confusedly. “Nothing can be weird to me now. We are on a fucking spaceship with aliens that can shapeshift and want to film us have sex.”

Yena laughs again. “Oh boy, about that!”

Sakura, visibly at the end of her patience, plants an angry hand on the younger girl's mouth. She glares at her, then at you, and says with a bit of resignation:

“All of the things you just said—they changed. A lot.”

“Huh? How so?” you say while giving looks to both of the girls and their banter. If they weren’t so cute, you’d cringe at their behavior.

“A couple of weeks ago,” Sakura begins as she still suffocates a teary-eyed Yena with the palm of her hand, “we found ways to communicate with other parts of the spaceship. It is absolutely gigantic, we still have no idea how big it actually—Yena, stop it now, please—is. A couple hundred kilometers in each direction, probably. At first we thought it was a trap, that these intelligent creatures would not allow us to meet up in secret and share information. But then, we found the reason: all of them were watching your videos. Every single one of them.”

“What do you me—please, no!”

Your fingers dig into your hair. It feels sweaty, greasy, and definitely unwashed, the new stress is not helping either. Your pornography spread further than you would have imagined. If these aliens saw it, then other people saw it too. The size of this ship makes you imagine that potentially millions of humans could have seen you naked and get it going with dozens of women. Well, there goes your reputation, even if you ever return to Earth.

“Listen to her, she is not finished,” Yena says with a large grin on her ducky facial features. She places a caring hand on your shoulder, while Sakura places a not-so-caring-but-rather-threatening-hand on hers.

“Don’t interrupt me, please.”

“I won’t, Commander.”

“I said you—never mind. Anyways, these aliens were addicted to the porn, the sex. Something about it made them lose focus. They became sloppy and made mistakes that left holes for us to not only be able to communicate with more and more people, we also made plans to get more information about this place and how we could use this addiction to our advantage.”

“Maybe you noticed it too,” Yena barges in. “Some aliens—especially your Worker—must have been very affected by it. Being irrational, less caring, all that kinda stuff.”

You nod. He certainly was affected. Uncontrollable, maniacal, not paying attention, getting desperate for more material, Worker became a junkie for your fucking porn.

Your mind spins at the thought. Where the hell is this leading up to?

“Just a couple of days ago,” Sakura continues with intensity, her eyes wide open, “we were able to throw away all our strategies and battle plans. The aliens started to evaporate. At first we thought it was a trick by them and that they figured it out, but then we got reports that they probably died due to an overdose of your porn. We knew their deaths, or rather obliteration, was inevitable. And so we watched them evaporate, one by one, and we took control of their positions. We found all kinds of young people held as cattle, tortured as slaves or being forcefully fed food. Not all of the experiments were cruel of course, but I think everyone is delighted that this shit is over.”

Sakura takes a deep breath and pinches her forehead. Her rambling wasn’t all that coherent, but she got the point across to you, which is—

“So… we won?”

Your question lingers in the air for a bit. The smell of sweat and some fine perfume reaches your nose for the first time since you woke up from your slumber. The mattress below you feels wet, your legs are still kind of numb.

Oh, it must have been them who gave you the drug. They wanted you to film the ultimate video to finish the aliens off. The pieces of the puzzle are slowly coming together, but the picture couldn’t look any more bizarre.

“Yes!” Yena exclaims and lunges herself at you. Her entire body presses onto yours, from thighs, to tummy, to titties. Yena doesn’t seem to care that you’re all sweaty. She looks genuinely happy. It feels great, this feeling of victory, of freedom, Yena pushes it all onto you.

“After we live streamed your holy-moly-crazy-orgy to the last remaining aliens, they all evaporated.”

“It sounds so stupid,” you giggle and shake your head, “but I guess I’m glad. I bet there are still so many insane things that happened. No need to tell me now, to be honest, I’m not sure I understood the things you already told me. But can I at least know why you didn’t tell me about it?”

“So it didn’t look forced,” Sakura says with the attempt of a wink, “We had no clue if you would have been able to perform under pressure if you knew what was at stake. We also like to keep these top secret issues in a small circle.”

“Damn, you all sound like the CIA.”

Yena rubs her cheek on yours as she gives another hearty laugh.

“Our guerilla group really developed into a whole organization. It’s gotten even worse during the three days you were asleep.”

“Wait, what?” you groan defeated. Another three days of life missed for something you can’t grasp yet. And what the hell do they mean by organization? The questions don’t stop coming.

“Don’t worry!” Sakura flails her arms as she shifts closer to you as well, “We used the Helper system to keep you hydrated.”

“Wait, how? I don’t—”

“We have some smart people among us,” Yena says, her lips pouty, for some reason, “They were able to hack into the system, which is why we can communicate and use the Helpers to our benefit. Communication, water, food, hell, even teleportation. These things are amazing.”

“I—”

You stare at the ceiling. It’s the same, it’s been the same, it has not changed.

