#yes my tarnished is blue

[sjmillerart]

blessing of blood

#elden ring #white mask varre #varre x tarnished #fan art #/// #my art #thank you doof for reminding me that I never posted this here #lmao #yes my tarnished is blue

[hoshigray]

Alright, y'all, here's the plan: you're not quite aware of what Toji does for work, yet you keep quiet. But one night, the man comes home bleeding, and you can't keep your worries to yourself anymore. However, for your protection, Toji isn't ready to reveal his assassin business to you. And, in the heat of the moment, ends up saying something that hurts you instead...

A/n: (Reuploaded bc I forgot smthn) This prompt was picked from a poll to celebrate the 300+ followers milestone (pssst tysm for 450+ you lovelies :D) two weeks back. Truthfully, I don't think this is my best work after proofreading, but I did my best. Probably bc 1) it's longer than I intended, and 2) I procrastinated waaaaay too much with this. I don't even think I made sense halfway through, lol, but fuck it, we ball. Anyways, like last time, there is art drawn by me (@hoshigaby) but it'll be found deep in the fic :33

I hope you enjoy the ride and reblogs + replies are much appreciated!! Also, don't be alarmed that Y/n in the drawing looks of a dark complexion, feel free to use your imagination if it doesn't suit you. But do not edit it; be an adult and ignore it if it's not your taste.

Cw: Toji x fem!reader - arguing/yelling - fingering (fem! receiving) - mating press - Daddy kink - first Toji is sour, then he's sweet bc he's whipped for you :) - clitoral play (pressing down and a pinch) - praise - breast fondling + nipple play - pet names (angel, baby, darlin', honey, kid, mama/ma, princess, sweetheart/sweetie) - Megumi mean-mugging his father while Tsumiki and Shiu Kong tell him to do better lol - mentions of blood and stab wound; isn't fully healed so reopens.

Wc: 5.8k

"Uhh, are you sleeping on the couch?"

"Yes. Yes, I am."

"...Why??"

You scrunch your brow at your phone, looking at the two people you're talking to through the screen. "I know you're not about to get on my case over where I'm sleeping."

On the L-shaped couch lay you, cuddled up with a fluffy blanket and memory foam pillow, one hand holding your phone while another wrapped around a stuffed plushy. You were on a video call with your best friends: Utahime and Mei Mei.

Utahime, lying on her bed with a face mask, replied to you. "Oh, I'm definitely getting on your case because it's supposed to be the other way around!"

"True, but I like the couch anyways." You puff at the woman who's not satisfied with your answer. "Plus, I'm on the L-part of the couch, so it's practically like a bed!"

Your other friend, Mei Mei, chuckles at her screen. Icy blue hair pulled up in a bun with reading glasses positioned atop her forehead, probably counting her tips on her desk like she always does before bed. "My my, this is the fourth night this week. What did your man say to make you this upset?"

Memories of what happened before come back to you, and so does the exhausting irritation you've been trying to keep at bay.

It was a quiet night like this one as the rain fell hard on the silent streets. You've just put Tsumiki and Megumi to sleep and waited in the living room, watching a movie to pass the time. It was pretty late into the night when you heard the door open as drowsiness settled in. Nevertheless, you got up to greet the man you'd been waiting for coming from the entrance, but you weren't prepared for the sight that instantly woke you up.

Toji Fushiguro, groaning and leaning against the wall with his black jean jacket drenched from the rain. A hand was clenched on the left side of his torso, deep red tarnishing his plain white shirt. He was heaving in an attempt to even his breathing, but when he caught a glimpse of you standing before him, he was quick to try and play it off with a worn-out grin. "Hey, baby." His familiar deep voice was strained in subtle agony.

Worry bubbles within, and you rush towards him. "Oh my God, Toji, what happened!?" You remind yourself to not be too loud as the children are still asleep, so you rely on whisper yellings while walking him up to your shared bedroom.

Even in the room, Toji doesn't explain himself. Just silent hushes and cajoles that he's alright. "I'm fine, honey. Just tell me where's the first aid box." Pointing at the bathroom cabinet, you watch him leave your side to grab the kit. The crimson spilling from him is caused by a stab wound he reveals when he sits on the bathtub, lifting his shirt. You can feel your eyes water, imagining the pain he's going through when he hisses from putting on rubbing alcohol on the gash.

The words you want to say feel so forbidden. Your fingers fidget amongst themselves with the irregular beat of your chest. Don't say it, Y/n. Keep your mouth shut. Don't—

"Is this from work?"

Green eyes shoot back in your direction, and you immediately feel yourself sinking into a pool of regret.

Talk of Toji's occupation wasn't something you brought up much. Even at the beginning of your relationship, he didn't indulge in any insights about what he does, so you eventually quit after a few failed attempts. However, with all the nights he's come home while you sleep or the new scars you point out yet are brushed off, your anxiousness for him keeps festering. And seeing him with his own blood on his hands made you wonder how many nights he has pulled off doing such without your knowledge.

Toji's eyes go back to his wound. "Don't worry 'bout it." The stern tone of his voice has your blood turn cold. He didn't want to entertain this, especially in the wee hours of the night.

And yet you still persist. "No, Toji, I'm serious." You can see him glare at you through the raven bangs shading his forehead. A warning. But it doesn't stop you. "I'm getting worried about you."

From there was when the argument came. Every point you've made to him was shut down at once. His cold responses pierced you. Usually, you'd do what you can to avoid this type of confrontation. But now, it hurts even more when he doesn't cooperate with you, your concerns disregarded like rubbish.

"Damn it, Y/n!" Toji barks at you, seething through the physical pain as a fist bangs hard on the bathroom cabinet. "Why's it so hard for you to stay out of this?"

"Well, if you would tell me things instead of pushing me out the way, then maybe I wouldn't have to!" At this point, you're fighting the tears from falling. Your face hot with frustration, but you still speak. "Toji, I've done so much for you and the kids, and I—"

"No one told you to do—"

"Yet I STILL do!" It's your turn to yell. "I care about you deeply, same with Tsumiki and Megumi. I don't ask for much, Toji. But I want you to open your life to me just a little, even when you're hurt like this!"

His emerald eyes remain rigid despite your pleas to him. And what he said next had you still to the core. You can recall the beat of your heart corrupting your senses while the tears stride down.

"If you were goin' to be a thorn on my side like this, I wouldn't have let you be in it in the first place."

"He said WHAT!!??" Utahime shrieks after you retell the situation to your friends.

You nod your head. "I just looked at him, and he looked at me. Then I turned, picked my pillow up, and headed downstairs to this couch."

To say the dark-haired woman was livid was an understatement. "And tell me WHY this fucker isn't the one sleeping on this couch, again??"

"Even if I did tell him to sleep on the couch, he probably would say something like, 'Tch, why should I? I pay bills for this damn house,' and yadda, yadda." This is true, apart from the man being injured, so having him move would've been immoral. "Plus, I just really wanted to get outta the room, so I went ahead and moved myself out."

"So? You pay bills too, what the hell!? Good God, Y/n," Utahime shakes her head. "You sure we can't pummel this dude?"

"Yes, I'm sure. Besides, I'm getting used to ignoring him when I see him around the house. But, oh my God, guys, his kids," the phone panned down to the plush toy and the pink, fluffy blanket. "Miki saw me sleeping here the other morning and gave me this blanket. And Gumi — he's such a sweetie. He gave me his favorite froggy toy to sleep with to scare off his dad from 'bothering me in my dreams.' "

"Hmm, how adorable." Mei Mei comments. "Funny how such darlings can come from a guy like that."

Utahime nods rapidly and throws in her opinion. "Listen, Y/n, you shouldn't think you outta be in every part of that man's life. Even so, he should at least know how to compromise. I mean, come on, you take care of him, the kids, the house, and go to work with us. All of that just for you to sleep on a couch!?"

"You're not gonna let this couch thing go, aren't you?" The pale blue-haired woman chuckles again, and Utahime sighs. "But she's right, Y/n. It takes a certain kind of person to have the patience to do what you do in a relationship with a single father and two children. I'm sure Utahime would've left with all her hair out."

The dark-haired one gets up from her bed and takes her device with her, heading to the bathroom to finish her skin care. "Now, why am I the one used as an example?"

"Because you're the most vocal about a relationship that isn't yours." A sly smile is painted on Mei Mei's face after she hears a 'hmph!' from the other as Utahime removes the mask and washes her face. "My point is that you like this man — love him even. But that love shouldn't cost you to be so emotionally drained. Perhaps he understands this, except it wasn't the perfect moment for you two to express yourselves. Maybe talk to him when you two stop the silent treatment."

All you do is hum aimlessly, too wrapped in what your friend said to give a proper response. Then you yawn, your body signaling you to finally rest. "I'll sleep on that thought. Night, girlies~~" You wave and send kisses to the other two. They do the same as you leave the video call, placing the phone on the coffee table and snuggling up with the blanket and plush toy.

You try to distract yourself by thinking of what you'll do tomorrow. You gotta get up and make breakfast for Tsumiki and Megumi before waking them up, then head to the station and take the bus to work. Maybe you can finally try that new café close by with Mei Mei and Utahime for lunch. And when you return home, you should whip up something fun for the kids to eat.

Perhaps, make something for Toji since he sometimes forgets to feed himself when you're not around. Or if he's leaving for work, wish him a safe trip back home like always. And...if he's down for it...you can find the right time......to talk...about......

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊✩₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

The moment you closed your eyes, it felt as though you were sleeping on your own bed again. When you turn to your side, your body descends into the feeling of cold sheets beneath you. It was pretty comfy! Plus, the blanket—

Wait...Sheets?

Your eyes slowly open to the sight of bedsheets underneath you. Navigating out of the sleepy stupor, you make out parts of your surroundings to know that you're not in the living room anymore. You slowly rise up to face the door of the bedroom. Your shared bedroom.

A sudden cough alerts you, forced as if to grab your attention. A chill crawls up your spine. Oh God, no. You turn to the side to see the man accompanying his side of the bed. And there he was, Toji, lying on his side with his head resting on a hand, looking dead at you. His raven hair looked damp from a recent shower, sporting only a grey wifebeater and dark sweatpants.

"Hey," is all he says to you. No smirk and no nickname followed with the greeting. Just a simple address to you with his green eyes softly watching yours. You almost fall into their inviting spell the more you look at them.

Nonetheless, it's not compelling enough since you remember he's the man you fought with four days ago — the same man you weren't prepared to see right now. You quickly turn away from him and lift the comforter to exit the room. However, Toji grabbed your wrist before your feet could touch the floor, his grip too strong for you to pull away from him.

You avoid eye contact with him, your back facing him. "Toji, let me go. I'm going to sleep."

"Then sleep."

"On the couch, Toji." You try and pull again. Nothing.

"Fuck that, just sleep here. I didn't carry you up here for nothin'."

You shake your head as you exhale through your nose. Of course, he carried me here. "Whatever happened to you not wanting me to be a part of your life?"

The words that left your lips surprised you and the grip around your wrist tightens. You didn't mean to say them, but it was the truth because they were his own words. Or did you?

Still facing away from Toji, you're unable to see his reaction. Oh shit, is he angry? Is he going to let me go after that?

"Darlin', please..." His deep voice hushed for only you to hear. "I just really need you with me here. Just for tonight...." His hold lessens, leaving you to decide whether you should stay.

The silence is uncomfortable for both of you — especially for Toji, who has you where he wants you to be, where you're supposed to be. As seconds pass when he doesn't hear from you, the nervousness that used to exist before your relationship rises back into the pit of his stomach. And his soul drops down when you remove your wrist from his hand.

Though, to his surprise, your hand lifts the comforter up while your legs move back on top of the mattress. You lay back down with a sigh, your back still facing Toji. "Did you give Miki back her blanket?"

Toji exhales quietly, situating himself back on his side of the bed. "Yeah, and Megumi with his toy."

You hum, and the silence fills the room once more.

Toji looks at nothing but your figure next to him, watching the rise and fall of your shoulder as you breathe silently, your face nestled comfortably on the pillow. To think it's been half a week since he last saw you in this room is hard to believe.

That night when you left him really stuck with him. The image of your face covered in tears was all he envisioned, the same with you grabbing your pillow and exiting the room. After tending his stab wound, he went down to talk it out. Yet when Toji saw you sleeping soundly on the couch with dried tears painting your pretty face, he didn't dare wake you up and just went to bed.

And it was worse the following days. Not only did he have you avoiding him at every chance, but he had to deal with the judgmental looks of his children. Never in his life has he seen Megumi give him glares that meant business. If looks could kill, Toji would be finished. And Tsumiki, his sweet little girl, now pesters him about being nice to Y/n, saying he should think about their feelings and apologize.

But what about his feelings? Does no one understand that he was just trying to keep you out of business that you didn't need to fret over? He's very aware that his job is not a normal one. It's dangerous, and anyone around him can get hurt or worse. Hence, keeping you away from this part of his life keeps you and his family safe. If not knowing he's an assassin keeps you from harm's way, why change that.

At least...that's what he thought, not what he said.

Even Shiu Kong, his handler, had something to say after telling him what had happened during lunch today. "Wow. I knew you were trash, but I didn't know you were that dumb, too." The man snickers when Toji shoves a middle finger his way. Shiu lights another cigarette after discarding the one he finishes. "Well, how were they supposed to know you were watching out for them? If someone you love comes to your front door bloody and sick, whose safety are you worrying about?"

Toji says nothing to that, letting the other man resume speaking some sense into him after taking a long sig from his cigarette.

"Look. I can't promise that this angel of yours wants to stay with you after what you said. That's all up to them. But until they decide that, I hope your dumbass realizes when someone sticks with you literally through blood and pain, that's someone who cares for you to the Moon and back. Not saying you should tell them what you do, but a nice word or two of comfort is all they need. If you're not that big of an idiot, reconcile and let them know you care about them."

"...Reconcile and let them know you care about them..."

If there's one thing that Toji has trouble with, it's knowing how to use his words. It was a tiny problem in the earlier stages of your relationship, but as time flew, you could guess how much the tall man cherishes you by his actions rather than words.

The older man knows that you know he loves you. But now, when he's pushed into a position where words are necessary to portray his real feelings for you, he feels stumped.

"If you were goin' to be a thorn on my side like this, I wouldn't have let you be in it in the first place."

Toji grimaces at his own words replaying in his head. Why the fuck did I say that?

"Whatever happened to you not wanting me to be a part of your life?"

Your words ring in his mind. Why did I fuckin' say that for? What the hell is wrong with me? What did—

"Toji?"

He returns to reality, eyes moving back to your still silhouette.

"I know you're still awake, so I'm gonna ask this." Toji braces himself for whatever your soft voice muttered. "Whatever job you're doing, is it a dangerous one?"

Shit. The dreaded talk is here, and Toji cannot escape it.

"Yeah."

"Are you good at your job?"

"It's the only thing I'm good at."

You nod your head aimlessly to his answer. Then you turn around to face the anxious older man. The moonlight peaking through the window blinds illuminates your face beautifully while Toji's breathing slows.

"I don't think that's true," you continue to answer. "You're good at being a father to Tsumiki and Megumi. Not the best, but a decent one nonetheless. You're also good at caring for me; letting me live with you and your family proves that. And lastly," Toji gulps with a dry throat.

"You're good at loving. You say you're lousy at it, but there's love in everything you do for me. It's there when you look at me whenever you think I'm unaware. Or when you silently grab my hand when in crowded areas. Or," a small chuckle exits from you. "When you carry me up from downstairs to the bedroom."

Toji's jade eyes lock in with yours, waiting for you to avert your gaze away from him. But you don't. You keep looking at him. You keep spoiling him. This type of recognition is something Toji never thought he deserved, so you giving it to him so effortlessly makes his growing guilt eat him alive.

"I care about you so much, Toji." You shift closer to Toji and bring a hand to his cheek, causing the man to lift his brows. Your face is only a few inches away from his. "What happened yesterday really scared me. All I could think about was the wound and all the scars you have. Where they all came from and how deep they are. Or......you never coming back."

"Baby..." Toji absently refers to you with a sweet name, placing his big hand on top of yours on his cheek. He lets you finish.

"I know you can't guarantee coming back to me unscathed, but I just want you to promise me something: please let me know you'll be okay. When you're gone, I can only hope you make it back home safely. So, just promise to not get yourself killed." A sheepish smile is used to ease the serious tone. "Even if I'm not in your life, I'm sure Tsumiki and Megumi would be pretty upset to not have you around."

Toji scoffs. "Trust me, I'm sure they'd leave me the moment you step out the door." That makes you laugh, and it has the man swooning hearing it. His hand moves to your cheek, and you allow him to stroke it with a thumb. "And I wouldn't blame 'em. Havin' such a beautiful and loving angel slip through my fingers?"

"Toji..."

"I'm sorry for what I said and scarin' you like that. If you aren't here with me, as part of my life and all, then I don't think I can't make a promise like that. You're too good fr' me, and I'm sorry if I didn't seem to appreciate you until now."

And you know he's genuine with his plea, his green eyes gauging your reaction to see if he's worth another chance. All you do is sigh and lift yourself up, wipe his wet bangs from his forehead, and kiss it. "Not the best apology, but I accept it."

He drones, relishing the feeling of your lips on him again. "So, are we cool, kid?"

"Yeah," you peer down at him with a smile, and he does the same. "We're cool. However, if you ever yell at me again, don't be surprised when I pack my bags."

"Oh yeah?" Toji raises a brow. "I'll be careful, then."

"You better." Hushed chuckles are shared to comfort the silence, enjoying the closeness between you two that felt like forever to have again. Just the two of you with you giggling above him and the light from the window cascading an ethereal glow to your features. Your teeth shied behind pretty lips, lips he wanted to kiss.

And you catch him looking. You notice him wanting you, needing you. Just as much as you need him. You slowly lean down to his face, planting your soft lips on his rigid pair.

Toji's surprised by the action for a moment, but he moans into your mouth and pulls you into him closer. The kiss starts off nice and slow yet quickly changes to one filled with passion and desire. Teeth clashing, tongues exchanging, sweet moans paired with aroused groans.

As you two are lost in each other's lips, Toji carefully maneuvers you on your back with him on top of you. Your legs find purchase around his waist as he rocks into your core, rocking your hips together in a steady rhythm by the second.

His hand snakes down to your lower region, fingers brushing past your pajamas and onto your panty-covered vulva. The intrusion has you breaking the kiss with heavy breaths filling the silent, moonlit room. He busses your chin down to your neck as shaky mewls slip out your mouth.

"Haaah, Toji, we shouldn't. It's late—Hmmm..." Your whimpers don't stop him from pulling your pajamas and undergarments off.

"It's okay, sweetheart, lemme make it up to you." He says in-between kisses on your clavicle, pulling up your shirt to reveal your bare chest. His free hand fondles a breast before his mouth goes for the other. "Let Daddy take care of you..."

