#okay but imagine the fucking cafeteria scene

[runninguplenorahills]

Actually the moment Gaten Matarazzo confirmed that Mike is in love with Will

I will never get over this lmaoo

#byler #okay but imagine the fucking cafeteria scene #the duffers be like #CUT! OKAY. FINN CAN YOU LEAN IN JUST A LITTLE MORE INTO JOSEPH? YES JUST LIKE THAT! #AND GATEN YOU GOTTA LEAN A BIT FURTHER AWAY FOR THE CONTRAST. YES! PERFECT! #NOW LET’S TRY THAT AGAIN! #lmaooo #mike wheeler is gay and naturally the whole main cast knows #this is about how some people used to argue that no one knows about mike being in love with will #not even finn?? and i’m like????? #guys #they were there when the scenes were shot💀 #everyone fucking knows #stranger things #gaten matarazzo

[wroteclassicaly]

She’s Trouble

(Eddie Munson x Female Reader)

Summary: Tired of trailing behind, feeling like you don’t matter much, you decide that 86’ isn’t only going to be your bestfriend’s year.

Pairings: Eddie Munson x Female Reader

Word count: 16,185

Warnings: Language, violence, mentions of drug usage, blood, NSFW, smut, drinking, Eddie is angry and sad in this, masturbation, slight voyeurism, breeding kink, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, angry sex, creampie, angst, fighting, rough sex, Dom!Eddie, and MORE!

A/N: I started writing this based off the scene of Eddie smirking at the cheerleaders he lets by after his cafeteria speech. And, well… it’s spawned itself a new life and turned into a whole lot more than I planned. But so is the life of an author, am I right? ;) Eddie is a dick in this, Reader is a lot more vocal than I’ve written before. I wanted to do something a bit different and I hope this accomplishes my mission?

I wanna thank @littledemondani for helping me out of my brain fart on which direction to take this! Also, do check out her masterlist, which is pinned at the top of her blog (it won’t let me link it here). She’s an incredible author and a fellow Eddie Munson slut, and one of my longtime best-friends! ♥️

Side note: I’ve also shifted a few things in the timeline of the show, for obvious reasons. The whole Eddie/Chrissy thing doesn’t happen on the same night as in the series. Chrissy and the reader have a good interaction and Eddie is a dickhead, but his reasoning will be explained. Also, while the reader is wearing a bustier top, this is an all inclusive fic, where the reader can be anything you imagine! I believe anyone can wear anything that they choose to—regardless of their size, so don’t let that bit of the story deter your perception, as I’ve left it open-ended! ;)

Enjoy! I’ve got a lot coming up soon! Part twos of multiple fics, prompts, plus other goodies! <3 - Kristen

~*~

You watch the way that he tries to be cute and coy towards them, attempts to impress with a dramatic wave through of his hand. Short skirts, tight little tops, bouncing ponytails, and a shitload of generic gossip on their painted lips—they pass by, everything included but those damned pom poms. Apparently they are giddy at his little show of calling out every group but your own in the cafeteria. Your eyes roll so hard that you feel a protesting sting, ignoring it to stab your fork into whatever creation is wiggling on your lunch tray. All the guys—freshman to seniors, and you—the only girl since founding, and Hellfire Club’s treasurer/manager to Corroded Coffin—make up the outsider table.

This year, however, you’ve felt so fucking off base with this group and their antics that you’re getting exhausted pretending to care about their shit when they don’t respect you or yours. Dustin, Lucas, and Mike are always the sweetest to you, even with Lucas joining a sport, he’s still quick to always give you a smile and a nod whenever you pass him in the halls. They’re young, unlike Eddie and the older guys. You’re finally a senior this year, but still behind your bestfriend by a year in age. All this used to be okay, Eddie multiplying how much he repeats the grade, you trailing behind him like a lost puppy without any brain of her own, but now—it’s unbearably smothering.

And thus, it’s been building. You’re over bringing chips that are from your personal stash and using your gas to go buy smokes with your small work paycheck, or clean equipment for Eddie’s band, or stay up all night just to design campaign posters for Eddie, only for him to be so fucking stoned that he doesn’t even appreciate it, nor remember it.

“Fucking fake losers,” Jeff mutters.

“So fake,” Gareth agrees, both looking towards Eddie as he settles himself back down, wiggling his brows at you.

It’s an unsettling pressure that boils inside you, crackling, and as soon as you look into your best-friend’s brown doe eyes—it all comes apart. “You wanna talk about fake?” Your chest pumps a rush of adrenaline, helping careen the words off your tongue before you can stop them. Everyone’s attention snaps quicker than you’re prepared for, eyes wide and shocked. Sure, you’re vocal and sassy, but never outwardly angry. “The fact that all of you will condemn the basketball players, but would give up any of your seats at our table for one of the bitches in a skirt that they chase, if they popped their gum or batted an eyelash. You’d all be a bunch of drooling, little horndogs.” You can feel your heart racing with each pronunciation of a word, rising from your seat, knuckles white from gripping the edges of your yellow tray so hard.

You hear Dustin whisper a ‘whoa’, but your vocal vomit doesn’t stop.

“Frankly? I’m fucking sick of all this.” You pick the tray up and slam it down for good measure, unwrapping your messenger bag from around your seat, and you leave the table of gaping young men behind you, not even indulging yourself in Eddie’s bugged out, concerned stare.

You don’t even have time to throw your bag across your chest, when Jason Carver shouts out from behind you, “Damn, look at Munson’s slut go!”

It seems your group aren’t the only ones taking an interest in your outburst. Your breath is engorged in jagged pants of pitiful air, a fire coursing through you faster than you can handle, your skin singing, prickling with goosebumps. Your cheeks redden in humiliation, your feet swiveling and carrying you, fast and quick to their table, you throw your bag off, body like some damned slow motion track. Everyone notices Eddie’s antics, but you’ve never garnered any attention. It’s a surreal high.

Your combat boots click across the cement flooring, your hair like a dead weight across your back. Carver and his entire group are expectant, chairs scraping across to get out of your way. It’s all such a blur that you don’t even know your fist has collided with Jason’s face until you feel the pressure bite into your knuckles, a crunch beneath your force. He shrieks, his friends jumping to his aid, your stance shifting, ready to take anyone on. Your ears are bubbling with a murky static, applause in some direction, shouts in others.

Your name is being shouted from two different directions, the one you see stomping angrily towards you belonging to principal Higgins. He’s calling for help, shoving his finger in your face, motioning to your shirt. “This Hellfire Club does nothing but cause trouble!”

You snort, completely coming off your hinges, shaking the ends of your shirt, before stepping back and flinging it over your head, leaving you clad in your jeans and a leather bustier top no one could ever picture you owning. You’ve always kept your shit to a minimum to draw less attention, but you liked the support it provided your breasts with. You spin around, hands in the air, using the shirt as a lasso, tossing it at your old table. You begin to giggle, honestly wondering if you should visit the school nurse, but uncaring. Higgins is literally sputtering, making you snort, waving a hand. “I’m a slut, I’m trouble. Anyone have anything else to add? No? Yes?”

You bend back over to snatch your nap sack up, motioning to Higgins. “Lead the way to your office, Sir! Please fucking do.”

The pep in your step as your principal is angrily leading you from the masses is such a euphoric feeling, you’re sure you’ll never feel again in your life. You can taste the drama on your tongue’s tip. You don’t even spare your friends a glance, not wanting Eddie to have a morsel of satisfaction. This is your moment. Not as Eddie Munson’s best-friend, not as his groupie. As Y/N, Y/N Y/L/N.

~*~

Eddie Munson has been clutching your discarded Hellfire shirt, doused in your perfume that is brimming his nostrils full, damn near trembling for the past twenty minutes that finish up lunch. He can’t move, that swelling between his legs keeping him glued to his seat, all the images of your fist soaring into Jason Carver’s face, ripping off your clothing in front of Higgins and the entire damned school. He went from concerned, angry at how you acted, to so fucking turned on that his stomach knotted up, sucking him to where he’s seated, his cock throbbing in his jeans. He’s never seen you like this.

The guys are silent, unsure what to say, how to even go about comprehending the you they just saw, that even Eddie himself has never heard of. He knows one thing for sure—okay—two. He has to find out if you’re okay and what’s going on.

~*~

You roll your eyes at the lovely note, signature of a three day suspension secured by Higgins at the bottom. Crumbling it up, you slide it into your back pocket, rifling through your pin tattered bag for a cigarette. You already know where you’re gonna go, and it sure as hell isn’t home. No one is there and no one is gonna care about your minor indecency. You can forge your mom’s signature, much like you do every good grade you bring home that she’s never around to see, or every comment from a teacher about how your folks are missing out.

It’s quiet at your house, your space. You parents more or less sleep there when they’re not gone on business. Pinching the filter, you cup Eddie’s stolen Zippo, that ashy hiss helping beckon that sweet bitter taste in past your lips. You don’t desire that home front solace right now, craving different scenery.

Maybe I’ll get lost…

You feel like Hawkins is your oyster, and you’re eager to explore on your own terms, by yourself. You’ve got your smokes, your pocket knife, and a pen and paper. That’s enough for you to make a decision.

Skull Rock it is.

