#'but pep he looked so lonely'

[ellieslittlewh0re]

𝐋𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐢𝐧 (𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏)

* ೃ⁀➷ part 2 - part 3

pairings - farmers daughter! reader x farmhand! ellie

summary - your dad hires a stranger to help out around the farm

additional tags - inexperienced but flirty reader, shy/loser ellie, cowboy boot wearing ellie, mutual pinning, slight masturbation mention (e!), e! w/ a southern accent??, eventual smut, (nothing too crazy happens in this part it’s mostly just setting vibes lol)

Beads of sweat collected on the bridge of your nose, and your thighs stuck together as you sat on the porch swing, just lazily swinging back and forth, using your tippy toes to keep the momentum going.

You look out over the vast pasture- green as far as the eye can see, with nothing to distract from the country landscape except for some power lines out in the distance.

Even with the sun starting to set- it was still unbelievably hot.

"Keep goin' like that and you're gonna die of a heat stroke."

You yell to your father who was working under the hood of his rusty truck. Usually, he pays no mind to your nagging, but this time it seemed to work- or perhaps he was just finished for the night.

He shuts the hood, slamming it with a metallic thud before wiping his hands on a greasy rag.

His boots rang loudly against the hallow wooden stairs of the porch, looking down at you through bushy eyebrows.

"I don't need your sass, kid."

You roll your eyes at his comment. He's always been stubborn and tough, but in his old age, you can't help but worry. His cheeks have hallowed over the years, sun spots forming from the countless hours working on the farm, and his movements became slowed from the hard work catching up to him.

"I wouldn't sass if you'd just listen. Seriously, it's okay to hire someone to help. no one is gonna shame you for that." You pester affectionately, standing from the swing to open the screen door and enter the house with him following behind.

You follow him to the kitchen, listing all the reasons why he should have help.

One: he's getting old.

Two: his knee has never been the same since he had that operation done 4 years ago.

Three: the farm is too big and demanding to tend to alone.

"Okay- enough.. you sound just like your mother sometimes I swear." He hold a hand up, pausing you mid-ramble, and takes a sip from the glass he filled from the tap.

You pouted, and once again, your suggestions felt shot down.

He finishes the water, wiping his beard with the back of his hand.

"I actually have someone comin' by tomorrow. They were recommended t' me by Phillip at the feed store."

Your eyes lighten up, a smile grows on your face, and you finally feel like you can breathe, knowing that the hardships wouldn't be your dads alone anymore.

You rush around the kitchen island, placing a kiss to your dads cheek and squeezed him tight.

"Thank you! I can't wait- I'll have to bake em' something sweet tonight."

"Alright- settle down-" he pushes you away slightly with a smile on his weathered face. Truly an adoring annoyance that only a parent could love.

Your old man calls it a night, showering and off to bed he went, but you? Oh- you were busy. You tried your hardest to keep the sound down to a minimum, bowls, and kitchen utensils splayed on the counters.

A small apron draped around your waist, flour smudged on your cheekbone as you pulled the blueberry scones out of the oven. A satisfied smile grows on your face as you observe your work and finishing of the pastries with a dusting of powdered sugar.

Maybe, you were going a tad bit overboard, but the truth is, you were painfully lonely. The only time you had any visitors on the farm was when you held pumpkin patches in the fall, but even then, it was always young families that didn't bother to stay around for too long.

You go upstairs, a slight pep in your step as you did so. You showered and put in your favorite pajamas- a short, soft floral patterned dress with bows that secured the straps.

You tossed in bed, sleep not being in favor since your mind was still wide awake. You try to picture what they would look like- what they sounded like.

Was he tall? Around your age, or is he just another old man like your father? Maybe they're not a man at all.

It's best not to get ahead of yourself; whoever this person is, they are coming to work for your dad and not to become your friend.

-

You slept lightly, and your senses became more aware as a muted thud rang outside your second-story bedroom window. You open your eyes slowly, blinking away the sleepy confusion as dust particles dance in the sunbeams of your room.

It took you a few seconds to realize why today was so important, but once you remembered- it had you scattering out of bed to your window, pulling back the sheer laced curtains, and taking a peak outside.

There was a truck you didn't recognize parked in the driveway. It was slightly newer than your dad's, but that's not saying much; a simple 2-door with an extended bed, slightly lifted with sturdy-looking tires.

A slim figure stood next to the driver's side door, hands on their hips as they looked up at the house. To your surprise, it wasn't a man at all.

You squint, trying to get a better look at her without realizing how big of a creep you are being.

Her hair shined a brilliant shade of auburn in the morning light, a brown button up shirt with the sleep rolled up to her elbows, slightly flared and worn denim jeans hugged her hips with brown cowboy boots that seemed to match the leather of her belt.

You caught a glimpse of something on her arm, dark lines that disrupted her pale skin. It was a tattoo, although you could make out the details of the design.

She looked the part of someone who knows how to run a farm, but something about her seemed so out of place- almost like she was too pretty for such a dirty job.

While you were too busy eyeing her up and down, you didn't realize she had caught you. She put her hand up, holding it there for a second before bringing it back down to her side. You wave back, a slight wiggle of you fingertips which made her smile.

You watch her walk out of the frame of your window before sitting on the edge of your bed- your fingers grasping at the embroidered comforter. You had this weird feeling in your tummy; it was something you couldn't explain, almost like nausea but also like when you go on a big rollercoaster.

You felt nervous but excited all at the same time. You figured it was because she was around your age, maybe slightly older- shrugging it off as you got up and got ready for the day.

You brush your hair before tying it into two loose braids, finishing it with light pink ribbons at the ends. You wanted to put a little more effort into your appearance today since you're meeting someone new, and as daddy always said, "First impressions are the most important."

You take a deep breath in the last most of solitude of your room before making your way down the stairs, the conversation between the stranger and your father growing louder and louder from the kitchen as you inched closer.

"There she is-" your dad motions an arm in your direction, the stranger immediacy turning to meet your face.

"Ellie, this is my daughter, y/n, and y/n, this is Ellie."

"It's nice t' meet you, Ellie." You said in your sweetest voice you could muster as you walk towards her, holding a hand out.

"Likewise." She smiles, taking your hand in hers and shakes it firmly. She seemed respectful, maybe even a little flustered- seeing that her cheeks started to turn a deep shade of pink.

Upon seeing her closer, it didn't help settle your nerves. She was gorgeous; freckles adorned her alabaster skin, a scar that ran through her eyebrow and upper lip, and her eyes a mossy shade of green with dark, long lashes framing the shape.

She was honestly the prettiest girl you've ever seen but not in the same way you were often described. There was a boyish charm to her that you had never seen before.

"Well- best we get to it then." Your dad chimes in, causing you to let go of the calloused hand that you hadn't realized you were still holding onto.

"I'll see you around Ellie." You just barely make audible to her, bitting down on your bottom lip before turning on your heel and leaving them to do their jobs.

Ellie was almost speechless upon meeting you. Never in a million years did she ever think a girl like you could live in this small country town, but fuck, leave it to her luck- you were the boss's daughter, which means you were off limits.

You didn't make it easy on her either, prancing around in your little summer dress that flowed with your movements, rising dangerously high when you would turn around, almost giving her a peek of your ass.

Ellie swallowed hard each time, the saliva filling her mouth with all the dirty thoughts she had- which mostly consisted of you underneath her, completely naked and trembling after she forced a 4th orgasm out of you.

-

The sun was starting to set, blanketing the canvas in shades of orange and pink, and to your disappointment- Ellie would be leaving soon.

She was walking towards her truck, slightly dragging her feet from exhaustion, and you're happy she did so. It gave you enough time to run out of the house barefoot, container filled with the homemade goods in your hands.

"Ellie!-" you called out to her which made her turn around, her hand opening the driver side door.

You nearly bump into her, slightly out of breath as you held up the tupperware with both of your hands.

"Sorry- I made them last night, must've forgotten in to give 'em' to you earlier." Again, your voice is so sweet and innocent- like honey coated candies on her tongue.

A smirk grows on her face, taking the gift from you to inspect them.

"That's mighty kind of you.. oh no, are these blueberries?"

Your face contorts to concern, and Ellie can't help but think how fucking cute you look all worried like that.

"Yeah, why? Do you not like 'em?" You pout, almost like you're on the verge of tears

A low chuckle reverberates in her throat, "I'm just messing with you, doll. They look delicious."

"Meanie."

A few seconds of silence go by, and Ellie looks everywhere except your face, and I mean everywhere- including the plushness of your breast that spilled over the top of your dress - she couldn't have you knowing how red her cheeks are right now.

"I'll see you tomorrow?" She said it almost like a question- as if you'd miss out on such an opportunity.

"See you tomorrow, Ellie. Goodnight." You stand on your tippy toes, planting a quick kiss on the rounds of her cheeks, and run back inside, leaving Ellie in full panic mode.

She gets into her truck, taking a moment to herself before turning over the engine. Her fingers tighten around the steering wheel as she replays it in her head. She felt like she could combust, literally and figuratively- her head came down to rest on the wheel, and her cheeks ached from the smile that wouldn't seem to leave her lips.

In fact- she thought about it all night long. When she showered, when she laid in bed trying to sleep, she was tingling, an ache growing inside the depths of her stomach.

I mean, could you blame her? You didn't try to hide how hard you stared or how flirtatious you were towards her.

Maybe you were just like that with everyone.

Still- it didn't stop her. And It didn't stop her hand from slipping into the waistband of her checkered pajama pants, and it definitely didn't stop her from fingering herself to thoughts of you.

She came hard that night, harder than she had before, and she can't help but wonder- if simply her imagines of you felt this good, how would fucking you for real feel?

❥ taglist - @machetegirl109

#ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams #ellie williams smut #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams x f!reader #ellie williams the last of us #ellie williams tlou #ellie tlou smut #tlou ellie #ellie tlou x reader #ellie tlou2 #ellie tlou fanfic #ellie x fem reader #ellie the last of us 2 #ellie the last of us #the last of us 2 #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us 2 fanfic #tlou fic #tlou smut #tlou2 ellie #ellie x y/n #ellie x you #ellie x reader #ellie williams tlou2 #tlou2 smut #the last of us

[farmerstarter]

The Bachelors on their Wedding Day

Hi Hello have this short list of my little Headcanons of the bachelors on their wedding day. Hope you enjoy it! Reblogs and likes are appreciated!!🌷🤍

ʚ🏈ɞ ˚ · . Alex :

🏈 Fiddles with his tie relentlessly and ends up ruining it. He runs to Evelyn to ask her to tie it up again. The only other thing he fusses over is his hair.

🏈 Alex keeps a rabbit's foot in his pants, wanting all the luck he can get.

🏈 Spent literal days writing his wedding vows. Ends up opting to wing it. It wasn't the most eloquently worded thing you've heard but it was sweet.

🏈 He gave himself a pep talk in his bedroom before the ceremony. You only know about this because George was complaining about how loud he was to you.

🏈 Dusty the dog is the mermaid pendant bearer, I decided.

🏈 Also, the song that plays during the wedding is the same tune from Alex's music box. 🥺

ʚ🪶ɞ ˚ · . Elliott :

🪶Beach wedding. You guys have a beach wedding. You've expressed your interest in one and Elliott, with the eager help of Willy, clean up the beach for your special day. Elliott's shoes would fill with sand but his discomfort is overpowered by his delight when he sees you all dressed up.

🪶 He reads you one (of many) of his poems about you. You later learned that he's got a whole book of poetry about you that he's been writing ever since you two started dating. The poem he read on the wedding day was the very first one and is the first page of the book.

🪶 He spent hours trying to make himself look good. Asking for Leah and Willy's input on what he should wear for a solid 3 hours.

🪶 Aside from him worrying over his appearance, Elliott is more excited than nervous. He's on the verge of creating a new chapter in his life with someone else. Gone are the days of his lonely shack and the empty (well, not as empty since you moved into town) beach. Honestly, to say that he's excited is an understatement.

ʚ🛩️ɞ ˚ · . Harvey :

🛩️ Gets awfully shy when reading his vows, stuttering his way through his words and being a blushing mess. He has no problem with the one-on-one check up sessions he does with the other villagers of Pelican Town, but to read aloud in front of all of them at once threw him off. But he kept his eyes on you and managed to power through it.

🛩️ He considered shaving off his mustache for the wedding at least twice. But he decided against the idea.

🛩️ Insisted that you eat Farmer's Brunch the morning of the wedding. Even during your wedding day, he wants to make sure you're feeling healthy.

🛩️ Holds your hands throughout the whole ceremony. Whispering apologies for how clammy his hands are.

ʚ🎸ɞ ˚ · . Sam :

🎸 He wrote a whole song about you and played it on your wedding day. He made it a surprise for you and the moments of him hiding his guitar and shoving music sheets under his bed when you visit his room were all starting to make sense to you.

🎸 Couldn't sleep for the whole night before the wedding. He worried over the ceremony and wanted to make it go smoothly. He's not one to meticulously plan every detail, opting to engage in spur of the moment decisions, but he tried his best to make everything as close to perfect as he can get.

🎸 Jodi tried to gel Sam's hair back, but no matter the amount of gel and hours, his hair would always spring back. Sam wasn't a fan of dressing up in a "dorky suit" but he did anyway, for you.

🎸 Sam didn't want to see you until the wedding so he got Vincent to play messenger for the two of you. He wouldn't do it at first but only agreed to do it because he likes you (Cue a dramatic gasp from Sam).

ʚ🐸ɞ ˚ · . Sebastian :

🐸 Ends up smiling through the whole ceremony, looking at you with such a brightness in his eyes.

🐸 He isn't one to wear anything fancy. The closest thing he ever wore that is considered formal was the suit that Lewis got him and the rest of the dancers to wear for the Flower Dance. He asks his mom to help him dress up for the wedding, asking her about it while she was building furniture. Sebastian doesn't want to admit it, but he liked watching his mom so happy over something that was so mundane to him. He makes sure to keep the suit in perfect condition throughout the ceremony because of it.

🐸 He tells his very heartfelt wedding vows. And while he does, you could hear the faint "that's good," from Elliott before a grunt, inevitably elbowed on the side by Leah.

🐸 You and him ride on his motorcycle after the wedding. He drives you two to the cliff overlooking the city, the same cliff where he confessed his true feelings to you. Under the full moon, the two of you would look at the stars with Sebastian occasionally pointing at a constellation that Maru taught him to find.

🐸 Consider: winter wedding.

ʚ🐣ɞ ˚ · . Shane :

🐣 Genuinely doesn't believe that you want to marry him. He thinks it's a dream at best and a prank at worst. It wasn't until you were tying his mermaid pendant around his neck for him to know that you do love him. He still has trouble understanding it sometimes.

🐣 Shane asked Marnie to teach him how to waltz for your wedding day. Sure, he's danced in the Flower Dance countless of times but he wanted to learn something new to surprise you. And he did. After dancing with you, he dances with Jas. Well, it's more of Jas standing on Shane's feet while he walks and glides around.

🐣 He gave his chicken, Charlie, a bow tie for the wedding and everything. Even got a picture of you and Shane with the little guy. The picture ends up being hanged on Shane's side of the bedroom for many years to come.

🐣 Has his pocket full of corn chips, let's be honest. He offers one to you before the ceremony starts.

#stardew valley #stardew valley x reader #stardew valley fanfic #sdv elliot x farmer #sdv elliot x reader #sdv sebastian x farmer #sdv sebastian x reader #sdv alex x reader #sdv alex x farmer #sdv harvey x reader #sdv harvey x farmer #sdv sam x reader #sdv sam x farmer #sdv shane x reader #sdv shane x farmer #sdv alex #sdv elliott #sdv harvey #sdv sam #sdv Sebastian #sdv shane #support banner at the end is by cafekitsune 🤍 #🌱 writing :: BACHELORS

[arabaka]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ miguel x spidey!fem!reader. CONTENT WARNINGS: 18+ !!! NO SPOILERS !!!! splashes of angst. unprotected sex. creampie. cervix fucking. WORD COUNT: 1.8K PSD CREDIT!!! MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DNI !!!!!!!（ ꐦꉺωꉺ)つ @miguelism @pompomegranate come get ya mans !!!!! PART TWO HERE !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

You can still see him here.

It’s not real and it never will be– not again, anyways.

“March 13th.” 

How long are you going to keep doing this? Your jaw tenses. Here we go again.

The argument is a solo act; there’s no one to talk to here but you. So naturally, you run the same trite script until it comes to the same inevitable conclusion: giving in to the self-indulgence.

The bad thing’s already happened. You lost Miguel– well, more like he lost you. You’re the one trapped in this purgatorial vortex. The space that lies between every what if, the border of every possibility.

And it’s so fucking lonely.

So it’s ironic that your multiverse jumping wristband is good for anything but its intended use. It mocks you, its amber projections burning red when you even so much as try to go home. Not to your original timeline– to HQ.

To him.

But you know that will never happen so you make do with what you have: the memories stored on your gadget, the device looking worse for wear with jagged claw marks running down its sides, disappearing into the scarred flesh that lies beneath it. 

He didn’t mean to hurt you. You know that.

You wish you could tell him.

You (metaphorically) furiously fan away that cloud of remembrance. You’re already stuck, no need to dwell on the last time your heart was ripped out. You lie back, resting against nothing but floating amongst everything. Limbo sure is weird.

Arm resting over your stomach, you train your eyes on the happier time playing out from the screen on your wrist. It’s not perfect; the vision cracks, sometimes glitches in reds and greens before going back to normal. It’s getting worse. 

There you go again! We’re trying to have a good time here. 

Right. Right.

Sorry.

Focus.

You take a deep breath, chest rising and falling steadily.

Focus.

You close your eyes and when you reopen them, fix them on the screen that shows you strutting in Miguel’s domain, it’s like you’re there.

It’s like you’re back home.

“You gotta eat, you know.” Tossing a paper bag way up high, it doesn’t surprise you that he catches it with lightning fast reflexes, even with his back turned to you. “And if you don’t, I’ll make ‘em take empanadas off the menu.” 

He’s still. Only sound coming from him is the rustling of the bag. At least there’s that, you think as you approach the floating platform. “Don’t make me come up there!” You holler, though you only get your own echo in return. 

Shit. He’s in a mood.

Throat flexing with a thick swallow, you decide to go up anyways– you sure don’t want to wait for him to come to you. Thing’s slow as hell.  

Webs whipping from your wrist, you fashion a slingshot apparatus to propel you yards into the air. Nothing beats the rush of a flight, even now as you descend into what could be a particularly thorny situation with a particularly grumpy man. 

But he’s your particularly grumpy man. 

“Hey,” Your voice starts softly, “Everything–”

He turns around, stopping you in the middle of what was going to be your magnum opus of pep talks to show he’s got a mouthful of doughy goodness that keeps him from talking. And when he swallows, there’s a damn smirk waiting for you to kiss.

You don’t fall for it, at least not now but god do you want to. But first…

“Asshole!” 

“You just jumped to conclusions.” Another bite of the savory empanada just to tick you off. You’re so cute when you’re annoyed, even if it’s all in good fun. Your cheeks puff up and your nose scrunches when your eyebrows furrow. He’ll kiss you if you won’t.

“Oh, real mature. Hiding behind–” 

In a flash, the empanada goes back in the bag and in red glowing binds gets fastened to the side of his computer mainframe, freeing up his hands to pull you close. A little too roughly, but you melt into his big frame regardless, lips pursing against his and giggling when you can taste meat and spice.

“How romantic.” You mutter and he laughs.

God, his laugh. Nobody heard it too often– nobody but you, that is.

When Miguel was with you, it’s as if you two were in a world of your own. A timeline of your own. Where past transgressions and terrible happenings were nonexistent. Where he could be him, the man he was supposed to be: sweet, charming, and kind. And where you could love him like he deserved.

Is someone else filling that role now? 

Great! You’re thinking too much again. Stop fucking this up!

“June 27th!” You blurt, warped back to reality when your thoughts strayed too far from the projection. 

The picture’s changed now. You’re home, your residence littered with reminders of Miguel. It’s empty, but not for long. The front door slams open and you and Miguel come pouring in, him taking the lead as the two of you blindly navigate the foyer with your lips locked and hands gripping each other for dear life.

Your cheeks in real time burn. Maybe you shouldn’t stay for this memory.

Oh, don’t be such a prude. It’s literally you! The little voice in your head chastises and honestly… You can’t argue with that.

“M-Miguel, I don’t– I don’t have– I’m not on–”

“Shut up.” A tempered hiss is pressed to your lips, thick digits coming to frame your face as he pushes you further into the space you’ve come to share together. “Or I’ll change my mind about filling you up.”

You can’t argue with that.

