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too-much-tma-stuff · 2 months

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Finally Getting Help (pt 3)

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What Tim and Bruce found was completely ridiculous. It really wasn’t hard to find the Doctors Fenton’s website but it was ridiculous! It was outdated and gaudy with animations of cartoony ghosts everywhere. If it hadn’t been for how clear Danny was about his parents' names Tim would have skipped right over it. But when he got past the terrible website design and started reading it his stomach just dropped lower and lower.

The writing was clean and scientific though it couldn’t disguise the malicious delight they took in tearing the creatures they called ‘ghosts’ apart. Whatever these ghosts really were Danny had been internalizing this attitude about Himself for years! They also bragged about their weapons and their government contract. So whether that was true or not Danny hadn’t been lying or delusional, it was his parents. And regardless of what these ghosts actually were it was obvious they were supernatural so RR sent a link to the website to Zatana.

(link)

RR: What do you think?

Tana: Lol is this a joke?

RR: I wish, I know it looks like one but no, this is deadly serious.

Tana: Hang on

Red Robin put down his phone to give Zatana the time to read over the site and looked more into Maddy and Jack Fenton while she did. He found their graduation certificates, and pictures of them in college with what must have been a much younger Vlad. So they were actually doctors of some sort, they had their doctorate, though that didn’t exactly make it any less likely they had gone fully off the rails now.

His phone dinged and he picked it up to see one short message from Zatana.

Tana: I’m coming to the cave.

Tim sighed and put his phone back down, spinning his chair to face B who was hunched over the computer typing furiously. “Zatana is on her way, I asked for her opinion of the Fenton’s research and she must think it’s big.” He said as he dug out a domino mask.

“Hm,” B sounded and went to get his cowl. “Report?”

“The Doctors Fenton are doctors, they got their doctorates though I don’t know in what yet. They’ve been friends with Vlad since university and they certainly at least think they’re studying ghosts. Their website has articles on behaviours and biology, and how to hunt and hurt ghosts. They brag about a government contract.” Tim summarized. “You?”

“The Ghost Investigation Ward does exist and they are a government agency but they only seem to be active in the town of Amity Park and they’re so inept! It wasn’t hard to hack them, they’re trying to sound mysterious and a little dangerous talking about protecting humanity from invasions from other worlds but I don’t think they’re actually that competent,” Batman said with a scowl.

“The only reason we didn’t know about this was because we weren’t looking! And it’s possible Danny is right and they were jamming calls from Amity to the JL, but I have a terrible feeling what actually happened if that the call came through and someone heard them talking about ghosts and rogue government agencies, assumed it was a prank and blocked them,” Bruce said massaging his temples.

“Ah,” Tim said, his heart dropping at how plausible that sounded. Could they have saved Danny before, if they had taken that call seriously.

“And Vlad is the mayor of his town, there are articles about Danny fighting him in public. It seems like everyone knew their relationship was antagonistic at best and No One defended him. The GIW also listed him in their special thanks for helping fund them. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s been using them as a tool to threaten and control Danny.” Batman said with cold fury. Tim took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly.

“We weren’t able to protect him, but we will avenge him. And we’ll keep him safe Now,” Tim reminded his father. Privately thinking that as soon as he could he was going to tell Jason about this so they could Really make sure Vlad never came near Danny again. An arrest just wasn’t strong enough for a man like that. He wasn’t going to tell Bruce that though, obviously.

The sound of the Zeta tube interrupted their moment as Zatana arrived, looking slightly more ruffled then she usually did. She must have really rushed here, which was a bit worrying.

“Zatana,” Batman greeted.

“Hello Batman, before we talk I need to check your wards.” She said already walking past them.

“Hm,” Batman sounded, making RR smile a little, how Batman made that sound mean so many different things always sort of amazed him.

“I need to check the ones on your home too. And I’d like to meet the boy you have under your care,” She said briskly.

“How did you know about the boy?” Batman asked gruffly.

“Lucky guess,” she said briskly, her hands glowed as she walked around the cave, making seemingly random gestures as if touching or pulling on invisible threads. None of the bats really understood magic so they left her to it. When she was done they let her up into the manner, she knew their identities already after all and she checked all the wards on the home very thoroughly, occasionally casting spells to reinforce them. They collected Dick and Damian trailing after them curiously as they went as well.

“Alright, can I meet the boy now?” She asked, turning towards Bruce who crossed his arms and puffed out his chest a bit.

“Not till you explain to us what’s going on,” He growled and Zatana looked over the curious stubborn faces surrounding her and sighed.

“Fine,” she allowed, resigned. She rubbed her temples as she looked around for a chair and sunk down into it. “So what the Fentons seem to be referring to as Ghosts are actually denizens of the Infinite Realms, the space in between every world and afterlife. Some of the beings there were once people who died but many aren’t. They’re also known to be very powerful and quite violent though thankfully not particularly interested in the living. The fact that the Government is apparently messing with something like this is very bad news.

“Constantine and I have been keeping half an eye on the situation in Amity Park but they had their own pair of Heroes, Phantom and Red Huntress, who seemed to have the situation well under control so we weren’t all that worried about it. We weren’t tracking the more human elements of the GIW and the Fentons,” She bit her lip and thought for a moment.

“When Tim sent me that website and I was made aware of those, that changed things. What’s worse is the photo the Fentons’ have of their family. Their son… we knew Phantom looked young but ghosts often stay at a younger age than they really are, with how powerful he was we assumed he was Old. But he looks exactly like the Fenton’s son. Did they not notice he was dead or…” She looked around at their faces, apparently getting her answer from their expressions.

“There have been rumours for a long time about a very rare and powerful sort of living dead, humans soaked in the pure energy of the infinite realms resulting in a still living ancient. It’s so rare that people usually think it’s a fairy tale but with the work Phantom’s parents do it makes a sick sort of sense. And what it means is that that boy you have stashed away is basically a baby God and we all have to be very careful.”

There was a heavy silence as they all processed what she was saying. “Are you… sure?” Tim asked, uncertainly.

“I won’t be till I meet him, but I’m as sure as I can be without that at the moment,” she said firmly.

Tim sighed and pulled out his phone. “Cas is with him, I’ll text her to see if she’s up to meeting you. If he’s that powerful we don’t want to push him right?” He asked as he typed out a text to Cas.

“Yes. Like I said he’s been acting as a hero in Amity, he seems like a good kid but I have no doubt in my mind if he’s pushed too far we could have a truly apocalyptic situation on our hands,” She said which made Tim swallow thickly.

His phone dinged and he checked it. “Danny is willing to meet you but he’s really tired so go easy on him and don’t stay long,” Tim relayed her message.

“Alright that’s fine, thank you. Show me the way please,” She requested.

Bruce took over, leaving the way. “We don’t want to overwhelm him, I think only I and Zatana should go in, with Cas still there since he seems to feel safe with her,” Bruce informed his children.

“Alright, just tell us everything soon!” Dick demanded and Bruce’s lips twitched up in just the suggestion of a smile as he nodded to them.

He took off his cowl, he wasn’t in his full uniform anyway and he didn’t want to scare Danny. Besides if he had been a hero even if he clocked Bruce he would understand.

“Hello Danny, it’s a pleasure to meet you, I’m Zatana,” She introduced herself s she followed Bruce in. She would have offered her hand to shake but Danny was half hiding behind Cas sitting on the bed.

“It’s nice to meet you too. What’s with the outfit?” He asked curiously which made her laugh.

“I’m a hero, one of the less known ones. I’m part of Justice League Dark which is their supernatural division along with Constantine and Deadman and a few others. He’s a ghost, but I assure you the government hasn’t been giving him any trouble, probably because they knew they wouldn’t get away with it.”

“So I’m just lucky then,” Danny said with a bitter curl to his lips.

“As a hero, I want to ask, are you Phantom?” She asked rather bluntly.

Bruce shivered as the temperature in the room suddenly dropped a few degrees and Danny’s eyes started to swirl with green as he glared at Zatana who managed to barely react. Batman noticed how her back tensed a bit but it was barely there. “You know?” Danny demanded. “You knew about what was going on in Amity and you didn’t help?!”

“I’m very sorry Danny,” She said genuinely. “We knew something was going on, but we didn’t look closely enough. We thought that you were an older ghost just of someone who died young because of your strength, and it looked like things were under control. Normally our involvement wouldn’t have been appreciated, intruding on someone’s haunt, so we didn’t look any closer. I am so sorry we overlooked you but we’re going to make up for it now I promise.

“I’ve checked and reinforced the wards on the house so nothing should be able to come in uninvited, and I’m going to contact the rest of the JLD. We’re going to go to Amity, we’ll figure this out and deal with it I promise.”

The temperature in the room slowly went back up, Danny was still upset, but he didn’t seem like he was about to snap anymore. While Zatana had been talking Cas had started gently rubbing Danny’s back and that seemed to be helping too. After a moment Danny looked up again and nodded, accepting the help.

“The veil must be very thin there, to let so many ghosts through?” Zatana probed gently.

“It is, but more than that two years ago my parents succeeded in building a portal to what they call the Ghost Zone. This kinda green world of floating islands.

“A portal,” Zatana said flatly, blinking rapidly. “To the Infinite Realms?”

“Ah is that what it’s really called? Ya probably? That’s how everyone’s been getting through. How I got my powers too, the ghosts call me a halfa, but I’m not the only one. Vlad’s one too.”

Batman heard Zatana mutter “Two?” softly, baffled and alarmed but she nodded. Bruce filed that information away too, it seemed Vlad was even more of a threat then he’d first appeared to be.

“Alright, I’ll get as many of the JLD together as I can and we’ll head to Amity. We’ll shut down the portal and deal with this.” She said determinedly.

From the look on Danny’s face he didn’t really believe her, but he nodded again and leaned against Cas. “Good luck I suppose,” he muttered and sighed, rubbing his face.

“Just… tell me if you get in over your heads okay, I’m used to dealing with all this stuff.” God he sounded so tired, the poor kid.

“I will, but don’t worry about us, just take care of yourself okay? This is a good place to be, I promise you won’t have to be alone anymore.” Zatana assured him. She probably had more questions, but it was very obvious that Danny was getting tired.

“Bruce is good dad,” Cas chimed in, speaking up for the first time. It embarrassed Bruce a little but he smiled at them and nodded a little.

“Thank you,” Danny said, his shoulder slumped and his back curled. “Can I go to bed now?”

“Of course Chum,” Bruce agreed, starting to shoo Zatana out of the bedroom with Cas on their heels. When they closed the door behind them Bruce heard the lock click quietly closed behind them. He really hoped that Danny would feel safe enough to sleep well.

@zlinen @sebas-nights @littlefeather345 @isnt-that-grape @idontgetpaidenoughforthisshit @shadowkatt99 @fantasticstoryteller @blackshuckatdusk @blacksea21090 @sithlordchimchnga @fanfictionforme2 @imalittlefangirl25 @bushbees @yotsubaayase @thomasdimensor @ultimatebluff

#red robin #danny phantom #dp x dc #batman #bruce wayne #fanfiction #tim drake #zatana #cassandra cain #the fentons are bad parents #Vlad is a creep #misunderstanding #danny is pregnant au #mama danny #bad parents jack and maddie

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chelseeebe · 4 months

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still into you, part 2

eddie’s back, keeping to his word while trying to make up for his past mistakes. will it all work out when your worlds collide?

sauurrr i feel like i want to do a part 3 bc i have ideas but i’m not sure !!??!! also i just wanna say that it’s felt sooo good seeing people in my notifications again, tumblr finally unshadowed me after emailing them god knows how many times !!

18+, mdni. smut. a lil bit of angst and mean words towards reader and mentions of pregnancy. no use y/n!

read part 1 here.

‎♡‧₊˚

he’s late.

you’d spoken on the phone this morning and eddie had told you he’d be back some time tonight and that you should wait up because it’ll be worth it.

and now he’s fucking late.

late or not even coming.

it had been a long month of phone calls and anxiously reading magazine articles about his whereabouts, learning to trust again hadn’t been easy. there had been a handful of times where he’d called too late and missed you or you’d called while he was out which meant you’d gone days without speaking.

steve had done his best to reassure you that it was just different out there and you shouldn’t worry. he’d made a promise, right?

but there’s a pressure in your chest now, a feeling you hadn’t felt since the first time he left. defeated and dejected once again.

eddie is so late that you fall asleep on the couch. the same couch you first kissed him on just a few weeks ago. your dreams are filled with images of eddie, the wide smile that graced his face when ella forced him into fairy wings or the look on his face when you’d roll over in the middle of the night and kissed the corner of his mouth.

you’re awoken by a soft palm cupping your cheek, eyes peeking open to see the familiar silhouette of curls and denim now illuminated by the flickering television, deep set frown on his lips.

“i’m so sorry,” he starts, the words sound like static in your barely conscious mind, “my plane was delayed and i couldn’t call you.. i’m so fucking sorry,” you realise he’s on his knees in front of the couch, still squinting as you adjust to the light.

“i thought you weren’t coming,” you murmur, placing your hand atop his, the pressure in your chest subsiding the more you realise that he’s actually real and not just a dream.

eddie sighs, it’s his fault for even giving you reason to have those doubts and that kills him. “of course not.. i made a promise,” his thumb strokes gentle patterns into your cheek, “i’m coming back, always.”

“mhm,” you nod, a mix of tiredness and a lingering lack of trust.

“you wanna go to bed?” he asks, desperate to get in your good books again. hell, he’d have to do far more than this to make seven years of shit up to you.

“only if you carry me,” offering your arms out, if ella can do it, you can to.

“obviously,” he chuckles, sliding his arms underneath your knees, hoisting you off of the couch.

you’re anything but quiet walking up stairs, giggling into his neck as he groans his way up the staircase. “fuck, i’m getting old,” he complains, backing his way into your room, gently laying your body on top of the duvet before knocking the door shut.

you nestle into the pillows, watching eddie as he undresses, his jacket hitting the floor with a soft thud. he’d only been gone a month but you’d missed his presence. the way his eyes glided over your body, enamoured by your less-than-impressive mom body.

he collapses onto the bed, shuffling underneath the blanket with you, reaching out to bring you closer. “i know i said..” his nose pokes against your neck, a deep inhale before he continues, “that it’d be worth it.. but i’m tired and you’re tired so.. can i just make it up to you tomorrow?” nuzzling against your soft skin.

your laugh vibrates against his cheek, sliding your arms around his neck, legs tangling together in a mess of limbs, “eddie munson turning down sex? jesus christ, what’s happened to you?”

eddie grunts, deep and husky, flipping the situation on it’s head as he clambers on top, “oh fuck you,” his barely holding himself up, body weight keeping you pressed firmly against the mattress.

“please do,” grinning up at him, marvelling the way that even in the dark, he was still the prettiest man you’d ever laid eyes on.

his lips find your neck, peppering kisses along your jawline, hips rutting against the thin material of your pajama shorts.

when his mouth meets the delicate spot between your collarbone and the crook of your neck, you can’t help but let slip the one thing you’d been waiting to say, “i’m glad you came back,” gasping as his teeth graze the fragile skin.

he pauses, looking up at you, basked in moonlight, “i’ll always come back to you,” mumbling quietly, before continuing his descent down your body.

your eyes flutter shut, allowing your body to relax, blissful desire overcoming every nerve.

holy shit, you were happy.

the next few months go by smoothly. he’s back when he says he’s going to be, keeping his nose clean and his head down while he’s out on the west coast.

of course it’s never easy saying goodbye. each and every time you’re filled with this sense of dread, petrified that this might just be the time he doesn’t return.

but he does.

each and every time.

eddie had got back late last night, still half-asleep as he sips his coffee next to ella, haphazardly feeding her the breakfast she was quite capable of feeding herself.

“i’ve been thinking,” he starts, watching as you busy about with dishes. he doesn’t understand how you have the energy to care about that shit this early in the morning. “i think you should come out to california with me.. next time i go back,” shoving a spoonful of mushy pancakes into ella’s mouth.

you pause but don’t turn to face him, staring down at the sink full of bubbles, “what for?”

that part of his life didn’t interest you one bit, maybe he enjoyed it and you were happy if he was but that wasn’t anything you wanted. in fact, you’d been meaning to bring it up for a while now.

you understood that dating eddie meant that strangers were far more interested in your relationship than they should be but they’d started to accost you at work, taking ella to and from school, just about anywhere in public. the attention was starting to get a little tiring, nothing you couldn’t handle but you’d wondered if he somehow had the power to stop them.

“well,” handing the spoon to ella and getting up from the table to join you at the sink, “we’ve got our album rollout soon so i’m gonna have to be out there a little longer this time,” his shoulder knocks into yours, pulling your attention from the dirty dishes, “but.. we have our release party and i want you to be there,” pulling that cheeky grin he knew you couldn’t say no to.

how much longer? he was already out there for weeks at a time, how much longer could they keep him? oh god what if they go on tour? you’d never cope.

“release party?” grabbing the dishcloth, wiping the suds from your hands, “i don’t even know what that is.. you don’t want me there,” turning to face him and his sickening smile.

“of course i do,” lips turning into a frown, taking the cloth from your hands, “it’s a small party.. the boys and their girlfriends.. a few people who helped on the album,” he’s serious now, dipping his head to meet yours. “they wanna meet you, everyone does.”

you sigh, looking into his gleaming eyes. you’re obviously apprehensive to agree, if the stories you’d heard of the other guys were anything to go by, that weren’t the goofy nerds you’d once watch practice all night, now you think you’d actually probably hate them.

“what about ella?” turning to look at your daughter, your one saving grace.

“i’m sure we can figure that out,” eddie blinks, “steve can have her or.. or his mom,” throwing out anything he could think of, “i’ll throw them some money, make sure she has the best week ever,” rubbing his fingers together.

“he won’t take your money eddie,” you sigh. steve would never, because as much as he now liked eddie, he was still your best friend and he knew you’d kill him if he did.

“no,” eddie whines, “it’s not for steve, it’s for ella.. so they can go and do whatever they want.. eat whatever they want.. you know,” he peers over your shoulder at the kitchen table, eyes gleaming with opportunity. “ella, don’t you think mommy should come with me and you can have a vacation at uncle steve’s house?”

you tut as ella chimes in with a loud, enthusiastic “yes!” banging her fists against the table.

your palm meets his chest, “don’t use my own child against me, asshole,” struggling to stop your lips from curling into a smile. it was working and you hated the fact that you were so easily swayed by him.

“ella has spoken!” he exclaims, taking your hand on his chest into his, “so you’ll come?” cocking his head to the side, much like a tiny, manipulative little dog.

you huff, admitting defeat, “fine.. but only if steve says yes and there’s no guarantee he will,” flicking your eyes back over to ella, who is watching with a massive toothy grin.

it’s times like these that you’re grateful she doesn’t take after her dad.

of course steve says yes. useless prick.

“why don’t you wanna go?” his brows furrowed, sipping the overpriced coffee he’d suggested you go get.

“can you imagine me in la? me? really?”

he chuckles, “yeah.. yeah i can actually,” shaking his head. knowing steve, he’d probably been thinking about how he would fit right in there. if you ever did end up moving west, there’s no way in hell that you’d leave him here.

“shut up,” brushing him off, “what if nobody likes me?”

it had been a genuine worry of yours since before eddie had even asked. there’d surely be a thousand eyes on you seeing as you were now very publicly with him. you paled in comparison to his exes. models and singers alike. you were just some frumpy mom who no one had ever heard of.

why would they like you?

“stop it,” steve swats at you, “they’ll love you! i love you so they’ve got no reason not to!”

but you weren’t so sure.

so after weeks of fretting about clothes and deliberating over whether you should even go with steve, you jet off to lax.

you’d attempted to pay for your own ticket but eddie hadn’t accepted any of it. told you it was all taken care of and all you had to do was go. much to your disapproval.

there are a few fans at the airport, with no interest in you, obviously. they were so used to him at indianapolis airport now that the paps didn’t even bother.

eddie’s excited babbling about the party keeps you relaxed throughout the flight, focussing on his smile and not the fact that you were thirty thousand feet in the air.

everything starts to feel real when you land and are immediately ushered through the airport, bundled into a car and told to stay put until they got your luggage.

holy shit.

“there’s some dickheads out front.. it’s just so we don’t see them,” eddie soothes, taking your hand into his, resting on his thigh.

“is it always like this?” you ask, curious about this side of his life that you never saw. even more grateful that people in indiana mostly left you alone now.

“sometimes.. but they’re only doing this because of the album.”

you nod, sitting in quiet reflection as people come and go constantly. bustling around the car, muttering things to eddie as they do. it all just seemed so overwhelming, like there was never a moment alone.

eventually, your bags get stuffed into the car and you begin the journey to god knows where, all the while clinging onto eddie’s hand with a iron tight grip.

when you turn into a gated driveway, you sit up. peering out of the window at the glorious garden. his drive was bigger than your entire house, you couldn’t imagine having this much room at your disposal.

his house is big. actually, big is an incredible understatement. it’s breathtaking.

nicer than anything you’ve seen before. you couldn’t even begin to materialise how much he must have spent. you’re not sure you even want to know.

the ceilings loom ten feet tall, walls covered in tasteful but overpriced art. the sofa alone probably cost more than your entire house. christ, it’s the size of your living room as it is.

“jesus christ,” you breathe, still taking in the lavish house, gawping at the tacky statues and the glistening glass chandelier hanging above your head.

“nice, isn’t it?” he states, still wheeling your suitcases behind him, “obviously i didn’t decorate it myself.”

“you’re ridiculous,” you smile, marvelling the rather excessive house, “you don’t need all of this,” gesturing around the room.

“hey,” he pouts, ditching the suitcases to make his away over to you, “this house used to be very useful when..” trailing off as he realises just what he was going to say.

“when what? when you were a whore?” you bite, only half-joking.

“woah,” awkwardly laughing, unsure of whether you were joking or not, “when i had parties,” correcting your presumptions, “but i’m a boring man now.. thanks to you,” his arms snake around your waist, pulling you into his body.

your arms return the favour, tilting your chin to match his, “hmm is that right?”

his eyes are no longer on yours, gazing down at your lips with a twinkle of lust, “yup..”

“oh, well maybe i should just go..” but before you can finish, his hands are grabbing your ass, palming at the doughy flesh.

“uh uh,” pressing your heads together, pausing just before he connects your lips, “i’m never letting you leave now,” and with that, he finally kisses you.

skilfully walking you backward through the large foyer, still palming at your ass as he does so. you should’ve known that this was first on the agenda. there weren’t as many opportunities for the two of you to have sex at your house.

his lips hang from yours, leeching onto your bottom lip, palming at your sweater, eager to get it off. “i’ve thought about having you in every single room in this house..” he mumbles into your mouth, making your cheeks burn.

“every.. room?” you speak softly through kisses, bashful at his words.

“mmm,” he grumbles, hand slipping under the soft material of your sweater, brushing over the curve of your waist, “need you.. here,” walking your body back into the marble counter, your lips still barely connected, “in there,” gesturing back towards the grand living room, “everywhere,”

your thighs squeeze together in anticipation of it all. you were flying back home in a week, there was not a chance you’d get through the entirety of this massive house in that short time.

eddie growls into your mouth, hoisting your body onto the countertop in one swift movement, forcing his way between your legs. you can feel his cock already, pressed against your throbbing cunt.

his tongue slides into your mouth, moving against your own with hungry movements. you were too old for this kind of excitement, the ferocity was making your head spin.

his hands are quick, working your sweater off without much interruption, immediately finding your lips again. your hips cant, chasing the needed friction of his cock, eager to strip him from the rough denim.

“someone’s impatient,” a rough laugh echoes from his lips, but he’s obliging. unbuttoning your jeans before patting your thigh to move for him.

you do, letting his cold hands slide your jeans down your thighs, stuck around your ankles as he’s really not concerned with taking them off fully. you’re soaked already, can feel it when the fresh air hits your heat.

eddie’s focused now, his own pants pulled down around his knees, cock jumping in his boxers when your hand reaches out to touch his chest. you liked that. the fact that even now, you could control him with a simple touch.

“jesus baby,” he remarks, two fingers slipping between the crotch of your underwear, “you don’t know how much i’ve thought about this,” mouth hanging open as he works his way between your soaked folds and into your hole, eliciting a sharp gasp from your mouth.

he’s slow with it, curling his fingers at just the right spot, “oh god,” you whisper, one hand clinging to his forearm, the other holding onto the hard counter.

your eyes flutter shut, head rolling back, granting him access to your untouched neck. he immediately attacks the delicate skin, no doubt leaving his mark like some unruly teenager.

“need you now baby..” he grumbles, removing his hand from between your legs and nudging his boxers down just enough for his cock to spring up, already leaking with pre-cum.

“yeah.. yeah,” muttering into the room, heels attaching around his hips, urging him to speed things up.

his hair brushes against your neck as he gazes down between your bodies, staring in awe at the way they connected, almost losing all composure when his cock nestles between your folds and slides perfectly into your quivering cunt.

pretty pink lips parting to groan when he bottoms out, savouring the feeling for just a moment before his hips take over. his pelvis connects with the backs of your thighs, finding his rhythm, seeking whatever pace made you the loudest.

your quiet squeaks aren’t enough for him, after years of being quiet, you’re not used to having the freedom to be loud.

“c’mon sweetheart,” he pants, hand skirting around your hip, squeezing the flesh, “i wanna hear you,” slipping out of your cunt, refusing to give you what you want without something in return.

your eyes open to eddie, staring right back at you, devilish grin on his lips, “don’t be mean,” you pout, squeezing your legs to pull him forward, huffing in frustration when he keeps back.

his forehead presses against yours, glossy eyed as he gazes into your eyes, “this what you want?” he bites before sinking back in, profanities tumble out of his mouth.

a disgusting whine finds itself at your lips, filling the space between you, drawing his gaze to your wetted lips. “that’s it baby,” thrusts starting to gain speed, his tip bullying your walls.

you can’t help but get louder, keeping your eyes trained on his dilated pupils, moaning with each time his pubic bone brushes against your starved clit. knuckles turning white as you grip onto the counter, chanting his name like some sort of mantra.

“there she is,” he pants, slamming into you with such speed that makes you feel as if you’re flying. it’s filthy how much the wet, pornographic noises your bodies are making spurs you on. only wanting to get louder to match them.

eddie’s thumb meets your neglected clit, circling the bud in line with his thrusts. the pleasure is overwhelming, sending your head into the clouds and your stomach hurtling toward your long-awaited orgasm.

“eddie..” drawing out his name, letting it echo through the decadent kitchen, “fuck,” fingernails leaving behind half-moon markings on his forearm, unsupported by the ruthless motion of his thumb against your clit.

you’re struggling to even stay with it, gasping for breath as your walls tighten around him. sighing as he begins to falter, “you gonna cum princess? huh?” beads of sweat beginning to form on his nose, holding his own orgasm off to allow you yours first.

“yeah.. yeah,” you babble nonsensically, “oh fuck.. oh eddie,” thighs trembling around his hips as you topple over the edge, holding onto the counter for dear life as your orgasm takes over.

body going numb as the fuzzy feeling takes over, watching his lips mouth that’s it and baby’s over and over. trying not to topple over as his cock continues to nudge against your spongy walls, slowing as his own orgasm begins.

“cum in me,” you urge, completely besotted by your own desire for him, “please,” resorting to begging when his eyes squeeze shut, unable to hold himself off any longer.

he grunts, you coax him through it, ankles still resting at the small of his back, unrelenting with their grip as his cock spurts thick ropes of cum, painting your walls. “shit- baby.. i- you-,” he puffs, “what the fuck,” throwing his head back, his messy fringe sticking to his damp forehead.

“sorry..” you mumble, ashamed by the way you turn into a ravenous monster around eddie, wanting to give him your all and nothing else.