The sudden combination of his thick fingers intruding between your nether folds and his mouth sucking and licking your sensitive nipple has you whining in bliss, your hand gripping his wet raven hair resulting in a satisfied groan from the older man. Toji missed this — missed you — close to him, under him on this bed.

One finger plays with your wet chasm for a few moments before it's inserted inside. A shriek is let out as your cunt adjusts to the digit. "Mmmph! Oh God, Daddy, your fingers...Ahhh!"

A soft 'pop' leaves from Toji's mouth when pulled back from sucking on your nipple, his tongue lapping around the sensitive nob. "What's that, mama? My fingers feelin' good?" You nod rapidly, but that's not the answer Toji's looking for, so he bites on your nipple gingerly yet hard enough for you to jolt. "Daddy wants your words, angel."

"Yesss, yes, your fingers feel soo good," You mewl to him, and Toji chuckles dangerously low while rewarding you with another digit in your slick-coated hole. His abrupt middle finger joins his forefinger in attacking your velvety walls, and your voice shifts higher in ecstasy.

The sounds of Toji's tongue licking around your nipple coincide with the squelches between his fingers and your gushy slit. Your brain starts to short-circuit.

"Ahh! Ahhh! Daddy, I can feel—I'm gonna," Toji's fingers pick up the pace. You're so close to release, you can feel it.

"Gonna be good and cum on Daddy's fingers, right, baby?"

"Mhmmm, I wanna co—Oh, Jesus, I wanna come. Hoooooh..."

"Then go ahead, princess. Mess 'em up." Toji comes up to kiss your forehead as his fingers go irrationally fast, and a thumb sneaks to press down on your unattended clit. With a choked cry, you spasm and cream on his thick digits. He watches you finish, loving the image of your head pushed back on pillows and your body arching towards him.

He dismisses himself from you once you're done, licking his fingers of your essence and taking off his wifebeater and pants. The image of his free cock has you biting your lower lip in anticipation as you discard your shirt to the bedroom floor as well. When you look at Toji, you notice the bandaged patch on his left side. He sees you glimpsing, quick to ease your concerns. "I'll be fine, darlin'. Won't go too crazy." Looking at his scarred body in a new light, you nod and follow his lead.

Toji carries your legs up to move to the right of his shoulder, situating you two into a mating press. His dick aligns with your glossy cunt. Precum meets slick and lubricates the two sexes pushing into each other. Toji coaxes you. "Too tense, ma. Relax fr' me." You prepare yourself with even breaths, and the man pushes into you with each exhale.

The head of his cock enters, a cry departs from your lips, and Toji hisses with the tightness of your slit. His hips go slow, making sure your walls accommodate every vein and dent of his dick as it ventures deep within you. Hits to your G-spot have you babbling incoherent prayers, gripping the sheets under you.

When his cockhead finally meets your cervix, you sob his name in rapture. Toji smirks, dialing the pace of his thrusts up. "Mmmm, Christ, yr' tight pussy. So fuckin' perfect fr' me."

Every stroke prompts a euphoric moan from you, drool escaping your lips as your mind turns into putty. The noises of his pelvis smacking on your ass feel so wrong to hear, yet you can't help but grip around Toji's girthy length. It gets worse when he presses his entire body weight on you, forcing you to take his cock and abusing your tender cervix with every deep rut.

As for Toji, he's enjoying seeing you writhe and pant under his bow. The corner of your eyes sprinkled with tears, your mouth wailing in euphoric chants, the way your cunt clamps around his dick when he grinds his hips deep onto your come-covered folds. He can never get enough of this, enough of you, driving him so fucking crazy.

"Daddyyy, I'm gonna—Ahhaaaa!!" Toji's now going at an erratic cadence, his cock churning your insides as his heavy balls slapping your folds being the only things you can listen to. Your whines get higher and higher while chasing your climax. "Cu-cumming, I'm gonna cumm—Ohhh!!"

"Hnngh! Oh, shit, fuck, fuck. Me too, kid, me too," Toji groans into your ear. God, his deep voice makes your brain mush. "Oooooh, want me to fill you up, mama?"

Your head nods frantically, tears now staining your face. "Yessss, please, Daddy!! I want it!" Toji hears your pleas and smashes his mouth into yours, moans swapped between lips with tongues daubed in saliva. A hand is moved down to your clit, pinching the spot between Toji's forefinger and thumb. And your pussy tightens around his cock one last time before you peak onto him.

The fluttery spasms of your walls clenching around Toji have him finish in three deep strokes, spurting his seed inside you before he relaxes his heaving body on yours. The kiss breaks with you two huffing and panting, the final moments of your high finally depleting out of your nude bodies.

His green eyes take in your dazed expression, calloused fingers wiping your tears away. "How's that for an apology?"

"You pervy old man," You chuckle to yourself, so out of breath. "You're more of a man of action anyway, so you pulled through. "

"Hehe, I'll take it." He cups your jaw with his big hand, your eyes locked in with his. "I love you so fuckin' much, baby. Sorry for ever making you think otherwise."

You blink once. Twice. Your hands come up to his face, and a finger swipes away black bangs stuck to his sweaty forehead. "I love you too, Toji. I would've left your ass if you weren't."

Toji smiles and leans in to kiss your swollen lips with his scared ones; however, a sharp pain stops him, prompting the big man to yell out. Worried, you try to assess what's wrong. Then you see it: the blood-stained bandage on his left side.

A gasp catches his attention, and Toji turns to what you're gawking at. His body freezes, seeing the trail of blood exit from his reopened wound.

"Ahhhh shit..."

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊✩₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

"Well, well, well," Utahime smirks at you through the screen. "I see you're not on the couch anymore."

You smile sheepishly as you lie on the pillows and headboard of your shared bed. Tsumiki and Megumi huddle beside you, napping blissfully around your presence under Tsumiki's pink blanket.

"Yeah, we made up last night." To avoid disturbing the children, you reply in whispers.

Mei Mei hums. "I see that. I assume you two had a nice talk about it?" You open your mouth, but no words come out. The two women quirk up a brow.

"Oh? I take it that there was more than just talking." Utahime chimes in, her smile going ear to ear while your eyes avoid the screen. "No wonder we didn't see you at work today. The dick so good it saved your relationship, huh?" She laughs at you hushing her up for using crude language while the children sleep. "Well, happy you two figured it out. But don't think I won't come over there and beat his ass the next time I see you on that couch."

"I second that," Mei Mei agrees. "But Uta can do the beatdown; I'm more interested in what he has in his wallet."

"Not much, I'll tell you that." you correct your friend. "I'm the one who takes care of his finances for safe-keeping."

"Well, that makes things easier for me."

The three of you laugh through your devices. Then you hear heavy footsteps drawing closer from the stairs. "Oop, he's back now. I'll talk to you guys later!" You hurriedly wave and kiss your friends goodbye before ending the video call. The bedroom door opens, and there he is.

Toji flashes a quick smile at you before it vanishes once he sees his kids nestled around you. "I was hopin' to get some alone time with you."

You giggle as you brush Tsumik's hair away from her pretty face. "You're back early. Is your wound okay now?"

"Hmph, yeah, thanks to you pushin' me out the way and grabbin' for the first aid kit." Toji pokes fun at you for the event from last night, where you immediately pushed the brawny man off of you and ran for the tools necessary to treat his open injury the moment you saw blood. You chuckle and watch the tall man climb into bed. "Doc said it should fully heal within a week or two. Why the squirts here?"

"They were happy to find me back in the room for a nap, so they joined me and kept me company." Megumi snuggles close to you for warmth, and you pick him up to your chest.

"Well, they're takin' my spot."

"I don't think they care."

Toji pinches your nose for your snarky remark, and you wriggle out of his fingers with quiet chuckles. His hand then cups your face and pulls you to face him, his emerald eyes softly gazing into you.

"You know I love the hell outta you, right?" His deep voice sounds sweet to the ears. You purr into his hand. "And I hope you know I'm the same for you." He nods. You smile.

He hesitates for a split second, but Toji leans close to kiss your tender lips. Only for a tiny hand to come smacking him in the face, halting him from further movement. To the shock of you both, Megumi was back awake, sending a mean look at his father.

Toji groans in annoyance. "What was that for, brat?"

"For making Y/n sad." Megumi keeps his hold on you secure as he and Toji mean-mug each other. Queuing Tsumiki from her slumber, defending you from her father. "Apologize or stay away!" The little girl warns the older man.

You're quick to break up the mini-fight amongst the Fushiguros. "Alright, kids, no need to worry about me. Your dad already apologized to me by promising to take us out for dinner tonight." Childish faces beam in delight while Toji shifts to instant puzzlement. "Now go get ready and put on your shoes!" Tsumiki and Megumi do just that, rushing out of your shared room and to their own.

When you can't hear the pitter-patter of little feet anymore, you feel big strong arms haul you into Toji's embrace, attacking you with tickles. You try to squirm your way out, but it's no use when he uses his body to cage you in. "Who told you to make promises on my name, huh? You tryna be bratty with me, kid?" He grins at your ticklish suffering.

"Then don't you—Oh God, stop!" It's difficult finishing your statement while fighting back laughter and screams. "Don't you ever yell at me again!"

He stops tickling you, thank God. You catch your breath as Toji looks at you under him with a proud smile. "I don't plan on it, sweetie. Now c'mere."

Toji finally has his lips placed on your soft ones, and you happily return the favor by wrapping your arms around his neck to pepper him with delicate kisses. But the romantic atmosphere vanishes when the children come and dogpile on Toji after hearing your ticklish screams, forcing the older Fushiguro off of you to deal with his kids with tickles of their own.

Observing the children laugh and squirm under Toji's merciless fingers, a soft smile adorns your face watching the domestic display before you and thinking how lucky you are to witness such a thing. Well, that's before all three of them turn to you and bring you another ticklish horror.

And despite the torture, your screams and giggles are filled with pure joy and contentment, and you wouldn't have it any other way.

#𝑯𝒐𝒔𝒉𝒊 ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ 𝑾𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒔: 𝑭𝒊𝒄𝒔 #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk x fem!reader #jjk x y/n #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen toji #toji #toji fushiguro #toji fushiguro x you #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro smut #toji smut #toji x reader #toji x y/n #toji x female reader #toji fanfic #fushiguro toji #dilf toji #anime smut #finally have this fic out of sight now I can write thirsts!!!!

[belokhvostikova]

𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐆𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 | What was supposed to be a summer vacation to your boyfriend's hometown, turned into God's greatest test of morality against you. In other words, you basically fuck your boyfriend's best friend, Eddie Munson.

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | Swearing, mention of alcohol, drug use, jealousy, possessiveness, small violence, a threat of murder (little yandere, but not really-ish, I don't know, to be honest), slightly dark (I think, right? Maybe?) cheating, and explicit sexual content: fondling, spitting, dom/sub dynamic, name calling, degradation/praise kink, finger sucking, nipple play, face slapping, pussy slapping, masturbation (male, but of female), fingering, handjob, cum eating, squirting, and unprotected vaginal sex.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 | I... don't know what this is. Just take, goddamn it, there, take me for all I'm worth! Do I condone cheating? No. But did this idea make me really horny? Yes. And he's a little mean, so be warned.

𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬, 𝐃𝐨 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭.

Sometimes… you wished he’d never spoken those words. 

When two weeks into his summer vacation in Hawkins, Indiana was enough time spent away from the debilitating semesters of university to have his newfound room—proffered by the closest of a distant family member, because two months with the folks would just be too much—smelling of the fresh cologne of clean air and washed linen; the smell that warmed you with the loving memories of ten months of sweet kisses and heavenly whispers. 

When his navy blue comforter wrinkled under the weight of tussling bodies, because in those mere two weeks—his half in Hawkins, yours in Indianapolis—both hearts ached for the touch of one another, and he refused to deprive himself from the physical contact of his love, you. Crushing kisses, trailing hands, and connecting bodies to commemorate the rising sun, because a town miles away from the bustling city of beeping traffic and screaming pedestrians left room for the morning songs of the Northern Cardinal.

When the exhaustion of a two hour journey through cornfields and even smaller towns guided you to the place where he relished you in the memories of his boyhood; swing sets on the playground, the arcade after homework, Tuesday performances at the Hideout. Such memories came to life for you when the aluminum stock sign welcomed you into Hawkins. Sore from stiffness, your limbs crashed into the embrace of your lover, where your first night in the cursed town consisted of fucking the Friday night darkness away, until bodies glowed under the welcoming sun of the Saturday morning, where dewy grass freshened the air in contrast to the concrete slabs of cracked busy sidewalks you grew up on. 

But then… he spoke those words. 

When a stroking thumb against the hairs of your brow elicited the tired whine from your mouth, as you nuzzled your face into his naked chest to shield you from the burning sunshine pouring from the basement window. Your eyes woke to his dozy lips, chapped with pinched corners to show off the crookedness of his teeth that brought such beautiful character to his soul. Puffs of morning breath warmed your somnolent face with his morning greeting.

“I know I’ve told you this like a million times,” he croaked, “but I really am so happy that you’re here. With me.” His heavy hand landed on the apple of cheek to encourage your growing smile. “Can’t wait to show you around, can’t wait for you to meet my friends- the guys.”

Now, a new cologne of ashy darkwood and burning spices tarnished the content bubble of ten months of sweet kisses and heavenly whispers with groping handfuls and filthy intimacy. An anxious pit of guilty dread now eats you alive when the musk of his igniting cigarettes invades your being, but how can you think of such worrisome, when it’s the same scent that has your face torching with flames of desire and heart fluttering with anticipation for a new love- a different kind of love?

Other times… you are happy that he spoke those words. 

Because it led you to Eddie Munson.

-

Her diamond scintillated, shoved in your face by her persistent eagerness to show off the glowing ring that beamed under strobe lights of greens and reds that twirled from the tiny disco ball. Eric Marcher, who couldn’t give you anything more than a nod of acknowledgement when introduced—despite his intimate hand clasp and hug combo with your boyfriend, had been detailed to you as the man needed when small town goers were itching for party favors. Now, in the cul-de-sac of Mirkwood, a lively get-together of strangers, like Cheryl “soon-to-be-Levison” Daniels, bombarded you with the overwhelming hospitality of detailing their personal life to the woman who snagged Braun Peterson. 

A large smile matched that of her ring, beaming with a boastfulness of pride for fulfilling that suburban wife “dream” role, but you couldn’t blame her. A fat rock rested upon her finger to symbolize her everlasting love with her partner? Hell, you’d shove it in other people’s faces, as well. “It belonged to Nana Leslie before Oliver got it with her blessing. See, my daddy was never able to give it to my momma, because well, Nana never liked her,” you met her seven minutes ago, “but, anyways, it’s been in the family for two generations, and now it’s mine!” 

“Oh, wow.” You liked her and her family drama. Your hands maneuvered to twist her finger, watching how beautifully the jewelry captured the light. 

“I mean, it was kinda rash, ya’know, with the war and whatnot.” Her Midwestern accent sang. “Oliver wanted to tie the knot before his deployment, but I was not about to do it in City Hall. Though, he did promise me a big wedding when he comes back from Iraq.” She longingly sighed, as you nodded along. “Ya’know, something that doesn’t involve a smelly courthouse. “What about you?”

You chuckled. “What about me?”

“Have you and Braun discussed when you’d be getting married?” 

You nearly choked on your drink despite not even having one. “Oh.” Quite the response to offer. “We’re, um, not exactly there yet. I mean, we haven’t even been dating for a year.” You awkwardly laughed.

“Well, you don’t wanna wait too long!” Cheryl huffed out an airy laugh. “It’s like, when ya’know you know, ya’know?” Her attempt to philosophize the concept of love left your head nodding along to move the conversation, but Cheryl “soon-to-be-Levison” Daniels surely had to knack to keep talking. “And don’t you know?”

Do you know? “Um-”

“Would you quit harassing my girlfriend?” A familiar hand squeezed your shoulder, before the presence of Braun Peterson came from behind the couch, where he bent down to smile at you. 

“I am not harassing your girlfriend.” Cheryl scoffed. “And come on, I’ve been your best friend since we were babies! I know you! And I know you always talked about getting married!” She sternly punctuated. “I mean, it’s literally what made you cuter than the rest of the boys on the playground.”

Braun derided. “Okay, first of all, we were never best friends, I just had to endure being in the same grade as you.” You both chuckled, as Cheryl dramatically gasped. “And secondly, in case it wasn’t obvious, I’m not a seven-year-old that’s desperate to propose to any girl who was willing to push me on the swingset.”

“Oh!” You piqued his interest. “I happen to be a great companion on the swingset, I’d love to join you.” You sweetly beamed, an endearing feature that had him devastatingly blushing with love.

“Yeah?” He whispered in your face, where you met his question with a nod, reeling him in for a kiss. 

“Ugh, see!” Cheryl’s voice had you separating with a hot face. “Marriage material! At least a proposal by the first year mark.” Her brows teased, forcing him to laugh in disbelief. 

But Braun Peterson smiled, nonetheless, and your throat had constricted. While the idea of marrying your first serious boyfriend wasn’t the most unsettling notion, the reality of it coming faster than anticipated from the opinions of those closest to him, who unfortunately were raised in the small town mindset of a white picket fence before the age of twenty-five, had your tummy swirling with queasiness. Freshly out of university, the last thing you needed was a ring waying you down by a man whose loud chewing you were still trying to adjust to. A proposal in two months was not in schedule. 

Because dinner was on Saturday. Meeting the parents was next Wednesday. Niece’s birthday party in two weeks. At least three years of dating before moving in. The fourth year, an engagement. The fifth, a wedding. Children? Somewhere long after. 

Strict? Maybe. But perfect in your mind of precision? Absolutely.

“Um, could you get me something to drink?” You interrupted the possibility of any more talks of the future. “I just have to, uh, run to the bathroom real quick.”

His hand rubbed down your back so perfectly, calming the nerves that festered in your stomach. “Absolutely.” He assured you, as always. “I’ll find us something to eat, too, baby.”

So perfect, so perfect.

Your legs had guided you away from the living room before you could muster a brief goodbye. Maneuvering around shifting bodies, you found yourself counting the steps of the staircase, feeling the utter disappointment when the last steps came out in odd numbers, but the bathroom was two doors down, and the last thing you needed was to obtain tunnel vision from the minor details that didn’t fit your standards of life.

A knock to the wooden door with a silent response lifted the weight off your shoulders, permitting you to open the door and finally receive some peace. But the breath that nested in your throat lost its chance to be of relief, when a presence carried over from behind you, shoving you into the bathroom, with a  determined slam to the door. 

A rough hand muffled any of your attempts to yell out, but your stiffened body had luckily learned to vaguely relax when the man behind you turned you against the bathroom counter, and you came face-to-face with someone who familiarly made your body shudder under his stare. 

His hands moved to grip the porcelain of the sink on either sides of you. “Eddie…” You gulped, as your chest heaved. “God, y-you scared, um, I- is s-something wrong?”

