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peachesofteal · 3 months

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Simple Math / Part 8

Simple Math masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 4.2k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ MDNI. No smut. Graphic domestic violence, physical abuse, choking. Non consensual kissing. Hospital setting, nurse!reader, medical inaccuracies. Drowning metaphors. Strong feelings of self loathing, despair, fear, anxiety. Suicidal ideation. Crying. Panic attacks. Bun is unraveling. Comfort. Protective Simon and Johnny. Things are happening.

The girl in the mirror hates you.

It’s easy to tell, by the way she stares, how her eyes glow in the yellow fluorescents of the staff bathroom.

You make her sick.

Your weakness, your stupidity, has cost her, again. As if it hasn’t cost her enough at this point, as if it hasn’t drained her dry over and over until she thought she would die.

Until she thought she wanted to die.

Someone knocks on the bathroom door.

“Occupied.” You snap, and they huff, turning away to go who knows where.

You peek back over to the girl in the mirror. She still stares at you in disdain, but now it’s more expectant, more… intrigued, like she’s asking, well… what are you going to do?

“What are you going to do, sugar?” Phillip’s hands tighten around your neck, white teeth gleaming in the afternoon sun of your apartment. The sound of your windpipe being crushed echoes inside your eardrums, and you flail uselessly, struggling, kicking and hissing and crying to no avail. “Where are you going to run next?” Black spiderweb strings along the outside of your vision, and your palm slaps against his forearm, a pathetic endeavor, as always.

He’s too strong. Too determined.

You’re an ant. He’s a shoe.

You’re an early high school grad, on an academic scholarship at school your mom couldn’t afford, and he’s the charismatic grandson of a Texan oil tycoon, the son of a judge, living in a fancy house without roommates in the city.

You want to be a doctor. He wants a housewife.

You want to be a mother; he promises to beat them out of you.

You want a life in the sun. He wants to become a shadow himself.

“Phillip.” You wheeze, air snaking through your teeth. He lowers his ear, like he can’t hear you, a mocking bow that you know he relishes.

“What’s that?”

“Can’t- breathe-“ The sigh that answers you is what you imagine a disappointed father sounds like, followed by a tsk, an over developed dramatic show that you’ve come to know so well, and he throws you to the ground in one motion, shoulder smacking against the hard wood floor.

There’s a tear of muscle. An immediate soreness. Stars dance in your vision.

“Gotta hand it to you, princess. You were hard to find this time.”

You don’t have an answer for the girl in mirror.

Even with the turtleneck and the very good makeup, it’s bad. There is no doubt, someone will notice.

And then there will be questions. Nonstop questions, personal questions, private questions. Questions from your boss and an HR rep behind a closed door somewhere, invasive, mandated reporting, logical questions that you must have answers for.

You chew your lip.

It’s not so obvious, maybe, with the turtleneck. The long sleeve under your scrub top covers the tender flesh on your neck, your shoulder, your forearm. It’s second nature, how easily you hide, how perfectly they tuck away, little stories beaten into your skin for no one else but you to feel.

Except for your orbital and cheek bones.

These are blatant. The ball cap pulled down over most of your face hid them well enough on your way in but now... inflamed, angry skin swells beneath your eye, and while it looks okay, you guess, when you get close, it’s obvious that something is wrong. The foundation and failed attempt at contour can only do so much.

It’s shocking to realize you’re actually mad at him for it.

For being so impulsive.

So sloppy.

But then again, wasn’t that your fault?

You’re bold. Bolder than ever before. Closer to the top of your breaking point now, angry and beaten down and dying in the black of a bottomless pit. Unable to escape. Unable to climb out.

You’ve been falling inside it for years, and it’s all you ever do.

Fall.

And you’re so, so tired. All you want, is for it to end.

“That was sick, even for you, Phillip. What are you, some kind of freak? Jerking off all over your ex girlfriend’s-“ The backhand is swift. It rockets across your face, combination of it’s force and the sting making your head spin, and you stumble.

When you lurch, he presses close, chest to your side, strong fingers digging into your forearm so tight it hurts.

“Don’t say that.” His lips drag across your cheek, insult to injury where he struck you. They press together in a kiss, a foul, rancid piece of affection, making your stomach turn.“You know I don’t when you call yourself that. I don’t like when you lie, sweet thing. It’s not very nice.”

“It’s not a lie, you Texarkana hillbilly fuck, it’s the tru-“ You’re up against the wall in a single movement, arm twisted so hard you cry out, and he shoves you into place until he’s got you where he likes, face to face, nose to nose.

“There’s my spitfire. Knew she was in there somewhere.” The nickname almost makes your retch. It’s a flicker of a memory, of yourself before the grave of your now life, the fateful twist that is Phillip Graves.

“I hate you.” You spit. His eye twitches, and he looks every bit the insane man you know him to be.

Because this... this is Phillip having fun. This is Phillip playing with his food. Phillip and his toy.

This is not Phillip’s crazed rage. This is not suit and tie Phillip, rip your hair out from the roots Phillip, beat you until you’re unrecognizable Phillip.

This isn’t the Phillip who slaughters innocent people. Who murders entire towns for pleasure.

For a very short moment, your mind drifts to Simon and Johnny. You wonder what they’re doing right now, if they’ve already had their lunch, if Penny visited today. If maybe she napped with her Da safe and snuggled, sweet and asleep dreaming of sugar plums. You think about the light in Johnny’s eyes from last night, the way he looked at his daughter, and Simon, and even you. You remember the press of Simon’s mask covered lips on your forehead, a sweet, comforting piece of affection that you’ve already locked inside your heart.

You float there. In those feelings, those memories.

You wish they were here. You wish they could help you.

The acknowledgement is terrifying. It happens so fast, hardly a second, but in that time, horror shivers down your spine.

You’d put them in danger, for yourself. Your selfish, stupid self.

Phillip’s mouth hovers over yours, and you swallow the gag rising in your throat.

“I can’t stay.” He whispers, pseudo-gentle kisses adorning your nose, your cheek again. “It’s really rotten luck, honestly, you showing back up here today. I was just saying my see you laters.” You’re not religious, but the thoughts come easily regardless. Oh god, thank god. Thank fucking god. You have a chance.“I know you’ll be here when I get back, won’t you? I’m tired of chasing you around the world, sugar.” He gives you another wet, closed lip kiss, and your jaw trembles. “If you’re not, it’ll be that much worse for ya.”

You can do this.

It’s not anything you haven’t done before.

Deep breath. You can do this.

Stepping outside the bathroom is like taking your first steps as a child. You’re slow, pushing through the burn in your side, the sore agony in your shoulder, the torn cartilage you’re sure is the cause the of the pain in your shoulder.

You can do this.

Get it together. Get yourself together. You’re not going far.

You make it down the hall without running into anyone, and once you reach the on-call room, you’re breathing long sighs of relief, sliding the lock into place after the door shuts behind your back.

Two black duffels sit on the floor, staring at you. Mocking you, just like the girl in the mirror.

What are you going to do?

The receptionist is calling your name.

You ignore her, trying to make it to the elevators, almost breaking into a run even though you’re in pain, your face throbbing, neck sore beyond belief.

“Sorry, can you-“ Intercepted on your path, she gasps. “Oh my god, what happened?”

“I was mugged.” It’s a point-blank response, even though you sound like a frog or a piece of roadkill, and it brokers no argument. You look at her with the flattest gaze imaginable, dissuading her from saying anything else.

“I- I’m sorry. We’ve been trying to call you.” The hair on the back of your neck rises.

“For what?”

“We need your room. There’s been a block reserved, and it includes the floor you're on. I'm... sorry.” You’re not able to contain your shock, mouth dropping open, heart cracking into tiny pieces.

On top of everything. Now this.

The receptionist peeks at you nervously, waiting on pins and needles for a response.

“When?”

“Tomorrow morning, I’m afraid. I’m so sorry. The hotel apologizes, the block is paying for a higher rate and-“

“It’s fine, really. I needed to check out anyway.” You know it’s not her fault. Hell, you’d be surprised if it wasn’t the hotel’s fault either. It’s not like Phillip wouldn’t move heaven and earth to force you out of hiding. He's more than capable of finding out where you’re staying.

She gives you another apologetic look before scurrying away, and the elevator doors finally enclose around you, a tidal wave of despair swelling in your heart, dropping you to your knees with gut wrenching sobs.

You’re crying again. Curled up in the on-call bed, your shoulders shake in hysteria, tears and panic overwhelming everything you have left, swallowing you until you can’t see the surface anymore.

Your throat burns. Breathing is like rubbing sandpaper down the back of your tongue, and you wheeze when you try to take deep breaths, shoulder shrieking in misery every time you shift.

You have to get it together. You have to work in an hour.

But you can’t. You dig deep and try, desperately working to pull something forward, something sane and controlled, but there’s nothing to be found, only acid in your throat. The hysteria mounts. It catches the wind and flies down the hill, crashing into you over and over until your hands are clenched together so tight, even they hurt.

You fucking idiot. You waited too long. You ran out of time.

You’re dead.

“Oh my god.” Nia covers her mouth, eyes wide. You hold up a palm.

“It looks way worse than it actually is.” Another nurse peeks around her shoulder, and gasps.

“What happened to you?”

“I was mugged yesterday, getting off the train.”

“Oh my god!”

“I’m fine. Really.”

“Did you tell the police?”

“Yes, I did.” You assuage them to the best of your ability, reassuring their worry. “I filed a report, and they didn’t get anything important. I’m okay. Really.” And then the kicker: “I would tell you if I wasn’t.” You glance at everyone, four or five now, gathered around, and lay on the final piece of the puzzle. False familiarity and the ever present desire to be relevant. “Wouldn’t I, Nia?” You gesture around to expectant faces as if to say, tell them, and she readily agrees.

“Yeah, she totally would.”

Everyone pretty much leaves you alone after that. Patients need checks, meds, all of the usual stuff. You assure Nia once more in private, promising that you’re okay, and she reluctantly leaves you alone too, once you swear up and down.

The only thing that doesn’t leave you alone, is your cellphone.

>Hey, just wanted to check in, see how your day off was yesterday?

>Bunny :)

There are a few others, alternating like above, Simon first, then Johnny. Asking if you got some rest, if you’re okay, and then a promise not to push.

You ignore them.

You ignore the feeling in your chest at the sight of their incoming text messages, the proof of their care.

You ignore the way it feels to know they’re only a floor below you.

You ignore the fact that when you got here today, all you wanted to do was run to Johnny’s room and settle in that chair next to his bed, curl up close to them, where there’s love, where there’s warmth.

You ignore it at all.

Get it together. You have a job to do.

Simon appears at the pit three hours into your shift. There’s no one around, everyone trying to take breaks, cover breaks, or deal with whatever emergency is happening in the moment, except you.

And when you round the corner and spot him, waiting, it takes your breath away.

Half of your reaction is pure fear. The last thing you want is for him to see you like this. Beaten. Broken. Ugly.

The other half is… something pure. Something enamored. He came up here, why? Is he worried because you didn’t answer? Do they care?

Still-

You start to turn on your heel, eyes flipping wide and panic startling your heart. You’re barely a shadow, a clip of a person on the other end of the hall and yet-

“Hey, there you are.”

Fuck. The acid starts to rise all over again. You keep your face tilted down towards the floor.

Maybe you can pretend you don’t hear him. You leap back around the corner, practically running towards the on-call room, where your life sits in two black bags, waiting.

You can’t do this. You can’t face them, let them see.

Something desperate gnaws in the pit of your soul, a howl that begs you to turn back and let him in, let them both in, tell them everything.

It’s selfish, and cruel.

It’s unfair.

He calls your name. You still don’t answer. Your scrub pants swish together as you jog, trying to get away, but the effort is in vain. He’s too quick, long strides overtaking yours at a brisk walk, and just before you reach the door, he positions his body in front of the handle, an immovable wall.

There’s a long moment of silence. You stare up into his face, wide eyed, horrified.

You know what he’s seeing. A failure. A moron. A mess.

To his credit, his expression does not change. His brow does not furrow. He only stares at you, frozen, slow thawing fury finally glowing in his eyes after a centuries’ long minute.

He reaches, time standing still, the back of his fingers stroking the lightest touch against your tender cheek, and his voice is almost unrecognizable behind the mask when he snarls,

“Who did this to you?”

The tears come in a flood. You don’t understand why the breakdown comes in this moment, why everything crashes into a million little pieces, until you feel a strong, careful arm around your shoulders, pulling you into a broad, warm chest, face tenderly nestled into a black hoodie. It feels… safe. Like a home you haven’t had in a long, long time. Like something you never thought you’d feel again.

Maybe it’s a moment of weakness. Maybe it’s your downfall, another thing for the girl in the mirror to be angry with you about, you’re not sure. You’re not sure about anything except this feeling, this feeling that lights up your heart in an explosion of fireworks, fear and panic and anxiety soothing into sadness, into a homesick feeling for a love, a life you’ve never had.

Maybe it’s a moment of weakness, when you sob his name, when you go limp against him and he holds you steady, a cheek atop your head, soft words washing over you in a whisper.

Maybe it’s a moment of weakness, but right now, you can’t seem to care.

Johnny is distraught.

Simon brings you into his room, still tucked into his side. He’s careful with you, telegraphing all his movements, letting you know where he’s going, reverence rich in his touch like he’s handling glass.

“What in the-“

“Bun says she was mugged.” Simon tells him, and you miss whatever is happening over your bowed head, hands shaking with nerves all over again. “She assures me she’s not hurt but-“

“I’m fine.” You croak, and Johnny jerks, mouth half open in disbelief. The light is dim, casting short shadow across his face, his sweet eyes drenched in worry, and you stand at the foot of his bed, tears waiting on your waterline. “I’m okay, they didn’t really get anything, and I-“

“Come here.” He cuts you off, raising both arms, extending them as wide as he can manage, scooting his hips to the side. It’s a feat, but he hides the grimace of pain well. When you don't budge, he repeats himself, firmly the second time. “Bunny. Come here.”

The shame burns, entrenched in you so deep, you know you’ll never be able to cut it out, and your tears fall unbidden, encouraged by the hollow feeling in the pit of your stomach, your heart, an ache that you need soothed so desperately.

You’re out of control. You’re losing your grip.

You had a moment of weakness but this… this is too much.

“Please, pretty girl.” He whispers, reaching you where no one else can. Speaking to you through the fog of your doubt, your hatred, your fear.

Your hands shake as you reach for his, and when you sit beside him, hip to thigh, he looks at you like he’s staring at someone other than the person who used to be his nurse. He’s looking at you the way you catch him looking at Simon sometimes. Bright gaze full of love. Of worry.

“I’m okay.”

“No, ye’re not.” He shakes his head. “Ye’re not. This is not okay.” The way he says it feels like he knows, like he understands, and you swallow dry, breathing ragged and shallow. It turns frantic, and he squeezes your knee gently, redirecting your attention. “Hey, shhh. It’s okay. Ye’re safe with us.” Simon sits on the arm of the chair, directly next to the bed.

“Do you need to count your breaths?” He cuts directly to the quick. Will this provide you relief? Will this stop the pain? The agony?

No.

“N-no.” You gasp.

“Okay. Just try to breathe, everything’s alright."

I’m s-sorry. I’m sorry. It’s just this- this happened and then I found out I had to find a new place to stay, and I st-still haven’t, so I have to sleep in the on call room, and I don’t-“

“Whoa, okay. Slow down.” Simon soothes, hand slowly sliding up and down your spine. You relax into it, marginally, clocking the subtle upward tick of Johnny’s lips, firm line shifting into a small smile, and then turning cross.

“What do ye mean, ye dinnae have a place to stay?”

“My apartment-“ is trashed. Is a scene of a crime. Is a hollow rib cage housing a dead heart. “is being renovated so I’ve been living in a hotel,” Johnny nods, like he knows. Of course he does. What secrets do they have between? Probably none. “But someone reserved a whole block and there’s no vacancies, so I had to check out this morning.” It’s pathetic, the way you’re crying over this, the way you feel, but it’s all so forlorn in this moment, and you can't stop yourself from falling deeper and deeper into a well of despair, hopelessness dragging you to the bottom, trying to drown you. “It’s not a big deal but-“

“It is a big deal.” Johnny declares. “Ye had somethin’ horrible happen to ye, and now this on top of it?” Simon shifts, flat palm and fingers pushing down through the air, and you barely catch it from the corner of the eye. It’s the same kind of sign you give someone when you want them to slow down, and you blink.

What’re you doing?

“I… I’m fine.” You wince at the croak in your voice, last menthol infused cough drop wearing off, bringing back the raw pain in your windpipe, the gravel grit of bruising in your voice.

“It’s okay to be upset, bun. Anyone would be.” You wipe your face, chasing away the tracks of tears and trying not to wince when you straighten your back.

“I know, but I’m okay. Really.”

“Ye cannae stay in an on-call room.” What?

“Oh… it’s fine. It,” wouldn’t be the first time. “It’s not a big deal.” Simon is watching you, focused with that same blazing intensity that feels like he’s digging around inside your skull.

“Why don’t you stay with us?”

“What?” You blurt. “No. No, I… I couldn’t. It’s not-“

“Appropriate?” Simon finishes, head cocked. “Johnny isn’t your patient anymore.”

“And we have plenty o’ room. Penny’s still staying with Price’s a lot, because Simon’s here all the time, so it’d be nice and quiet for ye.” Say no. Tell them no.

“I couldn’t. It’s… you hardly know me. You’d invite me to live in your house?” Incredulously, you stare at them, flicking back and forth between two expectant, understanding faces.

“We know ye. Ye try to hide yerself from us, bun, but… ye cannae. Ye light up every room ye step foot in, and I dinnae think we would have made it through this without ye. Ye’re special to us, even if ye cannae accept it.” He winks. “Yet.”

“We want to help, sweetheart. Let us help you.” You’re between a rock and a hard place. An immovable force, and object. Two wills, locking in around you.

But instead of a cage, it’s warm. It’s gentle. It’s… safe.

“I couldn’t encroach.” You’re on autopilot, mouth making sounds that your heart protests. Simon sighs.