“Say it.” His growling crests your ears, breath hot and fangs out just moments later when his pelvis is flush against yours, cock buried to the base in your sopping wet pussy. You swear he’ll drip drool on you at this point, the man driven to the brink of his sanity by the way your cunt hugs him so tight. It’s like you want to milk him for all he’s worth. 

Your hands paw helplessly at his chest, all your energy zapped as your eyes roll back under the curtain of fluttering fluffy eyelashes. “F-Fuck Miguel– f-fill me up!” 

“Keep going.” His voice is low, rich and dark.

The fat head of his cock presses up against your sensitive bundle of clitoral nerves, slamming hard when you whimper and cry for him, “Right there, right there!” You start to babble, the words freely flowing from your kiss-bruised lips because your brain is long gone, “F-Fuck me, need your cum– need you, need you, Miguel! Please don’t stop, please!” 

“Yeah? Can’t feel whole without my cock? Need it?” His tone seeped in pride, he loves seeing you unravel for him like this. “I’m givin’ it to you baby, right where you need it. You feel that? Your little pussy crying for me, so fucking wet. Fuck, you’re so good. Good for me.” He’s kissing you now, sloppy and panting into your mouth before his tongue ravishes yours and swallows every moan you give him.

Your legs locked around his waist still bounce, hips raised off the bed by Miguel’s brutish clutch so he can bully more of himself into you, harder and faster. Your lower body limply follows his every move, takes every slam and thrust all the while wet squelches fill the room. Your vision finally coming back, you see his nostrils flare and his eyes glazed over with a beastly kind of lust. It’s enough to make your bones shiver.

You can’t help but let your gaze rest there, even as he fucks you within an inch of your life, always so fervent with his thrusting as he stuffs you full, but you just can’t get over this view: his pectoral muscles flexing when you tighten up around him in just the right way, the way sweat gathers on his brow before trickling down his sharp jawline, and the way his lips stay agape because if he’s not groaning, he’s growling.

“That’s it, mi vida. Doin’ so good. Pussy takin’ me all the way in. Shit– I’m addicted. Might just fuck you raw every time. Want that?” One hand comes to your face, thumb just barely squishing your cheek and making you pout. “Say it.” 

“Y-Yes, yes! Please Miguel!” Tear drops glimmering in the corners of your eyes, you plead for him, “C-Cum inside me, I’m getting close!” Every sense of yours is on fire, everything burning bright for him and only him. Always for him.

And you see a similar inferno explode in his narrowed eyes just then and it’s immediate, the way he unhooks your legs from his waist and bends them aaaalllllll the way back until your knees are violently knocking against the mattress, his lumbering body taking yours in the mating press he so adores.

Because he gets to fill you to the brim. Bump and grind against your cervix until even that soft nodule is his. He’s staking his claim, making you his as the soles of his feet dig deep into the sheets, his toned limbs caging your bouncing body until you’re nothing but a squealing little mess for him to clean up.

His balls slap firmly and roughly against your folds, sticky webs of cum starting and breaking each time he snaps his hips. Your walls tremble around him, gushing out more of your essence every time. You’re just about undone. He can feel it.

But so is he, his already thick cock pulsating with another rush of blood as the coil in his stomach heats up. He puts all his weight into you, onto you the last couple thrusts – he knows you can take it – so he can kiss you. So he can taste you.

“‘M cumming, c-cumming…” Your words are muffled and tired, eyes wheeling back as your orgasm hits you hard and heavy, Miguel following soon after with plenty of cum to fill your pretty pussy up with and an animalistic series of grunts as his cock twitches and throbs inside you. It’s thick and so much, too much so that the opaque matter starts to pool out when his hard shaft finally leaves you, giving your featherlight folds another heaping layer of viscosity.

“‘Tch– it’s comin’ out already.” He huffs, though with a bit of a laugh. “Can’t have that.” So his fingers gather what’s remaining and slip into your cunt before he pops another kiss to your parted lips, nipping just a teeny bit on the bottom half to get you to squeal one last time for him.

And that’s how the video ends. That’s how you finish, having followed along with lithe fingers rubbing your aching clit and one or two at any time plunged and crooked inside you, but it’s not the same. 

It’ll never be the same.

#miguel o'hara x you #miguel x you #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel x reader #miguel smut #miguel o'hara smut #atsv x reader #atsv x you #spiderman x you #spiderman x reader #.˚₊ ੈ ʚ 📝 ɞ ₊˚. ꒰ marie writes! ꒱ #.˚₊ ੈ ʚ 🍰 ɞ ₊˚. ꒰ a little treat for miguel. ꒱

[f1version]

Congratulations! Your works are amazing! You totally deserved this. Can i please request a headcannons about a secret reliationship between mick schumacher and a female driver?

KISSING IN SECRET ★ MSC47

pairing: mick schumacher x merc driver!reader ( she/her ) word count: 1679 warnings: mentions of misogyny !!!

2k celebration ★ general masterlist

Love comes easy to you and Mick—friends for too long, eager to make up for the time lost. What’s hard is the nature of your relationship; secrecy protecting your peace.

It begins at a pub in Austin, 2021. You were celebrating your first win for Mercedes, and even though his result was far from good, Mick decided to tag along. Then, all it took was a couple of shots, a bit of dancing, and a lonely corner to blur the lines of friendship and fall on each other’s lips. 

A week of tension, anxiety, and avoidance later, you were falling asleep in his arms, heavy breathing and soft touches all over your body.

Now your life is based on clandestine meetings, brushing fingers or stolen kisses, and a well put illusion of friendship. 

And no one ever thought much about your closeness, not until Mick moved to Mercedes in 2023. 

When people saw Mercedes’ star driver sharing so closely with the new guy—one whose performance didn’t leave people’s mouths,—they prayed for a big story. By the time Australia rolled by, the PR team requested distance while the cameras were on. 

And it wasn't as if these types of requests were foreign to you; misogyny was a thing after all, but you were never in love with George, or Lewis, or Alex, or Lance, or anyone but Mick. It was frustrating, but it didn't change a lot of things—especially because Mick was a reserve driver.

Of course, the topic would make it into your conversations: 

“Do you think it would be a disaster? I mean going public.” Mick asked almost out of nowhere. You were lying on his chest, freshly showered after a disappointing Austrian GP. “Maybe. It will most likely follow us forever.” You said, and he sighed, “Do you think the team would be okay with it?” “I think they care about us enough.”

There were stories about this. Drivers within the same teams having such a strong relationship (let it be romantic or platonic, who knows) that they destroy not only their’s but the team’s trust. 

Both of you believe Lewis knows. Your only evidence being the small pep talk he gave you moments before his last race in the sport, in 2022. Something about being selfish, about how this sport will always judge, so you might as well take what you want.

You wanted everything. To be selfish, to take your time, to figure everything out first, but also to just be reckless. You didn’t tell him that; you just expressed your gratitude.

The European arm makes it a bit easier. Motorhomes are used, and hotel rooms become unnecessary. It’s as simple as walking into a room and not caring about avoiding people in the hallway; your only excuse is your well-known friendship. 

You love spending nights laughing, kissing, crying, and everything in between. 

You were reckless, and learned to be as careful as you needed after the George incident™

It happened in Belgium; the race and debrief ending hours ago. You were in your room, boyfriend sneaking in to talk about the race, which ended in a very lovely make-out session. And that’s when (clueless) George decided to knock on your door. 

Mick ran to your closet, making a mess of your race suits to be able to close the door. You, absolutely terrified of the Paddock’s Gossip Girl, threw a blanket over your body, taking a deep breath before facing George’s comments of: “You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” and “Also hit by a truck,” and “Need help with the suits?” 

You rolled your eyes and had him complain about the car with you for forty-seven minutes. Mick could barely feel his legs after that one. 

At some point, the team starts talking. More about Mick having a crush than anything—especially since he doesn't deny it. But it’s mostly a joke; no one takes it too seriously until that teasing reaches Toto’s ears. 

For a second, you were ready to be called to his office and hear him talk about how he supported whoever you chose to love, but that if someone or something was making you uncomfortable, you must tell him. 

You had always been grateful for those talks. In the end, you knew they were there because of how ruthless the media had been in 2020, after your first dating rumors with a driver—with George, out of all people, your teammate then and your teammate now. George who had (and has) a girlfriend. It had been an awful sophomore season, to say the least.

This was different, though. This was not the media making up things; this was his own team talking about his reserve driver having a crush on his driver. This could be a different story. 

Here’s the thing: You had never heard the teasing in person, you knew of it because of Mick. You spent nights laughing at it together, making up responses he could give to hard launch your relationship. They never got out of the coziness of your bed, but it was fun. 

That particular day wasn’t Mick gossiping, that day you were there, and it caught you off guard. A good off-guard, you were ready to laugh it off. 

But Toto was also there, mistaking your surprise for discomfort. And so you weren’t called to his office, you stood next to him during a 20-minute talk on professionalism, respect, and boundaries.

You were grateful, not knowing where that joke could end up… But still, you and Mick laughed the whole night. 

Also, I would be lying if I said it didn’t set off an alarm, bringing to the table a thought you had been trying to avoid: the consequences of public. The need for security.

Consequences mean a lot to people, especially in your sport. A driver’s health could be destroyed by not acknowledging them after all.

For you, consequences meant having the media hang on to it forever to diminish your work. It means being called names, be harassed by fans. Means being accused of taking advantage of your power. It could even mean closing doors to other female drivers because misogyny is a thing.

For Mick, it means another reason for his place in Mercedes to be questioned. “Who knows how long they have been dating?” “She and his last name gave him a place.” It means being portrayed as an exploiter, his relationship reduced to an unethical plan to get back on track. Means being praised at your expense.

But there are pros. There’s a necessity to continue changing people’s minds, to be happy, selfish, and own it.

Summer break gets in the way of those conversations though...

Breaks are your favorite part of the year (as a couple). You either stay in Switzerland or avoid the so-called “hard launch islands,” where drivers pretend obliviousness towards snapping pictures of them and their partners.

(Sebastian Vettel gave it the name by the way)

“What if we soft launch?” You asked one morning, scrolling through Pinterest and looking at all the ways a soft launch could happen. Mick choked on his drink, coughing a bit before answering, “I’m so sorry, babe, but what?” “Hear me out! We can have people know we are in a relationship, but they don't have to know it’s us yet. It can be a years-long soft launch if we want.” 

Mick stared at you for a whole minute, smirk following it. He thought it was brilliant, laughing while trying to properly kiss you. 

“We have to tell PR, tho.”

Two weeks later, you called on a meeting with PR, lawyers, and Toto, they had no idea what would be discussed. 

Toto's eyes went wide as he saw you and Mick enter the room together, and everyone followed his motion after you briefly explained the situation.

Your PR manager spoke first, “I won't lie and tell you it’s going to be easy; both of you understand how cruel the media is, but I also don’t think it will be as hard as we imagine... if you go public, of course.”

Then Toto started talking about how, to some extent, he understood your worries. How “People will talk sh*t all the time; you need to unconditionally support each other so it doesn’t kill you.” He gave the support talk and visited a couple of logistical questions.

Five days later, Mick had soft-launched his girlfriend, and five weeks after that, you had a boyfriend. 

Eventually, you told some friends (those who didn’t know already.) 

George was 100% not surprised. He grins and shouts, "Knew it!” and suggests a double date with him and Carmen. (To that plan, other couples are added—Alex, Lance, Esteban, etc.)

It turns out, with the help of your team and the correct people, everything becomes easier. From interacting in front of the cameras to booking rooms.

One of your favorite things is the teasing your friends/colleagues give Mick after you score a podium. He starts giggling and muttering about how proud he is of you, cheeks turning pink and eyes unable to leave you.

Mick loves sitting next to you during debriefing, letting you play with his hand under the table when anxiety strikes. 

It feels good. Not to be so secret around the paddock. 

“You know I love you, right?” “Yeah, but I love you more.” “Okay, competitive!”

Sometimes you want everyone to know. Surprise the world with Mick being the guy on your Instagram, and Mick feeling the need to shout in everyone’s faces that his girlfriend wasn't the model they speculated to be.

The third year of your relationship, 2024, is the hardest. There are eyes on you all season, commentary becomes stronger as you fight with Max on track, and so rumors of your relationship with Mick arise. 

Mick hates everything being said about you and eventually can’t hold back the need to be loud about it. And so do you. 

Both of you want to be selfish. Take whatever you want out of this sport. Who cares what people say.

#‎ “ ࣭⸰ ★ my writings ! #2k special ⊹ 𓈒 ۫ #msc47 #ms47 #mick schumacher drabble #mick schumacher x you #mick schumacher blurb #mick schumacher fluff #mick schumacher fic #mick schumacher x reader #mick schumacher fanfic #mick schumacher imagine #mick schumacher #f1 #formula 1 #formula one #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 headcanons #f1 fluff #f1 x reader #f1 2024

[ice-cream-writes-stuff]

•▪︎Modest Violet•

- "In Christianity, violets are sometimes associated with the Virgin Mary's humility and purity."

Bucchigiri!?! / Reader

[You and Arajin didn't expect to meet one another at the same school once more. ]

-

Arajin Tomoshibi / Senya

The two of you eye the classroom, bowing politely. You glance at Arajin and freeze, his eyes trained on a lone girl who had a listless expression. You look away, frowning meekly.

You and Arajin had been given a strange fate.

Chased by gangsters, running into a shrine as he found gun inside.

Yet as he pressed the trigger, you were grazed by the bullet as it lodges itself in his head.

You stood frozen as the genine.. Or, Saya for short. Had circled his body around your frightened form. Yet he grins in a friendly manner, meeting your unsure gaze.

You and Arajin eagerly question the genie and realize he was stuck with you, too.

Yet when Arajin told his wish, the thought of Mahoro Jin in his mind...

"Hmm.. What is it you wish for..?"Your eyes widen, mouth parting slightly as you trace the bandaid on your cheek. "Your friend wants to lose his virginity." Senya stated as you blink, face blank but nodding.

You knew your wish..

"I-I..." You take a timid breath of air, making sure Arajin wasn't in the room, you spoke.

Senya watches eagerly as your gaze became... Determined.

"I... Want to fall in love."

-

Matakara Asamine

"... (Y/N)?"

You pause in your footsteps, turning around. Facing the familiar teen in quiet suprise. "Matakara..."

Meeting your old childhood acquaintance, which shocked you.

You smile strainfully as his eyes shine intensely

His friends smile as they eye you as well, whispering to each other

"Ah, I can't belive this shrimpy-chick is Matakara's-" "-Shuuush! I wanna see this play out!"

You watch as your friend turns away and throws a look at his friends. Senya yells excitedly in your ears.

You gulp, walking away quickly.

He calls out your name urgently, yet you just start running as Senya screams.

"Oi! Why are you running!" Senya screams as you run into the girls' restroom. Holding your chest, breathing heavily.

-

Marito Jin

"Eh~?" The leader drawls out, gazing at your features. But.. You didn't back down, merely holding out your arms to block Arajin from his sights.

You really didn't want your friend to go on that date with Mahoro...

You made yourself sick with worry, so..

"Follow them!" Senya exclaimed brightly, poking at your shoulder as he pushes you after them.

Leading you into the situation of hiding in bush as you watched Arajin and Mahoro on their date..

Senya kept giving you pep-talks as you try to focus your brain on anything else.

That was until.. Mahoro' brother showed up.

"Ha..." Marito breathes out, the fierce look you had given him.. It was raw, as if your eyes managed to land a hit on him.

Senya couldn't help but smirk, enjoying your confidence.

Before aiding Arajin into fighting the green haired delinquent.

Unfortunately, you as well.

"What is it exactly you wish for...?" Senya yells as you and Arajin scream together.

"I want to lose my virginity!"

"And..?"

With a small breath, you join.

"I want to fall in love!"

-

[This Fandom needs fan-fics! So.. If anyone is interested in me writing for this again! Let me know! I might even make this a series! What other characters should I add? Let me know!]

#bucchigiri?! #bucchigiri x reader #bucchigiri!?! x reader #marito jin #marito jin x reader #arajin tomoshibi #arajin tomoshibi x reader #matakara asamine #matakara asamine x reader #mahoro jin #senya #zabu #jabashiri #majin senya #akutarou #komao #outa #bucchigiri x y/n #bucchigiri!?! x y/n #bucchigiri x you #bucchigiri!?! x you #various x reader #soon to add more #sigma squad #who else should I add?

[ddarker-dreams]

Easy Does It.

Scaramouche x F Reader.

Warnings: Explicit Not SFW, Scaramouche is annoying, Reader’s body is described as AFAB, they both bicker like an old couple... Word count: 7.2k.

You have a triumphant pep in your step as you hop down from the inn’s engawa to where your traveling companion awaits.

He stands beneath a canopy of sakura trees, late in their bloom, yet beautiful nonetheless. Pink petals dance around him in wayward clusters, swaying wherever the breeze blows. It’s an idyllic scene taken straight from the pages of a fairytale. He too appears absorbed with their hypnotizing essence, extending his hand upward and allowing for a lone petal to find its home there. He brings it to his face, studying it closely, an unreadable expression etched onto his countenance when the Electro energy imbued within tickles his fingers.

It could be your imagination, but you get the sense he almost looks sad. Forlorn, even. A strange heaviness haunts the air around him.  

You’re about to call out when a twig crunches beneath your feet, alerting him to your presence.

The ethereal mirage fades away faster than if a painter were to take water to their freshly painted canvas.

“Oh, there you are,” The Wanderer greets, his fingers curling inward and crushing the petal within a tight fist. “You sure took your sweet time. I was beginning to wonder if I’d ever get you back. Well? Are you just going to stand there and gawk? How’d the ‘negotiations’ go?”

You puff out your cheeks. To think you almost fell for his spell so easily… that mouth of his could easily break you out of any enchantment. Not that you’d have it any other way.

“Behold, you nonbeliever,” you proudly lift and display the keys you secured, its metal reflecting the blood-orange sun. “I told you I’d work something out. We’ve got shelter for the night.”  

“Oh? Not bad,” he crosses his arms over his chest, his lips twitching into a smirk. “You have some uses after all. Color me surprised.”

“A simple ‘good job’ would have sufficed. Are all your compliments this backhanded?”

“I wouldn’t know, since I give them so rarely.”

You roll your eyes at that and carry onward, striding past him in the process. The Wanderer blinks, following your form with his eyes, then half-jogging to catch up with you. Unsurprisingly, he wastes no time voicing his dissent over your actions.

“Hey, I know your sense of direction isn’t the best, but the inn is that way,” he juts his thumb toward where you came from. You take a deep breath to prepare yourself. You cherished being lavished in his praise, awful as he is at it, for all of thirty seconds. It’s likely that’ll end here if he isn’t in the most forgiving of moods.

“... About that,” your voice comes out uncharacteristically weak, “They didn’t magically get any openings in the hours since we last asked. I offered for us to get rid of some pesky nobushi—”

He lets out a dissatisfied grunt that you choose to ignore.

“—And in return, they’re letting us use an old house that’s traditionally off-limits, since it’s mostly for storage. Hey, don’t look at me like that! The nobushi job can wait until morning. It beats sleeping out in a storm.”

As if on cue, a low rumble of thunder resounds in the distance. The Wanderer just huffs, your line of reasoning is too solid for him to bother arguing further. You both searched high and low for proper accommodations upon learning a nasty thunderstorm was inbound. Normally, it wouldn’t be so difficult, but there was apparently a festival that had inns in the immediate area stuffed. The tempests in Inazuma were notorious for their ferocity.

“So they lug their pest extermination project on us. What a bore,” The Wanderer yawns at the mere thought. “Humans always want to know what’s in it for them. Our Mora should’ve sufficed.”

You don’t bother replying. He likes getting the last word in and you’ll let him this time.

The house the old couple who ran the inn described to you grows closer with each step. It’s not as dilapidated as you pictured from the outside, a rather quaint-looking abode. The design reminds you of the homes found in Konda Village, boasting a thatch ceiling and a light-colored wood exterior. Paper lanterns hang from the veranda, as do white cloths with strings tied around the top, giving the impression of a round head.

You point to the unknown object and voice your curiosity to the Wanderer, who you know hails from Inazuma. “What’s this? I’ve seen them in lots of the villages we’ve passed through.”

“What do I look like, a tour guide?” he mumbles under his breath, yet sees fit to answer you anyway. He always does. “It’s supposedly a talisman meant to invoke good weather, called teru teru bōzu. You’ll find they’re popular in rural areas that rely on farming to get by.”

You let out a small “ohh” at his explanation. “Interesting. I didn’t expect that the denizens of Inazuma would try to ward off phenomena so closely associated with their Archon.”

While saying this, you fit the key snugly into the lock and twist, granting you both entry.  

