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sugar-coat-it · 9 hours

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Body piercer! Matty part three

Part 1, Part 2

I missed writing for this man so much my god he is my everything. If you haven’t read the other parts, go ahead and do that first for context perhaps!

Fem! Reader

Contains: Mutual pining, cutie newly established relationship, mention of marijuana, proud concert bf Matty, him being protective of girlie at the show, exhibitionism (light petting in the crowd), rough quickie (unprotected), public sex (bathroom), fingering and fucking on the counter, Matty puts his hand over her mouth, mirror sex, choking (with jewelry)

WC: ~6.3k

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PART THREE- Your new boyfriend takes you to a punk show, ending with a quickie in the venue bathroom

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Both you and Matty knew in your hearts that this wasn’t just a fling. Flings didn’t stay up for endless hours on the phone, knowing damn well that you both had work the next morning. Flings also didn’t think about each other for every waking minute, always sending each other sentimental messages when things reminded them of each other. And, they certainly don’t touch you the way Matty touches you: like he’s like he’s been starved of you his entire life. He’d frankly been losing his mind, constantly daydreaming at work as he stared at the Polaroid of the two of you he kept at the front desk, knowing he couldn’t stand not calling you his girlfriend much longer. Not after the past couple of weeks you’d been seeing each other had been some of the best of his life. He was so antsy over the fact that he couldn’t actually call you his that it was eating him alive, where else would he ever find someone as perfect for him as you? His work friends teased him endlessly for being so head over his platform boot heels, telling him how he needed to lock you down as soon as possible. He endearingly calls you his “favorite client”, but you’ve quickly become his favorite everything (“No. You don’t even get it, mate,” he’d said, rambling on to some poor guy whose ears he was piercing, “she's like… the light of my life, really”). But, considering that you couldn’t close your eyes without picturing his pretty brown irises staring back at you, his eyes crinkling at the edges with all his twinkling, wild mirth, you weren’t faring much better.

Just as you’d hoped from that first night together, his sleepy eyes were in fact now a constant in your life. He asked you to be his girlfriend after taking you back to the same cafe where you’d had your blind date. Needless to say, it was an enthusiastic yes on your part, and everything has been so much brighter since, you can hardly imagine your life without all of his ruckus. Your days with him are long and lazy, and the nights are even longer, often spent wrapped up in his sheets or giggling while curled up on his couch after a smoke session.

You’ve learned a lot about Matty in the time you’ve been together. Like his tendency to leave things in your flat, his ungodly marijuana tolerance levels, and his love for his puppy Mayhem. You’ve also found that he takes his music very seriously. Listening to music is like a ritual to him, one that he refuses to partake in with “trashy” music. You call it snobbery, he calls it having good taste, and lately, he’s been trying to share that taste with you. He’s almost been subtly brainwashing you into getting into them, playing their songs in his car, burning some of their tracks on his CD mixtapes for you (always scrawled with cute Sharpie doodles and bad handwriting), humming the melodies of his favorite songs to you while cuddling. Honestly, you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t working, you’ve found yourself adding his music to your playlists, combining your styles much like how the mohawked man has slowly rooted his way into every corner of your life.

So of course, words couldn’t describe how thrilled he was when you agreed to see one of his favorite bands play at a punk rock show. He’d approached you with the idea tentatively, explaining that it was fine if you didn’t want to go, he’d just take one of his mates from work if so. The way his face lit up when you said yes, your heart could have burst as you watched his eyes twinkle with pure joy. Then, he leaned in and kissed every inch of your face, ignoring your giggles and protests of him tickling you while he declared how much you were going to love it.

When the day of the show arrived, you kept your outfit simple: baggy, ripped jeans, a white tank top, a band hoodie, and your studded belt you recovered from the depths of your closet, figuring you’d at least blend in with the grungier crowd that way. You put on one last thing to complete the look, hooking Matty’s chunky, silver chain (that of course, he’d left on your dresser) around your neck. You smile to yourself as you tuck it under your clothes, liking the feel of having him close to your heart like this. When did you become such a sap?

Meanwhile, Matty was pacing around your flat, making sure he had everything he needed and that you’d get there in time for doors. His reasoning for being punctual was much less about him than it was for you, he wanted you to fully experience being close to the stage because he knows how much you like to take pictures at concerts, your constantly full phone storage being a telltale sign of that. He was going full-on concert boyfriend mode, also keeping your lipstick and your wallet in his little hip pouch so you wouldn’t have to worry about carrying anything but your phone. He’d clearly thought this through quite a lot, he’d been looking forward to it for weeks.

A sudden kiss to his cheek quiets the hum of his overactive mind when you approach him, his furrowed brows sloping to a soft look of adoration as he insists on you standing still so he can take a good look at your outfit. He holds his fingers up in front of him in the shape of a square, squinting one eye closed like he’s framing you for a memory. Sure, the relationship was shiny and new, but something about the way he looked at you told you this wasn’t going to dull with time’s cruel hands, not any time soon at least.

“Ohh, yeah. Very punk rock, baby,” he smiles slyly, chuckling as you roll your eyes.

“Hardly! I don’t exactly have the wardrobe for this.”

“Shh, nonsense. You’re like a regular Joan Jett, babe. But hotter.”

“But hotter? Wow,” you laugh, now glancing down at the jewelry adorning his hands and wrists, “I like your bracelet.”

Matty cringes, sucking a breath through his teeth while looking up towards the ceiling. He recalls just how he’d obtained said bracelet as a teenager with something to prove. He was never a bad kid, just a highly restless one who got bored too easily. Besides, he never got in any real trouble since his parents would have strung him up by his toes otherwise.

“Erm, thanks. I think I nicked it when I was a teen.”

“You were a delinquent!?” you exclaim, causing Matty’s loud laughter to ring through the apartment.

“That’s a strong term, innit? Let’s call it… misguided… and stupid. Now c’mon, out the door, miss.”

You shake your head playfully as he shoos you out of the flat, imagining a younger version of your boyfriend getting into all sorts of mischief. You can almost perfectly picture his toothy, boyish grin as he runs around the streets of his hometown with his mates by his side, freckle-faced and carefree, his curls in an unruly mop on his head. You wonder if you would have gotten along with him in his younger, wilder days. An odd part of you hopes he still would have liked you.

“Why do you still have it?” you ask as you start your walk to the train together. “What can I say? I’m unbelievably sentimental.”

The train ride is quiet, you share his wireless earbuds and listen to music side by side. The deal was that the queue of songs switched back and forth, you got to play one song, then him. He leans his head against your shoulder, the muss of hair atop the shaved sides of his head grazing your neck. He almost falls asleep as you start to scratch the top of his head. But, inevitably, all of his energy comes rushing back to him when the train comes to a halt. Immediately, he’s grabbing your hand to bound down the street to the venue, shouting about how good of a spot you’re going to get.

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Once inside, at a glance, you don’t exactly fit in here. A sort of insecurity festers in you as you eye some of the girls dressed in spikes and leather, they looked like they belonged here, and so did your boyfriend. But, you try to shake it off nonetheless, even if you didn’t feel nearly as cool as you wanted to. This place was like the high council of people who only wear clothes with tears in them.

Matty stands close behind you as you pack in with the rest of the grungy-looking crowd. His hands are on your hips as he glances around, making sure that you have enough space to stand comfortably. He knows how these shows can get, and he’s made it his personal mission to make sure no one ruins the experience for you. He shoots a look at any guy who tries to stand too close to you, the coldness of his stare sending them inching away from your personal space with cowardice. In an instant, the mean look is wiped off his face as he glances down at you, seeing how happy you look to be there with him. He leans down, the cool metal of his chain grazing your neck as he speaks near your ear, just loud enough so you can hear him over the buzz of chatter throughout the venue.

“Can you see alright?” he asks, giving your hips a little squeeze.

You nod with a smile, having a fairly clear view of the stage, you’re only about three rows back thanks to Matty’s punctuality. You tilt your head, grasping the necklace around his neck gently before pulling him down further so you can kiss his cheek. A grin breaks out on your boyfriend’s face, he can’t help but chuckle at your little move, he loves it when you get bold with him. His lips brush against your ear as he murmurs “little minx” before standing back up to his full height.

Matty talks over the pre-show music as he tells you a bit of background about the bands playing tonight, prattling on about who plays what and what makes them so cool. You listen to him with an enamored look plastered on your face, nodding along even when you have no clue what he’s talking about, but what else is new? It only makes you adore him more with every detail rattled off from the depths of his mind.

“... and this one here I don’t know shit about, to be honest. I reckon they’re probably fine though,” he shrugs, showing you the lineup on his phone.

You squint at the screen, tapping your nail against one of the names you recognize because of him. You blink up at him prettily, knowing he’s going to get a kick out of what you say next.

“This is the one with the guy who plays the drums with two pedals, right?” you recall, tilting your head at him coyly, knowing damn well that you’re laying it on thick.

“Yes!! Yes, exactly,” he beams, his eyes instantly lighting up before he presses an enthusiastic kiss to your temple, “That’s my fuckin’ girl. The coolest girlfriend.”

Soon, the show begins, and Matty lets out an excited whoop as the first band makes their entrance, the one he’d bought the tickets for in the first place. He lets go of your hips, taking a small step back to give you the room to dance if you want to. He’s so considerate of you, it makes a glowing sort of warmth swell in your chest. You glance back at him and he gives you two thumbs up, his face scrunching up with a grin that’s so earnestly Matty, you have to resist the urge to just grab him and kiss him till your lips are raw right in the middle of the crowd. Not to mention how fucking good he looks tonight, his tank top allowing his tattooed arms to be on full display, and it should be illegal how tightly those black leather pants clung to his legs.

Your attention turns back to the stage as the first notes ring through the small venue, grungy guitar chords echoing off of the walls. Nothing gives you the same feeling as live music does, the pure thrill it makes rush through you is unmatched (sorry, Matty). The music is harsh, it grates on your ears, but in the best way possible. It’s invigorating, fucking electrifying, it’s thrumming in the hollow of your chest. You feel alive. Matty leans over to see it all happen from just a step away, watching the stage lights reflect in your eyes. He hadn’t looked at the band once, this was far more mesmerizing than anything that could be happening up there. You’ve completely captured his attention, and when you start bobbing your head to the beat and singing along to the chorus, Matty almost drops to one knee right then and there. He’s already mentally noted that this song will in fact be played at your wedding reception.

As the set goes on, his eyes stay on you for the majority of the time, he’s just so taken by watching you have this much fun hearing his music, which is now your music too. He’s simply beaming with pride. Every time you look back at him with that thrilled look on your face while you’re moving to the rhythm only solidifies to him that you’re his absolute dream girl. And of course, he’s having the time of his life too. Matty mouthes along to all of the words, nodding his head in a way that makes his quaffed mohawk bounce with his movements. And, shit, it’s hot in the crowd, you can feel the heat radiating off of the bodies moving around you. The hoodie you brought may have been an oversight, you can practically feel your mascara melting off of your lashes.

The show goes on, and when the moshing in the middle of the crowd gets increasingly rowdy, one man gets shoved and sent hurtling past the bodies between you and the mosh pit. You quickly hold your hands out to brace for the impact, knowing this can’t end well as you prepare to meet your leather-jacketed doom. The man is visibly very intoxicated and he would have stumbled straight into your body from the momentum if Matty’s hands hadn’t shot out to block him, catching him by his shoulders.

“Oi! Watch where you’re fuckin’ going, fuck’s sake,” Matty spits, sending him back toward the pit with a light push.

