#nelson: thanks. now that's enough

[coryosbaby]

—1-800-ʙᴀɴɢ ʏᴏᴜʀ ɢᴏᴅꜰᴀᴛʜᴇʀ !

(Dark! Dbf! Anakin Skywalker x fem! Reader)

𝓈𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: your parents leave you home alone to tend to the christian faith. It’s a good thing that your daddy’s friend is there to help you atone !

୨୧ Content warning . Dubious consent (reader is naive, but consents), blasphemy & strong religious themes, manipulation, baby trapping? age gap (reader is of in her 20s), weird incest names but they aren’t actually related // innocence kink, god complex, loss of virginity, size kink, oral, pnv, missionary + full nelson position

Disclaimer: I am not religious, though I do know there are people that are. pls block if it bothers you! This is solely fiction and not meant to offend anyone, and I don’t condone using religion as a way to manipulate or hurt others. Thanks! ⋆｡˚ ⋆

Your parents leaving you alone is honestly a scary experience.

Although it’s fun (having the house to yourself means having the large flat screen tv in the living room), you’ve come to find that at night you’re quite afraid of the dark. And of course, your family has left on an adult-only Christian retreat and has left you home alone.

Sure, you’re more than old enough. But you haven’t been exactly… exposed to the world around you. So the idea of monsters and demons filling the dark corners of your home, it becomes even more prominent.

You try to concentrate on your bible, try to read through the verses where God tells you to fear no evil, but the paranoia is creeping in on your cold spine like a winter’s chill. You try to listen to music, too, to drown out the whispers you hear in the night.

But to no avail.

You decide that you have no choice but to call the only contact that’s available to you.

Anakin is your godfather, in the sense that he’s your father’s best friend. He’s always been around, and he’s always helped you with your studies. Anakin— uncle Ani, as you sometimes call him, lives less than a few blocks away. He always tells you that if you need him, he’ll be there. So it wouldn’t hurt to ring him up, right?

Pressing the dial on your phone, you type in his number with ease. Biting your thumb nail you wait for him to answer. He picks up on the third ring.

“Y/N? Is everything okay?”

You smile at his voice, the one that always gives you that tingly feeling in your stomach. You suspect that it’s because he’s your favorite person.

“Everything’s fine, Ani. Are you at work?”

“It’s a Saturday, isn’t it?”

“Well… yeah.”

“Then I’m off work, sweetheart,” he replies softly, and then you get that tingly feeling again. “Why did you decide to call?”

It’s not in the sense that he’s annoyed— he’s genuinely curious. You nervously rock back and forth on the balls of your feet.

“Well—“ you start, embarrassed. “Mom and dad are out, ‘n— it’s dark.”

“Dark?”

“It’s—“ you can feel tears beginning to form in your eyes as the wind creaks outside. “I don’t like it, Ani. I don’t wanna be alone in here... Please come.”

Anakin’s cock presses against his zipper at the sound of your whiny, desperate voice. He palms his bulge through his slacks.

“Yeah, baby. ‘Course I’ll come,” he pauses. “Just gotta do something first, okay? Then I’ll be there as soon as possible.”

You sniffle, the tears beginning to fall now.

“Okay. ‘M sorry.”

“For what? Don’t apologize to me sweetheart. Just wait there.”

—

A good forty minutes later Anakin is there, and when you open the door for him you latch onto him like a leech— your hands wrap around his waist, your bury your face into his fit chest, and you whimper against him as he coos gentle reassurances to you.

“It’s okay, baby. Uncle Ani’s here.”

“Promise?”

“I promise. I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

He brings you over to the couch, sitting you on the cushion beside him as he looks down at your pink bible. He notes that you use the wooden cross necklace he had bought you for your nineteenth birthday as a bookmark.

“Been readin’?” He notes, looking down at the opened pages. You’ve been highlighting some verses, and next to this book there’s another: Christianity for Girls.

“Mhm.”

Anakin picks it up with idle hands. He flips to the first chapter.

“C’mere. Want me to read to you?”

“Yes, sir.” You reply, and with a gentle flick to your hair you begin to climb into his lap. It’s not uncommon for you to do this— he’s so comfy and warm. Even though sometimes the things in his pocket tend to poke against your bottom, you don’t mind. It’s worth it if Ani has his big arms wrapped around you.

He grunts as you settle down on him— his cock twitches as he feels your panties hit his lap. Your skirt is covered just enough to not expose you, but it still rides up as you sit down. His hand grips your thigh, and with the other he settles the book in his palm.

“Chapter 1,” he clears his throat. “Rules.”

Well, okay. If you say so.

“Girls should always follow their faith in God.”

Fair enough.

You nod along, as he reads the next.

“Girls should go to church every Sunday.” He smirks, turning to you. “Do you go to church every Sunday?”

“Of course! I love church.”

Anakin chuckles, flipping to the next page and adjusting himself from underneath you.

“Rule number three,” he says. His voice hesitates as he reads the next line, then he awkwardly clears his throat. “No premarital sex.”

Your brows furrow, bottom lip pulling between your teeth. “What’s that?”

He sucks in a breath, his cock beginning to become hard for a second time today.

“Sex? It’s—“

“No, no,” you giggle, your hand coming up to cover your mouth. “I meant— I know what sex is, Ani. Sort of. But.. what is premarital sex?”

“It’s sex before marriage. Doing it with someone you aren’t going to devote yourself to.”

“Oh.” You twiddle your fingers, eyes averting down to look at the ink splattered pages. “But— if you do it with someone you’re going to devote yourself to, without being married anyway, isn’t that still non premarital? I mean, in a way, you are married…sort of.”

Anakin shrugs, resting his head on your shoulder. You try to ignore how the closeness of his breath makes you tingle.

“Dunno, honey. I guess so. Never thought of it that way.”

You nod, wiggling around on his lap to get more comfortable. Anakin’s fingers grab your hips with a firm hand.

“Have you ever done it?” You ask. “Premarital sex, I mean.”

He lets out a breathy chuckle. Something in him is breaking apart, all these years of pent up sexual frustration for you beginning to come to a head as his resolve crumbles.

“Yes. Many times,” he coincides. “With a lot of people I didn’t care about. I shouldn’t of done that. It’s bad.”

Your face fills to the brim with heat, as the tension in the room grows incredibly thick. Your eyes widen when you feel him hump against your clothed cunt.

“What about you, baby?” He whispers against the shell of your ear. “Have you done it?”

You stutter, hesitating, and that’s when Anakin gets his answer.

“Right. ‘Course you haven’t,” and then, quietly, as if to himself, “Too precious for those little boys…”

You let out a small sound in the back of your throat, that tingly feeling growing evermore prominent. You don’t know why you’re feeling this way. Maybe it’s the heat in the room, maybe it’s your claustrophobia.

Or maybe, you think, it’s the devil.

White hot heat coils in your private parts, and you try to get off of Anakin to get rid of feeling. He tsks, grabbing your hips and shoving you back into his lap. You whine, hands gripping is in an attempt to get away.

“Ani.. c’mon—“

“Do you touch yourself?” He asks darkly. You let out a little gasp. “Do you touch your princess parts, sweetheart?”

You shake your head, almost too quickly, and can’t help but press your thighs together. Anakin is having none of it.

“Liar,” he hisses. “You have. Don’t lie to me, little girl. I know when you’re lying to me.”

“I’m sorry!” You whimper against his harsh grip. “I-I stopped! I did, I really did, and I’ve been meaning to repent and atone for my sins but I haven’t yet…please, uncle Ani.”

Tears of shame begin to fall from your eyes, wet and salty. You let out a little cry. Anakin softens a bit, his grip on you loosening. He wraps his arms around your tummy and quietly shushes you.

“It’s okay. It’s okay, angel, I know you didn’t mean to,” he coos, as your hands move around to rest in the locks of his hair. “Sensitive baby. I know it’s hard not to touch yourself down there. ‘S okay.”

“Promise?” You sniffle, turning your head to look into his eyes. He smiles.

“I promise.”

Your eyes innocently move down to his lips, that feeling growing inside even more.

“Ani..” you whisper. “It’s.. I want to.. to touch myself again. I don’t know how to control it…”

He strokes your hair out of your face with his fingers, cooing again.

“It’s okay,” and then, after a moment, with his cock pressed flush against your cunt, “I can help. Do you want me to?”

“But.. isn’t that premarital sex?”

He presses a kiss against your earlobe.

“You love me, don’t you? And I know I love you. So isn’t that marital sex?”

Your brain has turned into a puddle. Softly, you whisper out, “yes.”

He smiles against your skin, his hands sliding up past the expanse of your thighs.

“There’s something they don’t tell you about sex,” he murmurs. “When you let the man you love inside you, it’s a way to celebrate god. You become one with god.” He quirks a brow, watching you listen closely to him. “And you atone. Don’t you want to atone, baby?”

Your doe eyes look up at him, and you nod. He grins, knowing he’s got you exactly where he wants you. His thumb pulls the flesh of your bottom lip down and he watches it bounce back against your teeth.

“Why don’t you give me a kiss? Hm, pretty?”

And just like that, he’s got you. Your lips, ever so softly, come up to peck his. He smiles.

“Again.”

And you do kiss him again. Only this time, he presses hard into your mouth and it’s not long before his hands are tangling in your hair and he’s rubbing his tongue against your bottom lip. It’s all surreal, this man below you, his cock hard. You don’t know that, of course. Pulling away from him, you have a confused look on your face.

“What’s always in your pocket? ‘S poking me.”

Anakin doesn’t say anything. He just laughs at you, and leans in for more of your kisses. You get too lost in the feeing of his hands massaging your inner thighs to press him for an answer. But you find out soon enough when you feel him push your hand down into the front of his pants. Letting out a small squeak you feel the warm skin of his cock, and something tugs at your lower tummy again.

“Oh.” you say softly, understanding. It was never something in his pocket— it was him.

“Feel what you did to me?” Anakin huffs out, as he guides your hand up and down on his length. “That’s my cock, baby. It’s what happens when I get really excited to see you.”

A small smile grazes your features at the thought of Anakin liking your presence. A whole lot, it seems, because his body is physically reacting. He grunts when you squeeze his length out of curiosity.

“Does it hurt?” You murmur, watching him.

“Not at all,” he coincides, adjusting you on his lap. “Feels good.“

And okay, that’s even better. Now you’re making Anakin feel good. Pride floods your chest. Watching him, you feel his precum drip down your fist.

“Can I see it?”

Your voice surprises him, and he’s nodding so quickly that it seems like he might break his neck.

“‘Course, pretty girl, can watch it all day if you want to…” looking at you hungrily, he mutters in a soft tone, “C’mere, get on your knees.”

Confusion muddles your brain, but not as much as the ache to please him. You crawl off of his lap, and he takes one of the couch pillows and places it on the floor.

“Sit.” He commands, and you rest your knees on the pillow and your small hands on his big thighs.

He unbuttons his fly, then his zipper. His bulge is straining against his briefs, a wet patch on the front from his arousal. Gulping, you watch as he pulls his pants and underwear all the way down and slips them off.

His length springs free, dripping with pre and insanely long. Your eyes widen as you watch it, wondering: where does it go?

Okay. So, you have a vague idea of where it’s supposed to go— somewhere in you, but you don’t know where. But either way, you know for for a fact that wherever that is isn’t adjustable enough for such a big thing. Your face floods with embarrassment.

“Where do I…” you start, quiet. Anakin furrows a brow, grabbing his cock into his palm.

“Where do you what?”

You avoid his gaze.

“Where do I.. put it?”

A smile quirks on the man’s lips, stroking himself to the sight of your pretty face peering at his cock.

“Your mouth, sometimes. But especially where you touch yourself, angel. Your cunt.” He tilts his head, not shaming you but trying to explain. “Do you know what your cunt is?”

You shyly nod, knowing that that’s what some of the boys around town called that spot where you touch yourself. And now, feeling this odd tingle inside you, it all makes perfect sense. It wants Ani inside.

But you frown at him.

“It won’t fit,” you say sadly. “‘S too big”

“It’ll fit, honey. Just have to stretch you first.”

Stretch you? That sounds painful! Fear courses through you.

“Stretch me?” You say worriedly.

Anakin seems amused by your reaction.

“It’ll only hurt a little, then it’ll feel really good,” he explains. “I promise. Don’t you trust me?”

Your head moves up and down, and you know that it’s true. He smiles softly, and then he’s tapping your lip with his finger.

“Open,” he says.

Your parted mouth falls completely open, pink tongue lolling out as he places the tip of his cock on it. It takes you by surprise, and your lashes flutter as his taste evades your senses. It’s an odd flavor— not too bad, but not too good either. Though, the thought of it being from Ani makes it all worth while. He slaps himself against your tongue a few times, the wet muscle making a plopping sound as his stringy precum creates a small puddle in your mouth. He watches, proud, and he praises you in the most gentle tone he can muster.

“Good girl. Such a pretty mouth, can’t wait to cum inside it…”

And that makes your eyes shut tight as you let out a loud whine, knowing that his cum is another delicious fluid that you will happily drink up soon. His cock guides itself even more into your mouth, the cockhead disappearing in between your plush lips. You use your mouth gently, treating his cock with care, not wanting to hurt your uncle Ani. He grunts when you swirl your tongue around him.

“Mmm,” he breathes. “Lick it, baby. Like an ice cream cone… yeahhh. Just like that, sweet girl.”

You hollow your cheeks around his mushroomed head, your brain becoming fuzzy at the feeling of his length moving in and out of your mouth. Suckling him, he’s soft and warm on your tongue.

You do this for quite some time. Anakin’s thrusts speed up, and he makes you take more and more and more. When you choke on him for the first time he tells you that it’s okay— “just get through it, baby, don’t you wanna be good for me?” And of course you do, because it’s Ani, and he’s really handsome and he smells really nice and his hands are so big as they card themselves through your hair. You can’t get enough and you’re almost angry he hadn’t shown you this sooner. Your vision is dizzy as he uses your mouth.

On a particularly harsh thrust that makes your throat spasm around him, Anakin begins to make some very pretty noises. Drool leaks down your chin and chest, your mascara running, his balls slapping against your chin. He groans loudly.

“Gonna cum,” he mutters out. “Gonna fill up your throat. Do you want that, sweet girl?”

You can’t say anything, but you try your hardest to nod around his cock. He gets the message. And with stuttering hips, salty fluid shoots into the wet canal of your mouth. It fills you up until you’re choking, and as Anakin rides out his high his cock practically coats itself in cum as he moves in and out, in and out. He pulls you off of him after a moment, and with a mouth full of spend you gasp out for air. Anakin’s got this possessive stare in his eyes as he looks at you.

“Swallow it.”

You do. You gulp it down excitedly, and with a small “aaaaa” you stick out your tongue so he can see that you’ve consumed it all. Anakin looks down at you with a grin on his face.

“That’s my girl.”

—

“I want you to… to put it in me.”

Your voice speaks softly in the darkness of your room, rain pattering against your window as Anakin sits on your bed across from you. It’s been a week since your last… encounter. Your parents are out once again— and as requested, Anakin had shown up on your doorstep to keep you company. After a mug of hot chocolate, your favorite, you had invited the man into your room. A cross is around his neck, shiny with a silver chain. His hair is messy, his fingers clad in silver metal rings. You want to bite them.

Anakin smiles, pretty teeth shining.

“Do you know the story of the Virgin Mary?” He asks, out of context. Your eyes light up. Mary is your favorite biblical figure.

“Yes!” You reply to him. “She got pregnant by God.”

“And how did she do that?”

“By magic!” You say. “She gave birth to Jesus.”

Anakin chuckles, kissing your forehead softly.

“Such a smart girl. But sweetheart, magic didn’t give her a baby.” At the sight of your confused face, he continues. “Sex did. That’s how all babies are made.”

Heat creeps up your neck, your face puzzled. “So you’ll give me a baby?”

Anakin should be frightened at the thought of getting his best friend’s daughter pregnant, but he isn’t. In fact, he smiles, his touch leaving tingles against your skin.

“If that’s what you want. Just imagine, angel..” his lips brush against your ear, smoothing back a strand of your hair. “A beautiful baby. My nose, my lips.. those pretty eyes of yours.”

You bite your lip, your heart fluttering. Having Anakin’s baby would be your dream! Having a house with him, children running around, Anakin coming home from work everyday…

Oh, but daddy would be so mad.

He would never look at you the same again. He would be ashamed, he would damn you to the deepest pit of hell.

You think these things so incredibly, but once Anakin’s lips press against yours all of those things go away. He kisses you slow, sweet, gentle. His stomach presses against your tummy.

“I can’t wait to see it. Your little belly, all swollen with my baby..”

And daddy is out of your thoughts and replaced with a new, different daddy: Anakin.

It’s not long before he’s got you laid down on your ruffled pink sheets, your baby blue nightgown gone (“cmon, let me see that pretty body”), with Anakin’s lips trailing down your neck. He’s gotten you prepped, used his fingers and tongue in oh so many ways that had made you quiver, used your throbbing cunt for his own meal. When you spread your legs for him this time, it’s so he can rub his incredibly hard length against the lips of your pussy. Delectable and sweet as he remembers, Anakin watches the way your leftover cum and slick coat his length generously.

He’s never seen a cunt so cute, so fat, so swollen and precious. He taps his cockhead against your clit, listens to the desperate little pleas you let out as you look up at him with doe eyes.

“Please, Ani, want your baby.”

“Please, daddy, put it inside me. My cunt’s so tight and wet for you..”

You don’t say that last part, Anakin’s imagination runs wild, but he knows you’re probably thinking that— thinking that as his mushroomed tip pops inside your entrance, stretching, burning. Thinking that as you cry, your salty tears his most delectable meal besides the thing in between your legs. Thinking that as you grimace, give him that pained look as he fully sheathes himself inside.

And then, he begins to move.

It’s like a fire in your gut, at first. Hot, burning, grating. But soon it gives way to something else— something not even his fingers can create, something that’s absolutely out of this world. Your nails dig into his back, leaving red welts along the skin, and you should apologize but you can’t bring yourself to care. Ani’s whispering something in your ear, something dirty, filthy, and deprived; you enjoy it so much, you really do, as he speaks to you like this.

“Good girl, so tight. Daddy’s so happy when he fucks his little princess.”

“Look at that, how red and swollen your little pussy is. Is my cock too big for it?”

After harsh thrusts, skin slapping against skin, and curled toes, Anakin pulls out of you. You almost sob from the loss, but it isn’t long before he lays you on top of him and slips himself back into your sopping hole, pulling your ankles behind your head. This causes your eyes to flutter open again, a small moan leaving you. Anakin brings his hands around to hold your legs and head in a chokehold. He fucks you like that, all twisted and overstimulated.

Looking down, you watch as his length fills you to the brim and moves in and out of you.

“A-Am —“ you sniffle, a pleasured sob racking through your throat. “Am I being good, Ani? Is… Is god inside me now?”

Anakin groans, his hips pressing even harder against your raw fucked pussy.

“Yeah, baby,” He breathes, his hand pressing against the bulge poking out of your lower tummy. “God’s in you. Right in this little tummy.“

You mewl, understanding his words, the blasphemy in them. A blush coats your cheeks as you murmur out, “don’t say that.. ‘s bad. You’re being bad.”

“But I’m making you feel so good. Aren’t I, baby?” He taunts, with a hint of malice in his voice. “Isn’t this what you wanted? A thick, hard cock to fill up this little pussy?”

You shake your head, trying to deny yourself this pleasure you can’t contain. Anakin chuckles.

“Yes, it is. I can tell when you’re lying, little girl... oh, look at you. Little legs are shaking. Poor baby…”

You should feel guilty for all the dirty things leaving his sinful mouth. You should hate him and find him icky and push him away. Hes a dirty, filthy man.

But… he’s your Ani. The man who protects you, hugs you when you’re sad, buys you your favorite lip gloss and stuffed animals. And that cross is dangling in pressing against your back, cold and heavy like a burden but still turning you on and— he smells so good, and although you keep trying to move away from his harsh fucking, you know in your mind that you don’t want him to stop. Little sounds escape your throat with each thrust, moans and whines that sound like a wounded animal. But you are far from wounded— unless you count the soreness you’re probably going to feel tomorrow from Anakin pounding your guts.

Grunting, his arms flex on each side of you as he grasps your body with firm hands.

The man’s cock moves against your walls harshly, slick penetrating the skin of your thighs and making you shake. A smirk glazes his lips as he watches your face contorted in pleasure, and your neck is craned so you can see every facial expression he makes.

You thought you had never seen God. But right now, you might not be so sure.

“Good little angel,” he groans gently. “Such a tight little fuck hole for daddy.”

You want to be disgusted by the name, wanted to be disgusted since the first time he said it, but before you can think too hard the tip of his mushroomed head slams against a certain spot that has you sobbing out, “daddy, daddy!” against your own accord. He moans himself at the sound of your pleasure.

“Good fucking girl. Hittin’ that princess spot so good, yeah? Pussy feelin’ good?”

Your eyes roll back, your body going limp like a rag doll as you relax against his jackhammering thrusts. It all feels too good. The Bible always talks about heaven and you think that this is truly it: Anakin below you, holding you down, humping into you like an animal, as he spews disgusting phrases into your ears.

Maybe he isn’t the devil. Maybe he’s God.

You can feel something building up in your tummy, the familiar butterflies now turning dark like moth wings, scraping against that one spot over and over and over. God grins from below you, and bringing his hand up he forces your mouth open with his big fingers. His spit lands down on your tongue, wet and warm and perfect.

“Swallow.” He commands, and you do it greedily. Your voice moans for more, aches for more, and he does it thrice.

“Do you trust me?” He growls. “Do you trust you uncle Ani, baby?”

“Yes! Yes sir.” You whimper, and you know it’s true when it falls from your lips. He forces his fingers to press even harsher around your head. Your ears ring, a pressure beginning to form in your skull.

“God’s got you,” Anakin growls. “God’s got you and your life in his hands. And you know what?”

You don’t say anything, just shake your head as you try to catch a breath of air.

“He’s not gonna let it go.” He continues. “You’re gonna feel this, honey. You’re gonna get fucked like this all the time—“ your vision is blurring, his words making you spasm. He brings his fingers down to that swollen button on your soaked pussy and rubs in harsh circles. “— When daddy thinks his precious little girl is asleep, when he thinks she’s praying to god, she’s going to be praying to me. Choking on my dick, getting fuckin’ bred. Do you want that? Do you want my cum, you fucking slut?”

You can’t really hear him anymore; your body has gone completely limp, your eyes fluttering shut as you ride out wave upon wave of pleasure. You’re still breathing, you know you are, but you fall unconscious in Anakin’s harsh grasp.

And when he sees you like that, all fucked out and deadweight, he groans and begins to pound you harder.

#bunny spelling Anakin right for once?!! #bunny writes ͟͟͞☆ #anakin Skywalker #anakin Skywalker x reader #anakin Skywalker x fem! reader #dbf! Anakin Skywalker #dilf! Anakin Skywalker #anakin Skywalker smut #dom! Anakin Skywalker #star wars #Hayden Christensen #dark! Anakin Skywalker

[chrollohearttags]

settling in • a. artlert

moving into a new place with your fiancée and he has the perfect idea to get you two acquainted with it!

word count: 3.9K

pwp, black fem reader, nursing au plotline, lowkey filthy smut, spit play, he fucks reader in a chair, praise kink, squirting, oral (f. receiving) brief a eating (iykwim), fingering, creampie, full nelson, pet names + daddy is used.

it’s been forever and fifteen days since I’ve written for my pooh bear armeen (I lowkey missed him) and writing so here we are

── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.─── ── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* : ── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *

“Is that it?”

“Yeah..looks like it was the last one. Finally.”

a heavy sigh of relief, along with a wave of pride came rushing over the twenty four year old as he faintly kicked the door shut and locked it behind himself and his beautiful bride to be. Carrying in the remaining boxes from a long and daunting move. It was a surreal moment to say the very least. Neither of you could believe that in just a few months, you’d be marrying the love of your life, with successful jobs and what seemed like a far off reality, now owning your place. A single family home with two bedrooms and two baths, a beautiful kitchen and everything that you could’ve ever wanted! If anyone had told you guys that this would be your future, you’d never believe them. It seemed like just yesterday, the two of you were partying and doing dumb, dangerous things. Now, (y/n) was working as a Human Resources manager and in the same hospital where your soon to be husband worked as a registered nurse. It was ideal in all the ways imaginable. Armin Artlert was always regarded as someone who was extremely intelligent with a good head on his shoulders. Someone who’d undoubtedly walk the straight and narrow..unfortunately, he veered from that path when he met you. Not so much that you dragged him down or deterred him from his goals, but you kept him good and preoccupied! Meeting for hookups when the both of you should have been studying. Him snatching you from class early just to smoke you out and have sex..it was very unbecoming of both of you and although you were both madly in love, it wasn’t enough and you made the heartbreaking decision to separate for a while. At least until your goals were met and you were both in a good place. Fast forward almost two years and your lives couldn’t be better. On the day of his nursing school graduation, Armin dropped to a knee in front of everyone and asked you to be his wife. He knew he couldn’t go a step further into his future unless you were right there beside him, to do it for eternity. And with bells, you accepted! Nearly ruining your makeup after his doting speech. Now, things were looking brighter than ever and you both had so much to look forward to. In both your personal lives and careers..

“…we really did it, huh?” The tears welled in your eyes at the uttering of the words. Truthfully, you were overcome with emotion. Especially because you’d never imagined this life for yourself..a wife, a career woman or homeowner. It felt like something you’d never even dreamed of and yet, you were thankful you’d crossed paths with this man. You loved Armin so much and you were so glad that there was no question, that he was all yours. And that this life? It was one that you were going to build together.

“Yes we did..and I’m so proud. Of both of us. I love you, (y/n).” Softly muttering with his hands cradling your own; pulling you closer towards him as he wrapped you in an embrace. “Hey angel..what’s wrong? Why are you crying?” It was inevitable, truly. You were always so emotional..so loving with a sensitive nature but he couldn’t understand why you’d be shedding tears at such a joyous occasion. Even so, he held you close and even swiped your tears away with tender kisses. “I’m sorry..I’m just so happy. ‘S all..” he didn’t hold it against you though. It was quite overwhelming to think about but right now, his focus was on celebration and enjoying your new space. Cradling you to his chest, your fiancé placed a kiss atop your head and cupped your face in his palms. “Well I am too. I love you so much, you know that right?” His cheeks flustered red and raised from ear to ear as he just examined you for a moment. You were so beautiful, he honestly couldn’t believe that he’d be spending the rest of his life, waking up next to this beautiful face. That gorgeous skin, those prominent yet delicate features. Everything about you made his heart flutter..

“I love you too, so much more..”

but alas, it wasn’t the only organ that you seemed to garner a reaction out of..whilst standing there; his frame towering slightly above your own, Armin couldn’t help but to ponder on those past memories. All of those wild nights together..the partying, the drinking and of course, the steamy, late night sexscapades you two partook in. It was truly the highlight of your week and now, you could do so whenever you wanted. Living under the same roof. For the time that he was away from you, Armin had spent many nights thinking of all the things he’d do once he got you back in his life. How he’d spoil you, how'd he cherish you, the way he’d make a conscious effort every single day to show his affection…and of course…

“Mm, is that so? You think you love me more?”

how he’d make love to you in a way that’d transcend all of the drunken, weed fueled sex you’d had in the past! This time was different, more intimate and far more special than all those times before. He wanted you to know that above all else, you were his number one priority.

“Yes I do..” smirking whilst a finger trailed down his chest and back up to his chin; chewing at your lower lip and glancing up at him. It wasn't hard to deduce what was on both of your minds at the moment. The teasing, the playful banter..it was all bound to lead to one thing.

“Well I don’t think that’s possible, babe. I mean…I could just show you how much I adore you…— just then, you’d feel his lips move to your neck and snake up to your ear, where he whispered. “But I don’t think you could handle that.” Still cradling you close. Meanwhile, his ink laden hands; decorated in beautiful tattoos, snakes around to your backside and squeezed it tightly. He’d been trying to contain himself all day but watching you strut about, carrying item after item into your new home, in nothing more than a thin tank top and shorts that had your plump ass swaying with each step. The way your soft skin absolutely flowed underneath the sunlight, almost as if you were some sort of deity, and his favorite…those perfectly round tits sitting up in that shirt. He had to exercise all of his restraint not to rip you out of it right there! But now, you were alone and nothing could stand in the way of it. Besides, what better way to break the new place in?!

“Oh trust, honey. I’m a big girl…I can take whatever you throw at me.” Alluding to much more suggestive things. “Good to know..” There was no need in beating around the bush so with that declaration, Armin roped those hands around the back of your neck as the gap between your bodies closed. It wasn’t long before you were snaking your tongues down each other’s throats, biting at the other’s lower lip and whimpering into the kiss. The teeming passion and unbridled lust that had been bubbling inside of you guys could no longer be sated. Eventually, you found yourselves, trying to rip each other out of your clothes and you’d subtly walk backwards until your calves were knocking against the new recliner..not even out of its plastic yet. (Y/N) took a seat and lowered Armin with you as your hand cradled the back of his head. He didn’t waste any time in teasing you as he was certain you’d become all flustered and just beg him relentlessly. He did however, pull away and tug your tank top down with him. Revealing those beautiful breasts and erect nipples. Those perfect brown buds quickly disappeared into his mouth and he’d suckle; whimpering out of pure pleasure.

“Mmmph..I definitely missed this..”

a look of deviation shrouded his face as he cupped your tits into his palms and ravaged them. “I can tell…mmm!..” He always did have a fixation on your chest and would get lost in foreplay alone. Licking, suckling and latching onto them as he fingered you slowly. Slender digits buried to the hilt inside of you..you’d be left a dripping puddle of cream by the time he finished.

“Put those legs up here for me…” instructing you to place your calves on either side of the chair arms and spread yourself open. To which you’d happily comply…ready to show him exactly how needy and desperate you were for things to escalate. “Thereee we go. God, I can’t wait to taste you..” eagerly rubbing your thighs and leaving a trail of kisses along the insides, even licking all around the skin, just to garner a reaction. He could tell by the way you chewed your finger, you were burning up with equal anticipation to have him devour you..so with those legs parted wide, Armin placed both palms flat into your skin and pinned you down, after removing your shorts and tugging that thong to the side. Part of him wanted to sit here and admire you and the other half just wanted to feast hungrily on this pretty cunt of yours. Dredging his fingertips slightly over the slick lined opening, he’d suck his teeth; grunting and moaning for you..

“This pussy’s so fucking fat..and pretty. And she’s so wet f’r me already…”

just doting on your sex as he peeled the hood of your clit back with his thumb pad to stroke it. Meanwhile, you were about to come undone from anticipation and teasing. Clutching your tits, (y/n) bit your lip once more and whimpered, all but begging him to quit stalling. “Baaabe. Please..” which did nothing more than rile him up even more and give him the deeper urge to mess with you. “What’s the matter? Something on your mind, gorgeous?” Which only earned him a flustered laugh and the cutest plea as you bucked your hips towards his face and against his fingers. Armin was notorious for making you wait and beg for it..something about watching you writhe and moan, begging for him to touch you just really turned him on. “C’mon, baby..if you want something, say it. I’ve got all night..” chuckling with that deviant, icy glare in his eyes. Those blue lens’ fixated on you with precision..he wasn’t moving until he heard the fateful words exit your lips and luckily for the both of you…it didn’t take long to crack!

“Mmmph…just eat my pussy, please..fuck I need it. Need you so bad..”

and with that declaration, Armin felt confident in giving you what you desired.

“Aw, is that it?…well why didn't you just say so, sweetheart?” Just then, with his gaze still very much fixated on his girl, the mischievous blonde slid one single digit inside of you as he watched your reaction shift..pleasure struck all over your face as he finally made contact with that entrance. It had admittedly been nearly a month since the two of you engaged in any sort of sexual activity. With this move, transitioning into new jobs and such, it barely left time for each other. Life hadn’t seemed to slow down at all. However, this was your chance to atone for that and best believe you were going to spend the rest of the night, up until the morning doing so. All in the comfort of your new home.. “You know I aim to please..” finally snaking his tongue out, Armin lapped it against your clit and began swirling it around those folds. Flicking it in and out, suckling and slurping…he didn’t hold back on his little feast. Meanwhile, that finger was still working your over to relieve that tightness. He’d add a second one eventually and pump that little hole while continuing to eat your pussy mercilessly. “Oh fuck…s’ good. Right there, baby..yes..” you’d claw at the unwrapped cushions but he’d instruct you to place your hands elsewhere, wanting you to guide him along for your pleasure. “Pull my hair, baby ... .put that shit in my face..” cursing under his breath as his ascent into your sex continued. Latching onto your clit, Armin suckled on it for a full minute whilst pumping those two digits in and out…by this time, a puddle had begun to form underneath your ass. The pearly shade adding such a beautiful contrast on your skin.