~*~

One thing about Indiana is the ever predictable bite of hot weather that March brings. Spring is automatically Summer in the Midwest, and this is no different. Your leather top had stuck to your skin in an uncomfortable crunching press, making you eventually discard it, leaving you topless, your only accessories a chain with your birthstone pendant and a thicker silver chain, with a cheesy little guitar charm (a present from Eddie) nestled between your breasts. Your form is shaped against the rock behind your bare shoulder blades, a cool sensation that has you tilting your head back, stretching your neck, treetops breezing above you—tall and luscious. You smile softly, undoing the flap on your bag and seeking out your Walkman and sunglasses.

In moments your eyelids are fluttering closed, shielded from sun rays, your Walkman clicking in place, readying Heart’s Barracuda to nick your ears, coasting in welcomed caresses. It’s not thick heavy metal, but it’s you. And in the serenity of these woods, another cigarette you allow yourself—you begin to drift off in a galactic solitude that is solely your own. You’d learnt how to count beats, read sheet music, even sing a few notes from Eddie, so getting into your song’s groove isn’t hard for you, your fingers wrapping around your chain, tapping underneath the swell of your breast along with the chorus. You’re off the precipice and gone, demolished to the point you don’t hear the familiar footsteps, the sound of your name, or leaves and dirt crunching beneath white Reeboks, nor do you hear a throat-deep groan at his discovery.

~*~

Eddie and you always share this in synch kinda shit, which creeps a lot of people in your circle out. Eddie, however, welcomes it today. When he couldn’t find you after abandoning his lunch, spent what was left of the day attempting, only for Henderson to tell him he’d heard you’d been suspended for a few days—he made it his personal goal to find you. Your parents are gone so he knows the times you do and don’t like to be at home by yourself. And with the way you lashed out at everyone, you won’t go anywhere he has easy access to.

That leaves one place. Skull Rock.

~*~

The drive feels shorter to Eddie this time, but the walk longer. He has to shed himself of his denim and leather, tossing it over his shoulder and clambering up the path towards finding you, keeping your club tee in his back pocket. The more he walks, the more he wishes he brought a drink or his smokes, which remain on his dash. If he’s wrong and you’re not here, he isn’t sure if this is reality anymore. This day has been one big mindfuck.

Thankfully, as he hears a loud tone droning over the clearing, a soft hum, his heart patters in his chest, nostrils inhaling sharply. He rounds the corner’s pathway, already calling your name, his eyes widening, jaw unhinged, fists clenching at his sides. You’re reclining against the boulder’s curve, black shades perched over your eyes, hair draped across your neck, your boot clad ankle crossed over the other, a cigarette perched into your puckering pair of lips, your layered chains swaying, slumbering against your skin, and fuck—your tits, Eddie winces, gripping himself to adjust—frozen.

He can’t not notice how your nipples are reacting to the air. He can’t not detail your shape, how your waist is formed, zeroing in on the baby bat you’d gotten to match his larger ones, inked into your ribcage, and he certainly isn’t forgetting your jeans that are settled over your hips. His eyes glaze over, heat prodding his flesh, shrouding him a veil of desire and raw ache. You don’t notice him, calls of your name falling on mainstream rock’s ears. He doesn’t think approaching you is smart, like a cat and mouse, your behavior for once—unpredictable.

Has Eddie just not been paying attention to you that much lately?

Suddenly, when he’s debating a cowardly retreat, baiting his internal monologue for an excuse, your audible gasp is heard, his name crushed between your gritted teeth.

Fuck.

~*~

In all of his glory—stands your best-friend. He’s balling and un-balling his fists, eyes darting rapidly, tongue sucking against his teeth, feet ready to carry him far away. And the more he avoids your stare, the angrier you get. So what, you’re not good enough to look at because your breasts are out? Modesty to a back burner, you take your crossed arms off your chest, scraping your smoke out on the rock, pushing your glasses into a perch upon your head, body facing Eddie as you stand.

I dare you.

Your eyes complicate a challenge—craving him in your proximity, and hating his grunge blanketed sight. Eddie’s neck is a really pretty thing when he tenses, his jugular agitated against a harsh gulp of air. He answers you by meeting you in the clearing, palms sweaty, scrubbing over his back pockets. It’s a cool damned drink of water, as if you’ve been without, making thee Eddie Munson squirm. But he’s still your best-friend, and you are half naked.

Covering yourself back up so he will look you in the eye, you tuck your arms into a push beneath your sternum, forearms shielding your nipples. It’ll have to do.

“Eddie, what the fuck are you doing here?” You snap before he can voice a concern or a question.

Tethered to deep breathing techniques, Eddie is insulted, and is biting back in his acidic response. “After your own personal talent show antics at school, I was worried about you. Excuse-the-fuck-outta-me, Y/N.”

A bitter laugh comes from you. “Oh, you’re focused enough on my shit to actually be worried about me? How kind of you, Edward Munson.”

“Why the fuck wouldn’t I be worried about you?” Eddie is raising his voice, sizzling in a cautious rage. He’s usually happy-go-lucky with you, but you’re pushing these fucking buttons he isn’t aware he’s been hiding.

“You really need a list of reasons? Wait,” you say, moving to circle him, pinching your thumb between your teeth, “you’re probably, completely oblivious, because I’m just Y/N. I’m not your club, not your band, not one of your groupies that flounce around for an ounce from you, then leave your ass for their jock boyfriends.”

“Whoa, whoa!” Eddie raises a hand, rings clattering together. “When the fuck did all this start, Y/N?”

Your arms fall back at your sides with a loud ‘thump’. The heating has settled, your high wearing off, truth remaining as to why you’ve been upset in the first place. A caverning hurt carves its place into your chest, igniting an anguish that drowns you. You’re defeated. “It started when my best-friend forgot that I’m my own person and not his servant. Or maybe it began when my person was so stoned that he barely acknowledged a test I fucking flunked to stay up and make his campaign posters—which, may I add—he also gave zero fucks about-“

“So all this is because I didn’t kiss the very ground you walk on for some posters that you practically begged me to make, and wow—your A+ average went to an A. Curse me into the deepest depths of hell, please.” His bracelet slides down his wrist as he palms his heart.

Maybe you’re not the only one who is changing. Eddie hasn’t ever disregarded you in such a crude manner. Your tongue is practically salivating in need to layer on biting and cruel words, things you won’t be able to come back from. You remain silent, mulling over what to say, glaring, docked, stinging prickles of tears. It’s an elating elevation when the words do come. “I’m your best-friend, Eddie. Not your little groupie. I’m tired of you preaching about conformity, when all I do is conform to you. You don’t ever let me pick music, you always take for granted I’ll give you and the guys rides when your van isn’t working, despite if I might have something to do that doesn’t involve an all male ensemble. I spend my money to buy you cigarettes and snacks for the meetings. I manage gigs, I clean your band’s equipment.”

Eddie sniffs, looking pointedly at you, doe eyes dark and growing increasingly fed up. “Didn’t know you were keeping a tally, Y/N.”

“That’s… That’s all you’re taking from everything I just said to you, Eddie?” You can’t keep that hurt out of your tone this time.

Eddie shrugs, crossing his arms, coldly spitting out, “Seems to me like you’re sick of me. And that’s not my problem, that’s yours.”

Your head is swimming in turmoil, all your acting out and emotions swirling into a mindfuck. He doesn’t care. You’re standing here finally pouring your entire soul out in heaps and your person is pouring gasoline on the pieces, dangling a match.

“I’ve never kept a tally, Eddie. I do these things because they make you happy, and that makes me happy, but it fucking sucks when you don’t appreciate them or care about anything in my life, either.”

“That’s what you really think, Y/N?” There’s a flatline in how he’s speaking to you.

“No,” you murmur, “it’s what I know.”

Eddie’s jaw clenches, teeth grinding. He kicks at the ground with the toe of his shoe, brows raising. “Breaking Jason Carver’s nose and my cold, dead heart.” He splays a hand across his chest. Those rings, which are always a comfort to you, reflecting off the sunlight, dripping in judgement.

Your trembling wavers, crackling sentence structure falling apart. “Eddie. Don’t.”

“No. Fuck you, Y/N. Seriously, fuck you!” He shouts, snapping a finger in your direction.

Your hands rub up and down your goosebump soaked skin, finalizing what you need to do. Heaving in a deep breath, a sentence escapes your lips. And you pray, pray Eddie will heed this warning and value what you have enough to understand, to work it out. “Maybe it’s time to fess up to the fact that 86’ needs to be a bigger year for us both.”

Mind reader. A power you’ve never wanted more than in this moment as you claw at the cusp of your best-friend’s reaction. Outwardly, Eddie shifts, Adam’s apple bobbing, thumb swiping underneath his nose. Your mouth waters, throat reflexes threatening a fountain of vomit. And Eddie takes your warning, slaying through it, every bit of ground beneath your boots threatening to cave in.

“You’re right. Hell, Carver is right. You do act like my slut. And you have every right to change it, because it’s only holding us both back. And it probably has been for a long time.”

