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s-4pphics · 6 months

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click! 2 (e.w.)

SYNOPSIS: you need a roommate, and you love eggplant. [college au]

WORD COUNT: 5.7k

WARNINGS: photographer/roommate!ellie, ocs an artist with a rep, all ocs r black coded, crack, alcohol, arguments, more slut-shaming, bullying, disordered eating, brief mentions of sexual harassment/assault, sex for like a second, failed orgasms, masturbation, slight exhibitionism

one. three. four.

A/N: heyyyyy…. how yall doin🤭🤭 a little something before i go back to work kms

“So, lemme get this straight,” Abby pinches a lollipop stick between her fingers like it’s a blunt, adjusting the invisible glasses on her face, “The psycho just barged in?”

“With all of her shit! Didn’t even bother to say good morning or anything!”

It’s been hours since the squash-loving hermit took refuge in your home, and you’re sizzling with rage as you recall the events from earlier. You clocked out zoomed to Abby’s building in no time.

“Damn… why didn’t you call security… or the landlord? She can’t just move in without signing the contract.”

You pace around Abby’s rug-covered space, “Bitch, I don’t fuck with feds and rent’s due in two days!” You holler, “And she did sign the contract! I haven’t signed it yet because I didn’t know she was gonna show up and act like that. You’re not disrespecting me in my own house.”

Her head shakes, “What’d I tell you? If it were me… we wouldn’t have any problems.”

You point a scolding finger at the smirking blonde girl, “Yes, we fucking would. Don’t start.”

But she presses anyway, “I think we’d be a match made in heaven, actually.” She rises from the couch and hovers over you, the tip of your index connecting with her strong, covered chest. Your glare persists, but there’s warmth pulling in your gut from her scent.

Your skin is flaming; This is why you’ll never be able to have a serious conversation — or anything, for that matter — with Abby. Her raunchy remedies aren’t going to work in this situation; You’re too stressed.

“But anyway,” Her brow arches and she backs off. Slightly. “You’re an adult and main tenant. You gotta handle it soon.” She ponders for a moment, “But to be fair, you texted her first.”

“How many times do I have to say that I was lit as fuck! I don’t even remember— “

Abby’s taunting expression makes you pause, nails digging into the skin of your palms.

“Don’t.”

Your hiss makes her snort, “I didn’t say anything.”

“You don’t have to. It’s not funny.”

Abby knows you and Dina’s history better than anyone. Knows exactly how you got caught up in “situationship” nonsense, all with liquor and a phone. You can’t fault Abby for recognizing the familiarity, but a burning sting rests in your chest. Embarrassment spreads all over your cheeks, and you announce your departure in a rush.

Her regret is evident in the way she calls out for you, but you’re out the door in seconds, slamming it as hard as the frame can hold.

The winter air hits your eyes first… You try to convince yourself, hastily wiping the wet trails off your face. You’re not fucking crying over Dina. Not again.

You snatch your phone from your pocket to ask Amaya for advice, but your heart swells when you see her messages.

You think back to all the times she’s coddled you through your emotions: she drops everything to tend to your needs, no matter how big or small. Guilt would put you in the ground if she ruins her opportunity for your convenience; You can’t tell her. She deserves to enjoy herself. You match your best friend’s excitement all the way back to your car.

Abby called twice during the drive back home, but you didn’t answer. You know she wasn’t being malicious, but you’re sensitive, especially when it comes to anything related to Dina.

You rip your apartment door open and find Ellie lounging on your fucking couch with Love Island playing from her laptop. And eating peanuts… with Chick-Fil-A ranch?

You slam her device shut, words sharp as nails, “I don’t know who you think you are, but I’m telling you right now, you’re not fucking staying here.” You’re shredding through skin with your glare, but she’s not reacting. Just sitting there and crunching, eyes void.

“Don’t even think about unpacking. You’re getting out tonight, I can promise you that.”

“No, I’m not.”

“What.”

She merely shrugs, “I’m not going anywhere.”

“What the fuck— “

More cracked shells, more munching; Your eyelid is jerking.

“Rent’s on the counter, by the way.”

You hold back a scoff before marching into the kitchen, eyeing the envelope labeled fake ass mortgage. You hear the contestants from the reality show resume their dialogue, but you’re locked on how thick the letter looks to bother scolding.

It’s torn open… and filled with hundred-dollar bills. Way more than half of rent. Ellie might’ve covered the heat bill for the rest of winter.

“I thought you were a fucking photographer.” The shock in your voice is clear as day, mindlessly returning to the living room.

“I am.” She calls dryly.

“No, you’re not.” You toss the money on the coffee table. “The fuck do you do on the side? Sell drugs to freshmen?”

“Sure.”

When your arms cross over your chest with an accusatory stare, she sighs. “I told you. I take pictures.”

“Of who? The fucking councilman?”

Another shrug. “Whoever asks. It’s how I make money…” A light pause. “At least until I secure this job.”

You squint at her, “I thought you got evicted. You’re clearly fit to pay rent on your own.”

That seems to shake her a little, staring back with hardened eyes, “And who the fuck are you to question me? The reason I’m here is because of you!”

“Exactly! This...” Arms waving around the living room. “…is my fucking space! You’re a straggler at best.”

A weighted huff escapes her before she tosses her snack on the table and stands, leaning over the table.

“You would’ve been in the same position as me if I didn’t show up. No where to fucking go,” She spits. “If you want me gone, fine. But when your landlord comes knocking on your fucking door asking why you’re two weeks late, don’t say shit to me.”

You waver slightly and she notices, smirk darker than her pupils. You’re steaming; Smoke is going to come out of your ears soon.

“The same goes for you. I don’t wanna hear your fucking voice, and don’t touch anything that I paid for,” You command, “Don’t even breathe in my space. Stay on your side and I’ll stay on mine.”

A condescending grin plasters onto her face.

“Where’d you hide that lease?”

Your heart is too weak for hatred… or so you thought.

Abby, Amaya… everyone you’ve fucking talked to about the bitch right across the hall thinks that she’s dangerous and sick and out for blood.

They’re all wrong. It’s you.

Ellie is conjuring up something villainous deep inside you; Her childish antics started off small: bumping against the wall in the middle of the night, leaving her dirty ass shoes out of place by the front door, not laying the rugs that she slipped on flat… Incredibly annoying, but fixable.

You took the time to construct a new roommate agreement that fit your unique situation the morning after your argument. It was sloppily scribbled on a crumpled piece of construction paper, but it was a symbol of peace. You taped it to her door before you left for your shift, only to return and see it ripped up and scattered in front of your door.

It’s been five days since then. Five, and you can already feel a bald spot forming at the back of your skull. To think that Ellie was your first option as a roommate just days ago is laughable now. You know that none of the tricks she’s pulling are accidental. You pride yourself in being observant, and you always catch that prideful look on her face when she nails one of your peeves.

You try to be here when Ellie’s not, but she’s always home when you are. Music blasting in the wee hours of the night knowing you have three upcoming shifts to cover, on the couch rewatching the same episode of Love Island over and over while you make your breakfast, pretending to talk on the phone to friends she doesn’t have as loudly as possible. You’re fucking tired and you’re holding your hand back from slapping her.

But the worst part is that she’s stocked your fridge with fucking squash. Top to bottom in all colors there is. Filled the drawers with one called cucurbita argyrosperma. You were torn between curling in hysterics and beating it over your new roommate's head; The petty side of your brain wishes that you were allergic so you could “accidentally” eat some, die, and get her locked up, but you hushed it. She’s fucking with you, but rent and some bills are paid for the month. What a sick turn of events.

You’re plotting, though. Something’s brewing, and Abby’s helping you. It’s finally Saturday, and college kids are fiending for a rager.

The only quality that you respect about Ellie is that she’s clean. She washes her dishes, does her laundry (separate from yours, thank God), and she’s deep-cleaned the bathroom twice already. Ellie despises large messes more than you, though, since you’re willing to sacrifice your tidy abode to piss her off. Let the ruckus in!

You heard her leave early this morning, and you’ve noticed that when she’s gone, she’s gone, which gives you all the time to plan. You skip to the bathroom like a kid in a candy store, showering, brushing your teeth, doing skincare. You whip up the hardiest breakfast you can before your mall venture with Abby; It’s been days since you’ve last nutted, and you need a new vibrator. And new paintbrushes.

“… Why haven’t you beat her ass again?”

It only took Abby buying food for you to forgive her. You slurp down your strawberry milkshake, “Fear of permanent imprisonment.”

“Does Maya know what’s been going on?” Abby asks, shaking her head.

“Fuck no, and she’s never going to. Have you seen her Snaps?” You whip out your phone and show her Amaya’s stories; She’s exploring and meeting new people. “She’s having a ball! The second I tell her what’s been going on, she’s gonna drop everything and come back. I’m not doing that to her.”

“You’re the only outlet I have, so suck it up and listen to me bitch and moan.” You continue, “Who’s coming tonight?”

She smiles, “As many as I could get.”

“Please tell me Armani’s coming.”

“She is, for sure.”

Your heart flutters. Armani… She’s everything you could ever want and need. She’s kind, smart, drop-dead gorgeous, and she bench presses with Abby on the weekends. She has your clit jumping like a salmon in the freshwater, and you’re going to see her tonight.

You jump awake at your alarm, eyes stinging as you glance at your phone. It’s a little past nine; Pregaming hours.

You throw your lazy body into the shower and conduct your special-occasions ritual, blasting your music as loud as the speaker would allow, scrubbing your body with exfoliant to your heart's content.

You exit, water cascading down your shoulders and back, towel engulfed around your body. You have no idea what to fucking wear; What color does Armani like? Do lesbians qualify for the red nail theory or is that something heteros made up for TikTok followers? What if she doesn’t like eucalyptus scented body wash?

You swallow your doubts with a shot glass.

Outfit prepping takes longer than expected, but you’re dressed, titties are out, and your thoughts are swirling like the liquor in your gut. You should call Amaya and tell her you love her—

Another shot, more dancing. You’re spinning around your small room to the bass of the beat, sloppily pulling every shot that you can, back arching and hips throwing in any direction they can.

The bass sounds louder the more you dance, every thud rattling the poster-covered walls of your room.

It’s not until the bass surpasses the song that you realize it’s not bass at all. It’s knocking… on your bedroom door. You snicker; Abby’s here with your girl.

You don’t know why she’s boxing with your door, though. Beating the shit out of it. When you yank it open, you’re instantly annoyed at who appears behind it.

A… gray sweat clad Ellie propped against the door frame, arms crossed over her chest and red hairs framing her face. You force your eyes upward, right in between hers. The dots on her face look like skittles. Since when does she have a fucking tattoo? Are you hallucinating or is it a fat ass leaf with eyeballs?

You barely registered what she said, “Can you turn that off? It’s almost eleven.”

“Why, absolutely-the-fuck-not.” You slur, and she cringes, nose wrinkling at the scent of liquor on you. “Where’s Abby?”

Ellie’s biceps are… out on the prowl. And the veins in her hands are still there. Just checking. Right between her eyes again.

“Who the hell is that?”

“My bitch.” You chuckle.

Ellie’s eyes widen and you correct yourself.

“N-Not bitch like whore. Bitch like… like, that’s my bitch! She’s great, love her. BFF… not over Amaya, though.”

Ellie’s getting annoyed; Her nose won’t stop twitching. “… Is she coming over?”

“She should be on her way.”

“Is she stupid?”

“What.”

“Is your… bitch stupid?”

“Um, no, she’s not fucking stupid. What the hell are you on.” You snap, offended for your friend.

“Tell her to stay the fuck home before she gets buried.”

… Did Ellie just threaten to kill one of your sneaky-links? Before she gets buried?

“And what the fuck are you gonna do? Just so you know, whatever you do, she’ll double it and send it back! And I’m jumping in, so— “

Your roommate’s gawking in disbelief. “… I meant buried by the snow, you fucking idiot. There’s a blizzard outside.”

You’re flatlining, you can feel it.

“There’s a what.”

“Check the damn news.” She pushes herself off the wall and turns towards her room, “And go to bed. Looks like you need it.”

Her door slams shut. She’s definitely poking fun at your eyebags. You thought you did a good job at concealing them.

A fucking blizzard? December just started. You check your phone, reading the influx of messages from your dad, Amaya, Abby telling you to stay safe and indoors and the party’s cancelled because of the storm and you want to fucking die—

You tear a slit in your blinds and… yup. Pure white is pelting from the dark gray clouds in the sky, the formerly black street painted ivory with ice. Not a car in sight, and if they are, they’re covered entirely.

The harsh reality hasn’t even set in yet. The girl you want to strangle is trapped inside with you; She’s not going anywhere, either. You’re going to be forced to see her everywhere in your two-bedroom apartment. And you’re not having sex tonight.

Plan PISS-ELLIE-OFF was a bust. You’re drunk and hungry—

Your eyes bulge; When was the last time you’ve gone grocery shopping?

You clumsily rush to the kitchen, nearly ripping your fridge door off the handle. When you're met with the pack of cream cheese and mini croissants you bought last week and all of Ellie’s fresh groceries (including squash), you almost start crying. You slept away all your pre-storm chore hours.

Ellie pads in the kitchen with an empty ice cream carton and spoon, headphones blasting in her ears. She doesn’t acknowledge you as she throws away the carton and grabs the unopened bag of salt and vinegar chips. Your mouth waters.

You watch as she rips the bag open, the salty, bitter aroma traveling into your nostrils.

“Ellie.” She can’t hear you over the fuckery penetrating her eardrums!

You tap her shoulder harder than necessary. “Don’t touch me.”

“WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME THERE WAS A STORM?”

Her veiny hand — fuck — pushes one of her ear cups over to the side, not even bothering to look at you as she fills her bowl to the brim with the crunchy snack; You never noticed how heavily pierced her left ear is.

“Who are you again?”

Alright. Your tongue gets loose, “You know, you don’t have to act like a fucking cunt all the time! I tried to be nice to you and—”

“Yeah, ‘cause shit talking me with your friends is so fucking nice.” She scoffs and turns, pointed glare set on you. Your stomach drops. How the fuck did she know that?

“Drop the fucking act already. You’re also a cunt…” Her eyes drag over your appearance. “Amongst other things, evidently.”

Ellie’s eyes hold so much disdain, and you instantly feel exposed and gross. Your face sears with embarrassment, arms mindlessly crossing over your chest in attempts to cover up.

“… What the fuck does that mean?” You know what she means.

“You think I’m a fucking freak and a loser and a bunch of other shit I’ve been called since forever?” She sneers, “Then you’re a fucking slut. How’s that for nice?”

Your body locks up, freezes, and you fight back vomit. Ellie grabs her bowl and exits the kitchen, door slamming shut, leaving you to simmer in her spite.

You don’t feel hungry anymore.

You didn’t drink enough last night. You’re awake, and you remember everything. And you’re so fucking hungry.

Guilt festers in your chest like rats, and anxiety is building in your fingers. Your head hurts so bad and your mouth is dry, but you refuse to move from under your blankets to get water. You didn’t even have the energy to take your make-up off last night, mascara and small sparkles smeared all over your pillowcase.

You wallow, using the heavy wind outside as stress relief. People really think you’re a whore with no self-respect, even after a year. Your heart’s hitting against your ribcage at an alarming pace. Deep breaths, that’s all you can do.

Tears jerk in your eyes as you recall every unwanted stare, every cat-call, every grope and dirty text message you’ve received from people you both know and don’t. You freeze and… that’s it. You just don’t move and hope they can read that you’re scared.

Does Ellie feel the same way when people talk poorly about her?

Your breathing techniques aren’t working so you sit up, shaking your hands and digging your palms into your wet eyes. You’re suddenly too hot for blankets.

Your clock reads near noon; You’ve been awake for hours. Your feet plant on the cool wood and sigh in relief before standing and snagging your new paint brushes off your dresser.

Your hands tremble as you fill a water cup and grab a black canvas, setting up your workspace on the floor. You squirt hues of blue, green and white on a dried paper plate and let your brush do the work; You’re not thinking, just painting, smudging, trapping yourself in emptiness. The scene you’re creating is drying your tears; You wish you could escape into the grass field, even for a second.

Your water cup is brown by the time you finish; How long have you been sitting here? The needles in your legs tell you long enough. Your vision will have to wait.

You unlock and quietly open the door… It doesn’t matter, though. Ellie’s awake and silently sitting on the couch. You pay her no mind and venture to the fridge for your croissants and cream cheese, throwing your pastries in the microwave.

Eyes are on you. You feel them in your back.

When the microwave dings, you spread cream cheese all over the buttery dough. Ellie’s hoarse voice freezes you. Not again.

“The blizzard… isn’t stopping.”

You finally inspect your roommate: leg bouncing and brows furrowed, nails between her teeth, eyes locked on the window that shows the heavy snowfall.

“Usually how they work.”

Your sarcasm doesn’t move her, “They said it would pass after a couple of hours yesterday! It hasn’t let up yet!”

“Never listen to weathermen. They make shit up as they go.” You keep your voice curt while you make your plate. It looks a hot mess; You wish you had blackberry jam.

“They can’t make shit up when there’s money on the fucking line!” You hear footsteps from behind you; Ellie’s pacing. “I have a client today. Their photos were supposed to go in my portfolio before I submit it!”

Her statement makes you pause. You didn’t think about that; It’s impossible to travel anywhere at the moment. How the fuck are you going to get to work? You can’t afford to miss shifts. It’s almost that time of the month.

“This was one of the biggest bookings I’ve gotten and I’m gonna miss it because of the fucking weather!”

You don’t know why she's talking to you, so you cut the conversation short. “You’ll figure it out.” You enter your room without another word, slamming the door as hard as noise complaints would allow.

After a few minutes, Ellie’s door slams, too.

Hours pass and you’re covered in paint. Your one flower field turned into three, one with detailed butterflies, one with raining rose petals, one with your mother’s name spelled out with clouds.

Your fingers are sore, but you feel lighter. Those croissants wore off a long time ago; You’re starving. What you’d give for grilled eggplant and shrimp with Greek yogurt and lemon juice—

A soft knock lands on your door, and you stiffen. You stand, legs popping and arms stretching over your head as you wobble to your door.

The second it opens, you're hit with the smell of garlic and herbs and your mouth waters. Ellie stands over you, playing with her fingers. You don’t register that you’re missing pants until she gawks at your bare legs; Warmth spreads across your body and you maneuver so she can’t see them behind the door.

A moment of awkward silence before she chokes, “There’s, uh… there’s soup on the stove.” You scoff, ignoring the growling in your stomach.

“I don’t like squash, Ellie.”

The door slams in her face and she sighs behind the wood.

…

Later that night, you sneak into the dark kitchen, the big pot of soup still on the stove. You open the lid and inspect its contents: shredded chicken, carrots, fucking… green leaves of some sort. You grab a spoon and taste it to be safe. It’s good, and there’s no squash in it. You eat two warm bowls.

The storm calms when you wake the next morning. Thank God; You haven’t had coffee in days.

Ellie’s gone for the day, so you blast music while in the shower. You dry and dress in silence, yanking your underwear and jeans up your legs, throwing on a pair of earmuffs over your earphones and a puffer.

You almost slip on the ice from the sidewalk on the way to you and Abby’s coffee shop before heading to class like normal. You go grocery shopping before your first shift.

Work drags on like normal, legs numb from standing and throat dry from sale attempts at checkout. Who the fuck wants to apply for a credit card for a coffee machine website?

It’s not until your shift is on its last limbs that your heart stops in your chest. The bell rings to the hardware store, and you instantly rush to the back to retrieve your other coworker. It’s Dina. What the fuck.

You burst into the break room, “Raja, Raja, I need a favor.”

She slurps her ramen, exclaiming what around her soggy noodles.

You search for any heads and whisper, “There’s someone I used to fuck outside! Can you take care of her, please, I can’t— “

“Okay, okay, damn. I got it— “

The service bell rings, “Go, go! Hurry up!” Your coworker swallows her noodles and plasters her smile on her face. You hide behind the cracked door and listen to everything.

“Hey, ladies! Sorry about the wait!”

“No problem!” Dina’s laugh sends a pain in your chest, “I just needed a new bike lock. Someone tried to steal mine, like, what the fuck.”

There’s an unfamiliar laugh that melds with Dina’s. “No problem! Would you like to sign up for a Coffee Brewers credit card with your purchase? They’ll repair all filter baskets and decanters for 45% off!”

You almost smile; Dina doesn’t drink coffee. Raja checks them out, and you peer out the small opening of the door. Dina and… whoever the fuck that is are snuggled up behind the service counter, her head resting on the random’s shoulder. They’re whispering and laughing and you’re disgusted. And sad.

They depart with a small bag and Raja almost smashes the door into your face.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“Mourning.”

“Damn… sorry, man.”

You shrug and thank your coworker before returning to your position. What could’ve been.

It’s late when you get home.

Ellie’s on the couch; You feel her watch as you unlace your boots and unravel your scarf. You set your bag on the floor and grab your Cheesecake Factory brown bread loaf for your grilled PB&J. Ellie clears her throat; You say nothing.

She coughs louder when you butter your bread.

“Are you sick or something?”

Ellie whips her head around, “No, why?”

“You’re coughing like you’re gonna die.”

Your roommate doesn’t reply, so you turn and toast your bread on the stove.

“How was the soup?”

Your eyes bulge, “Huh?”

“Did it taste… like, decent?”

You stare down at your sizzling toast, “I dunno what you mean.”

Voice flat as ever, she says, “The soup… you had some— “

“No, I didn’t— “

“Wha— I know what was in the pot when I ate. You had some—”

You face her, skin boiling, “Okay, and what about it? Yes, I ate some! I would’ve had three bowls instead of two if I wasn’t so fucking tired! It was good as fuck! I slept like a baby!”

She calls your name but you ignore her, “Sorry, I got my disgusting, slutty germs all over your stupid chicken noodle soup! Is that what you wanna hear! What, are whores not allowed food, either?! Why’d you offer it to me then?!”

Another rushed call of your name, but you press on, “Y’know, you’re actually weird as fuck! Who calls someone a filthy, bottom of the barrel gutter rat then offers them soup the next day! What kinda limbo fuckery are you playin’ at— “

BEEP, BEEP, BEEP… BEEP—

You gasp when the fire alarm sounds. When you turn, your toast is charred black and surrounded by dark smoke. You cut the heat off and push the pan over. Ellie’s running with a towelette, waving it around the beeping alarm.

You grab a washcloth and help her, and eventually it cuts off. Ellie rushes over to the front door and switches the ceiling fan on.

Your sandwich is fucking ruined. Great!

You don’t know why you’re sobbing, but it’s loud. You just want to go to fucking bed. Ellie’s just standing there with a towel in hand, fiddling with her earlobe. How embarrassing.

You push yourself off the counter and turn to go to your room, but Ellie calls for you.

“What?! What now, Ellie!”

She cringes, “I— You’re not a… slut?”

Your teary eyes squint at her. “Are you asking me— “

“No! No, I’m… Sorry? You’re not a slut.” This is the weirdest apology you’ve ever received in your entire goddamn life.

