#i stop and close the tab and go do something else

[mxtantrights]

Can you write a Jason Todd x reader where they knew each other before he dies but then they reunite. Maybe they were robins at the same time. Y/n has element powers and their eyes change colors based on element currently using. They are afraid of having too much power. Established relationship please!!! I cannot handle slowburns

Broken Bird comes home

the night Jason died was the worst night of your life. The worst. No other night compares to it. Not the night after you spend in the fetal position and crying. Or the night after the funeral where there was no body. Or the night on the first anniversary of his death.

Night time is the worst for you. You just remember getting the calls from Bruce and your whole world shattering. Jason was more than your friend. He was your first crush, your first kiss, first relationship.

He used to do this thing when you two would hold hands on patrol. Your gloves covered your wrists so he would sneak his thumb inside of the leather and rub the inside of your wrist. Something about wanting to feel your pulse.

You had stopped being Robin about three months before you found out Jason died. You never really felt like you could be as good as Dick. And Jason was the only reason you stayed on as long as you did. But even that had it's caveats.

Bruce relied on you and your patience and understanding way more and tried to get Jason to model himself after you. Even though you tried to be more like him, less rule following and more march to your own beat and ask for forgiveness later.

But sometimes the two of them would put you in the middle of their endless tiffs. It drove you up the wall. And one night you just decided right then and there to stop being a Robin.

It's not until after the first year past Jason's death that you decide to go back on the streets to fight crime again. This time it's very different. You don't have anyone to answer to but yourself. And you have no one to look up to anymore.

You don't pull your punches. You don't think in black and white anymore. Everything is gray. And you operate in the areas that used to scare you.

It isn't long before Bruce reaches out, because he's been keeping tabs on you. He asks if you're sure about what you're doing. And he tells you that you're always welcome to come back, as yourself not as a Robin.

You respectfully decline his offer. You hated him the first eight or nine months after Jason's death. You hated how he wasn't there. You hated how that clown just walked free and continued terrorizing the citizens of Gotham.

You actually got to run into him once. Tracked him down, got him all by himself. And delivered a beating that brought him so close to the pits of hell that even you got scared. Bruce showed up then, told you it wasn't right. That you couldn't take justice into your own hands like that.

His words had no affect on you. You hated him for letting the clown go free like that. And you hated that he had a new Robin already.

It's probably not until the third year that you find your footing. You know how to operate as a vigilante. You don't get too mad when you see the new Robin anymore. And you talk to Bruce to check in and still decline his off to join his team.

In those two years you get better at controlling your powers. Yo hardly used them when you were Robin. And after Jason's death you over used them, packing a few punches that moved tectonic plates underneath your feet. This was a balanced way of using your powers. You were coming to understand them.

And then your world shatters again.

One night while on patrol, you notice your being followed. So you take a few turns to lose them. But they're pretty good. So you decide to corner them into an alley way. One where you can confront them.

In the dark you corner your tail. He stands a foot taller than you. All that you can really make out is that red helmet of his. Nothing else tells you about him. He's even using a voice modulator.

You ask him why he's following you. He doesn't answer. You tell him to back off. He doesn't answer. You, at your wits end, run ups o him and are about to deck him when he grabs a hold of your wrist.

You try to pull back but he holds you. It's not that tight. He's not hurting you, you realize. He's just holding you. When you look down at your wrist, you realize that he's touching you right where Jason did.

You wrench your wrist away from him and take a step back. You're about to haul off a bunch of curses at him when he starts speaking to you.

"You're pulse." he says.

Your spine goes straight at that. Jason used to say that, why is this guy saying that to you? You moves to take another step back but you don't. You look right at him.

"Jason?" you ask.

The man starts moving at light speed. All at once the helmet it coming off. You see a tuft of white hair amongst the black. And then he takes off his domino mask. You see it in his eyes. It's Jason, it's your Jason, but it's not.

"How is this possible?" you ask yourself, taking a few steps forward.

When the tip of your shoes meet his boots, and he doesn't move, you take it as a sign that he's okay with you being this close. You hesitantly reach up towards his face but you take your hand back. You don't notice the storm clouds you're forming. Not until the rain starts coming down.

"It's me." he says.

You can't help the tears that come out of your eyes. Or how you start sobbing uncontrollably. Jason wraps you up in his arms. You feel your whole body start to go slack in disbelief. He's real. He's alive, he's here.

"I'm sorry I made you wait." he says.

You wrap your arms around him tightly now, "You're back. You're really back."

You pull back from him a bit, he looks down at you. You can read the worry in his eyes. You reach up and cup his face. He lets out a strangled breath.

"I missed you so much."

a/n: I had to stop myself before it came a behemoth and I dragged you on for a slow burn. this was really fun to write. Especially the elemental part! thanks for sending this in !! <3333

#dc x reader #dc imagine #Jason todd imagine #Jason todd x reader #Jason todd fic #Jason todd #dc fic

[lock-my-feelings-in-a-jar]

tumblr, i don't know if it's just me and my connection or not but everything on this website is taking SO LONG TO LOAD while everything else works perfectly fine, can you stop being slow please

i'm blaming tumblr

#me #i click to open a new text post or i click reblog on something #and it just sits there not doing anything forever #and then the post editor thing suddenly pops up after waiting so long #and then when i post it #the post editor doesn't leave #it just acts like it's loading the post to post it and i'm like WELL?????? #and i go to a new tab to check my posts and it did post #but it says it's still loading #and it never stops in a million years unless i close the tab #it SEEMS like it could just be my connection #but #when it's only tumblr doing this and everything else is normal #then i have to wonder

[blackleatherjacketz]

Mouthy

Miguel O'Hara x Female Reader

Summary: Miguel has been watching you, and is willing to do anything it takes to get you to join his team.

Warnings: 18+ Only!, NSFW, Explicit Smut, Teasing, Flirting, Kissing, Biting, Blood Drinking, Licking, Thigh Riding, Undressing, Voyeurism, Female Masturbation, Finger Sucking, Hair Pulling, Cunnilingus, Vaginal Sex

Word Count: 2.6k+

Read more of my MIGUEL stories!

You had been toying with Miguel all night, sparring with him until your sweaty session had resulted in swinging from rooftop to rooftop, leading his tour of your world to an end at the top of your apartment building. Three separate visits to your universe in the span of two months had led you to believe that he was getting desperate for help, or for something else. The first time he showed up was to help you battle one of the more formidable foes of your crime-fighting career, the second to ask you to join his group of heroes to fight off even bigger threats, and the third, well… you’re still trying to pin down.

If Miguel is anything, it’s persistent.

“Give up already?” He chides, denting the metal of the AC unit with his landing as you finally stop swinging.

“Who’s giving up?” You pull the mask off your sweaty face as his head piece disappears without a trace, revealing his gorgeous features and flowing raven locks.

“It’s only midnight,” he points to his watch as he walks toward you, those hips of his sauntering in a way that nearly hypnotizes you on the spot. “Plenty of other threats around the city to be squashed.”

“Then go squash them.” You challenge, tilting your head to look at him from another angle. Why can’t men in my universe look like him?

“You’d like that, huh?” He keeps advancing until he stops just short of you, his broad shoulders towering over you as a light breeze blows the smoky scent of his cologne into your nostrils. As if you hadn’t already committed it to memory. “If I did all the work?”

“Well, you can’t blame a lady for wanting to know if something’s worth her while.” You tease as he closes the space between you, backing you up against the rusted metal door of the stairwell. “Because if we’re being honest, Miguel, I’ve thought long and hard about it, and I’m perfectly fine here on my own.”

“I can see that.” His irises glow a fiery red against the white sclera of his eyes, searching your face for any hint of doubt or deceit. Your senses had been telling you that he wanted much more from you than just a teammate, the sound of his pulse quickening whenever he looked at you barely louder than the silence of his stilled breath. He wanted you… needed you almost as carnally as you needed him, and it was getting to be more difficult for either of you to ignore it.

“But don’t you want to be more than ‘just fine’?” He plants his palms against the brick structure behind you, his direct proximity tying a knot into your stomach as the night sky behind him somehow bleeds a passionate crimson hue. You can visibly see his intentions, actually feel the desire as it emanates out of his pores and into the hot summer air, drawing you in with its magnetic pull. “Don’t you want to be amazing?”

“I can tell that you do.” You smirk, prolonging your trance as you trace the bright red outline of the spider on his chest, watching it rise and fall faster with each word you speak. “Not everybody wants what you want, Miguel.”

“Is that so?” He leans in close, his full lips brushing against your ear as the hair on the back of your neck stands on end. “Is that why you moan my name at night every time I leave your world?” He slides his knee swiftly between your legs, gently lifting it up the crevice of your thighs until it rubs that sensitive spot between them.

“You’ve been watching me?” You knew that he’d been keeping tabs on you from whatever little hideout he had beyond your known universe, but you didn’t realize that he was paying that close attention to you. How much of your behavior had he actually witnessed? Was he speculating, hopeful, or had he actually watched while you slid your fingers beneath your underwear to satisfy that sudden urge his presence always seemed to evoke?

“You’re surprised?” He jeers confidently, his breath hot on your neck as he draws out a groan from your chest with another brush of his thigh, tapping into your natural moisture.

“That doesn’t really seem fair,” you start, eyes fluttering to catch glimpses of that scarlet sky phasing in and out of black and magenta as he continues to stimulate you. “You get to see all of me, but I don’t get to see any of you.”

You wonder just how far he took his viewings of you late at night; how many times he tuned into his recurring guest appearances in your imagination before you pleasured yourself into a dull, blissful slumber. Had he joined you in your handiwork, stroking himself in tandem, worlds apart, just in time to mutter your name with his release before the connection was lost? Or had he stayed tuned way past your loss of consciousness, hoping to hear some verbal confirmation of his presence even in your dreams?

“We can change that, you know.” He closes his eyes as you run your fingers through his hair, his thick lashes feathering over the shell of your ear as he presses a kiss into your neck.

“You’re gonna let me spy on you when you jerk off, too?” Your breath halts as he tastes the skin behind your ear and underneath your jawline, his teeth nipping at your pulse to make you pay for your quippy retort.

“Aye, cariño, are you always this mouthy?” He grabs onto your chin in a failed attempt to reign you in, the tips of his protracted claws nearly breaking your skin as he thrusts himself against you.

“You have no idea.”

—————————————

Miguel manages to stumble into your apartment with your legs wrapped around his waist, his clawed hands grasping at your thighs as they desperately cling to his hips. He pulls you up into him as he rounds the corner past your couch, his erection stretching the navy blue fabric of his suit as it grows harder against the drenched mound between your legs.

“You fucking taste like heaven, you know that?” He whispers through a dozen hungry kisses, the sharp sting to your skin and the iron of your blood flooding your senses as he bites down onto your bottom lip, wantonly sucking it into his mouth. That twinge of pain that would have hurt before you got your powers is nothing more than a scratch, a mere tickle as the warmth of his tongue soon counters it. He tugs and pulls every bit of flavor he can out of it, savoring each hint of salt and remnant of coffee on your tastebuds as he nearly gnaws your lip right off in the process, running into every wall along the way until he eventually reaches your bedroom.

“I thought you said those things were venomous.” You worry aloud, just now noticing their size and severity as he tosses you onto your bed with a lick of his lips.

“Only when I need them to be.” He grins and helps you peel your suit off your arms and torso, tugging it down past your hips and thighs before stepping out of his own spider suit with unmatchable ease. Eyes ravenous with lust, he watches you pull the last bit of stretchy cloth off your calves and feet, licking the tips of his fangs again as you toss your costume onto the floor.

“Well that’s lucky for me, then.” You sit up and press your knees into the mattress in order to get closer to him.

“Lucky for both of us.” He slides his thumbs beneath his boxer briefs and exposes what he’s working with, stealing the very breath from your lungs. Before you can comment on how big he is, before you can make a joke about how you won’t be able to walk tomorrow, he steps toward you and places his hand in the middle of your chest, pushing you flat onto your back.

“Touch yourself,” he instructs sternly.

“What?” Your brow furrows. Hasn’t he gotten enough of that through his viewfinder? Wasn’t that the whole point of him coming here in person? To actually touch you with his own hands and taste you with his own mouth? So that he didn’t have to just watch?

“I want you to touch yourself like you do when you think I’m not watching,” he reiterates, standing his ground as he resists the temptation to stroke himself, a single droplet of precum leaking from the tip of his cock.

“Oh. Okay.” You nod, his demanding tone of flattery quickly fueling your actions as it overpowers that inherent sense of stage fright nagging in the back of your head. “I can do that.”

You watch him hold his breath as you slide two fingers into your mouth, sucking on them as gratuitously as you can before pulling them out with a long trail of spit leading down your chin. His eyes follow your digits with rapt attention as you bring them down your body, their deep ruby hues darkening to burgundy as his pupils begin to dilate. You hear his breath hitch as you graze over your hardened nipples, snake your way down your navel and finally smooth them in between your soaking wet folds, exciting the sensitive neurons that have been begging for attention since the moment he arrived.

Doing as you’re told, you spread your juices up and down the length of your lips, catching a glimpse of his cock twitching against his stomach in anticipation, throbbing as you slowly pull upward on your clit. You can’t help but wonder how amazing he’s going to feel once he’s inside of you, your fingers barely able to do his length and girth any justice as you slide them inside your walls.

“That’s it, baby, just like that,” he finally exhales with a hint of a moan. He retracts his claws with a bite of his lip, cautiously touching your bare feet with the palms of his hands before slowly spreading your legs apart as he continues to watch you work. “Who knew your pussy’d be just as pretty as your face, huh?”

You huff in exasperation, too stunned to speak as his grin mimics your smile from the edge of the bed.

“You look even better from this angle, you know that?” Another lick of his lips spurns a trail of kisses onto the balls of your feet as he crawls between your legs, sucking little bruises into your calves and behind your knees; mementos for you to remember him by once he inevitably returns to his own world. You keep rubbing your bud up and down as he advances along your body; his lips, teeth and tongue massaging the skin of your inner thigh as waves of pleasure start building up into your core from both of your tantalizing efforts.

It isn’t long before he lifts your leg up over his shoulder, biting into your thigh once more before looking up at you with completely blackened eyes, your blood now staining his lips as it smears across his cheek. You moan as he takes his time lapping up the scarlet fluid as it mixes with his saliva, dripping down between your crevices as his mouth gets that much closer to your needy center.

Without a word of warning, he grabs onto your wrist and carefully pulls your fingers out of your swollen heat before encircling them with his lips. Those charcoal eyes of his roll back into his head, a deep guttural groan vibrating around your fingers as his tongue surrounds them, the savory flavor of your blood now blending in with the sweet tanginess of your sex. You push them in even further past his blood-stained lips, shivering in arousal as he sucks all the way down to your knuckles, making a sloppy show of licking them clean before finally drawing them out.

“Not so mouthy anymore, huh?” He asks, kissing the palm of your hand before lifting it up and placing your wet fingers into his hair.

“Uh-uh,” you whisper, the heat from his breath sending phantom pulses of bliss up through your spine, leaving you practically speechless.

“Then let’s see if I can get you to make some noise.” He licks a stripe up the length of your folds, choosing not to use his fangs on your most sensitive area as he focuses solely on tasting your raw flesh. He groans into your skin as he licks you up and down, inhaling your pheromonal scent as if your very essence is the only thing capable of sustaining him any further.

Your eyelids fall shut as you allow a few breathy moans to escape your lips, his tongue saturating every receptor you have with such an intense euphoria that it forces your hips to buck up into his mouth. Your grip on his onyx locks tightens as he continues to suck on your clit, pulling it taut into his mouth just like he had with your bottom lip, persistently eating you out like a man starved for days.

“See how good you are at following my orders?” He stops licking you just as you’re on the brink of ecstasy, a thin ring of red now glowing around the rims of his irises. “I just need you to do one more thing for me.”

“Oh yeah, and what’s that?” You barely have the capacity to ask, your muscles vibrating beneath him with the promise of release that he so quickly took away from you.

His full lips curl into a smirk as he licks your bud one last time, kissing his way up your belly and breasts before reaching your neck, his cock needily bobbing between your legs until it slides inside you without ceremony. You gasp as his girth fills you up with impeccable ease, your slick walls welcoming his thick throbbing member, clenching down around him as he gently thrusts up into you.

“Miguel!” You shout in a stifled whisper, stars shining in your eyes as the tip of his cock hits that bundle of nerves he’s been teasing all night.

“Come for me,” he growls against your throat, all traces of that controlled man fading away as he pins your wrists to the mattress before bottoming out completely, rutting into you repeatedly like a wild animal.

“Mmm hmm!” Your moans echo off the walls in your bedroom as he drives himself further inside your heat, ricocheting off your nightstand and ceiling fan until they dissipate into the air above you, falling down like raindrops as they cover you both. His hips only quicken their steady pace the deeper he gets, sending hit after hit of white hot bliss up into your core until your body can no longer take it.

That wave of pleasure you’re so used to delivering yourself nearly takes you out completely as it washes over every inch of you from the inside out. It paints every cell in your skin, muscles and bones all the colors of the rainbow under Miguel’s hypnotic thrusts, his sweat dripping down onto you in tiny translucent beads before melting into your skin. Both of you phase in and out a variety of shades and patterns as you wrap your legs around his hips, drawing him in to make sure he feels the heightened state of nirvana he’s finally brought you to.

“I can feel you falling apart around me, cariño,” he whispers into your shoulder, thrusting one last time as hard as he can as he twitches and spasms inside you. Lavender paisleys, red and white stripes, olive and orange checkers all slowly fade away to a calm light blue before he pulls out and eventually lets go of your wrists. “You sure you don’t want to join my team?”

#miguel o'hara #across the spiderverse #oscar isaac #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara smut #spiderman 2099

[munsonslove]

Open Drawers

(18+ only)

summary: You forget to close the drawer to your nightstand and your best friend accidentally finds your vibrator.

wordcount: 4.3k

tags/warnings: fem!reader, slight softdom!eddie, friends to lovers, smut, use of sex toys, praise kink (good girl), very slight degradation (he calls you a slut once), pet names (sweetheart, princess), spit used as lubricant, edging, overstim, no use of y/n

a/n: i teased this fic a while ago, sorry it took me a bit to actually post it but i hope you like it anyway!! requests are open and much appreciated, if i know someones actively waiting for me to write something for them i’ll be more likely to not spend a whole ass month on it lmao

It’s been weeks of torture. Ever since Eddie found out about your ‘little secret’ he’s refused to let it go, bringing it up as often as he can just to humiliate you further. It was cruel behavior, especially from the man you consider your best friend. Though you can’t be too surprised, considering he’d always had an affection for teasing you. In the past it had always been rather playful and innocent- maybe just ever so slightly suggestive- but you were generally able to ignore his flirtatious comments and retain your close relationship (no matter how much they made your pining heart flutter). It had been almost a month since everything changed.

Nobody was home when you returned from your shift, and inspecting the refrigerator revealed a note left to you from your roommates stating that they would be gone for the rest of the night. The news was passed along through phone call to your best friend before you even changed out of your work clothes, and within the hour Eddie had arrived at your door with a six-pack of beer and a relaxed grin. He entered without knocking (having been given a spare key from the day you moved in) and found you sprawled out on the couch, movie just starting with a large bowl of popcorn already made. You don’t even bother sparing him a glance up as he kisses the crown of your head before plopping down directly on top of you.