“You’re not encroaching. We’re inviting you.”

You would be putting them in danger.

“I… I can’t.”

“Why?” Johnny’s still got his hand on yours, and he squeezes, carefully. “Talk to us, bunny.”

“Tell us what’s really going on.” Simon is grave, and for a second, air gets stuck in your lungs, fighting to escape.

You cannot tell them. No matter what. You can’t. The turtleneck is too tight, cotton and polyester scratching at your sore skin, and you shiver.

“There… there’s n-nothing going on. What if the people that mugged me,“ come back to finish the job? Track me down? Words die on your tongue, the lamest attempt to push them back withering away. Simon is having none of it.

“We’re special forces, love. No one is going to get to you while you’re with us." He pauses, trapping you, holding you in stasis, and when he repeats himself, it's a dark vow, a promise. "No one.”

If you do this. You have to tell them.

You can trust them. They’ve proven that so far, haven’t they?

You hardly know them.

But isn’t that better?

“I…” Your hand raises instinctively to your throat, and Johnny’s eyes narrow.

“Bunny.” He leans forward at the waist, slow as to not hurt himself, and you sit, frozen, bug eyed, transfixed on his hand that are stretching towards your turtleneck.

You should stop him. You should tell him to back off. You should do something.

You can't. You don't. You sit there, waiting for the discovery. Waiting for the shame.

Once he hooks his pointer finger in the top and tugs, it’s over.

Your heart stops in your chest. Johnny burns, dragon flame and rage, incineration boiling over in his body.

“Bleedin’ christ.” He hisses.

“Fucking hell.” Simon echoes, and you close your eyes. You know the tender skin looks bad. Swollen. Angry.

“Please.” You whisper, lower lip quivering, floodgates trying to burst into pieces. “Please I… I can’t talk about it. I c-can’t, I can’t-“

“Okay, okay. Shh, it’s okay. You’re safe now, sweetheart. You’re safe.” You’re crying violently, unable to see, trying to rasp out apologies, and Simon stands, tucking you back into his chest, big hand on the back of your head. Johnny keeps his touch at your back, consistent, reassuring pressure that rubs from the top of your spine down, and he hums delicate, affectionate phrases lilting in heavy Scots’.

The girl in the mirror screams at you inside your head. She calls you a fool. A coward. She tells you the truth, that you’ll only get them hurt, that you know better.

You don’t disagree with a single thing. You know all this to be true.

But for a moment… would it be so bad to indulge? To have one- two good things in your life, even if it’s fleeting. Even if you know how it will end, can you not just have this for yourself, in this suspended moment of time, this chance?

You want it. Them. So desperately, it swells and aches and tugs at you, just as they do.

Time ticks forward, and you do not pull away. You don't try to hide, or evade. You just... exist. Between them. The rock and the hard place.

“Alright?” Simon murmurs, your tears now stopped, only delicate sniffles sounding from his chest. You nod, shifting backward to take them both in.

“I… if you’ll have me, I’ll… I’ll stay, until I can find a place.” Inky dark shadow flickers across Simon’s face, but sunlight chases it away, happiness crinkling at the corners of his eyes.

“Are ye sure?” Johnny is hopeful, bright, and beautiful, and you tighten your grasp on his hand, holding it like you’ll never let go. You take a deep breath-

You take the plunge.

A moment in the sun.

“I’m sure.”

#simple math #peaches writes #ghoap x reader #ghost x soap x reader #simon riley x reader #soap x reader #soap x ghost x reader #ghost x reader #john soap mactavish #john soap mactavish x reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #john mactavish #phillip graves

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thebibliosphere · 5 months

Note

I apologize if you’ve been asked this question before and I missed it in the craziness that is Tumblr, but can I ask what type of foundation you use? I don’t have MCAS, just rosacea-slash-really sensitive skin, which I used to have a fairly good handle on. Unfortunately, going through menopause dialed everything up to eleven somehow. So now I’m having to reevaluate every single skin care product that I’ve ever used.

Ooft, solidarity, the struggle is real.

So, the foundations I use are the pressed mineral powder from Gabrielle Cosmetics/Zuzu Luxe* (same parent company), which can be applied either dry or wet. I've also got their oil-free liquid foundation, which I think gives a bit better coverage during the winter.

I will say they are not overly good at covering up rosacea or red skin (I have the "MCAS flush" on the sides of my face and high on my cheeks and sometimes on my nose that I can't hide, so I make it look like aggressive blusher, lol. Assigned e-girl by my immune shit)

I'm actually about to patch-test a red-correction liquid foundation from Daniel Sandler*, which I've heard from a few other MCAS people has been helpful at covering up the MCAS flush and not caused too many reactions for those of us who have extra sensitive skin. I use their liquid watercolor blush without issue as well, so here's hoping. I can post an update if anyone is interested when I've done testing it.

I was also recently recommended a Korean skincare brand called Dr. Jart+* by someone else with rosacea, which looks interesting, but unfortunately, they've all got some level of sunscreen in them, and the last time I had serious anaphylaxis was from an absorbent sunscreen so I'm not supposed to use them. RIP to my skin, I guess.

Anyway, that's what I use. Good luck in your skincare journey.

*not sponsored or affiliated, just sharing what I use/have been recommended by other folks with super sensitive skin.

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witchybitchypeachy · 10 months

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Glow Up Tips

retinol, every night. start with a gentle one. I find the resurfacing retinol from Cerave very good. been using for 2 months and I never wear foundation anymore.

SPF, EVERYDAY, EVEN WHEN YOU'RE NOT LEAVING THE HOUSE.

cut out carbs and fried foods and sugar.

protein dense diet.

drink lots of water and try to reduce alcohol consumption.

talk daily walks, for an hour or more.

take Vitamin D supplements and Magnesium.

deep core exercises and Pilates

Olaplex and K18 used together if you have damaged hair. MAGIC

glycolic acid on your heels and calluses

glycolic acid on your armpits once a week instead of deodorant.

hand lotion whenever you wash your hands.

Biafine on super dry skin.

dead sea clay mask once a week to purify.

monthly massages

keep nails and toenails clean and shaped.

#glow up #glow up tips #self care #it girl #clean girl #pilates #core exercises #pilates princess #self love #self care tips #beauty #skin care #retinol

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lovelyunholyc · 1 year

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better than i ever even knew

NSFW - MINORS AND BLANK/AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED

fem!reader. pet names (princess, sweetheart, pretty girl, baby), minor angst start but happy ending, confessions, frenemies to lovers, porn with feelings on feelings. multiple orgasms, oral (f! receiving), mating press, riding, unprotected sex, matsukawa can and will fold u like a pretzel. if there's anything i missed, pls let me know, enjoy :)

"something you'd like to say to me, issei?"

makki had fallen asleep on your movie night, and you'd excused yourself to use their bathroom, only to find matsukawa waiting in the hallway for you after. he's caged you in somehow, pinned you to the wall like an insect on corkboard, with nothing more than his commanding presence and a notably large hand to the wall beside your head. he looms over you, imposing.

like he always seems to be, only to you.

his face is mere inches from your own, his eyes dark, half-lidded like they always are - but there's something different this time, something deeper and a little more dangerous.

you can't help but watch his tongue dart out to wet his lips. they look even more plush and irresistibly pink from this close.

you've always wondered what they'd feel like between your teeth.

matsukawa snorts, eyes narrowing even further. "don't play coy, princess."

too stubborn to admit that the intensity of his gaze flusters you and clouds your mind too much to think of a witty reply, you avert your eyes and direct your focus on the hood of his jacket instead. "stop calling me that," you spit, at the strings of his hoodie, just as unwilling to address how his pet name for you has started to make heat bloom beneath your skin lately. he's been calling you that for years, and you used to find it endearing, used to blush for an entirely different reason when he spoke it.

now, it grates on your nerves.

it grates on your nerves how much you like it, how much you want him to call you that in other less than wholesome scenarios.

matsukawa hums thoughtfully, tilts his head in wonder. "what's gotten into you lately, hm? you've never had any problems with it before." he inches closer to inspect your expression.

you turn your head completely to avoid looking at him directly, so his gaze falls on the side of your face.

which might not have been the best idea, because it exposes the flush rising up your neck and to your cheeks.

matsukawa reaches up with his free hand and cradles your jaw, gentler than you expect. he traces the line of it with his thumb, making the back of your neck prickle pleasantly, stopping at your chin to move your head to face him. there's a tender sincerity in his eyes that you've rarely seen in him, all traces of the mischief prior completely gone, replaced with genuine concern. "are you alright?" his voice is nearly a whisper.

your mouth goes dry. the tension between you has morphed into something similar yet more profound, something that you're not sure you're ready to explore. you nod once, still averting your eyes.

"why have you been avoiding me?" he says softly, and if you didn't know any better, you'd think he almost sounds pained. "i miss you."

you think your heart stops beating.

so he'd noticed. you shouldn't have expected any less, really - you've been friends for years, you know each other like the backs of your hands.

you aren't sure when you'd started to want more from him. and concluding that it was unfair for you to expect that of him and not wanting to cross the boundary, the foundation you'd built as good friends, you'd started to withdraw. gradually, lessening your invites to him when it proved too painful for you to be alone together with him, making excuses when he extended the invite to you.

you aren't sure what it helped - it hurt all the same, and you couldn't help but feel bitter that you were in this situation, all because you felt things for him that you didn't think you should. bitter at him, though he doesn't deserve it - he's been there for you ever since you could remember - and bitter at yourself, for putting you both through it. and here he is, scorned even more by your distance too.

your eyes well up with guilt as you let his words sink in, and it's all you can do to blink the tears away before they fall.

"hey, i'm sorry, prin-" matsukawa falters, seems to catch himself, and it pains you even more how considerate he's being though you've been so cruel to him and hadn't meant what you said. "whatever it is, it'll be okay. don't waste your tears on me." oh, if only he knew.

he tilts your chin up to face him once more, swipes his thumbs gently beneath your eyes to collect the stray tears that manage to escape. you want to weep at how tenderly he treats you, how much it makes you want him even more, and he has no idea.

you can't help but scowl again. you hate how much you love him.

you grab his wrists and hold him away from you. "stop it, stop being so nice to me all of a sudden." your voice sounds thick with emotion even to you, and you hate that, too.

matsukawa's undoubtedly stronger than you, and he can undo your grip easily, but he doesn't. instead, that stupid, cocky smirk is back, sensing that you're nearly back to your normal, stubborn self.

but then he says something that turns your world completely on its axis.

"why shouldn't i be nice to the only person i've ever been in love with?"

his eyes are sincere, the most open and honest you've ever seen them.

you're frozen, unsure of what to say, how to process it, unsure if you're somehow dreaming. you drop his hands, but he takes yours again, the warmth of his palms in yours grounding you back to the moment.

"i don't expect you to feel the same way. i'll always love you as a friend, so please don't cut me out of your life." he squeezes your hands once, brings one up to his face so he can touch his lips to your knuckle, barely a graze of skin that leaves you wanting more, before letting you go. he shrugs, gives you a charming, lopsided smile, but you can tell he's trying too hard to be nonchalant. "don't think too hard about it. i'll leave you alone now, i'm sorry."

you catch the hem of his shirt on instinct just before he can walk away. "issei, wait."

he stops, but doesn't swivel back around to you. you can't help but wonder what kind of facial expression he's making. as it is, you can't bear to look at him, focusing instead on your thumb and forefinger pinching at the fabric of his shirt.

"issei...." it's then that you notice his hand closest to you is trembling lightly, and it makes your breath hitch. "are you serious?"

"i wouldn't joke about something like that," he says, and his voice is a lot softer.

"then....look at me and say it." you gather your courage to meet his eyes and tug him back, closer than he was before.

a tingle rushes up your spine when he fixes his gaze back on yours, and that infuriating, lovely little smirk is still in place. there's a soft intensity in his eyes that you've never seen before, and it makes every one of your nerves ignite.

"i'm in love with you, dummy."

the sudden rush of emotion makes you surge up to capture his lips. finally.

it surprises him, you can tell, but he only stands frozen for a tenth of a second before it seems like he's awoken and his lips are moving in kind, kissing you back in short bursts, hands finding your waist, until you deepen it and nip at him to slide your tongue into his mouth.

matsukawa chuckles lightly against you, you can feel his lips widen into that lopsided grin, and he nips right back at you before you pull away to breathe, a dopey smile undoubtedly parting your lips.

"i like 'princess' better," you tease between heavy breaths, pressing even closer to him so he can kiss you again. the feel of him, the taste of him, the warmth of his body against yours, is better than you could've expected, and it's so dizzying, you feel like you're floating when he wraps his arms around you and kisses across your face, down your jaw and throat.

matsukawa pulls back barely an inch to look at you and marvel at how pretty you look, the happiest he's ever seen you when just moments before you'd looked like you were on the verge of tears. he grins crookedly, wholeheartedly pleased. he doesn't think he's ever been happier than in this moment, either. "so you like me too, huh?"

you shake your head, let him back you up against the wall again so he can press your hips together easier, one of your legs automatically wrapping around his waist to make more room for him. "issei, i love you." it comes out so naturally, yet so abrupt, like soda shaken up in a bottle.

he groans against your neck at the admission, shifts back up to your face so he can kiss you fully, passionately, greedily. he steals the breath from your lungs, and you can only moan into him, arch into his hold and beg for more, more, more.

you've had a taste, and you're entirely sure you'll never be able to get enough.

you rock against each other, fingers roaming, pulling and pressing, and you think you might be losing your mind in the best way. matsukawa touches you so gently yet so firmly, as if he doesn't want to hurt you but needs to remind you he's there, breathing you in and taking everything you have to give.

you sigh against the side of his jaw, a grin tugging at your lips when you feel his thick fingers drag up your thighs to knead at the flesh of your ass. "take me to bed," you murmur into his skin, and the way you're looking at him, up through your lashes, eyes hooded and swimming with lust as he grinds you down on his thigh, is enough to drive him wild.

matsukawa blinks, mirrors your grin. "fuck, of course, princess."

you're so pleased to hear him call you that again, you kiss it right out of his mouth.

his bedroom is approximately five steps away from the hallway where you are, but it takes you several minutes of stumbling and giggling quietly to navigate it successfully, too caught up in each other to move productively. you're in your own little world, each happily engulfed in a trance that the other has cast on you, only made more intense with each lingering, greedy touch, each kiss, pulling and pushing like magnets.

when you look up again you're on your knees at the edge of matsukawa's bed, helping him out of his hoodie. true to form, he's not wearing anything underneath it, and though you've seen him shirtless dozens of times, it gives you pause.

it's different this time, this close, finally able to touch him the way you would've liked to for so long. this close, with the intensity of his half-lidded gaze on you, following your every move, inspecting your every expression.

"don't be shy now, sweetheart," matsukawa murmurs, and on instinct you cut him a look, which immediately softens when he takes your hands and places them on his chest.

"pretty," you can't help but praise as your hands roam, over the rippling muscle of his chest, his abdomen, coming back up to pinch playfully at his nipples as you catch his lips again in a searing kiss.

"speak for yourself," he says as he backs you into the middle of his bed, trailing his barrage of kisses down your neck, nipping and licking as he goes, making you gasp and whine at the sensations. long fingers slide beneath the waistband of your pants to squeeze ruefully at your ass, the cool metal of his rings making you shiver. he pushes you against his hips, where you can undoubtedly feel his sizable bulge - you can't help but try to grind into the heat of it, and you can feel his lips widen against your skin in response.

you do your best to shimmy your pants down your legs despite him being between them, and he couldn't be happier to help you. he hardly detaches from you as he slips them off and throws them to the side, then pauses to ask your permission before tugging your panties off too, with your enthusiastic 'please'. he doesn't have to ask how far you want to go, sensing how meaningful it must be after so long of pining over each other, because you pull him back to your lips and whisper, "i want you, issei, please," and he swears something else entirely comes over him and drives him wild.

matsukawa no longer has the patience to take the rest of your clothes off, kissing quickly down your body over your shirt to slot himself between your legs. he presses his lips along the inside of your thighs, placing your legs across his shoulders. he groans when he sees how wet you are, when he slides an experimental finger through your folds and a string of your slick connects him to you even when he pulls away. you gasp and arch your back lightly at the contact, fingers clutching at the sheets beneath you.

"such a pretty pussy," he praises, eyes glazed over with lust and pure hunger as he continues to watch his fingers tease you, smacking his lips when he licks them clean and takes his rings off. "just like the rest of you, hm?"

"'sei, please don't tease," you mumble breathlessly, anticipation making your voice tight.

"ah, you've waited long enough, haven't you, princess?" his words alone make you shiver, but then he trails wet kisses closer to your core and you want to cry out. "well, i have, too, and i just want to savor it, you know?" he says it casually, as if he isn't dangling your pleasure over you between those pretty fingers, as if he isn't so close to where you need him that the heat of his breath across your skin as he talks is making you squirm in his hold.

just before you can whine and pull at him in impatience, he chuckles and finally ducks his head to taste you directly.

you gasp when his warm tongue slips through your folds, gathering up your slick for him to swallow up soundly with a satisfied hum that makes you shudder. he finds your clit almost instantly, circling it with the very tip of his tongue and making you buck your hips involuntarily before he's pulling back, just to smile smugly at you.

you don't think he's ever looked better than with his curls mussed by the grip your fingers have them in, his eyes hooded and all sorts of ravenous, his chin glistening with your slick.

matsukawa licks his lips, bites lightly at the flesh of your thigh. "you taste better than i could've imagined," he admits, voice gruff and sending tingles down your spine.

that makes you laugh breathily, only for it to fade into a delicious little moan when he dives back between your legs.

matsukawa eats you out with the same intensity, the same deep, intensive passion, as he had when he finally had the opportunity to kiss you fully, and you don't have to wonder if he'd been waiting to do this, too. his tongue slides into your entrance, coaxing out more of what you have to give him, so deep that his nose nudges your clit and makes you whine. he alternates between sucking wet kisses and messy licks all across every part of your needy pussy, intent only on tasting you and applying pressure, making more and more of a mess that he then happily licks up, and when he isn't satisfied with just that, he pushes his fingers into you, pleased when you can take both digits so quickly, one after another, and grazes his teeth gently along your sensitive bud in wordless praise.

you're gasping his name seemingly endlessly, as if it's the only word you know, your mind all but blank except for thoughts of him, pulling and tugging at the roots of his hair, making him groan into you, the vibrations of his deep voice only fueling your ecstasy. all too soon, you feel the bubble of pleasure in your gut near bursting. matsukawa seems to sense this, and curves his fingers as he thrusts and brushes right into your sweet spot, simultaneously lapping at your aching clit before wrapping his lips around the swollen bud and sucking, hard.

you fall over the edge so abruptly, your vision whites out. your body seizes up, back arched away from the bed, thighs squeezing around his head, a final cry of his name on your lips as pleasure overtakes you.

matsukawa doesn't stop pumping his fingers and licking at your clit. even as your body instinctively wriggles away from sensitivity, he follows you, his mouth riding the waves of your pleasure, the rhythmic grind of your hips, loves the way your walls pulse around his fingers, the way you spill into his palm. he laps up everything he can, only pulling away when you stop moving to watch with wonder as your pussy throbs around nothing in the aftershocks of your orgasm.

he chuckles when he sets your legs back down on the bed and gets a good look at you. "god, you're so fucking beautiful," he says, taking a moment just to stare at you, all wrecked and messy and gorgeous, panting in the middle of his bed with your shirt all askew and exposing your soft stomach, cheeks ruddy and eyes watery and face all fucked out, but a lopsided smile tipping at your lips. it only widens when your lidded gaze follows his hand, still wet from you, as it slips beneath the waistband of his pants, and undoubtedly fists at his cock.

