johnny storm’s girlfriend

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[biancadjarin]

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(18+ writing)

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office romance - jim halpert

waiting for a girl like you - eddie munson

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[blondedlvfe]

happy Fourth of July to all the dbf joel miller girlies

[biancadjarin]

I’ve looked in Ao3 already, is Fourth of July posted anywhere else?? I know the OP deleted her account on here🥺 I NEED to read it.🩷

[spider-mann]

Joe Keery as Steve Harrington

STRANGER THINGS

5.07 | "The Bridge"

[buckysgrace]

Apple and Tea

Travis "Teacake" Meacham x Stripper!Reader

CW: Unprotected p n v sex

Thank you to @sadhours for editing, coming up with my title and always bouncing ideas around with me hehehe. Also big thanks for letting me sign into your Kindle Unlimited since I forgot my book hehehe luf you.

Teacake has a way with words.

“We’re going in here?” Teacake came to a complete halt, his shoes digging into the chipped sidewalk as he stared up at the giant neon sign. He’d drive past this very place his entire life, yet he had never been brave enough to walk inside. 

“I told you, man,” Dylan sighed in exasperation, “it’s not a big deal.” He stated calmly, though he was still wearing the same shit eating grin. Teacake’s words died on his tongue as hoots and hollers rang around him, nearly making him forget what he was about to say. 

“You said we were going to a bar, not a strip club. There’s a difference. Actually, there’s a pretty big difference.” He said firmly, hoping he didn’t sound as panicked as he felt. If he had known, he would’ve at least made some attempt to look better. He hadn’t even had time to shower since working yesterday. He’d been so tired when he’d gotten back that he had crashed on his lumpy bed as soon as he set foot into his room. He not only looked a mess, but greasy as well. 

“Don’t tell me you ain’t ever been into The Wild Orchid, Teacake.” Dylan  said dryly, looking amused. Almost like this had been his intent. Teacake scoffed quickly, not wanting anyone to see through him. Even though he was fairly certain they could. 

“No, I can’t say I’ve been in here before,” he replied quickly as he gestured towards the building, “and besides, it’s a Monday. Ain’t nobody goin’ into one of these places on a Monday.” At least no one with good intentions, and he didn’t really care to be roped into that mess. 

“You’d be surprised. You scared?” Dylan continued on, walking further ahead and leaving Teacake to rush forward. He didn’t necessarily care about being left behind either. Better to keep his eyes on them than get dragged into something else. 

“Not scared, I just wasn’t prepared. You didn’t warn me. You know, like I didn’t bring that much cash. That’s it.” He mumbled as he dug into his back pocket, digging until he found his I.D., just to be prepared. He had a feeling he’d have a long night at the bar. 

“Right.” Someone to his left snickered, though he missed it as he stumbled into the building. He winced as he adjusted to the very loud music, eyebrows crinkling together as he adjusted his eyesight in the darker room. 

There were various neon lights throughout the room, though he was instantly drawn towards the bright red one that illuminated the stage. His stomach twisted into a thick knot before he quickly turned away, not wanting to linger on the girl that was dancing on stage. 

“Hey, Teacake, where’s my teacake?” Someone else smarted off, making him roll his eyes as he mustered up the strength to smile. He wasn’t at all amused, but there was no point in arguing with any of them. 

He knew he should’ve driven himself.

Going out with Dylan was a bad idea to begin with, and the feeling only grew once more of his buddies began to tag along. All he could think about on the car ride here was his little trip to Ellsworth, on how he had spent those nineteen months plotting on how to make his life better. Not that it had worked so far. But maybe if he stayed away from the others it wouldn’t matter. Maybe. 

He camped out at the bar, making small talk with the bartender as he worked on his second beer. He was having a hard time looking at the stage, but he had an even harder time looking away. He felt like a child, like he was going to get in trouble for looking at something he wasn’t supposed to look at. Which was an insane thought, he was a grown man. But it still felt wrong. 

“What’re you doing here all alone?” A soft voice snapped him from his thoughts, nearly making him jolt in surprise. He peered at you once, blinked, then looked at you again. Sure that he was dreaming. You looked like an angel, ethereal, completely different from the place he was sitting in. 

“Hey, hi,” he replied, mouth agape as his eyes drifted over the high heels then all the way up the curve of your legs. Your pink lingerie wasn’t the most scandalous, but still left little to his imagination. Very little actually. The closer he looked, the more he realized that it was sheer. If he stepped any closer, he was sure he could see your nipples against the shiny material. He huffed harshly, “I’m not alone, my friends are over there.” He gestured over more roughly than he meant to, trying to keep his composure cool. 

“How come you’re not?” You questioned softly, voice as sweet as honey as you furrowed your eyebrows together. He did his best to keep from staring into your eyes, sure that they were the prettiest hue he’d ever seen. He was suddenly glad that he was sitting down, though he felt a hundred different excuses forming on the tip of his tongue. 

“I wanted a beer,” he replied calmly, trying to keep his heart from hammering too harshly inside his chest, “and like some fresh air. It’s crowded in here, you know, lots of dancing goin’ on. I didn’t want to get in the way.” He replied as he waved his hand in the air, feeling more nervous than he had in a while.