Kicking you would’ve hurt less. You’re unable to see Eddie’s form longer, muddled to a watery silhouette, your brave bravado dissipating. You won’t beg him. You’re nothing to him anymore, he’s just confirmed. You try not to think about the first time he taught you how to dance before your first snowball, or how you both snuck Jim Hopper’s cigarettes when you’d get in trouble at school and be sent to see him for minor misdemeanors, or Eddie’s pride when he managed to get you on stage to sing one song with the band, rubbing circles on your back the whole time you both sang to a trio of drunks, or splitting beers on his van’s roof and nearly breaking limbs when it started raining and you had to climb down, how he taught you to drive in the fancy neighborhood and you knocked over the mayor’s mailbox, when you watched him buy his ‘sweetheart’, tears in his eyes at a possession so gorgeous and all his own, his hands gentle as they held you the nights you cried from one stupid thing that felt massive to you, when he was your person and you were his.

Your wet, quivering breaths are what you hear. Birds chirping, wind rustling, even Eddie’s heavy breathing drowned out. It takes what feels like eternity, before Eddie is slashing the quiet, guarded and stoic. “You need to put a fucking shirt on.”

Your jeans are covered in tear drops from a bowed head, fingers shaking hard enough that your knuckles roll into a crack at the motions. You wipe your tears in time to see Eddie hold out your Hellfire shirt—second edition—his being the first. His reverie breaks briefly, and you think… maybe. It’s gone in those brown eyes that you can no longer read or recognize. Filled with loathing and disgust at you, his last words imprinting on your psyche, a physical recoil.

“On second thought. You won’t be needing this anymore.” Eddie makes his way around you and finds his lighter atop your bag, flicking a flame to life and nudging it at the end of your shirt. It catches quick, burns fast, like every fiber of friendship with Eddie Munson.

Eddie tosses the tattered, charred remains to the forrest floor, pocketing his lighter, walking away from you and out of your life.

~*~

He can’t stay any longer and watch you fall apart, not when he’s running away from his cowardice. And he does, run. He moves and clambers, stumbles until he’s from you and the cries that he hears pour off your lips. His chest is thumping sporadically, pulse in his blurry vision. His five fingers catch a tree, slamming, splintering, a sob breaking free of his tear soaked lips.

Eddie Munson forces himself to remember how unsure you looked in your dress when he held you around your waist, never feeling more himself in his entire life than he did with you— at thirteen—during some cheesy school dance, how you entertained his tunes so he could teach you the counting method he uses for his music to move your feet to the beat, all your encouragement every time he hit a new note, or your midnight phone calls to ask what he’d like on his posters, your body trusting him to keep you safe on those nights when everything became too much for you in your life, but you had tried to hide it, or when you both snuck in to see Carrie when you were pre-teens and you couldn’t sleep without him, so he made a makeshift mattress next to your bed for a month, about that time you were so tired from an all nighter that he had walked into his room and found you curled up in his bed, using his vest as a makeshift pillow, your nagging him to study more, because he’s always capable of anything he sets his mind to, and those cookies—the only thing you can bake without having to call for Hawkins fire department—a container you’d brought for him and his Uncle, still sitting on his kitchen counter.

He was your person and you were his. And now? You’re gone. Eddie runs away. He keeps running, leaving you to your own miserable anguish, drowning in his own, getting himself in his rust bucket and going back to his trailer to get completely fucked outta his not-so-right mind.

~*~

By the time your suspension is over and you can no longer barricade yourself into your room and finish off another bottle from your dad’s liquor cabinet—it’s sheer dread. You’re not only the freak who broke Hawkins Highschool’s Prom King’s nose, but you’re the freak without anyone by your side—a true and thorough outsider. As you stand outside your school, nails pinching into already weakened threads dedicated to your bag’s strap, you’re really regretting those couple of drinks this morning and how you’d poured more vodka into a flask to take your Tylenol with. Hell, it’s not like you can get a fix from the school dealer anymore, is it?

Those damned double doors are louder, a jolt to your already throbbing headache, fluorescent lights sparkling in your retinas through your shades that cover a nursing hangover and distraught, red and puffy eyes from a three day sob fest. Each step your boots make sounds like you’re walking to your death, your outfit—sans any Hellfire related attire—is all yours. Your two chains limited to one, Eddie’s gift waiting in a cardboard box you’d half-assed assembled, and tossed in random shit he’d given you. The deeper you get into every hallway, making simple turns you know like the back of your hand, your nausea grows as to what might be awaiting around each corner. Or who. It’s a short lived relief upon arrival at your locker.

You pinch your shades off, raw eyes protesting the moment fresh tears staple your skin in brushes. In red letters, diagonally capitalized across your door contains what you haven’t wanted to face since it happened.

The freak got dumped

You choke on your salvia, throat wet and enduring a suffocation strong enough to have you gagging on the piece of toast and water you’d forced your famished form to consume this morning. You barely make it into the toilets before double over and expelling everything, diaphragm on fire, bones vibrating through tosses. Hair dangling in your face, plastered to your mouth, you sniffle and tremble, vision blurring. You ponder getting yourself fucking expelled, but you made this whole ordeal about it being your year. If you retreat now, what will that do? Mustering all your strength, your courage, you flush your bile, clean off your mouth and face, pop a mint, take a swig out of your flask, and make your way to your first class.

~*~

By the ever popular lunch time, you have managed to clean your locker and pinpoint the culprit (an ashamed that a girl broke his nose, Jason Carver), but neither of you speak on it. You keep your head down, you focus on your school work, you take your Tylenol, and you sip on your vodka. Enough to keep an edge off, but not enough to send you down a despairing hole filled with regret and torment. You know you’re being stared at as soon as you hit the line to get your tray. It’s fake smiles and refusal to acknowledge it that gets you in search of an aisle, and hopefully out of sight. You aren’t so lucky…

“Hey, Y/N! Over here!” You hear an all too cheery voice belonging to Dustin Henderson. It halts you in your tracks, a wince causing a physical recoil.

It’s not his fault you and Eddie no longer have anything resembling a relationship, and he apparently has not told them, and they’ve not seen Jason Carver’s masterpiece.

Good.

What isn’t good is that Eddie is very much at your old table and you know it’s unavoidable. You wished you had borrowed some concealer for your under eyes, but it’s too late. There’s a grand staircase cloaked in invisibility beneath your feet, your stomach knotting in crushing vices, your cheeks stained with red. You walk to your former friend group, trying like hell not to side eye Eddie Munson. Keeping a steady focal point without blinking against your scratchy lower lids is damn near impossible. And guys are going to be guys—much to your chagrin. Gareth is drawing further attention where nothing needs to be, popping off with a, “Damn, Y/N lookin’ like she went on a bender.”

“A week long bender,” Jeff chimes in.

Biting the inside of your cheek between your teeth, you shrug a shoulder. Better them having knowledge of your binge drinking celebration than knowing about how messed up you are.

Don’t look at Eddie. Is your mantra for today.

He, on the other two hands, is not prioritizing that same aspect.

“So what if I did? I know of about ten girls who can drink your asses under the table, myself included.” You smirk, gripping your tray’s edge.

“Been holding back on us?” Gareth is grinning from ear to ear. It eases your shouldered weight tremendously, breaking tension in your table’s ranks.

“You gonna have a seat or what?” Mike Wheeler interrupts, his hands flipping towards a desired target, one that you wish you could keep pretending you never knew.

Fuck it.

You really crave for some divine intervention to help you, because meeting those chocolate brown eyes that are distraught, angry, and rimmed red—your heart constricts to painful blows, windpipes crushed beyond speaking capabilities. Eddie’s been somewhere off planet earth with that kinda high, you remember seeing his demeanor that way only a handful of times, including this one. Maybe he does care? No, doesn’t matter, don’t go there. It’s over and done.

Still, that idiotic, massively moronic part that Eddie owns of you—it’s billowing hope. Eddie Munson dashes it in seconds flat.

“No.”

You glance away, jaw twitching to control an automatic quiver. Dustin is laughing it off as a joke, someone else asking why. Eddie reclines his legs in your empty chair, loud enough to get your attention back. He wants me to see.

“No traitors.” It’s a simplistic answer, aggressive, no room to argue.

Ever-the-curious-freshmen, Dustin and Mike peg their leader for questions. You halt it, tone breaking apart, fingers tucking into your shirtsleeve as you balance your lunch on one hand and wipe across raw flesh to clean fresh tears from your eyeline. That’s when Eddie does look away.

Coward.

“It’s okay, guys.” Is what you say.

“What’s going on?” Gareth asks.

“I won’t be around meetings or practices anymore, but I’m still here if anyone needs anything, okay? You know where my locker is, and where I live.” You pat yourself on the back for that robotic but truthful statement.

“Unless you’re sick of everyone else too…” His deep voice rumbles.

Like a deer in headlights— you’re frozen, a blinding rage of hurt and red hot anger pouring over you in a storm. You explode. Picking up the first thing in your sight, which happens to be on your plate—a glob of some chocolate goop (possibly a brownie)—it’s slung directly at your former best-friend’s crisp white Hellfire shirt. Your second cafeteria incident that, yet again, everyone notices. Eddie yelps, shouting out your name in brisk spits.

You further it, abandoning your food in a repeat of days ago, floating to his side and shoving him back two steps. Eddie stops his rapid shirt swipes and immediately presses his form into yours, chests smashed, food squishing through your top. His hair is frazzled from the humidity, his toffee colored irises slowly polishing into a thick black gloss of dilated pupils. He sucks his tongue against his teeth, swaying into you, not touching you with those hands, an air about him that is beginning to swarm your initial reaction and bend it over, fucking it into the next decade. He’s taller than you remember, but you latch onto your own, tasting that cigarette soaked breath, lips hovering over his, hot tears matting your lashes.