“Well, fuck me! Thanks!” You snark between sniffles. You yank your bedroom door open.

“You’re good at painting!” She shouts, and you stop.

For some reason, you sob harder, and she panics, “Uhh… I mean, like, for an amateur! Like, you’re decent enough!”

Now you’re… laughing? You need to sleep now. Ellie chuckles uncomfortably, and you snicker darkly to yourself, “Life is a fucking joke, oh my god.”

Your fingers dig deep into your wet eyes, and Ellie’s sock-covered feet pad closer.

“Look, I’m not… I don't know what to say.”

“Then don’t talk.”

“‘Kay.”

She stands there in silence and watches you wipe your face on your sweater sleeve, mascara smearing all over the fabric.

“Why didn’t you use squash in the soup?”

“Uh… you wouldn’t have eaten it if I did.”

You nod and stare at the wall. “So, what? That was a peace offering?”

Ellie contemplates what she should say.

“Not really… I mean, I was hungry, but I didn’t care if you ate… some of it, if that makes sense.”

It doesn’t. “Whatever, I’m going to bed.” Her lip curls like she wants to add something, but she doesn’t.

“… Alright.”

“Don’t worry about the pan. I’ll get it tomorrow.” And just like that, you shut the door on her again.

You don’t have the energy to shower, so you undress and tuck yourself in. Your room is warmer than usual.

Ellie’s been acting differently since then.

For the past three days, she’s been greeting you whenever you’re in her line of vision. She even mumbled hi before she took her seat in stats yesterday. It’s awkward and stiff, but there’s always a wave somewhere in her movements. You nod back at her every time.

You’re not sure where your relationship lies with your roommate, but it’s not as… bad? Seeing her doesn’t bother you as much as it did; You suppose it’s the same for her, too.

You’re exhausted; Finals are around the corner, and you’re busting your ass. You had to get another job for the holiday season since it’s you and your dad’s first Christmas together since you were little, and you want to get him something nice.

All you need is a good nut and you’re set for the next two weeks. You miss Abby. She’s been just as busy with nonsense as you have, but you found time to see her later tonight.

You’re stuck in the library trying to make the concept of categorical variables stick, but it’s not working. You’re in a block because you’re thinking about Abby. She should be here to pick you up soon.

You slam your book shut when your phone goes off, a message from… Ellie.

You set your phone down with a small smile. What a weirdo.

You force yourself to study for another hour. Heavy hands clamp down on your shoulders and you shriek, other students looking up in confusion, your hand clasping over your mouth.

Abby’s laughing behind you, warm breaths hitting your ear before she kisses your cheek.

“Hi.” She whispers.

“Hi yourself.”

“Pack that shit up.” Abby points at your books and messy stacks of paper. “Let’s roll.”

You don’t hesitate, shoving everything in your bag in anticipation of your nut. Your clit’s cheering; She’s finally happy.

You’re warm, well-fed, and Abby’s drilling the fuck out of you, but you can’t cum.

Your face is shoved into your friend’s pillow; She’s hitting exactly where you need her to, and it feels good. You’re tipping, but you haven’t tipped. You’ve been on the verge of orgasming for the past ten minutes and it’s driving you crazy.

Your voice is barely there, “Just cuuum, just cum, just cum—“ You’re begging… yourself into her pillow.

Abby sounds so sexy behind you; You’re shocked you’re not convulsing at the sound of her voice alone.

After some time, her hips slowed into a stop, tip nudged inside you.

“… You good?” She exhales.

You throw her two thumbs up. You’re not good at all.

Abby snorts and pulls out, gently patting your hip, “Sit up and talk to me.”

Your legs give out from underneath you and you lay flat. Abby hands you a washcloth and you wipe between your legs while she unstraps her dick.

“I think I’m broken.” You muffle into her slobbery pillowcase.

“You’re not broken, you’re just not feeling it. It’s fine.”

She’s too sweet. You want to cry, “I’m sor— “

“Don’t you dare. Finish your Wingstop.”

“Okay.” You grumble.

Abby drops you off after the movie finishes. The red string that connects her clit to yours snaps as you waddle back up to your apartment.

You enter your shared home and you’re instantly freezing; Ellie’s not here. She hates sleeping when it’s cold.

You and your pussy sigh in relief. Just five minutes by yourself; that’s all you need. Your shoes and backpack are thrown to the side in the nick of time, bursting through your bedroom door and rummaging through your drawer. Your cunt screams eureka when your vibrator turns on. You don’t remember charging the son of a bitch!

Your pants and panties are lunged across your bedroom and you leap into bed. Your toy’s buzzing in your hand, and your walls squeeze in anticipation. Foreplay be damned.

Your eyes shut the second the vibrations hit your clit, trying to imagine a sweaty Abby on top of you, fucking you deep, choking you out. Your orgasm is right there, walls desperately trying to milk the brisk air around you. You shove two free fingers inside, and your muscles latch onto them, pulling them in deeper. It’s right there, just a little more.

“Please, please, c’mon, fuck— “

Your pleas go ignored. Your imagination has never failed you, so why can’t you fucking cum?

Desperate sobs combine with your moans, brain filled with Abby, and Dina. Even Armani slips her way in there and you’ve seen her twice in person, but it’s useless. Your peak never comes.

You’re seconds away from shattering your window with your fucking vibrator. You and Ellie can’t afford to get that shit fixed—

Your clit jumps at the brief image of your roommate, pissed off and berating you about breaking a fucking window. You hate that you don’t fight it, the visions of her and her strong arms, her twitchy nose, her dot-covered face. It’s stirring something vicious in your tummy, and you can’t keep your mouth shut.

You see her on top of you instead of Abby, her short hair loosening from her bun and framing her blushing face. Pretty, moss-filled eyes stare back at you, annoyance and bother replaced with something darker. Needier; She wants you to take from her.

“Fuck, fuck, mmh— “

Your hips buck when your positions switch in your mind, a blushing, spent Ellie, reaching for you, pulling you close, begging to touch her.

You’re so loud when your orgasm splits your brain in two, your stress melting away in an instant, nasty, unspoken visuals of your pouty and weird housemate fluttering beneath your eyelids. You ride your high until you can’t, vibrator clattering to the floor, walls flexing around nothing.

You’re so tired that you don’t bother moving. You pull the covers over your trembling form and knock out, not even bothering to turn your shaking toy off as it rattles on the hardwood.

It’ll be dead by the time Ellie comes home. If she does.

…

Ellie lays on her side in her bed, knees pulled to her chest, her tattooed arm wrapped around her tummy and a hand covering her mouth. Her face is burning hot and her stomach is swirling. Whenever she blinks, she can see you, eyes rolled to the back of your head as you surrender to your release.

Her heart is racing and minutes away from crawling up her throat.

She completely forgets to put in that maintenance request for your broken heater; She’s warm enough under the covers for tonight.

A/N: hi again its finna pick up LEMME COOOOOK LEMME COOK

TAGGIES LOVE YALL MMMWAH : @starologist @hrtmal @ohlawdthebirds @villainousbear @timmy-27 @inf3ct3dd @aouiaa @shurisbigtoe @emothurman @lonelyfooryouonly @imelliesgf @baumbii @brackishkittie @littletinyladybugs @r1miese @horror-whoree @elsbunny222 @elliesatchel @makemescreamel @lav3nd3rhaze @elliezflower @ellieloml @ellies-princess @saverdelrey @womenofarcane @muthafuckingstargirl @mina-281 @yuckyfucky @aimformyheartt @elstoy @skylerwhitwyo @sawaagyapong @nil-eena @dewylittlestars @sakiigami @feelsoseencantdream @ellieslittlegf

#click! ☾⋆⁺₊📸✧#ellie williams smut #ellie williams au #ellie williams #ellie williams x you #ellie williams angst #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x black!reader #black!oc #black!reader #works 𖧧࣪#lesbian

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sheeple · 2 months

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Heirs of Hogwarts | part 2

Genre(s): Nuisance to Lovers / Fake dating / Fluff / No Voldy au Fandom(s): Harry Potter Pairing(s): Mattheo Riddle x Hufflepuff!Reader Summary: After finding out your (now ex)boyfriend cheated on you with the girl he told you not to worry about, you decide to get into a fake relationship with the kid of another founder of Hogwarts. What could go wrong? Warning(s): Mattheo being Mattheo / Matt beats up a bitch A/n: I COULDN'T WAIT TO FINISH WRITING CHAPTER 3 SO HERE IT ISSSSS. ALSOO... Kinda overwhelmed with all the positive feedback I've got on the first part. I hope this one is what you imagined it to be c: (not me having imposter syndrome) [Masterlist] [part 1] [part 3]

Mattheo wasn't raised with an abundance of love. He was never abused, no, but there wasn't much familiar love between him and his parents and his older brother. Something about ancient wizarding standards or whatever.

That's why when he entered his first year at Hogwarts, something ugly festered within the boy when he saw you. You, another descendant of a founding member of Hogwarts, born into a family so full of love that it made you shine brighter than the sun herself.

Mattheo was jealous of the way your brothers welcomed you into Hufflepuff house, a proud smile on their faces. The way they hugged you and Professor Sproud beamed with pride to have another descendant of Helga Hufflepuff under her care. All Mattheo got was a stiff nod from Thomas and a sneer to not bother him.

It was not until the first class the Slytherins had with the Hufflepuffs that he decided that from that day onwards he despises you. The way the yellow of your cloak makes your skin radiate. The way you tie your hair with ribbons. The way that over the years, you've grown more beautiful than Aphrodite herself.

He also hates that now in sixth year, he has to be your partner for Herbology. You, who despite your heritage, hate Herbology. It makes Mattheo hate you even more because now you are not the perfect Hufflepuff princess everybody imagines you to be. Now you are human.

"If you keep staring at her like that, she might combust in flames", muses Thomas while he doesn't look up from his book. It gets the attention of other boys around them and they all look at the person Mattheo's staring at.

"Really?", scoffs Draco, his eyes flickering over your back, "Princess Perfect over there?"

Something boils from within Mattheo as his friends' eyes trail over your body. He clenches his jaw as he abuses the shepherd's pie on his plate.

The staring doesn't go unnoticed as one of your friends points it out and you turn towards the Slytherin table. Your eyes meet those of Mattheo and you give him a small but awkward smile before turning back, your shoulders slumping under the eyes.

It's not often that Mattheo hates himself. But right now he could kick himself to put the attention on you. "Why would I care about some prissy Hufflepuff?", he grumbles.

Blaise gives him an unimpressed look. "Don't act like you haven't had the biggest crush on the girl since first year. It's getting pathetic, Mattheo. Just go ask her out."

The others around share looks and grins. It pisses Mattheo off. Especially now that his brother's attention is fully on him. Can't they mind their own damn business?

"You're forgetting one thing, idiots."

That is another thing he hates about you. The boy next to you whose sleazy arm is resting on your shoulders. Piece of shit quidditch player and an even worse human being with wandering eyes. Even now, with you sitting so prettily next to him, he dares to make goo-goo eyes with a Gryffindor girl.

Gods it makes Mattheo crazy how you can choose him over any other dickhead at this school. That sleazeball over him.

But when he found you that night alone and moping over your now ex-boyfriend, a small spark of hope lit up inside him. And he took that spark to satisfy his own desires.

And now here you are, sitting in front of each other at the Three Broom Sticks, butterbeer in hand. You nervously trace the rim of the glass while Mattheo observes you. He wants to say something, but you beat him to it.

"So... what are the boundaries of this agreement?"

Mattheo lets out a huff of air. "Whatever you're comfortable with, princess."

Great. That gives you absolutely nothing. "Are you okay with... handholding? Or something similar?"

"Sure. I don't mind. What are your thoughts on nicknames?"

"As long as it's not Pookie. What should I call you? Nicknames are mutual." You send him a teasing eyebrow raise.

Mattheo rolls his eyes playful. "I couldn't care less. Also, to make it believable we should be seen together in school, you know. Otherwise, people won't believe it's real."

To be honest you have no qualms with that. You kinda expected it.

As the negotiations come to a close, the two of you decide to walk around Hogsmeade and get to know each other a little better as you will be seeing a lot of him.

Mattheo practically tackles you as you want to pay, stating that if it was a real date, he wouldn't let his lady pay for anything.

The stroll through Hogsmeade is filled with small talk, asking each other questions about preferences and other small tidbits as you pass by shops. That's how you discover that he's pretty good at Transfiguration and that Madam Pomfrey always gives him candies when he lands in the infirmary again after a Quidditch game.

While Mattheo tells a story about him, Draco and Theodore wrestling for the last apple lollypop Madam Pomfrey had, you round a corner and spot Malcolm walking your way. His hand is in Gladys' but he doesn't pay any attention to her yapping.

"Shit", you curse, ducking behind the wall. Mattheo looks at you with an amused look on his face as you pull him away from the main street by his wrist. "It's him."

The dark-haired boy glances around the corner, his eyes focusing on the sad sack of screechsnaps. The audacity of the guy makes his blood boil. Mattheo turns back towards you. "Do you trust me?"

You hesitate for a moment, your eyes flickering over his face. "My mom always said you shouldn't trust pretty brown eyes", you muse, not knowing how to take his question.

"So you think my eyes are pretty?", he asks, leaning close to you.

His sudden closeness makes you stutter and stumble over your words, the heat rising towards your cheeks. "I- no... what-?"

Mattheo lets out a lach. A genuine one at your confusion. He holds out his hand, palm up, and looks at you expectantly. You lay your hand in his own slowly. At that moment, the two of you realise how big his hand is compared to yours. How — when he laces your fingers together — his hand engulfs your own.

Mattheo pulls you closer, slinging his arm over your shoulder while still holding onto your hand. He pulls the two of you out of the alley and whispers to you that you should laugh like he said something funny.

You can do that. You faked all the time while being with Malcolm, how hard is a laugh? A laugh bubbles from you and you look up at Mattheo.

While you walk, Mattheo angles the two of you so that when you pass your ex, their shoulders bump against each other. The four of you stop and you make eye contact with him.

"(Y/n)", he says surprised, his eyes going from you to Mattheo — who still has his arm wrapped around you.

"Malcolm", you reply icy, clutching on tightly to Mattheo's hand before glancing towards the girl next to him. "Gladys. How... nice to see you."

Gladys gives you a sickly sweet smile that doesn't reach her eyes. "We didn't expect to meet you here. Especially not with... someone." She looks at Mattheo, who pulls you closer towards him.

"Yeah, we quite hit it off during Herbology so we thought why not try it, you know, now she's finally single. Thanks for that, mate." Mattheo cocks his head to the side, silently daring Malcolm.

But Malcolm's wide eyes are laser-focused on you. "Herbology?", he asks, his voice wavering.

"Oh yeah", you nod with a smile, "that Fluxweed report really brought us together, you know. You were right, Malcolm, I just needed to find something I would enjoy about the subject." You bite your tongue to not burst out laughing as you throw his earlier statement back into this face.

Malcolm's face sours and he tugs Gladys' hand before walking away without saying anything. When they're out of earshot, the two of you can't help but laugh.

"Merlin", you chuckle, "he really is pathetic, isn't he?"

Mattheo pulls you towards the opposite direction, his arm still around your shoulders. And weirdly... you don't mind it. He's nice and warm- ew that makes you sound weird. But as the day progresses and the shadows elongate, a shiver rolls down your spine.

Mattheo stops in his steps as the two of you walk back towards the castle. He shrugs off his jacket and holds it open for you to put your hands through the sleeves.

You protest. "I can't take your jacket, don't be silly." Walking past him, he stops you with a hand around your wrist.

"You're not taking it, I'm offering. So don't protest and take the damn jacket." He raises his brows in a silent way to tell you to not challenge him because he will strangle his jacket onto you if he has to.

With your cheeks feeling hot, you reluctantly slide your arms through the sleeves. As you play with the hem of the dark green jacket — which by the way smells like pine and smoke — you turn towards him. "Aren't you cold?", you question as he's only in a black shirt now.

Mattheo shakes his head, running a hand through his curls. "I run hot. Kinda brought the jacket in the hopes to give it to you."

You give him a teasing smile at his confession. "Do you now?"

"I wasn't raised with a lot of good, but at least my aunt instilled some decency into me." He reaches out and grabs his pack of smokes out of a pocket. He lights one and offers it to you. You shake your head and he shrugs.

The rest of the walk back towards the castle is spent in comfortable silence. You totally expect him to wave you goodbye when you enter through the thick wooden doors of the entrance hall, but he keeps on walking with you until you reach your common room.

He has his hands in his pockets as he watches you anxiously scratch at your fingers.

"I've had a lot of fun. Even if it was supposed to be fake. Thank you, Mattheo-"

"Matt."

You blink in confusion at his sudden word vomit. Mattheo himself seems embarrassed. "The whole nickname thing we talked about? You may call me Matt. If you like..."

A wide smile grows on your face. Standing up to your tippy toes, you lay a hand on his shoulder and press a feather-light kiss against his cheek. "Thank you, Matt. Have a nice evening."

Feeling like the butterflies in your stomach may burst out of their confinement, you quickly hurry through the barrel but remember that you're still wearing his jacket. When you turn around, you are met with an empty corridor.

Not knowing that the moment you turned around Mattheo Riddle — Heir of Slytherin and all around Hogwartsbad boy — practically sprinted towards the dungeons with his cheeks flaming hot.

It has been a couple of days since your 'date'. Because you've practically announced to the entirety of Hogwarts that the two of you are dating, you spend a lot more time together. At first, it was spent studying together. But slowly you two started to talk to each other more and more. About life and family and expectations.

Turns out the two of you aren't that different.

Hannah and Susan give you smug smiles every time Mattheo walks over towards you or when the two of you are seen together.

A paper crane lands on top of your open book and you look up from your notes. Mattheo — who's seated on the other side of the classroom — nods towards it and motions for you to unfold it.

You pout and shake your head, mouthing 'too adorable' towards him. He rolls his eyes playfully with a smile and flicks his wand, making the crane unfold on itself. Sending a disapproving look, you read the note.

You look over towards him and he does his best puppy eyes. Curse Mattheo Riddle and his beautiful brown eyes. Pursing your lips, you pretend to think about it, being quite dramatic about it. You look up at the ceiling with your brows knitted together while tapping your chin with your finger. But eventually, you drop the act and give him an enthusiastic nod.

Hannah, who has been following the interaction like a tennis match, snorts and almost draws the attention of the teacher towards you both. You hit her shoulder and quickly turn back towards your notes, ignoring the teasing grin on Mattheo's face.

"Shut up", you whisper towards her.

She leans closer to you. "Since when are you and Riddle close enough to hang out?"

Narrowing your eyes at her. "We're supposedly dating, remember?"

You almost don't want to admit it, but the classes can't pass by any quicker. You hardly pay attention in divination and muggle studies, way too excited for your date- wait... is it a date? No. It's just a hangout. Nothing more.

"Have fun with your date", teases Hannah once the final class of the morning is finished and you flip her off as you walk the opposite way.

As you round the corner, you bump against something and stumble slightly back. "Oh sorry", you mumble, finding your footing before looking up. "Oh...", escapes your mouth as you see it's Malcolm.

You move to pass by him but he grabs your shoulders. "I want to talk to you. I miss you..."

Pushing his hands away, you let out a scoff. He's sinking to a lower level than you thought possible. "Miss me? Miss me? What am I? Your mother?" You go to walk again but this time Malcolm's hold becomes stronger. He manoeuvres you towards an empty hallway. He presses you against the wall and you let out an 'oomph'.

"Is he forcing you to act like this? Did he put a curse on you? Are you imperio'd?" He reaches out to touch your cheeks, to check your eyes.

You harshly pull your face out of his hold. "Are you out of your mind?! Let me go!", you protest, trying to wiggle yourself out of his hold. "Mattheo did nothing to me."

He shakes his head, his fists tightening around your robes. "You're such a- a- slut! Opening your legs for any guy who gives you attention."

What the actual fuck! How dare he suggest such a thing?! You reel your head back and spit in his face. It hits him in his eyes and he flinches, stumbling a couple of steps back and wiping at his eyes.

"You bitch!", he wails. Raising his fist, he advances towards you and your hand reaches for your wand. But something comes flying from the side and knocks him off his feet.

Mattheo stands above him, pinning him to the floor and punching him in the face. You're glued to the spot and you can't help but watch how Mattheo beats the living daylights out of him.

Blood runs down his nose and his knuckles are cracked, but Mattheo enjoys beating your ex down to a whimpering mess. He can finally channel his pent-up frustration into something productive. And he won't deny that he didn't want to knock the teeth out of the prick's mouth.

Afraid that someone will spot the fight, you try to pry off Mattheo. You pull against his shoulder and make him lose the rhythm he was beating his fists down with. "Matt! Leave him! He's not worth getting in trouble for!"

Mattheo suddenly realises that you're here also and he gets off the snivelling boy on the ground, flexing and relaxing his hands. You grab one of them and pull him away from the crime scene. He needs to get fixed up, but where? One of the bathrooms is the possibility to be seen big. And you don't want unnecessary people asking questions. And you don't have any supplies in the bathroom.

You could manage to sneak him into your dorm. Most of your housemates are at lunch, so the common room should be empty.

Mattheo calls out your name, trying to make you stop but you shush him and keep on pulling him towards the barreled entrance. Once outside, you let go of his hand. "I'll check if the coast is clear and then I can fix you up."

Without waiting for an answer, you knock on the right barrel and the doors slide open. Glancing around the common room, you see nobody. Which is a surprising sight. Because the common room is so close to the kitchens, a lot of students opt to eat in their dorms. It's mostly the bullied students or the ones who don't want to deal with the Great Hall.

Waving him over, you pull Mattheo through the entrance and practically shove him up the stairs and into your dorm. He finally gets why you're bringing him to your dorm when you push him to sit on the closed lid of the toilet and fetch out a first-aid kit from under the sink.

"Do you bring a lot of boys towards your dorm?", asks Mattheo to break the silence as you search through the kit. He feels awkward sitting in your bathroom.

This isn't the first time that he is in another House's common room. He has sneaked into Gryfindor's loats and the parties at Ravenclaw are something you have to experience. But there was always something untouchable about the Hufflepuff area. It is a bragging right to have found out about the code to the entrance but an even bigger deal to be invited in.

And what he has seen so far makes him jealous. The Slytherin common room is always coated in a shade of greenish blue, thanks to the large windows looking into the lake. There is barely any warmth because of the ancient tiles of the dungeons. But here, everything is so warm, so welcome. Even with the only windows at the top, the common room is bright and comforting.

"Oh yeah, loads", you tease, "Especially non 'Puff ones." You give him a half-smile while pinching a cotton swap between your fingers. "Now… be still and this might sting." You dab against the cuts and wounds across his face, cleaning up the blood and disinfecting everything.

Mattheo isn't sure what to do with his hand. He's not sure if he can touch you, or pull you closer towards him while he wants to. He doesn't want to scare you away.

"Tell me a secret", you say softly, surprising yourself and him. When Mattheo gives you a raised eyebrow, you roll your eyes. "We're supposed to be dating, aren't we? Especially after you beat the shit out of my ex it's pretty solid for the students around us. And people who are dating know each other's secrets. So... tell me a secret."

