#i say this as i've been listening to after school all week and have been reminded how long all their legs are and how much i love them

[torturedtraveler]

dear xx univeristy application office,

Listen, I know I've been rejected and this personal statement is not going to mean anything. But I feel like writing it, as a reflection of the past few months.

With what happened in middle school, I got diagnosed with depression and anxiety and transferred schools. I started dating a friend but broke up shortly after. One day he jumped from our school building and passed away (he had bipolar), it felt like a slap across my face and from then on, I gave up on myself.

I stopped showing up to class consistently and socializing. Until one day in Form 6, I realized, I didn't understand any of the things my teachers were saying in class and I would have my IB exams in less than a year. I couldn't catch up, I couldn't do it. Again, I was impulsive and have always been so I decided to just quit IB and start A-Levels. Fast forward a few months, I found out that I still couldn't do it, because of my mental health, I couldn't pull through, and in the midst of it, my grandpa passed away. These all piled up on me again and I had to quit, again. I took one A-Level and IELTS and decided to apply for associate degree programs. I chose translation originally because I am fluent in both English and Chinese and I have always wanted to do something related to languages. However, something shifted in me one day, I applied to the same colleges but instead, in Psychology.

I went through what I would call "hell" in those 5-6 years in secondary, I struggled every day with mental health, with depression, with anxiety, and I wanted to do something in the future that could help kids like me. In fact, XX College gave me a conditional offer but unfortunately, my academic qualifications did not meet their requirements (probably because I didn't graduate from a secondary school) just like how I didn't meet your requirements and am not what you wanted. Fortunately, my current College accepted me for my qualifications and there I started my tertiary education.

The school year started off great and strong. I was attending classes every day, socializing with my classmates, handing in assignments, all these things I NEVER managed to do consistently in high school.

My family and friends were shocked about the transformation. I was actually working hard in school.

Hey, I know a 3.26 GPA might have not been the best and you were probably expecting something higher, but that wasn't what mattered, what mattered was, I changed. I started taking my academics seriously, even through hard days, when I felt tired and depressed (occasionally), I showed up to class and did my work, and I made friends, which again, was shocking considering I developed social anxiety after I was bullied in high school for my ex-boyfriends' suicide.

However, my anxiety got worse near the end of the first semester and I had to postpone my final requirements, nonetheless, I finished them at the start of semester B.

I don't know what went wrong from there, but it was obvious that my mental health was getting bad again because I wasn't showing up to class and I wasn't paying attention in class. Though I was still handing in assignments and working hard on them, I wasn't showing up to class consistently. I only acknowledged the decline of my mental health at the start of March, when I started isolating myself again and stopped talking to my mom, who has always been my best friend. Fast forward to my second mid-term test, I thought I would feel less pressured after finishing it, but nope, it only went downhill from there. I didn't show up to class for 2 consecutive weeks. My mom was asking me if I was okay, and my friends were asking me why I wasn't showing up to class. I repeatedly reassured them I was fine, I just needed some time off for myself, but in reality, I was only trying to reassure myself that I was fine because I refused to admit that I was having a relapse. I didn't want to accept it, I was doing so fine for so long, I was getting so much better, and everyone was praising me for it, what could go wrong? Well, reality sucks, and sometimes, depression creeps its way back into your life with no apparent reason.

April was when things got really bad, depression was presenting itself in physical ways. I caught a cold, and it got better after 3 days, but then I had abdominal pain, which escalated to stomachache. It was one of the worst physical pain I have ever felt in my life, I had a low fever and I could not stand up, my mom wanted to call the ambulance and get me to the hospital but I refused because I knew I had to wait to see the doctor and my pain would just worsen. I saw a doctor the next day and he informed me that it was gastroenteritis. I had to stay home for a few days because I was still in some level of pain. I was forced to put down my academics for a while. Aphthous ulcer found its way to my mouth later (and I actually still do have it at the current moment), and now I can't even have a proper meal without being in pain.

The physical symptoms weren't the worst part. Do you know that feeling of working on an assignment one day in an empty room in the school library on a Saturday afternoon, listening to jazz and making good progress, and all of a sudden you stared at a blank wall and started bawling your eyes out? That's what happened to me. I experienced that consecutively for a week. Just completely random moments in life, you were feeling fine the last second, and the next, you were crying for your dear life.

I was in the shower once and suicidal thoughts consumed my mind, I was bombarded with all the ways I could end my life, jumping off a building, hanging myself, cutting myself, etc. I felt despairful, worthless, exhausted, all the worst emotions you could possibly think of, and was just ready. Ready for me to leave because I had no worth, I wasn't showing up to class and it was reflected in my grades. I mustered up the strength to call in my mom because for a split second there I still wanted to hold on, I didn't want to give up just quite yet.

All these were happening, because I had so much pressure on my shoulders, that I imposed on myself, to get a high GPA, to get into a prestigious university in my city, to get into XX Univeristy. I didn't want to spend 2 years in community college and wanted to ascend to university as fast as I could.

I received your university's rejection yesterday, and let me tell you, yesterday was an awful day. To start with, rains flooded the streets near my school campus, even under an umbrella I was drenched, from head to bottom. I arrived on campus completely soaked, with water in my shoes. At that point, I was already depressed (bad weather could seriously affect your mood), nonetheless, I told myself "It was a bad experience, but that will not dictate your day, you still have a full day ahead of you", so I mustered a smile on my face and went straight to class. I was chatting with friends as it was the last class and we were all just doing revisions. I went to the library shortly after.

I wasn't as productive as I wanted to be because 1) I wasn't motivated and 2) Depression can really interfere with your daily life functioning, for example, doing work. I didn't get as much done as I wanted to so I decided, maybe it was time to go home.

I took the train, I bought myself dinner, I grabbed the mail, I went home. I sat down, with my dinner in front of me, and opened up the application portal on my laptop.

The word "unsuccessful" was under my application status and into my eyes.

I kid you not, I felt like my life had ended right there. Everything that I had worked so hard for, all the pressure I had imposed on myself to get a high GPA, to get into a prestigious university, and the high hopes that I had, all faded in one single moment.

I called my mom screaming and crying, shouting into the phone about how miserable I was, I was in so much pain. I couldn't think straight and my mom reassured me that she was on her way home. She arrived, grabbed a chair, and sat next to me.

Essentially our conversation went on for about 45 minutes, and I remember distinctly, one of the things she said was, "So? That's it?". It was a wake-up call for me.

All this time, the amount of pressure I've put on myself, the sleepless nights I've had to experience, the physical symptoms, the mental symptoms, etc. All because of one number that I ignorantly thought would dictate my future. I lost sight of what I originally did this for. In working towards getting into university to get a degree where I could help people, I ironically forgot to help myself. I lost sight of what was important in the current moment, my priority is not yet to help others struggling with mental health, it's me, I'm struggling with my mental health, I am my priority. I neglected my mental health and what I truly needed, it wasn't grades, it was self-love. Caring for myself, listening to my needs, attending to myself, and acknowledging that I was struggling.

It's okay to relapse. It's okay to know that you need help. It's okay that you're depressed again even if you thought you didn't have depression anymore. It's okay that it's near finals season but you're mentally struggling, maybe you need to postpone again, and that's okay. Do you know why? Because we're humans, and it's okay to not be okay.

All these years of struggling, I haven't done much with my life and I desperately wanted to prove to myself and everyone else, that for once, I could do something, I am capable of something. I wanted to get into a university, a prestigious one, the top in my city, to redeem myself. Because my sister got into a good university, and my friends from high school got into good universities. I NEED to prove to people that I am not dumber than them, just because I wasted a few years in secondary school doesn't mean I am less smart than them. I can still get into university.

I am just as good. Not because of good grades or whether I am in a good university or not though. I am a good person because I have a good heart, I care for everyone around me deeply and I'm always there for them even if I'm struggling. I am a good person because I have a passion, I want to work hard to achieve my passion and help people professionally. I am a good person because I have hobbies, I have things I enjoy doing and I do my best to advance my skills, and to work hard to achieve small goals in life.

I am a good person because I haven't given up on myself yet. 6 years of depression and anxiety, and countless times standing on a ledge, wanting to jump but convincing myself not to.

Because my ultimate goal in life is to be happy, I know there will be bad days and bad experiences, some days might feel like the end of the world (just like yesterday), but some would feel like I'm floating on cloud 9. That doesn't equal a bad life. And I'm learning to accept that.

I want to be surrounded by people I love, loving them back in the same way so they know they're not alone because they were there for me when I was at my lowest. I am the happiest when I'm loving, I'm giving, and when I'm learning. Psychology is something I'm passionate about, not the GPA system. What I should do in the current moment is to learn, enjoy the process, and work hard to show my teachers, and myself, that I have done my best with what I've learned.

Thank you for your rejection. Your wake-up call. If it weren't for this, I wouldn't have realized what I was doing wrong this whole time and I probably would've stayed in that same position for a while. I'm taking it day by day now, and I'm getting better, and that's what truly matters.

My deepest gratitude for reviewing my application and considering it. Also for reading this if you have.

Thank you, I truly, deeply, appreciate it.

Warmest regards,

Ruby

24-04-24

#university #rejection #college #psychology #letters #poetry

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITAH for telling my wife no?

My wife (35f) and I (38m) have been married for 12 years, dated for 3 before that. We have 3 kids (10m, 7f, and 5f). We both work full time in separate fields, she does some chemistry thing that I don't understand and I am a manager at a computer repair store my friend runs, and also a short story writer when its slow. She is definitely the breadwinner bill payer between the two of us, but I bring in the fun money for our family and would be completely listless if I didn't at least work part time. We also fully own our home because of her job.

Also, my parents watch the kids for us during the week when we are working. It's been this way since our son was born, and they've been doing it less since they are all in school. But it's free childcare, they refuse to accept money unless it's reimbursing for buying food.

Ok, now that all of that backstory is set, here's where the problem begins.

A couple of months ago my wife started pepper into conversations about a possible promotion coming up that would get her out of the lab and into a more "manage the lab team" position, with less dangerous hours for more pay. Ever since the first time she mentioned it I've been hyping her up and telling her she's a shoo in for the promotion, especially since she's been working there since her masters internship and now she has a PhD.

Last night she told me she was getting word today if she got it! After she left for work this morning I called my boss up and told him I couldn't come in today, and then told my parents the kids were saying with me. We spent the day cleaning the house, drawing congratulations cards, and making a congratulations banner. We also made a couple cards that say sorry and we love you for if she didn't get it. I was working on making her favorite dinner (lobster rolls with lobster bisque, because she's a fancy lady) when she got home earlier than normal. Everyone was surprised, because noone is usually home at this time and yet here everyone was. She got tears in her eyes seeing everything we were still working on, got down and hugged our two youngest, and said she got the promotion! Cheering all around! And that's when she dropped the bomb, saying we need to get a realtor in a state three away from us so we can relocate within the next two months.

I was stunned, and just said no, we arent moving for this promotion. In all of her talks she never mentioned that the promotion wasn't for the same location she's been at. All of our family is here, her parents and mine, all of our friends are here, my job is here. She insisted that she's mentioned relocating before but I swear she never did. That set of a completely new argument about never listening to her and only hearing what I want to hear, and how this will make it so I can stay home with the kids and not even need a fun money job. During this I noticed she was typing on her phone, and when I asked why she was multitasking an argument she said she was texting my parents to get the kids so they don't have to see this.

When my parents got here they congratulated her on the promotion and asked how long until we move.

She told my parents the promotion included relocation.

I'm typing this on the couch in the basement, because I can't face her right now. My parents knowing means she probably did say we would need to move if she got it. I don't want to move, I like my job, and our house. I like being near my parents. I know this would practically set us for life but I don't want to. I know I'm being selfish, and I know I must not be listening when she talks, but I still don't think she should accept the promotion. I still think no.

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

[flkwh0re]

Moms Friend

warnings: age gap (reader is 19 and Nat is 39), mommy kink (N), blow job, eating out, fingering, p in v, dirty talk, unprotected sex, breeding kink, cockwarming, a little bit of jealous Nat. That's all!!

Summary: You come home for a bit, and your moms best friend finally makes her move in you.

A/n: This is my first fic i’m posting here!! I apologize if it’s not great!

You had just pulled into the driveway of your childhood home. A few weeks ago you had planned to surprise your mom and come home. Grabbing your bags from the trunk, you walk to the door knocking. You hear your mother shout something incoherent.

"Oh Детка you're home!" Pulling you into a big hug, you catch a glance of your young brothers inside. They see you too running to the door. "Y/n you're home!!" You smile as Billy and Tommy pull you into a big hug.

Vision, your father, steps out into the hall. His smile fades as he sees you. Your relationship with your father is not the greatest, but with your mother it's amazing. Wanda had treated you better than any other mom you could've asked for, her best friend Natasha as well.

It then dawned on you that you haven't seen Natasha in while, so you figured maybe invite her over or ask her if she'd like to plan something. You pulled out your phone, searching for her contact.

After texting her, it was only a matter of time before she answered. You both decided you'd come to her place for lunch while you're mother and father were at work and your brothers at school.

"Y/n honey, tell me how school has been." Wanda asked with a smile. "Just like always, I'm top of most of my classes." You look at her, a proud smile plastered on her face. "Well isn't that just amazing, Vision." She ask him. He returns nothing but a nod, causing a small frown to creep onto your face.

"Oh, mom I'll be having lunch over at Natasha's tomorrow!" You say excitedly. "That's great! She's been asking so much about you, and I just don't know the answer to everything. My girl is a busy girl." She smiled.

Your evening consisted of catching up with your mom, listening to your brothers and all the things you've missed, and your father ignoring that you were even there. You honestly don't know why your mom is still with him, but you know it's probably for the best.

-

The next day arrives soon, and you're on your way to Natasha's house. Your nerves creep. You love Natasha, but there's always been this feeling towards her. A yearning for her. You know you can't act on it, because it's nothing but a silly childhood crush thought something tells you it's more.

You pull into her driveway, the front of her house being decorated with cute fall decor.

Stepping out of your car, the cold air hits your face only making your shivering nervous body worse.

You knock on her door, waiting a few seconds to hear for footsteps. Then you hear them, and Natasha telling you to give her a second. "Y/n!! Gosh I've missed you." She pulls you into a hug, kissing your forehead softly.

She pulls you inside, and quickly helps you remove your coat. Her eagerness to see you makes you smile wide, and laugh. Oh how you've missed her. Nothing or anyone, even your own mother, compares to how Natasha makes you feel.

You catch up with her on everything, while eating the food she prepared. You were interrupted by your friend Kate blowing up your phone with text then a call. "Hold on Nat, let me get this."

"Y/n I am going to hurt you!" She shouts into the phone, "Why the fuck didn't you tell me you were in town!!" You giggle at her, "Hey don't you fucking laugh at me!" Only causing your laughter to worsen.

Natasha on the other hand was not laughing, more jealous that her time was ruined with you. She hated that she got this way, but she couldn't help it. She tried to stop, you're her best friends daughter. You're also 20 years younger than her. Her thoughts were interrupted by your words.

"Sorry Natty, that was Kate. She wants me to come over as soon as possible." Her face like stone as she replies with, "So you're leaving?" Your nerves taking over again, leaving you silent. You don't wanna leave Natasha, you'd stay there forever with her. "Well not now, but probably soon. I'll make it up though, we can have dinner sometime."

-

Soon, the two weeks of being home quickly passed. You still hadn't made it up to Natasha, so you decided you'd show up to her house.

She opens the door, shocked to your arrival. "Y/n what are you here for?" She asked confused. "Well I never made up time lost with you, so I brought a desert and figured I'd spend some time with you and watch a movie or something." She felt a smile creep onto her face.

You settled down quickly on her couch, her following behind. You had both decided on watching (insert wtv movie).

Time had passed fast, she knew if she didn't act then she'd probably loose her chance. "Y/n come here, sit in my lap." You quickly scurry onto her lap, only to be stopped in your tracks when you notice her hard-on. "You feel that baby? It's all for you." She attaches her lips to your neck, kissing softly.

"Nat, what are you doing? We can't do this." You say nervously. "Says who? You're an adult sweetheart."

Within minutes she has you on your knees, pulling down her boxers. Her dick springs out, your face pulling a shocked look at her size. She brings her hand to your face, guiding your mouth into her length. You bob your head up and down on her. Gagging noises and her moans fill the air.

You bring her to her orgasm, swallowing everything she gave you. "Such a good girl for mommy. Now get up on the couch." You follow her orders and she helps you remove your clothes. Her lips attach to your nipple, while her hand gropes at your other breast.

"How's that baby? Is mommy making you feel good?"She asked in a sultry tone. "So good." She smiles at your weaker state, as she kisses down your stomach. Her mouth reaching your core, and her noise brushes your clit causing your hips to jolt. She attached her mouth to your pussy, sucking and licking.

As she works her tongue, she adds her fingers to the mix stretching you out. Your orgasm crashing in, in full speed.

She stands up, then aligns her tip with your entrance pushing in slowly. Once you've adjusted to her size, she shows no mercy on your pussy. "That feel good baby? Mommy's gonna fill you up. My little bitch to breed." You can't even form a sentence in your fucked out state.

"Aww poor thing is too dumb, can't even form a sentence. Tell mommy you want her to fill you up with her babies." You tried to spit the words out, but it just came out as an incoherent mess and moans. "Cmon baby tell me or else I won't." You still didn't speak, not until she pulled out of you. You gasp and quickly spoke out. "Please mommy fill me up!"

She smirked, then thrusted herself back into you. In only a matter of seconds you could feel her cuming inside you. She continued her thrust, your orgasm quickly washing over.

She placed a soft kiss on your head, then pulled herself out of you. Laying down behind you, she slid her cock back into you. "No mommy! I can't-" she quickly shut down your please. "Don't worry baby, I have you. Mommy just wants to be in you." She kisses your shoulder as you drift off to sleep.

#natasha x you #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x reader #natasha x y/n #natasha romanoff #natasha romonova #fanfic #marvel

[thesuperiorrobin]

𝐒𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝~

❥Pairing: Damian Wayne/Robin x Fem!Reader

❥Word count: 500

❥Warning: Description of being stood up but not on purpose.

During his nightly patrol, Damian could not help but feel like he was forgetting something. In the back of his mind, there was just something he could not remember, and he tried for his brain to remember something. But with you his duties in protecting the city, he pushes it aside for a bit until he reaches home. But it’s not until he visits you, bloodshed eyes, tear-stained cheeks, all dressed up for a special occasion that it starts to hit him after some time. When he first saw your appearance he was worried, asking you what the matter was.

“He stood me up” you sobbed, running into his arms as you clutched his black and yellow torn cape roughly “Damian stood me up!”

His heart sank to the bottom of his stomach as he hugged you back gently, frowning at the sight in front of him. You two are sat on the ground, thighs, and knees touching each other. Nothing but the sound of your sniffles could be heard and the soft whispering coming from both of you.

Months of talking to Damian, as he’s dressed in his Robin suit, having no idea that you’re talking about him right in front of his face without realizing gave him a new feeling. And explaining to Vigilant how much you like the boy who sits right next to you in most of your classes. Swooning over about how much of a helpful person he is despite others saying he isn’t—and it’s true, he’ll only help you. He won you over and you did the same without realizing it. You hold his heart right in the palm of your hands.

“I’m so stupid” he hears you whisper, letting out a breathy laugh “Stupid to think he actually liked me” he watches as you bring your knees up to your chest, hiding your face. Damian glances down at your form behind his green mask. He feels hurt—don’t get him wrong having people cry because of his doing gives him a sense of satisfaction. He’ll laugh and tease at those who shed tears—but when it comes to you, apparently being his first school crush. It’s a different story. He’ll hunt down anyone who makes you cry or feel insecure and in this case, he’ll have to hunt down himself.

Mentally, he beats himself up as he tries to watch the girl he had his eye on cry beside him, sobbing about his mistake that hurt her. He screwed up.

“I should have listened to the others when they told me it was just some stupid prank” you sniffle, chin propped up on your knees. “Rich boys have no hearts”

“It would have been he simply had just forgotten?” He tries to come up with something, but you just chuckle dryly looking up at the masked boy with sad eyes.