Your eyes open to the possibility that this is all fake, a dream to make you feel better. It’s a simple explanation for the absurdity tenfolding with every word the girls say. But can it be true? A dream this realistic and detailed, with all the right changes?

Wait, maybe you really died a war hero and this was your reward. Like in those old, ancient stories—your brain is coming full circles. Damn this drug, damn this fucked up spaceship.

“—cannot understand, but I guess it’s fine.”

Silence, then the two girls giggle.

“Yes, it’s basically long story short,” Yena blurts out, “You fucked, fucked up things happened, the Aliens are fucked and we won. Everything is fine.”

Take a deep breath through your nostrils. The air still feels real, the wetness on your skin too, but most importantly, Sakura still smells as good as she did back then. You’re not dead, thank God, and apparently a porn star war hero, thank God?

“Okay, whatever,” you respond and force your upper body into a sitting posture, “Can I please take a shower now? I smell of sweat and… other, more obscene bodily fluids.”

“Not so fast,” Sakura responds and sits down on your legs. Fuck, they are still numb, you can’t even fiddle them out underneath her light body.

“Let me in on it too, Commander!” Yena shouts and climbs next to you. She begins to pull at your shirt, while Sakura wiggles out your pants from under your butt.

“What the—hey stop! We don’t need to film anything anymore, right?” you fight back with words, while your body surrenders immediately.

“You are right,” Sakura says as your cock springs free, already semi-hard, “No cameras. This is just for you, your reward.”

It might not be the first time that your favorite idol has taken your cock into her mouth, but there is something absolutely incredible about this time. She, the Sakura, is literally some Commander that gives a guinea pig porn star head for winning a war against shapeshifting aliens—oh yeah, and there is Yena, rubbing her now exposed breasts on your arm as her ducky lips suck your neck. It’s impossible to let that sink in.

You moan out in pleasure. It’s a miracle that your cock still works after what happened during the last session. Then again, it is Sakura who uses her skilled tongue and lips to make you hard and throbbing.

Judging from Yena’s annoyed hums on your ear as she nibbles on it with great care, she feels neglected. Suddenly, one of her tits is in your mouth so you lazily suck on the hard nipple. Sakura hisses from in between your legs, your cock still in the warmth of her mouth. She stops sucking and jerks you off to properly address Yena.

“What are you doing? This is his reward, not yours! You can’t use him like your plaything.”

“Oh stop it, Commander! I know you want to ride his cock badly and cum on it like the needy bitch you always were while we watched the vi—”

“Fine, shut up!”

Through their bickering, they don’t seem to realize the mess of moans and whimpers you have become. Yena’s soft breast firmly placed in your mouth leaves your mind numb yet blissful, while Sakura’s hand goes up and down your cock at high speed. It’s like she is electrically charging you, to the point where you might explode. Why the fuck does a foreign hand feel so much better on your length than your own?

“Gimme some of that too,” Yena says and leaps at your crotch. At one moment, her chest was all you could see, the next moment it’s her pink pussy, hovering above your face.

Lips on your tip make you beg for mercy, but the two don’t have any. Sakura pushes down on the back of Yena’s head and you unexpectedly penetrate her face deeply. Your entire cock disappears in her mouth and she slobbers all over it. A mix of saliva and lipstick covers your sweaty legs..

“Ye-Yena, K-Kura, I can’t—”

“You don’t like it?” Sakura asks, her tone missing seriousness entirely.

“No, I—fuck!”

Throw your head back as Yena moves. The warmth of her throat is gone and back again as soon as Sakura allows it. The idol is thrusting her friend—or are they just rivals—onto your shaft ferociously. Because of Yena’s firmly placed knees next to your shoulders, you are unable to stop them. All there is is your climax. Resign to it.

“Fuck, I c-can’t, hmpf!”

As the two girls work together to suck out your semen, Yena bluntly drops her cunt onto your lips, its scent a bewitching perfume to make you forget the pain of your overstimulated dick. She tastes delicious, her nectar drips into your groaning, gasping mouth.

“My turn, finally!”

Yena pulls her stuffed mouth away, but your twitching, probably completely red cock doesn’t stay cold for long as Sakura lifts herself up and after a long hum goes down on your length, it bottoms out with ease, and your mind shuts off.

“So good!” Sakura screams and starts to ride you with no regards to your exhaustion or obvious overstimulation. Her body, flawless skin, flawless proportions, flawless everything, is uncontrollably fast yet she still finds a way to make it a show. Somehow, she is able to lift one of Yena’s legs high to give you a view of what is to come (granted, through Yena’s slick and suffocation, your eyesight is a bit dazed) and then pulls the cum-stuffed duck into a messy kiss.

It’s not snowballing, it’s an avalanche. Cum drips from their loosely connected lips and tumbles down Sakura’s curves. Weird sucking and licking sounds fill the room as Yena tries to drink your whiteness before Sakura can steal it. The two girls fight and Yena continues to ride your face to not be outdone by the eager Sakura. You feel the remaining snow drip down on your tense torso, but they are eager to lick it off of you.