“Hah. These simpletons would do far better for themselves if they gave that good-for-nothing recluse more pushback.”

While the Wanderer is no stranger to voicing his thoughts, for better or for worse (normally the latter), his animosity toward the Raiden Shogun is unmatched. Anytime she’s so much as mentioned you have to start praying to a higher power that he won’t lay into whatever unlucky soul brought her up. Fortunately for you, his eerily friendly façade doesn’t falter in the moment. He waits until it’s only you around for the venom to spill forth. He certainly has no shortage of it.

“Hurry up inside so we don’t get struck by lightning because of your heresy,” you remove your shoes by the entrance and he follows suit. “From what I can tell, she got plenty of pushback from the Vision Hunt Decree a ways back.”

“Not nearly enough.”

The interior is a bit worse for wear than the exterior, but at least it’s clean. You get to work moving aside furniture and other miscellaneous items so there’ll be enough room to sleep. In the meantime, the Wanderer slides a screen door aside, revealing a bunched-up futon. He takes it outside to pat it off, further continuing your oddly domestic routine. In your few years of traveling together, you’ve come to learn that you synergize together surprisingly well. The Wanderer might complain that you’re a nuisance who he keeps an eye on out of pity, but you know better than to take his words at face value. There are always precious gems hidden beneath the hard exterior.

When he comes back inside, he sprawls the futon down across the tatami floor, then settles his hands on his hips. “What sort of rundown inn is this? There’s only one futon in the closet.”

You situate yourself on a cushion that happened to already be out. “We should be thankful that they even had one since this isn’t a proper rentable room. You can feel free to take it. Sleeping on the floor isn’t so bad.”

“And have to deal with you complaining about how sore you are for the next few days? No thanks,” he scrunches up his nose. “... Wait here. I’ll go have a chat with our hosts and see if I can get some proper hospitality.”

Uh oh. That doesn’t sound promising. “Please don’t get us thrown out, I’d rather not get blown away in an eighty-mile-an-hour wind.”

“I’d fly to get you back,” The Wanderer hums as he makes for the door. Then a mischievous gleam dances in his eyes, a sight you’re plenty familiar with. “Maybe. If I was feeling particularly generous.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.”

He removes his hat, stands it against the wall, then makes for the door. He’s gone faster than you can think to stop him, leaving you temporarily on your lonesome. The many compliments he received for his well-mannered behavior when you passed through Konda Village come to mind, a memory that makes you snort. You suppose you can’t blame them for falling for his act. He could be rather convincing when he set his heart on something. So could you, for that matter. Hence why you ended up becoming an unlikely pair to begin with.

Standing to your full height, you begin shedding your outer layer of clothes. The trek back to the inn combined with the owner’s talkative nature should ensure he’ll be gone for a while. Once you’re left in nothing but your undergarments, you fold and set your clothes aside, ambling toward a plain yukata you saw hanging up in the closet. You put both your arms through the long sleeves and then stop, your fingers resting over the Electro Vision clasped like a necklace around your neck.

Inazuma, land of the Electro Archon, a place the Wanderer seemed intimately connected with. It strikes you then how little you know about your companion. You’ve told him plenty about yourself — the delicious wines, tall windmills, and sea of dandelions found in your homeland — hoping it’d get him to do the same. He’d dodge your inquiries with ease, stating that he was ‘just a wanderer these days’ and nothing else.

You know that can’t be it. Especially not with his tendency to refer to people as ‘humans’, inadvertently implying he isn’t one himself. So just who is he? What is he?

Why does he still seem keen to travel with you, when he could make it perfectly fine by himself?

And most importantly… when will this fun adventure you never expected to take come to an end? After all, that is the fate of all journeys. Nothing lasts forever.

For some reason or another, the thought fills you with an uncomfortable pang.

You begin carrying out the steps of properly securing the yukata. It’s an awkward endeavor, as you’re not used to it, but you start to make some decent progress. That is until your soul all but ascends when the door unceremoniously flings open.

“Seriously, the gall of them to lock up so ear—”

The door slams closed as the Wanderer doesn’t have the presence of mind to ease it shut. “—Ly…?”

His eyes go as wide as saucers while the most you can think to do is turn around, rushing through the final steps to regain your dignity. He wasn’t supposed to come back so soon! This shouldn’t be a big deal, it really shouldn’t, yet the expression he wore was unlike anything you’ve seen. The Wanderer is always so sure of himself, bordering and often crossing over into arrogance. It didn’t matter if you were lost in the middle of nowhere with low provisions or stuck in a battle against waves of monsters seemingly without an end in sight. He’d act with the utmost confidence, dissipating your uncertainty like a lighthouse’s beam on a foggy night.

So what was that look he gave you, an emotion on him you’ve never seen before? It’s making you feel warm from head to toe.

“... You’re… you’re doing it wrong.”

The Wanderer is standing in your shadow, closing what already feels like the nonexistent distance between you. You cease moving entirely when his hands reach around to tug at the loose fabric. He folds and tucks everything into place as it should be, no sounds registering in your brain aside from the shuffling of fabric and your pounding heartbeat. Internally, you beg yourself to say something, or for him to say something, the flow of your usual banter entirely staunched. In a matter of a few seconds that feel like they’re dragging on for an eternity, the yukata is set into place as it should be. Just when you think you’re free from this embarrassing nightmare’s tendrils, he sets his sights on the final piece.

He wraps the obi around your waist and ties it. When he’s done, he takes a step back and finally breaks the excruciating silence.

“Turn around.”

You try to think of a snarky rebuttal that’d diffuse the peculiar heaviness in the air, as if gravity itself had intensified. Upon coming up with nothing, you acquiesce to his softly spoken demand, your eyes set firmly on the ground. Is this real life or a very potent figment of your imagination? You’ve never felt so sheepish around him; in a mere second, your entire dynamic shifted.

“Is the floor really that interesting?” His face is close enough that you can feel his warm breath tickling your skin when he laughs. The sound is different from his usual derisive chuckle. Freer, in a way. “Look up at me already.”

Somehow, this request seems easier to fulfill than his previous one. You find yourself lifting your head without your mind deciding if that’s what it wants to do yet, your body and impulses taking the reins. The Wanderer must not have been expecting your willingness either — his breath hitches in his throat when you make unwavering eye contact. It’s in the peaceful seconds of nothingness that follow that you find yourself admiring your companion’s features.

He’s beautiful to a surreal degree. If he told you he was handmade by the gods, you would’ve believed him without question. His skin is like porcelain, his eyes wide and glossy, framed by long, dark eyelashes, his lips rosy and his cheeks even rosier. For all his impish attributes, his visage is far more in line with that of a cherub. You don’t bother hiding your unabashed staring. He told you to look at him and you’re going to do just that.

Whatever devious words he had waiting for you on his tongue must’ve withered away without ever blooming.

Logically speaking, it couldn’t have been more than a few seconds that ticked by since he last spoke, but you feel like you’ve shared an eternity together. If you weren’t used to seeing him surprised, his current expression is all the more foreign. It was a puzzle piece that didn’t fit. You scour your memory, analyzing the countless impressions he’s made, placing the countenance you’re currently seeing over them to find a match.

Eventually, something in your frazzled brain clicks.

This isn’t a new expression at all. You know it better than you’d like to admit.

This is how he looks at you when you eagerly compliment his cooking, scoffing and muttering under his breath that it isn’t anything to get so excited about, while fighting back a smile. When you rope him into playing with the kids of whatever family is feeling kind enough to give you lodging for the night, a thousand excuses on his tongue that he never follows through on after seeing how you laugh and run without a care. This is how he looks at you in the morning, afternoon, evening, twilight, and night.

Now that you’re being honest with yourself, you can’t remember a time when he didn’t look at you this way.

With yearning…

(He’s leaning forward).

Adoration…

(His lips are almost close enough to touch yours).

… And rapidly spiraling self-control.

“Wanderer?”

There’s a flash of lightning outside, a prelude to the storm ahead.

Bright streaks of light illuminate the side of his countenance. The instant the lightning’s glow fades, you’re face to face with his back. He’s walking away. A torrent batters the worn-down windows in a violent clash of water and glass. Where is he going? He picks his ornate hat up and places it on his head. Why is he going? Shaky fingers rise to press against your lip.

You never got to feel his.

He doesn’t get the chance to twist the doorknob before you’re leaping into action, more adrenaline pumping through your veins than any fight could ever evoke. He stumbles forward from the force of your bodies clashing yet manages to remain standing. Your arms encircle his waist, pulling him back to you, not an ounce of your strength going unused. Initially, his body goes stiff as a corpse. And then he struggles. Sharply twisting his torso to deter your hold, which successfully puts your footing off balance, but doesn’t get you to retract. He tries it again. This time with more force. You shake your head, adamant and unwilling, embracing him even tighter.

“What are you doing?” He hisses, disbelief apparent. Instead of coming off like a predator that’s bearing its teeth, you view him as prey caught in a trap that wildly thrashes when being set free.

“What am I doing? What are you doing?” you return, your voice almost threatening to crack beneath the weight of your words. Having piqued his curiosity, he ceases movement altogether. You lower your volume to a solemn whisper. “You were about to… about to kiss me.”

“No, I—” he cuts himself off, the words coming out in an almost incomprehensible jumble, “I was just messing around. You’re so… so easy to fool, you know that? So gullible. You don’t know the first thing about me and yet you’re willing to let me touch you like a lover. It’s almost pathetic, really.”

The words meant to add fuel to the fire blazing in your soul do the opposite and extinguish it instead. You loosen your grip enough that he could easily break free if he tried.

He doesn’t.

“You’re wrong about that.”

“What?” He sounds incredulous more so than angry. However he anticipated this to go down in his head, you wouldn’t follow the script, if anything, you’d be handed it only so you may shred it to pieces. “Do you even know what you’re saying?”

“I do,” your affirmation comes out quickly, though far from uncertain. “You said I don’t know the first thing about you, but that’s a lie. I know plenty. I know that you’re pretty terrible.”

The Wanderer lets out a noise you can only describe as a choked, humorless laugh, but since you’re not finished, you continue on.

“Yeah, you’re awful alright. You act like you’re better than everyone else before you get the chance to even know them. You refuse to acknowledge the good in the world when it’s dangling right in front of your eyes, so focused on the backdrop that you miss what’s really important. You’re conceited, insensitive, and stubborn to a fault. But…”

Although he can’t see you in this position, you smile. “You’re willing to acknowledge your shortcomings after enough convincing. You’ll point out mine too. You see through things that I’m blind to, standing up for me when I’m afraid to do it myself. You tell me I talk too much yet still listen and remember every word. If I get sick, you take care of me until I’m better, even if you complain the entire time. You’ll push me out of the way in a fight, taking a blow meant for me, then swear it doesn’t hurt so I won't worry. It does hurt, though, doesn’t it? You feel pain the same way I do. Just because you’re used to it doesn't make it hurt any less. Yes… you’re right that there are some things I don’t know about you. But I know enough to say I love you, awfulness and all.”

“... Love?” He’s breathless. “You love me?”

“Somehow or another, so— oof!”

In an instant, your positions switch. The first thing you register is your back hitting something solid. Both your arms have been lifted and pinned over your head by him. When you reopen your eyes to gain your bearings, you’re treated to a sight you don’t think you’ll ever forget. The Wanderer is almost feverish, his face flushed, his lips parted so he may pant, his chest heaving for air. His dilated pupils look nowhere else than directly at you. The heavens could collapse and the Abyss could rise and still, he would not look away. It’s raw, it’s depraved, but it’s him.

“You mean it? You really mean it?”

You try to wriggle your hand free, longing to touch him, but he narrows his eyes and tightens his grip. The strength he uses further convinces you that had he genuinely wanted to, he could’ve easily rid himself of you earlier. Words escape you entirely beneath the intensity of his stare. Your legs feel weak and it’s like the air had been stolen entirely from your lungs. There’s no way he didn’t hear everything you painstakingly laid out for him. You let him glimpse into your heart, what was all this apprehension about?

The wetness growing on his lower lash line makes you understand, deep down. It’s not that he doesn’t want to believe you — it’s that he’s scared of what it’ll mean if he does.

You’re the one who closes the pesky distance. The contact is gentle, chaste, a hesitant brushing of your lips against his. You let them linger there for a few seconds longer, feeling how his lower lip trembles, tasting the bitterness of the matcha he drank not too long ago. When you think to pull back, his body lurches forward, unwilling to let you get away that easily. He’s noticeably inexperienced, somewhat awkward in how he slots his mouth against yours. Still, it sets fireworks off in your chest and makes you croon. He’s so distracted with helping himself to your lips that he relaxes his grip. You use this to your advantage, finally free to wrap your arms around his neck and bring him closer.

When you part for some much-needed air, he encases your face in his hands.

“Say it again,” his lips ghost over yours when he speaks. “Please. I need you to say it again.”

How could you ever deny him when he’s talking to you like that?

“I love you.”

“Even though I’m ‘pretty terrible’?”

“Even then.”

“Won’t you change your mind?”

“I won’t.”

“Do you promise?”

“I promise,” you smile, unable to stop yourself from beaming. Floating midair wouldn’t make you feel as light as you do now. “And what about you, Wanderer? Did I successfully win over your heart?”

There’s an enigmatic gleam in his eyes that you don’t quite understand. “Yeah. Although I wouldn’t say it’s anything worth winning. Whatever joke of a heart I’ve got, you can have it. It’s yours. You can’t get rid of it even if you want to. Or, to be more accurate…”

You gasp when he nibbles the shell of your ear then whispers, his voice low, “You can’t get rid of me even if you want to.”

If this is his attempt at intimidation, you aren’t impressed.

“It’s a good thing I don’t want to then, right?”

“That’s my [First] for you,” he brushes a stray strand of hair away from your face and laughs. “Only you could find a positive way to spin that. Well, perhaps that strangeness is what draws me to you. You might be just as messed up in the head as I am.”

He swoops in to kiss you again but is met with the softness of your cheek instead of your lips. His eyes widen, then narrow, dark energy gathering and permeating around his figure. You almost think better of your decision to mess around with him but ultimately remain firm. He can’t always get what he wants without having to put in some work. You’ll end up spoiling him if you act too indulgent.

“I think you may have ruined the romantic atmosphere,” you add some dramatic flair by sighing. He blinks rapidly, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion. It’s a cute look on him. “I poured my heart out to you and not only do you call me strange, you say I’m messed up as well. I dunno, my feelings might be too hurt. Maybe I should just go to bed…”

He actually gapes at you, sputtering, incapable of forming an intelligent rebuttal at your sheer audacity. You press your advantage and writhe out from his hold. You don’t make it more than a single step toward the futon before you’re being hoisted into the air, the Wanderer recovering from his stupor in record time. He bridal carries you over, muttering how you’re “such a difficult woman”, the gentle way he lays you down contrasting his harsh words.

He crawls over top of you, the grin on his face a mix between boyish and menacing. His next words come out in a playful singsong. “Oh no you don’t, little minx.”

It’s almost impossible to fight back a smile, but you somehow manage, though you have no doubt he sees through your weak façade. With about as much innocence as you can muster, you say, “If you’re tired too, we could always sleep together.”

He exhales sharply through his nose, the innuendo not lost on him. “Your jokes suck.”

“Hah, but you laugh at them anyway,” you stick your tongue out at him. “So which one of us truly sucks here?”

“You, on your knees, another time maybe,” he replies, a little too self-assured for your liking. “Not tonight though. I have other plans for you.”

He accentuates this by latching his lips to your neck, directly over where your racing pulse is most prominent. You tilt your head to the side, allowing him easier access, your senses so overwhelmed with him that nothing else registers. His hands to get work undoing what he helped put on you minutes prior. Cool night air bites at your newly exposed skin, the front of the yukata fluttering to the side. He pulls back from his task of lavishing your neck in heated open-mouthed kisses to admire the sight. It’s almost animalistic, the way he’s regarding you now, as if you were a feast put in front of a starved man. The intensity of his gaze almost makes you shy.

“... May I?” He murmurs, his previous bravado melting away. His face is red up to his ears. “Is it really okay?”

Unable to find your voice, you nod your head, almost biting your lower lip hard enough to bruise. Why is it far easier to deal with him when he’s being a cocky little bastard? When he talks so uncharacteristically sweet… gazes at you reverently with those big, doe-like eyes… you simply don’t know what to do with yourself. He’s making you go crazy.

When you work up the courage to look at him again, you swear your heart almost stops. Both your eyes meet in a silent exchange of adoration. You hadn’t realized it earlier, but in this spot where the silvery moonlight shines through in gratuitous amounts, you notice a damning detail. There are tear streaks on his cheeks. Without giving the action much thought, you raise your hand to cup his face. His wet eyelashes flutter shut and he leans into your touch. The pad of your thumb grazes over his cheekbone, gently wiping away what you can. Eventually, he reopens his eyes, and when he does, you adjust yourself so that you may unclasp your bra. The undergarment is thrown haphazardly to an unknown destination.

Both his hands raise, his fingers twitching while they descend to caress your chest.

“Soft…” he whispers, his eyes glowing an otherworldly hue, “So soft.”

Whether he meant to or not, you’ll never know, but his thumbs brush over your nipples just right and you let out a whimper. He freezes in place, his attention going from the flesh in his palms back up to your face. Upon confirming you did indeed release such a debauched sound, he dips his head, his lips wrapping around your nipple and sucking. His eagerness to help himself to your body causes wetness to stain your panties. He lets out a content noise when you thread your fingers through his hair, bringing him in closer. His free hand goes from groping greedily at your chest to traveling downward. It brushes over your lower stomach, then settles itself on the side of your hips.

You let out a huff at the lack of friction where you want it most. Something tells you he would be content to do this for hours, and while that’s a lovely sentiment, it’s akin to torture when you want so much more.

Your hand guides his to where you want it most — right between your thighs.

He pulls back with an audible pop, his lips shiny with saliva. “Oh? Aren’t you a bold little thing. I was in the middle of doing something. You’re just begging to be punished, aren’t you?”

The Wanderer probably expects you to respond with equal brattiness — and maybe you would’ve if your body would stop screaming and let you think for a second — but you don’t. You surprise both him and yourself by whispering in a voice dripped in sin, “Please.”

He swallows thickly. You can feel his arousal twitch to life, hard and hot against your legs. Slowly, so that he may continue savoring your expression, he pulls back until he’s nestled between your legs. He places a chaste kiss against your inner thigh. Then your panties’ hemline. Finally, he presses his lips against your clothed cunt, the slight pressure from his slow, open-mouthed kiss driving you mad with want. You try bucking your hips forward, an act that earns you swift retaliation. His hands hold your hips in place tight. He gives you a warning squeeze, one that communicates he’s working on his time, not yours.

“Ah ah ah,” he chastises, his lips cruelly departing from your clothed cunt to your inner thigh, where he alternates between nibbling and kissing your feverish flesh, “Try anything like that again and I’ll show you how mean I really can be. You think you know, but trust me, you don’t, since I’m actually quite sweet on you…”

His fingers hook around your panties and pull them down. “I know you’re beyond desperate for me, but let’s try to have a little decorum, okay? Or has your lust made you incapable of feeling shame?”

“I liked your mouth better when it was busy,” your comeback would’ve sounded a lot stronger if it didn’t come out like a whine.

“You just always have something to say, don’t you?” He sounds amused more than anything. You never get the chance to respond, for he places his middle and pointer finger against your pussy, applying the most pressure yet. It’s divine if not the furthest thing from enough. “Let’s see if I can change that.”

The Wanderer feels at you, curious, dragging his fingers up and down while studying your various expressions. When he sees something he likes, he focuses the majority of his attention to the spot that caused such a visceral reaction. Through the hot waves of pleasure sinking you into a delightful abyss, you realize he’s found your clit. Not long after discovering the best place to touch you, he replaces his fingers with his lips, pulling you flush against his face. You throw your head back as he devours you, what he lacks in skill is more than made up for by his enthusiasm. You spread your legs further for him, wanting anything he’s willing to offer from the bottom of your soul.

The muscles in your thighs go tense as your release steadily approaches. You can’t remember the last time you were intimate with another, having been on the road for so long. The most you could ever do to appease any carnal need that reared its head was wait until the Wanderer was sound asleep, giving you the chance to relieve yourself. He never left your side long enough to any other time. Or to find any partner you could mess around with. Any flirtatious remarks sent your way ended with the offender cowering from a brutal verbal lashing. Maybe getting launched through a window by a ‘gust of wind’ if they were bold enough to touch you.

No, the man currently eating you out as if his life depended on it was fiercely protective. Now you know why. He wanted you for himself.

