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ih34rt-alphatxuri · 3 months

Text

Read Your Diary

table of contents/pairing: max verstappen x reader

summary: he needed to find a way to get inside of her, for ever and ever and ever.

warnings: obsessive behaviour, emotional manipulation, borderline stalking and an overall toxic dynamic with an oblivious Y/N, use of explicit language, fingering, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, kids), p in v, breeding kink if you squint. I absolutely do not condone any form of emotional manipulation or toxic relationships. This is a work of fiction and most definitely not a reflection of this person's real actions or personality.

message from A☆: Hey !! So recently I've been reading a lot of dark fics so I wanted to try and write one of my own. This fic has the same structure as Chewing Cotton Wool, and this (Read Your Diary) is one of my fav Måneskin songs, and I put A LOT of effort into it. Btw, I didn't use the whole song ! I only used the lyrics that I felt resonated with the storyline I wanted. (I fully went in and edited the smut part I AM SORRYYY) I hope you enjoy...

P.S, try and spot the song references throughout the fic !!

Brought you some roses, you didn't take them So I shed a tear

He was just trying to be nice. That's what Y/N thought. She'd been working as Christian Horner's secretary for only a couple months now, and his star driver had quickly taken a liking to her. But who could blame him? She was young, a few years younger than him, and absolutely gorgeous. Max would send her a bouquet if her favorite flowers every single race weekend, and in the beginning she'd never take them. How did he know what her favorite flowers were? He had his ways...but she always refused them. Little did she know, Max was watching from down the hall, sometimes he'd shed a few tears over it. After what was probably the millionth time he'd left her flowers, she finally took them. She figured he was just trying to be nice, make her feel welcomed, that's what she kept telling herself. And in that moment it was like something snapped in Max's head: he had to have Y/N, and when he did he'd keep her forever and ever and ever.

Pouring some champagne over your panties So that we can cheers

They were at a party after the race, she was getting absolutely shit-faced drunk. Y/N was wearing a short, sparkly party dress, the light catching every fleck of glitter as she moved. She danced the night away, downing drink after drink. That's when she bumped into Max, his glass of champagne pouring all over the front of her dress.

"Oh shit, I'm so sorry schatje (little treasure)...let me help you." Max grabbed a napkin, grabbing her by the waist and pulling her in closer to wipe her off. He knew this was a bit risky, but Y/N wasn't refusing his touch.

"Maxie...hi!" She giggled drunkenly leaning into his touch. This was perfect. Max tried his best to wipe her off, but her dress was still sticky with the fizzy fluid.

"Y/N, darling, you should get changed...your dress is in no condition to stay on your body." He smoothed her hair over with one hand, looking into her eyes as she spoke.

"No, im fine Maxie!" She whined. She clearly wasn't, and Max wasn't going to skip out on the chance to be her knight in shining armour; even if in reality he was a wolf in sheep's clothing.

Counting the hours, counting the seconds 'Till I can feel your bones

"Oh, but Y/N, liefje (darling), you're too drunk to think straight." His tone had the slightest hint of mockery, but she was too drunk to tell.

"No, Max...I'm perfectly fine to be alone.'' She spoke between hiccups, trying not to stumble over herself as Max led her back to her room.

"No you're not, come on...let me take care of you." There was a certain darkness in his eyes as he spoke. As he led her into her hotel room he had an almost malicious smirk on his face. He didn't want to take advantage of her though, even if he was counting the hours until he could feel her bones beside him. All he wanted was a chance to get closer to her, to get inside her head.

Dance in your shoes, read your diary to Get inside of you, you, you

This was Max's chance. As she peacefully slept he got up and began to go through her things. Her suitcase, her clothes, her purse, everything he could find. That's when he found it: Y/N's diary. He flipped through the pages, taking photos, drowning himself in her words. He knew it was wrong to read her diary, but this was perfect. It was all her emotions, written out in front of him. This was the way, he thought, the way to get to her. Infect her with his love, rot her mind with his sugary sweet lies. He needed her in the palm of his hand.

Forever and ever and ever.

I'm not a coward, I'm not a hero But I can be your toy I'll be the pill that you wanna swallow When you're looking for the joy

Reading her diary had been like dissecting her brain, he learned everything about her. What she liked, what he hated, the things that made her weak in the knees and swoon, and the things that turned her off. He knew just the way to have her at his will, have her wrapped around his finger. And that's exactly what was happening. After weeks of tedious yet discreet manipulation, he almost had her. Max was the one Y/N would go to first when she felt down, when she needed to get something off her chest, when she was excited about something. It was almost like he was her drug, little did she know it was all his fault. But she was too oblivious to realize it. Her friends tried to warn her, but it was no use. He was already getting to her, he'd already turned into her joy-pill.

Cried on your nudes, wearing your perfume Now I taste like you, you, you

This was wrong, so wrong. He knew it. But Max would go to the ends of the earth to even have a small taste of her. He sat quietly outside her apartment building, phone in hand. What a stupid, oblivious girl. She'd left the window wide open as she got changed, Max snapping pictures of her naked body without her knowledge. Once back in his own home, he pulled out his phone to flip through the pictures. Such a pretty, ignorant girl. He felt himself getting harder and harder as he looked at her body in each picture. Max could cry over her nudes, he needed her so badly. He grabbed a small bottle from him bedside drawer: a small travel-spray of Y/N's perfume. Max sprayed his pillow with it every night, craving her scent and body beside him. He decided to take a shower to get his mind off things, but now he practically tasted like her. There was no taking his mind off her now.

Forever and ever and ever

Oh, why don't you give a little love now, baby?

Alone, in the shower Using my left hand so it feels like you

Max had been alone in the shower for about an hour now, jerking his cock to the thought of her. The smell of her perfume still lingered, the mental image of her naked body driving him insane. He needed to have her, he couldn't wait much longer. But he almost had her, she was just within reach. He came with a loud groan, his release coating his own hand. He could only imagine how much better his cock would feel elsewhere; in her hand, her mouth, her pussy...but he had to wait just a little longer.

So please, I'm begging To feel something new

It had been like a predator circling its oblivious prey; she had no clue he already had her in the palm of his hand. She was under the impression that this was what she wanted, this was all out of her own volition. But that was far from the truth. Max was behind it all, meticulously puppeteering her feelings. But she'd never know, he'd make sure of it. As she entered his apartment, the feeling of his hand on her lower back was sending chills through her body, Max smilled maliciously to himself. But he had to make her think she was the one in control, that this was her choice. They walked to his couch and both sat down, their bodies mere millimeters away from each other. He had already brought out a bottle of wine and two glasses for them. They sipped on their drinks and just talked, but behind his blue eyes he was waiting for the perfect window to strike. About 4 and a half glasses in, she'd scooted closer to him, leaning her head on his shoulder subconsciously. Now was the moment, thought Max. His hand slipped away to her thigh, slowly rubbing up and down and driving Y/N mad.

"Max..." she whined his name, it was like music to his ears.

"What, liefje (darling), what's wrong?" He had to hide his smirk, the slightest hint of mockery and possibly pity in his tone.

"Fuck...I think I need you..." She was too drunk to think before she spoke, her thighs rubbing together slightly as she yearned for some sort of friction.

"Aww...you need help darling?" He lifted her chin, pulling her in closer. All she could do was nod, letting him pull her in for a kiss.

One thing led to another, and they ended up in Max's bed. She'd practically been begging him to feel something new the whole way there, it's ironic how she thought she was the one in control. Max put her down onto the bed and reached under her skirt to remove her panties. He ran a finger through her folds, collecting her wetness.

"You're desperate me, huh schatje (little treasure)?" He brings his fingers up his mouth, licking them clean. All she could do was whine out a reply, she was desperate. With than Max knelt before her, leaving a trail of kisses up her thighs as Y/N squirmed with anticipation. The feeling of his tongue over her pussy, he ate her out like a man starved. Every moan that rolled off her tongue only riled him up more, he licked every inch of her center and sucked her clit like it was his last meal. As she begged him to let her come, her words caught in her throat with a squeal as he plunged two fingers into her entrance. She wanted to cry, it was all too much. "Aww, you wanna come liefje (darling)?" He smiled up at her and spoke in an almost mocking tone as he worked his fingers in and out of her and rubbed greedy circles on her puffy, overstimulated clit.

"Please, Maxie, please, please let me come...fuck!" She gasped out, her hands tangled in his hair.

"Since you asked so nicely, darling, I'll let you...come all over my fingers..." He sucked her clit and pumped his fingers even faster, pushing her over the edge. He came with a loud, straggled moan, her slick leaking out over Max's fingers and palm. He licked his fingers clean once again, then pulling himself back on top of her.

"You wanna taste yourself schatje (little treasure)? Hm?" He grabbed by the neck, with a rough gentleness, while taunting her with his patronizing tone. He kissed her roughly, Y/N whined at the taste of herself on his tongue and his hand gripping her neck, she needed more. Max was her drug, and she was too far into her addiction.

"Max I fucking need you...please." She reached up and pulled his face back down for another heated hiss.

"Anything for you, liefje (darling)." He smiled down at her, their foreheads touching. This was the moment Max had been waiting for for months, dreaming, fantasizing. He wouldn't wait another minute to make her his. So, he stripped himself of his clothing and Y/N removed whatever was left of hers. He cautiously got on top of her, like she was the most delicate creature on the planet, and aligned the hit tip with her hole. But he wanted to draw this out, so he slowly dragged the tip of his dick along her slit, rubbing it on her clit and then back down. Max could've died a happy man right there, his body hovering over hers as she begged for his cock and trembled.

"Please Max, stop teasing, I need it so fucking badly..." She said in a whiny, needy tone. Seconds later Max was pushing his cock into her, stretching her out as she moaned. He didn't waste a minute, not even allowing her to adjust. It's like a switch kicked off in him, he was feral. He thrust in and out of her at a fast, rough, yet delicious speed. Within minutes of him fucking her she was already a babbling mess.

"Aww, Y/N darling, already too fucked out to speak?" He mocked, deriving a little too much joy from seeing her at his will.

"Maxieee- fuck- 's too good...fucking fuck!" She moaned out, but Max was far from done yet. She felt her walls fluttering around him as his dick twitched, a tell-tale sign they were both gonna come.

"Need to come, liefje? Aww, I'm gonna fill you up so fuck- fucking good. Gonna claim this fucking pussy..." He groaned, feeling his climax reaching.

"Please, Maxie- fuck- need to come so bad, 's too much, fuck- please" She moaned out breathlessly, but she was already gone. The knot in her stomach had already snapped, spilling her slick all over Max's cock. He soon followed suit, his dick twitching inside her and the painting her walls with his come. He took a look down at where their bodies met, smiling maliciously down at the sight of the mix of his and her release leaking out on his cock. He then collapsed on to her with a loud groan, propping himself up on his elbows to look at her face.

"You're mine now...you get that? Or are you still too cockdrunk to understand me?" He spoke in an almost patronizing tone, running a had over her hair; all she could do was nod in her fucked out state. After catching his breath, Max got up and ran over to the bathroom. He came back minutes later, picking Y/N up from the bed. She whined into his neck.

"Come on, darling...gotta get you cleaned up..." With that, he dropped her down into the tub, and he practically worshiped her body. He ran his soapy hands over her whole body, washing off the sweat with the utmost caution. He used a washcloth to wipe the come off her sensitive center, she whined softly at times. But Max was extremely gentle, and when he got her out of the bath and sat her on the counter wrapped in a towel, he took a quick rinse. He then took them both back to the bed, giving her one of his t-shirts to sleep in. She drifted off peacefully in his arms, not knowing what she'd gotten herself into. Now Max had her, he was inside her head. He was going to keep it that way, forever and ever and ever.

#f1 x reader #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x y/n #dark max verstappen x reader #max verstappen smut

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lvlyghost · 10 months

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All The Nights to Come

Pairings: Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader

Summary: You get hurt during a mission.

Word Count: 900+

Tw: strong language, blood, angst, comfort towards the end. grumpy ghost as usual. bad grammar, and probably a lot of typos. not proofread 🫶🏻✨💞

A/N: just a little one-shot to help me with writer's block. next I'll be working on another part of salvation and a third part of the things i never said since a lot of you asked 🥹💛 remember english isn't my first language, corrections are welcome 🤍

Masterlist✨

You didn't know how to stay out of danger. Or at least that's what all of your teammates said. Especially Ghost.

Ghost. You had a complicated... relationship with the Lieutenant.

Polar opposites.

That's what he had called you both one day.

He's the darkness that comes at night, you're the light he'd gladly let consume him.

"Stop distracting me." He grumbles staring straight ahead. You chuckle at his growing annoyance.

"We're in the middle of nowhere, Ghost. The worst thing that could happen is tripping with a rock." You roll you eyes. "How about we play something, we still have one hour left until we reach the evac point."

"No."

"Comen on! There's no one around." He sighs, but doesn't say anything. You decide to not push his limits. You've started to know him more and more, as much as he would allow, of course. "Is something bothering you?" you finally ask, head tilting down to watch your step. Again the only response you get is silence. "If this is about what happened last night..."

"It's not that." He gruffly interrupts you. Irritated that you're even bringing it up.

"You were the one who said this couldn't happen anymore. So you might as well make up your mind Ghost." You walk faster, leaving him behind, or as much as you can considering his strides are easily longer than yours.

"I am your superior, what the fuck am I supposed to do, kid?" You clench your jaw, hating how his words are setting deep in your heart. The way he emphasized the word superior. "I could get us both suspended, or even worse get us kicked out of the military! Am I really the only one who's thinking?" He seethes.

"Oh well!" You feign amusement. "I'm sorry, I didn't think you cared enough when were fucking each other in my room..." Ghost's body freezes for a brief second before he keeps walking. "If you're bloody scared of letting me in you should've just said it. No need to fucking hurt me like I'm nothing."

"The fuck did you just say? Have you not heard a word I just told you?!" His accent becoming more prominent every time he speaks. "I'm trying to protect you, I don't bloody care what happens to me."

Ghost doesn't notice it, too enraged, looking down at you as he walks closer. But you do.

You see the reflection, a small glimpse of the scope. The sun shining down on the sniper's rifle. Everything moves in slow motion, you scream... or at least you try to, pushing Ghost with all the strength you have. He stumbles a few steps to the side, the pure shock in your face as you realize what's about to happen. A bird chirping in the distance, and what sounds like a cascade near, a river flowing before it hits you. Right on your left shoulder, a shot that was aimed at his heart.

Ghost's heart.

And you take it instead. It pierces through flesh and bones, hurting like million of bullets. Your sight goes black as you start falling, body helplessly hitting the muddy terrain. Shots are fired, a loud shriek and a deep voice echoing but it's so far away. It's getting harder to regain consciousness.

"Why the bloody hell did you do that!?" Fear glowed in his eyes. Ghost's big gloved hand pressing down the wound on your shoulder, the fabric quickly becomes stained with crimson red blood.

Your blood.

"S-Sir?" You choke up. Fighting to keep your eyes open.

Focus on him.

"I'm going to fucking have you on desk rotation for this." He grits his teeth. "Don't you do that ever again. Not for me. Never for someone like me." He leans closer, managing your body in his hands so he can take a better look. He breathes when he sees the exit wound.

"It's my duty..." you murmur, with half-lidded eyes. "To shield and protect my superiors..." you breathe out.

"Don't give me that shite." He scolds you. "I'm the one who's supposed to protect my team." Not just his team. The truth was that he wanted to protect you, he had to. "Now keep those pretty eyes on me, yeah? That's an order sergeant." He commands.

You laugh, with what low energy you have left.

"Sir? You and I both know I'm not good at following orders." He reaches his medical pouch, disinfecting and wrapping as many bandages as he can on your wound.

"Now's a good time you start listenin', kid." He picks you up with more gentleness that's he's ever experienced himself. Who would've thought that a man like him could care for someone else. He has the softest touch, you think. "Think you can hold on until we get there?" He asks, looking down to your face, body too small and light in his arms. If he could kiss you right now...

"Sure thing, Ghost." You murmur, wincing when he starts walking. "This is not what I had in mind when they said we were going to Spain. We could play that game now, right?

A soft chuckle rumbles deep in his chest, making your lips tilt up in a weak yet heartwarming smile.

"Fuckin' hell, love" he doesn't lose sight of your eyes. "I guess we can. As long as you keep talking to me. Don't you dare go somewhere I can't follow."

"Don't think you'll get rid of me that easily, Sir."

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toreigh · 9 months

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CAN I REQUEST SUB! KEN WITH W PRAISE KINK PLEASE 🙏 ur amazing ily

Those eyes | ken!ryan x reader

summary: Set in the real world, you take Ken to the fair for the first time. Having a little too much fun, things get.. A little out of hand in the House Of Mirrors. Need I say more, someone ends up on their knees. Also loosely based off the song Those Eyes- New West. MINORS DNI.

pairings: ken!ryan x reader

word count: 1,719

warnings/notes: SMUT! p in v, cursing, spitting, unprotected sex, creampie, praise kink, oral (m receiving), sub dynamics. ken is obsessed with you, but what’s new?

“Ready?” You said.

“So ready.” He replied smiling.

You took Kens hand leading him to the Ferris Wheel. You had come here last week with Gloria and she showed you everything there is to a fair.

"C'mon you're gonna like this one a lot." You said smiling.

Bringing Ken to the fair made him act like a kid again. He was pointing at what you two should do next, smiling ear to ear. He also said he would win you a pink teddy bear.

You were just admiring the view. Both of the views actually. All the lights down below, and Ken. The perfect taper of his jaw, the way his eyes look. He was all yours.

After getting off you took him to a couple more rides before he insisted on winning you the pink teddy from earlier.

You watched as he scored perfectly, winning it with ease. He handed it to you proudly.

"Thank you, my perfect boy." You praised. His cheeks flushing a bright shade of pink.

"Let's go there's a food you just have to try." You said pulling him in the directions of funnel cakes. Bear in one hand Kens hand in the other.

Once you got it Ken was walking towards a table trying to eat it on the way, and got a little bit of whipped cream on his nose. It made you giggle and when he asked what was up you just took a picture, showing it to him. Causing him to give you the same mark, and you two broke out laughing in the middle of the crowd, and no one else knew why.

Sitting down you fed each other the funnel cake like a couple on their wedding night. You had the most fun possible. By the end of it you were food drunk, and gave this devastating smile. Well honestly he thought everything you did was perfect.

"Cmon there's one more thing we have to try before it closes." You said taking his hand. The House of Mirrors.

Being one of the last people in line you had to use the restroom so you told Ken to wait there of course. He didn't really protest.

He did get a little worried when he had to enter without you, but oh would you be back.

It takes all of five minutes before he's lost though. A few minutes pass by with nothing but his own reflection. Off in the distance Ken hears faint shuffling sounds. Ken can feel his heart rate increasing.

"Kennyy!" You call out knowing he's close. You let out a small giggle as he lets out a relaxing sigh.

Thats when he sees you dressed in that white and pink outfit he couldn't get enough of.

"Stop it" He bites out, as its still only your reflection.

"Are you alone Kenny?" You ask.

"Obviously," He breathes. Trying to pin point your reflection still. He honestly gives up waiting for you to find him.

When he suddenly feels hot breath on his back, sending shivers down his spine. You press your front to his back snaking your arms around his slutty waist.

"Thats such a good boy." You mutter.

He spins around looking down at you ready to respond when you crash your lips to his. He can't get enough of you, his hands finding your waist rubbing up and down. He sucks your bottom lip into his mouth. Your like a drug he cant recover from at this point. He pulls away only for you kiss him again deepening the slutty kiss.

