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libraryofgage · 4 months

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Harlequin Prince

Part of: Steve Deserves Good Parents, Actually Debbie and Fester Addams One | Two Rick and Evelyn O'Connell One Harley Quinn One (you're here!) 10th Doctor and Rose (on the way! might take a little, I have plans for this one) Scooby Gang (there are also plans for this one lmao, so plz be patient with me orz)

I'm a simple woman who believes Steve deserves to be a little unhinged sometimes, and having Harley Quinn as a mother is the perfect excuse to make that happen lol

Anyway, I know I haven't updated some of my other series in a hot minute; I've just been busy with work and a little sick ngl

If you'd like to be tagged for any new parts in this series, let me know!

And, as always, if you see any typos, no you didn't ;)

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Steve's earliest memory is of being tucked into bed with a Batman night light plugged into the wall and his mother squeezed in next to him. She's wearing her softest pajamas, and Steve idly rubs the fabric under his thumb. In her lap is a huge book that she flips through, humming "Pop Goes the Weasel" under her breath before finally stopping on a page. "Okay, Dumplin', let's read about Narcissistic Personality Disorder," she finally says, wiggling some to get comfortable before clearing her throat.

Her voice is soft and a little nasally, and Steve obediently closes his eyes when she starts reading. After a few minutes, she gently cards her fingers through his hair, her palm warm as it slides over his scalp. Eventually, he drifts off, his dream so vivid that he still remembers the oversized hammers with their white doctor coats and floating clipboards.

The first time Steve's mother is sent (back) to Arkham, he doesn't realize anything is wrong until Uncle Bruce picks him up from school. Steve had been waiting long after the other kids were picked up by their parents, a misshapen pink-and-blue coaster for his mother that he made in art class in his hands, when one of Uncle Bruce's fancy cars pulled up to the school.

The passenger window rolled down, and Bruce looked almost pained as he met Steve's eyes. "Hop in," he said, leaning over to open the door from the inside.

Steve walked up to the door but didn't get in. "Mom said I should only go home with her," he said, "unless you know our secret code."

"Cognitive Behavioral Therapy."

Steve stood for a moment longer before nodding and climbing into the passenger seat. He closed the door, pulled on his seat belt, and carefully held the coaster in his lap. "Where's Mom?" he asked, watching as Bruce turned down the radio and slowly pulled away from the school.

"Your mother is....going to be away for a while," Bruce said, gripping the steering wheel tighter. "She did something bad, and now she's going to stay in time out because of it."

"Mom says you shouldn't dumb things down just because I'm young. She says it's not good for my development."

Bruce got a slight smile at that, his lips twitching up as he glanced at Steve. "Is that so," he said, his grip on the wheel loosening some. He seemed to think for a moment before saying, "Your mother blew up a warehouse. She was apprehended by Batman and has been sent to Arkham for a few months. Since I'm listed as your godfather, you'll stay with me until she's released."

Steve didn't reply. He just looked down at his coaster and wondered if he'd be able to convince his Uncle Bruce to visit Arkham so he could give it to her.

He did not, in fact, get to visit her at Arkham during that stint. But Steve did get to visit on her next one, which was almost three years later to the day. Steve's first visit to Arkham was on his 8th birthday, and he was chaperoned by Uncle Bruce and Nightwing (he wasn't allowed to call Dick by his real name when he was in costume, so Steve just didn't call him anything at all).

That was also the first time Steve truly experienced Arkham's lax security. Through no fault of his own (and he would continue to argue this point; how did two superheroes let an 8 year old wander off?), Steve had somehow ended up in another part of Arkham altogether.

This hallway had large cells with reinforced glass walls that allowed Steve to look inside. He could name most of the people he passed, recognizing Killer Croc and Riddler and the Penguin by his mother's descriptions of their defining features. Most of them tried talking to Steve, but he pushed ahead, eager to see if his mother was at the end of the hall.

She wasn't. Instead, Steve found another woman. She had green skin and bright red hair and Steve hadn't been able to contain himself. He'd practically squished his face against the glass and asked, "Are you Poison Ivy?"

"Oh, her he talks to," the Penguin said, his tone mean and his voice carrying.

Poison Ivy ignored him, choosing to instead open one eye from where she lay on the bed. She stared at Steve before sitting up. "Do I know you?" she asked.

"Nope! But my mom knows you. She talks about you all the time. She said you're the baddest badass to ever badass," Steve said.

"Oh. You're Harley's kid," Poison Ivy replied, walking over to the glass and crouching down to meet his gaze. "What are you doing all the way over here?"

"It's my birthday, so Uncle Bruce said I could see Mom."

"Well, happy birthday. Now, what are you doing here?"

Steve blinked, looked around the hall again, and realized for the first time that he was, in fact, a bit lost. "Uh, I'm not sure. I was with Uncle Bruce before."

A moment passed between the two of them in which Poison Ivy said nothing while Steve tried to remember how, exactly, he'd ended up here. When he came up blank, he simply shrugged and looked back at her. "Hey, you like plants, right?" he asked.

"Yeah, kid, I like plants," she said, her tone taking on the same inflection his mother's did when he asked something she thinks is obvious.

Steve didn't linger on the tone. Instead, he dug around in his coat pocket for a few seconds, pushing past candy wrappers and erasers until his hand closed around an acorn he'd picked up off the ground a few days ago. He pulled it out and presented it to Poison Ivy on his palm. "Is it still a plant if it fell off the tree?" he asked.

"Yeah," Poison Ivy said, her voice soft like she was staring at something unbelievable. Steve watched as a huge grin spread across her face, her eyes lit up, and she pressed her hands to the glass. "Can you do me a favor, Steve?" she asked.

"Sure! Mom said you're a person I should listen to," he said, starting to close his fingers around the acorn. Now that he was thinking about it, he didn't actually know how to give the acorn to her with the glass between them.

"Your mom is right. You should always listen to me. And her. But mostly me right now," Poison Ivy said, her gaze a bit softer as she looked at Steve. "So, go ahead and put the acorn on the ground and stand as far away as possible."

Steve didn't question her. Whatever Poison Ivy wanted to do would probably be fine. After all, Uncle Bruce didn't warn him about talking to her like he had about the Joker. So, Steve put the acorn down and hurried to the other end of the hall. "Now what?" he shouted.

The only response he got was the acorn shuddering, spinning across the floor, and then bursting open. In the blink of an eye, a tree grew, its roots breaking through the ground and its branches shattering the glass of Poison Ivy's cell. Steve was just thinking that was probably why Poison Ivy told him to stand back when she walked out, rolling her shoulders and breathing like the air is fresh.

She looked at Steve and walked over, standing in front of him for a moment before sweeping him into her arms. "Thanks, kid," she said, opening her hand and letting a tiny purple flower grow from her palm. She tucked it behind Steve's ear. "Now, let's go find your mom."

Of course, Poison Ivy's escape had set off numerous alarms, and Uncle Bruce just about fainted when he saw her carrying Steve while Nightwing looked two seconds from laughing. But Steve's mom had smiled so wide that her cheeks must have hurt after only two seconds when she saw them.

It was, by far, the best birthday Steve had ever had.

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Hawkins, Indiana, is...boring. Steve has only been in the town for a few weeks, and he's bored out of his mind. He could have been sent to Metropolis or Central City. Hell, he would have preferred Bludhaven to the absolute snoozefest that is Hawkins. But, no, Uncle Bruce insisted on somewhere safe, which means somewhere boring, which means...Steve will just have to make his own fun.

That's why he's found himself in a dive bar on the edge of town, sitting at the bar as the owner (a woman named Bev who definitely killed her husband; Steve would know, he's met plenty of women who definitely killed their husbands) refuses to give him anything alcoholic. "Listen, kid," she says, her tone hard and unyielding, "I can give you water, a Shirley Temple, or a permanent ban. Which do you prefer."

After a few seconds, Steve sighs, slaps way more money than is necessary on the bar, and says, "Gimme a Shirley Temple."

Bev nods, swipes up the cash, and starts making his drink. He watches her with a slight frown before looking away, noticing another boy his age wiping down a table. He looks, and Steve cannot say this affectionately enough, like a wannabe goon for a motorcycle gang. Between the bandana stuffed into his back pocket, his slightly frizzy hair falling to his shoulders, and the leather jacket/vest combo, the guy is the first reminder of home Steve has seen since arriving in this sleepy town.

When he notices the guy's shoulders tense, Steve looks away to keep from being caught staring. A Shirley Temple is placed in front of him, and Steve represses a sigh, missing the sounds of fights happening behind him as he drinks with Jason.

"Aren't you a little young to be hanging around here?"

Steve slowly takes a sip of his drink, the saccharine cherry flavor washing over his tastebuds, and glances at an older man a few seats down from him. He looks the man over, lingering on the half-tucked shirt, muddy loafers, and circles under his eyes. Without permission, his mother's DSM-V rushes through his mind, a blur of his mother's voice accompanying the page flips. They finally settle on "Adjustment Disorder," accompanied by his mom saying, "Sometimes, that's just a fancy term for a mid-life crisis, Dumplin'."

Without thinking, Steve asks in return, "Aren't you a little old to still be going through a mid-life crisis?"

In Gotham, that might get him a laugh, an eye roll, and possibly an elbow to the ribs from whichever friend accompanied him. Here, it gets him a tense silence that he only thought happened in bad movies gearing up for a fight sequence. Seriously, what is wrong with Hawkins?

"I'll give you one chance to apologize," the guy says, clearly thinking he's being sufficiently threatening.

It takes every ounce of Steve's self-control to keep from laughing at the guy. Does that usually work? Do people usually find this guy threatening? He's got nothing on Alfred, so Steve just can't bring himself to even fake intimidation.

"Yeah, don't hold your breath, man," Steve says, rolling his eyes as he takes another sip. The Shirley Temple isn't bad, but it's not what he was expecting, and it feels like just another disappointment atop a pile of them.

They're building in his chest, now that he thinks about it. Steve is slowly suffocating under the weight of them. They buzz in his lungs, surging through him until the energy is so overwhelming that he has to bounce his leg and tap his finger against his glass to expel some of it. He shouldn't have agreed to leave Gotham, or at the very least, he shouldn't have left the location entirely up to Bruce. Holy shit, that was a dumb decision. He ought to know better.

A sudden, annoyingly harsh drag of chair legs against the floor rings in Steve's ears, making his shoulders tense and his fingers twitch. He looks over to see the guy standing over him, glaring down at Steve like that's supposed to scare him when nothing else has.

Steve sighs, drinking the last of his Shirley Temple before standing. Over the guy's shoulder, he can see the boy his age watching them, and...well, Steve kind of wants to make a good impression on the first person to remind him of home. Plus, a fight sounds great. He'd love a chance to expel some of this disappointment-fueled energy.

The guy suddenly snorts, pulling Steve's attention back. "You're young, kid, so I'll let you off the hook this time around, but learn some respect."

What? Seriously? All of that, and the guy doesn't even start a fight? Does he know how rude that is? He'd get killed in Gotham. "Oh," Steve says, his voice flat, "you're scared of getting your ass kicked."

Somehow, that's what the guy considers the final straw. It wasn't even that good. Like, that's just fucking small talk in Gotham, and Steve can't bring himself to understand what about it was so infuriating that the guy swings his fist.

Either way, Steve happily embraces the fight. His eyes light up, and adrenaline rushes through his veins as he ducks and kicks the guy's left knee. The familiar sound of a bone snapping rings out. Steve's ready for more, hands curled into fists and held up to protect his face, when the guy drops.

After one kick, he drops. Steve blinks, staring down at the guy cursing and holding his knee. He slowly lowers his hands when he realizes this isn't some kind of fake-out diversion and looks at Bev behind the counter. She's frowning at him, hands on her hips, and Steve comes to the conclusion that bar fights are not, in fact, a thing in Hawkins. "Do they usually go down so easy around here?" he asks.

"They usually don't fight at all."

Oh. Holy shit, this place is boring.

Steve sighs and pushes some hair out of his face, frowning slightly. "Well, uh, sorry about the disturbance, then. I'll just...get going," he says, awkwardly pushing his chair in and doing the same for the guy whose kneecap he kicked. Nobody says anything as he leaves, and Steve shoves his hands into his jacket pockets, frustration and disappointment and homesickness building in him.

He's halfway to his car when somebody shouts, "Hey! Wait!"

With a huff, Steve stops and turns, his mood only lightening when he sees the boy that was wiping down tables. He waits patiently, watching as the boy runs up to him and holds out a wad of cash. "Bev said to give this to you," he says.

"What, is my money not good enough?" Steve asks, raising an eyebrow at the cash before looking up and meeting brown eyes.

"No, no," the boy says, "Bev only gives change to people she likes. She said you're welcome to come by and kick Phillip's ass whenever you want."

Steve blinks, studying the boy for any signs of lies. When he doesn't find one, he takes the cash and nods. "Good to know," he says.

"Yeah. Right. Um, I'm going back inside now."

"Hold on," Steve says, grinning when the boy listens and stands still. He takes a step closer, holds out his hand, and says, "My name's Steve. I'm new around here, if you couldn't tell."

The boy stares at his hand for a few seconds before taking it, the rings on his fingers pressing against Steve's skin. "Eddie. I could tell," he says, his shoulders relaxing some. "Where you from?"

"Gotham."

"Holy shit, no wonder you looked so ready for a fight," Eddie says, staring at Steve like he's incomprehensible. Steve tries not to preen under his gaze. "Hawkins must be dead compared to Gotham."

"Yeah," Steve agrees, glancing down at his and Eddie's hands still clasped together despite the handshake being over. "But I think I'll have some fun anyway."

#steddie #steddie fic #harlequin prince #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve deserves good parents actually #bruce wayne #dc comics crossover #harley quinn #poison ivy #this bitch has been sitting in my drafts for so long guys hfjkds #so excited to finally release it into the wild

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kunikuma · 1 year

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returning customer

relationship | incubus!scara x afab!fem!reader

synopsis | after a bad day at work, you were just gonna bust a phat one and head to bed. a passing, indigo-haired incubus had other ideas. content | smut cw | mdni!!! da.cryphilia, unprotected sex, creampie, dirty talk, usage of sweetheart and slut, scara’s sharp nails gripped ur wrists too tight oops and now you have lil wounds, overstim, begging, blood...tasting?? a/n | consider this how y/n and incubus!scara meet. im practicing writing smut. and scara wont leave my mind 😔 btw for this, i envision y/n being very “fuck it, might as well get my shit rocked” after a shit day bc yeah me too

incubus! scara and xiao m.list

nothing was going right today. you were late to work because of a train, you spilled your extremely overpriced coffee all over your laptop, and your performance review for the quarter was not where it should’ve been. you knew, deep in your soul, you needed to relieve some stress this evening.

however, you did not think it would involve a very attractive and annoying demon rearranging your guts.

“hmm? why the pouty look? i could smell how wet and frustrated you were down the hall…”

the midnight-haired incubus was happily pressed firmly against your ass, clutching the hair at the back of your skull as he melded the side of your face into your nice pillow. drool was slipping out of your parted lips as he continued to assault the spongy spot deep within you. the way he rolled his hips was perfect and you would’ve hated to admit that. the unnamed demon behind you was just on his way out of another person’s home in your apartment complex as he had just finished… feeding. but he couldn’t help but smell such a strong, lewd, frustration in the air as he passed your door.

he was not above accepting dessert.

“s-shut the fu—!” you suddenly whined when he reeled back, only to bottom out to silence you, pressing his other hand harshly onto your shoulder, as if challenging you to finish your bark. his sharp black nails that were pressing into your shoulder were definitely going to leave some marks. “i-i didn’t ask for a disgusting demon to—”

when he draws his hips back, he slowed his pace this time, only slowly rocking back and forth as he scoffed, “disgusting demon? so you do have some fight in you. how cute.”

he traced a pointed black nail down your spine and you shivered, unsure if you liked the sensation or not. you could hear the incubus behind you hum to himself as he trailed his finger further, staring at the reddening of your skin as he traveled south. your skin was so smooth and he couldn’t help himself to create some art on the canvas before him. with the way your lamps’ warm lights lit up your skin, he'd go as far as saying you looked divine.

all the better to ruin.

his amethyst eyes narrowed with glee when he saw where the two of you were filthily connected. he especially noted how much you were dripping down your thighs.

“let’s get this straight,” he starts, a low rumble erupting from his chest, “i could kill you right now if i really wanted to,” he trails off, finally resting his hand delicately on squishiest part of your ass. he gave it a firm squeeze and snickered when he felt your pussy obscenely twitch on his dick.

you feel his blunt hair brush against your ear as he leans over your body to whisper in a sultry tone, “but… usually my food never bites back.”

you cringe when you felt something wet against your cheek. his tongue flicked at the pleasured tear that escaped your lashes and he sighs dreamily at the taste of your pleasure. before you could protest, he darts back, his head thrown back with a giggle, “you’ll be so fun to break! to fuck you dumb on my cock-”

you roll your eyes and grit your teeth, slamming your body back against his hips, “a-are you gonna fuck me or continue monologuing? it’s very not sexy.”

before he could give a snarky reply, you press on, craning your head as far as you could to revel in his irritation. you were really just testing your fate today, “in fact, you’re a shitty incubus. so much talk, not enough fuckin’-”

with a snarl, he slams his cock deep back into your body and you mewl. you feel one of his hands return to the base of your skull as his latches on your hair and tugs your body up, pressing your sweaty bodies together. fuck, even the rest of his body felt pleasant to the touch—

“don’t tell me how to fuck. i like to have fun with my food, sweetheart,” he growls, pistoning his hips, slamming the head of his cock against your cervix. a crazed grin erupts on his face when he hears you whine and gasp at his harsh treatment; he feels you try to angle your hips to get him to fuck you just how you need him and he tuts with disapproval. the hand that roughly grabbed your hair a second before shifts to paw at your right breast, giving it a massage in his hand. you let out a guttural moan in response when you feel him pinch and tug at your pebbled nipple, your eyes starting to blur with the tears threatening to fall.

“-so go-od, ngh!” you whimper, his deep, plunging thrusts breaking up your voice into stuttered moans.