“Very crowded,” you agreed with a nod of your head, a hazy look lingering in your eyes. You were slightly wobbling, but he wondered if that had to do with the pair of heels that you were stuffed into, “would you like to go somewhere private?” You offered, leaning against the counter in such a seductive way he felt his head beginning to spin. 

“What’s your name?” He asked instead, gulping harshly as his eyes drifted over the curve of your boobs. Just enough to look at your cleavage. He didn’t let his gaze drop further than that, not wanting to be disrespectful of course. 

“Apple,” you responded, lips curling into a kind smile. It felt a little odd to think that the name suited you, but it really did, “and yours?” You asked in return, standing there patiently instead of running off to talk to someone else. Which he appreciated. He felt like a teenager as he observed the way you tapped your manicured nails against the counter, matching the rhythm to the music playing in the background. 

“Teacake,” He introduced himself, feeling a little odd as he thrusted his hand out in your direction. He was suddenly glad for the dark room, knowing that you wouldn’t be able to see the way his face turned red, “is that your real name? Apple?”

“Is Teacake your real name?”

“No, it’s just a dumb nickname,” he explained briefly, “given to me by some even dumber dudes.” He added, not wanting you to think that he had come up with something so awful.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard of that before.” You replied as you squinted your eyes thoughtfully, eyebrows furrowing together as you squeezed your fingers around his own. He gulped hard, trying to ignore the electricity that raced up his arm. 

“Long story, fairly annoying.” He told you truthfully, feeling like it wasn’t really worth the hassle. You gently released your grip from his, glossed lips still curled into a smile. He could see that your eyelids were covered in a thick glitter too, making your eyes twinkle. 

“But I bet it’s still interesting,” you added kindly as you turned, resting your elbow on the table this time. He forgot how to breathe as he looked at you fully, eyes drifting across your curves and perky boobs. He turned quickly, covering his nerves up with a cough, “need a cough drop?”

“S’fine,” he replied rapidly as he brought his beer up to his lips, taking a few thick gulps in hopes that he would feel his confidence grow. He’d been drunk with all the other girls he’d slept with in the past, not that he planned on sleeping with you, it just made it easier to talk too, “just a tickle in the back of my throat. I’m not sick though, just a little choked up. I wouldn’t get anyone sick on purpose.” He added lamely, blinking roughly at the amused laugh that slid between your lips. 

“You’re cute.” You stated, taking him completely by surprise. He parted his lips, used to being looked down upon. You didn’t do that. Then again, maybe he just looked like a fool who would cough up as many bills as you wanted. 

“You’ve got kind eyes,” he spit out, all of his confidence melting away at your words, “and I like the way you talk. You’re really pretty too. And your outfit is nice.” He rambled on, wishing his tongue would stop. 

“I don’t suppose you’d be interested in a dance.” You tried again, manicured nails dancing across the snake tattoo on his skin. 

“Sure, yeah. Of course. I would love a dance. Dancing is super cool,” he replied, lips curling into a smile, “like right now?” Teacake blinked roughly, realizing that you were waiting for him. 

“There’s a private room over there.” You gestured towards it, giving him a small nod of your head. 

“Okay, sure. Cool. Let’s go over there then, a’ight?” He rubbed his palms across his knees before he stood, wishing he’d ordered a shot instead of his beer.

“Follow me, handsome.” You took his hand, making his heart race inside of his chest as he took in the way his hand swallowed yours whole. 

“Where do you want me to sit? Here? Or what about over there?”

“You can sit right there,” you instructed, lips pressed into an amused grin, “get yourself comfortable.”

“Sure thing, right,” he nodded as he sat down, “have you been doing this long? It looks nice here. A lot nicer than others, just assuming.”

“For a few months now,” you answered breezily, placing your hands on his shoulders softly, “comfortable?” 

“Seems fun,” he continued on as he nodded his head, unable to stop himself, “I mean, not that I would do it. Not that there’s anything bad with this either, I’m sure it pays the bills and what not. Not that there’s anything wrong with liking dancing either.” 

“Just sort of happened,” you replied as you brushed a nail gently across his cheek, “are you ready?” You asked, suddenly too close to him. 

“Lady, I just want to say that I respect women,” he rattled off quickly, cheeks still burning, “I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable or anythin’, I didn’t even know we were going here. It was just sort of sprung on me, I mean I just woke up and -,”

“You talk a lot,” you stated with a little giggle, “it’s cute. I like it.” You seemed genuine with your answer, which was new. 

“It’s a thing,” he replied, gulping harshly, “anyways, I just don’t want to pressure you into anything.” He finished his thought, watching the slow way you nodded your head. 

“I appreciate that, but you’re the one paying for the dance.” You replied with a low laugh, looking all cute. He really, really hoped that he didn’t stink. 

“Well-,” he thought about it for a moment, “right. I’ll keep my hands where you can see them, though. I’m a gentleman. Ma’am.” He added for good measure, holding his hands to his knees. 

“I appreciate that,” you hummed as you moved his arms to his sides, “you’re very sweet.” You complimented him, making his stomach erupt with butterflies as you slowly straddled his lap. 

“Thank you, Apple,” It took everything in Teacake to keep from gasping as he fully felt the warmth of your body spreading across his lap. His hazel eyes were everywhere as he analyzed every curve and inch of you, fascinated, “you’re like really good at this. Really pretty.”