You suck his bottom lip into your mouth, making his cock throb and he suddenly remembers what its like for you to have your hot little mouth around his cock. He moans involuntarily at the sensation.

You can taste the arousal at this point kissing him like its the last thing you'll ever do.

"Wait B just wait," He said sounding on edge. "what if someone catches us, really?" He finishes

"Mmm is someone scared? That's the fun of it Kenny." You said rubbing your bottom lip.

You spin him around to look at himself standing behind him you wrap your arms around him.

"Do you know what I love about The House of Mirrors?" You asked.

"What?" He said meeting your eyes in the mirror.

"I can see how perfect you are," you say creeping your hand lower "from every" your hand grazes over the most masculine part of him. "single, angle." You say squeezing him through his jeans causing him to involuntarily buck into your slight grip.

You slip off his jean jacket, reaching for the hem shirt you look at him for permission, he simply nods for an answer. Breathing heavily though his nose. You undress him slowly earning shivers down his cool skin.

Once he's fully undressed you step back getting a good look at his tanned, toned frame.

"You have to undress to." He said feeling very exposed.

"Well Kenny if you want that, you're gonna have to do it." You say twirling your hair around your finger.

He gives you the same respect. Slowly undressing you.

"Your soaked B." He said looking up at you as he pulls your pink panties down your thighs.

"Only for you, can't help it baby." You say in a seductive tone.

When he's done he stands back up looking down at you.

You give a smile that almost brings him to his knees.

Now it's show time. You kiss him on the lips then under the jawline, slowly creeping lower. Peppering kisses all over. You make sure to take it extra slow on the V-line. Making him let of inpatient whimpers, you know he's not proud of.

Finally wrapping your little hand around the base he lets out a frustrated sigh. You kiss his angry red lip adorning a bead of arousal.

"The perfect fucking cock." You praise looking up at him through your lashes as his cock twitches getting harder at the praise.

You finally let your tongue come out teasing his tip, wrapping your lips around the tip finally. You make sure to set a devastatingly slow pace.

His hips struggle to stay still after a while, you pick up the pace teasing the underside of his head. You see him struggling to hold back and know he's close. His hands find your hair, not to guide you or force you anywhere, but purely because he needs something to hold onto.

Only when you felt him twitch in your mouth did you pull of with a audible pop.

Leaving him whimpering with need and his cock twitching with want.

Right before he spoke you cut him off. "But I want your cum inside me."

"You asked so nicely." He said taking your hand and helping you up.

You turned towards the mirror running the tip through your slick folds. You didn't even need foreplay just him.

He finally pushed in and you both gasped at the feeling. You felt so full, and your warm slick cunt was clenching him so, so good. He started to move slowly.

Starting to move fast you could feel him hitting your G-spot.

"Fucking me, so, good." You moaned out each word punctuated by a thrust. His cheeks always flushed it turned him on, his praisee kink through the roof.

Fluttering around you knees got week as you started to go down to the cool glass floor and he followed.

Then he leaned back, scooting his legs underneath you, and he placed you solidly on his lap. Your knees were arched, sitting on the lower of his stomach as he tucked a hand behind, keeping the other one on your clit.

He stroked you hard now. Four fingers abused your swollen area as he fucked up into you. You started to moan from the sudden stimulation as he watched you with grave interest in the mirror. Your head tilted back onto his shoulder, but no he wanted you to watch.

“Look at yourself while you come. Watch yourself come on my cock.” He said into your ear making you whimper and look up at him.

You felt your tummy tighten and build. It all felt like too much as you started to squirm. That unfamiliar knot unraveled at a speed so intense that stars prickled in your eyes. Everything turned black. Pitch black. So dark that you believed you passed out for seconds.

You came in a way you’d never done before. Your orgasm squirted out. Hips and dick covered in juices. Because he held you down on his dick as you came, he always did.

“Look at you, you’ve made a mess of us.” He said smirking at you, and caressing your boob. You whimpered leaning forward as his dick fell out, he whimpered at the loss of heat.

You turned around pushing him back so his back hit the cool glass. You finally got on top again wasting no time riding him hard. He began to moan he was so close again.

You kissed kiss swollen lips, before pulling back and whispering in his ear.

"C'mon gotta give it to me, that perfect cock always fucking me so good." You said as you felt him get impossibly harder and buck his hips.

"Give it to me my perfect boy." You said sweetly.

You stuck two fingers into his mouth pulling his bottom lip down and spit, and he swallowed it.

You kissed his lips praising him, sliding your tongue in his open mouth. You kissed him until he came inside you feeling warmth pool in your tummy. Kissing him till he couldn't kiss you back head thrown back in pleasure. His big hands slowly lifted you up because he was so sensative.

He helped you get dressed pulling your pink panties back up and using two fingers to push him cum inside. Pulling your shirt over your head he stood kissing your forehead.

After you gave him the same respect pulling his jean jacket on you could see him watching you in the mirror.

"What 'cha looking at." You said giggling.

"I just... cant get enough of you."

#ryan gosling fanfiction #ryan gosling ken #ryan gosling x you #ryan gosling #ken smut #ken and barbie #ken x you #smut #ryan gosling smut #i need him biblically

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c0ld0utside · 2 months

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hey don’t push yourself to post a work every day, you’ll get brunt out. Go at your own pace, we’ll wait :)

also, have you thought of a human father with a monster child? Like he just grabbed a monster off the street lmao

OHOHO I LOVE THIS IDEA- And you're too kind tysm ;-;

Warnings: Child abandonment (Circle of life scenario), Reader unknowingly eats weed raw, Reader gets chased, Reader accidentally knocks themself out, Kidnapping, Reader gets tied up, Reader just has a lot of oopsie-daisies in general, Obsessive, Possessive, Delusional and Ignorant behavior

“***” means POV swap! Gonna try these out in this story.

Growing up, you never thought about the day you had to “leave the nest.” Sure, it was a thing that your species did, but you never thought about it too much. …Until you hit a certain age.

You still remember it all. The rain was pouring down hard and making you shiver. You called out to your parent, whining about wanting to return home, but they pressed forward and expected you to follow. So you did. You walked for hours, feet getting covered in mud and feeling icky. The two of you reached some black river with white dots in the middle, going in a perfectly straight line.

Your parent turned to you, said that you were old enough to take care of yourself, that you weren’t allowed to come back, and that they wished you well. They left you there. You tried to follow them, tried to track their scent, tried begging and pleading and calling, but you never found them. Somehow, you managed to find the black river again, and you followed it.

You followed it for a long time, only stopping during the day so you wouldn’t be seen. At night you stuck to the shadows, trying not to get scared when one of the husks roared past you, bright yellow eyes lighting up the darkness for a few moments. The smell it left behind was always awful. You lost count of the days, and at one point you thought you came across a forest fire, only to find that it was the sunlight reflecting on several somethings in tall structures.

You know now that the “black river” is called a road, and that the weird loud husks humans travel in are called “cars.” You’ve grown used to the smells and the loud noises. You’ve also learned that living in human environments got you free food since the morons just threw the stuff out. Like, come on, why would you dump an edible “burger” over some pickles? Just take ‘em out!

Hiding your appearance, on the other hand, was harder. Your horns were coming in and from what you’ve seen, humans don’t have those, or naturally brightly colored irises and star-like pupils. …Or tails. Or pointed ears. Just your luck, though! Some guy forgot to lock the backdoor into the mall, and the shops you “borrowed” from were out of the cameras’ view.

Finding a home was hard, too. It took a lot of trial and error, but you eventually found a good spot in an abandoned building after scaring a few squatters. They even left their blankets and strange leaves behind. You found out the hard way that those leaves are not good for you, especially after coughing them back up out the window. But hey, it’s all trial and error. Just like your parent said it would be.

You’re comfortable, living in the abandoned home with ratty blankets and a mattress. Sneaking around the city after dark to snack on the unwanted leftovers thrown in trash cans. “Borrowing” shiny things off of people while they weren’t looking. Like that one guy’s watch, or that girl’s bracelet. Or some kid’s fidget ring. You even have a few things called “wallets.” Humans make interesting things, you’ve come to find.

Like money.

Money, you’ve come to find, makes it so you don’t have to dig wasted food out of the garbage. You’ve managed to get some new clothes as well, which was a relief because your horns are very noticeable now without a beanie, and they ripped a hole in your old one. You had a hard time throwing it away, but the new one you have is the best thing you’ve ever gotten. You even bought a few things called “pins” to decorate it with.

The issue with money, however, is that it runs out quick, and getting more is harder than getting food. Which brings you back to your collection of empty wallets. You don’t want to go back to digging food out of garbage cans, trying to find scraps that were clean enough to eat. Your blankets are worn to shit, too. So, eating the last of your food and slipping your beloved beanie on, you head out of your abandoned home and into the city.

***

A man in his late twenties enters the shop, and he cheerfully says “Hello” back to the greeter. “What you looking for, Tim?” The greeter asks, recognizing the regular. “Pins,” He replies simply. “I’m getting bored of the ones I have.”

The greeter nods slightly. “Well, we got some new ones recently. Maybe you’ll like one of those.” She offers. The two exchange friendly smiles and Tim heads over to the pin basket, giving it a once over before starting to dig through it. He plucks out a Mothman one. A bit standard, he knows, but it’s adorable and Tim likes it so that’s that.

Tim plucks out a few more monster pins and a few goofy animal ones, like a spider pin with the words “I cry from every eye” printed on it and a duck with a knife. Satisfied with his haul that only costs around fifteen bucks, Tim looks up and spots the best thing he’s ever seen in his entire life. It’s just a keychain with a ghost plush, but it’s probably the cutest thing he’s ever seen in his life and he needs it. It even has a little smile on its face. A smile. It’s so precious and tiny and he just wants to hold it in his palms and dub it “Bartholomew the First.”

So he feels less alone.

Tim frowns at the sudden thought. Yeah, he’s a loner. Yes, he has friends, but they’re more work buddies and classmates than anything. He’d like to get a pet, something funky like a ferret or a rat or a lizard. But no, his landlord says no pets, so no pets for Tim. He’s always been sympathetic to others, having a lot of love to give but no one close to share it with. People from the past always found him odd because of it, but never told him why. Never told him what to do instead.

He knows he’s not alone. Most people want someone to care about them, and most people want someone to care for. Because no one really wants to be alone. Especially not him. So why does everyone treat him funny? How can he make it better? The kids don't think he's weird. They love it when he babysits. Please just-

Tim’s snapped out of his thoughts when he feels something slip out of his back pocket. A teen wearing a beanie with a rabid possum and “peace was never an option” duck pin on it quickly leaves the store, brushing past him. It takes him a few seconds, but he puts two and two together and rushes over to the greeter.

“Kathy hold onto these please some brat just took my money,” Tim says in a rush, shoving the items into her hands before booking it out of the shop. Kathy stands there, a bit stunned and processing what just happened. With a sigh, she heads over to the register and buys the pins and keychain.

“Don’t you already have that one?” One of her coworkers asks, squinting at the spider pin.

“I’m buying it for Tim. Some kid just took his wallet.” Kathy explains, blushing slightly at the teasing glance her coworker gives her.

***

This guy is stubborn. So stubborn, it’s scary. Scarier than that one wolf that would not stop chasing you after you got too close to its pups. It was an accident and you wish your parent was here to charge through the street and intercept the damn guy who’s still chasing you. Like they did with the wolf.

You know your parent had some love for you because they listened to your screams and begs and let the poor thing go. They also immediately scolded you for the whole thing afterward. Reckless, stupid little joey, poking around where they shouldn’t be. Just go back home and stay there. Food will come, I’ll bring some back.

Running away from the threat is harder, too. Especially when you have to shove and weave past hordes of people who are either really slow or just aren’t paying attention. It feels suffocating. Claustrophobic. You can’t get out and you can’t take a moment to breathe. You can’t give this up though, you need it.

I wish you were still here. I wish things were different. I wish I could’ve stayed.

Without a second thought, you round the corner and scramble up the old fire escape, throwing yourself through the open dirtied window and tumbling into your blankets. Safe, safe, safe, your mind chants. You’re safe. You lost him. You got your money, so you won’t need to get your hands dirty. You pull your beanie off of your head. It was starting to feel uncomfortable on your head and make your horns ache.

There’s a clang outside, and a few muffled curses. Wait. What. What? You immediately stand up, pocketing the “borrowed” wallet. A familiar scent wafts into your nose- sweat and palm leaves. Funny for a guy who’s a regular at the most “teenage angst” store you’ve ever been in. The man from before hops through the window and dusts himself off. His gaze screams murder as he looks up at you.

…Only to fall the moment he spots your odd eyes and horns that are starting to curl.

Okay. Okay. Stay calm. The dude managed to track you home. He’s a human- he’s weaker. He has no defense. Do what your parent taught you.

Like a stag, you take a defensive stance and show off your horns. Don’t wanna get hit with these. They’ll hurt really bad. Go away, please. Wait- please? No! Go away now!

You expect the guy to get the memo and leave.

Instead, he coos at you.

***

Tim was wrong. The creature was the most cutest, precious thing he’s ever seen. “Awwwww, look’t you!” He coos, relaxing and taking a friendly stance. “Wait hold on- no, this could be a cosplay. This is a cosplay, isn’t-”

He yelps as the creature charges, narrowly moving out of the way. Its horns slam into the wall and when it pulls away, there’s a noticeable dent and cracks in it. The beast grunts, teeth flashing in a snarl. Fangs with some flat teeth. Its tail slips out of its hiding place and lashes angrily.

Tim kneels, holding his hand out and trying to How To Train Your Dragon his way out of this. “Hey buddy, it’s alright. I just need my wallet back. Can I have it, please?” He asks sweetly, making a small motion with his hand. "We can talk about this. I can help."

Tim frowns when it hisses at him, an idea blooming in his head. When the monster charges again, he moves to the side and wraps his arms around them. “Easy, easy, aw…it’s alright. Shhhh…”

“LET ME GO!” The creature screams, making him pause. It can speak? It sounds young, too. Tim glances around the room, taking in the empty bags of chips and other generally bad stuff that kids eat without a second thought. He notices the ratty blankets and worn, moldy mattress on a broken bedframe.

“...How old are you?” Tim asks, tone full of pity. He winces when he feels claws dig and scratch at his arms, but doesn’t let go. “Ow- hey, it’s okay, I can help you. Let me help you.” The creature doesn’t give up, continuing to struggle. He feels his grip slipping, and he has to take several steps back.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa- hey, chill out-!”

The creature breaks free and slams into a wall.

***

When you wake up you know you’re not in your home. It doesn’t smell rancid and there are soft, silky textures brushing against you. Your head in resting on something soft and fluffy. The smell of palm trees is everywhere, and the world seems brighter. The noise is still there, though.

Outside, a car’s horn goes off repeatedly, resulting in you shifting around and trying to bury your head in the soft object.

…Your hands are bound. So are your legs. The softness rubs against you. It’s a new sensation, one you aren’t used to. The smell gets stronger and you start to panic. So, like any scared joey, you start to call out for your parent.

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” You hear the man call. You hear him head over and enter the room, immediately joining your side. He starts to rub your back gently, shushing you. Stop it- stop it- you try to protest but he interrupts you. “I know, I know. It’s all new and confusing. But it’s okay! I’ll take care of you now. Don’t worry, I know you’re not a pet. You’re…uh…well, I don’t know, but you’re a person.”

“Oh, don’t cry, it’s okay. I’m helping. I had to tie you up ‘cause I didn’t want you to hurt yourself again! It’ll be okay, I promise. No more of that nasty stuff for you.”

“I know you’re scared, but look at it this way! You’re not alone anymore! And now I’m not alone either. I wanna guess you’re…what? Seventeen? Y’know, most humans think you’re an adult when you hit eighteen, but I think twenty-one is more reasonable. No “teen” in “twenty-one,” is there?”

I was actually thinking of this while writing the werewolf story! And I gave “Dad” a name this time. Speaking of which, I feel like giving the other guys names. Is there a way to vote on it or something? I want to hear your guys’s ideas

I will definitely add onto this as well.

You're looking spectacular today! Drink water! Eat something that isn't chips! SLEEP!

#yandere #platonic #platonic yandere #yandere imagines #platonic yandere imagine #monster reader #yandere dad #yandad #yandere platonic #yan imagine #dad yandere

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cowgurrrl · 1 year

Text

Going to The Chapel

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader (plus platonic Ellie Williams x fem!reader)

Author’s note: the wedding day fic is coming but this was the first idea that presented herself so enjoy

Summary: “Where did love begin? What human looked at another and saw in their face the forests and the sea? Was there a day, exhausted and weary, dragging home food, arms cut and scarred, that you saw yellow flowers and, not knowing what you did, picked them because I loved you?” — Jeanette Winterson, Lighthousekeeping [2.2k]

Warnings: quick canonical type of violence, grief, idiots in love, domestic Joel and Ellie

Let the record reflect that despite twenty years of an apocalypse and an insane amount of loss, Joel Miller is still a romantic. It just took him a little longer to find that part of himself again.

The first time he thinks about it, you're sitting on the floor with Ellie, helping to adjust her hold on her guitar. "It's not going anywhere. You can relax," you tell her. You gently move her hands and ensure she has a pillow under her so she can be comfortable while you teach her chords. The sun slips behind the mountains and makes the light hit your eyes as you watch her gain confidence in her strumming. Ellie looks to you for guidance when she gets stuck or needs reassurance, and you never flinch. By the end of the night, Ellie's fingers are raw, and you tell her how proud you are of her. "You'll be playing circles around us in no time." You say, and Ellie's smile makes you light up. Maybe, he thinks. Maybe here. Maybe now.

It's not that he had never thought about marrying you. He dreamt about it all the time but figured that's all it could be; a dream. He made excuses for why he never proposed. He was too old, too broken, and too scared. The world had already taken so much from both of you that it seemed cruel to even think about creating a family like that. And then Ellie happened. Suddenly, you had this little girl you loved and cared for more than anyone else, and you found a safe home thousands of miles away from Boston. Everything had changed. Why couldn't this change too?

The next time the thought crosses his mind, you're holding Tommy and Maria's daughter. Camille Sarah Miller came into the world and immediately captured both your hearts, but you aren't focused on Camille when he thinks about it. Sure, she's sleeping in your arms, but you're looking at Maria and asking how she's feeling, how much she's sleeping, and what she's been eating. When someone has a new baby, it's easy to get caught up in the latest family addition but not you. You care about Tommy and Maria's well-being as much as Camille's, and tell them never to hesitate to ask you for help. That night, you go home and make two freezer meals for the new parents. That's the night Joel asks Ellie what she would think if he asked you to marry him. Her answer encaptured everyone else's feelings: "Fucking finally."

He asks Tommy where he got Maria's ring the next day. Tommy smiles and claps his big brother on the shoulder before directing him to the local blacksmith. He usually only works with artillery, but he makes special exceptions for things like this. Joel designs the ring himself with some help from Ellie—a simple gold band with wildflowers etched into the sides. They look exactly like the ones you and Ellie would pick while on the way across the country. Joel used to complain about wasting time and asked you about it one night after Ellie had gone to bed. "Ellie's fourteen years old, and the closest thing she's seen to a flower is probably a Cordyceps," you said. "Just… let her be a kid, okay?" He could tell you were waiting for a fight, but he just nodded. That was the first time he realized you were starting to love Ellie too.

