#anyways thanks for making it this far if you did

[eiightysixbaby]

hi there! i'm OBSESSED with your eddie works and I had a lil request for u!

(if this is out of your comfort zone, I totally get btw, i'm just actually hormonal rn)

thinking about reader and eddie while she's ovulating and absolutely, positively feral... maybe they've only been together for a little while and they've fucked before, but he's never really seen that side of her... idk i'm just thinking a lot of thoughts rn

thanks! 💞

hi angel! thank you so much!!! 🥹🫶🏻 i hope i did your request justice 🩵

18+ only plssss. fem!reader, unprotected piv

The clock ticks obnoxiously where it hangs on the wall, marking each passing second that won’t pass fast enough.

It’s not unusual for a shift at the library to go slowly, but today time feels like it’s trudging through thick molasses; barely crawling by. Or maybe it’s just going backwards at this point, who knows.

You chew at the cap of your pen, reading the same sentence of the novel in front of you over and over yet not fully comprehending it. Trying to ignore the desperate ache between your thighs, the heat that pools in the pit of your stomach. It had been a relentless desire for the last couple of hours, a hunger that couldn’t be sated just yet.

But the promise of seeing your boyfriend after work had you chewing-through-your-leash desperate for your shift to end. You know Eddie had a nice dinner planned for the two of you tonight, but all you can think about is how badly you need his hands on you. It makes you feel bad, but you can’t rid yourself of thoughts of his lips on your neck, his fingers splitting you open, your hips grinding against him. This always happens when you’re ovulating, only this time… you’re not hiding it.

The last couple of times, you’d made do with your vibrator at home; embarrassed to let Eddie see this side of you. Your relationship was still quite new, and you weren’t sure if ripping his clothes off any chance you got would scare him away or not. This time, though? You can’t hold back any longer.

The end of your shift arrives at long last, and you practically fling yourself from your receptionist chair. You gather your belongings with haste, throwing everything into your shoulder bag before hightailing it out the door. Your keys jangle as you fumble with them, searching for the correct one to unlock your car. Eddie will be expecting you, although maybe not expecting you in the state that you’re in.

It doesn’t take long to get to the trailer park, your thighs pressing together in an attempt to provide even the smallest amount of friction as you drive along familiar roads. Your car is barely in park before you’re killing the engine, ascending the few steps to his trailer door and swinging it open without a knock to alert anyone inside. Wayne isn’t home anyway, so really what do you need to knock for?

Eddie’s frame appears in his bedroom doorway down the small hallway, his face brightening at the sight of you. You feel like you’re sweating just looking at him, your clothes suddenly too tight as the space between your thighs vibrates with need.

“Hey, baby. I didn’t expect you so soon, did you fly over here?” Eddie asks, a lighthearted joke, but he’s not far from the truth.

You don’t even answer him, slipping off your shoes before you’re trodding down the hallway, throwing your arms around his neck when you reach him.

“Baby, what’s—” he starts to speak, only for you to cut him off with a hot kiss to his lips. His voice dies against your mouth, fizzling into a soft whimper as you tug his bottom lip between your teeth.

“Missed you so bad,” you murmur. Your nervousness over how he’d react is tossed out the window, unwilling to wait any longer. “And I’ve been wanting you all fucking day,” you ramble, kissing him between words. “I need you,” you plead, letting a hand fumble with his belt buckle.

He makes a sound that’s halfway between a gasp and a laugh, kissing you before speaking. “Do you not want to go to dinner?” he asks, tilting his head slightly to the side.

“I do,” you admit with a pout. “But I need you right now.” Your hands are on a mission, palming him urgently through denim as if he might disappear any second, never to be touchable again.

The corner of his mouth twitches up in a soft smirk, his thumbs rubbing over your hipbones where his hands hold them.

“I’ve never seen you this needy, sweetheart,” he teases you, brushing his lips across the shell of your ear before he bites at the lobe. “But I like it.”

You whine at this, the slightest touch, and he breathes a quiet laugh.

“Please, Eddie, don’t tease,” you beg as he noses your chin up, kissing at your neck.

He doesn’t listen, taking his time trailing kisses down your soft skin and letting his hands wander but never close enough to where you need him. You can feel yourself dripping, making a mess of your panties. His big hands squeeze your ass, taking greedy handfuls. You let out a moan, louder than you’d intended, earning the nip of his teeth against your skin. Taunting.

You’re riled up, frustrated beyond belief, huffing where you stand before you decide you’ve had enough.

You press your hands to his chest, pushing him off of you. He’s surprised by the action, giving you the opportunity to grab the collar of his shirt, pulling him over to his bed and letting him fall onto the mattress. He sits on the edge of it, looking up at you equal parts dumbfounded and turned on. Your hands hurriedly undo the hefty buckle on his belt, unzipping his jeans as you start to straddle his lap. His cock is throbbing, leaking as it lays in waiting in your hand once you retrieve it from its confines.

“Told you not to tease,” you say. His big brown eyes roam over your face, his pretty lips parted just slightly in a state of awe. “I need you to fuck me. Now.”

“Yes ma’am,” he obeys, but it’s less him doing the work and more you taking control.

You ruck your skirt up, pushing the fabric of your panties to the side and lining yourself up with his cock, sliding slowly down onto the length of him. Your name escapes his lips as his leaves yours, already starting to rock your hips against his.

He holds you firmly in place on his lap, guiding your movements to the best of his ability. The stretch he provides you with is delicious, exactly what you’d been craving, the entirety of him filling you up perfectly.

“You’re so fucking soaked, baby,” he remarks, bringing one hand up to briefly run through his messy curls, his cheeks already flushed pink. “Feel bad you had to wait so long for me while you’ve been this worked up.”

He’s teasing you, kind of. Pitying you in a way that only makes you ache further. You bounce faster on him, steadying yourself with your hands on his shoulders. He’s cursing under his breath as you’re fucking yourself on his length, riding him with a fervor and determination he hasn’t seen from you yet. He finds it hotter than he’d have ever expected, seeing you in such a state, and it’s taking everything he has not to finish early.

Lucky for him you aren’t far behind, desperate to cum after waiting all day. He lets one of his thumbs lazily circle your clit, sensing your desire to let go in the way your brows furrow in concentration.

Strings of moans tumble from your mouth, curse after curse of his name as you quicken your pace. Your head tips back, pure ecstasy coursing through you as you take what you want from him unashamedly. The rough pad of his finger on your clit makes you feel like you’re on fire, ablaze beneath his touch. His hips buck to meet your bounces, the tip of his cock pressing over and over against your sweet spot.

“Eddie—” you gasp, just as you fall apart on top of him. Your walls grip him like a vice, making him bite down on his lip.

He works you through your high, pulling out when he can’t possibly hold off his orgasm any longer. He pumps his cock in his fist a few times before he spills against your skin, cum dripping down your pussy.

Both panting, sweaty messes, you meet each other’s eyes and laugh.

“Feel better now, sweets?” he asks, lips pressing against yours in a heated kiss.

You break away momentarily, cradling his face in your hands. “You have no idea.”

He smiles. “Well, for what it’s worth, you have permission to use me whenever you need me.”

“Thank god,” you sigh, smiling against his cheek. “Cause I don’t think I’m done for the night.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fanfic #leah’s got mail 💌

[msgexymunson]

The Ink Shop Part 2

Description: After your encounter with Eddie, things are beginning to get a bit more complicated; especially when you ask him for another little favour. But, will Eddie go for it? 

Warnings: NSFW, minors DNI this ain't for you, angst, tiny bit of fluff, smut, fem oral receiving, male masturbation.

A/N: OK when I said this will be in 3 parts I lied, it's totally going to be at least 4, maybe 5! Thank you for the love you've shown the first part, it's incredible! You're superstars. 

❤️ If you like it please comment and reblog, it really makes my day!❤️

7k words 

Masterlist Part 1

For some reason, the shop seems more welcoming today than ever. It might be the fact that the sun is shining, it might be the radio seemingly playing all your favourite songs, or it might be last night. Either way, you feel loose and free, laughing at jokes, smiling at everyone, and genuinely just happier. 

Eddie saunters in thirty minutes late and you barely notice, apart from flashing him a bashful smile. 

“Well hello there sweetheart, you seem chipper today.”

You roll your eyes at the obvious insinuation, but your smile is warm. “I had a good night's sleep, that's all.” 

“Bet you did,” he grins, “you look real pretty.” 

Looking down, you consider your outfit; you'd decided enough of the corporate clothes, this is a tattoo shop after all. So, you'd paired a roll neck sweater with a short jean skirt and sneakers. A more relaxed outfit to go with a more relaxed attitude. Before you can say anything in reply he strolls over to his station. 

Right, so a few jabs, but he's being nonchalant. So put it out of your mind.

The morning moves quickly, a messy blur of clients and phone calls. After a fast lunch, the shop finally calms down a little. When you're focusing on sorting the mess of the heavy bookings tome in front of you, Eddie approaches, mischief glinting in his eyes. 

“I see London, I see France…” 

You follow his bowed head and cross your legs in sheer embarrassment, realising a sliver of your panties must be on display. 

“Eddie!” 

He simply laughs, throwing his head back far enough that your gaze drifts to his Adam's apple. 

“Sorry, I couldn't resist, I'm a big fan of this skirt,” he says, drinking you in with his eyes, “anyway I wanted to ask-” 

His sentence is stopped however by the loud ringing of the old corded phone. You and Eddie share a look, yours begging and his smug. Before you can grab it, he picks up the phone, putting on a ridiculous British accent. 

“Good Afternoon, London Underground Airways, this is your captain speaking- Oh shit Mac- Yeah she's- I know I'm not supposed to answer- Sorry I- Fine, here.” He brandishes the phone at you. 

“Hello? Oh, of course I'll let them know- I understand- It'd be my pleasure- see you soon.” replacing the receiver, you make a note on the pad at your side. 

“What'd he say?” Eddie asks, hovering over you. 

Not giving him the satisfaction of a look, you continue to make your note, however perfunctory it may be. “Mac's going to be a little late, he told me to tell his next client.” 

“He said my name, I heard it. What'd he say?” 

Placing your pen down with a loud click, you turn to him. 

You tell him as you smile smugly. “He told me to hit you for answering the phone.”

If anything, his grin grows broader. “Oh? Go on then princess, I'd hate for you to break the rules.” He turns his face, no doubt expecting a cuff to the back of the head.

Spinning on your stool, you slap him right across the cheek; not with all your strength, but certainly hard enough to remember. Eddie's face is a picture of shock, pink handprint already flushing his cheek. 

But that just makes his smile wider. 

“Harder.” He asks, eyes flashing arousal at you. 

“Eddie!” you shout, pushing him away, but his laugh echoes through the shop. Before he has a chance to continue, a burly biker type walks right in the door. 

“Good afternoon, can I help you?” 

“Yeah, It's Jimmy, I'm here for Mac?” 

“He's running a little late, but he'll be with you as soon as possible. Can I get you a coffee or something while you wait?” 

You can't help but hear a huff from Eddie, but before you can question it he's drawing in his book, entirely oblivious to the outside world. 

At the end of the day, you're tired, but still in fairly high spirits. It's the first time you've seen everyone in the shop at once. There's an edge to the air though, as if an expectation hangs over everyone. 

So… bar?” Mac asks in a defeated tone, although he's smiling. Everyone reacts; Eddie woops, pumping his fist, even the usually reserved Miranda is clapping quietly. You smile and nod, finally understanding what the atmosphere was about. 

As you all enter the dimly lit bar, chatting and laughing, you hear a low huff. 

“What did I do to deserve this?” John is standing behind the bar. An imposing figure, his arms crossed and face surly, but there's a kindness in his eyes. Mac leans straight over and hands him a card.  

“Easy John, I got this,” he chuckles. The card is accepted gratefully, the gruff demeanour lessening with the promise of payment. 

You accept a bottle of beer and slide into a nearby booth, the rest of the group filtering in. Mac walks over, eyes the space next to you, then grabs a stool to sit at the head of the table. It throws you for a minute; surely he knows he can sit there? Before you can tell him so, Eddie waltzes across the room with a tray of tequila shots and all the fixings with a cheeky look in his eyes. He slides right in next to you, tray and all, and places it on the table with exaggerated care. 

“Ladies, gentlemen.” He says, gesturing to the tiny glasses like an old timey butler. There's a succession of groans from the party, but despite this they all grab a shot. All except you. 

“I don't think I-” you begin, but he's waving a hand in the air. 

“Come on, you drink. It's a shot. Never had tequila before?” 

Fixing him with a sharp look, your cheeks begin to redden of their own accord. Eddie smirks and tosses his head back, hiding his eyes with one hand. 

“Shit princess, what did you do at college?” 

“Study.” You say primly, but take a glass tentatively and place it in front of you. 

“Right, so for the new guys…“ Eddie smiles right at you and licks his hand between his thumb and pointer finger. That hint of silver mesmerises you, the ball of his tongue piercing catching the light. It's almost sensual the way he does it, your eyes automatically following the movement of his tongue. “salt right here…” he sprinkles some on the spot he moistened, “then, lick, shoot, suck.” 

In a few fluid movements he licks the salt from his hand, downs the shot, and sticks a wedge of lime in his mouth. As your brain finally engages after that display, the little show that shouldn't have heated your insides up, you follow along, and take your shot with everyone else. It's easier than you would have thought, the lime easing the burn somewhat. 

Eddie squeezes your thigh under the table and whispers low enough for you to hear. 

“Good girl.” 

Shooting daggers with a simple look, he just smirks, leaving his hand on your bare leg as if challenging you. Dimly, you hear the echoes of a conversation in front of you; it's Julio, arguing about good tequila not needing salt and lime, but you're lost in the deep pools of Eddie's chocolate eyes.

For a moment, your body flashes red hot and you regret your choice of the high necked sweater. Tearing your eyes away you look at something, anything, but Eddie. 

The conversation drifts between all manner of subjects and you start to relax, the beer and tequila swimming in your belly loosening your tongue. It's nice, having a chance to chat and giggle with your coworkers in a setting not interrupted by the constant buzzing of tattoo machines. 

Julio and Chloe end up in a full scale argument about the karaoke machine in the corner. Before you're subjected to the horror of having to sing in public, you get up to grab another beer. Perching on a stool by the bar with your purse in hand, you're waiting patiently to be served. 

Eddie strolls over. You see him in your periphery; that confident walk as if he owns the very ground he walks on. Casually he hops up on the stool next to you, making no effort to hide the way he undresses you with his eyes. 

“Quit staring Eddie,” you say testily as you knock the bar with your bank card. 

“Now I can't look at you?” He asks with an amused grin. 

“I said quit staring, not quit looking,” you huff out. 

“What's the difference?” He asks, shrugging his shoulders and scrunching his nose at you.

You groan, turning on your stool to face him. “You are impossible,” 

He sticks his long tongue out childishly, flashing his piercing at you. 

Thankfully, John's voice cuts through the squabble. “What can I get you?”

“May I have a beer, please?” 

“You certainly may.” John cocks his thumb in your direction, addressing Eddie, “I like this one, she's polite. Don't scare her off.” 

Eddie dramatically holds his chest. “You wound me, sir!” 

Two beers are placed on the bar and John waves your card away. “Don't worry about it, Mac's treating you guys tonight.” 

As you swig your beer, you contemplate for a moment, trying to work out something.

“You're staring, sweetheart.” Eddie grins, as he gulps his drink. 

“I wasn't staring, I was thinking! I know that's a foreign concept to you.” It's catty, you know that, but he just seems to bring it out in you. No one else has annoyed you so much in your life just by… being. 

“That was rude. I thought we were playing nice?” he pouts playfully. 

“Sorry. I- Can I ask you something?” 

“Sure, shoot.” 

Turning to him, you speak what's on your mind. “Why do people get their tongues pierced? No one really sees it. I get like, nose and eyebrow piercings and stuff, but the tongue one I don't understand.” 

Eddie's grin is wide as he bites his bottom lip and stares at you. Well, you couldn't call it a grin. It's a flash of teeth, almost wolfish in its delivery. 

“Oh princess, you are too cute.” 

Staring at him with your brow furrowed, you try to work out what he means, but the longer you take, the more amused he looks. 

“What? What is it?” 

Sighing, he leans closer, the scent of aftershave, cigarettes and man clouding around you. “It's got a purpose, sweetheart.” 

“What, like, kissing?” 

Shaking his head, he looks you up and down. “Kinda. Kissing somewhere… specific.” 

Realisation breaks across your face, followed by a fierce blush that you can feel to the roots of your hair. Laughing, Eddie pulls away a little and takes a mouthful of beer. 

Voice an airy whisper, you lean over to him as you speak. “And girls like that?” 

His laugh is so loud it reverberates around the bar. 

“Yeah, a lot, in my experience.” 

“Oh.”

Well, the thought is there now, and you're pretty sure it won't ever go away, not without some sort of mind bleach. Eddie's head between your legs, his long tongue exploring your sex. The image is burned into the back of your brain, playing on a loop.

“You're looking a little hot there,” he says, as if he can read your thoughts. It's fair to say it wouldn't take a psychic to know what's rattling around your head right now. 

“I'm fine, this sweater is too warm,” you shake out, pressing your thighs together. 

“Liar.” 

Mouth opening and closing like a fish, you finally snap it shut with a crunch. Curiosity is eating away at you, and it's too easy to say what's on your mind after a couple of drinks. 

“Eddie, could you… tell me, what- what it's like?” 

He chuckles lightly and scoots closer to you. “you know I can't, I've not exactly had the pleasure.” 

“I know that, I mean…” 

For a second he just gapes at you. 

“Wait, princess, are you asking me to tell you or… show you?” 

Flustered, you turn away a little. “Sorry that's- that's too much isn't it. It's just you… did such a good job with the, you know, the other thing, I was just curious.” 

Eddie bites his lip, puffing out a little breath. “You know, flattery works with me. I did a good job, huh?” 

“Well, yeah. I can imagine you'd be really good at… that too. I could, owe you a favour?” It's bold, especially from you, but the way he's looking at you, the slight flush to his cheeks, you'd put money on him agreeing. 

Eddie stares at you incredulously. “Wait, you're saying you want me to stick my tongue in the holiest of holes and then you owe me a favour?” 

“Yeah? Like a little… arrangement.” 

He rubs his face with his hand, his voice muffled as he speaks. “I'd feel like I was taking advantage of you.” 

That confuses you for a moment. Surely you were the one who asked him? Hesitantly you reach out and touch soft fingertips to the back of his hand. 

“Please?” 

“Fuck.” He looks around, and turns to you, gazing into your eyes for a moment. 

“Fine. Right now.” 

“Oh I didn't-” 

“Listen, before I change my mind. Meet me out back. I'll tell the guys you're not feeling well and I'm taking you home.” 

Wordlessly, you grab your purse and head to the back door, heart hammering in your ears. It's a little dank out here, with the sound of a dripping pipe and moss covering the cement. Eddie comes out a moment later looking more serious than you've ever seen him. 

“You sure about this?” He asks, searching your eyes. 

‘Yeah, but…” you look around the small yard, gesturing vaguely. 

“Oh. Oh! You thought- oh Christ no, not here. I'm not a complete asshole. Come with me.”

Letting out a relieved breath, you follow him. He walks over to a gate in the fence and opens it, which leads down a narrow alleyway, a little shortcut between yards. That eventually opens up to another road with a couple of apartment blocks. The one he moves towards looks mostly clean, if a bit lifeless, with a creepy looking van parked out the front.

“This way sweetheart,” he says, leading you through the courtyard and to the stairs. 

For a second you stop in sheer surprise. 

“Wait, you live this close and you still manage to be late for work?” 

He chuckles, looking at you over his shoulder. “I have a condition, you know. Chronic tardiness; I'm afraid there's no cure.” 

You bat him on the arm playfully and he grasps your wrist, stopping on the stairs briefly, giving you a look that is wickedness personified. 

“If you're gonna hit me, do it properly.” 

“Eddie!” 

He laughs loud and grabs your hand, holding it in his until he reaches his door. That alone is enough to shut you up. It's warm and rough, and the feeling of his skin on yours, no matter how tiny, sends bolts of sensation through you. 

“Right, here is my castle,” he says as he opens the door and lets you inside. 

Chaos. That's the first word that crosses your mind. It doesn't look dirty, there's just things everywhere. A bookshelf stuffed with books and weird little trinkets placed any which way dominates one wall, and another on the other side with a huge music collection. There's a poky little kitchen with a couple of pots still in the sink, and a big couch with mismatched cushions takes up the remaining space. A tower of board games is precariously leaning next to it, and on the wall over the TV is an honest to goodness sword.