Now, had Matty done his fair share of moshing and getting absolutely catapulted into other people at breakneck velocity? Yes. It’s not even entirely the guy’s fault that he almost crashed into you, he was pretty drunk and didn’t have his wits or his balance about him, but in Matty’s mind, he might as well have tried to tackle you to the ground WWE style.

“I could have caught him!” you protest over the music, laughing at the bitter look on your boyfriend's face.

Matty raises an eyebrow at you and shakes his head with an amused smile, but doesn’t argue. Maybe you could have, but he wasn’t about to let some sloshed idiot break his girlfriend's back because that’s his job, dammit.

The band’s set is finished with a bang, the final chords echoing in your ears as you try to catch your breath from moving almost nonstop, your heart pounding against your ribs. You turn around to face Matty with a giant grin plastered on your face, letting out a breathless, excited laugh. He just chuckles, eyeing the strands of hair sticking to your face from the sheen of sweat, your smudged makeup rimming your wide eyes. He’s not in much better shape, his tank top is clinging to his body like a second skin. By this point, your hoodie feels like it has its own climate, and you’re dying to peel it off.

“Fun?” he asks, as you start to lift the fabric over your head.

“Oh my god, yeah,” you breathe, your voice muffled by the hoodie.

“I-”

His next words die in his throat as his eyes immediately snap to your chest, his breath catching as he eyes the clear outline of your nipple piercings through your drenched, white tank top and- was that one of his chains around your neck? He feels a stir in his tight leather pants as his mouth slightly drops, he can’t remember ever being so instantly and completely turned on. Heat ripples through his body, climbing up to his face as he shamelessly stares at your tits. Not only were you showing off his skillful work, but your pretty neck was adorned with the chain he’d forgotten all about at your place. It might even look better on you than it does on him.

You’re tying your hoodie around your waist when you catch the look on his face, your brows knitting together with confusion till you follow his gaze and find your piercings proudly displayed through your shirt. As the realization dawns on you, you look up at your boyfriend with a coy smile. Matty shudders, lust crowding his mind as he struggles to come up with a coherent thought, one that isn’t wildly pornographic. He can actually feel his hands tense with the urge to grasp, to lay claim to you with his fingertips. You simply look up at him through your lashes, watching him short-circuit right before your eyes.

Before he has the chance to say or do anything, the next band comes onto the stage, the crowd roaring to life a second time. You give him a knowing look before turning back around to face the direction of the music. Matty swallows hard, raking a hand through his mohawk like he’s grappling with demons… and losing. The music is nothing more than a pulsing beat in his skull, his attention is fully on the back of your head. He begins to inch forward to you, his hands finding a home on your hips while you vibe to the beat. He brings your hips back against him, feeling your movements stutter as the protrusion in his trousers presses into your ass as if to say “Feel what you did to me?”. You get the message loud and clear, draping your weight against him, your head lolling back against his shoulder as you both rock to the beat of the drums, sweaty skin to sweaty skin. Matty’s hands begin to wander, mapping over the damp fabric of your tank top, up your stomach, over your ribs till- oh. You gasp, the stage lights strobing under your closed eyes as he squeezes your tits through your top. Matty can distinctly feel the barbells through the fabric, it drives him fucking wild. Your lips part as you melt into him like honey, your skin feels like it’s on fire as the music blares through the venue. Your stomach swoops when he dares to flick the piercings with his fingertips, danger humming in your veins as he gets bolder, as if you’re not surrounded by a sea of people. Your eyes snap open, you quickly glance around to find that everyone’s far too enthralled with the show to notice, not that Matty would give a shit if they did. No one can hear the way you whimper when he pinches your nipples. You stare down at the large hands that possessively grope your breasts, feeling a throb resound between your thighs.

“Matty, you said this was the band you don’t know, right?” you call to him, your voice uneven and unnaturally high-pitched.

His heavily lidded eyes look almost black with the way they darken as he reads between the lines. Even if it was one of the bands he liked, he’s pretty sure absolutely nothing could stop him from doing what comes next, not when his dick is this hard, and you’ve teased him this salaciously. Wordlessly, Matty lets go of your chest and grabs your hand, leading you through the sea of bodies towards the exit. He moves fast, the urgency in his strides and on his face likely making people move out of the way quicker. You’d feel concerned about losing your spot in the crowd if your mind wasn’t so scrambled with need, your body rushing to keep up with your lanky boyfriend.

Your head is spinning as he swiftly leads you into the nearest gender-neutral bathroom. Matty’s hands are on you the moment he closes and locks the door, he’s all over you in every sense of the term. You breathe in the musk of his sweat between the melding of your lips. The kiss is messy, it’s searingly hot as he desperately licks into your mouth, his fingertips digging into your hip bones. He backs you up blindly until your hips meet the bathroom counter, his hands reaching to undo the hoodie tied around your waist and toss it aside without breaking the kiss once. You didn’t think you could get much hotter than you were in the crowd, but now you’re burning up from the inside with white-hot desire.

Matty hastily turns you around to face the bathroom mirror, tagged with graffiti and littered with lipstick prints at the border. It was clear the space was well-loved, but clean. A culmination of every aspiring artist and sticker enthusiast in the area, almost no spot on the wall was left untouched. Your eyes are drawn away from the decor as Matty grasps your jaw from behind you, turning your head to make you meet the almost feral look in his eyes through the mirror. He holds you that way as he leans down to press urgent, open-mouthed kisses to your neck, his other hand snaking down your front to unbutton your pants. The feeling of his tongue stud soothing over faded love bites only makes you weaker in the knees. Matty fumbles with the zipper of your jeans for a moment before he shoves the clothing down your legs, the fabric pooling around your ankles. It’s clear that he’s not wasting time with his usual delicate, worshiping caresses of your thighs while he undresses you, this is an electrified frenzy.

“No bra, baby? Is that how you want to play?” he mutters, his lips grazing the column of your neck teasingly.

“I-I didn’t-” you begin to protest, only to be cut off by your own moan as he gives a rough pinch to your nipple through your top.

Matty follows the curve of your midsection with his hand, intense honey-colored eyes locked on you through your reflection, swirled at the edges with colorful spray paint. A shudder reverberates through your body as his fingers venture lower, dipping below the waistband of your soaked panties. Your body instinctually arches backward against his, mewling when his calloused fingertips brush against your swollen clit. It’s like he can light up every one of your senses with just a graze, your breath getting shallower by the second. You feel his stiff cock twitch in his trousers as you press yourself impossibly closer to him, every inch of his glowing skin flush against your back. Matty continues his loving assault on your neck as his thick digits gather the arousal pooling between your thighs. Your dazed vision trails downward as you stare at his hand shoved inside your panties from behind you, watching the fabric shift with every movement of his skilled fingers. You whine as he circles your slit before beginning to sink his slicked digits into you, your eyes squeezing shut as the dizzying pleasure thrums in your veins.

“Shhh. You know how much I love your pretty noises, baby, but be good, okay? Can you do that? Don’t want anyone to know what we’re up to, do you?” he murmurs, dragging his plush bottom lip against your ear lobe.

You nod wordlessly, afraid that if you open your mouth, noise will overflow from you uncontrollably, his fingers being knuckle-deep in you is just too damn good. If you don’t control yourself, anyone outside could hear you, could know how good your boyfriend is filling you with his fingers, satisfying you to your very core. The thought of it alone makes your heart hammer in your chest harder. You don’t want them to know… because that would be wrong, it would be undignified… it’d be… kind of hot.

His digits stretch you open as he begins to diligently pump them in and out of you, curling them towards the spot that he knows will make you see stars. He works quickly, his pace is almost feverish from his determination to make you fall to pieces as fast as he can. Matty’s other hand is groping your breast, squeezing the fullness of it, his rings pressing into your flesh through your thin tank top. You bite down on your lip hard enough that you think you might tear the flesh open, desperately trying to keep your whimpers quiet. Matty’s gaze on you is cautionary, his eyebrows slightly raised like he’s testing you, seeing just how much you can take.

The last of your defenses come crumbling down as the pad of his thumb presses against your clit, the flood of sensations making a moan burst from your throat as he begins to draw tight circles on the bundle of nerves. In an instant, Matty’s hand is off of your chest and is clasped over your mouth, muffling any noise. Fuck.

“I mean it. Pipe down, or I’ll stop,” he says sternly, smirking at you as he feels your walls flutter around his fingers.

“No- no, please don’t stop,” you babble against his palm like the idea of it was simply unbearable.

Matty’s hand stays over your mouth as he withdraws his fingers from inside you, ignoring the way you squirm in protest, whining uselessly. He tugs your ruined panties down your legs, letting them join your pants in a heap around your ankles. It’s almost embarrassing how you can hardly contain your desire, but he likes it that way, knowing how needy you are.

“Matty, please, fuck, need it,” you mumble, and he can see the way your desire is clawing at you from the inside just from a glance.

“Be patient for me, my love,” he smiles, hurriedly pulling himself out of his uncomfortably skin-tight pants with his free hand, “You’ll get what you want. Being stuffed full with my cock, hm?”

You whimper as Matty nudges your legs further apart with his foot, leaning you forward over the counter onto your elbows. He whistles lowly at the sight of you, his eyes following down your spine, over the curve of your ass, and to your dripping pussy. You tremble slightly as he reaches between your legs, collecting your honey on his fingers before spreading it over his shaft, slicking himself with your arousal. A whine vibrates against the palm Matty holds over your mouth as you swing your hips in a desperate attempt to entice him. He just chuckles, keeping his hand firmly in place as starts to guide his cock through your folds, the head kissing your aching clit as he rubs it back and forth.

Matty doesn’t waste a second longer, you can hardly process it before he’s pushing inside of you, gasping as he fills you inch by inch. His fingertips press into the side of your face as he tightens his hold on your mouth to muffle your mewls, watching as your lashes flutter, your face contorting with pleasure. He can feel your hot, heavy breaths fanning into his palm, your chest heaving as he bottoms out inside of you. Matty groans loudly, tossing his head back as he’s fully surrounded by your velvety warmth, forgetting his own volume rules that he’d set for you. Hypocrite.

“Oh, fuck, you feel so good,” he sighs, reaching to pull your tank top over your breasts, “Stay like that for me, yeah? Wanna see your perfect tits.”

He barely allows you a moment to breathe before he’s snapping his hips against you roughly, letting out a strained grunt with every thrust. Sensations trickle up your spine like flickering flames as a muffled cry spills out of you. Matty angles his hips just right, hitting so deep inside you that you feel as though you’re being split open by each drive of his cock, it’s mind-numbing. Your whole body jolts against the counter with his purposeful movements, the edge of the porcelain biting into your hip bones. He can hardly focus on just one thing, his gaze darting from where he’s disappearing inside of you, to your gorgeous face, to your breasts. Matty’s raspy voice makes your eyes refocus on him, you watch in the mirror as he licks his teeth like he wants to devour you whole.

“You see how pretty you look? No, no, sweetheart, don’t look at me, look at yourself. God, isn’t she pretty?” he drawls, “You look so sexy, wearing my chain like that while you’re taking my cock.”

At his instruction, you meet your own eyes through the reflection, your eyebrows sloping as you realize that he’s right, you do look pretty when he’s fucking you. Your rosied cheeks, your blown pupils, your glowing skin… and your boyfriend’s hand over your mouth. Your chain bounces against your collarbones in tandem with your pierced tits, it’s no wonder he’s loving this position so much, he gets to watch everything at once. While you’re gazing at yourself, Matty reaches around and begins to rub two fingers on your clit, rubbing in intoxicatingly quick figure eights. You watch your own eyes go wide as the pleasure ricochets through your bones, making you light-headed. This must be the expression Matty lives for when he’s got you like this, the face to his sweetest wet dreams. You’re almost mesmerized by seeing yourself get railed to high heaven, it’s sort of an odd feeling. In one swift motion, Matty lets go of your face and grasps the chain around your neck, pulling it taut against your throat from behind, ripping a shocked cry from your lips.