“You’re making quite the impression out there, aren’t ya?” His lip barely curled into a smile, as he stared down at you. “Everyone just fucking loves you, don’t they?”

You refused to meet his eye, trying to move from the caging of his arms, but his persistence left you trapped. “Um,” you sighed, “y-yeah, all your friends are nice-”

“Oh, no, sweetheart, they aren’t my friends.” He spoke so dauntingly. “They’re your boyfriend’s friends, remember? Your boyfriend?”

“Yeah,” you cleared your throat, “um, I should go, Eddie. I need to leave.”

“No, you fucking don’t.” He deeply chuckled, finding amusement in the panicked look of your face. “You just got here.”

“Look, Eddie, I don’t know what you’re trying to do-”

“Me?” He scoffed. “I’m not tryna do anything, you’re the one that fucking started it.” His forehead forcefully pressed against yours, shoving your head back so you’d finally look him in the eye. “Remember?” He tauntingly cooed at you, getting in your face. “Remember you being a slut, and startin’ it? Because I sure fucking do.” He spat. “So don’t ask me what the fuck I’m doing, when you started it.”

Your breath heavied, as his nose ran against yours, and you squeezed your eyes shut to wield the strength to compose your anger, a hatred solely targeted to yourself. You were certain Eddie was feeding off of the visceral pounding of your heartbeat, getting off on the sheer panic of your being. 

And you hated yourself for loving it. 

“N-Not here.” You thickly swallowed. “Please.” Such a desperate plea, and it had him laughing in your face. 

“‘Not here?’” He mocked. “I think I can have you wherever I want, no? It’s sure as hell not like you’re gonna stop me, pretty girl.” A soft kiss planted on your cheek had your eyes opening. “God, you really are so pretty, y’know that, baby? Do you know just how pretty you are?”

“Eddie…” His eyes bored into yours, piercing your desire with a burning itch that had you intoxicated on his strong scent. You watched a smirk etch onto his face, as he watched you follow the outline of his plump lips. Do it. Do it. Do it. You were screaming at yourself to just give in. Thighs clenching, heart racing, mouth salivating for the man that enticed you like no other. Your breath shuddered, as your shaky fingers delicately placed themselves against his shaven face. 

Just a taste. Just a little.

You reached onto your tippy toes to feel the soft skin of his lips gently brush against yours. You were dictating this. He was letting you dictate this. Because when it all crashed, you started it, you’d be to blame. All it took was the shy kiss fueled by your hesitancy for Eddie Munson to consume what he wanted, and his tongue shoved past your teeth to ravage your taste. He had you gasping against his lips, nothing touching you but his mouth, but it felt like he was pinning you against your will. 

Eddie’s knuckles blurred white from the tightening grip you had him enduring, because frustration coursed through his body, as he fought the restraints keeping him from just giving in and fucking you against the bathroom sink. A guttural growl lurched from his chest, “What are you doin’?” He smashed his lips against you. “I didn’t ask you to kiss me.” He sneered.

His comment forced a lump to be caught in your throat, urging you to push away from his chasing lips. “N-No…” Another breathless kiss smeared against you. “Stop, Eddie, we can’t-”

“Shut your fucking mouth.” He interrupted with his tongue injected into your mouth. “Remember you wanted this.”

You were awful. “No!” You whined, unwilling to face the reality of your cruelness. 

“Oh, but, yes, baby.” He humiliated you with his mocking tone. “Yes, remember?” He whispered into your make out. “It was you, you fucking looked at me.” Eddie scorned. “How fucking stupid are you to think I wouldn’t do somethin’ about you lookin’ at me, huh? You remember lookin’ at me?” His kisses were becoming more aggressive. “You fucking looked at me, sweetheart!” You felt the air in your lungs burn from his resistance to letting you breathe. “What the fuck do you expect me to do when you were fucking lookin’ at me like that, huh?!” 

And you had been looking at him…

-

Three days ago, the Hideout had been an unfamiliar experience to you on the night of May 30th. It became evident as such when Mary Jane platform pumps rather distastefully met the abhorrent crunch of breaking asphalt from the gravel parking lot, where beat up cars and pick-up trucks haphazardly parked themselves with no formation, clearly lacking the etiquette for what was promised to you as a “nice” establishment. A wave of regret had drowned you in despair as you walked out of your car, immediately being met with the obscene noises coming from a drunken man nearly hacking a lung out, only to shoot his spit and mucus onto the dead bushes that once decorated the place wonderfully in the 60s. You begrudgingly passed the neglected entrance; its doors open for the sleazy, middle-aged men of Hawkins, Indiana to make themselves right at home, as they littered themselves amongst the breadth of the property, sparsely filling up tables and stools with cold beers to accompany them. A gasp of disgust had petered out of your lips, when each step you took sticky film residing on the weathered wood of the floor clung to the outsoles of your beloved heels, coating them with decades of syrupy beer that had found solace within the bar from the happy accidents that tailored the feng shui of the Hideout.

You were appalled. 

It was beyond the definitions of obvious that you had overly dressed yourself for the occasion. It was at this moment, you were mentally curing Braun Peterson for providing the wrong impression, completely overselling the bar he once played in, and disregarding the lack of formality that came with the building and its loyal customers. 

“Babe, it’s got a decked out bar, you can order whatever you like, trust me, my boy Johnny will whip it up, and it’s got plenty of tables for you to sit your pretty self down and enjoy the show. Not to mention, the nicest stage where you can watch me perform. It’s gonna be great, I promise!”

With a rush of worriment devouring you, you insecurely hugged your bare arms over yourself in an attempt to shield yourself from the preying eyes of unabashed stares coming from bulky men, old enough to be your father, who proclaimed themselves as regulars and patently peering to you as new meat.

Endeavoring the will to appear not so lost and clueless, you walked with your head held high, a fabricated facade of confidence, and you took refuge onto the high top table that accommodated two uncomfortable stools that shared the same layer of dust as the plastic faux wood of the table.

Yeah, you were definitely going to have it out with Braun Peterson. 

Your body felt rigid, guarding yourself from potentially coming in contact with anything biohazardous, while also feeling so small from the persistent scary stares that you felt so strongly were examining your body as if you had no autonomy. And maybe you were being a bit pretentious at this moment, but given the overflow of staggering malaise that was consuming your being and clearly placing you into an uncomfortable environment, there was an absolute negative chance of actually enjoying the night, especially after you were going to dish one out to Braun. 

Speaking of which, you caught sight of the slick-back, blond hair that was pursuing your way from a slim hallway that catered to the southend of the building, which presumably led backstage. “Hey, you made it!” Incompetent to your unease, Braun had merely stepped up and shoved you into a tight hug, a kiss swiftly placed onto your lips with a smacking mwah.

While he spoke so highly, clearly excited for his performance, you couldn’t fathom reciprocating his energy, immediately stating your concerns with a whine into his embrace. “What is literally wrong with you?”

Judging by your tone, anyone could have discerned the genuine disturbance from being in such situation, but ever the comedian, Braun merely chuckled. “That could be an hour long discussion, babe.” Your eyes flashed with disbelief at his choice to dismiss your evident worries. 

You sighed, resisting the urge to not scream in public to cater to his comfort. “No, Braun, I’m serious. Why didn’t you tell me what kind of bar this was?” You pleaded, hoping he’d acknowledge your troubles rather than brushing them off. That was one thing you had quickly discovered from the months of making it official with Braun Peterson; he had quite the sense of humor, which wasn’t at all particularly harmful, but this “sense of humor” had a funny way of not knowing when to draw the line. The line always seemingly crossing your boundaries. But god forbid you spoke out. Last time you did, his roommate Josh asked you to quit being uptight on Braun’s behalf. “I look like I’m dining at a Michelin Star restaurant, not grabbing drinks at some middle-of-nowhere bar. Why didn’t you specify?”

You really didn’t want to cause such a confrontation on his first night back performing at the place in which he claimed was “the start of everything” for him but, my god, you were seething with irritation. 

“Shit,” he huffed, understanding your worries once he took a glimpse of the perverted looks the attendees were more than glad to show off. “Look, babe, I seriously didn’t mean for this to happen-”

“You said this place was nice, Braun.”

“I know, I- I just knew you wouldn’t be into these kinda bars, but I really wanted you to come see me tonight.” He sighed. “I swear, baby,” he secured your shoulders into his hand, “I just wanted you to be here with me, b-but I screwed up. I shouldn’t have lied to you.”

You heaved in defeat, seeing the genuine remorse in his eyes. He hadn’t been far off with his assumption; twenty-three years of a city setting in the upper east side, where renovated brownstones of contemporary decor were more of your liking rather than the casualness of a lonesome bar. 

Your lips jutted with a mumbled “it’s okay” to pass the tension. But Braun’s hands had worked their way to the fullness of your cheeks, where his thumbs delicately swept under your eyes. “Thank you for doing this.” He poured his eyes into yours. “I know it’s not your scene, but I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this, baby.” Braun leaned in to press his lips to yours, and that loving comfort was enough to ease your body into relaxation against his hold. His hands released for the brief seconds it took to take off his leather jacket and hang it over your shoulders. “Keep this on, and if anyone bothers you or-or does something, please just tell me.” He implored. “I’ll be right on stage, only a couple feet away, I’ll see you, okay?”

Huffing a sigh, you simply nodded, choosing to come to a consensus of trying to enjoy the night. It had been close to reaching a year that you agreed to be Braun’s girlfriend, and from then, he’d been dying to show you everything about himself. Following the end of the school year from university, Braun had made plans to spend the summer back in his hometown of Hawkins, Indiana, where he had adamantly informed you about the band, the one in which he partook throughout his high school career, Corroded Coffin. And there was no denying it, the bubbling feelings of a blossoming relationship, one where your boyfriend had an actual desire to share the intimate parts of his life with, like seeing where he grew up, made you burst with excitement. 

Because even with his flaws, Braun Peterson had a gentle touch that filled your heart with a promising future of blissful contentment. 

“I won’t leave you out here,” his hand found its way to your thigh, “afterwards, I’ll have drinks brought backstage, where me, you, and the guys can just relax in peace. Away from these creeps.” He gripped with loving reassurance. “And- and, I promise you some of the most incredible food, okay?”

You snickered through your nose with a bit of suspicion. “From here?”

Braun laughed at your wariness. “From Benny’s Burger, got the best diner food for your pretty belly.” You arched your brow, pushing it until he gave in. “Okay, okay, Enzo’s. Seconds, thirds, all on me, baby, whatever you want.”

“Deal.” He sealed your agreement with a playful handshake. 

He smiled at you, bringing a comforting hand to your neck. “Thank you, again, pretty.” His thumb caressed. “Just wanna share this experience with you. Wanna let you know how cool I was back in high school.” He teased, as you giggled. “Here, gimme kiss.”

Braun pulled you in for a sweet kiss, letting your worries wash away with his reassurement, because he always had you. “You’re gonna do great, I’m sure of it.” You smiled against him. 

“Only ‘cause I have you here cheering me on.” Braun finished you off with one more kiss. “Remember, I’m only a couple feet away, I’ll come grab you once we’re done.” 

With that, Braun Peterson left you to your own accord, securing the warm leather of his jacket around you, as you watched him disappear into the back. Disagreements and solutions. Compromises and sacrifices. This is what it meant for the man who cherished your time, and publicly showed it like no other. Everything was okay. Until the minutes passed of tugging on your lip with anticipation, and the staged lights dimmed.

Everything was okay.

But the center spotlight had rained against a figure, and you hadn’t even internalized the fact that a stranger physically made your body react with a gasp, as you merely took in the sight of him. 

Him, who caressed his warlock, fingers teasing the strings, and lips kissing the mic with heavy pants of excitement. “Nice to see some familiar faces!” He grinned, scanning the all too familiar bar that let his amateur band of misfits play every Tuesday night; the regular bar goers seemingly flooding him with memories of his youth years. But then, his eyes landed on you. Front and center. “Even better to see some… new faces.” His lips curled into a menacing smirk, drinking up your stunning face.

Your heartbeat pummeled out of your chest, heat chewing at your cheeks, as his daunting figure had you shying away with a flush state, like you were a school girl receiving her first valentine, forcing you to wrap Braun’s jacket tighter around you.

Shit, Braun!

Quickly, your eyes diverted to the man you should have been gawking at, tuning his guitar before peering up with a smile that held all the good in the world, one he solely dedicated to you on a daily basis. You mustered a shy smile back, attempting to swallow the guilt. And this is where it should have ended. It’d be quite ignorant to dismiss the reality that attractive people come and go everyday during relationships, so this is all it was. You saw something pretty, you admired it, you left it. That’s what you promised. That’s what you committed. So you blinked yourself straight, and gave small claps of encouragement to your boyfriend. 

But the eerie feedback from the mic had your head snapping to the front man, and as expected, his gaze hadn’t left your body once; a smirk devouring his face when your eyes caught his. That night, an alluring spark ignited within Eddie Munson, and he was determined to indulge in it. 

“We’re gonna perform a couple songs for old times’ sake, bring some life back into you old fucks.” He jabbed comments eliciting some laughter from the crowd that watched these antsy boys torment their ears years before. “So just like back then, as always, I’m Eddie and we’re fucking Corroded Coffin!”

The thrash to his guitar introduced the blaring cords of a song, reminiscent to one Braun typically played for the background noise of when your naked bodies dreamily slapped together. The frontman’s stage performance flooded your senses as you became mesmerized by the fluid movement of his fingers abusing the delicate strings, and his husky voice yelling the lyrics to the abrasive song. He was encapsulating the beauty of metal with such ease and grace, playing his heart out for a dingy bar filled with good-for-nothing men. It felt so utterly undeserving. He was meant for a real stage. 

Eddie.

That’s what it was. That’s all it fucking was. It had to be. You weren’t a bad person. You couldn’t be. The familiar tunes matching that of how Braun Peterson would rut his hips into yours was the sole reason for the tantalizing heat that was creeping within your body, not because of the man with the long hair who punctured his hungry glare against you, as he belted the grotesque lyrics of whatever song it was that you never cared to officially learn the title to. But how could you have ever found the will to learn, when Braun would consume your thoughts with the drilling of his cock to the beat of the song? Why couldn’t that be enough? Why had your hips subconsciously rolled to find some needed friction against your seat to the thought of Eddie burying his face between the warmth of your body? 

Why did it feel like he was burning you alive?

The disgusting reality of your endeavor to get off on a dirty stool to another man had hit you like a ton of bricks, rightfully slapping you in the face with utter shame for who you were, and you didn’t dare to spare Eddie another glance; eyes fluttering around embarrassingly to look at anything other than Eddie. 

Braun. Braun. Braun. 

He was right there. He always had been. 

The night dragged on for an unbearable hour, filled with the ongoing cycle of desiring something that wasn’t yours and the self-loathing hatred to follow. The burn of Eddie gaze had your body crippling with anxiety, and you engaged yourself to only peer at the man who’d brought you pure happiness for the last ten months of your life. But he was there; torturing you with his eyes that felt laser-cutting from a mile away, despite how adamant you forced yourself to refuse his attention.

You hadn’t even verbalized a word to him yet. And it was devastatingly pathetic how submissive he had you. 

The last cord of the night strung out with the fellow patrons commemorating their boys for the nice trip down memory lane. You adjusted yourself to gently cheer along, feeling awful when Braun’s brightful smile had never once dropped because of your presence in the crowd. Just focus on him. It was all you had to do. As the men walked off with their equipment, Braun’s sweaty figure jumped from the stage, heading straight for you.

You immediately jumped from your seat, forgoing the complaints of him being sweaty to hold him in your arms with such fervency. “You did so great!” His hands held your back, delicate kisses pressing into the crook of your neck. 

“Yeah?” He searched for your validation, only ever caring for your words, as he mumbled into your neck, inhaling your sweet smell that comforted the adrenaline high he was experiencing. “You, uh, you liked the first song I picked out?” His brows teased.

“Of course!” You cupped his face to bring him into a smearing kiss that he gladly reciprocated. You pulled away, staring into his soft eyes that held all innocence, and you cursed yourself for ever thinking of another man when such beauty was held in the palm of your hand. Your thumbs gently swept on the underside of his eyes, as he smiled down at you. “You were amazing, Braun.” You sincerely spoke. Overcompensating? Completely. But you needed him to be okay, and his happiness was worth it. “You always are so amazing, Braun.”

He brought you in for another embrace, and sealed it with a loving kiss that had you melting in his arms. “You’re pretty fucking amazing, too, Y/N.” He spoke. “C’mon, baby, let's go on back.”

“W-wait!” You steadied yourself within your position, holding his hand tightly. “Um, w-we can just stay out here, I’m sorry for getting mad earlier.” 

His head dropped, lips jutting at you before he landed a quick kiss to your forehead. “Don’t apologize where you don’t need to apologize, baby.” He urged. “Don’t gotta make yourself uncomfortable for me- in fact, I won’t allow it. Not after dragging you here in the first place.”

“No, really it’s fine-”

“It’s not, baby, I don’t want you out here.” Braun persisted. “Plus, I’ve been talkin’ the guys’ ears off about you, I’m sure they’d love to put your pretty face to your name. Promise they’re not as scary as you think.”

What a fucking lie. 

A journey to the back hallway led you to the chipped door, where Braun relinquished a double courtesy knock before entering the room, where a waft of sweat and cologne welcomed you to the small dressing room that held the members of Corroded Coffin. Shifting behind your boyfriend, your eyes landed around the burgundy painted walls, littered with posters of the previous self-made artist who first established themselves at the Hideout. Where they were now? More than likely not Hollywood, given the cheesy names teenagers thought were cool at the time. 

“Hey, uh, guys, gained a new fan today, Y/N, this is Gareth, Jeff, and…” A polite smile to both identified men waving back to greet you was easy enough. “Where’s Ed?” Thank god.

Braun directed you to the couch, leather and torn, with its yellow foam of cushion peering from the tears after years of being broken in by body weight. “Talkin’ to Nicky out back by the stage.” Gareth had answered, as a hand towel harshly rubbed against his head to ease the dripping sweat from his frizzy curls. 

“Nicky’s the bar owner.” Braun intimately informed you, graciously bringing you into the loop. 

“You enjoy the show?” Jeff, with a genuine attempt at conversation, had gestured for you to engage in. Perhaps it was the blatant stiffness of your body from the wariness of sitting on the couch that surely soaked copious amounts of bodily fluids than you’d like to imagine, that got him to ask for your honest opinion. Or, the other obvious, that you clearly dress far from the usual scene that was typical for a Corroded Coffin performance at the Hideout. 

Trying to atone your ignorance to the metal scene, and whatever the hell tension that was between you and the frontman, your head awkwardly nodded in response. “Yeah, um, yeah, I did.” Braun’s reassuring hand landed on your knee. “I’m still getting used to our difference in music taste,” luckily that was receptive to a couple chuckles, “but it was great seeing him, a-and you guys out there, as well.”