“You’re creaming already, babe? Ooh..you gotta save some for me..need to feel that.” Even so, Armin persisted and kept devouring that delicious cunt whilst your fingers snaked between his blonde tresses and tugged him along. Your head dangled back in pleasure as you cried out, pushing yourself into his face. He was so enamored with the way you reacted to him. The way it spasmed around those knuckles, the way you leaked even more, those sweet juices trickling down his chin, when he touched the tip of his tongue to your aching little bud and especially when he momentarily flicked himself around your other entrance and caused you to release another pretty whimper. “Somebody likes that..sticking my tongue in that pretty little asshole. I think you might come if I keep doing that.” Which made you both giggle. “Yeah..feels so fucking good though.” He’d pause for a brief moment, letting you both recuperate and that’s when you’d all but demand that he give you what you really needed. But not without a little persuasion, of course!

“What was that? You want what?”

“For you to fuck meee..”

drawing out your words in a flustered whine, jolting around as he stroked himself underneath, mocking and taunting your pleas. “To fuck you?” “Yesss, I need that dick so bad.” By this time, you were playing with yourself to quell your urges. Unable to wait for him to do so. “Aw, somebody’s needy today. Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll take care of you.” Reassuring you as he rose to his feet. Just then, Armin would lob a trail of spit in between your folds and simultaneously grasp the base of his cock, stroking upwards to get himself aroused. Which was already in play…between eating you out and those adorable whimpers, he was aching to sink himself inside of you. “Look what you did to me…fuck, you turn me on so much, baby..” crying out in that whiny yet sultry tone; sucking his teeth and glaring down at you as he aligned himself with your slit. Tapping that aching head against your entrance, Armin slowly but surely teased the tip right up against you. But alas, you were growing impatient. So with your legs spread wide, feet brushing his forearms and a direct view of both of your lower halves, you’d reach forward to help guide him..

“You gonna put it in for me?” Prompting you to nod and lick your lips as your flesh finally met. “Go ahead, beautiful. This is your dick, you use me how you want to..”

and with that, you’d feed that stiff, throbbing cock into you until it reached the halfway mark. The initial sensation caused both of you to erupt into loud groans and expletives..he was rather girthy despite his lanky stature but he certainly didn’t lack in size either..nearing around seven or so inches with round, plump balls. It was perfect..even so, you were still one and only weakness. He didn’t want to sit idle but he felt the second he began thrusting, his clock would proceed to tick as well..fearful that he may not last as long as he’d hope for. “Fuck, fuck…you’re so tight, angel.” Gripping the back of his chair, he’d attempt to regain his balance and establish a rhythm. Pounding slowly into you whilst not making direct eye contact. That would only shorten his stamina if anything..seeing that pretty face while he was in it? He’d fill you up on the spot.

“I remember when we first started having sex and I couldn’t last more than two minutes with you..” recollecting on your past hookups. Which prompted you both to laugh. Granted, you had only been with two other people prior to Armin, with one night stands but they were never memorable. Lasted all of ten minutes before you dipped..but with him? You could never forget it. Whether it was him being flustered and nervous because you felt way too good. So much so that he came in less than five minutes and was so embarrassed about it. But you thought it was adorable, actually. He was so doting, gentle and made sure you were okay the entire time. You two took the time to actually learn and explore one another’s bodies. Touching, massaging and even masturbating together..it was that sensuality that made it all the more special.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing…and you were the only one to ever make me come that hard.” Doting on your man as he slid in and out of you. (Y/N) slowly stroked your clit to match his pace, rolling those fingertips on that sensitive bud..

“And you stretch me out so fucking good, baby..mm, that dick feels so good..” “..yeah? Feel good, sweetheart? Like the way I’m fucking this little pussy?”

your encouragement seemed to incite something inside of him..just then, you’d feel those strokes get deeper and a tad bit faster. Jolting you around and making those perky titties away with each one. He still had his hands planted to the back of the chair but he was finally able to make eye contact with his beloved and when he saw your expressions, he just became more enthused to fuck you! He’d then snake the free hand around your throat and choke you slightly as he cooed to you. “It feels good when I’m pounding you, baby? Making that shit cream on me?..” Naturally, he knew the response just by your body language and enjoyed hearing you answer with soft whimpers and cries.

“Yes daddy, oh my gosh! You’re fucking me so good right now…’m gonna come.”

which he knew was no fake out. He could feel that grip tightening more and more by the second. And if that wasn’t any indication, the way you were smacking at his now exposed abs as he tucked the tail end of his shirt between his teeth, was more than enough. “Ooh, I know you do, angel. I can feel how close you are..you’re squeezing me. Tell me, are you gonna give me what I want?” Questioning as that clutched hand brought a thumb up to your soft lips, allowing you to suckle. You knew exactly what he was alluding to and truthfully, he had no other choice..you were prepared to let it all go for him. Whatever he desired..replacing that thumb pad with his own lips, Armin fed you a couple of sloppy kisses, before asking you once more and when you responded accordingly, all but begging him as he sped up again, he’d give you his permission and command..

“That’s all I needed to hear…come, now..” needless to say, he was not disappointed with the result. He’d meet you with as many strokes as possible, letting out tiny spurts of the sweet nectar until you’d all but push him out and squirt all over the place. Armin couldn’t help but to be overcome with excitement as he watched you make a giant mess because of him.

“That’s what I’m talking about, baby..come on this dick..fuuuck yes.” Meanwhile, you were trembling as the remnants of those juices exited your body and you were left trembling from the sensation. Yet you found yourself longing for more and it took your fiancé no time to notice. Leaning forward, he’d cup your face and swish his tongue around in your mouth. But even that wasn’t enough to sate his appetite for you. Because just when you thought he was about to reach that climatic peak along with you, you were in for another surprise. Coiling those legs tightly around his firearms, Armin tugged you closer and instructed you to grab him. “Wrap your arms around me, baby. Hold on.” With that, you found yourself hoisted midair and propelled onto his cock. The sensation is just as equally warming and comforting as the first time…he’d become a lot stronger than the Armin you met in highschool. A lot more muscular and a hell of a lot more confident..

“I swear I’ll never get tired of fucking you..feels so good every time I’m inside of you…don’t even wanna pull out..” as he thrusted and bucked his hips upward into you, he’d rattle off and sing your praises. You were reaching your breaking point but you couldn’t stop glaring into his eyes. Wanting to reach that peak together..needing to watch his reactions. You were fixated, obsessed with one another..madly in love. And you were going to consummate that very love in your new home. “Kiss me..kiss me while I come in that pretty pussy..please..” all but begging as your lower halves smacked together in a sticky sheath. Flailing your head back, (y/n) cried out and clawed your nails into his neck, begging for all he had whilst hammering into that tight cunt. “Just like that, Armin! Right there, baby..” Your tongues clashed in a heated twist of passion and before long…

“Oh fuck..oh fuck..I’m coming, baby..” he couldn’t contain himself any longer and those thrusts became sporadic, a lot more uncontrollable and before long, he was pouring every drop of that warm seed into your womb. Tugging you down and keeping you in place until he couldn’t spill another drop. You’d both release ear shattering cries, laced with passionate ‘I love you’s’ as you rode out those orgasms in unity. It was certainly a night that neither of you would ever forget.

“I’m so happy I get to do this for the rest of my life with you..and to call you my wife.”

Chuckling as the two of you engaged in tender kisses. Letting your bodies become enraptured in the moment. Finally allowing it all to sink in..

“Yeah, you’re stuck with me..get used to it.”

“And I wouldn’t want it any other way. Who else is going to be

From mere strangers to absolute lovers, hooking up to coming home together.. it was funny how life worked…years ago, you’d never imagined that this would be your future. But now? You couldn’t picture a world where this man was not a part of it. You’d cherish this night, this moment and the beautiful ones to come, as long as he was by your side.

#cherry’s works ✦⭒ #armin artlert #armin arlert #black fem reader #black reader #aot au #armin arlert x black reader #aot x black reader #armin aot #armin x black reader #aot fanfiction #aot x black y/n #aot drabbles #armin arlet smut #aot smut #smut #black reader smut #armin x black y/n #armin arlet x reader #armin #aot armin #armin smut #armin x reader #armin x y/n #hospital au #armin x you #armin arlet headcanons #cw smut #snk smut #snk

[belliesy]

MINE. miguel o’hara x reader

✿ tags. afab reader, dubcon, exes to lovers, reader knows about miguel being spiderman, kinda guilt tripping, he not wearing his suit, porn with some plot, rough sex, degradation, blowjobs, deepthroating,face fucking, facials, squirting, full nelson, size difference, unprotected sex

✿ synopsis. miguel shows up to your apartment bruised and bloody and convinces you to help him // not proofread

You wake up to pounding on the door.

2:06 am

‘Who the hell is here at 2 in the morning?’

You curse at yourself as you roll out of bed, rubbing your eyes and shuffling through the living room to the door. The knocking slowly stops as the person on the other side must have heard you coming, you put your eye to the peep hole and see your ex. “Miguel?” You ask through the door, “baby, please let me in.” Miguel begs through the door. You roll your eyes and notice the blood and bruises littering your exes face, shaking your head you open the door slowly. Cursing at yourself again for so easily letting him in.

You step back as Miguels large frame enters, “Well?” You interrogate, “what do you want?”

“I just need you to help me.. y’know.” Miguel responds, he looks embarrassed but you know that he doesn’t really need the help. This is just another excuse to see you.

“Fine, sit on the couch.” You sigh, “Your leaving once I’m done”. Miguel nods as you get what you need and sits on the couch.

“There, all better” you say, crumpling the bandaid wrappers into your hand and throwing them onto the coffee table. “Thank you, baby” Miguel takes your hand and kisses the inside of it. You quickly pull it away from his lips.

“What?” Miguel asks innocently. “I’m being grateful for your help”. You roll your eyes and begin to stand up, “you can get out now”. Miguel grabs your arm, “wait, wait, I still need help with something”. Miguels eyes go to tent in his pants.

“No, Miguel, you can do that yourself, now leave.” You pull from his grab and stand up again, this time grabbing his arm and pulling him up. “Please, cariño, I know you miss me, how good I would fuck you.” Miguel steps closer to you, backing you into a wall, his knuckles drag across your face before going to your shoulder, pushing down.

You hate this and him. Hate how bad you miss him and how he fucked you, missed everything about his dick, how it felt in you, how good choking on it was like. You shame yourself on how easily your giving into everything. “Fine, this is never happening again though”. You lower yourself more to the point where your on your knees.

You unbuckle his pants and pull them and his boxers down enough to where his cock springs out. “Fuck, always looked so good on your knees for me.” Miguel grunts as your cold hand slowly starts stroking it. Your mouth goes to suck on his tip and Miguel flinches. “I could never find anyone as good as you,” he moans, “should have never let you go.”

You smirk to yourself and lower your mouth on him, moving your hand down to continue jerking him. Miguel is already moaning and whimpering for you, he feels hot in your mouth, he’s throbbing and probably almost ready to cum from the lack of sex in what feels like forever to him. You decide to tease him, your mouth comes off his dick with a pop. “Probably couldn’t cum from any other girl.” You look up innocently at him, “needed me? Missed me so much you had to come here?” you smile and watch as Miguels hips thrust into your hand. You look back at his cock and rub your thumb over the tip. “Don’t tease me, baby.” He moans throwing his head back. You begin to laugh before Miguel is grabbing your head and slamming you down on his dick.

You choke and your eyes water. You’ve missed how he fills your throat, fucking it like you were nothing. You moan and hum around it, driving him crazy and making his hips fuck your face faster.

“Don’t act like you don’t fuck yourself stupid thinking about me fucking your tight cunt, ah- you fucking, whore.” He looks down at your face, “but yeah, I would be lying if I said I didn’t miss you”. He pulls out of your mouth, still grabbing your hair and starts jerking himself off. You sit patiently and with your tongue out, waiting for him to spill all over you.

When Miguel cums he’s moaning and throwing his head back. His cum is warm and splashes your tongue and face, coating it a pretty white. He looks back down, watching you swallow what landed in your mouth. “Good girl, didn’t even need me to tell you”.

Miguel quickly pulls you up, flipping you around. He stands behind you and with no prep shoves it into your tight hole. “Mm, fuck, Miguel.. !” You cry out, “sorry, thought how wet you were would be enough.” He fakes sympathy and starts with slow lazy thrusts.

You throw your head back again as he lifts your hips, moving his arm under your knees, your legs bent. You face is hot with embarrassment as he pounds into your wide, spread legs. You feel so exposed but the angle his hips fuck into you feel so good. It already has you going stupid. “Missed this pussy so much,” Miguel grunts. You babbling too now, “I missed you so much, missed how good you fuck me, please don’t stop!” You cry, head thrown back into Miguels shoulder. “Don’t worry, princess, I’m gonna fill this pussy up”. He reassures while reaching deep inside of you.

You feel him move from hooking your legs under both arms to just one. He rubs your clit with his free arm, your screaming from how good it is. Your cunt throbs around him, making him mumble degrading comments to you. Making you grow wetter and so much closer to your climax.

Miguels thrusts stop and he buries himself into you, you feel his cum fill you up. His hand continues rubbing your clit and your soon squirting around him, squeezing him so tight. Your both moaning, overstimulated messes. Your body shakes and twitches, his cock is throbbing inside of you. He lets your legs down slowly, him still inside of you. His body is leaning on you, pushing your bodies against the wall to lean against as you catch you breathe.

Miguel wraps his hands around your waist. “So how about a date this weekend?”

notes - .. im so tired rn so this one was kinda lazy

#miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara #atsv miguel #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara x reader #across the spiderverse #spiderman atsv #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 smut

[peterman-spideyparker]

Something Good (Matt Murdock x fem!Reader)

Author’s Note: Heya! So, one big perk about being sick and working from home is that I'm really chugging through my idea notebook! This one is the first one on the page, actually, and it's inspired by "Something Good" from The Sound of Music. Enjoy :)

Summary: Matt's in love. He's not entirely sure he deserves it, but he found love with you. It's terrifying and special, and he knows he's beyond lucky.

Warnings: Sweet adorable fluff (Matt's in love, guys). No use of (Y/N), but it does refer to the reader being feminine/female-identifying

Other Characters: Foggy Nelson

Word Count: 746

Matt’s no stranger to sleepless nights. From the sounds of the city keeping him up, to staying out until sunrise on patrol, to being kept awake by his injuries, to his nightmares, his worst case scenarios violently ripping him from his slumber. Tonight, though, tonight is different. He’s still experiences sleepless nights, all the fear and guilt that comes from the idea of not being good enough or strong enough. But those sleepless nights and all those worries have become lesser and lesser the more that you’re in his life. 

The first time you slept over, he was so worried he’d wake up screaming with a nightmare, he almost didn’t sleep. He was even apprehensive of having you stay over because he was concerned that Hell’s Kitchen would need it’s Devil and he’d have to slip out; you’d wake up in the middle of the night alone, and he’d loose something he worked hard to try and achieve—a normal relationship. And until that night, it had been just that for Matt, normal. Boy likes girl. Girl likes boy. Boy asks girl out. Boy takes girl on date. They date some more. He finally kisses her after arguably too long. Boy cooks girl a romantic dinner. Boy and girl spend the night together. Boy knows he feels something he’s never felt before.

But in all that worry that he’d mess up that first night, with all the fear that kept him wide awake in his own bed, you snuggled into him; in your slumber, you wrapped your arm around his torso, held him close, and cuddled down into his chest. Matt noticed how your heartbeat changed, how your breathing slowed and evened out. You were the purest form of content and relaxed with him. Now, that made him nervous because it meant that you felt the same way, too. And while it made him nervous, he felt his own heart steady and the sleep that he so desperately tried to fight off lay like weighted blankets on his eyes. He was the first one to wake up the next morning, and he found your positions unchanged; you were still latched onto him, and his arms were around you, keeping you close to his heart.

Each night after that got easier. He was afraid, though, for the inevitable. Mentioning this in passing to Foggy, his best friend closed his office door, sat down across from Matt at his desk, and laid it all out: how to carefully bring it up, broaching the topic of senses, his passion for justice—a methodical plan for how to tell you about his night job in a way that wouldn’t scare you away. Unfortunately for Matt, he’d been thinking about it so much, he started at the wrong spot of the explanation when he saw you later that night and put his foot in his mouth. But you stayed, you listened. You asked questions that he was happy to answer. You spoke well into the night, and at the end of it all, you didn’t leave; you took his hand in yours and gave it a squeeze, thanking him, and assuring him that his secret was safe with you.

Now, almost a year later, you were still by his side, guarding his secret, waiting up for him, patching up his wounds, protecting his heart, and holding him close. So, this time when sleep evades him, it’s not because of his fears, not because of his traumas, not because of his nightmares. It’s because he is wracking his brain, asking God to help him figure out what he did to deserve you because Matt cannot figure it out for the life of him. He tilts his head to the side of the bed where you’re sound asleep, still holding onto him like that first night together. As he thinks and thinks, he can only settle on the fact that at some point in his life, he must have done something good that made him worthy of you. If he can never figure it out, so be it. As long as you’re in his life, he doesn’t really care. Leaning over to press a long, sweet kiss into your forehead, he snuggles down onto you and pulls you close, letting your scent flood his senses and remind him that he’s safe with you, his heart is safe, and that he’ll never be more loved than by you.

Yeah, he must have done something good.

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[lovebugism]

i am so sorry but reader talking about robin right before making out with eddie is like absolutely the best thing i’ve ever read i’m obsessed i genuinely can’t wait for anything else in that universe that you do

THE CUSTOMER'S ALWAYS RIGHT | god help the girl

summary: in which you come to terms with the fact that you're hopelessly in love with eddie munson. pairing: virgin!eddie munson x reader word count: 13k warning: phone sex, more discussions of shitty boyfriends, j*son c*rver name drop, talks of unhealthy eating practices, smut 18+ mdni! a/n: this ask has been sitting in my inbox for ages now, but i wanted to save it until robin made an appearance in the series! thank you, anon, for being so sweet! and for the few of you who've been waiting on me to finally post <3 hope you enjoy! xoxo

( PREVIOUSLY ) | ( SERIES MASTERLIST ) | ( NEXT )

They only met once, but it changed their lives forever. 

That’s what the movie cover reads at least, but the words have long blurred into a jumbled mess at your tunnel vision. John Bender stares you in the face, but all you see is Eddie — boyish and brazen and scowling because he thinks it makes him look intimidating, but nowhere near as cruel as he seems. 

He’s certainly got the hair for it, much longer and curls far wilder than Judd Nelson’s measly set of brushed-back locks. He’s got the terribly animated personality down pat, too; the one that either makes you laugh uncontrollably or squirm in discomfort when it’s pointed your way. And the style’s a pretty fine match also, though you’d argue that no one sports a leather jacket quite like Eddie Munson does.

Wallowing in your boredom at the empty Family Video store on Main Street — where your best friends slave over mundane work with aching backs and a lingering sense of gratefulness that no customer has been in in well over an hour — you find yourself analyzing each character pictured on the front cover of The Breakfast Club.

Robin would surely be Allison, you conclude rather quickly, because their deadpanned glowers are eerily identical. They’ve also got this sort of atypical aura to them, too, like a dark storm cloud or the promise of a long night. But strangely it sparkles — strikes of lightning or a sky full of stars. It draws everyone’s attention to them; even when they’re desperately trying to hide in the very back of a room.

And Steve would be Andrew, not particularly because of his affections for this Allison-Reynolds-Robin-Buckley hybrid you’ve concocted, but because "popular guy with daddy issues" is a trope that fits him far too well. He’s way more likely to get detention for trying to look cool in front of his assholes friends than for anything actually malicious of heart. But that would’ve been years ago now. He’s not that kind of guy anymore. 

He’s soft and sweet — a Brian Johnson sort of soft and sweet, if you will. If Brian wasn’t the brains, but the sweetest dumbass anyone’s ever met.

You realize then, that Jim Hopper would make a mean Richard Vernon. He’s impatient to a fault, almost too stern at times, but never enough to make you genuinely fearful of him. You’ve found that it’s virtually impossible for you to take him seriously when he’s so cartoonishly angry. It’s a match made in heaven, you find, though Jim might take offense to the comparison.

And if Eddie is Bender, then that’d make you the Claire Standish of the bunch.

She’s dreadfully stylish, a bit stuck-up at times, and perhaps a little bit more spoiled than the average person; but it’s not like she ever claimed to be perfect. And you wouldn’t either.

You’ll take more pride in your wardrobe filled with pretty pleated skirts and flouncy dresses than your somewhat glacial disposition. And you might not be drowning in daddy’s money, but you’re certainly spoiled in other ways — if only in the employee discount at Enzo’s that got you wine for cheap and your connections at Family Video that meant free movie nights whenever you wanted.

The bad boy and the princess was a tale as old as time itself. It’s a fairytale you wouldn’t mind living in if it ended how it did in the movies — with a kiss on the cheek and an exchanged diamond earring in the calloused palm of another. A soft pink smile and a celebratory fist in the air.

But you’ve met your fair share of John Bender’s and none of them had been particularly kind to you, let alone had fallen in love with you. 

Maybe that’s because you were no Claire Standish. Never pretty enough, never mousy enough, never pure enough.  You try and dissect why you’ve never been successfully loved, and all the signs point to you, you, you.

You hope Eddie’s different. You need Eddie to be different.

“Something’s wrong with me,” you blurt out of nowhere.

Well, it’s not totally out of the blue for you. You’d been stewing over that thought since you got there — since you left the woods with damp underwear and the scent of you on Eddie’s fingers.

But to Steve and Robin, who’d stayed relatively silent and locked eyes only once after they noticed how abnormally hushed you’d gone, it catches them quite off guard.

Steve lifts his heavy head from where he mans the counter. His tired eyes leave the computerized catalog for the first time in forty minutes, and he has to rub at them with the bottom of his palms to see you properly. Meanwhile, Robin crouches at your side, taking returned tapes from the bin sitting next to her and placing them back upon the shelf you lean against. 

She blinks up at you, deep ocean eyes swimming with apprehension, like she can sense the spiral you’ve just about twisted yourself into.

“What do you mean?” she wonders, ever the supportive best friend, as she plucks Heather’s, Pretty in Pink, and Weird Science from the bin and sets them onto their assigned rows in the Teen Drama section.

“Eddie won’t fuck me.”

Neither of them is particularly stunned by the unabashed nature of your admission.

Not only have they both fucked you at one point or another, but they’re your best friends — no one’s ever going to know you quite the way they do. It leaves little left unsaid between the three of you, with secrets you’ve all sworn to take to your graves. Steve once stuck a finger in his ass to see if he liked it (he did) and Robin sometimes gets off on her childhood teddy bear (rather ironically named Mr. Snuggles). 

So this? This was nothing. Especially in comparison to all the other shit you’ve confessed to them because god knows the whore of Hawkins has a plethora of stories to tell.

Steve is more shocked by the name that leaves your mouth than anything else. “Eddie Munson?” he repeats with furrowed brows, like he had to have heard you wrong.

You bring your chin to your right shoulder to look at him, then nod.

“Eddie… The Freak… Munson?”

You nod again, slower for him this time.

“You wanna fuck… Eddie Munson?” Steve reiterates once more, as though the idea was too appalling to be true. “Eddie Munson — The Freak?”

“Yes, Steve,” you huff in irritation.

His face contorts into a puppy-like confusion. A frown settles between his bushy brows and he cocks his head to the side, nose scrunching and his lip quirking slightly. He couldn’t look more disgusted if he tried.

“…Why?”

You groan and tilt your head back dramatically. “That’s not what’s important here, Steve. The better question is why won’t he fuck me?”

The boy’s lack of any actual assistance doesn’t surprise Robin in the slightest — his dumbfounded gaze and innate confusion are actually pretty on brand. It just puts all the burden on her, to help you wriggle out of the mess you’d tangled yourself into. 

It’s not like she isn’t used to it, though, nor does she mind doing it for you. She walks you through your emotions like a professional, squashing out all the burning orange embers for you before they have the chance to burst into flames.

“Well, what do you mean he won’t fuck you? Like… did he actually say that or does he just wanna, you know, take things slow?”

The latter would’ve been way too easy. Eddie’s always been nice enough to you. It’d make sense for him to want to stay unhurried and gentle with you, but those words weren’t exactly in your vocabulary. 

The first time you were alone with him, you were getting yourself off on his thigh after making him come in his jeans. The next time you saw him, after four days of him clinging to your consciousness, there wasn’t as much small talk so much as there were two of his fingers stuffed knuckle-deep inside of you.

You don’t know Eddie’s birthday, but you know how he likes to be touched — squeezed and not rubbed. You don’t know his middle name or how he likes his eggs in the morning or what his relationship with his mother is like, but he’s already made you come. Twice.

You are completely, utterly, and totally incapable of taking things slow. So it wasn’t that. It couldn’t be. So it had to be the other thing. The very scary, terrifying, boogeyman of a thing.

“I mean, I offered to give him a blowjob and he completely turned me down,” you lament in reply.

Robin and Steve wince. Like, physically wince. Their faces scrunch and their heads flinch from something invisible. Audible ooh’s fall from their mouths without them even realizing it, because you don’t get rejected. Ever. Especially not after offering to pleasure someone without much of anything in return.

They don’t mean to react the way they do. The visible shock that coats their features is involuntary more than it is anything, and it only adds to your fears.

“Exactly!” you exclaim.

“I hate to say it, but I think hell might be freezing over as we speak,” Steve half-jokes.

“Well, he was working, right?” Robin asks with raised brows. “Maybe he was just busy.”

“Sorry, Rob, but no guy’s too busy for a blowjob.”

“Real charming, Stevie.”

“Maybe he just has a small dick,” the boy concludes with a shrug.

“I felt his dick,” you shake your head almost immediately. The feeling of Eddie’s hard cock through his denim jeans, all rough and warm against your palm, hasn’t yet left you. “It’s not small.”

“Well, maybe he can’t get it up—”

“Yeah, that’s not a problem either.”

Eddie was rock hard when you left him, throbbing and aching and obviously needing some kind of relief. That’s partly why you’d been so ardent to return the favor, though the other half of it was purely selfish — you haven’t seen a more beautiful sight than Eddie Munson getting off. To deprive yourself of that masterpiece made you feel like you were starving.

You have a hard time imagining the raging hard-on just… dissipating after you’d left him. That means he probably jerked off in the back of his van and you missed it. And if he came, right after he promised everything was okay, that means he just didn’t want you to do it… right?

Steve seems to be caught in the same inner turmoil you’re currently stuck in; and for good reason. In all the years he’s known you, he can count on one hand how many times he’s had to turn you down. And every time, it was because he’d gotten back together with Nancy. It was never because of you. Not once. And sometimes he felt like it hurt him as much as it did you. 

As far as Steve’s concerned, you’re so out of Eddie Munson’s league that you’re not even in his fucking orbit — so the freak show, turning you down, doesn’t make whole lot of sense to him.

“Huh…”

“It’s me. It’s definitely me,” you conclude with the shake of your head. A bitter, almost hysterical laugh spills from your lips. “He thinks I’m fucking ugly or disgusting or something. It’s totally fucking me—”  

Robin completely abandons her basket of tapes then. She rises to stand in front of you, looking timid as she does so. Her raised brows form wrinkles on her freckled forehead and her blue eyes widen to reveal more of the whites of them. She looks like she’s approaching a wild animal. A bomb that’s about to explode.

“Okay… You’re starting to spiral, alright? So let’s just try and take a few deep breaths—”

You don’t listen to her. 

Actually, you do quite the opposite, as you begin to blurt every fleeting thought that crosses your mind.

“I’ve made out with nearly everyone in this stupid town— I’m pretty sure I’ve fucked almost half— and you’d think Eddie would wanna take advantage of that, the way everyone makes him out to be some sort of freak, right? But he hasn’t and at this rate, he won’t, and I just don’t understand why,” you ramble without taking in a single breath. “Usually being a slut is a huge turn-on for guys, you know? But what if Eddie thinks it’s gross? I mean, it is gross— I’m gross—”

You only stop for air when Robin takes your shoulders in both hands. She looks less apprehensive and more stern, as she forces you to look at her.

“Look. I love you, but you need to get a hold of yourself, alright? I know you’re not used to being told no, and I know how much it sucks, but shit happens. I’m willing to bet all the money I’ve ever seen that whatever is going on with Eddie has nothing to do with you, okay? And if it’s making you this upset, maybe you should just talk to him.”

“But I don’t wanna seem like I’m too eager, that’s gross—”

“Then find someone else to fuck,” she offers with her signature Robin Buckley half-smile. “I’m sure it would take you less than five minutes to find a willing participant.”

“Yeah, right here,” Steve jokes from the counter with the pathetic wave of his hand and a dumb grin on his lips. 

You don’t hear him over the voices in your head — half calling you crazy for letting a boy drive you this mad over nothing, and the other half bitterly affirming each of your deep-rooted insecurities.

Your face screws up, like the thought of being with anyone other than Eddie upsets you — it does upset you.

“I don’t want anyone else.”

“Then what do you want?” Robin yells in your face, shaking you by your shoulders.

“I want Eddie!” you shout back without thinking. The words seem to spill out of nowhere. It takes you of all people by surprise. No one in this rat trap town would ever expect the whore of Hawkins to want to settle down, least of all the harlot herself. It’s strange; it’s riveting; it’s really fucking scary. “…Fuck.”

The brunette smirks, proud of herself. “Well. There’s your answer.”

“I hate when you’re right,” you mumble to yourself, pouting as she crouches back down again.

“I know.”

It was a terrifying thought, to know that you were head over heels for someone else. You try to come to terms with what that means. 

Sometimes you think you fall in love with a new person every day. A cute guy holds the door open for you, a pretty girl compliments your outfit — they never think about you again, but they’re on your mind for days. It was so easy to develop such meaningless infatuations, especially when you were bored.

But Eddie was different.

He was a nice guy. A nice guy that was sweet to you just for the sake of being sweet to you; not because he secretly wanted something in return. That made you fall for him at first, but then you just… kept on falling. Eddie Munson was an infinite void you couldn’t crawl your way out of even if you wanted to, even if you tried.

And that’s what frightened you the most.

Because if you really thought about it, you’ve only truly been in love a handful of times. And, sure, it didn’t work out — that was normal — but some of them fucking ruined you. 

You’re still trying to figure out who you are without all of the people that have broken your heart. You’re still fighting like hell every day to recognize the person you see in the mirror, while Billy Hargrove fucks off with a new girl every other week like he didn’t totally destroy you.

But, even still, Eddie was completely different. No one’s ever made you feel the way he makes you feel. And it’s more than the stupid heavy petting — it’s more than anything. It’s never been like this before; not even with the blonde mulleted asshole who ripped your heart to shreds. 

And you’re scared that if you get hurt again, you’ll never be able to come back from it.

“Steve, do you have another copy of Fast Times in the back?” you suddenly ask the boy, tossing him a look over your shoulder.

It’s your last ditch effort to rid yourself of the ponderous, gray doom and gloom surrounding you like some storm cloud. Your comfort movie solves all of your problems — or, at the very least, Phoebe Cates does — but it seems everyone else in town has developed a similar fondness for minute fifty-three of the film and got all the tapes off the shelf before you could get your hands on one.

“You know I keep on in stock for you,” he answers quietly.

He reaches below the counter to pull out a spare copy for you, and your heart swells with the rays of a thousand rising suns and the songs of every morning bird.

Steve told you some time ago that he could change. And back then, all it did was piss you off, because he didn’t want to change for the town slut — for the girl he put through the goddamn ringer. He wanted to change for Nancy. The princess bruised his brittle ego a little, and then he realized what an asshole he’d been to everyone, to you.

But as angry as it made you, you never believed him. “Once the King of Hawkins High, always the King of Hawkins High,” you remarked bitterly.

You wouldn’t say it to his face, for the sake of keeping his ego from inflating all over again, but you could tell he was really changing.

He was kinder, he was softer. He stopped caring about what everyone thought about him, about what not caring would do to his reputation, and started giving a fuck about the people worth giving a fuck about. 

Apparently, you were one of them.

“…Really?”