“Ohh, she liked that one,” he grins lazily, tilting his head back with a groan as he feels your walls clamp down on him like a vice, “Shit, not gonna last if you keep doin’ that, god damn.”

It feels like he’s stolen the air directly from your lungs as he lightly chokes you with the silver links you’d so slickly “borrowed” from him. Even just the slight restriction of oxygen has you reeling, your eyes rolling back as your hands claw at the counter, your whole body buzzing with mortifying heights of exhilaration. It’s a dizzying combination of thrill and precarious risk as Matty keeps a tight hold on the chain while fucking you with such vigor that you don’t feel attached to your body, the counter being your only loose grasp on reality. It only makes every drive of his cock feel that much more visceral, the tension coiling tighter in your belly. Heat prickles at your cheeks and the bridge of your nose at the purely obscene sounds of him thrusting into your sopping cunt, skin on skin echoing through the small space while his fingers abuse your clit.

It’s all building up so fast, quicker than usual due to Matty’s frenzied rhythm, his hips meeting yours again and again, unrelentingly. You bite back a wail as the tension so deep inside you reverberates in crackling pangs, threatening to break you to pieces as you arch backward. Your hips writhe against his hand both like you’re chasing the friction and trying to thrash away from its intensity. He can tell you’re on the edge of euphoria, teetering with every swipe of his fingers, every slam of his hips. He gives the chain a harsh tug, knowing it’ll send you spiraling into the depths of pleasure just beyond your fingertips.

“Fuck!” you gasp, one of your hands flying to grip his wrist as your mind goes impossibly blank, your nails digging into his skin, “I’m gonna- I-I can’t!”

“Shit, me too angel, so close. Oh, fuck, cum for me, sweet girl. Cum for me while I fill you up,” he grunts, a burst of energy coming over him as he manages to piston into you even more brutally.

It crashes over you like a thunderous wave, spiraling through you from your dizzied head to the tips of your curled toes. He lets go of the chain, putting his hand over your mouth again to stifle your cry, the disorienting rush of oxygen almost making your knees give out from underneath you, and they just might have if Matty hadn’t kept you supported against the counter. It feels like pure white light is fizzling under your eyelids as Matty makes you reach the stars with your climax, dousing you in pulsating bliss as you clamp around him hard. He lets out a deep, animalistic sound as he spills inside of you, warmth flooding your insides as he fucks you through your orgasm, his rhythm beginning to falter from the effort.

“Fuuuck!” he hisses through gritted teeth, along with other breathy strings of profanities.

Slowly, his body stutters to a stop, giving one last roll of his hips before he collapses over you as delicately as he can, enveloping you with his chest to your back. He lovingly presses kisses to the back of your neck as your head hangs forward slightly, both of you gasping to catch your breath.

“H-holy shit, babe. You’re so good…you’re fucking incredible,” he mutters, seeming just as dazed as you are.

He can’t seem to stop complimenting you and loving on you as he keeps you held up with his hands on your hips, rubbing little circles into your hip bones as you both come down from the highest of highs. The afterglow clouds your head in a way that makes you feel like you’re floating with Matty being your only anchor to the ground.

“Matty…” you mumble, reaching back blindly for his face.

“I’m right here. Right here, love,” he whispers, guiding your palm to his cheek.

You smile warmly as you feel the scruffy sides of his head at your fingertips, Matty keeping his hand over yours sweetly. At the same time you both glance upwards at the mirror, letting out simultaneous giggles as you appreciate the state you’re in. He leans to kiss your cheek, peering into your eyes adoringly through the reflection, pulling your top back down over your breasts.

“Oh my god… we’re a mess,” you snort, rubbing aimlessly at your runny mascara with your free hand.

“You mean you’re a mess, I look damn good,” he jokes, starting to slowly ease you both back up into a standing position.

You both let out a breathy sound as he pulls out of you slowly, his cum beginning to streak down your thigh. Of course, Matty stares, swallowing thickly like he’ll never quite get used to the sight while he shimmies back into his pants. Diligently, he reaches for a handful of paper towels, keeping a gentle hold on your hip. You reach to try and smack his arm when he laughs at the way your legs are trembling, your knees wobbling due to how hard he’d railed you. He dodges the blow, grinning at you triumphantly.

Matty gently wipes away the residue of his pearly release, whispering a hushed “I know, I know” when you squirm at the sensitivity. Once he discards the paper towels, he kneels down to pull your underwear and your jeans back up, kissing his way up the outside of your leg as he does so while looking into your eyes with a playful glint. He kisses you deeply while he buttons your pants with nimble hands, not even letting you lift a finger as he takes care of his girl. You throw your arms around his neck, smiling into the kiss as he teases his tongue piercing along your bottom lip just to make you shiver.

“My perfect girl,” he mumbles against your mouth.

You stay in the bathroom for just a little longer, kissing and whispering sweet things to each other while your bodies fully calm down, Matty shouting at whoever keeps intermittently knocking on the door to fuck off. You can’t help but feel a little tinge of guilt in your stomach for “christening” the restroom the way you did, but you highly doubt you were the first.

After he reassures you that the makeup streaked down your cheeks is “hardcore” and that you should leave it the way it is, you finally leave to re-enter the show (not before one final, drawn-out kiss, of course). Your boyfriend keeps you close by his side, his fingers interlocked with yours as you find yourselves at the very back of the pit, scattered with only a few other people. Matty guides your arms around his neck, grinning at you like a fool as you start to rock back and forth to the rhythm of the drums. His smile is infectious as he leans in to rest his forehead against yours, singing to you when the song reaches its chorus. He looks incredibly dorky as mimics the wail of the guitar solo, swinging his hips while his hands rest comfortably on your waist, almost like you’re about to slow dance. You tell him as such and Matty just tosses his head back with a laugh like a little kid. His eyes are sparkling, but not just from the iridescent stage lighting, it’s the look he gets only when he’s with you. You feel your heart swell in your chest as you continue to dance like you’re the only two in the venue, and he looks at you like you’re the only woman in the whole world.

—-----------------------------------------

SO I was a liar and I did write another part. I intended this to be a blurb but I had so many more thoughts about them and their relationship eeeeee

The ending was soooo “do you wanna dance, dance at the back of the hall”

I love them. I need them to be happy forever actually.

This one is dedicated to my lovely lovely friend B (@haveyouseenherlately) thank you so much for the ideas, you get body piercer like no one else, queen. Love you!!!

Go check out her stuff if you haven’t it SLAYS <3

#body piercer!matty #matty healy smut #matty healy x reader #matty healy x you #the 1975 smut #the 1975 x reader #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy fic #the 1975 fic #the 1975 fanfic

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five-rivers · 11 hours

Text

Cracked Clay Cup Chapter 17

@greatbigolhampuckjustforme

Danny reappeared in the entryway of Clockwork’s house in a swirl of blue. He met Clockwork’s eyes for just a moment and saw the muted concern in them.

He couldn’t stand it.

He darted to the side and made for the stairs.

“Daniel–” said Clockwork, behind him, but he ignored him.

He reached his bedroom and dove under the covers of the bed, wrapping himself up in the quilt, because he missed grabbing the sheet underneath it. He pressed the nearest pillow into his face and tried to stop crying.

“Daniel,” repeated Clockwork softly from near the doorway. Danny hadn’t closed the door.

Danny shook his head. Whatever Clockwork wanted right now, Danny just couldn’t–

The edge of the bed sank down as Clockwork sat on it. He put a hand on Danny’s shoulder. “It will be alright, Daniel. You are safe here.”

“You know– You know what they did.”

“I do.”

“How could you just let me– How could you let me go there?”

Clockwork sighed. “I am bound by the limits of the role I have taken on. I could not tell you.”

Typical. Danny rubbed angrily at his eyes. “How did I get away? Do you know?”

“I know,” said Clockwork. He didn’t say anything else.

“But you can’t tell me, is that it?”

“If I were to tell you,” said Clockwork, carefully, “I would be removed from my current role and replaced by someone… less able. The Observants are ever eager to exert control.”

Danny sniffled. Clockwork’s explanation was reasonable, from a certain perspective. It still hurt.

“Why did they do it?” asked Danny. “They said they wanted to understand, but they– Who could do that if they wanted to understand?”

“I cannot say that I understand their motives,” said Clockwork. “I certainly couldn’t imagine acting like that.” He began rubbing a small circle into Danny’s back. “But you need never see them again, if that is your wish.”

A sob caught in Danny’s throat, and before he knew what he was doing, he had twisted around to throw himself into Clockwork’s arms. Clockwork received him with a remarkable amount of grace.

“I don’t know why– I don’t– Why I’m acting like this, I barely know them, knew them, it shouldn’t feel like–” He didn’t know how to describe it. “I don’t know why.”

“The why of it does not matter so much as the fact that you do feel that way,” said Clockwork, continuing to pat Danny’s back.

“It matters to me.”

“Ah, I see,” said Clockwork, soothingly. “I’m sorry. Of course it matters to you. Of course.”

“I’m sorry,” said Danny.

“No, no,” said Clockwork, “it’s quite alright.”

“I’m crying on you.”

“It’s fine,” said Clockwork. “Tears wash out.”

“I don’t know why.”

“You learned about something very upsetting. This is natural.”

“I don’t remember it.”

“It still happened, and is responsible for your present circumstances. It’s alright to cry. I will be here.”

“I made oatmeal today,” said Clockwork, putting a steaming bowl down in front of Danny. “I thought that something simple would be best, after last night.”

Danny grunted and picked up a spoon to stir the oatmeal. It wasn’t as simple as all that, really. Clockwork had put raisins and cinnamon sugar in it. It probably tasted just as good as all the other food Clockwork had made for him.

“I’m supposed to choose now,” said Danny, listlessly.

“This is the stage of the trial where you choose, but you need not do so immediately. I cannot advise you on how to choose, or how to weigh your options, but it would not be out of the question for you to contemplate the matter for several days.”

“Right,” said Danny. He scrubbed at his face. Even after he’d sent Clockwork away, he’d cried on and off all night. His skin around his eyes felt grainy and salty. “What happens, when I choose? Do you just teleport me back and the doors start working again? And I, um, get my memory back?”

“That is a portion of it,” said Clockwork. He sat down at the table across from Danny. “First, however, the power involved in the ritual that is the trial would coalesce into a bond between you and your chosen guardian. This would include the power involved in altering your form, so you would shortly thereafter regain your original appearance.”

“I kind of like the ears and tail, though.” He ran his hands over his ears reflexively. “They’re fluffy.”

Clockwork smiled. “There are ways you can either regain or retain them. Once that has occurred, the Observants will come to return your memories, and, finally, you will be escorted to your guardian.”

“Huh,” said Danny. He poked at the oatmeal some more.

“You should eat,” said Clockwork, gently.

Danny sighed, and did his best.

“I should make a list,” said Danny, having given up on breakfast.

“Of what?” asked Clockwork.

“Names,” said Danny. “Of people. Choices.”

“You already have one of those,” Clockwork pointed out. “In the folder.”

“Oh. Yeah. Where did that get to, anyway?”

Clockwork slid it across the table, along with a pencil.

“Thanks,” said Danny. He flipped the folder open. “I guess I can start by crossing off the people I’m definitely not going to choose.”

“That seems like a logical way to proceed,” agreed Clockwork.