You try and fail to kick him off. Admittedly you may have been able to muster more strength for the task if you hadn’t been laughing at his typical antics. Failure becomes even more set in stone when his hands find their way to your sides and you dramatically call out “uncle, uncle!” in hopes that he will mercifully cease his relentless tickling. Thankfully, he does seem to be feeling benevolent this evening and climbs off, allowing you to sit up as he takes his place next to you. After ripping a can from its plastic rings, you pop open the tab and take a sip while Eddie grabs fistfulls of popcorn and shoves them into his mouth with a total lack of manners. You conclude that something is definitely wrong with you for finding this somehow endearing, and you gaze at him longingly until he turns to you with a mock-disgruntled eye roll. 

“John Hughes?”, he complains, mouth still half full, “Can’t we watch something else?”

You smirk at his predictability. “I knew we wouldn’t make it past the opening scene,” you respond while tsk-ing at him and shaking your head. “I rented a couple of cheesy looking b-movies just yesterday. You know, slasher flicks that for sure spent all their budget on fake blood?”

He smiles big and jumps up off of the sofa. “Aw, my favorite! You do love me!” he exclaims with sarcastic sentiment, “You remember to stash the tapes somewhere your thief roommates couldn’t find?”

“First of all, stop calling my friends thieves. That was one time,” you say while slapping lightly at his leg from your lowered position, “And second, yeah. They’re next to my bed.”

He nods and heads to your bedroom, not wasting time to ask permission seeing as after so many years you both had developed a ‘me casa es su casa’ type of unspoken agreement. After a few more sips of your beer and picking at a partially popped kernel, you notice that Eddie is taking an unusual amount of time retrieving the tapes. You were sure that you had left them on your nightstand, you even remember seeing them while in bed this morning as you were reaching over to-

Oh. Fuck.

The can drops from your hand and falls to the floor, spilling light amber liquid onto the hardwood. Rushing into your room, you see Eddie standing in front of the drawer you had forgone closing while leaving earlier, looking down into it with a clear view of your 18th birthday present to yourself. He whips around, jaw dropped in shock. There’s an unreadable look in his eyes as he stares you down, and you realize that you have no idea what he’s thinking about. Probably all the new ammunition he now has to use against you during one of your future banter sessions.

You run forward, shoving him sideways onto the bed and slamming the drawer shut. He lands with a huff- his back on the mattress- before propping himself up onto his elbows, still looking at you with that confusing expression. His silence so far is honestly more nerve wracking than him ruthlessly making fun of you would have been.

“I’m so sorry,” you apologize frantically. “I completely forgot I left this open, and I didn’t know we’d be hanging out tonight, and when I sent you in here I didn’t even think about it, and I never want to do anything to make you uncomfortable, and I-”

“Woah, princess,” he cuts off your rambling, using that nickname that he’s been using ever since the two of you met back in school. It usually brought a warmth to your cheeks, but given that you already felt sick to your stomach the sweet moniker was not appreciated. “It’s fine, I promise!”

“Fine?” you cry out, the sound muffled by your palms as your heated face is now buried behind your hands. You turn your body to face away from him, and he pushes back with his arms to sit up the rest of the way, then reaches forward to grip your elbow and spin you back around.

“Yeah, I swear! You didn’t make me uncomfortable or anything,” he consoles. “I was just surprised, is all. I just… wouldn’t have expected… you… to have that.” As he speaks the final word, he gestures to the freshly closed drawer containing your magic wand vibrator. The room falls quiet once more as he stares blankly at the offending table, seemingly lost in thought.

You shove his shoulder a little more harshly than you mean to, and he blinks back to consciousness and rubs where you met contact before re-meeting your eyes. “Don’t look at it like that!” you chastise, ignoring the fact that he technically wasn’t looking at ‘it’ like anything, seeing as it was now hidden out of sight. Your head falls into the cover of your hands yet again as you groan out, “Ugh! You probably think I’m some kind of slut now.”

“N-no!” he’s quick to deny, shaking his head. “Of course I don’t think that about you! I mean, come on, give me some credit. It’s the 80s,” he counters, with emphasis on the last word, “guys can be progressive now. I know girls masturbate too!”

“Please don’t say that word,” you reply, your hands still hiding your face but compromising by peeking out through your fingers.

“What?” he questions with a smirk, “Masturbate?”

“You’re completely impossible,” you state, giving in and dropping your arms to your side. You pick up the videos from your messy nightstand and turn on your heel to walk out the door, not even stopping as you shout out “Are you coming or what, Eds?”

Behind you, Eddie takes the opportunity of your back being turned to adjust himself in his pants and prays that he manages to keep it down throughout the duration of movie night.

That was almost an entire month ago. While Eddie took pity on you for the remainder of that night, the very next morning began his onslaught of mockery. Although, perhaps mockery wasn’t quite the right word, because you know all his jokes were meant to be lighthearted and fun. You know if you told him he was making you uncomfortable that he would stop in a heartbeat, so the real problem you’re facing is that you don’t want him to stop. Every time he shows up unannounced and slyly asks, “I wasn’t interrupting anything, was I?” with that knowing gleam in his eyes, you’re not sure if you want to scold him for his teasing or jump his bones. Him speaking so candidly about something that’s always been so private should be embarrassing- and it is- but it would be dishonest to say the butterflies in your stomach are only there because of your modesty. Truth be told, he was turning you on every time he hinted at the fact that he knows all about your favorite form of self care.

Not only were the teasing comments nonstop, there were also the questions. Eddie was relentlessly curious about the process (which confounded you considering you thought the situation was pretty straightforward) and he never seemed to run out of things he wanted to ask you.

“How long have you had it?”, “How many settings are there?”, “How often do you use it?”, “Do you need it to get off?”, “What do you think about when you use it?” (definitely couldn’t answer that one honestly), and finally, “How exactly do you use it?”

According to him, he wanted to know the ‘right way’ to use one on a girl for future reference. One day, the frustration of constantly having to dodge his incessant questions became too much, and without thinking you blurted out, “If you’re so curious about how to use it, why don’t I just teach you?” Understandably, your outburst shocked the both of you. What shocked you more was when Eddie quickly recovered and excitedly agreed.

That was how you found yourself spread out on your bed with your best friend on his knees in between your thighs. Your most private area is only covered by your hands, and your discarded panties are tucked in Eddie’s back jeans pocket.

“How am I supposed to do this if you’re hiding, princess?” he asks, observing the toy and turning it over in his hands, “Don’t be shy. It’s just me.”

That was the problem. It was him, your friend that you’ve been harboring a secret crush on for years. Now you’re in a position with him that you’ve fantasized about so many times, and you don’t know what it means for the future of your relationship. Above you, Eddie fiddles with the two buttons, figuring out the mechanics of what they do. He discovers the bottom button turns it on while the top changes the speed. There are three settings, and after cycling through them all it starts back at the beginning, only turning off by pressing the bottom button once more. When he’s done figuring out how the toy works, he powers it on to the lowest setting and looks at you expectantly, eyes flitting between your hands and face. You turn your head to the side, take one final deep breath and move your arms to your stomach, revealing yourself to him.

The air is cold on your exposed center. Other than your shaky exhaling and the humming of the vibrator, it’s quiet. You realize with embarrassment that Eddie has stopped breathing, and when you steal a glance back at him he’s staring at your bare center with an unreadable expression. You instinctively hide your face in your hands, and your thighs involuntarily twitch to close. Of course, they can’t fully shut with Eddie sitting in between them, but the movement does stir the boy from his trance. He pries your hands away from your face and you’re forced to confront his inspecting of you.

He kisses a wet peck to the tip of your nose like he’s done so many times before, and just like always your entire face scrunches up with a smile. With eyes now closed, you start to feel giddy and you can’t help but giggle at the absurdity of the situation. You half expect Eddie to start laughing with you, but no sound comes from your friend. Suddenly- and without warning- he presses the vibrator directly to your clit. Your eyes snap open, rolling back in both shock and pleasure as a humiliatingly high pitched squeal escapes out of your slack-jawed mouth.

“Such a pretty sound from such a pretty girl,” Eddie says, barely loud enough to hear considering the buzzing raised in volume due to being pushed up against something. It’s almost like he was more absentmindedly commenting to himself rather than purposefully complimenting you.

You’re only capable of responding with moans as your legs fold into your torso and your toes start to curl. It’s still set to the lowest vibration option, but your aforementioned nerves and arousal were making you much more sensitive than you would otherwise be while using the toy alone. Eddie’s empty hand moves to stroke your inner thigh, before inching toward your center slowly. He seems to be asking permission to touch you himself, and the fact that he still thinks to wait for consent while literally sitting in between your legs after taking off your underwear almost has you laughing again. Instead, you simply nod your head. Eddie’s fingers immediately spread your lips further, allowing the head of the vibrator to be able to hit your clit more directly. The buzzing becomes higher in pitch as he goes up one setting, and the sensation becomes too much to handle.

“Sorry,” he whispers when you whine and start to squirm away, “I’ll be nice.”

After positioning yourself back into place, you mumble out, “Sensitive…” as an explanation. Your voice is surprisingly weak.

“I know, sweetheart,” he says, though you doubt he actually feels regretful, “I know.”

The sound of clicking reaches your ears as Eddie toggles the toy back to the first setting. His thumb briefly brushes over your clit, causing you to shiver and gasp, and he breathes out a quiet laugh before pressing the vibrator against you once more- this time more gently. The vibrations are more bearable this way, and you feel the pleasure slowly start to rise and rise until you become a moaning puddle beneath the metalhead. Just as you’re crying out his name- a warning that you're about to cum- he pulls away, cruelly laughing at your protesting.

“Eds, what the fuck?” you shout, frustratedly. “I was so close! Why the hell would you-”

“Calm down, princess,” he interrupts. “You know I’ll get you there. I just wanna have some fun along the way.”

And you do know. You trust him more than anyone else- you’d trust him with your life- but you also know that he’s a little shit. “Please, Eds. Please just get to it,” you beg.

He stares at the head of the toy for a moment before lifting it to his face. His tongue parts his lips, swollen and pink from him biting them, and your eyes widen as he slowly licks directly where the silicone was just touching you. He moans, and his eyes roll back into his head. The sight only drives you more wild, and your hips start rocking the bed as you wait for him to continue.

He starts to bite his lips again as he watches you grind against nothing, desperately searching for friction. “Maybe I was wrong before,” he says slowly with a teasing lilt, “maybe you are a slut.” He had a look in his eyes that you had never seen before.

Your entire body raises in temperature. “Eddie…” you whine, surprised by how much his rudeness is affecting you. “Please…”

“So fucking wet, dripping all over your sheets,” he continues distractedly, paying no mind to your pleading as he caressed up and down your slit, collecting your juices. When he pulls away, you notice the lights of your bedroom reflecting off the glistening moisture on his fingers, and you resist the urge to hide again. “Such a pretty pussy. The prettiest. She’s not used to being treated so nicely, huh?”

As usual, his confidence blurs the line between incredibly sexy and incredibly annoying. His words are making your insides flutter, and probably worsening the ‘dripping all over your sheets’ problem. Still, you can’t help but feel your frustration grow. “Please, Eds, make me cum. Please make me cum,” you beg some more as you scoot down the bed. Your thighs no longer have the room to be laying on either side of him. Instead, they are now resting atop his own thighs, with your pelvises almost meeting making contact.

“So desperate for your best friend to make you cum. Are you always this wet, princess?” As he asks this, the vibrator meets your center again. He rubs it back and forth vertically in quick motions, and you groan in relief.

You answer by shaking your head no. It definitely wasn’t always like this. In fact, it was never like this. The toy slid so effortlessly between your puffy lips, massaging your sensitive nub directly and bringing tears to your eyes.

“Aw,” he cooed, “so it’s just for me?”

As embarrassed as you feel, you figure there’s no use in denying it now. “J- just for you.”

That familiar feeling of climax starts to creep up on you once more, and once more you cry out in annoyance when Eddie eases up the pressure before pulling off entirely.

“No!” you sob, “Eddie please, I need it so bad.”

“You’ll cum when I’m ready for you to cum,” he says, though the dominance in his tone is betrayed by the lust in his eyes. “I just want to play with you for a little longer. You’ll be a good girl, right?”

You suspect that he won’t start up again until you agree, so you do so without a second thought. “I’ll be your good girl,” you promise, “I’ll be good.”

He smiles wide at you before spreading your lips apart and leaning down to spit directly in between them, not that you needed the extra lubrication. Feeling his saliva make contact sent shockwaves through your body, and your back arched just in time for him to harshly press the vibrator back to your clit and start rubbing it in fast circles. This time, the orgasm doesn’t so much creep up on you as it does jump out in front of you, and you’re about to give in until you hear Eddie’s voice behind the haze.

“Hold it,” he orders. “You said you would be good, so be a good little slut and hold it.”

Your head is already thrown back, and you squeeze your eyes shut in concentration. Every fiber of your being is focused on not cumming, wanting to do as Eddie wishes so you can please him. Noticing your efforts, he lifts the toy off of your aching clit and allows you to catch your breath. With your newfound relief from the strain of resisting climax, you notice that Eddie’s free hand has left your waist, and you look down to a glorious sight.

Eddie’s palming himself through his jeans. The image burns itself into your eyelids, so not even blinking becomes an escape from what you're witnessing your best friend do to himself (not that you’re complaining). You silently observe in awe as he attempts to shove his hand down his pants, and struggles on account of them being too tight. To remedy this, he unzips his jeans and slides them down just far enough for you to catch a glimpse of his hard cock straining against the fabric of his boxers. There’s a wet patch where his head was leaking precum, and a clear imprint of his impressively girthy shaft. Once the pants are out of his way you see his hand disappear inside of his underwear as he wraps it around his member and starts jerking harshly, not fully able to stroke up and down his length given the obstructive clothing.

The pure, unadulterated lust that’s consuming you is overpowering any shyness you previously felt. “Eddie,” you say his name, but he ignores you considering you’ve been a constant stream of “Eddie, Eddie, oh Eddie,” for the past ten minutes. “Eds,” you try again, “you can take it out.”

All movement inside his boxers halts. “Huh?” he exclaims with wide eyes, “A- are you sure? This was supposed to be about you.”

“I’m sure,” you confirm. And you lift up your t-shirt to reveal the white lacy bra underneath as you elaborate, “I want you to finish on me.”

His forehead wrinkles as his eyebrows shoot up in shock. With his wide eyed staring, it almost seems like he can’t believe what you’re saying. Drool pools in his open mouth before he composes himself with a head shake. Wordlessly, he sets the still vibrating toy down on the mattress and lifts your thighs off of him, before sitting up enough to pull down the sides of his boxers. His cock springs up the second his underwear is out of the way, and -without thinking about the consequences- you spit into your palm and reach out to tentatively wrap your fingers around him.

The strangled noise that leaves his mouth is the sweetest sound you’ve ever heard. He instinctively bucks his hips, but freezes, waiting for you to make the call. You start stroking him hard and fast, not bothering working up to a quicker speed when you were already so desperate for release and wanted him to cum with you. Eddie can apparently relate to said desperation, and hastily picks up the toy back up. Every muscle inside of you clenched as he started rubbing the tip against your clit in small circles. You strained to prolong this moment, knowing your eventual orgasm would be much more rewarding if you could see his face as he came all over your hand and stomach. 

“God, sweetheart,” he groans, “So fucking good. So much better than my hand.” 

The mental image of Eddie touching himself has you cursing out loud. “Really?” you ask, the pride getting to your head, making you feel light and floaty.

“You have no idea,” he responds. “Been fucking my fist nonstop since that movie night. Couldn’t help myself. All I could think about was you getting off, moaning my name.” You wonder if he knows just how real his fantasy was.

His free hand gently caresses the lacy undergarment covering your chest, his touch so light you barely register it. The uncertainty in his actions is clear, so in lieu of giving verbal consent you simply take his hand in your own and guide it to be fully on your breast.

“Can I pull this down, princess?” he practically begs, and you answer with a nod. He immediately tugs the breast cups downward, revealing your naked chest. Your soft, unmarked flesh is framed by the bunched up fabric of your shirt that’s been gathered at your clavicle, and the lacy material of your bra being held below by Eddie’s trembling hand. His hips are now moving in time with the rhythm of your strokes, and the rocking is causing your tits to bounce in a way that has his angry red tip spilling precum all over your hand as he attempts to hold off his release. The sight has you imagining what he would taste like, with you on your knees in the back of his van, and that thought has you hurtling toward the finish line at an embarrassing speed.

“Cum for me,” he orders. The second he gives you permission, you feel the damn break. As you're busy crying out in pleasure, you faintly hear Eddie in the background. “Good girl,” he grunts, “That’s it. That’s my girl.”

You cum with his name on your lips. The intensity of this orgasm is unfamiliar, and you realize with bitterness that the edging you were forced to endure was truly worth the end result. With your mind elsewhere, your stroking halts and you hear the creaking of your bed as Eddie starts to violently thrust into your fist until he meets you in orgasmic bliss. Warmth falls on your naked torso and you look down to see that he’s angled his cock to be aiming at your stomach, fulfilling your earlier wish of him finishing on you. The sight of him using your hand to milk himself dry combined with the buzzing still pressed hard against your clit has you cumming harder than you ever have before. Your hand falls from Eddie as his high comes to an end, but he does nothing to pull away the toy and offer relief to your achingly sensitive core. Any attempt to wiggle your hips free from his hold seems to go unnoticed by his strength, and you have no choice but to take the unrelenting vibrations. The overstimulation has tears falling down the side of your face as your shoulders raise from the bed, the top of your scalp pushing into the mattress as your head is thrown back. Eventually, you are able to move away, and Eddie turns off the toy and chucks it off the bed before climbing on top of you and finally kissing you on the lips.

With both of you breathing heavily into the other’s open mouth, the kiss isn’t exactly how you always imagined your first kiss with your best friend to go, but it’s perfect nonetheless. Your hands find their way into his wild hair, while his tighten their grip on your waist. His tongue in your mouth just barely has the taste of you on it from him licking your toy earlier, and as his thigh brushes your middle small aftershocks rush through your body. You stay like this for a while, lazily making out and feeling each other’s bodies, until he breaks off of your mouth to kiss down your jaw, to your neck, then back up to the side of your face.

When he reaches just under your ear, his lips part from your heated skin to whisper, “So we’re doing that again, right?”

Grabbing a tuft of his hair, you guide him back to your mouth, and with your lips moving against him you answer, “Definitely,” before deepening the kiss. You’re still unsure of what this exactly means for your friendship, but that can be talked about another time.

#eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #stranger things fanfic #stranger things smut

[starkidmunson]

glitter & crimson

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

Realistically, Steve knows the band won’t hang around Chicago forever. He knows they’re out promoting a new album; knows they’ll have to move on and that Eddie has to go with them. It doesn’t stop him from wanting Eddie to stay; to live in the quick familiarity he’s built within Steve’s little found family.

Eddie and Robin seem to have already created their own secret language, all gestures and movement and eye contact Steve picks up on but can’t quite read. He’s already picking on the Party like he’s known them their whole lives; ruffling Dustin’s hair, elbowing Mike, throwing his arm around Will’s shoulders, and giving Lucas little shoves. 

It’s easy; so easy to get caught up in how charismatic Eddie is. Steve has a hard time keeping his eyes off him, and Eddie knows. He keeps making comments, throwing winks in Steve’s direction, seeing right through every wall he’s ever built around himself and Steve is caught between being obsessed with it and terrified. 

He stops drinking after the one beer, worried he’ll make things weird if he gets anywhere near tipsy, opting to stay as far away from the possibility as he can. If anyone notices, they don’t comment.