Whether it’s regarding his inability to respond to your reasoning for this whole situation, his lack of expression, your self-disappointment for something roused inside you at his huffing proximity, you crown him with a title off a jagged voice box, damp in her sorrows, just as Dustin steps between you two, gently prying. “You’re a fucking coward, Eddie Munson.”

Teachers are starting to flock in, and you shake your head, hand over your eyes briefly, before sprinting in strides from the room in search of a place to collapse.

~*~

If you had told yourself at the beginning of the school year that you’d be in a camaraderie with the girl’s bathroom—you would have laughed. And if your mind had convinced you otherwise, you’d have expected Eddie to be right beside you, arm around your shoulders, sharing his lunch, making stupid jokes, coming up with lame ideas to make you feel better, but in that endearing Eddie Munson kinda way. You let out a soft cry, giving up on that stinging beneath your lids. You’re a hot mess and the whole building probably knows how alone you really are now. When the outcasts cast you out, where else can you go?

Clenching onto the sides of the ceramic sink, bag slipping off your shoulder and onto the floor, you keep your head bowed between your shoulder blades, not noticing someone come in and approach you, a gentle set of fingers laying upon your shoulder. Through foggy vision you can make out the green colors of her uniform and her perfectly straight ponytail, her face seemingly concerned. Your laugh is exhaustion on steroids, expression bombarded with emotion. “Okay, what the fuck is next? A girl craves some independence and the whole school turns against her. Let me guess, your boyfriend sent you to get even? Why don’t I make it easy for you and you can call your friends in here, and… and—“

Great.

Your lungs start to burn, your ribcage pounding with an erratic heartbeat, throat feeling like it’s been dusted with a thick blanket of ash. You’re panicking in front of Chrissy Cunningham. That alone has you feeling more pathetic than ever before in your life, and it worsens your heaving sobs—broken and unguarded. Chrissy’s eyes are drinking you in, irises glossing over with tears of her own. She grasps your other shoulder and squeezes, not releasing her hold on you, her soft voice strong when she speaks, but gentle enough between the expanse of your shared airspace.

“One, two, three, four. Okay, now deep breath in, and release it for me, Y/N.” She’s actually calming you, keeping you steady on your feet, which feel as if they’re sinking into the flooring below like led weights.

“Chrissy…” You aren’t sure how to articulate, still alarmed and attempting to breathe with her.

“I’m right here. Just keep breathing and counting with me.” And you do. And that’s when it hits you.

She has experience with this mind numbing panic too. That otherworldly anxiety. You feel a connective pull towards the cheerleader—seeing—not this persona you’d imagined, but her calming features, her easy going manner towards you, how she lets you find your lifeline, but also lends you her own in case you need it. When your breathing slows, she gives you a look, a silent communication of question. You may be able to breathe a little easier now, but it doesn’t stop the weight of your situation from crashing down and demolishing what’s left of you.

“Can I… I’m gonna hug you, is that okay?” At this point, if she’s going to put a sign on your back you don’t care. You need the human connection, the comfort. You agree and your schoolmate takes you into a light grip, but folds her arms around you and lets you bury your cheek against her perfumed sweater.

You both stand in the embrace, no trace of awkwardness, a sense of kinship and knowing. It’s when you pull back that hint of a questionable concern with her, wiping your sore eyes with a hiss. She notices.

“Are you here because of Jason? I just need to know.”

“Jason was a dick, Y/N.” Her language shocks you, having only heard her be proper before.

You laugh, your first genuine giggle in days. It’s contagious, as she joins in, hip jutting against the sink. “No, I’m here on my own terms. I promise. I saw what happened with your friends…”

“Yeah, I can imagine how everyone must be amused right now.” You bite your lip, facing away.

Chrissy gives you a saddened smile, but attempts to reassure. “I know this is gonna sound incredibly lame coming from me, but you’re stronger than all this, Y/N. The way you’ve stood up for yourself these past several days… I admire it.”

You frown deeply, wondering if this is a trick, because no way is Chrissy Cunningham admiring someone like you.

“You admire a loser that can’t even manage her own newfound independence?”

“No,” she says with a pause, looking down at her French tip manicure, before facing your curious gaze once more. “I admire your ability to stand up for yourself, despite what everyone is saying or doing to you. It’s a good quality to have, one that many of us are afraid of, you know?”

There’s this hollow pain in her eyes and your continued recognition has you pulling her in for another hug—this time for her benefit, rather than yours.

“Looks like we’ve fallen into the cliché trap, Cunningham.” You grin, pulling back.

Chrissy tilts her head, curious. “What do you mean?”

“A freak and a cheerleader thinking the same as what their peers think, and getting each other totally wrong.”

Her sweet eyes light up, her head nodding. “That’s exactly it.”

You share a knowing smile, a newfound bond forming. Chrissy situates her small shoulder bag, pulling out a compact and tugging you by your sleeve. “C’mhere. Let me fix that.”

She takes a gentle hand, not rushing as she speckles your sore under eyes with her own stash of makeup. After she blends it with soft fingertips, she snaps the lid closed and places it back in her bag, turning you to the bathroom mirror, brushing some of your hair through, giving your back a rub. “Is that any better, Y/N?”

Your circles are mostly covered, puffiness disguised enough where you won’t be embarrassed. You look and feel much better, and you’re overwhelmed with gratitude for the blonde at your side. You incline yourself into a swivel, leaning in her direction. “Chrissy Cunningham, I think you’re one of the sweetest people I now kinda, sort of know.”

Her giggle is infectious, and she gives you another squeeze. You drop down to swoop your messenger bag into your arms, grabbing out a your notebook and a pen, scribbling your home phone on it, hesitating, before handing it over. “If you ever need to talk to someone about all the bullshit, whatever it is, consider me your new confidant.”

She holds the simple sheet paper as if it’s another lifeline and you’ve just given her a treasure. Going back into her own bag, she has a cute little pink embroidered stationary paper that she jots her number on, and uses a smiley face to dot the i in Chrissy. Seconds later, her friends and a group of other girls burst into the bathroom, gossip on their lips. You and Chrissy flash each other a secret smile, and you make another hasty retreat.

~*~

Eddie had to hear a bunch of shit from the guys, overly bearing questions sounded off by Henderson and Wheeler. The eventual revealing by a passerby group of cheerleaders about your specially decorated locker, had surprised him too. As if there’s not already a weighted dagger wedged into his ribcage, one interlocking into his heart muscle—he lost control with his bitter mouth again, and it fueled your temper. But deep down, deeper into those subconscious recesses, you both felt that ignition start, a kind of coercing heat that is waging an internal war in Eddie’s head. His sole reason for blocking you out and refusing to talk about anything with you in the woods.

Eddie Munson is in love with you. Eddie Munson needs to fuck you.

It’s something he’s always done—built walls, got high, stayed drunk, coped with humor, hid behind his guitar or his campaigns. And without his right hand woman, he feels naked, too vulnerable to all the bullshit he’s tried to keep out. And your absence has become a set course for his weakening concentration on anything that isn’t you. His ultimate warrior princess is also his Achilles heel. Your feelings in wanting to branch out, they scare Eddie.

His brain is flipping logic into thinking you are seeing what everyone else sees in him: freak, failure, piece of shit, a nobody, a criminal. He pushed you out before he could pull you back in—easy, abrupt. And it’s not just changing him—no—he could smell your vodka soaked breath across the table, see your eyes swollen and glazed—absent. For the first time in years you weren’t wearing your limited edition shirt (thanks to him), and Eddie isn’t sure why he expected you to still have his chain around your neck. It fucking hurts.

As the room slowly falls back into their daily routine, Eddie loses his appetite and leaves his herd behind, urgent to get the fuck outta this building, out of Hawkins. Hell, maybe even the country. Like you, however, Eddie Munson’s retreat isn’t one that is unscathed. In his urgency, he smacks straight into you, stumbling over his own clumsy ass feet, gripping your forearms to keep you both steady. He’s processed your scent before he even takes in your beautiful features.

Fuck…

You look less like you’ve been partying all weekend, but Eddie knows better. Your pupils are dilated to the bright overhead lights of the hallways, making your sclera more visible. It’s bloodshot red, lower lids swollen and tinged a rough crimson beneath the fresh makeup that Eddie now sees. He swallows and looks away, but he doesn’t let you go. His grip isn’t harsh, it’s simply what it’s always been with you two. Easy and sturdy, safe.

You’re the first to downcast your gaze, focusing more on your shoe wear than on Eddie. It kills him. Even through these notions, this fear, whatever anger you’re both harboring, it’s as if this whole damned school and everyone passing you two are mere bodies, Eddie Munson and Y/N Y/L/N floating, tethered. His stomach churns its lunch contents, teeth clenching tightly. You make a brisk dart off, but Eddie attempts to catch you, instead tugging too hard on your shoulder strap, causing your bag to dump and spread out its contents at his sneaker clad feet.

Eddie’s eyes are quick to see it before you realize. Shining underneath hallway lights, scattered amongst notebooks and pens, is a small flask. His brows perch, he crouches first, scooping it away from your jutting hands. Gareth’s words rewind and play on repeat in his head.