When you come, you let out a high-pitched noise, your head lolled to the side and your fingernails digging marks into your palms. This doesn’t deter him in the slightest. He continues lapping and suckling your oversensitive clit, drunk on the sounds he could make you produce. You finally get him to detach yourself from your person using a burst of strength. He looks up at you through his eyelashes, a wicked smirk full display.

You smooth out his tousled indigo locks. “Thank you. That felt really good.”

“I should be the one thanking you for the delectable meal,” he runs his tongue over his lips, further savoring your taste. It’s a miracle you have any semblance of coherent thought after witnessing such an obscene display. “My appetite is far from satiated, though.”

To your great pleasure, he begins removing the layers of clothes that make up his normal outfit. The fast rate at which he does so belies his inner excitement. The golden rings on his middle fingers go first, then his black gloves, and outer white and turquoise tunic. The almost sheer, sleeveless black shirt he wears beneath clings tight to his lean torso. He makes quick work of his belt and shorts, shooting you a bemused look over his shoulder when he catches your eyes.

“Did no one ever tell you it’s rude to stare?”

“I can’t help it,” comes your rebuttal. “You’re so beautiful.”

His head snaps away and he clears his throat. “S-Surely you can do better than that. I suppose I can accept such uninspired praise for now.”

You raise yourself to a sitting position and settle yourself behind him, your bare chest pressing against his back. It doesn’t take him long to relax in this unexpected embrace. Being this close to him, you’re given the unique opportunity to notice intricacies you couldn’t otherwise. On the nape of his neck is the symbol that represents Electro, its shape the exact same as the one found on your Vision. Your Wanderer certainly is a bundle of mysteries, isn’t he? His muscles go tense when you press a kiss against the spot. You then nuzzle your nose into the crook of his neck, inhaling deeply, the earthy scent of kyara wood sticking to his skin.

“You’re not going to say anything about it?”

“Hm? About what?”

“You know what I mean,” his words lack any real bite. “I know you saw it.”

You close your eyes, arriving at an answer surprisingly fast. “I’m sure you’ll tell me about it when you’re ready.”

As if silently voicing his agreement, he twists around, bringing you into a soft liplock. He coaxes you into laying back down. You wrap your arms around his neck, playing with any loose strands of hair you feel. Upon opening your eyes, you’re blessed with the sight of a simple smile from the man above you. There’s no underlying haughtiness or malice, just pure, unadulterated devotion. For you and you alone. Something hard brushes against your entrance, causing you to gasp. He chuckles, swooping down to steal another kiss before whispering in your ear,

“Ready?”

“Mhm.”

“Good.”

The head of his cock presses against your lower lips. He rubs himself against you teasingly, coating himself in your essence for more lubrication. Slowly, he sinks himself inside you, the fingers on your hips trembling from the unusual sensation. You do your best to relax your breathing and body to better take him in. He enters inch by inch, the drag of his length against your inner walls a touch uncomfortable if not incredibly fulfilling. You’re unable to focus on your body getting used to the feeling when he’s panting by your ear, soft moans falling out in abundance.

“Fuck,” he hisses through grinding teeth, “That’s good.”

He goes still when he bottoms out inside you. Slowly yet surely, the dull ache from the stretch fades. The room is filled with the sound of both your labored breathing and rain hitting the fogged-up window panes. You drink in one another’s presence. The world itself could come to an end, and still, you’d be content. Having fully adjusted, you feel bold enough to bring him impossibly closer by locking your legs around his waist. He grunts, his eyes wide-blown.

“You can move now. Hm… or should I take the lead?” You ask teasingly.

The skin beneath his eyes tightens when he grins. “Hah. I’d like to see you try.”

“I’ll hold you to tha— mm…”

He pulls himself out of you to the tip and then plunges back in, causing you to throw your head back. He’s big and of decent girth but without being too much to handle. Your low, heavy moan causes his cock to twitch inside you. There must be nothing he enjoys more than the sounds you make. He commits himself to taking you at a moderate pace, his hands on your hips bringing you down to meet his thrusts. His lips are on yours again, this kiss being the messiest yet, a clash of tongue and teeth. He shoves his tongue into your mouth and allows you to taste yourself. It's greedy, it's unrefined, and most importantly, it’s everything you want.

A thin bridge of saliva connects your lips when he parts, his eyes narrow with glee. “You love me. You really— ah— love me…!”

The Wanderer buries his face in the crook of your neck, his pace growing faster. You rub circles into your clit, another release right on the horizon from his previous actions. He’s doing what he can to keep his volume down, and yet you’re still treated to a lovely melody of pants and moans. There is no song that could ever compare. He might not be whispering sweet nothings into your ear, but this is infinitely better. Watching him get drunk and lose himself in pleasure when he’s normally so composed is a privilege exclusive to you.

“I’m close,” you whimper, every inch of your existence engulfed with heat, “So close.”

“Go on then. Show me how good I make you feel.”

Each sensual roll of his hips brings you higher and higher. He devotes himself to your ecstasy, fucking you with more strength than you expected him to use. It’s all too much. His cock massaging your insides, his tenor voice letting out the most unholy voices near your ear, the frenzied stimulation of your clit that lost its rhythm ages ago. You arch your back, your walls squeezing and fluttering as you cry out. He presses his forehead against yours while you lose yourself beneath him.

“There we go, just like that,” he coos. “That made for quite a sight. You really were made for me. Or maybe…”

After a moment’s contemplation, he voices a thought tinged with indecipherable emotion. “Maybe I was made for you.”

From his increasingly erratic thrusts, you can guess that he’s getting close as well. His vice-like grip on your hips is sure to leave bruises for the days that follow. The sound of skin on skin carries throughout the small space while the scent of sweat and sex permeates the air. Through the haze clouding your mind, you swear to yourself that you’ll always remember this. You want this special moment shared between you both inked into your subconscious. His alluring scent, his frantic touch, his bittersweet taste and little moans.

When he comes, he forces your hips down to meet his stuttering thrusts. Warmth seeps into your insides. He doesn’t stop there, he fucks his release deeper into you, your name rolling off his tongue with all the piety of a devotee worshipping their god. He goes soft inside you yet doesn’t pull out, seemingly content to stay put while he catches his breath. Absent-mindedly, you rub circles into his shoulder blades, encouraging him to relax. He ends up relaxing a little too much, collapsing on top of you and resting his head on your chest. His arms go around your shoulders and pull you flush against him. It would appear even a mere inch separating you both is unforgivable in his eyes.

“Hey.”

“Mm.”

“You’re heavy.”

“Not my problem.”

“Get off already.”

“Don’t wanna.”

His world-renowned brattiness has made a triumphant return. You try propping yourself up by your elbows, only to be met with him nuzzling himself into you further. You tumble gracelessly back onto the ground. How can he be annoying yet so endearing at the same time? He’s a walking set of contradictions. Due to the physical inactivity, the night’s frigid air starts to have more bite to it. Shivers and goosebumps erupt over your body.

“At least let me get dressed,” you huff, rolling your eyes at the petty way he tightens his grip around you. “Know that if I get sick, it’s all your fault. I’ll be making you wait on me hand and foot.”

“Fine. Be quick about it, irksome woman. I was enjoying myself.”

The Wanderer reluctantly rolls off to the side. His member slides out of you, leaving you feeling empty in its absence. Before you can start moving, he takes two fingers and pushes any cum that’s trickled out back in. Then he slides your panties back up to keep it in place. You give him a questioning look, to which he smirks, pressing another kiss to the inside of your thighs and then sitting up.

“There’ll always be a part of me inside of you now,” he explains, visibly satisfied at the thought.

What a weirdo. You decide to keep that to yourself. “Could you help me with the yukata again, please?”

“Hmm, I don’t know,” he pretends to ponder, a hand on his chin. “I think I prefer it when you look like this. Besides, I still need to get revenge for how you so brazenly insulted me earlier. What was it again? I’m ‘conceited, insensitive, and stubborn to a fault’, right? Sorry, it doesn’t seem like I’m the type of person to help others in need.”

“What if someone looks in the window and sees me?”

A malignant shadow falls over his face.

“I’d tear them to pieces.”

“... Isn’t that overkill?”

“I sure don’t think so,” he twirls his finger in the air. “Now turn around before I change my mind."

Similar to earlier, he helps you into the yukata, though the atmosphere is far more pleasant. He’s humming a tune to himself as he ensures everything is in order. After he’s content with his handiwork, he pulls you down onto the futon, clinging to you from behind. A shower sounds heavenly right about now, but you’re doubtful he’s going to let you out of his sight tonight. If you’re being entirely honest with yourself, you don’t really mind.

Exhaustion hits you like a ton of bricks. This is made worse by the comfortable blankets he pulls over you both. Your eyelids flutter shut, the siren’s song of sleep luring you in. His soft breath tickles the back of your neck and makes you smile.

“Hey, [First], are you awake?”

“I think so.”

“Good, 'cause you need to hear this,” he inhales sharply, his next words coming out as a whisper. “I… I love you too.”

“Let’s stay by one another’s side then.”

“... Always?”

“Always.”

When the puppet falls asleep that night, he sheds tears in his dreams, though this time it is not from sorrow, but overabounding joy.

#i write sin like twice a year #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #kunikuzushi x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #reader insert #scaramouche brainrot #not sfw #my stuff

[a018233]

--౨ৎ. Rent-A-Gf/Bf x Yandere Andrew

𐙚. Summary : Andrew is feeling more lonesome than usual until he downloads a rent-a-partner app .

𐙚. CW: yandere content, gn reader, Andrew has a wet dream about you. nsfw content, delusional Andrew. Modern au.

ᡣ𐭩 Andrew is already 24, and he has never been on a date. He hasn't even kissed anyone, nor has he been kissed by someone.

ᡣ𐭩 He can't be bothered to make friends when he struggles to keep the ones he already has.

ᡣ𐭩 Andrew can't help his brooding nature that scares people off. Even if they managed to look past that, the way he speaks makes them skadaddle off.

ᡣ𐭩 He's always been that way, it's a miracle he managed to keep the current friend group he has now.

ᡣ𐭩 He's tired of the dating talk, he doesn't bother trying anymore. It's not like he had interest in the first place.

ᡣ𐭩 That is until he came across a Rent-A-Partner ad. It spikes his curiosity a little. The next thing he knows, he downloaded it and already made an account.

ᡣ𐭩 It's not like he's *actually* going to do it. He's just scrolling through profiles out of curiosity.

ᡣ𐭩 Until he comes across your profile, oh. You're so cute.. maybe a one-time rental date shouldn't hurt. It's not like he has other things planned..

ᡣ𐭩 The progress is not complicated at all, pay the rental fee, meet up and go on the date, and that's it. He's nervous leading up to the date, what the fuck was he thinking? Was he that lonely that he succumbed to this?

ᡣ𐭩 He feels embarrassed that he made sure to shower and dress nice prior to showing up. He debated leaving and canceling until he felt a gentle tug on his arm.

ᡣ𐭩 "Excuse me? Are you Andrew?" You ask, tilting your head to the side.

ᡣ𐭩 Andrew can't help but swallow thickly, nodding. He could feel himself tensing up. He tries not to stare, but the way you dressed was.. adorable.

ᡣ𐭩 He prays you don't notice how sweaty his hands are. Who is he kidding? Of course you noticed.

ᡣ𐭩 Yet not a complaint. If anything, you hold his hand a little tighter, like a kite on a string you didn't wanna let go of.

ᡣ𐭩 God, you're such an angel. The way you hold his hand without disgust. The way you wait with a soft smile when he keeps stuttering over his words.

ᡣ𐭩 Andrew wasn't sure where to take you. So he ended up taking you on a simple date such as the movies.

ᡣ𐭩 He was originally going to take you out on a cafe date and then walk around through a park. But he could barely mumble a word out before awkwardly guiding you to the movies.

ᡣ𐭩 He doesn't remember what movie you two had seen. All he could think about was how your hands intertwined. He hopes you don't mind how rough, calloused, and sweaty his hands were.

ᡣ𐭩 The way you were making him feel, he might as well go in cardiac arrest.

ᡣ𐭩 When the movie ends, you have about 30 minutes left to the date. So he settles for taking you out to a nearby cafe to talk about the movie and whatnot.

ᡣ𐭩 He finally manages to choke out a few sentences. He knows he looks stupid. He feels as if his face is on fire when he talks to you.

ᡣ𐭩 Normally, people would've found a way to end a conversation quickly when they talk to him. He wouldn't have blamed you if you decided to end the date early. But you didn't.

ᡣ𐭩 You're such a doll, listening to everything he has to say while you sip on your sweet tea. You even ask follow-up questions.

ᡣ𐭩 So when the date does end, he feels his heart tighten. You bid your goodbye, giving him a cheek kiss. A little something to end the date.

ᡣ𐭩 The night he goes home, he has a little pep in his step. Randomly giggling to himself as he's reminded of the date. The way you leaned against him, or how you held his hand tightly. Even his roommates are put off by him, more so than usual.

ᡣ𐭩 He's still giddy when he turns down for the night. His mind is filled with you. The way your hands felt like against his is something that will play on repeat for him, so soft.

4:47 am, and it's not that surprising when Andrew wakes up in a hot sweat. He was dreaming about you and your hands. He groans, feeling his briefs get tighter.

He grimaces once he realized he had a wet dream about you, he feels ashamed and gross. He tries to sleep it off only to no avail.

He finds himself yanking his sweatpants and boxers down to his ankles. Watching his angry tip throbbing for release.

Instead of using his dominate hand, he uses his left. It's a little sloppy and uncoordinated but that way he can pretend it's your hand instead of his.

He pumps himself slowly, whimpering and cursing softly under his breath. He shouldn't be doing this, he's aware of that. But he's so helpless. His mind is filled with lewd thoughts and 'what ifs' of you.

He tries not to make any noises to wake his poor roommates, imagining it's your hand that's jerking him off.

Would you be disgusted with him if you found out he was acting so degenerate? Or would you guide him? Maybe even praise him. You would, right? Since you're so nice and pretty..

His breath quickens and so does his pumping, it doesn't take long before Andrew ends up cumming all over his sheets.

Andrew sighs, shaking his head. He knows he should change his sheets and take a shower, but he feels so worn out. He settles for laying back down. Trying to fall asleep once more while he thinks of other places he can take you next time.. maybe something like an anaquarium or an indoor ice-skating ring.

ᡣ𐭩 You don't have regulars often, but lately, you've been getting them a lot more. Andrew also happens to be one of them.

ᡣ𐭩 Andrew books you at least once a week. He can't help but sulk knowing you go on a date with others.

ᡣ𐭩 You felt it too, didn't you? So why are you going on a date with others?

ᡣ𐭩 At this point, he actively believes you two are dating. He also believes you're cheating on him.

ᡣ𐭩 It makes him want to pull his hair out when he stalks you out on your little affairs. He's grinding his teeth when he sees you kisses their cheek like you do his.

ᡣ𐭩 Oh, but he's not mad at you. He could never be upset with you for too long. You simply don't know any better.

ᡣ𐭩 Don't worry, he forgives you. And as a good boyfriend, he'll make sure you don't have other distractions. You are just misguided after all.

ᡣ𐭩 Even if it means showing up to your little date with bloodied and bruised knuckles. No more regulars means more time slots for him to book you, and more time to spoil you. And maybe this time, you won't lead astray.

A/n: I wanna do more rent-a-partner but idk who haha, I already have Joseph down... mhfhg..

#idv x reader #idv smut #yandere identity v #yandere idv #Gravekeeper x reader #andrew kreiss x reader #yandere andrew kreiss #ᯓᡣ𐭩 Rent-A-Partner #౨ৎ. gravekeeper

[lilsocksiswriting]

Fandom: Jujitsu Kaisen

Paring: Sukuna X Fem!reader

Summary: Holidays back home are here, Sukuna makes you cum harder.

Warnings: NSFW, No Beta, minors DNI,

Tags: College/modern Au, hurt/comfort, phone sex, orgasm denial, Sukuna likes to be called sir, Sukuna pep talks, mutual masturbation

Word Count: 4.04K

Master list

Chapter Six || Chapter Eight

Y/N: I have landed in the land of layovers! Now it’s time for food!

Sukuna: Overpriced fast food? How exciting.

Y/N: A land of layover delicacy.

Y/N: I landed home.

Sukuna: good, you managed to get home without falling out of the sky.

Sukuna: Morning doll.

Sukuna: Do not look at the image Yuji sends you

The gang(but we aren’t like a gang gang)

Yuji: Y/N! We went to go see the Christmas lights and I got bro to ride the littel kids' train with me!

Yuji sent a pic

Y/N: omg

Nobara: look at him! Ha! He barely fits! How did you manage to get him to go???

Megumi: He looks pissed. He’s going to scare the children.

Yuji: …He did make a few cry.

Megumi: Did he go on the train ride just to make small children cry?

Yuji: I told him it would make Y/N smile.

Sukuna: Morning again

Sukuna: That littel shit ate all the cereal again.

Sukuna: I. fucking. Hate. The supermarket. This time of year is the worst. They’re all like littel bugs scurrying about in a panic, but I really want that cereal.

Sukuna: What are you up to tonight? Any fancy parties?

Sukuna: I swear to god the barista was someone from the club. I flirted with him a bit in case you wanted to take him home one night.

Sukuna: It’s pretty nice out today.

Sukuna: Keep leaving me on read, ok

The moment you got off the plane it was dinner with your mother’s roommate for college. The next morning it was brunch with your grandparents on your father’s side at the country club followed by a late afternoon tea. That evening it was a  Christmas party at your mother's law firm. 

You did manage to sneak a peak at your phone to see the most adorable picture of Sukuna, squished into a child-sized seat little train ride full of kids and their parents. He had his arms crossed and a deep, pouty frown. What a humbug.  God, he was so cute!

You have just enough time to send a quick reply in the group chat before you have put your phone away and pretend as if nothing happened. Your mother finding out that you had a boyfriend was the last thing that you needed right now. And one that did not meet her standards? You don’t even dare fathom the response she would have. Your relationship was already strained from transferring to a university not her choosing.  You will be the first L/N not to graduate from the private university of your hometown.

For the rest of the evening, you do the same thing you had been doing since the moment you stepped off the plane, pretend. You pretend to be elated to see your old friends from high school, your old roommate, relatives, and your parents’s coworkers. You pretend to laugh along with their jokes and jabs about you going to a state university now.

All the while feeling more and more alone and desperate for just one genuine thing. A real smile, a real compliment, or real merry anything! But what would be the use of that? Wasn't looking pretty and perfect enough?

When you get home you're pooped but you cannot sleep. You toss and turn in your sheets. You feel weird. You feel so lonely and disconnected from the real world. In the darkness of your childhood bedroom, you wonder if your university was even real. 

'that's stupid Y/N of course it's real.'

You remind yourself of all the hard work you put into the last semester and how you deserve a break. But when could you take that? It's so much work not making any waves here back here at home. Making sure that the holiday remains jolly and all that.  Had it always been this hard?

You remind yourself that you have friends. You scroll through the group chat reading what everyone is up to. This was a bad idea. They all lived in the same town, and they all were enjoying the break together. They didn't have to pretend like everything was fine and great and like they were not becoming the disappointment of their families. 

You make a bigger mistake by clicking on Sukun's messages. He gave you these cute littel updates that slowly stopped which made sense since you had not replied to any of his texts since landing. Not much sense in doing so now since it was later in the time zone he was in. 

But, fuck, you missed Sukuna. You missed Nobara, Yuji, and Megumi. You missed how Sukuan's bed smelled. How you could hear Yuji and their grandpa in the mornings.  You miss how lived in and warm the house felt. you missed feeling happy. 

It was stupid but you called Sukuna. It rings and rings. 

rings and rings.

"Oh, so you can't return a simple text but you can call me at three in the goddamn morning?"

you swallow a knot in your throat. God, just hearing his pissed-off, groggy voice made you relax under your comforter. 

"I'm sorry, I've barely had time to check my phone,"  is the excuse you gave to him. You keep your voice quiet, paranoid that your mom can come knocking at any moment. 

"Oh, too busy being all rich and distinguish to give your low-life boyfriend a text?" he sneers.

"It's not like that, my mom-"

 He does not give you a chance to explain your actions, "Would be appalled that you're dating a guy like me?"

"No- well yes, but it's more than that. She is already mad at me-

"Mad?” his laugh and dark and sends a shiver down your spine. “About what? Did you use the wrong salad fork? Did she find out that you fraternizing with someone so being your wealth? " his voice is now shaper, cutting into your feelings and getting straight to the bone. 

No, no, hearing Sukuna's voice was supposed to make you feel happy and remind you that there is an end to this long trip home.