Lucas is chatting animatedly with Jeff, Max sitting close by, twisting braids into El’s hair. Dustin, Mike and Will appear to be grilling Gareth and Freak about dungeon and dragon campaigns Eddie used to run. Nancy has her arm looped through Robin’s, but her attention is on the phone in her hands, as Eddie and Robin talk about what touring is like.

“Where else are you going on this tour?” She asks as Steve tunes back into the conversation.

“This isn’t really a tour, we just haven’t been on the road in a while and we just stopped the album, so we lined up a few shows to get our feet wet before we hit the road for real this summer. One more show out in LA on Tuesday, then we’re done until May, for now.” Eddie explains.

“We’re in LA on Thursday!” Robin exclaims, and Steve’s stomach drops because, yeah. LA on Thursday. He trains his eyes on the glass in front of him, not willing to actually look at anyone they’re around. 

“We could totally meet up again if you guys are able to swing it?” Freak offers, and Steve forces a little smile onto his face and nods.

“We can figure it out later,” Eddie says after a few beats, and Steve is grateful for how the conversation rolls onto the next topic. When he finally looks back up, though, Eddie’s still looking his way. Steve hits him with what he hopes comes off as a reassuring smile, but it doesn’t seem to pay off the way he hopes.

Once the tab is closed and the staff is tipped well, Steve catches Eddie’s elbow on their way out the door. “I would like to meet up in LA, if you’re interested. I didn’t mean to get weird about it, it’s… I’ve been in my head a bit about that game since it was announced.”

“Oh, hey, no worries. We’re in LA the whole week, then we’re heading home. So no pressure, honest.” Eddie hooks his hand over Steve’s softly.

“Well, we should get in Wednesday, but we could totally do something after the game or even Friday?” 

Eddie smiles and nods, patting over Steve’s hand. “Text me about it.”

“I can do that. How much longer are you guys in town for, anyway?” Steve asks.

“Ah, the dreaded question comes,” Eddie’s playful, and it makes Steve’s face heat up. “We’ve got just under another 24 hours in the Windy City before hitting the road again.”

“Oh,” It pulls his chest in a way he wasn’t expecting, in a way that shouldn’t be happening for a rockstar he was adjacently aware of in high school. “Are you busy tomorrow?”

“Harrington,” Eddie’s teasing again, and it does nothing to help the blush on Steve’s face. “You can’t possibly miss me this much when I haven’t even left yet.”

“Shut up,” Steve shoves him away then, crossing his arms over his chest with a pout, only for Eddie to pull him in with an arm around the shoulder.

“We can grab brunch or something? We leave around 8 to avoid rush hour, so I’ll have to be in the bus by 6, or I’d say dinner.”

“Brunch works for me.” 

~~~~

The trip back to the hotel doesn’t go as Eddie expects; everyone is silently chatting amongst themselves, nodding and tapping along to the music and not causing a scene. He almost points it out, but elects not to bring unwarranted bullying upon himself instead. The guys had been giving him shit about Steve near constantly, so this was a nice change of pace after the last few days.

There was actually quiet as he made his way back to his room. A hot shower finally restored warmth to his bones the hockey arena had stolen, and he was drying his hair when he heard his phone vibrate with a text notification.

Steve: anything you're craving for brunch tomorrow so I can pick a place?

It’s practically too easy to flirt with Steve; he sets up lines without even seeming to realize. But Eddie still can’t get a real gauge on how Steve feels about the flirting, so he sidesteps the easy pass he could have made about Steve being enough of a meal, in favor of actually answering.

Eddie: French toast?

The next series of texts come before Eddie even moves his hands back to the towel over his hair.

Steve: sick, I’ll pick you up around 10:45

Steve: you mentioned going home, did you mean like, back to Hawkins?

Eddie twists his hair up in the towel, and lays down on the side of the bed he doesn’t sleep on before firing off an answer.

Eddie: nah, I’ve got a place in Nashville and no reason to go back to Hawkins anymore. My uncle moved to Indy, so that’s usually as close as I get.

Steve: any reason you moved to Nashville?

Eddie: are we playing 20 questions?

Steve: sorry.

Eddie bites his lip, and only hesitates for a moment before flipping over onto his belly and hitting the FaceTime button. Steve answers on the second ring, looking embarrassed, but Eddie doesn’t let him get a word in.

“My mom was born and raised in Memphis, but she always told me her favorite city was Nashville. I was there with her a few times when I was little and she’d just, like, light up. And music is so heavily engraved into every inch of the city, it’s hard to not find inspiration everywhere you turn. So. I bought a place in Nashville the minute I had enough saved up, and it’s kind of my home base now.” Eddie explains, watching as Steve’s face softens and he relaxes into his chair listening to Eddie’s answer. “Do I get to ask a question now?”

“I really wasn’t trying to be annoying, “ Steve looks ready to keep going with an apology, but Eddie cuts him off.

“Why do you play hockey?” It stops Steve dead in his tracks, and he genuinely looks confused for a moment. Eddie almost offers to drop the topic, but Steve fumbles his way into an answer.

“My, uh. My dad wanted me to play before I was even born. Because he played. Professionally for a few years when I was growing up, then he went on to coach.” Steve explains, and it sounds a little rehearsed. Eddie’s sure it’s something that comes up often if his father played and coached. “Gotta keep the Harrington legacy alive, I guess.”

There was a bite to Steve’s words that wasn’t lost on Eddie. “You don’t sound too thrilled about it.”

Eddie can see Steve working over how he wants to answer before he shrugs and sighs. “Because it’s all a show for him. The part we don’t talk about is how I got hurt and benched most of my senior season and he cut me off when I didn’t get full rides. Convinced me it was better to not go to college at all, despite the other scholarship offers, than to not get promised a spot on the ice. Convinced me to self-sabotage so I had to fight tooth and fucking nail to get into the league at all.” Steve pauses, then, and lets out a quiet laugh. “Sorry, that’s so unbelievably whiny of me. I love getting to play professionally, and I don’t take the opportunity for granted.”

“Not whiny. Dads can be the fucking worst.” Eddie offers, gently, and is grateful when Steve doesn't press on that particular bruise.

Instead, he takes his turn to ask a different question. “Why music?”

“This is lame, but the answer is once again my mom.” Eddie rolls his eyes at himself, but he smiles. “She was a musician. There were always instruments around and music was always playing and we traveled for her to perform. I knew my whole life I wanted to be a musician like her, but it wasn’t until after she died that I figured out that songwriting… telling stories and painting pictures with words and melodies and making people feel something…” Eddie trails off, lost in the thought.

“I’m sorry you lost her. It sounds like you enjoyed your childhood with her.” Steve offers, hopes it doesn’t sound like a forced nicety, but Eddie smiles and his nerves ease.

“She was a force to be reckoned with. Firing on all cylinders at once, chaos and home bundled into one.” Eddie’s soft a quiet for a moment, and Steve appreciates the silence by taking in how relaxed the other is to be talking about his feelings; it’s a refreshing break from many of his experiences with teammates or opponents who don’t know how to get emotional in a healthy way. Eventually, though, Eddie clears his throat. “Anyway. Back to 20 questions,”

“I wasn’t trying to start a game, really, I just… like talking to you,” Steve admits around a blush, tucking his chin into the collar of his shirt in an effort to hide the shade of his cheeks, but Eddie’s smile says his cover is blown.

“ANYWAY!” He announces louder, then taps at his chin. “Favorite and least favorite teams to play and why, go.”

“I’m not a dog.” Steve laughs but thinks about his answer anyway. “Favorite is probably the Flyers in Philly. Their fans are absolutely brutal, and their mascot is hilariously terrifying.”

“I have seen many a Gritty TikTok, so I completely understand,” Eddie gives him a few beats before he prompts. “Least favorite?”

“The Kings. LA. Billy Hargrove.”

“The…, what the fuck? How many guys from Hawkins are professional hockey players?” Eddie asks, because honestly, how had he not known there was more than Steve?

“He’s technically from LA, which is why he went back, thank God.” Steve mumbles, before dropping his head back against the wall behind him. “But, for whatever it’s worth, there’s me, Billy, and Tommy Hagan in the league.”

“Well isn’t that a fun bunch to surround yourself with,” Eddie muses out loud. Tommy and Billy were two of the biggest assholes Eddie had ever met, and it sounded like Steve wasn’t too fond of the other pair either.

“I actually…” Steve trails off, before trying again. “I was going to invite you guys to come to the LA game, but I’m really not sure it would be a good idea, so I’m… I’m actually going to ask you guys not to come, if that’s not too much of a dick move? I can get you tickets to literally any game you want for the rest of the season, just. I don’t think it’s worth it to get Billy started, and if he’s heard any of the press about us, I’m already going to hear it even if you’re not there.”

“Homophobe extraordinaire still, then?” Eddie guesses, and Steve chokes out a laugh, before covering his mouth and holding up a finger to ask for a moment to compose himself.

“He's… a lot of things.” Is the response Steve opts for, but Eddie can tell there’s more there. Whatever the two of them are doing, it doesn’t feel like Steve is ready to elaborate, so Eddie moves on. 

“I think it’s your turn.”

~~~~

Nothing changes after Corroded Coffin leave Chicago, though. Not in the ways Eddie had expected, at least.

Steve still texts him throughout the day, answers his Facetimes whenever he’s available. Eddie makes him the playlist he promised, and Steve gives feedback on which songs he likes and which ones he really doesn’t, after Eddie promises to not take Steve’s opinions personally. Which, to be fair, he tries really hard not to.

The concert in LA comes and goes, and Steve seems to send him every TikTok he comes across from the show. It’s a refreshing break, as every few videos in Eddie’s feed are of him cheering for Steve at the game, or Steve watching from sidestage in Chicago. 

A text from Robin eventually confirms their arrival in LA, and Steve and Eddie make plans to meet up after the game. Since Steve had expressed concern about Eddie going, he decides to just watch from the bar they agree to meet at. Televised games make it easier to track the puck, but Eddie decides he likes being there in person better.

Eddie’s sipping absently on his beer and in the time it takes him to look down at a text from Chrissy, several of the people around him react to something. Eddie looks around to make sure someone in the bar hadn’t passed out. When he looks back at the screen, absolute mayhem has broken out on the ice. The refs are trying to separate players from one another, and Eddie’s scanning through the numbers on each Blackhawks jerseys before he finally spots Steve, slightly off to the side from everyone else. The camera pans away from him, zeroing in on the fight, now between a Blackhawks defenseman and none other than Billy Hargrove. 

Billy’s helmet and gloves are off, teeth shining with blood as he grins like a psycho and starts to skate in Steve’s direction. One of the refs pulls him back, though, escorting him into the penalty box while another Kings player gathers his helmet, stick and gloves and clears them to the bench. 

The camera finally pans back to Steve, who is now sitting with his back against the boards. He’s got a gloved covering the lower half of his face, but his white jersey is covered in blood. A ref and the Blackhawks goalie are kneeling on either side of him as someone else speaks with him. The camera zooms in as the TV crews work to make out what is happening, just in time for Steve to lower his hand and shows off a gnarly gash along the side of his face. He leans forward a little and spits out blood onto the ice, and the TV jumps to the announcers in the booth. 

The volume is off, but they show a slow-motion replay of the few moments Eddie’d missed; Steve passes the puck off to another player on his team, just before Billy slams into his side. The impact sends both of them into the boards and down onto the ice. Billy swings his stick around and cracks Steve in the face with the blade heel. Steve reacts, throwing his whole arm into Billy’s face, before a sea of white Blackhawks jerseys sweep in and suddenly Billy’s a few feet away, with players from both teams piled up.

Eddie’s hand hovers over his phone; has no idea what to do in this situation. Texting Steve is useless; it would likely be hours, if not days, before he even thinks about looking at his phone. He doesn’t want to bother anyone, but he’s… well, he’s stressed. Even if Steve isn’t interested in him the way Eddie’s interested in Steve, they’ve still built a weird little friendship and that was an awful lot of blood.

So, Eddie ends up firing off a text to Robin. It’s just a simple 'let me know if there’s anything I can do,' but his phone lights up with a call immediately.

“How bad is it?”

“I’m not back with him yet, but just… meet us at the hospital, if you can?” She asks. While her voice waivers a bit, she’s calmer than Eddie expected her to be.

“I’ll be right there.” He agrees, hangs up and exits the bar before the game even returns from commercial break.

#hockeyplayer!steve harrington #steddie #rockstar!eddie munson #stranger things hockey au #glitter & crimson #sorry this took like 2 weeks #we're going to try to keep the momentum going here #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #platonic stobin #corroded coffin #steddie fanfic #starkidmunson writes #oh i almost forgot #one of the most important tags for this one #anti billy hargrove

[ciematis]

bloodhound starring yuuji itadori.

content warning: no pronouns used, but reader is implied to be dfab.

reader is dealing with their period/pms.

roughhousing/fighting (they are training), scent kink, yuuji and reader are 18+, sukuna is here too yuuji. funky (very slight) mind-control/subtle influence aspects. perverted thoughts. reader is annoyed by everything. no penetration/sex. yuuji smells you ovulating lmao? begging (from yuuji). dry humping. idk i was just writing shit and the plot got outta hand.

Yuuji’s changed since Sukuna came along.

Not something you acknowledged at first - of course, it would be within reason to anticipate some degree of pushback from the curse. A never before seen bond between human and … less-than-benevolent spirit was sure to have some stubborn aftereffects. It seems that little whisper of a king took care to extend his influence more permanently than you’d appreciate, frankly.

Yuuji’s senses have been unnaturally keen as of late. Not the ‘notice your new haircut’ kind of attentive - that natural knowledge that comes with closeness - but,

eerily observant. Sukuna’s cohabitation of Yuuji’s body seemed to have bolstered his olfactory systems in bizarre ways. Or maybe the curse had just gotten attached to the scent of your flesh.

Like when he noticed when you ran out of lavender shampoo, you started using citrus. Or when he shouted in front of ‘Gumi and Nobara about how you definitely changed your perfume. Weird shit. Mr. Paying-Too-Much-Attention just tried to brush it off.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d swear he was keeping tabs on you. He tried to be completely normal otherwise - even apologized about the perfume; though Megumi and Nobara ensure you never hear the end of it.

But he’s doing it again right now. In the lull of your training, he seems stunned for a moment; seemingly overtaken by the presence of something around him. When you ask ‘what?’, he responds with a question.

“Do you smell that?” He huffs the air like he’s starved for it, the genuine curiosity bouncing around in his eyes confounding more than it intrigued. His eyes are half-lid, dogged and low, like a bloodhound taking index of nearby quarries. He’s paused your flow, stopped your energy, and besides; “The only thing I can smell is you.” You scowl. You stand with your arms akimbo, lips subtly quirked in irritation. He looks gagged by that response, but keeps breathing deep; lids fluttering delicately to half-lids. 

 “Yuuji.” You go to cross your arms, glaring daggers. “Yuuji, c’mon, I need you to focus.” “Mmn." His nose wriggles; it's a little cute. "But it smells so good… You sure you didn’t bring food in here? I can’t focus with that- ah - smell.” He seems labored by it, but it’s not so strange for Yuuji to be incredibly dramatic about most things. “It smells like…mhn.” Failing to describe the scent, you rapidly find yourself disinterested in his little moment. But he’s insistent on having it.

He licks his lips til’ they shine under the fluorescent, fanged teeth poking from his upper lip as he makes a face. A brutal, not-quite-smile, then something else, reserved as he retained the barest hint of control. He looked feral, like a wolf twitching with pent up aggression, holding out for the fawn to tottle past.

You occasionally envied his inclination towards the eccentric- frankly freaky sometimes- but sadly, at present you lacked the patience. You’re not playing games this week, and definitely not today.

It feels like everything and everyone’s been pissing you off for like half the week. Nobody seems to be on the right timing - no, not even Nobara, who seems more to your speed even when you’re in a bad mood with the rest of them. Nothing happened (you think) to make you feel angry, this pent up, but you think the others have noticed and politely adjusted their behavior. Giving you more space during breaks, keeping conversations to polite banter and short chats, getting you snacks… 

Oh, now he’s starting to make you a little hungry. That’s what you think it is, that low simper in your belly as your vexation grows; tired of his antics. “Stop fucking around, man. I know this shit comes easy to you - or whatever - but I’m not letting you get me behind on training. Stand up.” The demand in your voice doesn’t seem to inspire motivation. Rather it just makes him annoyed, his brows now furrowed as he (bordering on obsessively) sniffs the air. Gets a whiff of something beautiful. Like blood pumping through veins, decadent, succulent, dripping, and raw. Rubs a bit of drool from his lips.

Sukuna’s been chittering in the time you weren’t. A faint locust buzz crescendos into airplanes flying overhead, a mantra tittering in the back of his head over and over again. 

It’s you. It’s you, It’s you, It’s you, It’s you.  Sukuna didn’t have to tell him that, really - he’s not that dumb - but forgive him for wanting to pretend like you’re not making him tent his sweatpants. He’s been smelling you all week - and after that argument with you and the gang on Tuesday, apparently nobody else noticed anything had changed. Granted, it’s not like he hates it; quite the contrary, actually… 

You smell too good. Like a forbidden delicacy; savory and not too sweet. Oh, if only he could get you on his tongue. The thought is as foreign as it is tantalizing. He’s quick to assume Sukuna has something to do with it - but when he’s still having those thoughts when Sukuna hasn’t spoken to him in days, he’d think it irresponsible to not take some accountability for it. He scowls to himself, glancing at you in his periphery as you practice your striking form.

(You dance through the air, the power in your thrust brought forth from the entirety of your body; each muscle, moving in perfect sync. The more you work yourself up - the stronger the scent of you gets. It’s like a pheromone, wafting irritatingly through the space, driving him fucking mad -)

“Your yearning is pathetic.” Yuuji’s mouth goes dry as Sukuna’s mouth splits open a space behind his ear; but you must not hear him - too busy slicing through nothing. “I’ve never understood playing with your food. If you’re strong enough to take the sorcerer - they’re yours to be had.” He reflexively goes to shut him up.

You’ve barely wanted to be near him all week. Or any of the gang, really. You’ve been acting differently, too. Quicker to anger and cutthroat, more territorial - less affectionate. You’re only training together because you pressed him for it, like you were dead set on showing him up. 

He thinks you’re doing fine. (Sukuna thinks it’s cute how hard you try).

You step too close and Yuuji’s head snaps to you on cue, and for a moment you think something’s wrong. He’s perched low down, searching you. Considering you, staring you up with that look. You recognize it - better suited to a battlefield and carnage - but it’s good to know he’s finally paying you attention. A full-minded, beady-eyed focus, as if you were a spirit in need of exorcism. He looks hungry for it.

You shuffle back reflexively, too wired to go down to some low-blow. “Oh? You ready to get back to it then?” You resume your offense, leaning into your stance as you watch Yuuji stagger to his legs almost drunkenly; and yet not taking his eyes off you. He balls his hands up into fists, feet shifting into position. “Yeah. I think m’ready. If you are.” His curtness is greatly appreciated, though you can’t help but quirk your brow at his change of pace. You squat lower, tighten your grip on your training weapon. 

You push in at the same time. The point of contact - his fist and your naginata - disappears in a  void of darkness. Tendrils of black jut out in all directions, and all you hear is the crrrr - ACK! of your wooden instrument;  split clean in two as the ‘sharp’ end goes flying and leaving you with the blunted shaft. He’s on top of you as soon as you recover, reaching forward with a quick jab you barely dodge.