“oh? now i’m doing well?” he laughs, releasing your breast and moving down to your hip. his hand eventually reaches a few centimeters above your clit, drumming on your skin. the demon nips at your ear with his sharpened fang, “i can make you feel so much better if you just beg for it.”

your head lolls backward to languidly glare at him. as he continues his decent pace, your eyes steadily glaze over. you mutter out yes, yes yes-

“c’mon, need to hear you beg for me, sweetheart,” he croons, slowing his pace again, “use my name. say scaramouche,” he coos, loving the fucked out face you were making. you whine in frustration, blinking away tears. his eyes dart to the crystalline sparkles and he licks his lips. from the corner of your eye, you see his mouth moving, clearly speaking to you, but the increased ringing in your head drowned out any sound.

suddenly, he slams his hips hard against you, his cockhead kissing your cervix. the loud sound of his hips slamming against your ass knocked you back into orbit as you cry out. his cackled laughter brings you back—

“h-hah, nevermind! i can see i fucked you dumb already!” he says with glee, increasing his pace. “let me reward you.”

with your breasts freely jiggling from his pace, he grabs both of your wrists to prop you up. your knees were still sorely planted firmly on the bed as he held your arms back for leverage. if you were all there in the head, you would’ve cracked a joke about how pornographic this all was. and you would’ve complained about this awkward version of doggy style—

the sound of his rough pace and your drenched core caused the filthiest of noises. but you could finally hear inklings of his own unsteady breathing, smothered by your own loud cries. god, he looked beautiful but his sounds?

addicting.

you strained to hear more of him.

suddenly, you felt pressure right on your clit and you clenched hard on his cock.

“w-what is that?” you gasp, shivering as you felt something firm rub against your swollen nub. he already had his hands wrapped around your wrists... whatever it was, it traveled in small circular motions, shifting from messy orbits on your swollen nub to firm flicks and you whimpered. fuck, you were getting so close—

a stuttered laugh erupted from behind you, “my tail, sweetheart. it’s not just for show.” he groans, his usual smug tone slipping, hinting at how absolutely fuckin’ wrecked the demon felt from the way your pussy gripped him. he grits his teeth as he felt your walls clamp so tightly on his cock the more he massaged your clit with his tail’s rounded tip.

he would never admit this, but you were the most interesting feast he’s ever had the pleasure to devour. the way your tears glistened as you cried out every time his cock bullied his way deep inside was to die for. but the way you fought back earlier back made something twitch deep in his chest.

but that’s something to think about later.

you let out a garbled moan as your thighs attempted to slam shut, “scara— i’m gon’ c-cum—!” you wailed, and scaramouche only laughed with glee as he fucked you closer and closer off the edge. the way you cried out the shortened form of his name made his cock swell. his hips roughly slammed against your ass as he tightened his grip on your wrists, not caring about your whines of protest as his nails pierced through your skin. he panted wildly as he continued his assault on your pussy, chasing his own release. all he could see in front of him was your arched back, the creamy ring clinging around his cock—

a slurred plea caught his attention.

“r-repeat that,” he demanded, slowing down to give you a few brain cells back.

“-fill me… c-cum in me. puh-leasee-”

with a final, almost haunting laugh, he hangs his head low and wildly thrusts, finally angling his hips to bully your g-spot. the squelches from your hole and cries of pleasure clouded his head like a drug, “m-my, my! what a little slut i’ve found myself,” he nearly whined at you, losing himself a little as his teasing tone cracked even further. hell, he truly was losing himself in you. you felt that fuckin’ good wrapped around his cock. the grazed grin on his face never faltered.

the next few seconds were like a blur to you. the skyrocketing pleasure from his cock bullying your sweet cunt and the perfectly repeated flicks from his tail on your clit sent you straight to your orgasm. white flashed before your eyes and you cried out, your hands flexing open and closed, desperately looking for something to ground you as you felt blood rush to your ears. your juices dripped from your sopping cunt, splashing onto his thighs and soiling the sheets. he moans at the feeling and then hisses as you thrash in his hold from the overstimulation.

“y-yes, fuckin’ cum on my cock—!” he gasps, burrowing his cock home for a final time, finally filling you deep inside like you begged. he groaned loudly as he shuddered, feeling his cum coat your soaked core’s walls. he drops your arms and you collapse forward, flopping onto your drool-stained pillows. as he pants, his body slowly sags forward, caging you under him. he presses his forehead against your upper back, his tail rested limply on his bed, twitching every so often. his bangs stuck to his forehead. whenever he breathed in, he could smell the evidence of your shared sin settling deep into your room and he felt a burst of pride erupt in his chest.

eventually, scaramouche straights out as he slides out of your cunt, grinning when he sees his hot essence leak out of you. he gathers your combined fluids on a finger and examines it closely. when he darts his eyes at your fucked-out form, he snorts when he sees you unconscious and twitching, but still breathing. he gives your butt a lil pat as he idly notes the little wounds he inflicted on your wrists.

scaramouche licks his soiled fingers clean from cum and your blood and hums to no one but himself.

“mm, dessert was pretty good today.”

as he hops off of your messy bed, he stretches with a contented and refreshed sigh, his black tail happily flicking around.

when you woke up the next morning feeling sore and disgusting, but oddly mentally refreshed, you found bandaids shittily adhered to your wrists and an oddly well-penned note on your nightstand.

‘consider me a returning customer - scaramouche ♡’

#incubus!scara #wanderer x reader #scaramouche x reader smut #kunikuzushi x reader #scaramouche x reader #wanderer #scaramouche #kunikuzushi #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact smut #scaramouche smut #wanderer smut #wanderer x reader smut #kunikuma’s fics

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tired-teacher-blog · 2 months

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Characters : Tattoo artist Aizawa/ Florist fem reader

Featuring : Eri/ Hizashi Yamada/ Nemuri Kayama/ Oboro Shirakumo/ Emi Fukukado

Warnings and Genre : Fluff/ Romance/ Smut and Angst in future chapters/ Multi Chaptered Story

Summary : In a desperate attempt to get closer to the tattoo artist dominating every speck of your brain, you decide to pay him a visit one evening as a client seeking his service. This encounter will prove to be the beginning of something much bigger between you two, but will this new found passion be enough to stand against the difficulties your future holds?

Notes : Loosely inspired by this/ Art below is by the wonderful @/ael-draw who gifted me this gorgeous piece.

Masterlist|Second Masterlist|Third Masterlist

Chapter Count : Part 1 • Part 2 • Part 3 �� Part 4 • Part 5 • Part 6 • Part 7 • Part 8 • Part 9 • Part 10 • Part 11

Mature content ahead so please be warned : 18+

_ "You seem.. distracted," he breathlessly utters while peering up at you from between your thighs, "aren't you enjoying this?" and the smirk following suit is an indication of his teasing, and confidence in his skilled tongue.

_ "Wha.. no, no that's not it!" truth be told, his wondrous mouth has always been enough to fog up your brain and renders you a moaning mess, and this time is no different as he has you sitting comfortably in the same chair you sat on months ago when you came for your tattoo, only this time, your skirt is hiked up around your waist and your legs are resting on his shoulders while your panties are discarded somewhere.

How scandalous.

Here you thought you'd have dinner together between his scheduled appointments, but he had something else entirely in mind.

You aren't worried about someone walking in though, since everyone else is diligently working at the moment, you are however still not over what happened a few weeks ago when he came to visit you at night, all troubled and distraught.

_ "Look at you, swallowing my fingers eagerly." his teasing words are flustering, and his long thick digits are pushing you closer to insanity. He's aware of what he's doing to you, moving them slowly in and out of your fluttering heat, and curling them right at that sweet spot he knows all too well.

His lips are peppering your shaky thighs with soft kisses as his fingers keep spreading you deliciously, and you know that you will certainly not hold out for much longer.

_ "Shouta.. yes, keep going, please." you squeeze your eyes shut and arch off the leather chair while threading your own fingers through his beautiful hair, further messing his already messy bun.

You are grateful for the blasting music outside of the booth, because everyone would hear your sinful moans otherwise.

His fingers quicken and his mouth envelops your reddened clit, sucking it hungrily and coaxing your release.

Your legs tighten around his neck and your eyes shoot open while shockwaves of pleasure rock you to the core and leave you pulsing in the aftermath of your orgasmic release.

Your throat is dry and your whole body is tingling as you strive to regain your composure, it was wonderful as usual, and for a moment there, you were actually able to forget about what's been bothering you for weeks.

_ "That was.. so good." a dumb smile is splayed across your face as your body is finally relaxed.

_ "I'm glad gorgeous," he replies with a chuckle while lowering your legs carefully, "so, did this help you relax?"

_ "What do you mean?" you're still on cloud nine and your mind is too fuzy to comprehend the meaning behind his words.

_ "No, never mind," he runs a hand through the loose strands framing his handsome face, "I just worry sometimes when you overwhelm yourself with work or other things." and for some reason, it feels as if he regrets his original statement and is trying to make light of the situation, perhaps because he's the one who's been troubled lately, and deep down he knows that it's affecting you in the worst of ways.

He means well though, obviously he does, and you know he's truly worried about you, but somehow you find his words irritating.

How can he act oblivious when he's the reason why you've been a mess lately? If anything, he actually owes you some answers.

Your smile is suddenly replaced with a frown, and you sigh out frustratedly as you carefully stand up on shaky legs and push your way past him in order to fetch your panties, "I should be the one telling you this."

He doesn't reply, and instead keeps his attention on you as he awaits an explanation.

_ "Shouta, isn't there anything you want to tell me?" you ask him calmly, eyes full of longing and a tinge of pain.

You didn't have to say anything more for him to understand your request, and you just stand there patiently waiting to hear his answer.

He walks up to you, hands shoved in his pockets and eyes looking everywhere but you, and it reminds you of the day he visited your shop for the first time, because that day too, he was shy and a bit awkward, just like he is right now.

_ "It's not a big deal I promise." he feigns a smile as he answers, but you can see right through him, whatever happened that day -a couple of weeks ago- must have been a huge deal and it is clearly still affecting him.

He can deny it all he wants, but he's been distressed lately and it tortures you to witness, and what hurts you even more is that despite it all, he is still the same loving and caring man you've always known, and that night he visited you -a few weeks ago- was the first and only time he allowed himself to be vulnerable around you.

He heaves in defeat and you watch with frightened eyes as his head hangs low and his voice comes out, but nothing could ever have prepared you for what he has to say.

_ "Eri, she's.."

Your heart sinks as you're expecting the worst, this is about Eri, but what can it be? Is she ill? Did something bad happen at school? It can't be, you see her all the time and talk to her on the phone almost daily, and she is as bright and cheerful as she's always been, so what is it then?

_ "What about Eri? Shouta tell me quick, please." you grip onto his arms tightly and shake him as your patience was wearing thin already.

_ "Her mom is back, and she wants her."

No really, nothing could ever have prepared you for what he had to say..

_ "How could she.. after all these years." you know all too well that it isn't your place to comment on the subject, this thing in particular does not concern you at all, it is a family matter that has existed way before you even came along, but for God's sake you're unable to contain your anguish.

You know what these two mean to each other, to him, Eri isn't just his daughter, she's his whole life and everything in his existence revolves around her, and to her, he's the only family she has ever known and loved. Nothing's fair about this.

_ "It will be okay, I'm sure it will be fine, yeah." and it's a weird smile he's showing, one you're not used to seeing from him.

who is he even trying to convince?

_ "But Shouta what about this is fine?"

_ "I have to believe that it is! Or else I'll go insane!" his hands are shaking and his voice is cracking now, as he's barely standing on his own two feet.

He has never been this way in front of you before and it kills you to witness.

You feel useless and hate yourself for triggering him this way, this isn't what he needs..

Oh right.. this isn't what he needs right now, not a reminder of this catastrophe but rather a reassurance, a sliver of hope, a moment to forget. It's precisely why he hasn't told you about it until you've brought it up a bit earlier.

_ "The man who took care of her all by himself for years, who raised her well and gave her all his love, who was both parents, is the same man standing right in front of me," it's all clear now and you know precisely what needs be done as you gently grasp on to his trembling hands, "you know what? It will be fine, Eri belongs with you and no power can change it, and I truly believe that."

He's speechless listening to you speak, lips parted and expression finally relaxing, this is indeed what he's been looking for, just a little peace of mind.

He pulls you to his chest and engulfs you tightly, so tightly in fact that you're left breathless in his strong arms.

His shoulders shake and a stream of hot liquid falls from his face to wet your own as he finally bares his all, and you stand there like a pillar for him to lean on, listening as he breaks down in your embrace.

To be continued..

79 notes · View notes

jinhyun · 2 years

Text

—closure.

pairing: hwang hyunjin x reader

genre: angst, college au, dance major hyunjin, art major reader

word count: 4.3k

summary: sometimes, loving someone just isn't enough.

a/n: hellooo, it's finally here! for those who might casually come across this, this is part 27 of my social media au "watercolor". sorry it took me so long, i was just going through a bit of a writer's block lol. anyway, i hope you guys enjoy! and as always i would loveee to read your thoughts on this, so please let me know!!

"We've made out and gone out a couple of times but that's it".

"We don't owe anything to each other".

"We're not a couple".

"Let's stop acting like one".

Hyunjin was unable to stop going through the texts you had sent him minutes ago. He read them over and over, as if just by staring at them hard enough, wishing they said something different, they would magically change. But they didn't. Instead, his heart would only annoyingly squeeze in his chest with every read of your words. Each time hurting more than the last.

He didn't know which one of your statements hurt the most. Maybe the one where you reduced your entire relationship to just making out and going out a couple of times. Maybe the one where you said you didn't owe exclusivity to one another, or the one where you reminded him you were not a couple.

Or maybe the last one, where you put a stop to it all.

He hadn't been able to reply to that one, and therefore the conversation seemed to be over.

What was he supposed to say anyway? "Okay"? "Fine"? Hyunjin truly didn't know what to say to that — one-word answers that did not reflect his true feelings about the whole situation were all that came to mind. If anything, he was not okay with it. Things were not "okay". Everything was not "fine". His chest was hurting in a way it never had before, and he was finding it hard to breathe. So, he had said nothing. He just sat there, watching the previous 'online' status on your chat change to the time you had closed it, as he re-read the conversation over and over.

Hyunjin didn't know when it had all gone wrong. Only a few days ago you were better than ever. He recalled the last day you spent together quite perfectly. You had been texting back and forth all day, to the point he had been called out in one of his classes by his professor, as at one point he couldn't contain a giggle of his after reading your latest reply — it had been quiet, hardly ever audible, but the complete silence of the room as Mr. Kim gave his lecture, had backfired on him.

He had waited for you after your last class later that day, and you had gone for shaved ice together, like he had been craving for days now. You had even invited Felix at some point, and although Hyunjin had expected to have some alone time with you that day, it had been fun. Spending time with you was always fun.

Then while the sun went down, he had walked you to your dorm — just the two of you, as Felix had seemed to get the memo. He found it hard to keep his eyes away from you, especially when the light night breeze would hit your face and your hair would move along with it. You were quite the sight. You had always been, he was just too stubborn to let himself admire you in all your splendor before.

"I hope all the wait to get your precious shaved ice was worth it" you had laughed, turning around to look at him after you reached the entrance to your building.

He nodded, standing only a few centimeters away from you. "Would've been even more worth it if you hadn't invited Felix behind my back".

"I didn't!" you played dumb, earning a small laugh from him as he took a step towards you.

"Mhm… sure, baby" his eyes squinted accusingly, yet all you could focus on was that pet name you could still not get used to hear coming from his lips. "I'm taking your phone away next time, so I can make sure it's only the two of us".

Your eyes looked away from his, feeling your face burn as a smile curved up the corners of your mouth. "If you wanted me all to yourself so bad, you should've just said so".

"Thought it was a given," his confident words had you looking back up at him, only to be met with his intense stare as he pulled you closer by your hand. "Let's go out just the two of us next time, yeah?"

You nodded, silently, with a shy, loving smile parting your lips. You wouldn't have it any other way.

"Now give me a kiss before you go inside" he demanded, puckering his lips for you to close the space between them and yours.

You bit your bottom lip in amusement. "And why would I do that?"

"I mean, you haven't kissed me at all today and on top of that you sabotaged our alone time, so…"

"And that concerns me because…"

Hyunjin rolled his eyes, tugging at your hand to pull you closer and get what he wanted. "Come here, you tease".

The small giggle that had just escaped your mouth was muffled by his — soft, sweet lips trapping your own, sucking on them ever so gently as his hand cupped your cheek.

Had he known that was the last time he would kiss you, he would've taken his sweet time with you. He wouldn't have let go of you for a good couple of minutes, until your lips were swollen and your breathings were heavy, not caring at all about being in the middle of a public alley.

He tried to recall something, anything he could've said to make you start avoiding him and pushing him away after that day, but he could not find a single thing. You had bickered like you always did, flirted like it was oh-so-usual by now. You had kissed. You had laughed. When did it all go wrong?

The only reasonable explanation he could think of took him back to Changbin. You had been avoiding him all week, excusing yourself on the fact that you were busy, yet you had immediately jumped at the opportunity to spend some time with Bin — maybe not exactly like that, but that's how Hyunjin pictured it. Did you catch feelings for Changbin along the way? You wouldn't, right? Not now that you and him were together. You had been into him since first year, you wouldn't go to one of his best friends now that you finally got to be with him, would you?

Then again, you had been sleeping with Changbin for months now… but that didn't make your feelings for him go away before. They wouldn't go away now of all times, would they?

It just made no sense. The entire situation made no sense. He needed more than just a couple of texts telling him off for him to understand what was the reason behind it.

Reading your last conversation one last time, he felt like he would go crazy if he didn't get to the core of it. So, closing your chat for once and for all, he decided he wasn't letting you go without a proper explanation.

-—-—-—-—-—-—-♡

Going home didn't seem as appealing that day. In fact, going home hadn't been appealing at all those last few days. Even though you had Cherry as your roommate and she did a great job at keeping you company, she could not be with you at all times, and it was those alone, silent moments, the ones you dreaded the most, for those were the moments your thoughts took over and your heart hurt the most.

You had felt numb ever since your last conversation with Hyunjin that evening, but you knew the moment you were left alone, you would break down.