"kiss me," you demand, barely a whisper, and it makes his cock throb in his hand.

matsukawa could never deny you. he surges forward and kisses you, moans into your mouth when your nimble fingers meet his beneath his pants and squeeze at his dick. you hum at the taste of yourself on his tongue, lick it off his lips as you thumb at his slit, share a lopsided grin that he then kisses off your face.

he lets you push him down on the bed then, raises his hips so you can ease his pants down his thighs and off and - he isn't wearing anything underneath that, either, and it doesn't surprise you, but makes you laugh.

when you look up at him again, you nearly salivate and come close to cardiac arrest all at once.

matsukawa's looks have never escaped your notice. as long as you've known each other, before you were even attracted to him, you'd known it as a fact that he was attractive. it was all too easy for him to develop his confidence, just cocky enough not to be completely arrogant but made even more attractive. tall, dark, handsome, and even worse - annoyingly witty - you often wondered how you'd not only harbored feelings for so long, but tolerated him enough to be friends for even longer.

you know him inside out, know him better than most.

but this, this is entirely new to you, though you most definitely see it as a positive now that your relationship has developed.

"issei," you swallow, "you're...big."

as if in response, his cock twitches where it rests against his abdomen, heavy and intimidating, though the swollen tip is leaking invitingly with precum.

matsukawa laughs, and you can't help but watch the way his abs contract with it, his skin glistening with how much he's dripped onto it. "you don't have to take it all, princess." something warm laces through his chest at the fact that you don't seem the least bit daunted, and instead look like you might start drooling. your gaze doesn't stray when he strokes himself once more, mesmerized.

you lick your lips without realizing it. "no," you correct, holding his gaze once more as you reach out to touch him fully, "i want you, issei, all of you."

he doesn't think he's ever heard anything more seductive in his life, more enticing. at that very moment, he thinks, is when he falls irreversibly, as if he wasn't in enough trouble to begin with.

your hand doesn't close around the base of his cock all the way, a fact that makes you shiver. matsukawa watches you closely, eyes glinting with unabashed lust, tongue darting out to lick his lips when you pucker yours, letting a dollop of spit land on the head of his cock. he curses under his breath, clearly barely holding himself together, and an addicting surge of power thrums through your veins.

you use your spit to aid the slide of your fist, up and down his shaft, pausing at the head to thumb at his slit, bending just to press a chaste, although wet, kiss to it before stroking your hand back down, squeezing at the base of him once more.

matsukawa tuts when you pull away. "princess, don't tease me if you don't want me to tease you, too."

you shrug coquettishly, your smile dripping with faux innocence. "it's only okay if i do it, baby."

his grin is nothing short of predatory. he all but pounces on you, grabbing you by the hips and shifting you back onto the bed so he can hover over you.

matsukawa disposes of your shirt so quickly you barely register it happening, and his mouth latches on to your chest instantly, big hands kneading at your breasts as his tongue swirls around your nipples, taking care to lave at them both and suck biting kisses into the swell of your chest. you whine in satisfaction, back arching instinctively to press more of your body into his needy touch, fingers raking through his soft curls only to encourage him.

one of his hands diverts and makes a path down to your stomach, until he's cupping your mons, grinning wickedly when he's reminded of how wet you still are.

matsukawa raises his head from your chest just enough to speak, his breath ghosting over your skin and raising goosebumps. "i'll take care of you, princess," he promises, voice strained. "i'll go slow, get you nice and ready for me."

you make to roll your eyes and tell him to get on with it, but then his fingers slide through your slit once more before slipping back in, with minimal resistance due to his previous work, and you have to bite back a moan instead.

it makes him chuckle, and he sits back on his haunches, gravity pushing you into his lap, thighs spread across his, opening you up to him completely. you can feel his dick brush against the inside of your thigh and can't help but shiver. his free hand glides along your skin appreciatively, squeezing at the supple flesh of your thigh, other fingers still massaging at your walls, scissoring in and out and stretching you wide for him.

matsukawa whistles quietly then, and you cut your eyes at him only to see him eyeing you hungrily and licking his lips. "shit," he murmurs low, dark, and fascinated. "you're gorgeous." he fixates on your pussy, how you suck his fingers in so sweetly, clenching around him as if you want, need something more. "look at you, so needy." and god, did he have exactly what you needed. "my fingers aren't enough for you, huh?" the tips of his fingers nudge into your sweet spot, making you gasp and instinctively grasp his wrist, and he only laughs lowly, doubling down and thumbing at your swollen clit, delighting when you squirm and whine at him.

"i'll give it to you, baby," he says, his voice so soft it almost sounds like he's thinking out loud rather than talking to you. his fingers part from you and he bends to kiss the center of your stomach in a strangely wholesome gesture, then pulls back to press your hips together, his shaft sliding enticingly through your slick, parting your folds. "i'll give you everything."

"o-oh, issei~ !" you keen at the new contact, walls clenching around nothing and what you want most nestled snugly between your legs, so close yet so far.

matsukawa presses himself against you, eyes practically sparkling with glee as he plays with you, as he watches your pretty pussy get even messier, coating his cock as he continues sliding it across you. the swollen head of it catches on your entrance, and he knows the whine you let out at that will be replaying in his head for weeks. he readjusts his grip on your thighs so he can direct your body better, firm though you're squirming so much he has to kiss you over and over in a futile attempt to soothe you (he doesn't think either of you care if it works, just too blissed out and caught up in each other and enjoying every second). when he moves his hips again, he makes sure to brush right against your clit with his cock, an easy feat with how thick he is, and groans into your mouth when your hand snakes between you to keep him there, your hips writhing beneath his, trapped between him and the mattress.

when you break away from his mouth to speak, dazed and pretty, a string of saliva connects you only for him to lick it up greedily. "i need you, issei, please," you nearly beg, thighs squeezing around his hips as if to punctuate yourself. it's music to his ears.

for as much as he seems to be falling apart at the seams, he still has the energy to tease you. "what do you need, princess?" he teases too at your fluttering hole, one large hand guiding his tip to nudge against it, just barely, only for him to shudder at how quickly and easily he can seem to sink into you.

still, he waits right there propped up on an elbow to look directly at you, chest to chest, your arms wrapped tightly across his back and legs spread wide against your bed.

you look like you're on the verge of cursing him out, but oh, he loves it, he loves you, loves that look you get when you're frustrated with him and now that he knows - frustrated but so in love it clouds your supposedly menacing gaze.

you raise one leg up to wrap loosely across his hip and pull him towards you, gasping when it shifts him just that tiny bit with the friction you so desperately need. "please, 'sei," you breathe, softer than anything, and who is he to deny you when you ask so nicely, with that stubborn yet lovestruck look in your pretty eyes?

"sorry to keep you waiting, princess." he says seriously, breathless and just as desperate, pressing his forehead to yours, noses touching together. he taps at your clit just to make you jolt, chuckling at your warning call of his name, before positioning the head of his cock at your entrance once more. "are you ready for me?"

you nod vigorously, managing to breathe out a frantic "yes, yes, god yes," just before his swollen tip sinks into you. your sharp gasp at the stretch makes him bury his face into your neck as he waits for you to grow accustomed to his girth, and he kisses and nips at your skin patiently.

you clutch him tight to you, muscles relaxing slowly with every touch of his lips on your skin, the soothing praise he whispers melting into you as your body molds to his.

"more," you plead after a moment, "more, issei- !"

matsukawa kisses his way up your jaw so he can watch your face again, brushing away hair that's stuck to your dampened forehead so he can see your eyes clearly. "i've got you, baby, you're taking me so well," he inches himself in with a hiss, your walls practically sucking him in, warm and wet and seemingly perfectly molded around his length. "anything you want, it's all yours." he shifts his hips away a bit just to push back in, and with one fluid stroke and a sharp moan escaping you, he's fully sheathed. he kisses across your open mouth, cradles your face with one hand and all the tenderness in the world cupped into his palm. "it's always been yours. i've always been yours."

his words aren't lost on you. staring intently into his eyes, your own start to well up with emotion, and he nudges his nose into yours with a quiet chuckle. you reach up to caress his cheek, heart swelling at the sincerity sparkling in his eyes, the warmth from him that seeps through your entire being and bubbling into pure, unadulterated happiness.

you tilt your head to capture his lips, indulge in his kisses until you're breathless.

when you part for air, it's you who laughs quietly, fingers stroking absently through the soft black curls of his hair. "we could've done this so much sooner," you lament, grinning when he graces you with another swift kiss before pulling back further.

matsukawa smiles, large palms gliding along your thighs and pressing into the plush playfully until he reaches the back of one of your knees and pushes it up against your chest. "trust me, princess," he says with a cocky gleam in his eye that makes you tingle, hips winding back simultaneously as he raises up minutely, "we've got all the time in the world to make up for it."

you're aware of how active he'd been before this, how your mutual friends seemed to speak about him as if he were some kind of sex god, though he'd never disclose any details - but you don't think anything could've prepared you for the depth of his prowess.

matsukawa starts slow and deep, hips rocking rhythmically and drawing back, the pressure and thickness of his cock seeming to reach every sensitive spot inside you. his eyes are glazed over with desire and the overwhelming pleasure you're giving him, but he's somehow still keen on your own pleasure, attuned to your every reaction, every satisfied little sound you make, every clench of your tight little cunt. he observes what you like, what seems to drive you most crazy, gasping and whining and writhing against him, and all but abuses them - nudging up against your sweet spot with the swollen head of his cock, grinding his pelvis intently into your puffy clit, licking at your throat, nipping at your chest.

you reward him with the most beautiful sounds, the sweetest pulls at the roots of his hair that make him fuck into you even harder, his hips moving on their own to drill you down into the mattress, pressed chest to chest with one arm hooked around the back of your knee to keep you opened up for him.

"oh my god, issei," you finally manage when he lets you breathe, panting against his cheek as he peppers kisses across your face all the while.

"feel good, princess?" his voice, smooth yet just the right kind of raspy, breathes right against your ear and makes you shudder pleasantly, arching further into him as his hips press back down. he pulls back a bit to admire you, how beautiful you look all dazed and fucked out, brows furrowed and mouth agape with how good he's making you feel, how you seem to instinctively reach back out for him every time he shifts away even the tiniest bit. at his prompting you nod furiously, seemingly lost for words.

he can't really blame you, because he chooses that moment to rub at your poor, sensitive clit with the rough pads of his fingers, relishing at how your back arches off the bed and you practically claw at his arms.

matsukawa's grin is sinister, teeth bared as he pauses, pulls his hips back a bit to sit back on his haunches and readjust you as if you weigh nothing, hands squeezing appreciatively at your flesh before he positions both your legs over his shoulders once more. "god, i'm gonna fucking ruin you," he bites out, placing a sweetly contradictory kiss to one of your thighs, "gonna mold this pretty pussy to the shape of my cock." he slides his fingers through your folds for emphasis, brushes up against where you're connected and groans at how wet you are, how his digits come away dripping so nicely. "like no one else can, princess." he doesn't miss the way your cunt clenches deliciously around him at his words.

he loves that you can still smirk stubbornly right back at him even in your position folded underneath him. "i'm gonna ruin you for anyone else, too, dummy," you say slyly, reaching up to pull him down to you by the nape of his neck, sighing dreamily when he indulges you with another breathtaking kiss.

he can't help but chuckle, knowing that it's more than true - you wrecked him long before he was even inside you and tasted heaven on your tongue and encased in the sweet velvet of your walls. and he's more than impressed with how eager you are for his mouth despite the awkward angle pushing your legs to your chest in a way he's sure can't be comfortable.

when his dick slides all the way back in to the hilt at this angle, you both gasp at how much deeper it seems, the head of his cock nudging right up against your cervix.

"ohh, fuck, pretty girl, i could die right now you're so fucking perfect," he breathes, like the air has been punched from his lungs, because you're swallowing him right up so perfectly, so snugly, and the base of his cock is rubbing right up against your clit and making you mewl nearly every time he thrusts in. his fingers weave between yours and pin them to the mattress, similarly to how his hips shove yours down into it, steady and unbelievably precise, and the room fills with the obnoxious noises of wet skin slapping against wet skin and the obscene squelch of your cunt sucking him in.

you giggle breathlessly, let go of one of his hands to clutch at the roots of his hair, tilting his head up from where his gaze had been locked on the mess between your bodies so he can look at you instead. "don't die before you make me cum again, issei."

matsukawa swears his heart palpitates at the cocky little smile on your face. you really are perfect - you look like a gorgeously lewd, perfect little angel, dazed and splayed out so delicately in his bed, tits bouncing with every purposeful thrust of his hips, your heavensent, divine pussy sucking him in so perfect, perfect, perfect. that word was made for you, he's so sure of it.

"of course not, angel," he simpers, licking his lips as his gaze rakes over your body. "how many can you take, hm?" one hand still laced with yours, he parts your lips around his dick with his free hand, grinning ruefully when you can only whine instead of answering his question.

he hadn't expected you to, anyway.

matsukawa continues to tease your body and relish in your sweet reactions, never breaking the brutal yet constant pace of his hips thrusting into you. he presses a heavy palm down on your lower stomach and groans from deep in his chest when you clench so nicely for him, whining at the new sensation. "you can feel me there, huh?" he hovers over you, your legs still hooked haphazardly across his shoulders, and kisses at your chest in approval. he marvels at how deep he truly is, carving his cock into you and building up your pleasure and his with every purposeful rock of his hips. he feels goosebumps rise on his skin at the primal, fleeting thought of fucking you full, fucking a baby into you, making you beg for it, needy and desperate. "i fucking love you, baby, taking me so fucking well." he isn't sure he's making much sense, but something comes over him with the sheer bliss he's feeling, and he can't stop talking - and you seem to absolutely love it, keening at every meaningless babble as if his voice is laced with the most addictive substance.

eventually he moves his hand down from your stomach to toy with your poor, puffy clit, smearing your combined juices all along the little bundle of nerves and rubbing vigorously. "cum all over my cock, princess, give it all to me," he all but growls, hips still moving as if on autopilot as he focuses all his attention on your pretty face, intent to watch you come undone.

your jaw locks and a silent scream escapes you as you tip over the edge once more, overwhelmed with pleasure as your orgasm crashes through your body, head to toe. when you have enough air to gasp into your hungry lungs, you can only breathe out a chorus of his name, clutching at his hair and the sheets beneath you, writhing against the mattress with every wave of pure bliss that rolls through you.

matsukawa fucks you through it, dutifully, eagerly. he nearly melts at the happily dreamy look on your face, the charming pinch of your brows and your mouth hanging agape just to chant his name and spur him on - and not to mention, the devastating flutter of your cunt around him, the pulse of your walls pushing out your wetness to coat his cock, the sweet glisten of the skin between your thighs and his shaft.

he's never been more in love. he can't help but think about how lucky he is to be the one making you lose yourself in the best way.

matsukawa stills his hips and kisses you down from your high, your tongues tangling and making a mess of your spit, but neither of you care, too lost in each other.

"keep going," you pant into his mouth, fingers raking through his hair and making him moan in satisfaction as the last few contractions of your orgasm wrack through him in turn. "wanna feel your cum inside me, issei."

matsukawa groans, low and guttural. you say and do the hottest things with such ease it should be illegal. "fuck," he grunts, "i did tell you i'd give you everything, didn't i?" he slips your legs down his shoulders carefully, but presses one to your chest with a large hand on the back of your knee. he repositions himself over you, makes sure you're secure and comfortable before he starts to move again.

this time, his pace is much faster, hyperfocused only on reaching his own peak.

your moans seem to get higher pitched the longer he pistons into the tight wet heat of your cunt, your legs shifting to close around him on instinct - he prevents you with that firm hold on the back of your knee, keeping you splayed open and vulnerable as he happily splits you apart on his cock.

matsukawa bites his lip in concentration, but low, satisfied sounds still escape him, too lost in the sweet vice of your pussy clamped around him to keep quiet.

when you reach up to tug at his hair again, with just the right amount of pressure, he thinks he loses his mind completely.

he only lasts a few valiant, sloppy thrusts, and then he's burying himself into you as deep as he can, his tall frame curling into you instinctively to get as close as possible, your name escaping from deep within his throat, low and lovely. with every sweet pulse of his thick cock he spills inside you, coating your fluttering walls in his seed until it leaks out between you, and you're gasping and shaking lightly at how positively full you feel, warm and more than content to be trapped in his embrace. his hips slow to a sensual grind that makes his pelvis nudge right into your clit, and before you know it, you're teetering excruciatingly slow towards another orgasm, shocked at how eager for it your tired body seems to be, squeezing around his cock - still hard despite how much he seemed to cum - and instinctively pressing closer to him.

matsukawa buries his face into the crook of your neck as he comes down, breathing heavy, arms wrapped tight around your waist. after a moment he turns you both on your side because he has half a mind not to crush you, and you giggle breathlessly, fingers soothing at his scalp. "fuuuuuck," he groans against your heated skin, drawn out on a long breath. "you're insane." he chuckles to himself, all too pleased.

you scoff, shifting so you can face him. you're so close you can see how much his pupils have dilated, the black nearly swallowing the entirety of his irises, and you wonder vaguely if yours are the same, if the emotion bursting from your slightly heaving chest is any indication. "says the one who's still hard." you clench around him for emphasis and he grunts as his cock twitches inside you, a large hand smacking lightly at your ass in admonishment.