There is an unreadable look on his face and you stop your ministrations, eyes locking with each other. "Did you know some of that piece of shit's secrets?", he muses with a small teasing smile on his face.

You huff. "Some..." Continuing, your movements are a little harsher than before. Because now that you think about it, you knew the bare minimum about Malcolm. It's also not like he let you get to know him. He didn't even come with you to Christmas at your home. And your family does a bomb-ass Christmas party each year. "I'll tell one if you tell one."

Mattheo seems to think for a moment, his focus on a spot over your shoulder as he filters through all his secrets and memories. "My family are Parselmouths."

Your mouth falls open and your hand stops in the air. "Like... like speaking to snakes? As in you hiss against snakes and they hiss back?" You eye him with amazement while his cheeks colour a bright red.

"I- it's not like that!" He tries to laugh away your question. "Parseltongue is more... yeah it's kinda like hissing", he admits, hanging his head a bit.

You wipe away the last of the blood and start to clean up. "Do snakes have accents? Or is it more of a universal language? And can everybody in your family do it?"

It's refreshing to Mattheo to find someone who isn't freaked out by his ability. He also finds your questions amusing. They are different. Fun. "I never noticed the accent thing. But I've only met one snake in real life, so I wouldn't know..."

"Can you say something?" You try your best to give him puppy eyes to convince him. But you've heard that you never were the best at it.

A laugh bubbles from within his chest. He looks at you through his lashes and clears his throat. His Adam's apple bops up and down as he swallows and his lips part. Out comes the strangest sound you ever heard. It's indeed a hissing sound, but at the same time his words — if you can call the noise he makes words — have a strange melody to them. It makes the hairs on your arms stand up straight.

"Wow", you whisper once he's done, "And what does it mean?"

"Well", laughs Mattheo, "That's a know for me and for you to figure out."

You chuckle, grabbing your wand to close the wounds, but he stops it. "Leave them be", he says, "It's proof of me beating his pathetic ass." He traces circles with his thumb atop your hand. "Now… what's your secret?"

You toss your head back with a silent laugh. "Fair. Fair. My family — for as long as we have known — are born Animagi. Every single child has been able to transform into a badger."

He raises his brows. "A badger? How fitting", he teases.

Rolling your eyes at his quip, you lean back against the sink with your hand still in his. You don't mind it, you even slightly enjoy it. The way the rough pad of his finger feels against your skin. "The whole Hufflepuff area kinda looks like a burrow. I get where Meemaw got the idea."

Mattheo lets out a sudden laugh. "Meemaw?" There is no ill content behind his laugh. It brings a smile of your own to your face.

"Helga Hufflepuff. She has a painting above the fireplace that's connected with one at home. Also above the fireplace", you laugh. But it slowly melts off your face as your words dawn upon you.

Mattheo slowly starts to become concerned at the look on your face. Your heart races in your chest. How could you be so stupid? How could you have forgotten about Meemaw?

"The painting is connected with home! Oh fuck! She will snitch on me! And now Mom and Dad will think we're...-!"

"Think we're what? Sleeping together? Is that such a horrible idea?" Mattheo straightens his back and his eyes darken.

You shake your head, running a hand over your face. "That's not what I meant. I wouldn't mind it, but I don't want my parents to know that! Ew", you frown and a shudder runs through your body.

The boy before you stands up and closes the space between the two of you. "You wouldn't mind?", he muses with a teasing grin on his face. He turns your head with his knuckles so you're looking at him and traces your bottom lip slowly.

Your lips part as you look up at him through your lashes. Your breath quickens and you feel his chest pressed against you with each rise of your chest. His scent fills your senses and consumes you. It's overwhelming. It makes your stomach do flips.

You wonder if he feels the same.

Just as you slowly angle your face towards him and close your eyes, a knock on the door makes you jump. Mattheo stumbles back, almost crashing against the toilet and landing in the bathtub.

"One- one moment!", you call out, quickly cleaning up the first-aid kit. Mattheo scrambles to straighten himself up before helping you.

The two of you share a look before you open the door. Mattheo slips out and rushes out of your dorm and out of the common room.

"No way?!", gasps Susan, her mouth agape.

"Was that-?", asks Hannah with wide eyes.

Sending the two girls a look. "Not one word!"

The next morning at breakfast your panic turns out not misplaced as your family's house owl comes flying towards you with a sealed letter for you.

Taglist (bold means I couldn't tag you): @mylosz0 @kermits-bitch @jolly4holly @daisiesformylove @frogtape @dancing-inasnowglobe @slytheos @undercover-smutlover @reverse-soe @nikkissecretlibrary @moon-struck-meraki @bengbengbengi @justhavingsomefun1 @itsamusical4lifee @genshingeeksworld @y0urm0m12

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sunkeji · 2 months

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Floyd headcanons

When he's bored, his first victim to find is you. It doesn't matter who you're with; he's bored, so he wants to play with Shrimpy. He's going to roam around the whole school like a vengeful entity until he finds you.

If he finds your clique talking on the field after PE, he's coming over to kidnap you. Floyd's got you by the legs as he's shaking your body left and right while laughing like a maniac; you have one hand holding onto Ace's forearm as tight as you can and the other grabbing onto Deuce's pants. Floyd's happily watching Ace hold as tight as he can onto the tree trunk while hoping he won't get dragged along with you.

Ace would be like that tik-tok audio that goes, "Damn it, bitch, I said let go!" While trying to shake your grip on him,

Deuce is at Ace's side, hands digging through the dirt, hoping to find some sort of anything to anchor him down, while Grim is cowering behind Deuce and staring at Floyd with big eyes.

After a few weeks or months, depending on your personality, you and Floyd inevitably grow closer, and the concept of personal space gets thrown into the dumpster and lit on fire.

Bro will get up and personal with you. At first, it starts casual-ish—an arm over your shoulder or around your hip. Sooner or later, things escalate to the point where he wants to lie down on your lap or get handsy with you.

You are currently revising a chapter you're having trouble with for a class. Floyd is leaning back against the backrest beside you. His gaze shifts towards you, and he ponders a bit before leaning forward and resting his chin on your shoulder.

Your eyes glance at him for a second before focusing back on your textbook. He raises his brow at you, but then his eyes fall to your neck. Out of sheer curiosity, or god knows what, his tongue darts out and licks a small stripe at the side of your neck.

Your eyes widen in shock, and your hand goes to cover the area he just licked. You turn your head slowly towards him and glare at him. All he does is give you a cheeky grin and say, "Yes, shrimpy?" With a big smile on his face.

Tagging: @strxxberries

#floyd x yuu #floyd leech x reader #floyd x reader #Floyd leech x yuu #octavinelle x reader #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst floyd #twst fluff #floyd x mc #floyd leech #floyd #floyd x yuu fluff #Floyd x mc fluff

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eagerbby · 2 years

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only you | e.m.

pairing| Eddie Munson x female reader

synopsis| You and Eddie were never meant to be just friends.

an| written in a world where Eddie was never accused, never died, and more importantly, finally graduated. not very canon, billy’s still alive and briefly mentioned. this was a quick break from a fix-it fic I’m currently writing and very much inspired by the song touch tank by quinnie. it’s eddies song and i’ll die on this hill.

warnings| oral (female receiving), PnV (protected), Eddie running his mouth, thats a warning in itself, 18+ only

[June 9, 1986]

The pitiless Indiana sun hung high in the cerulean sky, its uv-rays biting at your bare skin. The cool pool water lapping over your legs every time Eddie moved was the only relief at the moment.

“Have you ever been in the ocean?” He asked lazily, his long fingers flicking water across your bare thighs. The two of you lay opposite each other in the barely six foot wide and three foot deep blow up pool set up next to his front porch. Your feet floated next to his shoulders, grazing the freckled pale skin there every time he shifted or turned. Meanwhile, tall and gangly Eddie had his head propped up on the blue polyvinyl rim, his own feet hung over the side next to your head. He had bitched and moaned once the two of you had finally finished setting it up, “I don’t even fit all the way.” He’d complained. “Why’d you buy a damn kiddie pool?”

You had laughed at him, his pale body laying stick straight in the cool water in only a pair of plaid blue boxers. You had begged him to let you buy him a pair of swim shorts but he had refused.

“It’s just you and me, it’s not like you haven’t seen my boxers all over my bedroom floor.”

“Yeah, but what if you go to the public pool? You’ll need them then.”

“Ha. Not likely you’ll ever see Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson at the public pool. The parent’s would probably gather pitchforks and torches and hang me at the gallows.”

“Don’t be so dramatic, Eds.”

“M’not. And anyway, I don’t like swimming, I’m only doing this for you.”

“My parents used to take my little brother and I to the Outer Banks when we were younger. We’d go every summer, swim in the ocean or walk the dunes to the lighthouse.” You opened your eyes to look at him only to find he’s already watching you speak, his deep brown eyes hidden behind the lens of his aviator sunglasses. His hair is almost dry now except for the ringlets that float atop his shoulders in the water. “You should probably take those sunglasses off before you get too much sun on your face. Gonna get a weird ass tan line from them.”

He does as you tell him, taking them off and tossing them onto the porch. “I’ve never been.” He said. “The ocean scares the fuck outta me. All that never ending water. Do you ever think about how many bodies are in the ocean? Lost to the dark depths of the sea.”

You sat up at his words, a perplexed look on your face as you stared at him. “Well that’s fucking morbid. Jesus Christ, Eddie.”

He only shrugged in his usual unbothered way, his knuckles grazing the skin of your thigh beneath the rippling water.

“You’ve never thought about it before?” He asked.

“Not really, no. I guess I blocked the thought from my mind. I love swimming in the ocean.”

“You love swimming with dead bodies. Got it.”

You splashed him at this, laughing as the small tidal wave blasted him. The shock of the cold water hitting his warm skin caused him to shoot up, water dripping down his face as he wrestled you backwards into the water. You squealed when he grabbed your shoulders, his hand holding the back of your neck as he dunked you. The gurgle of the water echoed your laugh and as he pulled you back up you spit a fountain of water right into his face.

“Who would have ever imagined that you, The Princess of Hawkins high and valediction, was such a freak.”

“I graduated two years ago, Eddie! Now I’m just the queen of folding panties at Starcourt mall, and failing my English lit course.”

You watched Eddie’s expression shift at the word panties, your best friend's eyes now slightly wider, his grip on the back of your neck a little harder. He was so close to you, sitting on his knees in the small pool, completely leaned over your body. You didn’t see him shirtless often and you had never seen him shirtless and so close. If you reached up you could trace the dark ink of his tattoo that sat just beneath his collarbone. Scratch your fingers against the small splattering of hair on his sternum. That strange feeling stirred in your stomach, the same one you’d been getting for a couple months now. You didn’t understand it and what made it worse was that Eddie, your best friend, was the sole cause of it.

You felt it for the first time after Eddie had fallen asleep during your weekly movie night. His head was laying on the pillow in your lap, you hadn’t even noticed he’d fallen asleep until you heard him softly snore. He’d had a bad day at school, Jason Carver and his cronies spray painting ‘Freak’ in bright red letters across the windshield of his van. When you got to his trailer later that day you found him sitting on the hood of the van with a razor blade, slowly scraping the still wet paint from the glass. You had tried helping him but he only waved you off, telling you it was fine. But his eyes were red rimmed and glassy like he’d been crying. You wanted to kill those stupid jocks, which you voiced with indignation. But Eddie had only shook his head. He wasn’t a fighter despite what the whole town thought. He just didn’t have it in him.

“Lets go.” You said softly, your hand holding onto his forearm as you looked up at him.

“What?”

“To the ocean. Let’s go to the ocean, Eddie.” It was only a whisper as it passed your lips, your eyes searching his face. His furrowed eyebrows made him appear confused, but there was something else swimming in the chocolate brown of his iris’.

“What are you talking about, Crazy?” He lazily dragged you to sit up as he shifted from his knees to stretch his long legs out in front of himself. You waited for him to get comfortable before bouncing up onto your own knees, your fingers excitedly grabbing the wet fabric of his boxers on his leg. You don’t notice his cheeks flush as his eyes quickly flashed down to your hands and back up to your eyes.

“You, Eddie Munson, are a high school graduate now. You have a whole summer before you have to start thinking about what's next! And I have some vacation time and a shoebox full of savings from the past two years.” You rambled, your smile so wide it hurts your cheeks. “We could take your van, o-or my car, and we could drive to the Outer Banks. Rent a motel and just have fun.”

“Y-you want to waste two years worth of savings to go to the beach?”

“It wouldn’t be a waste, Eddie! It’d be… well it’d be like an adventure.”

He was silent, looking away from you, his eyes scanning the quiet trailer park. Your shoulders dropped a little when you realized he didn’t share the same excitement as you. He had an entire summer to do whatever he wanted, why would he want to spend it with you driving to somewhere he’s never been.

He doesn’t even like the ocean, you idiot.

“Forget it. It’s stupid.” He jumped a little as you suddenly stood up, rivets of water rushing down the expanse of your body. You’ve stepped one foot out of the pool before he’s grabbing your wrist softly.

“Hey, where are you going?” He asked gently, his eyes wide like he’d just gotten into trouble.

“Inside to change. I think I got too much sun.” You shook your arm until his hand slipped from your wrist, falling back into the water with a splash. You snatched your towel from the rickety lawn chair and escaped into his trailer, ignoring him calling your name. You grabbed your bookbag from the couch and all but ran to the bathroom, locking the door behind you with shaking hands.

You felt so fucking stupid. You already spent eighty percent of your time with him, practically attached at the hip as his freshman friend Dustin had pointed out, how could you think he’d want to spend even more time with you. Especially somewhere far from home. For fucks sake, he hadn’t even looked at you as you went on and on about it. He was too nice to tell you it was a stupid idea. The way he stared off, probably thinking of how to let you down gently, was all the answer you needed.

In hindsight, it probably wasn’t that good of an idea. You weren’t known for your extraordinary planning skills and both of your vehicles were pieces of shit. In fact the likelihood of making it across the Indiana border just to break down in some podunk town was terribly high. The thought of spending the rest of your money getting the car fixed just to turn around and go right back home, broke and without ever seeing the damn beach, made you a little nauseous. Because that would be your luck.

A knock at the bathroom door made you jump. "Hey, you okay in there?" Eddie, voice peppered with concern. You tossed your bathing suit in the sink and turned the shower on.

"I gotta wash my hair, be out in a minute." You yelled back at the door before stepping into the shower stall, the hot water easing the tension from your muscles.

You didn't want him to think you were upset so you hurried through your shower, using his old spice to wash your body and his shampoo and conditioner that smelled of citrus in your hair. It was a distinct smell, one that was all him, and it made your stomach whirl once again. Your crush on him was starting to become a nuisance.

Once you were clean and dried off, dressed in his Iron Maiden shirt you stole from his drawer a couple weeks ago and a pair of black jean shorts that were frayed at the ends, you slowly cracked the door open, peering out towards the living room slash kitchen in search for a puff of raven curls.

He wasn’t there, so instead you followed the sound of Ozzy Osborne down the hall and into Eddie’s messy bedroom.

He was in his bed, back propped up against the headboard and rolling a joint with idle fingers. He was still shirtless but with a pair of gray sweatpants hung low on his hips, the band of his now white boxers resting against his dark happy trail. A wildfire blazed in your stomach at the sight and you couldn’t help but clamp your thighs together.

Does he not realize how unbearably hot he is?

He didn’t, actually, which was why seeing him like this all laid out with his chest bare and that smattering of hair that led down his abdomen and under his pants made your mouth so dry your tongue felt like it weighed 110 pounds and your hands so clammy you had to wipe them against your shorts. You cleared your throat in an attempt to subdue your racing thoughts and took a seat on the edge of his bed, body turned towards him watching him roll with ease.

He looked up with a smile when he felt your weight dip into the mattress. “Are you feeling any bette-'' He paused, glaring at the long haired zombie on your shirt. His shirt. “Is that my fucking shirt?”

You glanced down and back up, imitating the causal shrug he always gave you.

“Maybe.” You deadpanned. Eddie spluttered.

“Maybe? Who else do you know listens to Iron fucking Maiden?”

“I know people.”

“You know people?”

“A couple.”

Eddie’s eyes suddenly narrowed, a quiet disapproval in those deep brown eyes of his.

“Billy Hargrove?” He asked with a grating timbre in his voice you’d never heard before. He’d tossed the joint down into the ashtray and got off the bed, standing in front of you with his arms crossed over his chest.

“B- What?” You’re so exasperated you can’t even form a sentence. “Billy Hargrove? What?”

“It’s him right? I know you used to hangout with him. He’s totally not an Iron Maiden fan, by the way. He definitely listens to Foreigner and cries in his piece of shit Camaro.”

“Hey! Don’t talk bad about Foreigner, I love them.” You stood up from the bed with your hands on your hips. “He’s a Guns N’ Roses guy anyways; completely idolizes Axel Rose.”

“Oh. Okay. So Billy Hargrove likes Guns N’ Roses and groupies for Axel Rose. Amazing.”

“I don’t hang out with Billy Hargrove, Eddie. Not like that, anyways.”

His nostrils flared and he nodded. “But you do hang out.”

“Maybe once or twice, I guess?” Your voice forms a question. You didn’t consider having a couple of the same friends and being at parties the other is at as ‘hanging out’. “What- What is this, Eddie? Why are you freaking out over Billy?”

“I’m not.” He said, blinking a couple times like he was trying to snap out of something. He leaned over your shoulder and grabbed the joint out the ashtray, lit it, and walked over to his cluttered table to search through a milk crate full of records. “Just figured the people you were talking about was him, s’all.”

“Eddie,” You said, coming up beside him to grab his wrist. He froze, his hands stopping their furious flipping of records, but his gaze stayed low. “I was fucking around, Eddie.”

“Fucking around?’

“Yes, Eddie. I was just joking.”

He turned to you at your words, staring dead into your eyes. The intensity of his stare made your heart stutter. “Were you trying to make me jealous?”

“Jealous? Wh- Eddie what the fuck are you talking about.”

There was a pregnant pause. Just you and Eddie staring into each other's eyes. Why would you want to make him jealous? You didn’t even know that was an option. You and Eddie were friends. Best friends. Friends don’t get jealous of their friends hanging out with other people. And Billy Hargrove? You had no idea where he pulled that one from. Not once had you ever even mentioned his name around Eddie. There was nothing worth mentioning. You thought Billy was stuck up and an absolute douchebag. Was he nice to look at? Sure. But you were nearly positive his heart was black with hatred and you believed being pretty meant nothing if your personality was shit.

“Uh, Eddie? Are you jealous?” He couldn’t look you in the eyes, instead he was flickering his gaze to anywhere but your face. “Eddie?”

“Would you hate me if I said yes?” He trailed his question off, biting at the skin on his lips as he waited for a response.

“I could never hate you, Eddie. You’re my best friend.”

He rolled his eyes. He rolled his fucking eyes. “Your best friend, right.” He said through a cloud of smoke. You snatched the joint sitting pretty between his fingers and dropped it in his other ashtray, the glass one shaped like a skull.

“Why are you saying it like that? You are my best friend.”

“Maybe I don’t want to be.” He said defiantly and your throat felt like it was going to close and your eyes burned from the prickle of your unshed tears welling in your eyes. He didn't want to be your best friend. Those words made you want to crawl into your body, to somehow vanish into thin air. Not too long ago you two were laughing together in the pool, discussing Steve Harrington's newest girl drama which was all supplied to you by Dustin Henderson. The night before you two made shitty Jiffy Pop while blazed out of your minds and sang karaoke so loud his neighbors came banging on the door, furious.

But now he didn’t want to be friends.

“Is this because I asked you to go on a roadtrip with me?” Your voice wavered and your chin started to tremble. “I know it was a bad idea.”

He strangely looked befuddled. “W-what? No. No, it’s not tha-”

“Well then what did I do?” You whined, tossing your hands about, unsure of what to do or what to say. What to think.

“You didn’t do-” He cut himself off, frustrated with his inability to explain himself. He looked at you, saw the tremble in your chin and shook his head. “You know what, fuck it.”

As soon as the words left his mouth he was surging forward, grasping your face in his hands, and pulling you towards him. His lips met yours with so much force you gasped, hands clutching his hips for purchase. You couldn’t form a single thought as you stood there, eyes squeezed shut, your chest so tight you couldn’t breathe. But then his hand smoothed over your cheek and grasped the back of your neck, his fingernails scraping over the sensitive skin there, and you finally kissed him back. Eddie moaned. The sound so loud it vibrated through your mouth and straight to the core of your being.

You kissed him with every ounce of power you had. Kissed him like you had daydreamed about so many times before as you watched him roll, or play guitar, or sing along to the radio as he drummed against the steering wheel. You kissed him for everytime he smiled and you felt your heart skip a beat. For every time he hugged you just because you looked like you needed one. For every smile he’d ever graced you with. You kissed him like you’d never kissed anyone before in your life, and it was messy and rough and probably looked horrific from a different point of view, but it felt perfect.

Eddie pulled away first, gasping for air in the crook of your neck, his body practically folded into you. “Fuck,” he drew out the word long enough to make you giggle, drunk off his lips.

“Eddie.” You soothed, combing your fingers through his hair. “Why don’t you wanna be my friend?”

He raised to his full height at your question. “Best friends can’t kiss like that.” He’s so out of breath, his words merely a whisper as he continued. “And every goddamn time I look at you all I wanna do is kiss your pretty fucking mouth.”

He left you speechless, looking up into his big brown eyes that you loved so much. He lets you take a second, think on it, all the while stroking his thumb across your cheek.

“How long?” Is all you can ask.

“Shit, since fucking middle school, baby.” He blushed as he said it, the pretty pink darkening to a cherry red as he watched your eyes widen in surprise.

“Middle school?” You whispered.

“I always have. But in middle school you showed up to the snowball in that cute purple dress with your hair all big and your makeup maybe a little too grown for a 12 year old and all I could think about was walking over and asking you to dance. Shit, I wanted to kiss your cheek so fucking bad.” You laughed at the way he scrunched his nose at the last part. You remembered middle school Eddie, his buzzed head and those horrible army green bell bottoms that he’d ripped up to look cool. You liked that Eddie as much as you liked this one, even back then.

“Why didn’t you?” You asked as you pushed up against his chest and wrapped your arms around his waist. In this position he had to look down his nose at you, his dark lashes fluttering across his cheeks.

“You were you and I was the freak.”

“I never thought that about you, Eddie.”

He sighed, kissing your forehead. “I didn’t know that then, baby.”

“Should have asked.” You teased, planting a kiss on his chest when he tried to act offended.

You two stood like that for a while, just wrapped up in each other, testing the waters of this new dynamic. One where you both knew where you stood with each other.

“I’m sorry I upset you earlier, you uh- you kinda surprised me.” He spoke into the crown of your head.

“It was a stupid idea, anyway.”

“No it’s not. I wanna go. I just don’t want to spend all your money doing it. Give me a couple months to save up and we can go.”

“I don’t care about the money, Eds.” You said as you took your head off his chest and gazed up at him.

“I know. Just give me a couple months, okay.”