“Shh,” you teased him, pressing your finger against his lips, “I want you to enjoy this.” You added earnestly, beginning to rock your hips to the music that was thumping in the background. 

“M’okay,” he breathed out roughly, “but I am enjoying this. A lot. Like, you’re stunning.” His body was beginning to burn, not from his words but from the want that was growing inside of him. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever had someone talk through a dance before.” You admitted, pretty lips pulling into the brightest smile he’d ever seen. He faltered, nearly melting underneath your touch. 

“It’s just a me thing,” he added quickly, feeling a warmth spread through him as he met your eyes, “like I said, it’s a thing.” His eyes flickered back down to your body, just briefly. He was still a gentleman. But it had been some time since he’d been with a woman. 

Teacake’s heart was racing roughly against the crook of his neck as you leaned in closer, your panties pressed roughly against his suddenly too tight jeans. He curled his fingers into a fist, trying to keep from grabbing you as you rutted slowly against the half chub that was forming in his pants. He was so screwed. 

“Howdy,” you read off of his neck, humming softly, “what’s the story behind this one?” You were whispering in his ear now, sending a chill through his body. 

“Jus’ thought it was funny I guess,” he gulped harshly, “no real reason. I don’t know.” He very briefly felt tongue tied, a little lost in the sensation of the way you were moving against him. 

“You’re trembling,” you whispered lowly, “are you nervous?” You pulled back slowly, hands falling against his stubbled jaw.

“I’ve only had two beers,” he spit out quickly, looking at you nervously, “well, barely a second one. Technically only one. Like, I’m pretty sober still or whatever.” He blinked roughly, wishing he could stop talking. 

“S’that a problem?”

“I’ve never-, like while sober. I’ve always been pretty hammered,” he admitted, licking his bottom lip nervously, “not that it matters, I know you’re not doing that or whatever but-,” he began, only to be silenced by the feeling of your lips on his. 

Your lips were smooth and sweet, slotting against his perfectly as he softened against your touch. Fireworks bloomed inside of his stomach as you kissed him, holding his face firmly as he moaned underneath you. You snagged his bottom lip between both of yours, teeth lightly dragging against his. 

A smile spread across your lips at the way he groaned from your touch, your tongue flicking out against his mouth. He inhaled sharply as you traced the curve of his lips, his heart thumping roughly against his chest at the white hot lust that spread down his spine. 

His cock was aching in his pants, throbbing at the slow way you continued to grind down against him. His fingertips were burning, desperate to feel your flesh against his skin. The desire to touch you was overwhelming, a feeling so intense that he couldn’t fight the urge anymore.

A little grin left your lips as you placed your fingers across his wrists, pressing his palms down rougher against your flesh. Sparks traveled up his arms, a little whine leaving his lips as the sensation rushed to his aching dick. 

“Wait, wait, slow down,” he groaned as he stopped your motions, eyes snapping up towards yours quickly, “I uh, I really appreciate your work lady. I really do, s’great. Incredible. But if you keep doing that I’m gonna-, well, I’m close. M’sorry.”

“Just from that?” You laughed as you tilted your head, pushing your fingers through his bleached hair. He didn’t think it was as funny, not with the way his cock was straining underneath your weight. 

“Sorry, m’sorry,” he apologized again, cheeks heating up, “like I said, you’re really pretty. And you know how to do your job. Fuck. Feels really good.” He moaned lowly, closing his eyes to bury his own shame as he rutted his hips up against your smooth flesh.

“I can make you feel even better,” you whispered against his earlobe, tongue flicking out against his earring. He shivered, flicking his tongue out against his bottom lip as you worked on unzipping his pants, “poor baby. Look at you. Let me take care of you.” You cooed, wrapping your fingers around his fat cock.

The pleasure burned inside of him as you spread his precum along the head of his cock, tilting your head down to spit across his length a second later. He hissed at the sensation, jerking his hips forward as you stroked your hand along the curve of his dick. 

“You’re huge,” you breathed out, eyes hazy with lust as you looked back up at him. He shook his head, unable to speak for once as you dragged his cock along your clothed cunt, “wanna feel you inside of me. I’ll make you feel so good, y’want that?”

He nodded his head roughly, gulping as your hand squelched along his slick cock. He groaned lowly, biting down on his bottom lip as he continued to rut up against your hand. Your palms felt nice, your fingers firm against his skin. 

“Hey, don’t get quiet on me now,” you smirked, giving him a knowing look as you tapped your free hand against his jaw, “what do you want?” You asked him, bringing your motions to a slow stop.

A guttural sound left his mouth as he licked the corner of his lips, inhaling harshly as he nodded his head again, “you. I want you. Can you fuck me? Can you do that for me, Apple?” He hissed, glancing down as you soft squeezed his cock.

You shifted yourself on your knees, leaving him to greedily grip at your ass. He enjoyed the feeling of your flesh against his palms, getting a brief look at your cunt as you pushed your panties aside. He jerked back as you pushed his tip against your hole, sliding yourself onto him. 

Teacake was enamored with the way your face relaxed as you buried his cock inside of your slick cunt, pleasure etching on your features as you came to a slow stall. You whimpered around him, walls spongy and soaked. He was struggling to keep his own eyes open, though he didn’t ever want to forget how you looked right now. 