“So. Not the Observants, obviously.”

He looked up at Clockwork out of the corner of his eye. He could swear he’d seen him smirk at that pronouncement. Just a little.

“And not Skulker, Ember, and Technus,” he continued, moving down to the next entry he could safely cross out. “And not, and not, um. Not Jack and Maddie. Those’re– those are the ones I can’t, who won’t, um. Yeah.” He looked at the rest of the list. “Vlad is okay, but he lied to me a bunch, and I don’t really get why we were enemies, so when I get my memory back, I might hate him again, so not him. Jazz…”

Danny licked his lips and tapped the eraser of the pencil against the table. He liked Jazz. And she was his sister. Given everything else, he could sort of understand why she was lying, but… No. Vlad had a point, saying that he shouldn’t choose her.

“Not Jazz,” said Danny, finally. “I don’t want to do that to her. Which leaves Pandora and Frostbite.”

“A difficult decision indeed.”

“Yeah,” said Danny. He sighed. Either one of them would be good. Different. Very different. The culture shock would be hard. Ancient Greece and the Far Frozen were both very different from what he was used to. But Frostbite and Pandora would take care of him, and that’s what really mattered, in the end.

But he had to wonder if there wasn’t another option.

“Clockwork, you knew me before, didn’t you?”

“I cannot tell you that.”

“Right. But Jazz knew you, which sort of implies that I knew you. So. You knew me.” Danny bit his lower lip, thinking. “You, um. Why didn’t you join in? As a guardian, I mean. Why didn’t you, um. Apply? Is that the right term?”

“It’s as good as any.” Clockwork leaned back in his chair. “There are still limits on what I can tell you.”

“Yeah, but tell me what you can tell me.”

“If I were to adopt a child,” said Clockwork. “Any child, not necessarily you; you understand that I cannot speak of such specifics.”

“Right,” said Danny.

“But, if I were to try to adopt a child, the Observants would be very cross with me.”

“Why?”

“Because my responsibilities to such a child would supercede my oaths and duties to them. They would not appreciate the loss of control, and would do everything in their power to prevent it.”

“Like, by making you be a neutral party. Taking you out of the running.”

“Yes,” said Clockwork. “That would be something they might do.”

Danny fidgeted with the edge of the paper folder. “If you– Did you– Would you have applied? If you could? You know, hypothetically.”

“Yes,” said Clockwork, simply.

Danny took a deep breath and rubbed his hands on his thighs. “Then… Then, if I… I can choose anyone, can’t I? Anyone I want, right?”

“Correct,” said Clockwork. “That is the base rule upon which this whole trial is based.”

“So… what happens if I do? If I, um, if I choose you?”

“That would be a nonstandard ending to the trial,” said Clockwork. “It would not end as smoothly, perhaps, as it normally would. The pathways that the power involved would travel upon may be confused. You may not regain your original form. The Observants would certainly withhold your memories.”

“And that would be… bad,” said Danny. “That would be…” He shook himself all over. “I, um. I don’t think…” He faltered, looking down at his hands. “That wouldn’t be much of a loss. Really.”

“Fifteen years of memories is not insignificant,” said Clockwork, a note of warning in his voice. “This is not a decision to make lightly. It will affect your entire life. There may even be other side effects that I have not listed. Things that even I cannot foresee.”

“I don’t think I want to remember. Not if it means remember what…” He swallowed, with difficulty. If what had been written in that binder had actually happened, he didn’t want to remember it. “I’ve been thinking about this decision for months, right? Every moment I remember. I’m not making it lightly. I know how important it is.”

Clockwork inclined his head towards Danny, acknowledging the point.

“Pandora and Frostbite are great, but…” Danny took a deep breath. “But it’s you. I choose you.” He braced himself preparing for rejection. A sort of tension built inside his chest until the feeling scraped the edge of pain.

Then Clockwork was next to him and reached out to him, putting one hand on his shoulder and the other on his cheek. “Oh, Daniel,” he said.

The tension abruptly collapsed, and Danny let himself fall forward, into Clockwork’s arms. Clockwork carded a gloved hand through Danny’s hair, ruffling his ears.

“It’s okay, right? It’s okay for me to choose you.”

“Of course it is,” said Clockwork. “Of course. I cannot tell you how glad I am.”

“But you can tell me other things, though, right? You’re not neutral anymore.”

“Quite right,” said Clockwork, and Danny could hear a smile in his voice. “I have so many things to tell you.”

“What kind of things?” asked Danny, settling his head against Clockwork’s collarbone. Or whatever ghosts had instead of collarbones.

“All sorts,” said Clockwork. He chuckled. “You’ll be able to see my actual lair.”

“Is it purple, too?”

“You’ll see.”

#danny phantom #phic phight #phic

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hxltic · 1 day

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i have this idea of gymnast! reader and bokuto that I can't get put of my headddd, like her going to his practice and him going to readers as well 😫 cute

Omgomg this is so cute!! I used to be a gymnast😼

The power couple. Y’all do everything together.

Before he went pro, you both attended the same college. He was captain for the last two years he was there, well known throughout campus, but mainly for reasons other than his volleyball talent. Innocent reasons, of course.

But I mean can you blame them? Look at him.

Big bright eyes, expressive and sweet. Huge too. On top of practically towering over everyone he meets, his vivacious nature makes you comfortable and him a likable person overall. It’s not surprising seeing all of the girls that would attach themselves to him.

He’d politely decline, and looking over his show-stopping smile, it provides enough comfort after being rejected to ask if they can recruit themselves as friends instead. He can’t say no to friends, especially after already saying it once, so he internally sighs and nods his head. It was awkward the first few times but he’s come to learn they never actually call. And if they text, it’s just basic conversation that he feels they don’t actually care to know about him.

You met at a meeting for the athletes held by the school, basically congratulating the hard work and achievements of the individual teams and important players. He went up in ranks for his hitting accuracy, dependability, and being an accomplished six rotation player. An overall asset to his team. He shakes the hand of his coach and an older man, taking his certificate, and standing up on the stage for the picture.

After entering the transfer portal, you were elated when one of the top scoring colleges for Women’s Collegiate Gymnastics gave you an offer. Of course you took the chance. With the sport being more of an individual achievement, even though the scoring is all added up in the end, you consistently dropped incredible numbers for the team. You like vault the best, but your teammates are in love with your floor routine and music.

So you go up next. Your hair moving behind you as you step up to your own coach and shake her hand, then receive the frame, ordered to stand right next to Bokuto.

His weight might be shifting, and his eyes may be flickering back and forth from you to the clapping audience of your peers, but he can’t help it. You’re the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

You’re only a few centimeters shorter, your skin glistens, and your pretty eyes are hid from him when your side profile leaves curly hair fallen over your ears. He forces himself to look forward for the last group picture of the ceremony, making a mental note to look up the name he’s heard called by the announcer more than once.

And he does just that. It was a little creepy at first but that was how you met. Now, you both go to the gym in your free time. He powers you through your sets, promising different motivators (new shoes) and food, while you try your best to do the same to him. Most of the time is spent giggling, but hey. Y’all work out with your respective teams on the days you’re supposed to, so does it really matter?

You mainly watch his games because some of your practices are on the same day. Watching these men swing with all their might knowing people on the other side are intended to receive the hit is insane to you. Watching who he explained is the libero throw himself around or get behind balls that seem to be barreling toward his face. You would literally shit yourself.

Meanwhile, when Bokuto comes to watch you, he admires the technical training and physicality that goes into running full speed at an inanimate object and tossing yourself around. How you manage not only to balance, but make it look pretty, and stay pretty doing it. He claims he gets sweaty and gross.

Sometimes after a workout, he’ll walk into your practice and finds a seat somewhere. He hears fast steps, vault boards going off, mats caving from being landed on—it’s all music to his ears now. He’s unironically close with your coach (as he is all the others, and the dietician), mainly because he’s around for you. You try not to get distracted by his slumped figure eyeing you from afar. It gets hard when you do full out routines at the end and you stick it.

He doesn’t truly understand the scoring and how meticulous it is, just that a fall is bad and you have to try your best not to wobble. Which is exactly why even if it wasn’t your best routine, it looked all the perfect to him, and he celebrates when you land your dismount.

There’s nothing more he loves than watching you get ready before meets. Braiding your own hair or letting your teammate do it, putting glitter of the school colors in spots on your face to match the leotard, doing the makeup, and putting the colorful bows in the bun— it’s all a process to him. You look gorgeous after, even when you’ve tucked yourself away in the school tracksuit that hides those thick legs he knows you has.

That’s what he loves most. God, your legs. Your whole physique really. Long, strong legs and thighs that could crush him. Arms that he has to remind you are sexy when you’re looking at yourself in a dress.

Bokuto is strong, he knows that. He’s been athletic and probably has never been out of shape a day in his life. To be with someone that matches his lifestyle and is amazing at her sport? He considers himself blessed. There’s nobody that understands him like you do.

©️hxltic

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tragedybunny · 3 days

Text

Pretty Baby 2

༺Summary༻

Astarion is a brat on several occasions and is duly punished for it. In between, he and Mommy (Fina) deal with some emotional issues.

༺Pairing༻ Astarion x Tav

༺Warnings༻ NSFW - PiV Sex, Anal Play, Femdom, Mommy Kink, Feminization, Forced Orgasm, Chastity Cage, Porn with Feelings, Porn streaming, Pegging, Astarion being a brat

༺Word Count༻ 3783

༺A/N༻

So, it's chapter 2 of a fic I never planned to write. Lol. And somewhow now we've got plot and feelings involved. Hope you all enjoy, I had a lot of fun writing it. And huge thank you to the best of betas and friends, @icybluepenguin

The chat is populated by Tav's and other characters from my friends, they all helped makes this a delight.

Check out two similar fics if you dig mine. Decadent Torture and Careless Whisper

Read On AO3 Chapter 1

“Hush, a little more, then your punishment is over.” I let go of his cock, turn off the plug vibrating in his ass, and give him a short reprieve.

Drawing gasping breaths, he looks up at me with pleading, tear filled eyes. God, his eyes are pretty; startling crimson, soft, and round. Normally, I cave when they're all watery like this. But not tonight - tonight is for lessons.

I play with the little pink bow on his white thigh high stocking. Leaving him with only those, his white bra, and of course his collar, made him such a fetching picture for our little teaching session.

He'd spent most of the night on his knees in the naughty corner, those stockings peeking out of his pleated white skirt, a little pink cashmere sweater completing his look. I'd posted a few pictures that had his audience nice and worked up.

Demi_g0ddess: oh looks like Little Star was very bad today can’t wait to see what Mommy does to the little brat Bookworm420: didn’t realize Mommy was a thicc queen this might be too much for my ovaries

The chat had been crowded when we set up for the stream. Before the camera went on, I told him what to take off and how to prep, but not what I was planning.

We went live and I made him give a little introduction.

“I've had a very bad attitude lately and Mommy wants to make sure I'm thoroughly punished, so she's letting you all watch.” Every word was said petulantly as he leaned into playing the brat.

Ari147: wonder what he did… Drag-onme: who cares, as long we get to watch the aftermath BardlockLongdick: is that a leather couch animal cruelty is not sexy.

“Go on,” I prompted, gesturing for him to get ready.

The clothes he stripped were folded and set to the side, the chat cheering him on. When he kneeled down, I handed him a vibrating plug that made his eyes go wide.

“Mommy, please…” he pleaded, but obediently went to work prepping and inserting it, cheeks flushed a deep red. I let him position himself in my lap, head propped on the arm of the couch. Then I started typing, Astarion watching with dawning horror.