“Okay, Eddie.”

Silence fell over the two of you. Eddie started swaying to the music at some point, humming along to a Black Sabbath song that was definitely not slow dance material. You kissed the tattoo on his chest as you swayed, looking up at him with your best version of puppy dog eyes.

“Hey, Eddie?” You asked softly. He hummed against you, kissing your forehead as he waited for you to finish your question. “Can you kiss me again?”

“Did you use my shampoo?”

Eddie’s voice raised up from the crease of your neck, a hint of amusement in his words. He had you laid out on his bed, slowly working kisses across your body. What had started as a soft little makeout session bloomed into something more when you had drug your nails up his spine the moment he found that sweet spot just behind your ear.

“Mhm.” You were too distracted to answer, focusing on the feel of his tongue laving against your neck and the way his hips shuddered against your clothed pussy every time you dug your nails into his skin.

“I like when you smell like me.” He mused. “Makes me feel like you’re mine.”

“M’yours, Eddie.” You whispered, guiding his face up to look at him. His lips were puffy and tinted red from sucking hickeys against your throat and his eyes were wide, searching your face for honesty.

“Promise?” He said after a quiet couple seconds and you nodded, leaning your head up to kiss the tip of his nose and the corner of his mouth.

“Promise.”

Eddie’s smile lit up his entire face, all dimpled and pink cheeked. It made your heart swell.

“Can I taste you?”

He asked in such a polite way, it caught you off guard. You couldn’t remember ever having a guy ask to eat you out. It was always something you hinted at and they brushed aside. One guy had even told you that eating a girl out made him soft and in the same breath forced your head down on his dick. But here was Eddie, looking at you so expectantly and yet so patiently.

“Yeah.”

Eddie didn’t waste a second getting to his knees on the mattress, fingers fumbling with the button of your shorts as he mumbled to himself. “Oh shit, okay. Fuck, I’ve wanted to do this for so fucking long, you don’t even understand. Pretty baby. So fucking pretty.”

You helped him shimmy the black fabric from your legs, Eddie tossing them over his shoulder with such force they knocked his acoustic guitar, that sat across from the bed, off its stand. He paid no attention to the instruments sharp bellow as it hit the carpet, instead he was transfixed on your purple lace panties.

“Christ.” He breathed, his index and middle finger tracing up the wet spot that had been steadily growing from the moment he kissed you. “You’re so wet.”

“Because of you.” You keened, Eddie suddenly adding more force in his stroking right against your clit. He flashed his eyes up to yours.

“Yeah?”

You nodded.

“Shit, I never thought I’d hear you say that outside of my dreams.” He seems to lose himself in his heavy caressing while you grip his sheets so hard your knuckles turn white.

“Eddie, please.” You couldn’t stop the whine that escaped your lips, dipping your fingers under the band of your panties and impatiently trying to take them off.

Eddie chuckled to himself as he watched you struggle. “Okay, okay. I’ve got you baby. Calm down.” He gave your panties the same treatment, peeling them down your thighs and tossing them over his shoulder. He bit his lip as he lowered his stomach to the bed, face to face with your weeping core. “So eager to be on my tongue, huh. Who woulda thought you’d be sobbing at the thought of me, The Freak, licking your sweet little pussy.”

“Eddie,” You were so touch starved, so desperate to feel his mouth on you, that you thought you might actually cry if he didn’t do something. “Shut the fuck up, please. Please. Just… Oh, Eddie, please.”

“Mm, okay.”

The second his warm tongue hit you, you cried out. Hands fumbling for purchase and finding it in his dark brown hair. You gripped the strands at the roots hard enough to hurt but Eddie only moaned and tightened his grip on your thighs, pulling them open even further to sink his tongue as far into your pussy as he could. His nose brushed against your swollen clit with each delve of his tongue, the muscle exploring every inch of your sensitive pussy. You trained your eyes on his nicotine stained ceiling, trying so hard to push back the fire rising in your stomach. You’d never felt anything like it before.

“That feels so fucking good, Eddie.” You loosened your grip on him to pet at his hair, unsure if it was to praise him or soothe yourself. Peeling your eyes from the ceiling you cast your hazy stare down only to find his big brown eyes watching you from between your thighs, mouth latched around your sensitive clit as he alternated from gentle sucks to fast flicks of his tongue. Your thighs burned as you rocked your hips against his face, fucking into his mouth for more friction, hands shaking against his cheeks. He looked so unbelievably pretty staring up at you with so much fondness and lust in his eyes, his mouth and tongue completely ravishing you like no man ever had before.. So you tell him…

“You’re so pretty like this, Eddie. You- oh fuuck- you’re always so pretty b-but-” You let out a wanton cry as Eddie slipped two fingers into your achy cunt. He finds that spot inside you that whitens your eyesight almost immediately, like he knew exactly where it was. Between his fingers and his devilish tongue you were seeing stars, tears slipping freely at how extreme the sensation was. “Oh god, Eddie. Eddie, I’m- I’m gonna-” You couldn’t even fucking speak anymore.

Eddie acknowledged you with a shuddering groan, quickening his movements to drive you over the precipice. His eyes never once leave your face.

You came with a small scream, hips arched off the bed, your fingernails leaving crescent moons into the skin of his wrist. The feeling was all consuming, overwhelming in all the best ways. You let out a sob as he eased you through it, rubbing your thighs comfortingly as they shook with fervor around his head. You could hear yourself speaking but it was muffled by the roaring in your ears; it sounded like you were speaking in tongues. Eddie heard every word.

“Ohgodohgodohgodohgod. Don’t stop, baby. Never fucking stop. So good, s-so fucking good. You’re so fucking good, Eddie. Oh my god, I love you.”

Eddie kissed your thighs as your orgasm faded, your burning lungs gasping for air. When you could finally breathe again, he left one last lingering kiss before crawling up your body. You held his face with shaking hands when he reached you, the biggest shit eating grin on his cum soaked face.

“You love me, huh?” He pondered with a fleeting kiss to your lips. “Or do you just love the way I eat your pussy?”

“Both you fucking deviant. Both.” Each inhale rattled in your chest and every exhale burned the lining of your throat. Eddie chuckled as he kissed you again, pressing his hard cock against your still sensitive core.

“Who knew you were a fucking screamer, baby.”

“I could tell you that was all you but then you’d fucking gloat about it for the rest of eternity.”

“Still might.” He hummed, ghosting kisses over your eyes and nose and lips. “You look so fucking hot when you cum. Never seen anything like it. Coulda cum right then and there but I wanna be inside you.”

You reached a hand between your bodies, running a heavy finger over the outline of his cock in his sweats. “Do you have a condom?” You asked, still a little breathless.

Eddie nodded excitedly before bounding up from the bed and over to his dresser. He rifled through it aggressively. Cursing here and there as he tossed socks and a random cassette tape onto the floor in his frenzied search. When he finally finds what he was looking for he exclaimed to himself, “Fucking finally.”.

He leaves the mess he made, struggling to pull his sweats and boxers off as he makes his way back over to you, sprawled out and butt naked in his bed. Once he finally gets there, after narrowly avoiding tripping over his own boots on the floor, he crawls on top of you with the aluminum wrapper between his teeth. You watched with bated breath as he ripped it open, rolling it down the dark pink head of his cock. Once he’s done he positioned himself in the apex of your thighs, fisting his cock and smoothing the latex covered head through your slick covered folds.

“I, uh, I’m probably not gonna last that long.” He said, his eyes downcast, watching the way your hips rutted into him with every swipe of his cock.

“It’s okay, Eds. Just fuck me.” You grabbed his chin, forcing his face up. When your eyes met you smiled at him sweetly and added, “Please.”

Eddie wasted no time pressing into you, his thick cock stretching you wide as he bottomed out inside you. His cheeks were flamed pink, a bead of sweat bleeding from his hairline down the curve of his nose. He pulled out gently and plunged back in, the tip of his tongue poking through his teeth as he concentrated on his slow deliberate thrusts. You dug your heels into the backs of his thighs, hoping he'd get the hint to go faster. Harder. The slow drag of his cock against that sweet spot inside of you was agonizing. But he only ignored your pressing and not so subtle whines, folding himself over top of you with one arm wrapped around your back and a callused hand holding your cheek. He was being so gentle. It wasn’t something you were used to. Every other guy you’d been with just used you to get off as fast as they could. But Eddie was taking his time, having found a pace that kept you needing more. You found yourself giggling at a particularly languid thrust and Eddie’s round eyes, with his pupils completely blown black, shot up to yours.

“What’s so funny?” He asked, stilling himself inside of you.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. It’s just…” You giggled again and his eyes narrowed. “I just thought, who would have imagined you to be such a gentle lover. You know, with your bad boy–heavy metal image and all.”

“Don’t forget local drug dealer and devil worshiper.” His smile cracked wide as you giggled again. That giggle, however, turned into a sharp cry with a snap of his hips. “I can be gentle. When I want to be.”

You could only nod at this, your breath lodged in your throat at another hard snap of his hips. Your comment had urged him to go faster. To show you that, yes, he could be gentle. But he could also fuck you senseless.

“Imagine what they’d think of you, baby.” He whispered into your ear, forehead pressed hard to the side of your head, his hips building into a maddening pace. He had thrown your leg over his shoulder, allowing him to go deeper, to hit that spot inside your core that brought tears to your eyes. “You were always such a good girl. Hawkins number one girl. Do you even remember what they said when they found out we were friends?”

You shook your head, unable to speak with how hard and deliberate his thrusts were.

“They said I was corrupting you.” He released a breathy, dark laugh. His hand slotting through the strands of your hair to grip the roots. “But they didn’t know that you sought me out, hm. Followed me to the woods just so we could be alone. Made me laugh. Made me feel special.”

You remembered that day. Remembered watching him walk through the tree line all alone, that black metal lunch pail gripped tightly in his hand. You knew what he was doing, skipping class to go smoke up. You’d seen him do it before. But that day you followed after him, nervously gripping the ruched fabric of your cheer skirt as you went. You couldn’t help yourself, You wanted to know him so badly.

“Everyday after that, you found me.” His thrusts were starting to get sloppy and you could tell in the way he held you, in the way his words doubled as moans, that he was getting close. “I tried so hard to keep you from getting too close. People are shunned for being close to me. But you wouldn’t fucking quit. Always so fucking stubborn. It’s like you couldn’t stay away from me.”

“I couldn’t.” You cried out, wrapping your arms around his neck. His hair tickled your cheeks, his breath fanning over your lips as he held himself over you now. His brows furrowed in concentration as his cock throbbed inside of you. You clenched at the sight of him, looking so pretty and so fucked, and all yours. Because he was. He was it for you.

“Ah, shit.” He whimpered. He wouldn’t last much longer, but Eddie being who Eddie was, you knew he was gonna talk the whole way through it. “You fucking- You broke down every fucking wall I’d ever built. Smashed right fucking through them and straight into my fucking heart. I-I wanted to be good for you. Good enough that you’d want me like I wanted you. You corrupted me.”

“E-Eddie, I think I’m gonna c-cum.” That burning heat had returned but it was different this time. You felt it everywhere, from the tips of your fingers to the bottom of your toes. It thrummed every nerve like the string of a guitar, vibrating you to the bone.

“Good.” He said harshly, the word sounding almost mean falling from his red swollen lips, but the fingers stroking your face were still gentle. “I want you to scream for me again. I want everyone in this shitty trailer park, in this shitty fucking town, to know that I’m the one making you feel like this. Crying for my cock, desperate for me.”

You couldn’t handle it, couldn’t see through the tears falling, couldn’t feel anything but him and the white hot pleasure he was gifting to you. You were right there, so fucking close.

“I want them to know that you are mine.” Each word was punctuated with a hard, albeit sloppy, thrust and you came.

You came with a scream, wrenched from your throat so roughly it seared its way out of your lungs and into the air. You felt yourself clench down on him, hard, and his hips shuddered violently against you, succumbing to his own orgasm from your vise lock grip on his cock. He buried his face into the crook of your neck as he rocked his hips and moaned through it, your name and curses sounding like the sweetest song you’d ever heard.

“Jesus Christ.” He groaned before his body collapsed on top of yours. You could feel his thighs trembling against your own, mirroring the intensity of the feeling you both shared as you came.

The both of you laid there, shrouded in the warmth of each other's embrace, until finally he rolled away. Wincing as he pulled out and discarded the condom. You could only lay there and watch him rise from the bed on shaky legs to grab the half smoked joint from earlier. He placed it between his lips and lit it, standing there in all his naked glory, puffing on it till he could get a nice long hit. The slight skunky smell filled the room and you closed your eyes, relishing in it. But then, you were hit in the chest by something light and lacey.

“For your modesty.” Eddie smirked as you held your purple panties up in the light.

“Thanks.” You croaked, your voice hoarse and your throat sore.

Eddie crawled over you, flopping his sweaty body down next to yours. He handed you the joint, which you took gratefully, taking your own long drag and passing it back. The both of you laid in a comfortable silence, legs draped over each other and his fingers drawing lazy patterns on your bare thigh. But then something occurred to you and you turned your head to look at him.

“I didn’t corrupt you.” You said to him and he rolled his eyes, huffing out a laugh.

“Yes, you did.”

“No I did not, asshole.” You guffawed, slapping your hand playfully on his bare chest.

“I wear my seatbelt and listen to fucking Journey because of you. That’s corruption.” He teased with a cute little smirk, grabbing your thigh and squeezing the soft flesh there.

“That’s just safety and taste, baby. If you want me to corrupt you there are… different things I have in mind.” You watched his eyes widen and he laughed.

“I’ll keep that in mind for next time.” He said as he leaned in, his lips tasted of you and the weed he had smoked and you smiled behind the kiss, chest full and body sore.

“Hey,” He started as he rested his head on your shoulder, gazing up at you like a little puppy. “You wanna go watch a movie? I can make some Jiffy Pop and we can cuddle on the couch?”

“Who’s picking the movie?” You asked, fingers playing with the ends of his hair.

“I had Steve score me a copy of Poltergeist 2. Picked it up from Family Video while you were at the store earlier.”

You sat up a little, an incredulous look etched into your features while he gave you those damn puppy eyes.

“Eddie, you literally told me two weeks ago that you'd rather be decapitated than watch that movie."

Eddie only shrugged, that casual slouch of his shoulder that you had become so accustomed to, and offered you a pretty smile.

“I would. But you wanted to see it. I'll suck it up, but only for you."

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson smut #stranger things fan fic #stranger things x reader #stranger things smut #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic

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blacst4r · 20 days

Text

𝐁𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐆𝐢𝐫𝐥🧸🎂

𝙘𝙖𝙨𝙩. solo sikoa x black fem

𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮. tiana receives a special surprise on her birthday, and a lot more than that.

🔖: a fic from my first acc, I kept it saved so here's a repost with minor revisions.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU, HAPPY BIRTHDAY TIANA, HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU!!!" a loud roar of applause followed suit as everyone around the table clapped it up for the birthday girl turning "dirty 30," as her friends like to put it. Tiana shined as bright as the smile she flashed to her guests, mouthing a thank you and blowing air kisses as they settled down. Every year she aimed to celebrate her birthday like it was the most important day out of 365. But this celebration was one for the books, as she hit another important milestone in her life. And everyone she knew and loved went all out for it with lavish gifts and heartfelt words of adoration, making her feel the utmost important. They even rented out an entire restaurant for her special day.

She appreciated it all as she looked through glossy eyes at the small personalized cake they had made for her, it was heart-shaped and decorated in glittery pink icing with royal embellishments, the words Bad Bitch Szn imprinted in the center. It was topped with a single lit candle, waiting to be blown out. She had many gentle eyes on her as she silently made her wish, to live a long life full of prosperity. She took a deep breath and blew out the candle, opening her own eyes to see warm smiles.

"Thank you guys" she said wholeheartedly, fanning her face as she became teary eyed.

"Wait wait, before you fuck up ya makeup- snap some pics right quick" her bestie said to the photographer who went over to Tiana, snapping a couple shots that were likely being posted to the gram later on.

"Okay nooow cry" her bestie encouraged, making everyone laugh as Tiana used a napkin to lightly dab under her eyes.

The mood was light hearted as the conversation flowed smoothly, along with the food and drinks. Family and friends reminisced back on their favorite moments with Tiana, and vice versa. Soon the topic transitioned to a club they were gonna hit up afterwards to round out the night, or morning.

One of her girls leaned in to whisper, "you got one more gift" making Tiana's brow raise, "oh really? Is it outside?" thinking of a car possibly parked out. "It's comin' in." Now she was confused as what 'it' could be as she looked to the door, to see another girlfriend bringing someone over.

Someone, who made her jaw drop in shock as her hands flew over her mouth at just who was approaching the table. "Sefa??" her muffled voice seemingly confirming that last present.

She let out a squeal as she stood up and rushed over to a childhood friend, hugging him with her arms slinging around his neck, and his around her waist. A slew of giggles escaped her and they rocked back and forth for what felt like forever. His lips were dangerously close to her neck as he chuckled, "whats goin' on birthday girl." It was almost as if they were the only ones in the place at the moment.

She moved her hands down to his broad shoulders, caressing them some through the jacket he wore. "Oh my god look at you" she breathed, still overcome with emotion as she cupped his face, inspecting him real good. Damn, was he FINE fine now, she thought. He was donned in an all black fit with a gold link to accessorize the neck and a beanie. His facial hair was doing something extra for her as she felt a little flushed being this close to a now grown-ass Sefa.

"Damn I'm that ugly?" he joked as they both shared a laugh, he unhooked one of his arms to reveal a bag he was holding that she hadn't even noticed. "Happy Birthday T T," a slight shiver went up her spine at the nickname he used for her rolling off his tongue so sensually. She took the bag, planting a kiss on the corner of his lips as she grabbed his hand "thank you for coming stranger, long time no see. We gotta catch up, you want some cake?" she asked while walking him to the table. His eyes trailed down to her ass in that dress, "hell yeah" he answered huskily.

For the rest of the time spent, it was as if they were in their own world, too consumed in each other to notice anyone else present. They'd gotten right back on track where they left off of several years ago when they graduated from high-school. Updating each other on how their lives have been going, with Tiana being shocked at his profession now. "Oh you wrestle? Ion know anything about that but do your big one!!" he laughed at her compliment. "Appreciate it, and I am. I see you doin' yo big one too" his gaze traveled across her full figure as he bit his lip, making her tense up with a lil throb down there.

Her face flushed with a warmth as she giggled "stooop" she playfully pushed him as he captured her hand in his, making her nerves jolt. He inspected at her fingers curiously, "Ion see no ring, all them times you kept talkin about how you was gon be married when you got older." She sensed the tone in his voice for something deeper as they locked eyes. "I just haven't met the right one." He nodded, placing a kiss on the back of her hand that she then placed on his thigh.

"You comin' out with us? We hittin' up the club after?" she seemed eager for him to join, and he noticed that, agreeing.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

The dj was playing all the right songs too, as 'Hellcats srts' by Sexxy Red blasted through the speakers as Tiana drunkenly twerked on an equally drunk Sefa manspread in his seat enjoying the view. Maybe if she wasn't off several liquors she wouldn't have had the courage to twerk on him, but in their shared inhibited state, all that scary shit was out the window.

He tugged her down onto his lap, directly on his growing bulge earning a moan from the both of them. She leaned back into his chest, turning her head towards his with a lackadaisical smile.

"Wha'chu think you doin huh?" he taunted as she rolled her hips against his print, biting her lip at the friction, damn it felt big. "Makin up for lost tiiime," she slurred sexily as he snickered. "You crazy you know that?"

"That's not how you treat a friend" she whined in a pout. "Then how do you treat a friend TT?" the deepening of his voice anchored in her soul making her heat ache between her thighs. Especially from the way his hand kept feeling on her side, and along her curves. The way his fine ass was looking enticed her to bring his lips closer, and closer until they smashed into hers, moving harmoniously, with an intensifying desire.

She moaned as their mouths opened for their tongues to deliciously clash. He broke the kiss to mumble, "that still aint answer my question ma" as they eyed each other in lust.

Later on, that same lust that would emit from their naked bodies as they collided in passion on her king size bed, their clothes scattered around the room she welcomed him in.

Her friend dropped Tiana and Sefa off at her crib, already knowing what time it was when they couldn't keep their hands off each other in the backseat, making out. She smirked seeing them slightly staggering to the front door Tiana struggled to unlock, eventually doing so, and it was on from the moment they stepped foot in the house.

It took no time for him to be digging in her guts with that lengthy girth as she held onto him for dear life. Pounding her so good as her mangled screams bounced off the four walls while her own were being explored. The only sound that was just as loud was their skin clapping at a rhythm due to his fast paced, bottomless thrusts. He would barely even pull out before snapping his hips forward, driving back into her and making his balls slap against her hole.

His head was buried in her neck, whispering sweet nothings that coaxed even more of her nectar to soak his dick. "Shit, you like that? How I beat dat pussy up?" he grunted. She answered with more uncontrollable sounds of pleasure that made him lift his head up. "Nah that aint good enough, talk to me while I'm in yo shit" he snarled.

But she didn't have the strength to pronounce anything while having her soul snatched like this. And when he somehow speed up even more, it almost knocked the wind out of her. "Dick got you speechless huh?”

Shit, he was fucking her so hard the bed was rocking, with headboard hitting the wall like construction. He was workin on her pussy though, tearin it up. He had her back arched, toes curling about to pop, nails carving into his back surely to burn like hell when the hot water would hit it in the morning. But tonight the only thing hittin was his dickhead against her g-spot, over and over. She was about to explode as her fluttering eyes clamped shut, and her walls clamored around his massive flesh earning a deep groan from him. "Open that shit up and let it out, don't hold back."

"Fuuuck!!! Daddy!" she barely choked out before a series of stiff, rugged thrusts, stole her ability to speak. All he heard was blood-curdling screams before he pulled out, her hips lifting from the bed as she squirted projectiles at him with a squeal. Her body stiffened as her juices pushed out before subsiding.

He licked his lips with a laugh, "Damn I gotchu like dat?" amazement etched in his voice.

She panted, struggling to catch her breath, mind in a whirlwind leaving her light-headed, "oh my god! You missed me that much?"

He snickered, "you tryna joke huh? I’m tryna see how much you missed me too, so come ride this dick" he demanded, lying back on the bed. She was given no time to collect herself after being dicked down as he awaited her presence on top of that horse.

And gathered herself, watching him through hooded eyes still clouded by lust, sitting up and went to straddle him. Her manicured nails gripped his beefy mass to ease it through her slit while she lowered herself, taking every inch of him with her. "Mmph!...fuuuck!!" she gasped as he nudged that spot again, long and thick was a dangerous combination.

Flipping her hair over she palmed his chest, bouncing her ass at a slow but steady tempo to get adjusted to his size. She'd never had a dick this massive, whining about it in response. "You can take it…just like that” he coached lovingly as she rode him with agonizing whimpers, tediously stroking his pole up and down at a snails pace. He was a lot to take in, quite literally.

"Tell me how that feel baby" his voice dripped sweet honey nectar, sopped in a delicious desire.

"So fuckin good... you so big!"