He nods with a subtle shrug. Like it was no big deal. Like it wasn’t one of the sweetest things he’d ever done for you — keeping your favorite movie on hand so you’ll always have a spare, knowing that it’s the only thing that gets you out of a deep, dark funk sometimes.

“Stevie… You’re gonna make me blush,” you lilt with a grin as you saunter over to him, hands innocently laced behind your back. “You need to be careful, Harrington. I’m gonna start to think you actually like me.”

He scoffs. “I do like you.”

“Yeah, when it’s convenient.”

It’s obvious your joke hits him where it hurts. It serves as a bitter reminder of the asshole he used to be, the douchebag he’s trying like hell to grow out of. He looks up at you with a sheepish, honey-tinted gaze before ducking away again.

A year or more ago it would’ve made you feel good, to know that you hurt him just a fraction of the way he hurt you. But you know that that isn’t the same man standing in front of you now, that he’d rather die than make hurt your feelings, and it makes you feel like shit for saying it in the first place. 

“Sorry,” you apologize with a scrunched nose. The palms of your hands dig into the edges of the counter as you lean against it. Your shrug. “It just kinda came out…”

The barcode scanner in his hand beeps as he passes the thing over the back of the tape — never charging you, just getting the movie out of the database.

“So, uh…” he starts before clearing his throat. He focuses his gaze on the computer and types on the bulky keyboard with the tip of his pointer finger. “You really like this Eddie guy, huh?”

“Maybe. I think so.”

“And he’s not, like… a total freak or anything?”

You can’t tell if he’s trying to look out for you or if he just wants intel on what it’s like trying (and failing) to bang the local weirdo. Either way, it makes a smile tug slow at your lips as you joke: “Not in the way everyone thinks.”

“Jesus,” he winces at the obscenity of your words.

“Sorry,” you apologize again, though the laugh that bubbles from your lips after cancels out any hint of actual sincerity. “You don’t need to give me the talk or anything, Steve. I can take care of myself.”

“…Can you?” he half-jokes.

It makes you falter. “Well… With you and Robin and Hopper constantly on my ass, then yeah.”

“Just don’t want you to get hurt,” Steve finally admits, soft and suddenly shy as he hands the VHS over to you.

“That’s rich coming from you—”

He jerks back the tape before you can take it from him, leaving your hand reaching for thin air. His cinnamon eyes glimmer with a foreign seriousness, not completely unkind, but lacking their usual blithe. “That’s why I’m saying it. I just… I want you to be okay.”

Steve is one of the rare ones, you conclude right then in there — in the liminal emptiness of Family Video, beneath fluorescent lights that cast sharp shadows upon his already chiseled features. He was a mythical creature of a man, one who breaks your heart and does everything in his power to mend it again.

He hasn’t forgotten about what he did to you, not like Billy did, and he won’t. Not ever. He saw what he did to you and he never moved on from it, just matured enough to make sure it never happened again. And he won’t let another unworthy douchebag hurt you like he did. Not if he can help it, at least.

And he did try to warn you about Hargrove, to be fair. You were just the dumbass that didn’t listen.

“Well, me and my Phoebe Cates wet dream are golden, Pony Boy,” you promise. He hands you the tape again and lets you snatch it from his grip this time. “Don’t worry your pretty little head, Stevie.”

Steve Harrington was right. 

The fleeting thought flashes across your mind for half a second, and you quickly realize that those words have never been uttered in the same sentence before now. But he wasn’t wrong in what he’d said about you, just before you left — you were completely, totally, absolutely, and implicitly unable to take care of yourself.

You nearly passed out in the bathroom after taking the hottest shower of your life, feeling too woozy to slap on anything other than moisturizer because you failed to remember to actually eat something that day. It wasn’t totally your fault, though; if anything, it was because of Eddie and all the butterflies he’d given you that made food the very last thing on your mind.

You half-heartedly dry yourself off, keeping your hair in a towel, while you slip on a cotton set of underwear you’ve had for way longer than what's likely acceptable. Damp and half-naked, you prance into the kitchen to fix Bowie her bowl of dinner before you feed yourself.

You fork a can of wet food onto a flower-shaped plate and let her eat on the counter — because you’re an adult now, and you can do that sort of thing.

The calico purrs while she feasts, but your stomach thunders with negligence. You peek into your mostly bare refrigerator and make a mental note to go grocery shopping when you get paid next week. 

With a lack of food and an even lesser will to cook something, you settle for the half-eaten chocolate bar you keep stashed in the very back of the fridge; kept only for the most special of occasions — when you’re reveling in your loneliness and trying to convince yourself that you can make it on your own.

It was practically the size of your forearm when you first bought the thing at some too expensive candy store in the city. Now it’s no bigger than your hand.

You eat the thing in bed, even though you know you’ll get crumbs everywhere and that it’ll make sleep agonizing for you — if you get any, that is. You’re bound to feel like a total zombie by the time the sun rises and the late-night sweet will likely make its appearance on your skin by then, in a red and raging blemish of a consequence.

You’ll feel empty and starved and surly, a snapping grouch instead of an actual person, until you get some actual food in your system.

And you’re more than aware of all of these things, but you don’t do a single damn thing about them.

You’re nothing but a sulking lump upon an unmade bed, lying in a pitch-black darkness that’s evaded only by the static-y television across your room, trying your best to pretend like you aren’t waiting for Eddie’s phone call. It’s hard to remember to forget him, though, when the movie you’re watching is practically a feature film of him and all the ways he makes you feel.

Spicoli and his terribly inebriated friends slur as they chorus “No shoes, no shirt, no diiiice” and you swear you can feel Eddie’s shoulder bump softly against yours as he laughs, hear every sound of his melodic chuckle in your ear that made you giggle right along with him. The low bass of Moving in Stereo plays in the otherwise empty silence of your bedroom, and every beat feels like the rhythm of your thrusts against his thigh.

Eddie Munson is all-consuming.

Even the thought of him feels physical.

Phoebe Cates all but undresses herself in front of you, but you’re stuck thinking about some guy who lives in a trailer park across town, deals drugs for a living, and can’t graduate high school. You’re a total fucking goner.

Your eyes flutter shut, and instead of the backs of your eyelids, you see Eddie’s trailer. Your lips start to tingle as they kiss his for the first time — hungry, yearning, needing. His thigh is pressed snugly into your cunt, denim jeans rough against your soft cotton panties, and you have to bite back a moan when he tenses every time you squeeze his hard, covered cock.

You can feel it, all of him, like he were here with you now. 

You wish that he were.

His fingers would feel far better, leave far more sparks of electricity in your belly, than the ones as you sneak through the hem of your underwear.

You try and take things slow with yourself, to be as gentle as he had been with you earlier in the woods, but it feels strange to treat yourself with so much tenderness. To touch your pussy like it’s the first time it’s ever been touched. Like it’s a beautiful thing you need to be sweet to.

Maybe you find it so foreign to be careful with yourself because no one has ever been careful with you.

No one, except for Eddie.

Your touch doesn’t rival his. It doesn’t even come close.

No matter how tightly you squeeze your eyes shut or how hard you try to pretend that they’re his fingers inside of you, you can’t make yourself feel as good as he did.

Your fingers aren’t as rough as his guitar-string-scarred ones and they don’t caress your clit with the same methodical care. They don’t fill you quite the same either, nowhere near as satisfying as his much thicker ones.

And you’re no stranger to masturbation, not by any means. Sometimes it’s the only way you can guarantee an orgasm for yourself when you’ve got a partner who cares so little about your own pleasure. But Eddie was different. Eddie cared — so much so, that he’s gotten more orgasms out of you than you’ve gotten from him, which is something you’ve never said about anyone else you’ve been with.

It’s rare and unfamiliar, a bouquet of all things refreshing and terrifying and strange, tied together with a pretty little ribbon.

You know that you can make yourself come. It’ll just take way too long to actually be worthwhile and won’t be nearly as mind-blowing as you need it to be. You won’t be left with trembling thighs and nearly numb legs — just a pitiful excuse for an orgasm that you could get from any one of your exes with half as much work.

What you need is Eddie. 

And you hate that. You hate how much you need him and you’re terrified of what that means.

As far as precedent goes, right when you start needing someone is usually when they start to leave. It’s like fucking clockwork most of the time — like everyone knows that you’re a ticking time bomb and eventually it gets too risky to stand too close to you. 

You’ll just have to keep Eddie at arm's distance. So he won’t see the grenade that you are.

You pull your fingers out of your wanting cunt, still slick and throbbing with a need that you can’t give it, when the phone rings.

The high-pitched shrill in the quiet makes you tense like it’s the first time you’ve ever heard the damn thing. Your breath catches in your throat, first out of fright and then at the inclination of who waits for you on the other line.

Suddenly, you’re scrambling to collect yourself. As though there was any possibility that Eddie might be able to see you through the phone line.

You wipe your wet fingers haphazardly on the cotton of your underwear and sit up straighter from your ungracefully lazed position. Then you count to five — one mississippi… two mississippi… three — so Eddie won’t think you’re some kind of crazy person who doesn’t have anything better to do than wait for his call. 

So he won’t know that’s exactly what you are.

You lift the ruby red rotary from its hook at your bedside table and stretch the corkscrew cord to press it to your ear. “…Hello?”

“Yeah, hi. I’d like to order a pizza. Half pepperoni, half hawaiian.”

You roll your eyes at his dumb joke, even though the familiarity of his voice makes you smile. It warms you like a home-cooked meal, like you were high-pitched and starving before and now you’re on the soothing comedown of finally being satiated.

“Yeah, sorry, we’re closed.”

“Then why’d you pick up the phone, huh?” he teases back. You swear you can hear the grin in his voice. You didn’t know a smile could be so audible. It makes you wonder if he can hear yours — if you’re doing a real shit job at pretending. You anxiously twirl the cord with the pointer finger of your free hand.

“Because I’ve been waiting for you to call me all night, dummy.” 

Your answer is more honest than either of you were expecting. 

Eddie’s sigh crackles through the shoddy reception. “Yeah. Sorry ‘bout that, sweetheart. I’ve been working all night. I only got home, like, five minutes ago.”

You can hear the heavy exhaustion in his voice. “Rough day?”

“Kinda,” he answers with a shrug. You can hear the grating squeak of his mattress as he plops down onto his bed. “I dealt to one of Jason’s goons today… They always give me a hard time.”

“I’m sorry,” is all you can think to answer. 

Eddie’s been the brunt of every joke since seventh grade — people made fun of too big clothes, his too wild hair, his too loud music. But he took it all in stride, laughing with everyone else before volleying a harsher joke back in response. You almost started to think that he liked it. That, somewhere deep down, he was fond of all the attention he got from people who supposedly couldn’t stand him.

But it hurts to know that it hurts him.

“Don’t apologize. It’s not like you did anything,” he assures with a soft laugh. He makes the bold decision to be honest then, too. “You, uh… You made my day a whole lot better, actually.”

You don’t know if he’s talking about the brief fling in the woods or the phone call you’re sharing now or if you particularly care either way. Your heart flutters like it’s been kissed by the wings of a butterfly.

“Really?”

“Yeah. I mean… I don’t know— I couldn’t stop thinking about you, you know. And, knowing that I was gonna get to talk to you again kinda got me through the day, I guess… And, yes, I am fully aware of how lame that sounds, but—”

You don’t get to hear the rest of his excuse, of why what he just told you totally isn’t lame, because you’re covering the receiver with your palm and turning to squeal into your pillow. A far more pathetic sight, in your humble opinion.

There hasn’t been a more fulfilling feeling than this one, to know that he’s been feeling the same way you’ve been feeling about him this whole time. It’s better than all the orgasms he could give you combined, to be loved so wholly.

“…You okay?” you hear his muffled voice ask after you’ve gone suddenly AWOL.

You press the phone back to your ear and nod like he can see you. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good. The phone… fell— you said you just got home?”

“Uh, yeah. I met with Hellfire for a bit at school. We’re almost at the end of the Cult of Vecna, so they’re kinda on my ass about it. The little shits are obsessed.”

“Well, they should be. It’s a really good campaign, Eds.”

“Thanks to you,” he mutters. You can almost picture the glimmer in his button eyes and the shaky half-smirk he always looks at you with when he gets all shy.

“That was all you, Eddie Spaghetti,” you retort. “I still have no idea how you did it.”

“Did what?” he wonders, chuckling a bit at the nickname.

“Make something so beautiful out of thin air.”

Lying in the depths of his bedroom, blanketed by the darkness and bathing in streams of moonlight, Eddie feels his breath catch in his throat. 

For the first time in his life, he doesn’t have a joke to spew out on the spot. He’s speechless, just for a moment, a quick blink of a second, with nothing to say. Because, if he really thinks about it, that’s sort of what happened with you.

You were just his customer and he was just your dealer.

You were a loyal client and then a girl way out of his league that he developed a too big a crush on. Then you made him come in his underwear and washed the sticky stains out of the denim for him. Now you’re on the phone with him. You let him tell you all about his shitty day and apologize like you weren’t the only good thing about it — like you aren’t the only good thing, period.

It’s not the most cliche love story, nor is it the most beautiful, but it has his cynical little heart beating like the wings of a hummingbird.

Then, when all the mushy mess fades like fog, he finally thinks of something to say.

“It’s the witchcraft, sweetheart,” he shrugs to himself. “Didn’t you hear? I’m a devil-worshipping freak.”

“You know that’s not it, Eds,” you retort with the roll of your eyes.

You know that it’s hard, to be a metalhead from the wrong side of the tracks in the eighties — at the height of the Satanic Panic and all the delusional craze. That shit’s followed him since freshman year. Even still, it nips at his ankles like rabid dogs.

Maybe you were never naive or bored enough to believe all the rumors, but Eddie Munson was always more than that to you.

“No?”

“You can blame it on being a freak show all you want, but I know it’s because you’re one of the funniest, smartest, most creative guys I’ve ever met—”

“You must not know a ton of guys then, sweetheart,” he interjects playfully, like he couldn’t stand to hear you compliment him any longer. You’d give anything to see his blushing cheeks just now.

“…You’re kidding right?” you giggle in response.

“Sorry— that’s— I didn’t mean it like— It was— I was joking,” he stammers, frightened that he might’ve offended you in some way. 

It only makes you laugh harder. Both of you know you lost count of all the guys you ‘know’ a long, long time ago. You do imagine it’s somewhere near ‘a ton’, though.

“I know, Eds,” you assure with a contented sigh. “I was just teasing.”

“Oh.”

“The slut and the freak… Who would’ve thought?” you wonder all dreamily, like it’s a fairytale as old as time itself. That’s what it feels like, sometimes.

Eddie isn’t sure what you mean — who would’ve thought you’d be friends? Two people caught in that in-between stage of platonic and romance that’s complete agony and total, total bliss? A couple of kids falling in love—

“It’s sort of kismet, huh?” he answers.

“I think so.”

“So, uh… What are you up to?” Eddie wonders then, equal parts curious and eager to keep the discussion going. He’s frightened any lapse in conversation is going to lead to saying goodbye. 

He wants to stay on for hours, until both of you are fighting to stay awake, and then listen to the sound of your heavy breathing when you inevitably lose — like that isn’t the creepiest thing anyone’s ever wanted. He’ll fight Wayne about the bill if it comes to that, he doesn’t care, he just never wants to stop being this close to you.

“Do you want the real answer or the fake one?”

“Uh… Both?”

“Well, I’d say I was doing something super productive with my night, you know, catching up on all the boring adult shit, but then I’d be lying. And I don’t wanna lie to you, Eds,” you tell him with a teasing lilt playing at the edge of your voice.

Eddie swallows thickly, fearing he’d somehow been caught in his own lie — or rather, his half-truth. He moves on quickly, though not exactly full of grace. “Right. Yeah. Totally.”

“Honest answer is, that the only productive thing I’ve done tonight is shower, and now I’m in bed watching Fast Times and eating all the chocolate in my house, because I can’t cook for shit and I have nothing else better to do with my night,” you admit to him, picking at the thread of your comforter.

“Oh, don’t tell me I missed the ‘Moving in Stereo’ bit,” he agonizes.

“Just.”

“Well, correct me if I’m wrong, sweetheart, but it sounds like you’re having loads of fun tonight.”

“I’m having a lot more fun now,” you assure him.

“Glad I can be around to make you laugh,” he retorts like he’s not all too happy to do it.

“You’re a total comedian, Eddie Spaghetti.”

“If I’m the jester, you’re the queen, sweetheart,” he promises, a grin evident in his voice.

Your breath catches in your throat something fierce; you’re almost worried that he’s heard it. His words pierce your heart, a stroke of lightning or a blade of steel. He’s joking, but it’s so strangely profound, the kindest thing anyone’s ever said to you and it’s dripping in sarcasm. 

It’s sort of Eddie’s love language, you’ve come to understand, to say something so sweet but coated in venom to make it sour again. It makes you feel special, loved, almost.

A fire builds behind your rib cage, sharp and distant and all-consuming.

“Are you alone, Eds?” you ask him suddenly.

The sudden curve ball in the conversation takes him by surprise. “Uh, yeah, Wayne’s at work right now… Why?”

“Because I want you to talk to me…”

“Oh?” is all he can say because isn’t that what he’s been doing this whole time?

“And I want you to say things that… maybe other people shouldn’t hear,” you explain slowly to him.

“…Oh.”

He’s heard about this only once before, the whole phone sex thing. 

It was from Andy in the back of Ms. O’Donnell’s class a year or more ago, though Eddie never called him by that name. Andy, in all actuality, was Jason Carver’s right-hand man, and he meant that in every sense of the phrase. Eddie was more than convinced that the guy was so obsessed with the blonde haired, blue eyed douchebag that he was giving him handjobs on the regular.

But it seemed the dick brigade couldn’t function properly without their leader and Eddie had the misfortune of hearing all the mindless bullshit they were spewing behind him — basketball, parties, girls; in true white bread fashion.

His friends gathered around him like he was telling some sort of secret, though it was loud enough for anyone in a three foot radius to hear. Eddie, caught directly in the line of fire, heard all about Chrissy’s older sister, Wendy, who was two years older and off at college. 

He’d gotten her number from some party he’d crashed. At least that’s how he told it, right before telling everyone that she swore like a sailor when she came and that she told him all the dirty things she wanted to do to him while she did.

“It was like her hand was on my dick, dude, I’m serious. That shit was crazy, bro,” he’d laughed after retelling the whole conversation in excruciating detail.

Eddie rolled his eyes to himself then, inwardly jealous that he’d never get to meet Wendy — or any other girl that would be willing to have phone sex with him, for that matter. His phone only ever rang for telemarketers or a rogue Dustin Henderson calling to annoy him.

But, here you are now, the most wanted girl in Hawkins, offering it to him on a silver platter. He wonders if you’ve done this before, surely you have — oh god, he thinks to himself, what if you’ve done this with Andy?

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to,” you assure him after his unusually long silence. “I know you’re probably busy and tired and everything—”

“No! No, yeah, I— I want to. I totally want to.”

“Okay,” you nod. Petals of a flower begin to bloom in your chest as you lie back in bed, settling further into the mattress. The movie, already long forgotten, serves only as light and background noise. “So… What are you wearing, Eds?”

“I feel like I should be asking you that,” he laughs. 

On the other side of Hawkins, in a trailer in the middle of nowhere, Eddie rises from where he’d originally flopped back onto his bed with the notion that it was going to be a semi-normal night. He props himself against his headboard. His fingers twitch at his thigh.

“Beat ya to it, Munson.”

“Well, I’ll have you know that it is very sexy, sweetheart. I’m wearing the same Hellfire shirt you saw me in, I don’t know, five hours ago — except now it’s got a rip in it because I totally ate ass on the way back to the van.”

He tells you this to make you laugh — it works — but he prays you don’t ask any questions. Because he got it while hurrying back to his van mere minutes after you’d left him, so hard he thought he was going to burst, with no more than seven minutes until his next client arrived.

 Thankfully, he only needed three.

“I love that shirt,” you respond in place of saying what you really want to — ‘I love how that shirt looks on you’ — how it clings to his lean torso and reveals his midriff whenever he stretches his arms over his head.

“She’s a lit-tle worse for wear now, sweetheart,” he lilts.

“I’ll stitch it up for you.”

“And I’ve got on a pair of boxers that are so old they’re practically see through because I’m pretty sure they used to be Wayne’s back in… I don’t know… the eighteen-hundreds.”

Eddie was right. It was sexy, though, for the exact reason they weren’t supposed to be. 

There was something so domestic about it all. You can picture him lying in his bed, in the most comfortable clothes he owns, in the one place he can feel at peace. Like a renaissance painting, something familiar and comforting and beautiful — fuck, you’d give anything to be next to him.

“…I think that means it’s your turn now, sweetheart,” he teases.

“Is it?” you mock in return.

“C’mon. Don’t leave me hangin’ over here.”

“It’s nothing, special,” you assure. Your eye flits down to peer at your own body — nothing special, indeed, you think to yourself. The lilac cotton set came from the grocery store downtown on the clearance rack you so often frequent. “I just have my underwear on. It’s very boring, I’m afraid.”

It’s not boring. Not to Eddie — the boy who prides himself on his insanely active imagination. He might not be able to pass english with his brain, but he can certainly create worlds with it, and it’s too easy for him to picture you. He imagines you, freshly showered, and smelling of the warm lavender-vanilla scent you always smell like, mostly bare and lazing upon a fluffy comforter.

He swallows thickly. “Oh, that’s— that’s really, uh— that’s really sexy.”

His thankful that you don’t seem to mind his poor excuse for dirty talk.

“It’s only because I was too lazy to get into actual pajamas.”

“I’m glad you didn’t.”

“Yeah?” you press, smiling to yourself and caging your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Yeah.”

“Can I tell you a secret, Eds?” you wonder, made brave enough by his own admission.

“‘Course you can.”

“Before you called…”

“…Uh-huh?” he eggs on, intrigued at the way you trailed off, sounding suddenly shy.

“I was…” The thought of telling him what you were doing mere seconds before he called makes you nervous. It wasn’t like you were ashamed of touching yourself or anything, nor is the art of dirty talking lost on you, but something about Eddie makes you timid.

“You were… what, sweetheart?” he wonders gently, with a too audible grin.

“I was touching myself.”

That’s all you tell him. The words linger and hang in the air of your separate bedrooms and you cling to the silence — almost mortified and anticipating his reply. Eddie, meanwhile, feels like his tongue has swelled in his mouth and all the air has been punched out of his lungs.

“Oh...” he tries to respond without the breath to accurately do so. “…Yeah?”

“You know what Phoebe Cates does to me,” you try to joke.

His laughter crackles through the receiver. “Yeah. I kinda have her to thank for the other night, don’t I?”

“Give yourself some credit, Eds. The hottest guy in Hawkins was sitting right next to me, what was I supposed to do?”

“No way you think I’m the hottest guy in town,” he scoffs. “Everyone knows you’ve got a thing for pretty boys.”

“Pretty boys?” you echo with a giggle.

“Uh-huh. The Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington type, you know?”

“Well, I think you’re a hundred times prettier than he is.”

“Really?” he scoffs cynically, obviously not believing you.

“He wasn’t the one I was thinking about with my hand shoved down my panties,” you admit, immediately quelling his self-doubt. “That’s gotta count for something, right?”

Eddie clears his throat and then stammers, “I— I guess so— yeah.”

“Are you hard, Eds?” you ask in a breathy whisper.

And he just nods to himself at first, too stupid to answer audibly. He can feel himself stiffening in his boxers, only halfway hard now, but getting firmer by the second. Soon, he’ll be aching. 

“Yeah…”

“Can you touch yourself for me?”

Eddie would rather take a bullet to the chest than say no to you — at least, he figures that’d probably hurt less — so he slips his fidgeting fingers through the band of his boxers and takes his warm, stiffening cock in his hand. He squeezes himself just enough to make his stomach tighten.

“Want you to touch yourself, too,” he admits, neither asking or demanding it, just telling you.

“Yeah?” you tease.

“Well, I think it’s only fair, sweetheart.”

You can’t help but notice how breathy he’s gotten — how it shakes on the inhale and hitches on the out. He’s got his hand shoved down his underwear and you’re jealous of the fingers that get to wrap themselves around his cock. You wish they were yours. Both of you will have to settle, it seems.

“Whatever you want, Eds,” you answer playfully. 

You obediently slide your hand back into the warmth of your panties. Your fingers slot between your lips and collect the slick that had gathered there since before you’d even answered the phone. You bring it up to your clit, circling the pads of your fingers there until you twitch, then dragging them down to press into your opening. They slip in with ease. 

Both of you have turned into lovesick idiots, separated by so many miles, and missing the other most ardently. Lying in the depths of your bedrooms, basking in a velvet loneliness, building with a mutual pleasure with nothing but yearning hands and longing sighs.

Eddie’s eyes flutter shut at the sounds of your low moans and fragile whimpers that crackle through the static — beautiful still, but certainly no match to the ones you were breathing in his ear just hours ago. 

His lashes dance across his cheeks as he tries to remember how you’d felt against his fingers, soft like velvet and delicate like silk, weeping and pulsating with need. 

He drags his hand from his boxers and lets the band snap against his pelvis. He spits into his palm and wets his cock with it, sighing as he tugs at himself without much friction.

“Are you wet, sweetheart?” he asks, though the words threaten to get stuck in his throat.

“Yeah,” you whisper back like it’s some kind of secret. 

You work yourself open with your middle finger and slip your pointer in next to it without much trouble. Your walls flutter around them while you fight to find the spot the makes you keen. You’re only able to tease it, fingers not quite long enough to caress it completely. Your thumb keeps working at your clit, though, to make up for the lost pleasure. 

“I’ve been wet since I left you,” you admit through labored breaths. “Haven’t been able to… to stop thinking about you, Eds.”

“Glad I’m not the only one whipped over here, sweetheart,” he manages a laugh.

“No one’s ever made me come that hard before. Not just with their fingers,” you tell him mindlessly, dumb on pleasure, as you feel yourself climbing that peak.

“Really?”

“Never,” you promise, then whine. “Doesn’t even feel as good now… Can’t get as deep as you can—”

Eddie hangs on your every word as he works his palm up and down his stiff cock, squeezing at the base and swiping his thumb over the head with an expert hand. His face scrunches as his stomach starts to tighten, he’s close to coming — too close for his liking. He doesn’t want this to be over so quickly.

“You’ve ruined every other guy for me, Eddie Munson,” you confess, more than pleased to hear how it makes him whine. It sounds like it comes from the depths of his chest, the way it crackles low and needy through the receiver.

“Good,” he grumbles through his pants after he’s gathered himself all over again. “Don’t want anyone else to have you, sweetheart.”

This time you’re the one letting out the most pathetic of whines. It makes a smile flicker at the corners of his lips.

“You like that?”

It sounds so dirty, but you can tell by the sincerity of his tone that it’s genuine. So you answer with a longing truthfulness, a delicate “yes”entwined with a yearning moan.

“You just wanna belong to me, don’t ya?” 

Now, this is dirty talk. The teasing lilt of his tone — it’s almost degrading —  and makes you clench around your fingers. “Yes, please,” you whine, all but pleading for him now.

Eddie’s close, so dreadfully close, with a pleasure so tangible he could taste it. Your words make his cock twitch in his hold as the fire builds in his belly. 

Through your whole-hearted promises and wanting moans, he can hear the sound of your slick through the receiver. The static reception doesn’t do it justice, but the wet click of your fingers working you open was unmistakable.

A moan grumbles in his throat as he digs the crown of his head back into his pillow. “Holy fuck— I can hear you, baby.”

“I’m so wet for you, Eds,” you tell him through fragile slurs, like it wasn’t inherently obvious. 

You were wrong before, about wanting to hide from him. You couldn’t conceal your need for Eddie if you tried. The honey you drip, all sweet and just for him, wouldn’t let you keep it a secret.

“I know, baby, I know,” he nearly coos. “Are you— fuck, please tell me you’re close?”

“Yes,” you promise in a whine. Your thumb presses harder into your clit. It makes your thighs tense until they’re shaking.

“You rubbing your clit for me, sweetheart?” he asks like he knows. “I know that’s what you like.”

You whimper, working at the spongy spot within you as your hips buck off the bed. “Yeah.”

“Keep rubbing yourself like that for me, okay? Want you to keep going until you come for me.”

If he keeps talking to you like that, it’ll come a lot quicker than he’s prepared for. 

It’s too soft to be much of a demand, but you listen obediently anyway, rubbing at yourself though your sensitivity keeps building. It grows like a morning tide, rising and flowing like white waves on an ocean, stirring something fierce in the depths of your stomach.

“Eddie,” you sigh out his name, broken through staggered pants.

You hear his stuttering breaths, too. “Y—Yeah?”

“I’m about to come,” you promise through a whine when the familiar crescendo sends a shock through your body.

“O… Okay,” he responds, pathetically, then whines, even more so.

“Want you to come with me… Please…”

“Fuck— okay. Shit, sweetheart, I’m almost there.”

“What are you thinking about?” you ask him.

“Your pussy,” he answers without thinking — he’s not doing a whole lot of that anymore. “Wish I’d gotten to taste you earlier. Wanna feel you… fuck… Wanna feel you come on my tongue.”

“Holy shit, Eds,” you moan at his words, at the vivid picture they paint in your head.

“And you get so… God, you get so fucking wet. Just want you to drench me, baby.”

It feels good, to be complimented for something boys used to make fun of you for, to realize for the first time that’s it’s sexy — that you’re sexy — and that Eddie is more than happy to drown in you. The feeling almost rivals the impending orgasm that’s bound to hit you like a tidal wave.

“I’m thinking about how I coulda took you on that bench… Just, fucking, get on my knees for you. Shove my head between your legs. Hold your— shit, baby— hold your thighs open, keep you exactly where I want you,” he rambles but then cuts himself off to moan at his own words. “Goddamn, sweetheart. Wanna taste you so fucking bad.”

The moan you let out is pitiful. It leaves your mouth in the most delicate cry. 

No picture has ever been clearer than the one of Eddie between your thighs, your hands knotted in his hair to move him to exactly where you need him most and forcing him there. You can feel his fingers digging into your hips, his rings pressed against your burning skin, and the way your legs tremble on either side of his head.

“Yeah. Keep— Keep doing that. Keep moaning for me,” Eddie tells you. “I’m about to… holy fuck, I’m about to come.”

“Wanna feel your tongue in me so bad, Eds,” you whimper, egged on by the moan he lets out. “Want your cock even more.”

That’s what does him in, the assurance — the promise — that you want him just as bad as he wants you. 

He tightens his fist around his cock, achingly hard and raging a crimson at the tip, trying to imitate the way you’d feel around him. It’s not all that close, not nearly as wet as the honey you’d be dripping for him, but his imagination does the rest of the work for him. 

All at once, you’re on top of him, riding him for all he’s worth, your pussy threatening to swallow him whole. You’ve drenched him, just like he’d begged for, and that wet schlick noise still echoing from the receiver is the evidence of each of your assured thrusts over top of him. 

You’re still pleading for him anyway — for more, for his tongue, for his cock — and he wants so desperately to give everything to you.

“Oh god, baby—” he sputters. He grips the phone in a white-knuckled, fist trembling. “Oh, fuck, I’m coming, baby.”

“Please, Eddie. Please come for me,” you plead over the low sounds of the forgotten film playing across the room and all the dirty wet sounds your pussy makes against your fingers. You sound like you need it, like you want his orgasm more than your own.

“Want you to come with me… Can you— Can you do that for me, sweetheart? Please?” It’s not dirty talk anymore. He’s actually fucking begging you and doesn’t feel the least bit ashamed to do so. 

He wants to hear all the pretty noises you make when you come — that initial cry that stems from the depths of your soul, the high-pitched whimpers that come when the sensitivity builds, and the whines that leave you when it ebbs.

He wants to hear it over and over and over again, like a worn cassette, and play it until the tape spins out.

“Yes…” you promise through a set of stuttering breaths.

There’s no talking when either of you come. Eddie’s long forgotten to talk you through it, but you would barely hear him if he had. The phone slips out of your hand when your grip slackens and it falls to the pillow beside your head.

You chase your orgasm full throttle, working through the crescendo and the strikes of lightning, focusing only on his muffled moaning and the pretty sounds he makes as he comes. 

The breath of your name whimpered through a tight throat is what does it for you. Your body has hardly any time to warn you before you’re gushing all over your fingers, twitching every time the pad of your thumb rubs over clit.

That cry, the one you always let out as you come — all wet and full of need — makes Eddie orgasm right alongside you. 

He swipes his thumb over his head again, collecting the pearls of precum gathering there and sliding them down the base to squeeze himself there like he’d been doing this whole time. He clutches harder this time, imagines it's your cunt locking him in a vice-like grip, and whines in his throat when he comes.