"What's this?" Ellie asks, pointing to the year etched on the inner part of the ring.

"It's the year we met," He says. Ellie smiles and mumbles something that sounds like "you fucking sap" as she hands him the ring back. "So, d'you think she'll like it?"

"I think she'll love it." She says. It's all the confirmation Joel needs.

He had something planned, he really did, but in true Miller fashion, it didn't work out that way. He planned on taking you to the meadow where you've gone on a few family picnics together, delivering a long, emotional speech where he'd probably cry and then pull out the ring. What actually ended up happening was much less wholesome. You two were out on patrol when a group of raiders attacked you. You managed to take them all down, but not before Joel got shot in the shoulder. You were frantically trying to slow the bleeding enough to get him back on a horse when he asked. "Can we talk about it when you're not bleeding out?" You yelled as you pulled him off the ground.

So, that's why you're holding his hand in the hospital as his drugs slowly start to wear off. You tell him everything the doctors did and that you can take him home in the morning. Ellie gets to sleepover at the Other Miller's (as Ellie affectionately calls them) house and is relieved that he caught a bullet in the shoulder, not somewhere more severe. "And I won't hold you to the bleeding-out proposal, so we're good." You laugh, but he looks serious.

"Check the front pocket of my backpack," He says. You furrow your brows but open the pocket to find the gold ring at the bottom. Your hand flies to cover your mouth as tears fill your eyes, and you look at him. "I was goin' to propose in the meadow. I planned a whole thing, but somehow this feels more like us." He smiles and reaches for you. You let him hold your hand as you stand beside his hospital bed, tears streaming down your face.

"Does Ellie know?" You ask, and he laughs.

"She helped pick the ring out."

"Oh, my god." You cry. He squeezes your hand and takes the ring from you. Tears fill his eyes as he stares at you like you hung the stars.

"Will you marry me?" He finally asks, and you nod.

"Of course I will."

"You sure? 'Cause, there's no backin' out after this."

"Yes, I'm sure," You laugh as you bend down and kiss him. Joel's arm isn't strong enough to hold you, and you can't stop crying, but it's perfect. You break the kiss with giddy laughter, still incapable of wrapping your mind around the fact that Joel just proposed to you in a hospital room. "How long have you been planning this?"

"I mean, the gettin' shot part wasn't the original plan."

"No, I meant, how long have you been planning to propose?"

"Baby, I always thought about marrying you," The gentleness of his voice is enough to make you tear up again. He grabs your left hand and carefully slides the ring on your finger. It's the tiniest bit too big, and you can't help but laugh as he groans defeatedly. "This was supposed to go so much better!" He says. You kiss him again and feel him smile against your lips.

"It's perfect. Thank you."

You climb into the hospital bed with him, avoiding his injured shoulder, and listen as he points out all the details. He tells you about the engraving on the inside of the year you met and the flowers that were copied exactly from a drawing. He explains the original plan further and then apologizes for getting shot. "As long as you don't get hurt every time we try to make a life-altering change, I think we'll be fine." You say, and he laughs. You stay up talking for a long time even though the nurses urged Joel to get some rest.

You wonder aloud what Sarah would think about her dad getting married, what all your dead loved ones would think about this. Your parents would've loved Joel, but they would've loved Ellie more. They'd probably listen to her tell shitty jokes all day if they could. You miss them, especially now. You laugh, trying to imagine Tess throwing you a bachelorette party that would inevitably be insane. You talk about what Bill and Frank would say and decide that Frank would definitely cry while Bill would insist on cooking on the wedding day. You'd have Henry stand at the front and sign the entire ceremony to Sam. Eventually, you end up falling asleep listening to Joel's heartbeat, and for the first time in a long, long time, you don't have a nightmare. Instead, you dream of a wedding day full of all your favorite people.

You were never one to believe in signs from beyond, but you take the peaceful dream as one big group hug from those you've lost.

You're exhausted when you leave the hospital in the morning, but you still make the walk to the Other Miller's house. You can hear Ellie talking to Tommy about her favorite comic book when you walk through the door, not even bothering to knock. "Hello?" You call as you walk into the kitchen with Joel close behind you. Ellie and Maria have a stack of pancakes in front of them as Tommy mans the stove with a sleeping Camille strapped to his chest.

"Hey! How are you feeling?" Maria asks. You walk over to Ellie and smooth her hair back before kissing her forehead. She scrunches her nose at you but doesn't protest when you wrap your arms around her. You're sure Joel is answering Maria's question, but Ellie catches the glint of your ring before he can finish his sentence.

"Holy shit! He actually did it?" She asks loudly, and you shoot Joel a look. He shrugs, a smile pulling at his lips, as Maria and Tommy give each other confused looks. Ellie grabs your left hand to look at the ring, and it finally connects in Maria's head.

"Holy shit!" She yells, shooting out of her chair and covering her open mouth with her hands. You laugh as she leans over to look at your ring, a happy noise leaving her.

"It only took him getting shot, but he proposed." You say, and the room erupts into cheers. Tommy turns off the stove before walking over to Joel and wrapping him in as big of a hug as he can give him with Camille in the sling. Maria hugs you and rocks you back and forth, practically screeching about how excited she is. When she's done congratulating you, the couple switch, and Tommy hugs you tightly.

"Welcome to the family, officially." He says as he kisses your temple. Your chest could burst from all the love filling the room, and you feel your eyes getting wet again.

"Thank you, Tommy," You say. Tommy declares to make more celebratory pancakes, this time in the shape of a ring, but he barely gets a response as Maria asks Joel for all the details about the proposal. You look down to see Ellie staring at you with a big smile. You crouch down to look her in the eyes and put a hand on her knee. "What do you think about all this, kiddo?"

"I'm just glad he finally got the balls to ask you. I thought it'd be forever before you guys made it official," she jokes. You smile but stay silent, waiting for her honest answer. She takes a deep breath, glancing between you and Joel before landing on you again. You squeeze her knee to encourage her to talk and see tears brimming in her big, brown eyes. "I'm really, really happy you guys are getting married."

"You're sure? 'Cause I'll give this ring right back to him if you say the word."

"Hey! I worked hard on that ring!"

"I heard," you say, holding your left hand up to spin the band. "They're the wildflowers we used to pick, right?"

"It was Joel's idea. I just drew it." She says, and your heart skips a beat. You look at your ring again and notice the tiny pencil markings on the petals. A tear falls from your eye as you look at her again, grabbing her hand.

"Your drawings are on my ring?"

"Do you like them?" She asks nervously, and you pull her into a tight hug.

"Oh, baby girl," you whisper. "They're perfect." Joel doesn't miss your interaction with Ellie, there's rarely a time when he isn't watching his girls, and he smiles. Maria runs into the other room and comes back with a Polaroid camera in her hands.

"Okay, okay, you love birds! Let's get a picture!" She says, waving her hands for Joel to stand with you. Joel pretends to be annoyed, but you catch the sparkle in his eyes as he walks over to you and Ellie. He wraps an arm around your waist, and you put a hand on Ellie's shoulder to keep her from trying to escape the picture as the camera flashes. You eat pancakes and laugh with your family as the picture develops safely on the counter. Before you can leave, now with Ellie in tow, Maria hands you the picture with her handwriting under it. The Millers, she wrote, even though you haven't decided on whether you want to change your name and Ellie will forever have her mother's surname.

Names don't mean anything when it comes to family, and you've always been family. You and Ellie have always been Millers, even if you didn't know it.

🍓

Tag list: @evyiione

#joel and ellie #the last of us #joel miller #ellie williams #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel tlou #the last of us x reader #joel miller the last of us #joel miller fluff #domestic Joel Miller #joel miller x female reader #i wrote this for me but you can read it too i guess

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inkyycapp · 9 months

Text

How I Think Characters

Would Ask You Out

Adventure Time Edition

(Alt Au?)

TW; none that i know of. Fluff.

Feel free to leave a request. I do other fandoms as well. (Material list in the making.)

Finn

You're his friend, and eventually he views you in a new light. Be it during a fight, or relaxing in a feild of green(red), he feels his face grow warm. Finn remembers this fuzzy feeling.

He's nervous, of course. But calm, oddly enough.

He goes over what he feels; questioning how his view had changed. Once he saw your hand as something you use (against monsters, play music, or rule your subjects), now he sees it as something he wants to hold. Late night talks feel so much more. He wants to make you happy. Your smile. The way your eyes crinkle when you really laugh. Those awkward moments, those stupid moments, those joyous moments. It can't be anything else: It's love.

Finn has had bad experiences, yes, but I feel like instead of those experiences making him more anxious/nervous, he learned from them instead. He knows better what to do, and what not to do.

He'd try to be romantic, but would fail in such cute ways. Finn knows better than to take advice from Jake....

.....but, he ends up taking the advice. It spirals, and a monster throws the whole plan off course.

Once the beast is dealt with, Finn gets a bit upset his attempts at asking you out romantically were foiled by the sudden intrusion, but you both get a good laugh out of it.

He's happy you feel the same, and gives you a beautiful magic staff you both looted off the monster. (It's covered in flowers, vines, and leaves. The staff itself is a dark wood, tinted a color to match the flowers.)

Finn walks you home, holding your hand. He promises to take you out on a sandwhich date on a floating island to make up for the day. On the way, you both test out the magical staff, laughing about stories, and jokes. He's just glad to be there with you.

Finn hurries home, and tells Jake, BMO, and NEPTR. They have a big pasta dinner.

Fern

He's so nervous. Much more nervous than his counter part(s). Very anxious, and fidgety.

Fern has no relationship experiences, so when he feels his feels flowers bloom over his shoulders, and out his hair. Something's up. His face is warm. So very warm, and and he can't help but stare. Which he denies. Awkward silence falls, only breaking when he clears his throat, standing abruptly to: "grab some water."

Fern spends that time staring into the water, watching his reflection, hugging his knees close to his chest.

He feels very awkward. He doesn't have a good grip on these feelings, but it's certain he wants to keep looking at you. Fern wants to look at you any chance he gets, and he wants the attention in return.

Fern goes to Finn, of course. And, Jake overhears the conversation. He wants to help. Finn tries to warn Fern, but it's far too late, Jake is already handing Fern his loot suit.

It takes Fern a while to actually ask you out, failing multiple times. Eventually BMO catches on to what he's trying to do. BMO catches him staring, and sees it in his eyes and giggles.

Fern is embarrassed, but BMO gives advice to him, telling him you're his friend because he's him: he's Fern. BMO belives that Fern can be scared -- it's kind of scary -- but, it's a new experience. Times like these, so calm, so peaceful are rare. Very special. Who knows how long it'll last. It gives him some motivation, and he takes his chance.

He's covered in blooming flowers. Fern begins to laugh a bit, holding his face in his hand. These feelings are something he may not have a grip on, but he's glad to have you to guide him through it.

Fern wants to take you on an adventure to the far cliffs to see the wide landscapes covered in a lush green. To lay and watch the clouds would be a nice way to spend the first date. Adores warm, and vulnerable moments like these. It makes him feel so fuzzy, and soft.

Ice!Finn

Another nervous fellow. Acts like a regular kid in love.

His parents are a bit intrigued on his different behavior. They notice he'd be out more often, talking about you at the dinner table, and he's slightly warmer than his usual frosty self.

Finn becomes a bit more jealous of people, and is very irritated at himself for that. Often asking himself why. It leads him to spiral sometimes.

Talking to someone he dislikes, people flirting with you, touching you, or being rude to you will cause some ice spikes to form around his feet, and shoulders. The area gets a bit colder as well.

Finn will normally excuse himself, upset why he feels this way. So he asks Jake. Jake isn't very helpful. But, it's nice to talk out his feelings. Talking them out makes him realize he feels more for you than he believes.

Finn goes to his mom first. He's very nervous explaining it, but his mom's so happy he went to her. Seeing her son all grown up, crushing on his bestfriend.

His mom explains love, and how he may feel with such care. She's so gentle, making sure he understands what she's saying. Finn feels a tiny bit relieved to know these feelings are normal for a guy like him.

Finn's dad overhears and makes jokes on how he met his mom, and of course Finn cringes but laughs. He goes to bed, relieved.

The next day, Finn sends Jake right up to you. With a blue flush on his face, he points the the collar of his dog: it's a letter.

Opening the letter will make a miniature snow storm over the note, each snowflake somewhat resembling a heart. The note reads on his feelings for you, obviously, followed by a cheesy conclusion like an awkward teen asking a girl out to prom.

Fluffy snow flakes are falling around him, taking your hands in his cold ones. His face a stark contrast, so warm despite the cold blue.

Wants to take you on a peaceful nature walk, just you and him. Dropping you off home, hand in hand, he practically sprints home with Jake to tell his parents about how it went. They're very proud of him, and cook a big dinner. They make small jokes about having you over more often to eat dinner together.

Straight after dinner, he spends his time in the backyard, practicing his ice magic to show off for you. He draws shapes with frost, and makes little snow goobers that follow him around like baby ducks to give to you.

#adventure time #adventure time x reader #finn mertens x reader #fern mertens x reader #ice finn #icefinn x reader #finn mertens #finn the human #fern mertens #adventure time headcanons

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atozfic · 6 months

Text

a twist of the knife.

pairing. ghostface!wooyoung x fem!reader. synopsis. halloween night and you're all alone, boyfriend far from home. you've got plans- big plans- with a fully charged vibrator and a phone. what a shame you forget to check the number before picking up. warnings. slasher fic! pwp, daddy kink, noncon cheating, noncon (don't like it? don't bite it!), masturbation (f&m), sex-toys, degradation, name-calling, dirty talk, knife kink?, mask kink!, implied stalking, mentions of murder word count. 4.6k hyde’s input. listen, kids, sometimes mother (me) can't serve a three coursed meal, ok? sometimes, all mother (me) can serve are dino-nuggies and overcooked chips. just eat your meal and flush your shit when you're done (aka, this is lazy writing and i'm not 100% satisfied with this fic but i'm also too tired to try harder i'm sorry <3)

truth be told, you’ve started without him.

you’d waited, a whole twenty minutes longer than you were supposed to.

twenty two minutes and you sent a text.

babe?

the message was delivered.

no reply came your way.

another text, from you.

i should be naked by now :(

and then another.

come make me cum, u loser.

and a final message, once more from you.

or i’ll get someone else to do it <3

minutes passed, no reply came, and you stayed true to your word.

technically.

because, technically, nowhere does it say you can��t be that someone else who makes you cum.

spread on your bed, body draped in pretty black lace, only the light of a single lamp- a cheesy plastic jack-o-lantern bought by your dearest boyfriend- to shadow your movements.

the shadow dances in time with the fingers that brush down your soft skin, the drag of your sharpened nails bringing a thrilling chill down your spine.

your fingers settle, at last, on your heaving chest. they slide over the delicate fabric, scratch at the skin beneath. graze over one of your nipples, and pause.

you try to mimic his movements, memorise the perfectly choreographed routine he uses to drive you wild.

it’s hard to achieve, no matter how much you pinch and roll the hardening bud between your fingers, when your hands are not his.

too soft, too textured.

too small, too big.

too everything.

you miss the brush of his hardened fingertips, and the callous ways in which he teases you. and his gravel-deep, chocolate-smooth voice, echoing soliloquies of filth. and his thinly-dipped hips, flowing with yours in a demonstration of true poetry in motion.

suddenly, your ire grows tenfold.

because damn him for being miles away, partying in a city you’ve never been.

and damn his friends for suggesting the “boys” trip.

and damn him even more for agreeing to go and leaving you all alone.

it works in your favour, this ire, stealing away a pinch of the guilt from not waiting on him and replacing it with a heavy dose of vengeful craving.

you’d asked him to spend halloween with you house-sitting your childhood home, he made plans with his friends instead.

he’d asked you to let him see the first time you cum tonight, you’re making plans with your mirror instead.

opening your bedside drawer, you blindly reach in and find what you’re looking for: a pretty, soft, purple rabbit. it’s fully charged, in preparation for the night your boyfriend had promised you.

a night he’s now thirty six minutes and four texts late to.

you shimmy yourself further down the bed, till your feet dangle off the edge and the reflected version of you is positioned at just the right angle to witness the gathering wetness between your thighs, dampening the overpriced panties.

spreading your legs a little wider, you press the bunny to life.

in pulsing rhythms, it vibrates in your grasp, teasing the pleasure it aims to deliver as soon as you place it against your core.

instead, you switch it off.

decide you’re not ready yet.

he wouldn’t be ready yet.

a teaser, he’s a man who takes pleasure in watching you squirm, plead, beg for something, anything.

the mere memory of your boyfriend is enough to have your hips rolling up against the air, nothing but the squeeze of the fabric against your cunt to soothe the burn. a finger, middle- always the middle-, slips past your lips.

welcoming it, you feel it growing wetter at your touch, swirling your tongue around it.

your eyes fall shut. you try to picture him and his pretty-boy grin, remember just the way he likes it.

get daddy’s fingers nice and wet, pretty girl.

that’s what he’d say, because that’s what you are.

his pretty girl.

the prettiest girl.

pathetic and for your ears only, a whimper falls as you pluck your hand from your mouth. skipping over the part where he tortures you with feather-like brushes of his hands down your body, blunt ends of his nails scratching up goosebumps and leaving behind thing trails of red markings, you instead shoot directly for your core.

in the mirror, your legs inch a little wider and your teeth latch onto your bottom lip as the contrasting chill of your hand cups over the burning heat of your cunt. the scratch of red lace between your skin grows your arousal by tenfold, the cooling wet of your saliva slickened finger pressing the soaked fabric against your dripping seam.

you push a little more, hooking the tip of your finger at your entrance and squirm as the lace pinches tighter at your hips, digging marks into your skin that you’ll later compare to the one’s he so often leaves.

in the orange hue of your room, you let your mind trail off once more as you shift to sit up, knees pressing into the mattress, legs bent backwards and both feet tucked under the swell of your ass.

the image in the mirror is pure pornography: your hair still damp from an earlier shower, red lace covering pretty skin, nipples poking out against the fabric of your bra, your manicured nails resting at the apex of your thighs, teasing their way over soaked panties.

you look hot.

fuckable.

eyes slipping shut briefly, the image of him conjures behind you. his broad chest pressed against your back, his large hands roaming over your waist, his soft lips pressing indecencies into your neck.

as quickly as it appears, it disapeears, and your eyes reopen to the reality of your lonely bedroom and your lonely bed, no one upon it but you.

and the purple toy.

it’s in your grasp in a count of three seconds- no less- and buzzing to life with the delicate press of a button.

in the mirror, your thighs clench.

loneliness leads to anger leads to action, readjusting your legs a little wider and guiding the pulsating toy over your lower stomach and inching it’s way down, down, down under the hem of the expensive thong.

a fire stroked to life, the heat that comes along in the initial seconds of pleasure has your spine shooting up straight, knees digging further into the springs of the mattress as your clit welcomes the new feeling pulsing against it.

watching as your reflection cants her hips up, chasing after the waves delivered by the toy, you set to find a rhythm in all your blues.

you push aside the fact this should be your boyfriend’s mouth on your cunt, tongue lapping at your clit and fingers burrowing in between your clenching walls, and not some rubber toy.

you ignore the inherent shyness and discomfort that comes with watching yourself in this position, making eye-contact in the mirror as you fantasise about another pair of hands.

you lay to rest the stress that no contact from your boyfriend brings you, a sting of tears threatning you if you let your mind wander too far into the attrocities of life, the attrocities riddling your college campus over the past few months.

a senior, stabbed to death in his dorm.

a freshman, found discarded at the side of the road.

your friend, wide-eyed and lifeless, slumped against your bed in your dormroom-

no.

you press at the toy again, it’s pulses grow more intense, more rapid, full throttle on your pleasure till it clouds you in that heady scent of sex and drowns you in the need for release.

just as you grow closer by the minute, the sweetest little whines making their way past your bitten lips, your ringtones blairs.

loud, and clear.

it’s murder on the dancefloor, familiar lyrics echo in the small room, screen lighting up behind you. you’d better not kill the groove, dj gonna burn this goddamn house-

you don’t look, just grab blindly at where you’d left it, tossed aside and forgotten in your frustration.

hit accept, press the phone to your ear and wait.

to hear his apology, his excuses, his ways to make it up to you.

but there’s only breathing.

heavy breathing.

it reminds you of your own, thighs still shaking and the toy still faintly brushing over your slick coated clit.