Mommy: Little Star has been an absolute brat about wearing a chastity cage while I’m out of town, because he wouldn’t be able to touch himself. So, tonight, I’m making him come as many times as I think he can handle.

Demonbbyy: poor little thing got himself into a lot of trouble TestyZesty: Mommy is way too nice about it but I’m still going to watch.

And here we were- Astarion, covered in his own semen, whimpering in my arms. I drag my finger along his cock, and he sucks in a shuddering breath. One more and I think he’ll have learned his lesson. I push the button on the remote for the plug.

“Fuck,” he whines the word.

Penguino: aww, Mommy, I think he’s had enough TestyZesty: nah, he’s still coherent keep going Demi_g0ddess: Zesty, we’re sharing a brain cell DrowDaddy: this chat is very mean tonight

I put a generous coating of lube on my hand and begin to work his shaft again. He pants and moans, desperate sounds falling from his lips as he builds to another orgasm.

The chat continues to go feral as he whines and cries. I'm gentle this last round, languidly rubbing, letting the plug do its work. “That's it, one more for me. You've been so good for your punishment.”

He squirms at the praise, tearfully whimpering, hips weakly bucking as I take him to climax again. My other hand turns up the intensity on the plug.

“Pleeeease,” he cries, voice ragged.

Another spurt of cum and he goes limp. I turn off the plug and lean down to kiss his sweat soaked forehead, letting him recover for a moment. He's so pretty like this, spent and helpless in my lap. “Now, are you ready to apologize for being such a little brat the past couple of days?”

He doesn't hesitate. “I'm sorry, Mommy,” he whimpers, tears running down his face.

“Good baby. Almost done.”

He tenses. “But...”

“Shh. They get to see because of the attitude.” He makes a noise. “Don't turn this into a spanking session,” I warn and he gets quiet.

I take a warm, moist towel I'd set up earlier and clean up his pretty cock. The chat is losing it.

KneelForMeSweets: and we get to see the cage can he act up every night

It's a pretty pink little chastity cage, just perfect for him. I slide the ring on first, then put the tube over his cock before locking it down. He's so quiet, I can hear every breath and the sniffles he's still fighting.

Once they get a good look, I shut down the stream.

Mommy: I'm going to go get this little brat cleaned up. Hopefully, he's learned his lesson.

Bitchybambi: I hope not, I want to see what you do next KneelForMeSweets: she can DM me for ideas.

I kill the video and give him a proper kiss as he clings to me, spent and shivering. “Come on, you. Bath time.”

Astarion is unusually quiet during our aftercare session, and when he's settled into bed in a pair of oversized pajamas, I pull him close, and he snuggles into my neck on instinct.

“You know, if you think it's too much to wear it, you don't have to.” I run my fingers through his curls and cover his face in soft kisses. He's done stints in the cage before, but I'm starting to doubt myself on this one. It would kill me to ever hurt him for real.

He doesn't move; if anything, he burrows deeper into the crook of my neck. “It's not, and I am sorry for being a pain. It's just…”

He makes a small, frustrated noise and I keep petting him. “Take your time.”

For a few minutes, he just takes shaky breaths, and then he speaks. “It’s this whole going back to school thing. I'm nervous, and you're going to be gone for the next two days. And what if this is a dumb idea and I can't do it.”

“It's not a dumb idea, you really like fashion design, baby. And why do you think you can't do it?”

“Remember the last time I was in school? I failed out.”

“Astarion, you didn't want to be a lawyer and you hated law school. You only went because Caz-” I feel him tense in my arms, “because he made you.”

“I know.” He sounds teary again. “But it doesn't mean I don't feel stupid.”

“Love, my pretty little wife, you are not stupid. You’re capable and creative. And you know I won’t have time on this stupid team building trip, otherwise I’d bring you with.”

“Still going to miss you, though.”

“I know, baby. I’ll be back before you know it.”

The next morning, Astarion drives me to the airport. I put the keys for his collar and the cage in my jewelry box in case of an emergency or if it’s too much for him. It's cold and rainy, and he’s adorable in oversize sweats with sleepy eyes. After he unloads my bag, I pull him in for a hug and feel it pressed against me. A wave of lust courses through me; I can’t wait to come back and have a nice little session with him.

“Call me when you land, Fina.”

I don’t know if he realizes how much I’ll miss him. Astarion and I have rarely been apart since we met in grad school. It's just as hard on me to get on that plane and be without him.

We get one quick call before I’m off to the first of many “activities” the firm planned. I can’t be too angry about it, they pay a ton, and it finances my trophy wife’s lifestyle. I tell Astarion I’ll call him after dinner and karaoke hour.

The whole day isn't that tortuous, and most of my coworkers get into the spirit of things for karaoke. I still make my exit as soon as I can to get some time in with Astarion.

To my surprise, I see he's streaming. Sprawled out on the bed in a sheer black satin chemise that's ridden up his thighs enough to show off his beautifully caged cock.

Instead of anything salacious, he's painting his nails. Not every stream is as action filled as last night. Some of them are just mundane things like now. I can’t fault the audience, I'd still pay to see him too, if he wasn’t mine already. I slide into the chat without announcing myself.

Ari147: nothing fun tonight? :(

“I’m afraid not, darling. If I don’t get any fun, neither do you.” He blows a cheeky kiss to the camera, and readjusts, spreading his legs more. One hand idly traces unpainted nails along a thigh while he blows on the ones he just painted.

He’s such a filthy little tease.

Mommy: glad to see you’re behaving yourself tonight

He sits up straighter, eyes lighting up. “Hi, Mommy. Missing all this?” His hand climbs higher, running up his abdomen to his chest.

Demonbbyy: if she isn’t, I’ll take him Mommy: settle yourselves down

Astarion leans over, getting on all fours to look directly into the camera, licking his lips. “Well, are you?” he pouts.

Mommy: you know I am, and I’ll prove it when I get home

His breath hitches. “That’s all for tonight, darlings. I want to give Mommy all my… attention.”

The stream goes blank and he’s video-calling me seconds later. “Hi.” He smiles giddily. “I thought you might be a little later.”

“What can I say, I do actually miss you a lot. How was your day?”

We chat for a while and I watch him finish his nails, still in his chemise, which hides nothing as he shifts around. He seems less nervous about the school situation, which I chalk up to actually talking about it.

“Alright, I should probably get to sleep. I’ll call you in the morning.”

The morning call goes smooth enough, but the day is filled with seminars and an afternoon paintball session. Why do HR departments always think that’s a good idea? Astarion starts texting me around lunch, chatty little messages that I don’t have time to properly answer. Then the attitude creeps in.

“Fine, if you don’t want to talk to me.”

“I. Am. Busy. Astarion. I’ll call after dinner.”

I forgot dinner is an awards banquet that traps me for longer than I’d anticipated. It never seems to end, and I start trying to text him during it. No response, and a part of me begins to stress that he’s not doing well. He’d tell me though if he wasn’t, I’m pretty sure.

I practically run up to my room after dinner, skipping the cocktail hour after and all the great networking. All because he has me nearly panicked with worry. So of course, when he doesn’t answer his phone, I’m furious to find him on stream.

He’s not actually wearing anything, sitting on the plush white rug, a cozy glow from the fireplace providing ambient lighting.

BaasaNova: weren’t you supposed to be in a chastity cage while Mommy is gone

He gives his hard cock a firm stroke and moans dramatically, red eyes dancing with mischief. “If I’m getting ignored, I’m not going to listen. Besides, she’s busy, so what she doesn’t know isn’t going to hurt her.”

Bookworm420: this seems like a bad idea I don't want to see you get in trouble.

It isn’t about disobeying me, or any other kink related thing. He really thinks I’d ignore him on purpose. And that stings like nothing else I've ever felt.

I wait and lurk while he continues to touch himself. He's bubbly and flamboyant, basking in the praise of the chat. Normally, I'd be entranced by his hand working that gorgeous shaft, now I'm getting more furious.

Finally, with an exaggerated cry, he comes all over himself. While his hand gives a few more lazy pumps, he glances at the chat.

Mommy: I hope that was worth it

His eyes get wide and he sits up straight. “Shit.”

The stream dies just as he starts calling me.

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry…” he whimpers before I can say anything.

“Astarion,” I cut him off. “I want you to know that I still love you and that isn't going to change. But I'm so hurt and angry right now that you could decide I would ignore you on purpose.”

“Please, I just…”

“No, we're not going to talk about this now. I'm going to give you until I get home tomorrow to get your thoughts together. But right now I'm too angry to talk to you. So I'm going to go to bed and will call you in the morning.”

He sobs. “No, stay on the phone with me. Please, Fina.”

I sigh and relent. “I love you, Star.”

We lay in silence for a long time, the occasional sniffle coming from his end. Finally, I'm too exhausted and have to sleep, and reluctantly tell him goodnight.

There's a subdued call in the morning and I tell him I'll get a cab at the airport, I don't think he should be driving while that upset. Then I'm on the way home. The anger has mostly worn off but this stunt of his still hurts.

When I get home, hev hasn't left the bed, completely naked, almost hiding under the covers. I don't even think twice before getting under them with him and pulling him to me.

“I'm sorry,” he says softly into my neck, reminding me so much of the day we first kissed. The day I'd needed to take care of him after what Cazador had done to him.

“I know. Tell me what happened.” I bury my face in his curls and kiss his head.

“I started getting nervous again and started to panic, and I wanted to talk to you. And I got upset that I couldn't. I know you wouldn't just ignore me.”

“Then why didn't you say you were anxious? I could have made time if I had known you were panicking.”

“I didn't want you to think I was weak. Especially after you told me that you believed in me.”

“Astarion, love, you are always going to be one of the strongest people I've ever met.” My hands rub his back, fingers finding the scars of years of his adopted father's “discipline.” “I'm sorry too, I think I pushed you into something you didn't need while you were nervous. Even if you said you were alright with it.”

He gets quiet for a moment before answering. “It isn’t your fault. You’re always the best you can be to me.”

“Still, maybe we should take a break from some of the more performative things.” I feel him tense and kiss his cheek to reassure him.

“No, it makes me so happy to be like that, to be so completely yours. Don’t take that away.”

“Let's talk some more tomorrow. There's no need to rush anything.”

“Alright. And, well, you did say that you were going to show me how much you missed me?” His voice pitches soft and breathy.

“Astarion, you horny little gremlin,” I tease.

“Please, Mommy. I know I was very naughty, but don't I deserve a little treat?”

I already feel slick between my legs, even if I'm not sure that I should let him do this.

“I know what you're thinking, but I can handle some relatively vanilla sex right now. I want to be loved.” He gives me his best wide-eyed pleading look.

“Alright, baby.”

I sit up, and he helps me undress, leaving kisses wherever he can reach. My hand reaches out to wrap around his stiffened cock and give a few languid strokes. I catch his eyes wandering down to my breasts with naked longing.

Relatively vanilla, he said.

“Come here.”

I lay back, and he follows, slotting between my legs. His cock pushes into me as his lips latch onto a nipple, and he sucks frantically. “There you go.” I stroke his hair, and he starts fucking me with wild, desperate thrusts. “That's what you needed, huh, baby.”

He whines and sucks harder, teeth scraping until pleasure blends with pain. Molten heat builds in my core with each snap of his hips, and I doubt either of us will last long.

“So good for me,” I pant as I feel myself contract around him and my body tingle with bliss. That does it, and he gives one last jerky thrust as I wrap my legs around his hips, pulling him in tight to take every drop of him.

He collapses on top of me, still suckling, and I let him stay that way, fucked and comforted.