“Damn, Y/N lookin’ like she went on a bender.”

The way his heart rate spikes, hostilely spitting that acid all over his lungs, battering his throat muscles with a pummeling storm. He’s already sure what he’ll smell if he presses the lid to his nostrils, but Eddie has to feed his anxious curiosity, unscrewing the cap with nervous hands, sniffing, shrugging off your grabs. It burns his mouth from its strength, his distraction giving you enough leeway to wrap your hands over his fingers and pull. Eddie locks your digits within his own, second thoughts gone. Against everything inside him he is getting angrier by the second, the anger masking itself, easier than being petrified and scared in front of you.

And Eddie is scared. Is he really so fucking stupid to think you weren’t at all affected by any of this?

“What the fuck, Y/N?” Your fingers sliding through his own, flood him, prickling every vein running beneath his skin, cutting off his blood flow—scorching.

~*~

Having Eddie’s hands on you again, his body so close, despite your shame at his discovery, it’s a feeling that comes more natural than breathing. You avoid his question, feeble grasping docked.

“Why do you have a flask full of fucking vodka?”

“Will you keep your voice down!” You hiss the words, finally breaking off him and retrieving the rest of your items on the scuffed up floor, and securing them back into your bag, Eddie holding back your liquor.

“Did you drive to school drinking this crap? Tell me you didn’t, Y/N, cause’ I swear to god—“

You chortle, a humorless boom smacking across your chest.

“Eddie, this faux best-friend act is getting old. Your on and off switch is enough to drive anyone to drastic measures. But don’t flatter yourself into thinking I’d be an idiot and drive drunk. Not even for you.”

His irises that are glossy with concern, they cave to dilating pupils, an animalistic rage priming them. “Oh, you have got to be the most clueless bitch alive, Y/N.” He steps towards you, frame towering slightly. You’re not afraid, never fearing if he’ll do something, because that is not Eddie, no matter what. But, you are very much dripping with rage at his words.

He pockets your flask in his left back pocket, rings clinking against it as he pats it for good measure. You try to dive around him, beneath his arm, but he swoops in on his own, using that strength for his slender frame, literally scooping you into a half bring-away, only discarding you back onto your feet once you’re both outside. You try to shove at him, palms resting on his stained club shirt. The bell has rang to signal your free period, but you don’t give two fucks, giving up and being the one to leave.

“Who’s the coward now, huh? You’re gonna walk away from me when I call you on your shit, Y/N?”

You spin on your heel, dirt and gravel specks crunched beneath your step. “I thought I was a clueless bitch, Eddie? A traitor? Or, your slut.” You scoff, crossing your arms.

Guilt briefly flickers across his features, but he shuts it down tenfold. “Just because we’re fighting doesn’t mean I want you to destroy your fucking liver or your life. Jesus Christ, you really think I’m that big of an asshole?”

“I don’t know what to think anymore!” You fling your hands into the air. “One minute we’re at each other’s throats, the next you’re up my ass. I don’t know what to do here, Eddie.”

“Thought you craved some individuality and independence.” Though there’s meant to be flare behind the words, Eddie’s tone has splintered across each word, voice breaking apart. Your guts sink into your ass, as does a particularly pointed swallow that stabs at your jugular.

“Didn’t say I wanted to be completely independent from my best-friend.” Your own response is gentle, voice soaked with impending emotion.

Fuck. Stupid fucking tears burning again. Not right now.

Eddie’s attention snaps back on you, proximity closing in. His jaw clenches, he moves it from side to side with a closed mouth, sniffing, whistling air through a wet breath. “Feels like you’re leavin’ me and I can’t do anything to stop it…”

It makes sense suddenly. A catapult of truth slamming right into your chest, spreading throughout your body.

He thinks I’m leaving him. That I want to leave him.

As if the last seventy two hours haven’t happened, better yet, as if they haven’t mattered in the grand scheme of things—you’re the one that meets Eddie, reaching to push that curly hair from his eyes, his head downcast and posture sullen. His brown eyes are brimmed with tears that spill over his lash line, a permanent frown creased between his brows, mouth red and spit slick. Those freckles on his nose are suddenly very prominent to you. You’ve never seen Eddie Munson this vulnerable. Your heart shatters, the ache so physically strong that you have to remain close to him to hold on and find that strength again.

How could you have gotten this so monumentally wrong? Maybe if you’d have expressed what you meant more instead of feeding off Eddie’s anger. His communication and yours both need nurturing, but your sudden shift in mood must’ve made him feel like you wanted to abandon him, not just do things for yourself. He may not realize that yet, but you do. And it fucking sucks.

“Eddie. I’m sorry.” It’s all you can say in the seconds that your heart heaves into your throat.

He shakes that shaggy mane. “Don’t need anyone feeling sorry for me, especially you.” He backs away from you and you see his entire expression crumble, tears spilling onto his cheeks.

That pain drowns your throat, seeing him cry because of your lack of explanation and mutual avoidance. You chase after him, running around to block his view, unable to let him go, gripping onto his waist beneath his jacket to keep him planted. Another familiarity. He tenses beneath your touch before relaxing.

“Eddie, will you please listen to me? I think I know what’s going on now.”

“And look who is the one flipping her emotions this time.”

“Because, I… Eddie, I—“

“What lame ass line do you want me to buy, Y/N? You think I’m not used to worthless promises or idiotic reassurances? Yeah, good.” His sentence is fragmented, voice rough and breaking apart on each word. “You know I still care about you, but I don’t need you to lie to me, you don’t owe me a damn thing, I promise you—“

You press a finger to his quivering lips, halting him. There’s a shift in the atmosphere, a pause in the universe, your legs heavy, fingertip stroking along the plumpness of your best-friend’s full, lower lip. Eddie’s chest is moving up and down swiftly, tongue against his teeth, that warning look. You fail to heed it and Eddie’s hands tremble at his sides before he gives up and cups the sides of your face, bringing your foreheads together. His lips part to speak, your finger still on them. “Think we’re in trouble here.”

You can do nothing but nod as his declaring statement, inclining your head further, nose nudging his own. It doesn’t feel as if you’re standing any longer, every mean thing that Eddie has said, every disproportionate attempt of yours to communicate—obliterate, shrouding you both in the process. His breath is hot as his mouth opens and he sucks your finger inside, tongue licking its tip, biting the digit between those milky white teeth. It sends that throbbing nudge, snapping between your thighs, making you arch into your best-friend. You whisper his name and his fingers move along your jaw, across your ear, sliding through your hair and rubbing a pathway to your necks’ nape, sending an army of goosebumps across your flesh, the coolness of his rings stimulating your skin.

“Yeah, you feelin’ it too?” Your lids flutter closed, Eddie using his thumb pad to brush the corners of your lashes, signally for you to open them. “Didn’t say you could stop looking at me, did I, sweetheart?”

You grind against him, unable to stop. Your last several days, everything between you both is on hold, these buried urges able to finally win out. This dominant side of Eddie Munson has you an inward and outwardly quickening pile of mush and hormones, of fucking need. Eddie about loses his cool when you obey him, pupils blown, mouth looking parched and in need of his kisses. He leans, walls starting to slip, resolve crumbling, his pouting mood long gone.

Years of built up tension and confusion, being rightfully by one another’s sides, it all comes apart, the seams, begging to be repaired into what it has to be now.

You envelop his hold on you, hands sliding into slips beneath his jacket, around his waist, tracing over his back, before dipping under his armpits and grasping his shoulders, knuckles pushed down by his leather jacket. One more step and he’ll kiss you. He’s closing a gap, no more breaches, you tapping his shoulders right down to the blades in encouragement. It’s parted mouths hovering over one another, cigarettes and vodka, school lunch and weed, it’s—

“Hey, guys! Higgins is so pissed off right now… After that shit went down in the caf, he’s ready to expel you, Y/N! Pretty fuckin’ sure.” You hear Gareth approach, and just like, Eddie releases you.

You have to steady yourself, want simmering into a slumber in your belly, not yet gone, but still reminding you where it lives. Your glare is directed at your mutual friend. Eddie, feeling as if he’s been doused with ice cold water, and the moment is shattered, you see those walls rebuilding rapidly, and she shrugs off your hand, leaving you and Gareth, and that slickness that has collected in your panties.

~*~

You aren’t sure just exactly what Eddie is feeling, but you’re very aware of what you are. So driving to his place once you know Wayne has left for the night shift—it’s a no brainer. You’d debated bringing Eddie your box of treasures, even your necklace, but you can’t bring yourself to do it. Maybe, maybe your best-friend doesn’t want you to…?

Want.

A dynamic shift in your relationship, or what it used to be. You can barely sit still as you wrack your brain through all the levels of hazy blurs. So much has happened in three days, but… today, with Eddie nearly kissing you on the mouth, and you nearly grinding against him in the Hawkins High parking lot—yeah, you two have to talk about all of this. As you squirm in your seat, hands tightening around the wheel, that approaching trailer park sign signals your arrival to his residence. You can’t stop the way your heartbeat feels as if it’s ping ponging around in your throat, or that anxious twitch of your mouth’s corner—forget even attempting to deny your cascading memories of the way his chocolate irises wore an expression unlike anything you’ve ever seen on Eddie Munson.