“jesus christ don’t apologise,” his hands clamp around your cheeks, pulling your face to his for one final kiss, mumbling a quick i love you before helping you from the counter.

eddie’s in his element here, not that he didn’t make himself at home in your home, but this was his domain.

there’s a strange twinge in your heart, a rogue voice that occasionally makes an appearance, something that made you question whether he was really happy with your little life or if it was just something he was accepting for the time being.

you bury it down, refusing to let it grow into anything more and follow him down the hall, listening to him complain about his back.

nothing could’ve prepared you for the party. it couldn’t have been further from how eddie had initially sold it to you.

it’s all bright lights and thousands of people. expensive dresses and unfamiliar faces fill the room, prodding and poking at eddie and subsequently you. wanting to know the ins and outs of everything.

fuck. you think. this is suffocating.

there’s no release, people are fucking everywhere.

even after you gulp down a glass of wine, people whizz around you, echoing fake niceties about your dress or your hair or whatever materialistic bullshit they were pretending to care about.

eddie is a natural of course. he’s been doing this for years. he always had the ability to carry a conversation, to make people listen to him. you weren’t so lucky.

he’s prattling on about some sick riff on the new album now, barely giving you chance to let him know you’re going to the bathroom.

hoping to seek some solace from these vultures. you so wished steve was here. he’d make everything feel better, tell you that it was okay and that these people don’t deserve your time.

but he’s not. he’s a thousand miles away, probably tucked up in bed with ella. somewhere you longed to be.

after a long ten minutes in the cubicle, uttering a chorus of positive affirmations to yourself, you push your way out, right into the crowd of very glamorous women all stood in front of the mirrors. reapplying their makeup or touching up their already stiff hair.

one of the older ladies takes notice of you lingering behind, turning to face you with a smug smile, “you’re eddie’s new thing, aren’t you?”

venom laced between her words, rolling effortlessly off of her sharp tongue. the other women all turn in tandem, all narrowed eyes and faux smiles.

“uh.. i’m his girlfriend,” shaking their glances off, focusing on the stream of running water on your hands and not the prickly feeling at the back of your throat.

“oh! girlfriend!” she titters, barging into one of the other, “usually they don’t make it that far.. what d’you have that the others didn’t?” her icy gaze runs the length of your body.

no doubt judging your dress, the way your mom body sat in the lavish fabric. you don’t blame her. you’d hated it from the moment you first looked in the mirror.

“we..” clearing your throat to avoid your voice cracking, “we used to date.. in high school,” you could feel yourself physically shrinking, reverting back into the same quiet girl you were in school.

“aw sweet,” there’s not even a hint of sincerity in her nasally tone, “well you know, we all thought gigi was gonna be the one,” the other women nod in agreement, “he was just different with her.. everyone thought he was going to propose.. never seen him like that since,” nodding like she’d won a contest you weren’t even competing in.

her words sting, and she knows it. in fact, she relishes it. even though you know she’s only doing it for some sort of reaction, you still let them in. your heart prangs in your chest; now stood frozen in front of the basin.

“you have a kid, don’t you?” she continues, clearly unhappy with your lack of reaction. wanting to stick her claws in just a little deeper.

you nod, biting down hard onto the inside of your cheek. trying to swallow the growing lump in the back of your throat.

her eyes wander down once again, “yeah i thought so.. eddie always said he didn’t want kids,” tutting her shiny white teeth, “i wouldn’t expect him to hang around long, he’s at the peak of his career darling.. no time for high school sweethearts and their kids.”

and that’s it. the final blow. slicing through your chest, churning your guts from the inside out. a stranger had affirmed every single fear and doubt you’d had. crumbling the facade you’d curated for this fucking party.

you don’t even give her the satisfaction of a reply, or perhaps you give her exactly what she wanted, storming out of the bathroom with a trembling bottom lip and watering eyes.

instead of going straight back to eddie, you find a quiet corner, facing the wall as you collect yourself the best you can. your throat hurts, the lump struggling to disappear, tears threatening to spill over as you attempt to remember how to breathe.

eddie is higher than you’ve ever seen him before, relishing in the moment. he’s completely different out here. talking to any and every one, turning the charm on the second someone walks his way.

“eds,” mumbling quietly, tugging on his arm to garner his attention.

you hated him a little for even convincing you to come. why couldn’t he have just sent pictures? no fuck that, why couldn’t he have just stayed here and never forced his way back into your life?

you don’t mean it. you love him.

“hmm?” not quite looking at you.

“i wanna go back.. i don’t feel good.”

this is where he turns, focusing his attention on you, brows furrowing immediately, “what? what’s wrong?”

now, you could tell him. let him know that his friends were assholes and you were either going to burst into tears or run out of this place screaming. but decide to leave it until you’re back at his, there was no use in causing drama on his night.

“i just..” you sigh, dipping your head low so no one else could hear, “i don’t feel good.. maybe i’m sick,” it wasn’t a lie as such. your stomach had been turning all night but you’d brushed it off as anxiety, eager to not ruin the party.

“well-,” he begins but stops, “d’you want me to come with you?” though you can tell he really doesn’t want to. you don’t blame him.

eddie’s always been an extrovert, begging for people to pay attention to him, even if it meant tussling with basketball players or anyone else that dared to question his character. he just wanted people to notice him.

“no no.. i just wanted to let you know,” chewing on your bottom lip, his face becoming increasingly more concerned with every word. you hope he hasn’t noticed your watery eyes, not in the mood to have to explain what had happened right here, right now.

“okay.. we can go, it’s okay,” eddie soothes, picking up that something wasn’t right.

this is what you’d tried to avoid, not wanting to selfishly snatch him away from his event, his friends and his album launch.

“no.. stay here, i’ll be fine, just need to.. rest,” brushing him off, as if you wouldn’t kill to just curl up in his big bed, talking away all of the harsh comments you’d heard.

his expression becomes incredibly soft, despite the crowd surrounding the two you trying to pry, “you sure? i don’t mind..” he frowns, “i’ll come back with you, I don’t want you on your own if you feel that shitty,” already looking past you trying to catch someone’s eye to tell them about the change in plans.

“no!” you push, rather quickly, “please don’t let me be the reason you miss this.. i promise i’ll be fine,” pulling away from his grasp, rushing out of the building with absolutely no plan to get back.

eddie strides along behind, grabbing onto your arm, forcing you to stop and face him, “hey.. stop, i’ll get rob to drive you,” guiding you through the see of people and out into the fresh air at long, long last.

it’s like you can finally breathe again. the stifling heat of a hundred bodies wasn’t helping your anxieties, relief washing over your body the second the november breeze hits your flushed face.

he leans into the same car you arrived in, muttering something to who you assume is rob, motioning for you to come over. you oblige, standing at his side as he repeats what’s happening to you though none of the words compute.

“i won’t be long, okay? a couple hours max and then i’ll be back,” pulling you in for an unreciprocated hug.

he bundles you in to the back of the car, nodding to rob to start the journey.

you’re thankful the conversation is non-existent, leaning your forehead against the window, drawing lines into the condensation on the glass.

you want to go home.

and not eddie’s house.. home.

three days had been more than enough for you to decide this life wasn’t for you.

wiping spaghetti off of ella’s smiley face was. gossiping with steve about people you went to high school with was. los angeles certainly wasn’t.

eddie stumbles into the bedroom some hours later, obviously tipsy with a vague stench of booze and people clinging onto his clothes. the smell turns your stomach, peering over your shoulder to see him sliding his suit jacket off, trying to be quiet but failing miserably.

"whoops sorry.. did i wake you?" he asks, slightly slurring his words.

"no, i wasn't asleep," you shift, turning to face him, preparing to break the news.

he slides into the gargantuan bed, running a hand over his face as he comfies himself, "you all okay now?" extending his hand to rest on your waist, smoothing his fingers over the thick duvet.

you exhale, peering up at him through the dimly lit room, "i think i'm gonna go home tomorrow," you’d stewed on it all night and decided it was what’s best.

“what?” his hand stops, sitting up to see you better.

“i’m going back to hawkins tomorrow.”

“why?” he exclaims, unable to comprehend why tonight had gone from a great night to you rushing off home.

“because i miss ella,” you’d umm’d and ahh’d about telling him what had gone down in the bathroom, ultimately deciding not to. he’d only reiterate some bullshit about it not being true and you shouldn’t worry, it wasn’t worth the effort.

“it’s three more days babe.. wha- i don’t understand, where’s this come from?” he’s breathing heavily, focussing on sobering up you suppose.

you sigh again, hesitant to tell him that his friends were assholes and had made you feel like shit. “i just.. i guess i don’t fit in here,” shrugging it off, minimising the niggling thoughts of insecurity that had planted themselves into your brain.

“what are you talking about?” eddie frowns, genuinely perplexed. “did something happen? what are you not telling me about?”

you shake your head, struggling to find the right words, “there was just..” trailing off into the void, “someone said something to me and i’m-,” biting down into your bottom lip, decidedly letting it all out, “i don’t want this life eddie, i never asked for this.. for people to try and pick my life apart! that wasn’t part of the deal!” becoming increasingly frustrated with your boyfriend.

how could he not get it?

“woah.. who said something? i can fix that,” his eyebrows knit together, you’re not sure if he’s angry or just confused. “if you don’t tell me, i can’t do anything.”

“what are you gonna do?” nostrils flaring at his inability to just understand, “what’s said was said.. and i want to go home eddie, that’s the end of it,” running a hand through your hair, still stiff with hairspray and whatever other gunk the stylist had shoved into it.

“jesus christ,” he huffs, sick of the conversation, of trying to get you to stay. “fine. i’ll get someone to change your flight in the morning, can you wait that long?” his snarky voice making an appearance. you hadn’t missed that.

“thank you,” you whisper, unable to get any louder for fear of the lump in your throat.

instead you turn over, squeezing your eyes shut, refusing to let the tears brim over. eddie wouldn’t have understood even if you could tell him, ella wasn’t his kid, those words wouldn’t hurt the same. sure, he’d be pissed and he’d more than likely get her fired but what use was that now?

she’d still uttered the words. still forced her poison into your brain, she’d already got what she wanted.

eddie barely musters up two sentences to you in the morning, speaking in hushed tones to the muffled voice on the other side of the phone.

everything’s fucked and it’s your fault. he knows it too.

“flight’s in four hours.. rob’ll take you to the airport at twelve,” he huffs, hanging the phone back on the wall with enough force to make the plastic rattle.

“thank you,” you call after him, watching as he disappears down the long hall. he had just trampled on your already throbbing heart, stomping on the organ as if it didn’t matter.

when rob arrives, eddie’s in a more optimistic mood, wheeling your suitcase out of his room with a sullen expression, attempting to sway your mind one last time. “i can always cancel this flight..” opening the large door for you, “you can stay if you want to.”

“eddie..”

and with that, he knows it’s not going to work. blinking rapidly, a deep sigh coming from his chest, “right, got it.”

his hand slams the car door shut, still lingering on the metal as you sit inside. you felt like a petulant child, being sent away because you dared to disobey the rules. it’s all so stupid.

and deep down, eddie knows that ultimately, this is all his fault. he’s the one that skipped town eight years ago, left you without so much as a note to explain himself. as he watches the car roll down the drive, he lets himself wonder what life would’ve been like if he didn’t leave, if you’d even still be together or if this had to happen to bring you two back together. the universe was cruel like that.

the airport is bustling, families dithering around trying to find their flights and busy men dashing from one place to the other.

there’s only one thing you need and that’s the bathroom. shoving yourself and your things into a cramped cubicle to do what you needed to do.

and maybe you were being silly, perhaps the stress of last night had got to your head and now you were jumping to crazy conclusions.

but you’d been here before. known the signs, the little things that most people would probably just brush off. so you’d made rob pull into a gas station on your way to the airport and bought a two pack of the cheapest tests you could find.

five minutes feel like five hours. refusing to even peek at the shitty piece of plastic until the time was up.

your heart is thudding, blood pumping around your ears so loudly that you’re sure the lady in the stall next to you could hear it.

hands shaking as you turn the test, two thin blue lines reveal themselves on the tiny screen.

the test clatters to the floor, your mouth falling open as your eyes fog. it wasn’t like you didn’t know, you just didn’t know.

and now you do, everything feels fragile. someone’s cough rings in your ears, the sterile bathroom felt a thousand times smaller than it did five minutes ago.

eddie always said he didn’t want kids.

her voice echoes around your head, just as snarky as it were the first time you heard it. you feel sick. the acidic liquid rises quick, forcing you to spin and stick your head into the porcelain bowl.

emptying your stomach until your throat stings, retching and coughing, trying not to start sobbing.

eddie always said he didn’t want kids.

you can’t tell him, not yet anyway.

fuck.

a thousand thoughts flood your mind. were you even still together? he was on this press tour for weeks now. you can’t tell him over the phone. maybe you had broken up and you wouldn’t ever have to let him now. he would just have an illegitimate child in his hometown that he’d never know about.

nothing felt right. the high you’d been riding from the first two days with him had quite violently come crashing back to earth.

the only thing you want to do is tell steve.

he probably wouldn’t know what to do nor would he be very much help, you just needed to know that everything was going to be okay.

it’s the first thing you say as you slide into steve’s bmw, blurting out the news like it wasn’t potentially life changing.

as expected, his jaw drops, blabbering about babies at a hundred miles an hour. excited and amazed all at the same time.

“- i haven’t told him yet,” you manage to spit out in the middle of his nonsensical ranting.

“what?”

“i didn’t even know until i got to the airport,” you sniff, staring at the drops of rain on his windscreen rather than his eyes. “he’s on this press tour for weeks now.. i can’t tell him over the phone.”

“well shit,” steve’s shoulder slump, empathising with your less than ideal situation, “you have to,” he blinks, focusing on the road ahead.

“steve.. i don’t think you understand,” swallowing the air, unsure if the car was the best place to tell him about your little argument. “shit happened, it’s not.. it’s not that easy.”

he frowns, tapping his thumb against the steering wheel as he drives, “well,” voice louder than expected, “we’ll think of something, trust me.”

your body relaxes for the first time in hours. if no one else had you, you know steve did.

there are paps fucking everywhere, littering the sidewalk as steve pulls into your drive, the bright lights already blinding you.

“what the fuck?” steve screeches, turning to face you in the driver's seat. They aren’t dumb, they know that if they step on your property, you are well within your rights to escort them off. so they hang back, inching towards the car but staying far enough away to not allow you to get them off.

“i don’t know.. i don’t know,” shaking your head, you were baffled how they had even found out you were home. you’d known they were scummy but christ, not this scummy.

“just get inside and I’ll bring your stuff in,” steve nods reassuringly, stepping out of the car ready to punch whoever got in his way.

you exhale, preparing for the onslaught of questions and pictures. the key poised in your hand to get you inside as quickly as humanly possible. word must have got out that your trip had ended abruptly, that or someone had seen you sulking around the airport like the sad sack you were.

your feet stumble along the asphalt, holding your hand to your face as to guard your eyes from the flashes. hundreds of questions echo in your ears, what happened between you and eddie munson? have you broken up? did he cheat again?

it’s god awful. gritty voices screaming across the lawn at you. steve has your suitcase rolling behind him, jaw clenched as he guides you to the door.

“you’re harassing a pregnant woman you fucking scumbags! go fuck yourselves!” he unleashes over his shoulder, flapping his arms about.

your mouth falls open, pulling him through the door and into your hall. the one thing you had not wanted him to let slip and he had just blurted it out to the crowd of hungry vultures.

it’d be the first thing on the front page tomorrow and yet you still hadn’t told eddie. at least now you didn’t have to.

he knows he wasn’t supposed to say it too, hand slapped across his mouth, inundated with shock and regret. “i’m so sorry, i’m so fucking sorry,” he rushes, eyes like saucers as his arms wrap around your shoulders, “i’m an idiot.. fuck! i’m sorry,” you cheek smushed against his chest.

the familiar feeling opens the floodgates, tears stream down your cheeks, wetting his t-shirt as your shoulders shake. wailing hysterically into his beating chest. he wasn’t quite expecting this, more so a few hours of the silent treatment.

“oh no.. i’m sorry, i really didn’t mean to,” steve whispers into the air, his chin coming to rest atop of your head, squeezing your fragile frame in his arms.

“it’s not-,” rudely interrupted by a rogue hiccup, “shit.. it’s not you-,” hiccup, “oh my god,” you exclaim, tears turning into laughter at an unprecedented rate.

steve loosens his grip, confused as all hell at the mess you’d become against him. “jesus christ, are you okay?” holding your shoulders at arms length to examine the snotty, hiccupy mess in front of him.

“no,” you laugh, completely hysterical.

he guides you to the couch, making your movements for you, plonking down on the cushions in a flurry of emotion.

there you tell him everything. the party, the bitch with the sharp jawline in the bathroom and her nasty words, the aftermath and then all about your panic attack in a tiny lax bathroom.

it’s cathartic, knowing he won’t judge or diminish the way you feel. steve just listens, his hand rubbing small strokes on your knee every time you got to a juicy part.

how the hell were you ever going to tell eddie now?

there’s a knock at your door, mindlessly going to answer it without thinking much of the mad crowd of people that were out there just a few days ago. steve had gratefully been staying with you, helping with ella while also trying to hatch a plan to tell eddie without ruining everything.

it only occurs to you that it very well could be another nosy reporter as the door is already unlocked and slightly ajar.

you peep around the tiny crack, prepared to be bombarded with a bunch of questions and bright lights.

there’s none of that.

only the pitying image of one eddie munson stood on your doorstep with his shoulders slumped, black ray-ban’s hanging from his shirt and an inconceivable look upon his face.

“what the fuck?” he utters, barely audible. he looks exhausted, dark rings around his eyes with the body language to match. his hair in dark matter tangles hung around his face.

your mouth opens but the words fail to materialise, utterly speechless. there’s nothing you could possibly say now that would lessen the blow. and bless his soul, steve had fucked it.

no.

you had fucked it by running off back home without telling him the seemingly very important news.

“were you ever gonna tell me?” eyebrows screwed together, eyes glossy with what looked like tears.

“i.. i- yes, i was.. i didn’t.. i didn’t know,” pleading with him with your eyes, hoping they could tell him exactly what your words couldn’t. your lip trembles, as much as this had played on your mind since steve had let slip, the two of you still hadn’t come up with an acceptable explanation.

deep down you know really why you still hadn’t called him. you were scared, terrified even, that he’d laugh at you. tell you to fuck off, or get rid of it and to never contact him again. that wouldn’t surprise anyone, he was at the top of his career and definitely wouldn’t want to jack that in for his boring high school ex-girlfriend.

that’s what you’d told yourself anyway.

“when? when it was born?” his words are sharp, reaffirming every single fear you had conjured up in your brain.

you inhale sharply, the lump making it up and out of your throat before you had the chance to swallow it down. tears spill down your warm cheeks, the most ghastly cry coming from your mouth.

you must look utterly pathetic as eddie’s face softens almost immediately, springing from your doorstep and over the threshold to caress your cheek, mopping the tears with his thumb. “sorry.. i’m sorry fuck- i just wish you’d told me,” leaning forward to keep his eyes solidly on yours, any anger had dissipated from his face.

“i was scared, i’m sorry.. I didn’t know what to do,” burying your face into his shoulder, already wetting the shirt with your tears. shoulders shaking as you sob. “i swear.. i didn’t know until i got to the airport, i really- i just needed a few days..” howling into his steady shoulder.

he walks the both of you inside into your hallway, pushing the door shut before his other hand tangled into your hair, soothing out the wild strands. “i know.. it’s okay,” reassuring you even though you really didn’t deserve it.

“and that lady.. i don’t know, she got into my head,” sniffling, appreciating the familiarity of his cologne and the faint smell of cigarettes he always seemed to have.

his body stiffens, pulling your body from the safety of his, “what lady? is this about the party? fuck sake man, no one would tell me anything,” he’s serious now, frustration overcoming his features once more, although this time they weren’t directed towards you.

you sigh, using your palm to wipe your stinging cheeks, “it doesn’t matter.. and it’s fine, you know? i get it.. why someone like you wouldn’t want kids. i’ve come to terms with it,” nodding through your lines, despite the fact that you couldn’t have believed them less.

“what? what the hell are you talking about?” flabbergasted that you’d even suggest that.

your face falls, once stoic and ready to face being a single mom again. “that lady.. she said..” shaking your head, “you didn’t want kids,” bottom lip quivering, tears threatening to spill over again.

“oh my god,” it clicks for him, and you wish it would for you too. “that’s.. fuck- i did say that but it was a long time ago now,” his fingers dig into your arms, ensuring that he really hammers his point home, “of course i do.. shit sweetheart, of course i do,” the flecks of caramel in his eyes shine through ten-fold when he’s staring at you, glossed over with the remnants of his tears.

your mouth opens, moving though nothing comes out, hopeless as the words fail to form.

“you’re an idiot,” eddie laughs lovingly, pulling you back towards him, encasing your face in his rough palms, the cold of his rings soothes your tear laden cheeks. “why didn’t you tell me? or just ask me?”

you giggle a bit, shrugging your shoulders, “i don’t know.. i didn’t think,” nothing made sense and yet, you felt better than you had in weeks.

eddie’s here, in front of you, happy, grinning from ear to ear as he remembers why he’s even stood in your dark corridor, “baby.. we’re having a baby,” squishing your cheeks between his hands.

his joy is palpable, brushing off on you despite your leaking eyes. he still looks at you like that, even though you’d scarped off, even after you had let the world know you were pregnant before him. it was like the stars shon in your eyes, as if the very key to living was buried somewhere within your soul and he just had to be the first to grasp it.

your heart is bursting, a weeks worth of sleepless nights and fretting over destroying your relationship had come to this. to holding each other in the dim light, both terrified for what was to come.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson stranger things

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kiyoomi-levin · 3 months

Text

here for you (yan!Suna RinatroxF!reader)

a/n this has been a wip for so long... enjoy! i'm working on a atsumu [nsfw] fic so be on the lookout for that next (unless adhd takes over and i start working on a different one instead)!

summary:: As a pro athlete and model, he's nice enough. And yet...there’s something in your gut that says you should stay away. word count:: ~4.4k warning(s):: non-con (no smut/SFW), suna's a grade A creep/stalker, yandere!!, isolation, stockholm syndrome, horror??(i tried to make this scary but it's really not lol) Music rec:: joke's on you - charlotte lawrence

As an aspiring journalist, your dreams had all but come true when you were hired as an intern at the most prestigious sports media center in Tokyo.

You get to shake hands with athletes you see on television daily and most importantly, you had received an actual assignment.

Gone were the days of running around to get your manager coffee and spending the day shredding documents. Instead, you had been tasked with creating an in-depth piece into the most popular athlete of the year— Suna Rintaro of EJP Raijin.

You still vividly remember your first time meeting him.

You’d been star-struck— a tall, gorgeous man you had only ever seen through a screen was standing in front of you.

Smiling. Holding out his beautiful hand for you to shake.

Despite his casual demeanor, there was something off about him. Maybe it was your nerves, or the cold air circulating in the office, but there was a tug in your stomach that was warning you.

At the time, you had plastered an excited grin on your face and scolded yourself.

But looking back— his eyes were quite cold, weren’t they?

You just can’t explain why you feel sick whenever you see him. In fact, despite the great task ahead of you—interviewing and writing up an article on Suna— you had been avoiding him.

There’s just something in you that dreads looking into his sharp green eyes.

It doesn’t help that in spite of your best efforts, you strangely run into him everywhere-- on and off the court.

“Suna?”

Your voice comes out squeaky and clearly nervous.

Are your eyes deceiving you? Why would he be here, in the middle of the cereal aisle, at the small grocery store next to your dingy apartment? You have to do a double take before you can confirm that yes, it is in fact him.

It’s late, and it’s only you, Suna, and the tired store manager. Though, at this moment, it feels like it’s only the two of you in this world.

“Oh. Hey, y/n,” Suna says casually, flashing you his famous smirk— the one that has his fans screaming and crying. He’s on his knees, reading the back of a granola cereal.

Suna turns back to the aisle in front of him, finally placing a box into his basket. Your brain registers it as your favorite flavor (the unhealthy, chocolate-y type that you’re sure athletes shouldn’t be eating).

What a coincidence.

“What are you doing here?”

You live on the edge of Tokyo, an unfortunate 30 minute subway ride to get to the sports arena you’re working at. And you know, from Suna’s player profile, that he lives in a luxurious high-ceiling apartment only a few blocks away from there.

“What do you mean?” Suna asks, frowning. He seems genuinely confused.

Are you the crazy one?

“Oh, it’s just… so random, you know?”

Your throat is tightening now and you feel unable to even swallow.

There are alarms blaring inside of your head, as if every fiber is irrationally telling you to run.

Suna glares at you, sharp eyes studying your smaller stature.

God. Another reason why you don’t like this man— he’s just too difficult to communicate with.

“You live quite far away, right?”

Seconds pass and you’re beginning to worry you’ve said something wrong or offensive when Suna finally stands, sighing as he turns toward the registers.

“No. I just moved to Kamikitazawa.”

You feel that tingle again.

“What a coincidence!” You say, recovering quickly.

Fuck. You sound especially stupid right now.

But could you help it? Suna, a multi-millionaire, moved into your apartment building? The one inhabited by broke college students and poor retirees?

Was he struggling financially? Did he have a secret child like some rumors alleged? Wait, is he—

“I’m not sure what you’re thinking, but whatever it is, you’re wrong.”

Suna and you are standing at the cash register now, and he turns to gently smile at you. You feel yourself softening.

Why were you scared, anyways? He’s a world-famous athlete and model.

Your premonitions have been wrong in the past— like when you thought your boss, Kuroo, would be upset with you accidentally deleting his PC files.

“I see,” you murmur, “well… the apartment is kind of… there’s a lot of problems, you know?”

The words tumble out of your mouth before you can stop them. You sound like a broken radio.

There's an awkward silence as you and Suna both try to find the words to say.

This is why you hate talking to him, he expects you to do all the work!

"You should know that the third elevator isn't that good. It always gets stuck on floor two. And the garbage chute at the end of every hall is kind of hard to open. You have to," you make a pulling motion, "really yank, ya know?"

Silence. Suna stares at you blankly.

You're just an absolute loser, aren't you?

He's gonna cringe, or worse, tell your advisor that you're being overfamiliar with him, an athlete 5 years your senior…

As you stand in your cheap winter boots, shivering, Suna suddenly laughs.

It's not the quiet chuckle you see him release when he's joking with Komori, but a head-throwing, mouth widening laugh.

"Uh..." you stutter, nervous.

It takes a full minute before he finally stops, silently pink at the face.

"Thanks. I'll keep that in mind," he says, lifting his shopping basket.

You nod repeatedly, nerves subsiding.

"Wanna walk back together?" Suna asks.

You hesitantly nod. Why not? It's late and dark, and though the neighborhood is calm, it never hurts to have a walking buddy.

On the walk home, to your surprise, Suna begins to talk about his team and compliments you for your article on the top liberos. You’ve never seen this side of him. There’s a reason why he’s so beloved— he’s a mystery.

You’re nearly zoning out as the two of you reach your apartment complex.

"Am I boring you?" Suna suddenly asks.

It's such an unexpected question, you falter for a second.

"No! I'm just... I feel relaxed. I like hearing your voice," you say, surprised.

Suna lets out a sigh of relief as he punches in the door code to the building.

"So. As I was saying, you want me to give you a ride tomorrow?"

"What?”

"A ride. To the arena." He says, enunciating every word as if you're a child.

"It's okay," you start, “I—”

"Take the subway, yeah. But it's a hassle, right?"

No, it's not. In fact, it's pretty nice, seeing strangers off to their desired destinations.

But it's as if he can read your mind.

"I’ll give you a ride."

It's not a question anymore.

"Alright," you murmur.

The short journey to your floor is now awkward, and you’re wishing you had turned down his offer to walk together.