Several loads of it spill onto his cotton boxers, most of it gathering along the side of his hand and dripping down his knuckles. His breath staggers as he works himself through his high, praising you through the phone like you’re the one who brought him to it. 

“Fuck, baby… You’re so good… So fucking good.”

You’ve long settled from your own orgasm, still tingly and numb in some places, but not as gone as you had been just moments before. You still float on a cloud, getting lost as you stare through your window at the half-hidden stars sprinkling the night sky and feeling as though you could reach out and touch them.

You can feel the satin moonlight bathing you, and the jittery static of the neon of the television screen. You can feel everything and somehow nothing at all. 

“I don’t know how you do it, Eds,” you confess, hardly thinking about the words spilling from your mouth when you lazily bring the phone to your ear again.

“Do what, sweetheart?”

“I don’t know… You always make me feel good. Even when you’re not here… Even when we’re not getting each other off.”

“I feel the same way,” he promises you, all mushy, even though he feels like a slob for wiping his hand off on his discarded jeans on his bed. “Just… wish you were here.”

“I wish I was there, too… Wish I could clean you up.”

Eddie’s eyes shut tight as his head tilts back to his pillow at the thought. “Fuck… You’re gonna make me hard again, sweetheart.”

You perk up suddenly as an idea sprouts like a flower in your head. A smile blooms on your lips, and you rise up onto your elbows, glowing with an unanticipated excitement. “How long would it take you to get ready?”

“…Get ready?” he echoes.

“Yeah,” is all you say.

“I mean, I— I don’t know. I figure if I put on some new underwear and a fresh pair of pants, I’ll be good as new... Why?”

“You wanna do something?” 

“Yeah. Sure. Anything,” he answers clumsily in place of saying, ‘Anything to not have to be without you.’

“I wanna go to Skull Rock.”

“Skull Rock?” he repeats. 

Legend has it, you and Steve made that place a local landmark. People have always said that Hopper caught the both of you one too many times up at Lover’s Lake and the Quarry, that you needed a more hidden place to fuck. So you’d stumbled around in the middle of the woods until you found a place the chief wouldn’t think to look for you.

You’d certainly found it. Then every other horny high schooler did too.

It’s the place you go to fuck, the most private place in all of Hawkins — hell, maybe even Indiana entirely for teenagers who can’t get the house to themselves. And as appealing as it sounds, to take you beneath a sky of twinkling stars, Eddie doesn’t want his first time with you to be on dirt or in the middle of the woods. That’s how all the horror movies start, don’t they?

So, needless to say, your answer takes him by surprise.

“Yeah! You can see all the stars really good from there. It’s too hard to see them so close to town.”

Eddie’s heart swells all at once at how sweet you are, like sugar poured directly onto his tongue. You’re not eager to be without him either, it seems, and that thought is as gratifying as it is thrilling. 

You’re an adventure he’s about to go on, without a map or a way out, a journey he’s happy to go into blind as long as you’re holding his hand the entire way through it.

It breaks his heart to hang up the phone. He practically begs you to do it for him, and it makes you laugh — a kind giggle entwined with a tease ‘you’re such a baby.’ It rings in his ears long after the receiver clicks.

Most of all, he hates all the stoplights that separate your place from his. He hadn’t known where you lived before now, not until you uttered it over the phone. He makes a mental note to figure out a quicker way, somewhere through the winding back roads that his old van can speed through to make the distance less daunting.

He pulls into your apartment complex, a quaint two-story thing on the quieter side of town, where the woods are plentiful and the street lamps far fewer. He turns his radio down out of respect for all your neighbors that he’s sure he’ll never meet and spies you through the neon orange porch lights. You shut and lock your door in quick succession, then scurry across the way to meet him.

Eddie leans over to unlock the passenger side door for you, already beaming, and finds you’re smiling too when you climb in next to him. The grin you shoot his way outshines the night sky and makes a bright yellow sun of the girl sitting in his passenger seat.

“Hi,” you’d greeted him, all shy like you didn’t just make him come all over his hand thirty minutes ago.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he volleys back like he always does, with that big ol’ smirk and teasing lilt as he cock his head to the side — using his playfulness to cover up the bashful mess you so easily reduce him too.

Neither of you had gotten particularly dressed up to see each other. All he did was put on fresh under and pajama pants. You succumbed to a smilier laziness it seems, haphazardly brushing through your half-damp hair, throwing on a too big t-shirt, and calling it a day. 

The cotton hangs low at your chest, stretched out and obviously well-loved. It falls well past your thigh, though you spend much of the drive anxiously tugging it down. 

It makes him wonder what you’re wearing beneath it. If you’ve tugged on a pair of shorts or if you’re in the bra and (undoubtedly wet) underwear you’d told him you were wearing over the phone. 

Eddie winds himself up all over again while you sift through the flimsy case of endless cassettes he keeps tucked in the glove compartment that never quite shuts all the way.

“How do you now have any ABBA tapes?” you wonder like it’s baffling, with an Iron Maiden tape in one hand and Cinderella in the other. Metallica plays lowly, nearly inaudibly, from the stereo.

Eddie laughs and darts his eyes from the darkened back roads to look at you, all smiley and bathed in moonlight, before turning back to the road again. “Uh, because I’m not a thirty-year-old woman. That’s the shit moms listen to.”

“Moms and hot girls,” you retort jokingly.

“Right, moms and hot girls listen to ABBA — of which, I am neither, sweetheart. Sorry to be the one to break it to you… Besides, it’s not like you walk around listening to, fucking, I don’t know— Van Halen or whatever.”

“Hey. I listen to Van Halen,” you shoot back.

He scoffs. “Yeah, right.”

“It’s got what it takes!” you sing suddenly, not quite catching the rhythm of the song, but smiling anyway as you reach for his forearm resting on the center console. “So tell me why can’t this be love!”

“Oh, my god— that’s literally their worst song,” Eddie chuckles through the widest grin you’ve ever seen from him. 

It makes you smile big too, looking like an idiot who’s totally head over heels for the boy next to her. And of that, you’re happily guilty of.

“Not true,” you shake your head defiantly. “I love that song.”

“So that means it has to be good, right?” he retorts playfully, shooting you a teasing look, though his beam is more than sincere.

“Obviously,” you answer with a scoff that makes Eddie roll his eyes.

He knows he’s going to start to love it, though, if only because it’s the only Van Halen song you halfway know.

He’s going to hear that song on the radio and he’s going to want to turn it, but he’s going to remember this moment now — the one with you reaching for him while you sing the lyrics to a song he can’t stand, sitting pretty in his passenger seat, while the moonlight blanches your smile and the bare skin of your thighs.

Eddie Munson is going to love that goddamn song for the rest of his life.

He parks as close as he can to Skull Rock, knowing his van can’t work its way that far into the woods. The two of you are forced to walk the rest of the way, not exactly minding it, though Eddie’s incessantly worried you’re going to get cold. 

He’s already forced his jacket upon you, which you took with little fight. It warmed you almost immediately — with his cozy heat and musky cologne.

You make mindless conversation the entire way there, about music and then about his band and then what animal you’d want to be in your band if that were the least bit possible. Eddie chooses a sheep without any hesitation, though you’re confident that a penguin would be far cooler. 

You keep a careful distance between you, at first, like both of you are too scared to initiate the first move. That is, until you trip over a raised branch and nearly eat ass on the forest floor. Then Eddie’s holding your hand the entire way, keeping you close.

“If you wanted me to hold your hand, you coulda just said so, you know?” he jokes. “Didn’t have to go through all the dramatics, sweetheart.”

You try and yank your hand out of his grip in protest then, but he doesn’t let you. In fact, he pulls you closer and twirls you into a bear hug that you happily relax into.

He feels your sigh fan against his collarbone as you rest your head at the nape of his neck, his arms wrap around your shoulders as yours settle at his waist. He rocks you back in forth, in a moment that’s too almost sweet to make fun of.

Eddie finds a way, of course, “See?” he singsongs. “I’ll hug you like this all the time, if you want. You don’t have to almost kill yourself to get my attention, babe.”

“All I did was trip,” you laugh at his theatrics.

“Death by tree root… What a gnarly way to go.”

He holds your hand the entire way to Skull Rock. 

He doesn’t let you go once, not until you’re ascending the large boulders to plant yourselves at the very peak of them. He’s grabbing you again once you settle, though, and the two of you just sit there, for several long moments, just gaping at the stars that dance with life above you. They sprinkle an infinite void with enough light that manages to touch you, trillions of miles away.

There’s a subtle beauty in that Eddie never would’ve appreciated before now.

“Shit, babe,” he breathes through a whimsical existential dread. “You were right. The stars are really fucking pretty out here.” 

You love how much he loves this, to come to Skull Rock with you and count the stars. Any other guy would’ve had their tongue down your throat by now, stuffing your hand down their unbuttoned jeans.

But not Eddie.

He just holds your hand because he likes the feeling of his fingers entwined with yours, grasping tightly onto you while he gazes at an infinite universe — like you might float off right along with it.

His neck is stretched to gape at the night sky. You catch his adam’s apple bobbing every time he swallows. You want so desperately to kiss his milky white skin and sprinkle blotchy red bruises there.

His curly locks fall over his shoulders. He shakes his head to get his bangs out of his eyes while the chocolate buttons of them dart around the endless void.

He’s more beautiful than every star in the sky combined. You can’t be sure of how many that is, of course, but it’s a whole bunch if you had to guess. It makes sense, though, for the prettiest boy in the whole damn galaxy.

“Told ya,” you answer with a smile, leaning over to nudge his shoulder with yours. “You come out here often?”

You’re asking if he takes girls here and he knows it, but it’s not like you’re being inconspicuous about the whole thing. Eddie gauges it almost immediately, the subtle jealousy hinting at your tone — something no one else would’ve caught — and he squeezes your hand in reassurance.

He shakes his head. “No… Never.”

“Never?” you press with raised brows, like his answer shocks you.

“Ever. It’s not really my scene, I guess… But what about you, sweetheart? Never seen you around these parts before.”

You knock his shoulder again, harder this time.  “Shut up. You already know the answer to that.”

“Yeah…” he nods to himself, eyes darting back and forth as he reminisces on something. “You and Harrington, you and Hargrove. Hell, I think I heard about you and Jason one time—”

“That was a long time ago,” you argue. “Before I even knew you, okay?”

“I’m just saying,” he shrugs in defense. “You totally have a thing for pretty boys, sweetheart.”

“I never said I didn’t, Eds. Just that you were pretty, too.”

“Whatever,” he scoffs and rolls his eyes like he isn’t glowing red beneath the moonlight.

“You’re better than all three of them, Eds,” you confess with a sudden softness that catches his attention almost immediately. He turns his attention from the sky to look at you properly again. His breath catches at you sad you look — all beautiful and coated in shades of blue.

“…Yeah?”

You nod and drag his hand into your lap to fidget with his fingers. You trace the skeleton heart on his middle finger, subverting all your attention there because it’s easier than having to look at him now. “Better than all of them combined— not even just them, you know? Out of everyone. No one’s ever been this nice to be before.”

“Me neither, sweetheart,” he confesses with a morose grin. “The freak of Hawkins High attracts a lot of assholes, believe it or not.”

“Is it bad?” you wonder cautiously, like you’re scared to hear the answer. In some ways, you are. 

You hadn’t known him in high school, not really. For obvious reasons, you ran in very different circles. You never even had classes together. There was never any excuse to be close to each other before now, never a reason to become friends. So you didn’t.

You grew to know him as a freak, and he knew you as the town slut. Then somewhere down the line, he became your dealer and now… here you were. 

But you’ve graduated now and he’s still army crawling towards a diploma. You couldn’t save him from the hell of Hawkins High even if you wanted to.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” he shrugs. “Jason and the dick brigade just wanna make my life hell, that’s all.”

“I hope they aren’t,” you respond shyly.

Eddie scoffs then shoots you a smile. “Oh, of course not. Look at me. I’m at Skull Rock with the most wanted girl in Hawkins. I’m living the dream, sweetheart.”

“So you don’t care?” you wonder, peering at him through your lashes, as you twist the silver cross around his finger.

“Care about what?” 

“That I’m a slut,” you laugh like it’s obvious.

Eddie doesn’t think it’s all that funny. “Don’t say that.”

“It’s not like it isn’t true, Eds,” you retort with a trembling smile. “I mean, that’s literally what people call me — most people don’t even care to call me by my real name anymore.”

“I don’t care,” Eddie shakes his head. “I don’t care about that. I don’t give a shit about what people say about you. If everyone cared about what everyone said about everyone, neither of us would be here right now… Because you’d think I was some devil-worshipping freak and I’d think you were too busy getting it on with Chief Hopper.”

You screw your face up immediately at the thought. The mere idea was repulsive. The asshole was practically your father these days. Jim Hopper was in that small bunch of available people you would never fuck, and happily so. 

“I’d never stoop that low,” you joke.

“I like you, how you are, right now,” Eddie promises. “Don’t want you to change a damn thing.” 

His brown eyes twinkle with a sincerity that rivals the stars above you. All of a sudden, you don’t care about a bunch of heavenly bodies light years away from you — you care about this man, the one sitting beside you now, holding your hand even though your palms have gone all sweaty.

It’s too good to be true — the way you looks at you, the way he talks to you, the way he treats you. You’re scared that it’s a dream, that you’ll wake up and find that none of this was ever real. Or worse, that he was, and that he just didn’t care about you the way you cared about him.

It’s almost irrational. Almost. 

But it’s happened before. 

And it’s left you a scarred and mangled mess.

You shake your head to yourself and scrunch your face as you turn to look him. “Have you ever done this before, Eddie?”

“Don’t what?” he wonders with furrowed brows.

“I don’t know…” you shrug. “Any of this? With anyone else?”

He’s grateful he doesn’t have to lie. Or tell some clumsy half-truth for the sake of saving his own skin. He realizes tonight is perhaps the most honest he’s ever been with you, baring his pale soul beneath a silver moonlight. 

“Never,” he answers, unwavering, with a firm shake of his head.

“Really?”

“Really,” he nods, then swallows thickly at a gut-wrenching realization. “I’ve never felt his way about anyone else before.’

“Me neither,” you promise. 

It’s a tad more meaningful coming from you than from a boy who’s never had someone to love and to love him back.

You’re experienced, you’ve found what you like and what you don’t like. You’ve been with guys who have given you the world and guys that have ended yours altogether. And out of all of them — all of the assholes in Hawkins you could’ve picked — you’ve chosen the freak. 

You want him. 

You want Eddie.

The revelation makes him grin. “Promise?”

“Cross my heart, Eddie Spaghetti.”

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #eddie munson imagine #virgin!eddie munson x reader #virgin!eddie munson

[hindulivesmatter]

Why Gandhi is a piece of shit and you should hate him.

Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi has been established in our history as a "Mahatma" which means "great soul"

This man is anything but that.

He is EVERYWHERE. He's on our currency, he's revered as a hero who saved India, and we have a mandatory holiday on October 2nd in honor of him.

If you didn't know, now you're going to get to know why he was a horrible human being. Let's begin.

This man managed to fool people Martin Luther King and Nelson Mandela (among many others) into thinking he was a good person.

Here is some of the shit he's done:

In 1903, when Gandhi was in South Africa, he wrote that white people there should be "the predominating race." He also said black people "are troublesome, very dirty, and live like animals."

 Refused to have sex with his wife for the last 38 years of their marriage. He felt that in order to test his commitment to celibacy, he would have beautiful young women (including his own great niece) lie next to him naked through the night. His wife, whom he described as looking like a "meek cow" was no longer desirable enough to be a solid test.

Believed that Indian women who were raped lost their value as a human.

During Gandhi's time as a dissident in South Africa, he discovered a male youth had been harassing two of his female followers. Gandhi responded by personally cutting the girls' hair off, to ensure the "sinner's eye" was "sterilised". Gandhi boasted of the incident in his writings, pushing the message to all Indians that women should carry responsibility for sexual attacks upon them.

He argued that fathers could be justified in killing daughters who had been sexually assaulted for the sake of family and community honour. 

Gandhi also waged a war against contraceptives, labelling Indian women who used them as whores.

He believed menstruation was a "manifestation of the distortion of a woman's soul by her sexuality".

On 6th April 1947, he gave a speech where he said, “ If the Muslims are out there slicing through Hindu masses to wipe out the Hindu race, the Hindus should say nothing and peacefully accept death”.

He hated the great Hindu rulers, especially Shivaji Maharaj. To please the Muslims, he banned the book named ShivBhaavani which correctly depicted Islam’s intolerance and fierce fundamentalism spread by it.

Refused his wife life-saving medication (for religious reasons), but those religious reasons all of a sudden no longer applied to him when he was in a similar position.

Started a fast unto death when Ambedkar asked for separate electorates for Dalits.

Gandhi left his ailing father on his deathbed, to sleep with his wife. The child born out of this copulation died in infancy. According to Gandhi, the death of this infant was the result of this evil karma.

Gandhi, even when he claimed to be the angel of non-violence, made no efforts to prevent the British from deploying Indian troops at various locations during World War II.

Kashmir was invaded by Pakistan in 1947, the brutal Pakistani army committed heinous crimes against Kashmiri Pandits including mass rape and mass killings consequently many Pandits were forced to flee to Delhi and other places. In one incident Pandits took refuge in an abandoned mosque in Delhi. Infuriated, Gandhi threatened to fast to death if the Pandits didn't leave. The Pandits were slaughtered in a communal riot as soon as they abandoned the mosques.

Criticized the Jews for defending themselves against the Holocaust because he insisted that they should have committed public mass suicide in order to "shame" the Germans instead of fighting back. His exact words were, "But the Jews should have offered themselves to the butcher's knife. They should have thrown themselves into the sea from the cliffs. As it is, they succumbed anyway in their millions."

And this is all from a simple Internet search compiled here. I wonder what else is hiding if I do a deep dive.

Thank you for coming to my TED talk.

#hinduphobia #hindublr #desiblr #antisemitism #history #india #gandhi #can you guys tell i hate him #indian history #british empire #tw rape #tw assault

[ameenvie]

I Think He Knows - Jamie Tartt x fem!Reader

masterlist | ao3 | ko-fi | fic recs

"his hands around a cold glass makes me wanna know that body like it's mine"

Word count: 4.6k Warnings: nsfw, smut, minors DNI! kind of angry sex, unprotected sex (wouldn't recommend irl), oral(male receiving), fingering, p in v sex, praise kink, dirty talk, slightly dom!Jamie(?), hickeys, possessiveness Tags: smut Prompt/Summary: You go out to get your mind off work and Jamie - but to your surprise he shows up at the same bar as you. Things happen. Put me in horny jail. A/N: This is the first smut I've written in a hot minute, and my first ever Jamie fic, so I just hope it doesn't suck! 😭❤ I still have to get the hang of how to write him. Maybe the intro/non-smut part is a bit too long, but idk I kept rewriting this so much. :') I hope you enjoy nevertheless! ❤❤❤

It felt like thousands of hammers were beating down onto your head. You were staring at your computer screen, trying to grasp what you were looking at, but the stress, the flickering office lights, and the constant noises of talking made it impossible.

“I need a break” you exclaimed as you promptly stood up from your desk. The conversation next to you came to a halt as Keeley gave you a worried look.

“Are you alright, babe?”

“Sure, I just need a little fresh air” you answered with a sweet smile. Even though Keeley was your boss, she was also one of your best friends, and you were thankful to the universe that you met her.

You were the social media manager at KJPR responsible for the AFC Richmond brand. And as fun and exciting as it was, there were moments when you just wanted to run away and never look back. Such as today.

The team had a new brand partnership deal, and few of the players had to post to their socials about certain products. It was really nothing extraordinary, but it was a big brand so it was crucial that everything was on schedule. Now you were in the reporting phase, and you haven’t received the necessary info from one of the players yet. As you stood outside the office building, leaning against the wall, you picked your phone out of your pocket and dialed him. It rang once, twice… and he hang up on you. You rolled your eyes and cursed under your breath as you headed back to your desk.

“Need any help?” Keeley asked with the sweetest, most concerned voice you’ve ever heard, but you just shook your head.

“Nothing I can’t handle! I’m headed to the dog track if that’s alright. I need to take care of something.”

“Give ‘em hell!” she replied and left you alone.

You jumped into your car and drove over to Nelson Road, where you knew the boys had their training at the moment. The man at the front desk recognized you and let you in, and you headed to Rebecca’s office first to say hello, then went to the stands and took a seat to wait until the team was finished with practice. When Ted noticed you, he gave you that huge moustachy smile of his and waved at you. You mirrored the gesture before your gaze wandered back to the players.

You sat close enough to the pitch to make out his facial expression when he saw you. First, he seemed annoyed, then he gave you the most dramatic eyeroll you’ve ever seen before he ran away laughing.

You weren’t sure what he expected your reaction to be, but you knew you just looked annoyed.

“Whistle! WHISTLE!” You heard coach Kent scream at the players, and you chuckled. The team gathered around the coaches then made a beeline towards the changing room. You knew this was your cue to follow them as well.

You leaned against the wall as you waited for Jamie, hugging your bag. Of course because he was aware that you were waiting for him, he’d be dead last to leave. You weren’t sure if it was against your person or just the fact that he hated to cooperate. Maybe both. A few of the players started to leave and they waved and smiled at you as hey passed.

After what seemed like an eternity, he finally stepped out of the locker room – as you predicted – dead last. He stopped in the doorway with his hands in his pocket.

“I tried to call you.”

“I know” was all he said, and you raised your eyebrows at him. He was so cocky, you kind of wanted to punch him in the face, but that wouldn’t look too good on your resume.

“Alright, I guess you were busy then.”

“Nah, not really” he answered, and you saw a shit-eating grin spread on his face. God, Jamie.

“Look, I hope you don’t think I enjoy this, but I need the results of the campaign, okay? And you can only blame yourself, because you are the one who insisted that nobody can manage your account other than you. It would make all our lives much easier if I could just check the data myself.” You knew you were rambling and maybe talking a little too fast, showing how annoyed you were. You didn’t like giving people the satisfaction of knowing they got under your skin, but Jamie was world class at that.

“A’ight” he mumbled and started searching for his phone, then handed it to you. “If you want to check it so bad, go on, be my guest.”

You swore your eyes shot daggers at him. You grabbed his phone and took a seat on the bench next to you. He followed suit without a word, hands in his pockets.

You unlocked his phone and opened Instagram, but as you were navigating through it you saw a notification pop up from a girl with a text saying: “try me 😘”. Just a tiny glance at her profile picture was enough for you to conclude that she was gorgeous, and you felt your stomach do a flip. Were you… jealous? Of one of Jamie’s flings? C’mon.

You shook your head as if you could shake the thought out of it as you proceeded to check the necessary info. You didn’t realize, but while you were doing this, Jamie’s eyes searched your face like it held the answer to the universe’s biggest question.

You sent yourself a mail from his phone and shoved it back at him. He looked at you with a look you’ve never saw on his face before, and you could swear for a second that it was guilt sitting in his eyes.

“Thanks for nothing” you said as you grabbed your bag and left.

“Nice seeing you too!” he shouted as you slammed the door behind you. Your blood was boiling in your veins as you were walking back to your office. You dropped yourself onto your chair and buried your face in your palms. What a fucking day. He always finds a way to mess with your head. The sounds of Keeley knocking on your door snapped you out of it.

“Come in” you sighed as you looked at her with a defeated expression.

“Jamie again?” she asked sympathetically as she sat down in front of you.

“Always” you scoffed and started fiddling with a pen on your desk. He’s taking the piss out of me, always trying to get under my skin!” Keeley didn’t say anything, she just gave you a knowing look. “Stop looking at me like that, I know what you want to say!”

“I’m not saying anything” she replied and locked her mouth with an imaginary key and threw it away.

“That’s what I thought” you chuckled and took a deep breath. “I’ll be done with this by the end of the day, and then we can open your not-so-secret stash of champagne in your office, what do you say?”

“Sounds perfect, love!” As she left your office you delved into your work and tried not to think of Jamie. It was so silly – you thought. You felt like you were in school, arguing with yourself about your feelings, and having a crush on the guy who pulled on your ponytail. There was no way you were jealous right? Jamie was insufferable in general – cocky, arrogant, full of himself. Hard to work with. Attention seeking. But he had his moments where he was also funny. Caring. Honest. Compassionate. He was an amazing footballer.

You groaned out loud. You were wrapping up your day as you decided you’re going to put an end to this madness. You went home, picked out a nice dress – nothing too fancy, but it still made you feel like a million bucks. You called yourself an uber and asked them to bring you to one of your favourite bars. You were excited to finally grab a few drinks and let your hair down for a night, and maybe even go home with someone handsome to take your mind off your annoying feelings that started to bubble to the surface.

You took a seat at the bar and ordered your favourite drink. The bartender winked at you, and you chuckled. You propped yourself up on your elbow and started to look around. People were mingling, talking, laughing. Some couples were hiding in the more secluded corners of the room, whispering sweet nothings to each other.

You got your order but before you could thank the bartender for it, you heard a voice all too familiar.

“That’s on me. And another one, will ya’?” You turned around to face him as he was smiling down at you. Your heart skipped a beat as your eyes locked with his – you could never exactly pinpoint what colour they were, sometimes they seemed blue, sometimes grey, even green. You felt like you could stare at them forever. This wasn’t happening. You weren’t even sure if you ever saw him out and about like this. Instead of his usual tracksuit or puffy west he was wearing a white button-down shirt, with a few of its buttons unbuttoned, its sleeves rolled up, showing his tattoos. His hair was let loose, and a few strands fell into his eyes. You felt your heart drop into your stomach, and you were so shocked you couldn’t think of a single word to say, like your brain just short-circuited.

“Wow, Jamie, so nice to see you here, what a lovely coincidence! Come, join me for a drink!” he said, grounding you back to earth.

“Very funny. What are you doing here?” The words came out a little more accusatory than you meant, but you couldn’t help yourself. You came here to take your mind off him, and here he was, hotter than ever, standing so close to you that the scent of his cologne made you feel lightheaded. You wished the earth would just open up and swallow you whole.

“Just blowing off some steam. Celebrating my free weekend, I guess.” He shrugged.

“Alone?” Your question seemed to catch him off guard, as he raised his eyebrows. Your answer was just another shrug. “I see, I see, you don’t have to explain yourself to me, I know how this goes.” You waved with your hands in front of you, like you could shoo the image of him with other women out of your brain. You felt like you were going insane. In the meantime, he got his own drink, and he nursed it on the bar top with his left hand, the other in his pocket as he faced you. He looked even more gorgeous than usual, the way the shirt hugged his muscles ignited a flame in your body you never wanted to acknowledge.

“You know you’re being very judgmental now despite the fact, that you are alone as well.”

“I mean, it’s not my DMs that are full of gorgeous woman inviting me to tango” you scoffed, but immediately after you said the words out loud you scolded yourself internally for sounding so pathetic. Fucking hell.

“Are you jealous, love?” He grinned as he took a sip out of his drink. You rolled your eyes and stood up from your seat, but not before you managed to take a peek of how his lips touched the glass as he drank, and how perfect his jawline looked as he tilted his head slightly. FUCK.

“Maybe in your dreams, Tartt.”

“The lady doth protest too much” he laughed. You were quite shocked that Jamie Tartt out of all people would quote Shakespeare to you, but you were too angry to acknowledge that. You shook your head and turned your back on him, trying to get away, anywhere. You walked to the back of the big room and found yourself in a smaller conversation room – it was empty.

You took a deep breath, and you turned on your heels to head for another, more populated spot, but as you opened the door he stood there, one hand leaning against the doorframe, his drink in the other. He seemed like he was thinking.

“Jamie, I swear to God-” You couldn’t finish your sentence because he pushed himself into the room with you. You felt your heartbeat in your throat and heard it drumming loudly in your ears. He was so close. You closed the door behind him, and you only realized what that suggested after you saw his cocky smile. You didn’t immediately leave the room. You stayed there with him. It was painful to admit – even just to yourself -, but you wanted to be there with him.

He stepped closer, practically caging you between the door and his body. You felt your heart racing and your head spin as you looked up at his gorgeous face. Neither of you said anything, you were just searching his face, eyes darting between his gaze and his lips as you weren’t sure what to do. You didn’t realize he was looking at your lips as well, his breath fanning your face. He slowly leaned in; his lips were barely hovering above yours. Your heartbeat went into full overdrive, and you let his lips linger there for a second before you closed the gap and kissed him.

It all seemed to happen so fast you weren’t even sure it was real. You wrapped your arms around his neck and buried one of your hands in his hair as he was locking the door behind you. In any other circumstances he would be fuming about you ruining his hair, but not now. His hands were tracing your body as he pulled you into him – from your back to your sides, leaving goosebumps in their wake before they finally settled on your bottom as he pulled you even closer. Your nerves were on fire, and you felt waves of arousal wash over you.

When you broke away to get some air, he wasted no time and started to plant small kisses on your cheek, slowly moving to your throat before settling at the soft spot between your neck and clavicle. You moaned his name which made him smile against your skin. You couldn't help but smile too. Somewhere a tiny voice in the back of your mind scolded you for being so euphoric about this whole situation, but you didn’t care. All you cared about is Jamie’s lips on you and the way his hand sneaked under your dress and drew hot circles on your skin.

“My name never sounded so pretty before” he mused before he pushed the strap of your dress aside to kiss a mark onto your skin just above your breast. Your breath hitched as you tried to make him stop.

“Stop it, people will see” you whined, which just encouraged him even more. You felt the prickling sensation on your skin, you were sure he’s going to leave a mark. When he finished, he adored his masterpiece before planting a soft kiss on the red spot he left behind.

“Maybe I want that, love” he whispered against your ear as he caressed your thighs. “I want everyone to see that you’re my girl.”

The sudden possessiveness caught you off guard and you let out a small whimper. Your common sense was thrown out of the window a while ago and at that moment that was all you wanted as well – everyone to see that you were his girl. He stopped for a second to look into your eyes. He placed his hands on your cheeks and pulled you in for another kiss. You saw stars as he kissed you with the passion of a starved man, his tongue gently caressing your lips before he went all in.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, and in a second, he lifted you by your thighs. You wrapped your legs around his hips which caused one of your shoes to fall off as he started to back towards the sofa. While doing so, he bumped into the small table, knocking his drink over. You both chuckled before he finally sat down, with you straddling him.

Your dress was ridden all the way up your thighs, making your black lace panties visible, and it didn’t go unnoticed by Jamie. His gaze seemed hungry, like he was ready to devour you any second, and you felt the heat creeping up to your ears.

“I see someone was planning on getting laid tonight” he said teasingly.

“Oh, fuck off, Jamie!”

“C’mon love I’m just messing with ya” he smiled at you before he put his hand on the back of your head and pulled you in for another kiss. He was smiling into it, the bastard. In this position you couldn’t help but feel his bulge press against you, which made your blood boil in your veins. You wanted him so bad. You let out a shaky breath as you unconsciously started to grind yourself against his clothed length. Jamie moaned under you, and he furrowed his brows like he was trying to focus on the sensation, nothing else.

You slowly unbuttoned his shirt, leaving kisses on his chest as you progressed, and when you finished you slightly pushed it off his shoulders. You were mad for him, and even though you didn’t want to admit, you wanted nothing more than him fucking you right then and there. Little did you know that Jamie was feeling the same.

He looked at you with those gorgeous puppy eyes and you couldn’t help yourself anymore. You planted open mouthed kisses on his sharp jawline, neck, down his chest. You felt bold all of a sudden, and started to suck a mark onto his neck, which he rewarded with a groan. You took a second to examine the red mark you left on his skin before you licked it softly to ease the pain left in its wake. Jamie was a moaning mess under you, bucking his hips into you involuntarily, his hands gripping your thighs for dear life. You felt bold, wanted, sexy. Like a million bucks.

“Jamie, I want you to fuck me” you whispered into his ear, and you thought his soul left his body in that second.

“Fucking hell, angel” he answered and instantly one of his hands was in your hair, pulling you into another kiss, his other hand pushing your dress higher on your body, until your whole ass was exposed. “Such a greedy lil’ thing, aren’t ya?”

He looked at your dampened underwear as he hovered his finger over it, then swiped one big stroke from your entrance to your clit through the damp fabric. You shut your eyes and threw your head back from the sensation. Finally feeling his touch on you was like heaven. The flames of need were eating away at your body, and you weren’t sure how long you can stand the teasing.