His trailer comes into your sights, that tickle swooping your guts and holding them hostage. You swallow a thick ball of anxiety, parking next to his van, cutting your engine. The lights are all on and you’ve got no excuse to chicken out. It’s your year too, right? Fucking fuck it.

With your keys clutched in your palm, you make your way to Eddie’s trailer, rasping on his door lightly. You don’t hear his music blaring, so he might be reading, planning a campaign, writing some music he’d mentioned wanting to practice with the guys soon, get a feel for its sound—just last week. You have given about three octaves of knocks and are about to give up, head pressed the door, thinking he was just lost in lust earlier, and maybe you’d fucked up on your end beyond repair. Exhausted by the stampeding pain that brings your insides, you flip the Munson’s spare key off your key ring and unlock the door. A bold move—albeit—a very stupid one.

That familiar scent of Eddie and Wayne’s shared carton of cigarettes hits your nose, along with the leftovers from dinner you see sitting out on the stove. Your cookies, which have been devoured, are missing their note. You panic, briefly thinking Eddie probably trashed it, only to come back from that brink seconds later. It’s not what you’re here for. You glance at the couch and it’s empty, not even Eddie’s usual indent on the cushion is there.

Swinging your keys from your pointer finger, you peek down the small hallway to Eddie’s closed door, light spilling out underneath. He could be sleeping, possibly ignoring you, or he snuck out the back door…

Your feet make an echoing squeak across the trailer’s flooring structure, your fingers twisting the knob and pushing, pausing, deciding to go ahead. If he wants you to leave then you’ll go, if he’s asleep, you’ll go, if he left… You can’t fathom that thought, another ignorance that you partake in. You aren’t sure exactly what you expected, but seeing your best-friend’s tallish frame, with his back facing you, lean leg propped atop his mattress, right arm bent at a very clear angle, his left propped on one of his many amps he’d apparently moved since you’d been here last—is sure as hell NOT it. Eddie’s curly hair ruffles and is jostled across his shoulders with each movement his arm makes, his delicious ass clenching as his body thrusts into his rhythm, the outline of his chain on his perspired neck and damp strands of dark hair—clear. You don’t have to hear the thick, slick and wet stroking to know what he’s doing to himself.

You cross an ankle over the other, squeezing your legs together tightly, trying to bounce on the balls of your heels to get relief. Your fingers white knuckle his banged up door handle, your mouth parting. Whether it’s that bond you two share, or your very visible labored breathing, Eddie’s shoulder blades pinch together, his motions abruptly cut. He turns as if caught doing something he shouldn’t be—definitely something you aren’t prepared to handle. It’s like your mouth is speaking for you, eyes in a trance, enslaved to your lustful abiding.

Fucked out, blown up pupils shave off the color of your irises, your tongue gliding across your teeth, that take a turn to sink into your bottom lip, your toes curling in your shoes. You feel hot, body battered in melting flames that won’t cease, won’t let you get in a normal burst of air flow. You know without having to fix your posture that you’ve made a mess between your legs, panties soaked to hell—completely ruined. You’re honest to fuck not sure if you can make it out of here in an upright position, that painfully strong ache tackling your cunt, breaking off your common sense, leaving you Eddie-drunk. Helping yourself to a swiping look between his legs, he’s still got a ring clad hand wrapped around a very generous girth—shiny—a length that leaves saliva pooling on your tongue’s tip.

His chest is slick with sweat, tattoos glossed beneath, nipples hard from the cool air let into his bedroom. Which, you note, is really fucking hot, and the window is steamed up. Your eyelids flutter in rapid blinks to help you reign yourself in, but all you see are glimpses of Eddie’s fist around himself, that creamy and swollen head, full balls on either side, trimmed curls at the base of his shaft. You want to die. And oh, what a sweet and sinful death that would be.

“Mhm… fuck.” You say through the gap between your panting mouth, words take the opportunity to bust free, joining a high pitched whimper.

Eddie’s chocolate eyes are completely black, leaving no room for anything else but purely raw desire. They widen, a sharp heave in his inhaling chest, abdomen flexing as he holds himself tightly. When you don’t move Eddie takes the initiative, slowly approaching, a softness there beneath the want and knowing. He reaches your space, still giving you enough, but you’re able to still feel that radiating body heat. Neither of you speak, because what is there to say right now?

You’d be a pleading mess of profanities, apologizes, and begging to be taken and used.

Thankfully, Eddie makes another move before you. His spare hand joins your own on the door knob, fingers brushing your knuckles, encouraging, giving you one more opportunity if you’re in distress or uncomfortable. You hook onto his offer and you surprise you both by finding something to say after all, throat parched, yet still damp with wanton rasp. “Start touching yourself again, Eddie. Please?” Fuck, well there’s a beg.

Eddie, assuming you want a show, nerves being dipped in lava and left to forever sizzle and smoke—gives in, both of you shutting his door and closing the two of you off from the outside world. He doesn’t wait for you to back away, pushing his hips to a rise, his cock gliding through his closed fist. You let him lean over you, frame against his door, watching his legs spread to widen his stance, obeying your plea. He almost asks, but assumes it would be too hopeful if you would want to touch yourself in front of him too. You’re out of your mind, common sense obliterated for all eternity, watching your bestfriend practically pin you to the door and fuck himself in front of you.

Those sounds you’ve imagined, pictured, they’re even more pronounced in person. Some low enough that it’s a stifling whimper, a needy sobbing. If you don’t do something about the gnawing throbbing between your thighs, it’ll be total combustion. There’s an empowerment that winds itself around a pulsating set of nerves in one’s decision to masturbate in front of their best-friend. That coolness works itself in your palms, your fingers tossing your keys over and onto Eddie’s dresser, toeing off your shoes, his eyes steamy in their grasp on your every move.

You’d wished you had brought your camera to photograph his expression when you walk over to where he stood in front of his bed, turning to face him, your fingers undoing your jeans and the zipper, a resounding echo in the room, Eddie’s tongue poking out on his upper lip, he holds himself around the base, the urgency to fuck his hand as you take your seat on his mattress and scoot with your back to the wall, hips lifting to help you pull off your jeans and panties. You struggle momentarily, but neither of you are saying a word, gazes steady and unwavering.

Discarding your clothing with a soft thump onto his floor, you’re heartbeat thumps in your throat, ribcage taking an unsteady hammering of its resounding drumming. You heed Eddie’s silent command to continue, agreeing to this turning point between you two. Your thighs fall open and that sticky want strings to your swollen folds, glistening in the creases of your thighs, your cunt sopping wet. You’re dripping, and Eddie isn’t missing it when your arousal finally does drizzle from your neglected pussy and onto his bedsheets. You shift to get comfortable, hand cupping yourself, immediately smothered in your own juices, legs falling into a drop, toes finally able to curl without the barrier of your shoes, bunching Eddie’s sheets.

Eddie watches you from where he can see, still eager to be closer, but unable to stop himself from stroking along his length, teasing that vein that runs alongside his cock. You do it again, rubbing your palm up and down your lips, a crude squelch causing Eddie to almost black out, and you shiver. He releases himself, heavy and hot between slim thighs, and he’s moving. He puffs out a gravelly hiss from pursed lips, stalking towards you and giving a cat like crawl across his own bed, planting himself shoulder to shoulder with you to your left. He must be feeling the overwhelming change that is occurring, as he reaches for your hand to give it a reassuring squeeze.

You gravitate towards your hand, fingers slipping through your slickness, your head bowing in embarrassment. Eddie grips your chin and tilts you his way, shaking his head, that same hand dropping to your thigh and lifting to pull up and to the side. And he looks. He fucking memorizes you between your legs with these little mewling coos of appreciation that cement themselves into your subconscious. You do the same, helping yourself to an up close and personal view of what he’s been hiding.

Eddie leans forward and cups the nap of your neck, his other hand taking your wrist and removing it from your self-touches, shushing your protesting whine. He brings it up to his mouth, which is hovering close to yours, your own fingers pressed against your lips, and he licks a straight stripe up your creamy covered palm, humming underneath his breath as he does so. You want to slap him and ride him on every available surface in this trailer. You’re the one to speak, having to.

“Eddie…” It’s a meek little trail-off.

Eddie lets go of your wrist and uses that hand to pull his cock off his stomach, a wet patch left behind in his happy trail. He still doesn’t let your neck go, his fingertips tapping an invisible beat, leaving goosebumps in their wake. He’s laughing, tufts of air settling across your mouth. You narrow your gaze, moving to shut your legs, Eddie’s hand quickly preventing the action, stroking the meat of your inner thigh. “Only fair if I’m exposed, sweetheart.”

“But… you’re laughing.” And it hits you then, why he’s really chuckling in that Eddie Munson way. It’s an incredulous and mind boggling turn of events. Best-friends that broke up when they were never together, now side by side and in a very compromising situation.

You grin and falter into his embrace, your hand working its way into a wind around his neck, taking sweaty strands in scoops between your fingers, his pick chain draped across your knuckles. Eddie licks across his bottom lip, tapping your hips as he moves, your hands falling, and sprawls his legs into a propped spread, cock neglected and flushed, much like the rest of his skin, that you’ll die if you don’t put your marks on. He’s motioning for you to turn in a slow facing position in front of him, and that’s how you end up—vulnerable, so fucking vulnerable. He’s muttering words, huddled and unintelligible, reaching out and tugging you to him by your ankles, stopping, resting, eyes dark as they do a once over to gauge your mental stability. When you don’t protest, palms splaying out to keep yourself upright behind you, Eddie lets his legs flatten against his sheets, a smirk pattering his lips, indenting its knowing presses beside his mouth.