“Damian doesn't forget” you mumble “It’s a shame though. I really did like him” Your tears have stopped, nothing but the stained streaks down your cheeks left behind, your eyelashes seem to be longer than before and your eyes are a bit puffy. You blink once more and a single tear rolls down your face. Damian can only sigh, gloved hand coming up to whip it away

“I’m sure it was just a misunderstanding”

“I really hope it is”

A/N: Sorry I've been gone for like two weeks, I just need some time to myself bc I've been really drained for no reason. On top of that, I have finals, out of six classes I only have like two that I actually have to show up and study for so it'll probably take some time to post again, but I'll try to post as much as possible.

#damian al ghul #damian wayne #damian wayne x reader #damian al ghul x reader #damian x reader #robin x reader #damian wayne x female reader #damian wayne one shot

[blue-blue-blooms]

A Little Crush   

Eddie Munson x Henderson!Reader

Part 1

Summary: In which Eddie develops a crush on the Henderson sister.

You weren't sure exactly when your life had gone to absolute shit. Was it when you found a strange, superpowered adolescent girl living in Mike Wheeler's basement? Was it when you walked in on a baby demogorgan eating your cat? Or was it when you were drugged by evil Russians operating under Starcourt Mall? You couldn't even remember a time when life was normal. If someone had told you that you would become best friends with Steve 'The Hair' Harrington and fight literal monsters from an alternate universe alongside Nancy Wheeler and Jonathan 'The Creep' Byers a few years ago, you would've laughed in their face. Now? You'd survived the most traumatising events of your life alongside these people. You were bonded for life.

The last few years had also made you closer with Dustin. You loved your baby brother and his weird friends, especially since you'd spent so much time babysitting them. But no amount of love could make you say yes to what they were asking of you.

"Please?" Dustin begged, following you down the hallway as you made your way to Ms. O'Connell's class.

"No! I have, like, three essays due this week, Dustin. I don't have the time to sub." You respond.

"It's only for tonight! Lucas can't make it and we really need a sub. We're nearly done with the campaign and Eddie will kill us if we make him reschedule!" Dustin pleads.

You were really happy that Dustin and Mike had found a safe space in high school. Lord knows those two idiots needed it. Freshmen year is probably the toughest of them all. You're new, scared, and lonely. You were really glad that they'd found friends, a place where they could be their nerdy selves and feel accepted. Hell, even you'd dabbled in their interests when you'd babysat them. DnD wasn't half bad, and not nearly as hard to undertand as you once thought. You'd spent many nights in Mike's basement playing with them. The first few times, you'd get your character killed in the first fifteen minutes. But after a while, you started making progress (even though you're convinced that the party was exceptionally lenient with you after you once burst into tears over getting killed off).

"I'll do your half of the chores for a week!" Dustin exclaims.

That makes you stop.

"A week?" You turn around to look at him, "Make it two weeks and I'll sub."

"Two? Are you insane!?" Dustin yells, making a few people lingering in the hallway turn and look at you both.

"Two or no deal, Dusty Buns," You tease, "And be quick, I'm late for my class."

"Fine!" Dustin says, "And stop calling me 'Dusty Buns'"

"Why? Is that nickname just for Suzy Poo?" You tease.

Dustin glowers at you as you walk off.

♡♡♡

"So, who's the DM?" You ask as you walk alongside Dustin and Mike.

"It's Eddie, Eddie Munson. He's a senior. Long hair, wears a hellfire T-Shirt, I talk about him constantly. God, do you ever listen to me?" Dustin claims exasperatedly.

"Oh! Eddie as in your new favorite older male best friend who Steve's weirdly jealous of?" You ask, "I've seen him around. Is he the one who jumps on lunch tables and yells a lot?"

"Yup." Mike responded, "He's a bit scary when he's revved up. Just warning you beforehand in case he comes off...a bit intimidating."

You nod.

"Hasn't he been held back, like, three times?" You ask.

Before either of the boys could answer, you reach the room. The first thing you see is the table where the game is set. There are three boys sat around, all with Hellfire T-Shirts on. Your eyes fleet from one to the other until finally landing on Eddie. You recognise him immediately from the amount of times you've seen him yelling in the cafeteria.

Dustin and Mike failed to mention how cute he was, you think.

His hair was long and wavy. He was wearing multiple rings. And he was covered in tattoos. You're pretty sure you saw a few bats peeking from under his sleeve.

"Who's this?" One of the guys asks, making all three turn around and look at you.

"This is Y/N! She's subbing for Lucas!" Mike says, the words spilling out fast and nervously.

Why the hell are they so jittery?

"Yeah, she's my sister! The one I mentioned a couple days ago." Dustin adds.

"Does she even know how to play DnD?" The other boy asks.

"Okay, excuse me, I wouldn't have come if I didn't know how to play," You finally speak, waving your hand a little to get their attention.

"So, this is your infamous sister?" Eddie finally speaks, his eyes landing on you, "You know, I thought he made you up. What's your class and level? Level One Elf?"

Elf? Is he mocking me?

"Are you mocking me?" You ask incredously.

"Is he mocking me?" you turn towards Dustin and Mike who immediately start gesticulating, probably asking you to shut up.

"My name is Aeren Sirenfall and I'm a level 14 chaotic good half-elf rogue. I will sneak behind any monster you throw my way and stab them in the back with my poison-soaked kukri. And I'll smile as I watch them die a slow...agonising...death." You say, your voice slow and hard as you glare at Eddie, "So, are we gonna play this stupid game or not?"

You're pretty sure you hear one of the boys mutter a 'she's terrifying' to Dustin.

You watch as Eddie's eyes slowly soften and a grin emerges on his face, "Welcome to Hellfire Club."

#eddie munson #stranger things fic #corroded coffin #stranger things 4 #stranger things #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fluff

[strangersteddierthings]

The Interview

Inspired by this post by @xoxoladyaz. Read on Ao3.

-

Eddie wakes up to one single missed call from Gareth on his private phone.

No one calls his private phone.

He dials back instantly.

"Hey Eddie," Gareth greets. He sounds tired.

"What's up? What's happened?" Eddie asks, a thousand and one scenarios running through his mind. Gareth is in Indianapolis, and Eddie's thoughts are filled with only his uncle back in Hawkins.

"Nothing's happened that we can't deal with, or rather, that I've already been dealing with. But, uhh, there's an interview you should watch. Let me send you a link-" there's a pause as Gareth does just that "-and just call me back after you've watched it. I know we usually ignore the shit people say about us but this- it's different."

"Okayyyy," Eddie says slowly. "I'll watch it."

They hang up without goodbye because Eddie's just going to call him back after the video. Opening his messages he sees the link, and then Gareth sent a follow up text you need to watch from 12:32 onward.

The video is nearly two weeks old already, and YouTube shows him a face he knows. Robin Buckley looks older but it's definitely her. Her hair isn't styled much differently than she had it in high school, just above her shoulders and a little wild. She's wearing a three piece suit in emerald green, slightly oversized on purpose by the look of it. She's sitting in a chair, cradling a grammy with one arm, as the interviewer sits across from her.

Eddie taps the screen and drags the progress bar closer to the 12-minute mark and listens. He hears the tail end of Robin's response to some question about her album before the interviewer asks what must be the question Gareth wants him to listen to.

'So, I think everyone is dying to know if you and Eddie Munson are friends. You're both from Hawkins, Indiana. Isn't that correct?' the interviewer asks.

Robin's smile slips a bit, 'I- uhh, this is going to be unprofessional of me but I made a promise to someone regarding if I was ever asked about Eddie Munson. So, can I have one minute to make a phone call before I answer your question?'

'Oh. By all means, make your call.'

Eddie watches as Robin is brought her phone by someone who is probably her personal assistant. She wastes no time in unlocking it and finding whoever in her contacts list.

'No time for formalities. I've been asked about Munson. Can I tell the truth?' Robin's mic isn't strong enough to pick up whatever answer she gets on the phone but she shakes her head to whatever answer she's been given. 'I told you, I love you more than this career and I've already got the grammy. I'll handle the fallout. It's not about me. It's about you.' What follows is a few seconds of silence before Robin nods and says goodbye, ending the call and passing the phone back to the PA.

The interviewer's eyebrows are up to her hairline in shock. 'That sounds ominous. You think it's career ending?'

Robin grins and it's almost feral. 'Corroded Coffin's fans have always been ruthless, and perhaps a bit heartless, so what I have to say will certainly set them on the attack. To answer your original question, yes, Eddie Munson and I are from Hawkins. We even shared band class in high school, but that's the end of what connects us. We are not friends, but we once were.'

'Can you elaborate on that?'

'Our friendship ended ten years ago when he ruined my best friend's life for fame and fortune, and Steve's never really known a day of peace since.'

Eyes wide, the interviewer leans closer, 'Steve? As in, Hey Steve, Steve?'

Robin nods, 'Just the one.'

'Are you prepared to talk about how one song ruined your friend's life?'

'That was the purpose of the phone call. Yes, I think people should know the truth. Munson vented his bullshit breakup rage into a song and fucked off out of town. A week after its release, his fans doxxed Steve. He wasn't out to his parents, you see, and Corroded Coffin's fans, Eddie Munson's fans, outed him. They sent hate mail to his house by the ton, it seemed. The fallout from that- the aftermath-' Robin cuts off as her eyes water and she swipes at them, smearing some mascara across her cheek. 'I'm sorry. I almost lost my best friend, the platonic love of my life, that day.

'It's public knowledge, what happened, you can look it up online if you know what to look for. But it is also so incredibly personal. I want to be the one to say this because it's important. What you do in life, it has consequences, and sometimes those consequences are for other people. Whether you think it will, or not. I'd rather people hear it from a human voice, from someone who loves Steve, and not the journalist view. No offense,' Robin shoots the interviewer a sweet smile.

'None taken, please continue.'

'Steve was hospitalized, I won't give the details,' Robin says, in a watery voice as she's clearly trying to not cry at the memory. 'When Steve was finally released from the hospital, there was no one but me to pick him up. And he's going through this while nursing a broken heart. He and Munson had only been broken up for maybe a month before Hey Steve came out.

'In less than two months, Steve had lost his parents, his home, all his belongings, and the man he thought he'd marry one day. And to top it off, that man gets to become rich and famous off a venomous, hate-filled song about their breakup. It talks about Steve like he's coward for not willing to be out, yet, and how... what's the line, about conformity?'

'Conformity holds your leash, baby, so run to the end of your chain and bark,' someone off camera shouts.

'Yes, that, thanks. Accusing Steve of picking 'conformity' over his love. Steve wasn't picking conformity, he was picking safety! And the worst part? The hate mail has never stopped. Steve lived with me and my family for a few months after getting out of the hospital before the hate mail got too much, and someone showed up at my childhood home, looking for him, threatening him. They had a gun. It was traumatic. I was still in my senior year of high school-' Robin cuts off, taking deep breaths.

The interviewer reaches across to place a comforting hand on Robin's, 'I can't even imagine what that must have been like.'

Once Robin has composed herself, she says, 'sorry, this is a lot. I've had ten years to come to terms with it, and I've waited seven for someone to ask me about Munson. I didn't think it would be this hard.

'And it's not- I can't blame Munson, or Corroded Coffin, for everything that happened. He doesn't control his fans. But he's never said anything about the treatment his fans give Steve. And if they're like this towards Steve, are they like this towards all his other ex's? Does Munson not care, or, almost worse, does he not even know?' she stops again, getting a faraway look for a moment before looking at the interviewer again. 'I had to help Steve move again. Just last month. They're still finding him. Sending him hate. Doxxing him.' Now she looks at the camera directly, "Eddie Munson. Call off your fans. Stop playing Hey Steve at concerts. Isn't a decade of hurt enough?'

There isn't a lot that makes Eddie feel anything these days, he'll admit. A decade of fame has made him a bit cynical and callus. However, Robin had said something that made his insides squirm. He swipes across the screen, rewinding the video to hear Robin say Steve had lost his parents, his home, all his belongings, and the man he thought he'd marry one day. Swipe. -ents, his home, all his belongings, and the man he thought he'd marry one day. Swipe. The man he thought he'd marry one day. Swipe. Marry one day.

He pauses the video. That can't be right. That has to be a lie Robin is adding. To garner more sympathy or make Eddie, and therefore Corroded Coffin, look worse. Steve and he had been young and naive when they'd dated. There was no way they'd have ended up married, even if Eddie had stuck around Hawkins longer. Gay marriage wasn't even legal when they broke up in 2013.

Eddie unpauses, skips forward to the end and listens to Robin speak directly to him. Stop playing Hey Steve? The song that rocketed Corroded Coffin into the limelight? No way. And call off his fans? Like they're dogs he's supposed to control or something. The video ends and the YouTube algorithm shows him a number of react videos. Eddie clicks on one and falls down the rabbit hole.

At first the algorithm shows him responses in his favor. Videos made by his fans defending him, or strategically picking apart what Robin had said. Eddie wants to agree with them, he doesn't think he's done anything wrong other than live his life, but then.

Then a video of a guy wearing merch sold during their tour last year plays. He's on the right side of the video while a screen recording is on the left. It takes him less than five minutes to get Steve's past addresses found. And Eddie is... well, he's a little horrified at how long the list is. At the short amount of time Steve's spent in any one place is.

The guy in the video reads out the state, city, and how long Steve lived at each address. The longest one is when Steve made the jump from Florida to Maine, where he lived for 19 months according to the video, and that was years ago.

And then the guy, he fucking starts to speculate about where Steve might have moved to next.

"We can't know for sure, but it looks like he headed back west? You can see from the last 3 addresses he's been just jumping state lines to the next place. I'm guessing Oklahoma, Kansas or Nebraska next. If Steve thinks he can try and ruin Corroded Coffin through Robin Buckley, then it's up to us to prove him wrong," the guy is saying, and Eddie thinks maybe this guy is just exaggerating but the comment section is already filled with other people saying vile shit about what they should send to Steve or what they'd like to do to him physically and-

Eddie clicks off the video, to the next recommended. The more he watches, the angrier they seem to get. He goes to the search bar and looks for new react videos.

He finds that everyone has an opinion. He watches videos where his own fans express their disappointment in him. They talk about how Corroded Coffin runs an antibully campaign and then allows their fans to bully an ex and for not calling out the ones doxxing people, wanting to know which was the reason - does Eddie not know, or does he not care? Eddie didn't know. Truly. But he can't help but wonder if he didn't know because he didn't care.

He'd written all his feelings into a song, and now that he's older, he can see that a lot of what he was feeling is an exaggeration and dramatization of what really happened. But the point is, he'd written out his feelings and moved on.

The man he thought he'd marry one day.

His stomach twists uncomfortably as Robin's voice rings in his mind.

He continues his spiral down YouTube until Gareth calling him again breaks through and he answers.

"How is this the first time I'm hearing about Robin's interview?" Eddie demands.

"You've got a damn good PR team, that's how. I guess you fell down the rabbit hole, then?"

"How'd you-"

"Is been almost 4 hours since we talked. Doesn't take that long to watch a 30 minute video."

"Oh. Alright. So, why did you want me to watch the video? Am I supposed to respond to Robin?"

"No. People don't actually want to hear from you. They want to hear from Steve. And that's why you needed to watch. 'Cause Robin's announced that Steve's finally ready to make a statement. Robin's going to post it on her Twitter. Tonight. So, we've got to be ready. If anything Robin said turns out to be true, we might have a problem on our hands. A slander lawsuit being just the beginning."

"Fuck."

"What a way to sum it up," Gareth chuckles into the phone before his tone becomes serious, "hey, how are you doing, though? With it all?"

He thinks about it, and how he really feels, before answering. "It's been years since I've thought about Steve, y'know? I... I've had that luxury. I didn't know.... Did you?"

"No. Hell no! I'd of said something. I mean, shit man, we run an antibully campaign 'cause high school was shit to us. If I'd known at all we'd have been telling them to fuck off. Harassment's just what they call bullying adults."

Eddie swallows. "Guess we just have to wait and see what Stevie has to say."

"I'd come sit on the couch with you and refresh twitter frantically but, well, Indy's a bit of a ways off. I'll call after Robin's posted, then?"

"Yeah, man. Let's see the damage," Eddie sighed. "Talk to ya later."

"Bye."

Eddie digs out his laptop and pulls up Robin's twitter page. He adds an auto-refresher extension and sets it to refresh every minute before opening his phone and pulling up YouTube again.

#steddie #my fic #based on xoxoladyaz's ficlet #it'll be three parts i think #the interview #Steve's response and the immediate aftermath of that #and eddie meeting up with steve to talk

[joelmillerisapunk]

I'll never stop makin' you feel this good

bfd!joel miller x f!reader

masterlist

↳ wordcount: 3,795

↳ summary: After returning to your hometown, you reconnect with your childhood friend Sarah and her father Joel, a retired firefighter. As you spend time with him, you can't deny the spark between you, and soon you find yourself on a date with Joel, where things quickly heat up and the chemistry between you becomes impossible to ignore.

~or~

↳ a dom!daddy date

↳ warnings: 18+, dom!Joel, implied age gap, light spanking, fingering, light male masterbation, public stuff? But nothing too wild.

↳ notes: my favorite line became the title since I couldn't find a song I liked. Ty @saradika-graphics as always for the dividers 💓 and tysm for the love and support on all my fics so far. As a brand new writer its been so incredibly validating. I've gained so many amazing followers, moots, and friends in the like two weeks I've been here. I LOVE YOU ❤️

After being away for several years to pursue your dreams of becoming a marine biologist, you return to your hometown to visit your family and your childhood friend Sarah Miller and her father Joel, a retired firefighter. Sarah was like a sister to you growing up, and you were excited to catch up with her and see how much she had grown.

As you walk up to the Miller's house, you can't help but feel a little nostalgic. You and Sarah used to play in the front yard for hours, pretending to be superheroes and exploring the neighborhood.

Joel greets you with a warm smile as he opens the door. "Howdy kiddo. Missed seein’ ya around," he says, extending his hand for a friendly handshake. And as your hand meets his, he takes in your appearance, he can't help but notice how much you've grown up, how much more mature you've become. He quickly clears his throat, trying to tame his thoughts.

You grin and shake his hand. "Hey, Mr. Miller. It's good to be back," you reply, trying to hide your nervousness.

"Mr. Miller makes me sound old. Just call me Joel,” he says, chuckling.

You giggle, "alright Joel it is."

Joel nods and stands straight. "Well, kiddo, how've you been? You look good."

"I've been really good, Mr. Miller - uh Joel. College is going well," you reply, feeling a little more at ease.

"College, huh? And what do you wanna be when you grow up?" Joel asks.

You giggle. “I'm not exactly five anymore, but I'm going to school to be a marine biologist," you say, your eyes sparkling with excitement.

Joel's face lights up in surprise. "Marine biologist... that's gotta be one dangerous job. You know, I saw a show on Netflix once about shark attacks. I thought a pretty thing like you shouldn't be near those monsters, they'll eat'cha whole."

You chuckle, "Yeah, they're quite terrifying, but I might have learned a thing or two in school.” You wink playfully.

“And just what do you learn about shark attacks in marine biology school?” Joel asks, skeptical.

You smile. “ Don't worry, I'll make sure to keep my professors in the loop," you reply, trying to keep a straight face.

Joel can't help but smirk, “alright darlin’, and moves to the side to let you inside.

After a few hours of catching up and reminiscing about old times with Sarah, it's time for you to leave. But just as you're about to head out the door, Joel stops you. "Uh hey, listen, could I interest you in dinner sometime? I know a good steakhouse nearby. I think we could have a good time and catch up," he says, with a hopeful expression on his face.

Caught off guard, you're unsure if he's asking you on a date, but it feels innocent enough, so you agree. "Yah, that'd be nice, Joel," you say, trying to keep a straight face. Secretly hoping it was intended for more.

"Great! I'll pick you up at eight, okay? Here, I'll text you the name of the place, and you can look it up if you'd like," Joel says, as he hands you his phone with the contact app already open.

You take his phone and place your number in it.

"Thanks, kiddo. Hey, you okay? You look a little anxious for a steak dinner," Joel says, noticing your nervousness.

"Not at all, looking forward to it," you reply, with a confident smile. You place a hand gently on his arm, feeling a warmth radiate between you two.

Joel smiles and says, "Alright, kiddo. I'll see you later, then."