Heavy footsteps from the stage announced themselves as they entered the dressing room, and your body hardened at the mere sight of his shining chest, coated in his perspiration, drenching the line of hairs of his abdomen to seep into the low hanging waistline of his pants. Your eyes snapped to the wooden floors, as Braun jumped to give a brief greeting to his friend who ultimately settled against the water dispenser right in front of you. 

“Ah, now that you’re all here, babe, this is Eddie; Ed, this is girlfriend, Y/N.” Already accustomed to your presence, Gareth and Jeff felt no need to weigh in another hello, which resulted in an unfortunate silence, after Eddie, himself, decided staring at you was the only formal approach. 

But it wasn’t until his intentionally loud, “huh,” that pierced the silent, did your stomach drop with fear. “This is your girlfriend?” Your eyes stung at the inevitable occurrence of your boyfriend’s friend outing you in front of everyone as the girl who just couldn’t keep her eyes to herself. 

Braun’s brows cinched at his question, huffing in confusion. “Why’re you sayin’ it like that?”

Eddie had quickly dismissed him with a nonchalant shake to his head. “I dunno, what’ve pictured you with a girl like Mindy, ‘s all.” What an asshole. 

You knew it’d be hypocritical to suddenly interrogate your boyfriend on whoever it was Eddie was referring to, especially when it showed Eddie’s intentions were not the purest of them all with the mention of a certain ex. “The fuck, dude, no, that was nearly two years ago.” Braun quickly shut down, evidently not amused with whatever game his buddy was trying to pull. 

“Relax.” He chuckled, plucking a small toothpick from the table of plattered junk food into his mouth. “Only teasin’, man, y’know me. Plus, it’s good, shows good progress on your part; movin’ from small town pretty to big city pretty.” Eddie pointed a ringed finger at you. 

Braun merely rolled his eyes at the arrogant attitude he’d learned to adjust to throughout his years in high school, but when he turned to you, and saw the tight-lipped smile you gave, he leaned in to comfort you. “Don’t give him a second thought.” He whispered against your hair. “Eddie’s just… out there.”

Patting your thigh, Braun walked to join his friend at the water dispenser, leaving you to heave the tightening breaths of your chest from the sudden suffocation you felt from guilt and anxiety. “C’mon, man, lay off the comments, alright?” Braun quietly spoke to Eddie. “I don’t need you chasin’ her away when I actually love her.”

“‘Love?’” Eddie playfully whistled. “Hm, you must actually care for this girl, huh?” 

Braun confirmed with his lovesick smile that made Eddie want to hurl. Soon, Braun was leaning in close to bump his friend in the chest. “So what d'ya think?”

Eddie’s daunting eyes looked past Braun’s shoulder, connecting with your fretful ones, and a sickeningly smile creased his face. He tsked, watching your ostentatious manner refusing to touch the furniture he and his buddies called home. “Seems a little… anal-retentive.” He smirked at Braun. “But, hey, she’s cute, and y’know what, if you like, I like her.” If only Braun Peterson knew of the extent of the underlying meaning his closest friend was alluding to. “You good to her? Treat her well?” Eddie questioned. 

“Of course.” Your boyfriend was quick to answer. 

“That’s good, that’s good.” Eddie casually nodded along, chewing on the wooden stick between his teeth. “Aye, because y’know pretty girls like her will be quick to look for another man to satisfy her. Gotta treat ‘em well, so they keep their fucking legs closed.” The toothpick snapped at the sudden clenching of his teeth, before Eddie sighed a heavy breath to calm himself. “But I think you gotta good girl on your hands, Brauny, nothin’ to worry about.” Eddie dragged out, before calling to you. “Hey, that seat comfortable for you sweetheart? Need a stool or somethin’?”

A wave of nausea slapped you, as you watched his sinister smile. 

Eddie Munson totally saw trying to get off at the sight of him. 

-

His minacious laugh puffed in your face, as he loved watching your eyes crumble in self-reproach from your actions. “Yeah, you fuckin’ remember, baby?” He cooed, as your head dropped with guilt as to what you had just done. But his abrasive hand was quick to forcefully grab your face, cheeks squishing under his tight grip. “Don’t feel bad, princess, it’s okay to share a little.” Eddie smiled, as your eyes frantically looked into his. “Quit the fucking innocent act.” He advised you. “You and I both know how much of a slut you are.”

“I-I,” your thoughts had been racing with the screams of wanting him off of you, but your body was falling limp in his arms, ready to let him take what you so desperately wanted him to take. The words died on your tongue, when suddenly harshing pounding came from the door.

“Yo, anyone in there?!” A drunken voice called out. 

“I’ll be out a second!” You managed to rip through your shaky voice, while Eddie breathily chuckled, his hand refusing to let go of your face. 

Hearing the partygoer’s footsteps decline in the distance, your heart eased for the slightest moment, and suddenly your nervous system was wailing for you to leave while you could. But before you knew it, unexpectedly, the softest kiss was placed upon your scrunched lips from the man who nearly devoured your mouth so aggressively two seconds ago; you had no choice but to be receptive. “So sweet.” He gently moved his lips against you, it had your tummy erupting with the sensations of a new touch. “So fucking perfect, y’know that? Just how perfect you are?”

Every time he briefly left your lips, you whined for more attention, quickly bringing your lips back to him with a sigh of his name, “Eddie.” 

“Mm,” he moaned against your mouth. “I can see why Brauny never shuts the fuck up about you.” The mention of his name had you stiffening. “Tell me, baby, do you suck his cock as good as you kiss him?”

Stunned and repulsed by the jerk you let kiss you, you shoved Eddie’s chest back, finally getting him off of you, and before you mind could process, your hand connected to his cheek with a stinging slap. Your burning hand had trembled, as it slowly clasped it over your mouth in disbelief. Eddie slowly turned to you with a sly grin, but before he could make any movements, your feet finally found the courage to sweep you out of the bathroom with a harsh slam to the door. 

On autopilot, you quickly descended down the stairs into the lively living room that did little to ease the bloodcurdling thud of your beating heart that felt as if it was going to rip out of you. It wasn’t until a hand latched itself to the bicep of your arm, reeling you back against a body. 

“Hey, hey, you okay, hon?” Braun’s voice echoed into your ear.

“U-Um-”

“Baby, look, if this is about what Cheryl said, please don’t pay any mind to it.” He stroked your arm with concern. “She- everybody here just has a traditional way of thinking, but it’s not what I think. I promise, I’m not looking to shove a proposal down your throat when you’re not ready.” Braun had a fascinating way of calming your worries that drastically differed from the rush Eddie had just forced you through. “Hell, I’m not even ready.” He chuckled, which was able to elicit a small smile from you, at least. “I wanna take my time with you, cherish my moments with you, baby.” 

God, you were an awful human being. 

Peering behind his shoulder, you watched Eddie saunter his way down the stairs with a lingering stare that quickly found yours. “C-Can we go?” You hastily rushed out. “I’m just a little overwhelmed m-meeting all these new people.”

“Okay, yeah, yeah.” He’s quick to drop off the beers to the living room side tables that were supposed to be your drinks. “C’mon, baby, let’s just take a breather.” 

If you knew the guilt Braun Peterson felt for the sole reason of throwing you into a crowd of overwhelming people when you’d literally just kissed his closest friend, you would have pathetically begged on your knees for his forgiveness in front of everyone, and detailed the million ways he was so incredible. But this would stay quiet; suppurating within you, because the peace on his face was more important than wrecking his life. As he guided you to the front door, you looked back to meet the eyes of the man who sparked a match inside you, his arm hanging around a blonde, when you wanted to be the one held under it. Eddie Munson winked at you, cruelly changing the course of your life. 

-

For the days to come, Braun saw an immense amount of affection coming from your part. But who was he to complain, when someone as pretty and sweet as you willingly showed the world how much you loved him? Welcoming the morning sun with your tongue prodded at the slit of his tip, before ferociously waking him with the ride of his life, as your ass pummeled against his thighs, only for the cherry on top to come when breakfast was served like you suddenly became a housewife to your boyfriend. But you’d do whatever if it meant getting the image of his best friend out of your head, despite it leading to the best orgasm you’ve ever had when you pictured it was his cock you were riding, only to realize your lip had been sputtering with blood, because you refused your mouth the need to call out his name, Eddie! 

But Friday night came, and it seemed your thoughts satiated under the cuddle of your boyfriend, who agreed to a movie night that entailed buying an obscene amount of candy from the Family Video store, where Labyrinth was purchased alongside the sweets. Wrapped under his embrace, a thick woven blanket swallowed you against the rugged couch of the basement, where you felt yourself sinking deeper and deeper. 

For once, peace had come, tranquilizing the tumultuous feelings that consumed you alive. That was until the basement door impetuously flung open before echoing with a slam, that had yours and Braun’s head snapping to the stairs that creaked under the incoming weight. “Mason?” He called out for his cousin.

But it wasn’t the familiar face of his family member who lent you both the basement of his house, and your stomach twisted with fear. “Nope.” He popped the enunciation, as his hair bounced with every step until he reached the bottom step. “But he let me in.”

Braun sat up with a curious look, too occupied with the arrival of his friend to notice the rash way you curled into his side. “Hey, you alright? What’s up?” His eyes followed, as Eddie dramatically plopped himself on the singular recliner next to the couch. 

“Ah, nothing.” He made himself at home, clearly lacking the regard of his intrusion to your night. “Just hangin’ around, thought I’d stop by.” His eyes glued to the television screen. 

“Not that we don’t appreciate you, man,” Braun began, “but, uh, this is kinda just a movie night… for us.”

Eddie watched the oddity of the movie for a split second, before his head twisted to the both of you, eyeing the closeness with a piqued brow. “Which one of you freaks picked this movie? Was it you, sweetheart?” He smiled, as he watched you shift uncomfortably. 

“Alright, c’mon, Ed, seriously.” Braun interjected. 

“I’m kidding.” Eddie scoffed. “C’mon, Brauny, it’s been months since I’ve seen you, the least you two could do is spare the couple minutes of whatever touching is going on under that blanket, and let me relax here for a minute.” He argued, sinking into his chair. You watched Braun sigh, for whatever reason suddenly becoming a lap dog to the friend he long admired throughout high school, merely bringing you closer as means to make up for it. 

“By the way, driving all the way here seems to be the last resort to relaxing.” Braun poked. 

“Aw, c’mon did you actually think I was thinkin’ of you, Brauny?” He wooed, his eyes briefly connecting with you, as Braun rolled his. “Was seein’ Cynthia down the street.” Eddie answered. 

“Dude, Ed, doesn’t she have a kid?” Braun grimaced, recalling the moments in which his cousin’s neighbor—three doors down with a minivan and white shutters—threw him an occasional hello with a stroller evident on her walk around the neighborhood. 

“So fuckin’ what?” He laughed, causing your stomach to churn with disgust. “That kid made her have massive tits, it’s not like I’m looking to be the stepfather.” Eddie smiled looking back at you, your eyes refusing to meet his. “Just a simple exchange of goods for services.” He proudly announced. “Speakin’ of which, I happen to give Cynthia my last couple’a joints, you got any to smoke here?”  

“No.” Braun sighed, scruffing his hair with his hand. “Haven’t gotten the chance to speak to Rick to get some, miss it, though.” 

“Then go get some.” 

Fuck, you knew what he was doing. 

“Me? This is my place you barged into, you go.” Braun retaliated to his friend’s taunting. 

“Can’t,” Eddie tsked, “kinda fucked around with the blonde Rick had his eye on a couple nights ago at Eric’s.” He laughed. “But in my defense, she never clarified, and was fairly easy, so, I mean…”

“Can you ever learn to just keep it in your pants?” Braun jabbed, forcing his friend to chuckle at the joke. 

“Priorities, Brauny, Priorities.” Eddie winked, before reaching into his back pocket, retrieving the loose dollar bills from his tattered wallet to slap against the center coffee table. “Look, it’s on me, we can wait for you here, right, sweetheart?” 

No, no, no. Your knees clutched to your chest, as you tried to steady the breaths that were already becoming uneasy from his presence alone. Braun peered down at you. “You can come if you want. Just gotta wait in the car, don’t want you meetin’ someone like him.” 

Your eyes flickered to the man who was sickeningly grinning, somehow having the power to pull a pulsating sensation from your pussy that had you swallowing thickly. “I-It’s okay.” It wasn’t. “I can just wait here.” You spoke so meekly, as though you’d been the victim in this situation, when Braun’s pure smile beamed down at you. 

“Thirty minutes top, baby.” A quick kiss landed against you, before he stood from the couch. “Don’t let him burn the house down, please.” Braun joked, slamming his hand against the table to pocket the money Eddie provided. 

“Gotta good girl’s influence hanging over me,” Eddie smiled, “nothing to worry about, Brauny.”

Your boyfriend chuckled, running a soft hand against the top of your head to wish you goodbye. “Love you, baby, be right back.” 

“I love you.” You shared the sentiment, watching him jog upstairs, where the basement door closed behind him with a deafening silence that shot through you. You watched the door for far longer than needed, a pressuring sting coming from your nail digging into your cuticle to get rid of the apprehension that festered in your belly. 

Eddie laughed. “What a fucking liar.” Your head snapped, ready to scream at him that your words held truth; the deep admiration for the man who did nothing wro- “That I am.” Eddie added, pulling out a zippo lighter from his pocket followed by a joint. He lavished in the twitching of your eyes, flashing from anger to anxiousness under the action of him shedding his jacket to light what was brought to his lips. 

A puff of cloud escaped his mouth before he spoke. “Take a hit, baby, you’re so goddamn tense I can practically feel the stick up your ass.” He stood from his place to sit next to you, immediately rolling his eyes as he found you shifting away from him, until your back hit the far end of arm rest, feet digging into the cushion as your knees stayed glued to your chest. “Relax, alright-”

“Eddie, we can’t-”

“I’m only tryin’ to get you to relax, shut up for two seconds and take a fucking hit.” He scolded, and your eyes widened under his intimidation. His body scooted until your painted toes were trapped beneath the heavy weight of his denim-clad thick thighs, allowing him to bring the joint to your face. “Don’t wanna have to get mean, just put it in your mouth.” You wondered where the anger from your assault to his face was lingering, surely the hit had to have pissed him off to some degree. His fingertips pressed against your lips, as your mouth enveloped the end of the joint, welcoming the burn to your throat. “Look so cute with that shit in your mouth, so good, princess.” 

You pushed his hand away when it became too much, trying to control your coughing from the large intake. “T-Too much.”

“Mhm, I know, baby.” He whispered, watching your lips pout, as his hand caressed your leg. Bringing the joint to his lips and hearing it sizzle, Eddie moaned against it. “Fuck, I can taste your mouth on it.”

You pushed your knee away to get his hand to fall back into his lap, where his fingers only moved to hover over the bulge of his pants, as he took more hits. Soon, his sole hand was undoing the buckle of his belt, and your brows arched against his movement, yet your mouth stayed quiet from any protest. 

Your lips parted in awe watching his cock spring against his belly, pants coming to hang around his thighs. His finger came to gently tease the head, before his hand wrapped to smear the precum that oozed from the tip. So casually, Eddie Munson began fucking his hand so casually, as if you weren’t sitting next to him. He acted as though he was in the comfort of his own bedroom, and you wondered whether the bit of anger that mixed in with the arousal that pressed against your belly was from the fact that he could get off without even sparing a glance at you. 

He smoked and jerked his cock, letting you bask in the glory of his heavy member, where his hand tugged the loose skin of his big balls to smack against his hairy thighs. As casual as he was, Eddie was itching to turn his head and watch your legs clench with need, something his peripheral could only get a glance at, but Eddie Munson wasn’t giving in. He felt your toes curl under his thigh, your body speaking for itself to be touched. 

“Fuck, that’s so good.” He twisted his palm against the slick head of his cock, before he squeezed down to his base for more tugs that had him wondering if your pussy felt anywhere near as good as his hand. You watched his fingers pull up his shirt, until his teeth bit down to hold the fabric up, and his toned toros was cramping from the sensation he was bringing himself. “Mmm!” He moaned, wetting his shirt with his mouth, as his hand became relentless against the thumping veins of his cock. 

No longer a thought of need, his fingers abandoned the lit joint to the ashtray that stayed stationed on the table with a few cigarettes, and his free fingers traveled to toy with his nipples, pulling the pebbled nubs to spark up his impending orgasm. “Ugh, mm!” His hips were gyrating upward, chasing the fleshlight that was his hand, as his speed increased, and your hands grasped onto the old couch for the needed restraint to not throw yourself onto him. 

With an aggressive jerk to his cock, and a stinging pinch to his nipple, the angry red head of his dick sputtered out his creamy cum, dribbling against his belly before the pool collected against his unruly pubic hair. 

His shirt slowly slipped from his teeth, as Eddie caught his breath with heavy grunts. “Fuck me, shit.” Taking his fingers, he dragged it around the breadth of his belly to gather the seeping cum, where he finally turned to you with dark eyes, and used his cum tainted fingers to motion you closer. 

You body mindlessly complied until those same fingers were pressing into your mouth, letting his salty spent invade your taste buds, before your throat began getting fucked. “Wanna fucking slap me and walk away, huh?” His free hand wrapped behind your neck to keep you gagging at his mercy. “Wanna get mad at me for you being a filthy slut? ‘N drivin’ me fuckin’ crazy?” You whined, holding his wrist in an attempt to ease the thrashing of his fingers down your throat. “God, so fucking pretty.” 

His fingers ripped from your tongue, but before your lungs could get a breath of fresh air, his mouth was on you, replacing his fingers with his tongue, as he kissed you with such ferocity, it nearly felt like a punishment. Teeth clashing and biting, you mewled in protest. “Eddie!” You gasped pushing away, but his hands kept your face close. 

“What, you don’t want me to?” He mocked, before laughing. “Y’know I don’t give a fuck.” Pushing you back against the couch, Eddie climbed over you where his mouth continued his assault against your lips, and your hands wavered into his sweaty curls. 

In the briefest moment your lips disconnected, “W-We need to-” You moaned, feeling his plump lip suction against yours. “Stop, Eddie, we should- ugh!” Eddie pulled away and watched your body crave more, but your eyes stung with its glassy coating of tears that were threatening to spill. “Braun…”

“Aw, he’s gonna come back soon, ‘n you don’t wanna get caught.” He whispered, as his forehead fell against yours. 

“He’s your friend.” Your voice cracked with guilt. 

Eddie huffed. “You better listen clearly.” His hand wrapped around your jaw to force your eyes to his. “Brauny’s a big boy. Yeah, he may be my friend, but Brauny’s got this pretty, little thing that I need to play with, so being frank with you, baby, I don’t care.” His nose flared with anger, as his words stung. “And I’m gonna need you to cut this bullshit sorry act, because it’s really pissin’ me off, and I don’t wanna have to get angry with you.” He hissed. “Okay, baby?” 

You stared into his dark eyes, mouth gulping to reply. “Okay.” And once again, your lips grazed his, letting him groan into your mouth. 