“You got it baby, c’mere” he urged as she bent down, meeting his lips as they entangled sloppy with wet smacks from trading saliva. He hiked his legs up to pump her cunt a little faster. His hands groped her fat succulent flesh, giving it a couple harsh smacks before squeezing her ass. "Shit fat, who you get this thick for?"

She broke the kiss, "mmm, you daddy...f-fuck me harder" she begged.

"Thats whatchu want?" he asked, switching up the tempo before she could answer. His dick rammed through her at what felt like a hundred mph. Tiana unraveled at his torturous bliss as her mouth hung open, words lodged in her throat. Her lashes fluttered rapidly, eyes threatening to roll back into her head.

"This whatchu wanted huh?" Sefa goaded, fucking her hard and rough.

"Uh huh" she inhaled sharply.

"You gon cum fa daddy?"

"Yes! Yes!" she cried out weakly as he wrecked her insides with abandon. His arms entrapped her frame, holding her hostage. As she soon came, he chased after his climax with hurried strokes as his face relaxed, and his eyes clamped shut. He let out a low, guttural growl as released inside her, emptying his load with a gruff outcry, "uuggh shit!" His pumps slowed down, eventually stopping when he hollowed himself out.

They shared loud, short-winded breaths of exhaustion as she collapsed on his chest. He looked down at her, his fingers grazed her spine as he softly mumured, "how you like yo birthday gift?"

She smiled warmly, snuggling up against him, "I love it."

Mutual 🏷 : @trc-punzel @solefae @theninthwonder @empressdede @whatdoeseverybodywant

#solo sikoa #solo sikoa smut #solo sikoa imagine

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angelltheninth · 1 year

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Putting on a Show

Pairing: Jinpachi Ego x Fem!Reader x Yoichi Isagi

Tags: nsfw, smut, locker room sex, free use, voyeurism, rough sex, praise kink, humiliation, degradation, name-calling, being recorded, hair pulling (for Reader), Reader being used by the BLLK Team

Word count: 0.9k

A/N: Don't know how this came to be but it seemed appealing.

The locker room echoed with the sounds of Isagi's hips meeting yours as you held onto his jersey for dear life, your legs shakingly wrapped around him for leverage. This wasn't the first time you did this with him but you could tell how he was still just as enthusiastic as the first.

You tried very hard to focus on him but you couldn't help but look at the camera in the corner. You knew he was watching you, he always was. It was both annoying and arousing. You shut your eyes tight and turned to kiss Isagi's neck, "You're doing so good. Make me come again." Emboldened by your words Isagi sped up his thrusts, the slapping of his balls against you echoing through the room. "That's a good boy."

"Oh... fuck!" He buried his cock deep inside you, giving you every drop of his cum, "Shit, you're milking me dry." And you would do it again. Next time. "Uh, made a mess."

He was so damn cute in his post nut haze, "Don't you worry about that. It's what showers are for."

"I guess." Carefully he pulled out of you, your pussy already missing the shape. "Wanna hop in with me?" His grin made your heart flutter, but alas you had other things to attend to. The knowledge of what it was made your body tingle all over again.

"Maybe next time." You briefly kissed him on the lips, fixed your panties and clothes and bid him goodbye, "Oh, and Isagi..." You paused at the door, "Good work."

"Good work." Ego commented when you closed the door behind you. His office always looked small due to the amount of lit up screens but it was actually pretty spacious. "His stamina is improving a great deal. When I first met him I wouldn't have guessed he'd be a star player in only a few years. Although motivation certainly helps."

Ego's eyes turned to you, as did his chair, his eyes scanning over your body. The way he looked at you made you squirm, made you feel on display even more then being in front of the camera. The feeling spread warmly through your body, setting between your legs. His smile, wide and knowing, spreading wider as he approached and circled around you only made you more anxious for his touch. So much so that him tracing his fingers over your throat was enough to make you moan.

"You worked very hard today. Time for me to give you a reward of your own." The sound of his zipper already had you spreading your legs and leaning your hands against the control panels, "You just got fucked and you're ready for more. Just like a bitch should be." His hands hiked up your skirt and lowered your panties, "Hm, his cum is still here. Not to worry, I'll make this slutty cunt remember who owns it." Without warning he pushed his throbbing, hard length inside of you, "This is my cocksleeve. I might let you get borrowed from time to time but you are mine."

"Yours. I'm yours Ego. No matter what. No matter who fucks me. I'm all yours." You let your mouth fall open, the little sounds fell out of your mouth in wonton pleasure, liquid heat dripping down Ego's balls when he'd push in and out.

"That's exactly right. You're a free use slut out there. A stress release fucktoy." The screen in front of you flashed, showing the video of Isagi fucking you. "A whore to motivate them." The screen flashed again, this time showing Bachira having you bend over one of the benches and hammering his dick inside of you. "A slutty reward for a job well done." Next it was Kunigami fucking your tits, his face flushed red. Then Barou, using you as a pussypocket. Next, sucking off Nagi while Reo came inside of you. "Even with all of that. You. Belong. To. Me."

Close, you were getting so close. Having Ego fuck you without mercy, calming you while showing what a slut you were, it was sending you over the edge fast, "Ego, please! Please, please, please!" You were getting dizzy, your sensitive, well fucked pussy on the verge of coming again.

"You sound pretty when you beg for it. I suppose I did promise a reward rather then a punishment." His long fingers fisted into your hair and made you look up at the footage, except this time if was of this room, of Ego fucking you, clamming you. You lost it, you backed into his cock, feeling like you were coming every time your ass smacked against him, "Little slut, enjoying watching yourself be used, this pussy being fucked by my dick. I finally made you into a proper free use whore. My whore. Mine."

Warm, thick cum flooded your abused pussy walls, Ego's orgasm feeding into yours and vice versa until you slumped down, sliding off his cock and turning around, chest heaving as it was painted white by stray drops of cum.

"Good work. You put on a good show for me. You always do." He praised as he patted your cheek. He didn't put his pants back on, just sat back into his chair and patted his lap. Like a dog, or maybe a bitch, you crawled towards him, leaving a white trail of cum drops behind you before crawling into his lap and curling up against his chest with a smile.

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lovelywritinglady · 2 months

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fem! muzan with androphobic reader? (fear of men) It was, at first, an arranged marriage done by her father who doesn't care nor console this phobia so they force reader into it to try and 'make her better' (even though the father is who made such a fear manifest) obviously, he would uh, deal with the father and console reader as fem, you know? i want angst & fluff pls

Women Do It Better

Fem!Muzan x fem!reader

Angst, readers father is abusive, mentions of death, blood, gore. Some fluff and Female Muzan. It's hinted at that reader was sexually assaulted. I added a little more angst than what was originally requested. Triggering topics-mentions of SA and use of slut and other hurtful words. Muzan is out of character.

"Please father don't make me do this! I will do anything else, but please do not make me marry him." You pleated with your father even though deep down you knew he wouldn't listen.

"Shut your mouth you dammed brat. You will do as I say and I will not entertain your hysterics!" He spat grabbing your left wrist so tightly that you were sure that it would bruise.

"No!" You screamed trying to shake your wrist free and grabbing on your fathers hand trying to push it off.

"You stupid worthless bitch!" your father screamed in a raging fury as he slapped you with the back of his hand. You then landed on the ground with loud thump as your cheek stung and tears were streaming down your face. "You will marry this man as he is the only man that has ever given the slightest interest in you. Your body has been tainted ever since you let that boy have his way with you. You're disgusting and I have no idea why this man wants filth like you in the first place." He told you without an ounce of care for what that "boy" did to you in the past. Even though the boy in question was a close friend of his and when you told your father he called you a liar and a slut. He then told everyone that it was the servant boy that he had hired and that you were the one who seduced him. You knew that your father never loved you, but that was the moment you really knew he couldn't give a shit about you. Your fear of men steamed from that and the fact that your father is a terrifying man who has no heart whatsoever.

The next day...

You stood next to your father at the most most beautiful house you had ever seen. It was dark out but the house was well lit. You had a small smile on your face looking at it and the beautiful garden that was out front. You noticed all kinds of flowers that you had never seen before planted and you wondered where they came from. Your smile faltered as soon as reality sunk back in. You looked at your father that had a bored expression on his old and wrinkly face. Your life was about to drastically change and he couldn't care less, not like you were surprised.

"Damn bastard making us wait outside in this damn heat." You heard your father grumble quietly as he crossed his arms.

Just as your father grew impatient, the doors to the magnificent house opened and revelied a man with short curly hair and a hard to lead expression on his face. You got chills looking at him and fear consumed your body as you shook slightly. You father took notice of this and rolled his eyes. He then grabbed your injured writs making you finch slightly as you both made your way into the house. As you entered you noticed the smell of baked goods. A delightful smell that reminded you of when your mother was still alive. You felt comforted and your anxiety went down a little.

You and your father followed him into a large living room with a roaring fire that warmed the entire space. You both then sat down on a rather comfortable maroon colored couch as he sat across from you on a large arm chair that resembled his fiery red eyes. There was a gold table in front of you. The space a round you consisted of beautiful paintings of scenes that you had never seen painted before. The walls were a deep red with gold accents on the trim. The flooring was chestnut wood that looked as though it had just been polished. A fire place adorned the space as ebony in color. You were in awe of the space, but you could feel your fathers gaze upon you, so you stopped noticing and kept your head down.

For a little while no one spoke a word. Your father looked at the space with jealousy as this type of living would never be his reality even after the money he would receive after essentially selling you to this strange man. Just then, a thin woman who looked rather sickly entered the room carrying a tray of the baked goods from earlier as well as tea for the three of you. She placed the tray down turning to the man with the fiery red eyes and bowed deeply, slightly shaking as she did so. She then left without making a sound and the whole situation made you shake just like that woman. Silence still consumed the space until your father got aggraviated and spoke in his booming voice.

"So are we gonna get this buissness over with? I've got better things to do than to stick around this brat any longer." He said in a gruff tone as he stared directly at the strange man.

"Yes, I suppose you would have nothing to do." The man responded.

"Whatever." Your father huffed cleary annoyed

"I am Muzan Kibutsuji, I am to be your husband." Muzan spoke, ignoring your father.

"I'm y/n l/n, It's nice to meet you sir. You have a lovely home." You complimented him doing your best to look him in the eyes.

"Thank you, I hope its to your liking as this is where you will be living." He told you, giving you a small smile.

"Thank you sir." You spoke softly

"Now on to important business. I have the documents here to for you to sign Ms. L/n, and I have already signed myself." Muzan declared handing over the documents to you.

You took the documents, placing them neatly in front of you. Taking the capped pen in your dominamt hand you held the pen on the line. Your hand was shaking as your uneven breaths didn't go unnoticed by your father and Muzan. Your father scowled at you as he leaned in pinching your side making you yelp quietly.

"Sign the damn paper girl." He snapped quietly letting go of your side. This terrified you, and you ended up writing out your name in sloppy letters. You then quickly capped the pen and put it on to op the documents. Your father sighed sharply, snatching the papers off the table giving them a scan. "Even your handwriting is shitty." He commented scoffing as he handed the papers back to Muzan. Your father grew impatient as he tapped his foot rather loudly. "Alright Mr. Kibutsuji, I'll be leaving her with you now. I trust the money has been sent to my house." You father rudely spoke as he stood up and began leaving.

"Yes, the money should be at your residence now." Muzan responded as his gaze never left yours. It was almost as though your father was an afterthought and you were the main attraction.

"Good." your father said back walking out the enormous door until his figure was not seen nor his footprints heard.

You contuniued to sit in your place as the fire was startuing to go out and the moon hit its peak as it shone throughout the room. You felt as though time itself was scared to move. Muzan kept his bleeding red eyes you. You couldn't help but stare back at him. You were terrified of the opposite sex, however, this man here seemed gentle, almost kind. Even still, he terrified you and you were scared that he would treat you the same as your father did. The silence ended as Muzan asked you an interesting question.

"What are you scared of?" He questioned suddenly leaning in as he asked.

"I'm sorry sir, but what do you mean?" You asked him not understaing why he would ask you such a strange question.

"It's a simple question, Y/n. What are you scared of?" He asked once more. With a flash he wa ssuddelnly in front of you.

"How did you do that?" You asked with slight apprehension in your voice.

"Answer the question y/n." He demanded in a soft voice as to not scare you.

"I.." I paused staring into his beautiful eyes. "I'm scared of my father and any man.." You told him now terrified that you just told him the very thing he can use against you.

"Thank you, close your eyes and do not be alarmed." He told you and for some reason you did just as he told you. However, tears left you eyes as you closed them. You them felt a cold but soft hand wipe them away. You felt soothed slightly but your heart was pounding heavily.

"Now, y/n, open your eyes." He spoke and once again you did. To your absolute shock, he was now a woman? Muzan had graceful hair and his face was angelic. She wore a traditional kimono with jewels and ribbons adorning his garments. You began crying simply because Muzan was the most beautiful thing you had ever witnessed.

"You're crying, why is that. Aren't you less afraid of me now that I'm in this form?" Muzan spoke as the depth of his voice remained unchanged. However, she sounded as though she was offended.

"No, I'm not scared, but how did you do that?" you reassured as a bright smile appeared on your face for the first time in many years.

"I am a demon and can change my form to whatever I like." Muzan spoke.

"My mother told me about demons and how they eat people. She told me that some of them are beautiful, but that some of them are horrible. How the sun can kill them and how strong and dangerous they can be." You told Muzan not realizing that you might have spoken out of turn.

"Yes, demons are beautiful and I am the strongest among them. We do in fact consume humans and the more we consume, the stronger we are." She told you as you continued to trace every detail of his meazmurizing face. The fear you thought you should have never appeared as you felt as though you had been around demons all of your life. She seemed to notice that you weren't scared.

"Aren't you scared that I might eat you?" Muzan questioned

"I'd prefer not to but if you were to, there would be nothing I could do." You told her honestly as the power gap between you to is unimaginable.

"You're quite right I could." Muzan commented as she flared her piercing fuchsia red eyes. "However, I would never eat one so precious." she added which shocked you to say the least.

You were so distracted by her and her strange words, that the most important question seemed to pop in your head only now. "So why did you want to marry me? My father told me that it was you requested to marry me and offered to pay for my hand in marriage." You asked him now realizing the importance of the question you had just asked.

"Your blood of course. It has rare and quite special indeed, not many humans have it. Which means you are a unique and rare creature indeed and someone I need by my side at all times." She told you looking at you as though you were the most precious thing in the world, even though you couldn't recognize the look at all.

"I didn't even know my blood could have ever been important." You said, mostly to yourself.

"What is it you want most in the world?" He asked you

"To be happy." You responded honestly

"What would make you happy then?" She continued. You took a bit of time to think as you had never thought about how to be happy. You knew that there were many things you wanted to do, but you decided to tell her the first thing that popped in your mind.

"I never want to see my father again." You told her hoping that maybe just maybe she could make that happen.

"As you wish." She responded rather simply and you felt like a bag of rocks was lifted off of your shoulders. You let out a breathe of relief and could tell that Muzan was someone of their word as you had been around numerous men that weren't.

"Thank you." You whispered to her

"I will call the maid to take you to your room. I trust you might be comfortable having your own space. In the meantime there is buissness that I must address." Muzan spoke and as soon as she did she was gone.

A few moments later, the same maid that you saw earlier made her way in. Her quiet nature remained unchanged as did her facial expressions. She quietly gestured for you to follow her, and so you did giving her a smile of gratitude as you did. Your new room wasn't too far from the living room. However, this room was a tiny bit smaller and had a fireplace of its own placed on the very center of the room. There were two large windows on both sides of it adorned with maroon colored drapes. The windows themselves had a sort of black tint on them and you assumed that it was because of the danger of the sun. The bed lay to the right of the fire place and you swore it was the biggest bed you had ever seen. The bed sheets were also red and you could tell they were velvet. There were many tapestries that hung in the walls that depicted all kind of different scenes. Mostly containing images of demons. However, some of them contained botanical scenes that fluttered your heart a little because of their unique beauty.

"Did Mr. Kibutsuji decorate this room?" You asked the maid as she stood in the doorway.

"Yes miss, he has particular taste but your room is yours and the master has told me that you may decorate as you like." She spoke in a soft voice. "Thank you, may I ask your name?" You asked her as you deemed it rude that you only call her maid. "Yes miss, it's Ms. Fujimita, but you may call me whatever you feel fit to." Ms. Fujimita told you.

"Wonderful, thank you. I think I might sleep now." You told her as you could feel the tiredness start to consume your body.

"Yes miss, goodnight." She spoke closing the doors as she left.

The closets that were located to the left of your bed opened up and it felt like you had two rooms. The space was massive and rows and rows of clothes were occupying the space. You remember your father telling you that you didn't need to pack anything and you just assumed that you would be wearing the same clothes over and over again. How wrong you were. You wanted nothing more than to browse, but your eyes betrayed you. You then saw some sleep clothes that looked comfortable and quickly took your clothes off and put them on.

You leaped into the bed letting your body mold with the mattress. Soon enough you fell into a deep slumber listening to the sounds of the fireplace crackling. Suddenly, you felt the bed shift and your body jolted up. A scream left you and you scrambled further up the bed trying to get away from the figure that dared to sit on you bed. You heard the faint sound of shushing and a voice telling you to calm yourself. You were confused and quite sleepy to fully make out the voice. However, you noticed the figures eyes and knew exactly who the "person" was.

"Hush now y/n and have no fear. You will be happy here now I promise you." Muzan spoke in a comfortable whisper.

"Why, what's happen." you asked frantically still calming down from your panic. Muzan then, out of the blue, lit the oil lamp to the side of the bed. You were then able to see the the full beaiutiful appearence of Muzan. She was still in the female form, however, she was covered in blood but that did not take away the ethereal beauity of her. Still, a chill ran down your spine at the sight of the blood.

Muzan noticed your fear and quickly vanished with a flash. You were stunned to say the least, but it was short lived as she returned only now without the blood covering her body. You felt more comfort by this, but you couldn't hep but wonder whose blood it belonged to and a wave of sadness washed over your figure.

"Whose blood was on your clothes?' You asked hesitantly, however you needed to know. You put on a confident face, doing your best not to seem anxious. You noticed a slight change in Muzan's eyes and you couldn't pin point what it was.

"The blood belongs to someone who has caused you great suffering." Muzan simply said as she moved closer to you. Your heart beat fast as you already knew who it was. Your emotions were all over, but the one emotion that stood out was pure happiness. The thought of your father being dead delighted you and that terrified you. You thought to yourself, "Why am I so happy about this? Why am I okay with feeling this way?" You darting back in forth between your own morals to the point you thought you might go insane. Muzan, nit being the best at human emotion, decided that it would be best to simply hug you, hoping that this would ease your distress, and so he did.

To say you were shocked was an understatement. You stiffed in the hug but melted as soon as you smelled the luscious scent of honey and jasmine. You then held her tightly breathing in her comforting scent. To you, it felt like it was an eternity of a hug and to Muzan she didn't seem to mind that you held her like this. She then broke the hug and took your face in her hands. She looked you in your now watery eyes giving your face a small stroke as she spoke.

"You are mine and now you shall be happy that your beast of a father is gone." She told you in an almost happy tone

"Thank you." You whispered still feeling slightly guilty for being happy that your father is dead. Although for most of your life that's all you wanted.

"I'm your husband, so it is only natural that a husband wants to see their wife happy." Muzan spoke honestly

"If you are my husband, then why have you decided to appear as a woman?" You asked feeling uncomfortable at the thought of Muzan being your husband but no problem with her currant appearence.

"Its simply because I know it makes you tolorate me. You may call me your wife it would make you tolorate me more." Muzan spoke taking her hands off of your face and placed them in her lap.

"Thank you, I'd like that. I don't just want to tolorate you, I want to like you considering we will be married." You mumbled slightly nervous that you just made her uncomfortable.

"Good, now get some sleep." She whispered gestering you to get comfortable again. Just as you were about to say it back she was gone. You smiled getting comfortable in your bed once again and feeling genuenily happy for the first time in years.

Thank you so much for reading and thank you to whoever requested this fic!💜

Please feel free to like, comment, request, and reblog!

Click here to see what I’ll write for and HERE for my master list.

•I do NOT own any characters except y/n and any original characters•

L.W.L

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ladykailitha · 11 months

Text

Royal Pain Part 1

Hello, everyone! Welcome to the story that has had my entire weekend on lock. Like every spare moment was writing this story. I wrote over 6000 words in two days. So yeah. Don’t worry. I’m still working on Boy With a Bat (I just need time to research season 3 so I don’t over step on the show’s timeline {like I did with “Little Runaway”}). And of course I love working on “All My Roads Lead Back to You” and will continue working on it as well. Also these first two parts are long. I don’t know if all the parts will be as long, but as you can see when you read them there isn’t a lot of places to stop (and not make them super short).

Summary: No Monster Modern AU. Eddie and his band, Corroded Coffin, have a steady gig at a bar in Indy where they play every weekend. Eddie's life takes a left turn when his regular tattoo artist, Max Mayfield, moves to New York with her boyfriend Lucas Sinclair, newly traded to the New York Knicks. Now needing a new tattoo artist, Jeff recommends "Royal Pain", which even Max agrees is a good shop. On arrival, Eddie is shocked to find Steve is the shop's artist. They hit it off, and slowly move from the barest of acquaintances to boyfriends.

***

“God damn it!” Eddie growled, throwing his phone at the sofa and snarling when it bounced to the floor.

“One day you’re gonna throw it so hard and it will break,” Gareth grumbled from behind his drum set.

It was Corroded Coffin’s weekly practice. They weren’t big or anything, but they had a steady gig at a local metal bar and it paid good money. They drew large enough crowds that they were able to play their own music.

Eddie hopped to his feet to retrieve the discarded phone from the floor. “Yeah, yeah,” he muttered darkly.

“What’s got your panties in such a twist?” Jeff asked from the same sofa Eddie had tossed the phone at. He was tuning his guitar, ear bent toward the strings.

Eddie scoffed. “Like you have any interest in my panties.”

Jeff lunged and grabbed one of Gareth’s drumsticks from the bucket he kept at his side and threw it at Eddie.

“Hey!” both Gareth and Eddie protested.

“Just answer the damn question!” Brian sneered from his place on the battered old floral armchair. “You usually like bitching, so what’s your deal?”

Eddie flopped gracelessly on the lavender two-seater. “That was my tattoo artist,” he groused, crossing his arms petulantly. “Her boyfriend got traded to the New York Knicks so they are moving there and if I want to get my dragon finished before she leaves, I better ‘haul ass’ according to her.”

Eddie’s friends winced. They knew finding a tattoo artist you could trust in a style you liked was hard. And for Eddie to lose his? That sucked. Max Mayfield was one of the best in Indy and to lose her to New York? That was even worse. But her boyfriend, Lucas Sinclair, was an NBA raising star and she went where did. Which meant Eddie had to start all over with a new artist.

Suddenly Eddie straightened up. “Hey, Jeffie!” he said. “Did you ever get that tattoo you wanted done?”