This drags on for minutes, until their mix of pants, teases, giggles and actual words are only feral moans. In the confines of Sakura’s cavern, you survived the overstimulation and are ready for another release and possible death if the horny idol doesn’t stop afterwards. Luckily, she seems close as well. Yena also starts to rub her own clit frantically, more and more of her juice covers your features.

The moment you all cum is surprisingly silent. There is a gasp here and there, wet smooches from fucking and face riding, but other than that, you all succumb to your release rather quietly. Sakura fucks your rod and it’s erupting seed deep into her cunt, while you make sure to open up for Yena to dump her fresh nectar into you.

Wait a minute. Whose reward was this supposed to be again?

(A/N2: maybe mine? 😉😳)

#kpop smut #female idol smut #male reader smut #male reader insert #girl group smut #izone smut #le sserafim smut #lesserafim smut #sakura smut #yena smut

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soyeonsbabygirl · 4 months

Note

Can you do like y/n cursing bc she was mad and idle members not liking it and they told yuqi/minnie (chose one) to put her in her place (G!P)

Why have 1 when you can have 2✌️😜 maybe I’ll make Pt.2….this was so fucking hot..

Language!

The girls loved you. You were their pride and joy, their sweet maknae, pretty, and overall just the happy pill of the group. They loved seeing you smile and would do anything to keep it on your face, that being said…they find you getting more easily fustrated nowadays.

Maybe it was because of the stress of comeback season, maybe it was being tired of the shitty company, maybe you were overworked, or maybe you just were upset for reasons they didn’t know. Point is when you got annoyed or mad….you would curse.

It could be something small, like you mess up your part in a song, a small dance move, or whatever. The word would just fly out your mouth so naturally. the girls would hear “Fuck.” “SHIT!” “Bitch!” And they hated hearing it out your mouth.

Soyeon would glare at you when she heard you curse making you even more annoyed, Miyeon tried flicking your forehead to see if that would work but it only resulted in your forehead getting red and tears falling out your eyes (making Miyeon cry and apologize each time), Soojin would yell out “Language!” but that did nothing other than make you all pouty, Shuhua thought doing it back at you would cancel it out but if anything that made it worse.

The girls were out of ideas so they told Minnie and Yuqi to handle it making both girls smile. “Don’t worry, we know how to get our sweet y/nnie to stop” Minnie whispered to Miyeon giving her a kiss. “Good because if I hear one more swear out of her mouth I’m going to lose it!” Soyeon stressed making Yuqi laugh.

Yuqi and you were working on a dance. You were in charge of making the choreography for LUCID and you were doing good. But then you started stressing the little details on whether your motions were good and if it made sense.

Yuqi tried to remind you it was just a practice but you didn’t care, when you couldn’t get your arm movement down that’s when she heard it. “Fuck! I’m sick of this shit!” You had said so clear and loud Yuqi knew she didn’t mistake what she heard.

She walked over to you saying nothing. She turned you around and pushed you down to your knees, she took her pants off slapping her cock on your face.

It was obvious what she wanted you to do, but you were so frustrated you decided to be a brat. You crossed your arms in front of your chests looking at her with a pouty look. This angered Yuqi, not only were you cussing but now you were being a brat and not listening to her? Ok here it comes.

She pushed her tip to your lips making you open your mouth. She kept pushing til her whole cock was in your mouth hitting the back of your throat making you gag. She glared down at you with disappointment and arousal.

She held your face as she thrusted deep and hard in your mouth making you deep throat her. You gagged on her cock not use to her fucking your mouth with such intensity making her slap your face a bit.

“I’m gonna teach you how to watch your fucking mouth.” She growled out fucking your throat harder with each word. You had tears pricking your eyes but she didn’t care, “instead of cursing I’ll make you use this pretty mouth of yours for something else. I hate when you curse. It pisses me the fuck off.”

You only whined against her cock in response to what she said. Yuqi loved the way you whined against her cock, the vibrations it sent made her fuck your mouth harder. Tears ran down your face every time she snapped her hips into your mouth making her moan at the sight of you crying on her cock.

Lines of drool fell from your lips as Yuqi came closer, she let out moans closing her eyes as she prepared herself. She let out a loud deep moan as she came deep down your throat. She pulled out as she saw you hold it in your mouth your cheeks like chipmunks.

She held your head back making it impossible for you not to swallow. You listened and swallowed all of it, she let go of your face as you stuck your tongue out showing you swallowed. She smiled as she kissed your forehead. “Good girl.” She tucked her cock away back in her boxers and pants.

You were so wet and looked up at her with pleading eyes about to ask if she would fuck you. She held you slapping your face lightly as she shook her head. “Bad girls don’t get cum.” You pouted but leaned into her touch feeling upset but understood as you sighed.

She made sure that if she ever heard you curse again she would fuck your throat so hard you would barely be able to speak.

The other time you cursed you were alone with Minnie in the studio. You guys were working on the song for your upcoming comeback.