“took you long enough,” you’re the first to break the ice, praying you don’t sound as shaky as you feel.

a huh rings down the line, grainy. poor signal.

he must still be out, you figure.

“i thought you’d never call,” you’re pouty, purposeful in you approach to teasing him before you deliver a killing-blow to his ego: you’ve started without him. “and i was getting so lonely.”

for effect, you press on the button again, listen as the toy gets louder as it vibrates more intensely, waves rippling your skin even as you pry it back from your clit, enjoying it’s pleasure only in the way it moves against your panties.

you wonder if he hears it too.

you want him to hear.

there’s a sharp inhale, spanning a handful of seconds and leaving you with the imagery of his head falling back, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose.

it says nothing, yet everything.

he’s frustrated.

he’s chastising.

he’s turned on.

“why’d you make me wait, daddy?” you say it and hope it hits a nerve. hope he’s squirming in his seat, surrounded by his friends and praying not a single one notices the tent being pitched in his pants. “that wasn’t very nice of you.”

you give an experimental roll of your hips, feeling the buzzing toy nudge against you once more, coaxing back to life the orgasm you’d let down.

a dramatised gasp leaves your mouth, aiming for him to take notice of it and just think about what you’re doing to yourself.

“no,” he finally talks and you hate how quickly your anger is to melt away, one foul swoop of his smooth voice and you melt into a puddle, waiting to be splashed around by him. “wasn’t nice of me at all, was it?”

the toy between your legs continues to hum away, coaxing you to try another roll, dip your hips down onto it.

a moan- admitedly, a bit exagerated- fills the room.

there’s no doubt he heard it.

“you sound a bit weird, baby,” in the mirror, you watch yourself tilt your head to the side, pressing the phone between your ear and your shoulder. it frees up your other hand to roam freely over your breasts, rolling one of your nipples through the lace. “is the connection bad?”

he doesn’t answer.

down the line, you pick up on more heavy breathing.

it makes you long harder for him, visualising him there, pressed up against you, heavy breathing in your ear as the tension builds between you, culminating in the buckling of your knees and the grabbing of your ass, propping you up at his desired height to pile-drive his cock into you.

in a desperate appeal for his attention, you dip the vibrator lower, pressing it’s nub against your opening, squealing at the foreign intrusion.

“d’you hear that, daddy? my pussy’s all wet,” a filthy squelch rings true as you replace the toy with your finger, squeezing it’s way into your hole. “she’s all tight with no one to stretch her out.”

the possibility that you’re setting feminism back by several centuries crosses your mind, but it’s quickly pushed aside for images of your boyfriend forcing you onto all-fours and taking you from behind, pulling at your hair to force you to stare straight ahead at the very same mirror that used to display you playing dress-up as a little girl, now displaying the way you’re sweaty and defiled.

“now, that’s just not true, pumpkin,” his voice tuts down the phone, and the disapproving tone is enough to have you slipping a second finger into your cunt. “and no one likes a liar.”

if you weren’t knuckles deep in yourself, fingers scissoring you open as you give the occasional brush of the buzzing toy over your clit, maybe you’d know what he was talking about.

instead, all you can muster is a breathless what.

“c’mon, pretty, i’ve seen that video of you taking it like a champ. stretched that slutty pussy out on all ten of those bright pink inches.”

oh.

truth be told, you wondered if he’d even seen that video you’d sent him, all shy and bashful, wanting to show off the new toy you’d gotten yourself. he’d merely reacted with a heart- and then never once brought it up, ever again.

“are you going to keep me waiting?”

you should say yes.

tell him it’s his punishment, for ignoring your texts, and partying too late, and not being beside you on the bed.

but you’re a sucker for him, caving in at his rougher than usual tone.

scurrying off your mattress, you press the phone closer to your ear and listen to the rustling of fabric on his end.

a zipper is undone.

it’s followed by a sigh of relief, one that has you picturing him freeing his cock from the confines of his too-tight jeans.

“chop, chop, pretty! i’m losing my patie-”

“i found it!” you exclaim, louder than you should.

but who cares, when you’ve got your hand wrapped around the bright pink dildo, pride flushing over your face.

“so you can fetch,” he mutters it. it’s hard to hear him, really, but you don’t want to complain. don’t want to risk him hanging up and leaving you high and dry- well, high and wet. “good to know you’re good for something.”

it’s addictive, his passiveness, coaxing you to squeeze your thighs together.

your panties are sticky with your own residue, your nipples are hard within their circumferential coffins, your fingers are soaked as they grip the pulsing toy.

you’ve still not turned it off.

“now, sit yourself down in front of that mirror and show daddy how you ride it.”

you’re across the room in a matter of seconds, slipping down so easily onto your knees, right in front of the floor-length mirror. pressing the dildo down on the ground, you listen as the suction cup sticks it in place, standing bright, and pink, and tall.

“i’m-” the call drops before you can finish your sentence.

you’re left in silence, once more, humming down the line.

it doesn’t last, phone screen lighting up once more.

only, this time, it’s a face-time call.

you waste no time on patience, blindly hitting accept and admiring the way you come in to view, back camera on and pointed directly at the your reflection.

you’re on display, down on your knees and awaiting his next command.

tearing your ego away from the small square you occupy on the screen you audibly whine at the view from his camera.

lowlights, casting shadows around him.

his head is out of frame, camera angled down onto his body.

his clothing is all black- his jeans, his t-shirt, the ring that sits round his index finger-, the only splash of colour coming from his tanned hand, curled around the base of his cock.

tugged out of his jeans, it’s red at the tip and leaking precum.

this isn’t the first time you’ve seen him this way, obviously, yet something is different.

something you like.

something that has your mouth watering and your tastebuds begging to taste the tangy, salty drip of his seed smeared all over them.

“well? get on with it, pretty girl,” tonight, he’s arrogant. demanding. “don’t quit while you’re ahead.”

staring forward, you make eye contact with yourself as you gather up the saliva in your mouth and let it drip down on to the plastic tip sitting in front of you. your free hand’s quick to wrap itself around the toy, soaking itself in your spit and working it’s way down the toy’s shaft, slickening the silicone.

on the screen, his own hand imitates yours, giving himself a slow stroke. it’s accompanied with a pleased hum.

“fucking look at you, a goddamn natural at touching cock,” his praise warms your heart and speeds up your hand, another glob of spit falling down onto the dildo, getting it prepped to nestle it between your thighs. “it’s what slut’s like you live for, ain’t it? taking it from anyone who’ll give it.”

god, you want to say no. you really do.

but you’re hardly in a position to argue your case, soaked panties and heaving chest, willing to do just about anything he asks of you.

“don’t be shy, c’mon, let me see how good that little pussy of yours is.”

inching yourself closer, knees dragging on the floor below, you grind against the pink toy, eyes rolling back as it brushes between your panty-clad folds, nudging at your clit.

“move them to the side,” miles away, and resigned to merely your cellphone, he puppets you, invisible strings tethered between his voice and your hands, willing and ready to move anyway he commands them too. “wanna watch you take it.”

you do as he says. hook your fingers into the red lace, slide it to one side and ignore the way it digs and scratches into your skin, bunched up tight against it.

first, you make sure you're in view, hand as steady as it can be and pointed straight ahead at the mirror.

then, you let yourself sink down.

take just the tip, feel it prod at your entrance and stretch you open, a greedy cunny willing to fit anything and everything to get the sweet release of friction.

you suck a breath in through your teeth, let it out through your nose.

in earnest, you’d forgotten the sheer girth of the toy and, eyeing your reflection and witnessing the offensively pink silicone cock beneath you fills you with a trickle of regret.

the plan this evening was just to use your vibrator and trusty fingers, not stretch yourself open beyond sense.

then again, the plan this evening had been for him to call you nearly three quarters of an hour earlier, blushy cheeked and wide-eyed, smiling down at you through his camera.

“pft, that’s pathetic,” he scoffs from within your phone screen, hand no longer working over his length. it rests, instead, beneath his balls, toying with the skin and rolling the heft of them over his veined hands. “you’re pathetic. ‘s that all you’re gonna take, huh?”

you take it like a challenge, just like he knew you would.

smoothing your free hand over your thigh, you feel the rigid muscles beneath and will them to relax, let go, give in to need to be full. moments later, you watch in the mirror as you sink further down on the toy.

it’s hard to recognise yourself this way and it sparks questions of if this is how he sees you, all dressed up and messed up, lips swollen at the hands of your own teeth, lashes damp with your own tears.

you really are the prettiest girl.

“tick-tock, time’s moving. keep going.”

as you sink down on the rest of the toy, heart in your throat as all your nerves spark ablaze, your eyes are on him, watching in grainy picture as he delicately runs his finger up the underside of his cock. he traces a vein and it has him jolting, a whimpered laugh quietly playing through your speakers.

“that’s it, knew you could do it for me,” it really is all for him, his praise merely a consequence of your compliance. “good to know you’re not a complete brain-dead idiot.”

the heat of your childhood bedroom is stiffling, choking you on it’s syrupy air, the heady stench of lust dancing up to your nostrils.

you wonder if his surroundings are the same: clammy, sex-smelling, erotic.

"tell me how it feels," he demands.

"full," is all you manage, head slumping forward and granting you the view from above of your puffy lips, squeezing around the toy’s base.

“for a slut like you? that’s nothing.”

he’s tempting you, cock on full display on your phone-screen.

it has you salivating, walls clenching around the pink silicone.

you’ve never wanted him so bad, needed him so bad.

in your hand, in your mouth, in you.

cock-hungry and touchstarved, you whine his name and beg for something you’ve yet to even understand.

all that you know is you need him, all of him, and you need him to feel the same.

“what’re you waiting for, an invitation?” oh, he growls, voice scratching on his ire and desperation. it’s spine-tingling. “start fucking the toy, princess.”

the first thrust is the deepest.

lifting yourself right off the toy, feeling the over-exaggerated tip of it resting between your folds, you sink back down with a single slam of your hips, hand jutting forward to grab at the mirror.

fingerprints on the glass, you try not to think about how you’ll have to clean it later.

“‘s that all you got?” he’s mean tonight, you think, his praise far more scarce than you’re used to. usually, you take an inch and he’s ready to throw you a parade. you like this side, though, like the fight for approval. “i’ve seen nuns take it faster than that.”

it’s hypochondria.

it’s a simile.

it’s symbolism.

it’s a lie.

but you let it get to you, let it fester down into your loins and build itself a nest within, infecting your bloodstream with it’s elusive possibilities.

you come down on the toy again, and follow it up with another quick lift of your hips, your own slick leaving it’s shiny residue on the dildo as you watch it slide out of you.

when you glance at the screen, you can see he’s started stroking his cock, shameless and unfiltered moans and whimpers coming from somewhere off screen.

usually, he’s a groaner, a grunter, snuffing out his little noises with presses of his lips to your skin, and teeth piercing into flesh.

this is another welcomed change.

matching the rhythm of his wrist, you begin to ride the plastic cock in earnest, letting yourself get lost in the fantasies of him beneath you, hands pawing at your waist and fingernails indenting your delicate skin.

his filth riddled rambles continue on, lyrics to the symphony of music created as you play yourselves like instruments, plucking the right string and stroking the right chord to make your music play.

“that’s it, pretty, fill that greedy pussy up.”

his hand speeds up.

your wrists chase to catch up.

“dirty slut, answering calls while she’s touching herself.”

up, and down.

and up, and down.

you’re fighting the muscle cramp in your thigh, and willing yourself to get rid of that hyper-aware conscious of yours, surrender yourself to ebb and flow of electric currents taking hold of your senses.

“just desperate for anyone to see you like this, aren’t you?”

you’re not even aware of your own head nodding, or the chants of yes, yes, yes that you’re giving.

you’re just living for the drag of the toy, in and out, filling you to the brim.

the reflection paints a portrait, an artwork for any eyes who dare witness. messy hair, running mascara, smeared lipstick. panties pushed aside, cunt on display, tits bouncing in lace confines each time your hips fall back down.

you watch as this sex-goddess version of you reaches out her hand, grasping fingers at the rabbit and bringing a burst of purple to the space between your thighs.

there’s no care to fix the setting, just a squeeze of a button and away you go, vibrator pressed to your clit as you fuck yourself on the toy again, and again, and again.

he hums in approval, calls you his smart slut, and you keen at his words, eyes glazing over with tears.

it’s all becoming too much.

too overwhelming.

you’re ready to crash and burn, open the floodgates to hell and throw yourself into the lakes of pleasure.

“hmm, pretty girl, y’know red really is your colour,” he’s embarrassingly more composed than you are. not a shake in his breath, not a stutter to his words. just the occasional moan, and the visible tightening of his fingers around his cock. “i’d love to see you dripping in it.”

everything comes crashing inwards. the length of the toy, ramming into you each time your hips crash down on it; the buzz of the vibrator, rippling your skin and stealing your sense; the erotic display of him, legs spread wide as he fucks up into his hand, tiny flecks of precum staining his skin. it’s all too much stimuli, sending you full throttle of the edge of reality.

you cum with a gasp, a cry, a shiver down your spine and a bust of warmth between your legs. like raging waters, the feeling flows, and crashes, and stains everything in it’s soaking madness.

it’s on your thighs, on the floor, even on the mirror, visual evidence of a climax you never knew was possible for yourself.

“fuck, fuck!” he’s still going, more desperate than ever, the repeated schlick-schlick of his hand taking over the beating of your heart. “d’you just squirt, huh? filthy, filthy pussy, got herself and all her belongings wet. go on, don’t be shy, lick your mirror clean-”

your phone buzzes.

it’s a fight through the orgasmic haze to read the screen.

yunho <3 - sorry babe, the guys keep buying rounds

yunho <3 - promise i’ll phone you as soon as i can

it takes reading it twice more to really read it.

process it.

understand it.

your heart drops to your stomach.

your lungs swell till they threaten to burst out your ribs.

your legs scramble off the toy, head shaking frantically.

no, no, no.

“what’s wrong, pumpkin?” god, you feel sick.

that’s not your boyfriend’s voice.

you watch the phone, paralysed in your own fear.

there he appears, in all his masked glory, haunting you straight out of your nightmares.

that very same mask, months ago, stood in your room watching over you, a blood soaked knife in his hand and your dead roommate at his feet.

“c’mon, silly girl, don’t tell me you didn’t know,” his words fill your throat with bile. because he’s right, how did you not know? “no, mister ghostface, i just thought my boyfriend’s cock got fatter! pathetic.”

oh god, oh god. yunho, you picture him now, sat among his seven friends, joking over alcohol infused delusions and awaiting his return to his hotel room, to call you and give you the night he’d promised you.

meanwhile, you’re naked, and afraid, and still reeling from the orgasm you’d let this crazed murderer prey witness to.

to make matters worse, you hate the way you’re not as scared as you should be.

or, really, that you’re as turned on as you are put off by the idea of this cruel torturer.

visions of riding that hollow-cheeked mask are fleeting, but vivid enough to have your eyes welling in shameful tears and your legs jumping in remorseful delight.

“you still want it, don’t you?” you should be looking away, hanging up, calling the police. not staring, wide-eyed and unblinking, as the man- the monster on your screen slaps the head of his hard cock against a toned stomach. and you definitely shouldn’t imagine him slapping the head of his cock against your asshole, teasing you with the fear of being defiled only to plunge deep into your cunt in one foul swoop. “yeah, you do. can see you rubbing your thighs together just at the sight of it. bet you’d like to know how’d it feel to be fucked nice and full of me while my knife’s pressed to your throat. just edging you between your orgasm and your deat-”

you hang up.

sit back.

count to ten.

ten.

nine.

eight.

seven.

your ringtone blares again.

unknown caller.

you hit ignore.

restart counting.

make it to four this time.

it calls again.

ignore.

you phone buzzes.

the notification reads unknown - 1 message.

messenger opens.

a picture.

of your house, taken from across the street. it’s dark, only the light of your bedroom and, within it, the blurred image of you. earlier, fresh out the shower wrapped in a fluffy white towel.

you phone buzzes, once more, and a text appears just beneath the image.

unknown- close ur courtains, u never know who’s watching.

you take a deep breath, stare out your window.

type out a reply.

curtains*

and block the number.

#ateez smut #jung wooyoung smut #ateez x reader #jung wooyoung x reader

374 notes · View notes

thefact0rygirl · 1 year

Text

carved out of stone

joel miller x fem!reader

Premise: The way you fuck is a reflection of the world around you — rough and hard. Joel is determined to show you what it means to be gentle.

Rating: Explicit 18+

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: descriptions of rough sex, biting, bruises, penetrative (p in v), oral (f receiving), passionate sex, lots of emotion, creampie

The way you fuck is a reflection of the world around you.

Hard, rough, and chaotic.

Whatever the world took from you, it returned with cruelty. There isn’t any softness left, at least not enough to stamp out the desolation. Gentleness is a reckless act when the world is set to kill. It’s a wild risk, one you aren’t willing to take.

Joel can't blame you. He isn’t exactly preaching peace and love, but you…

You grind against him hard enough to make him flinch, dig your nails into his back until you draw blood, you suck until pools of broken blood vessels litter his neck and chest. Whether you’re on your knees with your ass in the air or taunting him until he shoves you against a wall, you’re always searching for more.

Faster, sharper, rougher.

He gets it. He doesn’t do kind, but sometimes he can’t tell if the noises coming out of you are from pleasure or pain. He doesn’t want to hurt you either — he may be tough, but he isn’t cruel — but you never tell him to stop. You demand it. More shoves, more thrusts, more bruises. It’s the only way you seem to be satisfied.

It's easy for him to get dragged into your ruthless wake. You push and jab at his cold exterior until he responds with his own snarls, fucking you with as much catastrophe as 2003. It’s been so long since Joel let himself get wrapped up in another person’s body like this, and truth be told, he needs it just as much as you need it.

It takes him a month of bruising touches and slapping skin to realize that maybe this is the only way you know how to do it.

You are fury and power presenting as flashing eyes and tight muscles. Any time he tries to go slow or be gentle — shit, not even gentle just light enough to not require a first aid kit — you look at him like he’s speaking another language. It's the same look you gave him at Bill and Frank’s house.

“Leave it alone.”

The piano lid slams down in a shriek of out-of-tune keys. You whirl around, eyes wide and mouth open like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar. Good. He saw the way you were eyeing the piano when you arrived.

You huff, placing your hands on your hips. “Why? It’s not like they’re going to use it.”

“No.”