“Mm, you really are so pretty, angel, such a good girl listenin’ to me.” He murmured. “Looking like this, how could your boyfriend ever expect me to keep my hands off of you?” He kissed. “You gonna let me touch you- touch that needy fuckin’ clit. I’ve never touched one before, you gonna let me touch yours?” He tormented with the brushing of his fingers against your pajama shorts. 

You pouted your lips at him, brows cinching at his words. “I feel like you’re lying to me.”

And Eddie Munson snuck that signature laugh in your laugh that you didn’t appreciate, but your pussy surely did. “What does it matter if I’m lyin’ to you, you’re gonna let me touch you, anyway.” His fingers curled around the scrunchy waistband, before pulling them from your legs to expose your sopping cunt to the cold air of the basement. “Fuck, look at that.”

You didn’t know what came over you, but with a hand over his where he parted your legs, you chin tucked in to delicately ask him a question. “Did you really have sex with those girls?”

Eddie smiled, tongue lapping at his lip as he looked at you. “Does it hurt your feelings if I did?” You shrugged, not really sure why you asked, though clearly agitated by the knowing answer. “Do I gotta tell you pretty things, so you don’t get hurt?”

His hand combed through your patch of pubes, tickling your abdomen in a way that had your body seeking for more. “Please, Eddie.” 

“Mm, what is it, baby?” His nails raked down the side of your pussy lips, deliberately avoiding your slit to tease the nerves of your mound. “Need your little pussy touched? It’s so fucking gorgeous.” You nodded, scratching his forearm down to his wrist to urge his movements further. “Gimme another kiss first, princess.”

You pulled him in, letting your kiss spark up the butterflies that loved to erupt in your tummy whenever you saw him. Not so harshly as before, your kiss passionately swallowed you both, with the sweet connection of saliva that strung between your moving lips. But you had an appetite for more, grossly moving the kiss into a heated direction that had him moaning on your teeth. Denying yourself from him was punishment enough, the care no longer festered, you were getting what you deserved. 

“Uh, calm yourself, baby.” He spoke between kisses with a teasing chuckle. “Look at you so desperate, shh, calm down. Be slow with me for a second, sweetheart.” You obeyed, slowing your movements into a languid interaction, before your lips latched onto his tongue, pulling it out from his mouth to suck on, as if it was his cock, because you never got the chance to fully taste his musk. 

Eddie mewled, cock twitching against your thigh, as your action had him melting with a burning desire. Finally, the squelching noise of your dripping arousal echoed into the room, as his fingers dove into the folds of your pussy. “Is that your fucking clit, baby? Listen to how wet your pussy is for me.”

“Mm, Eddie.” You sucked in a breath, as your fat bud was being toyed with.

“Moaning for me, princess, you’re moaning.” He whispered into your ear. “‘Cause you're mine right now, I’m making you moan, not him, hm. Not your little Brauny. You only moan for me, at least for right now, because you have a boyfriend.” You absentmindedly nodded along to whatever words he was feeding you, too caught up with your pussy being played with to care. “We��ll see about that.” He laughed, before nipping at your earlobe. 

“Wanna touch you, too, baby.” You whined, reaching for his hung cock, letting your hands twirl around the heated length that was circulating with enough blood to fuck you for multiple rounds. 

Eddie hissed. “Sss, what are you doin’? Grabbin’ my fucking cock?” He smiled, as you stroked him, allowing him to plunge his fingers into your tightening cunt, as both your movements fell in sync with one another. “Grab it, yes, baby, fuckin’ grab that cock!”

“Fuck, that feels so good, Eddie!” His fingers pulled out to rub your clit, before suddenly your pelvis jolted with the burning sensation of his hand coming down to your pussy. “Eddie!”

“Lemme slap that clit, lemme slap that fucking clit, baby.” Your wetness splashed against your inner thighs with each spanking of his hand. “God, you don’t know what you do to me, sweetheart. Such a pretty girl, I’m fucking losin’ my control over you. Got you strokin’ my cock, while my fingers fuck your pussy, and I love it, baby, I love it so fucking much.” He babbled, teeth biting down to keep the worse words in. Your brows furrowed, as his fingers blasted within you, hooking inside to scratch that throbbing g-spot that had you wailing with want. “Smile for me, baby, smile ‘cause I’m making my baby feel so good.”

And you did, letting your head crash back with your mouth hanging open with an inebriated smile tugging at your lips, as you played with each other. His lips crashed down for another smearing kiss that had your tongues desperately pirouetting around each other. 

Your thighs began shaking under his control, pistoling his fingers in a way that was bringing you closer to your release. While looking down at your thrusting hips, he simultaneously pulled away from your kiss, leaving you to whine for his return. “No! More!”

He looked back up into those pathetic round eyes and scrunched brows with your bitten lips that nearly had him collapsing with another orgasm, as your hands pulled at the head of his cock and squeezed his balls. “Don’t you fuckin’ look at me like that.” He warned, not ready to release his load if it wasn’t going to be inside of you, but you couldn’t take your eyes off of his sweaty face, beads of perspiration invading his hairline, as his face flushed with a blushing rose that surely made him feel embarrassed with how vulnerable he looked. “Don’t fuckin’- don’t you- ugh- no, no, no, no!”

His large hand slapped your cheek, forcing your face away, leaving you gasping in disbelief. “I’ll fuckin’ slap you.” He spat, watching you merely turn your head back with a sparking revelation in your eyes that made you look even more beautiful. “I’ll slap your stupid fucking face-” Another stinging crash to you cheek that had you crying in pain, but you kept looking for more. “You like that shit?”

You hurriedly nodded, letting your tears pool from the growing pain that tightened your pussy around his fingers. “Yes, more!”

A harsh smack landed on your cheek once more, agitating your poor skin. “Mhm, like that, me fucking slapping that stupid, little fucking face.” His hand felt the wetness of your tears drenching your cheeks with every slap. “Bruisin’ that pretty fucking face, fuck! C’mere, c’mere!” 

His tongue lavished against your burning skin, bringing tingles to your body when his spit-covered tongue ran against your hot cheek to lick up your salty tears. “Get your fuckin’ hands off my cock, I’m shovin’ it inside your desperate cunt.” Eddie declared, slapping his tip to your pussy, to let your wetness pour on his dick. 

A harsh stab to your pussy lunged his thick cock into your pulsating walls, urging a screaming moan from your lungs. “Fuck! You’re so fucking tight!” His hands clamped around the front of your thighs to fold you in half. 

“Ugh, fuck! Slow, p-please, baby, slow!” You wailed. 

“Yeah?” He cooed, driving his thrust down to one punctuated one every second. “You want this cock slowly, can’t fucking handle this tight, little pussy getting fucked hard?”

Your trembling hands cupped his face, letting you bring him down for a consuming kiss. “J-Just wanna feel all of you.” 

“You are, baby, you are.” Eddie pierced himself into your g-spot. “Feel it deep inside, baby, feel my fucking cock all the way inside! Just for you! You- you fucking dirty, filthy whore!” The muscles of his ass tightly clenched to pound you thoroughly with each stroke. “Gonna let me do it faster? Huh? Fuck you into this fucking couch until your some braindead slut? Look at you taking my cock!” His hips began slapping faster. “Gonna be fucking good for me?”

“Uh-huh! Always, fuck!”

“You will?” He taunted. “You fucking will? You’ll take this cock whenever I want you to? Whenever I want this pussy of mine? In front of your boyfriend? Tie him to a fuckin’ chair, and force him to watch me fuck his pretty girlfriend’s little cunt!”

“Yes! Yes! Fuck me better than him!” Your hips moved to meet his slapping thighs, as you clenched around his cock to milk him with the cum you wanted in your cunt. “Want him to watch me take your fat cock!”

An animalistic growl forced its way out of chest, as the image of his best friend crying over the despair of betrayal elicited him to rut his hips into you fervently. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” His head dropped against your chest, reveling in the commotion of your bouncing tits that were urging to be freed. His hands pulled at your shirt, exposing your boobs that were quickly squished together under his hands, as his tongue lapped around your nipple. 

“Ugh, yes, you’re gonna make me cum!” You heaved, finding your hand had landed on his thigh at a weak attempt to slow his crashing movements into your pussy. 

“Beautiful fucking tits!” He nibbled on your pointy nipples, forcing those whines that drove him crazy to come out. “So fuckin’ delicious! And just for me!”

“Just for you! Only you!” 

“Yeah?” He pouted at you. “Fuck, fucking lick my hand, lick my fucking hand, you bitch.” His palm landed on your mouth, where you dumbly stuck your tongue out to taste the sweatiness of his hand, before that same hand came crashing down on your cheek for the umpteenth time. “Stick that filthy fuckin’ tongue out when I slap you in the fuckin’ face!”

You obliged, letting the wet muscle hang out as another slap landed on your face, forcing your head to the side. But turning your face back with the expectation of one more slap fell short, when instead, a glob of warm spit hit your tongue, one after another. 

“Fuckin’ clean that asshole from you fucking holes!” More spit. “‘Cause you’re mine! Not his! With my spit in your mouth and my cum in your pussy, you’ll be fuckin mine, right?!”

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, as the rope in your belly was hanging on by a mere thread ready to snap. “Yes! Yes! Just yours!” You cried out. “Cleanse me! Cleanse me with your cum and make me yours!”

Eddie’s hand pressed down against your pelvis harshly, prompting a gushing stream of your hot squirt to wet yourself and his thighs, as you screamed from the highs of orgasmic ecstasy. “Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck! I’m cumming! I’m- FUCK!”

Nothing but heavy breaths could be heard in the basement that reeked of sex and bodily fluids. Your hands fell limp around his neck, whereas he sagged the entirety of his dead weight against your chest. His teeth grinded from the continuation of your pussy clenching around him, as your body tried to settle at the unfamiliar size that inculcated itself brutality into your cunt. 

It was quiet. It was peace. 

Until the ringing in your ears subsided, and slowly began picking up on the maniacal laugh that was coming from the man who slowly picked up his head from your chest to greet your un-whitening vision with a sinister smile, and suddenly you felt the pit in your stomach sink. 

“Oh, sweetheart, you’ve just made a big fuckin’ mistake.” He chuckled, harshly pressing his forehead into yours, causing the seat cushion to dent beneath you. “Y’know why?” He tantalized, watching your eyes grow big with fear. “Because if your little boyfriend touches you after you just said you were mine,” he placed a delicate kiss to your lips that you couldn’t muster to reciprocate, too scared to do so, “I’m gonna fucking kill him.” He laughed. 

-

A minute and eight seconds. 

Braun Peterson had leaned the weight of his body against the counter, letting the low hum of the buzzing microwave lull his mind to ease, as the fingers of his hand shoved against his eye to wake from the tiredness of the morning day. It hadn’t been until the slap of a heavy hand against his bare shoulder jolted his eyes open to see his cousin slugging his socked feet against the linoleum tiles, before scratching the floor with the chair legs to have a seat at the kitchen table.

Mason had yawned, stretching his jaw from the bitter soreness of having to deal with a restless night of grinding his teeth. “Where’s the missus?” His nails scratched over his stubble. “Sleepin’ in?” Given your gratitude for a place to stay, Mason had spent the few days of your presence waking up to a full breakfast of all the fixins, differing greatly to the two-minute microwave food the young welder had to succumb to for his poor skills behind the stove. 

The morning had changed with the sight of Braun in front of the buzzing appliance. “Out, actually.”

“Already?”

“Yeah, couple days ago,” Braun cleared his dry throat, “she met Cheryl- you remember Cheryl?” Not exactly someone from Mason's graduating class, but given Hawkins’ small breadth of streets, a distant young face of hormonal acne and blue eyeshadow was all that could be pulled from his string of memories, as Cheryl Daniels still sported that purity ring that had long gone been switched out for an engagement ring to her military fiance, whom she could relish his fat benefits with. So, Mason simply nodded to get the story along. “Anyway, yeah, Y/N met her, and, well, you know how women are; one giddy introduction, next thing y’know they’re doing 9:00 a.m pilates and leavin’ me behind to eat some shit food for breakfast.”

Mason peered at the counter to see the empty box of his frozen food. “You asshole, ‘s that my last Hot Pocket?” His mundane voice spoke, too tired to hold any real malice behind it. 

“I’ll head to the store and buy you a whole new pack, relax.” 

Braun Peterson steadily watched the last couple of seconds tick down. “If anything, man, I deserve that one after you and Y/N kept me up last night.” Mason breathily chuckled. 

“Ah, sorry,” Braun stretched his arms, “Y’know Eddie came over, we watched a movie, didn’t realize it was so loud- which if you want any advice, don’t watch Labyrinth high, unless you wanna have a total freak out.”

“Not talking about that.” Mason shook his head with a laugh. “But, aye, next time you bring Munson around and make my basement reek of weed, the least you could do is save me some.”

But Braun’s eyebrows had stayed scrunched with concern to ever consider his cousin’s future word of advice. “The hell are you talking about then?” He curiously poked. 

“You and Y/N.” Mason emphasized with a sly smirk to tease. “I mean, you guys are usually pretty considerate, but I guess the weed really got to y’all or somthing, man, you two were fucking loud last night- and I mean that literally.” He laughed. “Would’ve taken her as a quiet girl.”

Braun Peterson blinked. You had went straight to bed last night after the movie. In fact, you heavily implored him to do the same, after swifty prompting Eddie out of the door when the credit scenes rolled. “Y/N and I- we didn’t… no, we didn’t-”

The microwave beeped.

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x female character #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson blurb #mean!eddie munson #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic

[bettysupremacy]

congrats on the jobbbbb!!!! you’re gonna be the cutest ice cream scooper evaaa (close tie to Steve) 🍦

Could I please request something where you’re the cute new hiree at scoops and Steve has to teach you the ropes while crushing a little (are we sensing a theme?)

thank you beautiful I loved writing this he’s such a nerd

“Okay,” Steve sighs heavily, leaning his weight onto the counter. “And this is where we make the cones.”

“Got it.”

“You might think ‘how hard could this be?’, well, you’d be surprised-“

“It was only hard for you!” Robin yells from behind the counter.

Steve laughs, welcoming the tease. “Yes, she’s totally right. It really was only hard for me.”

He shines in the fluorescent light of the sailor themed shop. The lights are actually loud, louder in your nervousness than you assume for him. His hair is big, swooping over and curling at the nape of his neck. He wears no hat, but you can assume why.

“Would you like her to teach you?”

You shake your head adamantly. Steve’s cute. Really cute. You’d seen him around town before, glimpses of a boy seemingly untouched by the hurdles of life, but you hadn’t known he’d worked here. Robin had given you the application as she had laid in your bed. Music played, the windows were down, the warm summery air drifted through the windows smelling of grass, and the both of you had collapsed silently on your twin.

“Please.” She had said, and you’d agreed.

But you didn’t know Steve worked here as well. Maybe Robin held that on purpose. You’d been to his house once. Once, for a party. It wasn’t lame and neither was his home. Tall ceilings, pretty staircases and family portraits. Why did he work here for $3 an hour? Steve doesn’t seem to know either.

“I’m very clumsy — I burn myself a lot — please ignore it.”

“I promise.”

He teaches you the mechanics of the waffle machine. It’s really simple actually, a lot simpler than he made it seem. The batter is pre-made, shipped once a week and held in the small fridge they desperately need to upgrade. Pour it in, wait 30 seconds, flip, and wait thirty seconds again. He’d burned himself pulling it out, hissing, but never faltering.

It’s golden and warm, crunchy and smelling softy of vanilla. He holds it until it’s no longer hot, and then hands it to you.

“Here,” he shrugs. “Eat your first creation.”

“Really?”

“It’s already touched my hands.” He smiles innocently. “I can’t tarnish our A+ health inspection.”

Your smile is shy as you grab it. “Thank you.”

“Mhm.”

You bite it carefully, tearing off a piece for him to eat. He takes it from your nimble fingers, eyeing the blue nail polish that cracks on your fingertips.

“So..” Steve’s awkward. “I heard you’ve known Robin awhile?”

You break off another piece of and pop it on your mouth. “Definitely awhile.”

“She’s cool,“ He smiles fondly. “Or whatever, but yeah.”

“Yeah.” You laugh a little at his redirection.

“Also,” he adds messily. “They say you have to wear the hat but..” he leans in to whisper cheekily. “screw company policy.”

You laugh loudly, startled at his closeness.

He goes to say something, pink lips parting before he’s cut off by Robin. All he can get out his a huff a breath and dully you notice you’re staring at his lips. You think he’s noticed too.

“Y/N!” Robin yells from the ice cream stand. “Get out here and let me teach you the scooper!”

You turn, smiling in the direction of your short haired friend.

“Guess I’ve gotta quit slacking.” You murmur.

“See you soon.” He’s remorseful.

“See you soon.” You amuse a little, walking towards the swinging door. He walks too.

“Right,” He bumps into you, laughing nervously. “Sorry.”

You smile, talking over him. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” He cringes.

The door swings behind you, letting glimpse of laughter from the bustling store through. He sighs, palm to his eyes.

Yeah, he’s pretty cute.

#steve harrington blurb #steve x y/n #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x reader fluff #steve harrington fanfiction #steve x you #steve harrington imagine #steve x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x gn!reader #steve harrington x fem! reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x y/n fluff #steve harrington x fem #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things imagine

[ist4rgirlo]

────────── 𝐢𝐧𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 - 𝐜.𝐟

ONE SHOT !

they did say that when two people are meant to be together, they will eventually find a way back to each other. however, are you ready to open your heart again to a person who has broken it in the past?

SEQUEL TO : you’re losing me

───────────────────────────

“They say that your first love never dies. You can put out the flame but not the fire”

It was true, for me atleast. I’d be lying if I said that I don’t love Conrad, because I do, I still do — no matter how much he had hurt me before, a piece of my heart is still beating for him.

Time, curious time

Gave me no compasses, gave me no signs

Were there clues I didn't see?

And isn't it just so pretty to think

It wasn’t easy to move on, he made me feel things — things that I never felt before. He was different, he just was.

For two years, I had done my best to put the past behind me, but still, I would often find myself thinking of Conrad and wondering what could have been.

Until one day, when an unexpected text message popped up on my phone. It was from Conrad, of all people. Confused but curious, I opened the message. The only thing that it said was 'Are you free today?’ Could he possibly still care about me, after all this time?

A string that pulled me

Out of all the wrong arms right into that dive bar

Something wrapped all of my past mistakes in barbed wire

Chains around my demons, wool to brave the seasons

One single thread of gold tied me to you

I thought back to the words we had said to each other; the heartache that had been so painful that it had taken so long for me to move on. But still, here he was, wanting to see me. Was I willing to open my heart up to someone who had broken it so badly in the past?

───────────────────────────

Conrad asked me if we could meet at the beach near Cousins. I dont know why why I said yes, maybe I wanted closure — maybe I wanted to hear his side.