Changbin had been right next to you as you and Hyunjin texted back and forth, and although he didn't know what was being said, you could tell he was worried over your lack of reaction after you shoved your phone back in your pocket. It was as if all emotion had been snatched away from you. Your face remained serious, detached, and the usual light in your eyes had been put out.

"You okay?" he had wondered, oblivious as to what had just happened between you and his friend.

You shrugged, not meeting his eyes as you leaned back on the bench you had been sitting on and stared into one of the many trees the park was surrounded with.

You said nothing. You felt nothing. Or maybe you felt so fucking much, so many feelings, so much hurt, that your mind was protecting you by shutting its every emotion down altogether.

It helped that Binnie was with you, he was good at keeping you distracted and at cheering you up. But he had a life of his own and things to get done with, and you could not avoid going home forever. You could not wander around campus on your own all night long, after all. Saying goodbye and going your different ways at the end of the day was only inevitable — as inevitable as the dreaded silence that awaited you back in your bedroom.

The only thing that seemed avoidable so far was talking to Hyunjin any further. You hadn't checked your phone ever since you had last hit 'send' on that text that ended it all. You didn't know if he had said anything else after that, but you did know that you were not reading what he had to say — if he had something to say at all. At least not that night.

Just for tonight, you wanted to forget about Hwang Hyunjin altogether. You wanted to forget about how head over heels you were for him. How hard your heart would beat against your chest whenever you even simply thought of him. How much you loved his eyes and the small freckle underneath one of them. How much you loved his lips and the way they would feel against yours, knowing just how to make you weak to your knees. How much you loved his laugh, from the sound of it to the way his entire body would move whenever he did.

Most importantly, you wanted to forget about everything that had happened between the two of you the last few weeks. You wanted to forget how goddamn happy you were, thinking he was starting to feel something for you and to take you seriously as a possible future partner, all while he was feeling trapped in a relationship he had never asked for.

You wanted to forget about his conversation with Felix more than anything.

You just wanted to forget.

Which is why you were not happy to see Hyunjin waiting outside your building.

You had caught a glimpse of his figure from afar as soon as you turned to your dorm's alley. It was dark, a dim light coming from the entrance being all you could use to see him, but you could always recognise him from miles away.

His grey t-shirt seemed to be doing little to nothing for him when it came to protecting him from the rather cold wind of the night, but he didn't seem to care. Still, he looked preoccupied, far gone in his own thoughts as he remained sat down on the ground — back pressed against your building while you supposed he waited for you to either arrive or come out of it. He didn't know if you had already made it back home from your little hang out with Changbin, after all.

A part of you wanted to turn around and go crash at Jeongin's — maybe even at Han's, if Minho was okay with you staying regardless of the current state of your friendship. However, another part of you, the one that was still incredulous over everything that happened, the one that was numb over it all, could not care less about having to face him.

So, you kept on walking, ignoring his presence as you walked past him and made your way to the front door.

Of course, you would not get away with it that easily. One look at you as you walked by was all it took for him to be up to his feet and stop you from opening the door.

"We need to talk, don't you think?"

You said nothing, staring deeply into the doorknob he had kept you from turning.

"Y/N..." he pushed. "Will you look at me?"

Biting down on your lip as you exhaled heavily, you looked up to him. One look into his worried chocolate eyes was all it took for the numbness to go away. All it took for you to realise you were not strong enough to face him right then.

"Can we talk?"

You looked away. "I said everything I had to over texts".

"That's not enough. If you're shutting me out the least I deserve is an explanation" he stated, managing to get your eyes to focus on his. "I don't get it, I—we were doing so well up until the other day…"

"I didn't know you felt stuck with me up until a few days ago".

That sentence alone had gotten his entire body to tense up. "What?"

"Don't make me repeat it..."

"Baby, I d—"

"Don't," you warned him. "There's no need for you to keep acting like some kind of… unofficial boyfriend anymore just because you pity me".

"Pity you?" he asked, disbelief all over his face. "When have I ever pitied you…"

"So what would you call being with me and keeping yourself from sleeping around just because you don't want to hurt my feelings?"

His face fell, and that's when it hit him — why you had started acting this way towards him so out of the blue, why you no longer wanted to be with him. Felix. The conversation they had that other night.

The one where he said he wished you didn't have feelings for him because that way he would be able to still sleep around.

The one where he said he had gotten stuck in a relationship he never wanted.

The conversation that was just him trying to put into words the mess that was going on in his head over everything he was feeling for you, and how it was affecting his mindset when it came to commitment — everything he had never felt before you came in the picture.

He hadn't found a reason for you to start acting this way because he had been looking in the wrong place. It wasn't what he had done the last day you had spent together, but what he had told his best friend afterwards.

To say Hyunjin was speechless would be a understatement. That conversation was never supposed to leave that chat, Felix was never supposed to tell you about it. He wanted to scream at him, ask him why the hell he had done it and ruined what the two of you had just like that, but that could wait. Right now, you were in front of him, about to walk away for good. Felix and his anger towards him could wait.

"Y/N... what I said, I was—I am confused..." he sighed. "Everything happened so fast, I don't know what I'm feeling or what I want... but I knew what you wanted and I... I'm sorry..."

There it was again, that sharp pain in your chest that you were so used to by now. "I never meant for my feelings to be such a burden to you".

"That's not w—"

"You don't owe me anything just because I caught feelings for you, Hyunjin. Especially now that I called things off. You're free, you can stop pretending now".

"Pretending?" Hyunjin blurted out. "I was never pretending at all".

You let out a heavy sigh, trying to walk past him. "Just go, Hyunjin. I'm done here".

He grabbed your wrist. "Why can't you just talk to me?!"

"Because!" you turned around, eyes already welling up with tears you refused to let fall down. "I'm embarrassed. I feel stupid, I feel delusional, I…" your breathing became heavier. "I feel like I'll break down any time now in front of you and I'm embarrassed enough as it is".

His eyes softened, and his hand loosened its hold on you. "Baby…"

"Stop it with that. I'm not your baby" you pulled your hand away from him. "What's the point if you don't want to be in a relationship with me to begin with".

"Why does it have to be so complicated?" he wondered. "Why do we have to put a label on it, why can't we just be together as it is".

"Because I'm not ready to see you with someone else. I won't ever be as long as I feel something for you".

"I haven't been with anyone else since we first kissed" he sounded desperate for you to believe him. "I promise you I haven't".

You shrugged, a weak smile curving up your lips. "Just because you don't want to hurt me, not because you feel like being with me only".

He stayed silent, and you could only feel your heart squeeze inside your chest over the silent confirmation.

"I meant it when I said I never meant for my feelings to be such a burden to you, Hyunjin. I thought you were with me because you wanted to, not because you found yourself living up to my expectations. I don't want you to be with me because you feel like you have to, like I'll die if you leave me".

"Your feelings are not a burden, Y/N…"

"Sure feels like it".

"They're not".

"Why are you with me then?"

Another pause on his end. "Huh?"

"Why are you with me?" you repeated. "If it's not because you don't want to break my heart, then why?"

"I like you" he said in a heartbeat, truthfully. "You know how much I like you".

"And what makes it any different from all the other girls you like?"

"You… you're... I mean—I don't," he stumbled upon his own words as he desperately tried to come up with them, getting a sad smile from you. "It's not that simple..."

"You can't even find a reason," you mumbled. "And it's okay, I'm not gonna force you to love me back".

Love.

Hyunjin found himself looking up at you at the sound of that — heart just having skipped a beat, and a spark he could not control in his eyes.

"Love you back?" he whispered.

You smiled weakly, only then realising what you had just said. It was no news that you loved him. Fuck, you had been in love with him since the first moment you saw him. You had just never said it out loud. Not to him, at least.

This was definitely not how you would've liked to tell him. Not when you were trying to end things with him. But maybe it was for the best — maybe this way you would be able to get your closure and move on.

"I'm in love with you, Hyunjin" you said, like it was the easiest, most obvious thing in the world. "Thought you knew it very well by now? I haven't been very subtle about it".

"I didn't…" he blinked.

To like him? That he knew. Have feelings for him? Of course. But love was a whole other thing. Love was a big word. It was a very deep feeling. And he was just now realising just how serious you were about him — just how much had been at stake for you all along.

"Well then, now you know" you let out a shaky breath, feeling ever so little under his stunned stare. "I've been in love with you for over a year now".

"You have?" his voice came out soft as ever, almost scared to ask.

"Mhm…" you nodded. "Ever since the first time Mrs. Moon brought you as the model for our drawing session. It's been a good while since I've been pining after you… and honestly, by this point…" a heavy sigh escaped your lips, being followed by a small shrug as you looked away from his eyes. "I'm just… tired".

His heart sunk. "What do you mean you're tired?"

"I'm tired of waiting around, of chasing after you…" your eyes met his saddened ones once more. "I mean, now that I know how you truly feel about a possible relationship with me, I think I'm done chasing after you".

"Y/N—"

"No, please" you cut him off. "Let me talk. I know this might be tiresome, and I wasn't gonna say anything, but now I just... need to let it all out so I can get my closure".

Hyunjin leaned sightly back, that simple world feeling like a bucket of ice cold water being thrown right over his head.

"Closure?"

You nodded, not being able to look him in the eye. "I knew you didn't want a relationship, I mean, you told me so yourself even before anything happened between us, but I..." you took a deep breath, needing to compose yourself. "After you kissed me at the art studio, and then when you started inviting me over to your place and whatnot, and treating me in what I thought was a special way... I let myself be delusional and believe you had changed your mind, and that you were acting that way because you wanted to be with me".

"I do want to be with you" he reassured.

"Not in the same way I want to be with you. Not in the way I need you to" you denied. "We're on two complete opposite sides when it comes to love, Jinnie. I'm not afraid of it, nor am I scared to show my feelings. I have so much love to give, as cheesy as it sounds, and I want… I deserve someone who will love me back just as much, and won't be afraid to show it" the softness of your voice didn't stop the hurt — hearing he was not what you needed hurt like hell. "And you need someone who is into the whole no strings attached thing just like you are. We're just not compatible, I guess. As much as it hurts me and I wished we were".

"Why can't we just find a common ground?" Hyunjin insisted. "I'm just… so confused right now, Y/N. If you just gave me time to figure it out…"

"You've had lots of time to figure it out, though. Nothing's changed so far when it comes to you not wanting a relationship" you pointed out. "Seriously, Hyunjin, do you ever see yourself in a serious, formal relationship with me? Do you see me as your girlfriend at one point?"

"I just need time..." he whispered.

"You're not answering my question" you couldn't hide your disappointment by now.

"Y/N... please..."

"I understand that you need time to figure it out, but I can't just wait around for you to do it anymore. I mean, what if we keep acting like a couple and then after a while you realise that it's really, truly not what you want?" your point had him lowering his head. As much as he didn't like it, he knew you were right. "I can't risk getting my heart broken like that".

He bit his bottom lip, gently reaching for your hand before his eyes fixed on yours. "I don't wanna lose you".

"But you don't want to be in an exclusive relationship with me either…"

His eyes abandoned yours, focusing on his feet instead. That was all the confirmation you needed.

"You can't have everything, Hyunjin" you let him know, slipping your hand away from his. "You say you want to be with me, but you also want to be with other people. I'm just making it easier for you by taking a step to the side, you don't have to choose anymore".

"Shouldn't it be my decision?" his eyebrows knitted together. "Shouldn't I say whether I want to stay with you or not?"

"Not when my heart is the one at stake".

"So this is it?" he asked. "You're just giving up on us?"

"Was there ever an 'us'?"

Hyunjin bit his tongue, not having an answer to that, yet wishing he did.

It was funny, in the worst way — how all this time he had been so reluctant to admit you were together to the world, yet now that you were the one to make it seem like you were not, uneasiness was fast to rush through his body.

"So where does that leave us," his question came out more bitterly than he had intended. "We stop talking and seeing each other just like that?"

You shook your head no. "We're in the same friend group now, it'd be like going back to the way we were before this whole thing happened. Minus me looking for excuses to talk to you and see you pretty much every day" a breathy laugh escaped your lips, one that wasn't enough to light up the mood. "Gonna be a hard habit to break, but…"

"I don't want that" he confessed.

"Why?" you tilted your head. "You're free to go to whoever you want now".

He shook his head, taking a step back. "You're being unfair".

"All I'm saying is you won't have to keep yourself from fooling around with other girls anymore".

"So you're telling me you won't be hurt anymore if I started sleeping around again?"

"For a while, yes" you admitted. "I do have feelings for you after all, and, unlike you, I can't just suck it up".

He was unable to say anything else, looking almost ashamed as he was reminded of his own words — the very ones he had confided in to Yongbok a few days ago.

You were finally able to reach for the doorknob without having him stop you, twisting it without a second thought and holding the door open while he remained speechless.

"But don't worry about it, it'll only hurt for a while. I'm getting rid of them" you looked at him one last time, regretting it the second your eyes locked with those dark brown of his you loved so much. "I have to get ready for tomorrow's class now, so... I'll see you around".

With that, you walked into the building, leaving him to deal with the lump in his throat and the aching pressure in his chest he didn't know he would feel.

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#skz #stray kids #hwang hyunjin #skz imagines #stray kids imagines #hyunjin imagines

895 notes · View notes

vibratingskull · 6 months

Text

"hi there, i love your work!! i always re read them and giggle to myself lmao. you’re really out here carrying the thrawn fandom on ur back ily!! can i request thrawn x chiss!wife reader who is pregnant? just some soft fluffy stuff?? i feel like thrawn would either be really chill about the pregnancy, or really dumb and just start freaking out about the smallest things hahaha tysm!!!" - anon

For you my dear, fluffy fluff with Thrawn a bit on the spectrum

You're slowly cradling yourself in the rocking chair, making a good work of your needles in the fabric. You decided to do a snowy rabbit this time. Since you took your maternity leave you spend all your time informing yourself on the pregnancy or sewing different plushies and little clothes for your future baby. You have a whole collection now.

You hear the shuffling of a door, it’s surely Thrawn who came back from his work day. What did he bring back this time?

“Ch’acah, I am here.” He says loud enough to be heard in the whole apartment.

“I’m in the bedroom.” You respond, doing your last stitches.

He appears in his military uniform, a package under the arm as you predicted. You grin, shaking your head. You wait for him to explain. He walks up to you and leaves a chaste kiss on your lips.

“I came across some interesting things.”

“I see that, like every evening for the past two months…”.

You don’t hold that against him, this is how he cares. He reaches for the bag and proudly takes out a rectangular box, you squint to read what is written on it.

“My first… canvas.” You snort, this is so on brand.

“I thought it would be great to help them express themselves through art.”

“You realize they won’t be using it for several years, you’re a bit early for that...”

“Nonsense, infants play with paint of bright colors as soon as they can sit up.” He preaches.

You shake your head with a broad smile. God you love this man. But you’re not dupe: if he buys so much art furniture it’s because he wants to be able to communicate with his child. He already has some difficulties with adults, children as young appear to terrify him. You already saw him hold the baby of a friend and it was not his most glorious moment. He had a freeze moment when you announced to him the news of your pregnancy, before exploding with joyce but you did notice. And then he spent his nights reading and reading about children's communication and psychology like it was an impermeable enigma to him. The elated smile he wore when he announced to you about babies' early interest in artful activities was heartwarming, finally something he could understand. Since then he bought as many artsy toys and activities he could starting by colorful cubes and modeling clay.

You take his hand, and look him in the eyes with tenderness.

“Thrawn, I know you’re scared. I am too. But everything will be alright because we will be together.”

He squeezes it and lowers his head, his thin smile dying.

“I am terrified… What if they don't love me because I can’t meet their needs in some way?” He murmurs.

You shake your head gently, and try to rise up, a bit destabilized by your round stomach. He immediately reaches for you. You pull him in a hug.

“I understand you. But you will surpass it, because you’re the most competent man I know.”

You take his head in your hands, forcing him to look into your crimson eyes full of confidence.

“I know for a fact that they will love you and be proud of you as a father! You know why? Because nobody loves like you do.”

He puts one hand on yours and and rubs his cheek against it.

“May you be right, ch’acah.”

“I am! I alway am, remember?”

It forces a chuckle out of him.

“Yes.”

You spin on yourself to retrieve the bunny and show him. You smile like a child handing it to him.

“What do you think?” You ask.

He carefully observes the plushie.

“Another one?”

“You have nerve for a man who buys toys each evening. The nursery is full to the brim!”

He smiles.

“It is perfect. I would have loved having it in my youth.”

“I can sew you one now! You would be adorable sleeping with a bunny in your arms!”

He puts down the plushie and wraps his arm around your waist to the best of his abilities.

“Why would I need a plushie when I already have you in my arms?”

He kisses your forehead.

“Vile flatterer.” You grin

“Skillful admirer.” He correct.

You snuggles against him, appreciating his warmth you sigh contentedly. Suddenly you feel pain in your stomach, you lean forward holding your belly.

“Ha!”

“What is wrong ch’acah? Are you in pain?” He asks worriedly

“No, I think…” You pause a second to analyze what just happened “I think they kicked me.”

You take his hand and place it on your belly, sure enough a second kick was given against his palm. You laugh, elated and surprised : it’s their first kick. You look at him with wonders in your eyes.

He’s shocked.

The eyes wide and at loss for words, he kneels and places his head on your stomach, awaiting, trembling. Another powerful kick. An incredulous laugh escapes him.

“They are strong!”

“They are like you.” You caress his hair.

He kisses your stomach.

“My child.” He hugs your form “I will always be there for you…”

@bluechiss @thrawnalani @justanothersadperson93 @al-astakbar

@thrawnspetgoose @readinglistfics @elise2174 @debonaire-princess @twilekchiss

#thrawn x reader #thrawn x you #thrawn x y/n #thrawn x f!reader

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supervillainny · 1 year

Text

I’m just a notch in your bedpost (but you’re just a line in a song)

[in which nny is inspired by the most overused FOB lyric of all time sorry]

The pounding on the door doesn’t let up, much like the pounding in his head, and Eddie lets out a curse that’s muffled by the cigarette in his mouth. He shakes his hair out of his face, watching in resignation as ash drops into the coffee he’s just poured himself, and shoves to his feet.