"don't start something you can't finish, princess." that crooked grin is back, that addictingly smooth lilt of his voice.

instantly you're more energized, spurred on by his challenging tone, absolutely insatiable, and you mirror his smirk. "who says i can't finish?" you pull away from him, whining a little at the loss of his heat and the dull pressure of his cock plugging your releases. it leaks slowly out of you and along your still-wet inner thighs, but in another instant matsukawa's thick fingers are there, smearing it into your folds and making more of a mess of you.

you push his probing hand away so you can roll on top of him, and his grin widens when he figures out what you're doing and lays back comfortably with an arm tucked behind his head, those half-lidded eyes watchful, anticipating.

you don't miss the delicious flex of his bicep, the way that position emphasizes his arms and broad chest.

you lean in just to kiss him as you straddle his hips, his free hand squeezing at your thigh and gliding up your body to rest at the curve of your waist, his thumb soothing at your skin. you line him up to your entrance once more, and with your pleased little gasp, he slides in with hardly any resistance to speak of.

"that's it, beautiful," matsukawa rumbles, and with your hands braced on his chest you can feel his deep voice vibrate through you, and it makes you shiver. "you're so pretty like this." he says it softly, reverently, and your back arches a little bit more as if on instinct, preening with his praise.

you grin, sinking down all the way and humming in satisfaction along with him. you circle your hips, leaning down to kiss him, one hand on his chest and the other on the side of his face, caressing his cheek as he lets your tongue delve into his mouth, content to let you take the lead.

if he were honest, he'd let you do anything you wanted to him.

and he can't wait to explore that with you.

you lick up the line of spit that connects you when you pull back, raising your hips simultaneously and gasping against his cheek when you shift back down. his cock throbs deep inside you, every ridge and vein massaging at your walls so nicely every time you move, slow and purposeful.

"fuck, 'sei," you whine as you ride him with abandon, chasing the friction, the pure, liquid pleasure he's giving you, all but bouncing in his lap - to his clear delight. his eyes shine with mirth, darting across your every feature and leaving none without his attention. matsukawa groans in response, no longer lax and content to just admire you as you work yourself over him, sitting up to toy with your body, his hands now occupied with your breasts. he squeezes them together, pinching and licking at your nipples just to make you whimper and clutch at his wrists, back arching to push more of your flesh into his eager mouth.

matsukawa kisses his way up from your chest, where he's left his own pretty roses scattered across your skin, and starts sucking on your throat. you gasp when you feel his teeth glide across your pulse, shuddering and tugging on the hair at the back of his head. he chuckles against your jaw, big hands digging into the supple flesh of your ass to aid your movements.

"issei, i'm-" he interrupts you with a lick to your bottom lip, laughing softly at how quickly you respond, head tilting to follow his mouth when he pulls away.

"what is it, baby?" he asks, though he knows, can feel it in the way you clench around his dick, the tension pulling your muscles taut and making your pace stutter.

"'m close," you manage between kisses when he realizes he can't stay away from your mouth, either, and gives you what you want. "gonna cum, make me cum, issei please, i need to- oh-!"

matsukawa interrupts you again, this time by planting his feet on the mattress and thrusting up into you. he grips your thighs and slams you down onto his cock simultaneously, and your hair flies when you throw your head back with a deeply satisfied, high pitched moan. his grin is feral - he's addicted to the way you fall apart just for him, losing yourself again on his cock, tits bouncing with each brutal thrust he rewards you with for your pretty, shaky moans.

your fingers paw sloppily at your clit as you tumble over the edge once more, and he does his best to prolong your orgasm, but he only lasts a few messy thrusts himself before giving in and pumping you full again, unable to resist the tantalizing flutter of your walls around him.

matsukawa shoves his pulsing dick inside you as deep as he can and stills, wrapping his arms around your waist and holding you tight to him, unconcerned that you're both sweaty and trembling and have a mess slowly spreading between you, both of you coming apart in your bliss yet coming together in the middle, tethering each other in your embrace. you hold him just as firmly, fingers dug into his soft curls, chest pressed to his and swooning all over again when you feel his heartbeat against your own, rattling around erratically in your ribcage as you come down from your devastating high, struggling to catch your breath.

soon enough, laughter bubbles up in his chest, shaking you both lightly. you giggle along with him, pinching playfully at his arm when he kisses your cheek and tells you, low and breathless, "i swear you're trying to kill me, princess."

"we should probably clean up," you suggest, laying your head on his shoulder and admittedly making no other move to do so.

"yeah, just..." matsukawa just stares at you for a long moment, a tender little half-smile adorning his lips, so small yet so bright - it lights up his whole face, makes his eyes sparkle and his skin glow, and you don't think he's ever looked more handsome. your heart does somersaults. "give me a second." his hand comes up to your face, thumb stroking your cheek, tracing the seam of your lips and making you smile against the pad of it. almost as if on instinct you kiss at his thumb, and his grin widens, because he thinks he sees everything he's ever wanted in your eyes.

you sigh dramatically when you feel more of your combined juices leak out of you and you suddenly feel unbearably sticky. "come on, issei, you can make googly eyes at me in the bath," you gripe, and peck at his lips before disentangling your sore limbs from his and moving to sit up.

matsukawa just laughs and does his best to help you out, because he can't argue.

but just because you ruined that tender moment prematurely, he thinks he'll do more than that in the bath.

2K notes · View notes

trashmouth-richie · 4 months

Text

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫: 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐝𝐬 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐭 𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬

masterlist

𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: implications of: adult prostitution, physical child abuse, child neglect, poverty. series trigger warnings include drug use and abuse, alcohol use and abuse, neglect, etc

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: eddie is determined to make things right, past hardships mentioned. 6k — eddie leaves in 1982 when he is sixteen, there is a scene that takes place in 1984 when reader is eighteen and eddie has already been gone for two years at this point.

He watched the sun creep through the blinds, the Indiana skyline sending hues of pink and purple against the dawning morning.

Birds chirped noisily, greeting each other in flapping winged ‘hello’. He wished he could feel their joy, wished his eyes didn’t throb from lack of sleep. His throat was caked with the dry cool air still blowing through the vents.

He so badly wanted to be right, have an answer for one of his many questions that kept weeding into more and more. An unending tether.

Rubbing wet from his eyes he swung his long legs to the floor. Back aching from the heavy spring loaded frame, he stands and heads toward the shower itching the curls on his head.

The water from the shower head was warm and welcoming, bringing forth a blanketed calm to his cold exterior. The water washed over his face and wet his hair almost down the length of his back. As he scrubbed his body his mind was elsewhere.

A million different “what if’s” shattered through his mind. What if… he came back sooner, you had run away with him, what if you had answered his letters, what would have happened to you if you weren’t left here to rot like the foundation of Forest Hills?

Did you think he didn’t care about you? That he was better off? He wasn’t. And if he could have come back he would’ve. It’s not as if his old man would have welcomed him back with open arms. He’d be lucky to get back handed instead of the usual a meaty fist to the side of the head.

But Eddie would have done it, for you. And he’ll be kicking his own ass about it until the end of time for not taking the risk. For not having you hop through your window like you’d done so many times before, and run away with him.

Hand in hand. Into the dark night. Rescuers style.

With shampoo barely rinsed, he hits the faucet with a bang. Too many years of guilt hung like a weighted cape on his shoulders, but now? Now he had the wits and means to make it right. A promise he kept to himself, to you.

The itchy towel dried his skin hastily as his fingers raked through his hair, tussling his bangs into a messy submission. His watch beeps on the nightstand, an alarm telling him he had only fifteen minutes before he was supposed to have his meeting.

It was settled, Eddie wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. Certainly someone in this town had to know where you were living.

Locking the door to the motel he dropped the keys into his pocket and swung a leg over his Harley, he took a deep breath as he revved the engine, satisfied with his decision, a rose blossoming in his stomach, if he could leave Hawkins; so could you.

The smell of bleach was an odd comfort to you. The astringent burn in your nose brought a calming peace, cleanliness. Washing away spills and stains from any surface it touched. Today in particular were the bedsheets from the club.

You splash another cupful into the correct compartment for good measure, slamming it shut and inserting quarters into the slotted mouth of the washing machine—cranking the dial to the heaviest wash and hottest water. Your head pounded and throbbed, the hangover headache worsening by the hour.

The sheets spun around and around as water filled the drum, and you stared in a hypnotizing trance at the thick glass door, thinking about the list of to-do’s Rick had told you needed to be done in his absence.

“… don’t forget the laundry, okay? Nobody wants to fuck a whore on a dirty bed. I left you something special on the nightstand,” he winked before bending down to kiss your cheek, his suitcase already tucked into the backseat after you packed it and placed it there yourself, “don’t do it all at once, it’s some pretty strong shit.”

He waits for you to nod and he bites his lip, “be good, Tommy’s in charge for the next two weeks while I'm gone.”

He smirked half assed and flicked his sunglasses down onto the bridge of his nose, climbing into his car and reversing down the driveway.

A choked breath finally releasing from your lungs as his tires squeal on the black top.

A wave of nausea hits you from the sickening tickle of broken winged butterflies tumbling in your stomach at the way Rick had smiled at you.

Making you wish bleach was edible. Maybe it would kill the butterflies, poisoning them from the inside, just as you had been.

Rick wasn’t the big bad wolf of your life. That title was held to another man, one whose blood coursed through your own veins. Was he an upstanding hero type? Not at all, his wings were clipped like any other fallen angel.

But he was right lastnight— he came to your aid at the time you desperately needed someone. And in a weird, sickening way, he had saved you.

If being “saved” meant going from one evil to another that is.

You weren’t naive enough to think that you were dating. What Rick and you had was simple…cash register transaction, complete with the clinks and clanging bell noises. He provided you with shelter, kept your needs met, gave you a job. Your payment for such luxuries transpired behind closed doors.

It wasn’t love, quite literally a situation formed on the grounds of a business deal. But oh how foolish you were to think it was anything more than that in the beginning.

—

One black garbage bag. That’s all that was needed to collect your belongings, and it wasn’t even full.

“Do you really have to go?” Lolly’s wide eyes were full of tears, knobby knees tucked to her chin as she sat on your shared bed, watching you unpack drawers and slide a big silver ring over your thumb.

You have always been strong for her. Protecting her from the evils that took place in this trailer. Sheltering her away when dad’s fist was looking for someone to blame after mom left. Bruises faded easy on your skin, and you’d take them again and again if it meant hers never had to be painted.

“Lover’s Lake isn’t that far, you could bike there.” your tone is nonchalant like you aren’t being torn to shreds from the inside out, and it’s taking everything in you to not break down in front of her.

She sniffs loudly, “everyone leaves me.”

The words break your heart, and you can practically feel the tissue ripping inside your chest.

“Mom, Molly, Pickles, and now you,” her lip quivers and the tears drop on the tops of her knees.

“That’s not true,” you tut, rubbing a hand down her back, “Pickles was probably a hundred years old when you found him. Even old Jimmy said that he’d been living here longer than anyone.”

Deflecting with humor was something you picked up to have Lolly look on the bright side when things were worse for wear. But deep down you hurt just like she did.

Molly would have been almost eleven now, and you hadn’t seen her since you were her age. You remembered her birthday was the 17th of July and still lit a candle on a gas station twinkie to celebrate it every year.

“You’ll get the entire room to yourself, that’s pretty cool Lolls, right?”

She shrugs, wiping a tear away with a pink polished hand.

You know it’s time to be serious. It’s time to warn her, to try to keep her safe while you aren’t under the same roof anymore.

Taking her hands in yours and squeezing you plead to her, “stay out of his way, don’t speak unless he asks, don’t stop going to school.”

Lolly opens her mouth to interrupt but you stop her with another pleading look. You had already left school last year, Dad claiming he needed you to help take care of things at home rather than “waste time at that fuckin’ place.”

“Remember the treehouse in the woods, behind the grove of cedar trees by the big gray rock?” she nods silently, “…nobody knows it’s there but me and E—” your voice breaks on the first syllable of his name and you clear your throat, “it’s safe there,” you don’t tell her how you had made sure to stock the treehouse with her favorite things as a little escape for her. Magazines, cans of food with pull top lids, packaged sweets, your favorite nail polish, a warm blanket, pillow, flashlight etc… anything to keep her company to keep her safe.

“.. it’s kinda cozy.”

The tip of your nose tickles and your throat feels heavy as you try to swallow down sobs. Not here. She couldn’t see you that way.

“I'm not leaving because I want to… you know that, yeah?”

Her little arms fling around your neck and she squeezes you as hard as an eight year old could, and you hold her tight, wishing you could morph together.

The bedroom door flies open and the boom of your dad’s bark ricochets off every surface, breaking the sound barrier. “Fuckin’ Christ Clove, you ready or what?”

Lolly’s fingers grip you tighter and you hug her just as tight. You whisper quietly to her, “don’t cry in front of him, he doesn’t like it, I’ll come back as soon as I can.”

You let her go.

Your own tears wetting your cheeks adding to your wet shoulder, but you smile through the pain of your heart breaking.

Dad scoffs in the background, muttering under his breath something about how he’s not raising a bunch of fucking crybabies.

His meaty hand grabs your wrist and yanks you upwards, the stench of unwashed armpits and a thick ash of his cigar fill your senses, drying your tears immediately.

“Let’s go!” he roars, “makin’ me look bad in front of the new client.”

He looks around the room with shifty eyes, as if he might say something else, as if he might apologize for the bullshit you’ve had to go through, but when you’re a living breathing demon yourself, you don’t have a conscience, and he rubs his other hand over his balding head, rubbing the grease and gel further into his comb-overed scalp, “…don’t need him thinkin’ I’m a liar because you’re too goddamn selfish to be on time.”

Your virginity, your innocence was traded to a new drug smuggler in Hawkins for the price of discounted dope. Bought like property, sold like cattle.

Black plastic fisted hotly in your hand as you walked behind your dad’s crippled sway down the length of the hallway to the front door.

The childhood home you had imagined leaving behind was blurring past you. The cracked windows, the creaky floors, ratty carpet that was barely glued together, the water stained tub with the leaking faucet. It was all going to be part of your past.

If only Lolly could fit.

Fit inside the one plastic garbage bag.

The jagged chip in the corelle plate was keeping Eddie’s fingers occupied as Wayne’s girlfriend sniffled and quietly blew her nose, talking about the final days of him being alive.

Cancer. Caught late and untreatable. He lived a whole year longer than what the doctor’s had expected him to, that alone was a miracle.

Eddie was wrong. Wayne didn’t own a trailer or even live in Forest Hills. He had been renting a small apartment before he got sick and apparently had paid his rent in advance until the end of the year, giving Patty somewhere to stay while she cared for him and the comfort of not having to worry about making ends meet.

Boxes labeled with loopy handwritten sharpie were stacked in the living room and leaning against the kitchen table that Eddie and Patty were sitting at along with half of a sandwich still sitting on her plate.

She wipes her nose and shoves round glasses into her auburn graying hair, dotting her under eyes from another trickle of tears.

Eddie felt bad for her, and maybe he would feel some sort of grief if he had known his uncle more than just the handful of times he had gotten to know him. He was embarrassed to say he couldn’t even remember what Wayne Munson really looked like.

“He was a great man, talked about you a lot,” she half whispered, picking at the crust of her sandwich, “always felt like he should have done..something.”

Eddie didn’t accept pity, it was a Munson trait. So he did what he always did, brushed off any seriousness with a charmer’s smile.

“No worries ma’am, honestly, I- I managed just fine.”

She nods and reaches into the front pocket of her apron, her voice meek and hesitant, “I have everything packed. The crematorium opens on Monday, appointment’s at ten.”

A brass key twinkles between her fingers, “I have a sister out in California… with Wayne gone I don’t,” her voice warbles and she looks around the apartment, “…there’s nothing here for me, anymore.”

A soft wrinkled hand slides towards Eddie as Patty leans forward on the chair, the key scratching against the wooden table top.

Eddie smiles softly, knowing the feeling of not being able to stay after tragedy strikes. And from the sound of it Patty deserved a quiet life.

She explained that he had until December to figure out what should happen with the apartment, but everything else was already put into motion. Maybe he could even find someone to sublet the place until then.

Her soft eyes still wet as her lips tremble, “you’re more than welcome to go through the boxes and take what you need before the folks down at the Salvation Army load everything up.”

“When do you leave?” he asks after taking a sip of unsweetened iced tea.

Patty folds her hands and smiles for the first time since Eddie had knocked on the door, “Greyhound leaves this afternoon.”

Four loads of sheets were folded and heaped into a basket that was on the verge of tipping over in the back seat of your car. The Diet Coke you bought at the Spin n’ Dry left your stomach grumbling more than it had before you slurped the carbonated drink down in a few gulps.

With a knock of your hip into your driver's door it slammed home, the noise rattling your brain like a jug of shaken pop. Hangover still ringing loud between your ears.

The world’s darkest sunglasses couldn’t have shaded away the blinding rays of the sun, the heat felt like it was cooking your skin, making your temples and upper lip drip with sweat, an unusually warm day in the middle of May.

You didn’t recognize the plates on the motorcycle you had parked next to. Definitely not from Indiana. But maybe Wendy’s boyfriend finally got out of prison in Ohio? or was it Colorado?