“It's nice,” you say as you walk in, as if you're not mentally organising it in your head. 

“You hate it.” He scoffs, pulling his boots off and dumping them by the door. 

“No, no, it's very… you.” 

“I stand by my previous statement.” He grins at you, clearly indicating he wasn't being entirely serious. 

“This is the bedroom.” He walks over and nudges the door open with his foot. Surprisingly, apart from an open clothes rail, an overflowing laundry hamper, and an enormous bed, there's not much in it. The wallpaper is a pretty purple colour, and looks oddly familiar. 

“Eddie isn't that the same wallpaper-” 

“-As the shop? Yeah. Mac let me have the leftovers. I was broke and this room was fucking pink.” 

You snort out a laugh; the thought of Eddie with a pretty pink bedroom was rather unbelievable.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. I can live with purple.” He roots around and grabs a pair of sweats. “Make yourself comfortable, I'm gonna change real quick.” 

Then he walks out into another doorway, you assume the bathroom. The urge to snoop is real, but you resist. It looks like he spends less time here anyway. 

The question is, how comfortable are you supposed to make yourself? Nerves start settling in, the thought of what you've asked him to do is finally sinking its way into your mind and down your jangling spine. What if he doesn't like the underwear you're wearing? God, you've been at work all day, what if you smell bad? Or taste bad? What if- 

“You can sit down, princess.” 

Eddie saunters back in, shirtless, a pair of grey sweatpants hanging so low on his hips you see his cut groin. A little squeak hiccups out of your throat at the sight. You stay standing, ready to make your excuses and leave, but the signal hasn't reached your legs just yet. 

“What's wrong?” his eyes are brimming with concern as he steps toward you. 

“No I- I was- maybe this-” 

“Hey, look at me,” he says, grabbing both of your hands. You stare up at him, his face gentle. 

“Whatever you're worried about, I'm sure it's nothing.” 

“But i haven't showered-” 

“When did you last?” 

“Well… this morning.” 

“You're fine. Trust me.” 

He backs you up onto the bed, your knees folding as you flop down. The air around you feels full, humid with anticipation. He's so close, your bodies almost pressed together. 

“I wanna kiss you.” He says softly, stroking a lock of your hair out of your face. Heart leaping into your throat, you try to suppress the urge to lean forward. The last thing you need is to fall for this man. Chloe's words echo in your head; he's not boyfriend material.

He'll break your heart. 

“That's not part of our deal, Eddie.” 

A frown flickers across his face. It's just for a second, a flash of vulnerability, before his usual cocky smile returns. 

“That's not where I wanna kiss you.” He winks and tugs at your top, “can I take this off?” 

Nodding wordlessly, you help him and wriggle it up and over your head. 

“God damn.” Eddie props up on an elbow, running a finger between your breasts, before following the edge of your black cotton bra. 

He looks up at your face, grinning wide, and points at your neck; little purple marks adorn it. “That why you wore that sweater today?” 

Flushing crimson, you run fingers across your neck. 

“Yeah, you marked me Eddie. Not exactly discreet.” 

He chuckles, stroking the side of your neck. “Sorry sweetheart, I won't do it again. Well, not anywhere that anyone can see.” 

Heat floods your stomach, the stark realisation that you want him to mark you clings to your insides. If he notices your reaction he doesn't say, instead he leans toward you pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek. 

“You're really pretty. I don't know if I said that before.” 

Awash with a new heat in your cheeks, you smile bashfully. “Thanks, I don't get told that very much.” 

Staring at you, he shakes his head.

“You should. You should be told every fucking day.” 

You open your mouth, but before you can reply he kisses your jaw, running his tongue down your neck, before he presses his mouth to the top of your breast, sucking roughly. A gasp flies out, and your hand makes a decision entirely on its own to grab his hair. 

It seems it was the right thing to do, judging by the deep groan that comes from him. It seems to spur him on, and he yanks the cup of your bra down, taking your nipple into his mouth. His tongue teases it, rubbing his piercing over the pebbled nub.

“Oh Holy fuck!” Back arching with the foreign sensation, you revel in it, wriggling underneath him. He smirks against your skin, and takes your nipple between his teeth. Moaning loudly, you pull his hair. 

“Fuck, sweetheart,” He looks up at you, pupils blown to black, “can’t hold back if you do that.” 

It's not a dare, but it tastes like one, and before you can think you're tugging at it again. Eddie's eyes roll back, and a hard look crosses underneath his eyes. 

His actions turn a little feral, pulling you up so he can unhook your bra, practically ripping it off you before his mouth is all over your chest, firm fingers digging into the flesh of your hip. 

“Fuck, Eddie” you stutter it out, voice laced with need. 

“Yeah?” He whispers out breathlessly between urgent kisses, making his way down your stomach. Suddenly he takes the flesh of your hip in his mouth and bites down little before sucking a bruise as you writhe under him. 

He reaches your skirt, hooking fingers into the waistband as he looks up at you, his tone urgent. “Can I?” 

As you nod frantically, he reacts immediately, yanking it down along with your underwear. 

“Fuck, look at you.” 

The urge to close your legs is real, embarrassed at the way he's ogling you right between your thighs. They quiver with tension, but Eddie forces them open with his large palms. 

“Don't hide from me. You still want this?” 

You nod, and his head snaps up to look at you. His voice is hard, swirling around your insides with an intensity you're not used to from him. 

“Say it. You need to say it.” 

‘Yes, please Eddie.” 

That satisfies him. He leans forward, breath ghosting over your clit. You're waiting for his mouth, his tongue, but that's not what happens. He inhales you, nose so close it's almost touching your sex. 

“Jesus Christ, you smell so fucking good.” 

“Eddie!” you cry it out, cringing at his words as you bury your face in your hands. 

“Relax princess, it's a compliment.” 

Before you can retort that it's not a compliment, it's weird, and he's a freak for saying it, it no longer matters. He's licking a fat stripe up the length of your pussy, long tongue pushing against you hard in an animal-like gesture. 

The noise that expels from your chest is inhuman, a choked, guttural breath that belongs in a cave somewhere, not a bedroom. 

He doesn't relent, his mouth exploring every inch of you with a ferality that has you tingling all the way to your toes. His fierce movements, accentuated by the bump of his piercing, have you nearly leaving the mattress. You're not sure if you're trying to get more, or move away. Not that it matters. His hands are holding you so firmly that all you can do is wriggle helplessly like a fish on a line. 

Fingers trace the outside of your entrance before they slide in, beckoning your release. Whimpering, you grasp the bedsheets in a need to keep contact with something real. 

“Talk to me,” he says between mind numbing messy kisses to your clit, “good, yeah?” 

“Eddie, f-fuck, its incredible, please, oh God, k-keep going!” 

You can practically feel the smirk on his face as he dives back in, suckling at your clit with an unmatched fervour, his tongue piercing flicking expertly as he does so. Suddenly, you're not creeping toward your release, you're being hurtled toward it, thrown into the depths of absolute pleasure. 

Hands finding their way into Eddie's hair again, you hold on tight, buckling up for the ride. It's almost violent the way he pulls your climax from you, and you scream loudly, almost folding in half before you fall back onto the bed. 

Eddie sits up, hands placed on your thighs, as he grins proudly, face shining with your slick. 

“You OK princess?” 

OK doesn't seem to cover it. You're panting wildly, each breath shallow and ragged, brain melted into soup. 

“Think you can go again?” 

That gets your attention. You sit up, gaping at him. “Again?” 

Chuckling, he runs a finger up your slit and circles your clit in a teasing manner. The slight touch has your thighs trembling. 

“I think you've got at least one more in you.” 

Without a further word he presses his tongue against you. On instinct you grip his hair once more, bucking your hips up. 

“Fuck, that's it sweetheart, ride my face.” 

This time he slips his tongue inside as his nose nudges at your clit, the thick muscle curling and writhing. Holding on tight, your hips know what to do, your body reacting and rolling to meet him. 

You're yanking his hair hard as you grind against his face, pulling deep grunts and moans from him which vibrate inside of you. It feels primal, sheer need clouding your mind, a fog that rolls into every limb and leaves no part untouched. 

“Eddie, fuck!” You moan loudly as your walls clench around his tongue, another climax bubbling its way to the surface. He doubles down with his efforts almost as if he needs this as much as you do. 

With one final thrust of his tongue you whine out your orgasm, back finally touching the bed once more. There are no thoughts, only your heavy breath and beating heart keeping you in the moment. 

After a few seconds that seem to stretch on for a year, he hovers over your face. He's wiped off your release, but nothing could wipe that smug grin. 

“So? Good?” 

It's not like he doesn't know. You pat blindly at his arm, words stuck in a puddle on your tongue. In an unexpected tender gesture, he swipes his thumb over your chin, his gaze pensive. You stare back, fingers reaching out to gently touch his cheek. 

“Are you going to kiss me?” You whisper, the words pooling from you unbidden. 

For a split second you think he's going to lean in and close the gap, but he flashes his teeth at you and flicks the tip of your nose. 

“That's not part of the deal.” 

Disappointment leaks into your stomach. Which is entirely unfair. He's using your words after all. Fighting the feeling, you force a smile. 

“I think I'll need a wheelchair to get home.” You chuckle, indicating to your still twitching legs. 

“Stay here. I'll take the couch.” 

“Oh, no, Eddie, I couldn't kick you out of your own bed thats-” 

“Hey, it's fine, honestly. I wouldn't offer if I didn't mean it.” He shrugs and rolls off the bed and onto his feet in one quick movement like a cat. “Here. If you want something to sleep in.” He hands you a faded t-shirt. Hesitating for a moment, your hand hovers over it, but he stuffs it into your grip. 

“Honestly, it's fine. I can drop you home before work so you can get changed and stuff. No big deal.” 

“What about your chronic tardiness?” You joke, smiling softly at him. 

“You're here, I'm sure you'll whip me into shape.” 

“You'd probably like that,” you tease. 

“More than you know.” He winks again, and walks to the doorway. “Night, princess.” 

“Night Eddie.” 

When he's gone you shrug the shirt on. It's clean, but there's an undercurrent of pure Eddie still there that's more comforting than you'll care to admit. Then, you lay there, staring at the ceiling. 

Well. You certainly weren't expecting to end up in Eddie's room, in his bed, but here you are. You're not sure what this all means just yet and processing it is just hurting your brain. A part of you is saying that you should get out now whilst you can. Another, louder part is telling you this is where you should be. The only problem: is this message coming from your heart, or much lower down? 

Chloe drifts into your mind whilst you lay there. Did they hook up in this bed? Are you in the same place she was? And how did that end? Clearly it was on good terms, considering how friendly they are, but how many girls have been where you are right now? A few? A dozen? A hundred?

After a while your thoughts just start to ache, leaving a migraine behind your eyes. Shifting on the bed, you try to get comfortable, but it's no use. You wonder if Eddie is still awake. After all, he's the only one that can answer your questions. 

Sitting up a little, you listen intently for any signs of life from the next room, but no matter how hard you strain your ears, you can't hear anything. 

As you quietly get up and creep to the door, you press your ear to it. Maybe that was a word you heard, a loud breath, or the signs of an overactive imagination. Turning the doorknob like a safecracker, you inch the door open ever so slightly to peek beyond. 

There he is, laying on the couch, eyes tight shut and face contorted in concentration. Odd. You slowly guide the door open a little more and your eyes nearly bug out of your head. 

Eddie's laying there, hand down his sweats, tugging at himself like there's no tomorrow.

You almost cry out in shock but manage to swallow the noise just in time. For what feels like a full minute you stand and stare, mouth gaping open. It's like you're hypnotised, unable to tear away from his urgent movements. 

A particularly good stroke has him bucking into his hand, and he lets out this strained whimper that shoots directly between your legs. 

Right, stop. This is wrong. How would you feel if he caught you? …OK, bad example. 

Reluctantly, you close the door again as quietly as you can before climbing back into his bed to stare at the ceiling once more. 

It looks like it's going to be a long night. 

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

“You look really great,” Chloe says as she strolls into the shop, handing you a coffee, “like, happier, more relaxed.” 

It's a few days after your impromptu sleepover at Eddie's place, and she's absolutely right. You do look more relaxed, even you've noticed the change. There's more confidence in you, and a smile that was once a little forced is warm and genuine. 

“Thanks, I think I'm getting more comfortable here.” It's not a lie, exactly, but it's certainly not the whole truth. 

“Good, glad to hear it!” She beams at you and heads to her table. 

The bell over the door chimes once again startling you. Miranda and Mac are already here and it couldn't possibly be Eddie this early. 

“Um… Hi.” A gangly youth walks in, all arms and legs and bright blonde hair. He shuffles over to the counter awkwardly. 

“Morning, can I help you?” 

“Y-yeah, you do walk-ins today, right?” He asks, brandishing a crumpled flyer at you. 

Face lighting up, you fix your best smile. 

“Why yes we do, it's walk-in Wednesday. It's a little early though. Can I see some ID? 

He hands it over. The guy's freshly 21 and knows it, puffing out his little pigeon chest with pride. 

“Excellent. It's about 10 minutes until we open, but Miranda will be with you. Miranda, you got a book for this guy?” 

Confusion paints Mirandas's face, but then she smiles. 

“A walk in? Wow.” She strolls over and hands him her portfolio of designs, introducing herself. 

When Eddie finally turns up, there's another guy waiting. 

“You're not my 10:30.” 

The poor boy looks at him nervously like he did something wrong. 

“Eddie, he's a walk-in.” Mac says, calling over his shoulder. 

Eddie smirks at you and leans over the counter. 

“Well well, bet you're happy. Atta girl.” 

Blushing profusely, you move to tap him on the arm in warning, but he grabs your hand and kisses it. Heat flies straight to your belly at the gesture.

“Let me know when my 10:30 is here, alright sweetheart?” 

He's still holding your hand, brushing his fingers over your knuckles. Weakly you nod, gazing at him as your toes curl in your shoes. 

Shooting you a wink, he ambles over to his station as you watch him, eyes drawn to the way he moves. 

There's three more clients asking about Wednesdays; granted, one didn't have an ID, but the other two were seen and inked, and one even booked a follow up with Miranda. 

Buzzing with job satisfaction, you're grinning when you nip to the restroom, walking through the narrow corridor. As you exit, you're immediately accosted by Eddie. He stands close, a hand loosely holding your wrist to keep you there as he bends to whisper in your ear. 

“Now, you're not supposed to touch fine art, but someone's gotta pin you against the wall and nail you right.” 

“Eddie!” You whisper shout at him, only serving to make him chuckle low in his throat. 

“Sorry, couldn't resist. I have an idea, for that favour you owe me?” 

Body tensing of its own accord, you look up at him, your cheeks flushed and mouth slightly parted. Before you can ask what it is, a voice cuts through the tension. 

“Hey, keep it at home guys.” 

Mac's standing at the other end of the corridor with his arms crossed, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Pursing your lips, you wriggle from Eddie's grip. 

“It's not what it looks like Mac, I promise.” You say, shouldering past Eddie. 

“Come on sweetheart, don't get all shy on me now!” He shouts, walking after you.

You ignore him, giving Mac an apologetic look, and sit back down at the counter. God, that was embarrassing. Seems like professional and discreet are out the window. 

“So, as I was saying-” 

“Eddie, stop, not now.” you say, cheeks bright red. 

“I was only-” 

“Eddie please! I don't want to get into trouble!” 

Eddie scoffs and rolls his eyes, but backs off finally. 

You make a very clear point of being busy until the rest of the day, completing any ad hoc tasks you can think of. Tidying the stock cupboards, refreshing the consent sheets, and even organising the sparse counter. Anything to avoid further comment from Mac. 

When six rolls around you turn to talk to Eddie, but he's already leaving without a glance at you. 

Sighing, you make your way outside and home, trying to ignore the little sting in your chest. 

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

It's Saturday before you see him again. Your day off was mostly spent worrying about how you upset him and thinking about everything you could have done differently. 

By the morning you're an emotional wreck, anxiety having done her job and left you a bubbling mass of maybes. When Eddie storms in the shop with a proverbial rain cloud over his head your heart pangs in your chest. 

He's such a big character, and you didn't realise until now the influence this has on this place. Usually he's energetic and upbeat; however, with this melancholy energy coming from him, everyone seems to stoop a little more, eyes a touch downcast, movements more shuffled and broken. It's like a black hole has descended on the shop, pulling joy from your soul and sucking everything into its gravity.

The tattoo shop is quiet for a Saturday. Not from lack of customers; it's just a more hushed and sullen atmosphere. By the afternoon you decide enough is enough and you grab Eddie's arm between clients.

“Eddie, can I talk to you?” 

He gets up, stretching his back in a feline movement, and walks with you slowly to the stockroom. 

“Listen, I'm really sorry about what happened on Wednesday, I didn't want to upset you and I can't stand seeing you like this and-” 

“Woah, sweetheart, slow down. You been worrying? About me?” He tilts his head, giving you a small lopsided smile. 

“Yeah? I thought you were mad at me.” You mumble out. 

“Oh, princess, come here.” He wraps you in his arms, holding your head close to his chest. A relieved breath puffs from your chest as you melt into the hug. 

“That's not what I'm upset about, I promise.” 

You pull from the embrace to look at him, a hopeful smile tugging at your lips. 

“Really?” 

Stroking your cheek softly, he presses his lips together. “You're adorable,” he moves his hand away and starts waving his arm about as he tells you what's wrong. 

“You know I'm in a band? Well we've got this regular gig at Hatters, which is great and all, but I found out they're looking for more bands at The Pit. That big rock club on Main? I've been trying to get hold of the damn owner but he's ignoring all my calls and I'm pissed off.” 

Grinning, you grab his arm. “Eddie, I can totally help you with that.” 

His gaze is soft and warm as he asks “Really? You'd do that for me?” 

“Of course I would. You got their number?” 

He digs around in his pocket and passes you a wedge of shiny paper. Unfolding it, you look at the details, smiling even wider when you see they're attempting a ladies night. There's a telephone number at the bottom, the contact listed as William. 

“I gotta idea. Just roll with it, OK?” 

He looks confused but nods at you. Skipping to the counter, you pick up the phone and dial the number. When it's answered by a young woman, you speak with a nasal voice, sounding almost bored. 

“Is Bill there?- Tell him it's Barb- oh trust me he's gonna wanna take this call honey.” 

Eddie's staring at you with an amused expression; you look back at him, flashing a smile while you wait. 

“Bill! How long has it been! Oh, don't say you don't remember me… oh, you do!- I'm good, I'm good- I'm managing this band, yeah, you've gotta book them- Corroded Coffin- yeah, yeah- They are hot right now, selling out their shows- look I know you're struggling getting the ladies in, but that's about to change. Their lead singer is-  well lemme tell you, if I were a younger woman- haha yes, sounds great! Next Saturday?- Nine- Great stuff- I'll speak to you soon.” 

Placing the phone down with a little click, you cross your legs and look at Eddie smugly. 

His jaw may as well be on the floor, eyebrows so high that he resembles a cartoon character. 

“Barb? Selling out their shows? If I were a younger woman? Where the fuck did that come from?” 

You giggle, “I thought he'd listen if he thought I was a business connection. I took a shot, a little bullshit can take you far.” 

He swoops over to you and grabs you in his arms, lifting you bodily from your seat and swinging you around as you squeal helplessly. 

“Saturday? Not even midweek? Princess I owe you big time.” 

“Eddie I already owe-” 

He's not listening, running over to Mac and bouncing on the spot like a child. “Mac, Mac, did you hear? I'm playing at The Pit!!” 

You watch as he explains what just happened; he's so animated, gesticulating wildly as loose locks of hair fly from his bun. Mac beams at him and hugs him in a fatherly motion before Eddie springs back over to you. 

“Who the fuck is Barb?”

“I dunno, she sounded worldly.” 

He grins, shaking his head, “I can't believe you lied for me. You seem… different lately. More confident. It suits you.” 

Blushing, you thank him. For a second you stare at each other, both lost in the other. 

Eddie shakes his head, and looks at the time. 

“Fuck, right, I got 20 minutes, I'll be back!” He grabs his coat and runs out of the shop shouting “personal errand!” 

Chuckling, you sit back down at the counter. Mac approaches, smiling softly. 

“You did good Miss, he's really happy.” 

“Thanks, I couldn't bear the sulking.” 

He laughs and touches your shoulder, “he cares about you. In case you didn't notice.” 

He walks away nonchalantly as if he didn't just drop a bomb at your feet. Eddie cares about you? You're still pondering it when he returns a half hour later looking sweaty and dishevelled. 

“Princess, I got you a present,” he whispers, brandishing a nondescript black bag at you. You peek inside and shut it immediately. 