“Yeah, alright,” he yells, shuffling towards the door, rolling his neck like that’s gonna do anything to counteract twenty-some years of headbanging, and he’s rubbing ruefully at it with one hand while he hauls the door open with the other.

“What,” he snarls, and then nearly swallows his tongue.

Steve hasn’t even changed, over years, and ain’t that a kick in the teeth. Standing there like a tower of righteous fury in acid-washed jeans and perfect hair, although it looks like maybe he gave in to the lure of Sun-In at some point and it hasn’t quite grown out.

“Oh,” Eddie says flatly. “It’s you.”

He ignores the feeling in his chest, like gentle fingers are cradling his heart but could, at any moment, start to squeeze. Instead he curls his lip, giving Steve a sardonic once-over, hoping like hell that the guy is too angry to notice the hunger in his eyes.

“Munson,” Steve says, voice rigidly controlled. “You know why I’m here.”

“Couldn’t imagine,” Eddie drawls, then takes a long drag of his cigarette and lets the smoke curl out of the sides of his mouth. He taps his chin, pantomiming deep thought. “I owe you money?”

Steve lets out a strangled noise, like the fury’s choking him, and Eddie doesn’t even attempt to bite down on his grin. He lets Steve push him back, rolling his back against the wall so Steve can shove past and storm into the kitchen. Apparently he’s too mad to sit, and instead he looms by the table, squeezing his fingers around the top slat of one of the ladder-back chairs tight enough to bleed his knuckles white.

Eddie, ever a master of setting a scene, sprawls in the chair opposite like he hasn’t got a care in the world, stretching his arms so his shirt skims up against the skin of his stomach, and the involuntary drop of Steve’s gaze is the worst kind of victory, acid-burnt and bitter. Eddie takes a sip of his cooling coffee, and works against the grimace at its grittiness against his tongue.

“So?” Eddie says, after a long silent moment.

Instead of saying anything, Steve shoves a hand into the pocket of his hooded sweater and tosses a jewel case on the table. It skids across the surface and Eddie stops it with one finger, looking down at the familiar cover art with a weird sense of disorientation. That photographer had made him look like such an asshole.

After another long moment, Eddie looks up with a grin.

“Want me to sign it?”

Steve snarls and the chair screeches as he shoves it forward, but before he can make another move they both look up when there’s movement in the doorway.

Christ, the guy looks young in the morning light, early twenties maybe and pillow-rumpled, out of place in his clubbing clothes with last night’s eyeliner smeared around his eyes. Eddie feels a flash of embarrassment and that finally sparks his anger into life. He shoves to his feet and - feeling the weight of Steve’s stare on his back - saunters over to press a gentle kiss to the corner of the guy’s jaw.

“Thanks, baby,” he says, low and husky but definitely loud enough for Steve to hear. “Maybe I’ll call you, huh?”

“Sure.” The guy’s voice is flat and disbelieving. “How about you sign me a CD instead so I can sell it on the forums?”

Eddie cackles in genuine amusement. “Sure, kid. That I can do.”

There’s a box of them by the front door, hauled up from his van and dumped there after a long night’s playing, so Eddie rummages through the junk drawer in the kitchen to find a marker - revelling in the simmering anger on Steve’s face when he has to move out of the way - and scrawls his name across the dumb cover art.

“Thanks,” the guy mumbles, and then looks over Eddie’s shoulder for a second, looking discomfited. “And - sorry.” And then he’s gone, the slam of the door and the distant thump of feet down stairs the only evidence he was even there.

Eddie takes a long breath, and then turns, but if Steve was in the kitchen doorway it’s empty now. The few steps back are just about enough time for him to swallow down the fizzing in his stomach, but he’s not expecting to find Steve sitting, now, hunched over with his elbows on the kitchen table and his hands clenched in his hair.

The kitchen chair scrapes over the linoleum and Eddie sits down carefully, stubbing out his cigarette before leaning back in his chair.

Eddie’s always been the guy to make the noise, make a scene, talk like he’s got a quota of words to get through or the consequences will be dire. Silence hasn’t been much of a feature in his life, and it’s been rare that he’s been calm enough to let it happen, relax back into it, safe and soundless. Steve always held all of his silences, but this one feels rotten, like a cavity in a tooth.

“Matching Scars,” Steve says, his voice taking all of the music out of the words.

“It’s pretty popular,” Eddie says, spinning the ashtray against the surface of the table rather than reaching for another cigarette, ‘cos he remembers how hard it was for Steve to quit.

“It’s good,” Steve says, reluctant. “I wish you hadn’t written it.”

It’s so fucking unreasonable. What he said, sure, but also that it still hurts. Jesus, it’s been years, and Eddie’s still bent out of the shape around the hole Steve left.

“You gave up the rights to my feelings, Steve-O,” Eddie says. “Too bad, so sad.”

“But not mine!” The defensive flare in Steve’s voice matches the fire in his eyes when he looks up, catches Eddie’s eyes. “It may have been just fucking to you, but -”

“Wait, what?”

“Matching scars but just one bleeding heart,” Steve said, and grimaced like he’d tasted something bitter. “You think I want the kids hearing that?”

“Sorry to get my feelings all over you,” Eddie says, a high-pitched ringing in his ears. “Gotta be careful with us artistic types.” He’d forgotten how much Steve could hurt him. Easy to do, when he hadn’t seen him since that last time. No one else got past his defences, towering stone and rusted wire, and he’d somehow overlooked the exact shape of the breach in them.

“Your feelings?” Steve asks, his voice filled with scorn. He shoves up out of his chair, pacing back and forth across the worn linoleum, his hands running distractedly through his hair and it’s so familiar Eddie has to pull his feet up onto the chair with him, his crooked knees protecting the egg-shell fragile centre of him. He fumbles in his pocket for the crushed carton of cigarettes there, yanks one out and spins it between his fingers.

“Henderson keeps hugging me,” Steve says, like it’s the worst thing in the world. Eddie laughs, can’t help it, and just for a second Steve meets his eyes, makes a face, and that moment of connection somehow reaches back across years.

“What a nightmare,” Eddie says, as flattened out as he can make it, and the moment’s lost.

“It’s humiliating,” Steve says. “Christ, I’m stuck in the town I grew up in, working the same dead-end job I had out of high school, getting pity from the kid I used to babysit because somehow the hit song of the summer is all about one of the many romantic fucking failures of my sad fucking life, and on top of it all, on top of that steaming pile of shit that is my life -”

Steve turns to look at him, hands on his hips, and Eddie almost swallows his tongue. Steve looks exactly the same as he did back then. Eddie feels exactly the same.

“And on top of that,” Steve says miserably, hopeless. “I come to confront you about showing my bleeding goddamn heart to the whole world and you still look - “ he gestures, helpless. “You still - Jesus, Eddie, the way you look at me.”

Eddie cannot listen to this any more.

“Steve, it’s not about you!”

And Jesus, the look on his face. The moment’s shock that’s occluded by misery and a flash of anger that warms into a red-hot humiliation that has Eddie reaching out involuntarily, a second of knuckle-rough skin before Steve snatches his hand away and turns his head, staring hard at a spot of precisely nothing on the kitchen wall.

Eddie watches the line of his jaw tighten, the bob of his adams apple, as if hypnotised.

“Right,” Steve says, and he tries, Eddie can see him trying to keep his voice level, and he has to, he can’t not -

“It’s about me. My feelings.”

Steve swallows hard, with a dry-sounding click that almost echoes. “What - what do you mean, Eds?” And the nickname brings it all falling down, broken stone and snapped wire, his shattered defences crumbling around him.

“You broke my heart, Stevie,” he says, simple, soft.

And Jesus, the dawning wonder in Steve’s eyes.

#steddie #steve harrington/eddie munson #break up make up #angst with a happy ending #steddie fic

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punk-in-docs · 2 years

Text

🕷Your web,I’m caught🕷

Eddie Munson x Pencils (OC) slow burn series, Part I

7.6k words

Summary: Snorting laughter at the disappearing Jocks back. Marlboro red clamped between his lips. Smoke slithering out his smile. Between the cracks of his straight teeth.

When you saw who it belonged too. The laugh. The cigarette smoke.You weren’t even suprised.

Who else could it be-Who else would be doing a drug deal on the outskirts of a high school party, in the woods, at almost eleven at night, but Eddie “the freak” Munson.

Authors note; So, I wrote this because I probably have Eddie Munson brain rot, and because I just love this funky lil freak ok? It’s kinda long. No smut (yet) I might do more parts. We shall see. ~ (any feedback or comments are very much welcome folks)

It was through Hawkins like wildfire on bone dry kindling. One spark of friction and the whole thing soared to churning flames in a hot second.

No survivors.

Kyle Rothman’s parents were going to visit family in Elwood for some big fancy party.

Anniversary, you’d heard. Funeral, someone else had bemoaned.

Eight o’clock Friday night. Kyle’s House on 1280 Abalone Drive. Bring your own beer.

This is how you found yourself bundled unwillingly into the plump passenger seat of your friend Linda’s station wagon come Friday night.

Bouncing along on the safe suburbia streets to a godawful party, peppered with the usual dumb jocks and poisonous cheerleaders. The freaks and nerds tended to stay in their own lanes. Keep well away.

Lucky fucks.

Two six pack of Coor’s sat rattling at your feet. She’d spent half an hour teasing your kinked hair all big, and persuading you to slick on some blue eyeliner and glitter. You drew the line when she approached you with this tube of waxy fuschia lipstick.

You batted her hand away with contempt and let her slip huge plastic blue earrings in your ears instead. It goes with your top. She’d chirped.

Technically, her top. It was a loaner.

Really, you’d tried so goddamned hard to weasel out of it.

You considered pulling an all nighter as an excuse. A painting you’d forgotten to do for art class. A Chem lab final. The fact you didn’t take Chem non-withstanding. Or a sudden very fast acting sick spell to dodge the draft.

Mom’s away. It’s me and Charlie. And she’s on nights now. I can’t leave the house, Linda.

Your door has locks, now doesn’t it? Don’t be square. We’re seniors. One little party to take the edge off.

I’m good with my edges the way they are, thanks.

She wore down your stubbornness with the sugary sweet relentless attitude. Harder than grainy sandpaper against your onerous mood. She won. Softened you into submission. Ground you down and drowned the fight out of you with her strong army of ‘pretty pretty pleases’.

With a heap of maraschino cherries dumped on top for good measure, she wrapped you round her little finger like a silk ribbon with promises of movie nights and lots of beer. Pizza too. And her eternal love and devotion. She promised to buy you some weed. Give you her Soul. Her first born.

She really really wanted you to go with her to this fucking party. God knows why. She’ll spend the night with her jock. Not you.

She sat next to you in the drivers seat. In her hot pink tiered skirt and skinny white high heels. Blond curls all frizzy and piled half up on her head with a pink scrunchie.

Her little lilac purse with a long strap sat perched on your hip. Containing four condoms, gloss, and a pack of lifesavers zipped securely inside.

Told you right away what kinda night she was expecting to have.

She’s brimming with energy cause her meathead is going tonight too. On the basketball team and practically a clone to High School royalty, Jason Carver. And her new squeeze is persona-non-grata with her strict parents for bringing her home once past curfew, and half cut. So this is one of the only chances they get to make out and do hand stuff in the guest bedroom.

Atleast someone’s excited for tonight. And thank god it’s her. You want to stay festering in the land of piss and vinegar with a scowl slapped on your face. Razor slashes of your glaring eyes landing on all those preppy idiots.

Because you liked to sit at an easel, armed with your mad array of bold paints and a brush. And you actually liked and were good at it. That instantly afforded you some hatred from the athlete crowd.

Linda reaches over and nudges you with a bony elbow. Knocking you out your self imposed funk. You side eye her for being a pest. She sing-songs cheery cooing words at you over husky Joan Jett on the radio. Words all prim and sickly like butter wouldn’t even melt.

“C’mmooon. There’ll be drink. I heard that Jason is bringing some of his dads liquor.” She trills away like tweetie pie.

“There’ll be a lot of jocks too. Lot of jocks on a lot of drink. They won’t know the difference between a viable mate and a wet hole in the ground.” You pointed out. Scuffing the door with the tip of your shoe. Black. Faux leather kitten heel boots.

She’d shoved those at you too. The boots. You wore the same size. Annoyingly. Instead of clinging to the comfort of your usual paint spattered reeboks. She wrinkled her nose up and tore your sneakers away from your grip. Turned away to dust more neon pink blush on her cheekbones.

“You’re gross.” She grimaced at you as she turns a corner. The bracelets on her arms slap and click together as she shuffled the wheel.

“Gross but right.” You poured back. Flicking hair out your eyes. It felt stiff and dry with all the stuff she rubbed and sprayed on it. The noxious chemical stink of too much hairspray and her candy-like Revlon perfume choked the interior of her car. You usually kept your hair back with a scrunchie. Possibly with a pencil or a paintbrush tucked into the bun.

“Just try and not be a catty bitch. Get a drink. Have a dance. Take that iron rod out your ass for once.”

“Its good for my posture.” You sniped at her as she smacked her glossy lips together in the rear view - not checking the car behind her or anything important like that.

“Pretty bad for your sex life though. Yours is particularly tragic right now.” She shot back dryly. Dry as sand and that dig was below the belt.

“Volume series tragedy is what I was actually aiming for.” You grinned at her. Layering the charm on thick.

Not letting her blows have anywhere to land. You scooped up her words and threw them back at her before the typical Linda shrapnel got it’s chance to pierce your skin.

It had been a while, sure. But that didn’t mean you were going to a kegger, to get blackout wasted, and end up dry humping the nearest small dicked athlete in a letterman two tone jacket. You liked to think you had taste. And a little modicum of class.

“You know I don’t get to see Jonny very often. Not since he made the team. I’d look like a loser turning up tonight all by myself.” She whines. Bitching. Stomping her foot on the gas pedal like a brat.

“Next thing I’ll have to start having to sit with the freaks at lunch. Christ, can you imagine?” She scoffs. “Me at the losers table with freak Munson and the rest of his social rejects.”

You gave her a look for that. Blasted her your chilly side eye for her small mindedness.

They were nerds, sure. Into D&D, metal music or band.

They weren’t lepers.

God forbid you ever said this aloud. But, you actually admired the way that some people didn’t conform to the mind numbing rules of popular or preppy. You liked that they cared enough to be themselves. Fuck what others say or think. The punk attitude clinging deep in you found it ballsy and brave.

Maybe they were all braver than you were- hiding yourself away in art class or the Library day after day instead of having to decide what table you’d be sorted onto. Or welcomed at. Chained too.

You weren’t entirely sure Linda would save you a space at the table with the royalty. You didn’t belong there. Your clothes weren’t preppy and cute. You didn’t wear bubblegum neon colours. Or trade gossip. You knew who Siouxsie and the Banshees were. That most likely tipped you into nerd territory. Loser crowd recruit.

You’re sure there’d be a place carved out, so where, for one the arty type, like you. Eternally graphite smudged hands, or flecks of paint dried gummy in your hair. Leafing through your sketchbook and scribbling away. Eyes down, plugged into your Walkman and latest Talking Heads or Smiths cassette.

“Could you be more of a stuck up snob?” You asked with rising hilarity in your voice.

“Yeah.” She preened. Slowing down to make the dreaded turn onto Kyles. Bounces the huge clunky thing onto the nearly busy, paved driveway.

“I am dating a jock now, you know.” She hums. Pleased with herself.

Your eye roll was almost audible.

“Don’t forget to wash your hands after and check for crabs.“ You bat your mascara thick lashes all sickly as you coo the words at her.

You grab the beers and grumpily make your feet leave the car. It’s a trudge but you manage it. You slam the car door because you needed to direct your still seething annoyance somewhere.

She bumps her door shut with her hip and properly wiggles her feet into her heels. Long tanned legs of hers bare and peeping out her pink skirt. A gauzy white top and swingy pink earrings stood neon out her bouffant blonde perm. You weren’t flashing nearly as much.

You wore your white leather jacket with the squeezing black and gold belt she nipped around your middle. Made your tits look awesome, and bigger, her words not yours. Her bright blue top that hangs off one shoulder. Soft black jeans and her back heeled pirate boots which click as you walk. She’d been obsessed with Adam Ant for a while.

Onto your wrists she’d threaded yet more bright jewellery. And the plastic hoops dangling from your ears, you kept on having to untangle it from your hair every four seconds. Your wavy fringe kept on flicking in your eyes.

You stand with the beer and look up at the split ranch style house in front of you. Cicadas humming already. The lawn is green and fuzzy short and the street lights cast a dozy orange thrown into pools everywhere. The house is set back and stood alone. Well spaced out from the neighbours. It backed into the tall dark woods. No risk of noise complaints.

Brown wood and overhanging eaves. It’s a big place. Each window lit up a drowsy yellow. And crowds of voices roils. The tell tale whump-whump of whatever lame ass pop music is blasting along and pulsing at the walls and shaking the windows from the inside.

You step towards the front door. Linda actually scurries along in her heels. Jason’s jeep parked right upfront means the cavemen had already descended. She fluffs her hair and grips the door handle. Slowly jerking it open. It was too loud to hear knocks anyway. The party was in full swing already.

The first thing you do when you come inside? Wince.

Club Tropicana is bellowing loudly through the house on what is very clearly very deafening speakers. The drum beats drown your ears. The thrum of the base plucks the air. You feel the thud of it through the thick squashing carpet.

Someone’s made a vain attempt to party up the place. Twinkle lights glimmer in the living room where many bodies are dancing and throwing hands in the air. Fierce chilli red. Neon green. Sapphire sea blue, spots of light dotted and swimming around the dark ceiling where the lights were poorly tacked. Last minute attempt you’re guessing.

Red cups sloshing drink everywhere. Half drunk beer cans and bottles stood on every flat surface. Some toppled over and leaking dark dribbled spots into the carpet. The dank smell of cigarettes and some musty weed clouds the air.

High schoolers are strewn across the couch. Some making out. Two seconds from dry humping right in the open. Some were chatting. Laughing at their own drunkness. Crowding the narrow hallways.

Linda scans around the crowds. Flirtily shimmying her fingers in a wave when she sees her Jock. She almost bounces on the spot. Giddy smile splitting her lipstick.