"See ya later, Joel," you say, as you walk out the door, feeling a sense of excitement and anticipation for your dinner date with Joel.

You're excited as you wait for Joel to pick you up for your dinner date. When he arrives, he knocks at your door, and when you open it, he says, "You ready to eat some steak, kiddo?"

You open the door, ready as ever. “Joel, you don't have to keep calling me kiddo. I'm not a child anymore.”

“Alright, darlin’, let's get going, then.” He holds out his hand, and you take it. When you get to his car, he opens the car door for you. You hurry in, eager to spend time with Joel.

“There's some great steak at this restaurant. You'll love the atmosphere there, it's a classy place. The staff is professional, not chatty, and very good customer service.” He smiles as he puts his car in gear and starts driving”

You smile and look forward as he drives. “I can't wait.”

When you arrive, he gets out and opens the door for you, then locks up his car. “Ladies first. That's how me and your old man were raised.” He laughs as you walk toward the restaurant.

You chuckle, “such a gentleman.” You get to a big glass door, a maitre d' greets you and seats you in a booth at a table for two. “Doesn't look too crowded tonight.” He takes off his jacket and hangs it on the back of his chair.

You take your coat off as well, revealing a very fitted dress. “It's beautiful, Joel.”

He looks at you and smiles, staring at you for a second “You look beautiful, very nice dress. You're much more grown up now than the last time I saw you.”

You feel yourself getting warm as you sit down, “thanks, you're not too bad yourself.” You manage to wink at Joel.

He laughs, “I'm sure you've got a lotta boys chasin’ you.” He pauses for a moment, eyeing you up and down before he continues, “that dress sure does suit you darlin’.” He grins mischievously.

You giggle, “well not exactly the boys I want to be chasing me.” You grin at him playfully. “I'm glad you like it, I just got it, actually.”

“Oh? And who exactly are you hoping to chase you.”

“I dunno, someone a little older, strong, I'm tired of boys.” You look into his eyes. “A real man who knows how to take care of a woman.”

He grins, leaning in a bit “So, you like a dominant man, huh? Would you say I fit the bill?”

You're a little surprised by Joel's straightforwardness but lean in closer, testing the waters a bit. “Well, I'm not so sure just how dominant you are, Mr. Miller, I might need you to show me.” You wink, biting your bottom lip.

He leans in even closer across the table and whispers in your ear. “Don't talk like that, or you're gonna get me all riled up. A girl like you should be careful about what you say.”

You whisper breathily in his ear, "I like a little danger.”

His eyes widen, shocked that you would say something so…naughty. “Are you tryin’ to get me to do something at the dinner table?” He says in a hushed tone. “Don't tempt me, baby.”

“Yes, sir.” You sit back and wink at him, liking his authoritative behavior but still feeling a bit defiant. You run your foot up his leg till it hits his thigh, your gaze locked onto his eyes.

He grins, placing his hand on your leg, slowly moving it up your dress, “You're playing with fire, darlin’.” His hand slowly makes its way up your leg, and you can feel the heat building between your legs.

You look into his eyes and challenge him, "Hmm, well, what exactly would you do with a girl like me?"

Joel's hand is now resting on your inner thigh, and you can feel his fingers lightly tracing circles on your skin. He leans in closer to you, "I think you already know what I'd do to you." You feel a shiver run down your spine.

The waiter comes to your table and asks if everything is alright, but you barely register his presence. All you can focus on is the feeling of Joel's hand on your thigh and the way his eyes are burning into yours. Joel leans back in his chair and sips his wine, never taking his eyes off of you. You can feel your heart racing as you stare back at him, wondering what he's going to do next.

The waiter brings your wine that Joel ordered, and you take a sip, feeling the warmth spread through your body. Joel's hand is still on your thigh, and you can feel him slowly sliding it up higher and higher.

"I love the way you breathe when I touch you. Makes me feel all-powerful." Joel's voice is filled with desire, and you can't help but feel the same way.

You look at him, challenging him, "You think you can tame me, Mr. Miller?"

Joel grins, "I don't like the word tame. I prefer the word... break. If I'm gonna take charge, I'm gonna take it completely, and this dress of yours ain't survivin' the night."

Your heart is pounding in your chest as Joel's hand reaches the top of your thigh. You can feel his fingers lightly grazing your wet panties, and you gasp at the sensation. "Think you can handle this old cowboy darlin’?" Joel's voice is low and dangerous, and you can feel yourself getting lost in his eyes.

You nod, unable to speak, as Joel's fingers start to move in slow circles over your clit. You can feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, and you moan softly as Joel's fingers quicken their pace. Suddenly, Joel pulls his hand away, leaving you wanting more. He stands up, offering to help you up as well. "You really think I’d let a pretty thing like you come in public? Come on, it’s time for us to eat in private."

You follow Joel out of the restaurant, feeling dizzy with lust. You can barely believe what just happened. As you walk to Joel's car, you can feel his hand on the small of your back, guiding you towards his black Mustang. You slide into the passenger seat, feeling like the luckiest girl in the world. Joel starts the car, and you take off towards Joel's place.

You feel so innocent and young next to Joel, but you love the feeling. You follow him through his house until you reach a small room with a couch, a TV on one side, and a fireplace on the other. Joel pours you a glass of wine and hands it to you, his eyes never leaving yours. You take a sip, feeling the warmth spread through your body.

He goes back to the kitchen to just grab the entire bottle. You make your way around, looking at all his stuff. You pick up a small carving, accidentally dropping it on the floor and bending over to pick it up, but your dress doesn't fully cover you. Joel walks back at the perfect time and can see everything, but you don't notice, so he's quiet and sets the bottle down before moving toward you.

"Oh, I like this little maneuver of yours,” Joel's voice is low and gravelly as he takes in the sight of you bent over, your dress riding up to reveal your lacy underwear. He steps closer to you, his hand tracing a path between your legs, stopping just shy of your center. "I like it a lot," he growls, his breath hot on your neck.

You gasp as you feel his fingers brush against your sensitive skin, sending a jolt of pleasure through your body. You're unable to resist the urge to push back against him, wanting more of his touch. Joel takes advantage of your position, his fingers slipping beneath your underwear as he explores your wet folds. You moan softly, your head falling back as he teases you with his touch.

"So, so wet for me," Joel murmurs in your ear, his fingers moving in slow, deliberate circles. "I can feel how much you want me.” You can't deny it - you want him more than you've ever wanted anyone before. You push back against him, trying to get him to give you more. Joel chuckles, his fingers stilling for a moment before he gives you what you want. He plunges two fingers deep inside you, his thumb rubbing slow circles over your clit. You cry out in pleasure, your body trembling as he brings you closer and closer to the edge. But just as you're about to come, Joel pulls away, leaving you wanting. You turn to look at him, your eyes pleading for more.

He grins wickedly, his eyes glinting with mischief. "Not yet, darlin’ hold on for me.” Joel stands up, walking over to the fireplace and stoking the flames. You can't take your eyes off of him, watching as he moves with a confidence and authority that makes your heart race.

He turns back to you, his eyes blazing with desire. "Take off your dress. I want to see you." You hesitate for a moment, but the look in Joel's eyes tells you that he's not going to take no for an answer. You stand up straight, reaching behind you to unzip your dress. As the dress falls to the ground, you stand before Joel in nothing but your underwear. He lets out a low whistle, his eyes taking in every inch of your body. "Fuck, you're beautiful," he growls, his eyes dark with desire.

You feel a shiver run down your spine as Joel's eyes roam over your body. You've never felt so vulnerable, so exposed - and yet so wanted. Joel reaches down, adjusting himself as he stares at you. "Take off your underwear, too. I want to see all of you."

You nod, your hands shaking as you slip your underwear down your legs. You step out of them, standing before Joel completely naked. He lets out a low groan, his eyes devouring every inch of your body. Joel reaches down, pulling his cock out of his jeans and boxers. He starts stroking himself, his eyes never leaving yours. "Watch me darlin’. Watch as I stroke my cock, thinking about all the things I'm gonna to do to you."

You can't take your eyes off of him as he strokes himself, his hand moving up and down his shaft. You've never seen anything so hot before. You watch as Joel continues to stroke himself, his eyes locked on yours. You can feel your body responding to the sight of him touching himself.

"C'mere darlin," he beckons, patting the space beside him. As you move to sit next to him, his fingers begin to trace a path up your leg, inching closer and closer to your wet center. Once there, his touch becomes more deliberate, circling your clit with a gentle touch that sends shivers down your spine. You can't help but moan softly, your hips bucking up to meet his skilled fingers.

He stops for a moment and with a firm but gentle grip, Joel guides you to turn over, positioning you face down, ass up on the couch, he finds your clit quickly again as his other hand comes down on your ass with a sharp smack, the sound echoing in the small room. The sting of his hand on your skin only serves to heighten your arousal. His hand comes down on your backside once again, the sound of his palm against your skin filling the room. The mixture of pleasure and pain is intoxicating, leaving you breathless and wanting more. Joel smirks, his hand coming down again and again, the pain mixing with pleasure in a way that leaves you dizzy.

"You like that, don't you?" Joel's voice is low and rough, his fingers still moving in slow circles over your clit. "You like it when I take charge, when you don’t have to do anything but what I tell you, no thinkin’ just doin’."

You nod, unable to speak. It's true - you do like it. You like the way Joel makes you feel helpless, his to do with as he pleases. Joel growls, his fingers plunging deep inside you again. This time, he doesn't stop, his hand moving faster and faster as he brings you closer and closer to the edge.

You moan louder, your hips bucking up to meet his hand. Joel's other hand comes down on your ass again, only adding to the pleasure. Finally, Joel's fingers still, his fingers resting deep inside you as you come hard. You cry out, your body trembling as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you.

Joel pulls his fingers out of you slowly, holding them up to your lips. "Taste yourself. See how sweet you are." You open your mouth, your tongue darting out to taste your own juices. It's unlike anything you've ever tasted before, and you can't get enough.

Joel smirks, his hand moving up to your hair. He grips it tightly, pulling your head back so that you're looking up at him. "You're mine now, and I'll do whatever I want with you." All you can do is whimper in excitment, your heart racing in your chest. You've never felt so alive. Joel releases your hair, his hand moving back down to your thigh. "Good girl," he murmurs, his fingers tracing lazy circles over your skin.

You lean back against the couch, feeling boneless and sated. Joel leans down, his lips brushing against your ear. "I'm going to make you scream, again and again and again."

Joel stands up, his hands moving to the buttons on his own shirt. You watch as he undoes each one, revealing his muscular chest and arms. Your eyes widen as he kicks off his shoes and socks, followed by his pants and boxers. His cock stands at attention, and you can't help but lick your lips in anticipation. Joel's eyes follow your gaze, a smirk crossing his lips. "Like what you see, darlin'?" Joel steps closer to you, his hands reaching out to grab your ass.

Joel lifts you up with ease, his strong arms supporting your weight as your legs wrap around his waist. You can feel the head of his cock lightly brush against you, causing you to gasp at the contact. He takes a moment to look into your eyes, a smoldering gaze that makes your heart race.

With a gentle yet firm grip, he guides his cock to your entrance, teasing you with small thrusts that make you squirm with anticipation. You can feel how wet and ready you are for him, your body begging for more.

Joel then slowly pushes himself into you, filling you up completely. You let out a moan as he bottoms out, his cock buried deep inside you. He pauses for a moment, allowing you to adjust to his size. You can feel the warmth and tension building up inside you, your body responding to his cock sitting inside you.

With ease, Joel carries you upstairs to his bed, never breaking eye contact with you. Once he reaches the bed, he tosses you down onto it, his body following you down. He positions himself at your entrance, teasing you with his cock. "You ready for me, darlin'?"

You nod, your body trembling with anticipation. Joel thrusts inside you, filling you up completely. You cry out in pleasure, your nails digging into his back as he starts to move. His thrusts are hard and fast, each one sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. Joel's hands are on your hips, holding you in place as he fucks you. "You like that, darlin'? You like it when I fuck you like a dirty little slut?" Joel growls, his fingers digging into your hips. You moan, your body responding to his words. “Tell me how much you like it, darlin'. Tell me how much you love my cock inside you," Joel commands, his fingers tightening around your hips.

"I love it. I love your cock inside me. Please, don't stop," you beg.

Joel smirks, "I'll never stop fucking you, darlin'. I'll never stop making you feel this good." Joel's thrusts become more erratic as he chases his own release, his cock driving deeper into you with each stroke. You can feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, your body begging for release.

"Come for me, darlin'. Come all over my cock," Joel growls, his voice deep and raw with desire.

His fingers tighten around your hips, pulling you closer as he pounds into you. You can feel every inch of him, his thick cock stretching you wide as he fucks you hard and fast.

Your body trembles with pleasure, your pussy clenching around him as you feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge. Joel's thrusts become more urgent, his hips slamming into yours as he chases his own release.

"Fuck, I'm close," he growls, his breath hot against your neck.

You can feel him tensing up, his cock swelling inside you as he gets closer and closer to the edge. Joel's thrusts become more erratic, his hips slamming into yours as he chases his own release.

With a loud groan, Joel stills, his cock buried deep inside you as he comes. You can feel him pulsing inside you, a feeling you never knew you'd love so much. Joel collapses on top of you, his breathing heavy as he pants against your neck.

You wrap your arms around him, feeling more content and satisfied than you ever have before. Joel's cock is still buried deep inside you, and you can feel him softening as he comes down from his high. You moan softly as he slips out of you, your body missing the feeling of him inside you.

Joel rolls over onto his back, his chest heaving as he catches his breath. You can see the satisfied look on his face, and you can't help but smile, your bodies entwined as you lay together.

Joel's cock is still glistening with your juices, and you can't help but reach out and touch him. You wrap your hand around his softening length, feeling him twitch at your touch. "You feel amazing," you murmur, your fingers tracing the veins that run along the length of his cock.

Joel smiles, his hand reaching out to touch your face. "You're amazing," he replies, his voice soft and filled with emotion.

You lay there together, your bodies entwined as you bask in the afterglow of your lovemaking. You feel more connected to Joel than ever before, your bodies and souls intertwined as you lay there in the peaceful silence, content and fulfilled in each other's arms.

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #dom!joel miller #sub!reader

[lowkeyremi]

Back off my man osamu x fem!reader

notes: I was only gonna write for tsumu but like it's osamu's bday too and i love him. Basically some girl doesn't seem to get the hint so u have to assert ur dominance. the tsumu ver is here

Content: slight language, fluff, little bit suggestive (just a past sexual relationship samu had, established relationship

"Are you free tonight, Samu?" She asks him with a smile on her face.

He's told her millions of times about his girlfriend, which is you. This girl is persistent though, and has told him many times she'll treat him better than you ever could.

Which pisses you off because you've been his girl forever and you don't understand why this girl thinks she can just come in and take your spot.

"I've already told ya, I won't be free for ya, ever. What part of that do you not understand?" He asks, setting down a plate of your favorite onigiri for you. The workload has been crazy this past week and Osamu will always do anything to make you feel a little bit better. You do the same for him on days when the shop gets crazy.

"I just don't understand Samu! You used to have time for me during culinary school when we-" He cuts her off sharply.

"That was over six years ago, I don't understand why ya hang on so tightly to something that was never meant to be! We fucked a coupla times back then and that was it. I found the one for me, so please drop it." His jaw is clenched and you can tell he's very irritated by this woman.

His fist is also balled up on the counter. You try to soothe him by grabbing his hand and rubbing circles into it. He breathes softly trying to calm down.

You can't just sit here and watch this woman do this anymore. You've tried to be nice to her, but she makes it so hard.

"But-"

"Listen, if Osamu wanted you he would have chosen you. Osamu is a smart man and he knows what he wants." You're good at keeping your voice level when you feel anything but calm.

She glares at you, and Osamu doesn't even say anything. He's trying to calm down some.

The woman gets up from the high top stool and stomps out of the shop.

"M'sorry ya had to see that, she just wasn't getting the hint." He says removing his cap and running a hand through his rich dark brown hair.

"It's okay, you look hot when you're mad." Even though it was a crappy joke it still gets a little chuckle from your boyfriend.

"Gonna go tidy up, are you heading to the house or stayin' here?" His look definitely says he wants you to stay, who are you to deny?

"Well duh! Who's gonna be DJ?" Nothing could bring you more satisfaction than the way his smile drops at the mention of you playing your music.

"On second thought, maybe ya should go home. Had a long day right?" Osamu is stuck with you, he should know this already.

You pretend to think about it for a second. "Hmm I think I'll stay."

"Okay, but don't play any of yer shitty music or I'll kick ya out." The crazy thing is that he's one hundred percent serious. You and Osamu are complete opposites except for the fact that you two both love food.

Your music taste has never really been his favorite. The same is true for his music. You always cover your ears and pretend gag.

"Hey 'samu?" You ask voice suddenly dropping to a whisper.

"Yeah, sweetheart?" He returns.

"Do that more, okay? If anyone hits on you-"

"That was a one time thing cuz she kept asking over 'n over. Most people stop after the first time." Osamu disappears into the kitchen and you open your favorite music app to play your favorite artist.

"Womp womp, no more hot Osamu."

"The hell are ya talkin' about? 'M hot all the time." There's defensiveness in his voice like he was actually taking you seriously.

"I know, it was just a joke." You counter with a smirk.

"Ain't a funny one I can tell ya that." His large bulging arms cross and you can see his muscles flex.

"Go clean up! Stop looking like a thirst-trap all the damn time!" You whine in frustration. Osamu's deep laughter follows not too long after.

"Whatever ya say, sweetie."

#haikyuu #haikyuu!! #haikyuu x reader #osamu miya #osamu miya x reader #osamu x reader #miya osamu x reader #miya osamu #osamu #osamu miya fluff #miya twins #osamu fluff #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu imagine

[stars4gojo]

All about us

Dad!Gojo x reader // established!relationship, fluff, angst if you squint, parenting Megumi and Tsumiki. // 1.1k words

Gojo’s being irresponsible again and this time you’re not having any of it.  (Not proofread be kind😭)

The school bell rang, signaling the end of another day for Tsumiki and Megumi. As the siblings made their way out of the school gates, they scanned the surroundings for any sign of their adopted father, Gojo Satoru. However, there was no sight of him.

"Where is he again?" Tsumiki huffed, her tiny brows furrowed in irritation.

Megumi sighed, used to their guardian's forgetfulness. "I don't know. Let's just wait a bit longer."

Meanwhile, at the school gate, you stood with crossed arms, tapping your foot impatiently. Gojo was supposed to pick up the kids today, but once again, he seemed to have forgotten.

"This is getting ridiculous," you muttered to yourself.

After what felt like an eternity, Gojo finally arrived, a sheepish grin on his face. "Hey there, kiddos!

Sorry, got caught up with some cursed spirits. You know how it is."

Tsumiki rolled her eyes, unimpressed. "You always say that..."

Ignoring Gojo, you took Megumi and Tsumiki by the hand and walked away. Gojo trailed behind, trying to make amends.

"Come on, sweetheart! I brought some snacks!” Gojo presented a bag filled with an assortment of sweets. 

 You shot him a disapproving look. "You're unbelievable, Gojo. You forgot to pick them up, and now you're bribing them with junk food?"

Gojo scratched his head, a playful glint in his eyes. "Well, a little sugar never hurt anyone, right?"

You sighed, choosing to ignore him as you continued walking. The kids exchanged confused glances but stayed silent.

Days went by, and Gojo's irresponsible antics continued. From missed appointments to chaotic dinner choices, you found it increasingly difficult to tolerate his behavior. The silent treatment became your weapon of choice, leaving Gojo to fend for himself.

One evening, as you were preparing dinner, Gojo approached you with a guilty expression. "Listen, I know I've been slacking off lately, but I promise I'll make it up to you. How about a movie night with the kids? My treat!"

You glanced at him, unimpressed. "A movie night won't change anything, Gojo."

He pouted, realizing the severity of the situation. "Come on, don't be like that. I'll make it up to you,I swear."

But your silence spoke volumes, and you continued chopping vegetables without acknowledging his presence. Tsumiki and Megumi, witnessing the tension between you two, exchanged concerned glances.

Days turned into weeks, and your silent treatment persisted. Gojo, realizing the severity of the situation, decided to step up his game in an attempt to win back your affections. The chaos he once brought to your life now seemed to be replaced by an earnest effort to make amends.