The sweat runs off your forehead as you dart backwards, swiftly slamming the wooden handle down into his skull.  The naginata cracks into nothing. He is hardly winded. 

He reaches out for you and you dive to the side, throwing up your arm to shield your chest before Yuuji nearly caves it in.

“-shit!”

You’re gasping, nearly falling on your ass as the force of Yuuji’s kick knocks the air out of your lungs.

“- ah, fuck -”

There’s a feeling besides fear, there. A sudden shuddering in your limbs and a faintness in your head that makes you drop low to the ground, your legs wobbling ever so slightly, 

before they give, the blood rushing away from your head as a new pain blooms deep within your stomach. It joins the one in your chest, tormenting you. 

Yuuji’s on top of you when your vision returns from black (did you close your eyes? You hadn’t noticed), half concerned and half… well -

He’s got you pinned to the training mat below, weight audaciously pressing into your stomach as he plants himself firmly on top of you. There’s something hard down there, jabbing insistently into you that perplexes you for only a second; until his face tells you everything to know.

His gaze is hazy, like he’s coming off that high but not quite - got your arms pinned above your head even if he no longer needs to use that kind of force. His face is red, blushed from ear to ear, and your analysis is momentarily interrupted by his voice cutting through the silence. 

“Well, I won,” He huffs, rocking his hips a little. “Don’t I get a prize? Y’know - for winning?” He leans more to your level. You’re in no rush to buck him off - the pressure doesn’t feel that bad; actually.

"What?"

Your voice is breathy and incredulous when you fully come to.

“You want a fucking cookie or somethin’?” To your amusement, he nods excitedly. One of his hands leaves yours to slowly trail down your front. That focus still hadn’t lifted from him, his attention concentrated solely on the line he’s driving down your stomach.

“Yeah, something like that.” 

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ JJK/BANNER ART by gege akutami

all content written by me @ciematis, is owned by me, and you are not allowed to repost or translate my works. don't put my shit into ai generators, don't steal my shit and put it on wattpad. thank you.

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #yuuji itadori x reader #yuji itadori x reader #jjk x reader #yuuji itadori #yuji itadori #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #yuuji itadori fanfic #jjk yuuji #🪻┆all eyes on me. #itadori yuuji imagines #tw periods

[stories-and-chaos]

Shrike: Drinks with Mimzy

[Hazbin Hotel reader insert as Alastor’s “darling life and death partner” Ace x ace relationship, both parties are moderately sex favorable.]

[One shot, word count 1587. Cw: aphobia, alcoholism, cursing]

——————

The day after Lucifer’s visit, you went hunting. Not for souls or deals. Or…well one soul and in particular. And you didn’t intend to make a deal with this one. It took some time, checking various bars and clubs. You didn’t know which ones she was likely to frequent nowadays; being an Overlord didn’t give you much chance to go bar hopping with girlfriends.

So it wasn’t until early evening that you found her. Sitting at the bar, clearly tipsy, nursing another glass of whiskey, and bitching to the clearly annoyed bartender was Mimzy. You watched her finish her latest glass. “Gimme another one a these sugar.”

“Make that two, cher.” You came up next to Mimzy and slid a bill to the bartender. He looked even more annoyed at the idea of there being two whiny bitches at his bar but he got your drinks. “Thanks cher,” you said with a smile.

Mimzy glared at you. “Ugh, the fuck do you want?” It didn’t stop her from grabbing the drink you paid for.

“What, I can’t buy my friend a drink or five?” You expected hostility but damn. This seemed excessive. Fortunately you knew the way into her good graces: free drinks.

“Friends?!” she growled. “You come here saying we’re ‘friends’ after what your husband just pulled on me?!”

You sipped your whiskey, doing your best to let her fury wash over you. “From what I saw, Alastor pulled you out of yet another situation, and told you to take off because your problem trashed the place.”

“Like those sharks made much of a difference to that tacky joint. If anything I did you bastards a favor, free demolition.” She laughed nastily and finished her drink. You caught the bartender’s attention and nodded to Mimzy. You slid him another bill as he supplied her with another glass; it was high enough denomination to cover whatever she’d had already.

“Maybe you have a point, cher.” Not really, but you didn’t want her to close you out yet. You needed her less hostile, at least for now. “Here, let me treat you today Mimzy. Make it up to you.”

“Oh you know just how to butter me up doll.” The curvaceous blonde gladly accepted. If she owed 50 grand to loan sharks, doubtless she had tabs at every place in the city that sold alcohol. Which made up the majority of businesses in Hell.

You drank sparingly, just enough so she felt you were having a grand time together. You had the bartender keep supplying her refills; he seemed in a better mood now that someone else was dealing with the sloshed demon.

You let her bitch about everything in her afterlife and responded with soothing noises. In the end, you wanted to know how much shit she was in. This was the first time Alastor had sent her packing; you weren’t sure how she would react. You hadn’t missed the pink mark on her back on her shoulder blade. It hadn’t been there the last time you’d seen your old colleague.

Once she paused in her rambling, you asked about the mark. “I never expected you to get a tattoo, cher. What convinced you?”

The drinks and your apparent sympathy were enough to keep her talking, especially if it was something else to bitch about. “Ugh, that. Had to get it for work. One of the club owners works for someone that works for someone that works for one a’ the Sins. Greed’s head honcho.” She sipped her drink, starting to slow down as she got drunker. “The Sin bastard likes to mark any Sinners working for him, like some horny creep.” She downed the rest of her current whiskey.

“‘Course if you and your beau were properly grateful. I wouldn’t be dealing with this shit.” She pointed at you, empty glass in hand, her eyes looking unfocused and angry. The bartender moved to give her another drink but you made a cutting motion. This was the first time you heard anything of this.

“Grateful for what?” You asked, unable to help yourself. You honestly couldn’t remember what she could be talking about.

She looked at you, black and pink eyes wavering. “Fucking, of course!” You could only tilt your head. “Jesus Christ, it’s been a century and you’re still clueless? It ain’t cute anymore dollface.” Mimzy set her glass down harshly. “Sex, Y/N. S. E. X. If me and the gals hadn’t said anything, you and Alastor woulda never figured it out. You’d probably still be frigid little virgins in Hell.”

Your jaw dropped as you felt a cold spike in your core. You actually had to look down to make sure you hadn’t been stabbed. No, it was just words from someone you’d still thought of fondly. The alcohol didn’t excuse Mimzy; if anything it made her more honest.

Has she always felt like that? No… you remembered her saying she thought you and Alastor were good together. That she wanted you both to be happy. Somewhere in all those decades between then and now, things changed.

She was smirking as you processed all this, glad that she managed to hit you where it hurt evidently. In the way only people who are hurting can do, she kept pushing. But she didn’t realize what exactly hurt you. “You’re probably both terrible in bed too. Lemme guess, you just lay there while he tries to remember where to stick it?” Mimzy kept going as you stayed silent.

As her insults grew, the betrayal of a friend gave way to comedic disbelief. You started chuckling, then you were outright laughing, pounding your taloned fist on the counter. It was a good thing you had finished your drink because all the glasses around you jumped.

“What the fuck is so funny?” Your laughter finally got her stream of rudeness to stop. The indignant look on Mimzy's face just made you laugh harder, your feet kicking in glee.

“Oh, damn, I’m gonna pee myself. Fucking Hell Mimzy! Oh fuck, I needed that laugh.” You wheezed and took deep breaths until you could look at her reddened face without laughing. “Cher, you got one thing right; I still don’t understand all this nonsense about sex. Alastor still doesn’t either.

But that’s never mattered. I’ll never understand why you people think that’s so important to us. Maybe we wouldn’t have ever done it. I doubt that but we also would never have cared. You and so many others are so obsessed with sex that you can’t even imagine a relationship without it! It would be sad if it wasn’t so hilarious.”

Mimzy blinked at you, confusion, anger, and drunkenness warring in her expression. “Even now, you don’t get it! Cher, you insulting us about sex didn’t hurt. You’re a friend and my friend thinking I was stupid hurt.”

You ran your hand down your face. “Mimzy, cher, I’m just going to back up my darling here. If you want to redeem yourself, you’re welcome at the hotel. But don’t come calling otherwise. Especially if what’s his name, Mammon? The Greed Sin, comes after you. We’ll gift wrap you for him before we tussle with a Deadly Sin.”

Pulling the bartender aside, you paid for her outstanding tab, along with tonight’s drinks and a generous tip. “I paid your tab here, so you can call that payment for that talk years ago. Find me when you decide to not be a bitch.” You tucked one of your feathers into her headband. “Au revoir cher.”

Mimzy snatched the feather out and crushed it in her hands. “I don’t need you or him. I don’t need your hotel! I hope those angels kill all of you next Extermination Day, bitch!”

Back at the hotel, Alastor was in the parlor, listening to Charlie’s plans for her visit to Heaven. “Soooooo, how did it go?” he asked in a sing-song tone once he spotted you. You’d told him your plan to find Mimzy before leaving.

“As well as could be expected. I don’t think she’ll bother us anymore. I told her we’d gift wrap her for whoever came looking if she tried something like yesterday again.”

“Hmm, but that would be such a waste of good gift wrap.”

Later that night, in your suite, you went into more detail about your conversation. You were on Alastor’s lap, venting your hurt and tears. “I know she’s gotten worse in Hell, that she’s been using you, but I thought she was still our friend.” He let you get it all out, handkerchief at the ready when you were.

“I thought so as well, cher,” he said quietly. “I hate to admit it but Husk pointed it out to me. We can’t have her interfering though.”

“No,” you said simply, drying your eyes.

Alastor looked down at you, that sharp edged smile just a bit softer than usual. “I think I know what can help you for now, my dear.” With that he stood you both up and started humming, a question in his eyes. Your voice felt a bit hoarse from crying but you hummed along, practice making you harmonize. Then he swept you into a dance.

After a few numbers, you felt up to singing. The two of you danced until you were tired (Alastor probably could have kept going but he didn’t have an emotionally stressful day). That night you fell asleep in his arms, glad you’d married someone that understood you like he did.

——————

A/N: this is more than a little self indulgent on my part. My frustrations with aphobes knows no bounds. Kinda prompted after discussion with a therapist concerning aphobia and the nonsense acespec people deal with. Never forget how valid you are. 💜🤍🩶🖤 💚🤍🩶🖤 Cheers darlings!

@whitewolfsoldat @edgyboi10000 @ch3sire-blu3 @clearly-awkward @badatpunz @bengewatch @chewbrry

#hazbin hotel #hazbin fanfic #hazbin alastor #hazbin mimzy #alastor #alastor x reader #asexual alastor #asexual reader #asexual #acespec #ace representation #aphobia #aphobes fuck off #aroace

[in1-nutshell]

The opposite personality buddy’s are amazing and that leads me to wonder if you could do Ultra Magnus with a sparkling buddy who has a opposite personality as him? Like him dealing with his sparkling looking up to wheeljack a lot and having a slight crush in him, buddy did arrive on earth with Magnus.

YEEEEE! I love making these Buddy's! Should I do more for the future?

Also Buddy is going to have more of an Uncle/niece relationship than a romantic one.

Hope you enjoy!

Ultra Magnus daughter with the opposite personality

SFW, Platonic, Familial, Cybertronain reader

TFP

Magnus first met Buddy as a sparkling.

She was so tiny back then.

He had been walking back to his home after a long day with Optimus Prime

With a war looming over everyone’s helm their talks and teachings were becoming more and more frequent.

Today though, he found a rather large box in front of his door.

Magnus inching cautiously toward the box.

He carefully opens the lid.

A small sparkling looks at him.

“A sparkling?”--Magnus

The sparkling starts crying.

“Wait no! don’t cry!”--Magnus

Magnus quickly grabs the sparkling trying to calm them down.

The sparkling immediately stops crying and places her servos on his faceplate.

“So that’s you started crying, little one?”--Magnus

Sparkling giggles and just pats him face.

“No…do not make that face. You are going to go to the sparkling unit—”--Magnus

The sparkling yawns and cuddles close to his spark and falsl dead asleep.

“…Great…What would Optimus do?”--Magnus

“Keep her.”--Optimus

Magnus jumps at the sound of his mentor’s voice.

“Sir!? What are you doing here?”--Magnus

“You forgot your data pad. And it looks like you’ve met someone new. Does she have a name?”--Optimus

“…I am not sure—”--Magnus

Both mechs notice a small data pad in the box

It says Buddy.

“I believe that is their designation. Buddy?”--Magnus

The sparkling churns a bit cuddling closer.

It was definitely a big adjustment for Magnus, but he did his best to set aside time for the sparkling throughout the day and at night.

Especially when finding out that this sparkling was rather energetic and had a bad habit of sneaking off.

Magnus is trying to find Buddy in his office.

Ratchet walks in with Optimus.

“Ultra Magnus?”—Optimus

Magnus is still turning over office supplies and chairs.

“Optimus, Ratchet… it’s been 2 hours, 45 minutes, 35 seconds and 52 nano clicks! I can’t find Buddy!”--Magnus

“Umm…”—Rachet

“She should be in this room. It was locked and…and…”--Magnus

“Magnus—”--Ratchet

“Wait! The Wrecker’s might know where she could be hiding. Thank you both for the help.”--Magnus

Magnus begins to walk out of the room.

Optimus and Ratchet watch Buddy cling onto Magnus shoulders while waving good-bye.

“…”--Optimus

“…Should we tell him?”--Ratchet

“…Not now.”--Optimus

Soon enough the war had finally broken out.

Now a new set of obstacles presented themselves.

Babysitting.

He had much more work to do with being Prime’s lieutenant.

And someone needed to keep tabs on his rather energetic sparkling running around everything.

She was too tiny and kept on hiding in places she knew she should not have been hiding.

Magnus talked with Ratchet about Buddy’s growth.

She should have been much bigger by this age, but she was still too small.

“This is something natural Magnus.”--Ratchet

Magnus trying to keep Buddy to sit still.

“It is?”--Magnus

“In all, she is just going to be growing slower or if my theory is correct, she should have an immediate growth spurt soon.”--Ratchet

“How big do you think she will get?”--Magnus

“I am not entirely sure Magnus. At least average height, if anything else, she could be a minibot.”--Ratchet

“Hmm.”--Magnus

“Magnus.”--Ratchet

“Ratchet?”--Magnus

“Where’s Buddy?”--Ratchet

Buddy is no longer sitting on the med slab.

“…”—Magnus and Ratchet

Concern truck and siren noises intensify.

As for babysitters, Prime had offered to look after Buddy many times for Magnus. Which he didn’t mind too much as he trusted the Prime, despite being a bit embarrassed. Buddy was a completely different baby when she was around Prime.

A lot quieter.

She kept him on his pedes every now and then, trying to run and jump off of everywhere.

Ratchet was another babysitter for Buddy.

She made sure the medical cabinets were locked with three locks.

She always figures out the locks with sweets or shiny tools.

She was still tiny and could hide in some of the best places.

This was all while the sparkling could crawl.

She had just learned how to properly walk by herself when Magnus became in charge of the Wrecker’s.

Buddy was now a little menace on two pedes with wheels.

Nothing was stopping her and her energetic moods.

Many Wreckers found themselves looking after the little one during more peaceful moments while Magnus was away.

Magnus walks into the room to find the wreckers tossing Buddy in the air like a ball.

Magnus nearly has a spark attack.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!”--Magnus

“We didn’t have a ball for lobbing so we’re using Buddy. She seems to like it.”--Wheeljack

Buddy giggling as she is tossed in the air again.

“Again! Again!”--Buddy

“No, not again!”--Magnus

Buddy looks at Wheeljack.

“Uncle Jackie?”—Buddy

“Uncle Jackie?”--Magnus

Wheeljack smirks and tosses Buddy high.

“WHEELJACK NO!”--Magnus

“WHEELJACK YES!”—Wheeljack

“JACKIE YES!”--Buddy

There was one bot in the entire squad he wished Buddy hadn’t formed an attachment with…

Wheeljack.

Wheeljack had the chaotic energy that nearly matched Buddy’s.

Those two were almost always seen together when there were no fights for the day.

Buddy always wanted to go with Uncle Jackie.

Wheeljack was definitely an instigator and encouraged many of Buddy’s little gremlin habits.

Magnus walking in on Wheeljack giving Buddy a dagger.

“What are you doing!?”--Magnus

“Giving her a dagger?”

Magnus grabs the dagger from her servos despite her whines.

“She shouldn’t have this yet.”--Magnus

“All right, all right.”--Wheeljack

Loud yelling gets Magnus’s attention and moves out.

Wheeljack snickered and looked over at Buddy, who had a cheeky little grin.

She pulls out a small blaster from one of her subspaces.

“Now kid, what do we do with blaster?”--Wheeljack

“We, umm, don’t point them at nice bots faces.”--Buddy

“And?”--Wheeljack

“We shoot Con’s kneecaps off?”--Buddy

“And?”--Wheeljack

“If Father finds out, I found it on the floor while I was left unsupervised?”--Buddy

Wheeljack pats Buddy on the helm with a wide smile.

“Yep! Just like that.”--Wheljack

Buddy hugs Wheeljack’s pede.

“Thank you, Uncle Jackie!”

Wheeljack just pats her helm affectionately.

“Anytime kiddo. Anytime.”--Wheeljack

Wheeljack left one night and never came back to the Wrecker unit.

Buddy thought that something bad had happened to him.

She wasn’t convinced that he would just leave her like that.

Uncle Jackie wouldn’t do that.

…right?

A week later she decided to go look for him.

Wheeljack always said to never leave your friends behind, well, she wasn’t going to leave him behind.

She boarded a ship in the middle of the night and tried getting close to the controls when a loud bomb sound shook the ground making her fall into an empty crate.

A bomb had hit the Wrecker’s base.

Magnus was scrambling trying to get everyone out of the fiery inferno.

He quickly realized the direction where the bomb had detonated.

The area where the bomb had been set off was around her sleeping quarters.

There was nothing but rubble and melted metal.

No one could have survived that blast…

A couple of Wrecker’s managed to get him on the ship before they left for another.

He flew away from Cybertron on that ship.

He started to cry when he was far enough from orbit.

Most of his team had dispersed and now Buddy…Buddy was…

He set the ship on autopilot and let out a gut-wrenching sob.

Some boxes move near the cargo hold.

Magnus stops his sobs and looks at the box that was moving around.

The box opens up with Buddy kicking the lid off, climbing out of the box and laying on the floor.

“Buddy…?”--Magnus

Buddy looks at Magnus.

“Hi! Sorry I woke you up. I got caught inside the box—”--Buddy

Magnus jumps to his pedes and slides across the floor and hugs Buddy like his life depended on it.

“…Father? What happened?”--Buddy

That was the first time Buddy had seen her father sob so hard as he hugged her tight.

They spent the rest of that night in each other’s arms sobbing for their ruined home and out of relief they were okay for now.

Buddy’s growth spurt happened while they were looking for any other Autobots in space.

And it hit fast.

One deca cycle she was around the height of his knee.

The next thing he knew she was now taller and bulkier than him.

She was still so young too…

“How is this even possible?!”--Buddy

“I do not know.”--Magnus

“I don’t want to keep getting bigger!”--Buddy

“That is something we cannot control.”--Magnus

“Yeah, I think I can tell…”--Buddy

When they received the signal from Earth, they followed it.

Arcee was happy to see Magnus again but didn’t recognize the larger bot next to him.

“Ultra Magnus sir.”--Arcee

“At ease soldier.”--Magnus

Arcee looks over at the taller bot who is just waving.