Her boyfriend lumbers across and you’re quickly forgotten on the doormat. She takes her purse off you. And one of the six packs.

“Bye?” You state to her with a frown as she preened and laughed as they joined hands.

“Find you later.” She breezed. Her smile was so wide. Cheeks full of blush. Fake and real.

“Wrap it before you tap it.” You growl at her. Narrowing your eyes to pin slits. She flips you the bird when she totters off after her gorilla in basketball threads.

Not four seconds later they’re wrapped around each other like leeches. Tongues down throats. Waxy glossy lipstick all over their chins. He whispers something in her ear when they break apart and they wind through crowds headed for the stairs. Beer forgotten. She’s giggling he’s got a shit eating grin on.

That had taken all of eight seconds past your feet crossing the doormat before your abandonment.

When Four Tops starts blasting. You’ve decided; you must seek out some liquor. You can’t be forced to suffer this indignity of a night in any kind of sobriety.

You growl to yourself. Your mood just plummeted so way far down it could be in the South Pole by now. A pit of acid and spiky nails and broken glass was your stomach. Mood went from foul to fouler.

Armed with one six pack, you heft your way to the kitchen. Pushing past dancers and athletes that line the doorways. Elbow past a couple very loudly making out. They don’t even notice your shouldering byYour reward for basically commando busting your way through crowds is the sight of the kitchen. For some reason the lights are off and purple lights are drowning the room. The colour of Lilac and moody nightshade bruises. A huge bowl of ruby red punch half gone sits on the island. Spiked no doubt. Fine by you.

Liquor bottles stand with tops ripped off, cheap whiskey and vodka. Beer kegs on rosy towels on the floor in the far corner. Red solo cups are scattered everywhere. Crushed, used and not. Chips are half eaten in a messy bowl. Popcorn too. Spilled all over the place. You didn’t envy the cleanup.

You grab a clean one and dunk it into the punch. It spills down your fingers and you suck the drips away. Sip some. The terrific cheap sugar of something that tasted like it was trying to be fruity, combined with the bitchy bite of vodka. Perfect.

You lean against the counter and nurse a cup. You dive back for another. The first slipped down way too easily. Cherry red staining your tongue. Vodka seeping into your legs and arms with its lazy sluggish heat.

You wrap one arm around yourself and stand leaning against the counter. The granite dug into the back of your hips painfully.

Some Basketball jocks who barely lift their eyes to regard you as a form of life, bustle rudely past and knock into you. Sloshing your cup to spill down your top. Drink rolls in drips off your chin.

“Watch it loser.” One of them drunkenly snickers at you. Tossed the words carelessly over his shoulder as they go to draw more shitty beer from the keg. His friend laughed at his crass remark to you.

Fuckin meatheads.

You scoff under your breath. Mood sour you slam your hand down on a can of beer and take your still somewhat full cup out the back door you can see left wide open the other side of the island.

You mumble a curse word at them loud enough to hear as you slip past. “Pricks.” You catch one of their hands with their cups so they drop it by surprise.

“Bite me, babe.” One slurs. Leaning over and holding the handle. Opening his arms at you like some twisted invitation. His gruff words didn’t threaten you.

You turn your head and spit words at them. Eyes narrow under your frizzy fringe. The drink helping get your tongue bold.

“Go find some balls to play with. Idiots” you snipe as you feel the delightful sensation of stepping out the house and into the dark back yard.

You brandish the V’s at them with your fingers and your chipped blue nail polish as you slip out the door and into the mild night. Shoes clicking down the steps. You hear their sneers as you leave.

“Stupid bitch.”

You walk around the perimeter of the pool. You don’t want to know why there’s floating beer cans and a bikini top strewn at the bottom.

You keep walking. Your feet only just unsteady. Out towards the very far back of the yard. The dark border of the trees seemed threatening. Huge towering trunks and dark leafy tips barely grazed by the starlight. Silent sentinels of night. No light snuck back here. Barely any orange light from the street or the rooms of Kyles house reaches all the way out here.

There’s ratty lawn chairs and a couple of empty cans rattling around on the lawn. Evidence that some people were partying here before you. But went back inside to dance or drink. Or went into the huge woods looming just behind you for some clandestine privacy. Or to try and scope out a bedroom.

You take your jacket off and spread it beneath you before you settle down on the end of a blue lounger. The plastic creaks with your weight. Sinks just a bit into the spongy grass. You sit yourself down and take your first deep breath.

You look at that busy house down the slope of the garden. The trash floating in the blue square sear of the pool. The windows limned in yellow. Crowds jump and burst within. Many voices and thudding party pop carry out to you. It’s a Madonna song now. Drifting up the grass that freckled, speckled with slithers of ochre light from the street. The other half carved in dark linear shadows.

You were drunk. Slightly. Not wanting to be here. Definitely. On the peripheral like a distant planet in orbit. Trying to find the place you could belong too. You didn’t know if you ever would. For some people it seemed damn easy. The need to fit. To be.

You had your art. Your drawings. Your craving for your Walkman and the solace of your music and what that bought you. Your job at the record store which you live love loved. Even though your boss, Sal, who was mercurial and was all cynical-moody as anything. But underneath that crusty exterior he was good to you. You still loved it.

You had a sad set of dreams pushed back, way back, nesting under your skin.

One day maybe if you were very lucky, you’d be far outta this town living them dreams. You sure as shit hoped so.

It wasn’t so bad. When all was said and done, at the very least, you didn’t just melt into an easy personality to please other people. Slap on a fake persona to get others to like you. Paste it on every morning. Beam a smile and wear things falsely. You couldn’t bear being that shallow just to have girlfriends to chit chat with at lunch. You couldn’t live that way.

When you tip your head back. You find yourself all of a sudden laying back. Body dizzy. Mind swirling. That punch was strong. You suspect it wasn’t just vodka. Maybe some tequila thrown in there too. You drank it too quick to decipher.

You don’t fight the movement. Spreading back. You can see stars. The majesty of the heavens. All those endless scattered white pearls that wink and shimmer in the endless blue between spots of murky smeared cloud.

After a long minute, you sit up to keep on knocking back your drinks.

You toss back more red vodka punch and don’t stop until the cup is empty. Red dregs. The wonderful snap of vodka makes you hiss through the sting as you finish it.

Nothing is stopping you tonight. One down, then you’re cracking open the cold beer. The satisfying hiss and the hoppy cheap mist spurts over your fingers.

“Here’s to edges.” You toast your beer up to no one. “Mine in particular.”

Your head felt fuzzy. Your tongue loose. You welcomed the sensation. Let it bleed through you and unwind the taut bowstring of your tension. You could really use a smoke right about now. You have to hide them at home. Charlie wouldn’t approve.

You swig the beer. It’ll have to do. It’s definitely cheap and tasted like it. But it’s cold and you just need to unwind your tightening steel wire spool of anger.

Fucking Linda. Fucking Jocks. Dragging you here only to ditch you in favour of sucking face and now probably busy right now sucking other body parts with her gorilla of a boyfriend.

You kick one of the crumpled cans on the lawn with your pirate booted foot. The resounding crunch and rattle comes off far far louder than you’d thought. Knocking off into the trees. Bouncing back like a slap, off the house.

It’s then you hear that maybe you didn’t have as much privacy as you had previously thought.

An odd sort of whispered hissing starts growing louder. The steady crunch of a twig being broken underfoot. Rustling of brittle paper leaves under a sneakered foot. The distant tang of Marlboro smoke curling around the trees.

Someone. Or more than one someone, was in the woods behind you.

The voice comes again. Deep enough to be a guys. Pitchy enough to still be a whisper. “The fuck was that?”

Another voice answers. Louder. Confident. Whispers not tamping down his volume. His tone is mocking.

“Look man, I don’t have all night. Quit wasting my time. 25 for a half ounce. Or I walk away right now and take the sweet stuff with me.”

Your drunk head strains to hear more. You lean further back. Like that will make one scrap of difference. You slosh down more beer and listen through the breeze ruffling the imposing wall of trees.

You hear some more rustling. The unsteady shuffling of feet. A sighed huff. The slap of something into an open palm.

“Pleasure doing business with you.” The sarrcy confidence voice answers. There’s a soft rustling of a plastic baggie.

“Whatever, freak.” Comes the grumble.

“My, my, Such manners. You kiss your mommy with that mouth.” Sneers back the voice. Lilt of humour and sarcasm composing his words.

You turn your head back to see someone break out the shadow swallow of the tree line. A guy in a letter man jacket breaks away and stalks drunkenly through the garden on wobbling legs. Shoving something like a crinkly plastic bag down deep into his pocket. Green and white baseball cap backwards on his head.

He doesn’t seem to notice you sat in your spot. When you raise your beer to take another sip your movement catches his eye. He almost trips over his own feet. Frowns at you.

“What you staring at, loser?” He barks grumpily at you. Bit his teeth around the insult.

You don’t offer a response. You swallow your retort down.

Something about pot making you lose brain cells, him not being so stupid as to take the risk. Needs all the help he can get.

You kinda hate yourself for staying silent But you let it go. You chug more beer. And just try and sit here and not feel.

He turns back and lumbers his stupid way back towards the house. Feet stomping over empty beer cans. You swallow down more beer and watch the party continue on without you.

Apparently, so was someone else.

A sudden flick coming from behind you makes you startle. Twisting back. A lighter being struck to life as this amazingly noiseless person behind you finally came out the tree line.

“That was one hell of a charming duuude.” Mocked the voice. Snorting laughter at the disappearing Jocks back. Marlboro red clamped between his lips. Smoke slithering out his smile. Between the cracks of his straight teeth.

When you saw who it belonged too. You weren’t even suprised. Who else could it be-

Who else would be doing a drug deal on the outskirts of a high school party, in the woods, at almost eleven at night, but Eddie “the freak” Munson.

The undisputed ruler of the geeks table in the cafeteria. Adored by his crowd of younger freshmen. His followers. His little band of devoted lost sheep. Recruited to the dark side to play his sadistic D&D campaigns. This older senior who was always gilded in chunky metal rings, chain bracelets, and rock and roll.

Something about him from afar shrieked messy danger; whether it was the careless swagger he walked with, or the unpredictability of when he’d burst into something crazy or unstable.

Climb on tables, throw food, shout at the top of his lungs with his hands cupped beside his mouth. Antagonise Jason and his pack of Jocks every chance he got. Spray paint ‘Hail Satan’ in glaring neon red across Principal Higgins door like he did last semester.

That last one was technically a rumour that it was him who did it, but you still kinda believed it to be dead true. It seemed his style.

He saw how you’d sprang around to look at him. Heart kicking in your chest as he made you jump.

“Sorry. Shit. Didn’t mean to startle you there.” He held his hands up. Skull bandana in his back pocket flapping against his ripped jeans. Orange tip of the cigarette burned bright like an evil eye in the dark. Lighting up his face and his pillowy lips.

His earlier cocky confidence seemed to have been flipped away, perhaps as a sign of how genuinely he meant his words.

You watch him slowly saunter across to where you’re sat. Nimble footsteps on the soft grass in his sneakers. The only noise coming from how the chain on his jeans swung into his legs. The zips and some of the metal badges on his jacket shining dully in the night air.

The deep tar pit of those black eyes tugged you in. The frizzy rockstar mane curling down to his shoulders. Sticky Ink black, echoing the shade of his eyes. The messy cut of his Jean jacket draped over leather. That blood red demon blazoned on his white raglan Hellfire Club t-shirt - you’d never seen him wear anything else.

“You’re the least scary thing I’ve come across tonight. Trust me.” You tell him. Sipping more beer. Hearing it slick around against the sides of the can.

You weren’t sure why but him being here had you on edge. You didn’t get nervous walking through a whole house of preppy morons. But here, now, you notice nervousness crunching down on your stomach.

Why nervous?

Not because you were scared of him. You felt safer alone with him out here than any of those knuckle-heads inside.

You think in some warped kinda way you wanted to impress him-

Ok, where in the cursed fucking pits of hell had that proclivity bloomed from?

He stops a decent distance away from you. You couldn’t quite read the expression on his face. He was looking at you warily.

You stared at the grass below your borrowed pointy leather shoes and the half empty warm beer in your hands.

“Are you, uhm. Alright?” He seeks. Gone was the earlier plucky confidence. His voice is fully tender.

“Oh I’m just peachy, thanks.” You smite nicely at him. Voice dripping dark sarcasm.

Those wild black eyes narrow with more concern.

“Sure about that?” He checks. Voice tipping up. Smoke exhaling from his mouth.

You summon the courage to look over at him. Bewildered.

He explains by tapping his finger twice under his eye. Still looking intrigued.

You shrink in self consciously. Folding in. Wipe under your eyes. When you bring back your hand, mascara sits weepy and smeared on your finger. Probably running under your eyes a little in your annoyed frustration. You hadn’t realised.

You sniff and wipe your eyes. Who cares anyway. No one was looking at your makeup. They weren’t bothered with you. That stung. But it was true.

Eddie was the first person to actually acknowledge you as a fully fleshed human being. To actually speak to you.

“It’s nothing. Really.” You assure him. Smiling mildly. Unable to believe the guy who had the words loser and freak tossed at him like bullets every damn day is asking you if you’re okay.

“Don’t worry I’m not so wasted that I’m out here sobbing by myself. You don’t have to deal with an emotional girl.” You consider your mood. “Maybe a pissed off one though-“ You added softly.

You loosened your grip on your beer. Flicking your fringe out your eyes again.

“Hey-“ He starts. And it’s so sweetly tender it makes your lungs skip. His voice seems to deepen a little from that anarchistic shriek and shout you often hear from him.

You peer over under your kinked fringe. He thinks how freakin adorable it looks on you. Hits him like a freakin clap of lightning.

Your hair all wild and teased, back combed to hell, and then those eyes. Doe, bambi, sparkling eyes shining in the dark. Side of your face caught all caramel smooth in the peachy-orange light from the street. Despite the smudged eye makeup blacking under your eyes, actually, he kinda likes that dark smouldering look.

You’re fucking pretty.

Fancy that. Eddie Freak Munson talking to a real pretty girl at a High School party. What’s becoming of him?

“You’re out here drinking alone, sweetheart. I just put two and two together is all. My mistake.” He admits sheepishly. Meshing his fingers together as he spoke. Animated. You watched the way his rings glinted in the darkness. Cig wobbling on his lips as he spoke.

“Well. It’s coming out four. Munson.” You admitted gently.

Your very girlish instincts did a little elated hop with the way he called you sweetheart. Those idiots inside had called you a bitch and loser. He had called you sweetheart-

“You know my name.” He grinned all boyish. Hands on his hips, clasping onto a belt that had a handcuff buckle.

“Colour me impressed.” He flits a wink at you. “I didn’t know we were on a surname basis.”

“You’re the local troublemaker and weed dealer. Of course I know your name.” You answer. You didn’t live under a rock.

“Mommy and Daddy have my picture pinned on the dart board at home, huh sweetie?” He tilts his head again and grins all wide and playful. Framing his face with his thumbs and hands like a mock photograph. Smoking cig trickling lazily up to the sky.

He walks a slow circle around you on the lounger. He can’t keep still evidently. Kicking beer cans out the way. Kicks one down the slope of the lawn. Comes back around you like he’s assessing you coolly. Casually. Grey smoke trails in his wake.

Something tells you he’s almost proud of the accomplishment of being considered near infamous. Anything but the poisonous fucking trap of being considered ‘normal.’

“Yeah. They show me a picture of you every morning. Your face slapped over wanted posters serve as a warning to parents all over Hawkins county.” You joked with fake gravity. “I might be indoctrinated into your dangerous devil D&D cult if I don’t watch out.”

“I relish the chance to corrupt more innocent souls. Especially pretty ones.” He says in a mock gravelly devil voice. Sticking his tongue out at you. Widening his eyes to look scary. It makes you almost spit out a mouthful of beer for laughing.

He’s a goof under all that threatening metal persona. You suspect a soft warm heart of gold lurks under that denim and leather chest too.

You offer out the can of beer to him. “Sorry. It’s a little warm but-“

He smiles and stands for a moment. Assessing you. Eyes growing almost warm.

“Poisoned, Snow White?” He jokes.

“I don’t need that on my conscience. Not to mention the stoners in school would flay me alive for taking you out.” You comment. Waving the can out at him between two fingers.

“Sold.” He says.

He drifts in just close enough to take it from you. His rings clack against the thin metal. Crosses and skulls and all things bad bad bad and demonic adorn his hands.

“Sharing beer and we’re not even on a first name basis.” He says as he takes it and pulls back a swig.

You absolutely kick yourself for the way you watch his neck elongate from tipping his head back to drink. Hair down his back. Wavy over his shoulders.

You give him your name. First and last. It tumbled out your mouth before you could stop it. Your drunkenness sliding you right on into trouble.

He raised the can at you in a salute. Repeated your surname at you. Rolled it around his mouth. As if he was tasting it like he was the beer.

“Pleasure to meet you.” He smirked as he did a mock bow and dipped his head at you. Swigging the beer once more.

You bite your lip and wipe your clammy hands on your soft jeans as you turn away and force yourself to look at something much less- distracting. Dangerous?

You settle on looking at the house. Music still bouncing out the place. Voices spilling out boisterous. You watched a guy stumble out the back door to puke into the bushes by the kitchen window. Maybe a newbie.

Eddie saw it but ignored it. Kept his dark gaze stuck on you instead.

“How’s it you ended up out here?” He asked. Passing the can back to into your hand. You take it and cold silver rings brush your hand. Sparks skip over your skin.

“Well. Firstly the music-” You grimaced.

He chuckled archly.

“Fuckkkk I know right? This party could totally use some Motörhead.” He proclaimed.

“Or some Talking Heads.” You agreed.

His eyes lit up. “Stop making sense.” He said approvingly. You smiled at the inside joke.

“I did actually come with someone. But they ditched me before we were even in the front door. They’re upstairs right now, and probably having sex on the pile of coats in the guest room.” You estimate.

You watched Eddie’s brows raise up a little. Ballsy.

“That’s real shitty.” He states without hesitation. But that smile is creeping back.