“Ah, oh,” he felt his eyebrows rising in pleasure, his jaw relaxing as he became overwhelmed with the feeling of you, “Oh Jesus Christ. Oh holy fuck. Oh God.” He crooned, glancing back down to the way your cunt hugged his cock snuggly. 

He’d had sex before, but he was positive nothing had felt quite this good before. Your fingernails dragging across his biceps as you let out a loud moan, sending a fresh spark of lust inside of him. You were so damn pretty, so tight around his dick. 

“Oh, Jesus,” he whined, unable to help himself as you began to drag yourself up and down the length of his cock, “oh fuck. Fuck. You’re riding me. Oh my God.” His eyes snapped across the length of your body, unsure of where to really focus. He enjoyed the expression on your face, in your eyes; but he also enjoyed the way your boobs moved, how your pussy was leaking around his thick girth.

Your moans became louder as you gripped his shoulders tighter, nails digging into his skin in a nice manner. His fingertips were rough against your waist, beginning to thrust up with your movements. He hoped that you felt as good as he did, because your spongy walls were gripping him so tightly that he felt like he was in heaven. You were the closest he’d come to God.

“Fuck,” you whined, your sounds of pleasure mingling with his as you rutted your hips down against him harder, “yeah, that feel good? You sound so pretty. Makin’ me feel so good.” You praised, lustful eyes meeting his.

He cried out as he looked deep into your eyes, fingertips digging into the flesh of your hips as he pushed his cock into you deeper. Your moans grew louder, whinier as you dropped your head down against his. He hissed, feeling himself beginning to fall apart. 

The pleasure burned hot inside of him, licking at him as your cunt clamped down around his girth. You whimpered as you rolled your hips forward rougher, making him whine.

“Wait, wait, wait,” he moaned as he tugged you closer, his cock brushing against your bundle of nerves with each movement, “s’close. Gonna cum. Fuck, fuck. I’ll pull out, yeah. Yeah, fuck, feels so fuckin’ good.” He rambled out messily, beginning to see stars.

You gasped, keeping the same rhythm that was making his eyes roll into the back of his head. He didn’t want you to stop, wanted you to make him fall apart underneath him. He crooned, toes curling in his shoes as the pleasure hit him all at once.

His cock throbbed inside of you, aching as he came deep inside of your weeping cunt. He pressed up on his heels, unable to help himself as his body shook from his orgasm. His pleasure was loud, whiny as he painted your walls white. 

“Fuck, fuck,” his lips parted, expression crinkling in bliss as he looked up at you in awe. You were perfect, a dream, “m’sorry. Sorry, fuck. Didn’t mean to cum inside, m’sorry. You just felt so good. Oh fuck, oh fuck I can see it.” He huffed, watching the way his spunk leaked out from your puffy pussy. 

“Oh my God, oh my God,” you chanted, making him squeak as you bounced along the curve of his cock once, then twice, “right there. Oh fuck.” You whined, coming to a slow stop as your walls trembled around his girth. He whined again, eagerly stroking your sides.

Part of the haze had washed off of him, just barely. Just enough that he knew it was pretty dumb to fuck you without a condom. Not that he had brought any anyways, but it was still dumb. And he still didn’t regret it. He liked the feeling of your cunt hugging his fat cock, made him want you even more. Again. 

“I’m real sorry,” he began, chest rising and falling harshly as he fought to catch his breath, “I don’t normally do that, fuck. You just felt so good. Oh s’crazy. Wow.” He repeated, unable to look away from how the mixture of your cum was dripping along the length of his dick. 

“What’s your name?” You teased softly, cupping his chin softly. You grinned, giving the corner of his mouth a kiss. He smiled goofily. 

“Tea-,”

“Your real name.” You interrupted, making him nod slowly. His mind was so hazy in pleasure he had forgotten. Or maybe he’d hoped you had.

“Travis.” 

“Travis, I like it.” You smiled, patting the side of his cheek again. He leaned against your touch, savoring the way you felt against him. How you smelt. He was hooked. 

He’d have to see you again.

[freckledjoes]

My favorite duo from now on <3

[fyeaheddiemunson]

[fyeaheddiemunson]

[biancadjarin]

I’m so tired of starting a 4k note Eddie x reader story and then the setting being a hot summer day and reader being sweaty and not shaved like ew who tf is reading this and getting turned on 😭😭😭

[ghoulbrain]

Animal Instinct

18+ 3.5k ghoul x f!reader. graphic depictions of violence, wound tending, hurt/comfort, established relationship, feral/protective cooper, cannibalism, blood, dirty talk, vaginal fingering. gif credit. read on AO3. written as part of the Saddle Up, Sweetheart verse, but can be read as a stand-alone.

When you're both ambushed by raiders, Cooper comes to understand the lengths he'll go to keep you safe.

This never would have happened if Cooper was still traveling alone. He would have been more aware of his surroundings, he would have seen the signs of an ambush long before he stepped into it, and he wouldn’t have been so focused on you instead.

It’s lazy to blame you, though. The fault is his. Without preamble or flourish he draws his revolver and starts emptying shots into the spill of sorry sons of bitches that decided they would ruin his evening.