I stood on the dock, the ocean air getting caught in my hair. Although the sun was out and the sky a brilliant blue,

I couldn't bring myself to take in the beauty of the day. I was too consumed with my thoughts, instead glancing around, distracted and flustered.

I saw Conrad — standing at the end of the shore, a better vision than the view of the ocean I had become accustomed to.

I swallowed hard as I stared into his eyes - the same eyes that had shattered my heart months ago. He looked different. Older, strong, different from the man I had said goodbye to all those months ago.

But there he was, standing in front of me, arms crossed — pain pierced through me like a hot knife as I remembered fond memories I shared with him. Memories that were now tarnished by the hurt he had caused me.

I took a deep breathe and stepped forward — walking towards him.

“Hey Conrad,” I said tentatively.

He looked up with surprise, then quickly looked away. “Hey y/n,” he muttered.

“It’s been so long huh?” Conrad asked. I looked at him before answering “Yeah, It has. I just want to get to the point already. Why did you want to see me?” I asked him.

His eyes met mine, filled with regret and longing. "I never stopped thinking about you," he confessed, his voice laced with raw emotion.

I listened, my heart warring between the past and the present. Memories flooded my mind - stolen kisses, whispered promises, and the crushing pain of betrayal. And yet, beneath it all, the flicker of what once was remained.

"You broke me," I replied, my voice steadying.

Conrad reached out to gently touch my cheek, sending a shiver down my spine. "Please, Y/n," he pleaded, his voice filled with desperation. "What I did was fucked up, you didn’t deserve that — you didn’t deserve to be ignored, I-I should’ve paid more attention to you”

"I messed up, I admit it. I was a fool to let you go. I've regretted it every single day, and I wish I could turn back time and change things." He said, taking a step closer.

I blinked back tears, trying to resist the pull I felt towards him. "Conrad, it's not that easy. You hurt me so deeply, and I've spent so long trying to heal." I said, backing away from him.

"I know," he murmured, his voice cracked with emotion. "But I'm here now, and all I want is a chance to make things right, to prove to you that I've changed. I want to be better for you.”

His words tugged at my heartstrings, and I felt a glimmer of hope. Could we really find a way back to each other? Was it possible to rebuild what had been broken?

Time, wondrous time

Gave me the blues and then purple pink skies

And it's cool, baby, with me

The sound of crashing waves filled the silence between us, punctuating the weight of the moment. I looked into Conrad's eyes, searching for sincerity, I’m scared — scared of risking again. Scared of getting hurt again.

“I-I don’t know, Conn-“ I said looking down, he walked closer — his hands reaching for mine.

“I don’t want you to feel pressured or anything, just.. just let me love you. Let me be a better man for you.” he paused “I’ll wait for you”

And isn't it just so pretty to think

All along there was some

Invisible string

Tying you to me?

I looked up at him, I saw the glint in his eyes — he was genuine, his voice sounded hopeful — his eyes filled with love. It wouldn’t hurt if I tried again right? maybe now, it’ll be right.

#Spotify #tsitp #tsitp conrad #conrad fisher #conrad fisher imagine #conrad fisher x you #conrad fisher fanfic #conrad fisher fic #conrad fisher x reader #the summer i turned pretty #tsitp imagine #tsitp fic #tsitp fanfic #conrad fisher fluff #conrad fisher x y/n #conrad fisher angst #abtconrad fics #taylor swift

[alieinthemorning]

Deep Sea Love [Rafayel]

Content: Character Death, Angst, Hurt No Comfort, POV Second Person, Bond: Nightly Stroll Spoilers

Pronouns: None

Reblogs: Let me know that you enjoy my work and want to see more, so don’t forget to like and reblog (and comment in the tags. I love seeing people’s rambles in the tags)!

This work’s concepts, plot and original characters are my own which means I do not allow any sort of creative theft nor do I allow my work to be entered into any sort of A.I. bots. Thank you for respecting my space and boundaries.

If Rafayel had to choose between the sea and land, one boring place over another. He’d probably pick the sea. As boring as it was, it hasn’t hurt him as bad as the land has. Yeah, there were things that he found interesting and amusing, but…

“Rafayel, when are you going to clean this place?” You asked him with a frown, a clear sign of your displeasure

“Haven’t you heard the saying: ‘Beauty in chaos.’”

You nodded, but there was still that pesky frown on your face. “Yes, but—”

“No buts! This is how it’s supposed to be.” He grabbed your hand, pulling you further into his chaos.

“You can’t keep checking yourself into the hospital just because you want to see me, Rafayel.”

He looked away from your sharp gaze. “It works, doesn’t it?”

“At the cost of the nurses’ precious time.”

“Then what should I do?”

You smiled at him warmly. “Just be honest. Say that you just want to see me, and I'll come.”

“I wasn’t expecting you to come and find me, Rafayel…” You didn’t look at him, your eyes were glued to the floor. Hell, you didn’t even open the door all the way, just enough that you could address him.

But that didn’t matter, because he had seen enough. “You’re hurt.” Your arms were wrapped in bandages, and with how bad the news said the battle was, he was sure other parts of you were covered in gauze.

“It’s not too bad, not the worse I’ve had.”

“You’ve had worse?!”

You shrugged, gaze finally reaching his.“…Well, of course, I’m a Hunter, after all.”

He sighed as he slumped further against the boulder. Why was he thinking about you now. It had been years since…

“I’m not gonna lie to you, Rafayel. I’m not going to make it.”

He didn’t say anything, however, the hand holding yours gripped it a little tighter.

“So, you’re going to have to take care of yourself from now on, okay? No more all-nighters, and make sure to eat something—”

“You’re dying, and all you can do is nag me. That’s so like you.”

It was quiet for a moment after that, then you placed your other hand on, telling him to look up at you. Once you had his attention, you spoke softly.

“I love you, Rafayel. So, even after I’m gone, please keep my love for you safe, okay?”

“…I will keep your love for me safe”

He didn’t need to look down to know that the vow had been blessed, and he’s glad he didn’t because he would have missed the warmest, brightest smile you had ever given him.

“Thank you, my love.

I’ll be going first.”

He angrily scrubbed his hands over his wet face, then let them rest on his chest.

“I love you, too, you know. And I swear…that I won’t let anything tarnish our love.”

Blue light peeked from in between his fingers, and from that light was birthed another blessing from the ocean.

Another vow of your love.

I am not immune to any of these men.

Ko-Fi | Commission | Masterlist

#alie ficlets #love and deepspace x reader #rafayel x reader #lds x reader #lds rafayel x reader #tw character death

[athanasius-symposium-of-writings]

His Hope

Rated Explicit | Warning: dubcon-ish, manipulation

He is the essence of fear. A being created from the fear within the Madame Butterfly, her rage and fear creating this Man in Red, a thing opposite of you. Blue, a calm and gentle creature like she was. Maybe he hates you for it? Envy? But all you can see is the way he cares for you as if your wings are brittle and your body too fragile for the slightly upset in gentle winds.

Yet, he is cruel to you. Having you dress in slips or robes thin enough to see through the patterns on the silk to see your beautiful skin. The Madame Butterfly took special care when creating you, the Man in Red was not given that care yet he has a haunting beauty about him.

The vines of his magic, treelike tendrils bind and hold your arms up above your head. You are sitting on the marble slab on this display with your back to the audience, none raising their heads, your blue wings flutter as you are anxious. Fearful.

“(Name).” His hand guides you to stop looking behind you to focus on him, “My little light within my darkest nights.” His eye on yours reflects his stern face, “Shh, they only are here to bask in your power.”

You gasp, back arching, head tossed back; his hand between your legs. You know arousal, the blessing it gives to spread joy, he uses that to unleash your gifted magic.

And tarnishes it with his own.

Your body knows him well, reacts to him like a long-lost lover. the Madame Butterfly once told you fear can never exist without hope. You are hope and he is fear, both interlinked and bound to each other.

“I shall never tire of this face or the way you express desire so well.” Your wings flutter as he speaks, his small wing butterflies flying around as sparkles of blue appear from your wings. “Yes, just like that.”

You stopped resisting long ago, he chipped his way into your mind before bonding you to him. Easy enough given you are the opposite and his match. If only the Madame Butterfly gave you to him sooner he would have had to be so cruel with you.

But in the end here you are fighting to not cum, fearful that once your power peaks and you cum causing that burst of magic within you to come out via the butterfly effect, he will twist it and use hope against humans.

“No, no!” Panicked, you fight.

“Shh, cum. Cum and share your joy with others.”

Using you, you can cry about it or starve yourself in protest but in the end, he breaks you. Fear does that, though your hope has lit a small spark within his heart. 

He keeps that to himself, that little spark will remain there so long as it does not consume him or this paradise.

“Ah!” The wave of blue, the expansion of your wings before the room surrounded by blue and white miniature butterflies, “Ahh.” It takes a lot of you. Your body for a second glowing before the power fades and you feel numb, used, yet you feel his touch gently assisting you to fall gracefully from your high into his arms.

The vines release you and he immediately holds your weakened form close to him, you stare at him as the world around you is a distant memory.

All that you see is his face, a gentle smile you know is not truly kind— Only you give kind smiles.

You close your eyes, you are completely helpless to him as he picks you up as the mortals bask in the high of hope.

He will return you to your room, your cage, likely to take you properly.  A taste of you is never enough for the Man in Red. You are his feast, one he indulges in like wine, too often but in moderation when necessary.

#idv #reader insert #identity v x reader #idv x reader #identity v #naib x you #identity v naib #naib subedar x reader #naib x reader #naib subedar x you #naib subedar #identity v mercenary #idv mercenary #identity v x you #idv x you

[cherubispunk]

UP IN YOUR ARMS (PROLOGUE) -Noir!Joel Miller x AFAB!Reader

summary: the begining of it all tasted like whiskey and ciggeretes. But smelled of the interrogation room.

a note from Lucy: Helllooooo my lovely Joel Miller enthusiasts! i'm here again, and so are you, with yet another joel au series. this time with a historical twist. wiil it be completely historically accurate? probably not? are we here anyway because its joel fucking miller? yes. yes we are. fair warning, some dark contant will be in later chapters, so if that isnt your cup of rosey lea, feel free to scroll away. if it is, then sit back, relax, enjoy a dry martini and some blues or jazz music on vinyl, and lets have a wild time. Also, a huge thank you is due to @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin for convicting me to post this. Love you cherub! xxx

playlist

wc: 912 Warnings: 18+ MDNI! DARK CONTENT! 1940s!au, no outbreak, no use of y/n, age gap (reader is in her early 20's and Joel is in his 40s), allusions to Smut, smoking, use of pet names such as doll, cursing, being arrested, interrogation scene, references to violence, ww2 references, probably an unhealthy relationship between reader and joel, mentions of blood, let me know if ive missed any warning out that should be tagged.

series m.list | m.list

“Okay,” Detective Granger sighs opposite you, “Let’s try this again.”

Your knee bounces rapidly under the chrome metal table. If it weren't screwed to the floor it would surely rattle with your antsy movement. Your eyes fall to your lap, the dress you wore tattered with a mix of blood, dust and the smell of Joel’s aftershave. A smell you wish you had with his physicality.

“Please state your name for the record.” He asks. Again. From the moment they put you in cuffs, shoved you in the back of a cop car, and brought you up to the station, you had not uttered a word. Maybe you were scared, or maybe it was the principle of the fact. But the idea that Joel was a few rooms over – not at arm's length – it made you yearn for his touch. To be under the rough pads of his fingertips once more. Weather it be in a grimy motel room, or even the fucking Canary Club back in the cesspool of Boston. 

But you sighed, knowing you aren't going home anytime soon without giving them something. Joel told you to spin it. Tell them the truth with the twist he promised would work. Leave you unscathed. 

So you tell them your name. And then your occupation once they ask for that too; “Singer.” 

The detective looks at his co-worker, raising his brow. He nods back at him, believing you. If only you could unleash the insults that curl and cinder at the tip of your tongue. 

“Okay,” Granger tips his head to the side in acknowledgement of the fact your answers are the truth. What leverage would you have to lie if the very thing you are about to spill is an ever so slight twisting of the truth?

You watch with unblinking eyes as he places a black and white picture upon the table, between you and his now folded hands, “Care to tell us who this is?” 

It’s Joel. You knew they knew that. They just need to confirm their suspicion for the record. For the jury. The court. Your impending trial. So you take a second to study it, hold back a smile at the very sight of his broad shoulders, his tarnishes, creased dress shirt that clings to him like a second skin you wish to ravish him off. Even in the stale air of an interrogation room, through the captured image of a blurred mugshot, he makes the fire in your loins kickstart. Memories of joyrides, money, sex, motel sheets and speakeasy rendezvous. 

You give them a nod, sitting back in your seat.

“Who is he?”

“It’s Joel Miller. ‘Says it right there.” You tap the mugshot with your index finger to prove a point, kissing your teeth with a smug smile. “Or can you pig’s not read?” Venom spills from your words like maroon wine from a shattered glass. 

Detective Granger bites his tongue, leaning forward over the table, hands grasping the lip of it as he stands up, knuckles bleached white under his own grip. 

“Don’t think I ain’t above sending you to a cell with a shiner to your pretty lil’ nose, Doll.” He glared. It didn't seep any deeper than skin though. Didn’t rattle your bones that way Joel’s voice would when he called you a pretty ditzy thing that one time. If he were here the detective's teeth would be splattered across the tile of the floor for saying that. Daring to call you what he did, turning it into something that made your lip curl in disgust. 

“Oh, I'm sorry, Mr, Detective.” You pouted, tilting your head at him, doe eyed, sarcastic innocence wrapped around your tongue’s words.

His fist descended down upon the table with a slam, making you flinch. Much to your own dismay. “Just answer the damn question!” 

“Was he your boyfriend?” 

“No.”

Joel was no mere boyfriend. 

He was your lover. Your life. Your glue that mended cracks seen by no other. The man that undressed you and wrapped you up in his warmth. His Texan drawl. Unravelled you between your thighs. Made you lust for anything he did. He was air in your lungs, the smell of cedarwood and musk. Metallic blood on your collarbone and gravel under a cars worn in tires. He was the leather of your car seat. The Egyptian cotton of your sheets. 

But this was where the lie began…

“He was my jailor.” 

Detective Granger’s eyes narrowed as he looked down at you, your eyes finding him behind the wisp of your lashes. The glassy shine of a tear slipping from your waterline. He furrowed his brow, his thin lips pressing into a thin line below his bushy moustache that curled at the ends. The nostrils of his bulbous nose flared and his jaw ticked under the clenching of his teeth. Once more, you looked into your lap at your folded hands.

He sighed once more, adjusting his grey suit trousers to sit down, holding his tie to his beer belly as he did so. “Can you tell us what happened? Leading up to the crime?” His voice was softer and he winced at the sound of your sniff. How you were so timid all of a sudden like a deer in headlights. 

You nodded, swallowing your own saliva, the walls of your oesophagus grating together like coarse sandpaper. And then you spoke. “I met him when I was living in Boston.”

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #joel miller x #the last of us #the last of us fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #tlou hbo #the last of us hbo #joel tlou #lu’s little bookshelf #joel the last of us #tlou #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal #joel x reader #tlou fic #the last of us fanfiction #joel x reader smut #joel miller tlou #up in your arms #1940sgangster!joel #noir!joel

[stuffeddeer]

yk sometimes pm!dazai or ada!dazai takes off his trench coat and he only has his button up and waistcoat on? (its giving slay ngl) so maybe if he had a partner he’d occasionally lend his darling his coat because it’s cute and vv silly…

his coat pocket would have the weirdest things too: a crumpled page of the suicide book, a piece of bandaged that has yellowed due to oxidization, dog food etc

in my head im like how Dare he tarnish his beloved suicide book but that mf probably has 12 more copies at home lmao

I feel like instead of dog food he'd keep cat food for the street kitties that wander up to him :( he'd give them little pets and laugh so softly and sincerely as their heads bury into his coat pockets!!! He's all "You must've smelled the treats, hm? It's a good thing I keep them on hand for smart kitties like you," as he gently pushes them away so he can dig his hand in there to feed them rrgggg

PM!Dazai was shocked to see you shivering beside him. He was usually the one to get cold before you, and yet he found himself practically overheating in his black coat as he pulled it off his shoulders - at least that’s what he told you. Practically turning blue, you weren’t in any position to decline as he plopped it on your shoulders.

You immediately stuffed your hands in the pockets, trying to warm up your frozen fingers so they could move again. After a moment, your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you turned slowly to look at the brunet.

“Dazai…”

“Yes, love?” He sends you a large grin, a teasing lilt in his tone.

You deadpanned, clearly unamused. “Your cold ass hand is not helping.”

His fingers intertwined with yours, his grin only growing as he pressed a kiss to your cheek. “I’ll take my coat back if you’re gonna be ungrateful,” he stuck his tongue out.

You smirked before pulling Dazai in close, wrapping the coat around him as well by wrapping your arms around him. “I’d never be ungrateful to my lovely Dazai! C’mon, I’ll keep you warm, too.”

“But I’m not cold— “

“I felt your freezing hand, Dazai; You aren’t fooling me.”

ADA!Dazai doesn’t need a reason to give you his coat. You look cute, and he wants to help you look cuter. Reason enough, right?

The two of you were lounging around working at the agency, with you focused on the report Kunikida had politely asked you to take care of. Dazai had been on the opposite side of the room at his own desk, coat draped behind him on his chair as he stared at you. His face was resting in the palms of his hand, leaning forward on his desk to get a better look at you.

Wow…

The way the setting sun came in from the window to light up your face had Dazai perfectly silent, mesmerized by you and your beauty. A loud sneeze came from you, whole face scrunching up as your elbow covered your nose briefly. Your sincere apology before immediately going back to your work had Dazai holding back coos, just wanting to hold you close and dote on you in the moment. He stood up, heading over to your side of the room and standing behind you. His coat was draped over his arm, the fabric rubbing against you he leaned down to press a kiss to the crown of your head.

“You must be getting a cold, hm?” He draped his beige trench coat over your shoulders, pulling your arms away from the report and stuffing them through the sleeves.

The action had you laughing, caught off guard as he pretty much dressed you in his coat. “You alright, Dazai?”

“Mhm, just wanted to keep you warm as your thoughtful boyfriend.” He leaned his body onto you, arms draped around your shoulders and chin digging into your head.

“Wow, you’re so sweet,” you replied sarcastically. Of course you knew he just wanted to see you wearing his oversized coat. “What would I do without you?”

Your hands slipped into the big pockets, letting out a soft chuckle as you pulled out crumpled up papers. “Do you keep these on hand?” You ask teasingly, reading the many ways to die as you flattened out the pages. In the margins were notes he must’ve scribbled down, many of which are just your name with little hearts scratched around them.

Dazai quickly snatched the pages from you, shoving them in the pockets of his white pants instead. “That’s nothing you need to worry about, love.”