“Tell me to get lost if it is none of my business. Sweetie. But uh, did you come here with a… boy. A boy who is maybe a friend. A boyfriend?” He seeks slowly. His head tilting. Rolling his hands as he talked. Manic sprinkled on manic.

Leaning to one side as he asked. That floppy hair leaning over his shoulder. Coming closer and making an unsure grimace as he slowly chewed over that last word. Cig at his side between two fingers.

You shake your head for no. His eyes glint a little.

No boyfriend. Knows who Talking Heads are. Goddamn it, he may have to start turning up the dial to flirt with you some point soon.

His smile turns up at the corners. How have you never noticed that under that manic rock n roll energy it’s actually such a great smile.

He takes another drag and spun away for a second to toss away his cig before it burned out. You hear the way the chains on his arms hit the leather jacket across his chest.

You clarify as to why you were here. How you were dragged along here by your teeth.

“My party friend, Linda, dragged me here. Blonde perm. No braincells, lots of leg and hormones. Idiot Jock strap for a boyfriend.” You explain.

“Alright for some.” Eddie grins at you. His eyes look sharp as black ice in the dark.

“I guess.” You smile. Stretching your feet out. “Maybe not for her though.” You snark in dirty insinuation. It makes him smile across at you.

You both laugh at your joke and it softens him a little to see it.

He spins away and suddenly hops up onto the lawn chair near to you. Flurry of energy. Standing on it and trying to keep his balance. You looked up at him where he stood. Dirty sneakers balancing on the plastic slats.

“I swear I do know you from some place.” He says. A calculative look on his face. He repeats your surname again. Tasting it in his mouth. Arms now crossed over his chest. He leans towards you so slightly. Bending down.

“Uh, School?” You state obviously.

He clicks his tongue. Looks mischievous. “Doesn’t ring a bell.”

That figures, actually.

“Big building. Students. Teachers. Classrooms. Finals.” You explain.

He’s walking up the lounger. Testing precarious steps on the cracking plastic. “It’s vaguely familiar to me.” The chain on his leg swings again with his steps.

“We had a history together in middle school. Mrs Grey’s class.” You offer. Though he’d looked different then, his mannerisms weren’t dissimilar to now.

Just now he had the demon tats and rocker hair to back it up.

“We did?” He questions. Or states. He’s unsure. Or testing the waters. You can’t tell. His mystery is his charm. Unreadable expression.

You remember some of his antics. You doubt he’d ever turned his eyes toward the classroom board even once the whole semester.

On the days he deigned to turn up, he usually spent more time scribbling his own little lyrics or campaign ideas over the assignment paper he’d been given on his desk. Or drawing devils, monsters and skulls with leering forked tongues, in a thick stubby sharpie. He took tormenting your teacher as a personal mission.

Any time he was called on, he answered with bite, with wit and a - deeply buried disguised - degree of intelligence that meant he could walk this class - if he really, really wanted too. You found it almost admirable. It was almost enough to make you develop a crush on him.

His dislike for conformity and following the establishment rules had him cemented as this jagged little pill of a troubled guy who couldn’t care less about school. Or grades. People looked at him and saw no more than trailer trash trouble. The rebel Munson kid who lives in the trailer park off Kerley.

“I’m memorable from all the way back then?” He asks. Doubting he was even worth remembering from last week. Let alone going back years.

“Yeah. You made me laugh.” You tell him bravely.

Whether it was the way he snuck in late, or asked to borrow a pencil. Threw balled up pieces of paper at the popular crowd to antagonise. Made stupid distorted faces behind Mrs Grey’s back. Contradicted her til she was red in the face.

“I sat behind you, didn’t I?” He remembered. Then he snaps his fingers. His chain leather bracelet jangles. “Pencil girl.”

You nod. “Nice nickname.”

He drops suddenly in a jump to the ground. Burst of energy. Sits himself facing you on the end of the lounger. Knees spread. Holds out a flat hand to you to shake.

“Nice to properly meet you again. Pencil girl.” He grins at you.

You blush. You actually feel your blush crawl it’s molten way up your cheeks. Eddie Munson is offering his ring clad hand out for you to shake.

You meet his eyes as you look over and take it. Slip you palm into his warm one. Clutch of metal surrounding your fingers as you shake. The brackets on your arms clack together as you jerk your arm.

“Nice to properly meet you too, Eddie.” You grin.

His eyes look warm as he beams at you. Those dark eyes all melting and dark liquid chocolate in their gaze. Your knees almost brush his ripped jean kneecaps where you’re leant over to shake his hand.

He seems awfully unconcerned about letting go of your hand any time soon.

Because he’s come closer to you, you can smell the beer on his breath and the the sharp acrid of cigarettes woven into his clothes. Along with some faintly tangy scent of weed, powdery laundry detergent.

Up close he’s even more terrifying. Those wild eyes bordered in shade by that even wilder tangle of hair.

“How come I rarely see you around. Pencil girl.” He asks genuinely. Sliding his hand out of yours at last. When you break away to look at his hand sliding off yours, you only realise then you’d been staring.

“Well I do actually go to my classes.” You tease.

He clutched over his heart like he’d been pierced with a mortal wound. Choked, Gasped your name.

“Mean.” He grins. Those melting eyes turn all puppyish. Holding the space over his heart like it hurt.

“I guess I mostly live in the Art classroom at school. Or the library. That’s where I am most days. Most lunches and my free periods.” You tell him.

He smirks. You can’t tell what that means.

“You’re telling me you’re secretly one of us.” He lowers his voice to a whisper.

You frown. Oh it’s a good look on you. It bunches up little wrinkles between your brows.

“One of us?”

“A freak.” Eddie grins. His grin slowly grows.

“Is that an official diagnosis? Dungeon master?” You ask him.

Twisting to fully face him where you sit on the lounger. You feel Linda’s top slide down your shoulder. Your bra strap is showing. Eddies eyes flick to it for the barest second.

“Totally. I hereby brand thee. Fellow freak. Pencil girl. Welcome to the club.” He puts his hands over his hair, mimes placing a crown on your head. Arms outstretched around your head. Surrounding your puffed up hair.

You smile. The scent of warm old leather and cigarettes smacks you in the nose. He waved his fingers either sides of your temples. Your stomach squirms. Butterflies kicked to life.

He’s a freak. And a goof. And so are you.

And, oh christ, you think you might like him-

“Great. So when’s my swearing in ceremony. What do we do? Sacrifice virgins or goats, what?” You play around.

“Friday nights. I’m afraid the sacrificing of virgins is messy. But necessary.” He waggles his brows. Trying to look serious. You doubt he ever looked serious in his life.

You snort. You can’t help it. You cover your mouth. He shakes with laughter too. Chest bouncing with it.

Your head is swimming drunk and you can only just believe you’re sat out here shooting the shit with Eddie Munson of all people.

And for once in your life, you’re enjoying one of these terrible shitty parties.

The new music dancing across the lawn catches Eddies ears. The mellow base and chirpy singing.

He rolls his eyes over to the house in disgust. ‘Just the two of us’ is crooning across the lawn. Tacky. Saxaphone riff, and Bill Withers smooth whiskey-dulcet voice.

“I’m gonna be puking in the bushes soon if they carry on with that shit.” He nudged his head across to the open door. The golden rectangle of the kitchen door that glowed in the night. Spilling light up the slanted yard.

“I think, my friend isn’t going to be surfacing any time soon.” You wince at the thoughts and all that could possibly entail. Whether or not she’d bother to come find you. Skirt twisted around her waist. Lipstick all smeared around her puffy mouth. Hair mushed. Cheeks glowing.

You should go and find her. But- you really don’t want too. Nothing could move you from this lounger.

“I should go back inside.” You say out loud. You stay stock still.

Eddie shoots you a look. Disbelieving.

“Listen. Anyone who sits on the outskirts of this fuckin idiotic makeout party and listens to Talking Heads is plenty alright with me. You’re better off.” He points a thumb into his Hellfire clad chest when he says ‘me’.

Where his t-shirt was disturbed, you see a dark triangle of a guitar pick on a necklace around his neck. Some ink on his skin. You want to see just exactly where those tats end and begin.

Your gaze is drawn to the house as a gang of jocks come out to the back yard. Some to stand and chat with their friends. Some to smoke. They seem to have clocked you both. Eddies mood changes.

“Let me give you a ride home, pencils.” Eddie says suddenly out of nowhere. His voice took on a deeper tone. Duller.

You aren’t sure you heard him right. What?

You turn back and see a very sincere look stained across that anarchistic expression. His eyes almost deepen.

“Are you serious?” You ask him.

“Not often. But just then? Yeah. I wouldn’t feel right walking away, leaving a pretty girl like you alone and vulnerable out here. Not with that crowd of assholes circling.” Eddie says as he scans along the row of them with, clearly, no love lost in his tone.

“Uhm.” You churn over your thoughts. Fragments of choppy sense returning to your tipsy head. “Yeah ok, Sure. Thanks.”

Eddie smiles. That palm of his is offered to you once again. And you take it.

You wobble on your feet on the soft grass.

He smiles. Steadies your elbows with his hands. Both hands clutching on for your safety. He draws you close. Just a little. His dark eyes dart with slight starlight.

“Us freaks gotta stick together. Man.” And then comes that rock n roll mischief smirk. Your belly melts.

You think you like being a freak after all.

🕷 Fancy a sneak at the next part? 🕷

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sugarlesswriting · 6 months

Text

While I sat outside with my sister to pass out candy to children I came up with a small little AU. There’s not a lot for an actual story but enough for some headcanons.

Paranormal Investigator AU

Duncan burned some bridges while in Toronto and can’t seem to find a decent job. Gwen can’t seem to find a job with her art history degree.

One day while channel surfing they get to the Travel Channel and there’s a show about paranormal investigation. Gwen jokes that it would be easy to scam home owners and pretended to feel an ‘evil presence’ in a corner.

That’s where Nocturne Paranormal Investigations began.

They’ve been scamming from Mississauga all the way to Montreal. That is until one day they get a call from a man who calls himself Mr. Madden and he’s from Vancouver.

Gwen doesn’t want to make the trip because going cross country means spending money but the man promises to pay them triple.

She almost hangs up because it ticks off to many boxes on the start of a horror movie. Strang man not from their area calling them to go a long way from home. Check. Not doubling but tripling it when she turns it down. Check.

That is until he’s pleading on the phone and that he only called because his niece spoke highly of them.

Gwen decides to play along because now that she thinks about business has been slow and she has time to kill.

After a few minutes Mr. Madden wears her down and now that she thinks about it she they could use a change of pace, but also they can’t be picky when it comes to business. Even if it screams Dumb Horror Movie Decision™.

Gwen takes the case without consulting Duncan which made him think that his life was a living hell while they drove to Vancouver. Which made her life a living hell for 22 hours.

DJ their new hire, and old friend, was a good buffer, but there was only so much he could do from Duncan being an ass. Which made Gwen act like an ass. Which just makes DJ wish that maybe he took his uncles offer as working at a temp agency.

The moment Duncan drives his car up the long driveway, with tree’s and random pieces of stoned carvings he makes a comment about if they die he’ll kill Gwen.

The mansion is huge and Duncan now thinks that Gwen should have squeezed a couple extra thousand.

Gwen finds it annoying that Duncan has not only been bitching for the whole time, but now he’s bitching at her for not negotiating better.

Gwen was going to kill him if the owner of the house didn’t.

Duncan sees another car in the large driveway and is back to being grump, but also on edge to the point that Gwen thinks he finally lost it.

He starts to light up while they wait for Mr. Madden to answer the door. Gwen can basically feel the stress off him. She wonders if he’s really scared of this big mansion. It is screaming murder mystery house

Mr. Madden finally answers the door. He has familiar features with blond hair and green eyes. Gwen feels her stomach drop because if his niece is the person she’s thinking about that means Duncan’s ex-girlfriend isn’t far behind.

Gwen hopes that maybe they aren’t there. That it would just be her team and Mr. Madden during their investigation.

She’s proven wrong when he takes them to the drawing room because it’s the place that had the least activity from spirits.

There are four other people in there. Two she knew were going to be there, the other’s didn’t even come to her minds radar when she sees them in there.

Two she knew Bridgette and Courtney. Courtney is Duncan’s ex, and Gwen could basically feel Duncan stiffen. Like he’s some cat that just came into contact with a very large dog that’s a threat.

The other two is Geoff, Duncan’s childhood friend who moved during 7th grade. The other is Trent, the guy Gwen’s been seeing for the past couple of months.

Geoff is Bridgette’s boyfriend and Trent is now Bridgette’s cousin through marriage. (Trent’s dad married Bridgette’s aunt).

DJ is confused as to why Duncan is glaring at Courtney, and Courtney in turn is glaring right back at him.

DJ decides to lead the conversation because now Gwen and Duncan are distracted.

He can’t get to it because Trent asks Gwen what she was doing there, she says it’s for work. She asks what Trent’s doing there and he tells her that he’s family.

DJ tries it again but is once again interrupted when Courtney scoffs and rolls her eyes which just sets off Duncan because why not? They weren’t there for a job or anything!

After, like, 30 seconds of them yelling at each other Bridgette intervenes and says that their bad vibes is feeding the spirit.

Courtney reveals that she’s there to prove that their a scam, not because she knows but because she thinks all paranormal investigators are scammers.

Duncan, who always thoughts ghost were fake and people who actually hired them were idiots is now putting 110% effort into the job.

DJ is able to redirect the conversation back to Mr. Madden and his ghosts.

It’s been happening for years now, but it wasn’t until recently that it seems to have been amped up.

Gwen talks about energies.

Courtney scoffs again.

Duncan says they should kill Courtney and offer her up to appease the spirit.

Mr. Madden eventually has to leave because he got a call to go into town because of business or whatever.

So now it’s a full night of investigation with Courtney constantly interfering by being right about them being fakes.

Luckily no one is taking her seriously but it’s started to make Gwen nervous that Duncan might go too far and eventually the truth of the scam will come out.

Obviously the more the night goes on the more romance happens between Courtney and Duncan.

Oh no they get locked in a room. Duncan makes a comment about how she’s so desperate to get back together with him that she locked them in.

She says that Duncan is the one that’s not over her, so that’s why he suggested to investigate that room.

Ghost makes a sound

Courtney mocks Duncan “Oh so scary! Come on Duncan, I know you can do better than that.”

Duncan takes the compliment but tells her that it wasn’t him.

The entire night is filled with ghost activity as it soon becomes apparent that the ghost is very much real and Nocturne Paranormal Investigation has to come to terms that they are now in over their head because this spirit is starting to become down right violent.

Duncan and Courtney makeout at one point during the night. They would go further but the ghost is a cock block.

#total drama headcanons #paranormal investigators au #td duncan #td geoff #td gwen #td trent #td courtney #td bridgette #sugarless thoughts

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pinkykats-place · 1 year

Text

Aged Up BakuDeku sfw one shots Ⅱ

Pro Hero AU

AO3 Fanfic Recommendations

Disclaimers!

None of the stories linked below are mine.

All are SFW … still read tags.

Art work by @estrellachan27 {twitter}.

Note: If you read any of these stories and like them please let the author know with a kudos and/or comment!

twenty-seven bones by iphido

Summary: His mother used to tell him, Katsuki, there isn’t a tender bone in your body.

Hold Me Close by mynameis152

Summary: On rainy days, the pain sets in and Izuku can't bare to get out of bed.

Luckily, his husband is there to help.

Early Mornings by Russie

Summary: Katsuki's mornings alone were just him getting up, getting dressed, and going to work. Simple, boring. Mornings waking up next to Izuku? There's always the possibility he was going to be surprised.

A Series of Dumb Decisions that Actually Turns Out Okay by bkdkwritingsdump

Summary: Izuku goes undercover at a fan convention to buy unlicensed Ground Zero merch behind his boyfriend's back.

Stupid Intruders by MoniLovely

Summary: Katsuki's friends invade his and Deku's date.

of freckles and constellations by UzukageHime

Summary: because izuku is a map with constellations etched across his skin and his eyes are a universe with which galaxies and stars collide and katsuki loves him so very much.

Puppy Love by Alphapisces0301

Summary: Katsuki and Izuku try to give their new puppy a bath. For Katsuki, the emphasis is on try.

Kisses and Fresh Paint by Loopielupie

Summary: They're finally on the verge of opening the agency. In between assembling furniture and giving the place a new coat of paint Izuku and Katsuki grab a moment to themselves.

Although maybe they should have picked a better place for it...

Worth It by asdfjkl129

Summary: “I have something for you, once you finish eating,” Katsuki says.

Deku perks up with poorly hidden curiosity. “Oh?”

His hair is still damp, dripping onto his grey shirt with a simple Sidekick emblazoned on the front. He’s wearing one of Katsuki’s sweatpants and a pair of fuzzy socks stuffed into slippers, looking so comfortable and at home that Katsuki has the sudden urge to tackle him into the wall or squeeze his face and kiss him until he passes out. Normal urges when dealing with Deku, of course.

Instead, Katsuki throws one of his chopsticks at him, nailing Deku perfectly on the forehead.

“Yeah,” Katsuki says, ignoring Deku’s squawk.

— — —

Deku doesn't give himself nice things often enough for Katsuki's taste. So, he'll fix that, starting with one iconic Lego set in familiar reds, blues, and yellows at a time.

The happy place by @silverynight

Summary: Katsuki has a happy place... and his name is Izuku. It's also the apartment they live in together and the couch where they both end up on top of each other, sometimes fighting over the remote... Sometimes just taking a break from all the things they have to do for everyone else.

They're hero partners now and Katsuki somehow managed to convince his friend/rival that it was more convenient for them to live together.

His mother gave him a knowing and judging look when she heard the story from Izuku, the first time their parents payed them a visit; Inko was just happy for the two of them.

Katsuki knows his mother is right and this is ridiculous, that he's torturing himself, but if it's the only way he can have Izuku then he's willing to endure all the "suffering" that comes with it.

Tomorrow's Sound Bite by EnduringParadox

Summary: "There's no such thing as always, Deku. If Dynamight is still hearty and hale, then he's going. I think the public will get a kick out of seeing him hold his own against Hirano and Merry. Stop pouting."

"I'm not pouting," Izuku said with a pout. "I just—Kacchan—"

"Dynamight is an adult and a pro-hero. He is more than capable of answering questions about himself for an hour. Get some rest. I want you in tip-top condition for your talk at the museum opening next week. Now, please give the phone back to Dynamight."