Out of the corner of his eye he sees you move forward, weapon drawn. His lip twitches. Your grip is good, but your stance is horse-shit. If this is going to become a thing–you taggin’ along like this–he’ll have to show you how to properly fire a gun.

He refocuses quickly, stepping forward to keep himself angled between them and you. The ambush isn’t anything special: just a bunch of jumpy junkies with twitchy trigger fingers looking for their next score. He takes a shot to the shoulder, another to the sternum. He doesn’t feel anything but the impact and pressure of irradiated flesh being forced apart around the bullets. There’s no pain, not so long his system is flooded with chemicals.

It’s your cry of pain that sets his nerves ablaze. He fires two more shots–dropping the men who hit him–before he whirls around, a hot rush of fire rolling through him at the sight of you with a man pressed up against your back, one arm fitted around your throat while he crushes your wrist in his other hand, squeezing hard, keeping your gun pointed at the ground as he chokes you out.

That’s when he sees the knife sunk into your thigh, blood soaking a wide crimson circle into your clothing around the knife’s hilt. In this infinitely long and horrible instant that your gaze meets his. The pain and fear in your eyes trigger something in him, and the whole world becomes both brighter and slower all at once.

Cooper aims, fires, but his revolver clicks emptily. He doesn’t reach to reload. Instead, he moves on pure animal instinct, bearing his teeth and charging with a guttural snarl.

Adrenaline mixes with the chemical cocktail in his veins and he moves faster than the man reacts, ripping his hands from you and throwing your assailant to the ground with such incredible force it dazes the man, his eyes glazing over. He roars in the raider’s face, spittle and yellow flecks coating his dirty skin, before he lunges, sinking his teeth into the pulsing jugular below.

He lends no thought to how natural it feels to bite into warm, living flesh.

Rearing up, mouth bloodied and full of viscera, Cooper winds his fist back and strikes the man in the face. His first blow hits his jaw. The next strikes his temple.

Straddling him, he doesn’t stop hitting. One fist after the other. He aims for the jaw, the temple, the high of his cheek. He misses and shatters his nose with a satisfying crunch, blood spewing from his nostrils to coat his knuckles. His jaw breaks with a pop. Broken teeth and bone slice flesh, mixing with gore and falling to the dirt in wet chunks.

The violence feels raw and good, like the first deep inhale of a vial or a hot wet fuck. He swallows the blood and meat lingering in his mouth and lets out a rough breath. Gritting his teeth he hits harder, driven on by the scent of blood and dirt. The gurgle of choked breaths. The slip of split flesh against his fists. It's all gasoline on the flames your peril sparked.

Cooper thinks of him stabbing you. Choking you. He thinks of your watery eyes, bright and terrified. He thinks of everyone he’s ever let down, ever failed to save, and he keeps hitting. Even when the man beneath him seizes. Even when he drowns in his blood.

Even when he dies.

Cooper is beating on a hunk of ruined flesh when he finally stops, drenched in the blowback of it.

Wheezing breaths saw from his lungs as he places one hand on the dirt road, lifting himself off of the mess of battered meat. He stares down at his knuckles where pain throbs with every heartbeat. It's a welcome sensation. Not because he deserves it, but because the raider did, and because he delivered. Destruction with his bare hands. Suffering where it’s meant to be found. He drags his tongue along the soaked leather of his glove and greedily swallows what collects on his tongue.

Heart thundering in his ears, Cooper stands, dipping briefly to pick up his gun. The grip slides around in his bloodied hand before he holsters it, cloudy eyes scanning for movement until his gaze lands on you. Down on the ground, clutching your wound, you look like a doe with a bum leg, your eyes blown wide and afraid. You look… irresistible. Not just as a woman, not just as his woman, but as an easy meal.

He takes a step forward, lips parted. The edges of you are blurry to his addled mind. The only part of you that’s in focus is the bright red of your wound seeping into your clothes. His memories of lapping the salt from your skin cross wires in his brain and all he can imagine is holding you safe and sound as he devours you.

“Cooper?”

The sound of your voice acts like a shock to his system that drags him back from the sweet coppery tang of warm, fresh blood in his mouth. He’s standing above you, closer than he realized he got. The sweetness in his mouth sours into putrid rot and he takes a step backwards, rasping out a cuss under his breath. He turns his head and spits, aggressively wiping at his mouth with his sleeve, smearing away blood and little chunks of flesh, abruptly and horribly aware of himself.

Shame blooms in his gut, unfurling all the way up to a tightness in his chest. He looks down at the mutilated body on the ground. There’s no head left, just wet gore soaking into the hungry dry earth below.

He completely lost control of himself. He spits, wipes, spits, wipes, rubs his mouth raw against his sleeve in an attempt to scrub away the taste and feel of it before he dares look at you again. He contemplates shoving a handful of dirt into his mouth just to chase away the lingering tang. He never wants to see you–to think of you–like that again. Like you’re just another hunk of meat.

Your touch makes him jerk away. He looks at you sharply, furious that you would come so close after what he’s done. What he could have done to you.

“Cooper–”

“M’not right,” he says roughly, taking hold of your wrist. You flinch and he realizes that he’s snatched the same wrist the motherfucker he beat into a paste had been crushing. He softens his grip, throat tight like there’s a hand squeezing it. “Fuck, would y’just–m’not right,” he says again, an edge of desperation in his emphasis.