If this were a cartoon, there would be a rising red line washing over you with flashing warning lights around you. Your annoyance is building. Pressing your lips into a tight line, you try to reason with him. “The strings are steel and copper. High quality too. We could use them.”

He knows you’re right. Raiders will eventually break through the gates and strip the house of all its worth. It's only a matter of time, but he'll be damned if it happens on his watch. Not here. Not this home.

"No."

Your nostrils flare, teeth grinding as you grit out, "It's gonna happen any— "

“It's not up for debate. Go shower and stay the fuck away from that piano."

It's not that you're unnecessarily cruel or heartless. You have a heart, it's just carved out of stone. The Cordyceps buried you in a steel wool blanket, swaddled you until you found comfort in pain. This started as way for both of you to thread anger and loneliness into satisfying primal needs. Gentleness was never included.

When he leans in to trail soft kisses down your neck, you retaliate with a snarl and shove. If he tries to hold you close, you claw at his back like a cornered animal.

It isn't until one night in Jackson when the chance at something less intense presents itself. He has you pinned to the mattress, his hips digging into your own as he traps your arms to your side. He doesn't say anything, only watches you from above and wonders...

His silence makes you hiss, “What?”

Remaining silent, he leans down to nudge the tip of his nose against yours in forewarning. Maybe you'll get the hint. He gets as close as resting his lips against yours before you bare your teeth.

“No,” He grunts, pushing away. “No biting.”

You roll your eyes, but comply. This is a game you’ve played before. Joel tries to be sweet, kiss you, caress you, make you feel all lovey dovey until his patience dries up and he fucks you against the nearest surface.

Only this time your wary look doesn't deter him. He risks moving a hand up to trace your bottom lip, a delicate touch you barely register through your haze of lust.

“What are you—?” You trail off as he presses his lips to the side of your mouth. Your shallow breathes tickle his ear, your body stiff under his mouth. He kisses you again, following the line of your jaw until he stops at the sensitive spot under your ear.

“Do you trust me?” He murmurs, lips hovering over your ear as you let out a frustrated huff of breath.

“Yeah, but what the fuck…” The slow, deliberate press of lips inching down your neck flusters you. They feel so...kind. Like liquid sunlight seeping into your pores. The only roughness is from his stubble and chapped lips.

He stops when he sees the constellation of discoloration and bite marks littering your skin. They’re taunting him, laughing at his attempt at softness. He retaliates with a long, slow lick.

“Joel,” His name comes out a whisper of a breath this time. When he pulls away to meet your gaze, your expression is one of confusion. His gentleness leaves you entirely unprepared. You shouldn't be relaxing like this.

“S’okay,” His thumb traces the hollow bags underneath your eyes. “D’you want me to let up?”

Your brows wrinkle as if it’s a trick question. The tips of his fingers continue to stroke your cheek. Your answer is a snort of frustration, paired with a forceful twist of your body as you glare something nasty at him. “I want you to fuck me.”

“I will. We’ll get there."

The joint in your temple bulges against his palm, "Then hurry up.”

"Yes ma'am." He mutters, not wasting a moment to lean down. You two often end up closer to chewing than kissing, but now it's slower. No bites, no blood, no clanking teeth. Your lips move tentatively against his as if you’re learning how to do it all over again. It's hot and slow, his stubble scratching against your cheek as you start to feel less like a steel cable ready to snap.

Good. That's good.

Joel takes your relaxing muscles as a sign to lift his weight off of you. Readjusting, he presses his mouth to the space between your breasts to be rewarded with a tiny, high moan that makes you shudder.

“You’re shaking,” He whispers. “D’you wanna stop?”

You shake your head no, eyes shut with your lips parted for raw breathing sounds to escape.

“Hey. Look at me, baby," He's expecting it to take more for you to open your eyes, but they shoot open almost immediately like you've been electrocuted.

“‘Y gotta use your words. Do you want me to stop?”

“No. Keep going. It’s just…different.”

“I know, but I won’t hurt you. Promise.”

You nod an okay before he kisses the space between your breasts one final time before moving on to nuzzle your breast, his hot breath fanning over your nipple. It grants him a little moan from you and, fuck, he wants to hear that again. He wants to find all your tender spots hidden between the steel and fire.

You straight up whimper when his mouth closes over a nipple with a wet press of lips and a teasing tongue. As he starts to suck, his arms shift so he is closer to holding you than pinning you down. He's slow, leaving open the opportunity for you to pull his hand away as his hands skim your sides, following the curves of your thighs before settling along the softness of your belly.

But you never do, not even when his fingers brush along the waistband of your underwear.

“Can I taste you?” He’s tentative, attempting to keep his breathing even despite his cock getting distractingly hard.

“Y—Yeah. Want your mouth on me.”

“Okay, I’ve got you.”

He takes his goddamn time, too, starting another wet trail of kisses down your stomach, his hands massaging the warm skin of your thighs, coaxing them open for him. You comply, but not without trying to push your cunt towards his face. He pushes down on your hips, keeping them flush against the bed.

“Stay still.”

If it were like any other night you would have pulled him by the hair down to your cunt. But tonight isn’t another blazing fire of barred teeth and bruising touches. You concede, lifting your hips to help him slide your underwear off as a show of good faith.

“You…Joel…” You can’t hold onto his name, it keeps darting away as he settles between your legs. Using his hands to spread you wide open, he dips down so he is close enough to smell your wetness, but far enough away that he can still hold your gaze.

You’ve seen men look at you with awe, with terror, and some with a kind of possessiveness that has you reaching for a weapon, but never the way Joel is looking at you now. He’s studying you, like he can’t quite understand how he’s earned your trust.

“You’re so—” He begins slow and slurring because he can't find the right words to say.

“What?” It comes out a challenge, if only because you don’t know what to do with the way he’s looking at you. It’s unsettling, something new. You hope he looks at you like that again.

The bite in your voice makes him smile. He shakes his head, letting the scratch of his beard rub against the inside of your thigh before running a hot drag of his tongue against your cunt.

You moan louder than expected, embarrassment making you snap your eyes shut. He builds you up slowly, his tongue finding spots the send shocks of pleasure through you, keeping you on edge as you open yourself up to him. He wants you to melt for him, drip like warm honey. No more of this shattering to a million pieces bullshit, he wants you to know how else it can feel.

And the sound you make when his finger nudges into your wetness —

Fuck.

He’s made you come plenty of times while buried inside of you, but there’s something about watching you fall apart with his mouth on your cunt that is just unbearably hot. He can feel his cock leaking a small puddle of precum on the sheets.

“I’m so close,” You whine his name, eyes shut so tightly he’s worried you’ll never open them again.

“C’mon, baby. Open your eyes. Let me see you.” He whispers, the caress of his fingers as tender as his voice. He’s desperate, adding another finger to coax you to look at him.

When you do, you look completely disarmed as you pant.

“What do you need, baby?” He coos your name, his words punctuated by the wet sounds of his moving fingers. “'Y want me to stop?”

“Don't you fucking dare, Miller.”

He returns to wrap his lips around your clit. He sucks tenderly, intimately, a contrast to the bitterness around you. This time you don’t shut your eyes, you watch him with as much conviction as he is watching you.

When you come, it's a gasp that swallows you up from the inside before it has a chance to escape. His eyes never leave your face, watching as your lips tremble in silence as your cunt grinds against his face.

His face is a mess too when he comes up, pressing his body against yours until his hard cock is leaking against your bellies. He is half expecting you to knock him on his back and climb on top, pin his arms to his sides as retribution for his little stunt.

But you surprise him when you curl around him, pushing your head up to find his lips. There is something weirdly hot about your wetness smearing and transferring from his beard to your chin only for Joel to dip down and lick your face clean. Or maybe it's the way you seek comfort in his embrace. It's hard for him to tell with how hard he is. He's sure he'll come on your stomach any second when you’re breathing, “Get inside me,” between kisses.

“We don’t have to,” His words clipped, his attention focused on not blowing his load.

“Now, Joel!” You groan, desperate and bratty as you wrap your legs around his hips.

“Not gonna last long,” A weak argument when he's reaching between you to grab his cock.

“Don’t care. I need you." You breathe. Plead.

For a heartbeat, he stills, giving you the chance to back out even as you reach down to his hand, your knuckles bumping as you guide him to run his cock along your slit.

“D’you really want this?” It's his turn to sound bewildered, a silent question in his words that makes the air heavy: can I show you softness?

"Yes," You reply, shifting when you feel the head of his cock nudging against your entrance. Your hand lets go of his, moving it up to wrap around his neck. "I want you."

His gaze keeps hold of yours with an intensity you can practically taste as he pushes in. You moan at the steady rock of his hips, each thrust bringing him a little deeper until he’s bottomed out inside you.

This is...new.

Slow and tender, it leaves you exposed to his adoration. You hide away into his neck, his heartbeat thumping against your ear as he reels his hips back, pulling out until only the head of his cock remains before burying himself back in one fluid thrust. Heat rises through your body, warming you up until you're melting. Your hands wrap around him tightly, scared you'll melt right through the mattress.

"Good. You're doing so good for me."

This is the first time you truly feel each other. It isn't some ambiguous tight pressure; you actually feel every vein of his cock pushing against your heat. Again and again, he rocks inside of you like there is nothing else left but you.

"Tell me," He grunts, his Adam's apple bobbing against your temple, "Tell me how it feels."

"F—feels so fucking good — oh, fuck — I need to—" Your words slip off your tongue, dissolving on his warm body. Struggling, you instead pull him forward until your lips are slotted against his. It's not even a kiss, just lips pressed against one another. Connected.

For as unnerving as this is, you don't want it to stop.

Joel’s throaty voice crooning the sweetest words, him thrusting until pleasure grows alongside blooming release. You want to freeze this moment in time, put it into one of those little snow globes you collected as a kid, save it forever.

You don’t expect to come again, but then his thumb presses down on your oversensitive clit until everything builds back up again.

"Give me one more. C'mon, baby, squeeze me. Come for me."

It isn't long until the jagged hot climax sparks up your spine, your muscles clenching down around him as you cry out his name. You’re still simmering in the afterglow, your blood boiling like you're laying on top of a bed of embers. Joel finds his own release soon after, your name heavy in his mouth as his cock throbs sticky pulses of cum inside you.

Using his last bit of energy, he pulls you on top of him as he falls back onto the bed, his softening cock is still buried inside your cunt. He's not young anymore, he's not about the get hard again but he still stays buried inside of you, if only to feel closer to you.

Your face is still pressed against the side of his neck when he feels an odd wetness there. He's about to mumble your name when your next breath is a shaky sob. You try to control it, hold your breath only to hiccup from the pressure in your throat.

"Shit, sorry," You choke, tears smearing against his neck. "Don't know why—"

"Don't be sorry. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have pushed —"

"No," You cry out, your hands gripping his arms hard. "It's not that. I liked it, I'm just...Fuck..."

"S' okay. I got you." He nods, his arms heavy as he holds you closer to him.

You’re digging your nails into his arms again, but this time he doesn’t mind.

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#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller one shot #joel miller tlou #pedro pascal fanfiction #the last of us #the last of us fanfic #the last of us fanfiction #vee writes

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sprout-fics · 10 months

Text

Tag, You're It: Part One (Unrevised)

(Poly 141 x F! Reader) 18+

Masterlist

Rating: Explicit, 18+ WordCount: 5.2k Tags: F! Reader, Minors DNI, SoapGhost, Restraints, Chase/Takedown, Hunter/Prey, PiV sex, Oral sex (M receiving), Vaginal fingering, Dirty talk, Consent checks, Spitroasting, MMF, Aftercare Warnings: N/A A/N: This chapter has been revised to reflect changes in line with the rest of the story. Please see the masterlist for the updated version

It’s Johnny who finds you first, naturally.

The team spends most of the day making you wait. You had found a hiding spot before sunrise, brought along a small pack of supplies and some things to keep you occupied while you waited for someone to find you, for the chase to truly begin. Yet by mid-morning you were bored, and by noon you were practically groaning in frustration, considering using your phone to drop hints so they would just get on with it.

So you decide to take things into your own hands.

You begin darting between safe zones, checking your corners, making sure to watch your six, eyes keen and trained for threats. This little game of yours had specific zones on base mapped out to avoid at different times during the day, forcing you to adapt to your environment constantly to avoid curious stares from other soldiers and recruits.

It’s fun, the thrill and anticipation has you feeling a bit like a little kid all over again, giggling into your hands as someone bypasses your hiding spot. Yet the thrill is only doubled by the knowledge of the consequences of you being found.

You realize too late that this new method of yours is exactly what the team has been waiting for.

You get sloppy. You’re looking over your shoulder when you round a corner at the edge of the armory in the light of mid-afternoon, halting mid step when you spot a familiar figure peeking around the opposite side of the building.

Shit.

You double back quickly, but it’s too late, because the Scot barks a delighted little laugh, calls after you as he gives chase. His footsteps are slow, purposeful, and for a moment you’re reminded of the villains in horror movies that seem to walk so damn slow and seem to inevitably catch up with their victims. It should terrify you, but instead it makes something in your stomach twist with exhilaration.

You manage to draw him to one of the empty supply warehouses at the edge of the base, skidding inside and diving into a smaller hiding spot hidden into the shadows. Yet Soap has clearly seen you at least enter the building, because in the distance you can hear his footsteps echo against the concrete floor, glass breaking under his boots.

“Ohh songbird…”

You feel your heart hammer against the cage of your ribs, hands planted across your face to prevent even a single sound from escaping at the tenor of Johnny’s voice floating through the unused warehouse, sing-song, teasing, hungry.

There’s a light flickering in the aisles of upended crates and empty boxes, and the intermittent brightness manages to catch against the whites of your eyes. The flickering dimness of this space seems to only add to the rapid thump of your heartbeat, muscles coiled in preparation to run, to flee should you be discovered.

“I know you’re in here.” Soap taunts, and you can hear the clear excitement in his voice despite the fact that he’s trying to play into the persona of an enemy- tracking you down, taking you what he wants, only to set you free once more.

He’s close, you realize as his boots thud down the end of the hallway. Too close. You can hear his footsteps from where you press yourself inside the shadows of a doorway, his heavy boots a purposeful, slow echo throughout the empty space. It’s almost like he wants you to know exactly where he is, advertises his presence with every noise. What his strategy is, you aren’t sure, but you’re certain that if he gets any close he’ll find you for sure, claim his prize through the price of your flesh, your pleasure.

“Come out come out, wherever ye are…” He chuckles, and you rise slowly from where you crouch, tip-toe to the door and see the profile of him vanish just beyond the edge of the hallway. It gives you the chance you need, and you quickly but quietly move down the other direction, keeping eyes on where he’s disappeared to.

Yet then your foot crunches against something fragile and you freeze, hear his pleased little noise of realization a split second before you bolt, shoes hitting the floor harshly as you sprint away from the sound of his pursuit.

“There you are!” Johnny calls gleefully from behind you, and Christ- how did he close the distance so fast?! You can see the blur of him in the periphery of your gaze, the blue of his favorite shirt a mere blob of color as you race away from him, heart in your throat.

You did promise to not make it easy, after all.

You skid around the next corner, nearly stumble, and launch yourself forward past a darkened doorway yawning into a pitch black room-

Before you realize your mistake a moment too late.

Skeletal hands reach out, snatch you mid-step and drag you backwards into the broad plane of a chest. You yell from behind the gloved palm covering your mouth, adrenaline spiking in your blood and trying to thrash away from Ghost as he hauls you further into the darkness.

“Caught you.” He murmurs in your ear as your hands are dragged behind you, back flush with the rigid surface of his front. It sends a jolt of something through you, dark and thrilling as he overwhelms you with his adamantium strength, smears charcoal across the inside of your skull with his mere presence. You thrash in his grip, trying to actually put effort in even though you’ve not once dislodged him in all the time you’ve spent in his hold. Exhilaration squirms breathlessly in your chest, bright and electric with every gasping breath.

It only grows when the zip-ties fasten around your wrists, and you again try to wiggle free with no success.

“You’re a fast little bugger.” Johnny pants as he catches up, leans on the doorway, his gloved fist planted on the frame. Yet his eyes dance with delight as he witnesses you caught in Ghost’s grasp, dragging his lip between his teeth at the conflict of outrage and desire in your gaze.

“Hells bells.” The Scotsman breathes, and he steps forward, his hand falling to the noticeable bulge in his pants, which he idly strokes through his pants. You hadn’t even noticed, and realize belatedly that the thrill of the chase must affect him just as much.

Yet then his eyes catch that of Ghost’s behind you and he grins, untamed and starved.

“Teamwork makes the dream work, eh LT?”

Of course. He chased you here on purpose, pursued you right into a trap. Right into Ghost. Working in tandem as they always do, sharing twice the reward with you, and with each other.

You fuckers.

“Get in here Johnny.” Ghost offers instead to Soap’s quip, and you clamp your thighs together as his hand abruptly descends into your pants, your wetness soaking through his gloved fingertips. You make a little sound of protest, trying to buck his hand away, only for a thick thigh to wedge between your legs and force them open.

“Looks like our pet likes to be chased.” Ghost observes idly, and if you didn’t know him better you’d swear he sounds detached, playing the villain all too well. It only ratchets the excitement inside you higher, and you answer it with a muffled yell that only summons a chuckle from the sergeant before you, now pressing against your front and sandwiching you between the two men.

“Tough luck, us finding you first.” He tuts, and his hand raises your shirt and presses flat against the softness of your stomach appreciatively, suggestively. “Won’t be much left for Price and Gaz once we’re done with ye, hen.”

You stare defiantly up at him, and it only seems to please Soap, who’s eyes dance bright in the dimness and his fingers rise to tug a nipple under your shirt. It makes you falter for a moment, the sudden sharp sensation making your expression shift into something wanting, a little mewl escaping you at the pleasure that rises inside you between his fingers and Ghost’s digits stroking against your folds.

“Fuck, we’re going to ruin you.” He promises, and Ghost hums a dark, pleased assent in response. “Fill you up and send you scampering so the others can hunt ye down and have their fun too, aye?”

Ghost presses down firmly on your clit and you mewl, nod frantically in an effort to get them to really touch you, giving into temptation and erasing this farce of pursuit that’s led you here. Ghost notices and huffs a laugh, low and dark in your ear.

“So needy, pet.” He murmurs, and you shift so you can grind yourself down onto his hand, eyes fluttering as it stokes the pleasure burning inside you. “Didn’t take you long to drop the act, did it?”

Of course it didn’t. That’s the bloody point, and you want to tell him as much, but instead Ghost’s fingers rub a gentle little circle over your clit that makes your knees abruptly weaken. You don’t buckle however, not with the men on either side of you keeping you upright.

“Don’t worry hen, we’ll take care of you.” Soap promises before you can even try to answer, and gently pulls Ghost’s gloved hand away, tilts your head so his lips descend to meet your own. Teasing, he seizes your bottom lip between his teeth, sucking it before releasing it with a wet little pop. “Just need to ask us for it. Mm?”

You consider escape once more, could draw this out and try to get away even with your hands zip-tied, but between Johnny’s decadent touch and Ghost’s unyielding grasp, you find yourself with few other places you want to be.

You surrender, gasp out your reply in a wanting sigh that spills across his tongue.

“Please.”

Soap breathes out in a whoosh, the air tickling your face. His thumb presses down on your bottom lip, and you open your mouth willingly, tongue circling the pad.

He curses.

“Good girl.” Ghost supplies instead with a growl, and the full breadth of his gloved palm presses bare against you, cupping your mound and giving you the smallest indication of friction. You stifle a moan, throw your head back against his chest.