The two of you are almost at the end of the hallway now, at your apartment door. To your horror, Suna doesn’t continue walking.

Instead, he simply turns around and reaches for the doorknob of the apartment just across from you.

Strangely, you’re just now noticing just how narrow and dark this hallway is.

Under the cheap fluorescent lights, you can only see the man in front of you. Suna’s pale hands flex as he easily readjusts his heavy grocery bags, reminding you he could take you out in a moment.

“Wow. Looks like we’re neighbors, huh?” Suna says, stepping into his flat.

You’re blinking up towards him, breath cut short.

“See you tomorrow, y/n.”

Funny. He didn’t sound surprised.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You're just tying your hair when the doorbell rings.

"y/n, you ready?"

Who would’ve imagined hearing the Suna Rintaro’s voice at 9 AM.

You sigh as you take a final glance into the mirror. You couldn’t completely hide the dark eye circles from your lack of sleep— who’d be able to sleep after learning a celebrity lives practically next door?

Taking a deep inhale, you push open your front door.

You instantly feel yourself healing as you take in Suna. It’s a similar effect to watching your favorite idols perform on stage— good looks work wonders on your tired body.

Suna leans against the wall, wearing a pair of black sweats and a thin blue hoodie. With a start, you can't help but notice it's almost a couple set with your blue sweater and black skirt.

"Good morning," he says, sliding his phone into his pocket. You nod in response.

As you walk down the hall together to the elevators, you can't help but flush. Is this what it'd be like to have a boyfriend? As a student dedicated to her craft, you’d never felt the urge to date, remaining single your entire life. You can’t help but wonder what it’d be like to be Suna Rintaro’s.

“Oh! What’s this!” Kiana, a middle-aged woman, calls out as you and Suna wait for the elevator.

“y/n! You never told me you got a boyfriend! And such a handsome one, too! Oh, if I was only a little younger…”

You and Suna make eye contact and you blush, quickly turning towards the smiley woman, ready to retort.

“We’re—” You barely make out a word before Suna suddenly takes your hand.

“Good morning, ma’am. I’m Suna Rintaro, y/n’s boyfriend. I just moved into apartment 306.”

At his words, both your and Kiana’s eyes widen.

Yours in confusion, hers in wonder as she recognizes the handsome stranger.

“I know you! I know you! You’re Suna, from that team! Oh, my son is such a fan! I can't believe you're living here! He’ll be so excited."

As Suna and Kiana make small talk, you try to discreetly shake your sweaty hand out of Suna’s grasp. To your bewilderment, he continues gripping onto it, so hard you can feel his short fingernails digging into your soft skin.

To your relief, the elevator chimes, and as Suna waves goodbye (you do too, out of habit), you gasp as he yanks you into the elevator.

"What was that?" You ask, nervously looking up at your ‘boyfriend.’

Suna’s eyes are hard as he stares down at you, but he’s glowing all the same, as if he’d just received a gift.

“Saying we’re a couple. What was that about?”

Suna hums innocently.

"I just thought it would be most convenient to tell her that. People will see us together from now on."

No, they won't.

“It would confuse them to have to explain you’re an intern.”

Was that so complicated?

But with his mischievous smirk and the way he taps his foot against the elevator floor, you just can’t find the courage to refute.

“Alright… but could you let go?” You ask uncomfortably.

"Ah, right," he says, letting you free.

You rub your hands together, easing the circulation back.

Strangely, it feels especially cold without his grip on you.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Wake up."

Awakening with a start, you rub your eyes.

You can't help but admit you could get addicted to free rides with Suna.

His car is just too nice; the seats are fluffy and he turned on the heater to just the right temperature and there's soft piano playing from the speakers.

How long have you been out?

Taking in your surroundings, you're surprised to find you're already at the Tokyo Volleyball Arena. You almost jump in shock as you realize what’s warming your lap— a box of your favorite strawberry waffles.

“What’s this?” You question as Suna wordlessly hands you a fork.

"I thought you might be hungry.”

Suna slides a cup into your open hand— matcha.

So he is a nice man, after all.

“Wow, Suna! Let me please pay you back!”

Your stomach grumbles as you take a bite of the sweet breakfast.

“No, no, it’s on me.”

How could you make it up to him? Maybe you should bake him cookies or something… you shift in your seat, frowning as you realize your bare thigh is strangely damp. Rubbing your thighs together, your eyebrows furrow.

“Oh,” Suna says, biting into his scrambled eggs, “sorry. That was me, I got some coffee on you while you were sleeping, so I wiped it away," he says sheepishly, gesturing towards the pack of wet wipes in the glove compartment.

He looks embarrassed, avoiding eye contact, so you don't push it any further.

He's kind of cute, you think.

It kind of feels too perfect– the plush comfort of Suna’s luxury car, the sweetness of the waffles, and the delicious matcha, albeit slightly salty.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Hey, y/n, which movie should we watch?" Suna calls from your couch.

You're in the kitchen, preparing popcorn in your small microwave.

"Studio Ghibli!" You shout back, stirring the hot chocolate, “I have a whole bunch downloaded, just choose one.”

It's become a regular occurrence for the two of you to spend much of your free time together. At first, Suna had gently coaxed you into spending time with you under the guise of doing more research for the article you’re writing about him, but now you’ve grown to genuinely enjoy his company.

From morning rides to office lunches to casual dinners, it's like your life has been consumed by Suna. Your gut had been wrong, after all, because Suna treats you like a girlfriend— although you’d long shook away that silly thought— he’d never see a younger, broke student that way.

But despite your brain knowing everything is just fine, your heart has yet to be rewired. It still pounds with discomfort, as if it knows that fundamentally, something’s wrong.

You just can’t identify or place a label on that problem.

More recently, you’ve been getting hit with strong deja vu from that one night at the grocery store months ago.

As if it’s only the two of you on this planet.

Sighing, you take your place next to Suna, glancing at your phone. It remains still, screen dark.

“What’s wrong?” Suna asks, frowning. He pushes up his black glasses, running his fingers through his damp hair.

You hesitate. It’s fine to share this, right? After all, it feels like Suna’s all you have right now.

“Well… I’m not sure why, but I think my friends are mad at me. For the past few months, they’ve been silent. They don’t really respond to me anymore, and when they do they just say they’re busy.”

Suna nods, reaching for your hand. You welcome the warmth of his fingers, blinking back tears.

“And even worse, my family hardly contacts me. I used to call my mom basically everyday. I think there’s something really wrong, Suna, I’m really worried.”

“How long has this been going on?” Suna has the movie paused now, full attention on you. He gently strokes your hair and the kind gesture has tears pooling in your eyes.

“For a few months… maybe… four? I didn’t realize it at first because of how busy I’ve been at work and with the article I’m writing on you,” you mumble, allowing Suna to embrace you.

He’s gently rocking you back and forth now, rubbing your back, whispering kind words into your ear, telling you it’s okay and they’re probably just busy too…

Minutes pass before you finally look up, eyes widening as you take in his facial expression.

Despite his sweet words, Suna’s eyes are completely blank and there’s a questionable, small smile on his face. You barely recognize him.

“y/n?”

You blink, and take in an inaudible breath as you stare at Suna.

He cocks his head, confused. He looks at you with nothing but affection and concern, thin lips pressed into a frown.

Your heartbeat slows as you realize that, yet again, you’d just been seeing and feeling things wrong— whenever you’re around Suna, it’s as if you lose sense of your surroundings.

Smiling, you sniffle as you wipe away your tears.

“Sorry for getting emotional at movie night.”

Suna grins, giving you a final gentle hug before turning back to the television.

“Don’t be. I’m always here for you, y/n.”

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

Q: Suna, this question has been long requested by your fanbase. How do you express love?

A: Dedication. I give my all to my lover, no questions asked.

Oh, and I don’t like to share.

There’s suddenly a knock at your door, causing you to jump. You put down your laptop, where your open article draft sits nearly complete.

The lightning storm outside has you shaking and you just wish Suna was here, holding you and laughing at his silly responses to your even stupider interview questions.

Another knock at the door.

Strange— Suna’s practice runs for extra long today for his upcoming tournament. Maybe he finished early.

“Suna, why didn’t you call before practice finished? We could’ve gone out for dinner,” you scold as you pull open the door.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Standing in front of you is your furious older sister, drenched from the rainstorm outside.

“Oh my god! Come in!” You say, alarmed. You reach towards her wrist, but she remains planted in place.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

She’s angrier than you’ve ever seen her.

“How could you tell us to fuck off? You really think your journalism is that important? Your writing isn’t more important than family, you asshole! It’ll never be important!”

Taking a deep breath, your sister lets go, immediate regret evident on her face. She opens her mouth to apologize, but you’re not having any of it.

Anger is coursing through your body now and you shove your sister away, causing her to stumble against Suna’s door.

Your family has never supported your career— from when you were just a child, you’d had to work hard for your own future.

So this is why they had shunned you? Because they can’t stand seeing you successful? Because you had moved away from the countryside to make something out of yourself in the city?

Tears stream down your face as you tremble.

“My writing is important,” you whisper. Your sister nods quickly, opens her mouth again—

“Don’t come by anymore. Don’t consider me a part of the family anymore.”

“No, I’m sorry— I think there’s a miscommunication, y/n! Wait!”

Slamming the door on her shocked face, you stumble towards the couch.

It feels as though you’re going to die— the room spins as your lungs strive for air and your vision is becoming increasingly blurry.

The sound of rain and your sister pounding on the door intertwine, and as you bury your head into a pillow, you really just wish Suna was at your side.

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

“y/n?”

Someone’s tugging at your sleeve, and you glance up, blinking uncomfortably at the bright lights of the living room. There’s dried tear streaks on your face and you’re sure you look like a miserable ogre, but Suna looks at you with nothing but compassion as he hugs you, alarmed.

He’s slightly damp—probably a combination of sweat from practice and the rain outside—but you hold onto him eagerly as he eases you onto his lap.

“What happened?”

You shake your head, explaining what had happened in the few hours when he’d been gone.

Suna’s furious on your behalf, jaw tight and fists clenched.

“Thank god I told your sister to fuck off. She was standing at your door, yelling curses and threatening to call the police,” he mutters.

Tears spring to your eyes again. This only confirms the reality of your life now— your family (and probably friends, too) absolute despise you.

“Don’t worry, y/n. I’ll always be here for you,” Suna whispers.

His words are somewhat like a relaxant to you. Taking a deep breath, you lean into his chest, sighing.

“I don’t think I can write anymore, Suna. I don’t want to. What have I been working towards my whole life?”

Suna remains silent for a moment, studying your sorrowful face, before leaning in to brush his nose against yours. Your eyes shift, admiring his gorgeous olive ones.

“Your journalism is amazing, y/n. And… if you hadn’t worked so hard, we might’ve never met, right?”

You smile sadly.

“I guess…”

“y/n, how about you wrap up your article tonight? You’re almost done, aren’t you?”

You gesture towards your open laptop on the coffee table.

“It’s done, but it’s shit. My sister’s right, it’s not worth anything,” you say, embarrassed. You’ve always known you were talentless, which is why you’ve always worked harder. But it amounted to nothing in the end.

You press your cold hands against your burning eyes as Suna picks up your laptop, skimming through what you’ve written about him.

If even he hates it… that’s it. You’re not sure how you’re supposed to go on.

“y/n, will you look at me?”

Suna’s gently tugging at your hands covering your face. Biting your lip nervously, you let him take your hands into one of his.

“Want my honest opinion?” He asks, placing the laptop onto your lap. You nod, staring down at the bright screen.

“This is the best thing anyone’s written about me.”

You close your eyes, shaking your head.

“Don’t lie.”

“y/n. I’m serious. This shows exactly the side I wanted the public to know about me. It’s intimate, but written formally enough to be taken seriously by the media.”

When you don’t respond, Suna sighs sadly.

“I guess you don’t want the opinion of a dumb athlete, though…”

Frantically, you look up, shocked.

“Of course not! Suna, your opinion is everything to me!”

Relief settles in your stomach as Suna grins, eyes shining.

“Really?”

“Of course! Thank you… That really means a lot to me.”

Suna nods, rambling about how much he loves that sentence here, the use of punctuation there…

“What’s wrong?” He asks, noticing you look down again.

“I… just feel like I have nobody but you, Suna.”

Suna smiles at you, waving towards the polaroids of your friends and family hung on the wall.

“I’m sure they’ll come around again, y/n.”

Your nose crinkles as you cringe at the photos. You want them gone. You want all of the references towards them gone.

You want to get out of here.

“I hate this apartment, actually. They helped me decorate it and everything,” you sigh.

“Well then, how about we move out together?”

You fiddle your thumbs, headache threatening to return.

“I don’t have that type of money,” you say, frustrated. It’s easy for a world-class athlete like him to just up and leave, but you’d never be able to, not unless you dropped out of school and found a job elsewhere.

“y/n, I’ve just remembered. I have an apartment near our stadium, right? How about you move there for the rest of your internship?”

You hesitate. Intruding into the home of a man you’re not even in a relationship with? While the offer is tempting…

“Don’t worry about anything, y/n. Don’t think too hard about it.”

Suna’s gently rubbing circles onto the side of your hands and you feel like melting away, exhausted.

All that crying and anger has truly taken a toll on you. Your eyelids flutter as you finally nod.

“Okay.”

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

“Are you sure?”

Now that it’s come to actually burning the photos, you’re hesitating. Aside from the few photographs on the walls, your apartment is completely bare, all of your belongings now residing in Suna’s luxury condo.

“y/n. You don’t need them anymore.”

You pause, the lighter in your hand feeling heavier by the second. With this, you’re truly erasing all parts of your former family and friends. Just then, your phone buzzes— you barely need to look at it to know it’s a string of curses from your ex-best friend.

Suna grimaces as he deletes the message, examining you out of the corner of his eye.

“You’re right, Suna. I don’t.”

You watch as the pictures go up in flames, holding back tears.

Looking around your now empty apartment, Suna wraps his arm around your shoulders.

“I always thought your walls would look better bare.”

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

In and out.

There’s something so comforting about the way you breathe.

You’re lying motionless on Suna’s large bed, curled into a ball.

Adorable.

Sighing, Suna collapses next to you, admiring your eyebrows, the curve of your nose, your lips…

When was the last time he’d felt this content? Reaching out, Suna gently tucks your hair behind your ears, admiring the small s shaped earrings adoring them.

Bringing you here was the best option. It’d taken him a little longer than he’d hoped, but now you were truly in the palm of his hand.

He’d almost slipped up a few times (your gut was much smarter than you) but everything had worked out, hadn’t it.

Since the day he’d first met you nearly a year ago, Suna knew you’d be his.

He’s not sure why, but there’s this thing about him— sometimes, when he sees something, he wants it.

And he’ll do anything to make sure it’s entirely his.

You mumble in your sleep, rolling over to face the large windows that present the city of Tokyo below his feet.

He has it all now.

His phone vibrates— messages from your concerned father.

Rolling his eyes, Suna silently reaches over to your phone, which lies innocently next to your small hand, and unlocks it (the password being his birthday, obviously).

Without hesitation, Suna begins wiping out all traces of the code he’s implanted into your phone.

There would be no more reason to reroute your messages to himself anymore.

Next, Suna makes sure all of your family and friends’ contacts are blocked.

Ensuring your safety is a top priority of his.

He squeezes your device in his large hand, wondering if he should just break it.

If Suna had it his way completely, he’d rather you not have a phone at all.

Tossing your phone back onto your side of the bed, Suna smirks as he unlocks his own device.

Desperate messages from your sister pop up, warning you of your tall neighbor, he threatened to kill me if i didn’t leave y/n please get away from him and go to the police!

Suna slides his thumb across the screen, removing the messages from his screen, and disconnects his phone from yours.

After all, you wouldn’t be getting contacted by those nuisances anymore.

Almost done, then he can sleep peacefully with you—Suna sends the email he’s been working on: a PDF attachment of your final draft of your article on him and a short message of your resignation as an intern, written by yours truly.

Turning over, Suna locks the bedroom door, smiling.

There’s no need for anyone else.

Not when he’s always going to be here for you.

#haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu fic #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu #suna x reader #suna rintarou #suna rintaro haikyuu #suna rintaro x reader #suna rintaro x y/n #suna rintarō #suna rintaro x you #suna rintaro yandere #haikyuu yandere

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ever-siince-new-york · 10 months

Note

julien baker calling reader a good girl and being in charge🙏🏻

Julien Baker x f!reader

warnings/tags: fingering, oral (reader!recieving), pet names such as... princess, baby, honey, and good girl ofc 🙄 a lil bit of toxicity and lets say stylistic errors in grammar and perspective 🙏(aka grammarly stop being mad at me i'm not gonna buy premium)

author's note: girl you know i had to. 1.2k words, should take around 15 mins to read. thank y'all so much for the requests! i promise i've seen them all, however i have also gotten back into minecraft after they added the cherry wood so... I'm working on it okay? okay. hope u like it okay bye :0

You promised yourself you wouldn’t do this, not again. But, here you were, scrolling to unblock her contact. You thought there was something about this city: the air or something cliche like that. Something that had you calling Julien again and again. Surely, if it were up to you and your own free will, you wouldn’t be doing this.

The ringing from the other line drowns out any rational thought from this point on.

Ring. You shouldn’t be doing this. Ring. You’ll just get hurt again. Ring. “Hello?”

There was a point where you really believed you would never hear her voice again, never even want to. “Hey,” you said.

“So uh… wh-?” you cut her off.

“Come over,” the last of a six-word phone call.

You wanted to slam the door shut as quickly as you’d ripped it open. She was still wearing that stupid necklace. The one you had bought for her at a gas station in… Arizona maybe? Somewhere dry, hot. As you weren’t expecting this cruel reminder of the past, you were thrown off-guard. Clenching your jaw, you didn’t know what to say. Luckily, you didn’t have to.

The way she kissed you that night had you drunk on her from the moment she stepped into your apartment. All your attempts at memorizing her touch, her taste, her smell were in vain. Julien always had a way of making life feel straight out of a movie. It was all teeth and tongue, your mouth surrendering to hers as soon as she tongued at your bottom lip. No memory could ever do her justice.

Her hands danced over the expanse of your body, hands moving from your ribs to your hips, your neck to your breast. Fingertips shaping your body into submission like wet clay.

You broke the kiss, leading her to your bedroom.

“That’s not very polite, Princess. Not even going to offer me a drink?” Her feigned offense only turned you on more, ever the tease. As if she could read your mind, a smirk tugged at her beautiful lips, “I know, baby. Always so needy for me,” she spoke in a low drawl.

Any sense of control you had was now gone. You were her’s. Again. So you’d nodded with a soft pout.

“We can fix that, honey. But you need to use your words,” Julien said. This woman would be the death of you. “Please, Jay. I need it,” you whispered.

“Need what, baby?”

“Need you,” you pouted. That seemed to satisfy her as she held out her hand for you to grab with a smile. The two of you stumbled down the hallway, towards the open door to your bedroom.

She pushed you up against the foot of your bed, reaching down to slip her hands under the hem of your t-shirt, abandoning the article to the floorboards. Her gentle kisses up and down your neck did nothing but add fuel to the burning desire between your hips. Hands danced around your waist while yours were planted into her hair.

You tugged at her roots in the hope of her diverting her attention to where you had craved her since she flew into town. She pulled her head away to look up at you with expectant eyes.

“What do you say, Princess?”

“Please.” That made her smirk. “Good girl,” she had said. Pressing a kiss to your soft lips, she trailed her way down to the fly of your jeans. Kneeling, she popped open the button and unzipped the fly in mere seconds, clearly as eager as you.

She slid her hand into your cotton panties, collecting your slick before beginning to circle your clit. Very quickly you migrated from standing to sitting as she continued her ministrations. As you arched your back into her touch, she slipped two of her fingers into your entrance.

She pressed a sloppy kiss on your inner thigh before putting her mouth on your heat. She curled her fingers and started gently suckling on your clit. Her consistent motions had your mouth open and your tongue gently curled up as you laced your fingers back into her hair. The tug you had delivered to her hair every time she changed what she was doing had her moaning into your pussy, sending reverberations through your wet cunt.

Anyone outside your open window would be able to hear what was going on inside those four walls. The sounds of her fingers plunging in and out of you coupled with the wet kisses she was littering among your core were downright sinful.

Feeling your walls fluttering around her fingers, she knew you were close. You grunted in offense and frustration when she pulled her mouth away from you, but she quickly mended any hurt feelings with her words.

“I missed having you like this, baby. All needy just for me.” It seemed like her pace began quickening after every phrase, her hunger increasing parallel to yours. The ferocity of her thrusting fingers and her thumb now rubbing at your clit had you stumbling closer to your climax.

“You can do it, Princess. Go ‘head and cum for me, baby.”

You tugged harder and harder on her strands with every pulse of your orgasm, the increasing sting on her scalp had her moaning right along with you. The way you were squeezing and oozing on her fingers as you came down had Julien weak. She pulled her fingers out of you and into your mouth.

“Suck.”

Immediately you obliged, your head too foggy to imagine disobeying. Maybe tasting yourself on her fingers was dirty, but it had happened so many times that it almost felt romantic. To the two of you, experiencing the sensual evidence of your euphoria was just as pure and intimate as a kiss.

You laid alone atop your sheets for a moment until she returned to you. She had removed most of her own clothes, leaving herself in a pair of boxers and a white t-shirt. She brought the wipes she had grabbed from your bathroom up to your pussy, navigating your folds simply with her memory. A soft furrow settled itself between her brows, displaying her focused state as she cleaned you up.

Once she was satisfied, she crawled up next to you on the bed. Pulling your head to lay on her chest. You looked up at her with wide eyes as she stroked your hair.

“Honestly, I never thought this would happen again,” her hushed voice tugged at your heart. “I know,” you said. “I’m glad that it did,” her inflection made the words sound like a question, but you didn’t answer, preferring the quiet to any unsure, over-thought reply you could give. She sighed gently and gave a soft peck to your forehead, tucking your hair behind your ear. Smiles rested on both of your faces, yours spreading to hers.

It was funny how little you cared in the moment you knew you would come to regret. If you could bottle the pure ecstasy Julien had coaxed out of you, surely you would have good reason not to.

For better or for worse, no one else could ever possibly make you feel the way she did, and for right then, that was enough.

#also thank u 4 fifty notes 🙏#requests ARE still open it'll just take a minute #pls be specific in requests! it helps with inspo 4 sure #carlena's writings (after dark)#carlena's writings #julien baker smut #boygenius smut #boygenius #julien baker #wlw smut #julien baker x reader #julien baker fanfic

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cvrnelians · 11 months

Text

smile like you mean it - chapter five

You knew filing for divorce would be no easy feat. But filing for divorce from Roman Roy?

"No easy feat” might as well have been synonymous with “impossible."

warnings: drug use, alcoholism, miscarriage, Roman and the rest of the Roy family being awful.

chapters 1-3 // chapter four

music

chapter five

10 ways to get someone to like you: A foolproof guide

If you want to be liked, be likable.

Roman scowled and slammed his laptop shut, carelessly tossing it to the end of the bed.

“What a stupid fucking article.”

He got up and stretched, his limbs still rigid from a heavy sleep. If there was anything positive to come out of the complete and utter shitshow that was the day before, a good night’s sleep took the cake. Rest was something Roman didn’t get a whole lot of lately, but when he did sleep, he slept hard.

Prior to becoming COO of Waystar Royco, he had always been a heavy sleeper. It wasn’t unusual for him to get eight hours of shuteye even after napping all day. He had a copious amount of (not-so-fond) childhood memories in which Connor, Kendall, and Shiv jumped on his bed in order to wake him up. They often had to hit him with pillows and shake him to the point of nausea to get him to finally open his eyes.

Well, they didn’t really have to.

There were a small handful of differences between now and then.

Although he would never admit it, his job was a big source of stress for him. The most pathetic thing about it? Most days he didn’t accomplish even twenty five percent of what his colleagues did. And what he was able to do completely exhausted him. It was a lot to live up to, being the inheritor—and now a figurehead—of a monster he hadn’t created; a monster he wasn’t even sure he wanted to keep feeding.

Another major difference between now and then was that Kendall no longer needed to shake him from a dead sleep in order to make him feel nauseous. All it really took was watching him walk into your room in the middle of the night, casual as could be, to put Roman into a not-so-ideal headspace.

“Acting like he was reuniting with an old friend or some shit,” he mumbled under his breath. He got into the shower, his mind going a million miles a minute as he continued talking to himself. “I’m Kendall,” he mocked. “I’m better than everyone now, didn’t you know? I went to rehab. I drink green juice. I’ve read The Secret. I don’t have stress anymore because I never see my own children. Look how stable I am now.”

This was the one downside of being so well-rested. His brain actually lived up to its potential. His mind simply refused to slow down. No matter how hard he willed himself not to think of you, he only thought about you that much more. Not that this was all that different from any other day. Roman thought about you all the time, sleep deprived or not.

He liked you. Okay? Even with your cheap clothes and your shitty attitude and your refusal to sit next to him in the car, he had some…feelings when it came to you.

Ew.

He hated it when you were upset with him, and he hated it even more when you weren’t around.

From the first time he saw you, he liked you. A lot, actually.

Roman liked you a lot.

He had gone to your room the night before to say he was sorry discuss how hypersensitive you were being in response to the hilarious things he said, but he stopped short in the doorway.

As it turned out, you were busy. So as any gentleman would, Roman said fuck that noise and booked it back to his room. That was the second time you made him run that day, you little jerk.

He wondered if he should take bearing witness to that stomach-turning embrace between you and Kendall as a sign. Perhaps he should never apologize to anyone, for any reason, ever again. Not even to those who deserved an apology. Not even to you. If that was what he got for trying to be the bigger person, having to watch his stormcloud of an older brother get what he wanted without even having to try, well…what was the point?

“Likable. Likable? What does that even mean?” he asked himself.

Why would the author of that article automatically assume the people reading it were the unlikable ones? What kind of introduction was that? Why should he have to shoulder the responsibility of someone not liking him? Why should he have to do all this work to win you over? Why was he even worried about it? You should be the one trying to get into his good graces. You should be the one typing stupid questions into Google at seven o’ clock in the morning, not him. It didn’t matter that he called you a run-of-the-mill, ladder climbing, H&M wearing plebeian (or a coffee gopher). It didn’t matter that he had driven you to the brink of a full blown mental breakdown under his tenure. It didn’t matter that knowing he was the one that made you cry felt like a punch to the gut.

...which didn't even turn him on, by the way.

None of it mattered. He shouldn’t have to apologize for a thing. You were obviously sleeping with Kendall. Kendall! Even if you weren’t working for him, sleeping with Kendall would still put you in the wrong in any context. You were trying so desperately to make Roman believe he was the problem, just as everyone else did. You little gaslighter.

You weren’t seriously going to leave over a couple of little insults, right?

Right?

He was so distracted by his own thoughts, he somehow managed to get a concerning amount of shampoo in his eyes.

“Ow, FUCK!”

Following five stressful minutes of washing his eyes out (or trying to, anyway), he slumped over and held his hands over his face, allowing the water to run directly over his head. He could still picture you crying on the plane, which he had been doing on a loop for the past several hours. He could concede that he came off a little unpleasant at times, but it was more of a defense mechanism than anything. Deep down, Roman knew he didn’t take anyone seriously simply because no one else took him seriously. But you had wanted to be taken seriously, and did everything to earn that.

You were having some relatively fun banter prior to the moment he turned on you like a feral dog. When he was finished with his cutting little monologue, you looked like you had been slapped. Seeing you so upset and proceeding to mock you for it…

Ugh.

This was not uncharacteristic of Roman, but it wasn't necessarily his proudest moment, either. It made him sick to his stomach, as a matter of fact.

A lot of things about the past few days made him sick to his stomach.