“Please, Jamie”

“You’re fucking cute when you beg” he said, a cocky grin on his face, but before you could say anything, he hooked one of his fingers into your panties, and pulled them aside, exposing you completely. You felt flustered, your confidence wavered. He didn’t leave you time to overthink, because he pushed one of his fingers into you without any difficulty. You let out a moan which he mirrored before he spoke. “Shit, all this for me? I don’t deserve you.”

“You’re damn right you don’t” you chuckled as he started to pump his finger into you, before quickly adding another one. He smiled at you as you rested your forehead against his, slowly riding on his fingers. With his free hand he managed to pull down the strap of your dress enough to free your breast and he started to kiss and nib on your sensitive skin, leaving another hickey just above your nipple.

You hissed at the sensation and bucked your hip a bit harder, making him press into you deeper. Jamie’s fingers felt like they were made for you, and he damn well knew how to use them. As you started to ride him a bit harder, he started to curl his fingers inside you to press against your sweet spot and started circling his thumb against your clit with just the right amount of pressure, it made you see stars. You were a moaning, whimpering mess as his fingers fucked you senseless, pushing deeper and deeper with every movement.

“I know, love” he whispered between kisses. You bit down on his lower lip before you tongues started to dance around each other, and he moved his free hand to cradle your breast and caress your hardened nipple. It was all too much – his lips on yours, his hand on your tit and his fingers fucking you like there was no tomorrow.

You felt tension build in your body, your nerves wind up, ready to be released any second. You started riding his fingers harder and faster, chasing that high you felt was so close.

“C’mon angel, come for me, that’s it. That’s my good girl” he whispered against your lips, and just after a few more pumps of his fingers you came crashing hard with Jamie’s name falling from your lips like a prayer, your veins filled with fire as your vision turned white.

He wrapped you in his arms and started to draw circles on your bare back as you came down from your high while he placed small kisses into the crook of your neck and on your temple. After a minute of collecting yourself, you sat up and kissed him again as you started to undo his belt. You definitely weren’t unaware of the huge bulge in his pants, and you wanted to ease his suffering.

He just watched you do it, with one of his arms spread across the back of the sofa. He looked mesmerized by how beautiful you were. After you finished with his belt you undid the buttons of his slacks and pulled them down with his underwear. He just watched you and you could swear he was holding his breath.

You bit your lip as you took the view in, before you started slowly stroking his hard member. He threw his head back and he moved his hand to caress your cheek. You continued to slowly jerk him off, but you couldn’t help yourself. You licked the tip of his dick, and you made it a show. It was slow, sensual, and you looked at him for the whole time. When he caught your eyes he let out a shaky breath and involuntarily bucked his hips towards your face.

You swiped your tongue against his shaft before you took him fully into your mouth and started bobbing your head. His hand moved to tangle in your hair as he guided your rhythm slowly. He moaned under your touch, loving the way your lips felt around him. You started to pick up your pace a little and he rolled his hips against your face. His hand started to push you deeper onto his cock, and the feeling of his length in your throat made your eyes swell up, and you moaned around him.

“C’mon love” he said and guided you away from him, back onto his lap. You straddled him again, his now bare dick pressed against your wet pussy, and you saw stars from the sensation. “Maybe next time we’ll finish that, yeah? But now I want all of you” he said as he aligned himself to your entrance.

Next time was all you heard in your head. You leaned down to kiss him before you slowly lowered yourself onto him. You relished in the sensation of his cock filling and stretching you inch by inch, it was delicious. Jamie’s lips parted slightly as he threw his head back, enjoying the moment just as much as you did. As he bottomed out, you kept still for a second, barely moving before starting to roll your hips, slowly lifting yourself before coming down again.

“Jamie” you whined, and you held onto his shoulders for dear life as you rode him. His fingers dug into your skin at your hips where he held you. You moved so perfectly in sync it was like you were made for each other, the way he rolled his hips into you made you see stars.

“So good for me, love. Taking me so well, my good girl” he whispered against your lips after he sat up, wrapped you into a tight hug and kissed you. He swiped his tongue against your swollen lips, and you bit down on his. You dug your fingers into his hair as you started moving faster and faster, getting overwhelmed by the sensation.

Jamie moved his hand from your hair to your cheek, swiping your lips with his thumb before pushing it into your mouth. You licked it slowly before he pulled it away and moved it to your swollen clit. You gasped at the perfect feeling of his finger being on you again, before he started to circle his thumb around the sensitive bud. You felt your walls tighten around him, which ripped a moan from his lungs. He never stopped his movements, he fucked into you like he never wanted anything else.

“Taking me so well, babe. So tight for me” he whispered against your burning skin. His words poisoned your mind, and they ran through your veins, igniting everything inside you. You buried your head into his shoulder as you felt your climax approaching. He was filling you up so perfectly, his dick hitting your sweet spot with every thrust. He was gripping your thigh so hard you wondered if it’s going to leave a mark. You kind of hoped it would. You felt the knot in your stomach tighten, and his name fell from your lips like a prayer.

“Jamie, I-“ you gasped and you dug your nails into his shoulders.

“That’s it, angel. Come for me” he moaned against your ear and you knew he held himself back. You rolled your hips against him once, twice, all your nerves wind up before they inevitably snapped, and another orgasm washed over you. You moaned into Jamie’s mouth – your vision went white, your muscles clenched around him as you came, which gave him what he needed to reach his own high as well, hugging you tightly onto him. The silence in the room felt deafening all of a sudden. You nuzzled your face into the crook of Jamie’s neck, and he started to slowly caress your hair as he hugged you close.

After your nerves calmed down a bit you started to collect yourself and he helped you to clean up the mess. He took your hand and kissed you, before looking into your eyes.

“So… do you want to get out of here?” His grin was the widest you’ve ever seen and you laughed.

“Yeah, sure” you chuckled as he wrapped his arm around you.

***

The next morning you woke up to your phone ringing. It was Keeley.

“Yeah?” you asked in a sleepy voice, looking over at Jamie who was laying next to you, his arm wrapped around your waist. You were in his bed. He was already awake, looking at you with a sheepish smile.

“So, I know you don’t want to talk about this” Keeley started, her energy through the roof, she spoke so fast you barely had time to acknowledge her words, “but I think you should talk to Jamie. You should tell him you’re into him!” A very telling laugh found its way past your lips before you spoke and you heard an audible gasp on the other side of the line.

“I think he knows” you said to Keeley while looking at Jamie, who was now chuckling next to you as he kissed your free hand.

#jamie tartt #jamie tartt smut #jamie tartt ff #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #smut #oneshot #ted lasso #ted lasso x reader #jamie tartt x reader

[xzaddyzanakinx]

Not That Kind of Guy

Part Four: Stalker!Anakin Skywalker × femme reader series

Warnings: stalking, weirdo behavior, psychotic/delusional behavior, possessive/protective, sexism/misogyny, one-sided relationship, sexual content, pervy behavior, male masturbation, panty kink, sex daydreams [eventual warning for smut; be sure to pay attention to future warnings in the series]

Info: Anakin is doing his very best, he just loves you and wants you to be comfy around him. Just let him worm his way into your heart babe [diary entries from Ani] extremely not proofread. I’m illiterate so apologies in advance MDNI 18+

Diary Entry: July 8th

Mr. Nelson’s funeral was today, it really was a beautiful ceremony as I look back on it. Even more so when my inner self smears the background enough to bring you to the front of the mental image.

You’d spoken to the man a handful of times, but I didn’t expect you to come. When I saw you accept the invite to the event on Facebook I thought surely it was a mistake. That was until you messaged Luke and asked him to accompany you, funerals make you nervous, but feeling obligated to do something and avoiding it makes you more nervous.

So your moral support was happy to attend and fight off dear old Alan’s corpse should he rise from the casket and set his sights on you.

And I though I had irrational fears, geez babydoll, how old were you when you watched Night of The Living Dead for the first time? If I had to guess it was too young. It’s alright though I get it, you know what movie traumatized me? The Mummy. Heebied my fucking Jeebies so bad I avoided the beach on family vacations.

You’re telling me there’s not a sarcophagus under all that sand? There’s at least one under there and you can’t convince me otherwise.

Solid ground for me only, please and thank you.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

I had a thought that I initially considered to be a sweet reminder of my dear friend Alan. His obituary was in the newspaper and I happened to swipe one from the guest book table at the viewing as well. Have you ever scrapbooked before? I bet you’ve at least tried it.

Well I thought it would be nice to make him a page in my journal. A little celebration of life for the man who gave me an opportunity to grow and nurture my love for you.

Then I realized mid-glue stick on the newspaper clipping that the idea was something that a clinically insane person would do.

I’m not that guy. That guy’s not me.

But the glue was already on there and it felt wrong to toss Alan’s wrinkly old face into the trash so I pasted him into my journal anyway.

Crazy people don’t know that they’re crazy. I’m well aware that little idea was less than tasteful, just felt like I should mention that.

Date:

July 28th

Anakin Skywalker hadn’t been this happy since… ever. The previous record being his discovery of you, was now toppled into second place and overshadowed by ‘Move In Day’.

He could hardly contain himself. It was a dopamine high that he would ride out until he’d drained every last drop.

The movers lugged in box after box, furniture and books, until finally they dropped off the last load and thanked Anakin for the business. He eagerly shook their hand and shoved them out. He had preparations to make.

He set up his Tv, screen mirroring the live feed of the apartment building entrance to the big screen so that he could easily keep an eye out for you while he unpacked his kitchen.

He’d planned your ‘meet-cute’ meticulously, looking to your bookshelf and streaming services to gather intel on your ideal scenario. You were an odd bird, but he liked that about you. It’s part of your charm, it’s part of the challenge. You’re not as predictable in your tastes and interests as others can be.

Anakin formulated the interaction step by step, frame by frame in the storyboard of his imagination until he had the perfect scene. His box office hit that he’d replay over and over again until the next time he stood face to face with you.

It took quite some time and a load of practice. Discarded dialogue, awkward movements that made him feel stiff and less than human when he practiced them in the mirror. Endless options of clothes, shoes, and hair.

Should he get a new piercing? He wanted to. So he did, he knew you’d like it.

It’d match the one he already had on the opposite nostril. It made him feel more complete to add something so permanent to his body, he wished he could do something similar with you. He wanted you to be permanent, so maybe it’s his subconscious’s way of telling him that this was going in the right direction.

He was on the right path. His journey of life alone was coming to a close and a new trail would reveal itself. No more rocky, unsteady tread. No more sharp turns and blind spots, no more impossible inclines.

Scraped knees and bloodied hands would be distant memories. Maybe even distant enough that he could toss them into The Pit.

He would have no need for anger or sorrow anymore.

How could he feel anything but the warm embrace of love as he strolled down the flowered path ahead with you?

Who knew that you could position one box in 83 different ways and hate every single one of them? Anakin was so thankful there weren’t any actual surveillance cameras in the apartment building. It’d be really difficult to explain why he was in the hallway for an hour with his hands on his hips, scooting a box of books a centimeter or two at a time. Turning it sideways and then making sure the book on top was perfectly positioned and would effectively fall to the ground to catch your attention.

He checked his watch nonstop, stared at his Tv screen, willing you to just hurry the fuck up before he vomited from anxiety. He’d waited months for this. If he fucked it up now he’d… well he’d probably keel over on the spot.

Which would promptly traumatize you and not even his ghost would be able to peacefully haunt you. It’s hard to peacefully haunt someone if they watched you die, or at least Anakin assumed it would be difficult. He wasn’t willing to test that theory though.

So, he puffed up his chest and walked back into his apartment and rehearsed the upcoming conversation a few more times. He needed, desperately needed to ensure his facial expressions conveyed what he wanted.

Soft, trustworthy, dependable, safe, caring.

He practiced softening his eyes, knowing sometimes he stared alittle too hard. He worked on his facial fidget; chewing on the inside of his cheek was a quick tell of his nervousness. He didn’t want to be perceived as nervous, he wanted to be confident and sure of himself so that you would be confident in your soon to blossom affection for him.

His eyebrows, that’s a hard one, but he’d meticulously watched bar goers trying to flirt. The successful ones he learned, sometimes use their eyebrows in place of questions or words. A difficult concept, but one he studied until he mastered it.

Now, the other facial expressions and mannerisms… he gathered that information from your watch lists on your streaming services. For the visible examples at least, but your books were just as helpful in describing how he should approach you, speak to you, and simply exist near you.

He hadn’t realized these things were this important until now. Standing and posture was surprisingly very, very important to women. As well as hand movements and subtle glances and minuscule changes of expression.

You were worth the time and effort it took to learn all of it. He’d read and research and practice until he couldn’t stand to look at himself in the mirror any longer. He was determined to make sure you were happy with the results.

He was startled by a loud ping, someone had entered to building and holy shit it was you.

Anakin shook out his hands frantically, remembering the breathing techniques he’d learned as a child, he grounded himself quickly.

It’s okay.

‘She’s gonna love you. She’ll warm up to you quickly, you know everything you need to know about her to make her comfortable and loved.’

‘There’s no way she won’t fall head over heels.’

He smoothed out his band-tee and ran his hands through his hair quickly and headed to his door that was propped open slightly. A few boxes sat in the hall, including the most important one, the one instrumental to his plan.

The apartment hallway was ridiculously tiny, which worked in his favor in this situation.

He heard you come up the stairs, counted your steps until he knew you were almost at the door, 17 and a half steps. Then he swung open the door and bent down to grab one of the boxes.

As expected, he startled you and you dropped your keys. You always wore your backpack on one shoulder, one strap. So when you quickly went to scoop up your keys, your bag swung out of place and toppled a few books from one of the boxes.

Perfect. Absolutely perfect.

Anakin could gloat to himself about his magnificent setup later, right now he needed to woo you with his sweet words.

“Oh, sweetheart I’m sorry.” He said softly, coming over to offer you a hand up.

“It’s okay, my bad.” You laughed, taking his hand.

He managed to keep calm and collected despite his insides boiling him alive at the willing skin contact.

“No, not at all. It’s my fault for startling you like that.” He chuckled, squeezing your upper arm and using his hand already in yours to give you a small handshake. Smooth.

“I’m Anakin.” He said with a bashful smile, dropping your hand and reveling in the lingering warmth your palm left on his.

You introduced yourself in return, gesturing to his apartment door.

“So I take it that you’re my new neighbor huh?” You said, making small talk as you crouched down to pick up the books you’d knocked over.

“No I’m just a one man moving crew.” He grinned.

“Very funny.” You laughed, standing up as you looked through the titles. “Hmm, you’ve got good taste.”

“You think so?” He asked, remembering to make his eyebrows swoop up toward the middle of his forehead to give a quizzical look.

“Oh yeah, this is one of my favorites.” You said, showing him the cover of The Silmarillion by Tolkien.

“Not many people actually read that one, I’m impressed.” He smiled.

“Impressed? Yeah well I’m jealous.” You laughed.

“What?” He chuckled, holding his hands out to take the other books from you.

“This is a really nice edition, it’s similar to mine. I recently lost it.” You sighed. “I think I must’ve left it the park or maybe it fell out of my bag or something.”

“Ah, that sucks… well, I mean I’ve read that one a few times now. It’s been well loved.” He said tipping the books in his arms toward the one you were holding. “Why don’t you keep it?”

He shrugged, acting nonchalant as though this didn’t mean the entire world to him and if you said no he’d sob about it later.

“You’re serious?” You asked in surprise, he was offering you a 50$ special edition book and you’d barely known him for a minute.

“Yeah, ‘course sweetheart.” He said with a cute, crooked smile. “Think of it as a… reverse house warming gift.” He chuckled.

“Thank you, I- this means a lot to me.” You said, grinning widely. “That’s real sweet of you Anakin. I owe you one.”

“No worries.” He chuckled, “I’m sure we’ll find a way to make it even sweetheart.” His gaze flickered quickly from your eyes to your lips, and he turned to go back into his apartment after giving you an almost-missed wink.

You stepped inside your home, and went straight to the bookshelf to put your new-to-you book where it belonged. After the fact you stood there and buffered, just staring at it.

‘There’s no way, this guy has to be too good to be true.’

But he seemed… so genuine. He didn’t ogle you, he didn’t make you feel weird or like he just felt obligated to speak to you.

He seemed to actually, really be a good guy.

Rare. Few and far of those exist in this day and age. It’s uncommon to meet someone who would do something, even as simple as giving you a used book, without expecting anything in return.

But he didn’t seem to expect anything. He didn’t seem to even expect a thank you, it was like he’d already decided he would give it to you before he even offered.

What are the odds that a hot, tattooed and pierced man moves in next door and gifts you an expensive book that just so happens to be an even better replacement for the one that you just lost? That couldn’t happen twice even if you tried to make it happen again.

What kind of second dimension did you step into? The land of dreamy men?

Diary Entry: July 28th

It’s late. But I have to write to you, it can’t wait til tomorrow.

Everything went more perfectly than I could’ve imagined. Thank you so much for being you sweet girl. It made my job of curating the scenery so much easier, you clumsy little thing. I am sorry for having to spook you though, but it worked didn’t it?

Research pays off. Always.

And of course there’s the issue of your book, I hated to see your frustration and your mad scowl when you realized it was missing from your backpack. I really did.

But I’d do it every goddamn day if I knew I’d get the same reaction out of you from giving you that new copy.

Oh god you’re… you’re beautiful. You’re so beautiful. You look angelic when you sleep but you look like competition for Aphrodite when you smile at me.

You smiled, grinned. You smiled all the way up to the corners of your bright and beautiful eyes. For me.

You even laughed for me.

It was so sweet I could taste it. The honey of your voice, I could fucking bathe in it. Just the sound of you speaking, knowing you were speaking to me. Really speaking to me.

In the flesh.

It’s intoxicating. It’s emboldening, it’s dangerous. I’ve never been more worked up in my life. I’m torn all to pieces from at two minute and 6 second conversation.

I think I’ll have to fucking recover from this like a damn hangover.

But what has me so drunk you might ask? Was it your laugh at my stupid jokes? Was it your perfect smile, your radiant glow, your soulful eyes? The softness of your skin or you willingness to let me touch you?

No baby. It’s how you said my name.

I wish I could’ve stayed longer, I wish I could’ve spoken to you more. But it’s so hard to concentrate when my dick is leaking precum down my leg at a rate that should probably be concerning.

The minute you closed that door I shoved those boxes into my apartment and locked the door. Took my elated ass straight to the couch and watched you in your living room, admiring your gift from me while I fucked my fist with a pair of your dirty panties in my mouth.

I couldn’t have your honeyed lips soothing my angry red cock just yet, but I sure as hell could imagine licking your gorgeous little cunt while I tasted you.

I tugged my balls and pumped my cock for over half an hour until I was a fucking mess for you in my new living room’s floor. The cool hardwood letting the heat from my flushed skin seep away from me as I came back down to earth.

I made myself dizzy. Didn’t give myself a break, didn’t slow down, just stroked my cock like the desperate little manwhore that I am for you. The only thing missing was you being there to watch me fall apart.

I think you’d like that wouldn’t you? Watching a man like me get on his knees and beg for you?

Diary Entry: July 29th

I’ve replayed that moment in my head for hours on end. The beginning always stays the same, but the ending… that’s been subject to many changes. It started off simple, we’d chat alittle longer, I’d ask you how your day was; you’d tell me it was ‘fine, thank you’.

Or you’d ask me why I decided to move in, why I chose this side of town, this side of town, this apartment building, across from you. That one always ended questionably and I’d rather not explore that one on paper.

My favorites however were the ones where you’d laugh at a stupid pick-up line and somehow we’d end up in your bed. The bed I’ve sat and watched you sleep in. Those were the best additions.

Now, I’ve been fortunate enough that you’ve been loyal, faithful and devoted to only me since the very beginning. So I don’t really have a clue what you’d actually be like in bed.

But god it’s so fun to imagine it.

You’ve got such pretty, soft skin. You let me mar it up with my teeth and soothe it with my tongue. You let me grip the pillowy flesh of your thighs to spread you open for me. You let me pinch and roll and pull your nipples until they were raw and begging for a break. You let me caress the sensitive slick covered folds between those beautiful pussy lips, plunge my fingers in as far as they’d go.

I took you from behind, watching your perky little ass bounce off my cock while I plowed into you. Your face smushed against the couch cushions and your body folded over the arm rest for me to fuck you like the good little girl that you are.

Against the wall with your arms around my neck while I’ve got my hands holding you spread open and in place by the crook of your knees. You promised you stay real still so that I could drill up into you like you deserved.

God damn. Do you know how good you look like that? Back arched against the wall, tits jiggling in my face with every thrust. Your legs pushed up and back to the sides of your torso, to pin you in place?

It was like a pretty pink flower had bloomed and spread its buttery smooth petals just for me.

Don’t even get me started on how good you suck cock. Have you ever been told you could be mistaken for a warm, wet Hoover? No? Didn’t think so cause that would be rude as hell, but I bet someone’s thought it before.

(Me. It���s me, I thought that.)

Fuck those soft lips. Fuck that smooth snake of a tongue. Fuck that tight, hot throat that just loves to take a beating from my dick.

Can’t wait to prove my imagination right.

Speaking of, my dick has been beat. Like actually. If one didn’t know any better they’d assume it’s on life support, but I’m a freak of nature. Cumming upwards of 16 times in the span of 40ish hours would probably put a weaker man in a hospital bed. Or maybe a psych ward.

But I am not a weak man even if my dick feels raw. I’d still fuck you if you asked.

I’d be curious to know if I’d be able to stave off cumming longer from all the abuse or if I’d be so fucking sensitive that I wouldn’t make it in half an inch.

Probably the latter.

Diary Entry: August 2nd

Being so close to you is killing me. Truly it is.

You’ve sunken your claws so deeply into my very soul and you don’t even realize it. It’s torture. To you, I’m just the new guy, nice dude who gave you a book. But to me? You’re my entire world.

I’ve been told I have the personality of a guard dog. Soft and squishy on the inside, dangerous and fierce on the outside. Which I suppose could be true, but really I think it’s for a different reason. For a human, a dog is one small but very impactful blip in your life. But for the dog? You are it’s life.

Am I comparing myself to a dog right now? Yes I am.

I’ll beg for you to throw me the scraps of your affections until you finally toss me a bone.

Bark.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

I’ve been trying my best to give you space. To plan accordingly and in advance. I have our next two interactions simmering on the back burner.

I know that if I go too hard, too fast, you’ll be overwhelmed. That’s the last thing I want. I never want to be the thing that causes you stress, I want to siphon it from you. So, in one week I will set out to help you with a few of your errands and plant a few seeds.

But until then, we have late night snacks and couch chats with Boogie.

I’ve also been doing- you guessed it- more research to do with helpful vitamins and medicines. You’ve responded so well to your SleepyTime tea and since I’ve started making sure your birth control packet is plainly visible in the countertop basket directly beneath that cabinet, you’ve been taking it so well.

I’m so proud of you sweetheart, that’s my girl, look at you taking care of yourself. You’ve done so well in fact, that it’s in my personal opinion that you have earned a very special reward.

Anakin sat on his couch, the live feed of your living room screen mirrored to his Tv. He was watching you cook dinner, he knew you’d be making a stir fry. He’d seen it in your planner, so he’d taken the liberty of ordering himself the same, it’d be here any minute. As would your good friend Sam.

Anakin had originally burned red hot with jealousy at the thought of you inviting a man over to your apartment, that he hadn’t vetted via social media and a quick drop-in. But he was relieved to discover that Sam was just a girl from your book club.

This wasn’t one of his well thought out plans, this was decided upon this morning after you’d returned from book club. So, he was anxious to see if his hunches served him well. Sam seemed like a punctual gal, at least from what he’d seen on social media and the text messages between the two of you from weeks/months before.

Anakin had the wonderful idea to log into your cell service providers website to pull your deleted messages from their data bank. You really should have better passwords.

The thing he was most worried about was his door dasher arriving on time. It was rare that one was too far off on arrival time, but it would be his shit luck and lack of planning that could ruin this little glimpse of you.

The minutes ticked by and he was alerted to the new motion sensors he’d placed near the LED pathway lights on the paved entrance to the apartment building. He quickly switched over to the hallway feed at the front door, seeing that it was his door dasher.

Damn you Trevor. How dare you get there before Sam.

Not to worry, he’d call for the door code and Anakin wouldn’t answer the first time. It wasn’t much but it would buy him a few seconds.

Though it seemed to be that luck was on his side as it often was when it came to you. Sam was so kind, kind enough to let the delivery guy into the building. Which is technically a security concern but Trevor didn’t seem like the type of guy who’d be able to remember a 6 digit door code.

He was too busy staring at your friends ass to pay attention to the numbers she entered anyway.

The footsteps approached your door and his, Anakin waited until he heard Sam knock on your door before he opened his. Trevor stood patiently as Anakin slowly counted out his tip in cash and thankfully you were quick to let your friend inside. After the exchange was complete Anakin gave you a smile and wave.

He could’ve had a heart attack at the response you gave him.

A flirty little finger waggle and smile.

He had to remind himself to breathe and keep his expression a happy-neutral. He’d hate for you to see his blushing cheeks this early on.

“Have a good night girls.” He said as he closed his door and to his surprise you actually answered.

“You too!”

If he weren’t confident that you were a sweet and loving soul, he’d think you were trying to kill him with the siren song of your voice.

Stir fry had never tasted so fucking good.

Diary Entry: July 8th

Grocery day baby, here I come.

I love that you’re so predictable. I love that you’re so fucking cute and always try to strong arm your groceries in one trip. I love that it takes at least two good whacks to the trunk of your shitty old Nissan to properly close it.

It’s cute to watch you struggle with it, the annoyed huffs and angry scowl.

I thought you’d combust on the spot once when your paper grocery bag of flour and sugar ripped open and sent a plume of flour up on your black jeans. The parking lot was very empty and I was very glad because I’d hate for someone to have seen the cursing contest you had with yourself as you picked up your spilled items. Very unladylike you know. But it’s you so I don’t mind, I just like to hear you talk.

It’s almost time. I’ve been sitting in my car for about 10 minutes. Gotta account for the traffic on highway 76. Do you really have to shop all the way out there just because of the Whole Foods? C’mon baby they have the same shit at Kroger.

I’ve been watching your little blue dot on my phone and you’re rounding the corner so I’ll write you later doll.

I love you.

You pulled into the parking lot and sat in your car for a moment. Giving yourself the much need quiet to decompress from your work day and the grocery trip. After you’d checked your messages and scrolled for a moment you decided it was time to head inside before your frozen foods got… not so frozen.

You popped the trunk and fumbled with the faulty latch, your fingers feeling blindly under the metal lip until it finally detached and you were able to open the trunk.

You took a deep breath and scolded yourself for buying the extra few things that could’ve waited till next time. Second trips are for wimps and you weren’t one. So you loaded up your left arm bag by bag until you heard a humored puff of air and the beep of a car locking behind you.

“Need a hand sweetheart?” Anakin grinned, shoving his keys into his front pocket.

He waltzed over and took a few bags off your hands without waiting for a response. It took you aback, not because he hadn’t waited for permission, but because of the way he exuded an odd charm that made you falter.

“Anakin, really it’s alright I can get it.” You said, eyebrows furrowed together in confusion by his kind gesture.

“Mmm no, this seems like a two man mission sweet girl.” He smiled, gathering up a few the last few bags from the trunk and shutting it with one solid push.

“You really don’t have to-“

“I know I don’t have to.” He said tilting his head toward the apartment building to encourage you to walk with him. “I want to.”

“Thank you, that’s… thanks.” You smiled, a light blush creeping across your cheeks.

“Atta girl.” He chuckled, tapping in the door code and holding it open for you despite holding many more bags than you.

Something about the low tone of voice or maybe just the way he looked at you with his icey blue eyes… just sent a chill down your spine. A quick one that was gone in an instant, replaced by a warm glow in the center of your chest.

“Guess chivalry’s not dead.” You joked.

“I’m no knight.” He laughed, “but you’re sure as hell a princess.”

‘Oh that was smooth.’ You thought, trying to ignore the heat at the bottom of your stomach.

What is happening? How on earth can one man be so… everything? Kind, caring, chivalrous and gorgeous to boot.

You felt a wave of embarrassment at the squeaky giggle you let out. He had you tore up from one little comment.

True to the gentleman he seemed to be, he chose not to push it and tease you about your beet red cheeks. He just waited patiently for you as you unlocked your door.

“Do you want me to bring these in for you?” He asked, watching your movements closely.

“Oh that would be great.” You said in relief, leading him into your kitchen.

“Cute little place.” He said, looking around the kitchenette and over to the living room.

He sat down your bags on the counter and started unloading them neatly into rows.

“Oh, you-“

“Mmm mmm.” He shook his head with a smirk, “Just let me help, it’s no big deal.”

You let out a puff of air in an amused sort of amazement and pulled out your little step stool to open up the cabinets. Anakin snickered from behind you as you stepped up and started putting things away.

You shot him a glare over your shoulder and almost said something snarky until you realized he was folding your paper grocery bags in the same way that you always do.

“Huh.” You laughed. “I thought I was the only one who did that.”

“Did what?” He asked, his head cocked to the side.

“Fold the bags.” You said, turning back around to continue placing your things where they belonged.

“Oh,” he chuckled, “I dunno it’s just a habit I guess. Fits better in that stupid slot on the recycling bin this way.”

“Yeah I never really understood why they made them that way? I guess so people don’t just shove other trash in there.” You mused.

“Mmhm probably.” He agreed, stacking them neatly and gathering it in his hands. “Do you want me to take these out back for you?”

“I can do-“ You stopped yourself when Anakin raised his eyebrow and cocked his head to the side with a crooked smirk.

You sighed and gave him a downturned smile. “Yes, I would love for you to take them out back for me.”

“Good girl.” He nodded, clicking his tongue and heading for the door. “See ya princess.”

After he shut the door you let yourself breathe alittle easier, blowing out the air in a short puff through your nose. Maybe even letting a little smile cross your lips before you finished up your task.

You’d be thinking about that low rumble of his voice later. Good girl? Shit.

PART FIVE

Tag-List:

@wickedtactics @tsugumiholic @kingdomhate @burnthecheshirewitch @exquisitcorpse @arzua10 @bby-imasociopath @depressed-kay @aliciaasky @naty-1001 @mrsmikaelsxn @bunnylovesani @ausskywalker @angelsadmired @slut4starwarssmut @chocolatepalacecloudhoagie @starkiller419 @hearts4mitski4 @lethargic @allhailbuckybarnes-blog @shadowhuntyi @mortalheartache @fallinlovewithevil @sythethecarrot @chaoticantihero @vadersslut @luvvfromme @anakinsbaee @doblasftcisco @sweetcheesecakesblog @luvskywxlker @angelsadmired @kaminokatie @anakin-pilled @graveyard-stray @styleslytherin @chiaraanatra @jediavengers @zapernz @lunalitva @salted-snailz @queenofchaos99 @ellie-luvsfics @dazednstars141 @nico-velvet @rorysbrainrot @hopesworlld @mawhOre @lonaah @t8Izw @guiltycherries

Let me know if you wanna be added/removed

#star wars anakin #anakin skywalker #anakin smut #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin x reader #star wars #anakin x you #sw anakin #darth vader #darth vader smut #darth vader x you #darth vader x reader #anakin fanfiction #anakin skywalker x you #anakin skywalker x reader smut #anakin skywalker fanfiction #anakin #hayden christensen x reader #hayden christensen #star wars x reader #star wars fanfiction #star wars smut #james kelly

[iloveaustinelvisandmannymore]

For the person, who requested the bullies König and Horangi I accidentally deleted the ask 😔 but! I tried to write down all that I remember and I think it's pretty much all of it. I hope you enjoy it and to let you know how happy you made me with your wonderful kind words💜.

(Warnings: Non-con, Force blowjob, Oral (Fem), Breeding, Humiliation, Degradation, Bullying, Panty sniffing, Full nelson, Creampies, Squirting, Force handjob, Choking, Hair pulling,)

This is dark! If this is not your thing please move past it. You don't have to hate on me just because you don't like what I write. I decided to make this a part one and put 2 because I feel like it would be too long if I didn't so.

Chewing on part of your bottom lip, you looked up at the building of the College you attended. Dark gray clouds dominated the usual blue sky, and the scent of rain heavily whiffed in the air. You huffed a sigh as you began to walk with your fellow students, you muttered thank you to the boy who was nice enough to open the bulky door for you as you watched the floor, squeezing your books more against your chest as you heard the hectic, loud chatter of friends meeting friends.