In desperate need for a shower, you hoist your purse strap higher on your shoulder. Only having a few hours before you needed to clock in at the club, you didn’t have time to take a nap, or grab something to eat.

You could delegate your tasks to someone else but most of the girls had other jobs during the daylight hours. The only one wrapped up day and night in the club was you.

The apartment building you resided in had a shared water heater between the 6 units, meaning that hot water was scarce. But you were used to the unpredictable temperature of the water, and on this sweltering day you were glad when the water hit your back like icy daggers.

Like the bleach, it was an odd comfort.

The cool water jarred you awake a little, allowing your senses to come back to you after a night of inebriation, god knows you needed it.

Working shampoo through your hair you mentally check off things you’d completed, and everything else to be done for tonight’s shift.

Laundry ✔️

Set up testing appointments ✔️

Inventory ✔️

Restock napkins

Advertise for Ginger’s position

Call Kenny

Saturday’s were nickel wing night, and that brought with it a crowd of regulars and the occasional out of towners looking for a hot meal, and the typical extras that Queen’s offered.

Tommy had the brilliant idea last year that the girls would dress up in angel wings with halos or devil horns with a spiked tail to replicate the sauce of sweet or spicy wings the kitchen served. As miserable as it was to trot around dressed like a she devil, the tips on saturday nights were good, even if you left with greasy BBQ sauce fingerprints on your skin.

Tilting the devil horns into submission atop your head the plastic cherry red pleasers hung by the straps from your painted fingers as you click the front door locked with your keys and shuffle with slippered feet down the stairs.

Your purse jingled and clanked around as you descended down the steps. A shift at the club meant you could never be too sure on what you might need. Barrettes, an extra pair of panties, hair pick, bobby pins, mascara, lip liner, lotion, tylenol, icy hot for Jolene and the most important of all, an unlabeled package left on a nightstand.

The sidewalk scuffed the rubber bottom soles of your slippers as you walked to the parking lot. A throat cleared loudly followed by a voice saying your name. First, middle and last.

A voice you’d recognize in heaven or hell. His voice.

He was standing next to what you now realized was his motorcycle, of course the out of state plates made sense. His jaw was pressed into a tight clench, a Marlboro dangling from his ringed hand.

Eddie looked different with the sun’s ray on him compared to the haunting neon lights from the club. They colored his hair a pretty caramel swirled in coffee tendriled curls. Standing next to him you finally comprehended how much taller he was, but when the cheshire cat like smile broke across his face you found it hard not to smile back but you managed not to.

The scowl on your face sets him back. Hurt riddling his chest. Your eyebrows pinched the same way they used to but it was never a look that he saw very often, at least not towards him.

Your face was scarred, but beneath all the difference and the makeup he’d never seen you wear, he still could see that girl. His best friend.

You roll your eyes and turn away from him, stomping quick to your car and shoving the key into the lock, still not finding it easy to look in his eyes, “stalking is illegal in Indiana.”

His nose rumbles with a wrecked laugh, blowing smoke from his nostrils and he chuckles, “didn’t know you lived here.”

“Sure,” you say over your shoulder in an annoyed huff, “you just happen to show up at my work and now at my apartment. Totally by accident, or is this your bullshit idea of fate?”

He opens his mouth to speak and you cut him off before he can utter a word, “.. that was rhetorical, I don’t want your answer.”

“Looks like you got your license after all.”

You know what he’s referring to, and you hate the way a smile spreads against your lips. He was trying to break your shell, not knowing it was rock hard and super glued shut.

His olive branch is stretched out again, arm aching from the strenuous amount of leaves and offerings, but it quickly catches fire from the embers harbored in your stare when you whip around to face him.

“Well I’m not sixteen anymore, and I definitely didn’t need your help getting it.”

His face falls, “Cl—..”

You cut him off again, “I gotta go, I have a million things to do before we open tonight and you’re wasting my ti—”

This time he’s interrupting, talking fast to avoid your annoyed pouts, “can we talk, please? I’ll expl—”

You both might be older but the bickering between you could mimic teenagers, neither of you letting the other finish a sentence.

Rage pours through you like lava, hot angry and red. The wave of hurt it’s riding on stabs like a knife. “I don’t…goddamnit, I don’t have time for this Eddie!”

You look at him letting his warm eyes capture yours and you notice how handsome he’s gotten, how his features fit him well, but it doesn’t stop you from delivering the hurt you were feeling for years, “… and most importantly I don’t want to make time for you.”

You spin on your slippered heel. Shoving down the burning ache of regret and possibly vomit from your pounding headache.

Fuck this, and FUCK him.

Somewhere between the haste of needing to flee and fumbling with your keys, your bag tumbles to the ground, scattering your belongings all over the asphalt.

Eddie reaches down to pick up your things the same time you swing your door open hard, and in a comical blur the door connects with his bent head knocking him flat on his ass.

You gasp and he hisses through his teeth, mumbling curse words and rubbing his forehead.

Stifling a giggle you tuck your lips behind your teeth as you bend at the waist to look at him, your fingers fly to his head trying to pry his hands away.

“Are you..”

“Don’t laugh,” Eddie fake grumbles, a wide smile on his lips, “don’t you dare..”

You bite your lip to stop giggling, “‘m not...let me— oh c’mon, let me see it.”

Finally getting his fingers from his head you’re able to take a look at the small cut above his eyebrow.

“Jesus Christ Slick, when did you learn to box?”

You’re both laughing now, falling so easily in sync again it was making your head spin. And for the first time in a long time, you let your guard slip.

His palm is braced against his head, holding the growing goose egg he was sure to get.

“Please,” you mutter between raspberry blown lips, “I’ve never fought anyone, not with you arou—”

You look at him when your sentence falls flat. Both of you knowing that Eddie’s fists got into more fights defending you than himself. Trailer trash or not, he wasn’t about to let Hawkins jockstrap wearers treat you like dog shit.

Eddie winces when your fingers graze over the small gash by his outer brow, “how bad is it killer?”

“Remember when you tripped over your own feet playing hide-n’-seek in the cemetery?”

Eddie snorted through his nose at the memory, “you mean when you had to give me a piggyback ride back home?”

“I forgot that part… this isn’t nearly as bad, maybe a tenth of that.”

You dig through the remaining stuff in your purse, finding the small tin full of bandaids and neosporin you kept for blisters. “Should have taken you to the ER that night.”

Thumbing through the collection, you find a suitable sized bandage.

“Yeah,” Eddie scoffs, “I’m sure Al would’ve loved gettin’ that bill in the mail.”

His eyes meet yours and you notice the pool of childhood fear bubbling to the surface. Years have come and gone since then, but one never really forgets the pain from those days… How could you when the evidence was scarred into your skin?

You shut your eyes and shake your head as you peel the slicked backing from the bandaid— a yellow cartoon background with Mario and Luigi.

Eddie gives you a look with a cocked eyebrow and you shrug, moving his bangs back from his face so you could get a good look at the cut.

His hair is surprisingly soft like french silk. You wonder if his girlfriend buys special shampoo for him meant for curly hair.

Placing the sticky bandage against his cream colored skin, you rub the seams of the bandaid with your thumbs so it’ll stay in place. His breath fans across your forearms, and he watches in silence at your first aid handiwork.

You haven’t been this close to Eddie in years. It shouldn’t be weird, it shouldn’t feel awkward to touch someone’s forehead. The same someone you had shared a bed with more times than you could even count. But this was different, you were kids, teens then, now you were both adults. Living completely separate lives.

Clapping your hands in a wiping motion you unstick your tongue from the roof of your mouth, “there, good as new.”

He pushes his hands on the pavement and stands up, as you pick up the rest of your things, tossing them absentmindedly into your purse.

“Thanks doc,” he breathes, clearing his throat, “I don’t mean to be a dick.. don’t hit me again, but are you wearing horns?”

You scoff and look up at him. He stands tall above you, and you actually take notice of what he’s wearing. Black boots and a light wash of denim jeans, a navy and brown patterned flannel fit snug against his arms, rolled to his elbows.

He looks like a grown man, no longer a trailer park boy with holes in his jeans and stolen sneakers on his feet.

A large hand is extended down to you and you take it, his right your left, the two tattoos aligning for the first time in what seems like forever.

When you stand to your full height he’s still inches taller than you are, and where your noses used to be practically at the same level, yours barely hits him in the chest now.

“Does Hawkins celebrate Halloween in May now?”

You shake your head and let out a sad sigh, “it’s umm.. it’s for work.”

You’re embarrassed that you have to explain to your old friend that you have a job that requires you to dress like a slut, that your ass literally paid for your car, that since he left your life turned upside down for the worst. Your cheeks are hot and you pick at the polish on your nails.

“Oh,” his voice grows small, “that’s…”

“…yeah.”

You’re praying for a miracle, for lightning to strike, or a car to backfire— anything, to have this awkward conversation die.

You don’t have to wait long.

“Well,” Eddie exhales, swinging his arms, “since you beat me up in my first twenty four hours of being home, I think you owe it to me to let me take you for a cup of coffee,” he smirks, fingers gliding over the bandage and shaking his hair back into place.

Home.

A common word that had held no meaning to you, but with Eddie here standing in the flesh, breathing the same air and staring down at you—the four letters felt colossal, and it made your stomach flip.

“I don’t like coffee.”

Eddie’s smile falls. The small glint of hope in his eyes dimmed out like a burnt lightbulb. Leaves on his olive branch curled and charred next to your embers.

Keys jingle in his pocket with his hung head and he fumbles with his words.

“Sure, yeah.. sorry. I just wanted to..” his shoulders sag, “it’s been a long time, Clove.”

You stare blankly at him. Whatever wind was in his sails was snuffed out by you, and you fucking hated yourself for that. All you wanted to do was scream in his face.

Tell him yeah, it has been a long time because he left you. He was the one who skipped town in the middle of the night. It was him who left nothing but— goddamnit… his doe eyes could convince a nun to rob a bank, hopefully you don’t end up regretting this..

“Do you like wings?”

—

“Okay easy! Easy!”

“I got it, calm down!”

“The van’s top heavy y'know? This fucker will flip like that.” Eddie says snapping his fingers, his other hand was gripped right on the ‘oh shit’ handle knuckles glaring white.

Eddie did it. Between working weekends at Z’s shop and saving whatever nickel and dime he had, he finally saved up enough cash to buy the shitty brown van the Templeton’s had for sale in the front of their trailer.

The windshield was cracked, the passenger door was permanently locked shut. But to Eddie it was a means of escape, a venture that Al Munson had no say in, it was dirty and the seats were mouse bitten and full of dust. It was paradise.

“Just ease into the parking lot, try not to hit anyone..” a smirk catches the corner of his lip, “but if you do, aim for Higgin’s sedan.”

This wasn’t your first time driving Eddie’s beloved vehicle, usually you practiced on the open highway, turning onto gravel and coasting with Eddie’s hand waving out the window, but today he thought it’d be good for you to drive in town.

You were nervous, never really having to maneuver through vehicles or watch for anything more than a scared rabbit from the tall ditch weed, driving in town was wracking every nerve to the highest meter.

“Eddie, uh, how do I park? There aren’t any lines.”

He mouths around a cigarette, pointing lazily with his forefinger, “here’s fine, just whip her in there.”

The van comes to an abrupt halt, and the grinding sound of metal on metal groans loudly. You sit wide eyed and breathing heavily, foot still on the brake. The cigarette from Eddie’s mouth falls on his lap.

What would have been a normal ass chewing and possibly a slap to the back of the head from your dad, is only met with a grin from your bestfriend.

He reaches over and throws the gear shift into park. And coaxes your hands from their death grip on the steering wheel.

Fear riddles through your body and you stutter an apology, “I’m sorry Eddie! I’ll pay for it!” he says your name but you ignore him, “how— however much it is! I swear! I’ll—”

A hand clamps tight over your mouth and your eyes well with tears, ready to flood over the dam of your eyelashes.

“Clove, stop…it's fine,” his eyes plead for you to believe him but you don’t, your mouth keeps moving against his hand so he holds your face gently with both hands, “I swear, it’s not a big deal.. alright? You think I care about the paint job on this big lug o’ shit? C’mon, scoot over.”

You move across the center counsel and back into the heaping pit of whatever Eddie thought was necessary to keep back there. His long legs scramble and tangle up in the steering wheel before he’s sitting comfortably behind the driver’s seat and you crawl to the passenger side, wiping at your eyes.

“‘m hungry, you?”

Of course you were, the box of scalloped potatoes you made for supper last night ended up being crunchy and watery. The last pieces of bread went to make Lolly a mayo and cheese sandwich. The potato monstrosity ended up feeding the strays, and your belly grumbled ever since.

“Not really,” you lied.

Eddie shrugs and throws the van in reverse, wincing as the van groaned against the rear fender of Jonathan Byers’ olive colored car.

“Don’t worry,” he lies, “he won't even notice.”

—

The powdered gas station donuts left a white film of sugar on your lips. Yoo-hoo dripped down Eddie’s chin as he took another long swig, biting the rope of a Twizzlers in half.

Eddie had spread a flannel blanket he had “borrowed” on the floor in the back of his van, and you both climbed in amongst the trash and nonsense to enjoy a sugary breakfast.

The crinkled white donette’s wax paper is tossed behind him carelessly and he reaches for a second bottle of Yoo-hoo. “So much better than first period, McCannon can suck a fat one.”

You wipe your lips on the back of your hand, “I kinda like History, it’s interesting.”

Eddie snorts, “you like History because you’re hot for teacher.”

Mr. James McCannon was good looking, but that’s not what made you interested in his class. He was your roundabout, average middle aged family man.

A father, a husband, a friend, a coach, an employee—but most importantly, he was respected, put together, polished.

He probably taught his kids to play catch, took family vacations to some National Park, and without a doubt, his lawn was more than likely manicured in a way that looked magazine ready at all times.

His wife brought his lunch in a brown paper sack, toting along a thermos which you imagined would be filled with a creamy tomato soup or maybe coffee. She always had their toddler in tow. A smiling little cutesy thing, sparkling eyes and dressed to the nines. She too was an average American woman, cookie cut and baked to perfection— still that wasn’t what drove you to like his class.

It came down to something rather simple. You were jealous.

Seeing a father be so loving and caring for his own child, excited to see the young kid and always giving a kiss to her little cheeks, it drove you mad. The way his eyes lit up when his little family knocked on the door, the way they seemed so fucking happy— made you yearn for normalcy.

Because your life would never be like theirs.

Guaranteed little Kelly McCannon didn’t get cigars flicked into her face whenever her dad felt like she deserved it. She probably would never have to care for a sibling like a parent, never have to rummage through couch cushions in search of loose change to buy a gallon of milk.

She would never know the gut wrenching feeling of having her mother pack up only one of their siblings and disappear into the night, never to be seen again.

So the answer was no— you weren’t in love with Mr. McCannon. You were completely enthralled that he was a good person, a doting father, and that more than likely— never in your lifetime or the next, would you experience the bond of unconditional love from a parent, probably not from anyone.

Scowling, and burying the sadness of the truth, you shove his arm, “you’re hogging all the Yoo-hoo.”

He laughs, leaning forward and handing the glass bottle over. The dark blues and purples around his eye from last week were now shaded to a gross jaundice-like color, much like the fingerprints on your arms.

Eddie stays quiet for a while, watching you nibble your breakfast, taking small sips at the chocolate drink. He picks at his jeans, fraying the holes wider, his knuckles still swollen from Tommy’s chin.

A fight he’d gladly start again if he ever caught that son of a bitch trying to— Eddie shook his head, he’d fucking kill him, plain and simple.

Your lip was still split, and he had spent an hour picking gravel out of your palm while you sat on his bathroom counter. Snotty nose and tears flowing from your eyes.

It was probably then— he realized, or maybe it was years earlier when you were both younger. But right now sitting across from you in the dingy air of his van, Eddie is sure he’s never seen anyone look more beautiful.

The rolling feeling in his gut he got whenever he couldn’t fix what was making you sad, when you came to school with new bruises on your skin unable to stay awake in class, the countless times you had snuck out and showed up at his window in the middle of the night when things got really bad— it all came to fruition, like a lightbulb going off in his brain.

You meant more to him than anyone in his life, he’d protect you with his own life if he had to. You were all he ever needed.

He knew at thirteen, and he knew now. When he thought of the word love, he thought of you.

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#eddie munson #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson series #eddie fanfiction #eddie fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction

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moonbeamwritings · 1 year

Text

It’s rare for Jotaro to take a day off. The man works himself to the bone, be it for the Speedwagon Foundation or for the university he does research for, he’s always on the move, always doing something. So you’re surprised when, once you will yourself out of bed hours after Jotaro should have already been at work, you walk into the living room to find him on the couch, still in his pajamas.

“Honey?”

“Morning.”

You round the couch to stand next to him, and your mouth morphs into a frown. The tip of his nose is red, his are lips dry, and the space beneath his eyes is purple with a lack of sleep. He even has his glasses perched on his nose, a rare sight when he’s at home. Pushing the dark waves from his forehead, you find it’s hot to the touch and the skin there is damp with sweat. “Baby,” you coo, “why didn’t you tell me you weren’t feeling well?”

“’s not a big deal.” With his stuffed nose, it sounds like he’s balancing marbles in his mouth, cute, rounded sounds softening his usually harsh tone.

“Not a big deal? Jotaro, you never miss work.”

He sniffles. “’m fine.”

You ignore him, moving into the kitchen to get the kettle going and to pull a mug from the cabinet. Jotaro follows close behind, lingering in the doorway like a shadow, watching your every move. When you turn, you finally get a good look at him. Jotaro never got sick, and he never stayed in comfy clothes for too long, always getting up early to get ready and only changing into pajamas right before bed; so seeing him now just makes you want to swaddle him. His sweatpants are slung low and lazy on his hips like he’d pulled them on in a rush. A well-worn gray hoodie disguises his giant form, muscles hidden beneath the oversized fabric. And as you drag your eyes down, you notice the sleeves have crept down and over his hands. Cute.

You click your tongue when your gaze meets his, and with diligent hands you pull his hood up and tug a bit on the drawstrings, watching as it just barely squishes his face. You pinch the warm apple of his cheek for good measure. “Go rest. I’ll make you some tea, okay?”