“Eddie what the fuck!” You whisper, face flooding with blood at the sight as you hide it under the counter. There's a sex toy in the bag, well at least one, but you were so shocked at the sight you didn't get a good look. 

He chuckles and leans in close. “Thought you'd like it.” 

“Eddie I don't know how to- to use this stuff,” you mumble quietly, looking around to make sure no one's listening. 

He smirks at you in response.

“You free tonight? I can show you.” 

Taglist

@liminalpebble @eddies-puppet @rip-quizilla @micheledawn1975 @vanilla-demon @millercontracting @roanniom @josephquinnsfreckles @leelei1980 @mrsjellymunson @eddiesprincess86 @ali-r3n @choke-me-eddie @littlebebebunny @big-ope-vibes @tlclick73 @reidsgubbler @siriuslysmoking @keanureevessmile @fhsbsvy @yourdailymemedelivery @aurora-austen @rach5ive @honey-teaaaaaaaa @nina211544 @bbabycass @cactusangie @skrzydlak @took-me-hours-to-steal-those @hereforshmut @nabiiturner @darlingbravebelle @freak-of-hawkins @randomworker @serenadingtigers @1paire2vans @sapphire4082 @xmasterofmunsonx @steamystrangerfics @vol2eddie @storiesbyrhi

#ms gexy writes #ink shop eddie #eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x you #eddie x you #tattoo artist eddie munson #tattoo artist eddie #eddie x female reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x female!reader #older eddie munson #older! eddie #older!eddie #stranger things imagines #stranger things #stranger things smut

[bones4thecats]

Hello! If you're still doing requests, could I ask for a angst (or fluff if you think that it works better) of Leona, Vil, Malleus, and/or Lilla (if I could do 4) reacting to Male!Reader having the Unique Magic of a Empathic Healer. This spell would allow the reader to heal any and all wounds inflicted on whom he's trying to healing. However, rather than creating blot to patch up the wounds, they are instead transferred onto the Reader, making it like he was the one that got the wound instead. He is well aware of the dangers and still can't stop himself because he hates people being hurt if he had the power to stop it.

I hope that this was good! Thank you for reading it at least!

M! S/O With A Emphatic Healer! UM.

Type of Writing: Request Name: M! S/O With A Emphatic Healer! Unique Magic (UM.) Characters: Leona Kingscholar, Vil Schoenheit, Malleus Draconia, and Lilia Vanrouge Requester: @beawesome04

A/N: This is fairly angsty with fluff at the ending of each, by the way, this is by far one of my best and favorite requests ever received! I loved the prompt and how you described everything! Anyways, I hope you enjoy this!!

P.S.: For Lilia's part, I used his General! Self

⚠️ TW: Swearing, mentions of war and harm ⚠️ Spoilers for: Books 2 and 7 ⚠️

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Male! Reader ; Reader Heals Leona From Overblot

🦁 Leona was sorer than he ever has been in his entire life

🦁 Opening his eyes with a massive groan, he could hear the sounds of crying and whimpers while people both yelled and ordered people in different ways, this large amount of sounds made his ears pucker down towards his skull as his eyesight became clearer

🦁 Looking at the sky, Leona noticed that a small amount of liquid dripped onto his face, making him slightly flinch and fully open his eyes, catching the sight of a large cut forming onto his boyfriend’s forehead

🦁 His eyes widened as he lunged upwards and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close to his chest as he asked you what you were doing

" I- I just wanted you to be okay… " " Y'know what your unique magic does to you, Y/N! I may be okay, but you'd be damaged just as badly, you dumbass! " " It's better me than you. " " No! It was my fault for letting my emotions control me so easily, not yours! "

🦁 Leona furrowed his eyebrows as you began to crack and start crying as he held you closely, then he noticed that you had quite a few bruises and burns from no doubt healing others and him

🦁 As his eyesight began to slosh over with tears of his own, he gripped your tighter, minding where you had injuries. And as he noticed you begin to sob harder, his tail wrapped around your leg protectively

" Leona- I mean, Housewarden? " " What? " " Is he alright? " " He'll be fine… but he might need to heal himself. I’ll take 'em to the nurse. " " You better get fixed up yourself, Leona! " " Yeah, yeah… "

🦁 Looking down at your frail form, Leona sighed internally. What did he, a lazy and arrogant second-born prince, do to deserve your caring and comforting self?

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Male! Reader ; Reader Helps Heal Others From A Poison-Blast

👑 Vil knew that you cared for others, and he also would scold you whenever you would end up in some bad spots because of your care for others. But this was too far

👑 He understood that other students outside of certain dorms, Pomefiore and Diasomnia, weren’t the best when it comes to handling poisons and other dangerous concoctions, but this was officially topping any kind of incident he had ever seen before

👑 A second-year had accidentally splashed something into their cauldron which resulted in a poisonous 'bomb' that had affected multiple of the members in their class

👑 And because you hated seeing people being hurt, you had jumped in and began to help others with the poison by using your unique magic

👑 This healed them, but resulted in the poisoning affecting you instead

👑 Now Vil was staring down as you as you drank multiple poison-antidotes in order for your body to heal more naturally

" What were you thinking, Y/N? " " I’m sorry, Vil. But, I couldn’t just watch as they suffered from such pain. You know what my weaknesses are! "

👑 Sighing and running his hands down your bandage-wrapped arms as he sat down next to you, Vil began to hum a small tune that he had heard over the radio a few days prior

👑 He knew you liked this song, and you smiled gently and grabbed his hand, rubbing your thumb over his knuckles. Vil just looked into your eyes and loosened his stance slightly

" Just- don’t get over your head like this again, please… " " I promise on my collection of photo-albums of us. " " Good answer, Meine Liebe. "

( Meine Liebe = German for "My Love" )

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Male! Reader ; Healing Yuu From Leona’s Overblot

🐉 Malleus was not amused when you jumped into the battle against Leona’s overblot state and began to try healing others, as he knew how dangerous your unique magic was to yourself

🐉 He then began to use his magic to levitate others into the healer’s direction, but he tried to get them away from you

🐉 Unfortunately, you had found the injure-ridden magicless prefect, Yuu Sei, on the ground and you began to use your magic faster than Riddle would be to behead someone for taking his strawberry tart

🐉 He looked around and noticed that Yuu was waking as your once-clean frame was being tattered with bruises and scratches alike all from the human

🐉 When he finally was able to pull you away from everyone else, he began to use his own magic to heal you, his eyebrows furrowed as he silently worked away on each cut, bruise, and injury alike

🐉 Once finished, he looked into your eyes and sighed deeply before embracing you tightly as he burrowed his face into your neck and took in your scent

" Why…? " " Why what, Mal? " " Why risk your own life for a human's? " " You and I both know that Yuu has value. One beyond many of us', they make me want to protect them more than any other mortal, well- besides Sebek and Silver, I suppose. "

🐉 He watched as you began to debate with yourself as your injuries faded away second-by-second. A small smile overtook his features as he hugged you again and you embraced him back

" I love you, my Healing Beauty. " " And I love you, my Darling Prince. "

( Men can be beautiful too. Bite me. )

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Male! Reader ; Healing Him During the Fae v. Human War

🦇 Groaning in pain as he held his side while you hid beside him, Lilia felt the slight amount of blood begin to fall from his midsection. These damned mortals were getting more powerful by the second

🦇 Hopefully the others were doing just as well as before… he cannot afford to lose any more men in this treacherous war

🦇 He turned as he heard you move and roll your uniform’s sleeves up as you pushed your butterfly mask aside and began to chant your small unique spell’s name

" Y/N… what- what are you doing?! You know what that damned spell does to you! " " I don’t care at the moment, Lilia. Your health matters more. " " Bullshit! Y/N, I’ll be fine, just step aside and let me- " " Lilia. As your spouse I will heal you, no matter what. "

🦇 Giving in as you stared at him deadly, Lilia watched as your arms began to glow with many symbols of healing, from ones ranging from those in the burning Savannah to ones in your homeland of Briar Valley

🦇 He then watched as the pain began to fade from his side, but he also noticed how you began to look faint. And you’d be lying if you said you weren’t feeling bad

" Love, I'm fine now. The bleeding isn’t as bad as before, it should heal faster… take a break- please. " " Alright… "

🦇 Laying back on the tree, Lilia tore open a satchel that was once thrown aside by one of the previous human soldiers, he ran towards you and began to apply both alcohol to his and yours minor wound that was slightly leaking blood before wrapping them in gauze

" Alright, we should be fine now. Do you feel better, Mango? " " Yeah, thanks Lils. " " No problem, Dearest. "

( Fun facts: Butterflies symbolize rebirth, transformation, and the delicate balance between life and death & Mangos are one of a bat’s favorite fruits )

#Twisted Wonderland #Twst #Savanaclaw #Pomefiore #Diasomnia #Night Raven College #NRC #Twisted Wonderland x Reader #Twst x Reader #Savanaclaw x Reader #Pomefiore x Reader #Diasomnia x Reader #Night Raven College x Reader #NRC x Reader #S/O! Reader #M! Reader #GN! Reader #Leona Kingscholar #Leona Kingscholar x Reader #Vil Schoenheit #Vil Schoenheit x Reader #Malleus Draconia #Malleus Draconia x Reader #Lilia Vanrouge #Lilia Vanrouge x Reader

[hgfictionwriter]

Handy - Part Two

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Summary: Jessie isn't done helping you with household projects. In fact, she helps you undertake your biggest one yet. But can she finally tell you how she feels? To be determined.

Warnings: None other than it's sickly sweet.

A/N: Thank you SO much for the response to the original post. I'm excited to share Part Two with you all. I hope you enjoy! Part One is here if you need it.

"Good morning! How is your day going?"

"Morning Jessie :) My morning's going okay. It's still early, so not much to report yet lol. I have a couple of meetings later though. How is your morning going? Let me guess, even though you have the day off, you've been up since pretty much sunrise, you've probably fit in a run, a couple of chapters and had breakfast haha."

"Why do I feel like you're making fun of me? lol. And you may be right about all of those things."

"Not making fun - it's really more admiration. If I had the day off I'd still be fast asleep lol."

"There's nothing wrong with that either. For the record."

"I appreciate the sentiment lol. Very generous of you. So, what do you have planned for your day off?"

You leaned back in your chair and waited as the three dots faded in and out in sequence. A frown crossed your face as they disappeared. Before you could think too much about it they came up again. Another frown creased your forehead as they disappeared once more. You sat up. What was going on?

A few moments later the dots reappeared and shortly after a text mercifully came through from Jessie.

"I'm running some errands in the SW today. I probably won't be too far from your office. If you're not too busy or don't have plans already, maybe we could go for lunch?"

Another text came through a moment later.

"No pressure though."

You leaned back in your chair and smiled. She was really so cute.

It had been a couple of weeks since your impromptu night over at Jessie's. You'd seen each other since, including when Jessie did in fact come by your apartment to patch up the drywall.

That said, lunch together mid-week was something new.

"That sounds great. I'm in a meeting until 11:30, but can meet you after."

"Okay! You know the area, so you pick where and I'll meet you there."

The morning went by quickly and before you knew it you were walking into the restaurant and wordlessly searching the tables until you saw Jessie. If she saw you, she was making a point of not showing it. Instead, she leaned into the menu, studying it rather determinedly.

"Fancy seeing you here," you teased as you grabbed a seat. She looked up, eyebrows high in surprise and greeted you.

"Oh hey!"

You resisted the urge to blush as she - inadvertently or not - looked you up and down.

"I feel like I'm underdressed," she muttered, giving a nod to your business attire before leaning back in her chair and tucking her hands into her hoodie pocket. You gave her a look.

"Don't be silly. You look great." She gave you a dismissive frown and you went on, shrugging off your jacket and picking up the menu. "I hope you weren't waiting long."

"No, no," she dismissed readily as she began reviewing the menu once more. "Gave me time to figure out what I want."

"Okay, good. I always get the poke bowl," you told her and a wry smirk formed on her face as she looked at you over the menu.

"I knew it," she said in a very self-satisfied way.

"You know me so well." You rolled your eyes with a short laugh. "What kind of errands were you running in this part of town anyway?"

You frowned as she lifted her eyebrows high again, forehead creasing as she worked to respond. She didn't avert her eyes from the menu in her hands.

"Uh, just picking up something for the team," she relayed evenly.

"Oh. What was that?" You asked, curious and truthfully a bit skeptical.

The blush she'd been fending off broke through and her cheeks began to glow pink under your scrutiny. She shrugged her shoulders.

"Just some gear. Nothing exciting," she said with a laugh, her voice slightly higher than normal.

"Oh, I thought equipment staff would take care of things like that," you said lightly, immediately seeing her readying a rebuttal. You cut her off with a cheeky remark. "I would've said otherwise that if you just wanted to have lunch together you could simply ask."

Her face grew red and she subconsciously sunk into her chair a bit before righting herself and frowning at you.

"I know that." She nearly pouted before huffing exaggeratedly. She shot you a look and spoke pointedly. "Anyway, I have those new hinges for your cupboard. Does Friday still work for you?"

"It does, thank you," you said, allowing her some reprieve.

You enjoyed your lunch together, and although you wanted it to last longer, you had to be back at the office soon. You'd excused yourself to the washroom and when you came back Jessie was hunched over the table concentrating on something. When she heard the scraping of your chair on the floor she looked up.

"Good timing," she said with a quiet smile as she held out a small folded item for you. "His name is Bernard. He's for you."

The puzzled look on your face was quickly replaced with a wide smile as you realized what it was.

"An origami dinosaur!" You exclaimed excitedly as you looked it over. "The best use of a napkin I've seen yet."

Though Jessie wasn't outwardly beaming, the lift in her shoulders and the brightness in her eyes told you she was pleased by your reaction.

"He's awesome," you told her as you began to tuck him into your bag.

"Oh, I was just kidding, you don't have to keep him. I was just messing around," Jessie said, belated embarrassment now encompassing her. You stilled your movements and shot her a look.

"Throw Bernard away? And you kidding me?" You asked in mock offense. "He's mine now. For good."

Her cheeks were bright pink, but she laughed as she stood.

"So...Friday?" She asked again, a hint of nervousness sneaking back into her voice despite how nonchalant she was trying to make herself look. You nodded decisively.

"Friday."

"Alright. Well," Jessie stalled momentarily scratching her temple idly, her gaze focused elsewhere before she looked to you again with a small smile. "Thanks for having lunch with me. I hope your afternoon goes well."

"Thanks for meeting me. Let me know if you have to run anymore errands around here," you said with the faintest hint of teasing. It was enough to get Jessie to look away and blush once more.

"Yep. I will."

"Bye, Jess," you said easily as you stepped towards her and pulled her into a hug. Though her hold on you was still a bit tentative, like she didn't want to relax into it too much, it was still a far cry from how she'd been that first night.

When you pulled away, her hands went behind her back immediately and she went up onto her tiptoes. "I'll walk you to your car."

------

"What's this?"

You looked over with a frown. You cracked a smirk as Jessie stood there, looking at you accusingly as she held up a paint swatch as if it was a piece of evidence.

"A paint swatch," you replied slowly.

"I'm aware," she said in exaggeration before looking a bit disappointed. "Why didn't you tell me you were planning to paint?"

You shrugged, really more distracted by how cute and endearing she looked as she pouted.

"Um, I'm sorry?" You offered with lackluster earnest.

She rolled her eyes and walked over to your wall with the swatch. You watched her as she frowned in concentration, lifting her other hand up to rest on her chin as she studied the colours in front of her.

"I think-" she started before turning her head to you. "Wait - do you want my opinion?"

You laughed. "Of course I do. You're my resident handyperson. Personal reno expert. Whatever title you prefer."

Jessie's lips pulled into a tight, shy smile as her cheeks began to grow pink. She turned her attention back to the swatch.

"I like this third one. I think the one above it will just end up too washed out and the one below will make the space feel closed in and small."

"Well, we're in luck, because that's the one I was thinking of."

She gave you a nod of approval before walking back over to you. She folded her arms across her chest, planting her feet and exhaled briefly. She took a moment before looking at you.

"Well. You're going to need a lot of supplies. So, we could go together and get them," she trailed off, her gaze following before resetting. "And it'll take you ages to do this whole place on your own, so," she waved her hand aimlessly for a few seconds, "I can help."

"Jessie." You gave her a pointed look. "As much as I appreciate that, painting is a big ordeal. You've already done way too much for me."

She surprised you by looking nearly hurt by the sentiment.

"I don't mind. Seriously. I told you I was happy to help and I meant it. Mean it." She gave a listless shrug. "I like painting."

"A whole condo?" You scrutinized, arching an eyebrow at her.

She blushed a bit, the smallest of smiles sneaking out as she shrugged once more. "We make a good team."

————

It should've been no surprise to either of you that it didn't take much convincing for Jessie to get her way. The following week you were driving around town together picking up paint and accompanying supplies.

Again, you had to give yourself a reality check when you and Jessie were wandering the paint aisle of the hardware store together. It was too easy to think of yourselves as something more as you controlled the list (though curated mostly by Jessie...) and she pushed the cart and dutifully retrieved items.

It was pathetic, really, how you were fighting for your life, trying not to smile as you two were leaned in together as you compared and debated two types of paint brushes. You had to roll your eyes at yourself. You were in way too deep.

To make matters worse, Jessie - after bouncing her knee all through lunch and determinedly avoiding eye contract with you - offered to have you stay at her place while painting was under way.

"I'll take the couch again. You really can't stay here with the furniture all awry and tarped, and the fumes."

She was going to be the death of you.

"Okay, so everything's set - we've moved everything, things are tarped, supplies are laid out-"

"Meticulously so," you interjected with a teasing smirk. She shot you a mocking glare.

"We can get taping," she announced patiently.

You walked over wordlessly and removed her hat. You saw her swallow as she looked at you with wide, brown eyes.

"Not your nice hat," you told her as you tucked it away and retrieved a hat of your own. "I don't want you to get paint on it. Here, you can wear mine instead." You placed it on her head with a gentle smile, sure not to laugh at how her cheeks were now burning red.

She cleared her throat and adjusted the hat. "Okay, well, let's get started."

It was only a few minutes in when Jessie interjected.

"What are you doing?" She asked, clearly aghast and not hiding it particularly well.

You sat back on your heels and looked at her.

"Cutting in?"

"Freehand?" She said, her voice rising and narrowing her eyes in sheer disbelief. "That's what the tape-" Jessie's words trailed off as she examined your work. "Oh," sounding nearly deflated. "That's actually quite good."

You gave her a teasingly scrutinizing look as you did air quotes. "'Actually quite good.' Wow. The disrespect." She rolled her eyes at you with a laugh and nearly stamped her foot.

"Come on, you know what I mean."

You shook your head at her. "You're not the only one with skills here, Fleming."

You bit back a smile as her cheeks started to darken. She distracted by readjusting her hat, tucking her hand into her pocket and idly shifting her weight from one foot to the next.

"Is that so?" She asked.

"It is. I just haven't had my chance to shine," you continued cheekily as you stood up.

"Well, what I'm hearing is you don't need my services," she said, a glint now in her eyes.

"Jess." Her name came out like a pout and you gave her arm a gentle shove. She grinned before lifting her chin haughtily and giving a shrug.

"I mean, I can go."

"Jessie," you protested once more, jostling her a bit this time and pulling a wide smile out of her. You gave her a look of warning. "Don't make me beg you to stay."

That glint was still in her eyes as she leaned in and gave you a soft nudge with her shoulder. "Fine. I'll get back to work," she deadpanned.

You worked steadily for several hours, you and Jessie finding a good cadence and coordinating seamlessly early on. You nicked the baseboards and doorframes on a couple of occasions, but it was Jessie's fault. How could you be expected to remain steady and focused when you could see the muscles in her back flex and her calves pop as she maneuvered herself along the wall to paint. And her t-shirt sleeves rolled up onto her shoulders? A little too attractive. Never mind her biceps being on display.

The other close call was when you nearly dropped the roller when you felt her hand on your back as she shimmied past you and around the furniture at one point. The contact was feather-light, but it sent a shiver through you nonetheless.

Eventually, you both took a break, sitting flush against one another on the tarped floor, your backs against the couch that had been moved into the center of the room.

You were taking a sip of water when Jessie's phone began to buzz. You saw her look at it and you told her to take the call.

"Mm. It's just my sister. I'll call her back later." Shortly after the buzzing stopped, a text came through. Jessie read it quickly and sighed before calling her back.

You rose from your spot, aware of Jessie's eyes on you as you did so. You retreated to the other room to give her some space. However, you could still overhear Jessie despite how hushed she was trying to speak. You weren't intentionally trying to eavesdrop, but you'd be lying if you said you weren't curious.