His exhale catches on a ragged breath, a passionate declaration signing off on what’s about to occur, teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he pulls you close, your ass resting on his hairy thighs, waiting, held, his arm wrapping around your lower back and lifting you completely into that ink splattered, silk-slick chest, his skin sticking to your long sleeved t-shirt, ruining it with sex-soaked perspiration. You think that there’s nothing—no—you know that in this entire world, no matter what, that whatever will happen to you is never going to compare to the moment when Eddie’s maneuvering hands glide your wet cunt over his cock, using your drenching heat as his own personal lubricant. Your ankles lock around his waist, no choice from the close band that your best-friend has re-tethered you to him with, leaving no room or space where you’re not touching or breathing in the other. Your arms curl around Eddie’s neck, hands draped down his back as you help yourself to pinching and clawing the flesh beneath, relishing every little grumble and groan off his pretty lips. Your face takes solace in his neck, nosing your way through his curly hair, nose bumping his chain to lift so that your mouth can claim him.

“Fuck.” His throat constricts around a swallow, your teeth sinking into a piece of Eddie’s flesh and biting, releasing, lips closing over that angry spot to soothe, tongue tasting salt, licking it off, indulging.

He lets your have your way with his neck, a particularly harsh slap landing on your ass in following of your mouth on his jugular, letting your tongue following that curvature into his jawline. You don’t stop his wandering hands, you don’t dare fight off his vice grip on the globes of your ass, his kneading, using as them leverage to place you right where he wants you. You let him take control, an unspoken agreement, a having to have. Your head falls back as Eddie rolls his hips beneath, rocking his lap, solid presses that drag his fat cock over your embarrassingly wet pussy, scattering your thick arousal and smearing it across his happy trail, getting caught in that patch of curls at the base of his shaft. You’re dripping all over him, quite literally. Caught on a trapped hum, hung in its hisses between your clenched teeth, you croon into Eddie’s neck, your stomach tightening, that velvety drag of his dick through your swollen folds making your lids flutter closed, colors dotting in their dances—translucent.

You aren’t sure where to move your hands, comfortable with having them shred Eddie’s back and empty out the past few days of frustration and desperation. Eddie encourages, palming handfuls of your ass, creating a cresting twist, a thigh trembling rub of sopping wet desire. He’s merely whimpering, appreciating, not overly vocal until his swollen head catches your neglected clit, and his head drops back, fingers pinching so tightly into your skin that it burns.

“Oh, shit. Dammit, baby.”

You’re simpering on a series of whimpers, agreeable and speechless. Eddie is feeding off it. “Yeah? You needing this too? Little clit feels so good rubbing on my dick, sweetheart. You want me to do it again?”

When you’re not immediately able to be vocal, Eddie pulls back a little, shoving his hand between your thighs and drags his rings directly through your arousal, coating them in a glittering shine. His first real touch where you need him the most. You both inhale sharply. It’s the pain from the cool metal of his jewelry that makes it feel so fucking good. He curses, telling you how messy you’re being, flinging his hand in your sights, dragging you in a pry off of his neck, holding your jaw and flashing his knuckles.

“See what you did, messy little angel. You gotta clean em’ now for me.”

His eyes are so fucking demolished, brown crushed beneath a midnight sea of black and insatiable attraction. You’re mewling, tongue lolling out, licking that metallic onto your tongue, sloppily sloping around his knuckles, lips suckling what your tongue can’t catch, your own taste fresh off your mouth. That’s when Eddie brushes a calloused thumb across your bottom lip, tugging it down to expose your teeth, and he brings your lips to his, a feral groan stealing your breath, sharing your juices in your first kiss. It’s a shift in the energy you share, a no going back, no running away, a fate sealed. Eddie loses all control and flips you off his lap, pinning you beneath him, kissing you with such feverish vigor that your hand tangles into his messy curls, and you pull, hard.

His tongue licks your lips open, greedily removing what’s left of your taste that remains. It’s noisy and nasty in the expanse of his small bedroom—diabolically sinful. One hand caresses your throat’s expanse, the other dropping down with a snapped wrist between your thighs, palm smacking your cunt, a guttural groan vibrating from his mouth into your own. Saliva strings on the break away, Eddie’s gaze switching to watch the hand on your cunt, out of it.

“Your pussy always this wet, baby? Or is it just for your best-friend?”

“Only for you, Eddie. Always you.”

Fallen into the depths of satisfaction, Eddie permits a slender digit to drag down your slit, taking that thick honey with it, a squelch echoing in the room when his finger wiggles its way inside of you. You clamp around him, chest heaving with shaky breaths.

“Jesus Christ. You’re gonna drown my dick when you let me fuck you, aren’t you?”

You’re incoherently babbling, tapping the hand that’s on your throat, hungry for it. “Tighter.”

Eddie’s brow raise is comical, a surprise coating his features. “So miss Y/N likes it rough? Never woulda guessed.”

You gulp a pump of air that vibrates across his hold, trying to gain more depth from his finger. It’s moving in exploration of your softly wet walls, an excess of arousal being pressed out upon that squish. Eddie tightens his hold on your throat, before he taps his fingers to your jugular and releases, hand toppling down your side and caressing, bringing. “Fuck, my best-friend’s got such a perfect little pussy. S’ made to be destroyed and used.”

You’re nodding so hard that the motion causes a cracking pop in your neck, Eddie laughing that noise under a cute breath. He’s thick with it, wiggling in a second finger and causing you drop your hands back behind you and push into the sensation, chasing, hunting it.

“Desperate to get away from me all week, now look at you. What a whore.”

Eddie has a mouth on him, something you’d always wondered about in your daily daydreams and nightly fantasies. As vocal as when he’s singing with his band. He’s saying words to you, snapping your attention, you’re whining as his fingers leave your cunt, and he’s pulling you into him so hard your lips split apart, cushioning his cock, cradling him in that overwhelming slick. He must not have meant for that action to cause it, as he jumps when you do, this feral look flickering behind those heated orbs. You know… it’s time.

Eddie is barely able to stand, clumsily bringing you with him by a laced grip in your hands. He gets you upright and you’re dizzy, his hands taking purchase on your shirt (the only remaining piece of clothing on you), and rips it with gritting teeth and anger, as if he’s pissed it’s not the club shirt, or sickened with himself for destroying yours—you’re not sure. Spit pools at the corners of your mouth as you let him tear off your tattered tee and yank your bra down, impatiently yanking the clasp apart and discarding it, helping himself to your tits, closing those plush lips over a nipple. Your hand wraps around his throbbing cock, fingers barely touching around the width, squeezing him—tugging. His hips stutter and he whines against your breast, teeth biting the flesh with a harsh precision.

Your other hand works its way through his wet curls and massages his scalp, tenderly altering in beckoning strokes, ones that switch off into root tugging pulls. Eddie’s hands keep your breast cupped, switching off to the other, whilst you dip lower and fondle his balls, letting your pinky drop off and scratch into his inner thigh. He’s doing that humming thing underneath his fucked out tone again, and you’re focusing your attention on his cock, thumb pad stroking that weeping slit, spreading it around and over that vein, enchanted with how it causes a thin bright shine over him, your own cream matted into the curls at the base of him, pathed up his stomach. His mouth leaves your chest and those big hands grip your cheeks, both of you watching as you jack him with a sticky tug.

Fuck me.

“Who’s the whore for his bestfriend now, Eds? You gonna admit that half the shit I’ve done this week has gotten your dick so hard you can’t decide what you’ve hated me for more,” You say, pausing to twist your grip, making him fold into your holding hand, “my smart mouth or how much you need this.”

Your powering dominance is short lived, hand falling off his erection, with Eddie kneeing you into a shove until your back collides with his desk, his arm reaching around to push most of its contents off and onto the floor, not caring where any of it goes. He nudges your thighs apart and slots his lean frame between, thumb catching the corner of your mouth, his instruction clear, yet awaiting your consent to cross this no back-stepping boundary. “M’ gonna fuck you right here, and you’re goin’ to watch me take you, Y/N.”

You’re pretty sure you’re gonna pass out at any given moment.

“I’m gonna watch you, Eddie.” You agree, zoning out and sprinting after your pleasure.

“Good girl.” Eddie breaks briefly, mouth on your shoulder, hand winding your hair around his fist and tugging it back so hard that the ache inside of you becomes an inferno. He finds the underside of your chin, voice honey-hot. “Because you’re not leaving this room until there’s a puddle of me running back out of your cunt.”

You launch forward so fast that Eddie falls into you, chest smashing against your breasts, your lips crashing into his for a brutally intimate kiss. You sink your teeth into his bottom lip and tug, biting down so hard you taste copper—licking it up and making Eddie’s cock jump. His ring covered hand attaches itself to your throat and he drags you off your prop against the desk, spinning you around and securing you to it, those hairy thighs pressing into you, wet cock so close to where you need him the most. His hand wraps around your hair again and lifts your gaze to that small opening in the mirror where posters and his most prized possession hangs. You’re flushed and soaked with sweat, mouth swollen and streaked with red from biting into Eddie’s plump lip, your pussy dripping thick strings of your creamy essence, slowly slithering in dangles from your pussy and onto the floor.