One day, as you were in your classroom, teaching at Jujutsu High, you found your desk cluttered with a bunch of beautifully wrapped gifts. Puzzled, you looked around the room, and there stood Gojo, a hopeful grin on his face.

"Hey there! Just a little something to brighten up your day," he chimed, gesturing toward the gifts.

Ignoring him, you continued with your lecture, pretending as if the extravagant gifts didn't exist.

The students exchanged curious glances, aware of the tension in the air.

Gojo, unbothered, decided to take a more direct approach. He leaned against your desk, trying to catch your eye. "I got you all these things to say sorry. Can we talk, please?"

You maintained your focus on the lesson, pointedly avoiding any acknowledgment of his presence. Gojo sighed but didn't give up.

In the following days, the gifts kept coming - flowers, chocolates, even a cute puppy with a ribbon around its neck. Gojo seemed determined to break through your icy exterior. Each time he appeared with a new surprise, you merely accepted them with a stoic expression, refusing to let your guard down.

One afternoon, he brought in a lunchbox filled with a gourmet meal. "I made it myself, with a little help from Nanami," he announced, placing it on your desk.

You glanced at the lunchbox but said nothing. Gojo sighed, frustration evident on his face. The students, now thoroughly entertained by the ongoing drama, exchanged whispers and giggles.

The next attempt at reconciliation involved a grand gesture. Gojo rented out a rooftop restaurant, adorned with fairy lights and overlooking the city. As you finished another day of teaching, he awaited you there with a hopeful smile.

"Come on, let me make it up to you. Dinner is on me," he pleaded.

You walked past him without a word, heading straight for the exit. Gojo followed, desperation in his eyes. "Please, just talk to me."

The grand gestures, the thoughtful gifts, and the persistent efforts seemed to have no effect on your resolve. 

The more Gojo tried to win you over, the more determined you became to uphold your silent protest.

One evening, after another failed attempt to grab your attention, Gojo found himself sitting alone in his apartment. The gifts he had showered you with were scattered around, remnants of his futile attempts to break through your walls.

He sighed, realizing that perhaps the path to reconciliation wasn't through grand gestures but through genuine change. The next day, he decided to focus on being a responsible partner and a reliable father to Tsumiki and Megumi, hoping that actions would speak louder than gifts.

Later that week, Gojo decided to take matters into his own hands. Armed with a bouquet of flowers and a charming smile, he showed up at your doorstep.

"Hey there, beautiful. I come in peace," Gojo said, holding out the flowers.

You raised an eyebrow, still not ready to break your silence.

Gojo sighed, his playful facade dropping for a moment. "Look, I know I've been acting like an idiot.

I promise to do better. For them," he said, nodding towards Tsumiki and Megumi, who were watching the scene unfold.

You softened at the mention of the kids. "Gojo, it's not just about them. It's about us too. You can't keep acting like a child."

He nodded, sincerity in his eyes. "I get it. I'll be more responsible, starting now. Just give me a chance to make things right."

You sighed, finally breaking into a small smile. "You better keep your promise, ‘Toru."

He grinned, relief evident on his face. "You won't regret it, I promise."

As Gojo stepped inside, Tsumiki and Megumi exchanged relieved smiles. Maybe, just maybe, their unconventional family could find a balance between chaos and love.

#gojo x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru #gojo x you #jjk fluff #jjk gojo #jjk headcanons #gojo satoru x reader #megumi x reader #jjk megumi #megumi fushiguro #megumi fluff #gojou satoru x reader #gojo saturo #satoru gojo #satoru gojo x reader #jjk smut #jjk art #jjk fanart #jjk #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen spoilers #jujutsu kaisen fanart #gojo smut #gojo smau #gojo x y/n #gojo x geto #gojo x oc

[dinanikto]

Spoilers: Episode 4 of the Walten Files

I think people misunderstood Felix as a character?

I've seen so many fans WISHING that Felix would actually die?? Like, "if I was Jack, I would beat the shit out of Felix" or "Felix, do a flip".

I thought it was shown pretty well that he is not in the right state of mind.

Before reading this, please, gather all of your compassion and sympathy, and listen to what I'm about to say with a clear mind.

Let's speak chronologically:

1) Felix and Jack meet in college and decide to create animatronic-based restaurant. They are teens/young adults in the year 1958-1964 (not truly canon, but close to). According to Martin, they're very close, they love and trust each other.

2) Jack meets Rosemary, they start dating. She creates designs for Bon and other characters.

Felix is, presumably, left alone to himself, as he doesn't have anyone else.

3) They graduate and contact CyberFun Tech.

Felix meets and marries Linda, while Jack and Rosemary have their first kid.

4) october 30th, 1964.

Linda notes Felix's heavy drinking and his poor self image. She's stressed and scared.

Felix is close with the Walten family. Jack and Rose get two more kids, and they all call him uncle!

And yet, he doesn't feel welcome. He uses alcohol as a coping mechanism. "He drinks for the sole purpose of drinking!"

Please note, the year is 1964!! Even nowadays not many people can get help and cure their addictions. Not many people believe that they can, or that they deserve it.

5) december 25th, 1970.

Krankens and Waltens are so close they spend Christmas together. And yet, Felix is burdened with something.

Jack and Rose are lovey dovey, Felix and Linda are not. Waltens have three kids that love their parents deeply, Krankens do not. Jack is happy, and Felix is not.

He's still using alcohol to calm himself down.

He can't control himself anymore.

Linda tries to talk to him, but Felix doesn't respond. Or rather, it's how Linda frames it.

"He feels bad about it, but doesn't try to change."

Honestly? Sounds like he tries to communicate, but his depression isn't letting him do it well. Again, it's 1970, and I don't think anyone has ever truly tried to help him.

He's a man. Why can't he man up? Jack is doing fine, why can't you, Felix?

Or why won't you just tell everyone how you feel? It's not like men have been bottling their emotions for decades now, right?

6) april 1974.

The Bon's Burgers is about to be open in a few weeks.

Felix and Linda have a fight (verbal). He hurts her feelings.

Jack asks Felix to pick up kids from a school party. Felix says no at first, but Jack won't listen.

Eventually, Felix says yes.

7) morning of may 2nd, 1974.

Linda leaves Felix. Only thing left after her is a note.

No talking, no nothing. His wife of 10+ years left him.

Have you ever gone through a breakup? A breakup with your spouse? Were you in an intoxicated state of mind when your wife left you? Were you depressed when seemingly everyone have left you?

Wait, right, he has Waltens. So of course he's gonna get those kids home, that's the only thing left for him! Everyone are asking him of it.

7) evening of may 2nd, 1974.

The car crash happens.

8) may 3rd, 1974.

He's awfully drunk. He's depressed. He got almost killed. He tried to kill himself twice. He has no one to talk about this with.

He has killed two children. Children that he loved.

Jack is going to hate him. And he does! Jack DOES want to kill him, Felix knows it even before speaking to him.

Note that he's not afraid of Rosemary.

9) may 3-6th, 1974.

He hides. He doesn't sleep for three days, and gets hallucinations.

He's scared. But the fact he actually faced Waltens is surprising. He's trying to fix things as best as he can.

10) may 6th, 1974

He lies. What else can he do?

Jack disappears. Susan disappears. Rosemary and Charles disappear. Brian and Ashley disappear.

And THIS is noway near his fault.

Bon's Burgers close. He has no money, several murder cases. Everybody is dead.

_____________________________________________

And after all of this, people don't find Felix even a little bit likeable? But support an agressive, irrational Jack, who was blind to his brother's struggling and pain? Who was the only person to not notice Felix's drinking problem?!? I'm confused.

I feel like Felix almost constantly. The mentally ill guy with no support system, that has no one to talk to. Never the one to get any help, even when having a "family".

And it's not like he thinks that he deserves love and attention. He never goes searching for Linda. He tries to end his life multiple times. He's masking as a nice corporate guy, while suffering internally.

He suffers more than anybody else in the series. And why? What did he do? Did anyone teach him how to deal with these situations?

In conclusion: don't hate people. Never ever wish the worst for them, especially publicly.

And if you associate yourself with Kranken? Try to get help. Again, and again, and again. We live in a scary, but wonderful world. Your life is worth living, you deserve to be happy. Don't give up.

#muting this post. please dm me if you have any questions #twf #the walten files #twf felix #my thingies

[silent-stories]

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐀𝐅𝐀𝐑 - 𝟐

Pairing: Eddie x F!Reader

Summary: Eddie finally works up the courage to talk to you again and he's not disappointed.

Part 1

"I'm sorry, I won't." You repeated for about the hundredth time as you placed some brushes in a jar and then on a shelf.

The lesson had been over for a few minutes and your classmates were getting ready to finally leave.

Aaron rolled his eyes as he washed his hands at the sink located in the corner of the art classroom, watching the water wash the red paint off his hands, coloring the liquid as it descended.

It almost looked like blood.

"Your parents won't be home for two days. Two fucking days, Y/N. And you don't want to have a party?" He turned to you with his usual smile he used when trying to get someone to do what he wanted.

It was not going to work with you.

"Well, I'm sorry. I'm not really one for parties." You shrugged.

Aaron had spent all of class trying to get you to throw a party on Saturday night since your parents were away for the weekend, your house was big, and you had a pool.

Aaron insisted. "But it will be fun. We can invite your friends, Jason and his team and-"

"Aaron, c'mon. Even if I had this stupid party, I wouldn't invite those people."

They were the last people you wanted to see at school, let alone invite them to a party.

"What's wrong with Jason? He's been one of the first people I've talked to since I moved here, besides you, and he's a really cool guy."

You liked Aaron, you had met him a week ago when he asked if you knew where the art class was and you had accompanied him, saying you were going there too, but sometimes he would say things that would skyrocket your want to slap him.

Over the next few days you'd gotten closer and closer and you'd noticed how most of the girls – and even some of the boys – watched Aaron at school.

He was new and that equaled interesting, he was blond and green-eyed, which for many cheerleaders equaled cute.

You also suspected that many of them were jealous that he was spending so much time with you instead of them.

Anyway, you didn't like him that way, of course you had to admit that he respected the canons of beauty to which people paid attention, but there were things more important than how symmetrical someone's face was.

"Cool? Do you want me to make you a list of all the reasons why I don't like that asshoke? He's selfish, obnoxious, vain, a bully....should I go on?" You crossed your arms over your chest.

"Nah, I'd like to listen to all your reasons but I have to go, honey. I'm going out with Jason and his friends later." He said running his fingers through his blond curls.

You raised your eyebrows, still hoping you misunderstood what he said.

"Seriously?"

"Seriously. I told you, they're cool guys."

"Like a stick up your ass."

Aaron burst out laughing. "Y/N, c'mon!"

"What? It's true!"

Aaron shook his head before grabbing his backpack and slung it over his shoulder. "See you tomorrow, okay?"

He smiled at you as he usually did, showing his perfect white teeth and rested a hand on your arm for a few seconds.

His smile was sometimes frighteningly reminiscent of Billy Hargrove's.

One thing you couldn't stand was the way he was always touching you. One arm around your shoulders, one hand on yours or your arm.

It always seemed like something too intimate, like the way he called you "honey" all the time, but you thought maybe it was your problem.

"Yeah, bye." You placed the last rags covered in color stains in their appropriate drawer.

"And think about the party!" He yelled before walking out the door, leaving you alone in the classroom.

"I won't!"

Eddie lingered in front of art class, watching some students leave after the last bell of the day rang and wondering why he suddenly had no idea how to start a conversation.

The last one to leave the class was the boy he had seen you with the day before, the one Dustin said was Aaron and that he wasn't your boyfriend.

As he walked out of the classroom, his gaze briefly met Eddie's, who was leaning back against the wall thinking about what he could do or what he could talk about with you.

And that look, it was definitely not the look of the nice guy next door who brings you cake as soon as he moves next to your house and offers to mow your lawn.

It was Jason's same look, it was the look of everyone who looked at Eddie as if he were trash.

It was the look of everyone who was sure Eddie was the leader of a satanic cult that no one would want anything to do with.

It was the same look as everyone who referred to him as a "freak."

Just the thought of you spending your time with that guy made Eddie think he had no chance with you and that he'd better go home and try to get over you. As if it was possible.

Suddenly, Eddie found himself alone in the hallway and for a moment he thought that you too had left the classroom and that he, too immersed in his thoughts, hadn't even noticed.

But no, it wasn't possible, he always noticed you.

He reached the threshold of the door and finally saw you, intent on moving a canvas in the corner of the room, on your hands there were still some traces of color that not even the water had managed to sweep away.

"Need a hand?" Eddie asked, surprising even himself.

You whirled on him, probably startled by the sudden voice but when you saw him, you smiled and Eddie almost forgot how to breathe.

"No, it's okay. I'm done. What are you doing here?" You asked as you grabbed a book off a table and stuffed it into your bag, before slinging it over your shoulder and walking towards him.

What was he doing there?

He wanted to see you, he wanted to hear the sound of your laugh and talk to you about any topic that crossed your mind because he was undoubtedly in love with you but too cowardly to tell you.

"Henderson told me you were here and I thought I'd come by and say hi."

He hoped it didn't sound stupid.

"Well, hi." You laughed as you walked out of the classroom, closing the door behind you.

Eddie watched you take a few steps ahead of you in the hallway before you turned to him.

"Are you coming or not?"

"Yeah, sure." He hastened to catch up with you.

"Today I'm walking home. This morning I woke up earlier than usual and it was sunny so I didn't use my car. Would you like to... walk me home?"

Eddie glanced at you to meet your sincere, hopeful expression.

"I don't live very far from here, don't worry." You added.

"Yeah, yes. Of course." He answered quickly, already kicking himself for letting you think that he didn’t want to go with you. He would have wanted even if you lived on the other side of the world.

You felt good spending time with Eddie.

You didn't quite know what it was but you felt the same sensation you felt when you sat in front of a fireplace in winter with a blanket on your legs and a book in your hands.

It was a feeling of calm and tranquility. You felt like you were really being listened to when you talked about the things you liked, that you weren't judged and you simply felt safe when you were with him.

It wasn't the same feeling you had when you were with Aaron. It was not even close.

Before you rounded the corner in the hallway, Eddie heard voices talking to each other.

"Wait, um-" Eddie didn't know how to say it. "There's  someone. It's okay if you don't want to be seen with me."

It was like a reflex, a habit. No one wanted to be seen with him other than the Hellfire kids and his friends in his band.

His words hit you like a knife and your heart started bleeding for that sweet boy you barely knew.

All those years he'd spent being treated like he didn't deserve to, like no one would ever deserve, like a freak, had made him think that no one would want to be seen even to talk to him.

It wasn't fair.

It wasn't fair for all of Hawkings to judge a person they didn't even know for who he really were.

"It's okay, Eddie." You you reassured him as you rounded the corner, finding two cheerleaders talking to each other.

And Eddie, hearing your simple words, for a moment really thought that everything was okay. That there was no social barrier to divide you, that you were really friends and that he had the possibility to become something more for you one day.

He also liked the way his name sounded when you said it.

As you walked down the hallway, Eddie suddenly felt your fingers brush his and when he realized it wasn't by mistake, your hand had already met his and you intertwined your fingers with his.

Strangely, Eddie didn't catch his breath or start sweating like he did whenever you were even near him.

He wasn't even nervous anymore. But he smiled.

He felt as if someone had lifted a weight off his chest and now he could breathe easier, as if with your hand in his everything could really be fine.

When you passed the cheerleaders your hand was still holding his, stready, secure, not letting go.

When you got out of school you kept talking all the way home and every time Eddie heard the sound of your laugh he wished he could record it so he could listen to it whenever he wanted as if it was his favorite song.

You only let go of his hand when you arrived in front of your house.

"And then I told my uncle that I'd found a job, but I actually sat on the sidewalk every day downtown and played my guitar with a hat on the ground hoping someone would leave me a dollar." Eddie finished, noting that he was talking to you about personal facts that few other people knew about.

"If I had known, I would have come and left you a few bucks, you know." You commented.

"I was twelve, Y/N. So you were ten. I don't think you had much money to waste at that time." He laughed.

"When I was a kid I had ice cream almost every day. I could have given you my ice cream money."

Eddie smiled. "Would you have given up your daily ice cream for me?"

"For you, that and more" You chuckled as you opened the gate to your house. "Thanks for walking me home." You added.

"Anytime, I like hanging out with you." Eddie still didn't understand where he had found all that courage.

One corner of your mouth curled up. "I like it too."

"See you at school, then?" He asked.

"See you at school, Eddie." You repead before disappearing behind the door of your house.

He stood there for a few more moments, even getting a glare from your neighbor watering the flowers in her garden.

When he said 1986 was going to be his year, maybe he'd been right.

Part 3

I thought I'd write a part 2 and stop but... I kinda like this. Maybe a little series will come out of this?

Who asked to be tagged in the second part will also be tagged in all the other parts so if you want to be removed, let me know <3

Tags: @jacklesdeanvessel @morning-sky7 @pipsqueakkitten @navs-bhat

Love you from afar tags: @capitanostella @enam3l @saramelaniemoon @ang3lb44by @einkitty @themorriganisamonster @esme-viridian @daisyridleyyyy @whenshelanded @eggo-segual @comfortcharactercraze @callmeyn @expiredcum21 @unholyyylita @squidscottjeans @twilight-love-nochu-main @idkatee

#eddie x reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff

[lovebugism]

Some blurb with grumpy fem reader and sunshine eddie?

He's constantly flirting with her and she only teases him or talking him down.

One time some cheerleader trying to flirt with Eddie and reader is so possesive, taking his hand and walking away. Eddie is wide-eyed, big smirk on his face and going after her with jumpy steps full of joy.

✶ ┄ SHE'S SO UNUSUAL !

summary: eddie's pretty sure he's loved you since the day he met you. you're pretty sure love is a neurochemical con job pairing: eddie munson / f!reader word count: 2.8k warnings: none? maybe just the faintest hint of angst? a/n: let's play a game of spot the steven universe reference because a clip popped on my tiktok fyp a couple days ago and even though i've never seen it, i simply haven't been able to stop thinking about it <3 anyways thanks so much for your request! hope you enjoy!

( BLURB SLEEPOVER ) | ( MASTERLIST )

Eddie’s pretty sure he’s loved you since before he understood what the word really meant. He didn’t know a lot of things, really, especially not as a lanky-limbed teenager trying hopelessly to navigate puberty in a world filled with assholes and uncertainty.

The only thing he could be certain of was all the love he had for you.

He’s seventeen and hopelessly stupid and you’re beautiful and eons out of his league. He concludes that having the majority of your gen-ed classes has to be fate and that making fun of you is the easiest way to talk to you without feeling like he needs to throw up. 

So he takes to bothering you every day before class and sitting at the table beside you — despite the fact that it had been assigned to someone else at the beginning of the school year — until the teacher ultimately gives up and lets him sit next to you. He pokes fun at your Blondiemerch and how the same She’s So Unusual Cyndie Lauper cassette has been in your walkman for a week straight and the way you dot your eyes with pretty little hearts.

Every joke is sprinkled with the faintest hint of truth, though.

He tells you that he hates Blondie but that the shirt looks good on you, because everything you wear looks good on you. He says it’s hilarious that you can’t seem to listen to anything other than Cyndie Lauper but that he understands because he’s been obsessed with Metallica lately — and that he’d love to show you some of their music sometime. He says only children put hearts over their i’s, but that it's real cute when you do it, when you do anything.

“You’re so annoying,” you inevitably tell him with the roll of your eyes when he tells you exactly that. He can’t tell if the way the corner of your lip quirks up is from a half-concealed smile or a look of disgust.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he shrugs and knocks his leather-clad shoulder with yours. “It’s not my fault that I’ve been in love with you since the moment I saw you. Actually, now that I think about it, it’s kinda your fault.”

He says it all with a playful lilt to hide how much he means each word. That he’s in love with you and has been since you were in middle school, when he had a godawful buzz cut and loving Rocky Horror Picture Show was your entire personality — at twelve. 

“Love at first sight doesn’t exist,” you argue while you mindlessly jot down notes from the textbook spread open between you, dotting every i with a practiced heart. “Love takes time and work. At the bare minimum, you should at least probably know the other person — and you don’t have a single clue who I am.”