Jotaro takes a long, lingering look at you before he finally sighs, eyes rolling. “But, I don’t need-”

I don’t need your help. I don’t need all this fuss. You don’t even allow him to finish the thought before you’re gripping his shoulders and spinning him around, pushing him out of the kitchen. “Go.”

If he really wanted to, Jotaro could easily fight back, could throw his weight or his height around to stand firm and watch you prep his tea. Instead, he shuffles over to the couch and sprawls out, legs spreading to take up the entire length of it. You prop him up with some pillows for good measure before leaving him with the TV on.

The kettle whistles before you know it, and with a little glob of honey, you’re dropping the warm mug in his open palm. He blinks up at you languidly, fighting off sleep right before your eyes. “Thank you.”

“Need anything else?”

Jotaro hesitates for a moment, taking a sip of tea. His cheeks turn pink, but you don’t think it’s from the illness. “Will you sit with me?”

You take in the scene — Jotaro’s giant legs taking up the whole couch, mug in hand. And, as if sensing your hesitation, he widens his legs a bit and pats the space between them. It’s astounding, really, how someone like him can even fit on the couch in the first place. Shrugging, and risking getting sick to satisfy the one time Jotaro asks you for something, you crawl between his legs and cuddle up to him, wrapping your arms around his waist and squishing your cheek against his chest. The hand not holding the mug comes to rest on the back of your head, keeping you close.

“I’m making your mom’s soup for lunch, and don’t you even think about stopping me.” You nuzzle a little closer, offering his midsection a gentle squeeze.

“Mhm,” you watch his mug come into view as he places it on the table, Jotaro’s other hand moving to rest on your back. “’kay.”

The sounds of shitty daytime TV are punctuated by quiet sniffles and mumbled conversations as you and Jotaro rest on the couch, wasting the morning away together. It doesn’t take long for your weight on his chest to lull Jotaro to sleep, body going slack and heartbeat evening out beneath you. And although Jotaro isn’t feeling well, you can’t help the warmth that spreads through your chest at the idea of being able to take care of him for once. He deserves it, you think as soft snores rumble through his chest. He deserves to be babied.

#jotaro x reader #jotaro kujo x reader #jotaro imagine #jotaro kujo imagine #jjba x reader #jjba imagine #my jotaro with glasses agenda continues #the way i want to baby this man

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misserabella · 13 days

Note

Could you write some fanfic Shane x reader in which the reader carries a Strap on ? 💕💕💕🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

switching roles!

shane mccutcheon x fem! reader

cw; +18 content! minors dni!!, bottom! shane, alcohol consumption, dry humping, teasing, hickeys, making out, dirty talking, praising, dry humping, semi public sex! (the planet’s toilets), tit play (shane receiving!), strap on sex (shane receiving), mention of oral sex at the end!…

you were at a party at the planet. kit had made an incredible job throwing this one up this time. the local was full, absolutely full, and the music was filling your bones.

there was alcohol cursing through your veins, just as much as desire. ‘cause how could she look so goddamn good?

shane’s dark hair was a mess due to her nervous fingers, her button up shirt open, showing her sternum and teasing you with the almost peek of her perky tits.

your tongue dampened your lips as you watched her drown a new shot, droplets of licor escaping her mouth and drawing rivers down her chin towards her neck.

a sigh left her throat when you tasted it off her skin. shane hummed at your warm tongue and wet kisses, her breath hitching when your hands pulled at her hips to bring her closer, her ass snug against your crotch, where a bulge awaited for her.

shane, the confident shane mccutcheon you knew seemed to shake on her foundations. how would her friends react if they knew what you’d turned her into? how you’d broken her?

shane was used to having control. to be the dominant one when the opportunity with a woman would arise. but that was until you slid right underneath her skin.

she could still remember it. the first time the two of you fell onto your bed, heated kisses being exchanged as she pined you to the duvet, ready to take the role of pleasing you. what she didn’t expect was you pining her down and pleasuring her instead. every time she thought about how you’d laid in between her thighs, eaten her out until she’d become a blabbering mess just to fuck her dumb on your cock afterwards… she got wet. so impossibly wet it hurt.

after that she’d gotten hooked. a day wouldn’t go by in which she would not think about it, in which her skin wouldn’t crawl in the need to have you.

“dance with me?” you muttered on her ear, leaving a kiss on her jaw. and when she turned around to look at you, you knew you had her right where you wanted her. she held your hand as you guided her towards the dance floor.

she smirked when you pulled her closer by her belt hoops, your lips brushing hers as the two of you started to sinfully dance against the other. shane was smiling as she thrusted against your crotch, making the back of your strap bump against your clit.

“stop teasing me.” you growled on her ear, making her slightly moan when you thrusted back against her.

“as if you weren’t, huh?” she muttered back. you chuckled, one of your hands making its way up her navel, purposefully avoiding her hardened nipples and softly surrounding her throat.

“what is it, huh? you want to get fucked that bad?” you inquired, taunting her by caressing her lips with your own. “you miss my cock that much, baby? it’s not even been a day.” she groaned, pushing closer to you to kiss you, but you stopped her. “nuh uh, words.”

“yes. i miss it. i want it.” she whispered against your lips, one of her hands coming down in between your bodies to cup your strap. “want you to fuck me on the bathroom, so hard they might even catch us…” you sighed. she had such a fucking mouth on her.

“oh, yeah?” you murmured, biting down on her bottom lip, making shane let out a small moan that only spurred you on even more as you watched her nod, her green beautiful eyes needy and lust driven. “then be a good girl for me and guide me there.”

“oh, fuck!” she moaned as you finally plunged deep inside of her, your mouth latched onto her neck, sucking bruises down to her chest as you pushed her shirt open, exposing her beautiful breasts. one of her hands kept one of her legs up surrounding your waist as you thrusted up inside of her, the other keeping her pinned against the stall bathroom’s door.

“thaat’s it. just what you needed, huh?” you smirked, watching her half lidded eyes glaze as you started to slowly pound into her. “taking it so good. so fucking deep…” shane groaned as you gave her a harsh thrust, her body moving up the surface of the door. if the music wasn’t so loud you were sure everyone could hear the wet squelches her cunt made as she took you inside.

“harder, please.” she begged, her hands on your ass, pulling you closer, forcing you to reach deeper in between her walls. you complied, watching as her face contorted in pleasure, how her mouth fell and whimpers and moans slipped out. “yes, shit. just like that. don’t stop. so good. so fucking good.”

“who’d have thought, hm? who’d imagine the well known womanizer shane mccutcheon would be this good at taking cock, huh? this fucking needy…” her cheeks burned at your teasing, but strangely enough it only turned her on more, pushed her closer to a release you always gave her. “look at you, acting all shy now.” you chuckled.

“shut up.” she groaned, harshly kissing you, your increasing speed making her gasp and moan on your mouth, giving you the opportunity to push your tongue inside. “fuck, fuck, fuck…” she cried as she felt the coil on her stomach growing, the band tightening, ready to snap. “i’m gonna cum.” she warned, and you smirked, pinching her nipples.

“go ahead. you always look so pretty when you cum. give it to me. cream my cock, shane.” with a couple more thrusts she was falling over the edge, her climax hitting her so harsh she was whimpering, eyes watering as you fucked her through it.

“it’s too much!” you hushed her, your fingers finding her clit to extend it.

“you can take it. i know you can. take it.” and she did, giving you every last drop, squeezing the silicone so hard you swore you could feel it. once she had come down from it you pulled out, watching the cum-leathered silicone as it shone under the dim lights of the toilets.

she pulled you in for a kiss once her pants were back on, making you hum, one of her hands coming down to your slicked up cunt, right underneath your strap, throbbing clit ready to be taken care of.

“want you to make you feel good too.” she whispered against your lips.

“then get on your knees.”

shane had never been faster on following orders.

#shane mccutcheon x you #shane mccutcheon x reader #shane x reader #shane mccutcheon smut #shane mccutcheon imagine #shane smut #shane l word #l word shane #shane mccutcheon #shane mccutcheon x fem! reader #the l word smut #the l word x reader #the l word imagine #the l word fan fiction #the l word

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loveinhawkins · 1 year

Text

Part 1

Dustin half-expects the phone to ring in the evening—that maybe Eddie will have said something to Steve about how he’s been a dick to him—but no such call ever comes.

So he pretends like he’s busy with homework, times heading to dinner carefully, so that his mom’s got her back to the stove when he limps over to his seat.

At night, he waits until he hears the click of her lamp going off, then manages to smuggle a bag of peas out of the freezer without being noticed. He wraps it up in a dish towel and places it on his ankle, under the bed covers.

He doesn’t sleep.

If the weather’s not bad, he usually rides his bike to school, but he pretends to oversleep and gets the bus instead.

The day drags, but it’s fine.

It’s fine until he decides to go to the bathroom during the tail end of last period—reasons that so long as the receptionist doesn’t catch him, he can head to the bus stop early afterwards.

He thinks he’s alone.

But then as he’s drying his hands, he hears a stall door open lightning fast, and he’s suddenly pinned up against the wall, so close that he can see Aaron’s nostrils flare.

“The thing is, Henderson,” he says, as if they’re just picking up from where they left off; he’s got that tone, Dustin thinks, that ‘good people of Hawkins’ tone. Hiding behind a mask of respectability. “Folks seem to think that the buck stopped with Munson, huh? But I know he would’ve passed his sick shit on.”

It takes a moment for the penny to drop.

“You think I’m leading Hellfire,” Dustin says. He almost laughs. A surge of adrenaline briefly overtakes the fear, and maybe he feels like he’s borrowed a little of Steve’s daring, a little of Eddie’s sharp tongue when he says, “Oh, you’re fucking stupid.”

It happens very quickly.

Cold metal pressed to his throat.

He freezes. Thinks of Sattler Quarry again, of a switchblade, a threat to cut his teeth out.

“They say he took Chrissy’s eyes first,” Aaron says. “Gouged them out.” He presses a little harder. “I could do the same to you.”

Dustin grits his teeth, tries to hold his breath. Feels the ridge of uneven grouting digging into his back.

The school bell shrieks.

And he’s falling.

He only just stops himself from hitting the ground, bangs his knee against a sink. Left alone, he coughs and coughs as the stampede of people leaving class rumbles on outside.

Saved by the bell, says a wry voice in his head. It sounds a bit like Eddie.

Eventually he manages to look in the mirror. There’s a line across his neck, almost touching his Adam’s apple; tiny beads of blood from where the knife was pushed hard against his skin. He cleans it up with paper towels, tries not to gag.

Steve had a mark like this, he thinks; he remembers seeing it when they first discovered the gate in Eddie’s trailer.

Steve never flinched.

His mom’s packing for a wedding out of town, which means he’ll be spending an ‘extra long weekend’ at Steve’s, Thursday through to Monday—something he’d ordinarily be looking forward to.

But right now he can only focus on hiding his neck. He keeps his coat zipped up when he enters his house, all casual, then changes into an old sweater that covers the mark if he folds the turtle neck just so.

As his mom triple checks her case, he relies on her distraction and steals an old tube of foundation.

He dabs it on his neck, wincing at the abrasion.

Another sleepless night.

Why is this so hard? After everything that’s happened, this is nothing.

It should be nothing.

He almost misses Eddie’s van completely, even though it’s parked obnoxiously at the very front of the parking lot. It takes Eddie honking the horn for an embarrassingly long time until Dustin notices him.

“Steve’s picking me up,” he mumbles.

“He took Robin’s shift, she’s sick. So you get me,” Eddie says, complete with the world’s most passive-aggressive jazz hands. “You know, if that’s okay with you and all.”

Dustin doesn’t have the energy to bite back—sure, Eddie’s snippy, whatever—so he just huffs in acknowledgement and gets in the van. His head aches with fatigue; he can barely even feel relief that the day passed without incident.

Lucas had passed him a piece of paper with a comical stick figure during History: ‘Are you okay? You look like your brain is melting through your ears.’ He didn’t even have time to enjoy the stupid drawing, because the teacher busted them for passing notes soon after.

“What’s up with you?”

Dustin starts at the question—only then realises that he’s been pressing his forehead hard against the window as Eddie makes a turning for Steve’s house.

“Nothing. What’s up with you?”

And it should land on just the right side of petty for Eddie to give him shit about it.

But instead, all he hears is the uneasy drumming of rings against a steering wheel, a soft, “Right, right.”

Eddie isn’t angry anymore; he’s worried. Guilt twists Dustin’s insides.

He heads straight upstairs for the bathroom when they reach Steve’s, uncaring of the fact that Eddie can probably see him limp up every step.

The problem is that he doesn’t think—he just does.

Throws off his coat. Turns on the faucet. Splashes cold water in his face.

It helps, but his eyes still itch. Maybe he can pull out the mountains of homework card again, camp out in the guest room and sleep until Steve—

A faint knock on the other side of the door.

“Hey, uh. Just checking you haven’t died, man.”

And Dustin hates that he’s made Eddie sound hesitant.

“Yeah, I’m so dead. Oooo.”

Eddie chuckles slightly. But then he says, “Listen, did I do something? Like, tell me to fuck off, if so.”

“Fuck off,” Dustin says, not convincing in the slightest.

In the silence, he can practically hear the cogs in Eddie’s brain turning.

“You didn’t run track.”

It’s not a question.

Dustin rubs at his eyes. “I got tripped.”

“…Tripped,” Eddie echoes. “Dustin. Come on.”

“Fine. I… got in a fight.”

“You?”

“What, is that hard to believe?” Dustin snaps.

“Yeah. Yeah, it is, actually.”

There’s something in Eddie’s tone that makes Dustin’s eyes threaten to burn. It sounds like I know you.

“Well, go on. Gimme the details. What, did you place bets in the cafeteria about who would—”

“No-one else saw,” Dustin says, then immediately cringes at the fact that he’s walked right into Eddie’s trap and given answers.

“Oh, well fucking done,” Eddie says, and maybe it’s meant to sound sharp, but Dustin can only hear how it’s tight with anxiety. “So someone started shit, and you decided, in your infinite wisdom, to settle it alone, when anything could’ve—”

“What the fuck was I supposed to do? Just let them keep saying—”

“You run,” Eddie says. “Jesus Christ, Henderson, I don’t give a flying fuck what they were saying. You run like hell out of there, and you don’t look back, do you fucking hear—”

“You didn’t run!” Dustin says.

He hadn’t planned on saying it at all; the words feel like they’ve been ripped out of him, his voice wrecked.

Silence.

The door opens. Eddie looks completely floored.

“Was this about me?” he asks very quietly.

Dustin looks away. “He—he just—you didn’t hear what he was saying. Eddie, it was. Bad.”

And I’ll never repeat it, he thinks. I’m never using that fucking awful word.

“Hey, what’s that on your…?”

Eddie’s eyes narrow, and Dustin realises too late that he’s staring at his neck.

“Are you wearing make-up?” Eddie says, faintly baffled, and Dustin sees the exact moment that he recognises the mark for what it is, because his eyes widen. “Oh, Jesus.”

Dustin uselessly tries to cover it up with his hand. “It’s—it’s fine, it didn’t even—”

But his words die away at the sight of Eddie’s rapidly paling face.

Stop it, Dustin almost wants to say. Between everything that Eddie and Steve have… this is nothing.

He doesn’t expect Eddie bursting into tears.

“Oh God,” Eddie’s saying, and his breathing’s all wrong, “Dustin, please, please don’t—” But it’s like the words are choking him, like he can only stare at Dustin’s neck as if the world is ending.

The front door opening. Steve’s voice echoing, calling out a questioning greeting.

“Hey? You in the kitchen?”

Dustin moves quickly, shoves past Eddie.

“Dustin,” Eddie says again, loud in his panic, “d-don’t go, come on—”

He knows precisely when Steve can hear the fact that Eddie is crying, because his footsteps are rapid on the stairs, speech just as quick and frantic, “What happened, what happened?”

Dustin briefly feels Steve’s hand close around his elbow, “Hey, hey, what’s—?”, but he wrenches himself free. Runs down the stairs as fast as he can, stumbles on the last step.

He feels his ankle give way, and his heart is suddenly pounding like he’s back in The Upside Down—and he lies there, guilt and embarrassment in every heaving breath he takes.

#dustin henderson fic #eddie and dustin #steve and dustin #henderfam #steddie with dustin’s pov #steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #steve x eddie #dustin henderson #eddie munson #steve harrington #2 parts i said! like a fool! (this happens every time)#homophobia cw

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azulsluver · 5 days

Text

UGLY TO ME

tw: bullying, imprisonment, isolation, implied noncon, noncon kissing/touching, abusive relationship (forced), humiliation, poisoning with medication, angst (?).

Summary: bully!vil reminisce about the past, finding the root to his troublesome thoughts and coming to a conclusion of peace with it. as you stay where you belong no matter how ugly he believes you are.

Minor at writing !! Read at your own record

The day he met you brought him endless nights of rage. Bitterly gnawing at his lungs, containing a seething man who turned a blind eye to your misfortune.

He can see the way you linger, smelt of honeybees and the flowers blooming during the seasons peak, you stayed. The winter is harsh on the wilting plants, they shrivel all ugly. It’s desperate to cling for life, until it gives in and fall into a slumber of nothing, a flower will bloom once the sun greets their formation.

Was he the sun? Or was he the winter?

Standing outside the balcony of his villa, he swirls the alcoholic glass with precision. A sight he so deserves, watching the sun slowly fade into the horizon. How he adored the beauty of the world and all it had to give. A standard he had no plan to change as the world will be. Humans are different, their cause even by little does greater good or worse. Humanly, it’s what he is.

Vil sneers to himself at a flashing image of you. Like some annoying tick that won’t go away, plopping himself down on his sofa and running his nails through his slightly wet hair.

The drink long forgotten as he mourns. Mourning the past of himself he desperately seizes to understand. How it all went wrong with you, and why must you consume his very thought. Thinking of you, unkept appearance that would put any beggars to shame. Settling in with putting up a face, eyeliner horrid and the unshaven marks of your facial that easily blended much to your knowledge. You can’t keep an image as good as him. Lipstick too bright and never right, eating too much and too little. Nails too long or short after all the clawing and biting, busted lips and cracked from the lack of moisture.