You hesitantly looked ahead and a few feet from your locker were the men who loved making your life miserable, you still felt the bruises from them holding your wrist too hard. König, the Star Quarterback and captain of the football team, and Horangi the most liked member of the basketball team. Both transfer students from different countries who became the populars of popular people. Horangi laughed and könig smiled as if someone must have made a good joke and like some sixth sense of torture, they looked your way, wicked smirks on their lips once they saw you.

Whoever was up there took pity on you and the ball rang, sparing you from their torturous ways, for now.

The ball rang for the last time, signaling the closing of the college and for everyone to head to their dorms. Slowly you packed your stuff, while the rest of your classmates hurried to leave your last class and go home. By the time you were walking to your locker, the hallway was bare of life, your footsteps brought a ghastly, eerie feeling to the otherwise silent path, it felt like you could hear your breathing echo around you.

You drop your backpack and shove your shelved books in it, sway it over your shoulder, and continue your journey to your dorm. Your yelp was muffed as a large hand clapped around your mouth and pulled you within a lightless janitor closet. "Don't scream unless you want to be hurt, Ja Liebling?" the austrian voice of one of your bullies purred from behind you and took his hand away. Horang stepped closer to you after turning on the light and reached out to move a stay hair behind your ear.

"P-please just let me g-go." you stuttered, heartbeat was beating like a drum in your ears. "No can do, sweetheart." König cooed, spun you around, forced you to your knees, fisted your hair, and shoved your face against his bulge, "Scheiße! Braves Mädchen! (fuck! good girl!)" he groaned, throwing his head back,  and squeezed his celeste eyes shut as he humped your cheek, in desperate strokes. "Such a good girl." Horangi purred in agreement as he replaced his best friend's hand and yanked your head back as König rushed to unbelt his pants and pulled them down, his girthy dick slapped his stomach from his fast movements. Your eyes widen at the sight, he is long, veiny, big, and has an uncut head. 

Both men chuckled and smiled wickedly at your terrified expression. König pumped his cock, pre-cum drooling out of the slit on his bulbous tip, suddenly he thrusted his dick into your maw and throat, you gagged harshly, you never sucked a dick before, and if you have it wouldn't be as huge.

Horangi pushed your head forward as König drew his hips back and snapped them, causing you to gag again. The salty/ sweet pre-cum overpowered your taste buds as König used your throat as a fleshlight, a mess of saliva and pre-cum pouring down your chin, his sticky heavy, full balls smacked your chin his ginger pubes dark and wet. They smelled a little bit musky an almost addiction scent.

You peaked through your eyelashes and the sight above you had your core heat up with slick. König'd broad chest heaved and sweat glued his usual fluffy and mid-ear cut hair to his forehead, his groans and moans high-pitched in tone. His thrusts fasten, his balls tighten, and unexpectedly robes of his warm cum, painted your mouth white and forced you to swallow every drop.

Once he pulled out after staying in place, you coughed have nearly choked on his jizz. You didn't have time to rest when you were lifted from your spot on the tiled floor and pushed into Horangi's chest "Forgot about me,여자 아기? (babygirl)". He pouted before taking off your shirt, bra, and skirt and when he got to your panties, he took a deep whiff of the crotch area, his honey-brown eyes rolling back in his head as he inhaled the tang of your arousal. 

You whimper as your body begins to heat up at the pervy vision of his clear satisfaction.

When your form was completed naked you shoved back into his taller, giant companion. Your back against his chest, your legs now in his forearms and hands behad your head as he lined his cock with your opening "Don't worry Schatz, I'm gonna fuck this whore of cunt till you see Sterne. (Stars)" he said before dropping you down onto it, inch by inch buried into your cunt until he was balls deep. "Scheiße!(Fuck!)" König growled and drilled his cock up.  Each snap of his hips slammed his tip to your cervix, it was so fucking good! You aren't a virgin but they never had any good rhythm, never moved their hips at a good angle. You moaned feeling Horangi's pink tongue lapping at your clit, hooking into the hood and König jerked his cock at an angle that glazed your G-spot and cervix with powerful thrusts. Hornagi used the tip of his tongue to flick to his friend's movements before suckling in your swollen bud and the knot within broke, your pussy clenched and sprayed your juices onto König's dick and balls, a load of warmth filled with your cunt, thag must have been the groaning man that hold you in his arms cum. 

You panted but you didn't have the time to rest as your back touched the cool tile and your leg threw over Horangi's shoulder, eyes black and hair messy like he ran his fingers through to push back his bangs that stop semi-past his eyebrows, his blue jeans off and his dick hard. His was just as thick yet not as long as Königs, the head cut, and balls heavy, ready to pour his potent in a breedable hole. He wasted no time and slammed into your wet core, Horangi leaned down, and the very motion dug himself deeply, "Is our little toy ready to get her brains fucked out?" Horangi chuckled as you whined pathetically for him to move. A second chuckle joined with his, and  from your peripheral König kneeled by you, pumping his cock "Ja, she's already becoming a cock hungry whore for us." König grinned grabbed hold of your hand, and made your fist his large cock. You felt a wave of humiliation and embarrassment but that didn't last as Horangi began to jackhammer into you, grinding into your cervix, his now wet dark pubes became sticky with slick rubbed at your bud of nerves and that was enough to get your toes curling, your moans, and squeals was music to your bullies. Just as good as a song from your whimpers of pain when they hurt you.

"Goddamn bitch!" Horangi growled in pleasure, the feeling of your clenching cunt edged him closer to his climax, and he'd never admit but your pussy was the best he had so far. His pounding was harsh, fast , and precise, you gasped as he kissed you deeply, sneaking his tongue past your lips and swirling around yours. All the while König groaned at the sight, watching you become more and more cockdrunk, he bit his lip as he fucked your closed hand like your core.

With one thrust Hroangi spilled his seed into your already cum filled cunt his hips continued to jerk and stutter. You came with a powerful vengeance, your body couldn't handle it. And the void welcomed you into it's dark embrace.

(shout to @diejager and @konigsblog for making me addicted to these men)

#tw.dark content #tw: noncon #Bully!Horangi #Bully!König #könig smut #könig x reader #horangi call of duty #horangi x reader #horangi smut #könig call of duty #König x reader x Horangj #horangi x reader au #könig x reader au #horangi x you #könig x you

[iliketangerines]

Maybe make a part two to that Raiden fic? Like he actually has the confidence to go fuck you. My size kink goes wild with that man. This Raiden Fic is now stuck in my head. I love your writing.

desperate for you pt. 2

a/n: i gotchu cuties, and thank god google translate exists.

pairing: lord raiden x afab!reader

warnings: nsfw (MDNI), overstimulation, pussy eating, fingerfucking, blowjobs, cum eating, cowgirl, mating press, slight somnophilia, full nelson, size kink, slight degradation kink, slight exhibition kink, breeding kink

Raiden can’t concentrate

not when you look so beautiful in that dress, it clings to your skin, accentuating your breasts and your curves, and he can see your legs in all their glory

thick thighs that he knows would just be plush and soft underneath his rough fingers

but, he’s also about to crush the glass in his hand because there’s a special forces soldier talking to you that’s nowhere near good enough for you

he’s touching your back, your arm, and his hand drifts back to your ass every so often, and you’re clearly giving him hints to back off, but he just keeps on persisting

Raiden should drag you away from this godforsaken work function at this grimy bar and strike the man down where he stands

even better, he should just bend you over in front of everyone and fuck you to show everyone that you’re his

he shakes off the mental image and approaches you two, glaring at the man, who gulps and gives a pathetic excuse to and fuck off

you sigh and give Raiden a shaky thanks, the soldier from earlier was getting a little touchy with you, and you weren’t really interested in him

Raiden just lets out a hum, afraid if he speaks he won’t be able to stop the lewd things he wants to say to you

he stays next to you as a 7 foot guard dog, shooting glares with anyone that dares to try and get any closer, and he lets you ramble on and on until the conversation takes a turn

you complain about how all the men you’ve been with have never been able to satisfy you, can’t even find the clit, and it’s so frustrating

your cheeks are warm and your head is feeling a little spinny, and you rest your head in your cheek as you bemoan how you’ve never cum before

Raiden feels his cock twitch in his pants, his heart pounding in his chest as he leans in close, and tells you he could satisfy you

you look up at him and your mouth gapes open, unsure if you had heard his proposition correctly, but Raiden stays firm in his question

your eyes glance up and down his form, and you stutter out a yes, and Raiden smiles and hooks your arm with his

he tells the bartender to put the drinks on Johnny Cage’s tab and drags you off outside to bring you to his personal quarters

the both of you disappear in a flash of lightning, and the second you both appear in his bedroom, he can’t keep his hands off of you

he’s enraptured by the way his hands engulf your soft thighs, and you’re just as pillowy as he imagined you to be as he squeezes at your breasts and your hips and your legs

you whimper as he manhandles you to lay on his bed, and he leans down to kiss you furiously, closing his eyes in bliss as he finally gets to kiss your plush lips

you’re so soft and pliable, and Raiden wants to stay like this forever, engulfed in your warmth and your plushness

but he has plans

he releases himself from your lips and kisses down your neck, sucking a hickey high into your neck, hoping that the next time that special forces soldier sees you, he won’t ever try to take what’s his again

he trails down and pulls your dress down to expose your breasts, and he nearly growls when he realizes you haven’t worn a bra

he tells you that you’re just begging to be fucked like this, wearing no bra like some common whore, and you whimper at his words

he latches onto your nipple, sucking and biting at the sensitive nub, and you cry out and grip onto Raiden’s white hair, tugging on his soft locks

he groans at the feeling and suckles on your nipples, bringing his hand up to pinch and pull at your other nipple

you let out little whines, and Raiden is drunk on your sweet sounds and bites a little harder to hear you yelp in pain and pleasure

he switches to your other nipple, lavishing it with the same attention as he licks and sucks on it

your hips buck up into his, and he groans as your thighs press into his aching cock

he squeezes your breast roughly in one hand and detaches himself from your chest to admire the way the fat of your chest spills in his hands

he just squeezes at your chest for a few seconds, and your face warms in embarrassment

he leaves a final kiss on each breast before ripping the dress off of you, and you gasp, whining that the dress was expensive

but all Raiden can focus on is the way you also have no panties on, you truly were a slut

he forces your thighs open and stares at your pussy, wetness dripping down onto the sheets of his bed, and your legs twitch as they try to close

you bring a hand down, a little embarrassed at the way he just stares at it, but he grabs onto your wrist and leans down to get face-to-face with your drooling cunt

he asks whether you were planning on going home with somebody tonight, and you turn your head away, burying it into your free arm

he smacks at your thigh with his large hand and tells you to answer your god, and you whimper and say yes, you were going to go home with somebody

Raiden’s vision slightly blurs at the edges as he imagines some subpar soldier bringing you home and not pleasing you right like you deserved to

he growls out that you’re such a slut, prancing around the bar without a bra or panties, and you whine at the words, begging him to do anything else besides stare at your pussy

he says that you’ll never be able to go home with anyone else again before diving into your pussy, large tongue pressing firmly into your puffy clit

your hips buck, and he lets go of your wrist to pin your hips down and force you to take the pleasure he’s giving you

you grip onto his hair as he sucks and nips at your clit, moaning at the taste of you and swearing that not even all the other elder gods could pull him away

you whine as your grip in his hair grows tighter, and when Raiden’s nose perfectly grinds into your clit as he fucks your pussy on his thick tongue, your back arches off the bed and you cum, your sweetness covering his face

Raiden moans and continues to lap at your pussy, trying to drink you in because he really could stay here forever with how your soft thighs tighten around his head and how sweet you taste on his tongue

you jerk away, clit sensitive, as he keeps on sucking on it and tears prick at the edges of your eyes as he slips in a long and thick finger into your dripping pussy

you whine, his fingers much thicker than yours, and grind into his face despite the overstimulation

Raiden continues to hum into your clit and fucks you slowly on one of his fingers, feeling your pussy spasm around it as you cum on his finger

you cry out as Raiden adds another finger, pressing his tongue into your clit as he fucks you slowly on his fingers, and you whine at the sound of your wet cunt filling the air

the stretch burns deliciously and the mix of pleasure and pain fills your mind as Raiden flicks your clit back and forth on his tongue and curls his fingers into your sweet spot

you can't think, hear, see anything except feel the way Raiden stretches you out on his thick fingers and hums around your clit

you tip over the edge and cry out Raiden’s name as he makes you cum for the third time

he retracts his fingers, licking your cum off them as he crawls back up and kisses you sweetly

he then moves you easily off the bed so that he’s standing, and you’re kneeling before him at his feet, and he files away the thought of you looking needy and pathetic at his feet

he tells you to take out his cock, and your hands tremble as you bring them up and pull his pants down

it springs from its confines, tip flushed and red as your lips part slightly and your eyes look up at him in slight fear at the size of him

Raiden tells you not to worry, that it’ll fit, and you wrap a hand around his shaft, hand barely able to connect at the edges as you pump him

you lick at the tip, and he groans and encourages you, telling you that you’re doing wonderful

you leave kisses on his cock, dragging your tongue on a sensitive vein on the underside of his cock, and Raiden’s hand shoots down to grip onto your hair

you continue to kiss his cock before finally kissing the tip of his flushed dick and taking just the tip into your mouth, tongue pressing into the slit and circling it

Raiden moans as you slowly bob your head up and down, lips stretching around the girth, and it’s better than anything he could’ve imagined

you take him deeper and deeper into your mouth, only able to take him halfway before his dick hits the back of your throat and you come off, gagging and coughing

he lets you cough and drags you up, having to lift you off the ground by your waist, and kisses you, tongue massaging against yours as he tastes himself on your tongue

you whine and Raiden falls back onto the bed and lays your cunt on top of his dick

he slides you back and forth on his dick, letting your wetness lube him as your hips jerk forward to try and get more friction

he loosens his grip on you, telling you to go at your pace and take him

you bite your lip and lift yourself up to align himself and slowly sink down on his tip

he groans as your pussy clenches tightly around his cock, struggling not to buck upward and slam you down, and you whine at the stretch

you bounce up and down lightly, thighs burning as you take more and more of him

Raiden can’t focus on anything but your desperate moans and the way he can see the bulge on your stomach grow as you sink further on his dick

but you stop prematurely, not fully bottomed-out, and you whine, saying you can’t

Raiden grunts and flips you over, staying inside of you, and throws your legs over his shoulders

you groan at the stretch of your legs, but grip tightly on his shoulders as thrusts in and out of you, sinking his cock further and further into you

he growls into your ear that he’ll make it fit, and your mind goes fuzzy at the thought

finally, with one final thrust, he fully bottoms out in you, and he groans at the feeling of your tightness fully enveloping his dick

tears drip down your face at the stretch, and he kisses them away, shallowly thrusting into you to let you adjust to his size

he looks down and sees the outline of his cock on your stomach, and his thrusts start growing deeper and faster until he’s fully fucking into you

you whine as he fully surrounds you and takes up every sense that you have

Raiden gets on his knees, lifting your hips up, and places his hands onto your hips and somehow gets faster

you’re nothing but a doll on the bed, drooling and whining as the new angle hits you deep inside and has your pussy clenching down on him

the sound of your moans, his grunts, and your wet cunt fills the room

Raiden barely feels like a god, he feels more like an animal as he watches how his cock fucks into you and how his large hands cover your hips

he reaches his thumb down and flicks at your clit,and you whine in response

he wants to stay like this forever, fucking into your tight wet cunt, but fuck he wants to cum deep inside of you, fill you with his seed

he wants to see you full, breed you with his godly seed, wants to see you round out, your breasts fill with milk, your thighs grow with fat

he imagines how soft you would be, how compliant and submissive and beautiful, how you would taste so sweet and how you would fall apart underneath his fingertips

he presses into your clit harder, telling you to cum for your god, and you moan at his words and clench down on his cock and cream all over his cock

he groans at the feeling of you and his thrusts grow erratic as he cums inside of you and fucks you through yours and his orgasm

his thrusts slow, and he stays inside of you, plugging his cum inside of you and keeping your hips raised up

you lay on the bed, panting and floating in a reality of pleasure and half-asleep from how fucked-out you are

Raiden lets you down after a few minutes, moving you so that his cock stays inside of you but so he can spoon you from behind

he runs his finger over your body as your breathing slows and you fall asleep

he falls asleep soon after, and when he wakes up, your pussy is dripping around him, and he’s hard again

you wake up to him fucking you, back flush to his plush chest and your legs hooked over his arms as he fucks deep into you

he cums deep inside of you again, and he goes down on you once again and laps at the mixture of yours and his cum

he has you cum on his fingers and tongue a few more times before helping you get out of the bed and into the bathroom

you brush your teeth, wash your face and body while he does the same, watching as the remnants of his cum drip down your legs

he wipes it away with a soft rag, pressing a kiss to the inside of your thigh, and gives you one of his shirts to wear

he teleports you two back to base, and you change into more acceptable clothes and head to work with a lovesick Raiden behind you

he holds onto your hands, admiring how his hand engulfs yours, and when Raiden sees the soldier from last night pale at the sight of the dark hickey on your neck and the way you cling to Raiden, Raiden lets a smug smirk overtake his face

he finally has you all to himself, and he’s never letting go

#tangerine writes #tangerine answers #mortal kombat #mortal kombat 11 #mk11 #mortal kombat smut #mk smut #mortal kombat x reader #mk x reader #mk x you #mk x y/n #lord raiden #raiden #raiden mk11 #mk11 raiden #raiden x reader #raiden smut

[princessbrunette]

can you do jj spitting in the reader’s mouth after making her call him dad

basing this around the episode where jj dressed up as a paramedic because that was one of his sexiest looks n people moved on from that too fast !!!!!!!!!

𐙚🐈‍⬛⋆.˚❆

jj was not the responsible one in the group. jj, was the fun one! the trouble maker, the reckless loose canon, mr ‘stupid things have good outcomes all the time’. he was not responsible, let alone strict.

that was until he met you.

he couldn’t believe half the things that came out of his mouth. like, ‘do your jacket up, now.’ who even says that? he couldn’t stand the thought of you in trouble, couldn’t bear for you to do any of the dumb things that he’d normally do, and he would never ever in his power let anything or anyone pierce through your skin and hurt you. not a chance, you’d have to get through him first.

thinking that this change of his went unnoticed is a laughable offence. he was consistently ridiculed with ‘wow, who are you and what did you do to our best friend?’ — and that he could take, usually laughing it off with a petty tongue in his cheek— wondering the same damn thing. but you, well — you had taken it upon yourself to don him a brand new nickname.

‘dad’

it made him huff, nostrils flaring and nose tip twitching upwards like it physically made him itch everytime it slipped from your mouth. “thanks, dad.” you’d giggle when he’d stop you in your tracks to tie your shoe before you went tumbling over yourself. “sorry dad!” you’d whisper in amusement when he would send you a tight lipped look that meant shut up and listen. “please, dad?” you’d emphasise deviously when he’d deny you the permission to do something reckless.

the worst part is, it made his dick hurt. no not throb, not stiffen— hurt. the sentiment made him wanna fuck into you in a way that strays from his usual pipe game. no cheeky quips with a thumb on your clit having eased his length in inch by inch, no— none of that. he means a headlock, or full nelson or something ridiculous and a deep hard fucking that makes you cry.

you’d been a pain in the ass on this little mission of his that he didn’t want to let you on in the first place. it involved a failed jail break, a stolen ambulance and paramedic uniforms. well, he wore the white all-in-one paramedic suit and the navy cap with the logo on it, and you — you sat pretty in the passenger side wearing a polo top with the hospital logo and a black mini skirt. he said if the two of you get caught, it’s on you and your ‘sex shop costume adjacent’ get up.

in hindsight, it was clear you were feeling him in the uniform from the start, looking at him all unfocused and doe eyed whilst he rambles about the plan on the drive there, sucking on that juicy bottom lip and all.

“dude— are you listening? john b’s livelihood is on the line here. we gotta take action.” he barely glances at you as he steers the ambulance, which only makes you want it more.

“yes, dad.”

it’s dad this, dad that— all the way up until you’re panting in the back of kie’s car— having escaped a police chase with no john b in tow. jj was frustrated, full of adrenaline, and turned the fuck on— which is why your panties were around your ankles as soon as he got you back to your empty home.

infact, the pink lace underwear was still binding your ankles when he had your knees pressed to your chest, his all-in-one uniform pulled down off his body just enough to have his dick out, fucking into you mercilessly with a hand around your neck. you’re totally fucked our already, moaning and squealing uncontrollably— and the cap still resides on jj’s head as he grits his teeth, talking down to you.

“nah, call me what you wanna call me— go ‘head, you know i’ve been waitin’ on it to slip out. who am i, babydoll? fuckin’ tell me.” his voice grits and his cheeks are all pink, still cute despite everything.

“d—ugh!” you can’t get it out, because he’s hammering into the spot now, and you’re nearly there. also, you chickened out. you both knew you were into it, this whole ‘dad’ thing— but there’s pride involved. embarrassment. the self awareness that you’d be a wet dream for a freud-following-psychology-student.

“come on,” he chuckles but it’s angry. “say that shit. loud n’clear baby i’m listening.”

“dad, please! wanna cum, dad!” you cry, and it’s this big burst of emotion, because you’re somewhat humiliated— feeling exposed over your kink that had been thinly veiled as a joke until this very moment. his jaw drops for a second after you say it, like he can’t contain the pleasure flooding out of him— but he gains control again in a second, authority seeping into him. his hand loosens from your neck, instead choosing to thumb at your bottom lip.

“yeah, yeah that’s right. that’s what i thought. so you do know how to be a good girl, got it. now open up.”

you don’t, so he tugs your jaw open with his thumb and leans in, spitting a big wet glob of spit into your mouth, smearing what didn’t go in around your swollen lips and laughing at you. sick, sick man. “you like that shit, huh?” and you really did.

he stops getting so antsy and irritated in the future when you drop the nickname on him in public after that point. now he knows what it really means.

𐙚🐈‍⬛⋆.˚❆

#anon #jj maybank prompt

[farfromstrange]

Weed Cookies | Matt Murdock x F!Reader

PART 3 of The Vault

See this post for more information on my Valentine's Day Special & Follower Celebration, but these fics can be read separately!

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Summary: Karen receives a box of cookies from one of their clients. Foggy and Matt take a bite. Even with his heightened senses though, Matt doesn't realize what's wrong with the cookies before he's absolutely wasted, and you have to babysit him. Yes, they were edibles.

Warnings: Fluff, faint hints at S3 depressed!Matt and suicidal ideations, attempt at humor, crack fic, accidental drug use, for the sake of this fic we are going to pretend that the edibles were made well enough for Mister I-Know-Everything to miss it

Word Count: 3.4k

A/n: I wrote this after watching the episode of Grey's Anatomy with the Weed Cookies. I took some behaviorisms from my own experiences and exaggerated them a little to fit the vibe of this fic. I scraped parts of this and once again adjusted them because this was even more poorly written before than it is now, and I added the Nelson, Murdock & Page Season 3 narrative again because that's now the running theme of this event. Anyway, if you choose to consume edibles, stay safe! (Also, I'm just copying and pasting my usual tag lists. if anyone wants to be added for this event, do let me know)

“We just got cookies from Ms. Lebowsky next door,” Karen announces happily when she enters the office, balancing the transparent Tupperware in one hand and her handbag in the other. 

“She told me to thank you for helping her get out of that hellhole,” she says. Her eyes crinkle in the corners as a mischievous grin takes over her face. “There’s plenty for all four of us. Although she did mention Matt a few more times.”

“Ms. Lebowsky?” Foggy asks. He stands in the doorway of his office, holding a freshly brewed coffee. “Isn’t she the elderly lady we helped last week?”

“Yeah, that’s her. I think she has a crush on Matt.” 

He rolls his eyes. “Of course, she does. Who doesn’t? Not that I do, but—well, you get the gist.” The blood rushes to his cheeks, and Karen giggles in response.

From the office on the left, Matt’s voice rings out, “We just did our jobs,” he says. “She made us cookies, dude!” Foggy inspects the box on Karen’s desk. “They’re chocolate chip cookies. Our favorite. See what good looks can buy you?”

Matt chuckles, his fingers tracing the Braille indentations in the documents that are starting to form a mountain before him. “I think we got them because we’re good lawyers, Foggy.”

“Yeah, right. No way! That woman was smitten the second she came in. I really gotta get that blind thing going. I mean, she’s way too old for you, but come on! You’re in a serious committed relationship, and women still come piling at your door. It’s not fair.”

The way he whines like a little kid who has just been denied his favorite candy makes Karen laugh at his antics, and even Matt can’t help but join in. No matter how stressed he is, and how badly he wants to focus, Foggy never fails to lighten the mood.

Ever since moving offices, things have been going well for the trio. 

When Matt met you, he was at his lowest. You helped him climb out of a dark hole that was threatening to swallow him whole after losing Elektra and almost losing everything he worked so hard for to Wilson Fisk. Thanks to you, he found the will to fight again. You brought him back to life.

He wanted to die. He hated himself for the longest time after the building collapsed and forever took the first woman he ever loved down with its ruins, but then you came into his life, and you didn’t care about his baggage. You were far too good for him, but that didn’t matter to you. 

He fell for you hard and fast, and maybe the timing was a little off because what he needed was therapy and not someone new to get attached to. Still, if you hadn’t pulled him back to his feet and encouraged him to fight back against Fisk, saving his friendship with the people he cares most about in the process, he would have never made it far enough to get therapy.

Matt trusts you with his life because he feels like he owes it to you, but he also loves you more than anything. You’re the best thing that has ever happened to him. You’re his soulmate, and he couldn’t be happier.

Nelson & Murdock added Karen to their permanent repertoire. With her, things are flowing much more smoothly, and they’re actually making money now. They’re expensive, as Foggy likes to say it. Matt’s friends are just as happy as he is, giving him hope for the future.

“Hey,” Foggy snaps him out of his trance, “Earth to Murdock.”

Matt blinks behind his glasses, his fingers halting their frantic movements along the paper. “While I don’t disagree with what you’re saying,” he says, “please don’t let my girlfriend hear you say that women are piling at my door.”

Karen snorts. “Trust me, Matt. She knows,” she says.

“Yeah, but you shouldn’t remind her of that.”

“My lips are sealed. Foggy?”

He sighs, once again dramatically. “As long as you don’t sleep with them, you have nothing to fear, my friend.”

“I wasn’t planning on it,” says Matt. “The one I’m sleeping with is incomparable.”

Foggy grimaces. “Oh, dude. Gross! You know, God made conscious thought as a mechanism for humans to know when to shut up.”

“To be fair, ninety percent of the population don’t know how to use that mechanism,” Karen jumps to Matt’s defense.

As he laughs, he takes a whiff of the air surrounding their new baked goods. Matt can smell the sweet chocolate of the cookies, and somewhat of a herbal essence, but he can’t quite pinpoint why the scent seems so familiar. 

Karen walks around her desk to drop her bag and her coat. “So, do guys want a cookie?” she asks, swiftly changing the subject.

“I’ll take one,” Foggy is quick to answer.

Matt nods from his desk. “I’ll try one, too.”

The innocent decision to indulge in a sweet treat soon comes back to bite them in the ass though. Heavily.

When Matt first bit into the cookie, he didn’t think there was anything wrong with it. It tasted like chocolate mixed with basil, sugar, honey, and the kind of flour Ms. Lebowsky used, but he didn’t find much else wrong with it. Perhaps if he hadn’t allowed himself to get distracted by his phone calling out your name and the sweetest text he could have possibly received this early in the morning from the love of his life, he would have noticed that something tasted off about these cookies. And that what he believed to have been basil as a secret ingredient was something else entirely.

When lunchtime finally rolls around, you drop everything you were doing before and make your way to Matt’s office. You always spend lunch together. It’s your favorite time of the day. For an hour, you can forget the stress of your workplace and focus on him. He’s your safe haven. Your home. You crave to memorize his features anew every day so that you will have something to carry around with you when he has to work a bit longer, or when he goes out at night and his Daredevil duties drag on beyond what he planned. 

You need to be with him as much as possible because you’re scared that your happiness will shatter on a white cloth, and you will be forced to move on—you can’t imagine losing him. You dedicated your life to loving him, and the thought of ever losing that privilege kills you. 

On your way out, your phone vibrates in your pocket. You smile, thinking that it’s Matt, but when Karen’s number pops up on your screen, you frown. 

‘We have a problem,’ she texted you. Without context. 

All the alarms in your head start blaring, and you start to walk a little faster. You start imagining all possible scenarios. When you ask Karen what’s going on, she doesn’t even reply. What if someone got hurt? What if something happened to Matt? You almost lost him once; you can’t go through that again. 

You burst into the new office space that your friends share a few minutes later, your chest heaving and sweat dripping down your pulsating temples. You’re ready to fight whoever dared to hurt the man you love, or possibly threaten your friends, or both, but when you look up and see your darling boyfriend with his cheek pressed against one of the leaves on their gigantic office plant as if the overgrown Calathea were the coziest pillow he has ever touched, you understand why Karen texted you that you—both you and her—have a problem. A big one, too, judging by the looks of it.

“What is going on here?” you ask the dreaded question, shutting the door behind you.

Only then do you notice Karen to your right in Foggy’s office, trying to get him off of his office chair. He’s belting the chorus of Defying Gravity at the top of his lungs, and he’s got a broom clutched tightly in his right hand.

Oh boy. Your wide eyes drift to Karen’s desk in the middle of the room. As soon as you see the chocolate cookies inside the Tupperware, it slowly begins to dawn on you.

You’re not sure which is worse: Matt cradling a houseplant with his glasses discarded and the first three buttons of his dress shirt undone as he’s coated in sweat, or Foggy singing one of Broadway’s greatest ballads so off-key that the Calathea is starting to wither.

It takes Matt much longer than usual to sense your presence in the room. He calls your name, and his lips curl into a bright grin. Even completely out of it, he looks like an angel on earth. 

“Matthew,” you say. You approach him like you would approach a little kid. He’s on his knees, so the analogy isn’t far off. 

“Hi, honey. What’s going on?”

“Sweetheart,” he greets you, and you have never heard this man sound so relaxed. His hazel eyes are red-rimmed and glazed over, but the most obvious change lies in his behavior. 

“Feel that.” He reaches for your hand when you’re close enough for him to smell you, but he misses. “Where are you?” Matt pouts. “I can’t see.”

You want to laugh, but this is not the time. “You are blind, baby,” you remind him. 

“Since when?”

“Over twenty years.”

“Oh.” He finally gets a hold of your hand. The conversation seems to go right over his head. “Feel the power of nature,” he tells you. “It’s so soft.”

You want to drag him away from the potentially dangerous plant if he decides to eat it, but the sight of him is one to behold. He looks downright adorable. 

You have to focus though. You gently pat his hand. “Maybe later,” you say, and then you make your way to Karen’s desk to inspect the cookies.

Behind you, she calls your name. You twirl around. From the looks of it, she managed to get Foggy down from his chair, but he remains singing at the top of his lungs. All the signs point to one thing, and one thing only.

“Did you give my boyfriend weed cookies?” you sound a lot more condescending than you planned to. 

Karen shakes her head. Her face is pale, and she looks just as panicked as you do. “Those are not mine,” she says. 

“But you knew they were edibles?!”

“Of course, I didn’t! I started questioning it when Matt started cuddling the plant because his Braille felt like boobs and he didn't want to cheat on you, so he decided that he needed to touch some grass.” She points to him, exasperated. As if on cue, Matt lets out a happy little sigh.

Your brain struggles to process all of the information at once. “I’m sorry, what?”

“He said that his Braille feels like boobs. I don’t know! I thought he was messing with me until Foggy turned into Elphaba, and that’s when I took a bite and realized there was weed in them,” she says.

You groan, your worried eyes momentarily flicking back to your high boyfriend. High. That’s not a word you thought you would ever associate with him. “How did this happen?” you ask.

“Ms. Lebowsky, the lady next door, we helped her out the other day, and this morning, she gave me these cookies. I called her when these two started acting like idiots—more than usual, anyway. Turns out, she confused them with the ones her niece made for her birthday party tomorrow.”

“Her niece made edibles for her birthday party?”

“Please, don’t ask. I don’t have all the details. I just–”

“It’s fine,” you cut her off. “Just tell me that you’ve got Foggy under control.”

Karen peeks in through the window to his office. “More or less, yeah. You’ve got Matt?”

“Yeah, I’ve got him.”

You have to take care of him. He’s your responsibility. But as calm as he is right now, his heightened senses make the situation a lot more complex than the mere accidental consumption of edibles.

Walking over to him, you try to haul him up. He protests, at first, but then he feels the fabric of your shirt, and he slacks.