"...I can't right now...I'm out..." A huff. "I'm...at a friend's...No...No...No." Then, in an even more hushed tone. "Y/N's..." Another exasperated huff. "I'll call you later. Yes! Okay. Bye!"

You gave it a few moments, but couldn't resist much longer and came back into the living room to see Jessie looking flustered and a blush lingering on her cheeks. She met your eyes before her gaze darted away.

"Hey," she nearly mumbled before standing up and brushing off her shorts needlessly. You, again, tried not to get distracted by her paint-covered hands. "Shall we continue?"

You worked late into the night finishing a first coat across the rooms before packing it up. Your body ached.

"I can't believe you have a game tomorrow. I'm so sorry," you told her, guilt creeping in.

"What for?" Jessie looked genuinely puzzled.

"Aren't you sore? My back is killing me," you asked incredulously.

"Oh, no, I'm feeling fine. It's good conditioning," she joked. "We'll get you a heat pack when we get back to my place."

You were going to need a hell of a lot more than a heat pack, but you gave her a grateful nod nonetheless. You bent to pick up your overnight bag, but her hand shot out and grabbed it before you could. She stood and swung it effortlessly over her shoulder.

"Ready?"

A/N: You all have me so into this now that I couldn't fit everything I wanted into two parts. Third part coming soon!

#jessie fleming #jessie fleming x reader #woso x reader #jflem #woso imagine #canwnt x reader #woso

[queer-little-demigod]

Hi lea!!!! Can you write about an clarisse la true x apollo!reader

Clarisse got in trouble for something (what's new tho) and got a punishment of helping out with the little demigods art class for 2 weeks (or however long) the volunteer teacher is reader. At first Clarisse did NOT wanna be there she acted like a baby for the first few days but after she got more involved and started to understand she enjoyed it (she would never admit it), she started talking to the kids more (she totally has favorites, reader has to constantly tell her dont be so obvious about her favorites 😭) it got to a point where the kids would start talking to her outside of class. Also Clarisse definitely doesn't develop a crush on reader. AT ALL. SHE DEFINITELY HATES HOW PASSIONATE SHE IS ABOUT THE KIDS AND ART AND HOW GOOD SHE IS WITH KIDS SHE DOESN'T THINK ITS CUTE AT ALL. SHE DOESNT THINK OF THAT CLASS AS ONE BIG FAMILY. I mean what???? Who said that???

Anyways when it's time for her to go reader takes some of the kids to make a goodbye sign for clarisse; clarisse takes her 100% not favorite kid on a secret mission to make an 'I'm staying' sign. Then reader and Clarisse present them at the same time and it's all cutesy!! After class, reader asks clarisse on a date via showing her a pain she drew of them on a date and hopes she gets the message!

Thank you! :)

you got an artist inside you - clarisse la rue

summary where clarisse finds herself falling in love with a girl over paintbrushes and a punishment

fic type fluff

pairing clarisse la rue x fem!apollo!reader

word count 1.8k

warnings none

The camp was usually sleepy, quiet, and mostly empty apart from a few stray campers training here and there. But with summer already beating down with a burning force, it was full of kids running around, training left right and center, and all-in-all just general chaos.

So with the burning heat came grumpy older campers, which meant fights.

And a fight at lunch is what led to Clarissa having to help the younger campers with art class, with the co-teacher being none other than you, Y/n L/n, counsellor of the Apollo cabin. Additionally and otherwise known as the girl Clarisse was smitten with.

"Clarisse La Rue if you don't stop whining like that right now, I am going to smack you," you grumbled in utter frustration for the fifth time that hour, when she complained to you about some kid not cutting the paper the way it was supposed to be cut.

For a child of the god of war, she was such a wuss sometimes.

"But they're not following-" she began to protest, but a smack upside the head with a roll of wrapping paper shut her up.

"They're seven year olds in a summer camp art class," you emphasised on those facts. "They're gonna do their own thing!"

This was how the first few days went. She complained, you disciplined both her and the kids. But once she got used to the whole routine of you both giving instructions and the final products having irritatingly distinct variations, she cooled down.

If this was going to be a punishment for the next two weeks, she might as well enjoy it.

The art room, as usual, was a mess. Glitter was everywhere, coloured pencils were strewn around, papers were on the floor, blackened and trampled on. The strong scent of glue made everyone a bit woozy, and there was enough shouting for supplies across the table to give even the calmest camper a sensory overload.

Clarisse sat in the danger zone where the most glitter was being thrown around and spilled, and her soft skin was already glimmering with purple and red glitter as she tried restoring order. However, instead of yelling as usual she was laughing along with the little kids.

One kid in particular, you noticed, she helped far more than the others. A Hephaestus kid named Dennis, who was the sweetest little thing with big, round glasses and bronze hearing aids that you had Charlie customise so they looked like metal elf ear tips.

You pulled Clarissa aside and scolded her with a smile, “Clar, you cannot pick favourites!”

Clarissa loved your smile with everything she had. So naturally, she was so captivated by it that she didn't hear you the first time. Nor did she register the scolding.

"Excuse me, but Dennis deserves special treatment--" She began, but you cut her off.

"No, he's just like the other kids, okay? Just make sure you don't pick favourites, please," you sighed and walked away, going back to showing the kids how to make paper butterflies.

But you're my favourite, she thought to herself. She wished she had the courage to say it out loud, admit her feelings for you, but she couldn't.

Later, as time went by, as days of standing in clouds of glitter and glue fumes began and ended, Clarisse found that she was apparently likeable. After classes, during training, during dinner, she'd have little kids pulling her sleeve to talk to her, she'd have kids randomly hugging her at odd times of the day, or giving her small artworks like a wonky bird or a odd-looking Cerebrus. It shocked the campers beyond belief.

But for you it just made your love for her grow.

One day during class, a Demeter kid named Flora started to cry because glitter went into her eye. You rushed over immediately and helped her up, holding her in your arms as you took her to the basin to clean her up.

"Shh, don't cry, baby, it's okay, I'm gonna wash it out, alright?" You said softly.

"Guys, focus on your work, Flo's fine," Clarisse said, clapping her hands to direct the staring kids back to work, her eyes fixed on you as you washed Flora's eyes with water gently, telling her that she should not to go so close to the page when blowing glitter off in the softest voice the child of war had ever heard.

You were so gentle, like the softest summer breeze which didn't make the leaves rustle, but cooled one's warming skin. You were so precious, with your soft smile and loving words. Your voice was sweet like honey, no matter who you talked to or how.

If your voice was bottled, she swore to the gods that she'd get drunk on it every night.

"You okay, champ?" She asked, gently ruffling Flora's soft brown hair as the girl sat down. "You're a strong girl, aren't you? Showed that stupid glitter it's place."

You giggled at the way she spoke, covering your mouth with your hand to hide it. It was ridiculously obvious that Clarisse thought the kids in the art class were like family, and it was genuinely so adorable.

Seeing her like this, curly hair pulled back in her red bandanna, arms splattered with paint here and there, with glitter shining off her smooth caramel skin with every movement she made into the light, lit up something inside of you. Seeing her without her usual scowl, pulling funny faces with the kids as she showed them how to draw a monster, made your heart beat twice as fast.

However, two weeks went by with heartbreaking speed, and before she knew it, she was in Chiron's office, listening to him gleefully say she was officially un-grounded.

But honestly? She didn't share his happiness.

Nor did you.

"What?! Already!?" You exclaimed that evening as you sat in your cabin at your desk, which had plans put out for what to make for the next art class.

"Yeah," she grumbled, lounging on your bed. "I hate it."

"That's rough, but it's okay, you can always hop in to volunteer,"

"What do we tell the little ones?"

"The truth?"

"You're fucking crazy if you think they'll go with it,"

"I'm out of options, Clar," you leaned back in your chair and put your hands over your eyes. "I love that class, and I love teaching art."

"I know, and as much as I hate to admit it," she sat up. "So do I."

The very next day, Clarisse rushed to Chiron and begged him to let her stay for that class. Even going to lengths that she told him how she felt for you.

"Fine," he relented. "You can stay with the class for as long as you'd like,"

She'd never run to the forges to find a kid so fast.

"Beckendorf!" She exclaimed, looking at the cabin counselor. "Hey, where's Dennis?"

The boy looked around, and his eyes landed on Dennis, who was inquisitively watching one of his half-sisters mold a few practice swords, helping occasionally with putting the swords in water.

"Dennis!" Beckendorf exclaimed, "Clarisse wants to talk to you!"

Dennis immediately ran over, grinning broadly, showing his gap-toothed smile. "Hi, Clarisse!" He said, excitedly.

"Hey there, big boy!" She smiled back, giving him a high five. "So listen, I'm going to need your insane artistic skills and your help..."

While you did help the other kids make a 'goodbye' sign for Clarisse, on the side you decided to confront your feelings.

You knew you liked her from the beginning, from when you first saw her infectious smile, from when you heard her deep laugh reverberating through the empty Apollo cabin on days where you both would plan lessons.

She held the key to your heart, she knew her way past your walls. She clearly also knew how to remain in your thoughts, subconscious and conscious, to the point where you found yourself in the art studio, canvas on an easel before you.

Thoughts of her, of feeling her coarse, battle-worn hands on your skin, of gazing into those deep brown eyes which were like the colour of the rain-kissed earth, and when she fought were like the evening sun, golden enough to put the wings of Icarus to shame, made your paintbrush move. It made your colours flow like the blood in your veins, made each stroke perfect enough to create the scene you most desired on the canvas in front of you.

You stepped back once you felt the need to express yourself flow away, gazing at the canvas. A scene it held, and what a scene indeed. The sky was cornflower blue, a cloudless day, with the sun’s rays shining down on a big oak tree. The leaves were paler as the golden light kissed the surface, casting sharp shadows on the pillowy grass.

But then there was vivid orange and red, a flash of bronze. In the foreground there sat both you and Clarisse, the latter having more detail than any part of the drawing.

Then the dreaded day came where you all had to say goodbye to her.

The little ones were devastated, not letting Clarisse go anywhere without following her around like baby ducklings, making her explain to them that she's not going away from camp, she's just not going to teach them anymore.

At the end of the final class, just as everyone unveiled the 'we'll miss you' poster, she and Dennis revealed their 'I'm Staying' poster, causing a loud, thunderous cheer to erupt from all of you.

Later, you pulled her aside to give her your canvas painting.

Nerves wracked your body, your palms began to sweat.

When was the last time you had felt this nervous? It was probably your cello recital the day you had come to camp...

"Holy shit, Y/n this looks absolutely amazing!" Clarisse exclaimed, taking the painting in her hands.

She didn't miss the detail you had given her, drawing her angelically, despite her thinking she was the opposite. It was so well done that the brush strokes weren't even visible.

Please get the message, you blockheaded, oblivious fool...you thought.

Deciding to act against your nerves, you asked her in a shaky voice, "That's a painting of us on a date...would you like to go on one with me sometime?"

Clarisse's heart stopped. Had you just asked her out on a date?

She was at a loss for words, they didn't touch her tongue, nor did they pass her lips. She stood there, speechless, gaping at you for a moment too long.

"I mean, I get it, you're probably not even a les--" you began, but a pair of gentle lips on yours silenced your words.

Sparks flew, butterflies went haywire, your brain short-circuited. You didn't know what to doo, just stood there frozen with shock. Kissing the girl you had liked for the last few months now.

Clarisse, however, was ecstatic. Her mind was a burst of colour, her body was ablaze. She felt like she had wings, and her heart was taking her up, up, up.

Once she pulled away, she winked at your blushing face and dopey grin.

"It's a date, L/n."

hi, it's me! lea! i hope you enjoyed this long overdue oneshot <3 requests are open via dms or asks!

#clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse la rue fluff #clarisse x reader #clarisse la rue #x fem!reader #first request #requested #pjo #percy jackson and the olympians #you got an artist inside you #fluff imagine

[jethrowest]

let me see you stripped down to the bone…

- stripped by depeche mode

congratulations! you’ve been hired as homelander’s entire glam squad! what an opportunity! now let’s try real hard not to let the fumes get to you, okay?

pairing : homelander/afab reader

word count : 5.6k

warnings : homelander in and of himself, toxic workplace environment, something akin to stockholm syndrome, fingering, smut. 18+, mdni

special thanks to @blindmagdalena @sehtoast @homeb0ys and @clockworkzeppelin for letting me scream at you about this!

writing tag

gif credit

divider credit

Homelander is an asshole.

That doesn’t bother you much. You’ve dealt with plenty in this field, which means you’ve learned how to make life easier for all parties. That particular learning curve includes when to stand out and blend in, at times concurrently depending on what variety of asshole they happen to be.

As a whole, the makeup artists and hairstylists at Vought take care of The Seven and go where they’re needed. And as a cosmetologist, you were hired to provide both services for Homelander and Homelander only, which you consider to be one of the most prestigious stamps one could add to their professional passport.

Before you became official, you were colorfully threatened by a Ms. Ashley Barrett, who, after the fact, had no qualms throwing you into the lion’s den to figure your own shit out.

In no uncertain terms were you told that if you fucked any part of this up, your sparkling resume would look best as something to sit her smooth, bare ass on while getting fucked on top of her desk. No lube or protection. It would then be tossed exactly like her salad.

Not an image you could have ever predicted crossing your mind. Honestly, you should have stopped her right there and walked your happy little ass out of her office toward pastures that might have not been greener (you were being handsomely compensated), but certainly not as toxic. While the red flags were a color you couldn’t quite ignore, you were also curious about why they stood out so much more than they did regarding previous employers.

None of this is to say you live under a rock. Anyone who has access to the internet is ambushed daily by these Supes’ personal lives. Homelander’s track record as far as choice in partners went hadn’t been ideal, so you understand that made him less popular at the time. That of course has nothing to do with you or your capabilities.

You opt to wear gray-colored glasses, seeing everything with a neutral blend of black and white. As much as possible anyway.

Nevertheless, curiosity killed the cat. But hopefully not your career.

The first day was awkward to say the least. Immediately, you knew you weren’t going to like your coworkers.

Glints of sympathy changed how they perceived you. A target, whether they intended for this to happen or not, was nailed to your forehead, and it made them buzz around you like avid, greedy wasps keen on seeing how rapidly the honeybee will be brutalized. You didn’t much care for going cross-eyed while staring at that target whenever you crossed paths. They didn’t know you, yet because of who you were working under, deemed you helpless. They didn’t give you a chance to establish yourself before branding you a victim.

Why should you respect them?

Small talk wasn’t entertained either, as their judgment tarnished any future encounters. They ostracized you once you showed no interest in engaging with them. That didn’t disappoint you. You weren’t here to make friends.

You do wonder how those before you fared: if they were jaded when they arrived or if they couldn’t help but succumb to the pressures of being at the top rung of a very unstable albeit sought after ladder.

Ms. Barrett quickly introduced you to Homelander, her parting gift before leaving the two of you alone.

You weren’t completely nervous in his presence. He wasn’t any different to you than the other celebrities you’d worked on, except he could rip you in half like a piece of paper if he was so inclined. But he’s the hero of this country’s story, so really, you should have nothing to worry about.

His demeanor, you noted, suggested arrogance, annoyance, and boredom. All things you’re used to. So you offered your hand to shake, which he eyed with a slightly upturned nose before grabbing, told him it was a pleasure to meet him and got straight to business.

Looking back, he was clearly expecting more out of you. Maybe not a display as excessive as getting on your knees and professing your undying love, but close enough. Somewhere in the middle, perhaps.

Part of you believes he might have also counted on fear. To you, he’s not anything or anyone unknown. Another big name in a fancy suit with impossible demands.

You were given a routine to follow and products to use. You did as you were instructed and found the process to be simple and, as Homelander’s expression revealed, uninspiring.

While you were utilizing a face brush to apply powder, he must have decided he was done enduring your lack of enthusiasm, because he suddenly asked, “What are you wearing?”

You stopped for a split second, no longer than, and continued. “The name of my clothing designer, you mean?”

He scoffed, waving his gloved hand at you, almost knocking the applicator you held to the ground. “No, your perfume. What are the top notes?”

You laughed and that seemed to confuse him. “Why, you want a bottle?”

“I don’t like it.” He sniffed sharply and cleared his throat. “Smells like you should be on the corner selling your used body parts.”

Ding ding ding. Alarm bells and red flags galore. You enjoy a challenge, however, and are a bit of a masochist, so you persevere.

“Well, what doesn’t smell like a cheap hooker to you? I’ll start wearing that instead.”

He cocked a brow, studying you. Trying to figure out if you were being serious or mocking him.

“It’s your first day.” A warning. “Are you on your best behavior, or can you do better?” He leaned forward in his chair, forcing you backward. “You should be working harder to prove yourself. Prove your worth.” He sat back again and shrugged. “Or maybe you really are worth as much as that dumpster juice you doused yourself in.”

At this point, he more than likely envisioned your happy little ass getting offended and storming out of the room. Breaking down, sobbing. Questioning why he was being so rude. One of those or, better yet, a nifty combination.

You’ve heard worse, unfortunately for him. Not always directed at you, but that doesn’t matter. You can handle it.

“You’re absolutely right,” you stated calmly, folding your arms across your chest. He looked at you with pretentious, petulant intrigue. “It is my first day, and I want to make a good impression. Which is why I’m asking you what you would like me to wear so I can continue to keep that good impression intact and, as our professional relationship develops, stay on top of it.”

Homelander’s mouth twitched. He sighed deeply and slouched in his seat, staring at the wall to the left of him. Then he deigned to cast his gaze back at you, resting his cheek on his index and middle finger. He tapped the arm rest with his other hand.

“Ugh, fine. Whatever.” A pause followed that lasted longer than necessary. Were you meant to guess? “Just wear something, I dunno, less. If you would have done your homework like a good little peon, you’d know I have super senses. Highly developed. Can you even imagine what that entails?”

Finally, he freed the canvas you were nearly finished with, and you flicked the soft bristles across the bridge of his nose. You smiled, more to yourself than him.

Felt rather on the nose, as the saying goes.

He didn’t comment on your grin. You didn’t give him time to. But he did huff like you were being obtuse on purpose.

“I can try. And my imagination is giving me some less-than-ideal scenarios,” you replied. Another pause. At least he was letting you do your job again.

You don’t know what compelled you to keep going, but something about his lack of a real answer made you carry on. “Do you have a favorite flower or baked good? Maybe a spice?”

Homelander almost glared up at you. You say almost because, for whatever reason, it didn’t seem like he was directing that harshness at you, though former words and actions proved otherwise. Something inside, perhaps. Or outside of this enclosed space.

“I already told you what to wear. Don’t make me repeat myself.”

You took the hint and remained quiet the rest of your session. Soon, you were done.

As you were packing and tidying up your station, he took it upon himself to stand behind you. He lingered over your shoulder, watching the scene play out like he was director and star and you were barely an ant on the sidewalk he acknowledged before squashing.

The heat radiating off of him was impossible to dismiss, a wall of it barricading your backside. He clasped his fingers underneath his cape and inched closer. You thought he was as close to you as he could get without touching you. He was that warm.

When you glanced up, he was staring at you through the mirror. As absurd as it was, you managed to get chills. Goosebumps broke the surface of your skin.

“Fresh chocolate chip cookies. Straight out of the oven. Like mom used to make.” He flashed an unnerving smile before turning to exit.

From there on out, even after you bent to his will and found a gourmand scent that matched what he described, Homelander tested you. Your work ethic, clothing choice, eating habits, and most of all, patience.

Your parents would ask how you were liking your job, how it was working alongside the Supes- not to mention the most famous of all- and you’d lie through your teeth. You felt you had no choice, Ashley’s threat ringing in your ears.

Resume, bare ass, tossed salad...

Oh yeah, it’s going great! They’re all super flexible. I couldn’t be happier!

At least that pun made you feel a little better about hiding the shame of what you’ve allowed yourself to take on.

This was all in the first few weeks. It started to get a little easier after that, which is surprising considering more was added to your to-do list.

You should have moved on before starting. But, for whatever asinine reason, you didn’t.

Every time you go back to your apartment and assess your appearance in the bathroom mirror, you wonder who’s making who up here. He’s changing your looks more than you are his. You’re like his human doll.

You’ve put up with a lot over the years, but this takes the cake and shoves it in your face. As fucked as it is, the flavor is growing on you. Like a fungus. Growing, nonetheless.

You can’t stop thinking about him.

It’s innocent enough, you try convincing yourself. Making sure you have the right outfit laid out the night before, the right lunch (no onions or fish or anything “freaky”!), etc. He is your superior, after all. You shouldn’t be viewing him in any other light.