"It's not like that...."  you trail off. What was it like to go back home, to feel so hesitant to tell everyone about your boyfriend, and your friends, and how much you are enjoying your degre program??

"Oh, I think it very much is Doll. You see all your rich friends and their rich parents with their nice cars and nice-"

"No!" your voice rises and becomes tighter, "It's not like that at all and you sound like yo-you don't understand at all."

"Than make me," he threatens.

Oh, oh that littel shit was good. It was one of the oldest's tricks in his book. He pesters and angers you until you tell him exactly what it is that is bothering you.

"It's all so fucking fake Sukuna...."  the dam breaks and tears well up in your eyes. "It's been one gathering after the other where I felt like I have to act like everything is fine and the whole family doesn't see me as this..this disappointment for not choosing the university they went to.  And everyone here is so fake too.  I don't that one person has genuinely wished me a merry anything. And you know what I want to gush about you. I wanna tell everyone how you make me swoon and laugh I want to save that cute picture of you in that tiny ass train seat as my lock screen.  I want to tell them about my friends and the things we all get up to….  but I can't because.... because...I'm scared of dealing with ramifications. "

you were scared of what your mother might do.

But she would never...

would she...

"Doll?"

"I'm scared of what she might do if she finds out I have friends there....if I have you....a-and I'm afraid she might...." your voice was shakey as things came together. It is still not all there, but the feelings are. 

"Doll keep talking to me," you hear Sukuna encourage.

"I-all this time I thought it was so ridiculous that me going to a different college bothered my mother so much. b-but I get it now, that's wh-why I'm hiding all of you... I'm afraid she'll take it away from me."

Sukuna scoffs, "Oh she can try doll. but I'd hunt you down no matter where that wench tries to hide you."

he can't see you shake your head," No...you don't get it.... This is what she does. If I choose something that that's not up to her standards she doesn't just take it away or hide it from me... She'll- she'll make me give it... I-I do want to give you up. Sh-she so manipulative that way  I’ve fallen for it so many times.”

"Hey,”  god his sift voice was killing you in the best way. You could melt into it. Just become lost in that deep tone forever. You cling to it like a lifeline. You'll continue clinging to it until you can find your way back to him. "Don't get choked up on me.... just breathe with  me for a bit."

you try, you really try. God what if your mom passes by? What if she makes out your hushed tone? You can hear the things she would say.

'Baby, why are you crying?'

'No, no, baby, a good boyfriend wouldn't make you cry.'

'Well the fact that you have to hide him tells me you know this is a bad relationship to be in.'

"Su-Sukuna...."

"Yea Doll?"

"C-can you just talk to me? just- don't want to think. I just wanna hear your voice, please?"

"Yeah," and Sukuna goes on the tell you about his day, about the appointments he had at work, and what he's eaten. There we go, you breathing clams. When Sukuan can't hear the sobs and hiccups he starts to ask you questions.

"So you have to tell me how about all the crazy rich people shit that’s been happening."

“Wait hold on! You mean she dated twin A all throughout school, had this man's child, then left him for Twin B! And no one really bats an eye because it's his name in the law firm?"

When Sukuna hears you giggle he can finally relax. He made a note to ask you more about your home situation, mabey torturer some information out of his younger brother. But right now he just doesn't want to hear you like that again with him being so far away.

"So what are you wearing?"

"Oh my god Sukuna really?" you giggle again and it was so fucking cute how you sounded.

"I'm in nothing"

"B-bull," he can hear the flusteredness in your voice. 

"Well I am now", he says kicking off his sweats. "So know what you know what I'm wearing..."

"a slik pjay set,” You answer. “Just a shirt and shorts. Nothing really special.”

"Fuuuck," his hands slip down his bare stomach, "That pretty pink one you 've worn to sleepovers ?"

"Yeah- you remember what I wear to sleepovers?"

"Oh, i remember that little set."

you squeeze your thighs together grab your AirPods from your nightstand and pop them in so your hands feel to play with yourself. 

"Why?" you ask

On the other end Sukuan smirks. his hand reaches his soft cock that's already getting hard at your timid inquiry.

"Why? Are you really asking me that? you really don't have a clue what you do to me? You’ve got to have soem idea doll. Did you ever think it was odd that I took one look at you in those little shorts and wished all you little shits a good night then  headed up to my room?"

 A hand finds itself between thighs. your fingers being rubbed yourself over your shorts. "I-I just brushed it off as Sukuan being Sukuna.  What did you do up there, while we were all just downstairs?"

"I stroked my fat cock like am now, " he tells you.

"Oh," you moan.

"What are you doing right now doll?"

"I'm touching myself, th-through my shorts," you tell him feeling hot and needy all of a sudden. That's just the effect that Sukuan's deep, shameless voice has on you. 

"Over your clothes? That doesn't sound too fun. Be a good girl and put your hand down your shorts, slip your fingers between those pretty lips, and tell me how wet you are."

 Getting so caught up in his playful and authoritative voice you obey. Your breath hitches when your cold finger slips under the waistband of your panties. You hear Sukuna hum on the other end. 

"Fuck Doll I'm already so hard for you, missed your sweet cunt squeezing around my cock. "

"Su-sukuna..." You push your fingers between your lips and gasp, "Oh-oh my god, i-i'm wet."

You hear a raspy giggle, "I fucking knew that needy pussy missed me."

"So much," you mumble gathering up the slick and rubbing it over your clit.  "A-are you still....."

"Mhm, going nice and slow. Taking my sweet time and enjoying all those sounds you making for me."

You giggle," I've barely made any noise. I'm trying to be as quiet as I can."

His voice grows stern, "Don't you fucking dare doll. Don't keep one sound from, I wanna hear it all." 

"o-ok"

"Ok sir," he corrects you. 

Your pussy throbs at the authority in his voice, "Wh-what?"

"Tonight, you call me sir and follow my orders. If you do that,  be my good girl, then you'll get a reward."

"Damn, " is all your mind can muster. your boyfriend was so hot. 

"What was that?"

"y-yes sir."

"Good girl," his voice was like melted honey in your ears, "Take off those shorts so you can get to that cute cunt better. "

You kick off your comforter then push your shorts and panties down your hips. They wind up somewhere beside your bed

"it sounds like you enjoying yourself doll."

"I am," you answer and quickly remember to add, " sir."

"You catch in so quick." Sukuna rubs his thumb over the head of his cock.

 "Permission to ask a question, sir?" you ask before your mind becomes too muddled that you forget it.

"yes, doll?"

"W-what did you think about? When you were upstairs jerking off?"

Sukuna hums,  the noise going straight to your core makes you moan softly. 

"Curious thing aren't you? why should I divulge my secret fantasies to you?"

Of course, Sukuna was teasing you. And of course, you getting so caught up in the way he makes you feel so lot and good that you play into this sir kink he has. 

Honestly, Sukuna would love to tell you all the lewd fanatics that he had since you first called him an ass to his face. 

"B-because they have me in them?"

"mmm, try again~,” he teases.

"Because I wanna know what makes you feel good sir."

He smirks, his hands flicking over his head and smearing pre-cum down his shaft. "Mainly I think about you under me, fucking into you so rough your titis bounce under that silky top. Yes, making ride my thigh until your cryin' and creaming though the shorts making a big wet spot  all before a fuck anther orgasm out of ya."

"Oh god," you gasp.  Your body responds to his deceptions. “Remind me to wear that more when I get back. Can I go faster sir, please?"

“Of course doll,"  he tells you but don't register the sly tone. You wanna hear more of his voice and let him make you feel so good that you do not that think that there mighty a catch."Tell me how it feels."

You spread your legs wider, leaning your head back as you described the ecstasy coursing through your body as your fingers work at your clit faster," So good sir, my pussy sounds so wet for you. I miss you so much. My hole’s clenching around nothing sir.”

Sukuna lets out a ragged breath, fisting his cock faster ."That’s a good girl, Don't leave that tight cunt out, fuck yourself on your fingers for me."

"Ye-yes, sir," you were so wet at this point that your index and middle finger slipped right on in.

"Oh god, s-sir I can fit in two so easily."

Now it's Sukuna's turn to throw his head back. "And what about three?"

The noises you make are so cute m, so lewd, and shameless. Just how how lies to have you. You push in another, "Yes"

"And a fourth?"

"Mmm, makes me feel so full sir."

"That's good, that's good. Now fuck yourself like that was my cock filling you."

" y-yes sir, haa~ sir, feel so good, I can feel myself squeeze around them, so tight 'n' hot sir."

"That's it, that's my good girl,” he purrs.  Sukuan swallows.  He hopes that you can hear the quick fapfapfap of him stroking his cock. God did his body miss you did it crave to feel your touch again. He swears he can cum just knowing that he is not the only one craving sex.

The heel of your palm now scrapes over your clit making you tremble and moan Sukuna's name.  you feel an orgasm growing and the world falling away.

"That’s it, that’s my good girl," he praises you making you feel so warm and happy. "Now stop."

"Sir~" You've graon but do as told.

Sukuna gets a rise out of this and laughs at you.,"Not so soft am I now?"

You blink up at the ceiling of your bedroom, fingers sit soaking in your cunt. soft? soft-" Are you serious? you bringing that up now?"

"I told you I wasn't going to forget that."

"Ugh, you are so evil."

His voice talks in that authoritative tone again, "I'm sorry what was that?" 

"You are so evil, sir."

He hums. Sukuan grips the base of his cock. It weighs heavily in his hand, matching the weight he feels in his balls. They are filled with cum he wants to spill into your clenching hole and not his hand.

“Poor Y/N, “ he coos,”  So hot and needy from her boyfriend's words, but he’s being so mean make you sit there with that needy cunt filled with  her fingers.”

The wine that you make makes Sukuna groan, “That’s it doll, cry for me soem more. Beg for it.”

"pleeeease sir," your hole needy cut squeezes around your fingers, "Please let me fuck myself on my fingers for you. need it so bad. Please, sir."

Holy fuck are you a fast learner. In his state, the thought that you could be a succubus who knows just what to say makes his cock hard, and aching crosses his mind.  Sukaun lets a low moan rumble through his chest,  That’s it doll, more. G-give me more."

You inhale a wobbly breath, straining to keep your fingers still inside yourself. “It's so hard not to move sir. Not to curl my fingers inside me the way that you do. Miss the way you fuck me so much. Miss you so much, sir.  I-i don’t think I can make myself cum the way you make me do.”

“You sound so patient right now,” Sukuna mocks you as he starts to stroke his erection again. “Can’t even make herself cum, you have to have me ther to do it for you. It's only been a few days and you already miss this fat cock stuffing you cunt.  Fucking you full of my cum until you’re screaming.”

“Sir please,” you beg. 

You hear Sukuna’s harsh breath on the other end,” fuck, sound so good when you beg like th-Ah! That Doll.  You wanna cum with me?”

“Yesyesyes,” you nod eagerly even though he can’t see you. Your cunt is just as eager squeezing around your fingers.

“Then go on, fuck yourself for me doll, let me hear all those cute noises you make as you cum imaging those fingers are my cock fucking  you like your my little sex doll.”

 Finally being given permission to pleasure yourself, you began pumping your fingers in and out of you.  Ecstasy runs rampant through your system.  Your soft cries of pleasure sound so good to Sukuna. He groans pumping his fists faster. 

“That's is doll that's is, that's it, fuck you gonna cum for me?”

“Yes, " your fingers curl and manage to find that spot inside you that makes you arch your back,” Please master let me cum, need to cum so bad.”

There is an amused moan from the other end before Sukaun taunts you,” Yea you need to cum that bad? You think you can get there with my voice alone?”

“Yes,  please let me cum sir,” You plead feeling the pressure build in your gut, but you're somehow staving off an orgasm until  Sukuna says which is madding. “I need so bad. Please, sir.”

Having you pleading like that and knowing he has so much power over you at this moment makes him feel so good.  He curses as his hips jerk. 

“My desperate little slut being such a good girl waiting for me to give her permission, “he says in a breathless voice.

You whimper this time making his eye roll back, “Yes I’m desperate to cum Sir. Please, please i need this. “ 

“Then cum,” Sukuna demands bucking his hips into his fist, “Hard.”

Your whole body feels light, your ass floating off the bed. You ruthlessly shove your fingers knuckle deep in your sopping wet pussy.  Your palm ruts into your clit as you feel yourself become flooded with pleasure and ecstasy.

On the other end of the phone, Sukuna moans your name as cum covers his closed fist. He feels his cock twitch against his palm as spurt after spurt leaks from the tip and over his fingers. 

As you float back down to your bed you barely register any of the lonely feelings of being home again. 

“You still with me doll?” the softness of Sukuna’s voice for the other end begins your voice back.

“Yeah,”  you give a small uncomfortable noise as  you slip your finger out of yourself, “just, wowed like always.”

“How you feelin’?” he asks reaching over to grad some tissue for his nightstand.

“Great, I think I really need that….and to just hear your voice. Thank you for picking up.”

Sukuan throughs the tissue into the trash leaving the two of you in silence  before replying, “Even if I’m annoyed with you for designing your ghosting shit… I’ll always pick up Y/N”

“Thank you.”, your voice wobbles a bit,” I’m sorry for haunting you.”

Sukuna rolls his eyes “Come on don't start crying again.”

“I’m sorry it's just a lot harder when I’m home.”

“God stop apologizing you sound so pathetic,” Sukuna scoffed then addressed you in a stern voice,” Listen y/n, stand proud. You are strong. You will continue to smile and endure your family knowing that you will come back here. When you do come back then you can let out all those emotions, to me, in my arms. Understood? “

“Yes sir,” you confirm wiping away your tears,” But can you do one more thing for me? Well, two actually.”

His automatic reply is, “Anything.”

“Can you stay on the line until I fall back asleep? And, can you keep giving me those cute little updates about your day? They kind of make mine.”

“As long as you don't call them cute, then yes. 

You pull up your shorts and settle back under the comforter. You get lulled back to sleep by his soft voice and more stories about what everyone has been up to since you left. And just when you are on the edge of falling asleep ask,” Oh, and doll?”

“Hmmm?”

“Happy holidays,” he says and wants to say more, but he thinks neither of you is ready for those words, at least not yet.

You make a happy hum on the other end of the phone and Sukuna only ends the call when he can hear your even breaths and a slight snore here and there.

#sukuna #sukuna smut #sukuna x reader #jjk college au #jjk imagines #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk #jjk sukuna #privet stacks #jujutsu kaisen

[lanitalay]

Supernatural

Azriel Supernatural AU x reader

Summary: In which you encounter a couple of hunters during a case. 

A/N: I've been rewatching supernatural and i just love it. This is based on the early seasons. Hopefully the ACOTAR and Supernatural fandoms overlap.

Warnings: mentions of blood and death, nothing descriptive.

wordcount: 1.7k

Masterlist

“It’s totally vampires, Az. Remember that nest we took out in Idaho? They did the same thing with their victims.” Azriel bites his lip recalling that hunt, it was in the top ten worst moments of his life. “I know you’re right but those things give me the creeps. The way their fangs just-” he gags thinking about the extra set of teeth. 

“You big baby, it's just teeth. What gets me is the decapitation. Ghosts are easy. Salt. Fire. But these suckers are a nasty job.” You look over your notes before asking “do you think Cass and Rhys could give us a hand? I think we’ll be outnumbered.” 

He shakes his head “we could call but last time we talked they were up to their necks on a vengeful spirit case. Get this, the bones are scattered in different places because the deceased couldn’t decide where to be buried.” You chuckle. “Those two always get caught up in something like that. What about Mor? Or Amren? I’ll call them just in case.” 

Two phone calls later and no back up to show for it. “That was a bust.” Azriel nudges your arm. “Hey, we can do this. We can figure out a way to take them out one at a time.” You sigh and lean your head against the window. Watching as endless fields blur into one another. “You’re right, wake me up when we get there will you?” Before he can say yes you’ve dozed off. 

The road to Texas was long and lonely for Azriel. You slept the whole way and he was forced to keep himself company with mindless humming and singing lyrics from songs he probably misremembers. You’re usually the dj, but he knows if he messes with your tapes he’s in deep shit. You arrive at the usual dingy motel at around midnight. 

“Hey, sleepy head, we’re here.” Az is careful not to startle you, slightly shaking your arm with a scarred hand to rouse you from sleep without setting off your hunter instincts. “I’m awake.” You mumble but don’t move to get out of the truck. “I’ll go get us a room, while you wake up.” A hum is the only response he gets. 

When he returns he sees you unloading the truck with a pep in your step. “We’re in 9.” Once you’ve settled in, it dawns on you that you took a six hour nap on the ride here. There’s no way you’ll be able to fall asleep now. “Az, you want something to eat?” He yawns “no thanks, I’m going to turn in for the night.” 

“Well I’m not tired. I’ll grab a bite at that bar across the street and come back.” You put on your jacket and make the short walk to the hole in the wall establishment that always seems to accompany the motels you frequent. “One beer and a burger, please.” It 's quiet. You assume that it’s because it’s Tuesday. Until you overhear the conversation from two guys at the bar. “Six people went missing and all of them were last seen here, Sammy, something’s up.” 

“I know, Dean, but we’ve been here a week and no one can point us in the right direction. Maybe they left.” Hunters, and by the sounds of it, they are on the same case.  The bartender sets a pint in front of you, when it’s in your hand you walk over. “Are you two looking for a vampire nest?” They seem to have a language of their own, exchanging a few glances before the one with blondish hair says “depends, who’s asking?”

“Y/n, my partner and I just got into town after hearing about six disappearances. Looks like you two got a head start.” You sit with them in a shadowy corner of the bar as they tell you about the roadblocks they’ve encountered. “Most of them came here without telling anybody they knew, they weren’t regulars.” The taller one with brown hair finishes. 

“So they were lured.” They nod. “It’s been quiet since we got here.” You finish the burger and wipe your fingers with the thinnest napkin you’ve ever seen. “They got six people in two weeks, that’s enough blood to keep a nest alive for a month.” But something’s off and you can tell they feel it too. “What were your names again?” 

“I’m Sam.” “I’m Dean.” No way.

 “Winchester?” They nod. 

“That’s crazy! I knew your father! It’s sort of how I got started in all of this actually-” you stop yourself, John is dead now and these were his sons “I’m sorry for your loss, he helped a lot of people.” Az is going to freak when you tell him. Dean swigs his beer and says “yeah well, that’s what happens when you make deals with devils.” 

It’s tense for a bit while you finish your beer “well, if you don’t mind it, my partner and I could help on the case. Four machetes are better than two. We’re staying right across the street. Room 9. See ya, boys.” 

The next morning you tell Azriel about your encounter. “I’m telling you Az, they seem nice enough. If we team up it will be safer.” He’s unsure, always wary of strangers. “I don’t know, y/n-” just then, a knock at the door. You check the peephole before opening it. “Hi guys, this is my partner Azriel. Az, this is Sam and that's Dean.” The brothers brought coffee, by the looks of it it’s from the prehistoric machine in the lobby. “We talked about it and we agreed, working together will speed things along.” 

“Az?” He sighs. “Fine.” 

“He’s chipper,” Dean quips. “He’s not a morning person,” you quickly defend. You were the only one allowed to comment on his crankiness. 

After a day of following dead ends, you sit with Dean at the same bar. Sam and Az are still trying to find something in the archives. “So what’s the deal with you and your partner?” 

“Why? Are you interested?” He chuckles. “Just curious, your room had two beds. Are you two not involved?” Maybe it was the whisky, but you said “not romantically.” 

“So he won’t be upset if I buy you another drink with the intention of getting in your pants?” You roll your eyes. “Your reputation precedes you, Winchester.” 

“My reputation as a hunter or a ladies’ man?”

“Your reputation as a shameless flirt.” He leans closer to you “is it working?” You laugh and push him off. “No.” 

“So there is something between you and Azriel. I bet he’s clueless. I’ve seen it time and again.” You keep nursing your glass. “I wouldn’t say he’s clueless. But you know how this job is. One second you’re here and the next… I think we both agree that it’s better if we don’t cross that line with each other.” 

“But you could cross that line with me.” He winks. “No, Dean. I don’t think I could.”

 He straightens away from you and sips his beer. “You said you met my dad?” 

“Oh, yes. It was years ago, I was a freshman in college and a vengeful spirit was wreaking havoc on the campus. John showed up right before the son of a bitch gutted me. After that it was hard to go back to classes, you know?” 

“And how did you meet Azriel?” 

“Az and I met in a bar like this one, he had been hunting with his friends for a while and I hustled them for gas money.” 

“You play pool?” You shake your head and try to keep a straight face as you say “I play fools, Dean.” 