After a very nice Saturday in our pajamas, we talk and settle some things between us. Astarion is still very nervous about school in a couple of weeks, but doesn't want to change the things he loves about our relationship. He even insists on punishment for his bad behavior.

We agree on three days with the chastity cage, the two he originally was supposed to have and one extra. No clothing at home, so I can see it at all times. It kills me not being able to play with my wife's pretty cock. But you know, discipline hurts me more than it hurts him, or something.

And at the end of the third day, a very serious lesson. So, I arrange something special, to be shared with his audience, like he shared his misbehavior. He's been waiting in the bedroom while I set things up.

“Safe word, wifey,” I order when I come to collect him.

He stares at my too short, black latex dress with my pale pink strap-on visible where it rides up over my thighs, and blushes. “Objection.”

“Good, baby.” I lead him to the living room where the camera is already at the right angle to watch as I bend him over the couch arm, pushing his face into the cushion right next to the waiting paddle. I watch him shiver with anticipation and spare a glance at the chat. They’re in rare form tonight.

DM_ME_UR_SYRUP: Back from my two week ban just in time. Thornyonmain: Hggnnnnnn, god he looks so good like that am I enjoying the impending pain too much Bitchybambi: Nah, he's asked for this Demi_g0ddess : You're so right, bestie Penguino: Aww, you guys, have a little sympathy

Picking up the paddle, I run it over the curve of his ass and hear him whimper. My hand pushes down on his back, commanding and reassuring. The first smack is light and I give him a moment. He trembles but says nothing.

Another one, slightly harder, he whines but doesn’t say anything. I keep going, watching his pale skin burst into red blossoms with each impact. I can feel him shaking under my hand and hear when he starts to cry.

“You’re being so good,” I coo.

He sobs in response. It’s been awhile since he had a serious spanking session. I keep whispering praise as I go, letting him know how well he’s doing, how much I love him. He’s a teary mess when I’m done, and I can feel the warmth coming from his skin.

“I’m sorry I was naughty, Mommy,” he whines through tears.

“Shh, shh, I know. I think you deserve a little reward for taking the punishment so well.”

l take the lube I have waiting and coat my fingers. He whines for a totally different reason when I spread him open and push a finger inside his tight hole.

“Fuck,” he mewls when the second one enters.

He pants through clenched teeth while I work them inside of him, getting him ready to take me. Each stretch and flex draws a new noise and when he’s ready, I coat the strap in lube and press the tip of it against his entrance. Even with a stinging ass, he rolls his hips into it, desperate and needy.

I gave him a little playful smack on the marks darkening to bruises. “Behave.”

He yelps but stills. Slowly, I slide it into him, relishing each little moan as I fill him. Then my hips rock, and I thrust deeply, before stilling again.

“Please,” he begs, desperately.

“Please what?”

“Fuck me, Mommy.”

I reward him with another deep thrust, and began to move my hips with a quick rhythm. Under me, Astarion is losing himself, keening wails and pleading whimpers accompany my every movement.

I'm aware just how achingly empty I am; later we’ll take care of me. Right now, I focus on making him properly blissed out.

I know his cock is straining against the cage, leaking helplessly, as he reaches the edge. My fingers dig into his hips and I fuck him as deep as I can until a wordless shout rips from him and his whole body is shaking again. I press my hips tight to his, as deep into him as I can while his orgasm ebbs away with multiple whimpers, only pulling out when he’s stilled.

Turning back, I give the chat a good-bye and end the stream.

SquidDomme: He has in fact not learned anything DrowDaddyG: I think he'll try to be better, he's such a sweet boy BardlockLongdick: Maybe you all should try opening a Bible instead of this website DM_ME_UR_SYRUP: Anyone know how I can get an air horn noise to play in chat (I'm joking, please don't ban me again)

Then I remove the strap-on and save it for later clean up. “Come here, wifey,” I say, sitting on the couch.

Sluggishly, he obeys, coming to rest his head in my lap. I run my fingers through his hair and let him come down from the experience.

“I love you,” he murmurs into my thighs.

“I love you too. No more bratty behavior, right?”

I feel the little smirk he makes. “Absolutely, lesson learned.”

We both know he's lying, but I trust none of it will be super hurtful again. “Good little wife.”

Tag list:

@micropoe10 @writingmysanity @mxxny-lupin @azu21

@tallymonster @dependsonthedream @sunfire-ancunin

@bambamwolf87 @fayeriess @lumienyx @lisrelly

@elora-the-slutty-songstress @bhaalbaaby @spacebarbarianweird

@satanicspinosaurus @darlingxdragon @wanderingisobel @astarionsbeloved

@vixstarria @claryvoyantfray @misscrissfemmefatale @bg3obsessedsideblogg @captainaceofspades @wickedwitchofthewilds @asterordinary @talented-bitch @waking-electric @snowfolly

#bg3 #astarion #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 fanfic #bg3 tav #tav #astarion x tav #my fanfic #my writing #modern au

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yuriisclumsy · 19 hours

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╰ Description: Draft from my Google Doc "Thoughts and Ideas." It's a diary with some thoughts that come from my mind when they are being intrusive–AKA thoughts I have at 1 AM. Separate from other works, unless It's for a series.

What if there was an AU for [Name] being one of the top ranked mages in twisted wonderland?

╰Description: [Name] is one of the top mage in Twisted Wonderland, right after Malleus Draconia.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 (You are here) |

—April 28, 2024—

Thought… This is a continuation on the What if there was an AU for [Name] being one of the top ranked mages in twisted wonderland?

[Name] was contracted to teach spell casting, both theory and practice. She was given two freshmen classes, two sophomore classes, and one senior class, for her first year as a professor. Three of which were advanced classes.

Her material wasn't that different from regular classes, if you knew your stuff you could easily do her homework. It was the use of a different method that was peculiar.

But don’t be fooled to think her method is easy. Though her assignments may be simple, this is just for the first month of classes. Until her students adjust to her method of spell casting.

Notice how I said her students and not her? Yeah. It’s not her who will struggle.

Because of her unique way of casting spells, it helped [Name] in her ascension through the ranks, and the grounds of her enlistment to NRC by the headmage Dire Crowley.

[Name] was gifted in other fields as well. Given the demand for certain subjects, she could effortlessly teach those areas without having preparations beforehand. Just another reason for her being here.

Aside from talent, given her age, she could easily relate and connect with students–as they were her age. This leads to students wanting to be more in class, as they would feel comfortable, and the rise in student engagement in classes aside from her own. That is what Crowley thinks anyway.

Oh, how he couldn’t be far from the truth. Poor, sad, little, birdy.

…

The NRC campus has been cheery as of late. Perhaps it’s because of the new teacher. After all, this was a college full of boys. Boys that haven’t seen a girl since they entered and are now acting like a pack of hyenas. But don’t mistake them for Ruggie, he’ll take much offense to that.

Imagine getting compared to monkeys just because you’re human. You wouldn't like that now, would you?

As the early classes were about to begin, there was a class that stood out when you passed it as it had a mountain of students surrounding its doors.

This class was none other than [Name]’s classroom.

All the boys were lining up to see her. They were willing to be late to class. Of course, this took priority over all else.

Because it was [Name]’s first day, Crowley had decided it best to have all enlisted students from her classes gather for an introduction. Those present ranged between new freshmans to lousy sophomores, to seniors that wanted to learn something new before they graduated.

And of course, it wouldn’t be complete without our cast. The Housewardens, their Vices, and everyone affiliated with them, and last but not least, our troublesome ADeuce Duo and the two students of Ramshackle Dorm, would all have her.

The class was filled with students excited to see their new teacher. Some talked about her beauty, some gushed about her talents and achievements, and others just wanted to ask if she was single.

“Greetings everyone,” a voice spoke, cutting through the chatter making the room silent.

“I’m your new professor, [Name], [Name] [Last Name],” she introduced herself, placing a stack of papers on her podium. “But you all can just call me Professor [Name].”

Looking out into the sea of students [Name] continued. “I will be teaching spell casting to advanced and regular classes from all grade levels. So, all are welcome to enroll.”

[Name] walked up to the board and began to write, “today I won’t be teaching, given that it is my first day and still time to switch classes. Instead, I will be going over the basics of my class.” On the board was written ‘six rules’.

“As you can see, I have six rules you must follow.” Picking up the stack of papers left on the podium before disappearing into tiny white particles, leaving the students to gasp in surprise.

“Rule number one: Don’t be late. Unless you have a good excuse, I don’t want to hear it.” [Name] spoke from behind the class. She had teleported there to hand out the papers.

“Rule number two: I expect nothing short but sheer effort in this class.” The papers started to float from her. She was using her magic. The students stared in awe seeing the paper in the air, especially the freshmen. “Which means studying and practicing what I taught you.”

She began her descent from the back of the class, the papers slowly going down to the students grasp.

“Rule number three: There will be no time to laze around in class.” Saying so, Leona could feel her gaze on him in particular. The ones who knew Leona chuckled, knowing [Name] was referring to him in particular. He scuffed. looking to the side he saw Ruggie holding back a laugh. He glared at him like an angry cat, which only prompted him to hold even tighter that laugh.

“Rule number four: I prohibit sabotage; self-inflicted or deliberate. If anyone is caught they will get reprimanded.”

“Rule number five: There isn't going to be any kind of special treatment because of status. So don’t go running to your big influential mommy for help when you have a bad grade in my class. If you fail, you fail.” Students giggled as they heard her comment.

Malleus smiled in amusement. Not having to worry about being treated differently because of his position was nice. He was liking her more and more the more she talked.

Reaching the ground level floor, she walked back to the podium. Now that everyone had received their papers they read it. The rules were there… All minus the last one; number six was missing.

“Are there any questions?” [Name] asked the class

Riddle, being the high regards for rules and policy, extended his arm.

Seeing a hand go up, [Name] looked to see who it was. “Yes?”

“I apologize for disturbing you, but number six is not on the paper you’ve given us.”

“Hmmm… I thought it was a rule that everyone knew, so I didn't add it.” She said nonchalantly.

“Pardon?” He let out in confusion. “What do you mean by that exactly?” At this point Riddle wasn't alone. Something we all knew already? He thought.

“Well. Why don’t you all try guessing what rule six is?”

Students started raising hands left-and-right wanting to get the right answer. All the answers varying vastly:

“

“Follow all the rules!” not it.

“Rule number six is don't break the other rules” that’s the same as the last one.

“We should all respect each other!” cute, but not it.

“Do all of you really not know?” [Name] shook her head a bit saddened.

“Rule number six: Have fun.”

The students looked at each other in disbelief. That was it? They thought it was going to be something else. Something more… strictly. Like the other rules. Not this.

“Life is short. Go out, learn, explore, and live life. Even to those among you that have a longer lifespan. Before you know it, you’ll have lived long enough to tell tales from hundreds of years ago. That is something to cherish.”

“This is what my classroom is all about.”

(finished: 4/29/2024, at 12:43am)

𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚜: @scarabiafriend, @sleep-ydragon, @d3sperate-enuf, @elaemae, @lucky-whispers, @kiwiimochi, @emmorphine, @azriel-sama, @amora-ledezma, @writerstrashbin, @marinahavik, @twstwondersforyou. Re-blog or Comment if you want to get added into the Tag section for Twisted wonderland. Back to The Mind

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glorfindel-of-imladris · 2 days

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Glorfindel Week | Day 1: Valinor Headcanons

Glorfindel headcanons for his time in Valinor for @glorfindelweek 💛✨

I primarily write in the Second/Third Age, but I do have headcanons for Glorfindel in his youth and in Valinor that do influence my writing. I thought that today's prompt gives me a good opportunity to share them!