He could remember having a similar feeling from when he was growing up. Everything would be fine and dandy until he would say or do one little thing to set Logan off, and then bam:

First came the hurt, then came the ridicule.

“Oh, you’re crying now? You’re crying? Why don’t you just go tell Kendall about it? I’m sure he’d love nothing more.”

Roman cringed at his own words.

First came the hurt, then came the ridicule.

And then he was alone.

If you want to be liked, be likable.

He would never say it to you directly, but if he could, he would.

"I’m sorry I made you so sad."

☽

“You have no idea how things will turn out, and it’s very juvenile. It’s fucking dumb. You’re being dumb!”

You cringed as Kendall’s words bounced around in your head.

Last night had been very interesting, to say the least.

For several hours now, you lay flat on your back, slipping in and out of a restless sleep. When you did become lucid, you simply stared up at the impossibly tall vaulted ceiling. It was painted and preserved beautifully, gold borders encasing rich shades of red and blue. You reached your arm up, pretending to trace and retrace the intricate patterns with your fingers. Exhausted yet unable to sleep, you needed something mindless and soothing to wind yourself down.

Sadly, your efforts were to no avail. Your mind was still racing, hyper focused on what transpired the night before. It was jarring to think that just a simple “so, how have you been?” from Kendall would open a Pandora's box you had no clue even existed. You didn’t have much time to concentrate on it, though. At that moment, two things happened at once.

You felt a stab of panic as you received a notification that your flight was now boarding. You couldn’t believe it. You had missed your flight. You had dissociated to the point of having missed your flight. And before you could even sit up, you were startled by a loud banging noise against your door. It sounded like someone was ramming something into it full force. You weren't even sure who you were hoping not to see at this point.

Not since Kendall went absolutely ballistic on you.

“Knock, knock!” a familiar voice yelled. He didn’t bother actually knocking, nor did he wait for you to respond. He probably thought the unpleasant crash was sufficient enough.

You were almost relieved.

Enter one Roman Roy.

But he wasn’t alone. In front of him was the culprit, the battering ram that nearly gave you a heart attack, in the form of a large metal breakfast cart. If that wasn’t bizarre enough, he was dressed in athletic wear. He looked out of place in such a grandiose room, like you were playing a beginner’s version of “I Spy.”

I spy with my little eye something reprehensible.

“Here comes the breakfast fairy,” he said in an awkward, singsong voice. He slowly rolled the unsteady cart towards you. “Here to um…y’know. Bring you breakfast. Breakfast just for you.”

A wheel broke off as he made his way over, making coffee spill onto the tray. He cursed as he shakily lifted the tray up off the cart and reached over to hand it to you. You gawked at him. “Okay, that’s what I get for saying that. That was fucking stupid. I didn’t say that. You don’t remember me saying that.”

“You brought me breakfast?”

“It would appear so,” he said cheerfully. “Like a good boy.”

“I missed my flight,” you blurted out awkwardly.

He paused for a second, taking a deep breath before reverting back to his typically rude delivery. “Yeah, not my problem. Can you please just take the tray? It’s really heavy.”

“I missed my flight,” you repeated.

He ignored you and slowly set the tray on your lap. He lifted the lid to reveal a pretty solid breakfast as far as you were concerned: a single poptart and two comically large cups of coffee. One was black, the other a latte with a poorly drawn happy face carved into the foam. You would have laughed if you weren’t so stressed out. All of this buildup for a lone pastry and an alarming amount of coffee.

“Where’s the second poptart?”

“I ate it. Obviously. Don’t be ungrateful,” he snapped. “You like wildberry, right? You seem like you would like wildberry. A little fun, a little different. Spice up your life, or whatever.”

You rolled your eyes, breaking the poptart into several pieces before taking a bite. “You could have the most elaborate breakfast in the world, and yet you’d prefer to have this?”

“What? I may be rich but that doesn’t mean I like exclusively rich people things. Have you seen rich people food? I mean, probably not but…”

You tentatively picked up the latte. “Did you poison this? Did you spit in this?”

“Hah, you wish.”

“I wish?”

“I mean, I can if you’d like,” he said, leaning towards you.

“No!” you yelled, making him wince. You lowered your voice. “Sorry, no. I think I’m alright.”

He reached down to pick up the other mug. “This one's for meee.”

“Of course it is.”

He gasped, cradling the side of his face with his palm in mock excitement. “Uh oh. I have an idea. Do you want to spit in mine?”

“I hate this conversation," you sighed. "You’d probably be into that, so I’m gonna say no.”

“Well, how do you know for sure that the cool one is yours?”

You shrugged. “Because I’m cool.”

“You sure about that?”

“And I know you like your coffee black.”

“Touché,” he said, leaning against the wall across from your bed. You both drank your coffee in silence for a few moments.

“Did you bring this from home?” you asked, pointing to the poptart.

“No. I made that lanky muppet go buy me a box.”

You raised your eyebrows. “Wh...Wait, are you talking about Greg?”

“Yeah, I figured I would send Gumby on a little errand since I apparently can’t do that with you anymore. Since you’re—” he made air quotes with his fingers—“quitting.”

“Wait, does he even know how to drive in the UK? How did he even get to a store? We’re miles from—”

“I told him I would make him sleep outside if he didn’t figure out a way to score me some. I have no clue how he got all the way out into the city so fast. Can you believe that? Being tall does have its perks, I guess. His strides had him moving at the speed of light, apparently.”

You gawked at him again, horrified.

Poor, poor Greg.

You dropped the remaining pieces of the poptart on your plate. “I’m not hungry anymore.”

“Oh come on, it’s funny. Don’t let his efforts be in vain.” He took a big gulp of coffee. “Anyway. I was thinking...”

“Why are you dressed like that?” you asked.

“Like what?”

“Like a fitness influencer.”

“I was getting to that. Don’t interrupt me.”

You leaned your head back and groaned.

“Okay, drama. Calm down. We’re all supposed to go golfing this morning, but I hate golf. I'm pretty sure you do, too. You told me once. So I thought maybe we could, like. I don’t know. Pretend to go for a run like we usually do? Talk? Only if it’s not going to cut into your busy schedule, of course. Ms. Newly Unemployed.”

“Roman, what could you possibly want to talk about? If you’re going to try and convince me to stay, don’t waste your time.”

“I was thinking we could get to know each other, at least a little bit. That way, I would know what to put in your reference letter when you blow this popsicle stand.”

“Yeah. Like you would write the letter yourself,” you mused. "Like you even could. You can't even reply to an email in a timely manner."

“Hey!”

“Fine. It’s not like I’ve got anything better to do. Like I said, I missed my flight and am feeling like a total idiot. Bet you’re really getting off on that one.”

He stared at you for a few seconds, like he was thinking carefully about what to say next.

“What?” you asked.

He sighed. “I’m not getting off on it as much as you might think.”

You raised your eyebrows.

“I don’t know how you perceive me exactly, but I have a general idea. And I know this might come as a shock, but like I said, I’m really not that bad. I mean, okay. I am. I am. But not in every situation, not always. I’ll have you know, I do have my moments.”

“Yeah? When?”

“Right now, maybe? Look, I brough—”

“Brought me breakfast. Yeah. I can see that.”

“Which I still haven’t gotten a proper thank you for, by the way.”

“I’ll give you a proper thank you when you give me a proper apology.”

“Fine. Okay, I’m sorry I was a little unreasonable with you yesterday. I’m sorry I, uh…manhandled you when we were getting into the car. Or tried to. Like, really, really tried.You’re pretty strong, you know that?”

“Is that all?” you asked, cocking your head to one side.

“And I’m sorry for what I said about you and Kendall. And calling you names. I didn’t mean it. That about covers it, right?”

“And?”

“...being a dick?”

You considered not even bringing it up, but since you decided to quit your job, you simply did not care anymore.

“Aren’t you sorry that you lied to me?”

“Wait, what?” he asked, on the verge of laughter. “I didn’t lie to you. Lie to you about what?”

Your conversation with Kendall rang loud and clear in your ears.

“It’s so good to see you. I wish you could’ve been on the flight with us, but I know you got held up. Work comes first.”

Work comes first? What did that have to do with there not being enough seats on the jet?

“Got held up?”

“Yeah, Roman told us you guys were swamped.”

“I…I mean, yeah. I’m always busy, but we flew separately because Roman told me there wasn’t enough room on the plane for us.”

“I’m sorry. What did you just say?”

“Yeah, he said there were some issues with the seats. A few of them needed to be repaired, so there wasn’t enough space for everyone.”

“Are you…oh my god,” Kendall scoffed. “Oh my fucking god.”

“Ken, I don’t—”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

“Roman, why did we fly here separate from everybody else?”

Roman choked on his coffee, making him stop to clear his throat. “I already told you, there wasn’t enough space for our sparkling personalities on Dad's favorite plane.”

“Not enough space?”

“Yep.”

“You sure about that?”

“Look, no matter what evocative bullshit you send my way this morning, you can’t change my mind. I’ve already decided. I want to make things up to you. So, if you’re upset that I maybe told a little white lie, I’m sorry.”

“So you did lie, then?”

He eyed you sheepishly.

“Sort of. How did you figure it out?"

“I don’t get it. Of all things, why would you lie about that?”

“I don’t know, maybe it had something to do with me not wanting to hang out with my family in a torture chamber for hours? What if we crashed? You think I wanna die surrounded by a bunch of scorpions?”

“They’re your family!”

“Unfortunately."

“If the two of us crashed together, you’d have died alongside someone that doesn’t even like you. How is that more appealing?”

"Oh, how you wound me," he said flatly. “That may be so, but you don’t annoy me. Not to mention, you only sting me if I sting you first. It’s refreshing.”

You didn’t have the mental bandwidth to analyze that one this morning.

“Alright, fine. But your apology tour isn’t quite over yet.”

“You do know I don’t have to apologize to you at all, don’t you? You’re leaving. You’re basically nothing to me.”

“And yet, here you are.”

“What can I say? I’m just such a nice guy.”

You both stared at each other for a second before launching into hysterics.

Roman sighed as you both attempted to stop cackling. “You know this is the most you’ve smiled at me in…like, ever? Is that poptart really that good?”

“I just feel relieved is all.”

“And why is that?”

“Why do you think?” you asked. "I'm finally freeing myself from your reign of tyranny."

"Do you really hate me that much?" he asked, setting down his mug. “We have fun sometimes, don't we? I mean, we got into a blowout argument yesterday and now we're totally fine. Even when we argue, I still don't feel like we're enemies. And believe me, I have a lot of those. Are you sure you want to leave?”

The way he was looking at you was truthfully making you a little sad. But as per usual, he wasn't thinking logically. You were practically attached at the hip every day. Of course there was some level of familiarity between the two of you, even amidst all the chaos. It was easy to mistake for friendship, given how often you were in communication, given how much you did for him. But that was your job.

You had to stop yourself from smiling.

Not anymore, it wasn't.

“Roman, the way we communicate is super dysfunctional. You’ve made me cry multiple times. Yes, I’m sure I want to leave.”

“Ugh," he groaned. "Okay. Look, as far as I'm concerned, you're king shit of fuck mountain right now."

"Excuse me, what?" you laughed.

"What you say goes. Pick a number, I'll increase your salary. Lay out some ground rules. I'm not the most ethically sound person in the world, but I do know how to compromise when it comes to doing what's best for business. And you're probably the only person who can tolerate me, so."

"Roman, I don't think I can come back from yesterday. That was way, way too much. But it's not just you. Last nigh—"

"I was wrong," he interrupted you. "I usually am. Shocker. But here's the thing: you're kind of like...invaluable, to me?" It came out as more of a reluctant question than a statement. His voice was shaky and small as he continued on. "You've, um...helped me a lot. In more ways than one. And I don't want you quitting and just going to work for Kendall again, because I don't really trust him."

"Roman, I can assure you that is not something you will ever have to worry about. Last nigh—"

"Just don't go, please."

You would've been more annoyed with him constantly interrupting you if his voice didn't sound so pitiful, if he didn't look so pitiful. You were caught off guard by the groveling. Not necessarily put off by it, but certainly surprised. This was possibly the most vulnerable you had ever seen him. And the whole breakfast thing; since when did Roman go out of his way to do something deliberately nice for you? It was very obviously to serve his own purposes. He didn't want you to quit, but it didn't seem to come from a bad place.

You had observed him for a second too long, it seemed. He cleared his throat and quickly regained his composure. Just like his kindness, Roman's willingness to be vulnerable also had a very short shelf life.

"If you expect another apology, you can fuck off. And I know you do expect one. But don't actually fuck off, you know what I mean? Out of everybody here, I want you to fuck off the least."

"Wow," you said flatly. "That's amazing."

"I know. I can't believe it, either."

☽

kendall 👀👀

@pearlstiare // @ay0nha // @theladyalicnt // @littleladdty @spacebaby1

#roman roy x reader #roman roy #succession

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whywhaatt · 10 months

Text

"hey i'm bored" (isaacwhy x reader)

word count: 2.028

warnings: smut, unprotected sex, hand kink(kinda), degrading, light choking

a/n: this is my first fic😜 i didnt proof read it yet so hopefully i didn't misspell anything too badly

10 hours. 10 hours of sitting at this desk and playing on my computer. I've gone through almost every app or game that I have downloaded. I've checked every social media, watched the newest uploads of my friends, and I even read a random wikipedia article. It's around 2am now. I need to go to sleep. After turning off my computer, and taking my headset off and hanging it on the monitor, I walk towards my bed and grab my phone from my nightstand.

1:59 AM... god damn. I gotta fix my sleep schedule. Nahhh I know I won't. The lack of sleep is kicking in, it feels like 5 minutes go by of me just staring at my lock screen. Turns out it was just 30 seconds cus my phone automatically turned off. It takes me a minute to realize it, but the only reason I do is cus a notification pops up.

"wassup" - isaac💀

tf... it's 2am?!? Why is he texting me?

isaac: wassup

me: heyy

isaac: sorry it's late. im bored

me: bro i just laid down💀💀

isaac: can i come over? larry and tanner and annoying tf outa me rn

me: telling them you said that🗣️🗣️

isaac: bro pls. ion know if it's cus im tired but y'know how it is. i just need to get out of the house

me: yeah ion care, just let me know when you're here

isaac: bet

That was random, I guess Isaac's coming over now. He's been over before, but not like this. What if something happens? I'm probably just over thinking this. Am I shaved? Yeah, I'll be fine.

isaac: i'm here😜

isaac: weird emoji sorry

"Thanks for letting me come over, I needed to get out of the house" Isaac said, sitting down on my couch.

"Honestly, if I with all of those people I would have to leave all the time. So glad I live alone".

"Yeah well, I love them. It would be weird being away from them after this long of dealing with their shit." Isaac said, "So, what are we going to do"? I didn't think about that. I kinda just panicked for 10 minutes while he was driving here.

"I don't know, we could watch a movie or something?" I ask while tossing him the remote, "Move over, this isn't your apartment. I wanna sit". I sat down not too far away, but Isaac scutched closer and wrapped his free arm around me. His other hand had the remote in it, just scrolling through shit on Hulu.

"YO YOU'VE BEEN WATCHING CHAINSAW MAN"

"GOD ISAAC I HAVE NEIGHBORS"

"Oh shit sorry, I love Chainsaw Man. Have you seen me wearing that mask. I look so good in it man, look here I'll show you-". I had to cut him off.

"Isaac, I've seen the photo like 20 times. As much as I love how you look in it, I'm not looking at it again."

"Shut up and look at it" He holds my chin, forcing me to look at the picture on his phone. Damn. He is hot. I'm speechless. The fact his hand can easily grab my face like this, I wonder what else they can do. Looking up at him, my cheeks start to get hot a little bit. This eye contact is painful. I need this to go to more. My hand goes to the back of his neck, our faces slowly inching towards eachother. There's a pause, almost like we realized what is happening.

I close the distance. Just a light kiss, short and simple, but we both need more. Immediately, Isaac's hand pulls me in.

"God.. I-I need... you" I moan in between kisses. Isaac pulls back, and I whine at the loss of contact.

"What?"

"I can't tell if I'm just tired, but I need you so badly. Please Isaac." I am begging. BEGGING. For this man.

"You're so pathetic." He says right before kissing me again, this time more passionately, and his hand moving towards my neck. He squeezes softly, making sure it wasn't too much for me. I'm a moaning mess.

"Do you want to move to your bed?" Isaac questions before picking me up bridal style and carrying me towards my bedroom. My arms are wrapped around his neck while I'm looking up at him. I'm just looking at his eyes, he's so beautiful. He sets me down by the foot of me bed, so I'm standing with my arms around his neck. I always knew he was taller than me, but the height different is crazy. He looks twice my height, and he's still bending over to kiss me.

"Baby, go lay down. I'll take care of you". I almost moaned when I heard that. The things I would let this man do to me is insane, ever since I've met him the list has been getting longer and longer.

I'm laying down my bed, when suddenly my feet are pulled and my legs are dangling off the side. Isaac takes his sweet time pulling down my Nike shorts, teasing me slightly over my panties. I need him to hurry up and get straight to the point cus this is unbearable. Again, he slowly takes off my panties and just barely touches my pussy. The tiniest bit of contact makes me shiver and whine for more.

And like that, Isaac's eyes look up at me as he starts eating me out. He keeps looking and studying my every reaction until he gets the one he wants out of me. Remember when I asked what his hands could do? Well, I found out. As his tongue is focused on my clit, he slowly puts two fingers into my hole. I have to cover my mouth with my hand so I don't scream.

With his fingers thrusting in and out of me and his tongue working wonders on my clit, I know I won't last long like this. My eyes are stuck shut, with one hand over my mouth and the other holding his hair back. My thighs are practically crushing Isaac's head at this point.

"Isaac, I cant" I'm panting in between moans, "I'm so close". As I finish my sentence, everything stops. I whine and whimper, needing more stimulation.

Isaac moves from below my torso to standing at the foot of my bed. He slips his shirt over his head, leans down and puts me back into the spot I was before. Then continues to undress himself right before me. His body is gorgeous. I cant stop staring at him as he gets on top of me, kissing me softly. I can taste myself on his lips.

He breaks the kiss and slides my shirt over my head, exposing my chest. The cold air hit me all of a sudden, making me shiver for a little bit. It feels weird to be fully exposed to Isaac. The closest we've ever gotten to this is almost kissing on New Year's, but we both realized we've just had a little too much to drink and we backed off. I guess Isaac notices me thinking, cus he stops everything and looks down at me.

"Babe, you okay? You can tell me to stop at anytime, I want you to be comfortable" he says, it was the most serious he's sounded all night (well I guess morning). "We can stop if you'd like, I'm sorry I rushed all of this-"

"No keep going, I just got lost in my thought. Thank you for caring for me, Isaac." I pause my sentence to kiss his lips softly, "I'm having a good time". Isaac nodded and continued kissing my neck, leaving little marks every now and again. His hand creeped up, massaging my left breast, and his mouth making his way towards my right. When his tongue made contact with my nipple, I let out a slight moan and let my eyes close softly. My brain feels fuzzy, probably from the lack of sleep, but I love it. It feels like I'm high, but in the cringy "high on life" way.

"I have a condom in my nightstand" I blurt out, "but I'm on the pill so if you don't have anything you can go without it". His head perks up from my chest, looking almost as excited as a kid in a candy store.

"Really?" he asks excitedly. Yup, exactly like a kid. I nod my head yes and Isaac immediately moves to get himself into position. He lines himself up, looking up at me in my eyes, and slowly inserts himself into me. Both of our mouths fly open, releasing a string of moans and whines. Isaac was bigger than I expected, but he feels so good inside of me.

After a couple of second of staying still so I can get used to his size, Isaac starts to move. My hands move to hold on to Isaac's shoulders as he slowly moves in and out of me. I push his head down to kiss me to try and muffle my moans, but it barely does anything.

"Faster, please, please go faster" I beg, with our faces so close we're practically sharing breathes. His pace speeds up and my head relaxes back into the pillow. I can feel myself getting closer and closer by the second.

The room is filled with random moans or praises from either one of us, not being able to hear anything else. If Isaac didn't wake my neighbors earlier, then they're definitely awake now. Honestly, I could care less if I get a noise complaint.

"Isaac- Oh my- I'm- I'm getting close" I moan out between breathes. His hand moves from behind me to my neck, lightly choking me. My mouth flies open from the new pressure on my neck. Isaac, seeing the opportunity, takes over my mouth. Inserting his tongue and immediately dominates my mouth. I'm being so loud right now, and I don't care.

"Isaac, I'm about to- I'm 'bout to cum. Please Isaac. Oh my god please." I gasp out with the air I have.

"Do it. Cum for me, baby. You're so amazing" Isaac moans into my ear, loosening his grip on my neck a little. My nails digging so far into his back, they could leave scars. My head flies back, eyes rolling to the back of my head, and toes curl. A wave of pleasure rolls over my body as I cum with Isaac still going inside of me.

"Just a little bit more, baby, hold on for me. Please baby, you're doing so good for me." Isaac lets out as his hand lets go to steady himself on the bed, getting the pace back to how he needs it. While overstimulated, I try my best to hold tight for Isaac.

He's close. I can tell. Not too much longer, Isaac comes inside of me. All of his body weight crushed on top of me, feeling like a weighted blanket. A wave of praises came out of Isaac as he caught his breathe.

"Let's get you cleaned up"

After we took a very, very long and slow shower together, we laid down in bed together just cuddling.

"The house is asking where I'm at, Imma tell them I'm staying here for the night if thats okay with you" Isaac asks.

"Yeah, it's perfectly fine." I reply, "Random question, well two actually."

"Hit me."

"Okay so one: did you mean for this to end up like this? And was this technically a booty call or whatever?"

"Okay, first off I'm not liked that. But I realize it looks like it. Nah, I just wanted to hang out with you. It was just one of those late night and I'm bored situations"

"Okay, great, umm and two: what does this make us now?"

"Wow, umm.. hard question. I don't know. What do you want to be?"

"Maybe more than friends, I really like you Isaac." I confess, just staring into his eyes through the dark. He leans in and kisses me.

"Will you be with me?"

a/n: i hope you liked this:P my requests are currently open so make sure to leave some if you have any!!

#isaacwhy #x reader #isaacwhy x reader #isaacwhy x you #the group x reader #the group chat #gamersupps #youtube #smut #choking #unprotected sex #light choking #headcanon #friends to lovers #aftercare

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mamoonde · 27 days

Text

i really really really love the idea of wei wuxian revolutionizing modern cultivation over breakfast and conceptualizing these different theories simultaneously because the adhd brain has no brakes and the only reason it took him a decade to publish all these ideas was because he could not stick to a single train of thought long enough to finish (verbalizing) it, let alone put it down on paper coherently.

the only reason he even got to publishing them eventually (and enrolling to cultivation theory grad program to get on that track) was because one morning, his undergrad thesis advisor, lan qiren, finally got fed up and sat him down for an early morning progress check-in because it was midterm season and wei wuxian still hadn't decided on a topic.

wei wuxian, fueled by an unhealthy amount of redbull and three all-nighters, finally word vomits all his 'convoluted' ideas which he'd thought were uselessly obvious and redundant (because he's gone over these like a bajillion times, it's very plain-as-day to him, so he probably just hasn't read the articles that say these exact things).

lan qiren, teacup frozen halfway to his mouth: ...first of all, i only understood half of how you got to these conclusions, which only means they are indeed too convoluted and will need to be pared down; secondly: you have never mentioned any of these ideas before. why.

wei wuxian: oh. haven't i? oh well, i just thought, xyz, because, obviously, abcde. which is really what the 2 centuries old law on ghjkl was alluding to, right? and so, logically, xyz.

lan qiren: [mind blown, screaming, good gods this is the same child who's always tardy and spent freshman year pulling on the metaphorical pigtails of my straight-laced nephew?!?!??!??!?!] ..again, why...how have you never even spoken or submitted these ideas?

wei wuxian: because!!! they're so obvious!! surely, it's been published somewhere already? i can't be the only one to connect these dots, surely??

lan qiren: incredibly, you are. no one else has even thought to question tradition nor pursued more thoughts on the law of ghjkl, with half as much...sound arguments as you seem to have. in the past century, the focus of modern cultivation has tended towards practical uses and tools, some fine-tuning, perhaps. not entirely new theories.

wei wuxian: huh....

lan qiren, sighing, feeling a migraine: your problem with your thesis is not a lack of focus or ingenuity, but likely to be more a lack of recent, evidentiary sources. you will need to become very familiar with the university archives and dig deep for sources that will back up every argument you make.

he jots down notes on a paper. "you will also need to strictly adhere to the structure and methodology of these articles, especially given how radical your thesis will be. if you are diligent enough, you may just be able to submit your thesis without too much of a delay." he slides the list of materials to a gaping wei wuxian. "depending on your output then, we can discuss the possibility of submitting this for peer review."

"peer review." wei wuxian repeats. "as in, that thing where some uppity committee of old coots put their stamp of approval for it to become the reading materials of undergrads like me. you're joking."

lan qiren chooses to ignore the sentiment about peer review committees being uppity old coots, especially considering how he can't completely deny it on account of some of his colleagues, but also as a member said peer review committee, he isn't exactly pleased about being lumped in the same category.

wei wuxian backtracks at his unamused look. "right, you're not joking, of course you're not." he slowly inches the list towards himself. "right, yes, i guess i'll uh, get to it then. ok bye."

----

idk, just, waves hand at wei wuxian candidly explaining new modern cultivation theories over cheerios at 2 in the afternoon to lwj who's trying to help him structure his grad thesis, getting mind blow dick hard at how this messy genius who's talking with his mouth full of half eaten cereal is the object of his affection....

wwx: --oh, oops, your highlighter fell

lwj: mn

wwx: ...aren't you gonna get that?

lwj: it's fine; i'll pick it up later. finish your thought.

wwx: right... i'll pick it up for you!

lwj, fighting for his life, trying to think unsexy thoughts: NO! sit. finish your meal, and then your thought.

#big brain wei wuxian #wei wuxian #genius wwx #in an interview for modern cultivation magazine he's asked: how do you do it?#wwx: adhd!#also a dedicated partner who tolerates your midnight rambling about spiritual energy and entertains your endless what ifs scenarios #bonus points if your partner is lwj who has amazing notetaking skills and a phd in decoding wei wuxian notes #wangxian #mdzs #modern cultivation au #also i love a supportive mentor lqr dont you #a mellowed out lqr who has a little more tolerance for radical ways of thought as long as theyre rooted in morality and good will #mamoonde short fics

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octoberclidan · 1 year

Text

You're Not a Burden

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Reader (she/her) has been distant from both Sam and Dean recently. Dean goes to her apartment to find that reader has been struggling with her mental health. He brings her back to the bunker and makes her let him and Sam take care of her.

Note: this was written by myself for myself; there are probably mistakes. My first language is English but I'm not American, so it may sound weird in places if you happen to be American reading it. If you do happen to come across this and spend time reading it, I hope you enjoy it somewhat!

Masterlist

Story:

Dean made his way from the bunker's kitchen to the library, hoping to find Sam and see if there were any possible cases. They'd only just finished up a case the day before, but they were on a winning streak and Dean wanted to get as many wins in as he could while their luck lasted.

"So get this". Music to Dean's ears. Sam was staring intently at his laptop screen, and Dean walked over to look at the screen over Sam's shoulder.

"A couple were found dead in this abandoned house, I had a look back at the history and turns out there's a pattern. A couple has died in that house every six years going back to 1953". Sam explained while he was scrolling through a news article. "Think maybe [Y/N] would want to tag along for this? I know she's been busy the last few cases, but this sounds like a ghost to me and she's good with those".

Dean nodded in agreement. "Yeah, yeah I'll call her. Haven't seen her in awhile anyway, it would be good to catch up and see what she's been so busy with".