Izuku mumbled a goodbye and mouthed Sorry as he handed the phone to Kacchan.

Kacchan groaned. "Yeah, I'll do the interview, goddamn. But if they want me to talk for an hour, then they'll get me for an hour, got it?"

An hour of pure, unfiltered Kacchan.

Izuku was sure that they didn't know what they were getting into.

---

Izuku and Kacchan always do their interviews together, but with Izuku home sick, Kacchan has to weather it alone. Izuku is worried, especially when a rude guest starts needling Kacchan about their relationship.

Bakugou's Mad Dash Airport Confession by Lovelylemonliar

Summary: “I guess you're finally getting everything you've ever wanted, huh Kacchan? I'll be gone far away and you'll be the number one hero. I'm really happy for you…”

But this was not everything Bakugou had ever wanted.

What he wanted was on his way to the airport… away from him and into who knows what kind of danger.

— — —

OR Bakudeku stars in everyone's favorite classic rom-com trope of the dramatic running through an airport to confess their love before the other's flight takes off.

On a Tuesday? by MugenUnshield

Summary: Just a regular ass Tuesday.

Life hadn't come to a grinding halt. Birds hadn't fallen from the sky, and he was pretty sure the Earth was still securely in orbit, yet…

He couldn't stop staring at the boy in front of him.

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dreamingdarklyblog · 8 months

Text

Picking it Apart

So... Continuing my attempt to talk about what happened yesterday here. Picking up the thread from here. Trying to keep the threads from getting too long by breaking them up like this.

I started talking about how things "Feel" or how it feels like they "Work" in a response to a question, but I thought like it should get it's own post. To sort of repeat the start of that answer, to get us back into the topic...

Yeah there's some... Hangover. If that's what you want to call it. First there's a moment of realization. At least, the way he has it "wear off", is pretty sudden. Or was yesterday. And so there's a moment when suddenly I'm thinking "clearly". I use quotes because I'm not really, yet. But the strain of maintaining the suggestion is gone and I feel like a weight is lifted. Then in this specific case of course, the suggestions are About not thinking clearly... Being super suggestible, and... You know. Dumb.

I'm not sure how that "works" exactly? I guess I think of it like every thought or action I take is going through a filter. Looking back on it Now, after the fact, I can sort of see it, or remember it... At the time it's all kind of background processing. I'm not really aware of it. But thinking about it now I picture it like a flow chart, or an assembly line or something. Throughput gets fed into the little "Suggestion" box, and comes out the other end altered. Very different meaning of suggestion box huh? There's definitely a story idea in there...

A thing happens, a stimulus, something that provokes a response. My natural response fires, whatever it is, but then goes into a filter that checks against whatever suggestion is running through my head, and it gets tweaked. Then it goes into the next one, and the next one, and keeps getting altered. Until finally it hits my conscious mind and goes out into the world as the response to the stimulus.

That's just how I'm thinking of it of course. The actual experience, now that I feel more aware of it, is more like just a hanging moment. Like this brief "Uhhh" moment, where my thoughts kind of hang, like the beach ball on a laggy computer, before I catch up and react.

I suppose in some ways a "Dumb" suggestion is one of the easiest to hold onto. Because most suggestions tend to slow down my thinking anyway, it's sort of a natural result. If I'm labouring under the weight of a pile of complicated things, I get pretty slow even if that's not the intention. Not so much the "bimbo" persona, of course, but just the difficulty understanding, slow to react, sluggish sort of dumb =/

That's just if there's a LOT going on though. Usually the hanging thought is very brief. Not even noticeable really, from outside anyway. At least not that I know of. The more there is going on though, the longer it gets, until it's very noticeable.

Ooof... Anyway

In the moment yesterday I wasn't really noticing any of that. I just felt... Slow. Thick. Dumb. Everything was kind of confusing. Hard to process. Difficult to understand. Everything felt like an art film with an obscure theme, or a trying to wrap my head around the mechanics of the squeeze theorem.

My writing partner would offer up other thoughts, and I would latch onto them like I was drowning and they were a life preserver. Like it was difficult to come up with any on my own, and starved for input my mind would just accept anything it came across. Anything he said...

It's honestly really hot thinking about it. Also rather conflicting and embarrassing >_<

Anyway... Thats's where a lot of my thoughts at the time were coming from. Wanting Bigger Tits... Wanting to post here... To tell you all about how much I'd been rubbbing all day... How excited I was to turn everyone on and tell them about it...

Aaand now I'm not sure where to go with this post. Or how to end it.

Liriel out?

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haegikoobi · 2 years

Text

professor kun

Mr.Qian (Kun) catches you cheating on the final and asks you to Meet him after class.

Word count: 1.3k

**TW Degrading, pet names, crying, superior names, slapping, slight teasing, ddlg, hair pulling, oral/head, manhandling, some kissing, almost getting caught, penetration, unprotected sex, ejaculation, some gagging, held down, candle wax dripping, very slight nip play, some humiliation, some aftercare

As you sat across from someone who can only be described as a work of art , bro was so beautiful, you couldn’t help but squeeze your thighs together. You knew why Mr Qian had brought you in here today. After teasing him throughout the week with skimpy skirts that barely covered your panty clad ass and coy looks throughout the lecture, he found himself at his breaking point. On top of that, he caught you cheating on the midterm, giving him the perfect excuse to fuck you dumb. A man can only take so much and he ensures to punish the whore out of you.

He sat with his elbows propped up on the desk and fingers laced which he sat his chin upon. The tight shirt of his suit clung to his tense muscles perfectly and did nothing to ease the wetness beginning to gather in your underwear.

“You know miss, you should really be careful with who you disobey, not everyone will be as lenient as me”. He said as he leaned back. He had a long thick ruler in both of his hands, gently twirling it around.

“I’m sorry sir, why do-”

“HEY” he hit the ruler in the palm of his hand, making a sharp slapping sound that made you jump.

“Did I say you could speak?” he repeatedly smacked the ruler in the palm of his hand.

“Hm?”

He got up, still hitting his palm with the ruler, and slowly walked around to the back of your chair. He knelt down, you felt his warm breath on your neck

“Exactly” he chuckled into your neck.

“Kun I..”

“That’s not my name sweetheart”

A few seconds went by until … “Sir…”

You felt a cold woosh off air as he stood, walking around to the front of your seat. He set both of his hands on the armrests of your chair, and leaned forward. His nose barely touching yours.

“Sir I don’t know why I’m -”

“Just shut up” he grabbed your face and harshly pressed his lips onto yours. His fingers entangled in your hair. You felt butterflies rise up in your stomach right before he pulled away and gripped your hair to throw you to the floor.

“Now get on your knees and tell me how much you want it slut”

Before you could make a noise, He swiftly and smoothly slid his belt off, and grabbed the back of your head putting his hard cock into your mouth. “ I SAID TELL ME YOU WANT IT BITCH” he mercilessly slapped your cheek, knocking his dick out of your mouth. He tightly squished your face with his left hand and put his face up to yours.

“Say. it”. He smacked you once again and shoved his dick down your throat, hitting the spot that makes you want to cry.

He continued to pound down your throat, wiping the endless amount of tears rolling with his thumb, licking his thumb after each time.

“TAKE OFF YOUR FUCKING SKIRT RIGHT NOW”. He pulled out and pushed your chest up against the wall, swiftly pulling your underwear down. He saw how wet you already were.

“Desperate pup aren’t you?”

He turned you around to face him and grabbed your ass to lift you and wrap your legs around him. You gasped as he put it in. He whispered into your ear

“Hold onto my neck ok pup?”

You grabbed onto his neck as you continued to bounce on his dick. Without a second thought Kun landed a rough spank on the flesh of your ass and watched with amusement at the gasp you let out. The one slap was enough to redden your skin and leave the faint imprint of his hand. With soothing motions he rubbed the flesh to offer some relief.

“I won’t ask you again, now tell me you want it”

You heard footsteps approaching in the hall.

“SHIT THE PRINCIPAL” you whispered

Before you knew it, Kuns shoved his fist into your mouth

“Well maybe if you shut the fuck up then maybe he won’t hear you slut”

He continued to make you bounce. Tears started to flow from your eyes again as his fist choked you even further.

“How pathetic pup, crying already?”

The final spank he delivered to your ass was enough to send you over the edge and as you withered and panted above him he continued to lap up everything you had to offer and didn’t stop till the principal passed by

With a smirk on his face, he wiped his forehead with the back of his hand and slowly turned you around so you were facing him. “I hope you don’t think we’re done pup, I still need to cum”

At that you felt a gush of his cum fill you up. You gasped even louder than the last time, cumming along with him. Both of you were overflowing with bliss.

“I should’ve came a long time ago slut”

He lifted you onto his desk and held your wrists down above your head as he pulled out. He lifted your shirt off and said.

“But you don’t deserve that now do you?”

He quickly grabbed the candle he always keeps on the side of his desk and held you down as he teased your cunt with his finger tips.

“Now hold still”

Kun tilted the candle down the slightest bit, and let a few drops of wax drip onto your bare skin. You flinched slightly with each drop. He raised his hand from your cunt.

“Didn’t I tell you to stay still my pup?”

He lowered his hand, and unclipped your bra from the front. Dipping his finger in the wax, he drew a around your perky nipple, letting it harden to reveal its shape.

“Fuck, so sexy pup .”

He slipped off his tie and set it over your eyes, wrapping it around your head so you can’t see what he’s about to. Suddenly, stinging wax trickled down your chest and stomach, forcing out a choked moan from you.

“Too much for you pup?” he chuckled “Aww well that’s too bad, because i'm not done with you yet”

Suddenly, a rush of wax covered you rolling down your chest all the way down to your pussy with a wave of hotness.

Now completely out of wax, you heard Kun reaching down for something.

“You wasted all of my wax pup. Now tell me you’re sorry”

You let out a quiet “I’m sorry”

Right after, you felt a strong slap on the side of your thigh. It felt like he was using the ruler he put down a few seconds ago.

“WRONG. SAY IT AGAIN” he said this sternly.

“IM SORRY” You shouted

“THAT’S NOT MY NAME WHORE”

This time he grabbed you by the neck, and lifted your face to his.

“What’s my name?” he whispered

“I’m sorry sir…”

“For what? Say it.” he whispered again

“I’m sorry for wasting all of your wax sir.”

He removed the tie from your eyes

“Good. Now I’ll give you that A+ you wanted so badly.”

He gave you a soft kiss on the forehead and helped you put your clothes back on. Still shaken from all the stimulation, you stumble a bit when you stand up, and immediately reaches out to catch you. Leaning heavily against him, you hide your face in his bicep as he walks the both of you to the door.

“You did such a good job tonight pup. Just do better next time okay?”

#smut #kun #nctkun #kunsmut #wayv #nctsmut #professor #professorsmut

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sinisterexaggerator · 2 years

Text

“I’m so glad you’re not dead” - ( Cad Bane x Ahsoka Tano )

Summary: Ahsoka Tano encounters Cad Bane on the planet Daiyu while gathering intel for the Rebel Alliance. She is in her 30s now, and Cad Bane is an “old man.”

THIS IS A CRACK FIC. IT’S DUMB AS HELL. I had fun writing it, though. Hell. I might even write another one.

Warnings: Smut. 18+ / NSFW - Fucking semi-publicly, whining, teasing, kissing, cunnilingus, alien biology, clit fondling, premature ejaculaton, terrible, terrible dirty talk. Uhh... humor, duros double-dong, sweet smelling pheromones, Cad Bane being a superfan and a lot of weiiiiiird comments, maybe. Sooo sorry about that.

Note: I did very little editing. I had the idea earlier today goofing off with my Duros Hoes and then I pooped this out.

Word count: 3.2

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

Luminescent neon reflected in the remnants of a puddle at the Togruta’s feet. She was on a mission – to gather intel for the Rebellion.

Daiyu was a planet that reminded her of her days on Coruscant as a mechanic in the lower levels, though you could see the sky if you looked up. She had taken shelter in a seedy cantina for the evening – her informant hadn’t shown.

The rain had since stopped falling – she felt something: a familiar presence. The montrals that jutted heavenward atop Ahsoka Tano’s head tingled with a sixth sense as they alerted her to movement down a side street just to her left.

That’s when she heard it; a voice that was distinctive. She wasn’t sure it was him until she cleared the shadows and spotted his gigantic hat. It could only be one Duros - bounty hunter Cad Bane in the flesh, yet older than she remembered – the woman smiled because she owed him one.

However, the soft smirk lingering at the corner of her lips faded; dissipated almost instantly. He was holding a woman hostage; someone weaker than himself. He was angry with her, his words throaty, drawling, and filled with mild contempt.

“Where’s he hidin’? All I wants ya’ husband, lil’ lady. Ain’t afta you.”

“Please, leave us alone!”

“’Fraid I can’t do dat. Ssurely he’d come fer ya, hmm? Mebbe I t’ake you in’sstead.”

Ahsoka had heard enough. She drew her hood; took note of her sour mood.

The hits came quick; the woman screamed. Tano had sprinted lightspeed into the alley. Her body twirled midair; a foot came crashing in. Cad Bane’s face had met with Nashtah leather and durasteel.

He stumbled back, inadvertently letting his captive go in the process. He cupped his aching cheek, eyes squinting.

The woman ran as Bane tried to recover. He swung his fist at his attacker. She was much too fast, with the grace of a feral feline. She dodged easily, then slammed her palm into the center of his rostrum.

He yelped a pathetic sound. His hat had nearly fallen off his head. He shook himself, regained his traction, then dashed at the cloaked figure as she simply flipped over and above him.

He stopped, confused, turning to the left then right. Ahsoka swirled in a measured dance and kicked his feet out from underneath him. He fell forward onto his stomach. He rolled, flipped over, then gaped up at her, propped up on his elbows. He withdrew both LL-30 blaster pistols, but hesitated. Ahsoka glared at him.

“Time to finish our dance, old man.”

‘You’ve got de wrong Duros! I don’ know wha’cher -”

Ahsoka egged him on. Her knee bent forward, her back leg extending in a pose reminiscent of a form of martial arts. Her palm folded inward in a “come hither” gesture, though he still had no idea who his assailant was. He growled, then squeezed off two simultaneous blaster shots.

Ahsoka weaved away, one foot finding the nearest wall. She rebounded as she kicked, knocking one LL-30 clean out of Cad Bane’s grip.

He moved to fire with the one still left to him, but it was sucked right out of his extended hand by some unknown force. He gasped; finally catching on.

“J-Jedi?”

His weapon had hit the building right behind him. He grit his fangs. He became suddenly more serious, realizing what he was dealing with.

Tano had a habit of theatric, she learned that from her old master, Anakin Skyguy-Walker. It was in her blood. Her cape dropped, revealing arms of dark apricot, her montrals tall and her lekku hanging nearly to her waist, her face marked with the stripes of her kind’s natural camouflage.

Twin sabers lit up the night - they were white. Their reflection bounced back at her in Cad Bane’s widening, crimson eyes. He was frightened, though overcome by something in addition; something he inevitably couldn’t hide.

“You’re going to get a taste of your own medicine, bounty hunter.”

“Pa… Padawan T-Taano?” he managed in a high-pitched voice uncharacteristic of himself.

“Ahsoka,” the Togruta stated firmly.

She raised one saber in a defensive stance, the other being organized in an attack position. Her arm came down – Cad Bane had lifted one of his own to shield himself.

“W-wait! Don’t!” he had sputtered out; the fearsome hunter she had recalled of days long passed shedding near tears of all things. His brow ridge had arched upward as he gazed at her from beneath the brim of his bolero hat.

“Pl-please…” the Duros whined. He blinked languidly at her; her face faltered. She frowned. He was just an old man after all.

Cad Bane lifted himself up to sit, leaned forward, crawled on his hands and knees; his coat was dragging in excess water; the Duros having previously toppled over into a muddied rain puddle.

“Oh how the mighty have fallen,” Ahsoka nearly spat. She retracted the glowing beams of her dual lightsabers back into the housing of their Kyber crystals. She hooked them to her belt, folding her arms across her chest, though keeping a watchful eye.

“I know… I’m- I’m sor’ry …” Cad Bane began cautiously, his forehead facing downward, nearly touching the unclean street. He gave off all the appearances of being weak, downtrodden, just a washed-up mercenary.

“Fer dis!” He grabbed her ankle. She should have known better! She had succumbed to that same trick once before, a long, long time ago…

He cranked his contact stunners just enough to make her cry out; crumble; dirtying her wardrobe. She was now level with him; dazed, lightheaded. She forced herself to stay awake.

Cad Bane took no chances. He advanced. He was on top of her within mere seconds, straddling Ahsoka’s lap. He wore an expression of uncertainty, but it quickly transformed as he looked down. All he could think to do was tip his hat between two smooth finger pads, though mesmerized by his hard-won prize.

“Maker… You sure are beau’ti’fuul…” he breathed out, starry-eyed.

Ahsoka’s neck lulled from side to side, Cad Bane’s thin digits inching up towards her head - he was timid. He brushed softly against her lekku, a small sound of longing exuding behind closed lips.

“Always knew you’d grow up t’be’a looker.”

The woman shuddered; her tails were sensitive. Her eyes shot open as she slapped him full force across his face, barely missing the edge of his breathing tubes.

Cad Bane articulated his surprise. He held his cheek; his eyes gleamed; they were misty, but he moaned out a tiny whimper in a bizarre show of appreciation for her decidedly rough handling of him.

“Sicko.”

“Naahhh …” he retorted almost lazily, in a haze of his own making.

Ahsoka’s knee came up. She jammed it into his crotch, though lacking in enough force to severely injure him. He exhaled his shock in a rush of air as she grabbed him by both sides of his ungainly apparatus - she flipped him in reverse. The Togruta mounted him, hanging on like grasping a Ylesian Reek by its cheek horns on either side.

Cad’s hat had slipped off partially, a metal plate of some kind being exposed to her. He bit his lip with jagged teeth, before stating something matter-of-factly, though his voice was laced with salaciousness. “Not’ta pervert, lil’ lady. I ne’ver tou’ched you, did I?”