He’s the most frustrating aspect of your existence these days, but he’s also the one you’re around the most. His penchant for workplace gossip and how unintentionally funny he is tends to make him palatable, which has regrettably become an understatement.

Months go by. You’ve witnessed how alone he truly is. How he has nothing outside of performing his tricks on Vought’s all-encompassing stage. And when he begins asking for your input, starts doing things for you that are so blatant it’s perplexing, you find your stress and vexation melting into cumbersome fascination.

It’s embarrassing. You don’t have the courtesy of enough time to dwell on your feelings toward the situation either, from beginning to whatever end you might be met with. You suppose that could be beneficial in the long run.

It also hits you when you least expect it; when you really don’t want it to.

Your body doesn’t wait until you finally have a moment alone. It decides, while you’re helping Homelander with his skincare routine that he insisted upon because you know more than these vacuous corporate douche-bags, to heat up without warning and slither from your head to your heart until it grasps you unfairly between your legs.

You try not to step into momentary paralysis. You understand to what extent his powers reach. It’s not like he doesn’t go on and on about them. About himself.

Whatever he notices, it’s not right away. A palpable tension fills the air between the two of you eventually. But it takes a more significant amount of time than you would have anticipated to permeate the natural flow of things.

Fuck, you can’t even be safe inside here, where your thoughts, whatever they may be, are yours. You can’t even have yourself. He has every part of you, and you are willingly relinquishing that control.

Your evening, once you can have it, consists of combing over every decision you’ve made leading up to this strange, disorienting space you find yourself occupying. All it does is leave you exasperated in a much different way than before and with an unsettling observation (or hallucination):

Was that the tail end of the American flag outside your window?

You are unacceptably late.

Rushing around, you throw on the first top and bottoms you see from your closet and spritz some perfume on your neck and wrists. You don’t check your phone. You’re afraid of what will pop up on your screen. And, frankly, you don’t have the time.

Your only option for transportation is the subway, as you’re sure the special vehicle from Vought is long gone. Why would they wait for someone like you, even if you’re practically Homelander’s personal assistant? One of his only friends. You doubt he has more than Black Noir, and that isn’t as perfect as it appears to the casual viewer.

You dread what kind of explosion you’re without a doubt walking into once you show your miserable ass up. You’re going to smell like everyone on this train. He’s going to go ballistic.

The question remains: why are you continuing to put yourself through this? It’s not your circus, yet somehow, the monkeys have become your liability.

You know, deep down, what keeps you going back. It’s simply too ridiculous to admit aloud.

Making your way past security, hurriedly presenting your badge, you realize you forgot to brush your teeth, or at the very least, gargle some mouthwash. You thank your lucky stars when you open your purse to a pack of gum tucked away in one of the compartments.

It will have to do.

When you open the door to Homelander’s dressing room, you see a couple of employees standing near the counter where the bag of supplies has been opened and rifled through, looking like they might soil themselves, a frantic Ashley, and an extremely pissed off Homelander in the middle of it all.

Reflexively, you cringe. You attempt to wipe any trace from your features, but it’s too late. Ashley is glaring daggers at you and Homelander can hardly bring himself to look in your direction. The others don’t matter to you. They never did.

“I’m so sorry I’m late. I know there’s no excuse-”

“You’re goddamned right, there’s no excuse! I don’t give a shit if god and his whole fucking choir of angels came down from heaven and divinely called you to give them a makeover! What were you thinking?!”

You’re about to answer, though you comprehend her query is more or less rhetorical. She interrupts your slightly open mouth while gesturing wildly, proving your point.

“Oh, that’s right! You weren’t thinking at all, were you?! But I do believe you’ve thought long and hard about what’s at stake here. And you know damn well we at Vought don’t tolerate this kind of sloppy behavior. Not to mention the way you’re dressed! It’s adding insult to injury!” Her hand swipes at the air, the length of your outfit, and you glance down, recognizing how comically mismatched you are. Her correct observation affects you more than it would have months prior, stinging your ego- one of the many things that’s been shelved in order to accommodate the person who won’t even grace you with a glance.

A dramatic groan cuts short any further commentary from the redhead, perpetually stretched thin between her absurd duties.

“Jesus Christ, Ashley, why are your big fucking horse gums still flapping?” Homelander’s booming voice slices through your mind like a jarring, dense migraine. He pinches his brow between middle finger and thumb, eyes closed. “I want you and Tweedledee and Tweedledum t’get the fuck out. Now.”

Ashley is plainly dumbfounded, struggling to see where she went wrong (a pattern when it comes to dealing with the volatile leader of The Seven), mouth agape. She shakes her head. “But sir, are you-?”

“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about or doing. Clearly.”

Ms. Barrett turns a shade paler, staring at Homelander and blinking owlishly before snapping herself out of her stupor. She hurries her lackeys out of the room, shooing them along like a pair of misbehaving toddlers. She doesn’t give a final look, no further warning. She merely shuts the door behind her.

You also hear it lock.

What the hell does she think is going to happen?

You should have stopped this while you had the chance. You should have never taken this job. You should have stood up for yourself and walked out. You should have you should have you should-

“Who the fuck do you think you are?”

His caustic tone sends shivers down your spine. It’s unlike anything you’ve heard come out of him. And you’ve heard enough.

Again, you open your mouth. It fills with blood, thick and metallic and more potent than the mint from your gum. You’re silenced by it.

He stalks toward you and grabs you hastily by the shoulders, swiveling you around so you’re face-to-face with the choices you’ve made. Your mirrored image is reflected back at you, exhausted and searching for any last shred of who you might be beneath his heavy palms.

“Look at yourself! Do you even recognize who’s staring back at you?” No.

“What kind of game are you playing, hmmm? Is this… humiliating spectacle you’re putting on for the money? Your pathetic career? Like it’s goddamned rocket science to pick up a can of hairspray and use it. Monkeys have hands.” He makes a noise that’s akin to a snorting horse, exhaling forcefully past his nostrils. “I mean, did you really think you could pull a fast one on me?” He clutches your jaw, squeezing it between middle and thumb. Every muscle in your body tenses, your heart picking up rhythm.

“Spit that fucking gum out. Don’t think I can’t hear you grinding it between your molars like a dumb animal. You aren’t a mama bird, are you? Y’don’t have cute little baby birds t’force-feed your regurgitated leftovers, do you? Eugh, gross.”

You take a deep breath and exhale through your nose. It presents you with a false sense of security. You do as you’re told, and it lands on the floor in front of your shoe, saliva dangling on a thread as withered as your sanity.

Suddenly fresh breath seems like the most insignificant issue, when Homelander himself once made it out to be something earth-shattering.

You’re such a fool.

He leans in and sniffs your throat. Your fingers lengthen and bend.

You’re so many things at once. Confused, angry, nervous, scared. And, to your dismay, warm. God you’re so fucking warm. He’s heating you up from the inside out. You clench your jaw, still held in place by a firm bind.

“Get rid of those ugly clothes. I don’t care what you have to do. I can’t stand the sight or smell of them.”

You shut your eyes. When you open them, all you see is red. The other emotions are smothered in favor of that brand of heat. What happens next is a blur. You temporarily leave yourself.

“Fine. Have it your way, Homelander. You always do.”

Breaking free of his fluctuating hold, you start tearing at what you’re wearing, tossing everything- including your bra and underwear- to the ground. Your shirt winds up with the gum sticking to its loose fabric. You even take your shoes and socks off, not paying any heed to where your belongings go. Just that they’re gone.

You don’t process the glaring fact that you made yourself naked in front of your boss. In front of the most powerful man this country, and possibly world, has known. You don’t care that things have escalated this far. That they shouldn’t have. They shouldn’t have. But guess what? They did. And these are the consequences you both have to deal with.

“You wanna know what game I’m playing?” You turn around, forcing him backward. “It’s funny, I thought you’d be able to answer that for me, considering all the hoops I’ve had to jump through to not only save my ass, but make sure you had someone to talk to at the end of the day! Who on your team can you say goes above and beyond like that for you?!” He blinks at you now, eyes wide. Features fall to the floor where your clothes reside. You have his full and undivided attention.

An impressively dangerous thing to have.

“What more do you want from me, Homelander? I practically live with you without any of the benefits that usually includes! You’re really going to stand here and berate me like I haven’t given you fucking everything you’ve ever asked me for? Because I made one mistake? I gave up my entire world, which I know doesn’t mean shit to you. But it does to me.”

You fold your arms over your chest. Nothing covers it. You have to know before you lose all dignity. So you ask once more, hoping it won’t get lost in this bizarre mess.

“What do you want from me?”

Nothing. He can’t stop staring at you. You aren’t aware enough to be ashamed, but you are aware enough to be upset.

His infuriating silence compels you to bend down and gather what was a barrier between the two of you. You are no longer needed if he can’t do what he does best, which is spout off, leaking bottled words everywhere like a broken faucet. It’s a pretty simple question, you think.

That’s when the glass behind you shatters.

You flinch, pause what you’re doing and slowly stand. Cautious in whatever your next approach will be.

Surveying the aftermath, you’re relieved to find that you’re far enough away from the mirror so no injuries were inflicted.

When you finally lock eyes with the source, you see red. The atmosphere surrounding you heaves like the distended belly of a rotting corpse; hisses like an overflowing tea kettle; pierces you like lightning.

Homelander’s expression is rigid. His jaw quivers. Irises are a bright, shining scarlet. If you try anything rash, you might be next. But, having been around him for so long, you’re more inclined to believe he’s having trouble processing his own emotions. And that might have been one of the only ways to release them.

You drop the top and pants you managed to reclaim. Your brain hasn’t fully recovered from the constant devastating hit it’s taken, so you don’t want to put a name to what’s pushing you forward. You don’t stop until you’re directly in his line of vision.

Swallowing, you carefully extend your hand. The ruby color begins to crumble and give way to the vast ocean you might have drowned in one too many times. You lost track, blocking what you could out. Too real and intimate to accept for a realm that thrives off of inauthenticity and misfortune.

Homelander inhales harshly and you retreat, pupils hooking themselves to his. Searching for any sign you shouldn’t be right where you are.

Of course there are several; unfortunately, you are currently blind to them. Blind to everything but him.

That’s how it’s been for awhile, hasn’t it?

He has a habit of not granting you the luxury of time.

Quickly, he snatches your wrist and brings your palm flat against his cheek. He exhales, eyelids fluttering, nuzzling into you.

It’s so simple, yet it disarms you in ways you aren’t accustomed to.

Homelander basks in this chaste display of affection, and so do you, in awe of how enraptured he appears. Soaking you inside of his pores.

In turn, your cognizance reappears. You nearly topple over, realization infiltrating every part of you.

You’re not wearing a stitch.

A knock at the door startles you both. You glance over in that general direction and hear from the other side, “You’re on in fifteen, Homelander, sir!”

Gazing back up at him, you witness that same fire expand at a rapid rate. You use your other hand to bring him back down to reality, to ground him. It rests against his chest, delving into and cracking his ribs, flaying him open.

What strikes you is how vigorously his heart is beating. How you can feel it through his uniform.

This is how much you affect him. (Can you fathom that you’re only privy to a fraction?) Having evidence of the tiniest reciprocation drains you of any unwanted discomfort.

His fury subsides. You breathe out. He does, too.

“Go sit in your chair. I came here to do my job, after all.” The tenderness with which you speak seems to ease him further, his shoulders deflating with each word.

That aside, you’re playing with a lit match. You’re unsure who’s going to set who ablaze, but you’re willing to go down with this entire building to find out.

He does as he’s told, watching you the whole way like a mutilated mixture of a snarling cornered animal and a man fervently in love. He almost trips into his seat, not an ounce of grace in his gait.

Sacrificing his entire image just to get a glimpse of you.

Whipping his cape to the side, he sinks into the cushion. You get things ready as you typically do, your movements a bit jittery from the adrenaline sending haphazard jolts to your limbs. Despite this, you’re focused. You are more focused than you remember ever being.

You work efficiently, keeping in mind the limit that’s been put on your time.

Homelander bores holes through you. He doesn’t need lasers for that. You’re exposed and vulnerable and he pries what he fostered apart until it’s distinguishable by no one else but him.

You relearn his perfectly manufactured features. Different lights shape shadows you either haven’t seen before or feigned ignorance of. You commit to memory how he looks, smells, feels, the side of your hand grazing his cheek and hanging on.

He’s invigorating, your excitement building to a crescendo you can’t neglect. The heat in your core disperses, most of it congregating low in your belly and behind your expanding rib cage. His pupils drink you in, urgently and violently.

Your arousal is heady. He licks his lips. A hint of a whine caresses your ears and it makes you dizzy.

How could you have ever denied yourself?

You decide to take further control, testing the waters to a greater extent.

It’s your turn to watch him the whole way down. You straddle him, easing yourself atop his taut thighs.

After a few moments of humoring yourself, of pretending to concentrate on your work, dusting his nose with powder, you straighten. Eye contact has not been severed.

You motion toward his hands, balled into tense, repressed fists at his sides.

“Take off your gloves.”

Initially, it feels like maybe you said the wrong thing, or said it the wrong way. He doesn’t budge. You’re patient, however, so you wait like you’ve always done, the warmth from your cunt mingling with the hardness beneath you. Your mouth waters.

At last, Homelander nods and removes his gloves, tugging on the index of each. He places them on the armrests and transfixes himself to you once more.

“Do you want to touch me?” you ask, voice and body staying impossibly still in spite of your nerves.

Immediately, he shakes his head, “Yes,” the first time he’s spoken since your outburst, and without hesitation, reaches for your chest. You close your eyes, falling into his snooping lifts and tugs and squeezes, giving yourself permission to become possessed by the inhibited imaginations of how selfish, how rapacious his touches might be. How smooth his bare hands are, how ardent each digit is.

Leaning into you, he sucks one nipple into his mouth and palms the other, moaning and vibrating against your flesh. He digs his fingers into the pliant softness of your hip, steadying you with disciplined pressure. You squirm, attuned to every minuscule shift.

The lit match is tilted toward you now, swift and stunning. Your fingers release the brush you’ve been holding. It aligns with the slit of the cushion, forgotten and purposeless.

You wrap your digits around the hand on your curves and guide him toward your throbbing center. He doesn’t fight you. Doesn’t stop your movements. Doesn’t scold or challenge you. Instead, he curls his fingers in a way that makes you unabashedly moan, cupping your folds and pinning his thumb to your clit, adapting to your anatomy.

Your wants.

It seems like breaking away from you is a daunting task, but he does for a moment, brow furrowed, more engrossed and invested than you’ve ever witnessed.

“Fuck.” The curse sounds downright edible, your new favorite flavor. Your name tumbles from his lips like he’s been practicing, a sweet, rich icing on top. You gasp, his tongue adhering to you again, swirling around your peak before lightly biting it.

Rocking your hips back and forth, side-to-side, you grind hard into his palm. He strokes you like he’s studied what pace you prefer, how much friction you crave. You’re so wet, even you’re thrown off by it.

Once he’s finished with your chest, he’s back against the seat, unable to peel his gaze from you. Your full, swollen, glistening breasts.

His mouth hangs open, obscene, desperate whimpers slipping from it. Pupils are like whirlpools that drive you under. Drive you mad.

Homelander adeptly slips two, three digits inside your sopping cunt, unrelenting in his intentions to make up for lost time. The voracity of his actions propels you forward, balancing against his chest. He grasps and pulls at your other hip, groaning loudly in your ear, confirming his approval of how close you are to him.

It’s still not enough.

Pulling you even tighter to his blinding sun of a body, he encloses his free arm around you and desperately bucks his waist. “I want… I want… I want…” he chants. Your nails drag up his neck and along his scalp, overwhelmed by his warmth, his scent, him. Your lips ghost the sliver of skin above his collar, making him growl.

You anticipate and dread and yearn for what’s been building for so long. You clench and release, clench and release, clench and release, body chanting with him.

You’re intuitively thankful for the chair’s sturdiness; however, if it would have collapsed, you’re honestly not sure you would have noticed. Or cared.

You hear him come first. Feel the temperature rise temporarily. It’s so sudden and all-consuming that you naturally follow, his name an instinct you can’t help but divulge. You haven’t come down from the turbulent emotions rushing through you earlier, and that combination catapults you over the edge.

Your orgasm draws more deliberate, vehement grunts and sighs of satisfaction from him, as if your pleasure is inexplicably the same or worth more than his.

You can’t crumple into a boneless heap like you want to. You just can’t. You have to look at him. Look at his bliss; the glazed, barren-yet-so-full-of-you expression, of what these months of working in close quarters have done to him.

What you uncover is not what you were picturing. There’s a mixture of that haze with something almost apologetic below the teeming surface. Clouds of red to skies of blue. Destructive in and of themselves.

Sliding his fingers from your wetness, he wraps his lips around each one that was inside of you and spreads them apart. Your slick sticks to his glossy skin and stretches between digits, a generous amount. You whimper at the loss- the emptying, hollow feeling- and watch, mesmerized and delirious as he savors you.

Swallowing you whole, Homelander sweeps his knuckles across the apple of your cheek and presses his lips hard against yours. He wastes no time inhaling your gasps and moans, licking your mouth and the faint taste of mint, stealing it from you. You ingest what you can of him as well, exploring what was open to you longer than you realized.

He then seizes your wrists. It’s a rough gesture that evaporates into gentle circles along your pulse points. Still, you know you’re going to bruise where he turned the key and locked you into place: wherever he is.

A visible sheen coats his lips.

“I want you to tell me I’m good. Great. The best.”

His breathing is labored. So is yours.

He kisses the inside of the wrist smeared with perfume, your fluids, his saliva; ends with your hand and rests his cheek against the slope of it.

“I want you to be mine. All mine. Mine alone.”

You’re shaking. He moves forward and pets your hair, twirls it; grabs your nape and holds his thumb to the front of your throat. Securing you. Keeping you there.

“You have to stay. Be mine and stay.”

You thrum with an ache he forced upon you. He’ll claim you were starving and he was the only one who could satiate.

You nod. You were never going to leave to begin with.

Homelander made you his. And you thanked him for it.

#homelander #homelander x reader #the boys #antony starr #my writing #let me see you stripped down to the bone #oneshot #god it feels so good getting this out #i’ve been going through a painful writer’s block so 🥹 #thank you everyone who helped and anyone who reads #this is my first full-fledged homelander fic so i’m a bit nervous but! very excited 🖤 #love you all 🥰

[hariboz]

“forget? you?” — shb x gen!reader

a little something i wrote to get back into my writing flow!

ex!hanbin has been plaguing my mind for a while now. the type to make the heart wrenching decision to break up with you to follow his dreams in hopes of finding what he wanted in the spotlight, ready to sacrifice the comfort of your embrace to chase what he has been dreaming of for years.

“thank you for always being by my side, but i don’t know if i can be happy if i don’t try one last time. i don’t want to break your heart, angel, but will you let me go?”

and you did. of course you did, how could you not? you could always see the sparkle in his eyes when he showed you a new choreography he made, the longing in his gaze when watching others dance on the same stages he could only dream of being on. you knew he was happy with you, you knew he loved you. he was happy, loved and comfortable, yet unfulfilled. because while you would give him every single star in the night sky if you could, no amount of your love would sustain his desire to become the shiniest star of them all himself.

so you let him go, gave him your blessing and told him to better make it to the top so your love was not given up in vain.

you had never seen hanbin cry so much before.

“i promise, angel. i’ll carry you with me in my heart.”

and truth be told, ex!hanbin held his promise. he made it. a leader, a highly sought after visual, a mc, a vocalist.

he’s not your binnie anymore. he’s not the one waking up an hour before your alarm to make you breakfast anymore. he’s not picking you up from work with that sweet smile and a smoothie in his hand. he doesn’t try to teach you his choreos anymore. he doesn’t giggle at you while fixing your hair anymore.

on days where it’s especially hard you catch yourself wishing you had refused, had kept him close to you. had begged him to stay back, to not sacrifice all the serene happiness you shared; but then you snap back to reality, the realisation that these selfish thoughts keep crawling their way up making you feel guilty.

it’s a sick twist of fate, you think, when you happen to walk past a wall of support ads for him plastered along your way. you don’t know whether to laugh or cry; whether you should be elated he is receiving an amount of love you could never have given him or whether you should be hurt and bitter that all this meant more to him than you seemingly ever did.

it’s not fair to compare like that, you know that, but it’s not like he’s there to defend himself. he’s never there anymore.

in your inner frenzy, the internal fight between wanting to support the man you still love oh so deeply and the selfish wish to have kept him for yourself, you bump into someone, misty eyes barely focused enough to notice the person in front of you.

you look up briefly to apologise, wanting nothing more than to get away from this overstimulating throwback to your better times, only to realise that the devil — angel — himself is standing right there.

right there, in front of you. sung hanbin. your binnie.

you know it’s him immediately despite the mask he’s wearing. the all too familiar sparkle in his eyes and his pretty lashes that you know all too well blinking back at you in shock, his eyes desperately darting over your face in an attempt to drink in every little change and detail.

you’re just about to speak when he turns at the sound of his name, which is when you finally realise the crowd standing not too far away, observing him like hawks and pointing their phones at him.

right. he’s idol binnie now.

so you bow politely and leave, trying your best to manoeuvre through the crowd. your heart is beating in your ears, your thoughts all jumbled and confused. you haven’t seen him in so long. not in person, anyways, and now you’re running away? what else could you have done?

it’s like you’re on autopilot, not even noticing you’ve made your way back home until you’re stood in front of your apartment. it’s then when you’re about to unlock your door, planning to crawl into bed and never come back out, that your phone vibrates.

first once, then twice.