"You miss her don't you?" Sam smirked at him.

"What? Sure, of course I miss her when she's not around. Like Cas, or Jody, or... or Garth"

"You miss [Y/N] like you miss Garth?"

"Shut up". Sam still had a knowing smirk on his face and Dean glared at him. He enjoyed spending time with her when she joined them on hunts. They had first met on a ghost case several years back, Dean had instantly started to hit on her, and they developed a very flirty friendship but had never done anything. She often helped them on hunts, especially ghost hunts, but she also just hung out with them a lot too. She had watched movies with Dean, documentaries with Sam, sparred with both of them and researched with them. At least, she used to. They had been seeing less and less of her recently, she always seemed to be busy whenever Dean tried to call or text her.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and called her, but it rang out. He tried again, and to his surprise she answered.

"Hi Dean". She sounded quieter, less energetic than usual.

"Hey Sweetheart, Sam and I think we have a possible ghost case, do you want in?"

"Oh I'm actually busy with something, but if you guys run into trouble just let me know".

"Are you okay [Y/N]? You don't really sound like yourself".

"Yeah I'm fine".

"Maybe after we're back you could come over to the bunker for a movie night? We haven't had one in months".

"Yeah, I have to go now, good luck and say hi to Sam". [Y/N] hung up on Dean before waiting for a response from him. Sam raised an eyebrow at Dean's confused expression.

"She just said she was busy again".

"Huh, think everything's okay?" Asked Sam, his expression turning to one of concern.

"You think maybe she's seeing someone?"

"What like dating? Would that bother you?"

Dean scoffed, trying to hide the answer that was probably written on his face. The truth was that it would definitely bother him. Although he and [Y/N] had never gone past flirting, he knew he had stronger feelings for her.

***

The hunt was successful, and the boys were back in the bunker within two days of leaving. Dean had texted [Y/N] while on the case asking for advice on an aspect of the case that he didn't really need advice on, but she hadn't answered him. Sam noticed him checking his phone at any chance he got, and Dean was noticeably distracted on the drive home.

"Dude why don't you just go see her?" Sam said as they walked down the bunker's staircase.

"What?"

"[Y/N], you know her address, it's only a 40 minute drive away. If you're that worried about her just go see her, I don't need you that distracted on a hunt, you almost let the ghost throw you through a window because you were checking your phone. In an abanded house, with the EMF reader going off, lights flickering, cold air, the whole works, you had your salt gun down by your side and were checking your phone!"

"Whatever Sammy". Dean rolled his eyes and made for the showers.

Dean walked from the shower back to his bedroom. Before even taking off his towel and getting dressed he checked his phone. Nothing from [Y/N]. He texted her again, asking if she was up for that movie night at the bunker. After getting dressed he checked his phone, no answer. He sat on his bed staring at his phone for a few minutes before calling her, but it rang out. Not being able to take the silence anymore, he grabbed his keys, stormed past Sam and got straight into the Impala, setting off for [Y/N]'s apartment. He needed to know that she was alive at least.

***

[Y/N] heard her phone buzzing for the fourth or fifth time that day, but ignored it again. She was tucked into her bed, and had been since the previous day. She had barely left her apartment at all in the last month, only really venturing out once or twice when she had finally run out of food. She felt tired, drained, and unmotivated. She hadn't hunted, hadn't met up with any of her friends, and just spent most days in bed either half paying attention to her TV or aimlessly scrolling through her phone. Any time someone tried to contact her over the last couple of months she had told them she was 'busy', not wanting to go through the effort of showering, dressing properly, and putting on a show. Over the last few days she had stopped responding altogether. The last person she had spoken to was two days ago when Dean asked her if she wanted to go on a ghost hunt, a conversation that lasted less than a minute.

She didn't know or care what the time was or how long she had been in bed that day, and was about to doze off again when the doorbell rang. The unexpected noise made her freeze. She waited a couple of minutes, trying to listen for further noise when there was a loud knock on the front door. Grabbing the gun on her bedside table, she slowly made her way out to the door. She stood up on her toes to look through the peephole and felt relief when she saw Dean Winchester standing on the other side. He looked agitated, and about two minutes away from kicking the door in. Before he had a chance, [Y/N] unlocked it and opened it just enough for her to show half of her face.

Dean paled when he saw her. She had severe bags under her eyes, she had obviously lost weight, her hair was all tangled and her clothes were creased, she had definitely slept in them.

"Dean?" Her voice was only slightly above a whisper.

"Sweetheart" Dean sighed, face full of concern. "Can you let me in please?"

[Y/N] just nodded and opened the door farther, stepping back to let Dean come in. He closed the door behind him and put his hands on her shoulders, slightly crouching down to get to her level and look her in the eyes. "Talk to me". He pleaded with her.

"I'm just tired Dean". She was avoiding eye contact, looking down and focusing her attention on nervously intertwining her fingers together.

"[Y/N] this is not just tiredness. When was the last time you ate? Brushed your hair? Left your apartment?"

"I don't know".

"Okay, you're coming back to the bunker now."

"No wait, Dean-"

"You're coming, no excuses, you're not busy, you just need a bit of help to get back on track".

"I don't want to be a burden. I'm just feeling a bit sad, I'll get over it, you can just leave me here".

"Yeah, that's not gonna happen. You're not a burden. Think of all those times you've helped me get through things, or Sam? It's okay to need to lean on us sometimes [Y/N], but you have to be honest with us, okay? No saying you're busy when you're actually feeling down from now on. You can be vulnerable around me, I already know you're a badass hunter, you've nothing to prove to me. Let me help you get your strength back". Dean grabbed her hand and opened the door, pulling her out of the apartment and down to the impala. He opened the passenger door for her before going around to the driver's side.

***

The drive back to the bunker was quiet. Dean would glance over to [Y/N] occasionally and each time would be shocked at how run down she looked. She was still beautiful to him, but he would much prefer a healthier look. When they got back he led the way down the stairs of the bunker, Sam looking up at them from the map table.

"Hey [Y/N], long time no see! How are... hey are you okay?" Sam stood up once he got a better look at [Y/N], just as surprised as Dean was at her appearance.

[Y/N] just nodded at him and tried to hide slightly behind Dean, not wanting anyone else to see her like this.

"Come on, you're gonna have a bubble bath and then you're going to watch a movie with me and Sam." Sam smiled sadly at her as they passed him, Dean holding her hand and leading her to the bathroom. She sat down on the closed toilet seat while Dean began drawing a bath, making as many bubbles as he could. No one had ever looked after her like this, her heart swelled at Dean's attitude towards her this evening. He hadn't made her feel embarrassed about how he'd found her or how she was acting, he really just wanted to help her.

"Right, that should be nice and hot. You get out of those clothes and get yourself comfortable in there okay? Don't lock the door, I'll be back in a bit with some clean clothes for you. You can use the soap there on the side of the bath. I'll get Sam to set up one of the bedrooms for you. You're going to stay here with us until we all agree that you're really alright." [Y/N] nodded in understanding, too tired to refuse, and Dean left, closing the door behind him.

The bath water was a perfect temperature, and once she lay down there were enough bubbles to completely cover her. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes for a few seconds, just letting herself enjoy something for once, before picking up the bar of soap and getting to work. True to his word, Dean was back with a pile of neatly folded clothes. He left them on the counter and kneeled down next to her, something black in his hand. Holding it up to her, she could see it was a hairbrush.

"Let's tackle this tangle of hair will we?" He smiled softly at her. "Sam said we could use some of his special conditioner that he keeps hidden under the sink". He winked and leaned over to grab it. "Can you lean forward for me a bit?"

"You don't have to detangle my hair Dean, I can do it myself".

"I know you can, but I would like you to let me do this for you".

[Y/N] gave in and turned her back to Dean, giving him better access to the mess on her head. He scooped up some water with his hands and poured it onto her head, dampening her hair. He then squeezed some of Sam's conditioner out into his hand and began gently threading it through [Y/N]'s hair. He used his fingers to untangle the worst of it, working from the ends and making his way up to her scalp. Once he got to the top of her head he began massaging her scalp, and [Y/N] couldn't help but close her eyes and lean back into his hands. He smiled at this, comforted by the fact that he was able to make her relax and feel good.

After a few minutes Dean added some more conditioner to her hair and picked up the hairbrush. He began to gently brush through her hair, now focusing on only the few small tangles that were left. They didn't speak, but the silence wasn't awkward, it was comfortable for both of them. [Y/N] felt both vulnerable and safe there with Dean, just letting him take care of her.

Once Dean had rinsed her hair he noticed that the bubbles were starting to die down, and the water was getting cooler. Not wanting to expose [Y/N] or make her cold, he decided to stand up and let her get dressed. "There's a clean towel here for you, and I've left some clothes on the counter. They're gonna be too big for you so make sure roll up the pants so you don't trip. You just take your time and when you're finished make your way to the Dean Cave okay? I'll get Sam to go get some food from that diner you like and I'll be setting up for the movie". With that, he closed the door behind him.

[Y/N] dried herself off and picked up the clothes that Dean had left her; an old t-shirt, one of his warmer looking flannels, a pair of his boxers, and pyjama bottoms. They were all loose on her, but definitely comfortable. She smiled when she noticed that the flannel smelled like Dean, the first time she had managed a smile in weeks. It felt like she was being hugged by him.

When she got to the Dean Cave, it was all set up ready for a movie. Dean looked up from his position on the couch and smiled at her when she walked in. He had loaned her a flannel before on cases, but seeing her entirely dressed in his clothes gave him a sense of warmth and comfort. "Hey Sweetheart, feeling a bit better?"

"Definitely cleaner and fresher, thank you Dean".

"No need to thank me". He patted the space beside him, motioning for her to take it. [Y/N] sat down a bit stiffly, not leaning back on the couch. "What is it Sweetheart?"

"It's just my hair is wet, if I lean against the couch it will dry kinda weirdly flattened on the back of my head".

Dean moved his thighs apart from each other. "Come on, sit down on the floor, I'll braid it for you".

[Y/N] raised an eyebrow, starting to feel a bit amused at this gesture. "You know how to braid hair?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "Charlie taught me, said it would be good to know if I ever finally managed to get a girlfriend or something". [Y/N] couldn't help put giggle at imagining Charlie trying to teach Dean how to braid hair, but she took his offer and sat down on the floor between his legs. Just like when he washed her hair, Dean was very gentle. He combed her hair back with his fingers and began to get to work.

"So do... do you ever like, want that?"

"Want what Sweetheart?"

"You know, a girlfriend".

Dean paused for a moment to think before continuing the braid. "I don't know how a girlfriend would work in this life. I don't want to bring anyone into the world of hunting, you know?"

"Yeah I get that. So what about someone already in that world?"

"I gue-"

"Hey guys, I got our food, movie ready to go?" Sam interrupted Dean as he came in with a bag from the diner, setting it down on the table Dean had set out in front of the couch. "Comfortable there [Y/N]?" Sam looked down at her.

"Hey Sam, did you know Dean could braid hair? He's actually pretty good at it". Dean had finished the braid and was now resting his hands on her shoulders, absentmindedly rubbing them.

Sam chuckled "I didn't know that, no. You feeling any better?"

"Yeah a little, let's see what food you got though". She stood up to open up the bag. Once they all had their food out in front of them, and [Y/N] had sat back between the two brothers, the movie night began.

***

[Y/N] had been staying in the bunker for five days when Dean knocked on her open door. She was sitting up on her bed reading through one of the library's many books on ghosts. She was feeling a lot better than she had been. She no longer felt like showering or getting out of bed were chores. She was eating proper meals with the boys every day, going out for walks with Sam, and even helped Dean clean Baby. She was starting to feel very content, and the Winchesters were starting to feel like a family to her.

"Hey, what you reading?"

[Y/N] closed the old book and held it up so Dean could see the cover. "I found this book on cases of ghosts from the 18th century, it's pretty interesting". She smiled at him.

"Well, speaking of ghosts, Sam thinks he's found one not too far from here. Please say no if you're not feeling up to it, we can call Garth to check it out, but if you're feeling well enough, fancy joining myself and Sam?"

[Y/N] nodded at him. "I think it's time to get back out there, though might leave the heavy lifting to you and Sam?"

"Of course, just come out and meet us in the library when you're ready"

"Dean?" [Y/N] called to him while he was turning to leave the room, he turned back around and caught her gaze. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure, go ahead". Dean walked over and sat on the end of her bed.

"I just wanted to say thank you for coming to get me. I was in a dark place and you saved me". Dean squeezed her leg comfortingly. "And I just wanted to ask, when do you want me to go back home?"

"Actually I was going to talk to you about that after the hunt. Sam and I talked it over and this room is yours. You can stay for as long as you like. If you want to split your time between your apartment and here that would be cool, or if you just wanna stay here, the bunker can be your home".

"Really? You wouldn't mind me being here?"

"Really". Dean leaned over and kissed [Y/N] on her forehead. When he leaned back he saw that her eyes were closed. There were no dark circles under them anymore, and she didn't look so gaunt either. She looked beautiful. Before he could change his mind, Dean titled his head slightly and pressed his lips to hers. [Y/N]'s eyes shot open in surprise, and she found Dean's were closed. She kissed him back and slid a hand up behind his neck. Dean deepened the kiss and grabbed her hip with one hand, his other still on her leg. He ran his tongue across her bottom lip and she opened her mouth, letting him in. He pushed forward causing her to fall back onto the bed, and he crawled over on top of her without breaking the kiss. Their hands roamed each other's arms and sides before eventually they broke for air. Dean smiled down and at her and she smiled up at him.

"I would definitely like a girlfriend who was already in the hunting life".

The end

#dean x y/n #dean winchester #dean winchester fluff #supernatural #dean winchester comfort #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #sam winchester #comfort #dean fluff

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freezingmcxn · 2 months

Note

Hey, I was curious, I read the Toby Roger’s personality analysis and was wondering what you think some of his voice lines would be… like the when hunting victims, being annoyed, anything, just something to help visualize what he would be like in a conversation. Thanks!

TOBY ROGERS

Hello :)

My fanfiction portrays Toby in a “realistic” / “canon” way, I use reference to his real personality. So I took these excerpts from it so you can better understand how I see him acting and talking in conversations!

If you want to read it here is the link. Let me know your opinions on it!! I’m still working on more chapters.

"I've disembowelled a bunch of people," he said casually.

"You get a knife and slit their stomach," he explained, as he mimed the action with his hand as if he was a live Tv cooking host demonstrating how to accurately fillet your salmon.

”Top to bottom!,” he looked at you every so often making sure you were listening.

”This parts a bit wet and squishy but, then you put your hand in-,”

He was cut off by Jack, who had abruptly spoken up.

"What?" Toby said in response, giggling in a manic way that sent chills down your spine.

"Scared?" He laughed again, and you sighed in exasperation as you sat down on a log, wanting nothing more than for someone to come clean and explain exactly what was going on.

”Fast food tonight Jack?” The voice responded, it’s maniacal laughter filling your ears.

You stepped back and bumped into a brunette young man who was of the same height as you.

"Is it cause you wanna write about me in your shitty news article?" Toby suddenly laughed, his smile growing even wider.

”Twitchy bastard murders hundreds?” he squeezed you close to his side.

"We're all fucked up, what cliche trauma did you face? Daddy left, abused you maybe? Did Mommy die or is she a drug addict?" Toby rambled.

His joking tone was completely gone, replaced by a more serious and almost agitated demeanour. "You'll get nowhere with this stupid f*cking investigating," he continued.

“Don’t think I wouldn’t kill you right here and hang you from a lamp post” he whispered menacingly his tics getting worse as his emotions increased.

But before you could utter a word, Toby spoke up, his manic grin returning as he laughed loudly.

"Cheer up buttercup, I'm just kidding nothing personal," he said with a chuckle, his demeanour changing to a more laid-back and jovial manner.

“Fancy seeing you f-fuckers he-re.” A sudden voice yelled down from above you, which made you jump and let out a loud cry, Jack jumped to his feet in reaction to you.

8. My favourite one lmao

“I may be delusional but I have f-fucking ey-eyes” Toby said through gritted teeth.

#ticci toby headcanons #toby rogers #hcs #creepypasta #creepypasta fandom #realistic #alternate universe #headcanons requests #moon responds #fanfic #quotev

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in-death-we-fall · 2 months

Text

Out Of The Shadows

Since his shock exit from Slipknot, Joey Jordison has remained silent. For the first time, he opens up about the split, the debilitating condition that left him unable to walk, and how he's been reborn anew

Words: Dom Lawson • Pics: Travis Shinn

Metal Hammer 285 - August 2016 (google drive link) Full disclosure I pasted the main article from Metal Hammer's awful awful website because my hands are sad (from doing things like this, yes. Don't keep doing things if they hurt, yes even if you're super super excited about a guy.)

There is life after death. First, there’s Hell.

When the news first broke that Joey Jordison was no longer in Slipknot, it sent shockwaves around the world. Here was this icon of our world and one of the founding members of one of the greatest bands to emerge in all of 30 years suddenly, inexplicably gone. In the heavy wake of Paul Gray’s passing it seemed almost too great a blow for any band, even one with nine members. Anyone who knows their travails understands that they’re less a band and more like a dysfunctional family – had their problems caught up with them? But reappear they did, to the sound of a rapturously received album, and the three-ring circus of Knotfest, and yet still questions remained about the circumstances of Joey’s departure. Slipknot were tightlipped, and Joey? It was anyone’s guess.

I’m humbled to say that we now have Joey’s side of the story, and this month’s world-exclusive journey to Des Moines is one of the most powerful, saddening and inspirational stories you’ll read in these pages. Sure, there are the new records – Vimic and Sinsaeneum (sic) herald one of our world’s greatest musicians returning to the fold and from the sound of things we’ve some tremendous records ahead of us.

More importantly though, we have one of metal’s greatest figures back, and we couldn’t be more delighted to see him back on his feet – literally. To read Dom Lawson’s tale of a man who’s truly been there and back again, see p.38. Make sure you’re sitting down, because Travis Shinn’s remarkable photography is as stark as it it worth not one, but over 3,000 words.

Thank you for reading, and… Stay metal! Alex, Editör-In-Chief

Out Of The Shadows

Words: Dom Lawson • Pics: Travis Shinn

Joey Jordison unmasked: the ultimate interview

Part One - Revelation

“This is very important to me. You’re getting something that I have not told anyone. It’s very emotional. It’s fucking hardcore, man.”

Joey Jordison has got a few things to get off his chest. More importantly, the world has got a few questions for the erstwhile Slipknot alumnus and the 21st century’s most celebrated percussive polymath, not least because he has been resolutely off the radar for the last few years.

The last time Metal Hammer spoke directly to Joey, he was promoting his then-newly-formed band Scar The Martyr, who released their self-titled debut album in September 2013. Three months later, he was seemingly dismissed from Slipknot, the band he had enjoyed huge global success with ever since they exploded into our world back in 1999.

Since that startling news broke in December 2013, Joey has been conspicuous by his absence from our ears, eyes and screens. This being the age of endless social media speculation, his disappearance and departure from Slipknot have been widely discussed online, one commonly espoused theory being that the diminutive drummer had gone spectacularly off the rails and was simply unable to fulfill his usual duties, thus prompting his bandmates’ decision to effect an unexpected lineup change.

In truth, only Joey’s closest friends and business associates know what he’s been up to for the last couple of years, but as he warmly greets Hammer at the door of the house he shares with girlfriend Amanda in Des Moines, it’s immediately apparent that today’s interview is much more than just an opportunity to herald the arrival of not one, but two new bands and Joey’s wholesale return to action. Instead, this is what he describes as “an opportunity to tell everyone what the fuck has been going on”. And it’s almost certainly not what anyone is expecting.

“It was at the end of the memorial shows we did for Paul,” Joey begins, referencing the death of bandmate Paul Gray and the subsequent world tour that began in the summer of 2011 and continued until August 2012. “We were in Canada, at the end of my last run of shows with Slipknot, and something happened to me but I didn’t know what it was. I was super ill. You can be sick and still play, but this was something I’d never felt in my life before.

“We found out that what I have is acute transverse myelitis. It’s a neurological condition that hits your spinal cord and it wiped my legs out completely. It’s like having your legs cut off, basically. I played those last couple of shows and it scared the living shit out of me. I didn’t know what it was. Everyone thought I was fucked up, but it wasn’t the case. I wasn’t even drinking. Everything was straight-laced and fucking perfect. Everything was on point. But I had to be carried to the stage…”

Joey pauses, wincing at the memory. “The pain was something I’d never experienced in my life before, and I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.”

When he arrived home from the Slipknot tour, Joey could barely walk. On August 21, 2012, he was admitted to Mercy West hospital in Des Moines, diagnosed with some form of leg paralysis but unaware of exactly how or why this was happening to him. Ten days later, he was transferred to the neurological unit at University Of Iowa Hospital in Iowa City, understandably terrified and extremely confused about his physical deterioration.

“It was fucking bad, dude,” he recalls. “My lady has everything documented. I got struck with this fucking thing that I couldn’t control. The doctors said I might not be able to walk again. Today, I can almost run, but back then I couldn’t even stand up. I was bed-ridden. If I wanted to turn over in bed, I had to move my legs with my hands. I was in and out of the hospital for months.

“Some beautiful people have helped me out and got me back stronger and taught me how to walk again, but at that moment my whole life was screwed, man. Acute transverse myelitis is a fucked-up disease and a lot of people don’t recover from it and they’re paralysed forever.”

After having braces fitted to prevent his weakened legs from buckling, Joey was finally discharged from hospital in October 2012. Thus began an extremely lengthy, challenging and physically exhausting regime of physical and occupational therapy, as Joey tried to summon the energy and determination to beat the bizarre neurological condition that had wrenched the carpet from under his feet and left him both horribly vulnerable and understandably bewildered.

Early in 2013, work began on Scar The Martyr’s debut album, as a further batch of Slipknot shows in Japan and Europe – including a headline slot at Download – loomed over the horizon. Still recovering from the worst of his illness, Joey somehow managed to recover to the point where he was able to perform at those gigs, after which he threw himself wholeheartedly into launching Scar The Martyr by hitting the road as main support to Danzig in the US.

All the while, of course, his global army of admirers remained entirely in the dark about the turmoil and trials going on behind the scenes. It was widely noted that Joey was looking overweight and far from healthy during Scar The Martyr’s debut UK tour, but the conclusions that most people were jumping to – in essence, that he had a problem with drugs and/or drink – were completely off target. Unfortunately, when Slipknot announced on December 12, 2013, that they were to forge ahead without their talismanic drummer, those rumours seemed to gain a little extra momentum.

“Yeah, and that’s why I love being able to do this interview, because finally I get to tell the fucking truth!” Joey declares. “It’s been really frustrating, but I can only bless the people that have been around me and helped me to get back to this point. And this is what I want to clarify for my fans…” – he punches his hand to emphasise the importance of this statement – “…it had nothing to do with fucking drugs or fucking alcohol!”

Several times during our interview, Joey’s eyes fill with tears. It’s abundantly clear that the extraordinary effort required to confront acute transverse myelitis and doggedly chase a light at the end of a seriously dark and bleak tunnel has taken a lot out of him, particularly on an emotional level. But now that he is about to click into top gear once again, via new bands Vimic and Sinsaenum, Joey is channeling his energies towards a cathartic clearing of the decks, and setting people straight about his life over the last five years is top of the agenda.

“Life takes you on weird trips and you just have to hold on, ride the wave and be as strong as you fucking can,” he shrugs. “I’ve been through so much fucking shit over the last few years and people just don’t know.”

Part Two - Struggle

The news that Joey had seemingly been sacked from Slipknot came as a huge shock to everyone, even without the additional knowledge of his devastating health problems. From the band’s enormous fanbase, through to many of us in the metal world that have always known him to be, at the very least, a wholly dedicated and passionate member of that 18-legged, arena-smashing entity, it was a wildly unexpected turn of events.

The band’s own public statements at the time took a predictably passive course, the relatively benign implication being that Joey and his former comrades were simply heading in different creative directions and could no longer work together effectively.

On January 2, 2014, he made his own statement on Facebook, making it plain that as far as he was concerned, there was no mutual agreement and he had been fired from Slipknot for reasons unknown.

“I was laying in bed with my lady, I’d been in rehabilitation for my health issues but everything was good, and the next thing I know…” he pauses, visibly upset. “No band meeting? None. Anything from management? No, nothing. All I got was a stupid fucking email saying that I was out of the band that I busted my ass my whole life to fucking create, you know?

“It was the weirdest fucking thing. I can’t imagine just sending Corey or Shawn or Mick a fucking letter, without a band meeting. We’re friends and we’ve been through so much shit together, but that was all it was, a fucking letter. That’s exactly what happened and it was hurtful, man. I didn’t deserve that shit after what I’d done and everything I’d been through.”

In light of revelations about his state of health at the time, it does seem an unusually abrupt way to bring such a longstanding partnership to an end. Joey even claims to have written and demoed a batch of new material, aided by Slipknot’s then-touring bassist Donnie Steele, and circulated it among his bandmates in an attempt to get the compositional ball rolling. But, according to the drummer, no one got back to him to discuss the new songs: subtle evidence, perhaps, that wires were distinctly crossed.

“They got confused about my health issues, and obviously even I didn’t know what it was at first,” Joey sighs. “They thought I was fucked-up on drugs, which I wasn’t at all. I don’t blame them for being concerned, but when you’re friends and you’ve been through so much stuff, you fucking talk to each other. But I harbour no bad feelings toward them at all, because I’ve moved on with my life. I’m happier than I’ve been in years. You need to move on, close the fucking chapter and, in the end, it is what it is.”

It is a testament to the positive way Joey has endeavoured to overcome his severe health problems that today, even after having been unceremoniously ejected from one of the biggest metal bands on the planet, he is hearteningly sanguine about the way things have turned out.

During our conversation, he repeatedly declares how grateful he is for the friends, family and life that he has, and even when discussing the end of his tenure as Slipknot’s drummer, he is eager to state how much he still loves and admires his former bandmates. What is perhaps more surprising is that Joey not only made a point of checking out .5: The Gray Chapter, the album Slipknot made without him and released in 2014, but is also effusive in his praise for it.

“Honestly, I have a long history with those guys, so I give them the respect they deserve and I listened to the whole record multiple times,” he smiles. “And I think it’s great! It’s fucking cool and I’m glad they moved on. I’m not like, ‘I’m not gonna give them respect!’ – I’m not a coward like that. I’m glad they’re carrying on the name, because what’s important is the fans. There’s no stupid battle going on. There’s no point in saying, ‘Fuck them!’

“No, I’ve been through so many things with those guys and I love them very much. What’s hurtful is that the way it [being fired] went down was not fucking right. That’s all I want to say. The way they did it was fucking cowardly. It was fucked up. But the love in my heart for those guys, that stays the same.”

It is at this point that Metal Hammer asks the inevitable and unavoidable question: despite everything that has happened, would Joey be willing to rejoin Slipknot further down the line? As much as his successor, Jay Weinberg, has acquitted himself brilliantly while filling the shoes of a contemporary drumming legend, it’s hard to deny that most Slipknot fans would be beside themselves with joy if Joey were to return to the fold. He takes a deep, measured inward breath and fixes us with a stern stare…

“Let me think about how to answer that, because it’s a big one,” he nods. “Honestly, I’m not trying to be dramatic, but if that was brought up, what I’d want to do would be to get together. Not just have a phone call or some stupid email. I’d want to see them, just hug it out and feel that energy that we had when we were fucking young and hungry and all that shit. They’re my brothers. We’d hug and talk and do shit like we used to do. We used to sit up all night long planning this shit and what we wanted to do. So that’s how I’d wanna do it. It’d have to be in person. If it happened, that would be fucking awesome, but only time will tell.”