He’s momentarily knocked asunder at your words, at how profound they are. It’s like a century-old philosopher is using a pretty highschool aged girl as a mouthpiece, and it only makes him love you more.

“Well, I could get to know you,” he retorts with a frown. “You just won’t let me.”

“Did you hear anything I just said?” you squint over at him. 

“Yeah. That love takes time,” he echoes and a grin pulls slow at his lips. “Good thing we’ve got all the time in the world, sweetheart.”

When two years fly by, and you’re finally a senior (and Eddie’s repeating his last year of high school over again because the one before it knocked him on his ass), you realize that he wasn’t kidding around. He still tries hopelessly to get to know you and jokes that he’s a second-year senior only because he “didn’t want to leave you behind.”

“Couldn’t just leave you by yourself, sweetheart,” he says with a defiant shake of his head. “No way. Not with Jason Carver and all the other freaks roaming around here.”

“Yeah, I don’t think they’re the freaks here, Eds,” you monotone as you put in the combination for your locker.

He immediately notices the use of the nickname. It took you a year to call him anything other than Munson, and now he’s moving into Eds territory? It feels like his heart might burst. But you don’t seem to notice it so Eddie decides to keep it to himself, like sunshine in his pocket, lest he brings it up and he never gets to hear it again.

He presses a hand to his chest and leans in next to you. “Ouch, babe. I’m wounded. Truly. Sorry for wanting to protect a sweet little thing like you.”

You scrunch your nose and swat his hand away when he tries to squeeze your cheek.

“Some would say I actually need protecting from you.”

 “I am capable of pretty dangerous things, sweetheart.”

“Like what?” you scoff.

Eddie only grins. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

You ignore the chill that his words shoot down your spine and pretend to be unbothered by the way they make your heart race. You choose to roll your eyes at him and stuff your arms with textbooks. “You better have a massive dick to back up that attitude, Munson, or people are gonna be real disappointed.”

“And by people you mean you, right?”

“Obviously not,” you monotone.

“Well, joke's on you, I’ve already disappointed everyone I know.”

“That’s not true, Eds—” you shoot back but then swallow the words when you realize you were about to say something too sweet. “There are billions of people in the world you haven’t met yet. There’s still plenty left to disappoint.”

“You’re real sweet, you know that?” he jokes with a smile. “Besides, if you’re really worried about the size of my dick, we can always break out a ruler and, you know, test your theory.”

“Ooh, sorry,” you wince. “I left my magnifying glass at home. Maybe some other time?”

“How about tomorrow?” he answers quickly and easily falls into step with you when you shut your locker and head towards your next class.

“I have a date tomorrow, actually. No can do.”

His heart stops and his throat swells and he forgets what words are for a moment or two. He can only blink at you for a few seconds. “A— A date?”

“Uh-huh. Jason Carver. He asked me out this morning.”

“You’re kidding,” he retorts bitterly with a scowl on his face. Then you start laughing at him and the world starts spinning again. He starts laughing too, but it’s more of a sigh of relief than anything else. “You— You are kidding?”

“Obviously I’m kidding,” you shove him. “Hell will freeze over before I am willingly anywhere around that guy.”

Eddie’s freshly beating heart starts to swell. It feels like more of an honor than it already has been, for you to want to willingly be around him.

“Oh, so you were just trying to make me jealous, then?” he squints over at you.

This time, you’re the stuttering mess as you try to figure out what to say.

He chuckles at you. “Because it worked, sweetheart.”

A couple of months or more go by and graduation nears — well, for you. Eddie’s still hellbent that he’s going to have to repeat another year, but you’ve made it your mission to get him to pass English.

He doesn’t even mind that it means he actually has to do the homework, as long he gets to spend time with you in the Hellfire room after school or share a snack with you at the picnic tables at Forest Hill.

It’s got him living in a state of grandeur. He’s hopelessly deluded, not only that he’s in love with you, but that you’re in love with him. And, for obvious reasons, you know that can’t be true.

Neither of you can be in love because you’re kids and you’re stupid and you don’t know a single damn thing about anything, let alone something as trivial and philosophical as love. It’s a neurochemical con job, everyone knows it. It’s not real.

Everyone thought Nancy and Steve were in love at one point, and then she called him bullshit at a party before fucking off with Jonathan Byers.

Everyone thought Jason and Chrissy were in love, too — that they would be everything Steve and Nancy couldn’t — and then she dumped him in front of the entire school after catching him being an asshole to a bunch of Hellfire club freshmen.

So, obviously, no one knows what love is. 

And by that logic, they can’t know when they’re in it either.

So you chalk up the butterflies and burning cheeks you always get around Eddie to being a dumb teenager who’s lonely and touch starved. Because it’s not love. It just can’t be.

Eddie begs to differ, though, and he swears he’s got the test to prove it.

It’s the spring assembly at Hawkins High, which means everyone’s gathered in the gymnasium on bleachers that are not nearly big enough to accommodate everyone, doing fuck all and grateful for not having to do any actual work. 

The cheerleaders do a couple of dances, the basketball team prances around the court — it’s all hopelessly pedestrian as far as you’re concerned.

You and the rest of Hellfire are located at the very top of the bleachers, as far away as you possibly can be from whatever the hell is going on below you. It checks out, though, because everyone else opts to keep their distance from the lot of you, too.

And you’re not exactly sure how the conversation started, but somehow you end up talking about crushes, and Eddie makes the too bold proclamation that you’ve got the fattest crush on him of all people.

“Leave her alone!” Dustin scolds him over the band, the only one actually trying to stick up for you. “Maybe this is something you should discuss, I don’t know, in private?”

You roll your eyes. “There’s no need. Because I don’t have a crush on you, Eddie Munson,” you tell him, stern and unwavering, as you squint over at him. Your glare follows the boy as he paces up and down the bleachers, two levels below you. “Sorry to bruise your ego.”

“Oh, so you won’t care if I tell Chrissy that I wanna take her on a date?” he asks you with a knowing grin.

“Why would I care?” you retort, then grumble. “It’s not like she would say yes anyway.”

“Well, she did ask me first.”

That quietens you instantly “…You’re lying.”

“Wanna bet?” he teases and leans down, resting his weight on the seating in front of him, until his face is level with yours. You can smell the nicotine on his breath and the mint gum he smacks between his teeth. 

If you were alone — and in some godawful teenage drama — you might’ve pulled him in for a kiss right there. At least, that’s what your brain tells you to do because your lips have started to tingle just thinking about it.

You hope Eddie hasn’t noticed the way your gaze falls on his own pink, plump, and very kissable ones. But the grin that paints his features then tells you that he has.

You play it off with a stoic expression and crossed arms. “Chrissy going from dating the captain of the basketball team to the town’s local freak would be an unprecedented low.”

“I’ll be sure to tell you all about our trip to Lover’s Lake tomorrow morning, sweetheart, don’t worry your pretty little head,” he promises before rising and spinning on his heels. He makes the trek to the lower level of the bleachers — a feat made more difficult by the crowd and the distance between it and him.

He makes sure to turn and look back at you every now and again, to make sure that you’re still watching him. You are. Of course, you are. And you hope the seething anger in your chest doesn’t show on your face.

“He’s not actually gonna ask her out, right?” Mike wonders.

“No way,” Dustin denies with the shake of his head. “The president of Hellfire can’t date a cheerleader… Right?”

Gareth shrugs. “He’s obviously bluffing.”

“Yeah, he wouldn’t do that,” Jeff agrees. He turns to look over at you. “He’s been in love with you since middle school. He just wants to upset you.”

“Well, it’s fucking working,” you grumble under your breath. Your heart races and your vision swims as you watch him near the group of cheerleaders sitting on the floor of the gym. 

You want to believe that he’s bluffing, you really do, but you don’t doubt that Chrissy’s asked him out.

After she dumped Jason, she’d gotten strangely protective over the Hellfire club — constantly making an effort to talk to them all, ensuring that the rest of the school wasn’t acting total assholes around them. Hell, she’s even started being nice to you and you weren't even in the damn club.

She’s been hanging around with Eddie a lot more lately, catching up in the library and ranting about tests between classes. Everyone’s seen it. You’ve seen it. And it’s made you unbelievably jealous. 

Maybe you never noticed it before now because you used to be the only girl interested in talking to Eddie. But now he’s got the head cheerleader around to keep him company, to ask him out on fucking dates, and it leaves you seething in your rage.

And if love is anger, then you’re head over heels for Eddie Munson.

You rise suddenly from your seat and shove your way through the bleachers, muttering lackluster excuse me’s under your breath as you go and elbowing those who refuse to get out of your way. 

You reach Eddie just before he’s about to tap on Chrissy's shoulder. You take that hand and nearly jerk it from its socket the way you pull at him. Eddie is stunned, for all of half a second, thinking it must’ve been a fuming Jason Carver at the force of the grip around him. 

But it’s just you, all but dragging him out of the gymnasium with the strength of ten men in one angry teenage girl, and it makes him smile so hard it hurts.

He traps the grin between his teeth and locks eyes with the rest of Hellfire from across the room. He brings two fingers to his forehead in salute before he’s pulled out of the gym entirely.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” he teases as you lead him down a long hallway. “Thought you didn’t give a shit if I asked her out?”

You don’t respond to his teasing. You just keep tugging him by his wrist through the empty school. He’s not even sure if you’re even breathing just now, or if you’re moving strictly on autopilot and rage.

You shove him into Mr. Kamisnky’s vacant classroom and lock the door behind you.

Eddie’s chest rises and falls with the heavy breath he exhales. “Well, shit, sweetheart... If I knew making you jealous was all I needed to do to get you alone, I would’ve done it a long time ago—”

“Say you didn’t mean it,” you interject, less than amused at his teasing.

“…What?”

“That you wanted to take Chrissy on a date,” you elaborate with arms crossed over your chest, protecting yourself, your heart. “Say you didn’t mean it.”

And Eddie laughs. He fucking laughs. Like everything’s a joke to him, like the mere thought of you being heartbroken over him liking Chrissy is funny to him.

It’s not. Well, at least not that bit. It’s laughable to him that you would even think he wanted anybody but you after he’s spent so many years fawning over you.

“Of course, I didn’t mean it,” Eddie scoffs. He tries to take a few steps closer to you, but you back away, not believing him. He softens. “I just wanted to make you jealous, sweetheart. I didn’t wanna… hurt your feelings.”

“Well, you did,” you monotone.

The boy’s brows furrow. “Hurt your feelings or make you jealous?”

“…Yes.”

A smile pulls slow at his lips. He tries to hide it but fails miserably. “Well, if it’s any consolation, I just wanted to see how you would react. And I am very pleased by this reaction… Even though my wrist feels like it’s broken.”

“Sorry,” you murmur to yourself, already embarrassed at how angry you’d gotten.

“Don’t be sorry,” Eddie declines with the shake of his head. This time when he walks toward you, you don’t back away from him. You even let him take your elbows in his hands and rub his thumbs over your warmed and jealousy-prickled skin.

“Actually, you know what, do be sorry,” he corrects playfully. “And make it up to me by taking me out. Somewhere fancy.”

You purse your lips to the side in attempts to hide your smile. 

“Benny’s Burgers?” you offer after a moment.

“Ooh. Burgers, fries, a milkshake, and a hot date?" he lists with a nod of approval. "You really know how to get a guy to swoon, don't ya sweetheart?”

#published by bug #stranger things x reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #stranger things imagine #eddie munson fic #eddie munson #stranger things #eddie spaghetti drabble #st drabbles #bug's blurb sleepover

[ellecdc]

(not a request, just some thoughts to ponder! godspeed regarding exams dear elle <3)

Thinking about ploy!marauders x reader who get together after Harry's been born? I would think that Remus and Sirius would have been together since school. But reader's always been stuck pining after her loves who were all already in relationships.

But once James and Lily separate the dynamic shifts and I can totally picture Sirius throwing it out there that they should all give being together a good go. James and Lily are still good friends, happily co-parenting.

Just stuck on the idea of what you think the reader and marauders role in raising Harry would be? would they be auntie and uncles? or function more like step-parents? And when James has Harry for the week how would that change their routine? Curious to hear your thoughts!

Lots of love :)

okay okay okay okay I don't have a fic for this but I have another request that I think needs this background for the head canon's I've been obsessed with based off of this suggestion (with @unstablereader's help)

so this isn't a fic but this is an inside look on how a lot of my fics are formulated 🤣😭

okay so I always hate the idea of Lily and James separating 😭 so either it was super amicable OR maybe Harry was the result of a drunken hook up between the two friends?? (before Jamie was with the other Marauders)

either way, I totally think the other's would have a parental/step-parent role. Like if the boys weren't called papa (Sirius) or da (Remus) etc, he'd certainly be like "at my house with my daddy and my moony and my pads!" and Pandora (I love me some good Pandalily) would be 'ma' and Lily was mummy.

So where @unstablereader and I went wild was maybe reader was our whimsical reader? And when Harry was quite young (toddler) and Siri & Jamie were aurors (so would be at work) and in a Voldemort free au we figured maybe Rem would start teaching earlier? That reader would watch Harry for them when it was Jamie's week with their son

And the boys were all obviously in love with her but none of them did anything about it yet. So we imagined this happening during one of Lily & James' exchanges or parent dates:

Lily: so, Y/N's been around a lot lately, yeah? James: oh yeah she's amazing; I mean, three of us and still our household would probably crash and burn if not for her Lily: *knowing smirk*, hm, so when are you guys going to make it official? James: I beg your pardon? Lily: please, Potter. I see the way you blokes look at her James: no no, it's not like that... *not convincing at all* Lily: James. Do you know what Harry calls her? James:........ Lily: he calls her "lovie". in fact, he calls her "his lovie". He thinks that's her name, James. James:...... Lily: he said, and I quote, "I was at home with my daddy, and my papa, and my da, and my lovie!" James:...... Lily: listen here; I have eyes, potter. and if she's as lovely as you're saying she is, you three better snatch her up before panda and I do.

then we imagined that maybe Sirius and Rem were close by

Sirius: *barges in out of no where* NO RED PLEASE YOU CAN'T DO THIS TO US Remus: Sorry guys, I tried to tell him to leave you guys to it. But now that we're here: Lils, please have mercy. The three of us can compete with you and Pandora??? Lily: you guys have a week and then fair's fair.

so a week later when Lily comes by to pick Harry up and reader is there

Lily: *sultry* hello darling y/n: Hello Lily! You know, if you'd asked first I would've said yes Lily: well if they don't treat you right, you know where to find us *James & Sirius come racing over* James: lovie, step away from the door right now Sirius: no more talking to Evans unsupervised *Remus walks in with Harry on his hip* Harry [speaking toddlerese]: mummy! is my wuvie going to wive at bof of Harry's houses? Lily: I'm not sure Has; what does your lovie think? Sirius: *panicked squawking* I SAID YOU CAN'T HAVE HER RED *throws reader over shoulder and disappears further into the house*

the end :)

#ask elle #marauders era #marauders au #reader insert #self insert #sirius black #remus lupin #james potter #poly!marauders imagine #poly!marauders fluff #poly!marauders #poly!marauders x reader #poly!marauders x you

[randombush3]

a sense of coming home

ona batlle x reader

summary: part two of this! ona and you are (frustratingly) still just friends

words: 6.5k (i have NO idea why i waffle so much but lets pls allow it)

warnings: there's like five secs of smut at the end

notes: this has been the most self-indulgent fic i've written because this is how i met my gf and so i am glad to show you a nice happy ending

again, the quote is from 'this side of paradise' (said gf's fav book - i don't recommend however because the protagonist is a twat)

also i didn't proofread bc i am exhausted and i am hungover and i am very ready to go to sleep (#globetrotting is not for the weak) x

There is something difficult about forcing oneself back to their toxic roots. Ona discovers as such as she presses her body into a temple of meaningless sex, but she does so because she is a driven person. Ona is determined to get over you, once and for all, except she’d quite like to stay friends (hence why she agreed when asked). She also thinks it would expose her to fall out because her feelings shouldn’t have existed anyway, so she technically shouldn’t be heartbroken? 

Anyway, Ona rampages through Manchester! They appreciate her accent – some even ask her to speak to them in Spanish when she is three fingers deep inside of them, to which she obliges with little fanfare – and it isn’t like the city lacks queer women. It is a super solid way to keep her busy, to tear her attention from hungrily checking your Instagram whenever possible. 

It’s also what lands her with coronavirus. She’s embarrassed to admit just how many people she has come into contact with when the club doctors ask her questions over the phone.

You send her a lovely message after hearing she is yet another fallen soldier. 

Ona is at home, isolating, and you are apparently trapped in Spain, unable to get into Italy. You haven’t quite made it to your parents’ house since your flight was supposed to depart from Madrid. “How come you’re not on the phone to one of your ‘connections’?” Ona asks suspiciously, wondering why this call has lasted longer than ten minutes. “Surely someone knows someone else and they can get you back home.” 

“I’m hardly out of my depth in my own country,” you remind her with a twinging sigh, pained that she has suppressed all memories of your childhood. “It’s not like I don’t speak Spanish.” 

“Didn’t you get rid of it in your head to make space for Italian and English? Oh, and French too, right? That’s where the fashion weeks are.” 

You laugh at her pride for knowing something about your job, but it is not to ridicule her. “I am speaking to you, aren’t I?” 

“In Catalan,” she points out. “Forget Spanish, but don’t forget Catalan.” 

“I can’t. It’s the language everyone uses to tell me about how fucked you’ve been lately.”  You take in a deep breath, uncomfortable with Ona’s silence but knowing your piece needs to be said. “Are you aware of what happened a few months ago? Why I missed the wedding?” One of your friends met her dream man and he whisked her off to Menorca for a small ceremony. Only the people she loved the most were invited, which included your childhood friend group. “We were in New York, a whole bunch of us. It was late but the show had been a big deal so we went out to celebrate, and… these ‘friends’, these people, they aren’t the same as you and me. Most of them are English, you know, and they come from very fancy schools where addiction is normal. Two of them ended up in the hospital that night – the bag hadn’t even made it round to me by the time they’d dropped. I know it seems far-fetched, but all I’m trying to say is that addiction has consequences. Bad consequences.” 

“So you’re not on my side?” Ona isn’t taking this too seriously. A few people have joked about her questionable new hobby, but no one has made it seem so dire that they have needed to get you involved. You who, of course, Ona will listen to. 

“I am always on your side.” 

That is her main take-away from the conversation, Ona chooses, when it ends an hour later. She swoons, meaning the last twenty women have been a waste of time, but she also tortures herself into ignoring the potential problem. Being a sex addict would be embarrassing, so she won’t be. 

Though your subtle shaming for her abundance of quick-fix flings is hypocritical, Ona would also hate for you to see her that way. You can avoid commitment all you like, but she is determined to be different to prove to you that she is a viable candidate, should you wish to stop stringing her along. It’s probably toxic; it probably means that you are both clinging onto a friendship that should either end or be labelled something else. It probably is the push and pull that has kept you interested, Ona thinks, because she knows that you like the chase. 

However, as much as she’d like to be freed of whatever game she is caught up in, she can’t seem to let you go like that.

… 

The next time Ona and you have a proper conversation about something other than how your love lives have been stunted or how people back home are not as successful as the two of you is when most of the restrictions have been lifted. 

You waited out the pandemic in Vilassar de Mar, much to your annoyance, but now that you can travel again, the first person on your mind to visit is your childhood best friend. You’re not as close as you used to be, having drifted further during even more years apart, but it does not dull your love for her, nor hers for you. 

Ona has changed her mind about Manchester and is forcing herself to like it. It works enough for a visit from you to be the last thing on her mind, and so she slows her response time down until the next arranged date to see each other in person is all set for the summer before the Euros in England.

You’re not quite home but you are in the country, and, with the pre-Euros camp in two days, Ona is spending the final few hours of calm left before the storm in the comforting presence of her mum and dad. 

And… you, apparently. 

“You weren’t supposed to be here yet,” is Ona’s greeting when she opens the front door. 

Your smile is wide and genuine, and you are holding a gift bag in one hand. There is a nice bottle of wine in the other. “Not even an ‘hola’?” When no reply comes, you swallow the emotions that have arisen; the ones that are maybe, just a little bit to do with how soft Ona looks with her hair down. And the slope of her jaw. And the ghosts of defined biceps that bulge even when she isn’t flexing her arms. “I’m dropping by to see your parents. I thought you were in Barcelona with your footballer friends.” 