You kept re-recording this one part. You hated how it came out, it felt like every time you sang it or rapped it, each time sounded wrong. You didn’t know what it was but nothing was sounding right.

Minnie tried to give you words of encouragement but you were so distracted her praises fell on deaf ears. You tried to record this next part but stuttered messing up the line.

That’s when Minnie heard it, her face scrunching up to one of disgust. “Shit! I can’t get none of this shit fucking right!”

Minnie said nothing getting up from where she was pulling you out of the recording booth making you yelp. You were about to complain but she silenced you with a bruising kiss. She nipped your lips as her hands made their way underneath your shirt and harshly groped your skin.

You moaned softly against her lips as she laid you down on the couch. She put her thigh between your thighs parting them as she began to undress you.

Your fingers got tangled in Minnie’s hair as she went down marking your neck and collar bones. She took her cock out and pushed inside you with no warnings.

You both moaned as she began thrusting into you roughly not even giving you a minute to adjust. Just moving in and out of you causing you to moan and stutter. The couch thumping against the wall with each thrust.

“You wanna curse? Each time you even think of saying another curse word I’ll make sure you can barely speak only stutter.” You moaned unable to respond and when you did try all you could do was stuttered. Minnie smirked as she gripped your hips reaching deeper inside you.

She watched as you came down feeling your walls clenching down on her cock. She pulled out making you wail as you begged her to let you cum. She shoved her cock in your mouth harshly face fucking you til she filled your throat with cum.

She pulled out of your mouth putting her clothes back on as you beg and pleaded with her. She grabbed your face bringing you close to her lips. “Learn not to cuss as much slut and then I’ll let you orgasm.”

She pecked your lips going back to work on the song she was working on earlier. All as you laid there frustrated and horny.

#gidle #gidle thoughts #gidle smut #kpop gidle #idle smut #fem! reader #yuqi #minnie #g!p minnie #minnie idle #minnie smut #g!p yuqi #yuqi idle #gidle yuqi #yuqi smut #minqi

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headcaasefiction · 4 months

Text

Lucidity

Morpheus(Dream)/AFAB!Reader

Minors Do Not Interact

Rating: Explicit 18+

Warnings: Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Spanking, Light BDSM, Light Bondage, Mild DubCon, Dom/sub, Jealousy.

Summary: Morpheus doesn't like to make a habit of looking in on your dreamscape the nights when you don't come to visit him. Besides for a subtle influence, a gentle prod here or there, your dreams remain largely untouched. Your lucid power over them more than enough to sustain your dreaming hours by yourself. But tonight something was calling to him from inside your part of the dreaming, some kind of enticing heat that whispered to him in such a way until all he could do was yearn.

Lucidity - noun:

1: clearness of thought or style

2: a presumed capacity to perceive the truth directly and instantaneously

~*~

Morpheus doesn't like to make a habit of looking in on your dreamscape the nights when you don't come to visit him. Besides for a subtle influence, a gentle prod here or there, your dreams remain largely untouched. Your lucid power over them more than enough to sustain your dreaming hours by yourself. But tonight something was calling to him from inside your part of the dreaming, some kind of enticing heat that whispered to him in such a way until all be could do was yearn.

Caving in to his own desires and curiosity, with just a turn of his cape and the hypnotic swirling of sand, he was there just outside the foggy grey edges of your subconscious space. He heard you before he saw you - a gasp, and then a low whimper as if you were crying.

His brows furrowed, confused, it sounded as though you were in a nightmare at first, but that felt completely wrong. The air here was warm, pleasant, not suffocating in the slightest and seemed to hold an intoxicating and sweet aroma that left room for wanting more. Morpheus felt dizzy with excitement for a moment, the atmosphere seducing his senses as the dreamscape came into view more clearly.

"Please, please more...," You moan softly.

Morpheus' eyes widen as the dream comes fully into view, his lips coming apart in shock. There you are, on your knees, face down on a bed, hands bound behind your back, bare ass and glistening pussy on full display.

"Please I want more!" You cry out, wiggling your hips for attention.

Dream is mesmerized, dumbfounded at the sight before him. He had caught a few glimpses of your sex dreams in the past, heard murmers and yearnings, but he always tucked them back into place. Was content to ignore the persistent tug in his heart that longed to be there with you. He wanted to keep your trust, protect your privacy. Until now. The allure was too powerful this time.

For the next moment he thought about making himself known, of offering himself to you, to fulfill your desires, to help you reach whatever release you begged him for. Lust shot through his body, heat washing over him with the promise of pleasure as he gazed at your needy and vulnerable form. He had always wanted to take you in a dream, ravish you with orgasms until you awoke in the waking world where he would be waiting to claim you yet again.

Just before he could call out your name, it was too late. Another answered.

"You're gonna have to beg better than that, little girl," a low masculine voice said, before chuckling in response to your frustrated groan, a playful gleam in his eye, "What was it you wanted again?"