Jeff lit up. “Oh yeah!” He set his guitar aside and rolled up his sleeve and showed them his tattoo. It was of a bullet tearing through the flesh. It was fantastically rendered, where you could see the torn muscles and broken bone. It covered the scar there perfectly. “Isn’t it fucking amazing?”

“Holy shit!” Brian cried. “That is so wicked.”

Eddie leaned forward, eyes wide with wonder. “Yeah fuck, man. Where did you get that?”

“It’s this little place called Royal Pain,” Jeff explained. “The artist, Stevie is so fucking good.”

Eddie chewed on his lip, thinking hard. “Hey, can I get the number?”

Eddie was standing in front of a shop that he wouldn’t have in a million years would have even suspected was a tattoo parlor. It was a clean and bright storefront. The sign was black with a golden crown was on the R. It was a far cry from any other tattoo parlor he had ever been to. But despite his reservations, both Max and Jeff highly recommended this place and specifically this ‘Stevie’.

Sighing deeply, he yanked open the door and took two steps into the shop. The decor was nice enough, it had a ‘royal’ theme to it, he supposed, but he really didn’t look that much. Because suddenly Eddie knew who Stevie was. The name, the royal decor, and Robin fucking Buckley as receptionist.

He was going to kill Jeff. Or maybe just his next three D&D characters. Because there was no way on this insignificant planet did Jeff Lawrence not recognize King Steve ‘the hair’ Harrington. They had all gone to school together. Robin was Steve’s best friend. His soulmate if the rumors were to be believed.

He was about to turn around and walk out, Jeff and Max’s recommendations be damned. Even he wasn’t that masochistic. But he was stopped by the cheerful, “Welcome to Royal Pain! How can I help you?”

Eddie winced and rubbed his eye in frustration, but made his way up to the counter. “Munson, Eddie. I have a two o’clock with Stevie.”

Her smile grew genuine. “Not your first tattoo, I take it.”

Eddie pulled down the collar of his shirt to show of his finished dragon tattoo. “Yeah, no. Some asshole jock absconded to New York with my tattoo artist, so here I am.”

She grinned. “Stevie will be out in a moment.”

Before Eddie could chicken out, the man himself came out of a backroom, wiping off his hands. Eddie gulped. Steve looked very much the same as he did in high school. Same hazel eyes, honey hair, tight jeans and a fucking polo. This guy couldn’t have looked less like a tattoo artist if he tried. Except for one thing.

He could see tattoos on Steve’s arms. He couldn’t get a good look at them without staring but yeah, okay. Steve Harrington, tattoo artist. Who would have thought?

Steve looked up and smiled brightly. “Eddie?” Eddie nodded. “Hey! It’s so good to see you. I had hoped when I saw the name that it was you. How’s it been?”

Robin tilted her head in confusion and made an odd chirping noise.

“Come on, Robs,” Steve teased her. “You can’t tell me you don’t remember Eddie from school.”

She looked Eddie up and down and then cocked her head. “You do look vaguely familiar.”

Steve laughed. “You know, ran the D&D club, had that rock band–”

“Metal,” Eddie corrected. “Not rock, metal.”

Steve snapped his fingers. “That’s right, sorry. Oh! And stood on tables ranting about the man and how schools fail the kids they are supposed to teach.”

“You stepped on my sandwich,” she said deadpan.

Eddie’s eyes went wide. “Whoops.”

She grinned and pushed his shoulder. “Just kidding. It was Tammy Thompson’s sandwich.”

“Isn’t she the one that sings like a Muppet?” Eddie asked, with a raised eyebrow.

Steve laughed. “That’s what I said.”

Robin looked between them both and growled, “I hate you both.”

“You’re only saying that because you had a crush on her,” Steve teased.

Eddie raised an eyebrow, “I didn’t know you swung for the other team, Buckley.”

She grinned. “What can I say, I do love a pretty girl.”

Eddie shrugged and cocked his head, nonchalant. “I wouldn’t know.”

Robin wagged her eyebrows at Steve, who rolled his eyes. He turned to Eddie. “So what am I doing for you today?”

Eddie blinked at him for a moment. “Oh!” He pulled out a picture from his back pocket and handed it to Steve.

“This is the Evenstar from Lord of the Rings, right?” Steve asked, tapping the picture. “Arwen’s necklace.”

Eddie lit up. “Yeah. I’m impressed, even uber fans have a hard time remembering that.”

Steve blushed, ducking his head. “I have this friend that hosts huge parties watching the extended versions of the movies every year. Complete with full Hobbit meals. It’s hard not take in something from the films.”

“Yeah?” Eddie asked, suddenly feeling less like murdering Jeff with each passing moment.

Steve smiled back. “Actually, you might remember him. He was in your club, your final year at school.”

Eddie cocked his head. “Oh?”

“Actually, you had three of Steve’s nuggets in your club,” Robin interjected.

Eddie turned to Steve. “What nuggets would those be?”

Steve blushed again. “I used to quasi-babysit these kids. There were about seven of them, if you count Erica and Elle.”

“Which I absolutely do,” Robin crowed delightedly.

Eddie’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head as he leaned forward. “You babysat kids?”

Steve shrugged. “They were good kids and their parents worked a lot, so they just kinda imprinted on me. Like ducklings.”

“Wait...Lucas, Mike, and Dustin, huh?” Eddie asked putting two and two together. “Holy fucking shit. I loved running their characters. The ranger, the paladin and the bard.” He couldn’t believe it. He had missed out the chance to run with their friend Will, but he had come back to Hawkins after Eddie finally graduated. “Which one was Dustin?”

Steve smiled and then ran his tongue over his teeth. “Floofy hair, trucker hats, Weird Al shirts, and a huge theater nerd.”

Eddie clapped and pointed, “That’s the one!” He tapped his finger over his lips. “Which means it’s Dustin that hosts the Lord of the Rings fest, isn’t he?”

Steve beamed up at him. “Yeah. Sadly I haven’t been able to go the last couple of years.”

Robin made a sympathetic noise.

“Why not?” Eddie asked, the curiosity getting the better of him.

“Migraines,” Steve said with a wince. “Too long staring at a TV set can trigger them, who knew?”

“That sucks.”

Steve looked back at the picture in his hand. “Did you draw this?”

Eddie grinned. “Sure did, big boy!”

“And would you want me to tattoo it in your style?” Steve asked.

Eddie blinked rapidly. “You can do that?”

Robin folded her arms, looking smug. “Hell yeah, he can!”

“I mean, if you can that would be amazing,” he said breathlessly.

“Where is it going, the tattoo, I mean?” Steve asked.

Eddie tapped his chest. “Sternum.”

Steve chewed his lip thoughtfully. “That would be awesome, but have you thought about putting it on your back. Like a shadow covering your spine?”

Robin’s eyebrows shot up.

Eddie shook his head. “As tempting as that would be sweetheart, I have plans for my back.”

Steve looked a little disappointed. “And what would that be?”

“I want big black bat wings on my shoulder blades,” Eddie said gleefully. “I just haven’t found anyone who’s style I liked well enough to trust doing it.”

Steve hurried around the desk and pulled out a large three-ring binder. “This is all my work, flip through it, see if you like my style enough for me to do it for you. Because I would love to. So take a look and let me know if I could be your man.”

Eddie blinked. “Yeah, sure.”

Steve smiled brightly. “Great! I’ll go set up and I’ll call you back when I’m ready.” He practically skipped to the back room again.

Eddie opened the binder slowly and began to shift the pages. They were all amazing pieces of work that only seemed to get better the further he got into the pictures.

“These are amazing,” he breathed.

Robin leaned on the counter and stage whispered, “If you do not get his number after he does your tattoo, I will murder you and no one will find the body.” She leaned back to look down the hall. What she saw Eddie didn’t know, but she leaned back into whisper to him, low and menacing, “I am not paid enough to listen to his rom-com pining bullshit.”

Eddie looked behind her and then back at her. “I’m–I mean–what the hell?”

“Eddie!” Steve called.

Eddie slammed the binder shut and stomped to the back. He stopped short when he got to room. Again he was blown away at how opposite it was from other shops he’d been to. It wasn’t sterile white or anything like that but it was brightly lit and nicely decorated. It was a place that most ‘normies’ would feel comfortable getting their first tattoo. And he got the appeal.

Steve looked up at him with a lopsided smile as if he understood why Eddie was brought up short. “Other tattoo artists give me such shit about my set up, but it’s not about the aesthetic of what people think a tattoo shop should look like. It’s about people feeling comfortable about permanently altering their bodies.”

Eddie nodded. “No man, I get it. It’s just a pleasant surprise, you know?”

Steve grinned at him. “Thanks. Come on, have a seat. Take off your shirt. Relax.” He paused for a moment. “But not necessarily in that order.”

Eddie laughed and pulled off his shirt, tossing it on a nearby chair. He got on the lounge chair and laid back. He noticed the way Steve dragged his tongue over his bottom lip and smirked. Maybe Buckley was right.

“You’ve got a lot of great tattoos,” Steve said, wiping down Eddie’s chest with a mild anesthetic to clean the area. “Your old tattoo artist do those?”

Eddie shrugged. “Yeah, I mean most of them. A couple were stick and poke when I was high school.”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “Shit, really? I wouldn’t have guessed. They’re all really good.”

Eddie blushed. He figured Steve was just being polite because he thought it was fairly obvious which ones were the stick and poke. “Speaking of high school, I would have never in a million years thought that King Steve would become a tattoo artist. You been doing this long?”

Steve chuckled. “Yeah, I got voted most likely to run my own business, but I’m pretty sure they thought something closer along the lines of hair care or some such shit.”

“At least yours was nice,” Eddie grumbled. “I got voted most likely to still be high school at the ten year reunion.”

Steve winced. “Was that the first time or the second time they held you back?”

“First.”

“That’s harsh, man,” Steve commiserated. “Yeah, no, I’ve been doing this for the last five years. Three years at my own shop.”

Eddie raised his eyebrows. “Wait really? That’s epic, dude.”

Steve nodded. “I went with a friend of mine to see about apprenticing under Hop. He caught me doodling on myself because I forgot to bring my drawing pad and offered the apprenticeship to us both.”

“I can see why,” Eddie said. “You do some pretty impressive work. Who was the friend? Robin?”

Steve laughed. “Yeah, no...I love Robin, and she is a lot of wonderful things, artist just isn’t one of them.”

Eddie laughed, too. “Yeah, okay. That’s fair.”

Steve picked up his gun and sat down on the rolling stool. “Nope, Max Mayfield. One of my nuggets, as Robin called them.”

Eddie blinked. “Shit, dude. She was my old tattoo artist? You two really apprenticed under Hop?”

Steve hummed. “Yup.” He turned on the gun and then shut it off again. “I know you said that you wanted it in your style, but can I add my own flourishes to it?”

Eddie cocked his head. “Yeah, sure. I liked what you did with Jeff’s tattoo, so yeah. Knock yourself out, man.”

Steve grinned. “I promise you won’t regret it.”

***

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Epilogue

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#My writing #stranger things #steddie #tattoo artist steve #modern au #ladykailtiha writes

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sl-ut · 1 year

Text

tipsy

pairing: jake lockley x fem!reader, slight marc spector and steven grant x fem!reader (reader is in a relationship with the system)

description: y/n returns from a night out with her girls and can’t resist from how beautiful her boyfriend is.

warnings: SMUT, reader is intoxicated (just tipsy, not wasted) and kind of a bitch, mocking, oral (m receiving), shower sex, moonboys arguing

words: 3K

date posted: 18/01/23

The apartment was silent when Jake jolted awake, save for the bubbling of Gus’s fish tank and the faded roar of London’s nightlife. He groaned, neck clicking back into place as he leaned back into the desk chair, cursing at Steven for nodding off in such an uncomfortable position. His sight was fuzzy, eyes still heavy with sleep as he glanced at his surroundings; several books on Egyptology laid spread open across the top of the desk, an uncapped highlighter tossed carelessly on the floor and a series of fluorescent yellow smudges staining his fingertips. Sighing, he pushed himself away from the desk, leaving it exactly how he found it–Steven could clean up his own mess–as he reached into the cupboard for a bottle of amber whiskey.

He took three small sips from it, careful not to allow himself to feel any sort of strong effects from the alcohol, as he always did when Y/n went out with her friends, always prepared to go pick her up in the early hours of the morning if he needed. He glanced at the clock on the oven, squinting to read the bright green letters.

3:36 AM.

His eyes immediately shot over to the bed, alarmed when he found the blankets in the same haphazardly made fashion that Steven had left them in as he rushed out the door to work; the boys had quickly learned to do so in order to avoid a lecture from their girlfriend.

“Damn it Steven, you were supposed to stay awake until she got home,” He swore as he turned to meet Steven’s snarky stare in the reflection of the window.

I’m sorry, but she’s not normally out this late, Steven huffed, Usually a night out has her home and in bed by midnight.

Jake, He turned his head to find Marc in the reflection of Gus’s tank, He's right, she should be home by now.

Panic arose in his chest. Quickly, he abandoned the bottle of whiskey on the desk as he crossed the small studio apartment, forcing himself through the closed bathroom door. He called her name frantically, catching Steven once again in the bathroom mirror.

I’m sure she’s alright, maybe she called after I nodded off.

Jake nodded, turning into the bedroom and pausing. The personal cell phone that they all shared was not in its usual place on the bedside table, nor was it in the pants that Steven had worn to work that day, or small pocket inside his satchel. Jake ignored the Brit’s yelling of discontent as he watched him dump the contents of his brown leather bag on the floor, searching through the mess of papers and granola bar wrappers.

“Where the hell did you leave it, Steven?”

He stopped in his tracks at the sound of a key shakily being jammed into the lock, trained eyes watching as the lock began to turn and the door slowly creaked open, and finally letting out a breath of air as he watched his girlfriend stumble over the threshold of the apartment.

“Helloooooo,” She sang out, jumbled giggled falling from her lips, “I’m here, somebody come love me, please!”

Jake shook his head as he stifled his chuckle, stepping forward and into the dim lighting provided by Steven’s desk lamp. His eyes did a quick scan over her body, searching for any sign of blood or injury, though the only sign of a struggle was the long run in her tights and her lack of shoes.

Her eyes lit up at the sight of him, though a mischievous grin spread across her cheeks as she leaned across the back of the couch, “Well hey there, big boy.”

He smirked, copying her posture as he rested his shoulder against one of the many vertical beams. He could tell by the way that she was looking at him that she was attempting to figure out exactly who she was talking to. Her eyes flickered over to the desk, taking in the dishevelled appearance of the books and the man who had once been sitting there.

“Are you just gonna stand there?”

He nodded at her, refusing to speak so that she would need to guess which one of the three it was. On a regular day, it would be easy for her, but in her state it might have been more difficult.

“Well,” she slid forward to stand in front of the desk, “These are all Steven’s books here, but from the looks of them,” she fingered at the crumpled and folded pages before glancing over her shoulder at him, “And you, he fell asleep.” She turned, pushing the books back so that she could boost herself onto the edge of the wooden desk, “But Steven doesn’t drink whiskey.”

Jake nodded once more as she gazed at him through hooded eyes, slowly fluttering her lashes in a manner that she knew would have any of them weak in the knees. He shifted, crossing his arms over his chest to mock the way that Marc might stand.

“Hi Jake.”

He scoffed, dropping his arms as he crossed the room to stand right in front of her. He allowed her to tug him closer, wrapping her legs around his waist and sliding her hands over his arms to knead his biceps gently.

“How’d you know it wasn’t Marc?”

She smirked up at him, leaning closer to whisper into his ear, “You didn’t look grumpy enough.”

His head rolled back as a hearty laugh rumbled out of his chest, growing even deeper as Marc shouted in protest and Steven agreed with her.

“Oh,” He rested his hand on his belly, “He didn’t like that, princesa.”

She shrugged, leaning forward to nudge his nose with her own, “He can punish me for it later. But for now…” Her hands slid down his arms, around his back and landed just above his bum as she tightened her legs around him, “I’m all yours.”

He allowed her to press a warm, sloppy kiss to his awaiting lips, but didn’t allow it go any further as she began to wiggle against him.

“We were worried about you,” He told her, “You’re usually home a lot earlier.”

“I know,” She shrugged, “I called and texted.”

“I couldn’t find the phone,” He admitted.

She raised a brow as she glanced down, nodding in the direction of where the phone was almost entirely covered in scattered paper, save for the corner.

“Well apparently I didn’t look quite as hard as I could have.”

“Apparently not.”

Where are her shoes?

“What happened to your shoes?” He asked, both genuinely concerned and hoping to change the subject from his failure to find a scarcely hidden cell phone.

“I took them off.” She shrugged, “I think Jenny has them.”

Now what if she had stepped on a needle or-or a sharp rock?

Check her feet, they might be bleeding.

Jake did as Marc instructed, stepping away and unwrapping himself from her limbs so that he could inspect her feet. They were dirty, of course, and the sheer fabric around the bottoms of her feet was torn up. There appeared to have been a few scrapes from the sidewalk, but the worst of the injuries were the two large busted blisters on each of her heels, oozing blood and various other fluids.

“Shit, cariño.” Jake rushed to the bathroom, returning a moment later with the first aid kit.

“That’s why I took ‘em off.” She shrugged, leaning back on her palms and allowing him to care for her feet, flinching as his fingers touched the swollen areas around the blisters.

He sat in the unsteady office chair, carefully pulling her feet into his lap and tugging at the tights, “Can I rip these?”

She barked out a laugh, “Now you’re asking? You’ve ripped a lot of my nicer things off of me without any notice.”

He grinned up at her, ignoring the heat that grew in the tips of his ears at her lewdness. One thing that he always appreciated about these nights out was that she always lost all shyness and reservation the moment that a single drop of alcohol touched her tongue.

“You certainly didn’t mind all those other times.”

“That’s because you rocked my world right afterwards. You gonna do that now?”

He glanced down, not ignorant to the way that his pants grew tighter at her words.

She’s drunk, Steven argued, Don’t take advantage of her.

“You’re drunk,” He noted, tearing the material away from her feet and beginning to dab at the open sores.

“Tipsy,” She corrected, “And horny. Please?”

He shook his head softly, pressing a gentle kiss to her kneecap, “Tomorrow, cariño.”

Y/n groaned, “I don’t want it tomorrow.”

He raised his brow as he finished cleaning her heels, “Oh really? I’ll keep that in mind. Now come on, let’s go to bed.”

She shook her head, pushing past him–making sure to bump his shoulder as she did so–and pausing in the bathroom doorway, “I need to shower.”

He sighed, carefully packing the first-aid kit back up and leaving it on the desk before making his way over to the bed. He leaned back against the headboard, glancing over to the partially closed bathroom door, only allowing him to see the vanity, though the mirror allowed him to see the figure he’d been longing for.

He watched the reflection as she carefully peeled herself free of the ruined tights before reaching for the zipper on the side of her dress. His breathing became laboured as he watched each article to fall away, leaving her bare to the world as the mirror began to gloss over with steam.

Go for it, Marc advised, If she’s really that mad about it then she’s definitely not that drunk. She’s never this unreasonable when she’s drunk.

Don’t, Steven argued, She’ll get over it.

Jake groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose tightly as the two argued in his mind, “Shut up, both of you. I can’t even hear myself think.”

He pondered for a moment, then finally made his decision.

The bathroom was frosted in steam, Jake’s body temperature skyrocketing as he stepped inside. He glanced down at the pile of discarded clothing on the floor, withholding a groan as he recognized the familiar pair of pink lace panties that had been thrown on top, carefully dropping his own clothes on top.

The curtain prevented him from spotting any details, but he could faintly make out her figure as she stood beneath the pounding stream of hot water. She did not seem surprised to hear the curtain run quietly along the track as he stepped in, refusing to turn to face him as he stepped into the stream as well, wrapping his arms carefully around her waist and holding her back to his chest.

“I’m sorry,” He murmured into her neck, leaving a trail of kisses in his wake, “I don’t wanna take advantage of you, mi amor.”

She was frustrated with him, but she simply couldn’t avoid the way that she slumped into his embrace so easily. She sighed, tilting her head back to rest against his shoulder as their eyes met, a silent understanding.

“You wouldn’t be,” She argued softly, “But it’s okay.”

He kissed her lips softly, one hand coming up to grasp at her hair and help her to remove the remaining suds of shampoo. He pushed her gently to stand a bit further from him, allowing him to run a generous amount of conditioner through the ends of her hair. When he was finished, she turned, wrapping her arms tightly around his waist and pressing herself against him.

“I love you,” She whispered into his shoulder, but he heard nonetheless.

“Yo también te amo angel.”

He felt the corners of her lips turn up against his flesh as she glanced up at him, wickedness clear in her eyes.

“What are you–oh!”

He gasped as her hand moved down, wrapping firmly around his length, which had been unabashedly erect against her thigh as they embraced, proving to her that he truly did want her.

“Let me do you,” She whispered to him, beginning to administer slow pumps, “That’s all. Please, Jakey.”

NO!

Looks like she’s going to either way, bud. May as well enjoy it.

She kissed him softly, taking his eager response to her as permission. Cautious not to slip, she lowered herself to kneel in front of him, gazing up at him through her lashes as she carefully dragged her tongue up the bottom of him, cupping his sack in her slick palm.

He groaned, leaning back against the wall in submission to her. She giggled, pressing the softest of kisses to his flesh before finally taking as much of him into her mouth as she could manage. Jake choked on his own spit, one hand carefully finding the nape of her neck to support her movements while the other ran through his own locks, smoothing the wet curls out of his face so they couldn’t obstruct his view.

“Baby-shit,” His hips stuttered forward, his tip grazing the back of her throat.

Her mouth curved around him, though she did not pause or slow her movements to respond with some witty comment, as he knew she had wanted to.

Hey!

His eyes snapped up, finding Steven staring back at him in the reflection of the stainless steel shower head.

“W-what now?” He stammered out, not noticing the way that she glanced up at him, but didn’t stop; she was more than accustomed to the boys talking and arguing with one another while she was having sex with one of them.

Shut the water off! I don’t even wanna look at the bill we’re gonna get this month.

Jake almost laughed, hell, he probably would have if he hadn’t been balls-deep in his girlfriend’s mouth. Reaching over, he grasped the handle and turned the water off before turning back to watching her. She raised a brow, a silent question.

“Steven complained about the water bill,” He explained, groaning as she choked slightly around him as a small laugh vibrated around her body.

He pressed on the back of her neck, prolonging the feeling of her choking around him for a few moments before pulling her back and hauling her up to her feet. His lips met hers in a furious kiss, tongues intertwining and teeth gnashing as he grasped at her thighs, carrying her out of the shower and dropping her onto the countertop as if she were a doll.

Eagerly, she spread her legs, grinding against him. He pulled away, moving down her body in hopes of returning the favour, though he was stopped by her, grasping his chin tightly and pulling him back up.

“No, no,” She gasped, “I need you. Please, I just need–”

“It’s okay,” He soothed, pulling her to the edge of the counter and lining himself up, “I got you, I got you.”

He slid into her easily, her folds sopping with arousal. Another perk of these nights out was that she was always so ready for him, and was always so responsive to his touch. He laughed as she squirmed against him, crying out louder than she normally would as his tip kissed her cervix.