“I know,” you say, voice tender, as if somehow he’s the one in need of gentleness. “I know. So come back. Don’t shut me out.” There’s more authority in your voice than you have any right to have in your position, shaking like a leaf while you touch his face, hushing him with such tenderness it fractures something in him that he thought long dead and buried under the weight of the last two hundred years.

Wish I could, he thinks, wiping his hand on his thigh. That you would look at him like that even now, as if he’s somehow still a man, eats at the very core of him. Makes him want to shy away, prove you wrong, and disappear into you all at once. He takes in a steadying breath before he clutches both of your arms, moving you to the ground. 

“Easy,” he says, voice barely above a rasp. “Y’bleedin’.”

You’re holding onto his elbows as he lowers you, gritting your teeth against the pain. He focuses on your discomfort, on the risk you face, fragile thing that you are, to keep his mind far away from the abyss he walked the edge of while maiming the body behind him.

His first priority is to stanch the bleeding. His movements become practiced, hands that of a soldier. He uses a strap from his pack to create a makeshift tourniquet, twisting it around a scrap rod. All the while he’s hyper aware of your gaze on him and the shallow huffs of your breath, the way it catches when he pulls the binding tight.

“Hurts,” you say tightly.

“I know,” he says, drawing his knife. He lifts your blood soaked pant leg–don’t pause, don’t think, don’t breathe it in–and slices open the fabric. “S’about t’hurt a whole lot more. Gimme a count, I’ll pull it on three,” he tells you, bracing one hand on your thigh, the other gripping the hilt of the knife.

“Okay, okay,” you say, sucking in a deep breath. “One–”

Cooper yanks the blade free, startling a yelp out of you that carries into a pained groan.

“What happened to three?!” You ask sharply, fingers digging into the dirt.

He hurriedly smothers the wound with the cleanest cloth he has before he works on tightly wrapping the wound. “S’better when y’don’t know it’s comin’.”

“Asshole,” you breathe.

The faint twitch at the corner of his mouth is reluctant, as if there’s an invisible string tugging at it against his will. “Can’t be that bad if y’still mouthin’ off.”

“It’ll take more than a measly stab wound to keep my mouth shut,” you say, familiar playfulness slipping in alongside the strain in your voice.

“Don’t I know it,” he grouses, glancing up at you. There’s nothing reluctant about your smile. It’s the opposite of his, earnest in a way he’s long forgotten how to be. You’re making an attempt at comforting him, he realizes, looking back down to finish his work, removing the tourniquet once he’s satisfied with the dressing.  “It’ll do for now. Y’need stitches.”

“I’ll be fine,” you say dismissively, shifting onto your knees.

He makes a skeptical noise in the back of his throat, sheathing his knife. “Would it kill y’not to be so damn contrary?”

“It might,” you say, catching the lapel of his jacket and pulling at him, bringing his attention back to you. He looks down at your hand, stained now with the crimson wetness spattered all over his coat. His clothes are soaked heavy with misery and blood, but it doesn’t dissuade you any. You touch his jaw with your other hand and lift his eyes to meet yours.

“Hey,” you whisper. You’re close enough that he should feel the ghost of your breath on his lips, but he can’t. Most of the subtleties of life are lost on a man so close to death. The only ghosts he knows now are those of his past. “You okay?”

Holding your gaze, he doesn’t answer you. Sometimes you feel like one of them, like another specter haunting him. The only difference is that you haven’t died yet.

Yet.

“Come back to me,” you murmur. His vision refocuses, finding you closer than you had been a second ago. The warm pressure of your lips grazing his cheek makes him falter, wanting the tenderness of your touch so viscerally it feels dangerous to admit even to himself. “Stay with me.”

Your hand lightly cups the back of his neck, holding him without caging him. You move closer, settling in his lap, grounding him with the weight of your body against his. He moves at that, grasping your hips and squeezing.

“Stay with me,” you say again, the words as fervent as prayer. His own lips parted, he can taste the breath of each word, sweet and warm, the way a distant part of him remembers things like love could be.

Why? He nearly asks. You won’t.

He had thought himself immune to this sickly feeling. This sense of grief for someone who isn’t yet gone, but you rip it out of him. The truth of the matter is that the Ghoul should never have entertained your company. He should have left you where he found you and been on his way without ever casting a backwards glance. The Ghoul would have.

It’s Cooper who didn’t. It’s Cooper’s hands sliding up your sides, squeezing your ribs and pulling you closer, deeper. He kisses you hungrily, craving you the way the Ghoul can’t. The way a man craves.

I ain’t dead yet.

And neither are you.

Two hundred years of surviving for tomorrow has eroded his ability to exist in the here and now, but your touches demand it of him. Your lips against his bring him into the moment as he lives it. As you live it with him.

“I ever look at you like that again,” he says gruffly, swiping his tongue along his bottom lip, catching yours in the process. He moves you back enough to lock eyes with you. “You put a bullet between my eyes.”

Your lips curve in a bittersweet kind of anguish. “Like you’re gonna eat me? Because right now–”

He gives you a sharp little shake. “Y’know what I mean,” he says, startling the smile off your face. From day one he’s liked your wit, the cavalier way you face life, but on this matter he needs you to hear him. “You ever look at me, and I’m not there, you promise you’ll put me down.”