The man is tall, with short blonde hair and vibrant green eyes, broad and muscled, a few tattoos spread over his body, his straight white teeth just a little sharp, a little devious.

-SMACK- a loud piercing slap sounds through the dreamscape, and with that a pained but pleasured moan tore from your throat, causing the air to waver and sparkle.

It takes Morpheus aback, your position; the seemingly violent nature was nothing new to him, your relationship and sexual escapades are intense, demanding and even sometimes dark, but above all what shocked him the most was that this was not a randomly occurring dream. The tell-tale signs were prevalent, you were dreaming of a memory.

"Fuck me, please fuck me! I'll do anything, please anything..."

"Anything, huh? " The blond man smiles, as he runs his fingertips from your shoulders all the way down to the base of your spine. Your legs are open impossibly wide, juices leaking down your thighs from your neglected cunt. Your cheeks down to the tops of your breasts are tinged pink, tears spotting the corners of your eyes.

"Well I like the sound of that."

Morpheus feels dizzy and weighted, almost like the dreaming itself is trying to shove him out. There's a ringing in his ears and a sharp pain where his shell of a heart should be, something possibly screaming: "Don't look, don't look!"

Another sharp spank rings out, and another, and another before you're sobbing, begging as you're ravished. There's a flash of sickness that Morpheus feels before a familiar and sudden white hot anger. In front of him is another man inside of you, his fingers, his tongue, his cock, and the look of pure bliss on your face says you'd like to drown in it as your pleasure is announced all at once in your dreamscape and the waking world.

Betrayal hits Morpheus in the gut, stings deep in his chest. You could dream about anything you wanted in the world, anything you wished for, anything with your talent for lucid dreaming, and you choose to relive a night with a former lover.

No longer being able to endure the sounds of pleasure you make, or the sight of you giving yourself to another, his anger snaps.

"This dream is over."

With swift hands to his bag of sand, he casts it in between the three of you, dissipating your dreamscape and immediately waking you up.

...........................................................................

You shoot straight up in your bed, gasping at the sudden panic of being ripped out of your dream.Sweat pools at your brow and the tops of your breasts, your thighs sticky with your arousal and fading orgasm.

You wipe your forehead with the back of your hand, panting a little and blinking the remaining sleep from your eyes as you try to catch your bearings.

"Fuck...," You exhale, squeezing your eyes shut and raking your fingers through your tangled hair, "He's going to be so fucking pissed about this."

You didn't see him, but you knew he had been there. And what the hell was up with that dream anyway? Normally you had so much control in your dreams, able to conjure and manipulate the scape to your liking, how did you get so caught off guard? It had been years since you had even thought about your ex-boyfriend, Dean, let alone have a sex dream about him. Dean had been your very first Dom, the man that got you into the lifestyle in the first place.

The image of him spanking you, fucking you, thrusting into your mouth is burned into your brain. Just random flashes of memories, scenes you played out, fantasies you shared, the firsts of many. Morpheus had seen it all, of course on all the nights he decides to come snooping through your dreams. You knew he was going to show up, and he was going to be hurt and furious.

As if on cue, you look up and are greeted with two silver stars staring at you from the corner of the room. He's in the rocking chair you typically use to dump your clothes on. His legs are crossed, hands together touching his lips - like a prayer.

You stop breathing for a moment, your tongue catching in your throat, silence hanging uncomfortably thick in the air as he peers at you through the darkness. All you can hear is the ringing in your ears and the thumping of your heart attempting to beat it's way through your ribcage.

You swallow hard, your lips parting, "Morpheus, I-I..."

As you spoke, he rises from his seat, still not saying a word he begins to stalk towards you. You impulsively scramble back against your pillows and headboard, a spike of fear shooting up your spine. This only makes him advance quicker, and as he reaches the foot of the bed he grasps the end of your blankets, yanking them off onto the floor, revealing your mostly naked form.

You gasp, automatically trying to hide your breasts with your hands while squeezing your thighs together to conceal your soaked panties, evidence of your body's betrayal.

"Now suddenly your demeanor is bashful and modest?" He accuses, voice dark and low, one of his hands grasping your ankle and pulling it far to the side so he can kneel on the bed, forcing his knee between your legs, his other hand pinning your arms above your head, "You were so open, and wanting not but a moment ago."

Your cheeks burn with shame, your breath coming out in short, sharp bursts as his knee judges your throbbing clit. He squeezes your wrists tighter, forcing a whimper out of you as you squirm helplessly against him.

"Now tell me little one," he growls, jealousy dripping from his baritone voice, "Who were you dreaming about?"

You bite your lip, gently flexing your fingers as you press your body desperately into his, craving contact, craving his warmth. You search his starry eyes for any sort of playfulness and find none, just raging supernovas burning holes down at you through the dark.

"It was...I was...," You swallow thickly, trying your hardest to get the words out, "I was dreaming about my ex-boyfriend, Dean."

The confession makes you go slack, all will and obedience surrendered to Morpheus, his to completely control.