“Hi Arcee!”--Buddy

“Hi…?”--Arcee

Magnus looks at Buddy who just looks at his back before turning to Arcee.

“You probably don’t remember me after all these years. I’m Buddy.”--Buddy

Arcee’s optics widen a lot.

“Buddy?! But how?!”--Arcee

Buddy chuckles a bit.

“I guess I finally grew up, didn’t I?”--Buddy

“What’s going on?”--Jack

Buddy and Magnus look at Jack.

“Is this one of the native life forms of this planet?”--Buddy

Buddy moves towards Jack, kneels down and gently pats his head.

“So small…”--Buddy

“Seriously what’s happening?”—Jack

After Team Prime finally has their reunion.

Buddy waving at Ratchet.

“Hi Ratchet!”--Buddy

Ratchet looks like he is about to have a stroke.

“Buddy?!”--Ratchet

Magnus gives him a look of ‘I-know-you-said-she-was-going-to-grow-but-I-didn’t-think-she-was-going-to-be-this-big!’

Ratchet looks back at him with ‘How-was-I-supposed-to-know-her-size?’

Buddy waves at Optimus who is roughly around the same height as her.

“Hi Optimus!”--Buddy

“… Hello Buddy.”--Optimus

Buddy smiles.

Optimus gives both Magnus and Ratchet a look saying ‘Primus-she-was-the-size-of-my-servo-when-I-last-saw-her!’

Both look at him with a ‘I-know!’ look.

Buddy was excited to meet other bots around her age.

Bee and Smokescreen have now become big brothers.

Well, older brothers…

Buddy likes to tease them a bit on size, but in a good-natured way.

She knows how hard life was being too small to do anything.

Buddy is very excited to meet Bulkhead, knowing stories from Wheeljack.

Bulkhead is just happy Jackie had someone that ‘looked’ after him too.

Buddy reminds Bulkhead too much like Wheeljack which still confuses him.

How could Buddy, who was clearly Wrecker material have such a strict rule based father like Ultra Magnus?

When the kids found out about Buddy they were just happy to meet a new member of the team.

“Buddy these are the kids. You’ve already met Jack.”--Bulkhead

Buddy waves back at Jack.

“This is Miko.”--Bulkhead

Miko gives Buddy a peace sign.

Buddy mimics the movement back.

“And this is Raf.”--Bulkhead

Raf waving shyly at Buddy.

Buddy just smiles and waves back.

“You’re really big.”--Raf

“I know! But I didn’t start out this way. I was tiny before.”--Buddy

“How tiny?”--Raf

Buddy points at Arcee.

“Smaller than Arcee. Like half.”--Buddy

“How!? What kind of juice did you drink!”--Miko

“What’s juice?”--Buddy

The kids are very confused about why so many of the bots were slightly babying Buddy.

It takes a while for them to get the idea that Buddy is the youngest member now.

Magnus is glad to see Buddy get to know the team.

He isn’t too excited when her louder side shows up more.

But he loves his daughter, so it isn’t all too bad.

When Buddy gets told that Wheeljack is on Earth, she is angry.

Her angry came at two ways.

It could be acting exactly like her father.

Or two, her personal favorite.

Judo flipping the mech.

That’s what she did the second she saw the white mech.

Buddy clenching her servos and glaring at Wheeljack as he greets everyone.

He walks up to Buddy.

“And who might you be? Don’t tell me—”--Wheeljack

Buddy swiftly grabs Wheeljack and flips him onto his back with a loud bang!

Buddy has a pede on his chassis.

“What did I do to you! Have to hand it to you, the flip was clean—”--Wheeljack

“You have broken rule 17 section 4.5 sub point A, Wheeljack.”--Buddy

“Great she is another Magnus.”--Wheeljack

“Umm… Wheeljack… That’s Buddy.”--Bulkhead

“Yeah right! Buddy is smaller than Arcee—”--Wheeljack

Buddy leans in a bit closer with a mischievous smile on her face.

“Hi Uncle Jackie.”--Buddy

Wheeljack’s optics widen.

“HOW!”--Wheeljack

#transformers x reader #maccadam #bot buddy #tfp #tfp x reader #tfp x platonic reader #tfp ultra magnus

[arabellasleopardcoat]

Wolf (Daemon Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: Daemon inherits the Red Keep. He turns it into a sex club. You know, as one does.

Warnings: Modern Daemon x Hightower reader. Smut. Dom/ Sub dynamics. Overstimulation.

A/N: Daemon's views do not represent my own! Pt 2 to this. There is no need to read pt 1 to understand it, though. Also, do not learn BDSM from fanfic.

You sighed. You dropped your head, smashing the keyboard. This was unbelievable. Had your CV always looked so bland?

You erased the keysmash, and put instead, five years of experience as an CDO.

The door to your office was slammed open, making you jerk in your seat. You looked up, an annoyed remark already on your tongue, and froze. Daemon. Because who else would barge in so rudely?

“Your whorish sister is suing me.” He sat down, dramatically slumping down on the chair. “Make it stop.”

Your eyebrows raised.

“Good morning to you too.” You closed the tab you were browsing in, job offers in King's Landing, and looked up at him. It was the first time you had seen each other since the elevator incident. So far, you were unimpressed with his opening gambit. “Alicent is the most monogamous person in Westeros.”

“It was a figure of speech.”

“Whatever. I am busy.” You typed even more furiously. You had all tabs closed, but Daemon didn't need to know that. It gave you an excuse to avoid looking at him. After that afternoon in the elevator, you were too embarrassed to do so.

Despite having been the one in control the whole time, you were the one who felt more ashamed of your encounter. Once the power trip had worn off, and you had faced reality, embarrassment had started to creep in. Sitting in your father's car with a bruised throat and soaking wet underwear had been humiliating enough. Just thinking of it made you hot under the collar, and not in a good way.

Daemon, instead, had the shamelessness of a porn star. To him, it hadn't been a big deal at all, and it showed. He strutted around the building, giving you naughty little grins every time your paths crossed. The only change had come, oddly enough, from following his real Instagram. You had been added to his Close Friends and now endured the terrible, inhuman torture of watching his selfies. If his mirror pics showed any more skin, they would be dick pics.

“You won't even ask why I am being sued?”

You sighed. You stopped feigning typing.

“I don't need to ask. I can guess it has to do with the contesting of your brother's will.”

Good Gods, you had heard enough of that. Alicent was clawing at the walls and frothing at the mouth that she was getting evicted from her home. Viserys had left her a considerable amount of money and properties, just as he had done for their children. But the Red Keep, the ancestral home in which she had lived ever since they married, was going to Daemon.

Your father was impossible, too. The majority of Viserys' share had gone to Daemon and Rhaenyra, which meant they could easily kick him out of the company. If they managed to agree on something, of course.

“It does.” Daemon kicked his feet up, placing them on your desk. He made a show of getting comfortable.

“There. Out of my office. I'm working” You slapped what you could reach of his feet and calves, until he had no choice but lower them.

“Fuck, you are so…” Whatever Daemon was going to say, he didn't get the chance. You slammed your laptop closed with much more force than necessary, making him wince. “Stop that. Seven Hells, you are so uptight. Relax. It doesn't matter. It’s not like you will hold this job much longer.”

“Is this my notice?” Your eyes narrowed. “Because you need to present it written, and I have to…”

“I just mean, when Rhaenyra gets the…” Daemon started saying, but once again, you did not give him the chance to finish. If he was going to interrupt you, you were going to interrupt him too. Petty as it sounded, it brought you great satisfaction to see him squirm.

“When Alicent, Aegon, Aemond, Helaena and Daeron, you mean.” You smirked.

“God, what a mouthful.” Daemon laughed. It was annoying. His laugh was so loud and unashamed. You wanted to punch him. Or, at least, shake him and see if his only two neurons made synapse.

“Whatever.” You started to get up, grabbing your coat. Where were you going? Not even you knew, but it would be fine, as long as it was away from him.

“They could fire you still.” Daemon got up as well, blocking the exit. There was no escaping him, it seemed.

“I'll take my chances.” You snarled. Fuck, you didn't even mind Rhaenyra that much. It was the principle of the thing. What had she done for the company? Both she and Daemon just rode Viserys and Otto's success, spending money like it grew on trees and causing so many PR scandals they could as well be a controversial rock band. “Move.”

“It's still going to Rhaenyra.” Daemon placed a hand on your shoulder, holding you in place. His grip wasn't harsh, but rather, a warning. It made you think of the way he had tugged your hair, when you were on your knees… “Your sister is suing me because I want to put a sex club on the Red Keep.”

You choked on air.

“You want to do what?!”

“It's an historical building. Or so she says.” Daemon ignored you completely. To him, apparently, filling one of his ancestral properties with a bunch of naked, drunk people, was the new normal. You know, just what one does, if one is filthy rich and bored on a random Tuesday.

“It is one.” You said, a bit perplexed. The Red Keep was more than a hundred years old. Alicent had taken great care to restore the place, bringing experts from all over the world to ensure the best care for the building. You could not even imagine the look on her face when she realized that not only was she being evicted, but that also, Daemon intended to use her home as his sex dungeon.

How would that even work? Was it legal? Tourists visited the Red Keep, you knew. The place was nice, but it was a castle. You could not picture it as a club, or anything more than the home it had been for your nephews.

“The inauguration is on Friday. See you there.” Daemon clapped your shoulder, oddly sheepish. He seemed to actually want you there, which threw you for a loop. He kissed the corner of your mouth, and left, leaving you stunned in the middle of your office.

It ate at you the whole week. A few discreet inquiries confirmed that yes, Alicent sued Daemon. And then, Daemon sued back.

His official Instagram says nothing. His secret one, though, has it plastered all over. You make a note of it, sure that it will leak before the week is over. You get it right. The week passes in a flurry of desperate interns and phone calls, trying to calm down outraged members of the board. His face is all over the news, and the stocks drop. Again.

Your father is furious. Positively seething. Alicent is no better, especially the more Friday approaches. Each day that goes by, it’s one closer to losing her claim on the Red Keep altogether.

It had been a foolish choice, choosing Aemond as a lawyer. He was precisely the kind of man who never knew when to negotiate. If it had been up to you, you would have hired his associate, Alys Strong. Now that was a woman who you could respect.

You tried pretending deafness and blindness, clinging to the idea that out of sight was out of mind. It didn't work whatsoever. You couldn't stop worrying about what would happen if anyone found out about your rendezvous with Daemon last month.

Death, surely. Either throttled by Alicent, or out of sheer embarrassment of your father learning you had sex.

You should stay away from him. It was the reasonable thing to do. A one-night stand didn't mean anything. Everyone had those. Daemon was trouble. But gods, the look on his face when you had left him wanting. How powerful you had felt. Anyone would have trouble letting that go.

Friday dragged by, and you still had not made your choice. You agonized over it all day. It was only when you got off work that you made your choice. You were going, if only to see the clusterfuck with your own eyes.

Daemon had that kind of effect on you. It reminded you of the magicians at the birthday parties you used to attend as a child. He made you recklessly curious, always wanting to see what would be his next trick.

Deciding what to wear was another agonizing choice. Overall, it didn't matter. You realized as soon as you entered the Red Keep that you were overdressed. If you had shown up only in your panties, perhaps you would have blended right in.

It was tacky. It was tasteless. It screamed Daemon.

The Red Keep layout was kept the same, probably because it was an historical building and anything but would go against the conservation’s laws. All the furniture had been removed, making you barely recognize the rooms you passed. This was no longer your sister's home, but a den of sin.

The rooms were only lit by red lights, the heavy bass of some song that was probably in the Fifty Shades of Grey soundtrack echoing in the stone walls. You made your way to what used to be the dinning room, and walked towards the bar.

Tonight was meant to be a soft launch, and you intended to take advantage of the lowered prices. You asked the bartender to bring you a cocktail, but much to your surprise, the cocktail did not come alone. Instead, it came with a pamphlet and a small basket, filled with colorful bracelets.

“You have to wear one, Miss.” The bartender said. You stared.

When you were confident about what they each meant, you grabbed a purple one and placed it on your wrist.

“Switch.” Daemon whispered in your ear, startling you. “Are you sure about that?”

“Good Gods! You frightened me.” You complained, clutching your chest. To be able to speak to him over the loud music, you had to lean into his space quite a bit. By the smirk on his face, he was clearly enjoying it.

“I live for that. Frightening naive little girls.” Daemon gave a tug to the bracelet, letting it snap against your skin. “Sure about the color?”

“I am.” You moved back, scowling. You hated that he always wanted to command everything around him. The bracelet on his wrist was dominant red, making perfect sense.

“I would not say you are.” His hands were quick to catch you, one at your hip and another at your nape. Daemon ran a finger down your spine, making you shiver. “I think you are a little princess who loves submitting.”

“I am not a sub all the time.” You pushed his hands away. If anyone saw you practically on his lap, there would be hell to pay. Alicent would throw a fit, and so would your father. Besides, you didn't fancy ending up in the tabloids. “And get your hands off me, we are in public.”

“Look around, you prude. Practically an orgy.” He pressed a kiss to your jaw, and gently tilted you to face some couches in the other room. There were two women kissing, while a man was kneeling between their spread legs. None of them were wearing any clothes. You swallowed. You had been carefully avoiding looking at the others in the room. “And you are a submissive to me. You know what they say…”

“And what gave you that impression?” Your tone was sharp, but you were not as invested in the conversation as you once were. No. Because your eyes were fixed on a younger man, lingering by the corner of the room. A very familiar one, with silver hair. Was that..?

Whoever caught your attention, he was not allowed it long. Daemon stepped in front of you, blocking your view of him. One of his hands went to your face.

“Looks like one.” He pressed a kiss to your neck, open-mouthed. You hated your treacherous, treacherous body for reacting to it, a moan escaping your mouth. “Sounds like one.” Daemon kissed you, exactly at the pace that you liked. For some bewildering reason, that not even you could fathom, you kissed back. “Tastes like one. Must be one, don't you think?”

Daemon grinned at you, superiorly. Irritatingly, and just like that time in the elevator, you weren't sure if you wanted to slap the smile off his face, or kiss it away.

“I do not look submissive.” You bristled. “What in the Seven Hells gave you that impression?”

“Your eyes are all glazed over. You look fucked out and I haven't even touched you. And of course…” Daemon brushed the slope of your nose with a finger and gave it a boop. You batted his hand away, annoyed. “The fact that you were practically drooling to suck my cock a month ago.”

“First of all, that is not even a word. And you said it yourself. A month ago.”

“What? Glazed over or fucked out?”

“You sound like a bad porno.”

“A bad porno you like, little brat.” Daemon nosed along your shoulder, making your knees feel weak. He had the face of a man experiencing heaven, as if the tastiest delicacy was just there, for him to consume. “Lucky you, I love brats.”

“As if I care.” You did, but Daemon didn't need to know that. Part of you felt strangely pleased at being his type.

Daemon laughed. He kissed the tip of your nose.

“You owe me a punishment. Up for it?”

And again, contradicting all common sense, you nodded. Daemon grabbed your hand and brought you to a closed door, but before you could get in, someone pressed into your side.

“Aunt. How lovely.” Aegon said, smiling like a shark. You felt so embarrassed that you felt as if about to spontaneously combust. Daemon's arm around your waist tightened.

“Dear nephew!” Daemon smirked. “Fancy meeting you here. Tell me, how did you get in? Fake ID?”

Aegon was well over legal age, but he glared at Daemon regardless.

“With the invitation you sent me.” He then waved a hand towards you. “Does Mother know about this?”

“Well, yes. But I wasn't expecting you to show.” Daemon said, casually. Your mouth fell open.

“You sent him an invitation? Are you insane?” You shouted, turning towards him.

“I take it Mother doesn't know.”

“I wasn't expecting him to come! How would I have known?” Daemon shouts right back.

“You are mad.” You detangle yourself from him and ask the bartender for a shot. “Why the fuck would you do that?”

You down the shot so fast, you barely feel the sting of alcohol in the back of your throat. Aegon watches, amused, and asks for a drink of his own. When faced with the basket, he immediately picks a submissive bracelet and slips it on casually.

“Nice place you got here.” He complimented. Daemon ignores him, choosing instead to grab you by the arm.

“I can explain, little Hightower.”

“Fuck, you call her that?” Aegon whistles, delighted. His voice has a hint of awe. “That's dirty.”

“Shut up!” You glare at Aegon. Daemon falls quiet. “No, not you, fool. Explain.”

“I sent one to your sister, to Cole, to your father, to that boy with the stick up his ass, to Harwin and Nyra, to Helaena, to…” Daemon was counting with his fingers, and it seemed like he wasn't going to stop anytime soon.

“I get it, I get it.” You interrupted. “What for?”

“To piss them off, of course. Gods know, some of those cunts need loosening up.”

“And Rhaenyra? Is she happy with what you have done with the place?” You snarl, a bit of jealousy creeping in your tone.

“Very. In fact, I saw her disappear over there with that Cole guy.” He pointed towards one of the rooms.

“Criston? Didn't think he had it in him.” Aegon comments idly.

“He is dornish.” Daemon interjected, as if it made perfect sense. But it didn't because being dornish didn't equate with wanting to receive whatever Rhaenyra had in mind. You certainly wouldn't be up for it. Your paths had crossed with hers enough times to know that, just as Daemon, she demanded worship.

Whatever Criston was doing here, you hoped he didn't regret it in the morning. Or else, you would have to explain to Alicent why her bodyguard was moping around and hungover.

Alicent. Fuck. Criston wanted to fuck her so bad it made him look stupid, and so did Rhaenyra. Perhaps that was it. Neither of them could have her, so they settled for each other instead.

“And heavy on the guilt.” Aegon muttered.

“Well, dear nephew. As lovely as it was meeting you here, and as touching as your show of support for my fine establishment was, I have business with your aunt.” Daemon's hand presses against your lower back, urging you forwards. You give Aegon a wide-eyed look. He is not the sort to care where others stick their cocks, and you are on relatively good terms, but he could still tell.

“Gross. Does Grandfather..?” Well. No one said Aegon was the paragon of intelligence. It is for the best that you didn't answer his question. Plausible deniability and all.

Daemon and you exchange a look. Your eyes, pleading. His, annoyed.

“Anything he drinks is free.” Daemon grumbles to the barman. He knows as well as you do that Aegon is easily distracted.

“What? For real?”

Neither of you answered. Daemon kept moving, and so did you. He led you towards one of the locked doors, deftly pushing a token inside a slit, and the door opened for you.

Your expectations for what was inside were high. Needing a token to open a door must mean this place is something special. A dungeon, perhaps, or a room filled with chains and leather. Maybe even a bedroom.

But as you have often come to realize with men, having high expectations is a terrible idea. The only thing inside is a cozy-looking couch and a small table that holds a bowl full of condoms and lube. You are unable to keep the disappointed little frown from your face. Daemon had talked such a big game, you had expected something different. Something more.

“This is it?” You say, trying not to sound as disappointed as you feel.

“Yes.” Daemon sits down on the couch. You stare. You must be pretty obvious because he gives you a lazy smile. “Not what you were expecting?”

“No.” Entranced by the way his lips curl, you step closer to him.

“What were you expecting?” Daemon’s hands go to rest on your hips like it's the most natural thing in the world.

“I don't know. Whips, chains?”

Daemon chuckles.

“Oh, sweetling.” He kisses between your collarbones, mouth leaving a trail of scorching heat on its path. You gasp, feeling weak at the knees from the simple touch. Your hands go to his shoulders, clenching and unclenching on his shirt to try to steady yourself.