Part Three - Rebirth

Back in the here and now, Joey Jordison is well on his way to being fighting fit once again. His recovery is still ongoing, of course, and daily trips to see his trainer at the local gym have now become an essential part of his day-to-day schedule, but as he speaks, he radiates sincere positivity. That said, the effort it has taken Joey to get from suddenly and horrifyingly being robbed of the use of his legs to a point where he is able to unveil two brand new albums with different bands is etched into his subtly expressive face.

He and better half Amanda have kept a detailed scrapbook of photos and other memorabilia from the long, hard road back from the onset of transverse myelitis. They allow us to leaf through it, and it brings the jarring reality of Joey’s last few years vividly to life. It’s a litany of woes, pain and frustration that many of us would regard as insurmountable, but even when faced with yet another grim obstacle, when he fell and broke his leg while in the studio recording Vimic’s debut album in the autumn of 2014, leading to his leg being cut in half and the insertion of steel rods and bolts, Joey’s determination to prevail and come back stronger than ever has been unwavering.

“I did question everything, like, ‘What am I going to do?’, not knowing if I was going to recover,” he admits. “It hurt a lot. It was a big question. But there was a definite point where I thought about all the blessings I’ve been given in life, being part of Slipknot and playing with Korn and Ministry and Rob Zombie and doing Roadrunner United and all those things, and you look at that and you’re grateful, and so you bust your ass to get back. I didn’t feel sorry for myself. I do not quit. I’ve got fans I’ve got to take care of, you know? So there’s no hiding right now.”

If you want to know what the opposite of hiding sounds like, you need only lend an ear to either or both of the new records that Joey is releasing this summer. The first is Echoes Of The Tortured, the debut album from Sinsaenum, Joey’s collaboration with Dragonforce’s Frédéric Leclercq and a host of underground luminaries. A monstrous but eminently accessible death metal record, its jaw-shattering eruptions of blastbeats and epic fury showcase the full extent of Joey’s physical recovery in no uncertain terms.

The second is Open Your Omen, the first album from Vimic, which is essentially Scar The Martyr with a new vocalist, former Korn percussionist and back-up singer Kalen Chase. It’s a sharper, more focused record than its (sort of) predecessor, planting Joey firmly back in belligerent mainstream metal territory, with plenty of the huge hooks and irresistible riffs that his loyal fans will be feverishly anticipating. But beyond the new music itself, Joey’s true focus is on the unparalleled joy he is currently experiencing as he escapes the nightmare of the last few years and returns to what he does best.

“This is a rebirth, and reaching this point is the ultimate reward,” he states. “It’s like having the ultimate trophies, having these two bands. These opportunities are coming back to me and it feels like a complete renewal. These are real bands, not side-projects. Everything I do goes at 100%… maybe even 666%, ha ha!

“At a certain age, a lot of people] become vegetarians or they find religion, but I’m never gonna stop being a fucking weirdo and a fucking metalhead! You wake up one day and you realise that nothing’s ever gonna change and you’re fucking committed. I’ve been like that since I was five years old, man.

“Right now, I just want to keep creating. These bands are two huge fucking journeys for me. It’s like when you see a rollercoaster that you’ve never ridden before, and you’re fucking scared, but you’re in line and waiting, like I am now, and then once you step on? You’re in!”

There are a few lessons to be learned from the story of Joey Jordison’s last few traumatic years. Firstly, maybe we should all be slightly less eager to jump to hasty conclusions when faced with only one side of a story (or, indeed, no verified information whatsoever). Secondly, never underestimate the strength, persistence, passion and potential of the human spirit.

“The most pertinent lesson of all, however, is one we all should have learned a long time ago: Joey Jordison is an unstoppable force of nature and, after fighting the toughest battle of his entire life, he’s primed and ready to make up for lost time and to remind the world that loud, angry, fucked up and furious music remains the best medicine of all.

“I have this weird-ass condition, but it doesn’t limit me and I’m getting better all the time,” he concludes with a confident grin. “I can play just as fast, or faster, than I ever have. Everything is fucking cool and I’m at the gym every day and it’s all going well. That helps me out so much.

“I went through some serious fucking shit. People didn’t know and I can’t blame them for that. But the thing is, you get up in the morning and you look in the mirror, and then you go off and fucking do it. You live your life the way you want to, and get the work done! What else can I say, dude? It’s good to tell my story. I’m fucking back and I’m ready to go full force. This is the best fucking job in the world. I’m never gonna stop.”

What Is Transverse Myelitis?

We spoke to Lew Gray, secretary of UK charity the Transverse Myelitis Society, to understand what Joey’s batling…

Can you explain what the condition means? Lew: “Transverse myelitis is an inflammation of the spinal cord. You have a lot of nerves doing different things in your spinal cord, so the facts of each case depend on which part of the spinal cord is affected. It can be high in the spinal cord affecting the arms, or you may struggle to breathe because the muscles in your lungs don’t work. It could be lower, affecting different sensory nerves. Some people with transverse myelitis can walk but can’t feel the floor beneath their feet, or they can’t feel hot and cold or pain. We think there are about 250 cases a year in the UK.”

Does it typically come on quickly or is it more of a gradual process? “It can be either. A lot of people are paralysed within an hour or two. But then for other people it can be very gradual and come and go over a period of months. It takes some people years to get a diagnosis.”

What treatment is available? “Really, the only treatment is to dose you with steroids. They will reduce the inflammation, and therefore you’re not curing it, you’re minimising the damage until it goes away by itself. Physiotherapy is very important. Almost everyone gets some spontaneous recovery over time after transverse myelitis, but the body and mind ‘forget’ how to use muscles and nerves that are not working, so the purpose of neurophysiotherapy is to ‘guide’ the recovery.”

What is the long-term prognosis for someone with transverse myelitis? “The nerves are capable of regenerating themselves. Nobody can predict though how well they will regenerate, how long it will take, or if they will at all. The majority of people get improvement, but there is no cast-iron guarantee.”

How common are relapses? “We do know people who have had recurrences, however that is rare. Sometimes a reoccurrence of transverse myelitis leads to a diagnosis of MS [multiple sclerosis].”

For more on the Transverse Myelitis Society, visit www.myelitis.org.uk

Beating The Odds

How Joey Jordison fought his way back from paralysis to prosperity

The full extent of Joey’s arduous battle with acute transverse myelitis is brought into sharp focus when we visit Absolute Performance Therapy in Waukee, Des Moines. Joey spent months here, working on his recovery, and the mere fact that today he is able to walk through the front door without assistance speaks volumes about what he has achieved. His therapist, Alyssa Subbert, has nothing but praise for his determined approach.

“Being stubborn helped the most!” she laughs. “To go from being someone who could do anything to not being able to get out of a chair, then to get back to being able to do everything again, it was a huge process. He wanted to drum again so bad, and as long as we made every exercise about drumming, he’d do it. He was very stubborn and very ornery, but he’d work and work until his body was too sore.”

Gruelling physical work aside, it is obvious that Joey’s time at APT was also hugely emotional. He hasn’t been back since finishing his treatment, and there are tears as he and Alyssa recall the intense therapy sessions and ferocious perseverance and teamwork that were needed to make each successive triumph a reality along the way.

“This was a huge wake-up call to Joey’s health and lifestyle, and how physical his job is,” Alyssa states. “When you’ve done something like that forever, you have no concept of it. He has to play in a drum set that rotates and goes upside down?! It’s not a regular job, sitting at a computer. We even practised mobbing him! Does he have balance when a whole bunch of people mob him, you know? It’s a whole different life, and very physical. So this was a completely unique process we went through.”

Joey’s physical therapy may be over, but his daily trips to local gym Life Time Athletic are an essential part of his recovery, not to mention his ability to play drums with the power and skill that fans have come to expect. His personal trainer, Caleb Herman, is a Slipknot fan who’s full of admiration for his client’s dedication.

“When Joey came in, he could hardly walk,” Caleb recalls. “Now he’s pressing 700lbs and he can do a step above what most people can do. He’s got one of the strongest back muscle groups I’ve ever seen. He couldn’t stand without help, but now he can stand up by himself, so his progress has been awesome. When he sees progress, he becomes motivated, and he tells me he gets the chills, and that gives me the chills. It’s really exciting to see him get to this point.”

Battle Of The Bands

After a long absence from our world, Joey’s returning with two new projects. But how do Vimic and Sinsaenum stack up against each other?

Vimic

Members: Joey Jordison (drums), Kalen Chase (vocals), Matt Tarach (keyboards), Jed Simon (guitar), Kyle Konkiel (bass). Sound: Crunchy, state-of-the-art modern metal with big, anthemic melodies and plenty of snotty aggression. Image: Lots of black leather, long hair, beards and menacing scowls. Sample lyric: ‘Simple skeletons, playing God again/We’re getting higher, we’re getting higher, and the truth will set us free’ (Simple Skeletons). Drumming: Lashings of classic Joey, from that Slipknot stomp and big, muscular grooves to bursts of high-velocity blasting. Joey says: “Scar The Martyr was the blueprint, but we wiped the slate clean. This is heavy shit. Kalen killed it on this record.” For fans of: Slipknot, Disturbed, Fear Factory. Check out: Earth Stood Still. Lurching, syncopated grooves and soaring, post-grunge melodies collide in a brutish, multi-tempo anthem that deftly showcases singer Kalen’s versatility.

Sinsaenum

Members: Joey Jordison (drums), Frédéric Leclercq (guitar), Heimoth (bass), Attila Csihar (vocals), Sean Zatorsky (vocals), Stéphane Buriez (guitar). Sound: Epic, imperious, blackened death metal with tons of eerie atmosphere. Image: Classic, dark, extreme metal attitude with a dash of theatrical corpse paint and a blood-splattered logo. Sample lyric: ‘We are the pain inside your head/We are the sorrow in your soul/We are the fire/We are the rusty nails’ (Army Of Chaos). Drumming: A masterclass in death metal precision and power. Proof that Joey is back and blazing. Joey says: “Sinsaenum is probably one of the most extreme and proficient bands I have ever been in. These guys are fucking on point at all times. We’re a fucking army!” For fans of: Morbid Angel, Dimmu Borgir, Behemoth. Check out: Inverted Cross. It’s blistering, heads-down death metal grandeur with anti-Christian lyrics, fret-melting solos and countless warped twists and turns.

Sin City

As well as making his comeback with Vimic, Joey Jordison’s taken up the drum stool for death metal project Sinsaenum. Mastermind and Dragonforce bassist Frédéric Leclercq explains how it came thundering to life

Words: Dayal Patterson

While Vimic represents a beefed-up reboot of Scar The Martyr, Joey’s also been behind the kit for a second, brand new band - Sinsaenum. The brainchild of Dragonforce bassist Frédéric Leclercq, it’s a more murky blend of death and black metal, featuring the twosome alongside some of the leading lights of the extreme scene, including dual vocals from Mayhem’s Attila Csihar and Dååth’s Sean Zatorsky. We asked Frédéric what the supergroup have planned for their dark future.

How did Sinsaenum first come about? Frédéric: “Oh Christ, even I have trouble remembering when it started! I always wrote death metal songs. I started to write in 1998, then I was doing something else [he played in the French bands Memoria and Heavenly], and I’m still doing something else, with Dragonforce. The first person I spoke to was Stéphane [Buriez, guitar] from Loudblast. It must’ve been in 2010 that we said, ‘Let’s really do something about it.’”

How did Joey get involved? “I kept writing more songs, and one day in 2013 I got a text from Joey. We call each other ‘Morbid Angel” – don’t ask why – so the text said, ‘Morbid Angel, what you up to?’ I was like, ‘Well, I just got back from tour… talking about Morbid Angel, I have these death metal songs.’ He was like, ‘You should send them to me!’ Two days later, he came back like, ‘Fuck yeah, that’s really cool. Who’s playing drums? I want to do it.’ So I started to ask more people that I had in mind.”

How did you guys meet? “We did the Mayhem tour together in the US, in 2008. One day drinking we were talking about death metal, and then we got to talking about it more and more. That’s how you get to know people – you find what you have in common. We had drinking and Morbid Angel.”

What about the other guys? “Stéphane I’ve known for 20 years. I played in a band in my hometown, Charleville-Mézières, and we supported his band, Loudblast. They were a big influence, and the first death metal band I heard. We kept in touch because France is a small country when it comes to metal. With [bassist] Heimoth from [French black metal band] Seth, it’s the same – there’s a small metal community. Dragonforce and Mayhem did a festival together, and Attila came onto the bus and said: ‘My son is a fan and would love an autograph – by the way, I’m the vocalist of Mayhem.’ He’s such a nice person – maybe you shouldn’t write that, keep the mystery! Sean and I met when Dååth was opening for Dragonforce in 2009. I really liked his voice and his attitude.”

How much music was written before you started working with them? “When Joey sent that text, all the songs were half-written, because I’ve a tendency to write a song with just a verse and a chorus, maybe a mid-section, because I know the rest is in my head. So when he said, ‘I’m interested,’ I was like, ‘Oh shit, I have to finish the songs!’ I sent out files, because it was clear that people trusted my ‘vision’. They didn’t want to change too much. I had to finalise lyrics with Sean and Attila, and Stéphane contributed to the structure. Joey added some fills. I decided to make it a concept album using interludes like Tiamat, or Pestilence, or even Type O Negative did to create atmosphere, so I had to write those.”

What was it like working with your heroes? “I felt like a kid in a toy store! Being in a studio with Attila singing songs that I wrote, and saying, ‘Oh, you should do this song like [Mayhem’s] De Mysteriis Dom Sathanas, and him being like, [adopts a Hungarian accent] ‘OK bro’, it’s like ‘Fuck, this is happening!’ I shouldn’t sound so excited, ‘cause this is black and death metal, but I had a big smile during the whole process – we all did. On Army Of Chaos we have Schmier from Destruction and Mika and Mirai from Sigh. Mika and Mirai are good friends of mine and are doing the big choirs, the choruses… like Sepultura’s Stronger Than Hate [from 1989’s Beneath The Remains]. I remember reading the booklet as a kid… they had the guys from Obituary and Atheist on it, and I was like, ‘Fuck, that’s cool.’ And it’s Schmier who’s singing on the last pre-chorus.

Did Joey’s health battles affect Sinsaenum? “Not at all. He speaks about it way better than I, so I won’t comment on that. I’ve kept away from all the troubles. I was like, ‘I’m a friend. If you want to talk, I’ll listen, but I just want to make sure you’re happy.’ As far as health problems, he was fine – he killed the drums. I don’t know how he did it, but he said, ‘Dude, I’m on fire.’ He was angry, I guess.”

Will Sinsaenum tour? “It’s definitely something we want to do, but there’s no rush. I want to do everything the same way I lived it as a kid. These bands I loved, I loved their albums, but I didn’t see them live for a long time and it didn’t bother me. I want people to digest the album – there’s a lot of information on there. Plus, we’re all busy; it’s difficult to get us all in a room. We rehearsed before doing the videos, and being in the same room, it was like, ‘Fucking hell.’”

What’s happening with Dragonforce right now? “We’re doing summer festivals and writing the new album that will come out next year, so I have to juggle between doing Sinsaenum stuff and writing and recording with Dragonforce. So my head is about to explode, but that’s fine!”

What do you get from Sinsaenum that you don’t get with Dragonforce? “This is really the music I love. I like Dragonforce stuff, and I write more of it now, but sometimes I don’t agree with all the decisions. With Sinsaenum, from A to Z it is exactly what I want. I guess it’s my baby. It gives me a way to express the dark side of myself and show it to people – if they care or not, that’s another issue!”

Sinsaenum release Echoes Of The Tortured on July 29 via Earmusic

#after ten thousand years here it is #if you want anything else from this issue scanned just lemme know (there's already a couple other pages in the google drive folder)#joey jordison #sinsaenum #vimic #slipknot #metal hammer 285 aug 16 #those photos with the black stuff dripping down his face are truly egregious i am incredibly gay why would metal hammer do this to me #why not give us pictures of all the cats huh??#like yaknow instead of his leg with all the stitches. the other four cats. just sayin #fred is so ae;gihas;kdf;h #interview

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risenwrites · 5 months

Text

Title: Never Again

Pairing: Yandere! Sabo X Revolutionary! Female! Reader

Warnings: Yandere themes, angst, anime spoilers under the cut, mdni

Word Count: ~1.1K

Status: Semi-Edited

When you handed the newspaper to Sabo, you thought he would react like he usually does. Glance through the articles, and then rant about how the World Government tampered with the news. Yet this time, as you watched him read the headline, you saw his eyes widen with a storm of emotions flashing across his face. It happened so fast that you couldn’t pinpoint everything he felt at that moment, but at the end of it, he seemed only to have two emotions: pain and sorrow.

You watched how his hands began shaking, and soon, his whole body trembled as he stared at the newspaper headline. Tears welled up in his eyes, and his breath caught in his throat momentarily. Slowly, he began to hyperventilate and cry while gripping the newspaper to the point it began to tear.

You and all the other revolutionaries in the room stood frozen, watching the Chief of Staff rip the newspaper in half. A loud sob tore from his throat as he reached for his head and grabbed fistfuls of his hair, pulling like he intended to rip his hair out. He stumbled backward, almost falling, while moving his hands to pull his hair down over his eyes.

Panic and worry rushed through your veins as you watched Sabo begin to have a breakdown. You snapped out of whatever trance you were in to run to his side, helping him keep steady and stand. You wrapped your arm around his back to place a hand on his shoulder, then gently used your other hand to try holding one of his. He suddenly grabbed hold of your wrist, his grip tight to the point of bruising. You flinched in pain and looked at him.

“He's dead... He's dead, and I couldn't do anything to save him,” Sabo mumbled to himself, his voice shaking.

A slight frown of worry and confusion appeared on your face. You hadn't looked at the newspaper headline since you usually just gave it to Sabo, so you weren't entirely sure who he was talking about. You did know that you needed to get Sabo away from this crowd. He needed to take some time to calm down and process his emotions for a bit.

“Please make way!” you exclaimed while walking with Sabo.

The revolutionaries blocking your path parted to let you and the Chief of Staff through. You gave all of them a quick nod of thanks before leading Sabo out of the room. Once out in the hallway, the door closed behind you both. Then, without hesitation, you began leading him to the personal quarters for the revolutionary staff.

The walk to his private quarters was long, and the entire way, you listened to Sabo’s sobbing, each cry making your heart ache along with your wrist. You desperately wanted to hug and comfort your friend but figured you should wait until he wasn't so lost in his emotions. Still, to comfort him, you gently moved your hand from his shoulder to rub soothing circles on his back.

When you reach his room, you open the door and step inside. The moment you and Sabo were in his room, he suddenly collapsed to his knees, sobbing even harder than he had before, and began curling in on himself.

"He's gone... he's gone..." Sabo sobbed, letting go of his hair and covering his eyes with his free hand. "I'll never hear his voice a-again or see him smile..."

You stared down at your friend, who was still holding onto your wrist like you would disappear if he let go, and pressed your lips together. You weren't entirely sure what to do now, and you debated whether you should leave him alone or try comforting him. Eventually, you decided to leave him alone for a bit so you could get him something to drink or eat.

"Sabo," you softly said while kneeling next to him. "Can you please let go of my wrist?" you asked, expecting him to let go.

Sabo flinched slightly and slowly parted his fingers to look at you, his eyes wide and filled with an emotion you couldn't initially recognize. He stared at you for a couple of moments, his sobs and tears coming to a slow stop. His grip on your wrist suddenly tightened, and he shook his head. At that moment, something in your gut told you to get the fuck out of there. That you needed to run away and never look back.

You swallowed hard and began to stand up. "Sabo, let go of my wrist," you said, this time in a bit more harsh tone.

Immediately, Sabo pulled you back down to your knees. "I can't do that," he said while beginning to hyperventilate again.

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion, frustration starting to build inside you. "And why not?" you ask and begin to stand again.

Sabo's eye twitched along with his free hand as he watched you stand up. Suddenly, you felt him grab your other wrist, causing you to winch, before he began trying to wrestle you onto the floor.

"Sabo, what are you doing?! Let go of me!" you yelled, trying to pull your wrists out of his grip.

Instead of answering, he knocked your feet out from under you to pin you against the floor. You cry out in pain as the back of your head slams against the floor. Your vision quickly became blurry as you looked up at Sabo. His breathing was heavy, and you felt tears drop onto your face.

"I can't let you leave my side, Y/N," he stated with a shaky voice. "If something happened to you, I don't know what I'd do. Sure, I'd still have my little brother, but you're the person I want to spend the rest of my life with. To have children someday," he explained before leaning down to rest his head on your shoulder. "I want us to grow old together… but if you died like Ace did then…"

He took a deep breath like he was trying to calm himself down, but honestly, you weren't paying much attention at this point. The edges of your vision were starting to darken, and you could hear ringing in your ears. You saw him lift his head to look down at you again. The ringing in your ears made it so you couldn't hear what he was saying, but you saw panic flash across his face. The feeling of his hands holding your face kept you awake for long enough to see him continue talking, most of it going over your head since you couldn’t read his lips.

However, before the world went dark, the one thing you could make out was Sabo saying, "I love you.”

©following works belongs to risenwrites, do not repost, modify, plagiarize, translate, or share on other platforms. comments, likes, and reblogs appreciated!

#risen.writes #sabo #sabo x reader #one piece sabo #revolutionary sabo

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pinkrelish · 2 years

Text

𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞.

bestfriend!eddie x fem!reader

✶“So,” you leaned into the joke by lowering your voice to a provocative, airy tone, “What are you wearing?”✶

NSFW — smut, phone sex, mutual masturbation, secretly getting off while the other doesn't know it, voice kink, perv!eddie, perv!reader

chapter: 7/15 [wc: 4.4k]

↳ part 01 / 02 / 03 / 04 / 05 / 06 / 07 / 08 / 09 / 10 / 11

AO3

Chapter 7: Satan Always Calls Collect

You shivered. The chilly air in the tiled hallway hit the dewy drops leftover from your shower, sending an eruption of goosebumps down your exposed legs. In your slippers, you shuffled to the ice machine, filled your floppy ice pack, and returned to your dorm room, where you were more comfortable limping to your bed despite not seeing another soul. Weekends were quiet on the athletic side of campus.

Getting ready for the night, you threw back your bed covers looking forward to a long rest; a nice relaxing time knowing your alarm clock was set two hours later than usual. That is, until the phone on the shared bedside table rang.

Sagging, you answered expecting your roommate to say she forgot something, “Hello?”

“Hey.” Your stomach clenched and flipped at his distorted voice over the line. “Was just thinking about you. Sorry it’s been two weeks.”

“Don’t tell me you read a magazine that said you should wait that long to call a girl, Munson.”

Exhaling in a short scoff, he set down a metal can of whatever he was drinking; a hollow tink, presumably an empty beer. “I’m afraid my magazines don’t have many articles giving dating advice in them.” Images of naked babes posed on cars entered your mind. Probably the same titles he collected when he was younger. Sounding more apologetic, he said, “I meant to call sooner. Between getting band stuff going, researching and writing out the rest of this campaign, and other bullshit, I’ve been busy. Just coming home and crashing at night.”

“And what about your homework?”

“Yeah.. Definitely been trying to–”

“Choose your words wisely.”

“..Copy someone else’s,” he caved. Popping the tab of another drink, he sipped a few times before he felt comfortable speaking again, in a much softer manner. “I missed you.”

Glancing at the door to make sure it was closed, you sank into your mattress and tried not to ruminate too deeply over him missing you. He’d said it before, there was no reason to latch onto it now. Playing it over, and over, again in your head. Wondering how often he missed you, or thought about you in general, and what sparked him to do so, and whether or not it was as frequent as you thought about him. And if those thoughts led to other thoughts.. Daydreams, even. The sort of questions you weren’t supposed to have about your best friend. “Missed you too, Eddie. You know, you have perfect timing. I just got out of the shower, and my roommates gone for the weekend over to her boyfriend’s.” Crinkly static responded. A buzzing lull as your words sank in through your thick skull. Putting your hand over your eyes, you explained, “That sounded weird. I meant I was getting ready for bed when you called.” You almost promised him you were wearing clothes, but that seemed like a suggestion too far in the area you were trying to avoid.

Except he careened right for it. “Not wearing your tracksuit, huh?”

“No.” God, you hated how high-pitched you went when you were grinning. Twirling the phone cord around your finger like a schoolgirl, cheesing so hard your cheeks hurt. “None of the windbreaker stuff you hate.. I’m wearing pink pajamas with little ladybugs on them.”

Embarrassing.

He snickered. “Sounds cute. Do you really go to bed at 8:30 like an old lady?”

“I am old,” you insisted. In the background, you heard him walking through his trailer, assuming from the kitchen to his room with the phone tucked to his shoulder, falling to his bed with a nasally huff directly into the microphone.

No amount of shame could keep your body demure. In any other context, you wouldn’t have noticed the soft fabric of your adorable matching pajama set brushing over your nipples; an action that would be ignored on any other occasion, if it weren’t for them being coaxed from their half-hardened state to fully erect with the knowledge of where your mind was wandering.

Listening intently, there was no mistaking Eddie’s long exhale as he shifted, and the grind of a zipper being pulled.

“So,” you leaned into the joke by lowering your voice to a provocative, airy tone, “What are you wearing?”

If you could bottle his laugh, you would. It would be lacking the nuances of how his chest shook, the intricacies of his short curls bouncing, and the twinkle in his eye when his gaze slid to yours, but it would suffice on these lonely nights made less lonely by him.

“I’m–just takin’ my jacket off,” he was quick to excuse, stunting his words in a believable way for someone struggling to remove the heavy-ass layers they wore when it wasn’t even cold out. “Wearing my Hellfire shirt, which reminds me.. I couldn’t help but notice you stole my other one.”

Your fingers sought the keepsake stashed beneath your pillow out of instinct. “Oops, my bad.”

“Couldn’t possibly be because you’re planning on making the drive to join us again?” He didn’t allow you time to reject the offer. “The brats have been bothering me about you.” Sucking in a long breath, you could visualize him struggling between a nod of approval and an admonishing shake. “They think they can weasel their way out of everything by concocting these asinine scenarios, like flirting with a magically locked door to open it. You’re a bad influence on them, y’know, you shattered my illusion of being the big scary DM, and now they think I’ll give in to their demands if they’re creative enough.”

“You poor baby,” you mocked, “Sounds like you don’t even want me there.”

“I want you here.”

Instant. An ache in your chest. Lump in your throat. A single sentence washing over you, bathing you, soothing you. Snaking its way around your body. Muddying your apprehensions. He just.. said it so boldly, and immediately with conviction. Serious. Not at all matching your cooing lilt.

You laid back in bed, and if the phone cord happened to drag over your clothed tits and brush your nipples as you switched hands, thus causing you to suck in your bottom lip between your teeth, then so be it. The sensation was electric. All pleasure. And he didn’t have to know.

Back to reality, you stifled a pained grunt from lifting your right leg onto the bed. Sighing in relief at the ice pack numbing your knee.

“That was quite a noise you just made,” he said, deeper in register, a little slower and coming from his chest. Helplessly gravelly, and directly into your ear pressed against the sweaty plastic.

And yeah, your sigh came out more as a whimper than you intended. “I told you I’m getting old,” you said, slipping the top button of your shirt undone. “Gotta ice my knee after every practice. And my hips, and my left shoulder after uneven bars, both ankles–especially after having two surgeries on the right one a few years ago. God, and don’t even get me started on my back.” The next button gave easily, and your tired body was accepted by your fluffy blankets. Weary head resting amongst the pillows as your eyes fell closed.

Your callused fingertips made contact with the sensitive skin of your clavicle and Eddie continued in the same measured cadence, “Are you taking care of yourself?”

Eyes very open and mouth very shut, you glanced around your room, unnerved he chose the very second your thumb strummed over your nipple to ask that question in that way. “Wait, what?”