A low growl tears it's way out from deep in his chest, his grip tightens once more, making you wince.

"Not just any ex-boyfriend," he says, every word filled with resentment and venom, "An ex-lover, your ex-dominant."

You cry out as he squeezes your wrists so horribly tight when he says that last word you are frightened for a moment that he might break something.

"Please, you're hurting me..."

His grip relaxes a bit, yet he still keeps your hands together in a firm lock, eyes not once straying from yours. His brow is furrowed, angry; pain emanating from his now darkened pupils. All dark, no stars. His face so close you can feel his wild raven hair tickle your face.

"Am I not good enough for you, little one? Do I neglect you so horribly that you would rather serve another?"

Your eyes widen, horrified. He really believes you no longer want him, it makes your heart burst. You wish to kiss him, to soothe his pained expression, but he moves his jaw away at your attempt to tilt your head up to capture his lips. The move hurts, he has never denied you in any such way before, your eyes prick with tears at the rejection.

"Please...I want only you, belong to only you," You whisper, arching your body to press into any part of him you could, desperate for contact.

He hovers above you, lips brushing over your cheeks, your forehead, the shell of your ear, his free hand caressing your stomach as his knee pushes further up against your sex. You make a small noise and bite your lip, pleasure flooding your groin as you grind down into him, red blooming across your face in embarrassment as you realize your panties will be soaked through, dampening the denim of his pants.

He lets out a slight huff, gently sucking his teeth for a moment as his gaze wanders your body, fingers now trailing up your stomach to tease your breasts and pinch at one your nipples.

"Did you feel your body orgasm as you were dreaming of another man's cock in your cunt? Did you feel it, Y/N?"

You're trembling now, fingers twitching, slightly numb, eyes blown wide with lust, remorse and guilt. Your body feels impossibly empty, your post-orgasm high long gone and replaced with a burning desire to be held and filled, a knawing hunger to please.

"Yes, yes, S-sir..." You whimper, flexing your pelvis once more, savoring the shame of your arousal and the drag of his knee against your clit.

The feeling doesn't last long though, as he suddenly pulls you up to him face twisted in anger, hands firmly grasped in front of you, pressed rough against his chest as his other hand tugs at your hair, exposing your neck.

"Is that what you called him when he pleasured you? When he touched what's mine?"

You bite your lip, your face flushed with tears, stammering, " I - I'm sorry Dream, it's just an old habit, it won't happen again, I -..."

Before you can finish what you are about to say he suddenly and unceremoniously flips you onto your stomach, face down across his lap.

"I think it's time to remind you who you belong to," he snarls, while landing two impossibly hard smacks on your ass. A moan escaping your lips, ecstasy ringing in your ears.

"I am no mere mortal Sir," he hisses, one hand holding you down near the base of your spine the other threaded through your hair close to your scalp, "I am Dream of the Endless, more powerful than a god, I am a King, and I will be addressed as such."

"Yes, Your Majesty," You whimper, pressing your face to the side of his thigh, "Please forgive me."

You gasp at the tight tug across your scalp as he pulls your head back, stinging as his nails dig in slightly. You mewl at the sensation, a pathetic sound he rewards with another smack on your ass.

"I do not like sharing, Y/N," he hums, dark and hypnotic drawl erupting goosebumps across your skin, a fresh patch of slick seeping through your panties, "I do not like when others touch what is rightfully mine."

You cry out as he roughly manhandles you, grabbing your hips and forcing you into the same position you were in in your dream. Back sharply arched, hands behind your back, ass and pussy exposed and at his mercy.

You bury your face in the covers, trying to hide the burning shame that licks so sweetly at your insides as you feel his hands caress up your thighs and over the curve of your ass before resting on your hip, fingertips toying with the edge of your panties. They're ruined, you can tell, your gushing wetness making them cling to your sensitive lips and clit, making you throb with a need for friction.

You whine, wiggling your hips slightly as he continuously dips and caresses your panty line.

"Insaitable, needy little thing," he murmurs, finally hooking his fingers through your waist band and peeling them down to your ankles.

Excitement floods your system as you're exposed to the night air, every movement and sensation promising sweet relief, a reward from your Lord for your unwavering submission.

"My, my, darling what a mess you've made," he says, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he slides his fingers through your drenched folds.

You let out a labored sigh you haven't realized you've been holding, warmth spilling into your stomach like hot milk and honey as he begins to work you thoroughly. The silken pad of his fingertips gliding up and over your glossy lips, back around the hood of your clit, and up and down again and again faster each time, little droplets of slick dripping onto your sheets.

You can feel your orgasm fast approaching, pins and needles whisper along your skin, his movements fast and gentle like humming bird wings, two other fingers teasingly prod at the needy entrance to your sex. You can feel a warm knot tighten deep inside you, tension ready to snap.

"P- please, my Lord, I'm so close, so AH!-" You cry out, his hand spanking you once, twice, three times more, pleasure and stinging pain threatening to send you over the edge.