Born after Turgon, around Galadriel and Aredhel’s age. Glorfindel's actual age has never actually come up in my writing (other than he's Very Old), but the idea of it does influence his dynamic with other characters. He is younger than Turgon, and in a way defers to him beyond Turgon just being his king. Turgon is like an older brother to him. Ecthelion is slightly older, but barely; Egalmoth is a little younger, but also barely. Glorfindel treats them as peers as well as his best friends. Galadriel is also a peer and so he interacts with her as such, especially after his return in the Second Age and well into the Third Age. Glorfindel's age also somewhat affects his dynamic with Erestor, whom I of course write him with plenty. While I also now mostly write Erestor as having been born during the Years of the Trees, he is always specifically younger than Glorfindel. I don't think I ever mention it though and I'm not even sure if the effect is noticeable, but it's there. 🤭

Mostly Ñoldorin, but part-Vanyarin, cousin of Elenwë. This is an old but popular headcanon for Glorfindel, considering how: 1) it was said that Glorfindel crossed the Helcaraxë out of his kinship with Turgon; and 2) he has golden hair. I adopted it very early and just ran with it all these years. One thing that has changed over the years is that although I have written him as a pure Vanya before, I have now resolved to have him as part-Ñoldorin, simply because he was the only one among Fingolfin’s host that canonically didn't take part in the kinslaying at Alqualondë. I do not like the idea that some clans are better than others, that violence was a mark of the Ñoldor while “goodness” is ascribed mostly to the Vanyar, who happen to be the whitest of the white among the races in Arda.

Has sisters (and maybe one brother). I imagine Glorfindel as having siblings; he just has that vibe about him. I usually place him around second out of five children, with the older sibling to him being always a sister. The placement sometimes changes, and sometimes there isn't even a brother at all (or if there was, Glorfindel hasn't met him before he left with Fingolfin's host), but somehow key to my idea of Glorfindel is that he has sisters and he has a good relationship with all of them. He is therefore comfortable with women, is gentle with them, and relates with them easily. He does, however, stand a bit independent of his sisters, who share a close bond among themselves, and he is the only one in his family to join the hosts crossing to Middle-earth.

Bonus: Valinor, post-death

He has returned to Middle-earth at least once before the Second Age, by fighting in the War of the Wrath. According to The History of Middle-earth, Glorfindel was reimbodied shortly after his death, within the First Age. Given that he already was there when Eärendil arrived asking the Valar for aid, you cannot convince me that Glorfindel wouldn't have gone. There was hardly anyone in Valinor more motivated to help Eärendil than Glorfindel himself, Eärendil’s savior in Gondolin, and you can take this headcanon from my cold and dead fingers.

Emissary of Manwë, learned from Nienna. It was also said that Glorfindel became a follower and friend of Olórin (Gandalf) in Valinor, so this isn't much of a stretch considering Olórin's alignment as well as a Maia. Given also how Glorfindel was returned primarily for his "goodness", and the fact that he was steadfast against the kinslayings, and his care and love for people, Nienna as the Vala he most aligns with also is not a stretch.

#glorfindel #headcanons #glorfindel week #glorfindelweek #tolkien #the lord of the rings #the silmarillion #the history of middle-earth #ah yes timezone #what a wonderful thing lol

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entroart · 1 day

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Hi there, just a few things

Hi, I'm an artist, and I'm plural too :3. Or at least, I think I am? It's complicated. There's a lot of denial all the time.

You don't have to say anything that you don't want to of course, and answer in as much or as little detail as you'd like to.

So my questions are like.

1) How has being plural affected your art journey?

Im asking this because I have really bad executive dysfunction, and find it extremely hard to actually do what I want to do, meaning not much art practise, but I know that my other alters don't have it as badly.

2) How is your system communication? How did you make it better if its good.

Our communication is very.... poor. There's 3 definite alters, including me, and maybe a couple more, but I never hear about them so idk. Either way, even between just the three of us, I almost never hear anything from the other two. Apparently they have better communication between each other, but idk how true that is cus I can't really ask them.

3) Can you visualise things? I have aphantasia, and it makes me need a lot more references for when I am occasionally able to bring myself to draw. I'm interested to know how it works without that inhibition.

Thank you very much for reading, I love your art and wish all of you the best. <3

Question Barrage!! 1. Well to be fair is mostly everyone doing their thing. Bridget is trying to learn how to art to help me so thats nice (lemme show her progress)

Other alters also draw, for example Abyss that tends to do fruits

Or one of our littles Chain that did art yesterday

So each alter different art and stuff, I think thats how I can answer that question. 2. Our communication is alright, we can talk to each other easily and dont need to write for that, so in that regards fine 3. Yes, we can see a 3D image and rotate it (shit is frustrating cuz then not being able to properly draw makes me feel horrible)

#transgender #lgbtq #art #doodle #original art #disabled artist #plural system

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rehfan · 3 days

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La Belle Dame avec Merci: Chapter 7 - Showdown at the Pit

Eddie Munson x Unpopular!AFAB!fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ readers only please - minor children DNI! – No Upsidedown; reader is technically a virgin; mutual pining; Eddie has trust issues; emotional hurt/comfort; female masturbation; male masturbation; emotional manipulation; reader is kinda shitty to Eddie; reader gets better; angst; more angst; Eddie’s mom is dead; small act of accidental physical violence; Uncle Wayne is the best; Gareth is not; fistfight; nipple play; angst angst and more angst

Tagged: @bluestuesday / @ali-r3n / @winchester-angel / @iletmytittiestitty-russ / @mewchiili / @chaoticgood-munson / @welcometohellsock /

DO NOT POST TO ANY OTHER SITE. My words are mine and mine alone.

Inspired by @/hard-candy-writing ‘s ORIGINAL POST

MASTERPOST LINK – AO3 LINK

**********************

Eddie felt a tad guilty when you handed over the cash from your purse and he gathered the pizza and the six-pack of soda. He’s meant to be the one who should treat you. But you explained that this was your idea and therefore your treat and he couldn’t really argue with you; the look you gave him was enough to let him know that. He had grinned at you, shyly. He sorta liked it when you were a little bossy.

You wound up back at the quarry, in his van, the vehicle backed up to face the water and the back doors open to the night. There were several blankets in the back. As he tucked one around your legs and made sure you were comfortable, Eddie explained they usually had them to wrap up the band’s equipment every week to play over at the Hideout. As you ate and drank, you talked about music and his dreams for the future. You talked about what you want to do. There are cities you’d both like to see, places you’d both like to go. You talked about life, your childhoods. Eddie skirted around his mother, but you didn’t push. Some things could wait.

The pizza was done and your tongues were tired. You sat side-by-side and watched the dark water shift in the breeze. His warm fingertips brushed your left palm, tracing fire on the surface of your skin. “Can we do this again?” he asked softly.

“Of course,” you replied.

“And what about Monday?”

“What do you mean?” you asked.

Eddie shrugged. “Seems to me with nothing on the line, with this just being about us, that you might not be so willing to have all the PDA anymore.” He gave you a curious look. “You still want to meet me at your locker or me at yours? In the hallways for everyone to see? Or… is this just between us?”

“You think I’d be ashamed to be with you,” you said, “if it wasn’t fake. If we couldn't hide from everyone else. You think that I'd hide you away like some filthy secret.”

Eddie nodded and didn’t meet your eyes. Well, tonight was almost perfect, but he should have known better. He awaited the death blow with his hands gripping the van on either side of his thighs, eyes shut. Your chilled fingertips were on his chin, guiding his face back toward yours. “Why would I turn you away? Why wouldn't I be proud as hell to be with you?”

Eddie huffed a cynical laugh. “I guess we’ll just have to see.” His gaze fell to the water again.

You watched him, carefully, head tilting over toward him to catch his eyes. “You doubt me.”

“No offense, sweetheart, but I doubt every good thing that comes my way,” he said, swallowing past a lump in his throat.

“And why is that?” you asked. Your hand traveled up the inside of his forearm, icy fire left in its wake. He suppressed a shiver but it translated as a stiffening of his whole body and you took it as him defending himself, blocking you from learning more. You took your hand away. “I’m sorry,” you said, “I didn’t mean to push too far.”

“It’s not that,” he said, searching desperately to explain himself without actually explaining himself. He couldn't. “Your hands are freezing, girl. Come here.” He spread out two or three blankets in layers and held out a hand for you to come sit. You obliged and settled yourself further into the van. He covered your legs up with another blanket and moved to close the van’s back doors.

He was so attentive, all you could do was shake your head. You hadn’t complained of the cold, but he protected you from it all the same. He really did have a heart of gold.

As he settled down next to you in the dark, asking you if you were warm enough, you answered him by scooting closer to him and brushing the hair away from his cheek and kissing him there. “I’m fine now. Thank you. I didn’t want to be a bother.”

He could feel his cheek burn from the kiss you had planted there. It was not his way to get his hopes up over any girl. He shifted the pizza box and the remnants of the six pack of sodas more toward the back of the driver’s seat and cleared his throat. “You’re no trouble,” he said while facing away from you. Job done, he had no choice but to settle back down next to you. Casually, he draped an arm over your shoulders with a confidence that he did not feel. As a matter of fact, you had managed to rob all his bravado from him with that one simple peck on the cheek. It had unknowingly contained just enough intimacy and tenderness to crack his resolve once again.

There was a silence that swallowed you both in the darkness of the van.

“Thanks for the blankets.” Your voice was loud in the small quiet.

“Yeah, I mean, I'd turn the van's heater on, but it's pretty shitty,” he said. “But the blankets work well. And we have plenty, so may as well put ‘em to good use.”

“Right.”

Silence again. The weight of it pulled at you both. For lack of anything better to do, you leaned in against his chest, pressing your cheek to the cold of his jacket, feeling it slowly warm.

He chuckled softly, “You really like me, huh?”

You hummed in the affirmative. “Afraid I’m pretty stuck on you, Munson.”

He huffed another laugh and dumbly stared into the darkness. He idly ran his hand over your upper arm and shoulder and mulled over what he had done to make you so damn happy. He had spent this week dreading your presence and wishing he didn’t feel used. He’s spent the rest of the week being angry at you. He couldn’t fathom it; what the hell was so attractive about that?

“And,” you began again slowly, your voice a shy whisper, “if I’m honest, I’ve been looking forward to seeing you this whole week and you haven’t been around for a chunk of it. Would you like to make it up to me?”

He looked at you with a curious sideways glance that made you melt. His eyes were devastating at the best of times; now, in the dark, they carried their own mesmerizing sparkle; they were temptation itself.

You brought your hand up and cupped his face. He moved his head downward and you nuzzled next to his ear and kissed the shell of it. Moving south, you pressed your lips to the corner of his jaw. With each kiss, he leaned bit by bit more toward you until, finally, you reached his pulse point where he closed his eyes and audibly moaned.

You were wet instantly. Slowly, you brought your head around, tracing the tip of your nose along his jawline and captured his mouth in a slow, lingering kiss. You felt his opposite hand warm on your waist as his other brought you closer to him. “You want to be my girl, princess?” he managed, his voice breathless. You nodded, your glassy-eyed look meeting his.

He went to raise his hand from your waist to your face and brushed your breast on the way. Instantly, Eddie apologized, blushing profusely. “God, I’m sorry. I, uh, I didn’t mean to— I swear.”

Smiling, you unbuttoned your coat, bringing it down off your arms and exposing your simple scoop-neck blouse. You then took his offending hand, palm up, and kissed it, slow and warm. You met his amazed eyes and said, “It’s okay. I didn’t mind,” while boldly placing his hand directly over your breast, your invitation clear.