“Are you eating properly and giving your body a break?”

Oh. “Yes and definitely not. I told you my money is mine now, so everything’s getting better. I mean, I can afford these cute pajamas, at least. No more canned green beans on plain rice and stealing my roommate’s ketchup, for me. Plus, I get free food at my job.” You opened the rest of your shirt, bare chest rising and falling in the indecent way it should when you stopped resisting your cravings. “Can’t make any promises about my body.”

His sudden caring attitude erred on the side of doting. “I just worry about you pushing yourself too hard, sometimes.”

Thumb and index giving yourself light pinches, your jaw slackened as your body didn’t, running one leg up the other until both your thighs squeezed tight. “That’s what comes with the sport. Teenage glory and then an early retirement when your knees no longer work.” He made a gruff sound from his throat. “Why do you care? I’m the one who got a silver medal on vault last Nationals. I’m geriatric, Eddie. It happens.” Your pinches escalated in strength, causing you to press your tongue to your teeth in order to discipline yourself from being so obvious.

“Is it so wrong I want you to be healthy?”

“It’s annoying.”

“Oh, but I like annoying you.” His smirk preceded his teasing remark. An undue bite to his inflection, like he was enjoying himself far too much.

And maybe you enjoyed the idea of him caring about you too much, too.

Flattening your palm to your belly, your fingernails grazed your delicate skin on their course downward. With the phone nestled under your cheek, you used your other hand to pull the tie of your shorts loose, and slid your fingers beneath the waistband, climbing over your mound. The tip of your middle finger paused at the height of where you needed it most. Tempting your desire to test the naughtiness of it all, holding your breath as you debated if this was crossing a line; and as your free hand cupped your breast, and the backside of your thumb teetered on the precipice of a bad idea, his warm voice pushed you over the edge.

“I’ll just have to take care of you, then, if you’re not going to do it yourself.”

A stroke: thumb, and middle finger. Acute delight fluttering your inhale, and a deep rapture between your legs. Once, twice, then a little circle. Back and forth.

“Oh? And how do you suppose you’ll do that?”

“Come back to Hawkins and find out.”

Not falling for that one. Speak all the fantasies you had aloud in that honeyed rasp of his, he would do nothing to relieve your stress. In fact, you were sure he went out of his way to avoid touching you at DND, acting out the goblin’s chants by gripping the other guy’s shoulders, whispering menacingly in their ear, drumming his fingers along their backs to creep them out. Except when it came to your turn. Your hair stood on end in anticipation. And he walked past you to sing the last sinister verse on his throne. Like you didn’t exist.

What was he going to do if you drove the 16 hour round trip? Massage your lower back through sheer will alone?

Heartbreak awaited you in Hawkins. That’s it.

“Tempting offer,” you mused past the sting of a lost cause, past the dulled pain of unrequited feelings, arriving at the selfish lust of pretending he was as affected by this phone call as you.

Delving lower, you crooked your fingers and glided your arousal to your clit, swirling more vigorous, purposeful, and needy patterns of bliss. Burning in a hot flush taking over you with the phone trapped beneath the side of your face, turned in a way that would allude to you looking at him laying next to you, noses and lips touching his. A perfect delusion. Somehow, you expelled your excuses coherently, “It’s not like when we were kids; I have training every morning before class, and a second session after, and I pick up hours at work when I can. Not to mention, you know, the actual classes, and exams, and stuff; the reason I’m here, if you remember?”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but aren’t you in your off season? Meant for recovery?”

Astute observation. “Coach, uh..” This clinical conversation was not exactly fueling your perversions. “I haven’t been given much of a break ‘cause Coach wanted me to test into the Elite program, and start vying for a spot on the ‘88 Olympic team.. I’d be able to take sponsorships, if I did. Sounds better than having my clothes smell like grease, and being subjected to drunk frat boys hitting on me for a paycheck.”

A little less groggy, he said in an excited lurch, “That’s an amazing opportunity, tell me you’re considering it.”

“I dunno..” An honest insecurity warbled your dilemma. “That’s still years away, and I’d definitely have to drop out of college to focus on it. And yeah, who knows what condition my body will be in at that point. Twenty-three-years-old is practically one foot in the grave for gymnasts. Can’t imagine competing when I can already feel myself slowing down. I’d rather retire young, finish college, and join the circus.”

He sighed your name– In frustration or something more tender, you weren’t sure since you interrupted him to steer the conversation elsewhere.

“Can we talk about anything else?” you asked.

His hard swallow funneled from Indiana to Pennsylvania. From his mouth to your ear. States away, but loud and clear.

Long pause.

Two fingers deep, you closed your eyes from staring at the ceiling, tongue lulled in a silent moan. Hips chasing the heel of your palm in search of the building tension ramping to mind-altering degrees. Forgetting everything that wasn’t in direct sight of your release. Including the near-mute whine escaping with your exhale. Fucking yourself at a faster tempo, imagining he’d be the kind to like it that way. Interrupting your gasps of his name with each thrust. His face, reddened from effort, hovering above yours. His hair sweeping your cheeks. Building. Building. Sending a wanton throb to your clit. Begging for the expertise of your thumb while your fingers were buried in your willing cunt closing in tight around inadequacy.

Long pause.

His mattress springs creaked before you became muffled to the world. His soft breath was replaced by the harsh noise of fabric rubbing against the mic. You jerked away, nose wrinkled at the loudness of it all, about to ask if he dropped the phone when he came back.

“We can talk about whatever you want,” he enunciated in a sweltering union of coercion and dare.

————

Eddie didn’t remember when, exactly, it happened, but he did recall forgiving it as an involuntary response to his nerves.

Metal can to lips, happiness resided. The first beer he downed quickly, but was still too aware of his inhibitions. It did little to hush his pounding heart stuttering his breaths, nor quench his dry mouth. The second drink was better at eliminating the shake in his fingers. The third dulled his face until it tingled under his prodding, feeling the sensation beneath a buzzing layer of haze.

The strip of your character sheet was balled in his sweaty fist. Resolute, he punched the number in order.

It was possible his body reacted to that first ring. Or when you attempted to disguise your annoyed tone under an air of curiosity when you answered with a curt, “Hello?” Or, maybe, his pants became uncomfortably snug when the both of you implied he needed dating advice to talk to you; his friend.

Or it happened when you mentioned what you were wearing.

Freshly showered. In bed all alone. Implying much, and saying so little.

Yeah, he definitely cupped himself then, reveling in the satisfaction of his hardon being treated with the kindness it deserved.

He didn’t waste time taking off his shoes before he was stretching the phone cord to its limits to reach his room. Falling into bed, laying slightly propped up by his pillow. An excited jitteriness to his movements as he unfastened his belt, leather ends dropping to either side of his hips, sucking in his stomach to unbutton his jeans, but as sneaky as he was, you heard the zipper struggle over the bulk of his increasing neediness. “I’m–just takin’ off my jacket,” he said, tilting his head up to escape the groan begging to be announced when his red boxers stretched to their limits in a swell between the black lanes his jeans created. Freed from its cage.

Not once did shame enter his mind. He knew his limits. He could be quiet. He could be quick. He could keep it routine. He was simply taking care of a momentary lapse in judgment, and you didn’t have to know. It wouldn’t get out of hand. Hell, he could even manage to carry a coherent conversation with you. Coherent, but a little apparent where his mind resided, repeatedly mentioning your body.

He shoved his Hellfire shirt up to his chest, giving himself ample room for later.

“Are you taking care of yourself?”

Why did you have to react that way, seconds after gifting him with the most delicious moan when you climbed into bed? Sucking in a breath like a gasp; so sweet and innocent, and naive to the rate at which his depravity shattered his illusion of self-control.

Are you hungry, sweetheart? I’ll make you dinner, just sit there and look pretty for me.

Groping his clothed length, he tightened his fist until his fingers circled around himself. Tugging once, twice. Dragging the tip to where it peeked out from under the waistband. Sticky precum glistening in a strand leading to his belly.

You’re tired, baby? Let me draw you a bath. Yes, of course I’ll join you. Don’t worry.

Stroke after stroke, he immersed himself in his fantasy.

But first, tell me where it hurts. Trust me. I’ll take care of you.

It was a secret he’d take to the grave. How much he wanted to be the one you sought after practice. Still dressed in your leotard. Smelling of chalk, sweat, and foam. Providing you with the needs you neglected. Nurturing you in the ways he could. Your muscles are sore? Let me massage them for you. Your thighs are shaking? Come lay down, my Light.

Eddie tried to keep his breathing level as he rocked side to side, shoving his jeans and boxers down. It was torture telling you to come back to Hawkins when he knew he wouldn’t act on his impulses and learn the different ways you could articulate his name.

Just friends. Just friends, he told himself as his skilled hand tamed his urges. Fitting his palm to the underside, fingers curled with his index lifted from the rest, black ring glimmering as he slid his grip upwards. A pleasant brush over the lipped edge. Itching for more, but some part of him wanted to savor the novelty of talking to you while he touched himself. Sullying the image of his perfect girl on her way to becoming an Olympian.

If only you knew how young he was when this idea first sprang to his mind..

What about between those strong thighs, sweetheart? I can make you feel better there, too.

Oh, how he wanted to bury himself there.

His hips jerked. Pumping his fist without his permission. He wanted to make this last. Explore those visions which became more frequent after seeing you train at the rec center. Delve into this region of the late-night images he tried to resist as of late, only to wake up covered in a mess. Dreaming of fucking his best friend and how gently he’d do it.

God, what he would give to have that reality. You sitting on the bed. Any bed. How he’d kneel before you on the floor, running his hands up your calves. Treating you to his thumbs massaging into the muscle. Relaxing you after a long day of training. Gazing into your eyes as he inserted himself between your legs. Slipping his fingers beneath the straps of your leotard, peeling it away from your exhausted body, sliding it over your shoulders. Chasing open-mouth kisses over the unclean skin he wasn’t familiar with. Salt mixing with his spit. Lapping at the column of your throat. Grazing his teeth over your pulse. Lower. Cherishing your warmth. Lower. Teasing the flesh responding to his prompting. He needed to go lower as you tangled his hair in your fists.

Stripping your upper half from the confining uniform, he would expose you for his veneration only. Pursuing where your stuttered speech commanded him. As tender as his hand cradling the back of your head lowering you to the mattress. As enthusiastic as his lips discovering boundaries beyond your friendship.

Even in his fantasies, every now and then, he’d keep your clothing on. He’d never admit he liked it in some ways. Implying how unhinged he was in taking you, that he couldn’t wait for you to undress.

He’d simply trace the edge of your leotard cutting from the crease of your hip to where you begged him to serve you. Moving the fabric aside to flirt, and lick, and suckle until his name was muffled from your thighs enclosing around his face, bucking against his tongue tasting you for the first time. Hailing him to the heavens as he honored you on his knees.

Then, he’d flip you over. Snatch the backside of your tight clothing and wedge it between your round ass. Hiking your hips up with a firm slap on your leg. Outlining your plump pussy under the taut fabric covered in the praise he gave you. Obeying the overwhelming desire to grind himself into the curve of your cunt and add his own decadence dripping down your beautiful thighs.

Fuck, he didn’t mean to sigh your name as he stroked his cock.

“Can we talk about anything else?” you asked.

Smothering the phone against his chest, Eddie rolled onto his shoulder and swirled his tongue around his mouth a few times, then spat into his hand.

It was a miracle he could speak with clarity.

“Of course.” Could you hear the lewd slap he was making, driving his hand up and down his shaft, trying and failing to keep a moderate pace? “Anything exciting you want to tell me?”

“Mmm,” you drew out the hum and he swore he could feel the vibration in his chest. “I’m going to New Jersey next week with a few girls from the team. We’re going to the beach.”

Faster. An open invitation for him to picture you in a bikini. Running his hands up your waist to the underside of your tits. Letting an accident take place; a loose string, and he’d have to help cover you up, and you’d thank him for being so chivalrous by using your mouth.

“Sounds cool. Never been to the beach.”

“One of them has a camera, so I can take some pictures for you. We went last year, too. The ocean’s really pretty.”

Faster, again, because your voice was getting huskier. A hushed caress along his cheek. Likely because you were falling asleep on him, but he didn’t care. Didn’t care. Didn’t care. So sweet and soft for him. Easing his fingers over his cock to your pretty voice coming from your pretty mouth. Each pump, each digit, each squeeze and twist of his wrist at the top bringing him closer to the edge.

There it was again–your quiet intake of breath being released as a whiny plea away from the phone.

Head tipped, he choked back a groan, and thrusted into his fist as if his palm were you, no longer concerned about the consequences of being caught.

You kept him on the line, “Tell me what you’ve been up to.”

Oh, baby.

Observing his red knuckles in a bout of lucidity, he played up his complaining to garner your sympathy, “Playing mechanic around the trailer park. Gotta be the one to fix everything for everybody. My hand got a little scraped up, though.”

“Aw,” you purred, “Want me to kiss it better?”

This was it. This was it. He was gonna–

Feathery, jumpy sentences spilled from his mouth all at once, “Hey–sweetheart–something just came up. I’ll call you back. Okay?”

You stuttered as well–an Angel’s hymn to his devilish ways, “Y-Yeah. Bye.”

He didn’t have time to hang up.

Slamming the phone to the side of his mattress, he prayed you couldn’t hear his groan of your name break on his tongue. Silent moans escaping past his sealed lips when he dropped his head back. Toes curling right as his thighs twitched and flexed. Erratic movements interrupting his rhythm. Panting as a throb trembled him. Desperately fucking a poor replacement for his best friend’s pussy.

“That’s it–fuck.”

Chest falling in great huffs, he watched his cum land on his shirt, covering him while his strokes faltered, slowed, using his dripping climax as lube. Body jerking from overstimulation. Sliding his thumb over the intoxicating nerves telling him to stop. But it felt so good to picture you straddling him, bouncing relentlessly until he was begging for mercy.

“Holy shit,” he sighed. And then a disenchanted, “Jesus,” as he looked at the mess cooling on his skin, alone in his bed, clear-headed and aware he would never have what he wanted, despite the temporary stupidity clouding his mind moments ago, encouraging him to risk it all.

A sober realization after the best orgasm he’d experienced in his recent years.

Racing heart on the decline, he faced his fears and picked up the phone.

When the dial tone reached him, he mumbled something in relief and let it fall to the floor, listening to the cord drag it back into the hallway while he body went lax, and his vision went dark with his arms crossed over his face.

————

Your phone sat crooked on the receiver.

“Ed–” you couldn’t complete his name, lost to the aftershocks of your climax. Circling your fingers again, and again, over your sensitive clit until, at last, you couldn’t handle more, and went languid. Blinking at the blurry ceiling, accepting it was time to surrender to your drowsy eyelids and sleep.

Reaching for the lamp, you noticed the phone wasn’t hung up. You scrambled for it, and held it up to your ear, listening to the other end of the line. More staticky fabric noise.

Eddie probably drank more than he let on and dropped it again. Meaning he didn’t hear you coach him into fucking you harder, faster at the height of your yearning. Thank God.

You ended the call for him.

That was close.

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#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson #stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie x y/n #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you

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thatonebrazilian · 10 months

Text

Hello Darkness ~ Chapter 12

… Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13 (coming soon)...

A/N: GUUUYYYSSS, I'M GOING TO THE ERAS TOUR!! I'm so freaking happy and excited that my creativity just bombarded me, and it didn't give a damn that I was supposed to write and article instead of this HUEHEUEE. I can't believe I'm going to see TAYLOR FREAKING SWIFT!!!! I also bought the VIP tickets so I could be really close to her huehuehue I'm so excited!!

I normally write so much angst, but I'm so happy that I couldn't help but writing the fluffiest fluff. Seriously, this is tooth rotting sweet, super adorable. If you know anyone who loves fluff tell them to read this chap as a standalone (if they don't read the fic already), cause this is seriously the best fluff piece I've ever written.

Anyway, happy reading!

Summary: You were happy with Wanda until you found Vision on her bed. You loved her, though, you would have forgiven her eventually, but Natasha couldn’t let you throw away your chance at true happiness like that. So she took matters into her own hands.

Warnings: Cheating, Kidnapping, Gaslighting, non-con sex, non-con drug use, non-con alcohol consumption, Stockholm syndrome, soft!dark!Natasha, synthetic cock, forced pregnancy, breeding kink, praising kink, little bit of mommy kink… I think that’s it, lmk if I need to add more. MINORS DNI. You have been warned.

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x Reader, Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Word Count: 5000 +/-

You left Tony’s lab feeling no different from when you entered, the smirk on his face telling you just how much he supported your decision. Well, of course he did, he was the one to develop the tech and attach it to you.

He was your best friend beside Natasha, and he knew this decision was going to make you happy, so he did it for you.

As you walked towards your room you took notice of everything in the tower. You were going to miss this place, you were going to miss your team. Tony and Loki were the only ones who knew about your early retirement, they made sure you’d have everything you needed in your new home, a home that Natasha bought and refused to tell you the location, she said it was going to be a surprise; you trusted her, and you knew you’d love whatever she came up with.

You opened the door to your room, Yelena was on Natasha’s lap, your fiancée sitting on the bed playing with your daughter. Neither had noticed you there.

“Come on, Malenky, say Mama,” Natasha said, playing with Lena’s hands as the child giggled madly.

“Ma!” Yelena practically yelled out, bouncing animatedly on Nat’s lap.

“Yes, yes my love, I’m your ma, but I want you to say mama” Nat repeated, her smile growing more and more “Your other mother needs some lovin’ too, you know.”

You felt tears pooling in your eyes, your heart swelling in your chest. If you could relive this moment again, and again and again, you’d do so. Natasha was such a wonderful mother, you couldn’t even comprehend what she must’ve gone through in the Red Room for them to make her think she was unfit for motherhood.

“Mmmmma!” Yelena yelled again, giggling right after.

Natasha threw her head back and laughed too, her smile going from ear to ear, her eyes shining against the light that came from the window. She shook her head then and tickled Yelena “Say mama!” she said.

"Ma!" Yelena said, almost as if she was teasing Natasha.

"I think she's messing with you, Nat," you said, making your presence known.

You walked further into the room; upon seeing you Natasha's smile became a beaming one, a shining beacon of happiness, just like Lena's. You didn't know how to process the hurting in your chest. The two people you loved the most were clearly ecstatic to see you, and that alone made you feel so happy, so fulfilled, that you felt your heart almost bursting out of your chest. It hurt, but it was the best thing you've ever felt.

"She is," Natasha confirmed, looking between you and Lena with what you could only describe as heart eyes. "She just loves messing with her ma."

You hummed and climbed the bed, kneeling beside your woman and your baby, leaning in to kiss Natasha.

"Must've gotten it from you," Nat added as you were just a breath away, your lips ghosting hers, her eyes full of mirth.

"Me?!" You said, putting your hand dramatically over your chest as you drew away.

Yelena laughed along with Natasha and you narrowed your eyes.

"Ohh, so you two are ganging up on me now, are you?" You said, crossing your arms, fighting off your own fit of laughter. You cracked your knuckles then, and an exaggerated evil smile crossed your face. "Well, I guess I'll have to deal with this the hard way, then."

You started wiggling your fingers as you drew close again, Natasha tried backing away but her back hit the headboard, Yelena was laughing hysterically even though you hadn't touched her yet.

"No! Please, please, spare us, oh all-powerful mama!" Your Natalia said between barely concealed puffs of laughter, drawing her knees up to try and protect Lena from your wrath.

"You must face your punishment, troublesome duo," you said, still wiggling your fingers, getting ready to pounce on your prey "So prepare for the… tickle attack!"

You dove in.

"Nooooo, mamaaaaa!" Yelena practically yelled between fits of laughter.

Your fingers danced across their bodies. Yelena was especially ticklish on her neck, while your beautiful Natalia couldn't hold it in when you tickled her waistline.

While Lena curved herself into a little ball to try and stop your attack, Natasha practically pinned her arms to her side in a futile attempt to keep you from her waist.

"Do you apologize for ganging up on me?" You asked imperiously, drawing away to think of a way to get the both of them without using your powers.

"Never!" Natasha yelled back, holding in her laughter.

“Oh, really?” you asked, drawing closer again, your arm sneaking around Nat. She nodded, biting her lip while fighting off a smile.

You managed to get your fingers under her arm, tickling her waist with one hand as the other wiggled around Lena’s head to get to the back of her neck, tickling her there. Yelena squealed and trashed around while Natasha tried wiggling away from your hand.

“Ok! Ok! We give up!” your redhead yelled between fits of laughter.

“What do you say, then?” you asked with a huge smile on your face.

“We’re sorry…” she said with a slight pout.

“Owy mama,” Yelena said, her pout a perfect mirror of Natasha’s.

You felt your hands twitching with the desire to squish the both of them, they were entirely too cute for their own good.

"You better be, otherwise I'll tickle you more, you two hear me?" You said, crossing your arms and looking at them through narrowed eyes.

Natasha nodded with a smile on her face, while Yelena threw her hands up and yelled "Yes!"

You laughed out loud and pulled them to you, giving Yelena's cheeks lots of little kisses, then delicately kissing Natasha's nose before resting your forehead against hers.

"Thank you for this, my love," you said, one of your hands caressing her face, "thank you for giving me our little angel, thank you for giving me your heart."

Natasha brushed her nose against yours, one of her hands coming up to rest above yours, "you should know by now that I'd do anything for you."

"Are you sure you don't want to tell anyone else you're leaving?" Tony asked as the last of your luggage got carried to the car.

You smiled up at him, if there was one thing you'd surely miss about this place that would be Tony. Yeah, he's a dick sometimes, and he can be really inconvenient when he wants to be, but he's also one of the funniest people you've ever met, and despite his attempts at hiding it, he's one of the most caring people in the whole wide world.

"Yeah," you answered with a little eye roll, "don't want anyone throwing a fit or meddling in my business. I mean, I'm moving out on the same day as Natasha, they're bound to find out about us."

"And by anyone you mean the wicked witch of the west," Tony teased with a smirk "Why not move on a different day, then? Natasha could go first and then-"

"I'mma stop you right there, Tin-man. I'm not going to leave my woman and my child alone. Also, even if we did move on different days, it'd still be pretty obvious." You said, shaking your head a little, "I mean, we've been living here since forever and neither of us ever said anything about moving, and then suddenly we move out within a couple of days from each other? Everyone would know that's bullshit."

"Yeah, yeah," Tony sighed, "guess I just wanted you to stay a bit more."

You patted his arm and hugged him "We won't be too far, at least that's what Nat said." You chuckled and pulled away, squeezing his arm once more "Besides, I expect you to be visiting quite often. Your goddaughter's gotta be well acquainted with her godfather."

Tony laughed at that and moved his eyes to Lena, who was currently playing with a lock of Natasha's hair while your fianceée said her goodbyes to Loki.

You caught yourself wishing, not for the first time, that your eyes could take pictures. The way the sun illuminated Natasha's hair was magical, the way she tilted her hip slightly to accommodate Lena better, the way your daughter smiled brightly as she played with her mother's hair, you wished you could carry that image with you for the rest of your life.

"I'm really happy for you, you know. She's amazing, she lights up a room," Tony said with a fond smile on his face "and she has this captivating smile. That smile she got from you, it has your toothy grin written all over it. It's amazing how she looks like you, but also like Natasha."

You beamed at him, his eyes shone with love, but also with longing, and that made you realize… "You're thinking about having one, aren't you?" You asked gently, putting your hand on his shoulder.

Tony sighed once more" Yeah. Think that's crazy?"

"No way," you said "I know for a fact you're gonna be a great dad. And Pepper an amazing mom."

Tony's smile came back, and he patted your back a couple times. "I'm gonna miss you, Blue," he said and you used your light blue magic to poke his nose.

"I'mma miss you too, Tin-man." You said then, taking a couple steps towards the car, where Natasha and Yelena were already waiting.

"We're gonna visit soon!" Tony yelled out as you entered the car.

"Maybe sooner than you think!" Loki said.

"We're counting on it!" You and Nat said in unison as she turned the ignition on. You looked at your friends and smiled once more "Don't kill yourselves, you two, and don't do anything I wouldn't!"

You drove away.

"Did Loki tell you that he expects Lena to be taught the art of deceiving?" You asked Nat as you took in the scenery.

You knew this part of the city well, it wasn't far from the compound at all, and it was pretty close to where your family lived.

"Yes, he said there's no one better than me to teach her," Nat answered with a smile on her face. "Did he tell you that since he doesn't intend on having children, he's gonna name Lena as his heiress to the throne?"

You turned to her, her smile had turned into a smirk.

"You're messing with me." You said, shaking your head, your eyes going to the rearview mirror to take a look at Yelena.

"I'm actually not. Not this time." Nat said, taking one of her hands off the steering wheel to interlace her fingers with yours.

"But isn't Thor the next in line?" You asked with furrowed eyebrows.

"Yes, but he doesn't have any children either, so if anything ever happens to him Loki will be the king."

"... And Yelena a fucking princess." You sigh in a mix of fondness and disbelief "My daughter, a literal princess. Holy fuck."

"Well, you are the queen of my heart, so…"

It was only because your daughter had her eyes on the both of you that you didn't make Natasha stop that car so you could fuck her into oblivion.

Your heart swelled hearing those words. You knew no words were ever necessary to show you how much your Natalia loved you, she had proven it over and over again, but still, you felt so validated, so cared for whenever she said those things. You could only hope to replicate that feeling in her chest.

"Our queendom is mutual then because you're the queen of my heart, body, and soul." You said with one hand over your chest.

Natasha raised a single eyebrow, and her smirk grew bigger "Did you just quote Taylor Swift at me?"

You smiled and fluttered your lashes at her. She laughed out loud and squeezed your hand.

"You're lucky you're so cute." She muttered, regaining her neutral expression, though you could see her fighting off a smile.

"I can't help it, it's like she takes a peek into our lives before writing those songs!" You defended yourself.

"Ake it off, ake it off!" Yelena sang, making you and Nat burst out laughing.

"See, even Lena agrees!" You said, still laughing.

"Ok, ok, I'll have to relent this time," Nat said, and you brought her hand, still intertwined with yours, to your lips, making her smirk once again.

"Well, since you're in a relenting mood, could you relent and tell me where our home will be?" You asked, batting your eyelashes once more.

"Geez, five minutes, detka, five more minutes." She chuckled and shook her head.

"You've been saying five more minutes for fifteen minutes now." You said, pouting.

Natasha didn't say anything back, she just kept that damned smirk on her face. You could tell she was excited, the way her finger tapped the wheel gave her away.

You knew Natasha Romanoff enough to know that she had spent a lot of time searching for the perfect house, and you knew as well that you would love whatever she chose because, one, she certainly had you in mind while doing so, and two, your home was with her, no matter where you lived in.

As she drove, you kept stealing glances at her, your curiosity growing more and more by the minute. "Not even a little hint?" You asked then.

Natasha laughed at that, shook her head, and said, "Calm down, detka, it's a surprise. Just wait and see, we'll be there soon enough."

"Where ma?" Yelena's voice popped up, making you laugh out loud.

"See! Even our kid's curious!" You accused, pointing a finger at Lena.

"Rious!" Yelena yelled out, making you laugh once again.

"Now who's ganging up on who?!" Natasha said, smiling from ear to ear.

You opened your mouth to reply, but Natasha took a turn, and then another, and you found yourself in an area you knew quite well. As you got deeper and deeper into the neighborhood, Nat turned down a quiet street lined with trees. You remembered playing with your siblings not too far from there.

And then Nat pulled up. You gasped in surprise, your heart swelling once more with overwhelming love for this beautiful woman you could call your own. It was a beautiful three-story home, it had a modern layout and you could clearly see how it was brimming with technology. But more than that, it was only a couple blocks away from your parent's house.

"Holy shit, Natasha," you exclaimed, completely forgetting for a moment you shouldn't curse near your very intelligent child "This is perfect!"