"Naughty little dreamers who break their Master's heart don't deserve to cum, do they little one?"

His words shoot ice into your heart, your eyes welling with tears. He has punished you before, but not like this, this time it felt like he actually wanted to hurt your feelings. You didn't mean to break his heart, it was an accident, a subconscious fluke.

You sob in frustration, squirming and kicking your feet out a little as he continues with his spanking punishment. He goes back and forth between each cheek, the round curve of your ass blooming into an angry red, the loud sharp crack of his hand against your skin drowning out your whimpers, until you cry out,

"Please, Your Majesty, please forgive me!"

He slows his motions at your plea, striking you only a few times more before he seems satisfied with his handy work, soothing the palm of his hand over your burning flesh. Your blood sings with the knowledge that there will be bruises for weeks to come, that every time you sit down you will be reminded that you belong to him.

Gently, he flips you over onto your back and straddles your waist, conjuring a piece of black rope from thin air. He snatches your wrists once more and binds them together above your head, expertly threading them through the top bars of your headboard. You give it an experimental tug, knowing full well there is absolutely no way you can escape it.

He towers over you, hair dark and wild as the night, pale skin glowing in the moonlight that shines through your bedroom window, stormy eyes ever changing - cold steel, black hole, supernova heat. Dark and dangerous and possessive, he regards you as if you were a million miles away.

"Perhaps I should keep you bound here, and disappear for the rest of the night, hm? Leave you wanting."

He reaches under your thighs, spreading your legs wide apart, completely opening yourself to him. He looks hungrily at your leaking cunt, swiping his thumb over your clit and down to your dewy-slick hole that flutters desperately around nothing. It's then that you finally feel his cock, hard and heavy, straining inside of his jet black jeans as he grinds you down into his lap.

"No, please," you whine, eyes half-lidded, your dopamine drunk mind screaming for more.

Lick me, fill me, fuck me. Pleasepleaseplease.

"Please don't leave me here all alone," You plead as you gently rut against his lap, "Please forgive me, my Lord, it was only a dream!"

"Only a dream?" his eyes darken again, venom trickling back out of his lips while he roughly pinches your clit, "It was the dream of a memory, not some figment of your imagination. You are the most powerful lucid dreamer I've ever come across, and this is what you do with your gift?"

"Please, I didn't do it on purpose, it was an accident!"

You whine once more as he flicks and squeezes your clit, your orgasm threatening to roar back to life yet again, his lips brush the shell of your ear, whispering, "Do you think of him still when it is I who gives you the pleasure you crave?"

"No, never!" You sob, several of his fingers sliding into your drenched pussy, twisting easily through the silky glide of your wetness to add a much wanted third. It makes you see stars, though you aren't quite sure if they are coming from his eyes or your dizzying arousal, "I only think of you, Your Majesty, only you!"

His breath is coming out hard and fast now, his chest heaving as he grips both of your thighs hard enough to bruise, his gaze boring down into you.

"Then you must make it up to me," he murmurs, pressing your legs further back, folding you in half so your feet dangle over his broad shoulders.

With a slight wave of his hand, his clothes are conjured away, leaving him completely naked. His smooth, cool skin igniting shivers through out your body. His long, thick cock resting heavily against your clit and abdomen, causing you to squirm with need.

"Yes, my Lord, anything for you," you whimper breathlessly, the head of his cock and shaft dragging through your wet, aching need, "Anything you ask."

He leans closer to your face as he lines the blunt tip of his cock up to your entrance. Finally capturing your lips, ravishing your mouth and tongue with his own as he nips and bites and claims.

"I want you to beg for my forgiveness."

At those words he slams into you, bottoming out instantly, your scream of ecstasy muffled by his hand covering your mouth. You throb around him, his thick cock stretching you so wide you can feel it at the very bottom of your clit. You tuck your face into the crook of your arm as you mindlessly tug at your restraints. He sets a brutal pace, filling your room with the humiliating sounds of your soaked pussy and his skin colliding with yours.

"Fuck, fuck...," You moan, loving the drag of his thick girth simultaneously hitting your clit and, the deep spot inside you that makes alarm bells go off in your head.

His pace never falters, and even though he has had you time and time again; owned you, fucked you, used you in so many different ways, you have never felt so full and claimed in your entire life.

He takes a hold of your throat as he pounds into you mercilessly, your breasts bouncing with every stroke, useless short noises hitching their way out of your mouth as he uses you.

"You belong to me," he growls, accentuating each word with a bite, peppering the unguarded column of your neck with dark, angry marks, "Mine."

"Yes, my Lord! I'm yours, all yours, pleasepleaseplease forgive me!"

His grip tightens around your neck, your earlobe between his teeth as he slows his thrusts to a torturous pace, making you want to scream.

"Do you deserve it, little one, after you've broken my heart in two?" He whispers, one hand dropping between your legs to toy with your clit, forcing you to clench around his cock.