The set of your mouth turns to a flat line, your gaze somber, and you nod. “I promise.”

Some of the tension in his haggard lungs eases and he kisses you again, need shooting up his spine like a hot geyser. “That’s my girl,” he breathes, leaning back and bringing you with him, saddling you properly astride his lap, his long legs stretched out behind you.

You kiss him back just as hungrily, heedless of the blood and gristle between your melding bodies, and he’s forced to remind himself that this is the only world you’ve ever known. There’s no time before this, not for you. Your life has always been full of horrors, and for reasons he’ll never fully comprehend, you’ve decided he’s one that you want close.

He slips his hands under your thighs and squeezes, hiking your legs around his waist until you’re seated closely enough to feel the growing ache between his legs. You don’t miss a beat, grinding down against him so fervently his breath breaks into a low groan. Not even he can deny his humanity in this. You turn his blood hot and shock the deadened thump of his heart into thunder. You make him feel alive.

He’ll return the favor. He’ll turn his spit to wine on your tongue and make your whole body fucking sing.

Breaking from your lips, he uses his teeth to tug his glove free, letting it fall to the ground. His mouth feels sandpaper dry, but your lips are plenty wet. 

“Open up for me, sweetheart,” he rumbles, parting your lips with the tips of his middle and index fingers. Your eager tongue slips molten wet between his fingers, your eyes hazy on his. He pumps his fingers slowly, cups the back of your head to keep you still while plunging all the way to his last knuckles before drawing them back. “That’s it… Get ‘em good and wet.”

It’s agonizing how easily you fall apart under his touch, and even more so how good you look doing it. Somewhat reluctantly, he withdraws his fingers from your mouth and with practiced ease maneuvers his hand down the front of your pants, curving his fingers to follow the contour of your pelvis until his fingertips slide through hot, wet arousal.

“Cooper,” you exhale, the pitch of your voice canary-sweet. If you have any care regarding the death that surrounds you or the blood between his body and yours, you don’t show it, nor pay it any heed. You’re focused entirely on him, lips parted on shallow breaths of pleasure. He strokes your clit in slow, deliberate circles, the rest of the world falling away the longer he watches your euphoria build.

Fuck, you’re goddamn beautiful. Why the hell you let a creature like him have you is beyond him, but he won’t let go. Not now. Not so long as you still look at him like this.

He swallows dryly, finally slipping his fingers into the welcoming heat of your pretty cunt. You’re soaked, his own personal oasis in the Wastes, velvet walls quivering around his toughened fingers. He angles the pad of his thumb against your clit and starts to finger fuck you in earnest, his cock throbbing beneath you. 

“Fuck,” you keen softly. Your hands braced on his shoulders, you meet every thrust of his hand, huffing divine little sounds while he fucks you with his fingers, crooking them until he feels you shudder.

“Yeah,” he breathes, enraptured. “That’s it. Got y’now, don’t I? Ah ah, don’t get shy on me,” he tsks when your eyes fall shut. “Eyes on me, darlin’. Eyes on me,” he says, voice frayed. You pry your eyes back open and hold his gaze, your own heavily lidded. “Good, s’good. Y’close now, ain’t’cha, sweetie?”

You nod fervently, moans bubbling up instead of words, your sweet features twisted in the exquisite agony that comes just before climax. You roll your palms against his shoulders, fingers digging into the thick fabric of his coat. He wishes he could feel the bite of your nails on his bare skin, wishes it were his cock sinking into you, but all that wistfulness is erased the second you cry out, your back arching, your cunt squeezing his fingers as you’re pitched forward into the throes of release.

Cooper grits his teeth, baring them like an animal as he fucks you through the tremors, grabbing hold of your jaw to keep you from collapsing, to keep your eyes on him. You slide your hands up and cup either side of his face, yanking him into a messy kiss. He falls into it easily, slowing the thrust of his fingers as the aftershocks of your orgasm settle until his hand is still against you, fingers pressed in deep, savoring the feel of you.

You kiss him leisurely with tongue, teeth and barely sated hunger. Your bliss slows you, and Cooper is content to simply feel. Even the lingering ache of his own need is a welcome sensation in a world he so often walks through feeling numb.

After a time, he slides his fingers from your pants, wiping them absently on his own before wrapping his arms around you. You sink into him in turn, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. The sun has almost disappeared completely, and the chill of night is beginning to nip the air. All of this carnage will attract predators soon, but he finds himself unable to rush the matter. His embrace tightens.

“I love you,” you murmur.

There was a time long before his heart became an open grave that he would have been eager to return the sentiment, but hearing those three little words turns his tongue to lead. They flood him with memories of an era where love came naturally–the way only violence does now–and shooting a man in the head was the most abhorrent act he could fathom for himself.

These days, a headshot is a kindness.

His stomach is tight, a bile-like burn creeping up his throat. He screws his eyes shut, swallowing it back. To his relief, you aren’t tense with anticipation. Instead, you pepper butterfly light kisses along the scarred column of his throat, paying special attention to the nicks and scars along the way to his jaw.

You kiss him. He takes your face in his hands and deepens it, pushing into you until your back arches. 