When Azriel and Sam returned, he did not like what he saw. In truth, he was glad to see you were having fun but he hated seeing you having fun with someone else. It's not like he could complain. You both refused to cross that line. Sleeping next to each other every night, on different beds was not the whirlwind romance he wanted to give you. It wasn’t the life you deserved. But he stuck by your side because everytime he wanted to slow down, to stop, maybe go back to school, you refused. “There are monsters, Az and we save people. I can’t go back to sitting in a classroom only to end up working in an office.” He wanted domesticity. He wanted a routine. He wanted a lawn to mow and to barbecue on weekends. But more than that he wanted you. 

“She’s a keeper, Az.” Dean joked as you sunk the last ball in the socket. Azriel clenched his jaw, not liking the familiarity with which Dean nudged your shoulder. It had only been a day since you met and you were acting like you’d known each other for years. 

“You don’t have to sleep here if you don’t want to.” Your face scrunches in confusion at his tone. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“I’m sure you'd rather be with Dean right now.” 

“Azriel, don't be like that.” He shrugs “just saying, you two were making eyes at each other all day.” 

“We were not.” He doesn’t say anything else but there’s a tension that lingers. “I hate when you do this.” 

“I’m not doing anything.” 

“You’re picking a fight. You know I would never be with anyone else.” 

“You could.” 

“I don’t want to.” 

“Y/n-”

“I know Az, “the life’s too dangerous,” “we’d be more vulnerable,” “it just gives the bad guys ammunition.” I know the whole song and dance of why we can’t… I get it. But it makes me feel stupid when I could be out with someone who actually shows interest in me but I stay with you.” 

“I’m not holding you hostage, you can go if you want.” 

“You’re an idiot.” With a huff you storm out of the room. Not entirely sure where you’re going, you wander around the motel grounds for a while. Knocking on Dean’s door was an option, but you wanted to be alone. He was infuriating. Azriel knows which buttons to push and when. He does this every so often, picks a fight to create iciness between you. It makes temptation easier if you’re too mad at each other to give in, you suppose. 

It's past midnight, and the lights in room 9 are off. In your haste you forgot a key. You go to the lobby and are surprised to see an attendant. “Hi, I locked myself out of my room and my partner is asleep. Do you have a spare key by any chance?” 

“Of course, name and room number?” 

A click sounds from behind and you turn to see a man, turning the Open sign to Closed.  His neck is covered in scruff and bite marks. You look back at the attendant. The ledger, that weighs at least ten pounds, slams across your face. 

You wake up tied up and breathless in a windowless room. Six bloodied bodies surrounding you.

#acotar #acomaf #acosf #acofas #acowar #acotar fanfiction #azriel shadowsinger #acotar series #a court of thorns and roses #a court of silver flames #a court of mist and fury #a court of wings and ruin #supernatural #dean winchester #sam and dean #sam winchester #azriel #azriel acotar #azriel spymaster #azriel x reader #az x reader

[justauthoring]

That thought made Meguru feel like he might die of loneliness.

"Do you have any friends?"

Bachira raises his head, puzzled at the sound of another's voice.

The very last thing he expects to see is you, pretty eyes staring back at his own with a twinkle that shines in the soft set of the sun. Your smile is bright and inviting, warming in a way Bachira's not sure he's ever experienced before, crouched down before him so that your head, tilted, rests on your arms.

Bachira's seen you before. The two of you go to the same school, share the same homeroom - he's walked past you more times than he count in the hallway, laughing without a care in the world at something your friends say to you. He's seen you and admired you before, taken note of those pretty eyes before or how cute you look in the school's uniform. The different ways you like to wear your hair, or the way you seem to skip with a pep in your step everywhere you go.

He's noticed you so many times. He'd just been sure you'd never noticed him.

So, he's puzzled. More than that; Bachira's absolutely baffled with the fact that you're here, smiling at him no less.

"Huh?"

"You're here every day," you explain with ease, your voice soft against the silence. Everyone else has already gone home, the sun is setting and truthfully, he should be heading home soon too (his mother will start to worry) but after he'd finished practicing, he hadn't had the heart to.

"But I always see you practicing alone," you continue. "Nobody to play with you?"

"There's nobody who can."

It hurts in a way he doesn't expect it to - saying it aloud like that.

"Nobody who will."

And then your answer comes easily. "I will," you grin, ear to ear, bright and wide eyed as you laugh.

Bachira's brows furrow; "do you even play soccer?"

He's almost positive he's never seen you play - not once out on the field, or alone otherwise. He knows you're in a club but it certainly isn't soccer, and he's pretty sure he's never even seen you near anything sports like unless it's for gym. He's seen you trip when simply walking to class, or knock something over because you're not paying attention to where your hands are swinging so he also knows you're not coordinated - truthfully, a bit of a klutz.

"No," you shrug, "but you have no one to play with right?"

He slowly shakes his head.

It's so easy the way you say it, like there had never been any other option otherwise. Voice a merry twinkle against his own punishing thoughts, and that smile still so bright it almost hurts to look at it.

"So I will."

Lips parting, Bachira sits forward; "wouldn't you rather be... doing something else? Hanging with your friends?"

Your smile fades, an almost somber look fading into your eyes as you rest your head against your arms, curled into yourself. "You seem lonely. Everyday. By yourself," you whisper, voice so soft that if it wasn't completely silent otherwise, Bachira wouldn't have been able to hear you. "I can understand that."

"But you..."

He doesn't finish his words, not sure how to. But he doesn't need to, you understand.

"They don't get me. My friends," you elaborate, "not really. I have to pretend to be someone else when I'm with them. They think I'm too silly otherwise, too... weird. You see..." And then there's this wistful look in your eyes, that same smile curling onto your lips as you look past him, as if staring at someone else entirely. "I have something inside me. Something I'm searching for."

And his eyes widen and he feels his heart start to race at your words. Words so familiar, words that he's thought and said so many times before...

You look back at him then.

"And I think you're it."

Bachira's lips part, he wants to say something but he isn't sure what. All he can manage is a simple, echoed; "a monster..."

It's no doubt you hear him - he knows that you do - but you don't say anything, don't question it.

You simply stand, brushing off your skirt as you step towards Bachira, hand stretched out towards him with a gentle smile that makes his stomach feel all funny and his breath get caught in the back of his throat.

"Let's play, Bachira-kun."

And his hand is falling in your own before he even realizes it, excitement flooding his entire chest as he meets your eyes. He feels giddy then, as opposed to how he'd felt moments ago, wanting to practically jump to his feet just to hear you say you'll play with him again. He'll do anything to hear you say the words again.

Your fingers thread through his, warmth blossoming, while an echoed voice carries behind him;

take her hand...

-

i just... i just love him so much.

#blue lock #blue lock imagine #blue lock x reader #bachira meguru x reader #bachira meguru imagine #bachira meguru #bachira x reader

[vineofroses]

Lone Star prompt

TK buys Carlos new pajamas (or vice versa)

GO!

Carlos wishes he never came across it.

He wishes a lot of things were different.

Like, why was he such a good person?

Why was he such a good husband? A good friend? A good partner?

These questions only haunt him after he's made the purchase. He didn't even think twice about it. He saw them, thought, "well, how many times do you actually come across the greatest gift you've ever seen?" And then just submitted the order, like he didn't just sign his own death sentence.

And, the logistics. He forgot about the logistics.

And now he's faced with a logistical nightmare of his own making.

"Please, I'm begging you. Just, don't move. This will be painless, I promise." He holds up the little garment like it was going to illicit an actual response.

Instead, Lou II blinks at him and turns his head away like Carlos isn't even there. What a bastard.

"Okay ... okay," Carlos says, mostly to himself. Pep talk of the year.

"I'm just going to ... pick you up." Carlos gulps, then reaches into Lou II's tank and pulls him out. Fortunately, Lou II doesn't seem to mind. Carlos minds, for sure. But, he's made it this far, he can't back out now.

"Okay, buddy. I'm going to put this on you. And you can't get mad at me because this is for your father, okay? Please don't get mad at me."

Carlos slips the yellow piece of clothing over Lou II's head. He seems okay after that, so Carlos carefully maneuvers Lou II's little arms into the sleeves. This is the part he was really hesitant about; Lou II's arms are so tiny and Carlos fingers are so close to biting distance.

"What are you doing?"

Carlos jumps, almost losing Lou II from his grip. "Jesus, TK!"

"Are you holding Lou II?" TK asks, and Carlos really tries to not be offended by the incredulity he hears in his husband's voice.

"Um, yeah — "

"Is he okay?!"

Carlos thinks he himself is more at risk of not being okay, but whatever, it's fine.

"Yes, yeah, of course!"

"Okay ... so what's going on?" TK starts walking toward Carlos to presumably get a better look at Lou II but Carlos can't have that. He's so close to pulling this surprise off, it can't have been for nothing. "No, don't come over here!"

TK stops in his tracks, eyeing the way Carlos is halfway turned toward TK but keeping Lou II out of his sight. He raises an amused eyebrow.

Carlos sighs. "Just, open that first." He nods to a gift bag on the dining room table.

TK's eyes sparkle. "Oh, baby. You didn't have to get me anything."

"Trust me, I'm kinda wishing I hadn't," Carlos murmurs to himself.

"What was that?" TK asks, but he's already tearing into the gift bag so Carlos doesn't answer him.

TK pulls out a yellow silk pajama set that has white buttons up the front of the shirt.

"Wow, these are beautiful," TK says. "Thank you, Carlos. But —"

"Ok, now the next part," Carlos says.

"There's parts — ?" TK says but stops as soon as Carlos turns around with Lou II in his hand, wearing the exact same yellow silk pajama shirt that TK just pulled the larger version of out of his gift bag.

"Oh. My. God."

"Tada," Carlos says with as much cheer as he can muster. This was his idea but he's ready to be out of ideas and never follow through on them ever again.

TK reaches for Lou II and Carlos is happy to hand him over.

"Aw, who's a handsome little boy?" TK coos at Lou II.

And okay, Carlos has never seen anything cuter. TK, not Lou II. Does he wish that his husband was cuddling his face against a dog instead of a lizard? Yes. But he's adorable nonetheless.

When TK looks up again, there's tears in his eyes.

"Marry me."

Carlos rolls his eyes. "TK, we're already married." Chuckling, he wanders back into the kitchen for the next surprise.

"I know, I know. I just can't believe you did this. You hate Lou II."

"I don't hate Lou II. I bought him pajamas."

"Yeah, you did," TK sighs happily. "Why did you do that again?"

"Oh, you know ... just wanted to do something nice for you, is all."

"Oh?"

Carlos hums an affirmative. He used the last of the tissue paper for the first gift bag, so he grabs the remnants of it from the floor where TK had tossed it in his haste to open the gift.

"Carlos."

"Alright, fine. I ... sawanadonfacebook," he mumbles, stuffing the next bag with the already crumpled tissue paper.

"What was that?" TK asks, but he knows what Carlos said because TK knows him, which is very unfortunate. He's never living this down.

"I saw the add on the Facebook, okay? It got me."

TK chuckles, still cradling Lou II like he's a baby. The pajamas don't help shatter the illusion.

"Here ya go." Carlos hands TK the second gift bag.

"Another one? Carlos, you should really ignore the ads, they're just there to collect your data." But TK's doesn't really seem to care about that because he immediately opens this second bag.

What he pulls out shuts him up entirely.

It's another matching set.

"This is a —"

"Yeah, it is," Carlos finishes for him when TK seems to lose the words.

There's a beat of silence.

Then,

"This is the single best thing you've ever done." TK sounds so serious.

"I've literally solved so many cases, saved a lot of lives," Carlos counters.

"Sure, yeah," TK says.

"And, I married you."

"Mmhmm."

"I hunted down that obscure vintage painting for you."

"You did."

"And, this is the best thing I've ever done?"

"100 percent."

#911 lone star #carlos reyes #tk strand #lou ii #this is crack #someone draw lou ii in pajamas please

[noisycroissant]

A Helping Hand

I have Toji brain-rot, so I wrote this. If you guys like this, maybe I can write more (?) 🤷🏻‍♀️

⚠️: sex (P in V)

*********

He'd been here for a month now. He stayed at the little back room attached to the shed at the far end of the property. Every day you'd watch him do odd jobs at the farm. The season demanded that your father be on the fields all day, so he needed someone who'd do the farm work: feed animals, clean up, fix up what needs to be fixed up.

Enter Toji Fushiguro.

Every day you've watched him from your window, doing jobs in this heat, often with his shirt off. You knew every line of his upper body by now.

Which was not difficult since you recalled it every night, whimpering for something bigger, while your poor fingers fucked your needy cunt to a dissatisfied orgasm.

Well, fuck that.

Tomorrow, things were going to change, you decided.

**********

You wait till your father leaves for the day, his pick-up truck just a white dot at the end of a cloud of dust before you go up to your room and change into what you'd affectionately dubbed your "slut clothes".

In reality, it was just a red thong, a rather tight checkered shirt, and a denim skirt.

You give yourself a pep talk. "No backing out now, Y/N. You got this. You need this."

You walk down to the barn confidently. You were a woman on a mission.

********

Toji was inside, stacking hay bales. You watched open mouthed as he easily lifted and tossed them.

"Uhh.. Toji..hi.. I mean... hello!" you stammered, the last greeting coming out louder than the rest.

Toji stops and turns around, taking you in with what looks like contempt in his eyes.

"You want something?" he asks, annoyance clear in his voice.

"Uh..well... actually..yeah..I mean yes," you blurt out staring at his ...well, everywhere.

Toji grins, "Easy sweetheart. Tell me what you want. I got time." He sits down on the hay stacks, legs spread out, all ears.

You take a deep breath. Exhale. "I want you to make me cum," you speak clearly. You had to get the words out before the blood rushing to your face made you pass out.

Toji's eyes widen slightly. "Did I hear you right, sweetheart? You want me to make you.."

"..cum, yes," you finish his sentence, "I've had sex before, so don't worry about that. I just haven't cum from it. And you look like you could..you know...like you know things... I mean...I'm sorry if I assumed.."

You stopped your word-vomit and just stared at him blankly.

Toji wets his bottom lip as he grins again, "An act of service that I'm always up for, sweetheart, is making lonely girls cream."

You turn beet red as he grabs your hand and pulls you into his lap easily. "Do you want to kiss, babe?"

You nod and he wraps his hand around the back of your neck and your lips collide. He licks his way into your mouth and you moan as he slowly bites down on your plush lower lip. His other hand rubs slow circles onto the skin of your inner thigh and you feel yourself getting wetter and wetter with each second of what is possibly the hottest kiss of your life.

Toji pulls away and looks at you, "Still with me, sweetheart? Use your words. I like to hear my women when I fuck them."

"Y-Yes I'm here. I'm okay."

"Good. Now stand up, and take your clothes off. Let me see you."

You don't know what courage possessed your legs, but you find yourself standing up, unbuttoning your shirt, you feel the slight breeze hit your nipples. You pull down the skirt and kick away your shoes. You stand before him in your thong, chest slightly heaving, eyes heavy with lust.

Fuck, you hear Toji whisper, "Come sit on my lap."

You gingerly sit on his lap and he holds your legs and hooks them over his thighs, spreading you out.

You gasp and jump, but he holds you down. "You're in my hands now, baby. I got you, okay," he whispers in your ear.

You turn to look at him and he kisses you again, while his hands grope your breasts, squeezing the soft flesh and rolling your puckered nipples. You moan and grind in his lap, your panties soaked through.

One hand still holding your breast, Toji's other hand travels down to your soaked cunt. He easily moves the flimsy thong to the side and stuffs one thick finger into you. You eagerly move towards the simulation, grateful for the touch where you needed it most.

"Greedy thing. I'll give you more than this," he whispers against your mouth. He tugs at your thong and has it ripped off in seconds, tossing it somewhere in the barn.

You're spread out across his lap, pussy wet and needy, in a barn of all places. Anyone walking by could see you.

It made you wetter, if that was possible.

Toji pushes another finger inside you while his thumb slowly strokes your clit. You learn against his strong chest as you moan and twitch in his hands. He plays your body like he's known it his whole life.

He stops rubbing your clit and pushes a third finger inside you, stretching you out. His fingers rub all the spots that yours could never reach and leaves you unraveled, gushing onto his hand.

There is silence all around except for your pants as you recover from your orgasm. Toji's fingers are still inside you, and you can feel him smiling smugly behind you.

"That good enough for ya, sweetheart?" he teases as he pulls his fingers out and licks them clean.

You would have said yes, if it were not for the the thick length you felt throbbing under your ass.

You grind against him and Toji understands. He tells you to get up, while he takes his pants off.

The thickest cock you'd ever seen slaps against his lower abs. You feel your pussy flood at the thought of it stretching you out.

"I want you to ride me. Want to see those pretty tits bounce in my face."

You position yourself and slowly lower down as you push his cock into your cunt. You bite down on Toji's shoulder as his cock bottoms out; you feel it inside you, hard and thick. Toji grabs your hips and thrusts up into you, and you fall into a rhythm.

His cock is heaven on earth. You feel it inside, touching every bit of you. You feel his heavy balls slap against your ass cheeks. You open your eyes to see Toji's wolfish grin, "Cock-drunk already? Play with those tits, baby."

You fondle your breasts, skin hot and sensitive to the touch. You moan as Toji picks up the pace and leaning forward, grabs your nipple in his mouth. He sucks on it while thrusting into you and you eagerly pull his head closer to your breasts. You can feel his teeth around your flesh, it's going to leave a mark for sure.

"You wanna cum, sweetheart? Yeah? Rub your clit. Let me see."

You touch yourself as he fucks into you and see stars as your orgasm hits. You feel wetness where your thighs meet.

"Can I cum on your sweet tits, dollface?"

You nod dumbly, half dazed from your orgasm. He helps you off and you kneel between his legs and watch as he strokes himself..

Once..

Twice...

Thrice...

And his hot seed spurts onto your tits and chest.

*****

He passes you his shirt to wipe up and waits till you put your clothes on. Then he triumphantly shows you the scrap that is the remains of your thong. "I'm keeping this," he declares.

"Thank you...uh...for..y'know.." you stammer.

"Doesn't have to be the last time, babe. I know which window is your room's. Maybe I can drop in around midnight?"

#toji x y/n #toji scenarios #toji fushiguro #toji fushiguro smut #toji x you #jujutsu kaisen toji #toji smut #jjk smut #toji jjk #toji fushiguro jjk #smut #toji imagines #toji fushiguro imagines

[ensignsimp]

Love Languages TOS HCs: Kirk, Spock, McCoy

Prompts: How do the TOS Kirk, Spock, and McCoy show their love and what are some things they love to do with their partner.

James T. Kirk

Words of Affirmation

He loves to give pep talks, and enjoys receiving them when he needs them.

When you call him "Captain or Sir" in the gentlest tones he practically melts.

If you run your fingers through his hair and call him a "Good Boy or Good Captain.", he feels completely renewed and invigorated.

He'll call you all sorts of cute pet names; "Sunshine, Honey-Bun, Sweetie."

But he needs you when he calls you; "My Sunshine, My Star, My Ensign."

He'll lay in your lap while you stroke his hair and remind him of how great of a leader he is, and how much you love him.

"Ensign, I need you. I need my sunshine."

Physical Touch

He feels so lonely when he can't hold your hand.

While on the bridge he gives you firm pats on the back, ruffles your hair, kisses your hand, or even sneaky hugs from behind.

If you initiate the physical touch that is even better, he can practically feel the love flowing from your fingers.

During your off-hours, he will constantly be looking for cuddles and snuggles.

He even whines and groans if he has to get up or if you have to get up. He's so cute when he's pouty.

He loves to lay in your lap and have you run your fingers through his hair while you read to him.

Jim: "I feel so lost without you, take me in your arms, and promise to never let go."

Ensign (L/N): "Jim, we're working and you're standing five feet away from me."

Jim: "That's too far!"

Quality Time

He wants to spend as much time with you as possible, but he wants to make it meaningful.

The two of you read to each other, as well as play games, dance, and do a variety of other things.

He likes to have "in-quarters" dates because he feels like he can be more of himself around you.

He loves to have movie dates where you take turns picking movies and making snacks.

He will totally do your nails and braid your hair.

You two will most definitely hold the best slumber parties in Star Fleet history.

"I think this shade suits you better don't you think? After this, we can watch that new rom-com that just came out on Vulcan."

S'Chn T'Gai Spock

Acts of Service

In Vulcan Culture what you do for each other is more than what you say.

While he loves to help you and ensure you're well taken care of, when you do the same for him he knows that you care.

If you notice that he may be overwhelmed and step in to assist him you can practically hear his heart pounding.

He always appreciates it if you help him with the task and work on it together.

If you forgot to finish a report don't worry he'll help you finish.

If he is struggling on the bridge, you're there to take orders and provide additional aid!