“i don’t know if you want to talk to me anymore, but i was happy to see you today. even if it was really short.”

“i miss you.”

“you didn’t forget?”

“forget? you?”

“i could never. i love you.”

”did you ever think about dating an idol?”

ex!hanbin who, i think, would give it all up to follow his dream only to realise every single version of his future had you in it. and now he’s here, trying to win you back, hoping it’s not too late. because ex!hanbin is not only a romantic, but also in love. deeply, unabashedly in love.

#maise’s notes ! #trying to get back into the writing flow 🫶🏻 #this is very dramatic for no reason but that’s where my fingers took me lol #zb1 #zerobaseone #sung hanbin #zb1 fluff #zb1 imagines #zb1 scenarios #zb1 x reader #zb1 hanbin #hanbin x reader #hanbin fluff #hanbin scenarios #zb1 angst #hanbin imagines #zerobaseone scenarios #zerobaseone x reader #zerobaseone hanbin #hanbin

[sissylittlefeather]

Double fic day...

It Feels So Right (how can it be wrong?): Part 2

A/N: This mini series is SO FUN. Just a reminder this is the one where ghost!Elvis possesses Austin during the filming of Elvis (2022). If you need to get caught up, read Part 1 here. Enjoy this second installment!

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, kissing, cussing, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), p in v penetrative sex, unprotected sex

Word count: ~2.5k

Elvis is nervous about how Austin will react when he finds out he used his body to go out with you, but what's done is done. And he has every intention of begging to let it happen again.

******

The next day at work, you deliver your coffees like you always do.

Elvis hasn't found a way to tell Austin what happened. Austin can tell something is going on, but he assumes it's just some weird ghost business and doesn't pry into why Elvis is acting strange.

But when you walk up to Austin, Elvis tries to catch his attention.

"Austin. Man, I-"

"Hey!" He looks at you and then looks around to make sure you're talking to him.

"Hi..."

"I brought you a coffee. You said you like two creams and two sugars, right?" Elvis puts his face in his hand. That's his coffee order. He's not even sure what Austin would want.

"Oh... umm..." You look at him and your smile falls. You thought something special happened last night, but maybe it was just another in a long line of one night stands for him.

"Anyway. Here." You hand him the coffee and then walk back to where you normally stand, waiting for someone else to tell you what to do. You take a deep breath and try to make sure you don't let the tears that are trying to gather fall down your face.

"Goddamnit." Elvis whispers under his breath. Austin turns to him.

"What the hell was that?"

"You really don't remember anything when I'm... in you... do you?"

"No. What did you do?!" Elvis sighs and tries to think of how he can explain what happened between you last night.

"Well..."

"Elvis. They're going to call for me on set soon. Start talking."

"We went out last night."

"We?!"

"Me and her. But she thinks it was you..."

"You just thought you'd borrow me for the evening?"

"Look, I'm sorry, but I really like her and it was... it was really great."

"Elvis, did you have sex with her in my body?" Elvis cringes and looks down at the floor.

"Mayyybeee..."

"Elvis! What the hell?!"

"I'm sorry! You said no and I just really like her..."

"If you'd asked again, I probably would've said yes."

"Wait? Really?"

"Yes. But you didn't ask-"

"I know. I'm sorry. I won't do it again. I promise."

"We had sex?"

"... yes..."

"It was good?"

"Austin, it was incredible. She's amazing-"

"It's my turn."

"What?"

"I'm taking her out tonight. And you stay out. I wanted to ask her out, so I'm going to." Elvis stands there speechless. This is not what he expected. He expected anger or permission to continue. But this is something totally different. He did not expect competition. Austin takes a sip of the coffee you brought him and winces.

"Two creams and two sugars, dude? Have you never heard of a latte?"

Elvis rolls his eyes and Austin turns and walks towards you.

"Hey! I'm sorry I was awkward. Thank you for the coffee. What are you doing tonight?" You look up suddenly, a bright smile on your face.

"Oh, nothing! You wanna hang out?"

"Yeah, that'd be awesome. Can I pick you up around 7?"

"Yes!" He leans forward and kisses your cheek and whispers in your ear.

"I'll see you then." He walks out to the set and you blush. You try to focus on what you're supposed to be doing but the only thing in your head is the fact that you might actually be dating Austin Butler.

What you don't see is the smirk Austin shoots to Elvis. As he passes him to get to where he's going, he whispers.

"Game on, man."

******

That night, Austin shows up at your door dressed far more casually than the night before. Also, his hair is messier and he seems more confident.

"Hey, baby. You ready?" You nod. Apparently sleeping with you was an ego boost of some kind, but you're not exactly complaining. He seems to be more at home in himself and the confidence is hot.

For your date, he first takes you to a small restaurant he's found while he's been in town. It's a hole-in-the-wall type of place, but the food is amazing. Next, he takes you for cocktails at a local bar. It's small and intimate, but upscale nonetheless. After that, you find yourself back at his place on his couch.

This date somehow feels completely opposite of the one last night, but it's not bad, it's just different. He's just as sweet and thoughtful as he was the night before. He settles onto the couch next to you and throws his arm around you.

"You wanna watch something?"

"Sure. What did you have in mind?"

"Anything you want, baby."

What you don't know about this date is that Elvis is there the whole time. He tries to stay quiet, but throughout the evening he finds himself giving tips to Austin about what you like and don't like. The competitive side of him is begging him to shut up, but he also wants to see you taken care of. Austin is doing his best to ignore him, though. He wants to earn your affection in his own right.

"Well. What's your favorite Elvis media?" You ask. Elvis laughs.

"Ha! She's still thinking about me." Austin looks at him and rolls his eyes. He wants to yell at him that she didn't know it was him, but he also doesn't want to appear crazy.

"That feels like work for me, baby. We can watch something if you want, though..."

"Oh, no! I'm sorry. I didn't even think of it that way. We can watch whatever you want."

"How about some music?"

"Yes! Even better." He stands up and walks over to a record player and starts flipping through albums.

"Most everything I have is oldies. Is that okay?" You smile. Elvis scoffs. Oldies.

"That's the music I grew up with."

"Alright then. Fleetwood Mac, Three Dog Night, America, or Elton John?"

"Oh, man. That might be the hardest question anyone's ever asked me." Austin looks at you softly. You really are something else. "America. I'm in a mood tonight."

"I love it." Austin smiles. Elvis wishes you'd asked for something a little more his style, but he respects that you like what you like. The greatest hits album plays and Austin sits down next to you on the couch again. He fidgets with your hair on your shoulder absentmindedly. You turn to face him and you feel the energy between you become charged with something. He leans in slowly and presses his lips to yours. His hand cups your cheek and he kisses you again softly. The next time he leans in, it's an open-mouth kiss and his tongue slides into your mouth passionately.

But something is different. You can't quite put your finger on what it is, but the way he's kissing you is slightly different from last night. As he kisses down your neck, you decide that maybe you're just remembering wrong. Besides, this is excellent. Why would you complain? He sucks lightly on a spot near your collarbone.

"I don't think she'll like that." Elvis is still standing next to the couch. He's trying not to watch but his curiosity gets the best of him. Austin wants to ask if he plans to stay the whole time, but he can't really do that without freaking you out.

You moan softly as Austin's hands go to your breasts and he lays you down on the couch, situating himself on top of you. He pulls your shirt off quickly and then takes his off and you're shocked that he's moving this quickly. Last night you had to practically force him to touch you and tonight he's already got you half naked. Maybe it's just because this isn't the first time you've been together. His lips are all over your body as he kisses and licks your chest.

Elvis scoffs.

"You're paying too much attention to her top. Move down." Austin is trying so hard not to hear what Elvis is saying, but it's really starting to drive him crazy.

"Give me just a second, baby." Austin stands up and walks over to the record player. As he does, he mouths to Elvis. "GO. AWAY."

"What? It's not like she can see me. Besides, it looks like you need the help." He turns the music up really loud and walks back over to the couch. You look at him a little strangely and he smiles.

"Sorry, I just... wanted it... loud..." Elvis cracks up laughing at Austin trying to cover for his weird behavior. Austin goes back to kissing you and slides your pants down and off. Elvis rolls his eyes and turns his back. He doesn't really want to watch you with another man. Austin looks at you naked on the couch and shakes his head.

"Goddamn, baby, you're gorgeous." You smile. That sounds like him. He settles between your thighs on the couch and lowers his mouth to your clit. Your back arches as he moves his tongue over and around your sensitive bud. He pushes two fingers into you and spreads them, stretching you out as he licks you. That's new, but it feels good, so you don't protest. You feel your orgasm building as he keeps working his mouth on you.

"Oh, God, Austin." You moan.

"She's about to cum. Don't stop." Elvis hollers over the music. He can tell even without looking. Austin has to use every ounce of his acting skills to keep it together and stay focused on you. But Elvis is right. Your hand goes to his hair as you shudder and pulse around his fingers, your orgasm washing over you like a curtain of intense pleasure. He pulls back and wipes his mouth with his hand.

"You want me to fuck you, baby?" That's a slightly shocking difference from last night, but it's still hot, so you nod as he drops his pants and crawls on top of you. Elvis puts his face in his palm. He's wracking his brain for a way to get Austin to stop, but he can't think of anything. Instead, he stands faced away looking up at the ceiling while Austin pushes into you and begins to fuck you steadily.

"Yes! Yes!" You cry out breathlessly and Elvis hollers again.

"She's gonna cum again." Austin is so close to his own orgasm that he finally loses control.

"GODDAMNIT ELVIS DO YOU WANT TO DO THIS?!" He pulls out and sits up, looking at Elvis, who turns around slowly.

"You were doing just fine-"

"And yet you couldn't keep your mouth shut!" You look at Austin and over in the corner where he's looking. There's nothing there.

"Austin, what the hell-"

"I can see Elvis! Okay? I see him. He's here."

"You..."

"And sometimes he possesses me and does some of the movie. Last night, he thought he would take me for a joy ride and go out with you. That was him last night. Not me." Elvis looks between you to see how you'll respond to this information.

"Austin, I know you've worked really hard to get into this role..."

"No- I mean I have- but this is not that. I swear he's right over there." He gestures to Elvis in the corner who waves awkwardly, but you can't see him. That's when you realize that you're naked and grab your shirt to cover yourself.

"Tell her I've already seen her naked. She doesn't have to cover up for me." Austin rolls his eyes.

"Elvis says he's already seen you naked."

"Oh. Wait. He's really actually here?"

"Yep."

"And he takes over your body sometimes?"

"He does."

"And that was him last night and not you?!"

"Yes."

"Prove it." Elvis and Austin answer at the same time.

"What?"

"Prove it. What did you call me last night?"

"What do you mean?"

"You called me a specific pet name all night. What was it?"

"I don't know. Honey? I know he says honey a lot."

"Nope. Wrong. Let me talk to him." Austin stands up and pulls his pants back on. Then he looks over at Elvis.

"You heard the lady. Come on." Elvis nods slowly and then jumps. He opens his eyes in Austin's body. He sits down next to you on the couch and reaches his hand out to touch your cheek. He'll never get enough of the way your skin feels.

"Hey, doll." You close your eyes and lean into his touch.

"It really is you."

"It's me. And I called you doll."

"That's why everything has been so different tonight."

"Yes, I've been trying to tell him-"

"Wait. You've been here the whole time. Were you watching us-"

"No! I swear I turned my back. You can ask Austin." You look at him suspiciously.

"Can I talk to Austin?"

"I'll have to jump out and then you won't be able to see or hear me."

"But he will. So he can tell me what you say. If he lies, just come back."

"Alright then. Can I kiss you first?" You nod and he leans in and presses his lips to yours. He kisses you softly a few times and then pulls back. Elvis pulls himself out of Austin and sits on the other side of you on the couch. Austin shakes his head and blinks.

"Do you remember what happens when he's possessing you?"

"I don't."

"That's why you were so weird about the coffee this morning."

"Yes! Also I drink a vanilla latte. Elvis drinks coffee."

"Wow." You sit for a second trying to absorb what just happened.

"So which one does she pick?" Elvis asks Austin tentatively.

"I don't know, man." He turns to you. "He wants to know which one of us you pick."

"Pick?"

"To date." Elvis nods to Austin, who nods back. "We both want to know."

"Why do I have to pick? What if I want you both?"

"You can't even see Elvis!"

"No, but I can when he possesses you. I want you both." You stand up and put your clothes on while the two men sit dumbfounded on the couch. Once you're dressed, you turn and face Austin on the couch. "Where is he?"

"He's here next to me on the couch."

"Alright then." You look where you think he is and then back at Austin. "Figure it out, boys. Make a schedule or something. But I want you both."

You lean down and kiss Austin on the cheek. Then you turn to the other side of the couch and blow a kiss to Elvis.

"I'll see you in the morning. Y'all have fun coming up with a plan for how this will work." You walk to the front door and slip out, closing it behind you.

Elvis and Austin look at each other and bust out laughing. When they stop, Austin sighs and Elvis clicks his tongue. Elvis speaks first.

"Man, she's somethin' else."

"You got that right."

"I guess we better figure it out."

"I guess so..."

******

Until Part 3

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Taglist:

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#elvis presley #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis fanfic #elvis #elvis presley fic #elvis smut #elvis presley x reader #elvis x reader #elvis fanfiction #elvis presley x y/n #elvis fic #elvis x y/n #elvis x you #elvis presley smut #elvis presley fanfic #elvis presley x you #austin x reader #austin butler elvis #austin butler x reader #austin butler x you #austin butler x y/n #austin butler

[sc0tters]

Bout Time | Steven Holtz & Jacob Truscott

summary: how far can your brothers requests go if he isn't around?

pairing: Steven Holtz x Lapointe!Reader x Jacob Truscott

request: yes/no

warnings: mature themes, p in v, threesome, oral (both fem and m receiving), swearing.

word count: 3.47k

authors note: I don't have a clue who's idea this was originally but let's take a moment to say thanks to @mirrorballmcgroarty for bringing this one to us! and for letting me try a few different things with it...

The house was buzzing as the team came back from an away win.

The seniors wanted to celebrate and that’s how you landed on the couch “do you think she knows what she’s doing to us?” Steven crossed his arms as he watched you laugh at something Thomas had said. 

Of course the boys were happy to see their old teammate return to the school as the Sharks were playing Detroit the next day.  But what they didn’t want to see was how close you were to your ex fuckbuddy “wouldn’t put it past her.” Jacob grumbled knowing exactly what game you played with them. 

Since sophomore year you got a kick out of flirting with the boys, but one detail that was missed was that you flirted with Steven first. Your brother Phil remained none the wiser as you would be in the same room of a party laughing at whatever happened when his own roommates would have thoughts about you. Ones so naughty that they often had the boys in their rooms, with their hands fisting their cocks picturing that it was your mouth or your cunt instead. The boys watched you sit on his lap giving him a chance to finally kiss your neck as he got the chance the practically be faced with your breasts. 

You were in this spaghetti strap top and shorts that were enough to make most of the guys do a double take of you “are you gonna do something?” Steven motioned to Jacob to break up whatever was forming “you think they’re gonna stop me?” Thomas grinned as he ran his fingers over your side. 

The two of you had been flirting at first but when you noticed that the boys staring things quickly changed. Thomas couldn’t deny that he was still attracted to you, so when you said you wanted to push their buttons he couldn’t say no. 

So as he ran his fingers through your hair the two of you were reminded about all that once happened “you two are not fucking on the couch.” Jacobs whine made you smirk “don’t see you coming to anyone else to stop ‘em.” You could see at least five couples around you both looking like they were close to leaving, including Phil and Khiana. 

Thomas squeezed his hand around your waist as he looked at his phone to see the time “she needs to take me back to the hotel anyways.” He announced making all three of the still Umich students heads snap in his direction “you need one of us to come with you?” Your amusement quickly turned to irritation as you glared at the duo. 

Sure you wanted to tease them, even rile them up a little. But getting cockblocked was not on the list of options you were willing to have “I am pretty sure I can drive my car alone.” You pointed out as you only had one drink when you got there before you switched to water.

The boys watched you leave almost three hours ago, and now with the duo being left alone in the house to clean after Phil went to the hotel with Khiana. The boys thought the worst as you hadn’t shown up like you normally did “party is over kid!” Steven called out hearing the front door open. 

Your laughter was followed by it “came to help clean up.” You were always there as an extra set of hands when the party was over.  Neither boy liked waking up to a messy house hence why they stayed up the night before “you have a good night?” Steven smiled watching you tug your hair back into a messy updo. 

His comment made you raise your eyebrows “yeah it was good to see Tom again.” You nodded tugging at the necklace on your collarbones “but you will be happy to know that I stayed a holy child tonight.” Your comment now made them both feel surprised. 

They looked at each other trying to process what was going on “but you were gone for so long.” Jacob pointed out as he crossed his arms wondering if this was really the stuff they were meant to be asking you about. 

But when laughter left your lips both boys watched you in confusion “not every guy only lasts five minutes boys.” You pointed out making them both turn red “thought even you two would know that.” You added with a smirk as they grew irritated. 

Both of them were lost for words as they looked at each other “we know how to be in bed.” Steven coughed the words out as Jacob sent him a glare “it’s okay to not be that experienced boys.” You teased patting Jacob on the chest as you winked at the older boy.

Before they got the chance to respond they watched you turn to the kitchen, bringing a load of empty beer bottles with you “she is going to get us killed.” Steven pointed out with a sigh “what he doesn’t know won’t kill him.” Jacob pointed out as there was an entire rule Phil created for the team leaving you off limits. But as he was shit out of luck expecting it to be kept up with him thirty minutes away and at a hotel for the night. 

They were able to behave for now getting most of the cleaning done even “did you really care if I slept with him?” You always had a soft spot for the captain as you sat on the counter “who you sleep with shouldn’t be my issue.” Jacob sighed as he dropped the towel that he had in his hands.

You let out a huff almost frustrated that you were serving yourself up to him on a silver platter, after pushing as many buttons as you could “even if it was you?” Finally his head snapped to turn to you “you better not fuck with me.” Jacob found himself between your legs as you turned your head up to his. 

It felt like the air around you both grew warm “dead serious.” You nodded finally watching him cup your cheeks. 

His hands were rough against your skin, almost not caring that Steven only throwing the trash away. Jacob dropped his head finally letting years of want and desire get what they had been waiting for since freshman year. The kiss had your lips feeling like they were on fire, moulded together in the same way a final piece of a puzzle fits in. 

A moan left your lips as you let your hands scratch up the inside of his chest running over his muscles “am I walking in on something?” Steven let the question slip from his lips causing your head to turn in his direction. 

The boys both looked at each other almost ignoring you “not if you wanna join.” You announced standing up as your body pressed against the captains. 

They swore that you were going to be the death of them as they looked back at you. Steven walked closer as he watched the younger boy squeeze at your waist “that what you want?” Jacob’s rough voice made you squirm. 

Your legs pressed together in an attempt to suppress the heat you felt causing an inaudible noise to leave your lips as you nodded “unless you say it we won’t do it.” Steven sighed as he kissed your shoulder “I need you both.” You gasped pushing the words out of your mouth. 

Their silence made you want to cry “want you to fuck me please.” Your whine was enough to make their cocks grow hard “look at you so well mannered.” Jacob raked his fingers through her hair as you whimpered. 

You couldn’t help nod, desperately wanting either of them to make a move “why don’t you go sit on my bed in nothing.” Jacob kissed your neck as you nodded. 

Both boys felt their patience being tested as they watched you saunter upstairs “why aren’t we going?” Steven grumbled wanting to hit his teammate for letting you go “because we need to see if she knows how to listen or if she’s gonna be a brat.” The captain smirked as if he had planned this all out already. 