You unbuckled your seatbelt and practically jumped from the car, your eyes roamed the area, seeing a huge space for a garden, an enormous garage, a pool in the back as well as a weirdly technological shack.

Natasha took Yelena and got out after you, her eyes shining with what could be only described as pride. "I knew you'd love it," she said, setting Yelena down so the kid could run through the space where the garden would be. "And the best part is the location. We're just a short walk to your parents' house, but the Avengers Tower isn't far either." She said, coming up behind you and wrapping her arms around your waist. "When I took you to my cabin, you told me you missed our friends and your family. This house allows us to be close enough to both."

You turned around in Natasha's embrace, your eyes meeting hers, and as you tried to speak it was as if your voice didn't want to cooperate, you were too emotional, so you only managed to whisper. "I can't believe you did all of this for me. For us."

"Your happiness is my reason for living. I'd do anything to see you smile like that." She said, her eyes looking right at your soul, she cupped your face, caressing your cheek with one hand. "Detka, I love you more than words can say, more than the sun that lights my day, more than the air that fills my lungs. I love you more than life itself. I hope you know that by now."

You nodded, your eyes filling with unshed tears. "I know," you said, kissing her palm "and I love you just as much. You're the one I live for, my everything, my reason to be."

You touched your forehead against hers, your hand caressing her face just as she had done to you.

"Mamaaaa! Look, toys!" You heard Yelena giggle, making you laugh and pull away from your love.

Your heart never felt so full.

It was late in the evening when Yelena finally fell asleep in her own room, you and Nat tucked her in and kissed her forehead, and then she was out like a light.

The moment the door to your kid's room closed, you pushed Natasha against the wall and kissed her. Natasha's hands started traveling your body, but you stopped her as you pulled her with you towards the stairs. You'd go to the first floor, the farthest from Yelena's room, so you could properly christen the house.

As soon as you got to the first floor, Nat pulled you to the kitchen and pushed you against the counters. She kissed your neck and rolled up your camisole so she could feel the curve of your ass. You couldn't help but grind back against her, making her let out a little moan.

"Y/N, my love, you always feel so fucking good," she said low against your ear. You arched against her, shivering a little. Nat's eyes were dark with lust. It drove you wild seeing how crazy you could make her.

"Fuck, Natty" you breathe out.

Natasha squeezed your ass then, unable to keep her hands off of you. "Why are we still wearing clothes, Detka?"

You pulled away with an impish smile on your face. "In the kitchen?" you asked, then, biting your lip. "Really? You know I'm gonna have to bleach everything when we're done, right?" You teased, inching in and pulling her lower lip between your teeth.

"Tell you what, Kotenok, I'll bleach it down myself if you let me bend you right here and right now," she said with a teasing smile, her lips brushing yours.

You pulled away a little and tilted your head a bit to the side, your eyes glowing slightly blue. “What if I want you to bend over for me, Natty baby?” you said as you inched closer again, slipping your hand into her lacy underwear and toying with her lower lips.

"Fuck, Detka," she sighed, bucking her hips against your hand.

Your hand went to her clit, massaging it in slow circles as your forehead came to rest against hers. “I have a little something for you,” you whispered.

The moment your hands left her Natasha let out a little whimper, making your body tremble with desire. You grabbed her shoulders and turned your positions, pinning her to the counter and pressing the little Black Widow insignia on your own body.

The telltale sound you two came to know so well echoed through the kitchen, but this time it didn’t come from her. Natasha’s eyes widened at the realization, your eyes searching hers for any sign of hesitancy. You only found a bit of confusion.

“I asked Tony for it,” you said before she could say anything, your hands tightening on her waist “I wanted to make you feel as good as you make me feel.”

You didn’t wait for her answer, you claimed her mouth with yours once again, your hands exploring her pussy once more. Nat only moaned and buckled against you, pulling you closer by the collar of your camisole.

You lifted her up the counter, her legs automatically wrapping around your waist. Her nipples showed through the shirt she was wearing, your shirt. One of your hands moved to rub over the little nub and Nat arched her back, offering herself up to you in a silver platter.

You kissed her neck down to her collarbone, her scent was intoxicating. Nat clung to you, her arms pulling you impossibly closer as a shivery groan left her mouth. You angled your fingers to rub in the exact way you knew she liked, and pleasure ran through you at the sight of her squirming. Her hips ground against you, the smell of her arousal permeating the room as she rubbed against your hand to the beat of her uneven breaths. Her legs began to shake, wrapping around your waist and gripping you to the point it’d leave bruises. You didn’t care, though, you always thought that dying between her legs would be the best way to go.

“Yes, right there Detka, you’re being so good to me, such a good girl,” she moaned, hips still grinding against your hand.

You groaned and bit your lip “Fuck, Nat, you’re so hot, so fucking hot”.

Her hands twisted the fabric of your camisole so tight it almost rip apart, she had this pleased expression on her face, and you could feel yourself getting more and more aroused just by looking at her.

The more you rubber her clit the tighter her legs wrapped around you, drawing you closer and closer. The handle of the cabinet dug into your tight, but you couldn't really feel it, your attention solely on the redhead squirming against you.

Natasha always looked beautiful; in all the years you’ve known her there wasn’t a single stance where she looked anything less than perfect. Even when bloodied and bruised, even when crying and shouting, your Natalia was the most beautiful sight you have ever laid eyes upon, and yet this was one of her most beautiful facets. The bliss on her face, the slight flush to her cheeks, the silver of forest green in her darkened eyes; it was heaven. She was heaven.

You couldn't take it anymore, you withdrew your hand and ripped her underwear, making her practically growl. The sound soon turned into a sigh when she felt your cock rubbing against her lower lips, and you had to fight off this loud, loud moan you knew could wake your child. You don’t know what exactly Tony did, you didn’t know if this was how an actual man’s cock felt, but the feeling was mind-blowing.

You bucked your hips against hers, your cock grinding against her soaking wet pussy as she let out a wanton, needy sound, rocking her hips right back, clad in nothing more than an oversized shirt of yours.

“So eager, my love,” you panted against her mouth “You want my cock, Natty, is that what you want?”

Natasha’s hands gripped your camisole tighter still, ripping it as she, too, panted against your mouth, nodding almost desperately.

You shook your head and bit your lip. “I want you to answer me, baby. Do you want my cock?”

“Fuck, fuck, yes, Y/N! Yes, I want your cock, goddamn it!” she practically screamed.

You smirked, one of your hands making its way to the back of her head, gripping her hair tightly in a fist. “Where do you want it?” you asked.

Natasha growled this time, and her nails dug into the skin of your back where the fabric had ripped. “Y/N, if you don’t shove your big, fat cock in my pussy right this second I swear to god I’m gonna handcuff you to bed and ride you all night long without letting you cum.”

You shivered. It would be torture, but it would also be bliss. You didn’t know if she was trying to persuade you or dissuade you. You didn’t want to know.

You pushed in.

“Oh my god, oh fuck!” She shivered as you entered her. It was bliss, it was pure bliss. You buried your face against her neck and bit on that sweet spot of hers, making her tighten around you. “Fuck, detka, you feel so good inside me, so good for your mommy!”

“Mommy, mommy,” you mumbled between each thrust, feeling her walls around your cock as if it was actually a part of you. Natasha was tight, so fucking tight and so wet and warm, and, god, you could stay inside of her forever “I wanna make you feel good,” you kept mumbling “I wanna make you feel so fucking good, make you cum on my cock so hard, fuck, I love you, I love you so much.”

"Oh god, Detka, please, please, go deeper,” she groaned and gripped your shoulders tightly. And who were you to deny the love of your life?

You pulled out until only the tip of your cock was inside of her, and using your magic you made it even bigger before thrusting back in again, going deeper and harder than before.

Natasha's eyes widened, she gasped your name again and again as you fucked her silly, as you lost yourself in her.

Fuck, how could she feel so good? She was so tight and warm around you, so much so that every time you pulled back you felt the absence of her. You could spend days with your cock buried inside her tight pussy; you could even see yourself chilling on the sofa, watching a movie as she cockwarmed you. God, that would be heaven.

You were so lost in her, drowning so deliciously in the pleasure she was giving you that you barely paid attention to the murmured praises you were muttering in her ear.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, my Natalia, so ethereal. God, do you know what you do to me?" You muttered, feeling her walls tighten up around you, hearing the needy whine that left her lips. "You’re my whole world, my universe, my everything… So pretty, so beautiful, so perfect… Fuck, you feel so fucking good around me, Mommy, so hot and tight… Never wanna stop, wanna keep fucking you forever… ”

Natasha was moaning and panting like you'd never seen her do before. She was always so controlled, moaning only the dirtiest praises, groaning only at low volume, but now she was singing her pleasure with abandon, holding onto you as if you were the only thing keeping her from falling apart.

Looking at her like that, so free, so blissed out, it hit you once again how much you loved this woman. She really was your everything, you would shatter without her.

Natasha pulled you even closer and tucked her head into that sweet spot on your neck. And then she bit down, hard. You groaned and rutted harder into her as she held you close, keeping her head in your neck almost possessively.

You moaned loudly as you felt her licking the bite, your hand making its way to her breast, where you twisted her nipple in retaliation, your hips working harder and faster as you pounded into her with abandon.

“Yes, fuck, Detka," Natasha pleaded, whorish moans leaving her mouth, "keep fucking me just like that. Fuck, that’s so deep. You're so good to your mommy, baby, fucking me so hard,” she was gasping, her breathing ragged, and you could feel her pussy pulsing around you.

She dragged her nails down your back, ripping your camisole even more.

You put your hands on her stomach, under the shirt.

She tightened around you even more, driving you beyond whatever notion of pleasure you could convince.

You opened your mouth to say something, but the moment you tried to speak, she kissed you hard enough to make you see stars.

And then she was shuddering, squirting all over the counter, tightening so much around you that you couldn't help but explode.

Your hands glowed blue over her stomach.

Your come filled her entirely.

She sagged against you.

"Hey, Natty baby," you said then after catching your breath, your glowing hands retreating from her stomach as you placed them under her tights to pick her up. "How're you feeling? Are you ok? Do you need anything?"

She raised her head to look you in the eyes, her forest green orbs filled with adoration “I don’t feel my legs but… god that was so fucking good, Y/N.” she groaned, lowering her head on your chest once again as you placed a kiss on her forehead.

“Fucking good is an understatement. I think you officially broke me. I won't be able to ever have sex again without wanting to make you squirt.” You joked, walking towards the sofa and gently laying Natasha down.

With a single wave of your hand, a warm damp cloth appeared right in front of you. You took it and delicately wiped Natasha clean, caressing and massaging her body as you went.

Natasha's hands cupped your cheeks, and there was so much love in her eyes you felt like your whole life led you right to that moment.

“I really want to marry you, you know?” she asks, stretching her legs with a dopey, lovesick smile on her face.

With another wave of your hand your clothes were fixed, covering your bodies as if they were never tattered.

After making sure your camisole was right, you leaned over her and brushed your nose against hers.

"I know," you whispered, "I really wanna marry you, too. You know that, right?"

You picked her up once again, cradling her lovingly in your arms as you walked her to your new room in your new home.

“Yeah, I know.”

She wrapped her arms around your neck, tucking her face in your neck and cuddling you while you stroke her hair.

It didn't matter if this started out wrong, Natasha more than made up for it by now. And with this place, you felt like it was all coming together. Like this was the beginning of a new chapter in your lives, and you couldn't wait to see what the future held for the three of you in your beautiful new home.

You hoped nothing would perturb this peaceful serenity you found.

You would hate to have to paint your hands red again.

But you would rejoice in the suffering of whoever dared to break your bubble.

If it was the last thing you do.

Natasha Romanoff Taglist: @strangegardentaco, @madamevirgo, @Lovelyy-moonlight, @agent99galanzo, @red1culous

HD Taglist: @romanoffsgal, @ministark, @liladoesfanfics, @wandanatvoid, @inlovewithfaberry, @kermy48, @fabgronsky, @natashakink, @strangegardentaco, @im-stilltired, @blinkmuch, @wandanatblogs, @blackwow34, @a-grinch, @proudmorning, @nuianced-tck-enby, @gayformaximoff, @tati3001, @sav06nat, @milfloverslut, @halobaby, @yomama010101, @raqelacevedo, @1uthina, @coxmicbabygirl, @olicity-boo, @screechcat, @savethecookie, @beenicejoy, @simpforflorencepugh1, @watashiwaglr38, @myplaceofsolace, @wildnightuniverse, @limelight111, @whore4nat, @mrsdanversluthorplease, @silveeer-duuust, @natflough04, @kiaranatsslut, @raniellee, @inluvwithfictionalwomen, @lenam07, @officialbriiiisworld, @grxvitye, @natasharomanoffswife17, @rice-wiife, @justagurlwholikes, @daddynatasha,

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harunade · 9 months

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pressure . kim jiwoong

pairings: bf!jiwoong x f!reader

warnings: smut , period sex, messy sex, fluff towards the end, service bf woong ⁄(⁄ ⁄ ⁄ω⁄ ⁄ ⁄)⁄ not proofread!

You had been tossing around the bed trying to get some sleep for the last few hours. Your period came unexpectedly, and harder than ever. As you hugged your knees in pain, all your boyfriend could do was watch.

Occasionally, he would bring you savoury and sweet snacks as well as hot drinks. He didn’t know all that much about this topic, so he remained glued to his phone reading article after articles. That’s when he came across something. Apparently having sex on your period helps relieve painful cramps? He knew that your cramps were horrible, so he went to try it out immediately.

“How are you feeling, princess?” he rubbed your back as you cuddled into his side. “Not so good, my tummy feels like it will explode” your murmured while hugging his waist. Jiwoong didn’t know how to bring it up to you. “ I hate seeing you like this.. i really want to help you baby, and i think i can..” you looked up at him, gesturing for him to continue. “Well… I read this article online that said that having sex on your period applies a lot of pressure and makes cramps go away.. i Completely understand if you don’t want to!!” he panicked towards the end. Your face had gone red, as well as his.

“Truth is.. I’ve been horny out of my mind so, i can give this a try.” you told him with a smile. he rushed to the bathroom to bring a thick towel that he placed under you. Reaching out for a condom, he quickly slid it down his already hard dick. He was about to pull down your pyjama shorts when he noticed you seemed nervous. “It’s alright, you’re beautiful with and without blood all over your lower half.” he reassured you before placing a kiss on your lips.

He carefully pulled your pants and panties down, spreading your legs in the process. “It’s okay.” he held your hand as he pushed into you. The whimpers and cries that left your mouth made him worry. “Are you alright? Does it hurt?” he had a worried look on his face. “I’m okay, Woong, keep going please”

As he bottomed out, Jiwoong pulled out almost completely, before sliding back in. He made sure not to go too roughly on you, while also keeping a hand on your lower tummy. “Fuck” he cursed under his breath. You were more sensitive than usual and as a result of that, you were tighter and warmer than he was used to. “It’s so good..” you moaned out as you grabbed on his shoulders. He took this as an opportunity to place some messy kisses on your neck.

Shortly after, you left out a loud cry as you came. Jiwoong was sure an orgasm crashed into you because of how tight your gummy walls were around him, making him unable to move. He thrusted into you a couple of times before pulling out, seeing a mix of blood and cum drip down on the towel. Most people would find it gross, but it sort of turned him on. He lowered his head and placed some kisses on your stomach, making you moan and giggle in the process.

“So… how was it?” he asked you while massaging your thighs with his hands. “It worked. Thank you so much, babe. i would’ve died without you” you told him with a very serious face, which made him laugh. “You’re so dramatic. If you ever hurt too much again, I’ll be glad to help. Now let’s go and get you cleaned up” he picked you up gently and carried you to the bathroom.

#harunade #zb1 hard hours #zb1 x reader #jiwoong smut #jiwoong x reader

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be-my-ally · 6 months

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Before the Draft Notice

This follows on directly from Splashing Around Chapter 1 & Chapter 2.

Hello darlings! So, I had something else ready to post, but, well, it's not yet even Halloween and therefore I’ve been informed it might be a little, teeny, tiny, bit early for Christmas fics - so here I am, bridging the gap with a little teeny tiny filler. Let me know though if/when you think it might be the correct time for festive fluffy fun!

warnings: kissing, implications of underage. unedited (I will probs come back to this tomorrow).

1957 elvis x oc

wc: 2.4k

Elvis wasn’t home soon though, he dawdled in California until they all saw the news articles of him at a fancy Halloween party and though the other girls had a lot to say about it, Louise privately thought it made sense; he was young, he was popular, he was making it, why wouldn’t he be rubbing shoulders with the starlets and actors of the west coast? Although that didn’t mean she didn’t share their fears, understanding their annoyance was borne from stress that he was leaving them behind. Besides, he’d called in a terrible temper the night before and it was, or at least Louise thought, an effective way for him to blow off some steam. He had been on the phone to them for hours, forcing them to pass it around to one another, telling them the same story over and over - presumably intending on doing so until someone managed to calm him down. Louise dreaded to think of the cost of just that one call - surely more than she’d spent on the phone in a year.

“Hey Elvis, it’s me.” She could picture his nostrils flaring as she heard a puff from him,

“Lou-ise.” He was curt, and she worried the phone cord around her finger, twirling it as she tried to think of what to say; desperate to prove herself to him and to the others - to succeed where all the others had failed.

“I, uh, I heard ‘bout the, I heard about the police.”

“Did ya? Wish they’d just move on; I’m not doing anything wrong. I don’t get why they hafta keep picking on me.” Louise hums, and he continues, “They’re sayin’ I’m - I’m lewd, got the goddamn police after me again like I’m a fucking criminal. Ain’t enough they’ve made me 1A already, they gotta try and prove their goddamn point.” She sighs,

“Well - I thought that didn’t bother you anymore?” He huffs back at her,

“Well, no, it don’t. I find it funny most of the time now. I mean - they didn’t even look at me the whole night, but it’s still, it’s still not fair to treat my fans like that either is it?” She murmurs back to him in what she hopes is a consolatory tone,

“No, no you’re right El… it’s not, it’s not fair.” She pauses, briefly, “What’s really the matter though? That’s nothing you haven’t dealt with before.” There’s a longer pause, as if he’s debating whether to tell her. She shakes out a hand to the others left in the room motioning at them to leave. They grumble but filter out, talking about who was driving who home. Then, in a whine,

“Some reporter had me read something from Sinatra.” Ah, there it was, “And, and, I just don’t know where he gets off being so mean.” He sounds like a little boy complaining about someone in the school yard, and Louise smiles,

“Uh-huh, I hear you. He is being awfully unfair. You want me to write an opinion piece back to him? I could hand it in for extra credit in my English class.” He laughs,

“Oh, I shouldn’t be bothering you with all this. Not at -” She can practically hear him adding up the time difference on his fingers, “- well, this late on a school night.” He pauses, “What are you doin’ there anyway - shouldn’t you be at home?” She winces, it was pretty late, and she’d hoped he wouldn’t ask that.

“Well, we were all here waiting for you to call. Wanted to be here in case you needed us - all of us that could be here anyway - and well, a lot of the others have gone home but, well, your mom said I could stay as long as I liked so, well, here I am.”

“But you’ve been keeping up with school? You’ve not been skippin’?” She rolls her eyes, and he tuts,

“I heard that.” Louise giggles back,

“You can’t possibly!”

“Trust me - I always know.” He sighs, “God, I can’t wait to be home.” He yawned, jaw cracking, “Gotta, gonna go to this party, just - think it’s just a lil, little, uh, gathering - then I’ll be home.”

“Well, I’ll be waiting,” He pauses,

“Well - it’s, it’s probably best if you, well if you go home ‘til I call for you hmm?” It wasn’t unexpected, but Louise still felt her stomach drop.

“Yeah, of course, uh, whatever you say.”

“Just be for the best, I think honey.”

“Yeah, I get it, sure.”

“Sleep tight then baby, I’ll see you soon.”

“Yeah-huh, you too.” He hangs up and she’s left holding the receiver, in his empty living room, uncertain really what he’d been saying.

When he finally got back Louise didn’t get a call, and then she heard he had left for Hawaii before she had managed to muster up the courage to call him herself. Once Elvis returned, he didn’t call her himself for days, although she did get several calls inviting her up to the house which she of course accepted every time. And every night it was the same story, she sat there, quietly with the other girls while he chatted and played evening after evening. Louise wasn’t being ignored, not really. He was just…sharing his affections. Equalizing his attention amongst them all. It wasn’t until a week later, on the weekend, that he came around to the girls, flopping down onto the sofa between them and resting his head onto Louise’s lap. Frances had his feet on hers, and she softly brushed his sole until he huffed, twitching his foot away and turning his head into Louise’s stomach. She gently stroked his hair, fingers barely catching in his freshly washed strands. She could feel his hot breath against her skin through the thin fabric of her dress and it makes her hair stand up on edge, the intimacy of the moment almost too much for her as she tries to keep her breathing steady.

“I’ve got a bad feelin,’ Ma does too.” Louise’s hand stills, her other coming down to tickle his back, soft fingers dancing over his shoulders. Elvis twists his head, nodding against her hand and Louise gets the hint returning to gently brushing through his hair.

Frances pipes up, “What d’you mean?”

“I’ve - I’ve got a nasty feeling about my notice - don’t think it’ll be long now.”

“Oh.” Louise feels her chest tighten, worry already setting in as Frances responds,

“No! I’m sure that’s not true Elvis! You’ve got so much already planned!” He huffs, and Louise whispers back to him,

“Well, we’ll deal with it if it is,” He whines a little into her,

“Y’all gotta promise me - promise me you’ll all be good while I’m gone, I don’t - don’t wanna hear you’ve gotten into trouble.” He pauses, his voice muffled by the fabric of her dress, “Don’t want anything to change.” Louise can’t help but think about all the ways she wants things to change, namely how it’s now been months since they last kissed properly, and she felt like she was close to begging for it - propriety be damned. Whether Elvis notices her telepathic hinting, or if it was always in the plan is unclear, but within the hour he had returned to his bedroom, presumably to get changed again although he didn’t bother to announce that to the room. George tapping on her shoulder twenty minutes later after some sort of Chinese whispers had taken place with orders for her to be sent up to him.

Louise tentatively knocked on the door even though she knew he was expecting her, awaiting his, “Come on in little Lou-Lou!” before opening it. He’s perched on the end of his bed when she walks in, her feet sinking into his soft, still new-feeling, thick white carpet, and he opens his arms to her. She practically throws herself into them and is immediately rewarded by him pulling her tight to him, his arms folding around her back, clutching her close. She couldn’t break away further than an inch if she wanted to, not that she did. She contented herself nosing at his neck, before one of his hands strayed up to rest on her cheek, turning her face to his, before falling down to her neck, fingers splayed up to her chin. She tips her head up, meeting his eyes and he winks before ducking his own head down to meet hers. It’s at once far more involved than the last time they’d kissed. This time he’s kissing her like he’s hungry for it and he pulls away, briefly, with a tug to her bottom lip,

“God - I missed ya, baby,” before clutching her face close again. Louise feels like her body is burning from the inside out, can feel the heat building and starting to radiate off her, and Elvis’ arm clenches around her, stilling her movements as she practically bucks against him. She just melts, his arm the only thing really holding her up as she willingly goes along with her devourment. He laughs, his fingers grazing her waist, as she gasps for a breath, her eyes still closed, “You’re so pretty.” Her eyes flutter open in disbelief, unable to believe, even having heard it herself, that Elvis was telling her she was pretty. She gathered her strength to place her wobbly arms around his neck, murmuring back to him, “No, you’re the pretty one, gosh you’re gorgeous, you look so good,” as she presses little kisses all over his cheeks and face. He reciprocates, and she manages to keep her eyes open, watching him at impossibly close range. He ends by pressing a kiss to her mouth again, and this time Louise pushes herself against him so hard that they go tumbling down onto the bed. She giggles, looking around at the blue walls, but Elvis quickly regains her attention, caging her in under him and capturing her mouth with his again. She relaxes into him - completely at ease and trusting.

By the time they make their way back downstairs, Louise was dazed, and her lips bitten sore, and she was pleased to notice Elvis’ looked the same - a little zing of possessiveness sent straight up her spine. Yes; she mussed his hair up to look like that. His lips are rosy and plumped because of her. She misses everyone’s first looks, coming in behind Elvis, and though he doesn’t announce what they’ d been up to she can feel their knowing eyes, and she resigns herself to having to field questions on the nature of her relationship with Elvis.

Elvis immediately situated himself back on the couch, patting the space next to him.

“C’mon little girl, come sit next to me.” Louise writhes a little, her face echoing her jumbled internal thoughts.

“What? C’mon, what’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?” He teases, eyebrow rising and Louise is quick to walk over to him, anxious for him not to change his mind despite her annoyance. He grabs her wrist before she can sit down, tugging her to stand in front of him. “You don’t wanna sit with me now?” She thinks, but doesn’t say, ‘well, no. because you’re holding me upright.’

“No, no, I do. I just, I know you don’t mean it in this way, but it’s just…well, Elvis - you’re not that much older than me, and it feels like sometimes you’re, - “She pauses, unsure how to put it, his gaze hardens,

“I’m what?”

“Like you’re, oh I don’t know Elvis!” He doesn’t let go, and he doesn’t respond, just waiting her out. “Well. You just don’t needta call me little all the damn time.” His brow furrows as he tries to work out what’s referring to,

“What? I can’t call you little girl?” He scoffs, “I don’t mean nothing by it. Jus what you are s’all.”

“Elvis.” She pouts, and he grins, pulling her closer, pressing his palms to her cheeks,

“Just my itty-bitty baby girl.” She groans, annoyed he wasn’t taking her seriously, and stomps her foot. He cackles in response, drawing back.

“See, what did I tell ya boys - She’s just a baby.” He says it with a sneer, and it suddenly doesn’t feel like kind-hearted teasing anymore. Louise can rapidly feel tears of frustration blurring her vision, frustrated at the situation, and at how it’s impossible to argue she’s not a baby when she’s crying at everything. Elvis frowns. “Oh, honey, there’s no need fo-” But they don’t stop coming, and he watches almost forlorn himself as a fat, salty teardrop slides down her cheek. He sighs, “C’mere with me.” He drags her out of the room away from the others and pulls her along all the way back up to his bathroom, “C’mon, here we go,” He picks her up to balance her on the vanity while she sniffles.

“So-rry,” She manages to get out, while he gently wipes at her eyes with his thumbs, “Didn’t mean to, I know you were playing.” He smiles, eyes almost pleading, crinkling just the tiniest amount around the corners,

“Thought you were gonna fight it out with me. I wasn’t expecting the waterworks, but I guess, well I guess, you’re jus’ a little over-emot’onal huh, darling?” He kisses the tears away, teardrop clinging to his lip as she struggles to compose herself. “Will you still come back tomorrow?” The question startles Louise enough for her to stop the tears,

“Of course! Whenever you want me too.” Elvis brushes his hand through his hair, shoving some of it back into place.

“Honey, I want you here all the time. Even when you’re bein’ silly.” He taps her nose and Louise giggles again. “Look, I think someone here is tired, so how’s abouts I drop you home?”

Louise blinks back at him, the offer almost unheard of, “You want to?” He nods, his hair flopping back into disarray,

“Yeah-huh, let’s wash your face, huh honey? And then I’ll take you home. Tuck my baby in for the night.” Louise blushes, this was exactly the kind of comment she’d just been protesting, and yet now it was making her head feel fuzzy and her tummy flip with anticipation. Elvis shifts his weight as he cocks a hip, holding his hand out for her hold for balance as she hops off the sink and as the sturdy weight of his fingers sink into hers Louise decides it’s not an argument that she has any desire to win.

#elvis presley fanfiction #be-my-ally #elvis x oc #elvis fanfic #splashing around

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