Spock: "Thank you for your help, Ensign. I appreciate the assistance."

McCoy: "Get a room!"

Quality Time

He loves it when you spend time together, even if it's some mindless task or chore.

He does try to find more interesting ways of spending time together.

He may teach you things about his culture; how to read, write, and speak Vulcan, how to play the Vulcan Harp, and how to cook Vulcan meals.

He may ask you to show him things you enjoy; your favorite books, your favorite meals, your favorite activities, etc.

He may even propose trying new things together; such as taking a class or workshop.

Anything and everything he can do with you is always greatly appreciated by him.

"If you are interested in further study might I recommend this. I think you may enjoy it."

Physical Touch

He is so touch-starved, and all he wants to do is hold hands.

When you first hold hands it was a bit of a shock to feel your minds link.

Soon the two of you could barely keep your hands off of each other.

He's always reaching out for an ozh'esta (* finger embrace). (Just like his father. *cough**cough*)

When the two of you are alone in your quarters he enjoys sitting across from you, pressing his forehead against yours and holding your hands.

He feels so comforted by your touch. You ease his mind bringing him so much warmth and comfort.

" When I am with you, it is as if I have found another part of myself I did not know I was missing."

Leonard McCoy

Quality Time

McCoy values time with you above all else.

He prefers to spend his off hours wrapped up in a large fluffy blanket cuddled with you.

He does like to do fun things like take you dancing or going for moonlit shore walks.

But because he spends most of his time in sickbay he prefers to sit and not move as much as possible.

He feels bad that he can't do what a younger partner might.

But you always reassure him by greeting him in your pajamas and a fuzzy robe.

Ensign L/N: *wearing an old fuzzy bathrobe and slippers* "You want to stay in tonight? I found an old western movie and picked up some ice cream from the commissary."

McCoy: *trying not to cry* "That's the best idea I've heard all day. I love you so much damn it."

Acts of Service

He hates to see you get hurt but always loves it when you visit him.

When you get sick or hurt he stops everything he's doing to help you.

When he gets sick or hurt and you stop everything you're doing to help him, he's a mess.

He kind of likes it when you're bossy with him, making sure he's drinking water and eating.

You always make sure he's well looked after and you always visit him regularly.

A doctor's favorite patient may be one he doesn't see but he'd prefer if you stop by now and again.

"Stop your belly-achin' and relax. I'll check on you again soon. You're lucky I love you so much."

Words of Affirmation

He doesn't show it often but he can get insecure about your relationship.

He doesn't feel like he's up to the task like he used to be when it comes to romance.

You'll sometimes see him looking in the mirror longer or running his hands over his stomach.

But when you compliment him or tell him how much you love him all of his worries disappear.

He gets all grumpy at first until you coax out the truth.

He will let you know what is bothering him and you'll make sure to help him through it one step at a time.

"Some days I don't even know why you'd want to spend time with an old man like me. But I always appreciate that you do."

#star trek #star trek the original series #star trek tos #tos #x reader #james t kirk #james kirk #kirk #s'chn t'gai spock #mr spock #spock #leonard mccoy #dr mccoy #mccoy #tos kirk #tos spock #tos mccoy #tos kirk x reader #tos spock x reader #tos mccoy x reader #james t kirk x reader #james kirk x reader #kirk x reader #s'chn t'gai spock x reader #mr spock x reader #spock x reaer #leonard mccoy x reader #dr mccoy x reader #mccoy x reader

[cacoetheswriting]

celebrity skin. (part five)

pairing: rockstar!eddie munson x popstar!fem!reader word count: 4.6k summary: a party from hell.

content warnings: 18+, minors dni: suggestive & mature themes, adult language, use of pet names, mentions of recreational alcohol & drug consumption, emotional hurt / no comfort in this chapter (sorry, she's a little angsty), blackmail, family drama, mentions of minor character death — if i missed anything, pls let me know!

& psa: images used in the header don’t depict readers physical attributes! these are also described vaguely in the story, only that she’s a little shorter than eddie.

celebrity skin. masterlist

The venue is filled wall to wall with people, half of whom you have not met before this night. They’re swaying to the loud music, talking over one another, and indulging in various colourful drinks from the open bar.

Sitting on a sofa in the corner of the large space, you’re watching the night unfold in front of your eyes. There’s a drink in your hand, a cranberry vodka, however, you haven’t touched it yet. Instead, the ice has long melted, causing lone droplets of water to drip down your arm.

A harsh scent of alcohol fills the air. It gets stronger every time a party attendee sits next to you, congratulating you on an incredible single with the band they never thought you’d ever play with. You go with the flow, the politeness you’ve been taught from a young age showing its wings, and thank each person that engages with you for coming tonight.

They ask how this all came about, you on a song with Corroded Coffin. A collaboration for the ages. 

You answer honestly, to the best of your knowledge. “The powers that be organised everything”, and the person you’re speaking with laughs at your answer. Then they ask about a topic much hotter than the new record — your relationship with Eddie Munson.

The second the curly-haired rockstar is mentioned, a smile breaches your lips.

“That’s between me and him, for now.”

Which doesn’t stop anyone from trying to invade your privacy further. Wondering, out loud and with no shame, if what they’re reading in the tabloids is true. Is it just for show, or is it real? And then it goes one of two ways:

“Hope I’m invited to the wedding. It’s shaping up to be quite the party.”

“At least you’ll make a lot of money from this arrangement.”

Not one person wishes you well. Not one person says they’re happy for you, or for the Corroded Coffin frontman. It obviously makes you wonder why because you look happy… right? Why is your relationship such a big deal if you’re clearly happy? 

Don’t you look happy?

But then, in between those conversations, your gaze finds Eddie with ease. His own brown eyes land on you every single time, without fail, as if there was some sort of magnetic pull between the two of you. He smiles wide, shooting you a casual wink from wherever he’s standing at the time.

And so, you force the treacherous thoughts deep, deep down. Squish them until they’re miniscule and a problem for later — which in retrospect, not a good idea — ‘cause right this moment in time, you’re definitely happy.

Eddie makes you happy.

You’re also just glad to see the rockstar is having fun, considering how reluctant he was to leave the comfort of his own home. He’s mingling and laughing. A pep in his step as he orders another drink. After all, parties are his element.

“God, my poor fucking feet hurt so much,” Holly sighs, dropping down next to you with an elegant bounce. “I honestly don’t know how you can perform in heels for multiple nights in a row when I can’t even make it through a couple of measly hours.”

You laugh. “No pain, no gain.”

“Okay, Magic Johnson.” Holly snorts while playfully rolling her eyes.

“Actually, I’d prefer to be Patrick Ewing,” you correct her, it’s a tease with a slight dramatic flare, “‘Cause who am I if not a New York Knicks fan.”

The giggle that escapes your friend is infectious. In between the lighthearted chuckles, she does her best not to spill the fruity drink in her hand, pressing the glass to her lips and taking a sip. She relaxes into the sofa, legs now extended outwards, a hazard to anyone walking by.

“Speaking of New York, when are you taking the rockstar to meet your parents?” Holly probes, brow raised.

“Oh god,” you dramatise in response, “That’s like a super serious thing, no? I don’t think we’re there yet.”

But Holly doesn’t give up as easily, seeing right through the front you didn’t even realise you were putting up. As your best friend, she knows you better than anyone. That includes moments like these, when you’re minimising feelings out of fear.

“Babe, be for real. He has already met your grandma and she’s arguably a lot more important than your parents.” Holly states, taking another quick sip of her cocktail. “No offence to Alicia and Brad, but we all know your family is ruled by the little lady who already hates your boyfriend.”

You sigh. She’s obviously right.

“So, what’s the real reason you don’t wanna take him home?”

Glancing over at Eddie, who’s lost in conversation with the producers of your record, you suck your bottom lip between your teeth, wondering what to say to her. “Because I’m scared it’s all moving too fast,” would be an appropriate answer to the question, but then again that’s not entirely true.

Holly nudges your arm and you turn your attention back to her immediately.

“I’ve just been really happy in our little bubble these last few months and I’m afraid if we venture further out into the real world, we’ll lose that feeling.”

Raw, honest. It’s a scary thing to say, but Holly doesn’t judge. She never does. Instead, her arm makes way around your shoulders and she squeezes you lightly when your head rests against her skin.

“With the way the two of you look at one another, I bet my sanity that you’ll be together for a very long time.”

And you hope she’s right.

Eddie walks up to where you’re sitting shortly after, politely asking your friend if he could steal a moment alone with you. Holly of course agrees, saying something about finding Jeff ‘cause he looks mighty fine tonight and she’s a little buzzed, “If you know, you know.”. You watch with a smile as she disappears between the dancing bodies while Eddie sits in the now empty spot, casually placing a hand on your thigh.

“Having fun?”

“I am,” you answer and lean in closer to place a tender kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Even more now.”

He smirks at you. “I’m glad, baby.”

“Seems you are too.”

“I am.” Eddie nods, free hand now holding your jaw, as he leans in to capture your lips with his own.

The kiss is short and sweet, but like everything you and the rockstar do, it attracts attention from pretty much everyone in the room. A click of the camera, a flash of light. But neither of you care. Looking instead into each other’s eyes once you pull apart, as if you’re the only people at this party. 

Even though putting a label on things wasn’t entirely necessary, it definitely cemented whatever feelings are floating within your core. And Eddie feels the same way. He actually feels a lot more than he’s willing to admit out loud. Partially because he’s always battled commitment issues, mainly because he’s really afraid of losing you. 

Again.

-

Eddie Munson loved a good party.

This wasn’t always the case, since during his teenage years he was often excluded from every single guest list. Then he started dealing. Suddenly, the metalhead was a hot ticket, and even though people still didn’t care for his company, they liked the stuff he brought. And he’d be lying if he said he didn’t like the attention — as fake as it may have been.

Once Corroded Coffin made it big, and Eddie realised that people actually wanted to party with him for who he was, and not the drugs he had access too, (although, for some, it was a little bit of both), the rockstar decided he was going to throw the best damn parties Hollywood has ever seen.

It quickly became second nature. Make money, then spend it just as fast so other people can have a good time.

When the drinking, and other activities, got a little out of control, the guys tried to talk some sense into their friend with a little tough love: “Dude, those people don’t give a fuck about you! They only wanna hang out with you, ‘cause you’re rich.”. But Eddie was too far gone and he didn’t care to stop. His house was full of people every single weekend, most of whom he knew, and for the first time in his miserable life, the rockstar felt like the most important person on the goddamn planet. There was no way he was letting go of that feeling.

Then August ‘92 happened.

The evening started off as nothing special. Just another pool party to combat the unbearable Los Angeles heat. It was a common occurrence during the summer months, so Eddie didn’t think that night was going to be any different.

Surrounded by a group of girls that undoubtedly only want to get in his pants, he’s laughing at the unfunny jokes and taking advantage of the fact that he doesn’t need to refill his own drinks, the “groupies”, as Marianne calls them, gladly do it for him. 

They’re brushing up against him and flirting with no shame while batting their lashes. Eddie usually eats this shit up. Matter of fact, he should be loving every second of it right now, but his focus has long shifted elsewhere, the girls a mere distraction from the actual object of his attention and desire.

From the corner of his eye, he’s watching you.

Jesus Christ. Eddie can’t believe you came. He can’t believe you’re actually here, at his house, seemingly enjoying yourself. And to say you looked fucking hot would be the understatement of a century. Splayed out on one of the lounge chairs, hiding from the sun, you’re wearing a white cotton blouse and skimpy denim shorts, and Eddie aches for his current conversation to be over so he can go and officially introduce himself to you — like he should have at the Grammys.

“Eds, do you want another drink?”

He barely registers the question, even with the girl who has her hand on his bare bicep, rubbing up and down rather seductively. Instead, the rockstar notices how you stand up and look around the party once, before walking in the direction of his big house. So Eddie thinks that now’s his chance, perhaps the only one he’d get, and following a quick internal monologue to pep himself up, he leaves the group of ladies disappointed, following you inside.

That was almost the last party Eddie threw.

You flipped this switch inside of him, one the rockstar didn’t even know existed. After that night, he no longer wanted attention from just anyone. Taking centre stage in his mind — and heart — was America’s favourite sweetheart. Even when he royally fucked things up, he only thought about you.

Though for a number of lonesome weeks, he wasn’t sure you were thinking about him since his actions proved nothing more than borderline douchey. So Eddie fell back into self-destructive behaviour just as fast as he scrambled out of it. The parties got louder, he became more obnoxious.

September 1992. Saturday Night Live.

That will be a night his band, his management, his friends, and even his fans, will never let Eddie forget. Unfortunately, for all the wrong reasons.

The drinks pre-show were free and Eddie had a mountain of feelings he desperately needed to get over, along with memories he wanted to bury deep, until they were nothing but specs of dust, flashes that didn’t resemble anything — especially not you.

He did his best not to slur his words during the live performance, and for the most part, he succeeded. Although that didn’t really matter since anyone in the rockstar's vicinity could clearly tell he was intoxicated. Eddie, leaning half his weight on the microphone, round sunglasses covering his bloodshot eyes, should have never been allowed to set foot on the stage that night.

Let alone twice.

Under the dim stage light, as they hoped to conclude their last song without a major incident, Eddie’s band mates were exchanging worried glances. The Corroded Coffin frontman had a couple more drinks in between sets and was barely able to follow along with the music.

Thankfully, behind the scenes, Marianne convinced production to shift the cameras away from unravelling Eddie, even switched off his microphone, and the only people left witness to his drunken mess were the folks present physically.

Eddie on the other hand couldn’t have cared less about how he was behaving since the alcohol didn’t numb him like he hoped, instead the thought of you being somewhere in the same city, overpowered his senses. Would it be crazy to hope you were watching? Would it be crazy to think that despite how rudely he treated you, you’d still show up like you both talked about?

Would it be crazy to try and find you? Search New York, high and low, in hopes that someone knows someone, who knows someone else, that knows where you live?

Instead, against his better judgement and everyone else’s rather aggressive protests, Eddie goes to the after party planned in his name.

Unsurprisingly, you didn’t come.

His black out was imminent.

The damages done to the restaurant came to just under five thousand dollars. The stress from keeping it out of the press robbed his team about two years of their life, so Marianne says.

And that was the last party Eddie threw. 

Considering how out of control things had gotten, how out of control he had become at some point during the night while thinking about you with every drink that burned down his throat, it could’ve been a lot worse.

Eddie still only thinks about you. Difference being, now, almost a year later, you are attending a party together, and the alcohol no longer tastes like regret.

When he looks at you, like he is right now, under the fluorescent club lights, his heart increases tenfold. He wants to kiss every inch of your face, hold you close because that’s where you belong. 

Things simply got better because he owned up to his mistakes and learned to open himself up to love, as scary as that feeling is sometimes. He’s not second guessing your intentions, because that would be cruel. He just loses himself in his doubts sometimes, since in the past, no pretty girl has given him the time of day without wanting something in return.

“I can’t believe you’re mine,” Eddie whispers against your lips, thumb gently grazing along your cheekbone. He proceeds to tell you how you make life a little more normal, and he’s grateful for it, despite always wanting fame. You tell him how attention is nothing if it doesn’t come from the right person, and he agrees, brown locks bouncing as he nods his head. Then he kisses you again.

And this kiss is arguably a lot more urgent than the last. Eddie is hovering over you entirely. One hand remains holding onto your face, while the other is on your waist, pushing you deeper into the sofa.

You can hear another click of a camera in the distance and despite your better judgement, that voice in the back of your mind, closely reminiscent of your Nana’s, telling you to push your boyfriend away, you slide your hands up his back and cling closer to him.

An inch of regret courses through your veins the following morning when you receive a call from your quite displeased team, “what the hell were you thinking?!”. You deflect. Unwilling for anyone to burst through the happy bubble you’ve found yourself in, you blame them for poor organisation and security ‘cause who even allows cameras to be brought into a private Hollywood event.

That regret is unfortunately also accompanied by a killer hangover and very little memory of what else has happened the night prior.

The empty spot in bed, usually home to a set of wild brown locks, should have been a warning sign ‘cause Eddie never woke up before you, especially after a party. You find him in the kitchen, at the spot where the two of you first met. His head is in his hands and you’re instantly feeling worried.

The happy bubble threatening to burst.

“Hey,” you croak, hoping to get his attention, “are you okay?”

Eddie’s as still as a statue. He doesn’t acknowledge your presence, or your question, and the worry in the pit of your stomach increases tenfold. So you approach him, movements slow due to the banging headache as well as the apprehension given your boyfriend's current position. Only when your hand hesitantly reaches his back, rubbing once downward while you position yourself next to him, Eddie lifts his head and tilts it to the side, finally meeting your eyes.

“Had a good night?” Eddie asks, shifting his stance so that your hand falls down to your side. This should have been a second warning; him trying to avoid physical contact.

“Y-yeah,” you force a smile, thinking that it’s needed, “You?”

“Not really,” he answers a little too quickly.

His brown eyes scan yours, for what exactly, you’re a little too hungover to realise. But the longer he stares at you, the worse you begin to feel. A certain dread spreads through your insides, causing your stomach to drop. What’s happening right now? Actually, what happened in the late hours of last night that’s causing this sudden rift between you and the rockstar.

“What’s going on, Eddie?”

The tone of your voice is so quiet, you’re unsure he’s even heard you. But then a sigh escapes his lips. He briefly glances towards the back door, out towards the pool, before settling his gaze back on your frame.

“I think we made a mistake,” he says a little too bluntly. “I-I don’t think we should have labelled this so soon, and ehm… This is nothing on you, sweetheart. I’m just not the relationship type.”

Dumbfounded, is a little too plain to explain the feeling that you’re experiencing at this very moment. Betrayed would be a better word, but that would mean Eddie is after saying those things. That he’s really after shattering your entire world in the space of a few mere seconds. Betrayed would mean your gut instinct, the one you have ignored ever since you’ve met the Corroded Coffin frontman, was always correct: he was no good.

Used, is how you begin to feel as Eddie continues to list reasons for why he can’t actually be your boyfriend and how you’re better off simply being friends with benefits, or whatever it is the two of you had been over the last few months. Used fuels the anger inside of you because, to you, deceit is worse than cheating. And he seems so nonchalant about it, which only adds to the fire.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

Eddie stops mid another lame excuse and for the first time this morning, he reaches for your hands, fingers gently grazing against your skin, which only adds to the pain you’re beginning to endure. 

“Sweetheart…”

“No, no.”

You retreat, unwilling to let the rockstar hold you since he’s after breaking your heart like it was worth nothing — Jesus H. Christ, this is some sick and twisted deja vu.

Instead, you cross your arms across your chest like a shield while taking a step away from the man you realised now you definitely loved, yet one that clearly didn’t love you.

“I-I guess I’m just confused as to what’s changed since last night—”

“I’m not the relationship type,” Eddie cuts in, repeating what he’s already said, “But that doesn’t mean I don’t feel anything towards you. I like you, sweetheart. A lot.”

“Eddie, come on,” you scoff, tears threatening to breach through the confines of their home, “Do you realise how ridiculous you sound right now? If you feel something towards me, I-I don’t get how being called my boyfriend and being exclusive with me is the worst thing on the planet.”

When he doesn’t immediately reply, you continue.

“Unless that’s it. You don’t want to be exclusive because the thought of keeping your dick in your pants when I’m not around is too difficult, or having other people throw themselves at you and not immediately act on it is something Eddie Munson simply cannot do.”

“That’s not it,” the rockstar interjects.

“Then fucking enlighten me, Eddie, because you’re making no fucking sense right now!”

Again, he doesn’t say anything. And it’s precisely because he’s not showing any willingness to be honest with you right this moment, after endless prior conversations about how that’s the one thing he will always be, you decide for your own sanity that this isn’t a relationship you can fight for.

“Fuck you, Eddie.”

Three words you’ve spoken to him before, only this time they hold a lot more weight. This time, they signal an end to something that was only after getting a proper beginning. The end of America’s favourite popstar and the Corroded Coffin frontman — a headline that broke on Page Six the very next morning.

Eddie watches you leave. Frozen in his spot as you rush back to the bedroom the two of you have shared the last few months. And his heart aches because unbeknown to you, this is not what he wanted to happen.

Unbeknown to you, this is not how he actually feels. He doesn’t want to end things with you so soon after they’ve begun. He wants you. He wants to be your boyfriend, if not more.

He just can’t.

Last night’s party was the main catalyst behind the rockstar’s actions this morning. The attendance of a certain someone that wasn’t actually invited was a shock to Eddie’s drunken system, and the reason behind why he simply can’t tell you anything, especially the truth.

(Not right now anyway.)

-

Chrissy Cunningham.