“I’ll keep you safe,” he whispers against your lips, the words both a promise and a prayer. Not to God–He gave up on God a long time ago–this prayer is for you. It’s what he knows. It’s what he is. No matter the monster that threatens you, you’ll always have one of your own to bite back. You’ll always have him.

Strained, quieter yet, he says, “I swear.”

Or so help me, I’ll swallow the bullet myself.

“I know,” you say, thumbs brushing over his cheeks. There’s a blissful kind of sorrow in your expression, but so too is there understanding. He kisses you, closing his eyes against the dry burn of them. He’s not sure he’s even capable of tears anymore. He’s been worn down to the bone by sandstorms and bloodshed. Nothing goes untouched by the misery of the Wastes. No one goes through it unscathed.

What he does know is that he will do everything in his power to see that you’re never broken by it.

[chariotgifs]

SAM ⤷ joseph quinn in warfare

[ilililiilililiilililiil]

Like & Reblog to use.

[whgore]

[empress-of-snark]

marvel fans: wow, I guess Joseph Quinn was hot enough to play Johnny Storm after all, who could've known that?

eddie munson fans:

[foundtherightwords]

[fyeaheddiemunson]

Dissociation vs Overstimulation

[biancadjarin]

charlie kelly x fem!reader

warnings : language

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

Another long day at the coffee bean in downtown Philly. I’m finishing counting the register and cleaning up the espresso machine when I hear the tiny bell jingle above the door. I look up and sigh when I see him.

“Charlie we’re closing in 20 minutes.” I say as I close the register and cross my arms.

“I was just in the neighborhood and thought I’d stop by for a coffee.” He smiles. He has a smudge of gray soot or dust on the side of his neck and all over his hands.

“There’s no way you were just in the neighborhood.” I say with finger quotes. “You live a half hour away.” I roll my eyes. “I told you I’m not interested. Not in your wildest dreams.”

Charlie shrugs and steps up to the counter. His brown hair is messy and sticking up all over the place. “I heard you. Just came for a coffee, that’s all.”

His eyes scan my body, down then back up, lingering on the way my work t shirt stretches over my chest. I roll my eyes and ring in his usual oat milk vanilla latte with extra syrup.

“$7” I sing song with a fake smile, holding out my palm. He hands me a 5 and 3 singles. I stuff one into the tip jar and make his coffee. He pretends to let his eyes wander around the store but I feel them on me. I look up at him and he averts his eyes, suddenly very interested in the ceiling tiles.

Has he been working out? I think to myself. He’s filling out his dirty t shirt in a way that’s different… his biceps have a little bit of definition, casting a slight shadow over the crook of his elbow. I shake my head and put the lid and sleeve on his cup.

“Here you go.” I hand it over the counter. He looks at it and his smile drops. “Wait… where’s my name?”

“Your name? Why would I write your name, you’re the only one here.”

“I know but… I like how you write it. With a little heart over the i.” He says softly. His puppy dog eyes looking genuinely disappointed.

I groan and grab a sharpie, scribbling Charlie in cursive on the side of the cup. “Better?” “So much.” He smiles and takes the cup, taking a long sip. “Goddamn you know how to make a good cup of coffee. One of your many talents.”

I ignore him and finish cleaning and getting ready to go.

“So… you uh, got any plans after work?” He asks casually.

“Yes.” I say flatly.

“Ohhh of course, I get that… with uh… anyone i know?”

“With Dennis.”

He narrows his eyes. “Of course. You know, I don’t like that you hang out with him.”

I scoff “oh no?”

“No. Not at all… I don’t like how he touches you. Like… he owns you or something.”

I giggle and walk around from the counter, my short skirt coming into Charlie’s view. His eyes bulge out of his head for a moment before he collects himself.

“And… how exactly does Dennis touch me?” I ask as I stand directly in front of Charlie. “Show me.”

“Sh-show you…?” He chokes on his coffee. I nod.

Charlie takes a step closer, closing the distance between us. His eyes darken with possessiveness as he looks at me. He reaches forward, his hands a bit shaky as they hover just above my hips, mirroring the way he's seen Dennis touch me before.

"You sure you want me to show you this?" his voice is a low murmur, his thumbs gently brushing against my stomach under my shirt.

I ignore the butterflies in my stomach. I nod, his sleepy eyes looking into mine making me feel lightheaded. What is wrong with me?

The corner of his mouth twitches and his rough hands squeeze my waist under my shirt, his cold fingertips and my warm skin evening out each other’s temperature. His fingers gently caress the dip of my spine and he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Like this. He touches you like this and it… drives me crazy, y/n.” He says, his voice rough. “And now that I see how soft and warm you feel…” His voice trails off as he pulls me a little closer, the wide planes of his chest meeting my softer one. “I’d prefer if it was just me doing this.” He says into my ear.

My eyes involuntarily roll back and I’m so grateful he isn’t looking at my face. His nose nudges into my hair and he smiles, the sweet smell of my shampoo filling his nose.

I push away suddenly. “Charlie, get a grip. Seriously. It’ll never be just you. It’ll never be you period.” I snap, looking at him like he suggested something absolutely ridiculous.

Just then my phone chimes. He grabs it from the counter and rolls his eyes, handing it to me. “It’s Dennis.” He says dryly. “He’ll be here in 5.”

To be continued…<3

MY MAIN MASTERLIST

[biancadjarin]

KNIGHT!STEVE

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