#“the weirdest things in his pockets” His Own Hand. #hope you enjoy anon :) i like writing for pm dazai and makin him silly #also youre so right dz without his coat on... im literally single !! #🦌anon #🦌request #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #bsd x reader #bsd x gender neutral reader #bsd x you #bsd fluff #bsd imagines #bsd scenarios #bsd fanfic #bungou stray dogs fanfic #bungo stray dogs fanfic #dazai osamu x reader #dazai osamu #dazai fluff #dazai x reader #dazai x you

[ladykailitha]

All My Roads Lead Back to You Part 14

Hello, hello! Thank you to everyone who participated in WIP Wednesday yesterday! It was a blast. I got so much work done.

This mainly Steve centric. Did I write almost an entire chapter with Steve going to bat for Edie to beat out some childhood trauma of my dad never doing that despite doing it for my older siblings? Yes. Does it further plot? Not really. But it was cathartic anyway.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13

***

Steve didn’t like talking to principals or teachers as a whole. They got harder to charm as time passed. He could charm hardened business men out of their hard earned cash, but for some reason teachers failed to be charmed him.

So instead of charming them, he decided that he would do it the Nancy Wheeler method and bowl them over with facts.

Principal Kim and Mr Pearson were waiting for him when he arrived. They both rose up to greet him and he shook both of their hands.

“Thanks for agreeing to meet with me,” he said seriously. “I understand that tracing a picture for the art show and for her assignment is a very severe offense. And I of course want to address those allegations as to not tarnish her reputation and make it harder for her to get into colleges and universities.”

Mr Pearson sneered. “You’d just buy her way into any school she wanted anyway.”

Steve locked eyes with Principal Kim and even she looked shocked.

“Excuse, Mr Pearson,” she began, “do I mean to understand that you feel that Edith Harrington bought her way into your art class?”

Mr Pearson’s jaw dropped, realizing he had said the quiet part out loud. “I didn’t mean to apply that she was without talent or merit. But the picture in question is too good for someone her level.”

Steve twisted his bottom jaw as he ran his tongue over his teeth slowly. “How do you feel about the pinprick method?”

Principal Kim frowned. “The what?”

Mr Pearson squirmed in his seat. “It’s method used by many artists when copying works to ensure the height and width of the subject are in the correct proportions.”

Principal Kim turned to Steve. “And you assert your daughter used this method on her most recent assignment?”

Steve nodded. “Yes, and I can prove it.” He turned to Mr Pearson. “You brought the picture with you like I asked, yes?”

Mr Pearson snarled and grabbed his messenger bag. He ripped it open and got out Edie’s picture she had done of Irises by Van Gogh. It was a beautiful piece that showed bright blue irises on the side of a road.

“Can you honestly tell me that she did that without tracing it first?” he asked gruffly. He threw on the principal’s desk.

“It’s very pretty,” she said.

“Did you see her trace it?” Steve asked, turning to the teacher.

“Excuse me?” Mr Pearson asked, straightening up in his chair. “Of course not! She wouldn’t dare trace it in class.”

“What did she do in class?” Steve asked, crossing legs and wiggling his shoulders as he got comfortable. “She had to do something, right?”

Mr Pearson scowled. “I have a class of twenty four students, I can’t be watching each one every second of every day,” he scoffed waving his hands.

Principal Kim nodded sympathetically. “That’s just the way it is, I’m afraid, Mr Harrington.”

Steve smiled. “Oh I don’t doubt it, herding teenagers is difficult in small groups, I can’t imagine tripling the amount of teenagers I used to chaperon around when I got out of high school. I completely understand.”

Mr Pearson eyed him warily. “And where are you going with this?”

“She had to check off certain stages of her work with you, did she not?” Steve said, bouncing his leg on his knee.

Mr Pearson frowned. “Of course she did.”

“And at any stage did her work so signs of it being traced?” Steve asked, a charming smile on his face.

“No.”

Principal Kim sighed. “Be that as that may, Mr Harrington, we’re going to need proof.”

“Why is burden of proof on Edie’s side?” Steve asked, giving her his big puppy-eyed, ‘I don’t understand’ face. “Shouldn’t it be on her accuser’s?”

Silence fell and Steve knew he had won. They couldn’t prove she traced. There was no evidence of something that didn’t happen.

Now it was time for the final blow. God he loved this part. He got out a large color art book of Vincent Van Gogh’s works. He flipped it over to the page that had the image of the painting Edie had used. He then pulled out a pocket knife and set on top of the page.

“One last thing,” Steve said. “Is the pinprick method allowed in the art show?”

Mr Pearson nodded.

He grinned and turned back to the principal. “This is the book Edie used to base her work on. If you’ll use the knife to cut out the page and hold it up to the light you will pinpricks and not trace marks.”

“That could be any book bought at any time!” Mr Pearson protested.

Steve nodded and got a couple more things out of his bag and handed them to the Principal Kim. “I have the original pictures on my phone, but they are too small to see the details.” He pulled out his phone and handed it to her.

She looked at the pictures showing the book that had a scuff on the cover and that the book in front of her had a large scuff right where Edie had dropped getting out the car the day he bought it for her.

There was no doubt it was the same book. She handed the pictures to Mr Pearson who was forced to concede that it must be the same book. She picked up the knife and then looked at Steve.

“And your daughter is okay with us defacing the book like this?” she asked, eyeing Steve skeptically.

Steve nodded. “She said to use whatever means necessary to clear her name. So go for it.”

Principal Kim sighed and deftly cut out the page. She handed the knife back to Steve and then lifted the page. Sure enough there were seven or eight pinpricks but not a single trace outline. If she had traced it there would be heavy indentations around each flower and there weren’t.

“Now,” Steve said leaning forward, “put Edie’s picture over the top to see if the prick holes match.”

Principal Kim did just that and sighed when they lined up perfectly. There was no doubt that Edie hadn’t cheated.

“Edith’s picture will be submitted to the art show and the mark expunged from her record. Mr Pearson will apologize to your daughter in front of the class.”

“What?” Mr Pearson cried, leaping to his feet. “I will do no such thing!”

“You will and I will be watching when you do,” Principal Kim said sternly, “or I will suspend you without pay until a full investigation is done to see if you have done this to other students.”

Mr Pearson’s jaw dropped and he sat back down quietly, hands on his lap.

Steve stood. “You may keep everything but my phone, if you need to convince the judges of the art show of the validity of her work.”

She nodded. They shook hands and then Steve gathered his things and walked out. Before he could even close the door, he could hear the principal tearing into Mr Pearson.

Steve was grinning and not paying attention to where he was going when he nearly bumped into someone.

“Oh, sorry!” he said, holding up his hands in surrender.

“Steve?” Eddie asked. “What are you doing here?”

Steve looked up into those warm brown eyes and smiled. “Just convincing Principal Kim and Mr Pearson to let Edie’s pastel drawing back into the art show.”

Harri peered around his dad. “What? Really? Did you win?”

Steve grinned. “Sure did. If they had done an investigation instead of blinding following the word of one vindictive little girl, Mr Pearson wouldn’t be under scrutiny for doing similar things to other students.”

He crossed his arms and shifted his weight to his back foot. “I’m pretty sure if they looked deep enough, they’d find that he had been grading harsher for so called nepo babies. Children of rich parents that had generational wealth over those students that had nouveau-riche parents. Because he thought they had worked hard for their money.”

Eddie laughed. “And how would you know that?”

Steve grinned. “Because that’s what Nancy dug up for me when I asked.”

Eddie threw back his head and really laughed. “That would do it, yeah.”

Harri cocked his head to the side and frowned. “Who’s Nancy?”

Steve turned him with a soft smile. “She’s a world renowned journalist who your dad and me went to school with.”

“Sounds vaguely familiar,” he said with a shrug. “But that’s cool she helped you get Miss Thing’s art back in the show.”

“I called in a favor,” Steve said with a shrug.

“She owes you more than one favor,” Eddie grumbled.

Steve bit his lip and blushed. “She knows.”

Eddie grinned. “Good.”

“You guys want to come over and celebrate with us?” Steve asked. “The Lawrences are going to be there, as well as the Grants.” At their look of confusion he clarified. “Kenny’s family, the band’s keyboardist.”

Harri and Eddie looked at each other and then Harri nodded, while Eddie shrugged.

“Sure,” Eddie said. “I don’t see why not.”

*

Edie had gotten use to seeing Mr Munson at her house so often that sometimes it surprised her that Harri and him didn’t live there. That they actually lived elsewhere.

“Are you sure they aren’t dating?” Kenny asked one day at lunch. They were huddled together at their table away from the seething wrath of Lauren Duncan and her crowd of mean girls.

When it came out that Lauren was the tattletale the whole art class turned on her. And straight up ignored her when she would even so much as ask for the eraser to be handed to her.

But that ostracizing only made her vicious out of class. Bumping into Edie to get Edie to drop her stuff or even fall. Putting hate mail in her lockers. Whispering to her friends behind her hands.

Though she tried knocking Edie’s lunch tray out her hands only the once. Edie was quick enough to shove the tray right in Lauren’s face. And what made it even better is that she couldn’t claim that Edie had done in purpose because then she would have to explain why she was that close to Edie in the first place. And after her week suspension for falsely accusing Edie of wrongdoing, she couldn’t afford more trouble. So she stuck to the little things.

Harri sighed. “I honestly don’t know, man.”

Edie nodded. “They go out to lunch every Monday. And it’s gotten to the point where Vanessa, my dad’s secretary won’t even schedule anything for that time.”

Harri nodded. “I think we eat dinner more often at your house then we do my own. And I like my house!”

Mandy nodded. “I mean our dads still hang out, but now Mr Munson tags along too. My dad said that he’s seen more of Mr Munson in the last month then he has the last decade.”

They all nodded.

“Let’s not forget Mr Munson staying for practice instead of dropping Harri off and coming back later,” Brian said, poking at his food, pushing it around on his plate. “We always have to break them up when we’re done so Harri can go home.”

“When summer starts,” Mandy said, “We should test it, see how it takes for them to notice we’re done.”

They nodded again.

“But when I ask my dad,” Edie said, “all he’ll say is that he’s sworn off dating so it can’t be a date.”

Harri threw his arms in the air. “My dad is no better. He keeps telling me that Papa was it for him, and second chances only happen once in a life time and he’s already had his.”

“They are so stubborn, I swear,” Edie huffed. “But we all promised that we wouldn’t interfere in their relationship.”

Kenny straightened up. “You guys promised that. I didn’t.” He grinned. “And I think I know just how to do it.” He put on his backpack and grabbed his tray. “I’ll talk to you guys, later.”

***

Part 15 Part 16 Part 17  Part 18  Epilogue

Also, I had something similar happen to me with a different Van Gogh painting Giant Peacock Moth, only I was in middle school and it was just kids being grumpy the French teacher didn’t care. It was just away to teach us about the French artists movement of the 1800s. I still have it somewhere.

Also: Harri isn’t in trouble, he’s going to see the principal and his guidance counselor because some of his credits from his Cali school didn’t transfer.

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @artiststarme @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @pyrohonk​ @trashpocket @goodolefashionedloverboi @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence @plyerice27 @mightbeasleep @thedragonsaunt @chaoticlovingdreamer @trashpocket @sapphirecobalt-1 @a-little-unsteddie @i-must-potato @danili666  @carlyv @rozzieroos @wonderland-girl143-blog @itsall-taken @steddie-as-they-go @lillemilly @callas-shitshow @bisexualdisastersworld @renaissan-vvitch @immortal-iratze @bookbinderbitch @cardigangoth @lilacrobin @nightmareglitter @nerdsconquerall

#My writing #stranger things #steddie #reconnecting years later AU #ladykailtiha writes

[captainjimothycarter]

Silver Lining

During times of a war torn country, silver linings should be found. --

Peggy smiled, a bit watery, yes as she saw the tarnished rings sitting in the middle of his palm. Rings her parents would balk at because they weren’t perfect and didn’t show elegance in their standards. No, Steve Rogers wore his tactical suit, the shield at his feet. His face was covered in soot and dirt, his own baby blue eyes misty as well. His hair greasy from lack of proper time and care to wash it. A black eye that was just starting to heal after taking the butt of a rifle in the face. For a moment, Peggy couldn’t speak as she slowly stepped closer, looking down into those beautiful baby blue eyes.

“Are you-”

“Pegs, I-”

“Steve, we’re at...we are at war. We don’t know what will happen tomorrow.”

“That’s all the more reason to get married. This isn’t proper and not how I would ever want to-”

“It’s perfect. It's perfect for...us. Yes, yes, Steven, I will marry you.”

This is the first Steggy fic I've ever written. It holds a special place in my heart and I wanted to give it a special spotlight.

I plan to post random fics this month for Steggy Week and maybe try to get some quick fics out. Thanks to @steggyfanevents for running this Steggy Month event!

#Steggy #StevePeggy #Steve x Peggy #Steggy Month #Steve Rogers #Peggy Carter #Day One

[holyghostbelle]

A HIGHER POWER WILL RESTORE US TO SANITY

CHAPTER TWO

<3 warnings: drug use, addiction, drug addiction, alcoholics, sex addicts, sexual assault (not Eddie),power play, the act of thirteenth stepping( becoming involved with newly recovering addict),abuse, victimisation, reader hates herself, reader is suicidal,Gaslighting and manipulation

under 18's dni or ill sleep w your dad

Masterlist

Meetings suck ass. Eddie pretends to listen to his bandmates around him, he's smoking a cigarette in a nonsensically huge office that overlooks the city. There's no walls, just glass. He remembers sitting in the dirty LA office with his last manager, back when they had nude models framed on the wall, and snorted coke off the desk. He's come so far he's mediocre now. 

“Your last album hasn't reached the predicted sales, what happened?”

Eddie sighs, the others stay silent, Gareth would have spoken up, but he's not here anymore, he's an IT guy somewhere back home , fuck the label for dropping him and the others.

He shrugs, Harvey looks at him, he ironically dressed like a cowboy. Eddie thinks he looks stupid, like a southern oil tycoon or something. He's got one of those belts with a lighter in it.

“They don't like that I'm sober, I'm boring now, old news.” he ashes his cigarette in the green marble ashtray. “ They think I've found god or some shit?” he chuckles to himself.

“you need to show them you're still rock n roll, sleep around get kicked out of clubs, do something fucking bonkers, but not like deadly, worship satan or something”

“Yeah, I'm not gonna do that.”

“What if you did play girl, full page spread , talk about all your dirty little fantasies”

“maybe , idk it's like everything has been done before, i need a scandal but what? S;eep with someone? Get married ? everythings been done before.”

So Edddie sits in a coffee shop in the city and thinks, he's done the twelve steps, he's done community service, he’s clean. Now what, he doesn't know. 

He's got everything he's ever wanted. Is this when life feels pointless? Is this why stars kill themself. When money couldn't buy happiness it bought drugs and for sometime that made him happy. So what the fuck now?

Your mother sits and sips her blood red wine at the dinner, you pretend to eat but you're just moving food around your plate at this point, your fork scratches against the china plate, she winces.

“You smell of cigarettes, I thought you quit?” your mother brashly asks. 

“I um, my- my sponsor smokes” you answer quickly and smile. 

“Your sponsor ?, already.” her red lips move against each other.

“Yeah, he's like the only person that spoke to me tonight, so”

“Well i'm glad you're really trying, we’re so proud of you” your mother smiles, “aren't we dear” she turns to your father at the gigantic dinner table.

“Yes, yes very good” He nods his head robotically.

Hours later you're in your room on the soft black comforter, pure silence.You open a window and light a cigarette, you stare outside the window, pretty picturesque houses lined up in a row, all cream and white shades with blue shutters and magazine worthy flowers, you think of his truck and the scratches ruining the meticulous paint work, and they way he was unfathomed by your anger. You hand thumbs at the ten digits written down on a marlboro red carton from his truck.

Your mother takes you shopping the next day, something about her pure cashmere sweater being stretched. She buys overpriced band shirts for you, plaid skirts and dark dresses. You're surprised she letting you dress this way until she mutters something about tattoos tarnishing your classic looks, but you just grin to yourself.  

You play super metroid on your game boy until 4am while chain smoking cigarettes till you feel sick. You sleep in until 3pm, your mum shouts at you “get a life, get a job”

So your sitting in the back of a coffee shop dressed in your mothers more acceptable for your age,clothing (cigarette pants and a embroidered collar shirt)your tattoos are covered by the sleeves, but you don't think the twenty something manger will really care because she's wearing a ripped band shirt and gold nose ring sits in her perfect caramel skin, you've met people like her before, they're all the same. 

“I like your shirt” you smile.

“Oh you like a Corroded Coffin ?” she grins sipping her coffee, her teeth are pearly white, contrasted between her black cherry lipstick. 

“Yeah that album they put out huh?” you have no clue what you're talking about, but you lie anyway.

“Oh the b-sides? I wasn't that into it, ever since he went to rehab the music just feels off, is that just me?”

You think quickly “ oh yeah the old stuff is really good”

She nods “so have you got any experience? You'll be trained anyway and you seem really like cool, so you'll fit it, we have a lot of difficult customers who like want things a certain away, its the neighbourhood , rich fuckers” she pauses and covers her mouth in shock.

“Sorry, not very professional of me, we just need someone who's level headed.”

You nod “yeah i'm very calm, i hardly get angry at all” you laugh, shoulders rising. 

You definitely didn't key someone's truck this week.

“And I've made coffees before, I worked in a coffee shop at my uni for a bit so I can make a decent latte.” you smile again.

You're starting to think you're smiling too much, but you don't stop.

“Well, it's three dollars an hour, tips are shared at the end of the day, and it's part time, so like 20 hours a week, but opportunity to work overtime if you want. Oh and wear whatever you want just like, make sure it's black.” her hands move along the desk,”so fill in this form and um when can you start ?”

“I've got the job?” your eyes widened in disbelief,hesitant,

“If you want it!”

“YES! Yes, sorry. Thank you so much, and I can start as soon as possible.”

“Amazing, next week? Monday at 8am?”

“That sounds great, thank you so much, Renee”

It's an early morning in February,  the smell of a deep roast coffee hits your nostrils as the bell rings on the wooden door, there's an atmosphere that pulls you in. English folk music plays softly and freshly baked muffins whisper behind glass windows.You push your sunglasses over your head, the plastic hard against your head.

Three hours in and your lattes look less like a college student has haphazardly thrown ingredients in a pot. Your eyes scan around the shop, a sharp ache erupts through your chest as your eyes cling on to the back of a man. You've seen that shirt many times before and you wonder if he followed you. As he turns his face becomes unrecognisable and you realise he's just another guy. You smile, body melting into calmness as the coffee beans grind. 

The day is already halfway done and you're at break, slumping into the chair and drinking the seventh flat white for the day, you're so sure you're going to give yourself heart palpitations. 

Ben relaxes into the chair outside, it's next to the bins. You both nurse on a cigarette outside. 

“When are you working till?” he asked, he smooths back the thick lock of blonde hair that tumbles from his ear.

“Oh, urm four I think, you?”