The preppy blonde was the only person Eddie loved before meeting you. 

Despite not ever being anything more than friends, at least on a physical level, for the longest time, Chrissy was Eddie’s only supporter. The only person to show him kindness and shower him with care he undoubtedly deserved.

Chrissy encouraged Eddie to follow his dreams, pursue a career in music, because out of everyone in Hawkins, she truly believed in his talent.

Then she died.

Suddenly, Eddie was not only left with a hole in his heart, but he also found himself at the centre of a murder investigation. Despite being declared innocent, her death nothing but a freak accident, the scars on the rockstar’s body remind him of the events of March ‘86 to this very day.

He told you a little about what happened, just failed to mention Chrissy. Not for any particular reason, he just doesn’t talk about her as a rule — unwilling to reopen the wounds he so desperately tried to heal over the years.

And because he doesn’t talk about Chrissy, or mention her name and what she meant to him, Eddie never expected her to be brought up.

Especially not a Hollywood party of all places.

Eddie first spotted your grandmother mid-performance of the band’s single with you. She approached him shortly after, when you excused yourself to take some shots with Holly, leaving the frontman alone.

“Even I cannot deny that it’s a good song,” she states simply, as Eddie eyes her suspiciously.

“With all due respect, ma’am, I don’t think you were on the guest list.”

She scoffs. “Just like my lovely granddaughter, I can get myself on every single list I want, and even though I don’t necessarily want to be here, I do have something to tell you.”

Eddie cocks a brow, “Oh yeah?”

“Hawkins is a lovely little town,” she says, not missing a beat. “It’s quaint. Reminds me of a place I spent hiding my pregnancy all those moons ago, but that’s a story for another time. Or not. Depends how well you listen to me right now.”

“What do you want?”

“Does my granddaughter know about Chrissy Cunningham?”

Eddie’s face falls the second Chrissy’s name escapes your grandmothers painted lips, though he doesn’t get a chance to actually reply to the question, because she’s quick to continue with her agenda.

“I suppose not. Your uncle Wayne was really quite open to tell me about her though, about what she meant to you.”

She pauses, tilting her head to one side.

“I am sorry for your loss, Edward.”

Another brief pause.

“Yet I can’t help the curiosity, why didn’t you tell my baby about this girl if she supposedly played such a big part in you pursuing your dreams?”

“Don’t do this—”

“Do what, Edward? I’m just trying to learn more about the boy my naive granddaughter is willing to risk her entire career for. Again, your uncle Wayne was very helpful in this department, considering you practically shunned me from the dinner I organised for this exact reason.”

“Listen—”

“No,” your grandmother interrupts, “We both know you’re not good enough for my sweet angel and this entire Chrissy situation you are trying really hard to hide from everyone, only proves my point,” she snaps and Eddie’s feeling grateful that the place is a little too crowded and a little too noisy for anyone to hear what’s happening at this very moment.

“Edward, if you have nothing to hide, if you’re really innocent and played no part in the poor girl's death, why can’t the world know? Feel free to answer me, I’m just trying to get some insight into who my granddaughter has chosen to date.”

Eddie swallows his breath, unsure of what to say because it’s these types of conversations he’s been trying to avoid by not bringing up Chrissy.

Ever.

He didn’t do anything to the girl he loved. He is one hundred percent innocent, and the courts proved his side of the story. Yet, he’s been ridiculed and questioned left, right, and centre.

Only Max and Wayne know that the final reason as to why he’s decided to leave Hawkins behind for good, was to get away from the rumours and the people that didn’t believe him. And as he rushed to chase his dreams, he swore he’d never bring this up. Swore to never mention Chrissy’s name to anyone, or the fact that she’s been the inspiration behind numerous Corroded Coffin singles.

In a way, it was freeing. In Los Angeles, Chrissy Cunnigham was nothing but a figment of Eddie’s imagination.

Until this very moment.

“I didn’t kill her.”

“I know,” your Nana states, “But it wouldn’t take a lot to make people in Hollywood believe that you did and then your image is ruined, your career starts to decline, and the only other person that’s affected besides you and your bandmates, is the person you claim to feel something for. My granddaughter.”

Eddie’s heart sinks. He glances behind your grandmother’s shoulder to where you’re standing at the bar with Holly, laughing at something your friend has said seconds prior.

He’s happy with you. He’s happy to be known as your boyfriend.

And it’s because of that happiness, he knows he cannot ruin your life by involving you in something that happened before he was even famous.

“I don’t want to hurt her,” the rockstar mumbles in a defeated tone.

“She’s going to hurt either way,” your grandmother says, “But if you end things with her on your own, I promise to keep Chrissy’s name out of the press, so you’re only breaking my granddaughter's heart and not simultaneously ending her career.”

The metalhead hangs his head low, closing his eyes momentarily to try and gather his tipsy thoughts. His lack of rebuttal is enough for your grandmother to claim her victory. She places a hand on the rockstar’s shoulder and squeezes once, faking remorse.

“And Eddie,” she continues, “I wouldn’t tell her about this conversation, and I also wouldn’t be so brave to tell her about Chrissy yourself, because with a snap of my finger, the whole world will know. Then you gotta ask yourself, what’s more important? Your happiness, her happiness, or the careers you both worked extremely hard for.”

She lets her hand fall and walks out of the party with her head held high. Unseen by you and unnoticed by everyone else here, almost like a ghost. Like the conversion never happened. 

But the ache in Eddie’s chest is proof enough. He knows what occurred, just like he knows what he unfortunately needs to do — which is break your fucking heart.

thank you for reading! really appreciate the endless & continuous support!

celebrity skin. masterlist

& tagging some cool ppl that expressed interest: @eviethetheatrefreak , @thirddeadlysin , @haylaansmi , @nope-thanks , @tlclick73 , @vintagehellfire , @ashlynnkennedy , @avalon-wolf , @sidthedollface2 , @papillonoirsworld , @vol2eddie , @astheni-a , @bebe07011

#sorry this took a while eek. #also sorry she’s rather angsty #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson angst #eddie munson story #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x female reader #rockstar!eddie x reader #rockstar!eddie munson #rockstar!eddie munson x reader #celebrity skin.

[luveline]

hello jade! i just want to say i absolutely adore your writing!! if you have the time, could we see some more grumpy steve in the zombie au? id love to see anything from before the college, i just miss that grumpy era! <3

thank you my love!! steve zombie au —you try to make sense of why steve is so grumpy. 1k, fem!reader

"No," Steve says. 

You sigh and turn away from him, hands braced either side of your face. Steve doesn't talk much, but when he does, his favourite word is no. 

"Why not?" you ask. 

"There's nothing left in Hawkins," he says, stepping with ease over a huge puddle of diesel, the expelled gas strong enough to make you feel nauseous. 

"There's, you know, our homes." 

"What's the point?" he asks. "I'm trying to be fair here. What's the point in going back when everyone is gone and half the town was burned to the ground?" 

You ease over the diesel puddle with much less ease, muttering expletives to yourself when your left foot sinks into the instep. Now you'll smell like diesel for the next week. Great. 

There isn't any point in going back home, but that doesn't mean you don't want to. There really is nothing there, half the town was on fire when you bolted, the Hawk, the school, anything that would catch. It was an organised arson by the escape group you and Steve were supposed to be in (or rather, just Steve, flame to draw the geeks attention. You hadn't known anyone who knew anyone that knew the plan, so you hadn't realised everybody was leaving until they were already gone, the sound of what must've been fifty cars departing northward your lone clue. 

You kick the floor as you and Steve step out of the road and back onto the dirt path beside it, hoping the grass and mud will soak up the acrid smell stuck to your shoe. You'd brought Hawkins up because you're still grieving. Because you want someone to talk to about what you've lost, and Steve isn't abiding. 

"What guarantee is it that the world isn't just as razed as Hawkins?" you ask without pep. 

"There's no point thinking about it that way. We keep moving or we die. We go home, we die. We need to keep going and if we're fast enough, we can catch up to the Hawkins group. It'll be safer when it isn't only the two of us." 

And you'll never have to speak to me again, you think morosely. 

Steve is handsome. He went to your high school, though that was, like, four years ago. He's not the kind of guy who wasted time with girls like you, you know that. You guess you'd been hoping he'd be nicer alone. 

"You're not how I remember you," you say. 

"I don't remember you," he says. 

"Why would you?" you ask. You pretend to mess with the zipper on your jacket rather than look in his direction, worried he'll meet your eye, and see the actual hurt in your expression. "I was nobody, and you were a jock. Everyone knows how that goes."

"It's not like that," he says. 

You bat a rogue insect away from your cold cheek. You hate the forest. "What's it like?" you ask. 

"It's not about what kind of person you were. I had a lot going on back then." 

"Like what?" 

"Like getting beat up so bad I had a concussion twice in the same year," he says. 

"Woah." You look at him through the corner of your eye. "You got beat up that bad twice?" 

Steve doesn't answer you. You continue following him, making your way across a big stretch of road, the next crop of buildings about twenty minutes away if you had to guess. The weather is brisk, the sun occluded by grey clouds, and the air smells like ash. The sky is a hazy shade of white.

"Wait, by Jonathan Byers?" 

"No, he's the one who didn't give me a concussion," Steve says contritely. 

"Oh. Hey, you don't have to look so down about it, Harrington, this is a good thing. I can trust you, now." 

"You didn't trust me? I've been feeding you for the past week." 

"Yeah, but you're a guy I don't really know. I was worried you might try to kill me and eat me in my sleep or something when the food ran out, but now I know you're bad at fights, I'm not so worried." 

"Fuck off," he says dryly. 

"I'm bad at fighting too, if you were wondering." 

"I wasn't." 

"Hmm. Who beat you up the third time? I know that jerk Hargrove got you." 

"Just some guy."

"Must've been an angry guy," you mumble, looking at him with your head tilted. 

Steve is an asshole often and unapologetically to you, but you don't think you want to hurt him. He's shown you that, while he sucks, he knows how to be nice. He makes sure the blankets are covering your shoulders before you fall asleep, and he gives you bigger portions if he hears your stomach grumbling. Plus, no guy so eager to find their best friend can be evil, you think. He must have a whole lot of love stored up. Or stored down. Deep down inside. 

"Stop staring at me," he says. 

"Okay." You stare at him some more. He has a nice nose. He has really nice eyes, kind of hooded and almond shaped at once, brown irises that look dark as tree bark as the sun goes down. "Well, I won't beat you up." 

"Thanks," he says. He sounds less grumpy. You try to push it further. 

"I'm really sorry," you say, slowing your steps a touch. He slows to match you. "That someone hurt you like that. Twice. I know concussions aren't funny, that it must've sucked to recover from them." 

"I had a perforated eardrum," he says. "It hurt like hell. All of it did."

"I'm sorry," you say gently, offering him a sympathetic smile. 

He smiles back. "Not your fault," he says quietly. Then, louder, "Don't walk so slow. We need to be inside soon, the sun is setting." 

"Yes, sir," you say, saluting him sarcastically. 

He doesn't speak to you for half an hour. You don't mind so much, especially when, the next time you come across a puddle of diesel (someone seriously needs to learn how to syphon gas properly), he holds out a hand and helps you cross it, even though you could've easily walked around.

#steve zombie!au #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington drabble #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things 4

[uselesssomebody]

𝕓𝕣𝕦𝕚𝕤𝕖𝕤 - jake lockley x reader

complete masterlist | mcu masterlist | moon knight masterlist

words || 𝟚𝕜

moon knight spring '24 bingo prompt + progress || 'bruise'

summary || in which jake gets a little jealous

a/n || so excited to be part of this event by @moonknight-events, my board looks so fun! check out their blog for a shit ton of other moon knight content by a bunch of other creators!

➵ ask if you wanna be added to a taglist

➵ heed the warnings in said masterlist, this series is 18+, and inherently dark

➵ send me requests if you have ‘em. enjoy!

warnings || fluff/smutty, but no sex

jake didn't take fares between 5 to 6 p.m.

he'd postpone his break so late, just to ensure he was always on time to pick her up from work. it annoyed him enough that he couldn't also drop her off, but the smattering of kisses that she'd pepper over his nose and lips before he left early for work made up for some - not all - of the worried thoughts he had of her commuting to work on her crowded subway train.

she finished work everyday at 5:00 on the dot, not hesitating with goodbyes and salutations, knowing who was waiting outside her building, just for her.

he stood outside his cab, hand on the passenger door handle to let her when as she usually bounded out of work, a beam on her face when she saw him. he checked the time, a cigarette almost half-smoked between his bare fingers - he wasn't getting his leather gloves ashy.

5:15.

what was taking her so long?

he hated having to wait for his girl: seeing her face after driving around the city - a somewhat lonely profession - was the best part of his day.

he slumped his shoulders, leaning against the car door, as he peered over the dark, but lively street. it was a row of offices, and other people were also clocking out. bored, he watched the gray cloud of smoke from his mouth, trying to distinguish it from the puffs of his warm breath showing up in the chilly air.

5:20.

5:25.

5:30.

he was starting to get concerned.

finally, after an eternity of waiting - see: 35 minutes - his face relaxes when he sees her hurriedly walking out of her work. immediately after, his brow furrows, at the sight of the man following behind her, a big, stupid smile on his face, mouth moving a mile a minute.

she looks up, noticing jake, and her face breaks into a look of pure relief, finally, a pep in her step as she nears her boyfriend. before she can greet him though, the guy behind her grabs her shoulder, whipping her back around.

jake's eyes widen at the little fucker's audacity.

he's saying some bullshit, holding onto her shoulder so can't turn back to jake, and the steam coming out of his ears leads him to only hear:

"... come out for a drink with me... really pretty... love to take you out-"

it's more than enough.

he calls her name, voice stern, but not to her. never to her. she whipped her head around, not turning as she mumbles a weak goodbye to the man, finally completing the short distance to jake.

she kisses his cheek quickly in greeting,before waiting for him to open the door, but he pulls her a little closer by the waist, pressing her body against his.

"let me kiss you properly, mi amor. i haven't seen you all day." her cheeks heat. he literally never does this, waiting to properly express his love after they got home.

"he's still looking?" she guesses, and his lips quirk in a smile, as he presses his lips to her soft, slightly parted ones, revelling in how she sinks into the comfort of his warmth.

"like a kicked puppy." he murmurs into her lips, and she giggles, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth, before pulling away.

"baby, open the door, i'm cold." she whines, and jake obliges her, pulling open the car door so she can sit back against the warm interior and crisp leather that he worked hard to maintain.

she only spares a glance at the other man. he's looking away.

"so, who was that?"

it had taken a couple hours, as well as the both of them reclining to the warmth of the couch - takeout clutched in their hands and a sitcom on the t.v. - for jake to finally ask the question nagging at the back of his mind.

she groans softly, hoping he'd forgotten. a silly wish.

"no one, jake." she murmurs quickly, to his immediate dissatisfaction.

"nuh-uh, amor, you have to give me more than that. he put his hands on you!" he said it like it was some inexcusable crime, and it made her giggle.

"he's just..." she sighs, chewing on her bite, "he's the new guy, y'know?" jake's eyes narrow.

"how long has he-"

"don't ask." she interrupts, knowing he'll be more upset if he found out the new guy's antics had occurred before. jake scowls, and she rolls her eyes, turning in the couch to better face him.

"jake~" she says his name softly, in a sing-song voice, prying the food from his hands and placing them on the coffee table. she cups his cheeks, running her fingers over his hair - messed up by that flat cap he always wore - and the little stubble on his face that he'd begun growing out when she professed she wanted to see him with a beard. she climbs slowly into his lap, guiding his arms to rest on the curve of her hips, "jake?" she finally asks again, as she's settled in.

"yes, mi amor?" his voice is gruff, as he lazily looks up at her. he's not shocked by her movements, happy to have her so close, but is still evidently stingy about the new guy.

"remind me, who did i go home with today?" she asks, rhetorically. jake rolls his eyes as he looks up at her.

"me, amor, but-"

"and who am i most excited to see whenever i leave work?"

"also me, but-"

"and who is the only person who gets to touch every part of me?" her voice drops to a whisper, guiding his warm fingertips under her shirt, to the skin of her midriff.

"me." he breathes out.

"you...?" she prompts.

"only me." satisfied with his answer, she leans down to press a soft kiss to his lips, cupping his scratchy cheeks, and giggling she he squeezes her hips.

"and who do i love?" she whispers, when she breaks away for air.

"i hate when you talk to me like a child." he chides, changing the subject, and it makes her giggle.

"wrong answer, try again." he raises a brow of challenge, before pulling her closer, and then standing up, his palms splayed under and cupping her thighs so he could carry her into their bedroom. she squeaks in shock, clinging onto him, "what're you doing?!"

"showing you why you love me."

falling unceremoniously on the bed, she lets out a small 'oof!', but its cut short by the way his mouth captures hers in a hungry kiss.

"someone's needy," she teases, when he breaks away, but it's cut off my a small moan, as his tongue travels down the length of her jaw, to her neck.

"i'll beat the shit out of him if he touches you again." jake grumbles into her skin.

"are you kidding? he obviously knows i have a boyfriend, he's leaving me alone." jake's head emerges from where he's kissing at her neck.

"hmm..." he looks contemplative, "maybe... he could do with a little reminder."

she's unsure what he's planning, but his devilish grin tips her off that it's going to be an idea she might chastise him for. indeed, it is.

his head sinks back down. finding the flesh of her neck, and rolling it gently between his teeth, before clamping a little harder, and sucking. so enamored by the sensation of the slight pain laved by the tingles of his warm tongue, she doesn't realize what he's doing for a moment.

"jake!" she squeaks when she realizes, "you can't - can't mark me!" his laugh is gruff against her skin.

"why not?" without waiting for an answer, his teeth nip at the skin under her collarbone. she gasps at the feeling, trying to tug at his hair to dissuade him - to no avail.

"oh, baby, it's such a pain in the ass to cover them-"

"then don't." the curt response renders her speechless for a moment, enough time for his teeth to sink into the flesh of her shoulder.

"you want him to see..." he laughs.

"that sure took you a moment, amor." seeing as she doesn't meaningfully try to stop him, he continues his work, teeth sinking into as much of the expanse of her neck and chest as he could reach.

they're blue and purple the next morning. she looked like she'd been attacked by something. her eyes quite literally bugged out of her head at the sight.

groaning, she reaches for her makeup bag. jake peeks his head into the bathroom, immediately taking the bag from her hands.

"jake-?" her brows furrow in confusion, but she's cut off by how his other arm wraps around her waist, looking at her in the mirror to see all the bruises smattered over her skin. she reaches blindly to take back her makeup, but he evades her hands, "jake, i need to do my makeup!" she whines softly, making her laugh and kiss her cheek.

"you're gonna cover them up." she scoffs.

"of course i'm gonna cover them up, i look like i was in an mma fight with a raccoon!" he shakes his head.

"no, you look like you had fantastic, animalistic sex with your boyfriend." she cringes a little, laughing.

"and why do my poor coworkers have to know that?" he deadpans.

"as long as your newbie knows." he murmurs, a little bitter, as a finger goes to trace the bruises.

"are we seriously still on that?" she turns to face him, kissing his cheek, "i thought i told you he's just annoys me a little." she assures.

"oh, trust me, amor. he won't from now on."

he didn't let her put her makeup on - even for her face, not trusting her to not start covering up those beautiful marks. instead, with the time she saved in between waking up and eating breakfast, he pulled her back to bed, kissing over each and every bruise, as their coffee water heated.

"you know i love you, right, jake?" she murmurs softly into his forehead, kissing his hairline.

"of course, mi amor. i love you, too." 'she's being so sweet, isn't she?' he thinks.

"can you tell me where you hid my makeup bag?" he snorts, shushing her with a kiss to the lips.

"fat chance."

he's waiting outside her work again, squishing his cigarette under the toe of his shoes as he sees her walking out. with no fucking newbie chasing after her.

"how was work?" he asks, as she presses her daily greeting kiss on his cheek.

"good." she answered, a big smile on her face, as he slowly opens the passenger door. before she sits down, though, he gestures to her neck and chest.

"show me." he instructs, and she laughs, pulling off her scarf to show that the bruises were still well-pronounced. it makes him smirk, as he nods appreciatively, sitting down.

as he peels away, he glances at her, noticing her happy attitude.

"so, did newbie bother you? should i say 'i told you so'?" he teases, and it makes her a little embarrassed.

"i... no, he didn't bother me." he grins.

"tell me more, come on."

"he... looked horrified, if i'm being honest." she giggles.

"good." his response was curt, but his smug smile spoke 1000 words. as he stopped at a red light, he leans over to peck her lips.

"so, should i say it?" she smiles, indulging him.

"go on."

"i told you so."

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