The breath left Eddie’s body. His cock twitched.

You pulled him gently toward you by the collar of his jacket. “Come here, sweet boy.” You were kissing him before he was aware of what was happening. He didn’t remember drifting back toward you. He didn’t remember your breath on his face as you hovered near before taking his lips. He didn’t remember the searching gaze you gave him seconds before your lips met. All he was aware of was your velvet tongue against his and how soft your breast was under his hand. He squeezed it carefully and you moaned into him. It didn’t take him long to locate your pebbled nipple under the layers of clothing and he kneaded the tissue there, glorying in the lascivious sounds that came from you with every movement. Sounds that he and only he was pulling from you. Him. Eddie Munson. The Freak.

You parted to catch your breath. Suddenly, you were wearing far too many clothes for Eddie’s liking. But he didn’t dare ask you. What you were giving him was miracle enough. He watched his hand as it worked your tit, fascinated by how you closed your eyes, lost to his touch. Your hand covered his. “Need more, Ed.” Jesus, you were whining.

“What do you want, babygirl?” he asked. “Tell me.”

“Need you—“ you began. Suddenly you were too shy to say it out loud. His eyes were intense on you, glistening in what little moonlight reached where you were in the van. “I, uh…”

He bent in slowly and kissed you again, his thumb idly passing over your erect nipple back and forth soothingly. “Come on, angel. You can tell me.” His words whispered over the skin of your jawline and neck where he peppered tender kisses as he moved toward your collarbone.

Eddie didn’t know what you needed, but he knew you had limits. Every person had. He bided his time enjoying the feel, smell, and taste of you while waiting for you to find your voice. He didn’t dare go beyond where you had shown him he could go. He didn’t want to break the spell, ruin the good thing that was finally happening to him. All he could do was coax you out of your shell a bit and make you feel good.

As the tip of his cold nose traced circles on your skin, you closed your eyes and found some courage. “Need you to suck on my tits, Eddie. Please. Need to feel your mouth there.”

Another verbal gut-punch. He huffed a shuddering breath on your skin. His fingers found your blouse at your waistline and pulled the material up and off of you. He watched as you unhooked your bra from behind your body and it dropped down and away in the darkness. He told you to lie down as you shivered, but not from the cold. Eddie's look did that. The blankets were cool beneath you but you barely noticed; Eddie was too beautiful hovering above you.

His dark eyes were roving all over you, luscious mouth slightly open, hair framing his gorgeous face. “You are so fucking beautiful,” he said, adding your name with a reverence that moved something deep in your soul. Slowly, carefully, watching you for any sign of objection, he slid a hand up your waist to your breast, once again cupping your flesh but with no barrier to prevent the play of the skin under his pressure, your nipple hard and erect not just from the cold, but because of the boy who was looking at you as if you created the universe.

As he ducked down, his hair tickled your skin. His breath on you was a thrilling sensation you weren’t expecting and your breath stuttered. He stopped short. “You okay? You want this, right?”

“I do, Eddie. I really really do. Please.” Your hands were in his hair and you pressed his head gently downward toward you.

Your back arched of its own accord as the heat of him found your skin. Your responsiveness was unreal. Eddie rolled the pebble of your nipple around and over his tongue, alternating suckling and licking, playing with what worked for you and when he found something you really reacted to, he happily came back to that time and time and time again.

He pulled off your nipple and blew air over it before turning to you. “How’s that, beautiful?”

“Mmmore,” you begged him through slitted eyes. “More baby, please.”

Baby? Jesus. And that whine of yours would be the death of him.

BANG! BANG! BANG! “Hey Munson! You in there?!”

The noise caused both of you to yelp and both of you to frantically cover your nakedness up. You had no idea who it was, but you prayed they hadn’t peeked into the back windows while the two of you were preoccupied. The blush on your face could probably be seen from space.

For his part, Eddie was in a straight-up panic - but only at first. Then, he was angry. “You fucks,” he muttered, running a hand down his face. “Of course.”

“Eddie!” another voice came from the side door as more blows fell. A slight shadow passed over the front windshield. Another figure pressed up against the back windows, hands coming up to block out the outside light to peer in. “He’s in there. With someone else.”

“What? Who is it?” you asked Eddie at the same time the figure at the window outside said: “Shit.” The male voice was filled with regret for a grievous mistake he knew he made.

“Hey, you don’t think it’s—“ the first voice said and then you recognized it: Gareth. Another series of loud bangs against the back door and he followed it up with: “You fucking traitor! What the fuck are you doing fooling around with her? You said yourself she doesn’t give a shit about you, that it’s all an act. What the fuck man?”

“Hey maybe she really likes him,” said another voice, you thought it might be Grant.

Gareth countered: “Or maybe she’s pussy-whipped him into doing something really stupid like showing up at Thanksgiving to piss off her parents.” His next shout was directed at Eddie: “She’s using you, man. Wise up, put your dick away, and get out here.”

You looked helplessly at Eddie who looked lost himself. You could feel his gaze on you as you sat there, your blouse and part of the blanket clutched to your chest. He took up another blanket and threw it over you, almost covering your head in his haste. “Sorry,” he said, “but uh… you get dressed. I’ll go talk to them, okay?”

Another round of bangs and Gareth’s loud voice interrupted you before you could say anything. You nodded instead and gestured toward the back doors of the van with a grand wave. Eddie started to go, reached the doors, and shook his head, reconsidering. Changing tactics, he headed toward the driver’s seat. Before he got there, he draped another blanket over your legs, saying “Keep warm, sweetheart. I’ll be as fast as I can.” A swift kiss to your temple sent a reassuring feeling through you. He clambered over the console and front seat, got out the driver’s door, and herded the boys away.

After you put your bra and top back on and shoved your arms in your coat sleeves, you snuck to the front of the van and watched the boys surround Eddie out of the driver’s side window. Gareth had his hands on his hips when he wasn’t gesticulating wildly. Jeff and Gareth had their hands in their pockets, sheepishly adding to Gareth’s argument points.

Eddie stood resolute with arms crossed not saying a word.

Finally, you heard Gareth shout: “What kind of man are you that you let yourself be used like this, man? I mean, after all, she’s just some piece of pussy!”

Time stopped. For Gareth, Eddie’s eyes turned to glistening dark voids in the moonlight. He was so still, it frightened all three of them. Without warning, Eddie grabbed Gareth by his jacket and threw him down on the ground so hard, he barely had time to stumble before he hit the dirt hard, the breath leaving his body in a loud “Oof!”

Eddie leapt on him in an instant, hauling back a fist and planting it against Gareth’s face. Another came down on his stomach and Gareth convulsed with the impact. Both Jeff and Grant pulled Eddie away and he shook them off.

“Who’s next?” Eddie said, spinning on Jeff and Grant, completely furious. “Because you three have no FUCKING clue what’s going on here. That girl,” here he pointed at the van, and despite knowing that none of them could readily see you, you recoiled from it anyway. “That girl is the best thing I ever–. What I told you before was bullshit because I didn’t understand her. Now, we’ve talked and I do. And I do NOT want to tell you three anything about us because look what the fuck you’ve done tonight?! Maybe you should stop worrying about me like you’re my mom or something. Last I checked - my mom was DEAD.”

Your gasp echoed in the closed space of the van. You had known - of course you had - without him telling you outright in the shaft, but to hear him say it out loud like that - like it was a weapon - it was shocking. He was hiding so much pain from you. There was a tightness in your chest and you fought the urge to race out there and hold him.

Meanwhile, Gareth sat up halfway through this little speech and held his stomach and his face. Jeff went to him and pulled him to his feet. “We were just looking out for you, man,” said Gareth. “We’re your friends, remember?”

“I remember that you just ruined a perfectly good night and scared the shit out of the both of us. Why don’t you three just fuck off, huh? Or better yet - go find some girls of your own?” said Eddie.

Gareth huffed and tried to find support from Grant and Jeff but came up short. “What? One quick speech and you two assholes are willing to let this brainwashed pussy-whipped loser get to you? What are you? Soft?”

Eddie started toward Gareth again. “What? You think I’m scared of you, man? Huh?” shouted Gareth.

That was it. You’d had enough. These boys were best friends and falling out in a huge way and it was all your fault. The van made you suddenly claustrophobic. You headed toward the sliding door and got out. The boys were on the opposite side and couldn’t see you and your car was sitting right there so you got in, started the engine and took off as quickly as you could, the headlights giving you one last glimpse of all four boys before guiding you into the night and back to the safety of your own neighborhood.

“FUCK!” Eddie screamed. “You motherfucker! Look what you did!” He spun on Gareth but Jeff stepped forward, blocking his way, hands up in a placating gesture. His hands gripped Eddie’s jacket and he held him back, but barely. Eddie was wild with anger now. “Get off me! Get OFF! He’s going to get the beating of a lifetime!”

“Come on then, pussy-whipped little bitch!” shouted Gareth. Grant held him back by his upper arms. “Let me at him, Grant! Fuck off!”

“Look man,” Jeff said over his shoulder to Gareth, “they were obviously busy in the van when we came up. So there’s something happening here that’s real between them otherwise she’d have been arguing with him or-or- not here at all!” He regarded Eddie. “Hey! Hey! Calm down and tell me this - tell me this - tell me this: you’re sure about her, right man? I mean, really sure?”

Eddie took a couple of breaths before answering him. “Yeah, man. Couldn’t be more sure.”

“She’s not playing you? She’s cool? Totally cool?”

“Totally. For real. She’s the bona-fuking-fide genuine article. We worked it out. She’s… amazing.” His shoulders fell and he relaxed in Jeff’s grip. He looked back at where your car had disappeared into the night. “And now I’ve lost her. Fuck!” You had seen his truly violent side. Finally. Eddie's gut churned. He thought he was going to puke.

“I never thought I’d see the day,” said Gareth smugly, more relaxed, but clearly still angry. “The great Eddie Munson seduced by the dark side.” He shook his shoulders free of Grant’s grip.

“You know what Gar,” said Grant, landing one meaty hand again on the shorter man’s shoulder, “you really need to go out and get laid.” Gareth shook him off again with a huff. Grant nodded at Eddie. “If it’s real, then go after her. If it’s not, then go home. Either way, I’m cold, it’s gonna rain soon, and it’s late. And I don’t feel like fighting over a chick I have no chance of kissing anyway. If she breaks your heart, I guess I’ll help you pick up the pieces. But for right now? Guys. Let’s go.”

Grant guided Gareth away toward the car they had borrowed from Gareth’s mom to get there. Jeff took an extra second to regard Eddie at arm’s length. “You good?” Eddie nodded and ran a hand over his face. “Go get her, man. If she rocks your world? Go fucking get her.” He gave Eddie a friendly shove toward the van. “See you Monday, Romeo.”

“Fuck off,” said Eddie with a tired smile. “See you.”

Eddie lit a cigarette to help calm himself as the van moved away from the pit and toward Loch Nora. He didn’t know exactly where you lived but he had your number and he knew the color, make, and model of your car. He drove toward the nearest payphone. Short of getting you on the phone, he prayed your family didn’t have a garage and you parked outside. He didn’t care if it took him all night to track you down. He didn’t care if he woke your parents up. He didn’t care if he woke up the whole fucking town of Hawkins. He was going to find you and talk to you tonight if it was the last thing he did. He had to explain. He had to tell you that he would never - EVER - raise a hand to you. That he would never become his father. Not for anything in the world. He had to tell you.

And kiss you. He had to kiss you. He had to kiss his girl - even if it was for the last time.

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