Matt wraps his arms around you, burying his face in your neck. “You’re so soft,” he coos. “You smell like honey.”

With his entire weight on you, you have to widen your stance so you won’t fall over. His usually quick reflexes are nonexistent right now; he won’t be able to catch you if you trip, and then you’re both going to get hurt.

“You know what’s even softer?” you ask.

“The plant,” he answers confidently. He sounds like a more careless version of himself. You can’t deny that it does something to you.

“No, silly,” you chuckle softly, “I meant your bed.”

“Oh. But I’m not tired.”

“You’re high.”

He pouts. “I didn’t mean to.”

“I know.” You stroke his back. “It’s okay. I’m not mad at you.”

He stiffens and relaxes at the same time. You swear you can feel the electricity in his veins as his nerves respond to the feeling of your skin on his. It’s like he’s on fire. Like your touch feels a million times more intense, and he’s being crushed under the weight of it in a way that makes him crave more. 

He squeezes you tighter, trying to get swallowed by you, consumed to the point that you are the same person. The drugs are doing a number on him, and his already heightened sense of feeling has increased tenfold to the point you’re not sure if it’s pleasurable or painful or both. It must be agonizing, yet at the same time there is a high chance that the weed is calming his nerves and dampening his perception to the point he’s taking everything in without the added weight—he’s enjoying the newfound sensations in limbo, and he’s unaffected by it. You wonder how long that is going to last. 

After bidding farewell to Karen, wishing her good luck with Foggy who has now reached a point of his high where he’s lying on the floor, demanding to listen to Bohemian Rhapsody and cry over Freddie Mercury. She assures you that she has got it under control, apologizes again, and then sends you on your way.

“Bye, Karen,” Matt says. “You have very nice hair.” His hand tangles in yours, and his face lights up like a Christmas Tree. You managed to convince him to put his glasses on, at least, or he might get irritated. “Never mind,” his voice turns into a pur. 

Usually, you would shiver at his fingers in your hair, tracing the strands and sensually massaging your scalp only he knows how to, but today is not one of those days. You’re still concerned about the effects that the weed might have on him, so you want to be careful, although you’re not sure how much longer you can keep yourself from laughing. 

As you maneuver Matt through the streets of Hell’s Kitchen, his cane hovers above the ground and his arm is hooked around yours. Without you, he would have run off into traffic by now. He has absolutely no spatial awareness anymore. 

Every sound, scent, and texture seems to capture his attention, but there's one sensation in particular that he can't seem to shake: thirst. You’re not even home yet, and you had to stop by a convenience store to get him a bottle of water. He shed his coat, which you are now carrying for him while also guiding him while simultaneously trying not to attract any unwanted attention. 

You can’t help but look at him as though he is your whole world. He is. He is everything to you, even high on edibles he never meant to consume, and acting like a feral toddler. If anything, you are even prouder now that he is yours. 

“Hey,” he whispers, leaning close to you, “do you think fire hydrants taste like licorice?”

You shake your head. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but Matt, don’t lick the fire hydrant.” 

He pouts. For a moment, you think that you have steered off any possible disaster, but that was only wishful thinking.

Matt’s curiosity knows no bounds, and he’s soon reaching out to touch anything that catches his eye. He runs his fingers along the rough brick foundation of a building, marveling at the texture, and he stops to sniff a flower, declaring, “This is the most beautiful flower I have ever smelled.”

You pluck it for him, and he carries it in the pocket of his coat with a happy smile. 

You’re both exhausted when you finally make it to his apartment. Getting his large frame through the door is one thing, stopping him from tearing the tap off the sink as he desperately searches for liquid with the words, “Water!” is another.

“Okay, okay,” you try to calm him. You grab a bottle from the fridge, open it for him, and force him to take it. “Drink.”

One touch is enough for him to drop it. “It’s cold,” he recoils in agony.

You sigh. “Tap water it is, then.”

You have never seen him down so many glasses of water. He is severely dehydrated and sensitive to changes in temperature. It’s either too hot or too cold, and you’re so glad that Karen texted you when she did.

You manage to get him to the couch with some snacks that he devours within seconds. If he moves one more inch today, you may not be able to catch him again.

His lip twitches. “Chickens don’t have any arms.”

You pause in the process of wrapping him in a blanket, staring blankly ahead at him. “Excuse me?” you ask.

“Chickens don’t have any arms,” Matt states. “Every American citizen has the right to bear arms under the second amendment in the constitution. If an egg was fertilized on US soil, and the chicken hatched there as well, technically, that makes them a citizen of the United States of America, therefore allowing tiny creatures without arms the right to bear arms, but who gives the bears their arms?” 

You’re so flabbergasted that the absurdity of the situation eludes you. The words process only slowly in your mind, and when they do, they cause a wave of confusion to wash over you before it turns into genuine amusement, and it takes every ounce of self-control to keep yourself from laughing at him.

You can pinpoint the exact second the thought escapes his mind and something else replaces it. His hand brushes over the leather couch. “Smooth,” he observes. You haven’t even fully processed his very philosophical question about the animal kingdom before he drops his cheek down on the couch.

The man who has been carrying the weight of the world in bricks on his back for years is finally relaxed; it shouldn’t leave such a bitter aftertaste in your mouth.

You kneel in front of him, reaching out to touch his cheek. “Do you need anything?” you ask.

Matt’s gaze is filled with an odd sort of clarity. “Nah. Just you,” he mumbles.

A soft smile tugs at your lips as you brush a sweaty strand of hair away from his forehead. "I'm right here," you reassure him. 

He nods, his eyelids drooping as the effects of the edibles start to take their toll. “Good.” He searches for your hand, and you help him intertwine your fingers. A giddy smile finds its way onto his face. “You’re warm.”

You lean in to press a gentle kiss to his forehead. “And you’re high,” you tease.

Matt huffs out a breathy laugh. “Mmh, yeah,” he says. “But it’s okay. ‘Cause you’re here.”

Despite the chaos and the unexpected turn of events, there’s a sense of contentment settling over you as you watch him drift off into a state of bliss. He deserves it more than anyone. 

You stay by his side, watching over him as he succumbs to the pull of sleep that you’re all too familiar with after a sudden high. 

“Note to self,” you say to yourself, “never eat a stranger’s cookies without drug testing them first.”

And love has funny ways of making even the most absurd moments feel strangely beautiful.

Matt Murdock Tag List: @littlenerdyravenclaw @yarrystyleeza @etanordoesbullsh1t @thychuvaluswife @harleycao @schneeflocky @imjustcal @pipsqueakkitten @merlinbtch @sya-skies @amberritonicole @thatonegamefish @norestfortheshelbywicked @mattkinsella @itwasthereaminuteago @linamarr @gpenguin666 @acharliecoxedfan

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock #matt murdock x f!reader #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock x you #daredevil #daredevil x reader #reader insert #from the vault #charlie cox #weed cookies

[dnd-writes]

A Gift From Within

AO3

Tags: Non-con, yes, yet another non-con fic. Sex toy!Hyunjin, bondage, ruined orgasms, anal, cum in ass, anal, cum in ass, anal, cum in ass, you guessed it, anal, cum in ass, cockwarming, technically food play-ish, bowl, cum swallowing

A/N: Thanks to late night degen hours, Smite's fic idea that spawned that KIOF fic, and my inbox being flooded by you guys (@kaedespicelatte pinging for no reason at all) Happy birthday to Loossemble's commander, Hyunjin!!! For her birthday, I present to her... a non-con fic! Feeling very down bad lately so uhh, expect more of these short non-con quickies in the coming days. So I guess welcome to my new apparent series which we'll call... Non-con November (depending on how things go, likely it will continue into December, so the name is temporary (though not like it needs a name)) Also don't expect these to be logical or sensical, just lots of horny degen ramblings that I put together Also, this is admittedly 'sub-par' but I promise the next fics will be 'better'

You wake up next to Hyunjin’s drugged body, you get to your feet and grab the rope laying on the table beside you. You waste no time as you get to work. You start by taking her clothes off, just the prospect of seeing her naked body is getting you hard already. You grope Hyunjin’s chest for a bit before taking her shirt off, then you unclasp her yellow bra and all that’s left are her bare tits, not the biggest but they’re still cute little handfuls. They feel so soft as you touch them but you stop yourself before you get too carried away, you still have a plan to execute. All that’s left are her skirt and underwear but you take those off with ease, leaving Hyunjin fully nude on your bed. What Hyunjin lacks in the breasts department, she makes up for in ass and thighs, you give her asscheek a quick slap and watch as it ripples across her skin. You grab a whiff of her pussy, heavenly, you help yourself to a little meal but with Hyunjin drugged out, there’s not much for you to get, so you carry on with the next step, tying her up.

“There and there.” You tighten whatever knots still feel loose as you finish, you stand up to admire the work you’ve just spent about an hour doing, Hyunjin’s naked body tied up. Her body is bent in half, her ankles are tied behind her head while her hands are tied behind her back. It almost looks like a full nelson made even rougher than it already is, just without a cock spearing into her asshole from below, though you’re about to fix that soon enough. For now you caress Hyunjin’s delicate face, her sleeping look and the ropes tied around her body, each beauties in their own right.

It doesn’t take long until you hear Hyunjin groaning. “Ah, just in time.” You pick her up then put her down on the ground, you take your pants off then kneel down, raising her hips so that you’re at just the proper height for your cock to line up with Hyunjin’s asshole. You play around a bit as you wait for Hyunjin’s consciousness to fully recover. You graze your length along her slit, dry, as expected. But you can’t wait to have her squirt endlessly for hours on end. 

Hyunjin’s eyes flutter awake, she tries to stretch her body but she quickly realizes her limbs are stuck in place, she tries to struggle but finds her whole body tied up, only managing to move her head about her neck but nothing else. “W-Who are you?! Where the hell am I?! What the hell is this?!”

You simply close her mouth with your fingers, “Shh, shh, shh. Everything is going to be alright, Hyunjin. Just relax, it will be over before you know it.”

Even with your gentle instructions she still doesn’t listen, they never do, always wanting to do it the hard way. “No. No, no, no. Help! Someone HELPPPP!!!” she screams for help but you just sigh at her, you’ve sound-proofed the place long ago, yelling will just waste her angelic voice. You stand up and grab a pair of scissors, immediately Hyunjin shuts up but you just chuckle, the scissors aren’t for her, at least, not directly. In your other hand you hold a roll of duct tape, you close Hyunjin’s mouth and wrap about two rounds of tape around her head before cutting it off. “That should do it, now again, just relax, Hyunjin. It’s gonna be easier for both of us, I’m telling you.”

Now onto the next step. You take your cock and spit on it, jerking off a bit as you spread the saliva everywhere. Then you spit on Hyunjin’s asshole and immediately he begins to panic as she realizes what you’re about to do, thrashing with all her effort although her body barely even moves. She screams as best she can through her taped mouth while shaking her head but you remind her again. “Relax… or it’s gonna be painful.” 

You spread Hyunjin’s cheeks apart but her tense body is just clenching heavily causing her sphincter to blink at you. But you still carry on, you make one last attempt to spread her ass open but it barely seems to do anything. You spit on the tiny hole once again as you start to penetrate it, the saliva helps a little bit as you feel yourself ever so slightly sliding into Hyunjin’s asshole. Slowly but surely you push past the entrance and you find yourself sinking every inch deeper and deeper into her anal canal. Even with the gag, you can still hear Hyunjin’s cute little moans.

You finally hilt and you give Hyunjin some time to adjust to your size. In the meantime, you play with her pussy. You start simple, just the middle and pointer fingers, but as you make your way inside, Hyunjin reacts violently. “Sensitive, aren’t we?” It’s like she would much rather have a thick cock in her ass than two fingers in her pussy, though it’s not like you would care for that boundary, you’ve broken so many at this point, what’s another one?

You slowly curl your fingers inside of Hyunjin, prodding and exploring her vaginal walls as you maneuver your fingers in and out. You finally hit a spot that gets the most reaction out of her and you don’t hesitate to start attacking it. Hyunjin’s muffled moans fill the room as her breath gets more and more erratic.

Before Hyunjin can reach orgasm, you pull your fingers out, she looks extremely annoyed. Probably the only good thing she’ll ever be able to enjoy today and even that you stripped away from her. You make an audible sound of delight as you stick your soaked fingers in your mouth, you could have had more but you decided it’s been long enough since you penetrated Hyunjin’s ass.

You start to pull out then thrust deep inside again, your skin slaps hers and it causes her thighs to jiggle. You thrust again and again until you find a steady pace to fuck her ass at. Each slap onto her ass is accompanied by a mixture of hindered grunts and moans coming from Hyunjin. You lift Hyunjin’s ass into the air, bending her into an L-shape as you start slamming your hips into hers. You bend forward and meet her face, you could have kissed her but she was being too much of a loudmouth that you had to do something about it. Instead you attack her neck, sucking and biting on her exposed skin, repaying some of the pain you caused by giving her some hickeys.

You give one last slam as you feel your balls draining into Hyunjin’s ass. She expects you to be done, to do something else, but you don’t even pull out of her butt. “That’s one,” you say. You lift her off the ground while making sure your cock doesn’t leave the confines of her rear. As you press her up against the wall, Hyunjin realizes what your plan is, to fill her ass with cum. It’s simple, you fuck her ass and cum, then fuck her ass and cum, then fuck her ass and cum again, just that over and over until the day finishes.

You fuck her a couple more times in the bedroom, counting every load you dump deep into her. You fuck her against the wall, then you fuck her while holding her close and giving her more hickeys while sitting on your side of the bed, then you fuck her for the last time against a different wall. Now a total of four loads as you exit the bedroom.

You make your way to the kitchen. You fuck her on the table while waiting for your coffee, then you fuck her against the counter while waiting for your toast. You head back to the table where you start fucking her while sitting on a chair, after every orgasm you switch seats and take a bite of your toast, repeating it until you finish your meal. By now you’ve lost count of how much you’ve dumped and you couldn’t be bothered to recall it. 

You spent so much time that your coffee is now cold and it’s almost the afternoon. You head over to the living room and turn the TV on, with nothing to watch you just put Netflix on and play the next episode of your show. Though instead of focusing on the program, of course, you focus on Hyunjin’s ass. You fuck her missionary on the left side, then you fuck her cowgirl in the middle, then you fuck her while embracing her again on the right side, only except this time instead of biting her neck, you spray kisses along her face. After that you fuck her on the coffee table, then you fuck her on the floor, then you prone bone her along the length of the couch. You hear the TV stop making sound which is your signal to move elsewhere. 

You head upstairs and look for a new room to indulge in your depravity and your eyes set on your office. For once, you’re not here to work, but rather you’re here to stuff someone’s ass full of your cum. 

You barely make it inside and you’re already starting to fuck Hyunjin’s asshole again, you push her up against the door, you hold her in place as you piston your cock into her from below. You take this time as an opportunity to have a go at her chest. Due to her petite size, you’re able to almost swallow one whole breast into your mouth, it almost feels like jello the way it jiggles in your mouth. You latch onto her whole breast like a child and your tongue starts to play with her nipple, flicking it, licking around it, and just getting a taste of her whole boob. 

You move over to the other breast after lathering the other one in spit, only except now you become much rougher. You start sucking on the other tit but instead of playing and teasing, you start biting her skin and nibbling on her nipple. You can hear Hyunjin’s grunts of protest as you tug on her chest using just your teeth.

You pump another batch of cum into Hyunjin’s ass, you’ve lost count long ago but based on your rough estimate, you’re easily in the 20’s but it also feels like you’re in the 30’s already. 

You carry Hyunjin up to your desk and slam her down, she cries in discomfort as binder clips and pens dig into her skin. But instead of helping her out, you lean forward and press her further onto the table. You’ve never seen Hyunjin squirm so much before, you’ve been raping her ass all day long but only now has she complained the most. She cries even harder as the objects dig into her skin. If the table were any lower, you’d be able to get on top of Hyunjin easily. Though what’s stopping you from doing that anyway?

You carefully get on the table and kneel down, knocking away anything you might accidentally hit, can’t have that happen to you. You then press your entire weight onto Hyunjin and rejoice as you hear her cries through the tape. Every thrust paired with a pleading cry to get out. 

You cum in her ass and finally lift her off of the table, you hold Hyunjin in your arms as you look over her shoulder and assess the situation. You brush off the things sticking to her skin, only leaving behind the red marks of all those objects digging into her. You lean Hyunjin against your chair to put her somewhere comfortable after what you just put her through, but with the way her limbs are tied behind her and the way you angle her to fuck her ass, it’s not really much better.

After depositing another load of cum, you then fuck her under the desk, then you fuck her while you sit on your chair, then you fuck her one last time one the desk the same way you did earlier, using her cries as a driving force to keep going.

As your stomach grumbles, you head back down to the kitchen. You heat up some leftovers and while waiting, you fuck Hyunjin against the countertop again. Much like earlier, you spend the next couple of hours rotating around the table while fucking Hyunjin’s ass in various positions. Only except this time before you take a bite, you keep your chopsticks in Hyunjin’s pussy, just to give your food an extra little “flavor.”

Finally finished with your meal, you take the chopsticks out of her pussy and give it one final lick before tossing it into the sink. You head back to your bedroom, exhausted from a full day of doing nothing but cumming inside Hyunjin’s butt. You gently carry Hyunjin onto the bed and place her down on it. This being your last load of the night, you take it a little slow, some might say a little more passionate, though ultimately it doesn’t differ from the umpteenth other times you came in her ass. After delivering the final load of the night, you go to sleep on top of Hyunjin, your cock snug and warm in her asshole.

You wake up, still rock hard inside of Hyunjin’s ass, this is it, the final stretch. You shake yourself awake then lift Hyunjin up, still being careful to not accidentally pull out of her. You hold her by her ass, letting gravity do its thing, bouncing her along your length as you walk towards the kitchen. You take a bowl from the cupboard and set it down on the floor.

You set Hyunjin on the edge of the table, she grunts as she feels it dig into her back, you would have picked somewhere more comfortable for her but you’re in the final stretch, you can’t stop now. You hold onto Hyunjin’s hips as you thrust upwards into her, you can feel the stored cum sloshing against your dick with every thrust and it excites you, making you pound Hyunjin’s ass even harder.

Finally you dump your final load in her ass and now you know it’s time for the final step. You kneel down on the ground and for the first time in a whole day, you take your dick out of Hyunjin’s ass. Your cum leaks out like a waterfall and you hold Hyunjin’s cheeks apart to let everything flow out, you shake her body for good measure to really get every last drop out of there.

You prop Hyunjin against the wall to make sure she’s upright then you slowly peel the duck tape off of her face so as not to hurt her. The first thing she does as her mouth is freed is to spit on your face, “Fuck you, asshole.” You wipe the saliva into your hand. “When I g—” You slap the spit back on her face, which seems to be enough to get rid of her snarky attitude. “That’s not nice” Is all you have to say about what she just did.

“Here’s your present, Hyunjin. Happy birthday!!!” You grab the bowl off the floor and present it to her, a collection of all the cum that you dumped that lingered inside of her ass for a whole day. “Drink your gift, Hyunjin.” You press the bowl close to her lips and the first thing that hits her is the smell, she retches as she turns her head as far away as possible from it. “No, it’s fucking disgusting.”

You grip her chin and hold her steady, forcing her mouth open as you hold the bowl to her lips. “You have a choice: either you drink it, or I’ll make you drink it.” Hyunjin just nods her head as she chooses to go with the easier option, you can’t say that it doesn’t surprise you, all the others fought for the hard way, it puts a smile on your face seeing someone listen to you for a change.

You slowly tilt the bowl and the content slowly drips into Hyunjin’s waiting mouth, she immediately gags as it hits her tongue but regardless she forces herself to drink the cum. With the bowl now empty, you set it aside as you give Hyunjin a pat on the head. “For being so polite, here’s an extra gift, just for you.” You stand up and point your cock at Hyunjin’s face. “Open wide!”

#kpop #kpop smut #loona #loona smut #kim hyunjin #kim hyunjin smut #hyunjin #hyunjin smut

[its-time-to-write]

i honestly would love to see more of jamie with bea like him deciding to take her to see the team for the first time after she’s born because maybe him and reader wanted some time for themselves and get adjusted before having everyone meet her?

My whole family is out today and I have nothing to do, so I’m going to be answering some requests! And maybe opening up my inbox again

I’m a sucker for requests that ask for continuations of my other fics. Thanks for requesting!

lyrical smile, indigo eyes

How did you become lucky enough to have a baby like this with the absolute love of your life? You were pretty sure that you and Jamie had peaked at marriage, but Beatrice Georgie Tartt just takes the cake. You are exhausted because labor was intense, and Jamie swears if you gripped his hand any tighter you would have shattered it. But you didn’t, and you’re out of the hospital and back at home. Bea is a week and a half old, and there are only four people who have met her, outside of the hospital staff: Georgie, Simon, Roy, and Keeley. Jamie didn’t want you to be overwhelmed by a lot of visitors right after you had Bea, so he asked a favor from Ted, who promised to keep AFC Richmond so busy that they wouldn’t have time to drop in unannounced.

But now Jamie’s getting ready to go back to training, and he wants to take Bea with him before it starts.

“I can take her this Friday, Isaac’s been texting me all week and Coach said he’d end training early,” he says from his place on the living room floor, folding onesie after onesie.

You roll your eyes from the couch with Bea in your arms, half-asleep in the middle of her feeding. 

“You sure you’re up to it, babe? She goes through diapers like crazy. You’re gonna have to bring a brand new pack if you even want to stand half a chance.”

Jamie just grins. “No problem babe, I’m a pro. Ain’t in the Premier League for nothing.”

“Alright,” you say, “I’m coming too, but only to go have girl time with Rebecca and Keeley. Becca says she has some like spa-day stuff for me. Apparently she did all the research into postpartum care.”

Jamie makes a hm, interesting face and Bea lets out a gurgle and wakes herself up.

—

You roll up to Nelson Road at 1pm, diaper bag packed with everything you could possibly need. This is your first time out of the house with Bea, and both you and Jamie are nervous. He’s trying to make you laugh with dumb jokes but your eyebrows are tightly knit together. 

Bea is incredibly tiny, and the Richmond boys are… well, they’re not. You know they can be gentle, but you also know they are capable of getting overexcited way too easily. You nervously fiddle with the toy hanging from Bea’s carseat so Jamie looks at you in the rearview mirror and says, “Babe, relax, it’ll be fine, yeah? They don’t have to hold her or anything, and I’ll make sure she’s alright.”

That calms you down a little. You know Jamie means it. He’ll watch Bea like a hawk, and isn’t afraid to be a prick when it comes to taking care of the people he loves. You take a breath and nod as he pulls into a parking space.

—

The team is on the pitch, so you and Jamie walk out to meet Ted, Roy, and Beard. The boy see you walk up and immediately stop their drills, but Roy shouts “Oi! You lot still have got thirty fucking minutes! Keep fucking going!” So they go back to whatever the heck they’re doing.

Ted says, “Look at this cute little tartlet! Ain’t she just the sweetest thing?” and you can tell by Beard’s reaction that Ted’s been waiting to use that one for a while. 

“I washed and sanitized my hands three minutes ago,” says Roy, “can I hold her?”

That is a little bit surprising. You would have assumed Ted would be the first one to ask, but you suppose he’s Phoebe’s favorite “Uncle Roy,” a reason, so you hand her over with a kiss on her forehead. You kiss Jamie and say, “Bye babe, I’m headed to see Keels and Becca,” then turn on your heel to Rebecca’s office. You’re headed inside when you throw one last glance at Bea, and almost burst out laughing; Jamie’s helping Roy put on the wrap so he can wear Bea while yelling at the team. You look out the window once you make it to the second floor of Nelson Road and see Roy coaching with Bea snugly secured to his chest and Jamie hovering close by. You’re glad today’s drills don’t seem to involve any footballs.

You tap on Rebecca’s door then push it open, and are immediately almost knocked over by Keeley, who has launched herself at you. 

“HI BABE, HOW-FUCKING-ARE YOU?” she squeals, and you wonder if she’s so loud because she was containing herself when she met Bea. You grin and squeeze her back.

“I am so fucking tired and so fucking happy,” you reply. “Hi Bec!!”

Rebecca gets up off the couch and gives you a tight hug as best she can, because Keeley is still holding you.

“It is so wonderful to see you, darling,” she says, “I saw Roy has the baby out on the pitch. She’s going to be kicking a football before she knows how to walk properly.”

You laugh and Keeley says, “Oi, Roy’s got her? Good luck getting her back. If she’s anything like Phoebe she’ll throw a right fit when it’s time to go.”

“I know,” you sigh, “She’s going to have so many aunts and uncles, it’s insane. Not sure where Jaim and I are going to fall on her ranking of favorite people.”

Rebecca smiles and moves to the couch. “Would you like to sit and have some tea? I read there are certain types that help with breastfeeding.”

You grimace. “I would, except sitting is not exactly my favorite right now. But tea sounds wonderful.”

“You can lay down on your stomach, babe,” Keeley says helpfully. “Rebecca and can cuddle and catch you up on everything you’ve missed.”

You say, “That sounds fucking amazing,” and you’re asleep ten minutes into their chattering.

—

You startle awake to the sound of a knock on the door. Rebecca calls, “Come in,” and it takes you a moment to figure out where you are. There’s a blanket draped over you and Rebecca and Keeley are still on the other side of the couch, both furiously typing and scrolling on their laptops.

You rasp, “How long was I out?” as Roy pokes his head in the door. He’s still wearing Bea.

“Twenty minutes,” Rebecca answers. “Keeley and I thought it best to leave you be.” Keeley nods, not looking up from her screen.

Roy clears his throat. “Hi babe!” says Keeley. She half glances up from her screen then does a double take.

“Holy fuck, you look right sexy like that, Kent.”

Roy grins at her. “Don’t get any fucking ideas.”

Keeley says, “Too late. I have so many fucking ideas,” to which you and Rebecca share a disgusted face.

“That’s disgusting, Keeley,” you tease.

“Oi, you’re one to talk!” she returns and Rebecca nods as if to say, she’s got a point. 

“Any-fucking-way,” Roy says, looking at you, “Figured you’d want to be downstairs when the boys meet Bea. They’re changing and getting clean so it’s going to take a fucking minute.”

You nod. “Hey Bec, you wanna hold her?”

Rebecca closes her laptop. “I would absolutely love to.”

Roy growls in a way that means fuck no, but Bea’s your baby so he unwraps her and gently hands her to Rebecca. Bea settles so sweetly into Rebecca’s arms that you swear you want to cry. Stupid hormones.

“Your prick husband is still downstairs bothering Sam and Dani,” Roy says, and you remember oh yeah, I have a prick husband. You get up off the couch.

“I should probably go see him,” you reply. “Becca, you want to come, or..?”

Rebecca is still gazing at Bea, but she nods and stands up, heels discarded on the floor.

You make your way to the locker room to find Jamie surrounded by the team, scrolling through something on his phone.

“…And this is her wearing her Tartt onesie. Here she is with me mum, and this one…” he trails off when he sees you. 

“Hi love!” he says, “Just showing the lads the pictures I got of Bea.”

There’s something about Jamie standing in the middle of the locker room crowded by his team that just makes your heart feel like it’s going to explode. You laugh and bound over to him, throwing your arms around his neck.

“You’re such a dad, Jamie Tartt,” you tell him affectionately, to which he replies, “Learned from the best, didn’t I?” with a glance at Ted.

“Alright,” you say, arms off of Jamie’s neck but now entwined around his left bicep, “who wants to meet Bea officially?” 

Hands go up around the room and to your surprise, they’re all quiet. In scary unison, they move to sit on the benches and hold their hands up, palms facing outward. 

“What the fuck is happening?” you whisper to Beard.

“Ted had a baby-etiquette debrief,” he whispers back. “Inside voices, clean hands, neck support, the whole deal. Had me make a slideshow to back him up.”

Rebecca shakes her head in disbelief as you all watch Isaac make his way around the room, inspecting hands and pronouncing them clean.

Rebecca does not look like she wants to give up Bea, but you tell her you’ll invite her over in a few days, as long as she doesn’t mind a messy house and takeout. She reluctantly hands Bea to Dani, who is beaming so hard you’re worried for his face muscles. 

Jamie, meanwhile, rests his head on yours. 

He leans down and whispers, “Hey babe?”

“Hm?” you respond.

“I’m going to fall asleep standing up. D’you think Bea would be fine if we crashed in Ted’s office?”

You grin. You think Bea would be fine anywhere there’s a member of AFC Richmond.

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt #ted lasso

[pillow-princess-diaries]

𝚆𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚐𝚎𝚛!𝙰𝚝𝚜𝚞𝚜𝚑𝚒 𝙷𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚜…

Scenario:- what it’s like to get your guts rearranged by a particular weretiger~

Pairing:- weretiger!Atsushi x gn!reader

Genre:- smut

Type:- headcanons

W/C:- a little over 1k

Tw:-MDNI !! mentions of cockwarming,mating press, full nelson?, oral (m and f giving and receiving),belly bulge, dry humping,deepthroating,tit sucking,nipple play, size kink?69, cum eating ,leash? ,atsushi is in heat and turns into his weretiger form. Also where genetalia are related both male and female alternatives are included!

A/N :- Hi there!! My Name’s cheese and this is my first smut fic!!! I hope you like it and I tagged it appropriately! Also just to clarify, this isn’t canon atsushi but like its supposed to be a more tiger-boy-esque version? But his weretiger form is pretty much the same as in the canon?? Idk if I’m making sense but I hope I am!

Also thanks to @diagonal-queen and @chuuyassluttychoker for giving me feedback and for encouraging me to try writing for this genre!

Weretiger atsushi who is adorable and clingy and so catlike on the daily. He loves rubbing up against you, headbutting you and nuzzling you because it gets his scent on you and marks you as his to all the cats in the area.

Weretiger atsushi who gets even clingier during his heat cycles but doest tell you he’s in heat ,when asked about it he just says he missed you. “But atsushi i was here the entire time?” “But you weren’t in my arms~”

Weretiger atsushi who gets caught humping your pillow as he moans out your name,his hips craving for some kind of contact,his dick painfully hard.

weretiger atsushi who vehemently denies that he was humping your pillow.he would neverrrr.but the moment you look down at his crotch you notice the little tent that has formed.

Weretiger Atsushi,who goes red as you palm his boner through his clothes,your fingers tantalizingly tracing its outline.

Weretiger atsushi who admits to your allegations and begs that you let him fuck you.He looks at your hand basically petting his clothed cock and ask him to get on his knees and beg harder~

Weretiger atsushi who gets embarrassed and goes red but the moment you move your fingers over the now-wet material of his pants he throws his ego to the side,getting on his knees and begging you to let him have his sweet release he looks up at you and bows down touching the ground.

Weretiger atsushi who once you agree to let him fuck you,throws you over his shoulder and rushes to your bedroom.

Weretiger atsushi who throws you on the bed (not hard enough to hurt you!) and frantically strips till he’s fully naked and climbs on top of you.

Weretiger atsushi whose dick has gotten bigger now that he’s in his weretiger form,and is now leaking so much precum it’s embarrassing.

Weretiger atsushi who asks you for permission to take control and once he receives a breathy ‘yes’ literally rips off your clothes and has to keep his mouth from watering as he see your wet little cunt./cock

Weretiger atsushi who runs a singular clawed finger along your folds,gently collecting as much of you’re arousal as he can and licking it off his fingers,savouring your taste (alternatively he’ll pump your little erection until your cream covers his hands,and then he’ll eat it out if the palms of his hands like its the sweetest syrup known to mankindd)

Weretiger atsushi who goes feral as he lowers himself to be at eye level with your pretty little pussy/cock. Who eats you out like he’s been starving for dayssss,his ridged tongue moving softly enough not to hurt you and just enough to make you feel more things than a ribbed condom ever could,sucking on your clit like its a goddam lollipop (Alternatively he’ll wrap his mouth around your length taking it all in and sucking. Bobbing his head as he laps up your cum and precum and runs his tongue along your slit,kissing your tip before he finishes)

Weretiger atsushi who makes you come on his tongue at least two times before he actually fucks you,who wants to milk you for all your worth.

Weretiger atsushi who finally raised himself from your pussy/dick to look at your face,pure pleasure being the only thing he sees.

Weretiger atsushi who finally lines himself up with your pretty little hole, his cock begging to be squeezed by your walls and coated in your cum.

Weretiger atsushi who fucks you in missionary just because he wants to see your adorable face contort in pleasure, moaning,screaming and calling his name.