Everything about you was ugly.

There’s a burning fire within you, in those eyes he would glare into. Vil is no stranger to his jealous streak, you had so much freedom. You might disagree. Day by day, Vil watched idly as you lose that fire, more submissive, afraid, trembling at the slightest of noises or raise of a hand. Marked over to the point your skin is battered and gushing from the impact. His hands still stayed beautiful.

Pushing past the door, he makes sure to lock it behind him, slippers making no noise as he descended down the stairs. Vil looks ragged, without foundation his eye bags are clear and his hair unkept after he refused to attend it’s needed combing and drying.

You. You. You, you, you. Great sevens. Grant him the power to strike you once more. How dare you look at him with such malice.

Chained to the floor, from your hands and ankles, to the collar around your throat as you lay heavily, panting. Smudge of purple across your neck and face, leaving a trail of blood that’s slowly drying up from the crust of your nose. Disgusting.

Vil’s lips turn to a frown, a look you have gotten used too. Tears have long since fallen, explaining the dryness in your throat, licking your lips and forcing some saliva to moisturize the inside of your mouth. Vil’s legs are in your viewing point, skin sticky with sweat in fearing of what he has in store next. Has he come back for more, to shove himself in you to feel some sort of relief, comfort, in knowing he has you in his clutches?

The chains rattle around you as you’re flipped to your back with his foot, grunting from the pressure within your lower abdomen and teared muscles. The gag you used to wear was like a memory, Vil made a decision that he preferred to hear you instead. But every time you made any noise it seemed to set him on edge.

“Have you calmed down, if so, I can give in for your medication.” Dread coils in your tummy. The medicine he speaks of does nothing but poison your veins.

“Shove it…..down your throat..”

Raspy. You don’t think he heard you. But the kick to your head said differently.

He sucks in his teeth with a tut.

“That’s no way to speak to your lover. Be nice and I’ll consider giving you a blanket tonight.”

Whimpering, you bite down on your tongue to prevent any more noise. Vil is too calm for you, he’s holding back on spitting his insecurities, exactly what has kept him from doing so is beyond you.

“I’ll draw you a bath, you reek and your hair is a mess.” He glances back at you and the floor. “My, how dirty you made my floor…..aren’t you going to clean it up with your mouth?”

There it was. Heaving, you lower your face till your chin met the warm concrete of his polished floor, tongue lapping up mixed fluids, you can’t name it, but it’s disgusting. A soft sigh comes from Vil, causing you to snap your eyes back at him. Love is in his eyes.

His pale hands clutch at the roots of your head, lifting the upper half to meet his face. Vil practically moans into you, lips smashing against his in feverish need, his reapplied lipstick smearing and staining yours. There’s little fight, you can hear the water running and the hot sizzling pain entering your lungs. Endure, adapt, and give in. Patting your lips lazily so he can slip past without hesitation. He’s mumbling under his breath, being this close he’s talking to himself of how “gross” you are.

Vil thought he had perfected self control when it came to you. You know just how to break him. You might not see it, succumbing to sleep from the fatigue, he cries as he holds you close to him. Coming for air just to come back for more, addicting.

You really bring out the worse in him. And he hates you for it.

#yandere twst #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #bully!au #vil schoenheit x reader

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oncewhenalongtimeago · 5 months

Note

Hi hi!! How are you?

I was wondering if you have any continuation for The jealous one (or other), otherwise no problem!

Have a nice day <3

The Jealous One pt 3

Pairing: Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III x Fem!Reader

Words: 3,492

Hiccup tries to catch your attention. You remain stubbornly obtuse and subtly obstinate.

Tags: fem!reader, silly, ambiguous timeline, Snotlout Jorgenson, Ruffnut and Tuffnut Thorston, suggestive content, Jealous!Hiccup, Post RoB/DoB, Pre-RTTE

“Hello,” You managed, as you squeezed between two large, metal-breasted women.

You were barely able to hold back the urge to break out into a jolly skip, remembering with glee the look on Phlegma’s face when she’d been greeted with a hall half full of greenish sheep.

You had plans and people waiting for you, though nothing could ever be important enough to keep you from enjoying the smell of fresh air and rainy weather. Currently, the village had just broken free of a drizzle, the clouds parting in order to welcome through soft sunlight which danced, tingling across the skin of your face.

“Good morning,” You wished with cheer as you passed by Burthair, who balked as you curled your lips upwards. Your apparent reputation as sullen, timid, and alone did you wonders so it must have been an awful shock to see you so bright and chipper.

You tapped your toes against the stone foundation marking the beginning of the forge hoping to knock off any loose, dry mud before you tracked it inside, though you were sure it was for naught. There was already a steady line of dirt leading into the forge made up of large, round dragon prints, bookmarks and small rounded crescents you were certain belonged to Gobber’s peg.

“Hello,” You called at a hunched back, connected to a body which was standing before one of the long benches set around the area, one of his arms extended to scribble something down on a piece of parchment while he scanned a book, keeping track of the lines with his right hand.

A lanky set of shoulders startled before Hiccup, the one and only, set his stick down with a level of finality, shoulders falling as he turned, red undershirt crumpled and covered in smudges. His face was also smudged, and you would have had the mind to worry about the state of his book if you had the care and weren’t in such a hurry.

“Hey,” Hiccup said, turning around and running a hand through his hair, leaving dark streaks behind as he did it. You knew how incredibly dirty his pillow was because of it.

You grinned lopsidedly, wondering how much brighter his hair would be if he’d washed it more often.

He seemed startled to see you smile so bright, a hesitant smile of his own jumping across his mouth. The light from the open window and the side of the forge hit his face pleasantly, lighting the freshly defined shape of his jaw and the high bone of his cheek. It looked soft.

Your ears pinked. You weren’t sure you’d felt this great since you were kids. Or at least since you were fifteen. It wasn’t often that you saw him without his leather anymore. You admired him without it, skinny frame and all.

You shook that thought away, walking in further, circling to face him as he moved throughout the open room.

“You had a long night?” You asked as you eyed the tired tilt to Hiccup’s eyes and the exhaustive bruising underneath, “I’m sorry I wasn’t here to keep you company.”

Hiccup shut his eyes, furrowing his brow and shaking his head as he looked away, “It’s alright.”

You shrugged your shoulders as if you were feeling them out, trying to dispel some of the nervous energy locked in your nonexistent, but growing, still, of course, muscles.

“So…?” Hiccup began.

“So?” You asked, before realizing, lips quirking into an awful, dopey approximation of a grin. Right. And you had to be quick.

“Snot used up all his Zippleback Gas capsules,” You said, finally. When in doubt, blame Snotlout. He was running low too, of course. Because you’d stolen a few.

You hoped he hadn’t noticed.

“Really?” Hiccup rubbed his hands off on a rag, wiping away dark ash and oil.

You brushed aside all thoughts of Snotlout to ogle at Hiccup again, wondering what it would be like to press your lips to his, chapped and scratched from all his time up in the air. What all that smoke, wind and metal would taste like mixed with spit.

It was very indulgent. You were sure you’d given up on things like that a long time ago, between conversations about Astrid, girlfriends and shooting down dragons, though some fluttery nasty feeling in your stomach reared its head. You were absolutely sure there must have been something in the air to have your face heating up the way it did, and so you were determined not to stew on it as you had for so many nights before.

Hiccup hesitated, stuck in the space between words, brows furrowed as he stared you in the eyes. It was still, quiet for a moment before he spoke again, “I’ll get you some more.”

He opened his mouth again, then shut it, holding back and looking a little guilty for it.

You sighed, fingers twitching.

Hiccup looked down, nodding, leaning against the forge window, “So, are you free…?”

“Ah, no,” Your shoulders stiffened, already partially turned away as you began to take a few steps backwards. You were a bit surprised that he had asked, certain that he wouldn’t have missed your absence the past couple of days.

He seemed kind of bummed at that, and maybe a little confused, the corner of his mouth tilting wide, brows quirked as he turned back towards his desk.

“I have to go,” You said awkwardly, grimacing and rubbing the back of your neck, as you began to back out. You had someone waiting for you, after all.

“Yeah, sure, but-! Will you be-” Hiccup turned back around quickly “-free, soon? Wait-!”

“-Unless you’re trying to light it up with Zippleback gas, in which case- Fishlegs just published a study on that, see, it says that, on page thirty-four-” You gestured with your arms, standing in front the rest of your gang, slumped over a large set of crates in the fields.

“Gods, just shut up,” Snotlout groaned as you spent their attention enthusiastically.

Still somehow you got dragged into another chore with the Jorgenson. You were certain now that everyone thought you to be two of a kind, especially as you began to hang out more and more, which left you slightly unsettled but joyful yet still.

You had run into the twins along the way, but Tuffnut had been long since gone, and Ruffnut’s had followed soon after, though she had the mind when she was there to nod along occasionally and drop a snipe even as her eyes drifted, so as to at least give the impression that she was paying any sort of attention. Maybe that was why Fishlegs liked her so much.

You were just simply on a break between tasks as you waited for Johannes to get back to you with a list of things he needed doing. He’d even offered coins this time, which kept you from running off with Hookfang.

Snotlout was incapable of handling himself during any sort of long conversation or lecture, period. You didn’t mind, however; you were just eager for the opportunity to talk someone’s ear off, and you found that you didn’t feel bad for him at all.

Valhalla knew it had been a while.

“No,” You said, “Anyways, since- Have you taken a look at Bork’s notes recently? Honestly, even though they were edited, so they’re not reliable, of course, I still think the bit on N-...”

You trailed off in your quest to remind Snotlout why it had taken you so long to become friends in the first place as you felt a tap on your shoulder. You jumped, for a moment, turning to meet Hiccup in the eye.

“Anyways, I’ll tell you more about it tomorrow, but- Uh-hm… What was I going to say..?”

You wrinkled your nose as you turned, a bit disappointed to have been interrupted. The two of you hadn’t talked in a while so you were certain that whatever was coming next wouldn’t be so good.

“Can I go now?” You waved Snotlout off as he complained.

“I-” Hiccup started twitchily, before continuing on, “Are you free?”

“Not- not right now,” Hiccup shuffled nervously, at your look, before trying again, “But I’ll be free before the sun’s half down, if you have the time. Though I still have to-”

Snotlout seemed generally uninterested in what you were doing, head on his fist as his head bobbed, struggling not to fall back asleep.

“Damn,” You grumbled under your breath as you watched his shoulders slump then start as he blinked back to wakefulness.

Hiccup glared at Snotlout moodily, looking like one of Johannes’ sad hunting dogs.

You squinted at him, “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I’m sure,” Hiccup said, scuffing his foot into the dirt as he began to shuffle away, “I’ll meet you later? By the Great Hall?”

You shrugged, “Maybe.”

You watched blankly as Hiccup disappeared around the bend and unsurely made your way back to Snotlout.

“Who took a dump in his boot?” Snotlout griped.

You didn’t deign him with an answer. You weren’t sure how.

You quickly stumbled up the steps to the Great Hall, boots half filled with dirt and a hefty stick lodged down the back of your shirt.

You had lost track of time quickly, easily falling into quick banter and working hard at the promise of coins to spend down at the docks. When you had finally finished and Johannes had finally had the mind to let you leave without any hassle, the sky had already begun to darken and you had realized with a start that you were very, very late.

The sky now was past dark, going from orange to blue and black as you finally made your way up to the top before you were able to bend over and heave, breaths coming quick and heavy as you finished your sprint across the island.

When you finally had enough air to stand back up, you looked around, eyes scanning across half dead half alive grass, listening to the squeaking and chirping of bugs as they came out to explore the night.

“Huh,” You said finally, after a moment. It was empty. You were all too familiar with Hiccup’s penchant for getting dragged away by some task or other, a quest from his father or a want of Gothi or Gobber’s.

Still, an amount of disappointment in yourself and the circumstance, as well as a small curl of guilt made itself known in your chest. You knew how it felt to be left waiting.

Against all odds, you tried not to let it consume you, though, sure that Hiccup had probably forgotten about it all anyways.

It had been a few days since you’d run up to an empty hall and you had hardly seen Hiccup around at all. If you didn’t know any better, you were sure you would have believed him to be avoiding you.

You were sure you would see him around soon, though you couldn’t help but to worry.

As such, you became quickly aware of a shadow fastly approaching from your left, as it grew bigger and hovered above you momentarily before continuing forwards, heavy wingbeats blowing against your hair.

When a quick glance back refused to bear any fruit, you turned your attention back to the bundle of Dragon Nip in your hand, dried and held together by a string which you hung above Snotlout as he shouted and grabbed for it.

You were kneeled over the large stone wall at the base of the hill on the way up the Chief’s hut, one hand clutching the wall as you bounced and dangled the string.

The usual Dragon Nip spots had been harvested to dirt, and Snotlout was too busy doing whatever he did on his lonesome to even search for seeds, not before it was too late.

“Hey!” Snotlout scowled as you stuck your tongue down at him, smiling benignly. You quite enjoyed looking down on him from above.

You had low stamina but, as you found, with how lazy he had been getting flying everywhere on Hookfang, it was enough for you to just barely run circles around him.

“Hey, Hooks! Give me a hand!”

Said dragon grumbled, laying behind him, head on his clawed wings, resting in the sun like a lazy, fat cat.

His eyes were closed, though occasionally he’d snort amusedly and flick his tail, paying vague attention. His gaze might have been just as raptly kept on the grass if you hadn’t raked your hands just under his jaw earlier, dropping a few blades into his open maw, Snotlout none the wiser. So, at the moment, it seemed as if he was just pleasantly out of it, taking in the cool morning breeze.

You heard a thump before the familiar gurgle of Toothless, as he landed just behind Snotlout, stepping and hopping lightly as he landed.

It was not soon after that that Hiccup dismounted, swinging his leg off Toothless and stumbling to his feet.

“Hiccup?” You asked, just as Snotlout let out his own annoyed exclamation.

“Urgh. Watch where you’re going!”

“Hey,” Hiccup said nasally, rubbing sticks and twigs out of his hair, before grumpily greeting Snotlout.

“Cool it, twinkle toes,” Snotlout didn’t fail to notice the bite in his tone, smearing and snarking back, “What do you want?

Hiccup glowered at him sourly.

You held back a laugh as you began your climb down the side of the top of the stone wall, Dragon Nip bundle still in hand.

You jerked back as a branch from one of the bushes to your side caught on the side of your tunic and scowled to yourself, putting the Nip under your armpit as you fumbled with the branch, trying your hardest to undo it.

“Fishlegs is on his way over,” Hiccup mumbled under his breath irascibly, as you trotted up to them.

Once free, you walked forward, noticing with glee how quickly Snotlout had turned his attention away from you, who was trying to move as quietly as possible.

“I didn’t catch that. Do you mind repeating it?” Snotlout jabbed smugly.

“Fishlegs is on his way over!” You shouted loudly, laughing again as he jumped away, hands over his ears, no doubt nursing sore drums before turning his scowl onto you.

You turned towards Hiccup. He looked, in part, ruffled, eyes wide, lips quirked downwards though you found him no less charming and no less saddening as you did before, especially, as you were suddenly reminded, after you had left him waiting at the Great hall.

You slumped slightly, brows cinching and lips turning down, about to mumble a sullen apology for the other day before you felt a heavy weight crash into your side.

Perhaps realizing you were now at his level, once you were turned away, Snotlout began to scramble for you.

You yelped as he grabbed for the bundle of Nip, shouting nonsensically and running around Hiccup, keeping close to his back and using him as a human shield.

“Give it to me!” Snotlout shouted, “You don’t even have a dragon!”

Hiccup stared at the two of you, brows furrowed disconcertingly the whole time, head swiveling in an effort to keep up, arms up in an effort to keep balance, nearly tripping over his own feet.

“No!” You scoffed, shouting back wheezily, knowing very well that if you didn’t give any to him, he’d have nothing for Hookfang for a good long while, “You snooze you lose.”

You startled as he feinted to Hiccup’s left, moving to his right. You ran the opposite direction, the two of you running circles around Hiccup.

“So what-” Hiccup panted, trying to keep up with you, who was already working up a sweat, trying to carry a bit-too-large basin in you arms, “What’s been going on between you and Snotlout?”

“What?” You shouted back, feet moving a bit too hurriedly for the load you kept wrapped in your arms.

Your eyes trained on the top of the hill as it grew nearer, legs working furiously to meet your goal.

“You and- Snotlout-?”Hiccup asked, prosthetic giving him slight trouble as you stumble-ran across a large incline, little red with plants, grass, rocks, roots and budding bushes on the other side of the large bridge leading out from the village.

“What?” You asked back distractedly, again, “I can’t hear-Whatever you’re asking, the answer is probably ‘no!’”

“Really? Because I really, really-”

You blocked him out slightly, though not on purpose, the effort you were already expending on working your legs and on keeping a bare grip on the smooth wood basin with sweaty palms making it difficult to pay attention.

You weren’t sure when Hiccup began tagging along, probably once you bridged the gap between the forest and, well, bridge. In all fairness, you were a bit too preoccupied to be sure.

You took a moment’s rest as you finally reached the top, surface plateauing and settling into a flat, open-ish only barely tree-ed plain. You walked past a set of trees into the grass, stopping by a shallow ditch filled with plants and bordered by roots.

Then, with a pitiful whine, you realized that you’d come the wrong way.

You heard there was a new outcropping of Dragon Nip on the other side of the island. You needed to get there before anyone else could harvest the spot dry, and before Snotlout could hear anything of it, so you rushed immediately to compensate. You hurried it up tenfold after the twins began putting in their own requests. So it wasn’t just you and Hookfang on the line.

You should have just told them to stick it. You grit your teeth with the realization, set now in your motivation to grab everything and not give them a bit. You’d sell it instead.

You turned, then, from the middle of the clearing, the head of your foot caught on a rock, causing you to stumble forward, into Hiccup.

“Son of a-”

The two of you grappled with the basin and with each other in an effort not to tumble, which ultimately ended in you losing your grip on it, sore and strained fingers twitching erratically as blood once again rushed through them.