Y/n rocked against him, meeting his every thrust without fail and shivering as her clit continued to be tickled by the dark curls on his pubis. Her arms wound around him, nails leaving crescent-shaped indents in his muscular back as she gripped him for dear-life.

“Jake,” she gasped, “I’m not gonna last long.”

“I know,” He grunted, hands grasping her bum to pull her into his thrusts even more, “Me neither, princesa.”

“I love you,” She cried out over and over as if it were some spell that she might have been using to bewitch him–that was the only way that Jake could explain how he was so easily manipulated by her every whim and became so enthralled by her simple presence.

“I love you,” He panted, “I fucking love you.”

His mouth took her lips, absorbing every sigh and moan that dared escape and committing them to memory. He wanted to encase every little bit of her being within himself, consume anything that she was willing to offer, especially her jerking movements and desperate whines as she tightened around him, spilling her release all over his member as he struggled to hold on.

“Come on,” She urged him, eyes hooded and hazy as she came down from her high, “Jake, come on. Please give it to me.”

Her words were enough, his hips stuttering through his final few thrusts before white-hot pleasure exploded within him. He groaned out loudly, following through with a few gentle movements to work himself through it before he slipped out.

They remained there for a few moments, wrapped in each other’s arms as they both came down, melting into one another and whispering sweet nothings. She kissed his shoulder softly, then reached up to meet his lips once more, allowing herself to force every ounce of love she had for him to flow through the embrace.

He chuckled when she pulled away, “Aren’t you glad I said no now?”

She shook her head, “You only made yourself suffer, I could have woken up Marc or Steven to do me the second you fell asleep. I was getting it one way or another.”

He frowned at her, pinching her thigh in retaliation, “You think that either of them could do what I just did?”

Watch it, amigo. I could have done her twice as hard as you did.

Jake grinned at his reflection over her shoulder turning back to his girlfriend, “By the way, Marc called you unreasonable.”

HEY!

#jake lockely imagine #jake lockely smut #jake lockely x reader #marc spector #marc spector fic #steven grant #steven grant x reader #moon knight #jake lockely fic #marvel #mcu #moon knight x reader #moon knight imagine

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angelkhi · 1 year

Text

santa's little helper - j.m

pairing: joel miller x reader

summary: you get more than you bargained for being santa’s little helper.

warnings: SMUT 18+ (minors DNI), thigh riding, fingering, dirty talk, some cursing, unprotected sex in an apocalypse (big dumb bitches), creampie (even bigger dumber bitches), pet names, age gap, low-key feral joel, a little bit of pining if you take off your glasses and squint. idk i’m writing this post crimbo dinner prep i’m tired.

word count: 2k

a little note: the logistics of when the breakout started and when the reader was born do not make sense but that is not my fault i'm not a scientist and i'm bad at math. anyways here's my singular christmas fic. to anyone that celebrates merry christmas, and to those who don't, have a lovely december 🫶🏾 (also not proofread i’m tired and it’s christmas)

Christmas is one of the few traditions kept alive in Jackson, with handmade paper decorations about the houses, small Christmas trees nursed to health with the help of Joel, children running around singing festive songs you'd missed for so many years. You felt truly alive for the first time in a long time.

Joel's smile is light, barely visible behind the beard curated from yarn, but you’re close enough to see his upturned lips. His eyes flick over your outfit, a green t-shirt turned dress, some striped tights and a stroke of damn near magic with long expired makeup transforming you into Santa’s little helper.

"Cute as a button." He mumbles. A steady stream of children enter the makeshift grotto and you don't get to enquire. Not that you would. Your whole body is ablaze with nervousness, Joel's comment striking deep, so deep in fact you probably could've foreign caking deep pink out of date blush to your cheeks. He’s one of the few good men left in this world, and his rugged looks are an added bonus, so it’s no wonder you keen for his approval.

The day goes off without a hitch, the smiles on the children's faces when they got to meet the Father Christmas, the endless amounts of crayon covered decorations each kid got to design, the supply of sugar cookies that dwindled far too quickly. You almost felt bad for the sugar rush their parents would have to deal with later on in the evening. But they wouldn’t care. It’s Christmas.

By the end of the night you’re beyond tired. A few stranglers help with some off he menial tidying, but you send them on their way, your morning plans of self indulgent cleaning spree at risk of being disrupted.

The town is quiet, but brightly lit when you lock the double doors, and you use the rare moment of peace and quiet to appreciate all that you’ve endured.

"Let me walk you home." You yelp quietly, the voice from the darkness unexpected. Though not unwelcome when you spy Joel's broad shoulder leaning against the old barn.

"You scared the shot out of me" You pause to catch your beating. He looks apologetic and for a moment you're worried you upset him "You don't have to do that."

"Walk you home or scare the shit out of you?" You chuckle.

"Not scaring the shit out of me would be nice, but you don’t have to walk me home Joel." In fact you can see your home from where you’re standing it’s so close.

"I know. I want to."

Joel fears that's about as close as hell get to a confession. He admired your normalcy in a world far beyond it. He admired you, albeit secretly.

The two of you walk in silence, until he’s walking up your porch stairs and you’re panicking about the once welcomed silence, filling it with an invitation into your home. He accepts with a quiet smile, taking in the festive lights and handcrafted decor.

You guide him through the small hallway into a tiny living room, filled with random trinkets and furniture that’s worse for wear. Its more homely than his humble abode, and it screams you, warm and inviting.

He leans back into the worn sofa, his legs spread. Even in the Santa Clause get up you're not sure how to place yourself. It's Joel Miller for heavens sakes. A part of him secretly enjoys your nervous energy as you hover in front of him, not sure what exactly to do with yourself.

"Here come sit." Joel pats the faded velour, "tell me what you want."

He suggested it without thinking, and of course you comply. You’d walk into a building full of infected if he asked. Something shifts when you find yourself in his lap, you wonder if he notices it too, the way the air in the room suddenly grew thicker filled with something you’re not sure you’d ever be brave enough to act on. Your palms grow clammy. Breathe.

Joel is dumbfounded at just how perfect you look in his lap. He’d keep you there forever if he could. His hands rest on your thighs, thumbs guiding a small driving small patterns into the striped tights. He dips his head low, trying to meet your downcast eyes.

“I want you Joel.” The admission has your cheeks tingling in slight embarrassment and an underlying fear of rejection.

"That's it sweet girl. Use your words and i'll give you anything you want."

Those hands slip beneath your dress, a wide palm cupping your warm cunt. He holds your gaze, watching and waiting.

“I want you to fuck me.”

“That so?” He hums, eyes raking over your almost innocent face, then down to where your hips meet his. Two fingers tap your thigh and a commanding ‘up’ is spoken. You raise your hips as he asks, you’d do anything he asked in that moment. Joel’s hands snake around the back of your thighs, pausing for a brief moment before gripping the scratchy tights and pulling with vigor. They split easily under the force, exposing you to him. He thumbs the edge of your panties for a moment, the small creases in his forehead deepening when he takes you in.

"Red lace? Where on earth did you get these?" His tone is light, punching through the heavy thickness in his throat and he tries to collect himself, just for a moment.

"I don't scavenge and tell Mr Miller." You chide playfully.

“Don't care where you got em from as long as I get to keep em."

"Then earn them." Joel smiles, not one to back down from a challenge, giving you a small and simple nod.

He’s so gentle when he places you on the sofa you’re lost for a moment, then he’s on his knees in front of you, hands on your thighs spreading you open. His thumb traces over the wet gusset of the almost transparent lace, a perfectly harsh pressure building when he rests on your clit. He doesn’t bother wasting time taking off the pretty underwear opting to pull them aside instead.

All of that sweetness, all of the hesitation flies out of the window when he finally catches a glimpse of you, so ready for him. Joel’s sharp tongue is sweeping against you in a bruising rhythm, nipping and sucking on your exposed clit. He’s impatient and determined, losing himself in how good you taste, showing no mercy when you grind yourself against him, gasping when your clit swipes against the soft bump of his nose. Your hands swipe through his salt and pepper waves, pulling him closer and he decides then that he’d happily die between your thighs. Your soft whimpers grow louder until they’re high pitched whines whilst you chase the orgasm he’s so desperate to give you.

“Fuck Joel.” Your fingers tighten around his soft hair, his rough fingers curling your weeping hole. All it takes is on hooked finger pressing up against that spot, one more soft drag of his tongue and you’re finished. Joel’s hips buck up at nothing when you cum on his face, making those pretty noises, hips clean off the couch cushions as you ride out your orgasm. But he doesn’t let up, fingers moving at a languid pace.

"Gimme one more. One more and i'll fuck your pretty cunt so good you'll feel me for days." Cocky bastard.

You’ve clearly lost all sense, because you nod like you have anything left to give.

He doesn’t stop, not until you’re thighs are practically shaking around his head, and you can barely keep your head on your shoulders. He looks so proud of himself when you find the energy to open your eyes. Like he could walk away untouched, your release giving him all the pleasure he needs.

He manoeuvres your pliant body back into his lap, hands cupping your jaw, thumb stroking your cheek.

"I ain't gonna be sweet on ya." Lies. He's already more than sweet on you, half way to smitten and too much of a coward to confess. If he were one for making rash decisions he'd be on one knee begging you to marry him and making you cum on his face. Though he wouldn't need a rash decision for the latter.

"Don't want you to be soft on me Joel. Please." You grind your hips into his growing bulge, shuddering breaths drowning out your weak plea. You make quick work of pulling down the handmade red trousers, hesitating only for a moment when your fingers rest on the waistband of his boxer shorts.

Joel’s chest heaves a little when your soft hands grip him, dragging the shiny pink head of his cock against your wet cunt, slipping him into your sopping hole with ease.

“That’s it. Take what you need.” He rests a guiding hand on your hip, until your flush against him, taking him to the hilt.

“So good for me.” This man and his fucking mouth.

He presses his mouth against yours, kissing you and claiming you all at once. His lips are surprisingly soft, a heavy contrast to the way he’s gripping your hips, pulling you flush against him. It’s not lost on you that he’s doing all the work but there’s not a single thought left in your head, just Joel and how he feels and sounds.

"Got you nice and full don't I?" You try to speak, honestly you do, but all that comes out is a pathetic whine. "Too fucked out to speak. Look at ya', so perfect all for me."

There is nothing that could pry you away from each other in that moment, your panting breaths, the slight tinge of sweat, burnt sugar and pine in the air. Joel's illicit grunts and your soft screams.

He finds some restraint and pauses, somehow placing you flat on your back, the soft couch cushions moulding around your body, worn out springs creaking beneath the weight of you both.

He cages you in, relishing as you practically melt into the worn leather sofa. His fingers hook under your knee, lifting your thigh higher, the small amount of strain forgotten when he sinks back into you hard and deep.

He takes almost as much as he gives, driving his hips in a harsh rhythm chasing his release, watching the way your body responds to him. Pretty lips parted, eyes closed so tight, pussy clenching around him. Nothing will ever feel this good. Joel thumbs at your clit once again, and he completely surrounds you. He’s so deep you can just about breathe, his deep grunts and guttural moans floating about your once boring living room.

He gives you your third orgasm of the evening, and you feel everything but nothing all at once. There’s nothing but him and you and the knowing that you’d never felt this good before and nothing would ever come close again. His thrusts are relentless, your wet cunt clenching around him sending him over that perfect ledge. Your name is the only thing on his lips when he cums so deep, you’re not sure where he ends and you begin. He’s completely still, muscles taught goading himself through his orgasm, the feeling nothing short of euphoric.

Joel’s hands find your face again, that softness ever present and he melts into your body, your lips.

“Honey you with me?" He asks after a short moment, his voice hoarse. You nod at first, but he’s looking for words, words you’re struggling to find with what little bit of energy you have left.

"I'm with you. Seeing fucking stars but i'm with you." Joel's shoulders grow less tense at your reassurance. He nods, calloused fingers exploring your cool skin all over again. You gasp in unison when he slips out of you, tucking himself into his boxers and pulling your panties back into place.

"So. Did I earn my keep?" The elastic twangs against your skin and the pair of you share a breathy laugh.

"Sure did. I'm all about giving, in the spirit of christmas of course." He smiles, more triumphant than cocky, though it morphs into a look of pure determination when you speak again.

"Did I mention I have them in black too?"

#smut #tlou smut #tlou #tlou hbo #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal joel miller #pedro pascal smut #the last of us smut #the last of us hbo #joel miller x reader smut #christmas fic

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apocalypseornaw · 5 months

Text

Prove It (Pt 2/5)

Dean Winchester x Reader

Dean comes home to find you gone

Dean was leaning against the bar when he saw Sam come back inside. He'd went to call you so you wouldn't be worried that they weren't back yet. The look on Sam's face had him pushing away from the bar and meeting him halfway "What's wrong?"

Sam looked down at his phone which was still in his hand before asking "Dean did you do something to Y/N?" Dean shook his head slowly, "What do you mean?" "She said she didn't give a damn when you got home and hung up on me"

The moment of realization hit Dean like a brick wall "Sammy, I fucked up"

The entire drive home Dean and Sam took turns trying to call you. You must have turned your phone off after a while because it had gone from ringing to the voicemail "If you have this number you know who this is and what to do so there's the beep"

"I can't believe I forgot" Dean said for what felt like the thousandth time. You had told him, you'd fucking told him that you were planning a surprise. What the hell kind of shitty boyfriend was he if he couldn't even come home for the surprise? Or remember it for fucks sake.

"She's just turned her phone off to get some sleep. Her feelings are hurt but she'll forgive you" he knew Sam didn't even believe himself at that point. You did everything for both of them, had for years. You were Sam's best friend and Dean was head over heels yet between the two of them they couldn't manage to rub two brain cells together to remember such an important date.

You deserved to be pissed, you deserved to ignore him. You deserved so much more than to be forgetten. "SON OF A BITCH" he slammed his hand on the steering wheel seeing Sam flinch slightly.

"It's gonna be ok Dean" Sam tried but he shook his head "and if it's not?" He asked and Sam didn't even attempt to lie or come up with some optimistic twist. Sam knew him, he knew that you had pulled him out of such a dark place even long before the two of you had gotten together. You'd been in their lives for so long, the only constant, the glue when they tried to fall apart. They'd you for granted, Dean had taken you for granted and the thought of losing you was too much.

Dean walked into the bunker and until that moment he'd never realized just how loud complete silence was. There was no music playing marking where you were, no sounds of pages flipping if you were reading, no water running for a shower and most of the lights were off leaving the entire bunker lit in that eerie blue color the auxiliary lights let off.

"Check your room, I'll check the garage for her car" Sam told Dean and patted his shoulder before walking off. Dean knew without checking the room, without seeing if your car was in the garage without any other confirmation but the heavy weight in his stomach. You were gone.

-----------

Dean walked into the room he shared with you and immediately noticed your jacket gone off the hook next to the bed. He didn't have to check dressers, they'd be empty. Your boots were gone from next to the bed.

On the table in the corner of the room sat a dark green gift bag, next to it was a covered pie and a card with his name written in your handwriting.

He walked over and picked up the card. When he opened it he sat down on one of the chairs and began to read. You'd poured your heart out onto the page saying how much you loved him and how important it was to you that he knew he deserved to be celebrated and how happy you were with him.

By the time he was through reading he had to lay the card down and close his eyes from the flow of emotions. He'd let you down, the one person you should always be able to count on and he hadn't been there for you. "Dean?" He opened his eyes to see Sam standing at the door. "She's gone Sammy"

He looked at the gift bag and pulled it closer to look inside. A signed led zeppelin album. He laid it back into the bag then opened the pie, apple. When Sam noticed what he was doing he motioned to the hall "There's steaks potatoes and grilled vegetables in the fridge"

"She made all my favorites. She chased down an album that probably took her weeks to get her hands on. She sat here waiting for me to come home to celebrate the last six years we've been together and I couldn't even do that for her" Dean laid his head back against the wall. "I gotta find her Sam. I got to try to make up for this, to show her just what she means to me"

Sam nodded "I'll start making phonecalls to see if anyone's seen her" Dean nodded, his mind imagining you sitting there waiting for him. The excitement giving way to worry then to betrayal. How could he forget?

@lacilou @suckitands33 @lyarr24 @decadentstrangernacho @nix-rose @irgendwas122 @deans-baby-momma @deans-spinster-witch @tas898 @fluff-lover

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x female!reader #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfiction #dean winchester fanfiction #prove it mini series

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cowboyfromh3ll · 7 months

Note

The reader joins the VDL gang with Micah, and is in a relationship with him, but as we know, Micah is shit. Period.

One night, after a terrible argument that ended with Micah hitting her and stomping off, the reader takes a moment by herself outside of camp just as Arthur is returning.

Concerned, he asks her if she's okay, and after a moment of thought, she revenge fucks him outside of camp.

Arthur doesn't fight it, especially since its micah that he's wronging.

Not Allowed

(Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader Smut)

Since this anon stepped forward and revealed themselves I kept true. Also this was literally so fun to write. Don't judge me but I sorta have a thing for writing infidelity... It's just so fun and exhilarating to write no matter how wrong it is

Warnings: Man on woman violence, mentions of abuse, implied SA, smut, infidelity

Micah’s affinity for gender roles meant he hated women smoking, especially his girlfriend. He’d claim there was nothing more masculine than puffing on a smoke after a robbery well done, but after sex, he’d consent to just about anything. And if Micah had touched you for an extended amount of time, you usually needed half a pack to calm down.

He’d given you a cheerful spank along with a sly wink; you refrained from shuddering because of it. There’d been a time in your life where you told yourself you’d never have sex, much less date, a man with so much sleaze. You had never imagined yourself in a gang in the first place, but being Micah’s girl naturally meant assimilating to the lifestyle he lived. As the relationship progressed you seemed to gain more reasons to lean into your new found family, and more reasons to be repulsed by the man who called you his.

“Damn darling,” He lit his own cigarette, sitting on the corner of your shared bed. “You should give it up more often.” He slapped a hand on your thigh, rubbing up and down your bare flesh; his touch was comparable to grating your skin with sandpaper. “It’s part of a woman’s job to please her man.” He added finally, blowing smoke into the air of the tent. With your combined cigarettes, the tent acquired a gray smog; symbolic of the way you felt around him.

You forced a smile at Micah, though it came off as unnatural and more as sarcastic. You’d felt like you’d been mauled superficially, your limbs aching with the knowledge that this man had just touched you. Whenever it came time for you to come face to face with your inescapable duties in the bedroom, you thoroughly and sufficiently got yourself drunk, downing bottle after bottle of liquor. Your inebriated state somehow made the acts more bearable. Did it ever register with Micah that your body was often drifting in and out of consciousness? By the time you two finished, the room felt like it was spinning around you, and having to excuse yourself to vomit outside of camp— both from alcohol consumption and from sheer disgust —afforded you a moment of temporary relief from the plague that awaited you back at your shared tent.

“When I tell you no, I’m just amping up the anticipation for the next time.” You forced a wide smile that showed an unnatural amount of teeth; you looked as though you were trying to do an impression of an overly enthusiastic ringmaster. Micah saw through your tired facade, narrowing his eyes at you. You looked back at him expressionless now, and took a long drag of your cigarette, part of you not caring if he saw through you or not.

“You’re a real stuck-up bitch, y’know that.” He said, turning to face you better on the cot. You didn’t offer much of a reaction, merely rolling your eyes in response; you were used to the insults. You ashed your cigarette, tapping the butt with your pointer and allowing the ash to fall on the bed sheets near Micah. This seemed to enrage him, causing him to grip your wrist, the same one that held onto the cigarette. Had you been in a safer and less closed off environment, you would’ve pressed the end of the cigarette into his wrist to get his vile hand off of you.

“I bring you into this life, offer you money and gifts, protect you, and you can’t even let me touch you? What, so you think you’re better than me?” He hissed, looking at you with contempt. You looked back with a blank expression, far better than giving him any sort of facial reaction. You simply sighed and looked off to the side.

“You’re ice cold for weeks, you barely look me in the eye, you only talk to me when I talk to you. Do you know how insane that is? Sometimes it’s like you’re not even there.” He yanked your wrist, causing a decent amount of ash to flick from the cigarette that had begun burning closer and closer towards the filter; symbolic of his and yours patience. So he had noticed your bouts of comatose, and continued to have his way with you.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Your gaze flickered back towards him, your eyes holding a blatant sense of disinterest. He looked back at you, a growing rage present in his face. You attempted to yank your wrist back. You weren’t particularly desensitized to Micah’s streak of using violence on you, but you had certainly learned when to mentally prepare. The use of some form of applied force— a gripping of your wrist when he wanted to get a point across, a frim squeezing of your thighs or breasts when you said no too many nights in a row —often coincided with some type of violence.

He squeezed your wrist until he felt bones shift, yanking you forward in the process.

“Micah, stop—” Your voice trembled with evident disgust and fear. “You’re hurting me, stop acting like a goddamn idiot.” You attempted to yank your wrist back. “God why do you always have to make everything about you!” You yelled.

At this point Micah had pulled you into a standing position, squeezing your wrist hard enough that it made your body begin to crumble from the pain.

“Do you know what a mindfuck you are? Now start acting like a goddamn woman should!” While holding your wrist he struck you across the face with the back of his hand, to which you yelled out from. You dug the nails from your free hand into his arm and dragged down, blossoming ribbons of red following in their wake, creating open blinds of flesh that would allow anyone to look into your abhorrent relationship.

Seemingly satisfied with his abuse of you, he let your aching wrist go. You only had time to yank the bed sheet off the cot, wrapping it around your body before storming out the tent.

“Yeah that’s right, leave the fucking tent and prove my goddamn point!” He yelled from behind you, a self satisfied laugh leaving him in raspy heaves.

“Fuck you, Micah!” You yelled in return, briefly turning to look back at him and flipping him off. You felt incredibly exposed as you ventured into the woods surrounding camp. You began to tremble, cursing to yourself under your breath as you tried to hold back your tears. You inhaled deep breaths, tightening the blanket around your shaking form; you wished you had a cigarette to calm you.

You stared into the pitch black woods surrounding you, scarcely illuminated by fire flies. You found solace in the solitude the woods provided you. You brought a hand up to your aching cheek, cursing to yourself once more at the memory of Micah striking you.

Your solitude was short lived as you observed Arthur returning to camp on horseback, and you mumbled to yourself how you should’ve at least properly dressed yourself up before leaving your tent. He spotted you leaning against a tree, offering you a warm smile.

“Evening, (Name).” He nodded at you as he dismounted his horse and tied it to a post. You did not give him your usual greeting, instead sniffling as you tried to collect yourself. The sound made his head snap up to face you, concern evident on his features as he approached you. He squinted his eyes in the darkness, making out the tears streaking your face and the red flushness of your bruising cheek.

“(Name), are you okay? What happened?” He asked. He hesitantly raised his hand to cup your cheek, but decided on hovering his hand when he remembered it was not his place to be touching you so intimately. He decided not to comment on your scant clothing, finding it too crass.