“Nu uh, none of that.” He admonishes, and his other hand slides up to your face, squeezing your cheeks together and twisting you so you gaze up into his shadowed stare that reeks of devastation. “No need to be quiet, pet. Nobody but us can hear you here, so be as loud as you want.”

“Aye.” Soap agrees, and a broad hand reaches down to your back, dragging himself flat against your front so you’re squished between the muscular forms of the two men. “Can’t wait to hear all those pretty noises, sweetheart.”

You squirm a little between them, feeling too warm, too much suddenly with Soap trapping Ghost’s hand in your panties, pressing you up against the soldier so you can feel a poking hardness against your back. Arousal pools between your legs, and you whimper suddenly, baring your neck to them both when Soap rolls his hips forward experimentally.

“Soap.” Ghost says then, and you feel him nod, watching as Soap follows his gaze to a crate that’s about waist high in the corner of the room. Soap grins.

It takes him a minute for him to wrangle the crate at an appropriate angle away from the wall, making a point to cheekily pat it beckoningly at you. You don’t have time to roll your eyes though, because Ghost forces you forward, making you trip over your feet before your hips collide against it.

“Down.” He tells you easily, and there’s a hand pressing at the small of your spine, gently ushering you to bend until your cheek is pressed against the surface. Yet that isn’t enough, because his hands hoist your hips just a little higher so you have to balance on your toes, kicking a little for purchase.

They circle you, like sharks in the water, eyeing the prize of your flesh. Touching hands against your waist, your shoulders, tracing the swell of your ass. Working you up, making you wait, summoning your restraint to snap. Snap it does, because you grit your teeth and bite at them when the touches vanish.

“For fuck’s sake, just get on with it.” You groan.

Ghost chuckles, and a hand braces on your nape, raising you just an inch upwards so you’re forced to see the towering stature of him above you.

“Eager.” He observes. “Demanding words for someone who tried to run away.”

“I can’t run now, you bloody- ah!” You gasp as Soap’s hand cracks down on your ass smartly, making you flinch in surprise.

“Watch your words, darling.” He croons, sickly sweet. “Otherwise I’m sure LT will find a way to keep your mouth occupied.”

As if that somehow deters you. Instead you lift your gaze up to Ghost once more, summoning wordless defiance in your gaze. Ghost only chuckles, and you watch his other hand rub himself through his pants. The sight alone of his length pushing against his pants is enough for your expression to change, shift into something hungry, eager just as he’s said.

Yet behind you, Soap suddenly yanks your pants and underwear down to your knees, and the sudden air against your bare skin is enough for you to gasp, squirm away from the hands that smoothe over your hips.

There’s a pause between them, and as you look up you see a look exchanged between them before Soap’s voice speaks, softer and attentive.

“Color?” He asks gently, thumbs pressing into the dip of your flesh just above your ass.

You groan with frustration, forcing yourself back so you can feel the bulge of him wedged between your ass cheeks.

“Green.” You declare. “About as green as a cadet fresh out of boot camp, for fucks sake Johnny.”

Soap ignores you blatantly, talking over your sprawled form to Ghost. “She does have a smart mouth, doesn’t she, LT?”

Ghost makes a little noise of assent, and his hand is unexpectedly sweet, reassuring for a moment as it strokes the edge of your face.

“We should do something about that, shouldn’t we, Johnny?” He asks darkly, palming himself before that same hand reaches to unfasten his belt. You can feel saliva collect in your mouth as he adjusts, frees himself from his pants. The flushed, thick girth of him has you flick your eyes up to him, pleading silently. Yet the look Ghost offers you is only amused.

“Over.” He states, and you feel Soap seize your hips and lift, twist so you suddenly are on your back, arms pressed under you.

“Oh, much better.” Soap observes as he catches sight of your half-lidded eyes. “Shite, we’re going to have so much fun with ye, pretty girl.”

You squirm a little at that, at being so openly on display for them. With your pants down to your knees, your shirt rucked up past your belly button, you shiver at the little thrill of exposure they give you. Yet then Soap’s hands descend past the soft flesh of your hips, two fingers gathering wetness from your folds and you whine at him, hiss at him once more to hurry the fuck up.

“Quiet.” Ghost declares, voice low but firm, a hand cupping under your head and lifting you so the tip of him grazes against your lips. You don’t wait for him to tell you to open, jaw dropping so he can push just the head of him against you before retreating. Teasing.

You jolt when Soap leans over you, watching intently as Ghost strokes himself just above your face, and pushes a single finger inside you. He groans at the warm heat of you, the little flutter of invitation that greets him.

“Steamin’ Jesus.” He hisses, dragging his finger out, only to push it back in. You arch off the crate, trying to grind yourself down onto him with a little whine. It’s embarrassing how wet you are for them, worked up from the chase, from their words, from their touch alone. “The sight of you, hen” Soap breathes, his hand digging into your thigh to keep you from bucking. “Never seen anything prettier in mah life, I swear.”

You don’t answer, because before you can Ghost once more pops the head of his cock into your mouth before dragging it away once more and you want to curse.

There’s a second finger stroking inside you now, and when Soap crooks his fingers you arch up with a little cry of ‘F-fuck, Johhny!’

“That’s it.” Ghost encourages. “Not such a smart mouth now, is there?”

It’s a little mocking, a little teasing, and yet laced with affection. It melts you at the seams, makes you swallow wetly, looking up at Ghost upside down.

“Please.” You beg, biting back another demand in favor of a plea. “Please Sir, I-I want it. Just- ohh, hmnng-” You teeth your lip as Johnny once more curls his fingers, trying to close your legs for the barest indication of friction, only for the sergeant to plant a firm hand against the soft flesh of your thigh to keep them open.

“Oh, go on LT.” He encourages even as you writhe and whimper on his fingers, trying to force yourself down whilst also trying to rise up towards Ghost’s cock shamelessly. “I think she’s deserves it.”

Ghost hums, and finally, finally allows the head of him to push inside your mouth in earnest this time, gently cupping your head as he guides you down his shaft. You want to thank him, but your breath stutters to nothing as Soap scissors his fingers inside you, stretching your entrance until your back bows off the crate, drawing taut with need.

Your eyes flutter shut as Ghost gently rocks himself forward until at last the tip of him bumps against the back of your throat before pulling back and setting a gently, rocking rhythm past your lips.

“If that isnnae the hottest shite I’ve ever seen.” Johnny curses, and he shifts so he grinds the bulge of himself against you through his boxers. “Shame Price and Gaz aren’t here to see.”

“Day’s young.” Ghost remarks, and fuck- the reminder that they plan to just set you loose after this until your caught again has an electric pulse flutter below your stomach, making you clench down on Johnny’s fingers.

“Oh, ye like that?” Johnny breathes, amused. “Ye like being our capture or kill little thing, darlin?”

Yes. Yes- You think feverishly past the size of Ghost’s cock rocking into your mouth in slow, languid thrusts. You want to touch him, want him to reach down to Johnny, to circle your clit. Yet your hands remain fastened behind your back, and the thought of that alone has your legs fall open a little wider. You’re entirely at their mercy, submitting to their touch and whims as they use you as they see fit. You moan around Ghost, the sound vibrating through him and he grunts, holding back a little huff of pleasure.

“Get on with it, sergeant.” He hisses at Johnny, and you can hear the strain in his voice now, as deeply aroused as you are. You take a little pleasure in that, that you are the one to summon this in him, and belatedly realize the amount of restraint he’s exercising in the act of trying to be careful with you.

“Mah pleasure, LT.” Soap returns a little breathlessly, and he pulls himself from his boxers so the weight of him smacks against your thigh. You can hear the schlick of him as he gives himself a few strokes, making a point to let his length drag against your stomach teasingly.

A hand reaches under you, grips your ass as he lifts you to him. Yet as the dull pressure of his cock at your entrance clouds your senses in searing desire, his voice is soft as he reminds you: “Three taps if ye need to stop, hen, y’think you can do that?”

Ghost reluctantly pulls out of your mouth, and you make a point to hollow your cheeks so he slides free with a wet little pop.

“Yes, yes.” You tell him. “Three taps, please- fuck Johnny, please-”

You’re cut off when Soap guides the first few inches of himself into you, a long, choked groan dropping from the bottom of your chest as the girth of him presses a delicious, wanting fullness into you. “G-God, Johnny-” You pant, chest rising, face warm, sweat beading at your back. “Fuck, Johnny please, please, I want-”

Yet then Ghost has the audacity to hush you, lifting your head and sliding himself back into your mouth once more to muffle any other words you have to say. The salty, briny taste of him floods across your tongue, precum coating your tongue as he presses further, further, until your nose presses up against his pelvis and the thickness of his cock makes your throat spasm around him.

“Good girl.” He practically snarls, and his other hand raises to trace the slight rise of his girth in your throat. “Fuck.”

Johnny gives you a few more moments to adjust, drawing out and gently pressing himself into you again, a little deeper than before. You force yourself to breathe as Ghost pulls himself from the wet, hot tightness of your throat. A hand descends to your chest, twisting a nipple through your thin shirt and you jump a little under his touch, clenching down on Johnny’s length buried inside you.

“Shite-” He moans, a little high in his throat. “Fuckin stranglin’ mah cock, hen, Christ-”

You huff as Ghost gently pulls back from your throat, and make it a point to flex your muscles and clench down on the stretch of Johnny inside you, if only to hear the keen that escapes from him in response.

It gives him the indication he wants, because soon he sets a slow, rolling rhythm just as Simon pulls himself almost entirely out of you, a thumb smearing the tears of pleasure beading in the corner of your eyes.

“Doing well for us, pet.” He breathes down at you affectionately. “Think you can handle a little more?”

You nod around him, maybe a little desperately, because your lieutenant chuckles and grazes his knuckles across your cheek before rocking into your mouth a little more insistently, groaning at the way you force yourself to relax around him. “That’s it.” He manages, voice tight. “Good, good girl.”

“Aye, don’t forget about me.” Johnny teases, as he too speeds his thrusts into you, hands dragging you by your hips to greet him. It makes a muffled little whimper escape you, partly silenced by Ghost’s cock as it slides wetly over your tongue. You can only force your mouth wider, eyes rolling back as Johnny thrusts into you, each press of his cock filling you with delicious, addictive pleasure. It weakens across your hips, forces you pliant and open between them as they fill you at both ends, rendering you limp to their pleasure, and to yours.

You can hear every dragging breath from them both as they begin to use you in full, and you float endlessly in pleasure, unable to tether yourself down as something molten coils tighter in your core with every thrust. Whatever words they say next are lost to you, deafened by the series of choked moans that spill around Ghost’s cock, suffocating your chest in a searing, hot push of air that clouds your senses in warm velvet.

It’s so much, and you try to catch yourself but you can’t, helpless between them as pleasure winds tighter below your belly. The wet gush of you squelches lewdly around Johnny’s length as he thrusts with firm, precise thrusts inside you, and when he lifts a leg to give himself more access he manages to graze over a perfect, glowing nerve that briefly has you seize against them both, endorphins drowning out all other sensation as electricity races up your spine.

“Fuck, fuck-” Johnny swears, and you feel yourself twisted so you lay on your side, one ankle slung over his shoulder as his hips slap against yours. Ghost adjusts to the new angle, and with every thrust you can feel him bump against the back of your throat, his voice dropping in a series of low, choked groans as he chases his climax.

You wish he’d pull back long enough for you to babble senselessly for them, your words an unending mantra of Yes, more, please, good, so good-

You’re going to come, you can feel the inevitability of it winding through your veins, nerves alight with sparkling, glowing desire that burns brighter, hotter between the three of you. It draws closer, closer, and as it does you feel as if you gaze up at a towering wave that threatens to crash over your head. It shadows your senses and you try to climb upwards as it crest so you don’t drown-

Yet then Soap presses a thumb down on your clit and you sob at the sudden intensity of the pleasure right as your orgasm breaks over you, drawing you down into an endless tumult of sensation. Distantly, you can feel your walls spasm around Soap’s cock, your entire body going rigid as you suck in a breath against the urgent swell of pressure that releases from your core and floods through every fiber of your taut muscles.

You hear Soap whimper.

The sound must do something to Ghost, because suddenly he’s grabbing his sergeant’s shirt and dragging him closer, rucking the mask up to his nose so he can press a sloppy kiss against Soap’s parted, panting lips.

You feel Soap’s hips stutter as the aftershocks of your orgasm begin to pulse through you, and he presses himself flush with your hips before a silky wet warmth spills deep inside you. The groan that pours from his lips is only swallowed by the lieutenant in front of him as Ghost shifts to pull himself past your lips.

Simon releases Johnny, and as you heave and gasp for air, shuddering as your orgasm begins to recede, he fists his cock over your face, the shine of your spit glistening against the flushed width of him. He plants a fist next to your head, bracing as his hips buck forward into his grasp, eyes scrunched shut in pleasure before his cock twitches, cum squirting across your face and fluttered gaze.

Johnny leans over you, thrusting a few shallow, slow jerks into you as the clench of you milks him dry. His chest heaves, arms shuddering with the force of his orgasm as he slowly gathers breath.

“Y’good, sweetheart?” He gasps after a few moments, and it takes a few extra to offer him a nod, head drooping with the sudden dearth of energy your orgasm has left you. You can feel your heart still hammering in your ears, body slumped against the crate under you.

When Soap pulls himself from you, there’s a little whimper of overstimulation at the drag of him against your walls. Yet he only shushes you gently, kneading little circles into your hip to ground you once more.

“Shh, you did so good, baby.” He tells you earnestly, voice still a little breathless as he gathers himself. Likewise, Ghost forces breaths through his nose above you, trying to even his breathing and bracing a hand on your shoulder to keep you from flopping onto your back at an uncomfortable angle. When he shifts, it’s to reach for something on his belt. There’s a click as he flicks open his knife, cutting the zip ties from your wrists and freeing you once more.

“That’s it.” He tells you softly as your hands flop against you, and you gently rest on your back, chest heaving, blinking unseeingly up at the ceiling. “Take your time, pet. We’ve got you.”

Johnny’s touch vanishes from you for a moment, and when he returns he passes something over your head to Ghost. A wet, cool touch wipes at your face as he cleans off the cum from your cheeks and lips, gently scrubbing until you’re free of grime.

“How do you feel?” Johnny asks gently as your breathing at last evens out, and you raise a heavy arm with a cheeky little thumbs up, to which he chuckles.

“Fucking golden.” You manage at last, voice a little hoarse from your cries.

He seems pleased at that, and with a little murmur to his partner, you’re gently raised until you’re sitting up, knees falling over the edge of the crate. You slump against Ghost’s chest beside you, murmuring a little thanks when he presses a water bottle into your hands. You sip on it idly as both he and Johnny tuck themselves back into order, exchanging a few words over you to check in with each other as well.

You hum a pleased little noise and press yourself into the warmth of Ghost’s front, eyes fluttering shut in contentment. The gesture seems to bleed into him, because a hand braces on your shoulder to keep you there, thumb drawing circles across your skin.

“Solid, sergeant?” He inquires gently, and you nod to him.

“Right as rain, sir.” You offer, and he huffs a little noise of contentment at your response.

Soap comes to take his place at Ghost’s side, and he presses a kiss to the underside of Simon’s exposed jaw as a reminder of his attention to the other man as well. Then he bends to you, cupping your face in his hands and offering you the same treatment, adding a little kiss to each eye for good measure.

“Still with us?” He asks, and you want to roll your eyes, but choose instead to look directly into his blue-eyed stare.

“ ‘M good, Johnny. Promise.” You tell him honestly, raising a hand to the side of his face as well, the other tangling with Ghost’s fingers on your shoulder. “I’d tell you if I wasn’t.”

Soap does smile at that, and the utter adoration in his gaze forces such a fierce affection for him up your chest that you swear you’d take down the stars from the sky for him if you could.

“Think you’re up for another round?” He inquires, concern dissolving into a touch of excitement, mischief.

You huff. “At least give Price and Gaz a chance first.” You tell him, and Soap grins.

“Aye, though I’m hard pressed to keep you all to ourselves, eh LT?”

Ghost chuckles, twisting his hand so it catches yours. “The sergeant makes a good point, love.”

You do roll your eyes this time.

“You’re going to get me court martialed for disobeying orders.” You snark, but there’s no real venom to it, instead a pleased little smile spreading across your lips. “I should probably get a move on though.”

“Nah.” Soap drawls, and he straightens just so he can drag your forward far enough for your forehead to press against his stomach. “Ghost is right, day’s still young. Let us keep ye just a little longer, darlin.”

Well, you can’t really protest against that. So you let your eyes flutter shut, a heavy sigh of contentment drawing them both closer around you, hauling you into the comfort of their embrace.

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@obsolescent @soupbinsoup @tiredmetalenthusiast @homicidal-slvt @grumpyfurball @bigboywiththeskullface @cherrycoloredfunk86 @soapskneebrace @makariaspresence @alicesfracturedmirror @akona17 @fruitymoonbeams-blog @howdareubumfluff @ess-perspective-blog @sugarspicelivelife @ballsincorporated @telecoms-profiterols @artsy-trash-panda @ramadiiiisme @crunchlite @scatter-mind001 @holt-from-the-blue @military-boyfriends @mutuallimbenclosure @tamayakii @sparklinginthecorneroverhere @330bpm-whiplash @corgideer @embers-of-alluring @kitty-satan1 @meadowfuldaises @butterbunana @thychuvaluswife @asd3ku @simon-rileys-princess @kaninkronikorna @kinskyy

#john 'soap' mactavish x reader x simon 'ghost' riley #john soap mactavish x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #soapghost x reader #soap x ghost x reader #poly 141 x reader #poly 141 #cod mw2 #cod mw22 #x reader #reader insert #fic: tag you're it

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lulu-tutu · 1 year

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Rise tmnt request; platonic hc of mom figure female reader who's taking care of her teenage turtle kids; how she's enjoying cooking with mikey and attend his dr. Feelings sessions, how she sew for raph many dolls and teddy bears with different colors (she hate ghost bear for hurting her baby), how she used to put donnie and leo in get together shirts whenever they start chaos.

But her favorite activity; gathering embarrassing pictures, videos of the turtles's childhood and show it to everyone, like if she ever were kidnapped by big mama they would spend a lovely time talking about the turtles when they were kids (the mad dogs try to save their mom faster before their secrets get exposed😂)

Mother Dearest ⭐️ Rise!Turtles HCs

A/N: *throws unlimited affection at you* How in the world did you manage to give me so many heart clenching, tooth aching, fluff filled requests?? Please take my hand in platonic marriage, we do not deserve you. I almost enjoy these parental requests as much as I enjoy angst. Almost.

Pairing(s): Mother Figure!Reader & Turtles

Warning(s): FLUFF, may make you cry from wholesomeness

Proof read :)

The boys are, well, your boys. You don't make the rules. The turtles are your babies.

Do you spoil them? Yes. Will you ever stop spoiling them? Of course not.

You do everything in your power to keep your kids happy, no matter the cost, even if it's the tiniest of things that make their faces light up like fireworks.

Mikey, oh sweet baby angel, you could never say no to him, why would you even consider that in the first place?

You and him make the most mouth watering dishes the universe has ever seen, and you always give the credit to Mikey despite how he tries to wave it off and reflect it back towards you.

When the two of you are in the kitchen, it's like watching art come to life. When one of the other boys enter the room, they sometimes have to stop and gaze in amazement at the two of you, hypnotised by the way you both work so effortlessly around each other.