You tried to go after the basin as he grasped your arm in a panic in an effort to keep steady, causing the two of you to fall, made all the worse by the subtle dip in the earth.

You hit your elbow as you fell, the world blurry and confusing until you came to a quick and dizzying stop, as if you’d been flipped.

It was a struggle, but you landed forwards, with your hands on both sides of Hiccup’s head.

Sun filtered through the leaves, light landing gently on his face, framing one cheekbone and the other eye, lightly caressing the sides of your face, covering you like a soft, thin, weighted blanket.

In the short moment you took to glance down at him, he was mid-blink. His brows were up high, and the set of his mouth and jaw were lax.

He looked stunned, most probably because of the weighty pressure of your torso against his gut and one knee pressed between his, the other on the outside of him, though you didn’t have much to take notice or to marvel, which was in part by design.

Why would you, when you knew for sure that this boy was one who wouldn’t marvel back?

Moments passed by in a hurry, a rush that should not have allowed you to even register a moment. The kind of rush of experiences and memories made to meshed and flow like a stone tumbling along a river, ephemeral and summed up by the emotions you felt in that exact instant.

Of course, you realized that had you slowed down you might have imagined a world where this would have seemed, to you, to be a magical moment. Perhaps there was something special about it, though you didn’t have much of a mind to care for anything besides the nip and the awful soft -but brief- look in the eyes of the boy below you. It really was quite the beautiful day out.

“Come on, come on,” You startled, pushing off the ground and rolling over him, ignoring his soft grunt, rushing and scrambling for a hold against the hill, grabbing for grass as you scrambled out of the ditch, running after your basin as it cracked against stone and rolled all the way down the hill and back towards the cliffs.

As you ran off, half rolling again down the hill back into the forest, you left Hiccup, turned over on his side with furrowed brows.

He pulled his hand, reaching to grab after you, back towards his middle, confused and startled tilt to his lips as he watched you go.

#how to train your dragon #httyd #x reader #fanfiction #hiccup haddock #hiccup x reader #httyd imagine #toothless #fem reader #female reader #snotlout jorgenson #ruffnut thorston #tuffnut thorston

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elonomhblog · 17 days

Text

bathing

good personal hygiene is essential for overall health and wellbeing. this post surrounds regular bathing/showering, what it actually helps with and what practices you can consider.

regular bathing/showering helps prevent infections. when you wash your body, you remove dirt, sweat, and bacteria that can lead to skin infections or other health issues.

you should bathe/shower daily. this routine helps maintain cleanliness, remove sweat and keep skin fresh. daily bathing is especially important if you're physically active, live in a hot climate, or have a job that exposes you to dirt or pollutants.

some individuals may find it more beneficial to shower/bathe only every other day. this can work well for those with sensitive skin or conditions like eczema. it allows the skin's natural oils to replenish without excessive drying. another group that may choose this is those that live in especially cold climates.

adjust your bathing frequency based on your activities. after intense workouts, swimming, or spending time outdoors, it is essential to wash off sweat and dirt properly.

proper hygiene helps control body odour (bo). bacteria on the skin can break down sweat and produce unpleasant smells. regular bathing keeps these bacteria in check.

accumulation of dead skin cells can lead to skin irritation, inflammation, and sores. bathing helps cleanse your skin, removing these dead cells and reducing the risk of skin-related problems.

don't confuse bathing with other hygiene practices, such as washing your face or hands. these have their own importance and frequency.

so, what is the best way to bathe?

start by running the water to an ideal temperature. dermatologists recommend lukewarm or slightly warm water for showering. avoid extremely hot water, as it can dry out your skin.

before applying any soap, do a quick rinse to wet your skin.

use a loofah, washcloth, or your hands to apply bar soap or body wash. begin at your neck and shoulders, then work your way down your body. don’t forget your legs and between your toes.

if you’re washing your hair, apply shampoo to your scalp and the nape of your neck. you don’t need to apply shampoo directly to the hair ends; it will cleanse them as you rinse. a tip if you're washing your hair is to wash it before you wash your body. this can help prevent acne on the back and shoulders.

apply conditioner to soften your hair strands, paying special attention to the ends.

switch to lukewarm or cool water for the final rinse. this helps seal conditioner into your hair and invigorates your body.

towel-dry slightly before applying moisturizer to your body. moisturizing right after the shower helps seal in hydration.

as humans, we don't like to admit when our habits are up to par. you must master the basics! how are you supposed to grow if you lack a strong foundation?

i hope this post was helpful.

❤️ nene

(images are from pinterest)

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itsrorysstuff · 5 months

Note

omg i just thought of julien seeing her gf doing her makeup for a boygenius show and just being so enamored by her beauty and so julien asks for her gf to do her makeup (obviously light makeup so nothing dramatic) but julien’s just staring at her gf the whole time and just being so touchy and wanting to kiss her 24/7 but she’s literally getting her makeup done so her gf’s jokingly telling her to stop !!!! fluffy fics with julien have my heart

RPF

Julien x reader fluff

I woke up to the sound of my alarm going off, telling me it was time to get up and try to get julien ready for her show. I shook her shoulder gently and nuzzled her cheek “baby, time to get up” she just groaned in response. “Cmon honey, please. The cars gonna be here in two hours” I said, rubbing her back. “Two hours? I could sleep a little more. We have time.” She said sleepily “no honey, we don’t. You didn’t want to take a bath last night so your hair is still all tangled. Gotta let me get the knots out.”She whines and rolls over, opening her eyes. “Hi pretty” i said as she finally made eye contact with me, she put her hand on my cheek and pulled me in for a kiss “hi baby” she responded. We cuddled for a few more minutes before Julien decided to become agreeable and run a bath, taking off her clothes and asking me to join her before she gets in.

I enter the bathroom, taking off my clothes and settling in the bathtub behind her and wrapping my arms around her waist. I kissed her temple “you seem exhausted baby. You’re gonna be okay for the show tonight?” I asked and she nodded, “I’ll be okay. Thanks for the concern though” I smiled at that. I admire her so much, she gives her all to every single show and then she does it again and again. I hope I take good enough care of her after all of that. “Can you wet your hair for me please?” She does as I ask and dunks her head under the water then puts some shampoo in and washes it out. I take the conditioner and put some in my hands before running my fingers through her soaking locks, detangling as I go “baby pleeease stop” she whines and begs “I can’t j, it’s all knotty” “I’ll just put it up, please baby?” She tries to reason with me. “Nope. Cause I know you, you’re gonna take it out on stage.” I say, not budging. She rolls her eyes playfully, she knows I’m right. I carry on detangling her hair with my fingers and trying to be as gentle as possible “I’m sorry if that hurt too much, you can rinse now baby” she does, leaning forward to wash out her hair as I slip out from behind her.

I grab a towel and wrap it around myself, exiting the bathroom. I fully dry myself off and discard the towel, putting on my bra and underwear before my half naked girlfriend snakes her arms around my waist. “You left me” she pouts “I’m sorry baby, was just trying to get ready quickly” I replied, leaning into my lover’s affections. She groans and presses two kisses to my neck before turning to put clothes on and I do the same, putting on a mini skirt and a shirt that says “I ❤️ my boyfriends (all three of them)” and slipping on some docs. She turns around with her show clothes on, looking me up and down “you look so pretty baby” she said grabbing my hands. “Thank you my love, you don’t look so bad yourself” I kissed her cheek and went to the bathroom to finish getting ready and Julien followed suit.

She brushes through her hair before hopping up on the countertop and leaving against the mirror as she watches me put my hair into two braids, smiling softly. Her eyes followed everything I did, her eyes sparkling as I rubbed my primer on my skin “you alright j?” I asked and started to put on foundation. “I’m okay, I just love to watch you do this” I smiled at that before continuing my process, her eyes never left me once. She’d try to steal little kisses now and then, sometimes I’d let her, sometimes not. She tried to lean in and kiss me again as I did lip liner and I dodged her, she pouted and whined at me. “I’m sorry baby, give me just a few more minutes and I’ll give you as many kisses as you want” she perked up at that, than shyly asked me “maybe you could uhm, put just a little on me too? If you want” I smiled, she let me put makeup on her before but it’s very rare. “I’d love to baby” I finished my lips and put mascara on before turning to her. “What were you thinking love?” I asked and she shrugged “something light, I just really love the way it looks on you” she replied and I got a warm feeling inside at that. I put some concealer on her face, blending it in and trying not to get to close to her because I knew she’d try to distract me. I then put some light blush on her face with just a little highlighter “there you go baby” I said and she looked in the mirror. “I love it babe, thank you” she said “anytime”.

#julien baker fanfic #julien baker x reader #julien baker fluff

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strangersmunsons · 8 months

Text

the rocky horror eddie show

you help Eddie get ready for a special night.

Contains: Eddie x Reader, established relationship, midnight movies, flirty talk, you put makeup on Eddie and he loves every second of it. Reader is wearing makeup/costume like Magenta in the film, but otherwise there's no description of appearance, and no use of Y/N. Warnings: brief dry-humping & finger-sucking, but no actual smut (sorry!) Word Count: ~1.8k we're going to completely ignore the fact that there is an actual character named Eddie in RHPS, mostly because I'm too busy thinking about our Eddie wearing Tim Curry’s lingerie. anyway -- it's almost October, so happy spooky season babes! this is short & mostly unedited, but I hope you enjoy!

“Ed, hold still.”

“Sorry.”

The position you and Eddie are in is both familiar and unfamiliar.

He’s sitting in your vanity chair while you straddle his lap. Your legs are slotted neatly around his hips, the soft middle between your legs pressed against the – well, not quite so soft middle between his legs. He encircles you in his arms, his hands lacing together at the small of your back, to help keep you upright and close.

It’s a lovely, fleshy entwinement that Eddie’s come to know very well. It’s the sort of affection his mind will wander to often when he starts missing you, which is anytime you’re not right next to him.

He just likes to be close to you.

But what’s unusual about this occasion is the sensation of a soft makeup sponge, pinched between your thumb and index finger, dabbing gently at his face. Your tongue pokes out of the corner of your mouth in concentration as you press the foundation into his skin.

“Look up for me.”

Eddie lets his head fall back so all you can see is his throat.

“No, I mean with your eyes.”

“Oh.”

He faces you again and grins at your amused expression. You notch a finger under his chin and tilt his head up ever so slightly, while he gazes towards the ceiling. The sponge taps makeup lightly over the thin skin beneath his eyes.

“That feels so weird.”

“This foundation’s a little oily, I know,” you tell him apologetically. “The brand I usually use didn’t have a color that I thought looked right for this.”

“I feel like I’m wearing a mask,” he says gleefully. “Lemme see.”

You release him and put the sponge down, so he can get a good look at his reflection in the vanity mirror.

“Wow,” he says. “I’m glowing.”

You laugh. “You are radiant, my love.” In truth, the makeup is just very white, even for Eddie’s pale skin. That’s what you intended, but it is a bit garish with no other products applied.

Eddie doesn’t notice, or if he does, he doesn’t care. “I look so smooth!”

“Here, let me set it so it doesn’t smear.”

Eddie’s both fascinated and bewildered by the mess of cosmetics on your vanity. There are little pots of all shapes and sizes filled with powders and creams, in every color he can think of. Some of them glitter and shimmer in the light, and there are stubby pencils for lips and eyes and who knows what else, and brushes. Big and small and puffy and tapered, many already dusted with mysterious pigments. And he can’t help but keep glancing over at the half-opened zipper pouch that’s overflowing with lipsticks.

He’s elated when you pick up the fluffiest brush you own, and use it to pick up a translucent powder. You begin swiping it methodically over his face in sections. He hums in contentment.

“Good?” you ask, sensing his enjoyment.

“Mm-hmm. I like that.” His eyes are closed, a serene smile on his lips.

You prolong the process for him, adding more feather light touches to his cheeks and nose, even though they don’t need them.

After an extra minute of pampering, you set the brush down. “I think…” You squint and pout your lips, leaning your face close to his own, debating your next course of action. “I wanna push that in with a powder puff. Just so it really sticks.”

“Whatever you say, boss. You’re the professional.”

Eddie lets you play makeup artist, and enjoys every bizarre second of it. He likes the way your hands flutter about, and the soft instruments caressing his skin; the tender stroke of your fingers smudging and smoothing in the products; the way you turn him this way and that way, always gentle, never harsh. He finds himself in a trancelike state, perfectly happy to let you carry out your ministrations without protest.

“Okay,” you mumble to yourself. “We’re looking good so far, I think.”

Eddie’s now sporting a smooth white face, and deep contour beneath his cheekbones, which subtly blends into the warm blush you’ve put on him. The base looks quite nice, if you do say so yourself. The black eyeshadow is packed on all the way up to his brows, but it’s still slightly patchy.

You frown and pick up the brush again, going back in to add more.

“This is really smart, baby, with the paper.”

Eddie’s doing his part by holding a thin sheet of tissue beneath his eye to catch the fallout. The last thing you want is for the sooty powder to get everywhere and ruin your hard work.

“I’ve got lots of tricks up my sleeve, Munson. Tricks you wouldn’t even believe.”

“Is that so?” he says salaciously, the look in his eye wicked. He moves one hand to your back again, this time sneaking under your dress to rub small circles into the naked skin. You shiver at his touch.

“Yes. And if you be a good boy and let me finish, maybe I’ll show you one tonight.”

It’s his turn to tremble. “I feel like you already have, with that outfit.”

You smile coyly at him, but secretly you’re relieved. You had felt a little silly when you bought the maid outfit, but as soon as you modeled it for him, your insecurity vanished – he nearly pounced on you right then and there. Now, between the costume and the paint job you’ve done on your own face, he’s basically mush.

Your makeup is a softer reflection of Eddie’s, dark and feminine and a tad ghoulish. Falsies and loads of mascara clump your spidery lashes together, and your mouth is slick with layers upon layers of crimson lacquer. You love it and so does he.

He shifts you closer, so your core is pressed right over the bulge in his black satin panties. His lips ghost over yours. “My pretty baby,” he says, breath dancing over the sticky gloss.

You swallow thickly. “We’ll be late. Don’t start something you can’t finish,” you whisper back, although your heart screams for him to do just that.

He presses a sloppy wet kiss to your chin, but relents, settling back in the chair again.

It’s going to take a tremendous effort to stay focused on the task at hand. But you try to finish applying Eddie’s eye makeup anyway.

Giving up on the brush, you end up sticking your whole finger in the pot of black eyeshadow. “Close your eyes again, please.”

You darken the shadow with the pad of your finger, and the natural oils of your skin allow more pigment to stick to his lids. “There we go…”

A bit more color, and a little more blending, you think the eyeshadow is up to snuff. You pick up a black liner and wiggle it before him.

“Well, this next part should be easy for you!” Eddie’s rocked smudgy eyeliner for more than one Corroded Coffin show, and he nods in confirmation.

“Bring it.”

You do, and he handles it like a pro – no twitching or watery eyes for Eddie.

He is a little bit shocked when you drag the same liner over the tops of his eyebrows, though. And then even more so when you trace it lightly around the edges of his already-full lips.

“It’ll blend with the lipstick,” you answer in response to his questioning look.

You apply a coat of mascara to his lashes, internally noting with a tinge of envy that he doesn’t even really need it.

“Almost done!” you huff with excitement, extremely pleased with the work you’ve accomplished. “This is the best part.” You uncap a tube of lipstick, revealing a shiny bullet of red cream, in a shade even deeper and darker than the one you’re wearing. “Ready?”

He nods giddily.

You pucker your lips at him, and he mimics the action. You can’t resist the opportunity to reach out and give him a sweet little peck.

Then, with careful precision, you color in Eddie’s lips. You open your mouth in a wide “O,” nudging him to do the same. He follows your instructions obediently, silently copying each face you make while you apply the lipstick.

“Okay, now go like this.” You smush your lips closed and rub them together. Eddie giggles and does the same. His face splits into a wide smile when he’s done, revealing a red smear on his front teeth.

You stick your pointer finger out for him. “Now you blot.”

His brow wrinkles in confusion. “Excuse me?”

“Like this.” You demonstrate for him, popping a finger in your mouth. You keep your lips closed around it while you pull it back out, and show him your finger so he can examine the excess lipstick you’ve removed. “See?”

Understanding now, and sporting a devilish grin, he takes your hand in his, and guides the same finger towards his mouth. He sucks hard on the digit for a moment, swirling his tongue around it, big doe eyes locked onto yours. Then he slowly, slowly slides your finger out of his mouth, and releases it with a wet squelch, giving it an almost-kiss upon its exit. When he’s finally finished, a string of saliva connects the tip of your finger and his lips.

Your hips rock involuntarily, and the scratch of his fishnet-clad thighs against yours makes you moan. You both clutch at each other, and the room feels much warmer than it did a minute ago.

“You sure you don’t want me to start somethin’?” he asks smugly, all too pleased with the dizzy look on your face.

You almost cave.

“Eddie, we’re driving all the way to Indianapolis. We don’t have time.”

He pouts.

You pat his cheek in reassurance. “I’ll make it up to you later tonight, I promise.” You’re almost as disappointed as he is. You use your thumb to wipe the lipstick still smeared on his teeth.

With a sigh, you lean back from your seat on his lap in appraisal – an artist assessing their masterpiece.

“So? How do I look?”

“I think you look gorgeous.”

Close to midnight, when you the two of you arrive at the shabby movie theater on the outskirts of the city, beneath the lights of the marquee, Eddie causes quite a stir.

The black lingerie is striking against his pale skin, and the immodest corset puts all his tattoos out on display. The fishnet stockings are held up by a garter belt, and they wrap fetchingly around his strong, otherwise-bare legs. The makeup, thanks to your careful hand, is immaculate. He’s the stuff dreams are made of.

For you, the cherry on top is Eddie’s own natural dark curls, which complete the look, and make him a near-spitting image of Dr. Frank–N–Furter.

Watching him as he smokes a quick cigarette before heading inside, you think that it’s almost unfair, really, how beautiful he is.

Even if he is teetering away on those platform heels.

thank you for reading! 💕

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x gn!reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson imagine #eddie stranger things #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic

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