Thing about Daemon? He is not polite. He kisses your chest and shoulders as if he wants to devour you. Daemon is messy with it, too, leaving you covered in hickeys and saliva. It should disgust you, but it only manages to turn you on more.

The bass pounds outside the room, mixing with the heavy pulse of your blood in your ears. You could swear you can listen to your heartbeat, with how fast your heart is going. Little pants escape you, only encouraging Daemon to get wilder.

He mouths at your throat. He takes off your top, sliding it down your shoulders. You cling to him, trembling and feverish. Your nails dig into the skin of his back, you feel as if about to fall over.

“Please.” You say, and you don't even know what you are asking for. Daemon, though, seems to know exactly what you need. His hand sneaks into your trousers, finding you wet and willing. Your knees buckle.

“Shh.” His voice is soothing. “Straddle me.”

So you do. His mouth goes lower, taking one of your nipples inside his mouth. You give a small, keening sound.

“Daemon…”

“I'm on it.” He smiles against your skin and slowly starts to suck. His fingers move upwards, after collecting some of your wetness. He locates your clit with deadly accuracy and starts rubbing soft little circles.

You mewl. Your hand goes to his neck, holding him as close as you can to your chest. It's not hard for him at all to bring you over the edge. You fall over it embarrassingly fast, muffling a moan on his shoulder.

Daemon lightly bites around your nipple, making you jolt. He keeps stroking you through it, pleasurable circles on your clit turning into painful oversensitivity. You cry out, legs trying to close, but finding there is no way for you to do it with how you are straddling Daemon.

“Hurts. Stop, Daemon.” You complain, trying to get away. Instead of complying with your request, though, Daemon only holds you tighter.

“Now, little brat. Where do you think you are going?” He smirks. Alarmed, you try to break his grip, pushing at his shoulders and even attempting to cup a hand over your cunt. “I have not forgotten what you did.”

You bite at his shoulder, hard. Daemon laughs, and keeps abusing your poor clit. His fingers pinch around it, exposing more of the bead.

“What's your safeword?”

“Safeword.” You mutter back, too distracted to try to be creative. The burning sensation on your clit keeps you from it, rising and rising and making you think you are about to come again. Soon, the pain changes from a bright flame to tiny embers, making your hips chase his hand once more.

“Good girl. Clever.” He kisses your forehead. “If you don't say it, I won't stop, no matter how loud you scream.”

Your mind is at war with your nerve endings, and it's steadily losing the battle. No matter how hard you try to focus on the thought of being unable to come again this fast, your body seems set on proving the contrary.

You want to give Daemon a witty retort. Perhaps, say something about the lines of how he will disappoint yet again. Yet, you are unable to because a shrill moan is leaving your lips, and you are falling over the edge again.

Daemon, though, is relentless. He pushes a finger inside of you, searching for the spot that will make you scream. You try to close your legs, shield your body from him. It’s pointless. He has too good of a grip on you, one hand holding you open and teasing your clit, and the other fingering you.

He definitely knows what he is doing. You are suffering too much to enjoy it.

Your body jerks as if you have touched a live wire, stomach’s muscles quivering with the effort of holding you uprights. Sweat is starting to ruin your hair, making it stick to your nape and temples.

“No, no, no.” You push at him, trying to get away. This time, you half manage, falling off his lap and into the couch instead. Daemon just looks amused, and leans down to nuzzle your belly.

“Thank you.” He lifts your hips slightly, even as you start to try to kick him off. He removes both your trousers and underwear with a swift tug. “This will be so much easier.”

And so, he licks a long stripe through your folds. You moan, half pleasure, half protest. Daemon wraps his arm over your hip and pins you down. He then takes your clit into his mouth.

The feel of his warm mouth around your clit eases a bit of the soreness there. The pleasure has made you stupid, so you open your legs to give him better access. You can feel the smugness radiating off him as you submit.

He is a dragon, he will tell you later. And dragons eat naive girls like you for breakfast, dinner and supper, if they are stupid enough to let them get close.

Daemon pushes another finger inside you. The stretch feels unbearable, making you try to squirm once more, but he is moving his fingers in a come and hither motion; your body is going rigid, and you are screaming and falling and—

You lose count, after that. Your body feels abused, there are tear tracks on your temples. You feel feverish. You go in and out of consciousness, as Daemon laps at you, fingers you, rubs at you.

Time turns liquid. It slips through your fingers, moments at a time. You are not very conscious of your body, or of what Daemon is doing. There is only hot, molten pleasure and burning pain.

How much pleasure can a body take? Your hands push weakly at his head, moments later, you beg for him to use his tongue instead. He gives you a last one, forcing your body to arch and twist and making you sob desperately, before scooping you up in his arms.

Daemon's hands go to fix your top. You shake, afraid that he is going to continue and torture your nipples instead.

“No, no, no, no.” You chant. “Please. I am so sorry. Please.” You are barely aware of what you are saying. If you could hear yourself with a clear head, you would scoff at this pitiful woman who bends for the simplest things. You would scoff at her, just as you had scoffed at Daemon for being made into a slave to his pleasure.

“You won't do that again, will you?” Daemon licks your tears, and you cling to his shirt in desperation, willing to keep begging if necessary. Pleasure is as devastating a weapon as pain, you have found out. The line between the two blurs until you are not sure if you need his mouth on you again to soothe the pain, or if you need him to never touch you to stop hurting.

You shake your head. You would do anything Daemon wants.

He grabs you by the jaw, roughly.

“Say it.”

“I won't. I promise, please.”

Daemon hugs you to him. You melt, mind and body exhausted.

“You were good.” He tells you, after a while. You are not sure how much time has passed, but your head feels much more clear. “My brave girl.”

You cling to his reassurance. You tell yourself you have done good, that you endured and never even thought of the safeword. That your body was pushed to its limits, and that you were able to conquer them. Still, you ask.

“Was I good?”

“The best.” Daemon caresses your hips, drawing nonsensical patterns on the side of them.

“Thank you.” And you pull yourself together, one piece at the time. Your eyes focus, you can feel the way his chest constricts and expands with his breath. You righten yourself. “Water. I want a water.”

“You are back, I see.” He stares at you with none of the contempt he had displayed a month before. “Cunty little Hightower that you are, used to the lush life.”

“I do not think it too much to ask.” You scowl, more than ready for another round of banter. No matter how tired your body is, your mind is still sharp.

Daemon laughs.

“Get down from my lap and I will get you one.”

You do so, on shaky legs. You sit. Primly, as if not sitting naked in a sex club, but rather at the table of an important restaurant.

Daemon laughs at the sight you make, thoroughly fucked out but so damn composed it's nearly irritating. It almost makes him question if he has fucked you well enough. The tear tracks on your face seem to say so, but your demeanor says otherwise.

He comes back with your water, and you straighten a bit more. Your hands give you away, though. As sharp as your posture is, you are still shaking.

“You could come with me.” Daemon opens the bottle for you. “I would pay you.”

You feel as if you have been gutted. You are more than this, you think. A Hightower, an heiress in your own right. Not a trophy wife, not someone to be used and paid. You have a degree, you are smart. And you have sworn not to become like Alicent.

Viserys had been a kind godfather and mentor to you. He had not been a good husband to her.

“Be your sugar baby?” Already, you feel your walls rising back up. Why would he ask this of you? It must be a mockery of some sort, perhaps he has not forgotten how cutting your barbs to him once were. This must be Daemon getting his revenge.

Your mental retreat must be paired with a physical one, even if you do not realize it. Because Daemon is coming after you, his hands on your hips, pulling you back into his lap.

His face changes to something more serious. He rubs his nape, and you know, only by that gesture, that what comes next will be good. Daemon Targaryen does not do sheepish, you would say if asked. Yet here he is, blushing like a schoolboy. It makes something roar in you.

“While that sounds tempting, I like you too much for it. Respect you too much for it. But the club needs a presence on social media…”

You nearly smile. But you are a Hightower and you enjoy making him grovel. Daemon calls you a cunt for a reason, after all.

“Everyone would say I fucked the owner.” You whine, hiding your face on his neck so he doesn't see the ferocious smile on your lips. He must feel it against his skin, the most beautiful of curves, sharp teeth at his throat.

“So? Did you not?” Daemon asks because he is also an annoying asshole. The remark, even if teasing, makes something painful tighten around your chest. As much as you can pretend not to be bothered by it, this getting out would end you. Your father would die of a fit of rage, your sister would never speak to you again, not when the man you are fucking and working with is suing her to the Seven Hells and back.

Rabbits and other small prey animals freeze to avoid detection. You do the same. As if standing still may make you escape notice, will make Daemon unable to read the lines of your face and body.

“You don't have to say yes right away. You can think it over.” His hand rubs the small of your back, soft and sweet.

He can tell. Of course, he can, if the truth is written on your features so well, you might as well be shouting it from the rooftops.

Daemon smiles. He helps you dress, tenderly.

“Come. I'll drive you home.”

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[bratphilia]

POOL BOY MIKE X WILLIAM’S BIMBO WIFE PLSSSS 😵‍💫😵‍💫

cw ; groping, cheating

MIKE SCHMIDT who's had his eye on you from the second you set up camp by the pool, asshole husband putting the cabana on the room's tab. how could mike not notice you, after all? you were mr. raglan's — the asshole himself — wildly inappropriate young wife. yeah, mike didn't miss the way his hands had grabbed at your ass as the pair of you walked towards the cabana, raglan holding your stuff in his hand. he watched as he poured sunscreen all over your body, almost fucking sensually. it disturbed mike to his core, watching that creep smooth the cream in every crevice of your body, always whispering something in your ear to make you giggle. it made him sick; a stupid pang on jealousy in his chest. 

raglan eventually left to go back at the room. strutting away like he was the man — leaving you all alone for mike to swoop in. he casually advanced on you from afar. bringing you two margaritas — one "on the house," he explained. he almost winked, but that felt too creepy. you raised a glass at him and invited him to take a sip. you're just so sweet like that. of course he took you up on your offer to appease you, as he knew a sweet girl like you wouldn't leave him alone if he didn't. 

"you should join me," you say kindly, once mike makes his rounds back towards your cabana. he chuckles. oh, so you're playing into his game. 

mike makes a noncommittal noise. "i don't think my boss would appreciate that."

you put the glass of alcohol down, and it takes everything within him not to stare at the way your breasts move, your skin glitters in the sunlight. you move your large sunglasses so they sit on top of your head, beautifully pushing your hair behind your ears. "i don't really care what your boss thinks."

mike searches around the pool section of the resort. it's deserted. it's dinnertime; no one's here. he bends down to your level and leans in close to you, face near yours. "i don't think your husband would appreciate that."

you flash him a smile, closed-mouth. a gorgeous sparkle in your eye, too, he notes. your voice is real low when you challenge him. "i don't really care what he thinks either." 

"good," he says, mouth meeting yours quickly after the word gets out. 

your teeth clash, but you taste sweet. yes, it tastes like the margarita you've been downing, but it also tastes like something so uniquely you. it's delicious. he wriggles his tongue into your mouth eagerly, and you accept his advance with a moan. 

your hands reach forward to grasp his face. you smother his face in the sticky lip gloss you're adorned in and he fucking cherishes it. he can't wait to lick his lips after and taste you for hours. hungrily, he grabs forward to grope at your chest through the top of your bikini. in the center is a pretty white bow. it's so undeniably you that it makes the number even sexier. 

mike elicits a yelp from your mouth against his lops when his fingers come to pinch at your nipple through the fabric. he doesn't miss the way your hips are grinding downwards onto the cushion of the cabana to relieve yourself. fuck, just a little kissing and groping and you're this much if a mess. raglan probably has a field day every time he fucks you, mike thinks.

he suddenly pulls away. he makes a rash decision; he wants you to wait. he wants you to long for him. a long string of saliva connects between you two. "why'd you stop?" you whine.

"probably shouldn't do this in public." he shrugs, trying to seem as nonchalant as possible. and it works. for some reason, you have less composure than he does. just how he likes it. 

"but no one else is here," you whine again, bottom lip sticking out in a pout.

he loves how much of a brat you're being about it. how much you probably need this. he knows a guy like raglan probably keeps you satisfied — there has to be some incentive to stand an age gap like that — but the way you're needy for him like you need him now is a real stroke to the ego. needy slut, he thinks. maybe not all his but he definitely started something within you only he can finish. 

#fnaf #fnaf x reader #five nights at freddy's #fnaf smut #mike schmidt #mike schmidt x reader #🎀 — diary entry

[ladykailitha]

Batshit Soulmates Part 3

Hey guys! More of this delicious AU.

Steve is suffering under the effects of the truebond. And things get a little dire for Max, too.

In Medias Res| Prologue|Pt 1| Pt 2|

@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @emly03

****

Steve got back to his house and immediately stripped down to hop in the shower. He turned the water to as hot as it would go. He needed to drown out his thoughts and hot water would help with that.

He washed and conditioned his hair, allowing the conditioner to do its thing while he did the rest of his routine. Once he was done, he rinsed his hair.

He towel dried his hair, taking the time to squeeze out as much of the water as he could. He stopped himself as he realized what he was doing. He was primping for Eddie. A wanted fugitive who couldn’t care less what Steve’s hair looked like. He tried not primp when he got dressed. But he still managed to put on his nicest polo and tightest jeans, anyway. He did try to de-slut himself by adding the white undershirt.

Which of course made the polo tighter and thereby defeating the purpose. Steve just shrugged. Max was waiting for him and changing now would only waste time he really didn’t have.

****

Eddie was not having a good time. He was hungry and hunted and more than a little haunted. Sleep was fitful at best. He just hoped he wasn’t screaming in his sleep. That would have really brought him unwanted attention.

He tried find ways to entertain himself. Because if seeing Chrissy die like that didn’t make him crazy, being alone with nothing to do was going to drive him the rest of the way there.

He finally resorted to tossing bottle tabs, coins, and other small items into a cup to see how many he could get in.

Eddie was losing.

Suddenly there was the crunch of tires on gravel and he was on his feet in an instant. He grabbed his broken bottle and peeked out the window. He couldn’t see the vehicle that pulled up. Was it the cops? Someone else?

The door to the boathouse burst open and Eddie was sure his heart burst with it.

There standing in the doorway looking more than a little sheepish were his rescuers. Dustin, Robin, Max, and Steve bringing up the rear. Steve gave a little hand wave and he forced himself to breath normally again. He glared at them to know that what they did was a little fucked up.

They explained everything to him as simply as possible. Steve actually was kind and walked him through each new piece of information to make sure he understood.

Afterwards when they were getting ready to leave again, Eddie pulled Robin aside.

“Um...” he said rocking back on his heels, hands on his back, “so you’re running with Steve Harrington now?”

Robin opened her mouth the say something mean, but she knew what he was really asking. “Yeah, monsters and monstrous humans tend to make for great social glue.”

“And he knows...” he said trailing off. “He knows?”

She knew what he was trying desperately not to say. Did Steve know she was gayer than a May pole? She nodded. “Yeah. I know what he was like in high school, but he’s not like that anymore.”

Eddie nodded. “It’s just wild you know.”

“Having King Steve as your soulmate?” she asked tilting her head to the side.

He let out a shuddering breath and pressed his together. He closed his eyes and then opened them slowly. “How do you even deal with that?”

She shrugged. “I wouldn’t know.”

Eddie frowned. “You haven’t found your soulmate yet?” It was just surprising. Yeah, Steve and him hadn’t found each other until their late teens/early twenties. But that was rare.

She scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Oh no, I know who she is. Pretty sure she knows it’s me, as well, but she has decided that fellow band geek Robin Buckley just isn’t her flavor or such shit.”

His frown deepened. “It’s Vickie Cameron, isn’t it?”

Robin cocked her head to the side. “How did you know that?”

He opened his mouth and closed a couple of times before he said, “Look, the safest place to deal...” he gave her a pointed look warning her to keep her mouth shut.

She mimed zipping it closed.

“Is behind the community center next the swimming pool,” he explained. “I’d deal, use some of the money to cool off in the summer because my trailer ain’t great when it comes to not being as hot as the devil’s tit.”

Robin wrinkled her nose. “Ew.”

“The point is I saw her soulmark,” Eddie growled. “It’s a trumpet. On her shoulder. Right where I’m guessing there’s a clarinet on yours.” He nodded toward her. “What is she, homophobic or some shit?”

She shrugged. “Who the fuck knows. She doesn’t treat me badly and sometimes I even think she’s flirting with me, but she has a boyfriend who’s in college so...”

Eddie winced. “That sucks.”

Robin scoffed. “About as bad as learning your soulmate is your antithesis or whatever in the middle of another apocalypse.”

He could only agree, but they were getting off the topic at hand. “Has Steve said anything to you about being my soulmate?”

She sighed. “Only that it fucking sucked learning about it with a bottle pressed to his throat.”

Eddie sighed, too. “Look, I wouldn’t have done anything. I was scared and alone and jocks hate me. Like I thought Jason has sent him, okay?”

Robin blinked. “Oh because of the basketball thing?”

Eddie nodded.

“I guess that makes sense,” she said. “But he really fell from grace when Billy smashed in his head. He’s just this lovable goof with a heart of gold.”

She paused for a second.

“Like I think he always was.” She patted his shoulder and went to join the others.

Steve told the others to go out to the car and jogged back to Eddie.

“It’s too dangerous to move you right now,” Steve murmured. “But we’ll try to stay on the walkies, okay?”

Eddie nodded. “Just don’t forget I’m here, man.”

Steve gripped Eddie’s arms. “We won’t, but we have to find out what’s going on and we’re going to be spread pretty thin. I wish there was another way to do this.”

Eddie let out a long breath, not quite a sigh. “I’ll try, man. If you guys are right about all this shit, I’m really scared. Plus with the town thinking it was me...”

“We’ll figure it out,” Steve promised.

Eddie nodded again and settled down to wait it all out. At least he had food and drink, which was more than he had before.

****

All this running around looking for clues was shit on Steve’s nerves. He was close to screaming. He had almost taken Lucas’s head off when the kid came tearing around a blind corner at night in the high school they had just broken into.

And Robin was doing that thing she always does when faced with a pretty girl, flirt. Which considering said pretty girl was not only Steve’s ex, but already soulmated? Yeah, Steve was sure his breaking point was going to hit sooner rather than later.

It came when Max started rising in the air like some fucked up messiah. Because he could tell something was wrong he was able to get ahold of Robin and Nancy who told them about the music and Lucas was able to find her favorite song on her Walkman and play it for her, she didn’t get Vecna’ed or whatever the hell it was the kids were calling it.

Once she was safe he sat down on the ground hard and buried his head in his hands. He fought to breathe, barely making it through the gasps of sobs that were torn out of him.

How can they fight something that could take anyone of them at anytime? How is he supposed to protect the people he loves most from an unseen force?

He had to keep it together. For Max because she was the victim here. For Lucas because he almost had to watch his soulmate get ripped from him. For Eddie who was frightened beyond the pale. He had to be the strong one.

And then he felt warm arms around him.

“She’s safe now,” Dustin murmured. “We got to her in time because of you. That was scary as hell, but it would have been worse if you had listened to Lucas and me. A lot worse.”

Steve lifted his head and nodded. “Thanks, bud.”

Dustin helped him stand. “We have to get everyone together.”

Steve nodded. “I just wish there was to include Eddie without telegraphing to the asshats in town where he is.”

Dustin grimaced. “Yeah, but there isn’t.” He looked at Steve a moment. “How are you doing? I don’t think I’ve seen you like this before.”

Steve showed him his soulmark. It was black and angry.