You always try and give Mikey little tips to push his dishes towards perfection, and he always does the same to you when you find yourself making something you haven't even heard of before.

You and Mikey are the dream team when it comes to the kitchen, no one could even compare.

Watching his face turn darker from your praises as you all dig into his meals, it just makes you so giddy to see him so happy.

When it comes around to it, you definitely attend his Dr Feelings sessions! You're there to listen and take in whatever your youngest son has to offer, your face serious the whole time he reads through his clipboard or points towards the projectors screen.

Raph was also one of the most spoilt of the four, though you tried to make sure to evenly give the others gifts.

After many nights of learning how to sew and stitch (while getting many pricks and pokes at the same time) you had learnt how to craft the most adorable plushies, dolls and teddy bears Raph had ever seen.

Or maybe it was the thought behind them that made him love them more than any other plushies he had. He would just guess it was both.

The first time you had rushed into the lair with a plastic bag swinging at your side, Raph had thrown you so many worried questions. "What happened? What's in the bag? Did Donnie make you steal from the museum again-?"

Like I said, you'd do anything to make your boys happy.

When you tore open the bag to show him your hard work, he gasped so loudly, tiny stars in his eyes.

He couldn't pick a favourite! Of course the red bear was one of them, with it having a red bandana around its neck and tiny roses dotted around its body, the blue one was also adorable-oh, the yellow one too- a pink one?

The more he looked around in the bag, the more colours he saw.

And then he caught a glance at your bandaid covered hands, which instantly activated his own 'mother bear' instincts. heh.

"You didn't have to make me anything, you hurt yourself doin' it!" "Raph, sweetie, I'm fine! The look on your face was enough to heal any injury."

He melts, which makes you melt.

You helped him organise his room, placing the plushies on his bed, making sure each one got enough love and care. You didn't want any of them feeling left out!

And oh, don't even get started on Ghost Bear. You hear one mention of him and you're shaking your head, biting your tongue from cursing him out for even thinking of hurting your baby boy.

"That guy has no right being idolised by the great Raphael! If I ever get my hands on that no good-"

Mikey has to drag you away after that, hand covering your mouth to prevent some not very nice words from slipping out.

You knew how much Donnie needed to hear any sort of praises from a parental figure, and you were there to give it and more. He was desperate, and you didn't blame him.

You spend a lot of your free time in his lab, even when he has his music blaring loudly. You got use to it after so long.

He doesn't say it, but he really enjoys your presence. You two don't have to speak, all he needs to know is that you're there for him while he tinkers away.

He shows you something new and most likely dangerous?

"Holy cow, that's amazing! You're amazing! How did you even make that?"

Cue him flapping his hands around wildly before diving into a deep explanation about it that you don't understand at all, but you nod along and smile as he talks away.

You also offer to help collect materials with him! Bonding! He never turns you down, even when he's in a bad mood thanks to Leo's pestering.

You let him get his frustration out to you, happy to listen to him rant and just be that shoulder for him. If he wants you to give him advice or feedback, you will. But most of the time you let him just get everything out in the air.

Talking about Leo, hoo boy.

Chaos. Always chaos.

There's rarely a time to relax around that boy, he is such a handful.

"Leo, leave Donnie alone before he pulls out a flamethrower or something."

"Leo! How can you make the most fanciest looking sandwiches I've ever seen, but manage to burn toast? And why is the toaster on fire?!"

"Did you take Raph's shark bear? I'm going to count to three and it better be back on his bed before I stop counting. One- Good. That's what I thought. I'll make you one too, just ask next time."

When you do get the rare moments of peace, it's blissful and strange at the same time.

Sitting down reading together, whether it's him reading a comic and you a novel. Playing video games with him teaching you some neat and secret tricks, or him even showing you around the Hidden City.

You meeting Hueso was the worst thing to ever happen to Leo. Now he has to deal with the teasing of not only one parental figure, but two? At the same time? He has many regrets. At least you two end up getting along well.

When Leo and Donnie decide to have their daily argument? Into the Get Together shirt they go!

"Wha- No! I demand that I be set free! Being close to this moron is a fate worse than death!"

GASP! "How could you say that, dear brother? I was about to say the same thing!"

"You two continue like this and you'll stay together for a lot longer." "Yes, mom."

"Yes, mother."

When it eventually gets out to the world that you're very dear to the turtles, you weren't surprised that an enemy of theirs would decide to use you as bait.

Thankfully, Big Mama was pleasantly fun to be around. When you told her about your boys, she instantly released you from her webs and beckoned you to come closer.

When the boys come bursting through the doors, they instantly crumble to the floor in horror. They were too late.

"Oh, hey sweeties!" You wave towards their tearful faces, your phone out and facing you and Big Mama, a picture of the four when they were younger and taking a bath was currently on display. It was only one of the many you had shown the spider Yokai who giggles at the cuteness.

"We're too late! We've failed!" Mikey sobs on the floor, clutching his face out of pure embarrassment.

"Please tell me you didn't show her-"

You cut off Donnie with a large grin, "The video of you guys pretending to be mermaids? I did."

"NO!"

This was not the first time those pictures and videos have been shown to someone, and it will not be the last. You make it your last mission to show off your boys to anyone and everyone.

#rottmnt x reader #rottmnt x you #rottmnt x y/n #rottmnt Mikey x reader #rottmnt raph x reader #rottmnt donnie x reader #rottmnt leo x reader #rottmnt platonic x reader #tmnt x reader #tmnt x you #tmnt x y/n #tmnt donnie x reader #tmnt mikey x reader #tmnt raph x reader #tmnt Leo x reader

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icyg4l · 2 months

Text

Pick-A-Child Star: Inner Child Messages

In honor of Black History Month, I am continuing the series of highlighting Black icons while prioritizing the spiritual needs of Black Americans. Pick the image that resonates with you most.

Left-to-Right (1-3): Keke Palmer, Aleisha Allen, China Anne McClain

If you chose Pile One, you resonate with the energy of Keke Palmer. As we all know, she is a multi-talented human being. She is a singer-songwriter, actress, dancer, talk show host, podcaster and model. Her name is synonymous with the phrase 'busy bee'. Her infectious personality has followed us through movies and tv shows like True Jackson VP, Scream Queens, Akeelah and the Bee, Nope and much more. She continues to grace the screens with her charismatic nature.

"You're always wondering what you're not, can't you be happy with what you've got?"

When you were younger, you may have watched the tv show, 'How to Rock', starring Cymphonique. The premise of the show is navigating the social castes of high school. I channeled the theme song for this show. You really need to show some more gratitude, man. What's in your imagination is being reflected on the outside world; just enjoy the moment. Your brain is on overload all the time and you really need to rest. On Valentine's Day, you should give yourself some 'me time'. Another message that I get from your inner child is that you need to go play! For some of you, I sense that you're reluctant to let someone into your life when they have good intentions. I think high school plays a big role into why you navigate the world the way that you do. You are not in high school anymore! You are officially responsible for your own shit (that means the emotional trauma too, boo). Your inner child also wants you to know that you should take up some karate/self-defense classes. It is imperative that you learn how to stick up for yourself physically, not just verbally. Lastly, if you have lost a father figure, you should do that thing to honor his legacy such as getting a tattoo of him, getting a portrait painted of him, starting that company and naming it after him. You are your father's offspring, you know?

If you chose pile 2, this means you resonate with the energy of Aleisha Allen. She is most famously known for her roles in the 'Are We There Yet?' film series and School of Rock. Her cheeky portrayal of these characters solidified her as a Black child star icon. After starring in these classic films, she took on smaller roles in 'The Electric Company' and indie films. Since then, she has acquired a Bachelor's degree at Pace University and a Master's degree at Columbia University in Communication Science and Disorders to fulfill a career as a speech pathologist.

“I gets down, I don’t play”

Some of you may be in the midst of choosing a major after being undecided for so long. Some of you may switch majors a lot. Your inner child wants you to choose something that makes them come alive this time. In other words, choose a career path that's not boring to you. You could have ADHD/ADD or some type of learning disability. You need to slow down because you’re inviting some disingenuous energy. Your inner child does not trust the people that are around you. Your light shines too bright to be staying in spaces where you're not celebrated. This made me think of a video of Megan Thee Stallion talking about walking out of rooms where you don't feel comfortable. Do exactly that, my love. Everything will work out just fine if you believe that it will. Your inner child wants you to be as optimistic about this transition as possible. And lastly, you don't have to tolerate anyone's behavior, or quite frankly anything. If you feel like you have to put up with someone's bull, then you need to leave. You guys were quite the sassy kids, weren't you? Now, where did all of that energy go? Why are you dimming yourself down just to appeal to others? It doesn't matter if you're in a corporate meeting or a classroom filled with white people, you speak your mind. You know what's going on, don't be intimidated.

If you chose Pile 3, you resonate with the energy of China Anne McClain. She is known for her roles in Daddy’s Little Girls, A.N.T. Farm, the Descendants series and Black Lightning. Her range in roles highlights her witty, yet dramatic personality, which is the reason for any drawn interest in her. She is also a singer-songwriter who was once in a girl group with her older sisters, Lauryn and Sierra. Since then, she has documented her spiritual journey on social media after quitting acting.

“I’ve got friends on the other side”

This is the pile that I would probably choose. This is the pile of the hoodoos/witches/spiritualists/occultists. Your inner child wants you to know that the spells you’ve been casting have been working. As a child, you may have had some experiences with ghosts/spirits. Nobody believed you but who cares? They’re your friends now. There may be a cousin that you haven’t seen/talked to in a while. Please talk to them! Your inner child misses them so much! It doesn’t matter if you’re not on good terms with them, please go do it. For some reason, you should go play hide and seek. This could also mean that you should prepare for an item of yours to go missing temporarily. It could also mean that you will find out some information that you’ve been searching for. Finally, if you feel like you have nowhere to go, think again! Your inner child wants to go to place where you once frequented. This could be the beach, an arcade or the park. Go have a picnic. Go insert those coins/swipe that card into your favorite apocalypse game. Go dig your toes into the sand! You are going through self-actualization and it is important that you stay grounded. Be prepared to step into uncomfortable positions. Connecting with your inner child is a way to do so. It is essential for your growth as a person.

#law of assumption #manifesting #neville goddard #hoodoo #tarot #tarotreading #astro notes #pick a card #pac reading #pick a pile #divination #pick an image #spirituality #tarot deck #tarotcommunity

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salmonpoki · 2 months

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Rose petals

Pairing: Yuji Itadori x Reader Content: setted after the Shibuya incident arc, manga spoiler, mentions of suicide if you look closely. In this future sorcerers have defeated Sukuna and Yuji Itadori is not executed. All characters are aged. w/c: ~2,3 k

♡•°○●ᥫ᭡●○°•ᥫ᭡•°○●ᥫ᭡●○°•ᥫ᭡•°○●ᥫ᭡●○°•♡

The sun was rising and the singing of little birds was filling the quiet room. Even the sunlight was entering the room, lighting up the bed. The covers were all wrinkled on one side, wrapped around the figure of your body, keeping you warm. You opened the eyes and all you could notice was the other side of the bed, empty and abandoned. And no one was there.

And you're alone again. Despite the external sounds and the dim light that was coming from the window, you couldn't help but thinking about you were alone, the room seemed quiet and dark. You sighed, your chest moved slightly up and down at every breath. Maybe if you close your eyes again everything will end... yes, it could work. But what Nobara would think about that? No, you shouldn't remember her, your best friend, it hurts too much. Damn, if you could you would have stopped her from going and risking her life and she would still be here with you.

Your days have became lonely without her presence. It was like something have taken away an important part from you, a person that you always liked and loved in your life. You hated that, you hated that with all of your heart. You couldn't do anything, at this point it had happened. You didn't even know why the fate had choose her. But, as we told, you couldn't do anything to change the past. Another sigh left your lips.

Your gaze moved to the sill of the window, where there was a little jar with a red brown rose inside. The flower had been given by none other than Nobara, the person you were crying for. Once straight and brightly colored, now its petals were partly brown and they deteached away from it one by one and his stem was a little saggy. It was as if it reflected your sad state of mind.

You sat down, your feet touched the floor and you stood up, not so ready to start your day. While you were walking to another room, a petal deteached away from the flower, resting on the sill.

♡•°○●ᥫ᭡●○°•ᥫ᭡•°○●ᥫ᭡●○°•ᥫ᭡•°○●ᥫ᭡●○°•♡

Sometimes when it was raining you used to watch outside the window and looked at the water drops sliding on the glass, almost competing on which drop would reach the bottom first. A game you often played when you were a lively and playful little kid. But years had passed by then and at that time you still didn't know what a psychological pain, a trauma, was. So now you were hypnotized by this drops which ended up uniting, becoming one. You felt like you weren't enough for this world, like someone who shouldn't be here. Perhaps if you take a good knife, maybe you could-

«Ehy, did you hear me?»

«Mhm?» the voice had woken you up from that daydream, bringing you back to reality. You tirned your head, only to see the pink-haired man who was watching you a bit worried. «Sorry, did you said something?»

«I just... I just asked how were you» he answered.

You wanted to cry and scream, again and again, but you also wanted to laugh to mask your pain and your tears. You wondered how he just managed to get through it all, or at least hide his pain well, seeing as he was just a kid when the accident happened. Damn, he may had suffered more than you. «I'm fine» you said with a fake smile. Those two words were probably a defense mechanism against the harsh truth. Maybe it was just a psychological matter: a person asked another person how were they, and then they, the one who was having a bad time and were emotionally destroyed, they tried to hide the problem, perhaps because the person who answered, you in this case, had thought that asking for help was a signal of weakness. Maybe. After you had said that, you continued to sip your drink.

He looked at you with an understanding look, as if he knew how you actually felt. «You don't need to lie»

«You talk as if you don't do it too» you replied. And he looked at you again with the same look, perfectly knowing you were right. Even if everytime he came to visite you he used to say he was fine, you couldn't help but notice he constantly touched the scar on his cheek. A little memory of his opponent.

«But if you ever want to talk I am here...»

«Yuji...»

«...I have experienced your pain too...»

You grabbed his wrist with a little squeeze as if to tell him to stop. He looked at you a bit surprised, but you could also feel his confusion in his look. The pain in your chest returned,your heart seemed to explode at any time. And his eyes met yours, almost disappointed by your trying to avoid the topic. «Stop...» you whispered, trying to hold back the tears.

He sighed, giving up. When your grip has loosened, he stood up from where he was and he walked over, stopping next to you. You stood up as well. You saw him spreading his arms slightly and you understood. You hugged him, and he wrapped his arms around you as well, holding you against him like he was trying to protect you. The tears formed in the corners of your eyes, sliding through your cheeks and falling on his jacket. «Everything's fine» he whispered in your ear, giving you a few light pats on the back «I'm here».

Despite he grew up, you noticed that over the years his character didn't seem to have changed: he still cared more about others than himself and wanted to protect people at all costs. «Yuji, I-»

You heard a ring, and then he walked away from you. He took his phone and put it next to his ear «Hello?». You could hear little voices talking through the phone, but you couldn't understand what they were saying. He mumbled something, the words «Yes» and «No» sometimes had left his lips before he said «Ok, I'll be right there» and hung up. He looked at you again «Sorry, I have to go... they said there's a curse in...» he swallowed «Shibuya...»

There was a bit of bitterness in that word. Shibuya, where all started, where a lot of people died, even Nanami and... Nobara. It still hurt to remember her. You accompanied Yuji to the front door and said goodbye, before closing the door behind you. You were alone again, no one here to listen to you. Tears were still sliding down your cheeks as you curled up on the floor.

Without you knowing, the rose in your room had lost more petals and there were only two left.

♡•°○●ᥫ᭡●○°•ᥫ᭡•°○●ᥫ᭡●○°•ᥫ᭡•°○●ᥫ᭡●○°•♡

Valentine's Day was a day you hated. Not that you had always done it, in fact, before the accident you liked going out with your friends. But now you're alone and you are forced to watch all the couples walk before your eyes. It seemed like on that day the world was reminding you that people had abandoned you to fate and that you weren't exactly lucky. To avoid reading those words in the looks of lovers, you had decided to stay at home. And now you were alone, alone and more alone. Seems this story talks a lot about loneliness, don't you think? But, if you want to know, you still have Yuji, right? Even if he doesn't pass a lot of time with you, he cares a lot for you. Because you are important for him, aren't you? No, you should stop thinking certain things and question yourself.

You heard someone knocking at the door. You walked through the room, you turned the door handle down and opened it slightly to see who was outside, only to see him «Yuji?!».

The pink-haired man seemed to have been attacked during the battle against the curses; his face looked bruised and was covered in small scratches. Even his clothes were ruined: the sleeves of the jacket were practically gone and some parts of the jacket were torn. You opened the door wide and let him entered the house. You saw how he was limping: hadn't he used the reverse technique to heal his wounds? You carried him to the couch, where he sat down and started breathing almost normally again. Almost, because as you could see, he was on the verge of crying. You could see how he gripped the armrests, how his eyes began to get wetter every second. It made you feel bad for him.

He let out a sob, something that have surprised you. You hadn't seen him like this in a long time, at least since... well, you know when. His bottom lip was slightly trembling and you remembered the guy he once was, affected by a trauma. Death and destruction, that's what he had experienced and he had always blamed himself. You could hear his heartbeat like that time. «I...sorry...I couldn’t...» he tried to speak, but he couldn’t help but stumble over his words «It happened again... I couldn’t do anything...» He seemed on the verge of having an emotional crisis «It's all my fault...I want to-»

«Hey no, look at me» you replied, moving in front of him and cupping his cheeks «It's not your fault. Anything that happened there, it's not your fault» you paused for a moment, only to see his reaction. You could see how he was looking at you, but you couldn't recognize any padticular emotion beyond the sadness and the sense of guilt «You said that if I ever needed you, you were here for me» you continued «And the same goes for you».

He continued to look at you with those big eyes, he was still sobbing and the tears rolled down his cheeks, slightly wetting your fingers «But I-»

His insistence was starting to annoy you, so you decided to shut him up in the only way you could think of at that moment: you gave him a tight hug, practically sitting in his lap while you did it. You had noticed he tensed up as you did so and his breathing hitched. But immediately afterwards his body had relaxed and he had brought you even closer, wrapping you in his arms and burying his head in the crook of your neck. You could feel his chest moving up and down against yours at every breath. It was... strangely comforting to you too. You let out a sigh as you felt him calm down with his sobs, even if a few tears still fell. «Sorry» he whispered, continuing to keep his head still on your shoulder. You passed your hand through his hair, they were soft and silky to the touch to your surprise. You felt your heart beat a bit faster. Why did you feel like in this way? Why had your heart started beating so fast? Anyway, you didn't have the answer for this questions, or at least you didn't have a sure answer. «Can I ask you something?»

The sudden question surprised you and brought you back to reality «Tell me» you said.

«Can I...» he started and his face seemed to have a slight blush «Can I stay here for the night? Just for today, I promise» Was he blushing?