You looked at your body in the reflection of his mirror “told you she couldn’t follow a simple instruction.” Jacob clicked his tongue as he shook his head “thought so much better of her.” Steven sighed watching you turn around to face them in nothing more than your bra and panties. 

You walked back to them with a soft smile on your lips “wanted to give you boys something to take off.” You explained reaching back to unclip your bra “aren’t you huff so considerate.” Jacob scoffed tugging at the straps pulling your bra down to the ground as your breasts bounced. 

Their eyes were drawn to the grin on your lips “who do you want first?” Steven’s words reminded you both that he was there “want your mouth.” Since you heard a rumour about the older boy being a great bottom you let your mind run wild with fantasies.

Jacob couldn’t help but feel jealous as he watched you kiss Steven. After all the older boy was the one who you flirted with first and even if Jacob got the chance to kiss you first, the feelings you seemed to hold for the other boy stayed stronger. 

It was like this hotted blackout where before you knew it your thighs pressed against Steven’s head. And Jacobs lips were against your breasts “fuck me.” You gasped feeling the captain nip at your sensitive peaks. 

The sensation made you sit on Steven’s face finally giving the boy what he wanted as his tongue licked up your slit. The feeling made you moan causing Jacob to look up at you, letting his lips pop from your nipple as saliva trailed from his lips “you make such pretty noises.” Jacob let out a soft laugh as he kissed your lips.

You were feeling overwhelmed by the pleasure you felt almost forgetting how to breathe, as your hand ran down Jacob’s chest you cupped his aching boner. Moaning when Stevens nose grazed your clit “you gonna let me see just what these pretty lips can do?” His rough voice made you whimper as your mouth salivated, watching your fingers painfully fiddle with his shorts. 

Jacob was close to throwing a few warnings your way when you tugged at his shorts pulling them down with his boxers. His cock hit his pelvis bone and your eyes would have popped out of your head if you were a cartoon character “you can touch it pretty girl.” He cooed making you place your hands on his thighs to help steady you. 

The effort you had to use to on his swollen mushroom head was practically cruel “I am gonna shove it down your throat if you don’t fuck these licks.” He grunted having enough of your teasing spreading the precum from his cock around the head “so strict.” Steven took the action to slap your ass making you writhe against him.

It was quick but you realized that they were very much going to be on the same team, maybe even against you. So you listened wrapping your lips around his cock running your tongue along the base of it. 

Jacob let out a grunt as Stevens hand squeezed at your thigh as you moaned “This mouth is fucking heaven.” The hockey player tugged his fingers through your hair forcing you to take more of him as your throat constrict around his cock. 

Steven continued to lap at your clit making you moan around the captain “so is this pussy.” Steven spoke up as you squealed. 

You clenched around his tongue driving your hips against his face wanting to get yourself off. The room felt sweaty as you looked up at Jacob through your batted eyelashes “hi pretty.” Jacob smirked feeling the edges of your lips curve upright. 

He watched you drop his cock from your mouth “I am gonna cum holy fuck.” You announced tugging your freehand through Steven’s hair “hold it until you’ve got me in your mouth.” Jacob’s demand wasn’t something that you were going to argue with it.

Not when you’re chasing such a high that was needy and full of desperation “who woulda thought that the easiest way to get you all quiet would be to shove a dick in your mouth?” His vulgar words made you moan as tears formed in your ears feeling Steven speed up beneath you. 

So you tilted your head upwards making sure you were able to take more of his cock “fucking there we go now.” He grunted beginning to fuck your throat as he felt his thrusts grow scattered “fuck!” Jacob gripped at your hair as he forced you to stop letting your nose hit his lower abdomen. 

The boy watched in awe as you practically sucked his cock like a straw letting his release shoot a sticky string of cum against your throat. Your orgasm wasn’t far behind as the Jacob changed his attention to teasing your nipples “let go.” Your moans were muffled with the boys release still in your mouth after you saw the way he smirked seeing the sight. 

Your body shook as his hands, making sure to hold on tight enough that the vibrations that sent through you weren’t going to be enough to make you fall off of Steven. Your thighs dug into the mattress as your eyes stayed on the captain who watched his cum drip out of your mouth and down your chin “please jesus.” You whimpered feeling like you saw stars as his thumb caught your chin bringing his release back into your mouth. 

Your lips swirled around his tongue making it easier for you to remain composed as Steven lapped at your cunt like you were his last meal “swallow f’me.” Jacob ordered feeling himself grow hard again as you obliged. 

The salty liquid slid down your throat with ease as Steven tapped your thigh when you came down from your high “think you can give us one more?” His voice was soft as you pulled off of him. 

You nodded watching Steven sit up straight “of course our little slut is.” Jacob smirked watching you bring your hands up to cover your breasts “no baby let us see you.” The older boy clicked his tongue as his hands wrapped around your wrists. 

He smiled as he took in the sight of you. They swore it was heavenly watching you bite at your lower lip “you look so painful.” You mumbled staring at his cock at sat under his shorts “and feeing so naked to you both.” Your whine reminded them both that they were still in their clothes besides for the fact that Jacob had his boxers half way down his thighs. 

The boys watched you in awe “all you have to do is say the word.” Steven reminded you as he pulled his shirt off of his shoulders “want you to fuck me so bad.” You whined still wanting so much more. 

It made Jacob nod “so who gets that privilege?” He cocked his head as your eyes didn’t leave his.

Your hand shook as you lifted it up to point to him making him smile. Sure it hurt Steven but as you crawl over to his side and kissed him he couldn’t remember his negative feelings for you. 

The taste of your lips was sweet on his tongue “such a pretty girl.” He mumbled with your cheeks in his hands. 

The mattress dipped behind you as Jacob sat down letting his hands grip at your hips. As his cock swiped over your slit you tilted your hips back to his “still such a needy little slut after all that.” Jacobs laugh taunted you as he slid his cock into your core. 

Steven held you up as he pulled away to watch your face contort adjusting to the captains size “move Jacob please.” You whimpered feeling your walls hug his throbbing cock. 

He gratefully obliged letting his hips begin to roll as he pulled out to the point where only his tip was felt by your cunt. Before he sunk back into you allowing your hips to be met by his as he bottomed you out. 

You were still sensitive from your orgasm mere minutes ago, making you whimper “you think you can handle a bit more?” Steven’s voice was soft as he ran his fingers over your lower lip. Like he hadn’t pictured it wrapped around his cock a hundred times over. 

When you didn’t say anything still trying to get used to the sheer force that the boys hips snapped into yours at as the tight feeling of your core made him hard all over again “answer us when we talk to you baby.” Jacob warned tugging at your hair in annoyance as it made you squeal.

Your eyes connected back with the older boys as you nodded “yeah.” Your word was shaky since most of your energy was forced into your legs to keep you upright.

Steven nodded tugging at his shorts letting his own cock come out. Now Jacob might have been longer but the boy in front of you was thicker “can help you through it.” He mumbled giving your lips one last kiss. 

It was easier to keep yourself from collapsing onto the bed as Jacob dug his fingers into the meat of your hips. Part of you wanted to tease Steven in the ways that you did with Jacob but that wasn’t possible as the new angle that Jacob for you at. Had you feeling him in your throat making you moan, which Steven naturally took as his cue to slot his cock between your lips. 

The boys quickly settled into a rhythm that had you feeling hotter than ever. Used at both sides for these selfish boys who only wanted to make themselves feel good in that moment “fucking hell.” Steven let out a grunt as he ran his fingers through your hair making a makeshift ponytail.

The walls soaked up the sounds of skin slapping and soft grunts that spewed from the boys lips as they wanted to corrupt you for any future partners, even if they came from your past. Memories would be engraved in their minds of not only how you felt or tasted. But truthfully of how they felt so at ease with you, even if it was just between your legs. 

This night had fulfilled all fantasies you might have once had with them working in constant opposite unison. As Jacob pulled back Steven would force you to take more of his cock. 

And they could tell that you were close by the way that you quickly began a whimpering mess as the older boy painted your chest with his release, opting to make you instead like his own personal toy. 

He watched you whimper “go on baby milk his cock.” Steven’s voice was barely a whisper but you didn’t need to be offered it twice as your hand went to your clit. 

Your head hit his shoulder as you cried “fuck fuck fuck!” You chanted letting your body writhe against them both. 

It was your orgasm as your eyes screwed shut that triggered the captains, leaving the walls of your cunt painted from his release “there we go.” He grunted slowly thrusting into you twice more before he pulled out. Letting his release mix with yours as it oozed down the inside of your thigh before you were let to rest your head on his bedsheet as they shifted to your sides instead.

They watched in awe as your chest heaved until you came down from your orgasm “you still with us pretty girl?” Steven smiled as you nodded “bath.” You blurted out making both of them laugh. But still even in that fucked out state that you were in, neither one was ready to say no.

Phil came home the next morning blissfully unaware of the fact that you were still fast asleep in the arms of his best friend and captain. Both boys ready planning what they wanted to do next leaving you with some surprises along the way. So here’s to the best graduation send off of all time, with hockey, sun, and sex.

#jacob truscott smut #jacob truscott imagines #steven holtz imagines #steven holtz smut #hockey imagines #imagines #oneshots #hockey imagine #hockey smut #umich hockey #umich smut #amber writes fics

[mydearesthrry]

hi!!! could u maybe write musician reader x harry idea dumping in the middle of the night???

a/n: u get it. this was fun to write teehee. song used is ‘a love letter from the sea to the shore’ by delaney bailey! enjoy :P (this got away from me.)

warnings: nothing, cute fluff from our fave knuckleheads!!!!

“hi baby angel, what are you doing?” harry murmured, a grin on his face as he walked into the living room, seeing his wife sitting on the floor with her guitar on her lap.

“writing something, i think,” she grumbled, scratching aggressively at her shoulder since her guitar strap was rubbing against it. “something’s not working here.”

“well, what’ve y’got so far?” he asked, plopping himself next to her, resting his chin on his hand that was propped up on his knee.

“um, i’ll play it for you,” she shifted in her spot to face him, itching her nose as she scooted. “i’m thinking it’ll be called like, ‘a love letter from the sea to the shore’? i mean, i basically say it in the first verse anyway.”

“cute!” he replied, making her giggle softly.

“okay, um,” y/n began strumming, eyes closing as she played the round of chords she had in mind.

‘cause you hold in my tide

i would die a thousand times

just to see you in another life

stopping after the second chorus, she drops her chin to her chest, hair curtaining around her face as she groans in annoyance. “i can’t figure out the fucking bridge.”

“baby, that was beautiful.” harry says seriously, eyes shining with adoration and utmost love.

“shut up. help me write this bridge.” she muttered, but leaning to press a kiss to his lips in gratitude.

“hm… what if y’like, made it still ocean themed? like slow down the song at that part and make it so it sounds like the water’s coming back up the shore.” he explained casually, not realizing how complicated that sounded.

“what?” she questioned, a confused furrow in her brow.

“like, hold on, give me the guitar.” he held his hands out to grab it, settling it on his lap against his tummy when it was in his possession. harry furrowed his brow, humming a little before just barely singing the words, ‘my love’.

y/n watched as he used relatively the same chords to strum a different pattern, already filling in the gaps with his hums. “i got it! h, wait!”

“see, there y’go lovie. jus’ needed a little boost, hm?” he smiled widely, his bunny teeth peeking out.

“god, we’re fuckin’ good at our jobs.” she murmured after rerecording the song with harry’s added bridge. a giggle left harry’s throat at her look of relief, high-fiving her as she set her guitar back on the stand.

“should i release it? i think we could probably record it tonight.” y/n shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly, standing from her place on the floor.

“y’wanna record this song right now? its 2:45 in the morning, sweetheart.” he chuckled at her, standing up after she did.

“yeah, honestly. wanna be my producer for the night?” she giggled, moving towards him slowly, her hands coming to rest on his chest, then fanning out to the nape of his neck.

“sure, baby. if that’s what y’want.” harry promised, his hands resting on her hips. leaning forward, he pressed a kiss on her forehead, both cheeks, and eventually her lips, savoring the flavor of her chapstick that she loved to use before bed.

“i do want that, please?” she whispered between them, pecking his lips again.

“alright, lead the way, angel girl.”

———

liked by harrystyles, sabrinacarpenter, charles_leclerc, and 4,262,819 others

yourinstagram: my new song ‘a love letter from the sea to the shore’ is out may 1st 💌 written & produced by me and husband harrystyles eeeeek i love this song i cant wait for it to be yours!!!!!!!

view all 19,552 comments

landonorris: so excited y/n/n!

sabrinacarpenter: omfg stop

user1: THEY WROTE IT TOGETHER AND PRODUCED IT TOGETHER STOP 😭

harrystyles: I love nothing more than I love you. Thank you for letting me work on this with you. H Xxx

> yourinstagram: harrystyles the sea to my shoooooreeeeeee i love u to pieces and pieces and pieces!!!

niallhoran: Yay bug! Can’t wait to hear it ❤️

user2: y/n probably painted the cover art im unwell

user3: “i love you too much to drift completely” BRUH IM DONE THEYRE SO 😭😭😭

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x y/n #harry styles blurb #harry edward styles #harry styles drabble #harry styles smau #harry styles x musician!reader #famous!reader x harry styles #singer!reader x harry styles

[newtonsheffield]

Ok I’m a sap but poor baby uni student Anthony. That love at first sight or the literal fall have got him actually loco already. Iconic. I am here yet again begging for a snippet a crumb of happier times in these two’s future to sustain us through these angsty times. Peace and gratitude as per ✌🏼

Oh boy, imagine how excited Anthony would be to share the story of how they met with their children though.

He’d sit with Neddy on his chest, flat out on the sofa, nose to nose with his three week old son.

“Neddy boy, let Papa tell you a story. It’s the greatest love story that was ever told.”

“If it’s Wuthering Heights, I’ll scream.” Kate said from the floor beside him, watching them carefully as she folded washing.

Anthony scoffed, “Heathcliff and Cathy have absolutely nothing on us, thank you. Now, When Papa was young and virile-”

“Don’t say virile to our son”

“Me being virile is how he came to be. It’s pertinent.” Anthony plotted on, “Let me tell my story please, I’m an award winning author. I know how to tell a story.”

“Oh, by all means, proceed then master wordsmith.” Kate chuckled, running her hand over Neddy’s hair gently.

“Thank you for calling me a master wordsmith.” Anthony said quickly, kissing Neddy’s forehead before he continued. “When Papa was young, he was playing a game with Uncle Simon, he looked very cool doing it by the way. And while he was playing this game he ran into the prettiest girl you’ve ever seen in your life.”

“You trampled her is what you did.”

“There was minor trampling, Neddy, it’s true.” Anthony allowed, “And I fell in love with Amma right away but she didn’t care for poor old Papa. She thought he was an idiot, a fool, a buffoon.”

“I don’t think buffoon is fair, I had narrowly escaped with my life.”

“Semantics. Anyway, Papa waited and waited and they became best friends and finally Papa wrote a book to tell Mummy how much he loved her and finally she fell in love with him too.”

“I loved you much sooner than that.” Kate scoffed, Kissing Anthony’s cheek. “You know that.”

Anthony squinted one eye at her, “How soon would you say?”

Kate scrunched her face up at her husband, “We’ve had this conversation before, you really want me to tell you?”

“I always love to hear how irresistible I was to you.”

She flicked the end of his nose playfully, “I think I started falling in love with you that first night at that seedy pub not far from my dorm. You had written me a short story, because I made that crack about you being a bad writer and I… Well, I’m glad I was wrong. It was beautiful, and… you… had no reason to write that for me. You had no reason to have it in your bag that day and you slid it under my glass when I was at the bar and… I never would have said it at the time but I’m glad you ran into me that day. I’m glad I met you. Almost every thing good I have in my life is because of you and I love you.”

Anthony swallowed the lump in his throat. “We did make a great baby. I don’t think it’s any exaggeration to say he’s a genius.”

“Clearly not.”

#you never called it what it was #kathony #anthony x kate #kate sharma #kate sheffield #anthony bridgerton #molly’s asks and answers

[withered--s0uls]

Oh look it's another GD crossover

Ghost Drone AU - @electrozeistyking

You already saw all this art but shhh HAPPY BIRTHDAY.

This originally started out with me just wanting to draw Beanie interacting with the Intertwined Codes Kids but then I added some extra stuff lol.

If you're a reader of Intertwined Codes, this kinda sorta spoils future stuff bc only the twins have been mentioned in the Draft/Teaser fic but oh well. You have been warned.

IC!Uzi wouldn't like actually meet GD!N bc they'd kinda decide that "hey, let's not have the widowed man see an alternate version of his wife that actually got live." simply out of respect kinda?? So she would stick around at home with the kids whilst IC!N goes out to look for Beanies Dad after their kids drag her to them lmao.

So yeah she doesn't necessarily know the extent of the mans depression, the kids just mentioned there only being a dad so she just specifically asks about GD!N in this doodle

IC!N would quickly pick up on GD!N not being completely okay, even without being told any details. So he probably would end up sitting him down to talk on their way back to the IC!Doorman families place, wanting to help if he can in any way. (He runs a Daycare and tries to also be a support to any parent that needs it, so I feel he out of habit would lean into trying to do that with GD!N)

More/The kids under the Cut otherwise the post looks so long rip

I will go over each of these one by one (can'tdo close ups bc 10 image limit, I'll reblog this in a second with the close ups.)

Left are the Code-Related Nuzi kids, right are the adopted ones.

Code related kids

Zagi:

Not much to say, I'm still working out their personality - they're maybe 2-3 years older than Beanie, so they aren't too far apart in age. :)

Orita:

She's the sibling who started the trend of putting stickers on her siblings, so she DEFINITELY would do the same with Beanie.

She also probably originally was going to show her how to build a weapon, but her parents promptly stopped that lmao .

She would think it's really cool that Beanie has a custom core icon & in general is completely customized from the start! She herself was originally put into a regular worker body (just with the tail and headband being custom made by her mom), she had to build the DD forearms herself. She also has a sticker of the DD icon on her core, covering the WD icon :3

Rexim:

At this point he has enough siblings to be past the "ew a little kid" phase, so luckily Beanie gets spared that. His main camera is damaged, he only really uses his headband optics to look around, so he would kinda just look as if he's staring past her a lot. But bc of the obvious cracks in his visor I feel she would pick up on the fact he's not actually ignoring her.

Also he definitely would just play music to her, because IC!Uzi kinda always has music on whilst working in her workspace he kinda picked up some of her taste in music (Hence he's playing the same song that Uzi is shown to have been listening to in Ep7)

Raven:

First up THANK YOU Zeisty for helping me brainstorm silly stuff for them. They're a little ball of chaos now and I love them.

Anyways.

They would join Orita in bedazzling Beanie, and then they'd start talking about bird facts and also try to get Beanie to talk about her interests.

(Their height difference isnt 100% accurate bc halfway through drawing this I changed the IC timeline, making Raven about the same age as Zagi instead of them being a teen, so I kinda had to manually try and semi-fit their heights lol)

Adopted Kids

Ray:

Nothing to say. He's a baby. Tho whilst I was outlining this one I had to giggle because of how big he is in Beanies hands. She's so tiny 😭💕 /affectionate

Annika:

Oh boy. Ann.

Annika is the eldest kid & was adopted a while before Zagi was coded / whilst the parents were organizing the code copies for Zagi

She does NOT know how to talk to other kids. Never did. It made her stick out at the orphanage wing because she just avoided everyone. And it is very chaotic when Olivia and Ray first show up, because Ann's only idea of talking to other Drones is "well you got to be relatable" so she brings up the siblings dead parents bc like, her code parents are dead too. Both pairs dying to DDs. So yeah she probably would be the first, if not only one, in the whole household to just bring up GD!Uzi. She would do it like it's nothing either.

IC!Uzi would promptly get her to stop and sit her down having a conversation about "what did N and I say about trying to connect on that topic?"

Like IC!Uzi would actually feel really bad about it despite Beanie not knowing her mom. Bc she herself obviously didn't remember IC!Nori growing up but still didn't like the topic.

Olivia:

Olivia, as I said, was greeted with the topic of dead parents by Annika as well. So she probably would kinda interfere when IC!Uzi goes to sit Ann down to talk.

She would feel the need to apologize for the older girls behavior (which Ann would apologize for herself later too ofc) and would try to get Beanie to go play something together whilst IC!Uzi sorts that whole situation out.

She's also the closest to Beanies age probably, just was forced to mature bc of what happened to her parents, despite being taken in by Nuzi shortly after. She still obviously acts like a kid tho when comfortable, so I feel she would kinda ease up around Beanie and actually act more like a 4-5 year old around her.

Bonus? Bonus!