“Why does it look like that?” Dustin nearly screamed.

Lucas and Max came running and they looked down at Steve’s mark, too.

“Shit,” Max hissed. “That’s not good. Why didn’t you tell anyone you and Eddie were true soulmates?”

Lucas and Dustin looked at her in shock.

“A what now?” Lucas asked, looking back and forth at Steve and Max in confusion.

“True mates,” Dustin said slowly in disbelief. “I’ve only read about those. They’re super rare.”

“It means,” Max hissed, “that Steve can’t be separated from his soulmate for long otherwise he gets super sick.”

“But only after they touch each other’s marks,” Dustin finished. “Why did you that? Why did you touch each other’s marks if that was going to happen?”

Steve huffed. “Because Dustin, you don’t know you’re true mates until after you touch.”

“Oh,” Lucas and Dustin said together.

“This is bad, Steve,” Max huffed ignoring the boys. “You have to get back to Eddie.”

Steve shook his head. “I can last a little bit longer. You’re in danger, Max. That’s more important than me.”

“But what about Eddie?” Dustin asked. “Won’t he get sick, too?”

Steve threw back his head and groaned. “I can’t take care of everyone at once. Plus, if I keep going back to the boathouse someone will see and come to check it out. That would do far more harm to Eddie than being a stupid true mate to someone like me.”

Dustin and Lucas glanced at each other and then each held out their hand to Steve. He took each of their hands and allowed the two boys to haul him to his feet.

“How close do you think you have to be to stop it from burning?” Dustin asked Max.

Max shrugged. “My mom and Neil aren’t truemates so I don’t know for sure. But a hell of a lot closer than cemetery to the lake.”

Dustin nodded. “Would Skull Rock be close enough?”

“Or even just driving past the lake might work,” Lucas suggested.

Steve hugged them both. “I’ll visit him tomorrow, we just need to get everyone else together to discuss what happened to Max.”

They all nodded.

****

Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Epilogue

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @bookworm0690 @vecnuthy @bookbinderbitch @littlewildflowerkitten @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @scheodingers-muppet @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @genderless-spoon @anne-bennett-cosplayer @irregular-child @oxidantdreamboat @mogami13 @samsoble @xandriumbat @ellietheasexylibrarian @lololol-1234 @y4r3luv @disrespectedgoatman

#stranger things #my writing #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #soulmate au #alternate season 4 #byler #lumax #jancy #dustin/suzie #robin/vickie

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

One Second

Series Masterlist

Warnings: noncon, roughness, dark elements, some sexiness in this.

Note: Please leave me some feedback either in a reblog or an ask! Likes are always appreciated as well. You know I love yall and hell yeah, you love Professor Steve.

Steve spins you, his large hand closing on the back of your neck. He holds you in place as he snatches your phone from your pocket and flingers it away. He searches you, taking your wallet too and the forgotten tube of lip balm. He nudges you forward, so roughly you nearly tip over.

He marches you down the hallway. You tremble and whimper as his thumb digs in to your tendon. He hisses at you as he taps your ass with his knuckles.

“Which one?” He snarls.

You’re terrified. You don’t know what else to do but whatever he wants. You don’t want him to hurt you. You point to your door.

He stops you there and tells you to open it. You do and he follows you in, still holding you by the scruff like a feral animal. He shoves you away from him as he kicks the door shut. The loud slam makes you jump. You squeak and face him as you rub your neck, the grip of his fingertips still thrumming there.

“Professor–”

“Ah,” he raises a hand, “I tried talking. I’m over it.”

“Please–”

“Keep talking and I’ll have to shut you up. I don’t wanna do that, sweetie, but if I have to…”

He lets the threat dangle between you. What does he mean? You let your hand trail around to the front of your throat and gulp. He inhales, his chest rising, as he watches the movement and sets his stance. He lets out a long growl as his icy blue eyes chill you.

“Coat off,” he orders.

You wince and clutch the top of your coat, playing with the tab of the zipper. You pout at him, hoping he’ll come to his senses. You’re just a student. You’re no one to him.

“Keep looking at me like that and I’m gonna lose all patience,” his hand crawls around from his hip and he grips the front of his pants. You drop your eyes and tug on your zipper, withholding the sob lodged in your throat.

You open your coat as he sheds his own with more urgency. He tosses it over your computer chair and you lay yours over his daintily. You step back as his hands go back to his hips. He tilts his head until his neck cracks and lets out a relieved sigh.

“Keep going,” he snarls.

You squeak and lift your eyes to his. He nods and raises his eyebrows. There’s no questioning what he wants.

You bend your arms above you and tug at the back of your shirt. You peel it over your head as your eyes glisten hotly. You can’t look at him. You get your head free of the fabric and flinch as it’s suddenly snatched from your grasp. Steve throws it to the floor as he steps up in front of you.

His hands are on your chest at once. You shutter as he cups you through your bra, his attention set on his groping. He squeezes and kneads, his breath thick through his nose. You feel the tension vibrating in him.

You turn your head away, standing stalk straight as he rubs his thumbs over the little buds poking through the thin cups. He purrs as he drags his touch away from your nipples and down to your stomach. He lingers along the top of your jeans, and flicks the button, fingers curling around your waistline.

He jerks you closer and you feel a tide flow through him, “kiss me.”

His raspy whisper blows through you like a storm. There’s something so brittle about it that frightens you. To refuse would be dangerous.

You lift your chin and look up at him. He gazes down at you intently. Uncertain, you bring your hands up to his chest and feel how he shudders at your touch. You feel up over his shoulders and around his thick neck, framing his face.

You close your eyes and stand on your toes. He leans in to meet you, contrasting your gentle reticence with intense hunger. His arm swoops around you in an instant as he traps you against him. His tongue invades your mouth and you latch onto the back of his neck to keep from losing your balance.

He smothers you as you struggle to catch your breath. You feel the tears threatening to break free. You squeeze your eyelids tight and fight the deluge. You don’t want to make him mad.

Your mind wanders to the only other boy you ever kissed. That makes it easier. You imagine it’s Jake, that everything went to plan, and that it’s all going to be okay.

Suddenly, you’re turned towards the bed. Steve detaches from your lips as he angles you down onto your back. You don’t know what to do but surrender. His expression simmers with unspent fire. You’re only thought is not to get burned.

He urges you onto your back. You go numb. You’re paralysed as your body succumbs to his direction. You watch him in cocooned horror as he rips off your wet boots and tosses them with a loud thump. 

All at once, his knee is on the bed and he’s reaching under you. He grumbles as he tries to unhook your bra but can’t free the last clasp. Your body jostles from his effort but you don’t fight. You can’t. You should.

“Get it off,” he growls as he recoils.

You nod then dutifully sit up and undo the last hook. He yanks the front of your bra and quickly adds it to the strewn clothing around the room. He grabs your knee, pulling it away from the other and climbs onto the bed between your legs. He runs his hands up and down your thighs.

You’re rigid as you watch him advance past the top of the denim. Again, he fondles your chest, this time bending to nip at you with his teeth. He growls as he takes a nipple between his lips and swirls his tongue. A dull pluck pulls at your core.

He toys with you. Hands searching, mouth eager, impatience building. He leaves a smear of saliva across your skin as he sits back on his heels. He unbuttons his shirt, the simple task frustrating him until he tears it open and scatters several buttons noisily. He strips the shirt off and flings it from his wrist.

He pushes his hands under your lower back and follows the curve of your ass. He squeezes and stretches his fingers up, curling into the top of your jeans. He pulls them down, jolting you with his strength as he gets them to your thighs. You cry out as the denim chafes you meanly.

He brings your legs up as he rolls them to your knees and finally to your ankles. Your socks catch as he frees your legs, the jeans landing heavily on the floor. Again, his chest rises and falls shallowly as he looks you over, pushing your legs to splay around him.

He snakes his hand up your thigh as you hug your chest shyly.

“Uh uh,” he tuts, “don’t hide.”

You push your arms to the side and stare at the ceiling. His fingers rub along the front of your panties and he teases you through the cotton. He presses until the friction is hot, wiggling against you until the fabric dampens.

“You’re getting wet,” he says, his tone almost dumbfounded, “that means you want me.”

You blink. You don’t know what to say. Sometimes you’re wet with no conscious thought. Sometimes you wake up like that and can’t remember the dreams that inspire it. If you’re wet, you’re sure it’s not him but the coercion of his touch.

“Baby,” he exhales and slides your panties aside, delving nakedly into your folds. He gasps as he glides along your cunt. You close your eyes and whimper. “Oh, you’re so wet.” He rolls his fingers up and down, around and around, glancing off your clit but not focusing on it. “So warm…” he breathes and pokes along your entrance, “baby…”

He dips inside you, just a little, with a single finger. He wiggles it and you clench, squirming as you let out a thin mewl. He pushes in deeper and your eyes sting. His intrusion is heavy and painful.

He pokes in and out. You slicken around him, hiding behind your eyelids in shame as he groans with each delve inside. He is shaking as he explores you.

“You feel so good,” he murmurs, “I can’t–”

He pulls his hand free and wipes his finger on your thigh. You hold your breath and peek out beneath your eyelashes. He frantically undoes his fly as he raises himself on his knees. You watch the thick muscles in his stomach and arms strain as he shoves down the fabric, the elastic of his briefs catching on his throbbing tip.

He grunts and frees himself, bobbing free as you shut your eyes again. You try to close your legs but he slaps your thigh, holding it down as he bends over you. He curls his other arm behind your head and leans his forehead against yours. His hot breath consumes you as he drags his hand away from your leg and grips himself.

He angles his head to kiss you, guiding his tip up and down your folds. He is quivering as his breath wisps rapidly from his nose. His tongue once more slides past your lips and you nearly choke as he glides along your entrance then pops back up your cunt.

You bring an arm between your bodies and push on his chest. Please, no– You turn your head away from him, breaking his kiss.

“Professor,” you murmur, “please, I never–”

“Me either,” he snarls as he lowers his head, nuzzling your neck as he lines himself up with your entrance, “mmm, I waited for you…”

He leans his weight into you. His muscles wrack, you feel his chest bulges against your palm. You dig your nails into him, bracing yourself as he stretches you around his tip. He gulps and gasps against your neck and bites down, the sharp pinch causing you to cry out.

He stops, only an inch inside and spasms. He’s almost coughing as he lets out a strangled stream of noises, better described as puppy-like whining. You focus on the ceiling, trying not to feel the sudden warmth gushing in and out of you.

He snarls, “fuck.” 

Suddenly, he lifts himself off of you, slipping free as he bounces the bed beneath you. You lay, still and spread eagle as he spins onto his ass and shoves himself off the matttress. The frame creaks and you watch him storm over to the sink in the corner, just beside the wooden wardrobe.

You don’t understand. That wasn’t so bad. You hardly felt it. Was it supposed to be that quick?

You let your hand creep down and you feel the sliminess leaking from you, smeared across you. You sit up and look at the nearly translucent substance glossed over your fingers. Steve puffs angrily as he turns the water on.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he mutters to the mirror, “sweetie,” he turns his head, looking at you from the corner of his eye, “I was just… excited. Just give me a minute.”

You stare stunned at the wet spot on the blanket. Oh my god. He came. He didn’t even get all the way inside and he just… finished? 

You don’t look at him. You don’t want him to see the judgement blooming in your head. That’s definitely not how you imagined your first time, if you can even count it.

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #drabble #series #au #college au #professor!steve #captain america #avengers #mcu #marvel #one

[lostdreamr-blog1]

That's My Goddaughter

Summary: Bradley might have told you he would back off if you started dating Jake, but what happens when he tells Maverick? Second part of Bradshaw’s Date

Word count: 2k

A/N: Here is part 2 of Bradshaw’s date! I hope you all enjoy this one as much as the first!! Thanks for reading!

The look of bewilderment on Jake’s face was something Bradley would never forget. Maverick had been hounding Hangman all day to the point where others were starting to feel bad for him.

The group of them were sitting in one of their debriefs, where Mav was currently picking apart Jake’s near perfect run. Phoenix leaned over to Rooster and asked if he knew what was going on. The smug look on his face told her everything she needed to know. “What did you do, Bradshaw?”

Bradley was enjoying every second of today and would continue to enjoy it for many days to come. “I didn’t do anything. Hangman decided it was a good idea to take my sister out on a date last night.”

Bob choked on his water when he overheard what his teammate had said, drawing attention to the three of them. Hangman turned in his seat to see what was going on, but the second his eyes landed on Rooster, everything clicked. Phoenix leaned back in her seat and shook her head, “You’re in for it now.”

Bradley didn’t care in the slightest how Hangman felt. He was getting everything he thought he deserved. Mav dismissed the group but asked Jake to stay behind. The others walked out sending him looks of encouragement, knowing whatever conversation they were going to have, wasn’t going to go in his favor.

Jake remained in his seat in the front row, waiting for Maverick to explain what was going on. The look on Bradley’s face gave him a small insight to what this was going to be. He had hoped his teammate would leave personal business outside of work, but clearly that was asking for too much. It was karmas way of slapping him in the face.   

“I’m going to come right out with it. Just because Bradley can’t do anything about it, doesn’t mean the same rules apply to me. That’s my Goddaughter and you better treat her a hell of a lot better than you cover your teammates out there. That girl is something special and you best believe I won’t be the only one keeping close tabs on you.”

All Jake could do was nod his head. He didn’t know if he was talking to his captain or Pete Mitchell and any comment he wanted to say wouldn’t go over well.

“For as long as you date her, expect every day to be like this. You will see no special treatment and will continue to be pushed harder than everyone else until I see you are good enough for her. Do I make myself clear?”

Jake let out a slow breath, “Yes, sir.”

Maverick dismissed him, but called out when he was near the door of the room.

“Oh, and Lieutenant, Admiral Kazansky sends his best.”

Just as Jake thought it couldn’t get worse, his body seemed to freeze at those last words. He had always wanted admirals to know his name, strived for it, but not like this. This was an abuse of power and there was nothing he could do about it but swallow his pride.

Jake was fuming as he made his way back into the locker room. While most of his teammates figured it was because of how Maverick made him look today, it was actually for a whole different reason.

The moment he walked through the door, all conversations stopped. Word had gotten around of what happened and opinions were formed because of it. But no one was dumb enough to say those opinions out loud to either guy.  

Jake looked around the room until he spotted the one guy that was slowly pushing him over the edge. The cocky smirk was normally seen on the blonde pilot, but in this case, the roles were reversed, and Bradley was racking in every ounce of discomfort that was coming from him.

It didn’t take a genius to know Jake was furious. His usual slicked back hair was sticking up in a few places where he had run his hand through it. His cheeks have a slight pink tint to them that for once wasn’t because of the California heat. But what really stood out, was the silence. Jake was always quick to run his mouth and had a comeback for everything. So, when the pilot stood there and stared at Bradley, the others knew things were about to get ugly.

“Do you get off on the fact that you’re messing with your sister’s life?” Bradley’s smirk quickly fell when he heard the question directed at him.

“Excuse me?” Jake took a few steps towards him, making Coyote and Bob shift towards them in case they needed to break anything up.

“Because your sister told you to back off, you went and ran to Maverick about it, knowing he would be pissed. Well congratulations pal, Maverick is going to keep pushing me until I walk away. But for once did you ever think how your sister would feel if she found out what was going on?”

Bradley stood up now, fists clenched as he tried to keep his anger in check. “Are you threatening me?”

Jake let out an unamused laugh, “And here I thought I was the most self-absorbed person in the room. This isn’t about you. Hell, this isn’t even about me. Your sister told me last night that it was one of the first times where she felt happy and could let go of the past for a few hours. Being back here hasn’t only affected you, she lost her dad too. Her mom lost her husband in the same damn house ya’ll are staying in. While you went off into the Navy, she was the one who stayed back and took care of her.

“Did she ever tell you the number of stories your mom shared with her about your dad? About Top Gun and how much he loved flying with Maverick? Those memories have stayed with her to this day, making the move out here so damn hard for her. But now you have some personal vendetta to make sure my life is nothing but hell. Did you stop and think about how she would feel if I walked away because I didn’t want to deal with all this bullshit?”

Jake’s face was now red with rage, whole body tensed. He kept trying to put himself in Bradley’s shoes, but he couldn’t see himself doing this to one of his sisters. Not when the price was this high.

Bradley on the other hand had lost most of his color. He had zero idea his sister was unhappy following him out here and had only wanted to look out for her. He knew how ruthless Hangman was in the skies, but he didn’t think to separate that from his personal life. Yeah, the speech he gave that night had him second guessing a few things, but Jake was known to be a smooth talker. How was he supposed to know if he was telling the truth?  

“And I hate to tell you this but I’m not giving up that easily. It’s going to take a hell of a lot more than Maverick telling me how to be better or Admiral Kazansky making his position known. Your sister is worth putting up with all of this and more. So do us all a favor and get over yourself.”

Jake grabbed his stuff out of his locker and slammed the door, not sparing anyone a second glance. The room was silent. Nothing could’ve prepared any of them for what just happened. Natasha glanced over at Bradley and saw how defeated he looked. The once gloating man was long gone as he processed everything that was said. 

Bob went over to him and gave his shoulder a quick pat. A small show of support but he then proceeded to walk out of the room. Everyone slowly followed, not sure what else to do. Jake Seresin was always the villain of the story. No one ever questioned that. But today, roles were reversed, and the once golden boy of Bradley Bradshaw had now been painted as the new antagonist.

His phone started to vibrate, and he looked down to see that you were calling. After a few breaths to calm himself down, he answered.

“Hey, so I know you weren’t too thrilled about me going on a date with Jake. But I really appreciate you at least letting me leave the driveway last night. I promise he was the perfect gentleman. Even let me talk him into stopping for ice cream on the way home. Something you never let me do. Also, he told me how great of a teammate you are.” He snorted when you said that last part.

“Good try. I know he would never say that.” Your laugh on the other line confirmed that.

“It was worth a try. Anyway, I made dinner if you want it. I thought maybe we could stay in and watch a movie tonight. My way of saying thank you for not being psycho about all this.” Bradley shook his head knowing he was in fact acting like that.

“Yeah, that sounds good. I have to talk to Mav really quick and then I’ll be on my way home.” He had grabbed his stuff and slowly made his way out of the locker room to Maverick’s office.

“Oh, tell him I said hi and that he owes me dinner. I convinced Penny to give him a second chance. Tell him not to mess this one up. I can only work so many miracles.” Bradley smiled as he sat across from Mav.

“I’ll let him know. See you in a few.” He hung up and sighed. Mav was sitting at his desk with a knowing smile on his face, making Bradley feel even worse about the situation.

“A few things. First, I’m going to need you to lay off on Hangman. I appreciate you making him sweat a bit, but Y/N seems to really like him, and I don’t want to ruin that.” Maverick nodded his head and sat back in his chair.

“Are you sure? Ice and I had a whole good cop bad cop thing planned out. He was going to be the bad cop because he just has this stare that seems to pierce your soul. Used to give me nightmares back in the day.”

Bradley couldn’t help but chuckle, “Yeah, Mav. Thanks though. Also, she said you owe her dinner. Convinced Penny to give you a chance or something.” He watched Mav’s whole face light up.

“I owe that kid a whole lot more than dinner.” He watched as Bradley stood up and make his way to the door.

“I know you may not like this, but she has to grow up some time. I’d rather it be here where we can help her if she falls than halfway across the country. Seresin has his work cut out for him, but I think he’s a good choice for her. Cut yourself some slack though. She’s a lot like your mom in the sense that no one is going to stop her from doing what she wants.”