Ahsoka took the time to wrinkle up her nose, Cad Bane used his odd inquiry to catch her off guard once more. He grabbed her by the shoulders; rolled her over. It seemed they could just keep on going until they would ultimately hit a wall.

“You should have killed me when you had the chance,” Ahsoka groaned, pushing him off full force with both her feet and hands.

The hunter fell back along a slab of duracrete as Ahsoka pounced, boosting herself forward with little effort, her unmatched reflexes returning to her as she had now fully recouped.

Cad Bane’s breath had been knocked out of him despite the oxygen tubes that were inlaid within his cheeks, the former Jedi taking him up by the lapel of his heavy leather duster.

Her fist curled, she made to punch him. Cad Bane lifted his hand, slowly. She watched the motion. He caressed her cheek like he had wanted to all those years ago.

“You still haven’t learned any manners, have you?”

“Teach me, oh Masta’ Jedi.”

Ahsoka cocked an eyebrow, feeling something stir beneath her. It was substantial. She took his hand in hers, pulled it away from her.

“You’re hard.”

Cad Bane sighed dreamily. “Hm? Oh … guess I am.”

There was an awkward pause.

“Ain’t had dis much fun in … Hey, will you force choke me?”

The Togruta balked. “What?!”

“Ju- just a lil’ bit!” the Duros crowed.

“N-no!”

Ahsoka hadn’t been paying full attention. A blaster had been lifted to her head where she had left it along the way, having used the Force to disarm the man, though not realizing where they now sat was near to his crude weapon. She chirped as the sinister Duros smiled, a hint of a sadistic grin having spread across his scarred and worn-out face – he was enjoying this …

“Lookie ‘ere. Wonda’ how many ccr’edits I’ll get fer’a force u’sser now’adays…” he crooned, halfway to a laugh though he seemed exhausted; intoxicated by the girl on top of him. Togruta’s smelled delicious…

She did all she could think to do. She grabbed both sides of his coat’s collar and kissed Cad Bane full force across his hairline mouth.

“Mmmhmhmhm… ” He was putty in her hands; he dissolved; became one with the earth beneath him. The arm holding his blaster pistol drooped and fell off to the side.

Ahsoka was intrigued; his tongue was slippery. It was cold. It felt … interesting. Though his maw was full of crooked fangs, he was careful with her, he only impressed his own lips against hers, but couldn’t find it in his heart to bite. Not yet.

There was something about him; he had a unique scent. She was drawn to him. She was suddenly… horny.

She was aghast; she pulled back. Cad Bane’s tongue lingered in the open air, his neck partly craning forward. He opened his eyes and blinked at her. He was almost adorable as his brow ridge curved inward in what could only be described as a pouty frown.

“Th-through wit’ me al’ready?” he asked with a dejected lilt.

His question had been disarming. The size of his cock was alarming. It was flush against her trousers. This was Cad karkin’ Bane we’re talking about!

What could she be thinking?! Darth Maul had got away … she wasn’t getting any younger … and neither was Cad Bane.

Ahsoka pushed against his chest. Cad Bane leaned back, disappointed, against the wall. He seemed confused; crestfallen, having forgotten his recent threat.

The woman went for it; she undid his Nerf-hide holsters, his extra cartridges. She unbuckled then unzipped his pants. She dug his cock out, her warm hand stroking the length of it. She barely had a chance to study its unique shape when Cad Bane’s mouth contorted - he rasped out a meager yelp; he couldn’t control himself. He came right in her hand.

“Haaaaaaaaaaaaa…” he had hissed for the duration of his ejaculation.

It was mostly clear, tinged with green, and cold. She watched as it seeped through her fingers.

That was … short-lived.

Ahsoka outright laughed at him. He was overcome with anger, though he had a sudden realization about himself – his expression straightened out.

“Wait!! I’ve – I’ve gotta a’notha one!!”

Ahsoka’s mouth closed; she zipped her lips – she stared at him, wide-eyed.

Cad Bane dipped into his pants, retrieved his second cock; he had a hemipenis. It was normal for his species.

It was just as long as the first. Where had he been hiding it?! It was thick, ribbed, with pliant spicules, though they looked like they might hurt.

He handed it over to her as if it were an object; he was lounging like a man already spent. She suddenly desired to experiment.

She undid her belt and her trousers against her better judgment, though that oddly delightful smell had pulled her in again. She placed her lightsabers just out of reach and slowly lifted, grasping his dick to slide it within herself.

Cad Bane melted; his hat fell over his already heavy-lidded eyes. He cursed in his native language, adding “Fierfek" to the mix.

Tano rose to ride him; the Duros chewing on his own bottom fleshy rung. He flicked his hat back up, holding it by the tips of two blue fingers as he watched.

The woman found herself to be enjoying it until something sharp latched on. She stopped her pumps. The Duros offered her that shit-eating grin of his.

He grabbed her hips, mumbling something out. “Got’cha now…”

He had latched onto Ahsoka’s inner walls; it helped to breed the females of his ilk. He just loved not letting a woman go until he was done with them.

Ahsoka couldn’t help it. She pressed her lips together. She moaned at the feeling of him inside her as she locked onto his breathing apparatus, one tube in each of her ocher hands.

She pulled him up; forced him to look at her. She pushed his mouth apart – made him tongue kiss her again.

The Duros panted, not expecting that. He nearly lost his second load. He purred. He pressed his forehead against hers. He rubbed his rostrum across her nose.

“Ssshoky Taano…” he muttered out.

Ahsoka had closed her eyes. She reopened them to stare at Bane in apprehension. What did he just say?

“One’na de veeeeerrry lasttttt Jediiii…” he hummed a little to himself.

"I'm no Jedi," Ahsoka snapped.

"Ya' are t'me." His hands reached out; he was skittish. He groped the air before her breasts. “C-can I?”

“Go for it,” she smirked.

“Ooohhhh … I’ve dreamt o’dis…” the Duros admitted, his large appendages fondling and molesting the Togruta’s tits.

“Um, ew.”

“Not – not like dat!”

His forehead crinkled in frustration. He shut her up by burying a finger between her lower lips right up against her clit.

She inhaled sharply. He knew what he was doing. He rubbed small circles across her little button, Cad’s own heartbeat increasing as he nearly climaxed.

“Soooo softt….smooth like sssiiilllk. I love warmbloods. Like fuckin’ de inside of a Eopie cream pie…”

Ahsoka lifted a brow in between little mewls of pleasure. She was disgusted and turned on.

“Not dat I’ve … mm… done dat…”

“Uh huh.. Shut up!”

The ridges of his cock hit just all the right spots within her; she cupped Cad’s remaining hand across her breast and held it to herself as she nibbled her bottom lip.

“Dat’s it girlie … ride dat Duros dick till de Batuuan cows come home.”

“I’m really going to need you to stop talking.”

There came a whiff of that delightful smell again, something that seemed to ooze out of his skin. Ahsoka plunged forward, knocked his hat off in her haste. She left kisses all across his skull cap, his cheeks, his forehead and his “nose.” His entire face.

It was addicting, whatever the hells it was. Pheromones? Musk? Cologne?

Ahsoka stayed her ground; pushed down harder on his cock as it throbbed inside her. Her pussy spasmed and she found herself sitting flat down on her haunches.

He was impaling her nearly to her cervix. Oh, but it felt so good…

She didn’t bounce, but rocked her body forward. His flexible spikes embedded themselves along her inner walls. She gave herself a gratifying massage across his ribbed phallus - she dug her hips in while she sank her teeth into his neck for fun.

Cad Bane buried his lithe fingers into her bare ass. “Ohh, you can’t do dat… no, no… can’t stop it- gonna… gonna…” he mumbled, his words hard to discern. “Tell me where ta’ - foreva’ hold ya -”

“Before I change my mind,” the Togruta replied.

She came when he did. His seed was frigid. It kept coming; it wouldn’t stop.

“I’m sooooo glad yer not deaddd like de rest of dem…” he announced.

It lasted what felt like minutes, the substance leaking out and down her legs.

“Weird thing to say, but OK.”

The spell was broken. Ahsoka rose up onto her knees. She tried to lift. She was stuck. The pull it had caused inside her pussy kind of hurt, but it also felt soooo right.

Cad was wearing that shit-eating grin again.

“Let go.”

The Duros laughed; it was dark and twisted, muted, but he didn’t let her loose.

The woman tugged, jerked, her vagina was still full up of his cock. The friction, the rapid movement of her hips and waist as she squirmed about sent prickles throughout her cunt.

Ahsoka looked directly at him. Cad Bane was a shell of his former self. He stared up at her with that half-cocked smile; he licked his lower lip, the double points of his fangs appearing before he purred again; a rumble resounding from deep inside his chest.

She struggled a second time; Ahsoka huffed before giving in. She came all over his dick again once the feeling was too much to handle. Her moaning produced a hiccup in her vocal cords. She pushed her lips together. She wouldn’t let him get that much satisfaction out of her.

Too late.

The rumble in his chest grew louder.

“Let go.”

“Wanna eat you,” he stated plainly, that disturbing smile still present. She was sure if he had a tail it would be wagging fiercely.

“Cad, let-”

Something shifted; he released his lock. She rose again, her vagina just level with his face for a single instant.

“Like it when ya’ use m’name…”

He pushed her forward from behind. He had slipped his tongue inside her folds. It swirled around, down, up, across her cunt, her clit.

His tongue bore further inward as he partially sat up. It was like a worm trying to fill her hole; make it his new home. It was a patient writhing; kark, kriff, fuccck.

She trembled, tried to crawl away, but he held her there until she climaxed yet again by the brace of one sturdy hand.

Once he was through with her, the "Jedi" fell. He had simply let go and she landed on her back across his legs, but not before pressing his teeth into her inner thigh.

She scrambled, pulled her pants up, refastened her belt and secured her weapons.

“Hey, mebbe next time we-”

Ahsoka nearly cackled. “Next time?”

Cad Bane leered at her, snickered, nodded slowly in agreement. “Don’t ya know what all de girls are sayin’?

“Ahsoka rolled her eyes. “No, what?”

“Once you try a Duros fer yerself, you won’t want nuthin’ else...”

“We’ll see about that…”

“We will, won’t we, lil’ lady…” Cad Bane’s hand rose up. It was occupied. He had somehow stolen one of her two lightsabers.

“Hey, can I keep dis t’rememba’ ya' by?”

“How did you-? Absolutely not!”

Ahsoka reached out through the Force and took it back.

“Jus’ thought I’d ask.”

———

Master list

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valleyrunearchives · 2 years

Text

Weightless (The Leap of a Jade Rabbit)

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Fandom: Boku No Hero Academia/My Hero Academia Pairings: Aizawa Shouta/Yamada Hizashi Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence

Chapters 7/?

Midoriya Izuku stopped believing in heroes when a tragedy occurred in his life. When at the tender age of 11, he lost everything that was everything dear to him, everything that was worth living for. Yet he doesn’t give up. He can’t give up. He decides to make a choice instead. No longer will he stand around and wait for the heroes to arrive while a crime goes down. He’ll be his own hero and a hero to those who are just like him. Those waiting for help that will never arrive. In order to do that, though, he’ll have to fight to survive and lie through his teeth. It won’t be so bad!

After all, it’s not like they can bring him in for vigilantism and Illegal Quirk Usage when he doesn’t even have a quirk, right?

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Click here to Read on AO3

It's another night for Izuku to roam the streets. This time, however, he's not doing so as Gyokuto. He's working with a few of his on the street contacts to try and find some new bedding materials for cheap or free. Preferably without having to steal them, he doesn't like stealing. His current ones in his hideout are wearing thin and winter will come faster than anyone thinks. Being over prepared for it is much better than being under prepared when it hits.

He rounds another corner and freezes at the sight of a guy having a harsh hold of a kid's wrist. He has bright red hair that's got a bit of black peaking out at the roots. Dyed then. The crook has something held in his other hand, probably some kind of weapon. He’s not using it though, which is good. The kid was smart and seems to have activated his quirk to keep from being moved. Some kind of skin hardening quirk it looked like. He should ask him about it later. Regardless, he doesn't have time to think or even put his mask and hood on. He races up on the guy from his blind spot.

"Stop fighting me!" He's yelling at the kid, "C'mon let's go!"

"No! Let me go, man!" The kid yells back, digging his feet in deeper.

He gets to them and grabs the guy's wrist of the hand on the kid. He squeezes as he growls, "Release him. Now. Or else."

The guy snarls back at him, his eyes flashing from yellow to red. That must be his quirk, "Fuck off you dumb kid! Just run along before I take you along with your friend here!"

"I warned you," With that, he uses his other hand to dig two too long nails into the skin on the underside of the guy's elbow. Right into the nerves underneath. He howls and lets the kid go in pain. Izuku twists his wrist back just enough to sprain it but not break it. The guy falls to his knees at the pressure and pain. He lets his wrist go and pulls his hand back, driving his fist into the guy's nose.

The satisfying crunch it gives as the bone and cartilage crush beneath his fist gives him such a thrill. Blood immediately starts to pour from his nostrils as he rolls on the ground in agony, clutching his face. Izuku reaches down and grasps his neck in a tight grip, putting pressure on two certain points that he knows will cut off circulation of air and blood; He learned this technique from a martial arts book. The criminal gasps in fear and struggles before finally passing out. It doesn’t phase him at all when he goes out. Izuku just calmly rolls him onto his side so he doesn't aspirate any of the blood from his nose.

He sighs softly in relief. That could've gone very badly.

"Dude…" Izuku jerks around to stare at the kid who's looking back at him gobsmacked, "That was… so… MANLY!"

Izuku blinks in shock as the kid starts to gesture around exaggeratedly, "You came in like SWOOP! And then you were like GRRR!" He bares his very sharp teeth at him playfully, "Then you went WAPOW!" He swings his fist in a faux punch, "And then he falls and is all OOOH!" Izuku can't help but giggle at that. The kid keeps going without even noticing his mirth, "And then you grabbed him and he was all-" he makes a choking noise, "then you just rolled him over like it was nothing! It was so cool!"

"Are-" Izuku giggles again, "Are you done?"

"For now! I just can't get over that, bro! It was epic!" The kid's eyes are near sparkling.

"Well, thanks. Have you called the police yet?" He asks him instead.

"Oh uh… I set off the emergency setting on my phone as soon as he grabbed me. They should probably arrive soon," he throws his hand up in the air, "Man I can't wait to tell them about you! You were exactly like a real hero, bro!"

"No!" He shrieks before lowering his voice swiftly, "No. You can't tell them what I look like! I could get in a lot of trouble for intervening like that!"

"What? Why? You saved my life, dude!" The kid insists.

"In case you hadn't noticed. This," he gestures to the unconscious man, "Isn't exactly my first time doing something like this. And people don’t exactly see my interference as a good thing."

The other kid looks at him with furrowed brows before they raise high as his eyes widen. His voice drops down to a whisper, "You're a vigilante?"

"Yes and no?" He shrugs, "What I'm doing isn't exactly okay with the law but I'm not technically doing anything illegal because I'm not using a quirk to subdue the criminals."

He looks over his shoulder nervously. He's running out of time. "I should go," he tells the kid, "They've probably dispatched a hero this way and I don't want to be seen tonight. I don't have my normal gear on."

"Wait! Can I at least tell them you saved me? I won't use your name or tell them what you look like, I promise!" He pleads with Izuku.

"Uh… Okay… okay. Just tell them the person who helped you wore a black mask and a hood but that you couldn't tell what gender they were. And when you asked they said their name was Gyokuto. It's the name I use when I'm," he makes air quotes with his fingers, "'Working.'"

He watches as the kid repeats the info back to himself before giving him a thumbs up and a grin, "Got it! Will I see you again, bro?"

He bites his lip. He should just immediately say no and book it. But this kid is about his age or a little older. Not to mention he's super nice. Maybe… maybe he could take a bit of a chance. "You know the coffee shop in the square of downtown Musutafu?"

"Bean-ingful Memories?"

Izuku hums in affirmative, "Meet me two blocks up on the corner where the Best Jeanist fashion shop is next Tuesday after school. My friend and I meet at the cafe every Tuesday. I'll explain everything I can before we both go meet him."

"Solid!" He presses his fists together and smiles widely, "I'm Kirishima Eijirou by the way! I guess I'll see you next Tuesday!"

Izuku smiles back then takes off as police sirens sound in the distance. His heart picks up as, just as he rounds the corner of a nearby building out of sight, someone lands heavily just about where he was standing. He peeks around the corner and feels his breath stall. It's Eraserhead again. Shit, he really hopes the man didn't see him.

"I’m pro hero Eraserhead. You send out the SOS from your phone?" He hears him ask.

"Yes sir! The guy on the ground there was trying to kidnap me; Kept yanking at my arm and telling me to stop struggling and come with him," Kirishima responds.

He sees Eraser's head tilt a bit towards the criminal, "You subdue him?"

"Oh no sir… all I did was activate my quirk, Hardening, and made it to where he couldn't move me," A foot scuffs against the ground shyly, "Some person came and helped me. Surprised him and knocked the guy out."

"Smart choice on not getting involved, kid. Who was it? Did you know them?"

"Nuh uh," the red head shakes his head, "They were wearing a mask and a hood. I asked them what their name was and they said… uh… Gyukumo? Gyokodo?"

"Gyokuto," the older man sighs, "Should've known they were involved with something like this."

Izuku has to give praise to Kirishima. Flubbing his vigilante name like that gives credibility that Kirishima only met with him briefly and didn't see his face. Seems he made the right choice. He's glad he trusted his instincts. Maybe now he can have two friends. He's not sure how Katsuki will feel about him but he'll cross that road when he gets there. For now, he needs to get out of the area before Eraser or the cops do a perimeter sweep of any kind; Wouldn't be good if he was spotted now that they know he's involved.

He slips into a nearby alley to get to the main road on the other side. He's hoping his anonymity of just being a random kid out past curfew will work in his favor for getting him further from the scene. He can say with definite certainty that he's really looking forward to Tuesday. Now to worry again about finding new bedding material…

#vigilante izuku #bnha #bnha fanfic #bnha fanfiction #mha fanfic #mha fanfiction #izuku midoryia #homeless izuku midoriya #kirishima eijirou

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