“You visit my parents?” asks Ona curiously. 

“Of course.” 

With that, you side-step her and call out to her mother, announcing both your arrival and your desire to hand them their gifts. Dinner is just about to be served, and Ona is soon tasked with setting another place at the table for you as though the last ten years had never happened and your friendship hadn’t lost its innocence. 

Maybe it would be better for Ona to not know what it feels like to kiss you, to touch you, to – dare she think it – love you. It would certainly make things less painful, and would have saved her from catching at least one illness and spending a good amount of money on Ubers to escape from random apartments. It would make it easier to listen to you talk about your life in Milan, where you seem to exist in a bubble of incredibly attractive people who are desperate to hold hands and form a raft. 

“Modelling can be brutal,” you agree, nodding at Ona’s father as you follow on from his concerns about your career. He voices them regularly; whenever you see him. Ona realises you have spent a lot of time with her parents without her. “It gets quite competitive between the girls so I’ve been somewhat avoiding them. They’ve brought in someone new, scouted from Germany, I think, and I’m a little worried that I’ll have to switch agencies if they start prioritising her.” You glance at Ona, wanting to know if she is listening, hoping she is. You wish that she were as good at suppressing her feelings as you are. You wish she didn’t look at you like you hung the moon, because you know that you have to tell her you have hung it for someone else. “I’d move tomorrow, to be honest, but I’ve started seeing this guy and he’s convincing me to stay in Milan.” 

“The minute he is your boyfriend, you bring him here,” commands Ona’s mother in a tone she hasn’t yet used on her actual daughter (said daughter has never mentioned anyone before). “Show us a picture of him! Is he a model like you?” 

He is, and if Ona holds her fork tighter after she sees the photo you pull up, that is her business. You secretly take in her clenched jaw and furrowed eyebrows, and this might be the worst thing you have ever had to do. To see her so defeated, so hopeless, is upsetting, especially since you are harbouring the same feelings. However, you are able to admit when it is time to throw the towel in, and you can no longer live like this. 

Ona is too perfect for you. She is driven, hard-working, and funny. She likes to nutmeg little children on the street, and she likes to buy them an ice-cream if they slip a goal past her, slotting the flat footballs into imaginary nets and celebrating as though they have just won the Champions League. She knows a lot, more than she thinks she does. She cares about people, but sometimes it manifests in anger, in frustration. 

Any aspect of her is an aspect that you could love, and that is reason enough not to. Because how can you allow yourself to taint such perfection? 

But, in this unspoken rejection, the compliment is obscured from the recipient’s view. All Ona sees when you gush about how he buys you flowers and takes you out to dinner, is a burning, bright question. It flashes red and yellow, both as a warning and cry for attention. How can she compete if you don’t even recognise her as a competitor? 

…

“--And then they proceeded to finish a film they were halfway through as if it were the most normal thing ever,” Ona rants the minute she hits the concrete of Las Rozas, walking into the facility with Aitana and the other girls who travelled with her from Barcelona. Only the midfielder has been gracious enough to listen to the entire monologue, but the others joke that that is because Ona’s emotional state has led her to spiral in her native language. It is forbidden for them to openly speak Catalan in the Spanish camp, according to Jorge Vilda, who loves to hurl a ‘we can send you back to where you came from in an instant’ their way if he so much as hears a ‘bon dia’. Naturally, Aitana doesn’t give a fuck about the rule, although Ona chooses to believe that she is listening because she cares.

“Are you done?” Aitana asks thoughtfully, sucking on her bottom lip as she tries to absorb her friend’s crisis and formulate a valid, sensible response. The two have known each other for a while now, and Aitana remembers a time when Ona was relentlessly teased by their older teammates for being in love with her best friend. It is clear to her that those feelings never ceased, though she has heard through the grapevine (Leila Ouahabi) that you are now a model and you live somewhere in Italy. You’re part Italian, is what Leila also claims, having professed your ethnicity to a small huddle of fellow gossipers one day in the gym at the Barça training facility. 

“No! Nothing is ever done with her. It’s viscous and it continues in a horrid cycle that has me flapping around in circles like some idiot. I am one of her boys.” Ona groans dramatically, the sound perhaps a little too loud. A few of the girls in front of them turn around to see why a cat seems to have been strangled, but they quickly lose interest when they see it is just Ona and her disastrous situation. “Do you know how fucking humiliating it is to be one of her guys? I am a professional footballer! I play for Manchester United, one of the most historic clubs in the world, and I am about to represent my country in a major tournament. I am successful, Aita, and yet I am still not enough for her.” 

“Maybe she only likes men.” 

“A man has never made her scream like I have,” she bites back. Aitana blushes, but Ona is too far gone in her rage to hear her crudeness nor preserve her friend’s sanity. “She’s been like this since she decided she was gay! Isn’t that hilarious? ‘Ona, I think I’m gay’, she said. I know lesbian breakups can be hard, but there is no way my cousin fucked her up to this extent.” 

“I can’t help you with this, Oni,” Aitana laments, sorry to have to confess this to her friend. “I think you need to talk to her about it. A proper conversation to fix long-term issues, not like the ones you obviously had when agreeing to stop having sex and things like that. Only she knows what she’s thinking.” It is definitely not the advice Ona wants to hear, but she cannot deny the midfielder’s wisdom. “But for now, we focus on winning.” 

…

You are more than a little confused. 

To start from the beginning, Ona’s cousin fucked you up. She broke your heart, and that first impression of dating girls was incredibly traumatising. With girls, you don’t just kiss and sleep with them, you get close – really close – and then when you break up, it is like you have lost both a girlfriend and a best friend. 

Men are a lot simpler. Men like you and they aren’t shy about it. They can sometimes be just as cruel, but you have never felt invested enough to care too much. 

Some nights, you don’t fall asleep, tossing and turning between your sexual identity, aware that you don’t need to label it but desperate to… discover yourself. If you don’t understand that part of you, how will someone else? How can you be loved? How do you even know who you want to love you? 

For as much as Milan is great, it definitely doesn’t help you with your crisis. Girls in Milan like to do what they want. It is not uncommon for the models to kiss each other in clubs, in front of appreciative male gazes or not, and then reveal their engagement to their future husband the very next day. It’s easy to be drawn into such a bubble, but the minute you step out of it, you are hit with the real world. 

It’s what makes the pandemic so distressing for you personally, because you are forced to live like normal people for some time. Your eyes are held open and the question is shoved down your throat, and it really doesn’t help that Ona’s cousin never moved out of Vilassar de Mar. 

She sees you one day, saying hello from a suitable distance as you pick up milk as per your mother’s request. “I heard you’re modelling?” she asks with no agenda, no seductive glint in her eye. You notice the ring on her finger, and she feels the heaviness of your staring. “Oh, I got married a year ago. Did Ona not tell you?” 

You realise that you and Ona try to avoid talking about anything other than the love interests you have. “No, she didn’t. Congratulations, though. She’s a lucky woman.” 

“You don’t have to pretend you’re happy for me,” laughs the woman opposite you, amused and somewhat apologetic. “Look, I’m really sorry for how I acted when we were younger. I was definitely not the most mature person out there, and I know I hurt you.” 

“I cried for months.” 

“I’m sorry,” she repeats. You suck in a deep breath, trying to hold the memories of your pain at bay. “The first breakup is usually the worst but at least it gets better, as you probably know.” 

She looks at you expectantly, awaiting your confirmation. It never comes. 

“I haven’t dated another girl since,” you tell her, sounding rather detached from yourself. 

Her eyebrows furrow and she is clearly frowning behind her facemask. “What about Ona? I thought you were together when you lived in Madrid. It takes more than a friendship to do what you did.” 

You were originally going to go to university in England. It was your dream, and Ona wasn’t entirely aware of the situation because you hadn’t wanted to tell her you were leaving. Then she was sent out on a professional contract to Madrid, and it wasn’t like you were the only one leaving. 

Ona’s cousin, years ago, had suggested that you go to Madrid if you wanted to get away from Vilassar de Mar. “You’ll be close enough to come home when you’d like, but not so close that you’ll feel as though nothing has changed,” she had said. 

No one had known about your offers in England aside from your parents. And Ona’s cousin, who’d only found out because you had called her, drunk on celebratory champagne, because you had to tell someone. 

“You gave up a dream for her because you didn’t want her to be alone.” 

“I moved to Milan. In the end, she was alone.” 

“You sound like you regret it,” she replies, nodding once at you to bid you farewell and then heading over to a woman who is standing with a puppy in her arms. You watch as she pulls down her mask and kisses her wife, her eyes shining with love and happiness, and your blood runs green with jealousy. 

You hate Ona’s cousin for devastating you once more. 

Do you regret it? 

It’s unclear. 

You try to make sense of it when you don’t hesitate to fly back to Italy the minute you can, going home to lick your wounds at Ona’s non-committal response to meeting you when you are in London the next month. It hurts that she is no longer at your beck-and-call, but you are somewhat happy for her. You know that lines have been crossed and that she has suffered for it. You know that you are probably the one at fault here. 

This time in Milan, you don’t fight it as much. You kiss other girls and let them go home to their boyfriends; you submit to the thing you had convinced yourself you would never become. 

As you drive yourself deeper and deeper into your stereotype, the thought of Ona gets pushed away and newer, more culturally-acceptable fantasies come to mind.

It takes a photoshoot for him to ask you out on a date. 

It takes returning home and gaining the approval of Ona’s parents (who are far more open than your own) for you to agree to be official. 

You don’t ask Ona what she thinks. She’s busy, you reason, because she is representing Spain at the Euros. She won’t care who you are dating and she certainly doesn’t need it rubbed in her face. 

There are many reasons why you go out with him. 

One is that you do like him; he’s nice, he’s funny, he treats you well. (He’s not Ona.) Another is that rent is going up and him sharing the load is helpful. (He’s not Ona.) There is also that he is very popular within the agency, and your chemistry on camera is enough to keep your jobs rolling in and casting directors satisfied. 

He’s not Ona. You know that. 

That's the whole point. 

If he were Ona, you’d be deeply in love with him. If he were Ona, you would never leave the house, never leave his embrace, never leave the little bubble created when it is just the two of you and no one else. If he were Ona, you would be excited about the conversations he gently guides you into; marriage, children, where you are going to live one day. You’d miss him more when he isn’t here. You’d care. 

But you just… don’t. 

Another year passes, more Ona-less than the last, and then she is suddenly coming back home to Barcelona, a medal around her neck and word of a relationship floating above her head. 

You could ask her about it if you wanted to because she is still one of your closest friends, but the truth is, you really, desperately don’t want to hear it. While Ona has been falling in love with someone else, you have been proving your stupid feelings to yourself. 

The act (your current relationship) lowers enough for you to go home for Christmas. You leave Milan as though fleeing from a hurricane, and you refuse to control the damage until you have entered the new year. Your parents aren’t entirely sure they want you moping about the house, confused how someone so successful can revert to a moody teenager the minute they are back in safe territory, and they heavily encourage you to accept an invite that was extended out to you a few months ago. 

Your friends are going skiing in Andorra, and they’d like for you to come with them. 

“Ona won’t be there,” one of them regretfully informs you. “She said she doesn’t want to make things weird. She has a girlfriend – or, I don’t know, a talking stage. She wants you to have fun.” 

“But Ona and I are friends,” you try to explain, feeling exposed by the look of pity she gives you; the same look someone receives when they find out their ex has gotten married or something similar. As a defensive mechanism, you hastily pull out your phone and dial her number. Everyone watches you, now uninterested in their food as you dine and plan your holiday. 

Ona picks up on the third ring, escaping her dinner with Lucy and rushing into the cool, nighttime air of Barcelona. 

“Hi?” she says – asks – with raised eyebrows, wondering if you’re in danger. 

“You’re coming skiing with us, aren’t you?” 

Your friends hide their laughs behind their hands, surprised by how firm your tone is. You do not need it for Ona, because she does anything you say regardless, but they enjoy seeing this side of you. This is someone who has had to fend for herself in a foreign country. 

Removing the phone from her ear for a moment, Ona sighs, disappointed in herself. 

“Yeah, of course. I’ve missed you, you know.” 

…

Skiing is not something Ona is really allowed to do. As a footballer, her legs are what pay her wage. Career-destroying planks of metal are not the best way to spend the dying embers of the year. She knows that. She does, she swears, but she is so eager to go that Jonatan cannot crush her dreams. He tells her, “if you get injured your contract will be reviewed, Ona Batlle,” and she promises him that it won’t happen. Nothing bad is going to happen. 

It will be the first time she has spent more than a day with her childhood friends, and she is unbelievably excited. 

Lucy finds it adorable and makes it known, helping her pack for her trip, versed in what to bring because her sister skis or something like that (Ona can’t really focus on her almost-girlfriend's monologue). Lucy likes Ona a lot, and it makes her stomach flutter when she thinks about Ona and her friends talking about them. She’s sure her feelings are reciprocated, and she cannot wait for Ona to return to her in the new year, all smiles and lingering hangovers, and ask her to be her girlfriend. Officially. 

Your friends convene in the centre of Vilassar de Mar with two cars between you. There are ten people coming. 

Someone, most-likely trying to keep the peace, instructs Ona into one vehicle and you into the other. The drive isn’t too long, but you suppose that the tension is uncomfortable for those who aren’t accustomed to maintaining a friendship despite the weight of it. 

It’s five days, and you are determined to have fun. 

Ona is naturally good at this, although she claims it is her first time. You, living in Milan, are just as advanced. 

By the third day, the both of you agree that going off together to do some of the harder runs will be harmless. Spending the day together won’t feel like a date or a romantic holiday. Watching Ona glide over the compacted snow won’t be attractive, watching her cocky smirk as she scales the bumps along the side of the piste won’t do anything. 

It won’t. (It does.) 

And it just has to be the third day that someone pulls out two bottles of tequila and a drinking game that is going to ensure every single one of you is off your face by midnight. 

In rooms opposite one another, you and Ona call your respective partners and tell them about how great a time you are having, actively avoiding telling them about who you spent the day with as though it counts as cheating. It doesn’t, technically. Nothing has happened. But, still, it feels intimate and secret; forbidden. 

Then, there is a shout that rings through the house. Everyone comes to the table; the party has begun. 

Ona finds out that she is absolutely terrible at drinking games, and loses in every way possible. 

You find out that she is still just as touchy when she is drunk. 

Your friends try not to comment on it, all having agreed upon yet another passive role in such an irritating situation. Their non-interference almost ceases by the time Ona climbs onto your lap, head turning as she whispers something into your drunk ears, making you laugh privately. In fact, someone has to hold someone else back before they shout at the two of you to make out or break up. 

But it’s not really necessary, their prompting, because it hits a certain hour and… nothing else matters anymore. 

Ona has been touching you the whole night and you have finally reached your limit. 

Boyfriend be damned, you lead her to your bedroom. 

She asks you many times if you still want this, and you cannot think of anything to say other than ‘yes’. 

You’re not as drunk as she is, and you both know that, but everything feels so perfect and right. 

When you wake up the next morning, your anger is more at yourself than the sleeping woman beside you, but she is an outward target for such a boiling emotion and it just makes things easier. 

“Ona.” You shake her awake, not caring for her hangover. “Ona, I can’t believe we’ve done this.” She rubs her eyes, dazed and confused for a moment but coming to her senses soon enough. “I have a boyfriend, Ona, and… I don’t like you like that.” 

It’s not true. 

It’s really, really, really not true, but the fact that you have said it is enough for Ona to leave your room with the intention of never seeing you again. 

She gets the train back to Barcelona, turning up at Lucy’s flat in floods of tears, and barrels straight into those strong arms with the intention of never mentioning what she has done. 

…

You break up with your boyfriend a month later. Or rather, he breaks up with you, tired of being messed around, tired of your hesitation to fully commit. 

The break-up is not the most upsetting thing you’ve been through, but your ego is a little bruised.

You try to make it look like you are having a great time in Milan, even though the agency has once again discarded your file and overlooked you for shoots you used to book in an instant. You try to seem like things aren’t falling apart, but it’s of no use when your father calls you and tells you that your mother is ill. 

It isn’t cancer but it’s similar, and you know that you need to come home.

You pack your bags and leave without a second thought, because maybe Madrid was far enough. Maybe there is a reason Ona signed for her home club again and most of your friends still live relatively close to their parents. 

Maybe you are not meant to be separated from those you love, because running away is futile if you are always going to end up together again. 

In Barcelona, a modelling agency eagerly draws up a contract with you. Although you are from there, your career being based in Milan previously creates an international allure about you (or so they say), and you are assured that work is going to rush towards you as though someone has just knocked down a dam. 

Your job is secured, your mother begins treatment, but there is something you cannot shake off. 

It hurts to think of Ona, to think of how you left things, but it helps, too. Seeing her face in your mind is comforting. You hear her voice as you drift off to sleep, and you let it soothe you in your dreams. 

“Ona has a girlfriend,” her mother tells you when you next visit them. Her frown is unexpected because all she has ever wanted is for her children to be happy and loved. “It’s not right, it doesn’t feel right.” You begin to shrug your shoulders and crawl into your shell, but she interrupts your thought process; “I think you should go see her.” 

“Why?” 

The woman rolls her eyes. “Just do what I say.” 

You nod because she is so scarily sure about it, and you… It’s hard to believe, but you call Ona. 

She picks up. 

“I was sorry to hear about your mum.” 

“Don’t worry. She’s fine.” 

“Are you back at home?” 

“Yeah, I am.” You pause. “Well, not quite. I’m living in Barcelona.” 

Something fizzes in the air; pops, crackles. 

“Need me to show you around the city?” 

And it’s Ona, so how could you say no? 

…

Your visit goes very well. 

She takes you out to dinner and shows you around her neighbourhood. She introduces you when she runs into people she knows, and she is insistent about dragging you to her football match on the weekend. 

Everything is seemingly forgiven and Ona is intent on integrating you back into her life. 

She wants you to feel at home, though she knows you should already, and she wants to lessen the stress of hospital appointments and death and, if not death, then a difficult recovery. 

You are sitting in her apartment – now devoid of all signs of Lucy – on her comfortable sofa, watching something together after a day of walking around and sealing up the cracks that formed in Andorra.

Sitting leads into cuddling and then into wandering hands that eagerly roam underneath layers of fabric.   

Ona’s breath hitches as you brush the hard lines of her abs, your hands particularly drawn to them and just how strong she has become. “You must have only felt them on men,” she offers as an explanation. “How many have you slept with in comparison to–?”

And your hands stop.

“Sorry,” Ona mumbles, seemingly upset at her outburst. “I’m just curious. I can’t work you out.” She can’t quite look you in the eye, mainly due to the logistics of your position, but she isn’t sure she wants to see the truth attached to her statement. 

You question if that’s a good thing, the fact she needs to ask; the fact that she has no choice but to communicate. It was going to happen sooner or later. “A few,” is what you settle on. Ona leaves it at that, carefully pulling the hair tie from your plait, unravelling it with one hand as the other rests against your stomach in an embrace. You smile. “You’re not going to ask who?” 

Her fingers stop for a moment. “No.” She speaks so quietly, her voice almost a whisper in your ear. “I don’t care about them.” You relax into her more, feeling her against your back, feeling the softness of the blanket against your feet as it hangs at the edge of the sofa. 

“Who do you care about, then?” 

“You.” 

Carefully, both her hands hold your hips and she sits you up, smiling as she does. You tell her she’s showing off, she replies that you are always showing off. To that, you brush those hands from your sides and lean down to kiss her, more decidedly for once; more in control. It’s a surprising feeling for both of you, the forcefulness. Urgency. Not unfamiliar, but unexpected for this time on this day. 

The last time you kissed Ona, you had a boyfriend. 

Your mouth goes to her neck as soon as she decides that she wants her hands back on your hips, pushing you down into her lap. It’s now a competition, you think. She’s quickly coming completely undone by your kissing and biting, but you are not ignoring the feeling as she makes you grind down, makes you need that friction. “Fuck,” you moan in her ear. She grips you tighter. 