Being asked of your current emotional state seemed to be a trigger, because you instantly broke into more tears. Your shoulders began in a series of pitiful hiccups and sniffles, which made Arthur abandon all resolve as he pulled you into his chest for a gentle hug. His soothing hands began to remedy your melancholy as his thumbs rubbed calming circles on the downy skin between your shoulder blades. You held your hands up on your chest not to push him away, but to keep the blanket up against your body.

“It’s just Micah…” Your words slurred in between cries. “Just being an asshole. He hit me again.” You shook your head, speaking of the situation in passing dismissively much to Arthur’s horror. His expression hardened when he realized it was a regular occurrence, feeling ashamed for not being able to do something about it before.

“(Name), I’m so sorry… Do you want me to do something? I swear to god—”

You began shaking your head, craning your neck to look up at him. “No, it’s okay Arthur. You don’t need to do anything to him.” Arthur swallowed any protests he might’ve had, deciding to leave it for your comfort. He figured he might do something for you, but did not want to force you to come up with any solutions in a time where you needed a moment to feel.

You wrapped an arm around Arthur, allowing the blanket covering your body to be held up only by the pressing of your bodies up against each other. You looked at him with advantageous eyes, just subtly hinting at what you wanted. You caught Arthur’s eyes flickering down towards your increasingly exposed breasts, your cleavage forming from being pushed up against him; he nearly felt your hardened nipples through his button up. You gripped the shoulders of his shirt, pulling the fabric in a way that made the blanket fall ever more slightly.

“(Name)... Micah might see us like this, what will he think—”

“I don’t give a damn what he thinks.” You announced. Arthur could nearly smell the pulsing, fragrant pheromones coming from your wetness; just one layer of fabric away beneath the blanket. You not-so-subtly pushed up against him, ironing your pelvic bone across the increasingly erect heat inside his jeans. He let out a strained deep breath from the pressure, subconsciously pushing back into you.

Arthur looked back at camp, where your tent remained illuminated. The canvas drapery outlined Micah's body in a shadow illuminated by the oil lamp inside. Micah seemed to be hunched over his bed, smoking another cigarette in deep contemplation. As if to draw his attention back towards you, you began grinding deeper into Arthur, the fabric of the blanket snagging against his belt buckle and bunching up there.

"Are you sure you wanna do this?" He asked, offering a moment of clarity to your otherwise libidinous state.

"More sure than I've ever been about anything." The implications of your declaration suggested there was a long period of your life where you were uncertain about your relationship with Micah and having ever been with him at all; even before the abuse ever started.

"Do you want to go somewhere more private?" A smirk decorated his face, showing his total willingness to do this with you. You shook your head no.

"Nah, the possibility of him walking out here and seeing us is exhilarating." You giggled, gripping the collar of his shirt now. You pulled him down gently so your lips could meet, a tenderness underlining the otherwise ravenous exchange. Arthur's arms wrapped around your waist; your own around his wide set shoulders as the blanket fell open down the middle to expose your bare body, scarcely hanging onto the rest of you by the sides.

He lifted the blanket just barely above your ass, snaking his hands underneath to grip your bare flesh. He thoughtfully rubbed and palmed at your ass and thighs, expertly kissing you in return; a stark contrast to the way Micah greedily devoured your face. He slid his tongue against your palate, causing a shiver to wrack up your spine. Before long his deft fingers slid to the inner part of your ass, where he used his finger tips to spread your pussy apart, idly rubbing your weeping hole and spreading the wetness.

You groaned into his ear, coaxing him on, encouraging him as he dipped two fingers inside you. He fingered you shallowly as if he were still hesitant to do this with you; as if fully penetrating you with his fingers were the last line he could cross before the act of infidelity was fully sealed and done. You leaned up and licked the shell of his ear, moaning into him as he leisurely played with your hole. You hiked your leg up to his hip, giving him better access as you spread your legs open.

“God, just fuck me, Morgan!” You demanded, perhaps a bit too loudly; but you did not mind, if Micah heard it’d save you a lot of pain. You took Arthur’s wrist, slipping a third finger inside you and pushing his hand in until his palm was flush against your pussy. He took the cue and began vigorously fingering your pussy, the squelching sounds accompanying the backdrop of crickets chirping. You began bouncing your hips on his fingers, letting out a loud string of moans before he shoved two fingers into your mouth to silence you. You let out deep guttural moans from within your chest, feeling far more erotic now that the blanket has slipped completely off of you and was merely hanging on by the junction of Arthur's forearm slipping under your thigh and fingering you. Your pert nipples rubbed on the fabric of Arthur's shirt, providing you some form of stimulation along with him fingering you. He curled all three digits inside you, putting the full force of his wrist as he fucked you with his hand.

"I can't wait to be fucked by you…" you hissed into his ear, followed by a moan. You gripped his stiff cock through his jeans and squeezed the appendage, stroking and rubbing him up and down. "Can't wait to have this big cock inside me…" you shuddered at the thought, your own words causing Arthur to whimper.

Arthur pulled his fingers out of you, aware that it probably wouldn't be enough to make you cum. He raised them to view as you both watched, spreading them apart and watching the way your wetness spread between his fingers in thick strings. You watched in pleasant surprise as he stuck his fingers inside his mouth, sucking them clean and moaning in pleasure.

"Alright my turn." You purred. You lowered your leg from his hip, letting the blanket fully drop and exposing yourself completely to him. For a moment he ran his hand up your side, squeezing your breast and pulling on your nipples. You dropped to your knees before him, his expression one of surprise and uneasiness. You came face to face with the outline of his cock, licking your lips as you traced the outline down his leg.

"Are you sure? You don't have to do this. We can just get to it."

You nodded your head, his concern laden statement making you feel touched. Usually when you had sex with Micah, he'd beg you to fellate him so much so that it sounded like he was ordering you to.

"Yeah, I wanna blow you. Having you in my mouth makes it even better." You lifted your knees and rested your weight on the balls of your feet. Arthur watched with satisfaction as you undid his belt, just barely managing to undo his zipper and button in your impatience. You dug into his pants and pulled his cock out. You held it up with both hands, swaying it slightly in the air as you studied it meticulously. You pulled back his foreskin, rubbing your fingers all over the skin before spitting a fat glob of saliva on his flush head. His cock seemed to be a gradient of pale skin to flushed pink the closer you got to his tip. You used one hand to spread the saliva and stroke him up and down, hearing faint gasps from above you.

He allowed you to take your sweet time, hypnotized by the way you kissed his tip before sliding your lips over his mouth. You began sucking instantly, swirling your tongue on it. You lowered your head until a gag tugged at the back of your throat, stroking what you could not with your hand. Arthur assisted you by bunching your hair up, moaning lowly as his eyes slid shut for a moment. You sucked harshly, your throat constricting around him each time you swallowed a gag. Your slurps were loud, hard to miss by anyone who happened to walk past. Though Arthur did a good job of staking the surrounding area out so you wouldn't be caught by anyone else; besides Micah of course.

You were throbbing in-between your legs, probably dripping onto the floor beneath you. Your jaw and lips ached, and you eventually pulled off of Arthur's cock and looked up at him. Your swollen lips were pouting.

"My jaws tired, sorry." You apologized, but he shook his head.

"S'alright sweetheart. You don't gotta make me finish with your mouth." He reassured you by lifting you to your feet and kissed you on the forehead. Of all the acts Arthur had done that night thus far, he felt as if that small tender gesture of affection was the boldest thing he had done. You smiled widely at him, feeling a sentimental sense of affection for him.

As though he were a gentleman helping you onto a horse, he took your hand as he wrapped his arm around your waist and lifted you up. You clenched your thighs around his waist, shifting and moving around until you felt him align with your cunt.

He continues to hold your hand, squeezing it as you sunk down onto his cock. You both sighed in unison from the sheer pleasure. Arthur was struggling to keep quiet; the feeling of your tight, warm cunt swallowing and wrapping around his cock was breathtakingly good. It felt as though Arthur was scratching an itch deep within you.

Arthur moved your body up and down, treating your body like a ragdoll he could fuck but never making you feel like one. He kissed your knuckles repeatedly as you tried to contain your moans. The passion behind his thrusts were symbolic of all the time he's wanted to do this. All the time he spent longing for you, now communicated to you through his desperate movements.

His thrusts increased in force; much deeper and intentional compared to his earlier hesitance to even finger you. With each thrust, he forced another high pitched squeal out of you. The wet plap of skin on skin caused goose bumps to ripple through your body. Before long, your orgasm hit you with unexpected force. Your body shuddered as you let out an unexpectedly loud moan, one that would certainly draw questions towards your whereabouts later on.

Arthur's thrusts became increasingly desperate, struggling to form a sentence. He shakily asked "where should I finish?" To which you insisted he cum inside you. The thought alone made him moan loudly, finishing inside you as a triumphant smile spread across his face. He had done it. He had finally done it. He had wronged Micah in the most intimate way possible, while also fulfilling one of his greatest desires. Killing two birds with one stone.

The two of you stood there panting for a moment, before he helped you onto your feet. He continued holding your hand as he crouched down to retrieve your blanket for you; tenderly wrapping it around your shoulders. The two of you smiled at each other before mutually leaning forward and kissing. The kiss was far more tender and sweet, a subtle declaration of love.

"Thank you." you giggled.

"Anything for you." He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth. The urge to exchange small kisses was insatiable, and the two of you remained there doing so for a few more minutes. You noticed the light in your tent had gone out already, and you smirked at the thought of Micah having knowledge of what had just happened.

"You gonna be alright for the night sweetheart?" He asked, motioning towards the rent. You nodded. "I'll be on standby just in case."

"Yeah, but who knows, maybe I'll go visit you later tonight." You winked playfully as you walked off towards your tent, silently opening the flaps and disappearing inside. How Arthur wished it was his tent you were walking inside. How often he looked at you on Micah’s arm and wished it was him holding you. Though there was clearly something between you, and part of him suspected it wasn’t just by chance that he came into camp at the right time; that this was something that was meant to happen. He hoped it would mean you could be more than just friends.

Not Allowed - TV Girl

#red dead redemption 2 #red dead fandom #red dead redemption community #red dead redemption 2 x reader #writing #van der linde gang x reader #red dead fanfiction #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x reader smut #arthur morgan smut

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scribbledghost · 7 months

Text

Respite

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader (no y/n)

Rating: G

Word Count: 1,010

Warnings/Tags: third person POV, Really corny jokes, possibly OOC Ghost??? idek, Ghost's love language is acts of service and telling shitty jokes. This is a hill I will die on

Notes: yeah, yeah, I hear you, I've got requests sitting in my inbox (that I promise I'll get to) and here I am writing for a completely different blorbo that also shares my own damn name. Let me have this. Depending on this fic's reception I may write another. Lemme know what y'all think.

He could tell she was angry the moment she walked through the front door. Could feel it before he even saw her face.

A barely-contained, match-lit fuse, dangerously close to an exploding payload filled with shrapnel and black powder. If he’d been anywhere except their shared home, Simon would have wondered why he wasn’t smelling smoke as she walked.

He followed her silently into the kitchen where she deposited her bag and jacket, offering only one quiet word as she mumbled something about a shower and retreated into their shared bedroom.

“Alone?”

She paused. It was a question she had asked him on many occasions. And just like all those times for him, it wasn’t meant as an invitation for something explicit - wasn’t meant as a double entendre or flirtatious means to an end. It was a simple question: did the other party want the asker’s presence, a wall at their back as they stood beneath a rain of hot water. It was an offer of calm, silent company.

“Alone.”

Yeah, she was pissed.

Simon busied himself making dinner while she showered. Something quick, easy, and simple for her to at least get something in her stomach after the day she’d had. If he knew her like he thought he did, he doubted she’d eaten much (if at all) that day anyway. Part of him hoped that between a meal and a shower, her fuse would extinguish at least enough to clue him in on what was going on.

She took her time. Much like him, she showered to separate herself from work. “Washing the day off”, she called it. He knew the longer she was under the water, the more she felt the need to wash away. And today, she was there for a good, long while. Long enough for her to grumble about the water getting cold when she emerged again.

“Dinner, love.”

“Not hungry,” she said as she walked past him towards the living room.

He followed her, gently placing his hands on her arms as he brought her back to his chest.

“When’s the last time you ate?”

She sighed, and he knew he had her pinned.

“Yesterday.”

“Gotta eat, love,” he said softly. “You’ll feel better. Already made it, all y’gotta do is eat.”

Another sigh.

“Go. Sit. I’ll bring you a plate,” he said as he released her with a light pat to her hip.

She did as he asked without complaint, and as he brought her food to her and sat next to her on the couch, he carefully logged her body language. Leg bouncing, hand pinching the bridge of her nose, head leaned back, a deep breath in through her nose and out through her mouth.

Dinner was a quiet affair, only the low sound of the television in the background breaking up the silence. Once they were finished, Simon took her plate and his back into the kitchen, then returned to his spot on the couch with an arm stretched across the back behind her head.

“Long day, pet?”

At first, he only received an affirmative grunt in response. He gave her time, gave her space to fill if she wanted to elaborate.

“Boss is driving me up a fucking wall,” she finally started. “Got too much on her plate and can’t keep up. I want to help, but I’m stuck doing two jobs as it is. Don’t have the time to take on any extra. So I sit and struggle to get through my own shit while she’s in her office bitching and moaning about ‘I can’t find this’ or ‘I don’t understand that’ and I have to listen to it. And all that’s on top of everything else going on that’s not work related. Feel like I’m getting pulled in a thousand different directions. Got a fucking headache, Simon.”

At some point during her rant, Simon’s hand had drifted down and he had begun to rub a thumb along the back of her neck.

“I’m not even getting decent sleep,” she mumbled.

“I know.”

By now, the tension had left her. Seeped from her lungs and drifted down through the carpet. All that was left was exhaustion.

“I feel bad for complaining,” she finally admitted. “It’s not like I’m getting shot at on the daily like… other jobs.”

“No,” Simon agreed, “but that doesn’t mean you can’t complain.”

She didn’t believe him. He knew she didn’t. In her mind, she was whining about office politics and a busy schedule to a man who was on leave from a job where being on the business end of a pack of explosives was a near daily risk. He knew from vast experience that there was little he could do to dissuade her on that front. So trying to cheer her up by affirming her need to vent was out of the question.

Simon was a man of many means, however.

“What do you call a pile of cats?”

She gave him a weary stare.

“...What.”

“A meowntain.”

Then, he caught it. Before she could hide it, a quirk of her lips, a grin that spread before her sour mood could dampen it.

“That was awful, Simon.”

“Another?”

She paused. Then she let a soft smile grace her features.

“...Yeah.”

“How do you count cows?”

“Uh… one, two, three, four?”

“No, with a cow-culator.”

This time, he received an approximation of a laugh from her. A puff of air through her nose, accompanied by a good-natured shake of her head.

“That one was even worse.”

“Made you smile though.”

She shifted closer to him, brought a hand up to his face, and pulled his face to her as she pressed her lips to his cheek in a gentle kiss.

“Yeah,” she murmured against his skin, “you did.”

Simon turned his head to nudge his forehead against hers as he closed his eyes. A quiet moment after a hurricane, a giving of permission to let go after holding on against the waves all day.

Tomorrow would be better. He’d make sure of it.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #ghost cod #ghost mw2 #idfk what tags to use so hopefully that's good enough #ghost scribbles

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neverchecking · 11 months

Note

hello! would it be possible to request yandere sage to a reader who got split from the chain but has a switch with them?

I adore your headcanons for him and I honestly would just love to see some more of him, perhaps he's trying to figure out if they're yiga or not since y'know only they see him as link without zelda and they just show it off reluctantly?

SAGE SAGE SAGE SAGE SAGE SAGE-YOU ABSOLUTELY FUCKING CAN.

Ahem. Yes, you very much can request my precious baby boy.

For those of you who don't know, Sage is the Hero of the Zonai, A.K.A. The Link from Tears of the Kingdom-- if we go down the route that he's a different guy from Wild. So TotK spoilers.

Anyway, look whose got his own banner! SAGE DOES-

CW: Talk of death, but nothing happens (Bc Sage won't let it happen)

He was very...unsure of you, to put it lightly.

Which was rare in and of itself since he knew most things. He knew how the Gloom hands would react should he hit them with a Dazzlefruit. He knew the exact force he would have to throw a splash fruit for it to burst in a splash of water. He knew the exact amount of force required to bend a Yiga's arm before it snaps a lot.

But he didn't know anything about you. Which put him on edge.

You came out of this weird...void thingy that he had never seen before and you dressed weirdly. You had began to call out desperately for names the second you had collected yourself (He had no clue who Wild or Twilight or Wind were, but whoever named those poor fools needed to be fired. Those names were awful.) . He watched you stumble like a newborn fawn, full of naive innocence and blind trust in the world around you.

What a fool you were.

Still, he couldn't look away. He didn't move from his place perched in a particularly tall tree, but he didn't let his attention wander from you. He couldn't. It was like you were...magnetic, drawing him in to your orbit just to keep him there.

Somewhere above him, the light dragon let out a warble. His ears flickered in that general direction, but otherwise he paid it no mind, clicking the claws on Rauru's hand against the bark of the tree.

You seemed so hopelessly lost, wandering about. It certainly didn't seem like you were the traveling type, so why you were out here, he had no idea. You would killed before long. He wondered how you would die. Something fast and quick? An electric arrow from a Lizalfos? (They had been getting unexplainably stronger now that he thought about it.) Maybe one swift hit from a Horriblin? Or maybe it would be something long and drawn out. Maybe a Frost Gleeok would freeze you so badly Hypothermia took over your limbs before freezing your lungs. Or maybe a Fire Gleeok would roast you alive before you even had the chance to register they were there. Perhaps the King himself would do both before shocking your battered form to hell and back. Or maybe the Gloom hands would grab at your flailing arms and legs, holding you still while they drained the life force right out of you.

Something full of anger lit up in his gut at just the thought of you getting hurt. He had no reason to get so livid at even a scratch on your form, but for some reason it had him snarling to himself, as if daring the universe to test him.

He wouldn't put it past Hylia at this point, that vengeful bitch.

It seemed she took his challenge to heart anyway, just as you slipped out some strange device about the same size as his Purah pad. You were so immersed in the damned thing that you didn't even hear one of the trees moving around behind you. Which was beyond him since they weren't quiet.

You didn't even look up until the shadow was looming over you and he was jumping from his tree. Riju's power sparked to life as he pulled out his bow, stunning the tree with enough power it fell with a pull of purple smoke. Something began leaking out of the discarded log, black and viscous, as it always seemed to do these days. It didn't make any difference to him, they all died the same anyway.

You had fallen onto your ass as he approached, watching him like prey would watch the predator. Nothing but wide eyes leaking with fear as he loped upon you. It made his gut swing with something foreign as he eyed you. He wasn't stupid. He knew the Yiga would go to some, frankly, extraordinary lengths to have his head on a stick. Whose to say they wouldn't set up some form of act where they attacked each other just to garner his attention?

He held out his weapon towards you, the Lynel horn glinting in the light as it prodded against your neck. You vulnerable and fragile little neck. You looked like you were about to cry at the action.

Unrelated, he pulled back just a bit. His snarl remained just the same. "Who are you?" He barked, daring you to avoid his question. Your...device was discarded at your side, which you quickly grappled onto as some form of protection. He'd have to remain weary of that. If it was anything like his Purah pad, it would be of an annoyance. Especially if you were a Yiga. They were able to replicate the Thunder Helm for Din's sake. (That was a mess and a half to retrieve.)

You swallowed hard, wincing away from him before fighting the urge to look up at him. His heart stuttered at the positively broken look you showed. You were so scared and so frightened.

He was supposed to be a hero.

(A part of him argued that he was the hero. Had been the hero. And look where it got him? Right back at the start. Fighting for his life once more. Fighting for someone who wouldn't do the same for him. Fighting for a Goddess who only used him as a pawn only to discard him when he was done.)

There was no way you were Yiga. You couldn't have been. None of them would've ever looked up at him like that. Nor could you have been a puppet of Ganon. Puppets and Yiga would burst out into an offensive attack the second they caught sight of him.

You didn't pose a threat.

But that didn't clear your name. "I asked you a question. I expect an answer." He allowed ultrahand to light up Rauru's arm in a warning red.

You blinked before shakily swallowing, holding your device to your chest. "...Y/N."

So that was your name. It was a nice name. Suited your features well and rolled off the tongue. Each syllable seemed built for your very being. He repeated it, using the tip of his weapon to tilt your chin up to face him again. That same, Goddess damned, look was sprawled on your features as he looked over you. You didn't seem injured outside of a bandaged wrap around your lower neck and left shoulder.

You had been hurt. Perhaps it was under that Wild's watch, whoever they were. They were unfit to care for you it seemed. He would happily take over if it meant you didn't get hurt any longer.

"You're...Link, right?"

He blinked, weapon staggering for a second. How did you know who he was? No one knew who he was anymore. Not without that wretched Zelda beside him, giving him a title he felt disgraced his very being. The swordsman. it was all Mineru called him and it burned something bitter in him.

He pushed the weapon further against your skin, watching it turn a harsh red before flashing to white. "What's it to you?" His teeth were bared as you tried to pull away, if only to breath just a little. He didn't let you. While it made his gut rot and knot at the thought of hurting you, he couldn't risk his own life. Not when he had a duty, Not when he had a vengeance. A vendetta.

"I can explain!" You hurriedly called, making him pull back once again.

"I would do so quickly."

You shook in your spot as your showed him the device. It seemed to have a selection of boxes, each holding a different picture. The one you hovered over read something in a language he couldn't read, but there was a picture of him. Right there. This was your explanation? It was pitiful. He almost did away with you, if only to move on, but you spoke before he could.

"You're Link. The wielder of the Master Sword. I- I'm from some other world. I, along with a group of others, are travelling to fight a dark magic that has been effecting many Hyrules across time. It's evidently effected yours." You gestured to the log, which now had an inky puddle beneath it. "We're here to help."

He pulled the weapon away, but didn't raise his glare from your form. "I don't need help."

"I never said you did." You let out a sigh full of relief. "But sometimes having someone watch your back is nice. I know you haven't had that person for you, which breaks my heart. This adventure is your second, third if we count...Ya'know..." You trailed off as his eyes narrowed. Were you talking about the Calamity? The Calamity he fell to? "You haven't had help, which I can only imagine as exhausting."

You were speaking nonsense. Nonsense that made him bubble with understanding of a sort. It was a clumsy attempt, but you were trying to offer support to him. Support he had never had previously.

He could kick his past (Three minutes ago) self for ever dreaming of hurting you, even if it was for his own personal safety. The thought of having someone offer just a tad bit of help to his battered and broken from, riddled with gloom, had him feeling a bit lighter.

He wouldn't trust you right away, he had gotten burned one too many times from doing that, but he would get you to a stable. Ensure you were safe from infection and whatever else before he made a decision regarding you and him in any sort of capacity.

Maybe take you to your group if only to see if those filth were worthy of your presence.

He would ensure you were safe in his, nevertheless. If he had to do away with the others, then so be it.

If he wanted to keep something, he would need to cling to it.

And this was just the start of his grip on you. Whether you knew it yet, or not.

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