Weretiger atsushi who despite always going slow and sweet,lubes up his cock and slams into you so hard the bed hits the wall. He waits a while,buried to the hilt as he feels you adjusting to his throbbing length . The feeling of your walls hugging him driving him insanee.

Weretiger atsushi who cums right into you just from that and locks you in a mating press,his balls slapping against your ass as he moves at an inhuman speed.

Weretiger atsushi who fucks you so hard your bed creaks and hits the wall,leaving a small indentation on where the headboard hit it over and over.

Weretiger atsushi who lets you collar him and pull him closer by a leash to kiss you while he fuck you senseless.

Weretiger atsushi who leaves beautiful love bites and hickies all across your chest and collar bones. Who loves marking you up and claiming you as his.

Weretiger atsushi who loves your tits no matter the size,he just loves them. Sucking on them while he ruts into you,watching as they bounce while he fucks you so good you wont be able to walk for days.who loves squeezing your hardened nipples to hear you moan out in both pain and pleasure.

Weretiger atsushi who’s claws leave big blue bruises and shallow claw marks along your hips,who loves to see your juices decorate your tummy and his base when you squirt or when he cums on your stomach.

Weretiger atsushi who loves running his tongue up and down your stomach to collect all his spilled semen and your messy little syrup,who puts his tongue out to show you how he’s taking yours and his loads in like the good little kitten he is.

Weretiger atsushi who loves when you suck him off,who wouldn't mind 69ing if it meant he could feel your mouth around his dick while he feasted on you. Who loves deepthroating you and hearing you gag on his larger-than-usual cock. Who cums down your throat and loves to feel the vibrations of the moans you let out as his hot,sticky cum fills your mouth and flows down your throat. Who thrusts his hips into your mouth and directs your head perfectly ,although he doesn’t even have to because you already know how to pleasure him so well.

Weretiger atsushi who would love the sight of you bouncing on his cock,riding him like the speedy steed he could be,who bucks his hips up into you when you slow down,eliciting a moan from you as feel him hit his your cervix/ g spot.

Weretiger atsushi who places a hand on your tummy just to feel his cock inside you(it drives him crazy.)

Weretiger atsushi who is strong enough to hold you off the ground and fuck you(i think it’s called full nelson?) who goes even more feral when he sees drops of his milky load fall out onto the floor which prompts him to fuck you harder.

and finally weretiger atsushi who goes so nuts at the thought of you filled to the brim with his cum that when he’s cleaning you up,he detransforms and fucks his cum deeper into you with his lithe fingers,making sure to hit a few of your sweet-spots just to make you feel good.

and weretiger atsushi who takes such good care of you after he’s done. Giving you a bath,making sure you take your birth control pills and who holds you close as you both fall asleep afterwards. He may ask for you to cockwarm him as a joke but if youre fully serious about it and actually want to do it,he certainly wouldnt be against it.

Weretiger atsushi who’s your sweet and loving tiger boy who can get a little wild but its finee,it’s not like you dont like it so whats the harm in indulging him~(and yourself)

Taglist (open) :- @diagonal-queen

All rights reserved © 2023 pillow-princess-diaries. Please do not repost, modify or claim as yours.Reblogs and Comments Greatly Appreciated!

#🧀 Tales #bsd x reader #atsushi x reader #atsushi x y/n #atsushi x you #atsushi smut #bsd smut #bsd #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs atsushi #bsd atsushi #atsushi nakajima #atsushi headcanons #bsd headcanons #bsd hcs #bsd x you #bsd x male reader #bsd x gender neutral reader #bsd x y/n

[yelena-bellova]

Heartfirst: A Ted Lasso Story - Chapter Three

Chapter Three: Meet the Greyhounds

Plot: On the first day of season training, the Greyhounds welcome the newest member of AFC Richmond and Y/n gets a crash course in Ted Lasso’s unconventional coaching methods.

Word Count: 5.4k

Warnings: language, use of f!reader (16+)

A/N: Here we are again, now with the Greyhounds entering the story…👀

As always, let me know if you’d like to be tagged, though I’m still only tagging 16+. Enjoy!!

————

Contrary to the whirlwind of her hiring, Y/n’s first week at AFC Richmond was nothing but calm waters.

The first few days had been spent mostly in meetings with Higgins, learning the basic operations of parts of the club she’d be involved in. She bounced back to the KJPR offices every few days for a meeting with Keeley. Already, there was a rhythm developing to her days.

Y/n took the weekend to set up her office, driving over a few boxes of books, wall hangings and office supplies to Nelson Road Stadium. Season training started on Monday and Y/n knew it was her last chance to get settled before the work truly started.

On Sunday evening, she stayed late organizing her desk the way she liked. When she was finally done, taking a final satisfactory look at the space, she collected her coat and locked up for the night. She was on her way out when she noticed up the stairwell, there were still lights on.

Thinking only her and the night cleaning crew were still around, Y/n shuffled up the steps. The closer she got, the better she could make out the light was coming from Rebecca’s office. Not only that, she could hear mumbled curses.

Y/n rapped her knuckles twice against her boss’s door, poking her head in just enough to show who it was.

“Oh,” Rebecca breathed, sat behind her desk, “Come in.”

Y/n took a cautious step through the doorway, giving a little wave, “I saw the light and didn’t know who was still here.”

“Well, I shouldn’t be here,” Rebecca replied, trying to put on a smile for Y/n, “Not till tomorrow anyway.”

Nodding, Y/n shifted her coat in her arms.

“You’re here awfully late as well,” Rebecca changed the subject.

“Oh,” Y/n answered, “Finally took the time to unpack everything. Figured it was a good idea before tomorrow.”

“Good,” Rebecca replied.

It went without saying that there was something wrong. Rebecca had no reason to be there.

“Is everything…” Y/n shifted in her spot a little. She was skirting one of the professional lines she valued. “Alright?”

The moment the question hit the air, Rebecca’s facade cracked. The edges of her smile drooped ever so slightly and whatever faux cheeriness had been masking her eyes faded.

“Do you read many tabloids, Y/n?” Rebecca asked.

“Not actively, but,” Y/n answered, her eyes darting between the floor, the lamp, anywhere other than directly at Rebecca until absolutely necessary, “I see things.”

Rebecca knew, without asking, what headlines she was referring to.

“My ex-husband recently purchased West Ham United,” the woman began to explain, “He poached one of our coaches from last season and…” Rebecca shook her head from the ridiculousness of it all, “There was just a headline that…”

Y/n waited for her boss to find the words, knowing they probably wouldn’t come. Nor did they need to.

Rebecca inhaled, “I suppose I shouldn’t let it get to me but…”

“Hey,” Y/n held up a hand, “There’s no judgement here.”

Rebecca gave a genuine smile, thankful for the understanding. “Well, we both need to get home and get some rest,” she said as she rose from her desk.

“We do,” Y/n was thankful the subject was shifting from personal matters, “Goodnight, Ms. Welton.”

“Oh, please don’t tell me you’re going to call me that the entire season,” Rebecca sighed, half-laughing at the formality, “Rebecca.”

It shouldn’t have mattered, but Y/n felt most comfortable with her barriers in place. However, going up against Rebecca was a fight she knew she’d lose.

“Alright,” Y/n conceded, the only time she planned on doing so, “Goodnight, Rebecca.”

“Goodnight, Y/n,” Rebecca said in return.

That night, once she returned home and settled in bed with a cup of tea, Y/n did research on the enemy. Rupert Mannion, Rebecca’s ex-husband, had indeed purchased West Ham United at the end of last season. He’d gone one step further and hired Richmond’s old coach, Nathan Shelley. There was much speculation as to why the former kitman had left and why he’d chosen specifically to work for Rebecca’s ex. Several tabloids had framed the upcoming season as a battleground not only for the Greyhounds and Hammers, but the ex-spouses as well.

Y/n shut her laptop and rubbed at her eyes. She could uphold all the professional boundaries she liked, but that didn’t mean she hadn’t become a part of a deeply personal fight.

—————————

Come Monday morning, the parking lot at Nelson Road was packed.

Season training had begun.

Y/n had gotten in early, having stopped by Keeley’s office to pick some papers up, and had yet to cross paths with any of the Greyhounds or coaches. She wasn’t trying to avoid meeting them, but she also wasn’t actively seeking out the opportunity. There was safety in the isolation of her office with the only intruder being Higgins every once in a while.

It was around 10 when the first knock at the door came.

Y/n looked up from her desk to see Sam Obisanya standing in her doorway.

“Ms. Y/l/n?”

“Yes,” Y/n answered with a small smile.

“Ah,” Sam took one step inside the office, “I just wanted to stop by and introduce myself. Sam-“

“Obisanya,” Y/n finished for him, rising from her desk to come and shake his hand, “I may not be a football fanatic, but I know your work.”

Sam laughed humbly, Y/n didn’t think there was such a thing until then.

“You’re very kind,” Sam let go of her hand, “I heard you were hired over our break and I wanted to be one of the first to say ‘welcome.’”

“That’s very kind of you, Mr. Obisanya,” Y/n replied, feeling genuinely touched.

“Please,” he smiled, “Call me Sam.”

“Sam,” Y/n nodded, she was 0 for 2…

“Are you finding everything okay?” Sam asked.

Y/n glanced at the space around them, “Everything I need so far, yes.”

“Ah, good,” Sam grinned, “Well, if you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask. It’s a lot to get used to.”

“Well, I’ll agree with you there,” Y/n chuckled, “But really, Sam, thank you. I genuinely look forward to getting to see you play this season.”

“Ah,” Sam’s hand briefly touched his chest, “Thank you. I hope you have a wonderful day.”

“You as well,” Y/n replied as the midfielder headed back through her office door. Her Youtube observations had been correct; Sam Obisanya was as genuine off the pitch as he was on it.

A few moments after settling back at her desk, a second knock came.

“Hola, Ms. Y/n!”

Dani Rojas.

“Hi,” Y/n greeted, a little surprised, “You must be Mr. Rojas.”

“Dani, please,” the player grinned, “I wanted to come and officially welcome you to Richmond.”

Y/n rose from her desk and crossed the room once again. “That’s very kind of you, D- oh!”

Dani had pulled her in for a hug and had practically lifted her off the ground. In any other case, Y/n would have slingshotted them both into the HR office, but she could tell his intentions were 100% pure.

“I hope you will be very happy working here with us,” Dani said, finally releasing Y/n from his arms, “It is like one big family.”

Y/n chuckled awkwardly, trying to hide her dismay at the thought from someone who was the human embodiment of joy.

“I’m sure I’ll be quite content,” she replied politely, “And I look forward to seeing you play, Dani.”

“Oh, thank you,” Dani said, his grin hadn’t dropped half an inch since he’d arrived, “I look forward to getting to work with you.”

“You too, Dani,” Y/n nodded, “I hope you have a great day.”

“You as well,” Dani wished cheerily before exiting Y/n’s office.

Y/n stayed in the middle of the room a moment longer, trying to process the interaction. She was half sure that within the next thirty seconds, another Greyhound would come through her door.

She wasn’t wrong.

Five minutes after Dani, Colin Hughes and team captain Isaac Mcadoo showed up. While their greetings were less personal than Sam’s and they let Y/n stay on the ground, unlike Dani, they took their time to welcome her. Two minutes after them, Thierry Zoreaux swung by. Just as he was leaving, Jan Maas took his place. In and out, the Richmond players seemed to form a never ending stream of well wishes.

As Will, the team’s kitman, was on his way out from his introduction, Y/n decided answers were worth seeking.

“Can I ask,” she tapped her pen against her desk, “How did you guys even know I was here?”

“Oh, Coach Lasso told us,” Will answered plainly, “He wanted us each to stop by and introduce ourselves. See if you needed anything, officially welcome you to Richmond.”

Y/n nodded, it all made sense now.

“Got it,” she politely smiled, “Well, thank you, Will. I definitely feel welcomed.

With a polite farewell, Will left Y/n on her own once more. She felt like locking the door just to ensure she could actually get some work done. She was pleased to know that the team she worked for wasn’t comprised of inconsiderate pricks, but their kindness had been more than overwhelming.

“Alright, Ted Lasso,” she mumbled to the empty room, “Message received.”

Itwas an hour later, after five more stop-bys by various Greyhounds, that Y/n escaped her office. She headed to the cafe to grab a tea before her morning meeting with Rebecca and Higgins. She made it in and out without any more ambushes, and headed on her way to Rebecca’s office.

Just as her eye caught on one of the placards on the hallway wall, a door swung open at Y/n’s side. She froze as the emerging body nearly bumped into hers.

“Whoa,” the culprit said as they too stopped in their tracks.

Y/n awkwardly laughed as she held her tea in the air, trying to prevent a mess.

“Sorry, that was on me,” the man apologized as the door swung back into place.

“No, no,” Y/n exhaled, “It’s on me for not paying attention.”

The man breathed out a laugh as Y/n brought her arm back into her side.

“And nothing’s on anyone so,” Y/n gestured to her tea, “Could’ve been worse.”

Finally looking up at the man in front of her, Y/n recognized him instantly.

“You’re Jamie Tartt.”

Jamie pursed his lips and pointed a finger at Y/n, “And you’re the new girl? Keeley’s new hire?”

Y/n didn’t love the sound of her position being explained so casually. “Miss Jones hired me to do some work for Richmond, yes. Y/n Y/l/n.”

“Ah,” Jamie nodded, attempting not to laugh at the formality, “Coach wanted us all to come by and introduce ourselves.”

“Well, you saved yourself a trip,” Y/n replied, somewhere between a polite and genuine smile.

Jamie chuckled, his hands awkwardly clasped in front of him. “Well, good to put a face to the name.”

Y/n nodded a little, “Same to you.”

“Right, well,” Jamie bent at the knees and flashed Y/n a smile, “See you ‘round, I guess.”

“See you around,” Y/n returned.

Without another word, Jamie and Y/n walked off down opposite ends of the hallway.

As she climbed the stairs up to Rebecca’s office, Y/n made a note that the Jamie Tartt she’d (quite literally) run into was, indeed, far different than the ill reputation he’d built for himself. He seemed perfectly pleasant, a little blunt, but polite nonetheless. It didn’t seem like the Greyhounds didn’t have any bad eggs.

Switching back to work mode, Y/n knocked on Rebecca’s semi-open door.

“Ah, come in, Y/n,” Rebecca quickly greeted.

Y/n walked in and saw that Higgins and Ted were already standing across from Rebecca’s desk.

“Hey, it’s the newest Greyhound,” Ted said cheerily.

“So sorry I’m late,” Y/n apologized, setting her purse and tea down on the coffee table. She was happy to bypass Ted’s greeting with nothing more than a polite smile.

“Oh, no it’s fine,” Rebecca waved her concern off before turning back to the matter at hand, “As I was saying, everyone alive has picked Richmond to finish in 20th place this season.”

Y/n came to stand between Higgins and Ted.

“Except for the The Daily Mirror,” Higgins interjected, “Which has us finishing ‘twentyelf.’ An adorable but devastating typo.”

Ted hummed, “Okay. Well, you know what? I predict all their predictions ain’t gonna come true. So it looks like we got ourselves a prediction Mexican standoff,” Ted turned to Y/n and Higgins, “Or as they call them in Mexico, a prediction standoff.”

Y/n wondered if the man had an off button.

“Well, the worst part is they’ve picked Rupert to finish in the top four,” Rebecca said with a heavy sigh.

“Rupert’s gonna play this year?” Ted asked in all seriousness.

“What?” Rebecca replied, “No.”

“You’re referring to West Ham United,” Y/n spoke up, trying to move the conversation along, “Correct?”

“Precisely,” Rebecca said, “Everyone thinks he’s better than us.”

“They,” Ted corrected his boss, “Everyone thinks they are better than us.”

Rebecca nodded a little too fast to be considered normal, “Yes, that’s what I said. They. So, what’s the plan? How are we going to beat him?”

Once again, Ted caught the error that Y/n knew was no error at all. “Them.”

“Exactly,” Rebecca replied.

“Oh, boy,” Ted said lowly.

“You know, this might be a good time for us to update our roster,” Higgins spoke up, “Put some more firepower in the team.”

Rebecca pointed towards Higgins, “That is an great idea, Leslie.”

“I agree,” Y/n threw in her support, thankful the conversation was moving back towards work, “Plenty of opportunity to make a big fuss over it, get people excited, pack the stands a little more.”

“Let’s put some feelers out, shall we?” Rebecca continued, glancing over to her manager, “Ted?”

“Well, I know Roy and Coach Beard are workin’ on some new tactics,” he answered, “And, you know, the fellas we already got are gelling real nice. I think we’re gonna do just fine this season.”

If Y/n could have measured the indignity on Rebecca’s face, she couldn’t have.

“Ted, this team doing ‘just fine’ is a far cry from you telling me we’re going to win the whole fucking thing.”

Y/n’s eyebrows raised just as Higgins exclaimed, “Whoa!”

“Did I really say that?” Ted asked, just as shocked.

“Yes, you did,” Rebecca’s voice raised an octave as she pointed towards her couch, “Over there after the Man City loss. Just before you blasted half a liter of Pellegrino in my face.”

The memory finally rang Ted’s bell, “Oh, right.”

“Wait, what happened?” Higgins confusedly asked.

Y/n nearly raised her pen to ask questions but decided against it.

“That,” Rebecca pointed towards Ted, “Is the Ted Lasso I want coaching my team this season. The one who’s willing to fight. Understood?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Ted nodded, “You watch, from now on, I’ll be floating like a butterfly and stinging like a bee. Except I won’t die immediately after using my stinger. I plan to float and sting for the entirety of the whole season.”

“Excellent,” Rebecca’s expression finally shifted and she looked to Y/n, “I apologize if we’ve thrown you into the deep end of our problems.”

Y/n held up a hand to signal there were no issues, but she was a little confused as to what the purpose of the meeting had been.

“I have a very important lunch meeting with one Miss Keeley Jones,” Rebecca continued as she collected her purse and came out from around her desk, “For some much needed girl talk.”

“Hey, tell her we said howdy and…” Ted wished before looking to Higgins.

“Yo,” Higgins added in a deep voice.

Rebecca looked to Y/n last.

“Tell her I’ll be in tomorrow,” Y/n added, still holding onto her binder.

“Okay,” Rebecca left out the door, off to the KJPR offices.

Y/n sighed as Ted and Higgins began to converse over the later’s out of character greeting.

“Hey, Y/n,” Ted tapped her on the arm, “You settling in alright?”

“Yes,” Y/n nodded, adjusting the waist of her skirt, “Very excited to get started.”

“Well, don’t be afraid to stop by if you need anything,” Ted smiled, missing the slight edge to Y/n’s words, “Or if you just wanna chat. Roy and Beard’d love to meet you.”

Y/n gave one more cordial nod before crossing the room to retrieve her belongings. “I’m sure we’ll cross paths at some point,” she replied, desperate to escape, “But I really do have a few things that need to get done. I’ll see you both later.”

With a trail of goodbyes from Ted and Higgins, Y/n vacated the office as quickly as she could without being too obvious. Not only did she feel it was a waste of a meeting to simply discuss the team’s standings, but no work had really been accomplished. She did, however, learn a great deal more about Rebecca’s mindset for the season than she’d set out to know.

When she returned to her office, Y/n shut the door and locked it. No more interruptions, no more distractions, she could do what she was here to do…her job. If the only way she could do that was by literally shutting Richmond out, so be it.

—————————

Much later in the day, Y/n took her second scheduled leave back up to Rebecca’s office. There was a West Ham press conference being held and Rebecca had requested her presence for the viewing. Something about PR strategies, but Y/n suspected she was partially valued as another essential piece in the takedown of Rupert Mannion.

She arrived just as Higgins was coming to stand behind Rebecca’s desk with her.

“Has it started?” Y/n asked as she crossed the room.

“Just about to,” Rebecca breathed, steel in her voice already.

“Are you sure you want to watch this?” Higgins made a point of asking.

“No, I don’t want to, Leslie,” Rebecca replied, as she loaded the stream link, “But it’s part of my job. I need to be ready to comment if Rupert were to say something snide about me or the team.”

Y/n came to stand on the other side of Rebecca, “I agree. Preparation isn’t always fun, but necessary.”

Rebecca blindly gestured to Y/n as she clicked away on her screen, she only looked up to glance out her window. “Where are they, by the way? Shouldn’t they be training now?”

Y/n peeked out the glass, she hadn’t noticed that the team was completely absent from the pitch. Odd for the first proper day of training.

“Oh,” Y/n said, coming to stand a little closer as the laptop screen changed, “It’s loading.”

Rebecca scooted her chair closer as the feed went live and a West Ham United backdrop became visible. Striding in from off camera came Rupert Mannion, calm, collected and charming.

“Ladies and gentlemen of the press, welcome,” he announced, “Lovely to see you all, and thank you for selecting our humble little football club to do so well this season.”

As the press let out chuckles, Rebecca reached into her desk drawer and pulled out a small pink box. Y/n watched as her boss pulled it open and angrily shoved a bite of a thick biscuit in her mouth.

“Twat,” Rebecca mumbled through a half-full mouth.

“The person you are here to see,” Rupert continued in a grandiose tone, “The Wonder Kid himself, our new manager, Nathan Shelley.”

Rebecca’s ex extended a hand towards his right and seconds later, Nathan and him exchanged places in the center of the room.

“Thank you,” Nathan smiled once he was seated, “Very nice to be here. I’m pretty sure I said ‘wunderkind.’”

Silence from the press.

“This is the same Nathan Shelley who was the kitman here,” Y/n said, half-asking, “Became assistant coach and then stole over to West Ham?”

“Yes,” Higgins answered as Rebecca was chewing, “Rather a hasty and heated exit.”

Y/n hummed in reply, nothing about the man struck her as particularly hasty or heated. The tabloids had painted a much different picture of the man. As Nathan stuttered over his answers, Y/n sensed nothing but a rather awkward humility.

She was proven terribly wrong over the next two minutes.

Nathan’s answers came quicker and were delivered with more confidence. At some point, they became biting. The sudden character shift felt like a reverse of Jamie Tartt’s, from the little Y/n had observed of both.

“Coach Shelley, regarding your old team, AFC Richmond,” one of the reporters began, “Any idea why everyone is expecting them to finish 20th this season?”

Y/n shifted in place as they awaited Nathan’s answer. Something about the smile that pulled at his cheeks just before he spoke unsettled her.

“Probably because there’s no 21st.”

If there was tension in the room before, it had just intensified tenfold.

“Meow,” Higgins commented.

Y/n turned to her co-worker, “Hasty and heated, you said?”

Before they could hear the next question, the Twitter alert on Y/n’s phone sounded from her jacket pocket. She’d set up alerts for the club, each Greyhound and the coaches. Pulling out her phone, the keyword ‘AFC Richmond’ was the first one she saw.

Her eyes widened, “Oh, no.”

Higgins tugged out his phone half a second later.

“What is it?” Rebecca asked.

Y/n and Higgins looked to one another, Higgins braving it and showing Rebecca his phone. Displayed on both their screens was a picture of the Greyhounds, led by Ted Lasso, climbing down a manhole into a sewer.

A PR nightmare.

Y/n distractedly looked up at Rebecca’s computer screen, still scrolling the tag. Someone had asked Nathan a question regarding the photo.

“Yeah, well, it makes sense,” Nathan answered, “They probably have to train in a sewer because their coach is so shitty.”

The press both gasped and laughed, each reporter’s eyes lighting up at the headline possibilities.

Rebecca slammed her laptop shut, fuming.

“Oh, boy,” Higgins broke the silence.

“Coach Lasso needs to address this,” Y/n spoke up, going into strategy mode, “Immediately. This is being turned into memes as we speak.”

Rebecca took a deep breath, pressing her hands together and to her lips in an effort to retain calm. “I will be speaking to him the second they are back,” she answered, before looking up to Y/n, “Come up with some potential response for the press conference.”

“Absolutely,” Y/n nodded, already out from behind Rebecca’s desk, “It’s best if the players don’t say anything either. Don’t give Coach Shelley any more ammunition.”

The day had officially turned and while Y/n had prayed for actual work to do, she hadn’t wanted it like this. Was this the gig? Digging Ted Lasso out of whatever absurd headlines his actions created? Combatting bitter ex-coaches?

Come 2:15, fifteen minutes before Ted’s press conference was scheduled to begin, Y/n gathered the notes she’d made and headed downstairs. She waited outside the press room until Ted came out of his office.

“Coach Lasso,” Y/n called, coming to walk alongside him, “The press are all ready for you but I think it’s important to address the matter of the picture trending on social media. The best strategy is not to stay on it too long, but don’t laugh it off. I wrote down a few responses that might be of use.”

By the time she’d finished, they were stood outside the press room once more.

“I appreciate it, Y/n,” Ted thanked her, “But I think I’m gonna Buffalo Wild this one.”

“You’re gonna-“ Y/n began to question the sentence before connecting her dots, biting down on her lip, “Wing it?”

“Exactly, Tom Clancy,” Ted smiled easily before heading in through the side door and leaving Y/n in the hallway.

With no one else around, Y/n took the opportunity to take a deep breath, throw her head back in frustration and scrunch up her face. Things were about to go from bad to worse.

After collecting herself, she rounded the corner of the hall and entered the press room through the back door. Rebecca was already waiting at the rear of the room.

“Did he take the suggestions?” Rebecca whispered as Ted began to speak.

Y/n inhaled deeply, “He did not.”

Side by side, the two women tried to contain their emotions and project confidence towards whatever was about to be said.

Though his ability lay in questionable standing, Y/n was surprised at how well Ted handled himself. The reporters and him had a rapport that Y/n shouldn’t have been shocked by. For all the comical flaws he possessed, Ted Lasso was likable. It wasn’t many coaches who would compliment a reporter on her new choice of hair color before she asked her question.

“Coach, how are you feeling about the unanimous opinion that Richmond will be relegated at the end of the season?”

“Yeah, that’s true, isn’t it?” Ted replied, “Expectations for us are as low as a rattlesnake’s belly button, huh?”

A few chuckles and smiles from the press.

“But, hey, we got 38 chances to prove all them folks wrong though, right?” Ted continued, “Yeah. And my hopes are as high as a giraffe’s top hat. Next question. And if it’s ‘why is a giraffe wearing a top hat?’ Don’t ask me, man. Go ask a giraffe.”

Y/n felt like she was regaining the ability to breathe as the midwestern wit was accepted. Ted chose his next interrogator, Marcus Adeybo, who was clearly known but in a new position judging by the ‘oohs’ and ‘ahhs’ of the press room.

“Do you have any response to comments made earlier today by your former assistant coach, Nathan Shelley?” Marcus asked.

Y/n tightened her hold on her notebook, Rebecca pursed her lips. They waited with bated breath as Ted thought over his next words with great care.

“Uh, yes, I do. Yeah,” Ted began, pausing with a small smile before continuing, “I thought it was hilarious.”

Through her peripherals, Y/n could see Rebecca was less than pleased. She was thrown herself, but decided to wait for Ted’s full answer before reacting in full.

“I mean, he came and got us, didn’t he? No doubt about that,” Ted laughed, “Hey, but that’s Nate the Great for you, you know? He’s the same way on the pitch. He’ll find the tiniest weakness in a team and just wanna attack that, you know? I mean, he’s a junkyard dog, man. And smart. They’re real lucky to have him over there at West Ham. I wish him the best of luck.”

For all her schooling and experience, Y/n found herself watching Ted in pleasant surprise as he pulled out a strategy she never would have thought of.

“I guess I am a little surprised that’s all he could come up with,” Ted kept going, shrugging slightly, “Especially against me. You know, not one joke about me being a dumb American? Come on, man. It’s sittin’ there. I mean, I’m so dumb…”

Ted’s grin hung open as he waited for a reply to a joke that clearly only served on one continent.

“Y’all are supposed to say ‘how dumb are you?’” Ted helped them out. One reporter raised their hand, “Gary?”

“Why?”

“I-I mean, it’s just classic joke structure,” Ted answered, “Give it a shot. I mean, I’m so dumb…” he nodded towards another reporter, “Lloyd?”

“How dumb are you?”

“Okay, well,” Ted raised his voice loud enough for the room to hear, “I’m so dumb, that the first time I heard y’all talkin’ about Yorkshire pudding, I thought it was a fancy word y’all had for dog poop.”

A few laughs came quietly.

“I mean, I’m so dumb,” Ted continued, waiting for the next line. A slightly confused chorus of questioning his intellect followed.

“Yeah, okay, well, whenever I text someone over here about money, I still spell pounds L-B-S.”

Y/n allowed herself to smile, realizing that there had been no point in giving Ted any suggestions. He was far better on his own.

“Look, man, I’m not a great coach,” Ted shrugged, “Probably ain’t. You know, I’ve been doing this sport now for three years, and I still get a chuckle every time someone talks about a handball violation.”

Shaking her head as it happened, Rebecca nudged Y/n with her elbow and held up her phone. There was a text from Keeley.

Way to let Ted be Ted!

Quickly, Y/n pulled out her own phone and opened up Twitter. Sure enough, there were tweets pouring in under Ted’s name, filled with nothing but praise and ‘LOLs.’

“Yeah, and not one crack about my appearance?” Ted continued, “About this mustache? I look like Ned Flanders is doing cosplay as Ned Flanders.”

Finally, the whole press room was laughing. Even Rebecca had found her smile once again, reserved as it may be for the unconventional approach.

“When I talk it sounds like Dr. Phil hasn’t gone through puberty yet.”

Y/n covered her mouth as she snorted.

“Yeah, I’m more corny than Kevin Costner’s outfield,” Ted waited for the joke to land, with no such reward, “Oh, I lost you on that one. Yeah. Field of Dreams? No?” Ted glanced to the back of the room and spotted Y/n who gave him a slight nod, signaling she understood it. “I guess y’all don’t really like baseball over here, so why would you like movies about it?”

Ted briefly bent down to check his phone, giving Y/n and Rebecca the chance to glance at one another. Rebecca sighed and Y/n shrugged with one hand, the wheels were entirely off and there was no point in trying to reattach them.

“Well, hey, how ‘bout this one?” Ted went on with a new strength, it seemed, “Regarding my panic attacks, I’ve had more psychotic episodes than Twin Peaks.”

The room filled with laughter again, including Ted’s.

“I mean, I’m so crazy…”

This time, both Rebecca and Y/n joined the reporters in asking just how crazy Ted Lasso was.

“There we go,” Ted said approvingly before continuing another round of self-depreciation.

As Y/n watched the room, and Twitter, sing Ted’s praises and reject Nathan Shelley, she made a mental note. No more notes on speaking to the press. Ted was aiming to kill with kindness, and she wasn’t planning to stand in his way.

Names and press conferences, the only things she planned to bend on.

—————————

By the end of the day, Ted was trending heavily and by association, so were the Greyhounds. The manhole picture had been thoroughly memed and it would take a week or two for the image to get lost in the Twitter-verse. Regardless of how good Ted was with the press, Y/n suspected there’d be several more sewer-type messes to clean up.

The sun was just setting as Y/n headed out to the parking lot. A few stray players had stayed late and were trailing out, most of whom she’d already met.

As Y/n searched through her bag for her keys, she heard a familiar voice wishing a teammate a good night. Jamie Tartt.

Y/n glanced up as the striker walked towards the car parked two spaces apart from hers.

“So tell me,” she called across the lot, “Do you guys save the sewer visits for special occasions or am I going to have to get used to doing this kind of damage control daily?”

Jamie chuckled, slinging his bag over his shoulder, “Uh, yeah, that was a new one.”

“Uh-huh,” Y/n’s smile was barely perceptible.

“Coach was tryin’ to teach us a lesson,” Jamie explained, standing at the boot of his car, “See, everyone’s got us finishin’ dead last, but we’re supposed to let that shit flow,” Jamie made a sweeping gesture with his hand, “Like the canals in the sewers.”

Y/n’s tongue poked her cheek as she tried to understand the teaching moment.

“I know it sounds bizarre,” Jamie admitted, most of Ted’s methods sounded insane outside the Greyhound’s locker room, “But he had a point.”

“Uh-huh,” Y/n replied, before grabbing her keys, “Well, whether the shit was literal or metaphorical, you guys just made my job a hell of a lot more interesting.”

“Hey, you didn’t have to fuckin’ go down there,” Jamie’s voice jumped an octave.

The two shared a laugh before moving to unlock each of their cars.

“I’ll see ya,” Jamie said with a smile.

“See ya,” Y/n replied, sliding into the driver’s seat.

Once she shut the door, she let her head hit the headrest. The day had felt like one big preview of how the season would go, and if it continued that way, Y/n was in for much more than she’d bargained for…

—��

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