You start to pull off her shirt having had enough of the grey between you, asking if it’s okay, if she’s sure she isn’t too tired. Her reply is, “take it off, god,” and then the removal of your clothes that get thrown just shy of the wine glasses set out on her coffee table. Leggings aren’t the most practical for impromptu sex, but she’s quick and smooth and someone who has definitely done that before. 

With your bare chest on display and almost nothing between Ona and you, she lifts you up for a moment with the intention of flipping the two of you, getting you on your back. You pause for a moment, trying to decide if she’s doing it because she wants to or because she thinks that’s the only way to do it, but her hands are moving now, up your sides, round the front of your chest and you relax. She laughs quietly, amused, because the tension dissipates, dissolving like sweet, sweet sugar in hot coffee as soon as your legs wrap around her back. 

Ona asks before she does it, picking you up and laying you back down without needing to part her lips from your own. You watch her as she sits up, body in between your thighs. “You’re going to just stay there?” She shakes her head. “I can top,” you tease, a stark contrast from how it was the last time you did this. Ona doesn’t like being told she can’t do something. However indirectly. 

“Yeah?” You nod, biting the smirk out of your lips. “I don’t care.” 

You are in the process of rolling your eyes when her cocky mouth is put to good use. Your underwear was taken off at some point earlier — you hadn’t realised. Ona’s head moves between your legs, up and down, your hand that isn’t holding onto the sofa in her hair, the soft waves lacing between your fingers. 

She’s good at it; thorough, practised. Her tongue circles your clit for a moment before dipping into your entrance. Something about the cockiness of her movements, her tongue, her hand rubbing between her own legs, makes everything more surreal, more blissful. She moans softly, lips kissing their way up your body, hands no longer focused on herself. Instead, they take the place of her mouth, two fingers inside you as quickly as it takes for her to ask if you are okay to carry on. Your reply (“yes”) is cut off quickly by her mouth on yours, tongue swiping at your bottom lip in another question of permission. You can taste yourself on her. 

At her command, you sit up, letting her pull you back onto her lap as she sucks at your neck. “Don’t leave any marks,” you warn as her teeth pull a whimper from your supposed stoicness. “I don’t want the makeup artists asking questions.” It comes out too late, because you feel her teeth graze your collarbone quickly, not painful, no, but something that feels so, so good. “Ona.” She sighs in disappointment and adjusts where you are in her lap, so your legs are either side of her thigh. 

You find yourself rocking slowly, letting her savour your breasts between her hands and her mouth. She whispers that she wants to see you come, that you don’t need to hold back – not with her, not ever – so you start grinding down, harder, faster. Her hands drop back to your hips, guiding your movements, forcing you to slow down when she feels everything building up. Each time, you let out a “fuck” and attempt to go against her grip to get that friction. “Not just yet,” she mutters, no longer touching you anywhere other than where her hands meet your hips and her thigh presses between your legs. 

“Fuck off, Ona,” you breathe, frustrated. “When, then?” 

She slows the pace even more. “Can you last a little longer?” You look at her face, brushing away the strands of hair that have fallen over her eyes, ghosting your fingers along her cheek, running your thumb along her lips. She smiles again, eyes creasing slightly. 

As her hands drop to cup your face, you say, “you’re beautiful.” 

Ona blushes. 

You look down at her exposed cleavage, nipples pebbled against the sports bra that is unusually low-cut. It might border on intense staring as you begin to grind against her with the intention of actually getting off now. She laughs, saying her eyes are higher up than that, but going back to her trail of kisses along your jaw nevertheless. 

For what seems like longer than a few seconds, the build up finally stops, the tower toppling over in a rush of pleasure. Ona’s hands move your hips as your head drops to rest on her shoulder. She talks you through it, telling you that you look so pretty, telling you that she’s so turned on. 

And that’s when she whispers it. 

It has taken years to get to this moment, many of them filled with unnecessary suffering. 

It has taken years but it does not matter. 

Ona tells you that she loves you and that is when you have finally come home. 

#woso x reader #woso #randombush3 #barca femeni #woso imagines #ona batlle x reader #ona batlle #ona batlle smut

[6ix9inewiturmom]

Secretly crushing- Matt and Chris Sturniolo

Summary: You and chris are dating, matt has secretly liked you, you secretly like matt, and chris asks you about it, you try your best to deny it, but chris can see right through you and lets you have one little night with matt ;)

Warnings: Angst, Smut, oral (fem receiving), candaulesism (watching people have sex in front of you: i think this is the correct term) p in v, unprotected sex, degrading, threesome ish?, picture taking, praising, cream pie, Dom!matt!Dom!chris!Sub!reader, use of Y/N, squirting, multiple orgasms, begging, “sir” kink, picture taking, OVERALL FILTHY AS FUCK

A/N: I HAD SM FUN WRITING THIS!! this is my first attempt at writing something like this!! be kind pls

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The triplets and I have been friends since about 8th grade, I met Matt in science class, then met the other two, and became inseparable. were all 20 now, living in LA together. about a year ago Chris and I started dating. It has been absolutely amazing, we go out once a week on a date night, and he always puts me first, and the sex? oh, that's heavenly. I've always been closer to Matt rather than Chris, but I can't deny that I've always had a thing for Matt and Chris, when the boys and I hit high school, I could never pick between the two of them. all of my friends would always tell me 'If you had to pick between Matt and Chris who would you pick?' I could never answer that because deep down, I wanted them both, but I was happily with Chris.

Today the Triplets invited me to do a blind deaf and mute challenge for their channel, except because there was 4 of us one of us would have to be blind and deaf.

“MATT I WANNA BE BLIND” chris exclaimed

“Okay to solve this issue, i’ll be blind and deaf, chris can be blind, matt you can be mute, and nick can be deaf, is that okay?” i say standing in the middle of matt and chris as they argue about who’s who.

“i mean i have no issue being any of them” nick throws his hands up in defense.

“alright that works for me” chris shrugs his shoulders and smiles at me.

the fans knew about mine and chris’ relationship because chris and i was accidentally spotted on nicks live stream cuddling and kissing on the couch while he was on instagram doing a Space Camp promo, it was a rough adjustment, i was getting a lot of hate, but after a couple months people just kind of accepted it.

“So since we all got our parts we’re gonna get ready to bake cupcakes” nick explained to the camera.

i grabbed my Airpods Max’s and a bandana.

“i’m suprised you didn’t grab that cute silk blindfold you’ve made me keep in my underwear drawer” chris says behind me helping me put the bandana over my eyes.

“CHRISTOPHER” i use my hand and slap his arm.

i put my airpods on and start blasting my music. nick and i are jumping around singing the same song as our spotify’s we’re linked so we could listen together.

“NEVER HAD A BITCH LIKE ME IN YA LIFE” nick and i said in unison

“OKAY IS EVERYONE READY” i say screaming as i can’t hear or see shit hoping someone can guide me in the right direction of what the hell to do.

“she obviously can’t hear how loud she is” chris says in attempt to look at the camera but looking in the complete opposite direction of the camera.

i feel a pair of hands touch my shoulders and guide me through the kitchen because apparently i was standing out of frame. i assumed it was Chris, though chris never has this firm of a grip on my shoulders.

“THANK YOU BABY” i scream looking upwards trying to thank chris for helping me.

“what’d i do” chris looks around in confusion

“OH MY GOD NICK I LOVE THIS FUCKING SONGGGGG” i lean over and start shaking my ass thinking it’s chris “THROW SOME MO” not realizing it’s matt, he gets wide eyed, and his cheeks brighten up with a light shade of pink, but in his favor you can’t see it because his bandana is covering his cheeks. i feel someone grab and yank me away

“Y/N WATCH WHERE YOUR SHAKING YOUR ASS” nick screams holding my shoulders

“WHAT” i scream back

“YES Y/N” nick yells back at me, not being able to hear what i said

“OKAY CHRIS GRAB THE EGGS” Nick screams across the kitchen and i accidentally walk out of frame again, and the second i walk out of frame i feel the same grip on my waist this time guiding me back into frame. “IM SORRY CHRIS” i scream up at who i think is chris.

“MATT WHY DOES Y/N KEEP YELLING STUFF AT ME” chris says trying to ask matt for help “and where are they eggs” he walks around in practical circles

matt rolls his eyes and he walks to the refrigerator and grabs the carton of eggs for Chris and hands them to him.

“OKAY CHRIS OPEN THE EGGS AND CRACK THEM” nick tells right in chris’ ear

“HEY JACKASS I CAN HEAR YOU, YOU DONT GOT TO START YELLING WITH YA MOUTH” chris yells towards nick.

matt pushes chris out of the way and starts trying to tell nick to be quiet because of how close their neighbors are, me being blind and deaf i’m just chilling and dancing around to the songs that are playing.

“I WANNA HELP” i try to find my way to the kitchen island by holding my hands out infront of me making my way over to where the ingredients are.

matt is pointing at me and doing mixing motions with his hands trying to get nick to tell chris that i wanna help.

“WHAT ABOUT Y/N MATT” nick frustratingly yells. “OH OH CHRIS YOUR GIRLFRIEND WANTS TO HELP” he continues

“here Y/N” chris attempts to hand me the whisk and accidentally hands me the whisk with the dirty side facing me, i grab the whisk from the top.

“EW YOU HANDED ME THIS SHIT WITH THE EGG ALL OVER IT” i yell.

“OKAY Y/N I LOVE YOU BUT SHUT THE FUCK UP” chris yells back at me.

i grab the whisk and start mixing the eggs together at the best of my blind ability’s.

“okay matt’s telling at me to lower my tone so chris try to get Y/N to put a 1/2 cup of oil in the pan” nicks voice softens.

i drop the whisk in the bowl “I GIVE UP THIS SHIT IS NASTY” in my attempt to walk to the paper towels i walk over and almost hit the fridge but matt grabs my hips and leads me to the paper towel and hands me one. but again, being blind and deaf i had no earthly sense of who it was grabbing my hips.

“CHRIS STOP STOP” nick slapping chris’ arm to get him to stop pouring the oil into the bowl.

“OKAY NOW CUT OR RIP THE BAG OPEN AND POUR THE BAG INTO THE BOWL” nick screams again in Chris’ ear

“YOU THINK YOU THE SHIT?” i start yelling “YOU NOT EVEN THE FART” i continue singing along to the ice spice song blasting in my headphones, obviously in my own world, i start dancing around in the kitchen

“YES Y/N YOURE EATING THIS SHIT UP” nick exclaimed hyping me up “OH SHIT CHRIS STOP MIXING SO HARD WAIT LET Y/N DO IT” nick yells again grabbing the whisk and walking towards me and leading me to the bowl. i place the whisk into the bowl carefully and start mixing how i normally would and i feel matt (assuming its nick this time) grab my hand and slow my movements down.

“OKAY ITS MIXED UP NOW” nick once again yelling “NOW MATT IS GONNA POUR IT BECAUSE I DONT TRUST YOU GUYS TO POUR IT IN THE CUPCAKE SHEET” yelling in chris’ ear he throws his hands in the air.

“matt swear im gonna kill em, keeps yelling in my ear like a fucking animal” chris looks around at this point just talking to himself.

“OKAY WERE GONNA TAKE OUR STUFF OFF AND PUT THESE IN THE OVEN AND WELL BE BACK” nick yells before taking off his headphones, and tapping me letting me know to take off my headphones and bandana.

“nick you gotta stop yelling, you too Y/N” looking at me smiling

“i can’t hear or see, i was in my own world half the time” i say smiling back at him

“okay it says they gotta cook for 25 minutes” matt says reading the box to nick.

as the cupcakes are cooking we’re all in the kitchen cleaning it up from the mess we all made laughing at shit we did without realizing it, talking about how bad these cupcakes could turn out.

Chris pulls the cupcakes out of the oven and places them on the stove and we’re all looking at them admitting they look a little weird but still edible.

“okay we didn’t do HORRIBLE” chris admitted to the camera.

“i mean we definitely could have absolutely fucked these up so badly” i say laughing softly.

“WELL anyways that’s it for today’s wednesdays video! i hope you guys enjoyed it and we’ll see you guys on friday!” nick says before walking over and clicking the red button and ended the recording.

“so who’s editing, cause i don’t feel like it” nick comes back around to the kitchen island.

“yeah no i’m good, last time i edited i saw clips on tiktok over the poor editing i did” matt laughed

“i will” chris groans and walks to the camera grabs the SD card

“come on Y/N, i can go edit this and you can watch Gossip girl for the 50th time” chris smiled gabbing my hand and leading me to his bedroom.

“Y/N YOURE SO REAL FOR REWATCHING THAT” nick yells from downstairs causing me to giggle softly.

“okay ma, just lay down i got the rest” chris says in a soft loving tone with a smile on his face

as i lay down i turn on the tv to gossip girl and just lay down in the comfort of Chris’ room as he sits and gets on the laptop on his desk and begins to rewatch and edit the video with the occasional laughter.

“Y/N what the fuck is this” chris’ voice goes cold almost.

i get up off the bed looking a little confused “what are you talking about baby?”

he rewinds the video a little to see me grinding up on matt singing along to throw some mo “this isnt even the first either, you and matt flirted the WHOLE video, we can’t even fucking post this now, because of your dumbass” his voice raises

“chris, you do realize i couldn’t see or fucking hear right?” i turn to look at him who’s once loving eyes now filled with rage.

“yeah but don’t you think you should have KNOWN my touch?” he raised his voice. “in matter of fact” he starts and fast forwards the video “look at his hands, look at how they hold your waist, if you think that’s it hold on there’s more” he sarcastically says. “HERE, when you’re whisking his hands are GRIPPING on yours and you don’t even stop him” he stand off his gaming chair looking down at me.

“Chris i don’t know what you’re so pissed off for, i do understand we can’t post this now, but you’re mad because i couldn’t see or hear ANYTHING? me and matt are JUST friends chris” i say looking up in his eyes. deep down i knew i was lying, ive always loved matt more then a friend but watching these videos knowing it was matt now? i can’t help but feel a little turned on, i know it was wrong of me but damn.

“Y/N don’t lie, i see the way you look at matt sometimes, i’ve seen it since we were younger, but i thought maybe i had a chance, you can’t lie to me about how you feel about him” his voice stays in a deeper tone almost a hurt tone, but knowing chris he’s not gonna get all mushy with me.

“Chris what the hell are you even talking about?” i run my fingers through my hair.

“okay since you’re playing stupid, leave. i don’t care where the hell you go, just go away from me” his voice now in anger pointing at the door.

i press my lips together and nod before grabbing my belongings from his nightstand and slamming his door and walking downstairs.

“WOAH Y/N where are you going and why did you just slam Chris’ door?” nick questions.

i let out a sigh “he thought when matt was guiding me through the kitchen being BLIND AND DEAF, was me and him flirting, and when i accidentally starting throwing it back on him, BUT-“ i was cut off by nick

“OKAY FOR ONE, it wasn’t flirting, and for two, you didn’t mean it, you were blind and deaf, why is he so mad, i mean we can just cut those parts out, it’s not totally ruined” nick says in an attempt to justify my actions, matt was so deeply invested in his phone i doubt he even heard the conversation.

“well whatever, i’m out of here, i love you guys!” i say walking out of the front door carefully shutting it and making my way to the car.

i back out of the driveway and turn my music on to distract me of my thoughts but my mind clouds with thoughts of the way matt’s hands felt on my body, the way he grabbed my waist, the way i accidentally threw it back on matt. why was i thinking like that? my thighs subconsciously clenched together. god i knew it was wrong. but here i am, getting turned on over a man who is my best friend and my boyfriend’s brother. but he had this glow to him, it was addictive.

𝜗𝜚 The next day 𝜗𝜚

i didn’t really sleep much last night, i was anxious, horny, mad, all of the feelings in one. i lay in bed watching movies when my Phone pings, i turn it over to see a message from chris.

Owen 💍

Come over tonight, and wear something easy to take off.

is he for real? make up sex isn’t gonna fix anything.

Y/N

Chris? really? make up sex?

Owen 💍

Nah nah just trust me ma, you’re gonna love it.

Y/N

Okay okay i’ll see you at 6

what did he have planned?? but alas i accepted, i sighed and went to the bathroom and turned on my shower to wash my hair, and shave… for whatever reason. chris didn’t care about what i looked like but something definitely told me that i should shave.

6 o clock rolled around faster then i knew it. i did my makeup, curled my hair and threw on a tight, short, skirt and a white crop top with a matching black lacy lingerie set underneath it all.

i grab my purse and phone and drive over to chris’ shared house with his brothers. as soon as i get there i use my spare key and open the locked door, to find the living room empty, assuming they’re all in their separate rooms. i slowly make my way to chris’ room and knock a couple times.

“Chris.. it’s me” i softly say into the door.

“come in” he yells softly from the other side of the door.

i walk into the room and find matt and chris sitting on his bed looking at chris’ phone, i’m a little confused but i thought he wanted to have a sit down talk with me and matt about stuff considering how last night went.

“so Y/N” chris stands up making his way towards me “i want to first start off by saying you look amazing” he comes closer to me talking in almost a whisper while brushing his fingers tips on my cheek making me shiver.

i lean my head down “thank you” i softly smile.

“no talking” his voice gets sturn “im gonna be doing all the talking and you’re gonna listen like the good girl i know you can be” his eyes fill with lust.

i nod “yes sir” i bite my lip softly

“you’re such a good girl for me” he smiles.

“now since you want to be a little slut and try to flaunt around my brother… you’re gonna be treated like a slut and let Matt fuck you like one” he smirks.

“w-what..?” my eyes widen.

“you heard me. i’m gonna watch matt fuck you like the little whore you are” he spits holding my jaw between his thumb and pointer finger.

“understand?” he says gazing down at me.

“y-yes sir” i nod nervously.

“such a good listener for me yeah?” he smiles placing a soft kiss on my lips.

“now strip and show matt what kind of whore you are” he says and walking to his gaming chair sitting down manspreading.

i walk over towards matt who’s sitting on the edge of the bed, i smiling devilishly pulling the shirt over my head and throwing it on the floor and pulling my skirt down leaving me exposed in nothing but my lingerie set.

“you can touch her, no need to be shy now matt” chris spits adjusting himself in the chair.

matt grabs my hips pulling me closer to him harshly and admiring my figure before him, running his fingers up and down my waist slightly running his fingers over my clothed nipples which hardened over his touch.

“you’re so fucking sexy” matt says in a husk whisper.

“t-thank you” i smile at matt.

“nu uh stop talking. you’re only gonna speak when i ask a question, got it?” matt’s eyes darken with lust.

“y-yes sir?” i questioned him not knowing if that’s what i say, i know chris likes it but considering i don’t know how matt is, im nervous.

“you treat him how you treat me Y/N” chris speaks from a couple feet away admiring how i react under matt’s touch.

i nod softly returning my eyes back to matt still gazing at my figure under his fingers. he wraps his arms around my back to unclip my bra letting it fall off my shoulders, his eyes widen slightly at my bare breast as his lower lip goes between his teeth.

his lips attached to my breast taking my hard nipplr between his teeth sucking harshly making my head go back and a soft whimper escape my lips as he massages one breast and his lips around the other occasionally kissing my nipple and switching breast.

chris’ eyes never leave me watching me come undone from his brothers touch. “you’re such a whore Y/N” chris speaks under his breath.

matt detached his lips from my breasts and uses his hands to rip my underwear off my legs and picking me up and throwing me on the bed letting a whimper fall from my lips at his harshness. he adjusts himself between my legs and comes up to face me and places a harsh hungry kiss on my lips swiping his tongue over my bottom lip almost begging for entry. as soon as my mouth open slightly he uses his tongue to explore my mouth fighting my own tongue for dominance he obviously won. his hand creeps down to rub his fingers through my wet folds of my pussy and letting a soft groan to escape from his mouth at my own wetness.

“so fucking wet for me yeah?” he says smirking into my lips.

he stands up using his hands to grab my ankles yanking me to the edge of the bed and immediately attacking my pussy with his mouth leaving open mouthed kissed on my clit.

“M-Matt, so fuc-fucking good” i moan out struggling to get a full sentence out of my mouth.

chris chuckles from across the room in a mocking manner. matt continues to flick his tongue over my clit now using his middle finger to enter my aching hole and curling it upward leaving me a moaning mess with just his mouth and fingers. he whines into my pussy “you have the sweetest fucking pussy”

i moan in response as he adds his ring finger in me as his cold rings hit the entry of my hole over and over again. my hands goes down to run his fingers through his hair.