"I- I don't deserve your forgiveness, Your Majesty!" You cry out, tears streaming down your face as you look him in the eye, so open and ready and willing, "I'll show you my devotion, just please forgive me...fuck me, use me, keep me as a pet, I'll do anything to earn back your trust!"

He pulls your head forward to capture your lips in a bruising kiss, his previous pace returning full force as he fucks into you, drinking in every little sound you make. The familiar heat of your orgasm begins to lick up your spine, your clit and cunt throbbing with every thrust. You moan as he ruts into you, sloppy wet, and keen agonizing need threatening to burst at the seams.

"M-morpheus please, I'm going to cum, I can't stop it," you mewl, squeezing your eyes shut tight, your hands gripping your bounds for dear life, trying and failing to suppress the incoming wave of heat, "Please let me cum, please!"

His starry eyes sparkle as you beg for him, he's slackjawed with want, shiny lips parted as he grunts out his need, fucking into your more than willing body. He smirks, relishing your fucked-out state, so wanton for him, so earnest to please.

"Yes, little one, come undone for me."

"Morpheus!"

You cry out into his mouth as the tension in your stomach snaps, white hot heat surging through your bones as your eyes roll in the back of your head. Your pussy throbbing and pulsating, coating his cock with a gush of warm slick.

He lets out an appreciative gasp, groaning with deep arousal as he fucks you through your orgasm, obscene wet noises ring out as the only sounds in the air while he chases his own end.

"Good girl," he praises, panting, his thrusts beginning to falter as he pounds into your slick heat, hips stuttering as you cry out into the night.

"Cum inside me... please!"

With a gasp, he squeezes his eyes shut, pumping several more thrusts into you before cumming deep inside you, whispering your name as your pussy milks out every last drop, mixing your essences together.

"I forgive you, Y/N."

There is a moment of quiet as you both breathe together, your hearts chest to chest, matching each other's racing beat. He gives you a slow kiss on your forehead, tenderly pushing away the tendrils of hair that have fallen in your face. Slowly and carefully, he removes your aching legs from his shoulders before quickly getting to work on untying you.

You sigh in relief as your arms are freed, your shoulders were beginning to ache and you weren't sure how much longer you could take it.

"Are you alright?" He asks softly, caressing the blooming purple marks along your neck and collar bone, his other hand's thumb rubbing gentle circles into one of your wrists that is beginning to show signs of bruising. The anger is gone, his usual tenderness returned.

"Yes," you smile, clinging to him, still feeling a little dizzy and lightheaded from your thunderous orgasm, your lips brush his knuckles, kissing them, "Are you okay? I'm really sorry you had to see that, I promise I wasn't doing it on purpose."

He frowns, holding you closer in his arms, "I know, I should've known better, seen the signs more clearly. I let my jealousy get the best of me, I'm sorry..."

You gently kiss him again, "I forgive you too."

He turns to you, starry eyes blue and calm like the early morning ocean - supernova heat long gone. He gives you a brief smile and tenderly strokes the side of your face.

"Let me make it up to you."

You smile back once more, giggling in post-coital giddiness, "And how are you going to do that?"

He rises out of bed, his clothing suddenly conjured back onto his form. For as many times as you've seen him do it it never fails to take you by surprise.

"Should I get dressed?" You ask, stretching your aching limbs, "Where are we going?"

There's a twinkle in his eye and a rare smirk on his lips as he kneels by the side of the bed and gathers you up into his arms, "No need, where we're going you won't need clothes."

A moment later and the two of you are encased in swirling sand. You cling to him in shock as you feel a pull and sudden whiplash into another space. It's over rather quickly as you realize he's teleported you to his palace in The Dreaming. You are wrapped in the safety of his cloak, but are horrified by just how vulnerable you feel being naked in his throne room.

"Morpheus, I don't have any clothes on, what if someone sees!" You whine, burying your face in the side of his neck.

He chuckles, amused at your worry, as he begins to walk through the halls, "No one will see you dear one, I won't allow it. You'll be perfectly safe in my chambers. I intend to make good on my promise and lavish you with all of the attention you deserve."

"Hmmm, I like the sound of that," you purr, nuzzling and nipping at his jaw, "I think I still have some making up to do myself, Your Majesty."

"I believe that you do," he whispers, sending chills down your spine, "So, you would like to be my pet, would you?"

You blush, face crimson, the tips of your ears burning hot. You hide your face in the crook of his neck once more, shame and arousal mixing and bubbling up to the surface again.

"Yes...yes I would like to try that out, if you want..." You whisper back, breathless, heart thrumming in your ears and throat and pussy.

"Hmmm," he hums, seemingly delighted, as he pushes open the door to his personal living quarters, and lays you down on his bed, "I like the sound of that."

#morpheus x reader #dream x reader #the sandman x reader #the sandman fanfiction #the sandman #fanfiction #self insert #reader x #the sandman comics #the sandman live action #I posted this a long time ago and was trying to edit it to my masterlist and accidentally deleted it

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