Bradley offered him a small smile and walked out. Maverick waited a few minutes to make sure he was gone and pulled out his phone to text Ice.

“The kid said to lay off, but what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”  

A/N: Thoughts? Likes or dislikes? I love to hear back from you all! I have tagged some of you who wanted a part 2. Let me know of you want to stay on the tag list for the future :)

Tag List: @rosiahills22 @sunlitsunflowers @dempy @mamaskillerqueen @luckyladycreator2 @atarmychick007 @angelbabyyy99 @bobfloydsgf @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @topguncultleader @alilstressyandlotdepressy @avengers-fixation @chaoticassidy

#jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #hangman x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #jake seresin x you #jake seresin

[queenie-official]

Okay so you’re one of the only ones I’ve seen mention AJ recently so I wanted to come to you with this thought. You know the ‘write a prisoner’ website it went around tiktok for a little? Well I was thinking, in a universe where his ending is different (no spoilers just in case your other followers haven’t watched it) reader finds him on the write a prisoner site and they become penpals. You’re able to develop a genuine connection with one another and he’s able to talk and vent to you about everything that’s gone wrong/right in his life and you’re able to do the same thing. He ends up writing you sappy little poems and love notes eventually cause he realizes you are more than just a penpal to him. At some point you end up surprising him with an actual visit and it just solidifies his feelings being able to finally see you in person. If we’re going off of the mafia!au for him, then maybe he ends up having some of his men on the outside start to keep tabs on you..solely for protection purposes of course not because he wants to make sure he’s the only guy you’re talking to. There’s a couple videos I saw where the girls were still able to be surprised with flowers on the doorstep somehow by their penpal and I definitely feel like he’d do the same thing. There’d be a line in one of his notes afterwards of like ‘Did you get my little surprise, sweetheart? Just wait till you see how much I can really spoil you once I’m out of here.’ Ahhh maybe it’s just me that gets all giggly at this idea. Idk just a little thought 😅

main masterlist

OMG STOP I LOVE THIS SM!!

okay so ima break this up a bit because it’s easier for my brain to focus 😭 will start with looking at it from Aj’s character and then from if it was Mafia!Ani

(i’d also like to state idk how the ‘write a prisoner’ website works exactly but i feel like it’s pretty self explanatory so ima just roll with how it works in my mind)

Aj: becoming pen pals with a prisoner and bonding is a lot easier then you went into the website thinking, you only really go in with the fact you’ll be speaking with a criminal. once you see his photo your interest is peaked (i mean how could it not look at him)

anyway you guys start off with simple topics when messaging like favorite hobbies and Aj mentions to you that he has a love for playing the piano- (idk about you guys but there’s nothing hotter then a man who can play an instrument and play it well) maybe he even makes a promise to you that when he gets out he’ll play for you.

and Aj is such a sweetheart he so would write you poems maybe he starts off with something simple and sweet that can be interpreted in a friend way because for as confident as a guy he is you make him nervous. he only started writing you poems once you two where close enough for him to feel safe and be open with his thoughts and how he got into this situation. and honestly you don’t think he’s to bad of guy after all he never went out of his way to kill anyone during a heist and he always made sure to donate a percentage to charity organizations, so you’re able to push the fact he’s a criminal aside.

as your relationship with him progresses and his friendly poems slowly turn into something more you realize how badly you want to visit him. to see his pretty face in person (even if it is behind a glass frame) and to hear the voice you’d been imagining in your head. so with all the courage you can muster you do some digging and make plans to surprise him. Oh boy are you grateful you went through with it- seeing him in person was almost surreal. somehow he was more handsome in person and furthermore his gravely voice was definitely hotter then you ever could of imagined. he’s a smooth talker, seemingly more bold in person then he was through a screen (which shocked you since with most people it’d be the opposite). oh and when he sees you… sees your smile- the way you flutter your lashes when listening to him speak- he knows he’s done for, knows that there’s no one else he wants more in his life and even more importantly he cannot wait for his release date.

you make the effort to visit him as often as you can…

Mafia!Anakin: we all collectively agree Ani is a possessive man- even if he doesn’t always show it but Mafia Ani, oh that man isn’t afraid to show he’s possessive in fact as far as he’s concerned he owns you. so to no one’s surprise he 100% has men on the outside looking after you. making sure you’re safe, single unbothered by those around you.

Anakin has connections everywhere, i mean he’s the top boss. so if he wants to surprise you with something he will, and he’s got the money for it so honestly what’s stopping him?

waking up and getting ready to start your day only to here your doorbell go off, opening your front door to see a huge bouquet of flowers. it really confuses you at first- i mean you don’t really talk to other guys (probably because every time you did they suspiciously disappeared- if you had their number and messaged them all they’d say is they moved away) so who are they from. taking them inside and seeing a note on the ground that must of fallen out of the bouquet your question is answered.

‘Hope you like them Pretty girl’

it’s not even signed but you know exactly who it’s from. of course you confront him at your next visit, and once you do all he does is give you a sly little smile through the glass as you both hold the phone next to your ears.

‘just wait till you see how much i can really spoil you once i’m out of here’

ugh that resonantes with me sm 😩 he 100% would say that and then swiftly move the conversation along as you blush silently, something about how he said it or maybe it’s the look in his eyes that leaves you flustered.

i think i ranted a bit to much about this 😀 my apologies huns 😭 but anyways you’re so real for this and thank you for dropping it in my asks 🫶🏼

you’re actually my first ask too so 🤭🤭 thank you for the absolute serotonin boost this gave me Xx <3

#hayden christensen #anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker x reader #modern!ani #anakin x reader #anakin imagine #modern!anakin skywalker #modern anakin skywalker #modern! anakin x reader #modern!anakin x reader #mafia!anakin #mafia!anakin skywalker #mafia au #aj takers x reader #aj x reader #aj takers #takers #takers 2010 #queenie’s thoughts xx<3

[rudeflower]

JESS ANGST SCHOOL ANGST COMPLEX TRAUMA ANGST

In Keg Max! Principal Merton tells Jess he has missed 31 days of school. Now that makes him a chronic truant for sure, it means he's missed more than 10% of the school year, the standard school year is 180 days. Let's say there's 10 days left in the school year.

That's a LOT of school to miss. Young people improbably here, do not miss that much school

But relative to what we're being told about Jess, it's a weirdly low number? Jess never goes to school!!!! He's working 10000 hours at Walmart instead of going to school no school never heard of him!

That means that Jess attended school 139 days. Most schools I've worked with define that as a certain number of hours attended, more than half the day. So even if he was skipping that's 139 days he went to more than half the day NOT GOOD AT ALL BUT

Even after he was eighteen (early in the school year) he still laced up his boots and showed up somewhere he hated at saw no point in going to WHY!!????

First of all this is actually a ridiculously overcommitted young person let's at least acknowledge that.

He works before school at Luke's, and he works in the evenings too, closing up at 11:30 in one episode. Not just filling coffee mugs anymore. By season 3 he's closing alone, keeping tabs on the delivery schedule and capable of (furiously) running the morning rush alone.

AND he's working 45 hours a week at Walmart doing physical work, AND (poorly) maintaining a romantic relationship, AND reading obsessively, AND YES GOING TO SCHOOL! Jess starts working at Walmart in November (if you treat the air date as the canon date with the show roughly does), combined with Luke's it's probably 60-65 hours a week and still went to school 139 days!

He's making ridiculous choices because he is a tiny little fool but also has a trauma soaked brain

Jess chooses to be maxed out every minute of his life because he cannot tolerate being unoccupied, like a lot of people with complex trauma (and ADHD and Autism and more all of which could apply to Jess but rn I am talking about complex trauma)

When someone is used to chaos in their environment they actually feel less safe when things are quiet and still. It leads to someone who needs to have their RAM at 100% every waking AND sleeping moment

So they work 65+ hours, go to school most days, and they

cannot relax without extreme stimulation AKA needing the music on to sleep

Walk while reading because walking and looking ahead isn't enough is not occupied enough need more occupied

and starts reading the second he's stops talking to someone or using his hands to do something else. Reading as default in any given second.

He reads compulsively, no matter how chaotic the environment.

Reading ALSO isn't enough must be annotating and analyzing too passive reading is NOT ENOUGH

So Jess would rather show up at school for 139 days where other people are moving around, where there are fights to get into and classes to move to and from, even after he's an adult and Luke wouldn't find out that he isn't showing up. He'll show up to a test just to be in the classroom, not to take it.

This is not mentioning what I'm too lazy to screencap, that he's always doing something. that especially when he's talking to Luke Jess is constantly and doing things with his hands constantly.

There's really only one time we see Jess sitting still doing almost nothing

But not really nothing because smoking really is something.

My dude needs to be as occupied as possible from the time he wakes up all the way up to and including when he falls asleep to stay occupied and all that he's got on hand is going to a school that says the pledge of allegiance in six different languages then he will go! It's 100%%% occupation or the horror of possibly relaxing and WHAT WOULD HAPPEN THEN

#if you are reading this thinking “well of course he goes to school he has to” #you are thinking with your brain on not Jess's #he is of legal age and can drop out AND lock Luke out of school communications #luke is very bad at keeping tabs on him and jess knows it #you can do whatever you want when you think no one cares what you do and jess does not need to go to school her doesn't need to do 149 days #I AM ADDICTED TO THESE POSTS!!!! #gilmore girls #gilmore girls meta #jess mariano

[mikanotes]

out of reach ft. baek harin x gn!reader 2.1k words warnings: nervous breakdown, implied manipulation and bullying, reader nd harin are Slightly toxic, smoking, not really proofread Sorry!

author’s note: finally watched pyramid game! harin is so dear to me i love her. anyways here’s this

Clouds of smoke and overpriced cigarettes. The faint smell of perfume, struggling to cover the overwhelming, biting scent of tobacco. The sound of a lighter clicking shut, and a disdainful laugh. Condescending. The very image of a typical rich, high-school bully.

Then she sighs, softly, and it all changes.

The smoke dissipates to reveal a gentler expression (though the void in her eyes cannot be hidden), and the cigarette smell seems to leave with the passing breeze. She smiles softly and relaxes her shoulders. “I’m expecting great things from you.” she says, hiding a don’t you dare disappoint in between her words. She chuckles quietly to herself and turns on her heel. The school princess.

“Let’s go.” she says, her tone on the edge of something hurried. Like her facade, though perfectly constructed and practiced, might threaten to break if she stays any longer. You don’t reply but push yourself off of the wall to walk at her side when she strolls past where you were waiting.

The moment you’re far away enough from that hidden corner by the school entrance, Harin tenses again. You look down and see her thumb pressing its nail into her palm’s skin. Into flesh, at this rate. “Harin.” you call. She blinks out of her thoughts and turns her gaze to you. “What is it?”

“I’m thinking.” she replies honestly, bits of that kind demeanor slowly crumbling to reveal a more honest, yet possibly less furious side to her. One you’re more acquainted with.

“You do that too much.” you heave a deep sigh, “Seriously. Have you had a moment to breathe at all this week?”

Baek Harin is calculating. Always calculating each of her moves— Every interaction with all of her classmates, her family, her past present and future, the adults at her school. She carefully reviews the way she presents herself down to the detail. And now, she calculates everything Seong Suji does, everyone she interacts with, everyone around her, everything she does truthfully and all she does that seems fake— add more to the list. 

That’s just a recipe for disaster. But you’ve also known her for long enough to know that having a calm mind free of worries and overthinking is a privilege Harin hasn’t had since her early childhood years. The way she functions now is her own idea of normal, and it has been for much too long to even consider the idea of changing. So you don’t try to change it. But you try to calm her down, when she allows you to attempt it.

“I’m breathing fine.” she scoffs slightly, “I can’t afford not to think. Especially not…” she trails off like she’s remembered something, and you frown.

She reaches for her pillbox but it escapes her grasp, falling on the concrete. You reach over to grab it but she’s quicker than you. The moment the thing is in her hand, she opens it and shakes three vitamin tabs into her palm, before freezing in place.

You slow down and stop in your tracks, barely a meter back, then slowly approach her. Her eyes are flitting between the box and the pills themselves, her lip trembling as if struggling to get a word out. You start reaching out towards her but she suddenly throws all of the vitamins back into their little chamber. She clicks the pillbox close and puts it back into her pocket, then fumbles to get something else.

“Harin.”

She finally manages to find what she was seemingly so desperate to find, and opens the pack of cigarettes. She grabs one and shakily sets it between her lips, before repeating the whole searching process for her lighter.

“Harin.”

Once the golden thing’s in her hand, she clicks to light up a flame, once, twice, three times, to no avail. You swear her hand is beginning to shake.

“Baek Harin!”

“Fuck.”

She spits the cigarette to the ground and nearly crushes the rest of the pack in her hand. Her teeth bite into her lip to stifle a scream of frustration, you guess, and she goes back to digging her nails into the flesh of her hand.

You slowly set a hand on her shoulder and she lets you, though she does look much too lost in her own head to register anything other than the ground she’s been blankly staring at. “…Let’s go home.” you say, tone softer.

She nods in agreement.

Baek Harin’s definition of a home has changed several times over the years. Haneul Orphanage, the house of the family she was adopted into, and yet neither ever truly gave her the feeling that it was what home was supposed to feel like. She isn’t relieved when she steps foot into her house, she just feels more at ease to continue preparing her so-called schemes. Still, it is a house, her family lives there, and she never lacked anything. It’s a fine place to be.

But when she’s here, in comparison…

“I’m home.” you sigh as you take off your shoes. Harin sees your cat walk past the entrance hallway and stop to look at you, clearly waiting for something. And when you look at it, you smile and go pet it. It’s just that easy for them to get what they want in life, huh? She feels your gaze on her and looks at you.

“What?”

“Are you planning to stay at the door?”

She blinks. Right. She unclasps her shoes and slides them off her feet before she steps inside. She barely notices she’s breathing out a sigh of relief before a wave of exhaustion hits her. It makes her wonder for a moment if she was right to take the pillbox earlier. Maybe she forgot to take them during the day? She had so much to do. Did she? If she’s forgetful about this, she could be about much more important things….

She’s reminded of her near-breakdown just earlier and holds back from picking at her nails. She rarely reaches the brink of losing it this badly. She really needs to do something about the direction the game is going towards, or else she fears she might break at the wrong time.

“Harin.” you call, bringing her out of her thoughts, and she realizes you already walked to your kitchen, and you’re peeking at the corner of the wall to see her. “Do you want something?”

She stares at you a bit coldly, almost frowning. It’s clear she’s not entirely out of her own head, yet.

“Cola.” she says, “Do you have any?”

You scoff. “When do I not?”

She takes off her small backpack and walks further inside. This small place…  She would dislike it. She’s not one to be picky, but growing up in a luxury house for nearly ten years makes you dislike cramped spaces. At least she does. But she’s used to this apartment having you in it, and many times in the past, her, whenever she needed a place to go to that wasn’t her own house.

Sometimes she thinks maybe she isn’t grateful enough to have you. Sometimes.

“My game feels like it’s falling apart.” she sighs, walking into the living room. She plops down on the couch, tossing her bag aside and taking out her phone. “This girl is actively trying to ruin all of it.”

“Seong Suji?” you ask from the kitchen. There’s a hint of something in your voice that she hasn’t heard before. It’s sour and new.

She wants to hear it again.

“Yes. Seong Suji…” she trails off, “I swear even having 24/7 cameras on her wouldn’t help me stop her from doing all this.” she scoffs.

You hum in response, then it grows quiet. Harin feels a smile pull at her lips. She can practically see how much thoughts this small conversation provoked in your mind. Seong Suji? Is she the problem? She is. But is she in this case, too?

She’s curious.

“Still, I guess she’s a bit cute. Interesting, too. I’ve never had anyone stand up to me this much before.”

“Yeah?” you answer blankly, joining her. You set down the two glasses of cola on the coffee table just harshly enough for it to cause an audible clang. “Maybe because you're so used to having everyone bow to you and your every requests?”

“You don’t.”

“Don’t I?”

“You sound bitter.” Harin laughs, setting down her phone on her lap and propping up her elbow on the armrest. She sets her index under her chin and looks at you as you rummage through your backpack. The glimpse she gets of your face confirms you indeed seem unnerved about something. Cute… No, this is more than cute.

“I’m not.” you sigh, visibly straightening up. Your face relaxes and you glance towards her. “What’s with the staring?”

“Nothing. You’re nice to look at.”

You roll your eyes and grab your laptop from your bag and set it down on the table. Her eyes move to focus on it and she furrows her eyebrows. She didn’t know you still carried it around. She had to buy you one when it fell and the screen cracked, before. Irresponsible… Not that she minds buying for you. Not that you ask, either.

“Info on her friends. From other schools, I mean.”

Harin blinks, registering what you mean. “On Suji?” she mutters, eyes narrowing at the laptop. She tilts her head towards you with a small pout. “I never asked you that, did I?” she chuckles a little, leaning over to grab her glass.

This could be useful, but this doesn’t work.

You shake your head slightly. “Didn't.”

“So you’re just playing assistant, are you?” she huffs, “Thanks… But don’t do it again.”

You frown. “Why?”

“I don’t want you to get involved. You don’t even attend my school. It’ll only be trouble.”

— Besides, she doesn’t want you to be associated with this game and place as a whole more than needed. Just having you near the school is enough to make her stomach hurt. She has to have you be away from it all, at least. If not, she’ll feel like she’s still in it even when she’s with you. Then she won’t be able to sigh in relief once she steps inside your place anymore.

“Wouldn’t be the first time I get in trouble for you.”

“Mhm.” she laughs as she drinks, then turns to look at you once she’s done. The emotion leaves her face. “Don’t do it again.” she repeats, tone laced with hints of a threat. She means it.

“That doesn’t work on me, Harin.”

You stare at her and she doesn’t feel like looking away, either. You’re stubborn. She’s worse. This isn’t gonna end, and if it does, you might argue. She doesn’t feel like arguing.

“Do you like me?“ she decides to ask, just to throw you off a little.

“Are you insane?” you bite back, not missing a beat. Her smile deepens. She blinks away and leans back into the couch, sipping on her drink more.

“Not really.”

“False.”

“That’s rude?” she laughs, looking at you again. You raise your eyebrows and smile slightly, leaning to grab your glass.

“Too bad.” you say, before sipping on the cola. It’s a bit nostalgic. Drinking cola under dim lights when it feels like the world is only you two. This happened before, when she felt like her family’s very presence was suffocating, and locking herself in her room wasn’t enough— Or much earlier, when you were just kids, and you’d buy each other cola flavored popsicles. This kind of comfort makes her want more. She almost forgets about the game, for a moment.

The sour air in your voice and on your features seems to be gone now, so she figures the atmosphere is just as calming for you. Though she did enjoy seeing that look on your face… Your genuine, soft smile is one she enjoys a little bit more.

Now that she’s getting comfortable here, she doesn’t want to leave. She’ll take all the time she can get. She knows you don’t mind her staying. You may be above the rest when it comes to telling her off and not doing everything she asks, but you’re not above allowing nearly anything that helps her. And if letting her stay here, at the cost of possibly getting a death glare from her family members and irritating questions about any trouble she could’ve possibly caused for you, can help her? 

Then she knows you wouldn’t refuse. Even if you pretend you could. She knows how important she is to you.

“I’m staying the night.”

“When did I say you could?”

“You didn’t have to.” she hums, reaching over to move strands of your hair away from your face. She smiles. “I know I can.”

#baek harin x reader #baek ha rin x reader #harin x reader #pyramid game x reader #x reader