“did he say you could touch him Y/N?” chris stands up from his seat walking to the other side of the bed and grabbing my wrist to pin them over my head.

i violently shake my head as my legs begin shaking and my cervixs contracts around matt’s fingers.

“Y/N i asked you a question” he says sternly looking at me. “did he say you could touch him?” he spits looking down at my fucked out face.

“N-no s-sir” i stutter out in a whimper. “cl-close” i scream out.

“beg” matt mumbles against me.

“i-i can’t” my eyes roll back into my head with moans spilling out of me.

“beg him Y/N, or you’re not cumming the rest of the night, and believe me, you’re in for a LONG night” chris says smirking still holding my wrists pent above my head.

“p-please s-sir, i’m so, so close” i whimper out.

“beg harder” matt’s head lifts up looking down at me while his fingers plunge into my at a ungodly speed curling them upwards hitting my spot sending me over the edge.

“please” i repeat a couple times “i-ill be- good” my back arches off the bed.

“cum” matt harshly says, which is all it took to send me into a euphoric orgasm as my cum drips out of me and onto his fingers.

chris let’s go of my wrists smiling down at me with nothing but lust in his eyes as my eyes trail from his eyes down to matt who’s undressing himself pulling his sweatpants and underwear down in one swift motion letting his hard needy cock to spring up and hit his stomach, he was pretty close to chris’ size but matt had so much more girth to his.

“you like what you see?” matt taunts.

i nod with a smile on my lips.

“get on all fours” matt’s once smile turns into a smirk looking up at chris who’s also smirking over at matt.

i flip over with my ass flaunting in the air and using my elbows for support and speeding my thighs and legs apart slightly for matt.

matt rummaged through chris’ bedside table for a condom but was quickly stopped by chris.

“no since she wants to act like a whore, you can fuck her like one and fuck her raw” matt smirks over at Chris’ comment and walks towards the edge of the bed and using his cock and slapping my pussy harshly with it letting a loud whine from me.

“someone’s sensitive” matt chuckles taunting me as his slides his tip up and down my soaping wet folds.

he slides just the tip in at first before inching his way in allowing me to adjust to his size as he bottoms out letting a groan escape from his lips and a screech from my lips come out.

“fuck she’s so tight” he groans and mumbles out.

chris smirks walking backwards till his back hits the wall crossing his arms watching matt fuck himself into me.

he starts thrusting in and out pulling out except for the tip and thrusting hard bottoming out each time before thrusting faster and harder.

“Matt” i moan out dragging out the ‘t’ of his name.

his left hand grabs my wrist wrist cuffing them behind my back using his right hand to push my head into the mattress containing his pace in and out of me.

“C-close” i muffle out in the sheets

“no, you’re gonna hold it” matt sternly replied.

“p-please” tears of pleasure form in my eyes as i whimper and scream.

“hold it” he forces my head deeper in the mattress

“c-ca-“ i was cut off by my orgasm gushing out of me squirting all over his cock and thighs leaving a puddle beneath me.

“that was incredibly hot Y/N but, you’re in deep shit now” matt pulls out flipping me back over my back staring down at my glistening red sensitive pussy.

chris shoots matt a smirk and walks over to his dresser ruffles through it pulling out my pink vibrator i use on occasion with chris or when chris is on tour, and throwing it to matt.

matt immediately turns it on the highest setting and placing it on my sensitive clit and pushes himself in me giving me no time to adjust.

matt forces my knees to my chest spreading them open to allow room for the vibrator on me, thrusting heavily in me kissing my cervix with his tip.

i’m a moaning mess beneath him as chris comes around placing his hands on either side of my head.

“is it too much princess?” he taunts smirking.

i nod vigorously as a response as screams and moans escape from me while matt continues to pound himself into my grunting with each thrust.

“this is what happens when you don’t listen Y/N” matt growls down at me as i can feel another orgasm approaching in my core as i tighten around matt again. chris stands up a little and pulls his phone out and opens his camera to get a picture of my fucked out expressions with my mascara pouring down my cheeks and lipstick stains down my chin as he smiles at his phone.

“are you close?” matt removed his hand from my knee still holding the vibrator against my clit, he used his hand to hold my throat softly squeezing my neck on the sides making me see more then just stars now.

“NO” i scream out but my trembling legs gave me away as my cervix spasms around his cock thrusting in me.

“are you close” his grip on my throat tightens as he moves the vibrator around my clit making my eyes roll back and my back arching off the bed.

“NO” i scream out again with more tears falling from my eyes from the overstimulation and pleasure.

“i don’t believe you” he spits smirking at me.

“Fu-fuck” my voice shakes and my throat becomes dry “C-CLOSE” i horsily scream out.

“i know you are baby, come on, cum on my cock” matt’s voice becomes softer as my legs shake and i contract around his cock squirting once again on his torso, cock, and the bed.

his thrusts become sloppier throwing the vibrator on the bed somewhere else as he thrusts in me a couple more times before coating my pink walls white with his cum as he pulls out slowly watching his cum come out of my hole smiling at me.

“are you okay” Chris and matt said in unison smiling at me and back at eachother.

“y-yes” i said out of breath.

chris and matt chuckles.

“i’ll change the sheets” matt says helping me off the bed placing me down on the floor making sure i don’t fall over.

“i’ll go run her a shower real quick” chris comes over towards me picking me up bridal style and carrying me to the shower.

“i-im sorry i never told you ab-“ i start.

“don’t worry about it ma i promise, me and matt are fine, me and you are even better i promise you that” he says kissing my lips softly before putting me in the shower and helping me shower.

“i love you” i say smiling at him as he massages my scalp.

“i love you most” he smiles back at me rinsing my hair out.

we finish showering after putting on some of chris’ clothes on me then making our way back to chris’ room as matt finishes changing the sheets smiling at me.

“i can’t believe you got her to squirt before me” chris chuckles breaking the silence.

“YOUVE NEVER GOTTEN HER TO DO THAT?” matt’s eyes widen as a smile peaks from his lips.

“nope” me and chris said together.

we all laugh softly “wait where’s nick? i really don’t want to explain this to him…” my voice trails off.

“well after chris came to me with a proposal about all this we made him go to a friends house for the night, and told him that i was also going to a friends house so he wouldn’t get suspicious” matt says kind of laughing at himself.

“well then can we all watch a movie together?” i smile at both chris and matt

“of course we can” chris chimed in making his way to the bed and placing me in the middle of the bed as matt is on one side and chris on the other turning on the TV putting on Gossip girl for me.

“i never understood the plot of this fucking show” matt says looking over at chris then back at me who already fell asleep. “and she’s out” matt says smiling

“this is typical Y/N” chris says laughing “i just roll with it” he adds turning back to the TV, and slowly both of them fell asleep with me in between both of them peacefully.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

A/N pt 2: SO I GOT SO CARRIED AWAY WITH THIS I HOPE YOU GUYS LIKED THIS AND ENJOYED IT AS MUCH AS I DID WRITING IT!! i love you all and tysm for over 400 followers!! 🩷🩷

XOXO

gabs 💋

#Spotify #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo smut #the sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo smut #matthew sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo

[ponderingmoonlight]

Having to share a bed with Gojo Satoru at a love hotel

Listen...I've got a little carried away by this one. While I'm currently writing for Geto and Toji, this part will only contain Gojo as it ended up so damn long. Hope you still enjoy <3

Part l (Megumi, Nanami, Yuta)

Part lll (Toji, Geto, Haibara, Choso)

Sharing a bed with JJk men pt ll

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x fem!reader

Word Count: 2,8k (this was supposed to be a cute little one shot lol)

Warnings: No real smut, but it's getting REALLY spicy - you have been warned...

Synopsis: After pretending to be in a relationship with Gojo for some time, the two of you seem to be the perfect match for a mission at a love hotel.

It is ridiculous. You both know that all too well. Will it stop you from pretending to be Gojo’s girlfriend even though you aren’t more than friends? Absolutely not. You’ve been doing this for a while now, at the beginning only to take him as your plus one to a wedding and for him to fake proposals at restaurants for free meals. You are very aware of the fact that this is already going too far, especially when you consider that whole Jujutsu High seems to believe you.

“Hello there Gojo-bear!”, you cry out.

But it’s just way too fucking funny and comfortable to stop now. The thing is, it has a whole lot of benefits: easier missions, raises over raises, less trouble because everyone seems to fear your ‘boyfriend’ but most importantly you get to spend some time with Satoru himself. You hate to admit it, but the way he smiles down at you and wraps his arm around your waist does things to you you’d never say out loud.

“There you are honey!”, he replies with a sly grin, embracing you in his arms just like he always does.

The problem is, you just know that it isn’t more for him than a joke. Your heart stings in agony just thinking about the way he immediately scoots away from you as soon as nobody’s around anymore. To Satoru, you really are nothing more than a friend he enjoys to spend time and mess with.

“Yikes, why is this so cringe?”, Nobara mutters.

“Just wait until you find your true love, kids”, Satoru shouts towards them.

Fuck that ass eating smile of him and the way it makes your heart flutter. It’s all a lie and nothing else. Nothing but a made up story. Remember that.

“Satoru, (y/n). I have a mission for you. Follow me.”

The harsh voice of Masamichi Yaga pulls you out of your distress. A mission for both of you? Normally Satoru is sent alone. After all, he is the strongest and every other jujutsu sorcerer is only in his way. What is it that makes him think it is a good idea to send the both of you together?

“We were informed about a curse that killed over 100 couples within the span of a few weeks in several love hotels located in Tokyo. As you guys are the most disgusting couple I’ve ever seen, both of you were assigned to stay at the love hotel with the greatest number of deaths and exorcise that curse once and for all. Understood?”

It’s like your world turns upside down. Did you really hear that correctly? This has to be a joke, right? Ain’t no way he really thinks you and Satoru…Your gaze wanders to his shamelessly gorgeous face that seems as unbothered as usual. Of course. Everyone thinks you are a couple. Therefore, you are a perfect fit for this mission.

“Nothing easier than that. Just send me the location and we’ll get this done in no time. Right honey?”

“Right…”, you mumble.

“You know what that means, right?”, you hiss into his ear after leaving the director’s office.

“Yeah, a free night in a luxurious hotel on the back of the school!”

“No.”

You sign. How the hell is he so unmoved by all of this? Not even Satoru can be too dumb to realize what staying in a love hotel in order to exorcise a curse means…Right?

“If this curse only shows up in front of couples at love hotels then…then…”

Your mouth refuses to say it out loud. No, you are too prideful to confess to him that it makes your knees go weak and your heart bang inside your chest. Why do you bother anyway? You stretch your shoulders and look at him, face hardened.

“Let’s just get this over with.”

The ride into the heart of Tokyo is longer than you remember it, considering Satoru is sitting right beside you and watching anime on his phone.

“Damn, this part gets me every time”, he almost sobs.

“How often did you watch that already?”

“I lost count at 17. What is that look on your face? Don’t you know what happens next?”

“I never watched that one”, you admit, casually shrugging your shoulders.

Satoru drops his phone, intense gaze piercing through you even though he’s wearing glasses.

“You’ve got to be kidding right? You are my girlfriend and you never-“

Thick silence, your eyes widen at the sound of this words coming from his mouth. Girlfriend? Did he actually say that?

“I mean fake girlfriend of course. Just getting ready for later I guess”, he adds along with scratching the back of his head.

“Sure”, you reply automatically.

Can your heart just stop beating so damn loud? This is ridiculous, it was a slip of the tongue and nothing more.

“Listen, (y/n)…As soon as we step through the door of that hotel, you have to be my girlfriend”, he instructs you in a dead serious voice.

“No need to tell me, Gojo-bear…”, you comment dryly, more directed towards yourself than him.

After all, it is you whose love isn’t just a funny little prank. Your feelings are more than real, considering you can almost hear your heart shattering like fragile glass. How stupid it was to even think he could somehow feel the same way, that it’s more than a game to him. Who knows how much time he spends with other women behind your back…

“This is it. Are you ready?”

Get. Yourself. Together. You smile confidently and nod. Being in love with Gojo Satoru might be senseless, but revealing your true feelings towards him is even worse. No, you are way too prideful to give him that. Without thinking twice you grab his hand tightly just like you did multiple times before. You will get through this and bring this madness to an end after this mission.

“Hey, we’ve booked a room here for two.”

“The name?”, the man behind the desk asks while eyeing you intensely.

Fuck, don’t let your face turn red, withstand his gaze. Maybe he’s asking himself why a man like Satoru is with a girl like you…

“Gojo Satoru.”

“There you go. Feel free to use the elevator and call immediately if something is strange. Please check out before midday. Have a nice stay.”

“We sure will!”, Satoru replies with a cheeky grin before taking the key card and maneuvering you into the elevator.

“God, I can’t wait to be alone with you baby.”

You feel like choking while staring at him. Did he really just say that, is this for real?

“Listen, (y/n)…As soon as we step through the door of that hotel, you have to be my girlfriend”

Your heart sinks. Calm down, idiot. It’s only for the mission. You never know when and where the curse is, so it just makes sense to play along until it shows up. Reluctantly you smile at him with dead eyes. Why does this hurt so fucking badly? You pretended to be his girlfriend for more than a year now and it never bothered you that he held your hand and called you stupid nicknames. But this…This is something completely different. You are at a love hotel and Satoru is straight up trying to seduce you. How the hell are you supposed to feel about all of this?

“Let’s go, shall we?”

His hand rests on your hip while he leads you to the right room with ease. It feels like his hand burns against your skin, suddenly the air is way too hot to breathe properly. You want to get out of here, away from Satoru but at the same time you need him so much closer…What has gotten into you?

“Hey, no need to be nervous babe, I got you”, he breathes against your outer ear.

“I just…never done something like this. That’s all”, you admit dryly while avoiding his gaze at all cost.

“I’ll guide you, no worries.”

He closes the door behind you and cages your body with his. You are trapped between Satoru’s arms, no way to escape his intense stare and the way his large frame feels pressed against yours. At this point it seems like all of your senses and the ability to interact have simply vanished from your body. His gaze is…filthy, completely occupied by lust as it seems. You feel like your knees will give in any minute, heart almost pounding out of your chest while blood begins to pulsate between your legs. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Are you fainting? What is this feeling?

“I’ll make you feel the way you deserve it”, Satoru rasps.

Before you can react, he lifts you in the air with ease and throws you on the soft bed in the middle of the room.

“S-satoru…I-I…never done this”, you repeat with choked voice, sweat dripping down your face while you desperately try to stop yourself from wincing.

God, he makes you feel so weak with the way his eyes hungrily linger over your body and seem to swallow you whole.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle.”

And then it happens. His lips brush against yours. Slowly at first, almost sweetly. You close your eyes, hands automatically grabbing his strong biceps in a frantic attempt to get a hold of this situation. Is all of this a dream? Impossible. The way his arms are wrapped around you while his unmistakable scent fills the air around is way too real for that. Satoru picks up the pace, his tongue inviting itself into your mouth to get instantly into a tangled dance with yours. Fuck, this feels so good, almost like you’re on drugs – addicted to his touch and kisses.

“Satoru”, you literally moan into his parted lips.

You need to feel his body even closer, his touch a little rougher, his lips even better. You want more. No, you need more. More of the drug that only Satoru Gojo seems to be able to give you.

“I-I need more”, you stutter, eyes gleaming in pleasure.

“I would give you the world, (y/n). Fuck, I’ve been waiting for this moment for so long…”

“How much I hate all of these fucking happy couples. Die! All of you, die!”

It’s like you get hit by a train when the distorted voice of a stranger fills the room with hatred and disgust. Satoru’s body blocks the view of the curse making its way through the ceiling at the speed of light. Automatically, you claw into his upper arms for hold.

“Took you quite some time to get here. I was almost afraid that you wouldn’t show up for our rendez-vous.”

“Would you mind letting me go for a second, darling?”, he words addressed to you.

Your hands let go of him immediately, body rolling to the other side of the bed in order to give Satoru the room he needs. The fight itself doesn’t take long. In fact, you aren’t even able to catch a glimpse at the curse before the room is lit up in purple, lilac glibber raining down on the bed with pieces of the ceiling, threatening to hit you right in your face. Pressing your eyes shut, you surrender to your fate. Not the first time you get covered in the remaining of some disgusting curse…

“Do you really think I’d let you get covered in this? You don’t know me well, darling.”

When you open your eyes again, you aren’t greeted by lilac glibber. In fact, it stopped right before hitting you with full force. You let out your breath you didn’t know you were holding, gaze finding Satoru’s bright blue orbs that seem to glitter.

“I’d say we smashed that mission”, he proudly announces, shaking the remaining of the ceiling and curse away from both of you while lifting himself off the bed.

You slowly get up from your trance, heart completely shattering at his words. You smashed the mission? Is this everything he is able to think about? Just seconds ago he laid on top of you, his tongue in your mouth while he told you over and over the finest things you ever heard from him. Everything nothing but…a lie? You want to get away from him as soon as possible, the pictures of him and you burn into your heart like a fuel rod. It was all just a game for him, a necessary price he had to pay to complete the mission.

“Thank god we did”, you hiss and abruptly jump out of bed, body swaying back and forth in dizziness.

Salty tears start to burn in your eyes, flooding over any second. No, don’t cry. What about your pride, how you always carried yourself with your head held high? A sob shakes your body before you can stop it. Fuck all of that. This hurts like hell.

“Hey, what is going on? Are you sad because I didn’t let you have your moment with that curse? Y’know, he was a pretty weak grade 1 any-“

“Is all of this a joke to you?”, you yell into his face, tears now running like a waterfall while your chest feels like it’s going to explode.

Satoru’s eyes widen in horror. Fuck, he never saw you like this. And the worst is that he seems to be the cause of your tears.

“You’re anything but a joke to me, (y/n)”, he replies dead serious.

“All the things you said were nothing but a big lie! All these kisses meant nothing to you!”, you cry out.

“(y/n)-“

“They did to me though. I never shared a bed with a man before, Satoru. It was special to me.”

Your voice sounds so defeated that Satoru instinctively gets up and walks towards you.

“But it was special to me too, (y/n)! It was always more than just pretending for me.”

“Stop kidding me. This pretending comes to an end right now. From now on, I’m not your fake girlfriend anymore.”

“Good, that’s what I wanted to say.”

You nod to yourself while his cruel words hit you like a wall all over again. So this is how it comes to an end. You always knew that sooner or later, you wouldn’t be able to keep up with the lies anymore. How were you supposed to build a future on top of a pile of foul lies? It was beneficial as long as it lasted. You shouldn’t have expected more from the start.

“I don’t want you to be my fake girlfriend anymore. Please, just make it real and official. I loved you this whole time (y/n). It always felt better to pretend than to potentially not having you at all. Today showed me that I can’t be without you, that I want to share a bed with you every night and not just for a mission. I’m beggin’ on my knees if I have to, please be my girlfriend.”

Time stands still, you are unable to move as your mind desperately tries to process what he just said. He want you to be his girlfriend…for real?

“Stop messing around with me, Gojo”, you warn him.

But a little voice inside you tells you that he isn’t lying, that his face tells nothing but the truth. Can it really be that the Gojo Satoru wants you to be his girlfriend? Your skin starts to prickle while your heartbeat picks up in an instant. Please let this be real…

“I’m not. I want to hold you like I did before that fucking curse appeared every hour of the day and not just when someone’s around, (y/n).”

“But…Why did you always break away from me when we were alone? You could have just told me, I-“

You stop. You did it just like him. Pretended that it’s nothing but a stupid joke to you, that Satoru didn’t mean more than a friend does. You told yourself over and over that your feelings aren’t real, that you are just a good actor. Oh, but it was so much more. It is so much more.

“I did the same”, you confess your thoughts to him.

“Please, (y/n). Let’s make it real, no pretending anymore. Be by my side.”

His hands gently cup your face while your arms instinctively wrap around his neck.

“Nothing better than that”, you mutter before pressing your lips against his.

“You know, that bed is still looking good and we’ve booked for a night…”

“Let’s not waste the precious money of Jujutsu High, then”, you moan while he bites down your neck.

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