Needless to say Beanie would return home covered in stickers & hairpins (Orita & Raven have more than enough of those, they'd just let Beanie keep some)

RIP GD!N having to get her out of those stickers once they're back home

Also, for the "*humming*" variation of the picture I blame @k1k0oftheworld. Kiko was in vc with me when I was talking about how Beanie would be covered in stickers when she gets home, and saw the doodles as well.

He proposed the following scenario after seeing Rexim show Beanie IC!Uzis playlist:

Beanie humming dead batteries song & GD!N having a breakdown bc it reminds him of GD!Uzi

I do not take accountability for this, I was going to spare the poor widowed man.

(I scrapped the idea of him not knowing ab the IC!Doorman family and him getting a mini heart attack when Beanie goes "I met Mom today" in favor of him and IC!N meeting & talking - I WANTED TO SPARE HIS POOR HEART)

@k1k0oftheworld you owe him money for a therapy session now /silly

Anyways that's it, I'll put the close ups in the reblog like I said 👍

#murder drones #serial designation n #md #uzi doorman #ghost drone au #Intertwined codes #beanie doorman #Nuzi ship kids #like a lot of them #I'm tagging all of my kids in the reblog i dont have the patience rn #au crossover #gd x ic #ghost drone x intertwined codes #ElectroZeistyKing #my art

[anotherbluesunday]

✨Moodboard Teaser: In Technicolor✨

With the release of the first chapter coming in hot with its expected release being this Friday at the latest or sooner (possibly as early as tomorrow) I wanted to take the time to acquaint everyone with the primary couples in this story. Usually I cap it at two couples and have auxilary couples and characters on the fringes. But because this is a crossover between two of my favorite shows, I have expanded it to three—possibly four—couples with auxilaries (secondary) on the fringes. These couples will include original characters i.e. Wynn Galpin who is Tyler Galpin’s younger sister. There is a crossover couple that joins the Wednesday group with the Riverdale group. This couple is where I expect to receive the most backlash but idc. Their my crossover otp and I hope you all trust me enough to keep reading and join me/the characters on this journey. I have also switched some things up with one of the Riverdale characters because the ship only got screen time in the last season and it did more for their character than their actual failed relationships did the entire season. Fight me. But don’t. Or do.

Anyway, here are the couples moodboards, as promised. The visuals were inspired by Baz Luhrmann’s Romeo + Juilet because these past few months since January I have been on a 90’s and 2000’s kick and I am dying for how that movie captured the beauty, grit, grime, and excitement of LA. So enjoy and let me know what you think! 💜

.

.

We open with our crossover couple who are the star-crossed lovers—Cheryl Blossom, the queen of the Palisades and star tennis player and Pugsley “Lee” Addams, the king of Elysian Heights and leader of his grunge sleeze band Texca. Born second generation to a working class defense attorny and day-time caregiver to the elderly, Lee Addams has just wants to make it through his senior year of high school and hangout with his friends on the weekend. But when he and his twin sister Wednesday step a little too far over the line at their old school their parents pull some strings to have their three children—Wednesday, Pugsley, and Pubert “Bertie” attend Morticia’s former high school. There, Lee unwittingly comes face to face with the campus queen, the indomitable and untouchable Cheryl Blossom. Born into privilege with the face of an angel and the bite of a viper, she has everything and anything. Influence thanks to her parents name. Adoration by way of her beauty. And power because of her abilities to manipulate others. But what happens when a hurricane meets an immoveable force? Will they fold? Destroy one another? What happens when the pretty vicious face isn’t all it seems to be and the cutting confidence is stripped away? Who are the real people that lie beneath it all?

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.

Next are our second pair of the four star-crossed lovers. While it is never a good idea to fall for your twin flame, for Tyler and Wednesday it isn’t so simple. Twin flames and soulmates fused into one as if it were a sick joke, their story begins at a party—the raven haired twin sister with her face painted like a Catrina (see: Dia de los Muertos symbols and iconography) and the Galpin golden boy dressed like Sir Lancelot with the sacred heart etched into his chest plate. Like her brothers, Wednesday grew up living a modest life where nothing was taken for granted and family sits at the heart of all major decisions. For Tyler, he has forgotten the importance of family and community after starting university where his life has evolved into an endless stream of parties and hookup’s. Never struggling but also never being challenged to be better or grow, he’s hit a wall. A mid-life crisis of sorts but at the already chaotic age of 18 with his 19th birthday right around the corner. But from the moment he lays eyes on Wednesday she is all he can think of. All he breathes and dreams of—a beautiful stranger that won’t free him. Yet when this silver tongued Casanova tries to approach the dark beauty he’s shot down. Challenged to question who he is and what he truly is doing with his life that matters. What is in store for the idealistic social revolutionist and her troubled admirer? Where will they land when the walls of his kingdom come crumbling down?

.

.

The youngest of three siblings each yet one is protected and coddled like a greenhouse flower while the other has flourished amidst hardship and bouts of poverty. Wynn Galpin is caught in a never-ending loop of compassions to her twin older siblings, Tyler and Enid. Both are straight A students. Both star athletes with Tyler winning championship after championship for swim and Enid earning a full-ride scholarship to UCLA for volleyball. Both are charming and charismatic. Both are perfect and Wynn can never compare despite how she tries. She doesn’t have the passion for swim or volleyball so she chooses cheer. “That’s not a real sport” she’s told. Her siblings get A’s but she can hardly scrape by with B’s while battling her depression and anxiety. At all times, her mind is screaming for her to just run off and disappear. And after the loss of her friend and pseudo-sister Polly, the darkness has become more persuasive. More invasive and vicious. But it is during a spiral that forces her out of the gym during cheer practice that she runs into the new kid. The brainiac junior in her senior level AP classes. Pubert “Bertie” Addams. A carefree class clown with a heart of gold and the virgin Guadalupe drawn in vibrant neons on the bottom of his skateboard. Where will this new path take them when the class clown and the beauty queen who seems to always be in tears meet to form an oddball friendship? And what happens when their hearts begin to long for more than just friendship but their worlds couldn’t be more different? How will things turn out for the greenhouse flower and her sidewalk dandelion?

.

.

What’s the worst that could happen when you fall in love with your best friend? What happens when you think they love someone else? When you think they could never see you the way you see them in return? Do you stand there and wait for them to turn around? Or do you walk away while piecing together your heart that will never know real closure? Reggie has asked himself these questions nearly every day for the past six years since his family moved to the fringes of the Palisades and enrolled him in the affluent junior high nearby. Archie Andrews was his first friend at his new school all those years ago. The first one to get up during lunch time and sit down next to him. The one who didn’t care that his parents weren’t from money and had only recently come into their fortune. The one who didn’t care that he didn’t have the newest clothes, phone, or hairstyle. Like a guardian angel come to save him from perpetual solitude, Archie befriended Reggie with a bright smile and a silly joke. And since that day, Reggie has kept his love for the redhaired boy wonder to himself. Has been the picture of what a bestfriend should be. Has supported Archie and defended him. Joined their high school swim team with him just so that they could live out Archie’s dream of being the one’s to break Tyler, the former captain’s, record and win more championships than him and his team did. Reggie has lived a beautiful but painful lie for nearly a decade and the cracks have begun to show. The devotion now agony. The love a barbed dagger twisted liettle by little every time he has to play third wheel on Archie’s dates with his girlfriend Veronica. But one night their eyes meet across a sea of moving bodies at a house party. Archie kissing Veronica but can’t stop looking at Reggie. There’s a spark. A sadness. Hope. But is there truth? Is there a willingness to be honest? To accept this attraction that has been there waiting from the start? Does Archie know what real love could be like if he just turned around? Or will the lovefool angel look away once again and leave the poor friend and saint in the dark?

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Stay tuned for more because this is only the beginning. Next will be the auxiliary couples, characters, and family boards for the three main ones at play. But the next next post that will be following this one will be the official titlecard for Chapter One. Can’t wait to see you all again there. 💜

#tyler galpin #wednesday addams #pugsley addams #pubert addams #wynn galpin #cheryl blossom #archie andrews #reggie mantle #veronica lodge #polly cooper #jason blossom #the blossoms #the addams family #wednesday netflix #netflix wednesday #riverdale #veronica x archie #archie x reggie #wyler #weyler #rvd #tyler x wednesday #wednesday x tyler #riverdale fanfiction #riverdale fanfic #wednesday #addams family fanfiction #archive of our own #ao3

[icycoldninja]

Hello! Can you do a dmc boys + V with a rich S/o? Perhaps the boys didn’t know that their s/o was rich when they first started dating but as time went on and the relationship becomes serious the s/o starts to spoil their boyfriends with all kinds of stuff related to the things they like because after the stuff they went through they definitely deserve it.

Aww yes, here you go and enjoy!

Sparda boys + V x Rich!Reader headcannons

¤ Dante ¤

-He was completely oblivious to your wealth (as you did a great job of hiding it) and didn't really give it much thought until one day, when his power went out.

-He groaned, suddenly remembering he had no money to pay the bills, but then, astoundingly, the lights flickered back on.

-Was it a miracle? No, even better, it was you. You had paid his bills and gotten him out of debt with Lady--how?! Then you revealed you were rich, and Dante's mind was blown.

-Even after this stunning revalation, Dante still didn't care. He was very thankful for all your help, but he honestly had no sentiments towards being rich. He still treated you the same.

-The only thing he'll ask you for is for you to buy him some pizza, maybe once every week or so. He's not greedy.

-If you decide to shower him with presents anyway, he'll gladly accept and immediately find a way to make it up to you, be it taking you somewhere nice or...something else. No do not read into that

■ Vergil ■

-Vergil never noticed, and never cared. He is far too MOTIVATED to trifle with mundane things such as wealth.

-But then you presented him with a rare copy of a book that was worth hundreds of dollars, and he had to question, how did you obtain the funds for such a thing?

-Thus, you revealed you were absolutely loaded with cash, and Vergil was, understably shocked.

-After thanking you, he went right back to not caring about wealth because now he has this interesting book to read.

-Still, he appreciates it when you gift him little gifts, regardless of what they may be. You could give him a pebble you found on the side of the road, and he'd still treasure it forever.

-To reward you for your generosity, Vergil will do his best to take good care of you, physically and otherwise.

□ Nero □

-Nero didn't think much of it either, cause he's not shallow, but one day, Nico's van broke down in the middle of the road and was assaulted by demons who ripped up the exterior. Repairs were going to be extremely expensive, but then you stepped in and promised to take care of it all.

-Nero had to wonder, where'd you get the funds for that? You sheepishly revealed your wealth and he just shrugged.

-After thanking you and all that, things proceeded as usual, with you and Nero splitting the bills for everything as you always do.

-Nero never asks for anything, regardless of how expensive it is, but you don't care. You shower him with gifts, love and affection because this sweet boy deserves it.

-You two end up leaving little treats 'n things for each other at a designated "drop off" spot somewhere in your house.

-Your gifts always seem to be well thought out and expertly made, proving that you don't just buy meaningless trinkets to appease him, you get him things that truly have value.

● V ●

-V noticed you always seemed to be impeccably dressed, but didn't dwell on the subject since it wasn't all that important. His current objective was to get to know you further.

-Then, as things progressed between you, he found himself constantly receiving little presents on his doorstep, usually wrapped in shimmering velvet bows. There was no name tag and no writing on it, so he had no idea who was doing this or why.

-One day, Griffon caught you placing a little gift box and, Griffon being Griffon, decided to rat you out.

-V then approached you the next day and expressed his appreciation, which led to a massive confession on both your parts. You explained you just wanted to give him the luxury he deserves, and he was very touched, but insisted you didn't need to do that.

-But of course, you don't listen, and continued to spoil him however possible, even if you have to break in at 3:00 A.M. and leave it on his kitchen table.

-Eventually you had him move in with you, where you can treat him like the lovely princess he is.

#Dmc #Dmc5 #devil may cry 5 #Devil may cry #Dmc dante #Dmc vergil #Dmc v #dmc nero #Dmc5 dante #Dmc5 vergil #Dmc5 Nero #Dmc5 v #Dante x reader #Vergil x reader #Nero x reader #V x reader #devil may cry dante x reader #devil may cry vergil x reader #devil may cry nero x reader #devil may cry v x reader #headcannons #Cute #kinda fluffy #Requested #thanks for requesting #icycoldninja writes

[mickittotheman]

Hiiii gallavich and 20? Kiss on a scar?

Hiiii!!! Your wish is my command:

+++

Ian’s on top of him, warm and heavy and so fucking good. Mickey wiggles a bit, tipping his head back to try and get a better angle, but the fact is that it’s pretty hard to have a successful makeout session when you have a huge grin stretched across your lips.

Ian doesn’t seem to mind. He’s smiling too.

Mickey nips at his lower lip, and Ian hisses and pulls back slightly, one hand still pinning Mickey’s wrists to the cot, the other cupping Mickey’s face.

Ian glares at him for all of one second before melting like a fucking sap again.

“Mickey.”

Mickey’s smile widens. He cocks his brow. Nibbles on his own lip instead of Ian’s. He lets himself look, really look, drink in all the details. “Your hair looks stupid as hell.”

Ian blinks, eyes flitting up as if he’ll be able to see. Fucking dork. “Oh. Yeah. I was uh… thinking about making a run for it. Maybe head down to Mexico…”

“Thank fuck you didn’t.”

“Yeah,” Ian breathes, gaze still dancing all over Mickey’s face like he’s not entirely convinced that he’s real, that he’s here. “Thank fuck.”

Mickey wiggles again, this time in impatience. Ian’s on him, but he wants Ian on him, wants Ian in him, wants Ian. 

He’s just about to start bitching when Ian tenses, brows furrowing, smile slipping. His hand slips down from Mickey’s face, fingers glancing over the skin of Mickey’s neck.

Oh.

“What’s this?”

“Nothin',” Mickey says, wiggling again. Jesus. What is it with Gallagher and his ability to turn Mickey into a fucking worm. “Don’t worry about it. ‘S all healed up, anyways.”

Ian’s frown deepens. His gaze darts up to meet Mickey’s, then down again, to the little pink not-yet-faded scar just above Mickey’s collarbone.

It’s nothing. Really. Mickey has plenty of other scars that are far more fucking impressive. He’s been shot for fuckssake, more than once. 

“Mickey. Is this– Did someone hold a fucking knife to your throat?”

Mickey huffs. Looks away. “Wasn’t a big fucking deal or anything–”

“Wasn’t a big deal?” 

“It wasn’t! Guy was just trying to prove a point.”

“He could have nicked a fucking artery!”

“He didn’t!” Mickey twists his wrists, trying to yank out of Ian’s now-even-fucking-tighter grasp, but Ian holds steady. Great. Now Mickey has to try and use his fucking words to calm Ian down, and fuck knows he’s never been good at that. “Ian, look, I’m fine. See? Totally fine. I barely even bled at all. Scar probably only looks so bad because I was shit at taking care of it and it was getting fucking blasted by the sun.”

Ian’s face crumples.

Fuck. “Ian–”

“I should have been there,” Ian says, and his voice is low. Angry. “I should have fucking been there. To take care of you. To keep you from getting hurt in the first place.”

Mickey finally manages to wrestle one of his hands free. He brings it up, smooths it through Ian’s hair, which is just as soft as ever. It looks different, but it feels the same. They both still feel the same. “Hey. It’s fine, man. I’m fine.” He twists his lips up. Cocks his brows. “Then again… not too late for you to take care of me now. Gonna kiss me better, hotshot?”

Ian looks at him for another long, slow moment. Breathes out a shaky breath. Finally fucking relaxes a bit. 

He leans in slow. Brushes his lips over the spot, soft enough to make Mickey shiver.

It’s Ian, and it’s Mickey, so it doesn't stay gentle for long. Ian’s kisses grow firmer, grow bolder, until he’s licking and sucking like he’s trying to cover up the mark with a mark of his own.

Mickey pants and hums and fucking wiggles. “Fuck. Ian. Need you.”

Ian’s hips jerk against his own, grinding them together just fucking right, before he pulls away again.

“Fuck. Ian,” Mickey huffs, nearly fucking whining at this point but too fucking desperate to care. 

“You have any other new scars I need to kiss better?”

He does. He has at least five from the past too-many-fucking-months, littered across his body along with his countless other scars. Ian will sniff them all out, he’s sure. But they’ve got time for that. That’s all they’ve fucking got now, is time, and Mickey’s never been happier to serve it. “Hm. You know, now that you mention it… I’ve got a pretty fucking serious case of blueballs, Nurse Gallagher.”

Ian snorts, loud and jarring and goofy as fuck, and it’s probably the sappiest fucking thing Mickey’s ever thought, but the sound of his laughter and the sight of his smile and the feel of his weight is more healing than any fucking kiss could ever be.

He still ain’t gonna turn down those kisses, though.

send me a number~

#prompt games #gallavich #my scribblings

[mummydommythe3rd]

The Small Powerless 'man' voice Inside of you.

Special thanks to @onesubbyfemboyyy for submitting such embarrassingly pathetic pictures!

"Don't look so surprised at that diaper! You knew that when my boyfriend saw you in diapers things were going to change! Did you really think that it was just a one time thing? Look at those packages he sent as a gift. He's subscribed so we'll be getting them delivered automatically. After all, it's only fair, right? He's providing what I need, a real cock to enjoy, and now he's providing what you need too!"

Oh my God, this is going to far! For heaven's sake, stop sucking this stupid pacifier and SAY SOMETHING!

"Just think! With him supplying your diapers, there'll be more money for cute outfits for you! Aren't you just so very excited? Go get your crayons! I think Brad needs a very sweet thank you from my diaper cuck for all her lovely new diapers!"

Diapered? Forever?! Is this really what my life has come to?? What would my friends and family think?! Don't let this continue!

Six Months Later:

"I can't believe that you would do this to me!"

Oh fuck, she's really mad!

"What got into you? There I was, having an excellent time at my boyfriend's place, and I had to answer a call from your cucksitter! Did you think she'd actually believe that I said you could wear underwear?! One look at your teeny little clitty cage and it's clear that you're right where you belong in your soggy diapers!"

"That does it! That cruise we're going on next week? The one that was supposed to give us a romantic getaway to try and reboot our relationship?"

Oh no, please don't-

"Me and Brad will be going. Thanks to you, our house-sitter just got replaced by your cucksitter. Enjoy a full month of leaking precum from your clitty cage, early bedtimes, diaper changes, and nonstop babyfood and formula."

NO! Don't just take this! say something! don't stare at the floor! God! Why is my cage so tight right now!? Spot out your pacifier! Put your foot down!!!!

"And since you want to be a brat and cause trouble, I'll be bringing the key to your mittens with me. I'm sure that'll make you much easier to deal with. I hope you spend every minute of our trip telling yourself that you're exactly where you belong! Consider this the END of our marriage. You're a filthy diaper cuck now and forever!"

"Now then, Babycuck, take out that binky. What do you say?"

Tell her you want to be her husband again! Explain that you care more about your life than just being a dress-up cuck doll! Fuck, I'm so hard in my cage! I can't possibly go along with this! It'd mean the end of our relationship as husband and wife!

"Yeth Mommy. Thank you fow cowecting me. I promise to be a good baby while you an Daddy are away."

"Good Girl!"

One Year Later:

"There you go, sweetie! All dressed up for your chores today! Aren't you glad you've finally found your place?"

I have a degree! I should be out there with a job! I should be working toward supporting a family! How did I let this happen?! Now I'm the pampers-filling little baby maid for all my ex-wife, her new husband, and all their freinds! Ugh, why does my clitty throb when I think that?!

"Yes, Mommy, thank you. I'm much happier now!"

I am so pathetic

"I hope you like it! I got a few more in various colors! Even your favorite, pink! But that's not the only surprise! Mommy got you a job!"

A...job? A chance at normalcy??

"Mommy met a man online who owns a pretty sketchy motel. Every morning you'll be cleaning the toilets and tidying the rooms! Then you'll come back to show all the treasures you collected as payment!"

"Treasures, Mommy?"

"You'll get paid in all the condoms you find, and all the wipes you use to clean the toilets! Of course you can't throw them away, so you'll be bringing them back in your diaper to show me and daddy! Your treasures will be no more valuable than those 'family jewels' you keep in there anyway!"

Random full condoms? Shit and piss stained wipes being jammed into my diaper? Hundreds of people's filth squishing against my genitals while I wet and mess myself working for free!? I think I'm going to be sick!!! Does she really expect-OW! My cage is so tight!!!! Is this as low as I can possibly go? I can't accept! I shouldn't! What would my friends say? Do the smart thing for once! Fight this!!!

"Oh Mommy! Thank you! I'm so excited to start collecting all my treasures!"

NOOOOOOOOO!!!!!