“Yeah same,you wanna come to a thing tonight its just gonna be me and some others, maybe drinks?”

“I've got a thing at six but yeah i could come>” you nod and smile. 

“Back home then huh?” Eddie asks, he thinks you've been less brash this time, not that you've spoken much, Joan had been leading the conversation about her son's promising football career (he got off the bench), you've both just really sat there nodding at her.

“My coworker invited me to a lil get together to meet the others so i'm going to that” you smile you look excited.

‘They don't do drugs right? They're not gonna drink ?” he interrogates, wiping the crumbs off his hands from the donuts he brought in. He made a hard-hearted joke earlier about getting a sugar high, one person laughed.  

“They don't seem like they do, and I'm fine around drinkers, my mums always sipping on her wine, I'll be fine Eddie,” you reassure him, drawing in the harsh smoke, you both stand with your back against the brown/red bricks. Stained windows casting hues of red and yellow on your faces. You feel like a teenager, hanging out after curfew in a graveyard but the circumstances are contradictory, you're not smoking weed, you're talking about addiction.

‘I don't think you should go," he says plainly, all of a sudden it's like he’s towering over you.

"Well I'm going to go,it's not like I'm cancelling now “ you shrug at him, your lips smack together and you can taste the tartness of lipstick and cigarettes. 

“Your two months sober, something like this can get you off your path”

You exhale, “i'll be fine,it's not gonna hurt”  your arms wrap around your body, tucking your ripped striped sweater closer to you.

“ I don't think you should go,”

“You're not my dad, you don't get top pick and choose where i go and when” you temper,”Im an adult, ill be fucking fine”

“ I'm not your dad! i'm your sponsor, i've been down that road before i know what it's like”

“You don't get it”  your mouth gapes,“ you just don't fucking get it” you walk to your car and slam the door, he watches you drive off from his truck.

You think you're early, there's like two people sitting down on the brown leather sofa watching beavis and butthead on mtv, and Ben welcomes you with a smile.

“This is Travis and Harry, they are friendly I swear,” he beams.” do you want a drink? I've got beer?Vodka?” 

“Just a soda,thanks” you drop your bag by the door, there's incense burning on the table and posters line the walls, Metallica, Nirvana,sex pistols and jimi hendrix, their eyes follow you. 

You talk for a while about life, laugh over spilt drinks and funny quips. Solemn faced you watch Harry pull out a small baggie filled with white pills, you pretend not to stare. You think back at Eddie's warning. He shakes them and grins at his friend. They grin back.

“You want one?” Ben smirks at you, he swallows back the pill with the others. 

Your chest feels tight and hot and you shake your head no, excusing yourself to the bathroom, your forehead is clammy and you panic a little, one hour and you'll let yourself go you promise.

Small whispers amit from the Living room. ”so fucking boring” someone grunts and then a snicker of laughter.

Soon the room is tight with people, bodies sweat together as they dance and people spill wine on the beige carpet, you smoke a cigarette out of the window and people brush past you, clutching the bubbly drink you've had all night. 

You drink your soda and chat,it feels nice, nice to just be, you stare at Ben who sits on the sofa, he's incredibly high and you've been avoiding talking to him all night.Hes glued down and smiling you remember what it feels like to be where he is everything feels just calm. You stifle down your soda, it tastes medicinal, a white powdery substance sticks to the bottom of the glass. You look at Ben who grins at you eerily. 

The bastard spiked your drink.

Fifty minutes later you're lying on a bed somewhere in the apartment, it smells like cat piss, you're not sure if they own a cat, everything feels like it’s repeating itself and you're ready for someone to force pills down your throat and leave you outside,But they don't. You're not sure what you're on, it's definitely a downer as you're stuck to the bed, everything is weighing you down. You thumb the carton he gave you, you can't call your parents, if they found out it would be back to rehab for years, and then paying off a debt that just gets bigger and bigger. 

You gaze at the phone on the bedside table, it's shaped like a football and you move your arm to it.  You're surprised the call makes it through, it's getting harder to concentrate. The line picks up and you hear a sniffle through the phone.

“Eddie, mm i've done something really bad” your speech is slurred.

#90s au #eddie munson x reader #dark eddie munson #slightly older eddie #stranger things but not strange #rich reader #recovering addict au #stranger things x reader #heavy topics #famous eddie munson

[lemon-whiskey]

‘The Tarnished Knight, Part Two.’ — Ironwood’s Redemption Concept (Vol 9 spoilers)

My theoretical of if James Ironwood was the extra person to fall with team RWBY, instead of Jaune, into the ever after and how I think that would work. Biggggg post beyond the cut. My posts tag for this idea: [ #The Tarnished Knight RWBY au ]

You can reblog if you want to!

We left off with The Blacksmith.

James accepts The Blacksmith’s offer to be given the start to be who he wanted to be. She re-carves him for his second chance.

He wakes up on the beach again, covered in multicolored maple leaves. James takes a deep breath as he slowly sits up, blinking widely. He felt as different as he felt the same, one notable change is that he didn’t feel the pain. He still had an ache but he felt,,, better. More alive. His pants- once dark blue- now a charcoal grey. A dark blue tunic almost like a gambeson replaced his greatcoat and uniform. Worn Silver Paldrons and rerbraces that stopped at his elbows, tassets at his hips and thighs, his arms now matching and in a gently used silver, no gloves in sight.

He’s ticking softly, only noticeable because he can feel it. He holds a hand up to his right breast and unbuttons his tunic to look down and see the face of a small clock flanked by filigree in the metal side of his chest, ticking along with the rhythm of his heart. Yes he still has that for human reasons because he is indeed still human.

His gun is no longer a gun, it’s an axe that matches the silver and black of his old gun(s) with the filigree along the handle as well. A small blue stone set in the bottom of the pommel. He’d see himself in the weapon’s reflection, years younger. A smooth face he didn’t remember he ever had, alone in what he believed to be purgatory. He gets a helmet too, dramatic reveals and all that.

From here, he would now take the place of the rusted knight in Lewis’s story. He would realize he’s not in purgatory, but a different universe entirely.

James would not have ended up with the paper people though, this I will stray further off the script for as I’m echoing the tin man from The Wizard of Oz a little more here. He’s a forest dweller who makes a home and protects the flora and fauna while frequenting markets. We’re keeping juniper here because I love her so much except in his case she is either Ace or something else. Maybe the rabbit in the beginning fell in with him instead of running off idk. She gets silver antlers as a treat if you wanna play on the lucky rabbit vibes add a horseshoe symbol to her chest.

We’ve now approached the point where he’d be back at his original vol 8 age, beard and maybe a pony tail for vibes. And now he’s gonna re-meet team RWBY and oh boy! It’ll be ugly but also hilarious. Get ready for ‘Just James.’

Yeah Weiss still gets her mature comment except it’s replaced with a shocked but appreciative, ‘Striking.’

James is trying to get RWBY to trust him, the cat plays on the fact that they don’t.

Things go a similar way as the original story but with a lootttt more tension and we get James backstory possibilities!

In the mirror domain we get him seeing some options: maybe himself but in his old atlas uniform, or possibly Qrow in the mirror, maybe Clover. Hell both maybe, I’m just a gremlin here.

I might draw this in the future, I’m pretty content with the idea!

Part One: [HERE]

#The Tarnished Knight RWBY au #rwby9 #james ironwood #rwby #you can use the idea #just a crumb of credit pease

[boxofbonesfic]

Money, fame, and fortune was all you wanted. The life of a full time singer was your dream and you may have had to sign a deal with the devil to get it.

Of course Nick Fowler wasn’t the actual devil…

Or so you thought….

Get ready to meet the man that made all your wildest dreams come true.

He’s come to collect. What you may ask?

Stay tuned

aw, hell.

Title: Rewind

Pairing: Devil!Nick Fowler x Innocent!Reader

Wordcount: 1,190

A/N: i really, really enjoyed this one… i actually might turn this into a little drabble series, this was such a fun prompt!!

“You seem like a good girl,” he said, taking a deep drag on the cigar in his hand. It colored his face dark, deep red before it simmered back down to embers as he exhaled, smoke curling out around his steepled fingers. “You sure this is what you want?” 

 You gripped the patent leather handles of your purse so tight your knuckles bled white. 

 “Yes, sir. Mr. Fowler,” you added on the honorific just in case. “Momma’s sick.” You looked down at your lap, where you were twisting the straps of your purse so tight they creaked in your grip. Your mother would have whipped you six ways from Sunday if she knew where you were; down on the south side, in that godforsaken club—

 “Hmm.” The words came with another cloud of acrid smoke that made the air thick and taste like ash and…is that sulphur? He tapped it out on the ash tray, and didn’t break eye contact as he spoke. “Lars, why don’t you take sweet pea here to stage three? Let’s see if my new little songbird is worth the money.” 

 “W-what?” Your terrified squeak earned you another low, gravelly laugh. 

 “Think of it as an audition, sweet pea.” He stubbed the cigar out in the tray, steely blue eyes glinting in the low light as he took you in. “Can’t just give away something for nothing.” 

 You needed the money, badly—your mother’s chemo wasn’t paying for itself—but it doesn’t stop the shards of ice from settling against your spine as you follow the big, silent brute back out of Nick Fowler’s office. He was right—good girls didn’t come here, didn’t slide a note to the bartender asking to see the Southside Devil, asking to make a deal.

 But you were a good girl, and you were here now, standing in the empty dressing room while the devil himself waited to see if you were worth the trouble. 

 “Boss says pick a dress,” Lars grunted, pointing a stubby finger at the expansive rack behind you. “And don’t take too long.” You stared at your feet until he left, before edging over to the clothing rack, your fingers trailing nervously over the items hanging there. All brand names—some you had only ever seen on the internet, never in stores. You weren’t stupid—you knew these were costumes, dresses for the…entertainment to wear. 

 And the knowledge only made you more nervous, more tense. It had been your dream to get up on stage, to belt your heart out in front of an adoring audience, though the closest you’d ever gotten was choir at church. Good girls didn’t go to Tarnish, they didn’t croon sultry numbers for men who’d likely catch fire as soon as they set foot in a chapel—but your pride was not worth your mother’s life. She’d already been two weeks without her treatments, your meagre waitress’ salary not enough to cover even both of your most basic needs. 

 It’s that thought that spurred you into action, selecting a shimmering gold number from the back. Most of the dresses were revealing, dipping so low in the front that you wondered how the women who wore them were able to maintain any modesty at all. The one you hold in your hands, at least leaves your breasts covered, though it drops low in the back, stopping just above the curve of your butt. It made your cheeks warm when you looked at yourself in the long mirrors circling the room—you don’t recognize the person staring back at you. 

 You jumped at the sound of the door opening, tripping over the long train of your dress. 

 “Boss is ready for you now.” 

 “I, well, I just—”

 “NOW.”

 Your feet were bare—you hadn’t had time to find a pair of heels that fit you—and the floor was cool beneath your feet as Lars led you through the maze of dark hallways back to the bar. The room was empty, save for Nick sitting in the front, at the center table. Lars pushes you forward and you stumble, hiking up the fabric of your dress enough to walk towards the empty stage. 

 “Oh look at you,” Nick purred as you approached the microphone. His voice was like a physical caress, and it made goosebumps rise on the exposed skin of your arms. “I would say I had no idea you had all that under those pastor-approved sacks,” he winked at you as he lifted the glass in front of him to his lips. “But I’d be lying.”

 You fidgeted under his gaze, your hands twisting in the sparkling gold fabric. “S-sir, I—”

 “Sing.” You took a shaky breath, your hands still balled into sweaty fists. You couldn’t think of anything but church hymns and praises, and your throat so tight the words wouldn’t come out, no matter how you forced them. Nick clucked his tongue at you. 

“What’s wrong, sweet pea?” He asked, draining the rest of the whiskey from his glass. “Stage fright?” The soles of his shiny oxfords tapped eagerly against the hard floor as he pushed chair away from the table and made for the stage. You don’t know what to do as he crossed the stage to stand behind you, your breath catching in your throat at his closeness. 

 “I-I’m s-sorry, I—” You swallowed thickly as he brushed a stray lock of hair from your shoulder. “I just know… church songs.” 

 “Now that won’t do,” his voice was soft, sultry. You were unsure of the hand on your shoulder that slipped down to cradle the small of your back, his palm too warm against your bare skin. “See, this isn’t really the kind of place the church going type likes to frequent.” Hot tears spring to your eyes he cups your ass through the fabric of your borrowed dress.

 “S-sir, I just want t-to work,” you babbled, attempting to flinch away from him. Nick grasped your hip firmly, his other hand snaking around your forearm as he tugged you back against his body. You couldn’t contain the whimper that bubbled past your lips as he ran his nose down the side of your throat. “P-please—”

 “I’ll tell you what, sweet-pea,” he drawled, skimming his hands up and down your sides. “I have a… different offer.” You squeaked when his hand slid up the generous slit in your skirt, tears pricking at your wide eyes. “How would you like it if your mother was never sick?” Fingers move against the seam of your white cotton panties. “In perfect health?” They dip beneath the elastic, and you whine as he parts your lips. “Like it never even happened?”

 The hand on your hip found your breasts, plucking at your nipples through the dress. 

 “I-I-I would give anything,” you stammered. He let out a pleased hum at your response, and you smelled the thick, smokey, scent of sulphur—

 “Anything?” Something hard presses up between the cheeks of your ass, and you make a pained, terrified noise in the back of your throat. “What a good place to start, sweet-pea.” 

fin

#sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan characters #nick fowler smut #nick fowler x reader #nick fowler #nick fowler imagine #dark!nick fowler #the 355 fanfiction #boxofbonesfic #bones drabbles #monkeys paw challenge #darkfic #dark!au

[n1ightw1ng]

very curious about all of them but i’ll ask abt red robin dicktim 👀

hehe...of course <3 they are being unwell together! (cw for rr tim's regular brand passive suicideality) I'm not sure whether to tie this one up with just smut or the aftermath of their poor choices...

They’re alone. They’re alone, and Dick already asked, but he wants to ask again. “Tim,” he says, as if the lines of his shoulders aren’t taut, as if he doesn’t know, acutely, that Dick is there. “Did you really think I’d catch you?”

“You asked that already,” he says, and Dick doesn’t know what he’s staring at, but he doesn’t think it’s on his phone screen.

“There’s no way you knew I was there.”

Tim still doesn’t look at him. He taps at his phone, once. “Sure I did.”

“Tim—“

His phone hits the wall behind Dick’s head with a sharp crack. It’s everything he can do not to flinch. Tim would’ve hit him with it if he really wanted to. “I was done. I was done, Dick, I did everything I had to do and,” his voice cracks, “and I’m still here. I don’t know if I want to be. Okay? Is that what you wanted to hear?”

He swallows. His eardrum is fluttering. “No. No. Why would I want to hear that?” When he starts to rise from his chair, Tim twitches, but stays put. “Why—“

“Because there’s nothing left for me here!” His voice slams into a harsh pitch. He’s on his feet in a second, almost nose-to-nose with Dick. “There’s nothing—I’m—I’m not Robin. Or Bruce’s son. Or—or—or yours. I’m this suit and there’s blood on my hands, Dick, and this name is tarnished and I chose it for that. Because I knew I’d be doing things that Robin…that Batman…would never do. Could never do. And you’re perfect and trying to make Damian a human and I’m—“

“Robin,” Dick says quietly, and Tim’s mouth hangs open. “You’re Robin,” he places his palm over Tim’s heart, “in here. So am I.” The air between them grows greenhouse-humid. Tim tilts forward, just enough, to rest his forehead on Dick’s throat. He doesn’t know what it means. He does, and he doesn’t want to, but he needs to. He has to see this, feel this. Because it’s what Tim needs. Tim needs him, and he’s crying into his neck, wet and hiccupy and awful. They back into his chair, Tim collapsing into his lap, and Dick tugs each black glove from his uniform slowly. A growing part of him wants to scream. Bare fingers press into his jaw, death-cold. “You want to be…” mine, he almost says, but he can’t finish it, and Tim’s thumb lingers on his lower lip. 

He has someone. Wally. And this would destroy him. But—Tim’s saying, “Yes,” so, so quietly, and his eyes are blue as raindrops. So, Dick kisses him. At first, Tim goes limp. Then, he’s surging forward, lips wet with his own tears, and Dick’s—stupidly hard from his little brother crying in his lap. Tim unfolds, seating himself with his legs on either side of Dick’s hips. “Please,” he says, “please, is this real?”

Dick thinks he should be shot by a firing squad for this. “It’s real, Robin.” At that, Tim whimpers brokenly. His fingers twine in Dick’s hair, massaging and tangling and pulling when he leverages himself to grind down on his cock. 

#saltwaterwrites #dicktim #nsft

[anxresi]

Okay, stop what you’re doing and watch this RIGHT NOW.

Are you telling me THIS Chloe, the genuinely remorseful girl ready to burst into tears in front of her idol, THIS Chloe who confesses to feeling ‘useless’ on a regular basis without a single trace of dishonesty, THIS Chloe, who confides it’s not even Marinette that’s her main problem, it’s her own lack of self-worth that makes her lash out at others…

…Can be the same sociopathic monster we see in S4-S5?

Because if you do, I’d go and get my eyes tested.

Just viewing this clip now brought it all home to me. How much they’ve ruined Chloe’s character, by stripping away the few layers she had to reduce her to this wretched caricature we see today.

To reset ALL her growth in one fell swoop and now pretending it never happened. To think what we could’ve got instead of this Mary Sue wannabe Zoe turning up…

…A fascinating character study of a troubled girl with major issues blossoming into a true hero, (or anti-hero, if you prefer) and the impact her new personality and outlook has on the people around her.

Nope, let’s ditch all that in favor of this perfect ‘long list sibling’ turning up out of nowhere, and inheriting everything that Chloe could’ve had after a lengthy redemption arc (true friends, a healthier relationship with her father, a permanent position as Queen Bee) all in the most lazy two-parter ever conceived.

After all, why ‘waste’ seasons worth of gradual development on an established character, when you can pluck one out of the great blue yonder as the finished article? So much more satisfying from a storytelling perspective, right??

Oh, and it forever tarnished my view of Ladybug too, that the solution for Chloe’s problem was to encourage her to be even nastier and more horrible so she could ‘bond’ with the main perpetrator of her feeling of inadequacy and self-loathing for years e.g her own mother.

Yes, let’s continue the endless cycle of toxicity and abuse because it’s so much easier than giving a traumatized teenager in need proper help and support.

This is why I laughed out loud when Miss Bustier announced in the leaks for S5 (not really a spoiler) that ‘everyone had tried to help Chloe’.

Really? Since when?! I must’ve missed an entire season of the show where this happened… (considering the quality of the writing, perhaps this isn’t a bad thing).

Anyway, thanks Ladybug. Some ‘hero’.

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous #chloe bourgeois #ladybug #ml salt #ml #queen bee #marinette dupain-cheng #disney #zag #chloe