You chuckled, finding his small reactions quite funny. «Of course you can. Whenever you want, you will always be welcome here»

A long sigh escaped his lips while he was still hugging you. Even his heart was beating quite fast as you noticed. You stepped away from him, placing your feet back on the ground as you stood up, and he slowly did the same. As you looked at him again, you saw how he seemed a little sleepy and his cheeks were stained with tears. You ran your fingers over his cheek in a gentle gesture, trying to remove any remaining tears. He let out a small gasp, but then he relaxed again, closing his eyes for a moment. «Sorry again» he repeat himself «I think I am just tired» he looked around, seeming to avoid your gaze. Why was he suddenly shy? Oh well, it didn't matter. You led him into the bedroom, then he lay down and looked at the ceiling. You lay down next and you saw him turn towards you. You felt as if his eyes were penetrating your soul, almost reading your thoughts and the sensations you felt. You touched his cheek lightly and then he smiled weakly at you. Whether the smile had been real you didn't know exactly, but seeing it it seemed so. He hugged you again like before, holding you close to him, as if you were the most precious treasure he had ever found. His breath was more normal than before and he let out a sigh, seemed to be relaxed, for real this time. He gently kissed your neck, that was something that made you blush amd shivered a little, but... he did this because you were just his friend, right? Even when you heard him whisper «I love you» to your ear, but it was probably your imagination, wasn't it? Oh well, at least you spent Valentine's Day with someone you loved.

Before closing your eyes you looked at the windowsill, where that vase with the flower was still located. And you smiled when you saw what was happening.

The rose, once brown and saggy, was growing back in all its beauty.

♡•°○●ᥫ᭡●○°•ᥫ᭡•°○●ᥫ᭡●○°•ᥫ᭡•°○●ᥫ᭡●○°•♡

a/n: Happy [late🫠] Valentine's Day~

#yuji x reader #yuji x you #yuji x y/n #yuji itadori x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #valentine's day

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ghosttotheparty · 1 year

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The dialogue writing prompt thing. Number eight with Steddie. I think Eddie saying it to Steve. Idk. It'd be cute:]

youre so right cw: weed use

8. “I look at you and I think, ‘sunshine. Literal sunshine.’ It’s annoying.” dialogue prompts!!

Eddie is very tired.

It's been a long... few days. (Feels like years.) And he wants to go to bed, and listen to the wind, and maybe get a little high, but as he thinks about it all he remembers where he is.

In the lobby of Hawkins Memorial Hospital, with stitches in his skin and an ice pack on his head. Next to Nancy Wheeler and Robin Buckley, with Steve Harrington by his side. Steve's knee won't stop bouncing up and down. Eddie can hear the rubber sole of his shoe squeaking on the tile, and after he suffers through it for another minute, he reaches out and sets his hand on him. Steve's knee freezes as soon as Eddie's hand is on it, but Eddie can feel his tenseness radiating through his jeans, can feel how anxious he is, and he wordlessly flips his hand over, holding it out.

He doesn't know what he expects, but after a moment Steve slides his hand into Eddie's, pressing their palms together and lacing their fingers. Eddie keeps staring at the floor. There's a spot of dirt on the white tile that looks how he feels. Steve's fingers tighten after a moment, and Eddie squeezes back.

They're there for a long while. Waiting. Robin falls asleep with her head on Nancy's shoulder, and Nancy rests her head on Robin’s, sighing deeply. Eddie wishes Steve would fall asleep. He seems like he could use it.

He doesn't know how long it is until a door opens and the others appear around the corner into the waiting room. Eddie and Steve pull their hands away silently, tightening as they watch everyone trickle into the room. Max, Lucas, Erica, and Dustin, followed by Max's mom, Lucas and Erica's parents, Dustin's mom, Dr Owens, and Chief Powell. Steve exhales next to Eddie. It takes a long while for them to sort everything out. The parents all look... Eddie doesn't think tired is the right word for it.

They all look scared. Even as they look at their children.

Eddie wishes he was high.

The kids don't want to go home alone, even with their respective parents, so a sleepover is organized at the Sinclairs'. Max will borrow some of Erica's pyjamas that are too big for her, and Dustin will borrow Lucas's. (Though Eddie suspects they'll all be asleep as soon as they enter the house. Especially Max, who looks like she's about to keel over any second. Lucas seems to notice it too, and keeps an arm around her the whole time.)

Goodbyes are said in the parking lot, in the brightness from the hospital that's spilling out into the night. Mr Sinclair shakes Steve and Eddie's hands and Ms Henderson hugs them both as gently as she can. Eddie feels like he's spinning, blindly hugging the kids, murmuring soft I love yous and pressing kisses to the tops of their heads, until he's standing by Steve and watching the cars peel out of the parking lot.

Nancy sighs heavily again.

"You're with me?" Steve asks Eddie softly. Eddie looks at him. His eyes reflect the hospital lights in a way that looks holy.

"Yeah," he says.

He sits shotgun while Steve drives to drop the girls off at Nancy's, getting out to hug them and accept the kisses they press to his cheeks, and then he watches Steve walk them up to the front door, hugging them both tenderly before he whispers something to Robin that makes her smack the back of his head. Steve is snickering when he comes back to the car, and it makes Eddie smile.

"Ready?" Steve asks, like they're going on an adventure instead of going home.

Home.

"Do you think... we can stop by my place first?" Eddie asks weakly. "I wanna get... some stuff."

"Yeah," Steve says, pulling out of the Wheelers' driveway. "What do you wanna get?"

"Uh." Eddie sighs. "Some clothes. Keepsakes. Cash. Wayne doesn't know where I hide it, I bet he didn't get it when they made him leave. And, uh..."

"And?"

"Okay, you can't judge me," Eddie says, opening his mouth to speak and make excuses for himself, but Steve interrupts with a quiet, "Never."

Eddie smiles at him for a moment.

"I kinda really wanna get high," he says. "I'm just... I'm so fucking tired, man, and my stitches hurt like a bitch, and I'm..." He trails off, unsure of what to say. He doesn't have that many reasons. He feels like he should have more, like he needs excuse after excuse to get high, but Steve just nods.

"I feel you," he says. "I have some weed at home, but it's not a lot."

"Steve Harrington," Eddie says, relaxing into his seat with relief. "Where've you been my whole life?"

Steve laughs quietly.

"Right here, man."

The trailer is taped off when they get to it, but they don't let it stop them. (It's not like Eddie's never broken in anywhere. Plus, he isn't even actually stealing tonight. It's all his.) If they get arrested, Powell is in on everything now. It'll be fine.

Eddie finds some bags and Steve helps him stuff them full of sweaters and jeans and shirts and handfuls of socks and underwear. Eddie finds his lunchbox in the living room, untouched and unbothered, and he supposes it makes sense that the military government men don't actually care that much about drugs in the grand scheme of things. He fills the lunchbox with the cash from the false bottom of his sock drawer. Steve watches, an almost curious expression on his face. Eddie does one last sweep of the room as Steves takes the bags out to his car. He presses a kiss to his guitar, silently promising he'll be back for her, He finds a bong under his bed and carries it out of the house with him, holding it up as Steve starts the car. Steve grins at him. (He's got an amazing smile. It lights up his whole face like a lamp.)

Steve’s house is eerily quiet when they get there. Silence isn’t all that weird in and of itself, Eddie thinks, but the house is so… big. Like there should be twenty people living here, and not just Steve by himself. Even at the trailer, there's always some kind of noise, the tap dripping, the radiator clicking, the wind making the windows rattle. But the Harrington house is so silent Eddie can hear his own heart beating.

Steve pauses in the doorway, taking a breath that almost echoes in the emptiness, and Eddie’s heart suddenly aches as he thinks about Steve coming home all alone, day after day, night after night. Sitting in the empty loneliness.

“Steve,” Eddie says softly as he follows Steve inside, watching as Steve turns to face him, holding one of Eddie’s bags.

“Yeah?”

Eddie hesitastes for just a moment before he steps forward, shutting the door behind himself, and wraps his arms around Steve’s neck in a tight hug. Steve hugs him back just as desperately, and it’s a little awkward because they’re both carrying Eddie’s bags, and Eddie can’t get as close as he wants to. Which is probably a good thing.

With the door shut, there’s no light in the house at all. It’s pitch dark, but Eddie doesn’t really care. Steve asks if everything is okay, his voice soft and breathy right by Eddie’s ear, and Eddie almost cries. His eyes burn, and he nods for a moment as he swallows, desperate for his voice not to break.

“Yeah.”

They separate after a few moments, slowly, like they don’t really want to let go.

Steve leads Eddie up to the guest room. Shows him how to turn on the shower, adjust the temperature.

When he leaves to take a shower in his own room, Eddie’s body aches. Like Steve’s absence makes him hurt. That’s probably not healthy, he thinks to himself. But when has Eddie ever had healthy habits? And in the grand scheme of things, Eddie doesn’t think a little codependency is the end of the world.

The shower is nice. The water is nice and hot, the water pressure even and hard enough on his back that he relaxes. He watches dry blood and dirt and Upside Down grime wash across the white tile floor and down the drain.

He gets cold when he gets out of the shower and quickly scrubs his hair dry with the towel before he dresses, grabs the bong and lunchbox, and heads downstairs.

Steve is in the kitchen, searching through the fridge, when Eddie gets there. His hair is dripping wet, and the sweater he’s wearing is too big, loose and hanging down to reveal his chest when he bends down.

“You hungry?” Steve asks, looking over his shoulder at Eddie. His eyes glance up and down. Eddie pretends not to notice.

“Maybe a little.”

Steve pulls some Tupperware out of the fridge and sets it on the counter before he reaches back in, looking back at Eddie.

“Did you re-bandage your stitches?”

“Uh, no,” Eddie says. He sets the box and bong on the island, watching as Steve pulls out two cans of Coke. “They’re not bleeding or anything.”

“Should still keep them covered,” Steve says. “So they don’t get caught on your clothes.”

“I don’t have…”

Steve just shakes his head.

“I got it.”

He pulls a first aid kit out from under the sink. Everything looks brand new, except the bottle of painkillers. Eddie leans against the counter as Steve pushes his shirt up, kneeling in front of him and carefully, gently bandaging him up.

Eddie laughs.

“What?” Steve questions, shooting a look up at him.

“Just…” Eddie sighs, looking at the ceiling, wincing as Steve presses medical tape to his skin so it sticks. “Helped prevent the end of the world. Somehow survived. Now I’m… standing in Steve Harrington’s kitchen.”

Steve laughs softly, moving onto Eddie’s other side. There are fewer stitches there, but the skin is all mangled. Steve is so gentle Eddie barely feels it.

“Who would’ve thought?” he says softly. Eddie just hums in response.

They’re eye to eye when he stands up. Eddie can’t tell which of them is taller. Steve’s eyes catch on his cheek, and he puts his fingers to Eddie's jaw, gently making him turn his face. Before Eddie can say anything, Steve is finding an ointment in the first aid kid and smearing it carefully over his cheek before he murmurs, “Tilt your chin up,” and Eddie looks up at the ceiling. Steve’s fingers press ointment over the injury on his neck. That one isn’t that bad, but Steve is still careful, almost tender. He bandages his cheek next, his teeth caught between his teeth and his brows furrowed in concentration.

Eddie takes the ointment when he’s done and wordlessly touches the underside of Steve's chin, making him look up so Eddie can do the same to his neck.

“When did you take the painkillers at the hospital?” Steve asks as they settle on the sofa.

“Uh.” Eddie hesitates, crossing his legs as he sorts out the weed. “Maybe two hours ago? Ish?”

“Think they have you to four to six hour ones,” Steve says. “Should last a while. If you need more in a few hours tell me.”

“Might not need ‘em,” Eddie says as he works. “If this works.”

Steve leans back against the armrest of the sofa and pops open a Coke as Eddie smokes, the empty house filling with the sound of the bong bubbling. He holds the smoke in his lungs until it burns, closing his eyes and letting his head fall back to blow the smoke at the ceiling.

“Yup.”

Steve snorts, and Eddie grins, opening his eyes to pass him the bong and the lighter.

“What would happen if your parents walked in right now?” Eddie asks, watching Steve he takes a hit, and Steve coughs, laughing as he blows the smoke out.

“They’d lose their shit,” he says, grinning. “Don’t know what they’d be more upset about, that I’m smoking weed or that I’m getting high with Eddie fuckin’ Munson.”

Eddie laughs, almost giggling, like it’s a compliment.

Steve takes another hit, his eyes fluttering shut as he inhales, and Eddie watches raptly, like he’s studying him.

Slowly, the pain in Eddie’s waist subsides, and he relaxes into the sofa, staring at Steve as they pass the bong and lighter back and forth, as they nibble at the fruit from the fridge, as they sip their Cokes. Eddie doesn’t even really know what they’re talking about anymore, but Steve is smiling, so it doesn’t matter.

The room is a little brighter when Steve smiles. Eddie’s eyes are stuck.

“You’re so annoying,” he says. Steve’s smile broadens, and he snorts.

“What the fuck did I do?”

Eddie huffs, taking a hit, watching Steve. He’s leaning against the back of the sofa now, slumping. His hair is almost dry, frizzy and wavier than Eddie expected.

“You’re so perfect,” Eddie complains, mentally cursing his lack of filter when he’s high. “Even in school, fucking… Golden boy Steve Harrington.”

Steve snorts, laughing quietly, childishly. Eddie likes seeing him like this. Relaxed, his brain quiet.

“Not so perfect anymore,” Steve says softly, still smiling.

“No,” Eddie disagrees. “Still perfect.” Steve rolls his head on the back of the sofa to look at him. Eddie nods. “Golden boy, perfect golden boy.”

Steve is smiling. His cheeks are flushed but Eddie can’t tell if it’s because of the weed or not.

“I mean seriously,” he says, because he can never shut up. It’s part of his charm. (Or lack thereof.) “I look at you and I think, ‘sunshine. Literal sunshine.’ It’s annoying.”

Steve giggles.

Eddie passes him the bong and drains his Coke while he takes a hit.

“What do you think of when you look at me?” he asks as Steve blows smoke at the ceiling.

Steve looks at him, his eyes glassy.

“Don’t know,” he says softly. “‘S not really… like.” He takes a breath. “An image. I guess. Like, I see your face, but when I think about you, ‘s more of like…” He looks at the ground, his mouth twisting as he thinks. “A feeling.”

Eddie looks at him, his breath catching in his throat.

“What kind of feeling?” he asks, taking the bong from him. Steve barely seems to notice, looking at the ground. He’s quiet, his lips almost curved into a smile.

“Don’t know. Kinda… In my stomach,” Steve says quietly, almost mumbling. Eddie listens closely. “‘Nd my… my chest.” He runs his hand over his chest, over his heart. Eddie lowers the bong to his lap, his eyes following the movement. “Like a twisty kinda feeling.”

“Like you’re sick?” Eddie questions. Steve takes another breath.

“Kinda,” he says softly. “But like… a good sick. Like a…” He gestures vaguely with his hand, his fingers moving. “Like a fluttery sick.”

“Like… butterflies?” Eddie asks quietly.

“…Yeah.”

Eddie smiles, raising his eyebrows.

“Sounds like you gotta crush on me, Stevie.”

Steve doesn’t say anything, still staring at the ground, and Eddie wonders if he heard him, before Steve blinks and his face shifts. Hardens. His brows furrow slightly like he’s thinking, and then his eyes widen and he looks at Eddie.

Oh.

“Steve?” Eddie asks quietly, looking at him, and Steve looks away sharply, the hand that touched his chest reaching for his hair.

“Shit.”

He gets up, and Eddie’s eyes widen, and this must be the actual Upside Down, because Eddie’s world has been flipped over. The ugly paintings on the walls all fall to the ceiling, and the burnt wood in the fireplace falls up the chimney, and Steve doesn’t notice.

“Shit,” he says again. He’s pulling at his own hair, pacing across the room. “Shit.”

Eddie follows him up, putting the bong on the ground and dropping the lighter. It bounces off the carpet and lands under the sofa.

“Steve,” he says, reaching for his shoulder. “Hey.”

Steve turns when he pulls at his shoulder, and Eddie looks into his red-rimmed, teary eyes.

“‘S okay,” he says softly, pulling Steve closer. He reaches for the hand in his hair, gently pulling it away. “It’s okay.”

“‘M sorry,” Steve chokes, breathing hard, and Eddie shakes his head, reaching to hold Steve’s face.

“Don’t be,” he says softly, smiling. “Don’t be sorry, it’s okay. Breathe, Stevie.”

Steve inhales deeply, looking anxiously between Eddie’s eyes. Eddie nods.

“It’s okay,” he says when Steve exhales slowly. His thumbs brush over Steve’s cheeks.

“Eddie,” Steve says weakly. Eddie pulls his face forward and kisses his forehead gently.

“‘S okay,” he murmurs.

When he pulls away Steve’s eyes are closed, and Steve’s hands find him, hesitant and gentle and soft on his waist like he’s scared Eddie’s going to fight him off. Eddie steps closer.

“I like you too,” he says softly. Steve’s eyes flutter open and find Eddie’s.

“What?” he asks breathlessly, his eyes shining again, filling with tears.

“I have a crush on you,” Eddie says quietly, slowly. “Like a huge, debilitating crush.”

Steve’s eyes unfocus, trained on Eddie’s mouth like he’s trying to find the words written in the air between them.

“Really?” he asks so quietly Eddie almost can’t hear him.

Eddie grins.

“Really really. Like, since high school.”

“Woah,” Steve breathes. Slowly, his hands find Eddie’s cheeks, gentle over the bandage that Eddie forgot about, gentle over his skin. Eddie's eyes flutter shut when Steve leans closer, sighing when their lips brush, and then they’re kissing. It’s a brief kiss, soft and tentative and nervous, but Eddie is breathless and almost dizzy when they part.

Eddie pushes his fingers into Steve’s hair, smiling softly when Steve exhales slowly, shakily.

“I think…” Steve starts quietly, his forehead resting on Eddie’s. “…I may be too high for this.”

Eddie giggles quietly.

“We can talk tomorrow,” he whispers softly. Steve hums, tilting his head and closing his eyes.

“Kiss me again?” Steve murmurs, nudging their noses together.

“Thought you were too high for this,” Eddie breathes. He’s just as high as Steve is. The room is spinning a little bit.

“I know, I just…” Steve stops, swallowing and licking his lips and looking at Eddie with a desperation in his eyes that makes Eddie ache. “I just want…”

Eddie kisses him. Hard, and lingering, just a firm press of his lips to Steve’s, and a soft whimper escapes Steve’s throat, his hands tightening on Eddie.

Eddie kisses him again when they part, tilting his head, and then again, and again until Steve feels like he’s about to fall over, leaning against Eddie heavily.

“Woah,” Steve says again, his arms now around Eddie’s waist. Eddie grins, pushing his hair back.

He pulls Steve into a tight hug, gentle over his bandaged sides, and Steve presses his face into Eddie’s neck, taking a heavy breath. Eddie tugs him over to the sofa, and it takes them a moment to get situated, finding a position that doesn’t strain Eddie’s stitches, that doesn’t put weight on their sides. Eddie ends up on top of Steve, his head on his chest, Steve’s hand tracing over his back and slowly dragging through his tangled curls. Eddie holds his other hand and presses kisses to his knuckles before he holds his hand to his face.

And Eddie falls asleep, excited, for the first time in many long years, for the sun to rise.

#me: i’ll just write some quick one shots for these requests it should take no time at all #also me: i need a plot and angst and it’s going to take me two business days because if i don’t put my soul into this i’ll die #will i ever make steve not cry #probably not #anyway they cuddle on the sofa and wake up to dustin’s voice saying ‘IS THAT A BONG’#i think i said 'bong' more times in this than ive ever said in my entire life #is it super obvious i dont do weed #anyway this was very fun ty for the request <3 #steddie #steddie ficlet #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things ficlet

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