“You’re so fucking messy, Y/N. Aren’t you ashamed of yourself, baby?” Eddie is like the devil on your shoulder, and you, you’re his angel of eternal damnation.

You’re about to beg, but Eddie saves you the trouble, his fingers tapping in tips down your spine, caressing, stroking, before they spread your lips apart and dip inside, palm flat. “Should fuckin’ split you open, do it raw. Cum so deep inside that you end up pregnant with my baby and have no choice but to always think of me, be around me.”

Though there’s a tease behind his passionate words, there’s this primal exclamation that overtakes you and you clamp down on his fingers. A series of fast paced images are vivid in your mind. Your tummy swollen and breasts heavy, Eddie having you bent over like this—one hand on your belly, the other on your throat, feeling your pulse galavant beneath his touch.

“Y/N… Fuck, sweetheart.” He’s so fucked in his descending tone that the depth is gruff and tipping off his diaphragm, you imagine. He presses his cheek against your own, chin resting on your shoulder as you drink each other in, in the mirror’s expanse, Eddie’s tone weak. “You really willing to carry my kid?”

You meet his eyes in the cluttered mirror, nodding, a softness carving out permanent residence in your features. It’s a topic you’d never shared with anyone else, never banked too much on thinking about, but beyond the idea of how hot this all is, you can’t imagine a scenario like this that doesn’t involve Eddie Munson. Vulnerable and barely above a brisk whisper, you’re answering him with, “Yeah, Eds. Want a family with you.”

At your admission, he lets his hand go in languid thrusts. You groan and let your head shift, but Eddie is jerking you back to stare into the glass, both of you panting and on the cusp of an out of body experience. It causes you to grin, licking your lips as your best-friend pumps those experienced digits to cause a purposeful squelch, his rings clinking together. His hard cock is pressed between his own stomach and your back, that pre-cum pooling onto your lower back and smearing in streaks down your ass. You’ve had more than enough teasing and you’re well aware that Eddie has too.

His look briefly falters, turning to mouth at your chin, a silent question. It’s you who uses your words, or rather, trembles in your feeble attempt. “Eddie, just put your cock inside me, or I swear I’ll—“

He’s smirking wildly at your slack-jawed expression when his fingers slide out of you and stick together with your cum, to which he helps himself to and coats his cock, then lines himself up and presses the thick head into your opening, leaning down to bite at your shoulder and leave an exposed imprint. Your legs feel like jello and he hasn’t even fucked you yet. He’s going to ask you to beg, and you’re an all in willing participant. Surprisingly, though, he doesn’t. He inhales sharply, you hold your breath, and both of you watch him sink into your slick and soft cunt, inch by inch, until his balls rest against the globes of your cheeks.

You’re still holding your breath, releasing it when you feel him sigh, grip on your hair loosening a little, too caught up in the fact that he’s where he belongs, after so much time doing without this. Your legs are about to buckle, jerking, toes curling against the carpeted floor, overwhelmed by everything that’s happened, and by your best-friend’s cock throbbing in your aching pussy. “E-Eds…?” It’s a pathetic cry of a question.

Eddie’s brows pinch together, sweat beaded between. He grips your jaw and his fingertips tap you back to meet his mouth, hovering over your lips. “S’ okay, sweetheart. Let me take care of you.” He briefly drops the playful gimmick, reassuring you that he’s right here with you.

It’s more than enough to have you arching back into him, a brash pummeling of his hips that sends you into the dresser, having to reach out and catch yourself. Eddie is quick witted, gripping your wrists with one hand and pinning them behind your back, stepping with you in toe, elongating his arm to snatch those handcuffs on his wall, that cold metal biting into your wrist, that dull noise presenting itself as the cuffs lock you into place, Eddie gripping onto the chains’ excess expanse, using it as a leverage. A sliver of a chalky moan trickles off your kiss-swollen lips, appreciative. The way Eddie is manhandling you has you so fucking euphoric that you’re sure you’ll be in a comatose state before either of you can cum. Your best-friend’s large hand finds purchase in your hair again, drawing his hips back, the other on the chain of the cuffs—steadying himself into a rhythm, riding you like all that matters is your destruction and his ultimate ownership.

Eddie Munson has owned you since the very moment that you two met.

The way he’s executing such precise and rough thrusts, making sure you’re high on the bring up, toes pressing into the carpet, that you’re stuffed full of his fat cock until it hurts, twitching in overstimulation, sore and fluttering walls eager to be soaked in everything he has to give you, that you are taking in every inch, catching every ridge, leaving you a shambled, panting mess, in pieces only being put back together again when Eddie will allow your release. His hair is tickling your shoulder blades, his fingers leaving the cuffs to press into your mouth and curl over your tongue, relishing in how you gag around the digits. You’re weak, so fucking weak for him, and he knows it.

“Can’t wait to hear you gag on my cock, Y/N. If you have trouble with these bad boys?” He puts an emphasis, wiggling his fingers against your tongue, giving them a secondary push to over extend your gag reflexes, his dick twitching inside you.

You bite down on his fingers, sucking them in, accepting his challenge, willing it to happen. His balls slap into your ass, heavy and hot, every movement causing the metal to rut into the skin of your wrists. He’s got a steady tempo going, alternating it by dipping his hips to bring you with him, letting you nearly collide with your chest flush to his desk. He reaches up and shoves that poster back by peeling tape, revealing more of your fucked out forms. Your eyes widen at your disheveled and unrecognizable appearance, Eddie using your cuffed hands as reigns. Riding you so hard that you can’t breathe anything but his hot air curling around the shell of your ear.

“Dammit, you are such a good girl for me, Y/N. Always pictured you takin’ my cock, but you’re not even crying yet, just taking what I give you.”

Yet… Fuck me running.

Your scalp is tingling with a prickling crowd of flames from his harsh grip, his other hand reaching to smack your ass, using some mechanism on the cuffs—albeit—struggling with his spit soaked fingers that were just in your mouth, to unlatch them and discard them at your feet, and he watches the flesh of your ass cheek redden and jiggle beneath his biting palm. You fist your fingers into a strewn pair of his blue denim jeans left on the desk top, dipping your forehead down and arching your back, trying to look between your own legs from this new angle to see Eddie’s cock cradled in your puffy lips. He tuts at your unsuccessful action, forcing you back into watching him doing his hard work—the hardest he’s worked at anything (sans his band or the campaigns, if he’s being honest with himself)—to make this unforgettable for you. He hits that spot located inside, the one you have to strain an arm to barely graze, and you lose all coherent capabilities.

“Eddie… that’s, oh my god, oh FUCK. Right there!”

Eddie’s throat crumbles under a weak pant, which ends up coming out as a whimper. He remains firm, however, still using your hair to keep you right where he wants you, his other hand reaching around to pet his own shaft as he slides out just enough to make you wetter.

“Yeah, baby? That spot gonna make somethin’ happen for you?”

You don’t answer, mumbles and babbling gibberish. He shakes that precious head of his, curls tickling your back and shoulders, a sigh breaking free. “Sorry, sweetheart. Can’t believe we’re doin’ this in front of you. Both my girls right here with me, one of them at my fuckin’ mercy.” Your attentions snap over your shoulder and you see Eddie looking at his fucking guitar, that is one of the only things remaining on the mirror. You gape, but aren’t surprised in the slightest.

He continues on, pretending he doesn’t see your partial seethe. “Makin’ a mess all over me, but I bet you like to see it too, don’t you?” He sinks his teeth into his lower lip, still talking to the inanimate object. “Both my sweethearts are such sluts for their owner.”

You can’t help that rattle that clamps around your bones and slices through your spinal cord, seizing your abdomen, right down into your cunt. Owner? You have zero time to warn him, ask if you can, alarms unprepared, skin slapping on skin, his taste on your mouth, his breath on your flesh, that slippery glide that has cum running down your thighs, and it’s a sudden wave crashing over your insides and drowning them in your painfully interstellar-esque orgasm. Your eyes burn with tears as you watch your best-friend feel what’s happening, realizing. He’s covered in your release, and instead of being mad, he is influencing you like the little devil that he can be, plump lip pressing to your ear lobe with one continuous command. “That’s it. C’mon, Y/N. Drench my dick.”

You wish you could bottle the feeling of your first orgasm with Eddie Munson, your best-friend—forever. Finding yourself growing into that vulnerability that comes with the high, you seek to find solace in Eddie’s arms, whimpering at the overstimulation of his thick cock. With that connection still in tact, Eddie is spinning you around, dick sliding out with a messy mixture of arousals covering you both—his member completely doused in your cream, painting the trimmed curls at the base of his shaft with even more of you, slicking back some more of that happy trail. You want to be embarrassed, but as he’s red faced and struggling to breathe, you know that there’s no need to be. He steers you back onto the bed, falling easily between your spread thighs, drawing them up and around his waist.

He presses his forehead into your own, kissing each corner of your mouth, rings circling in dusting sweeps on the apex of your thighs. His voice is a shivered whisper. “Fuck, baby. You okay?”

There’s words on your tongue, Eddie’s taste on your mouth, things you’ve known for years, but are unsure if Eddie has, or if this is something he needs because he’s afraid you’ll abandon him, but that he doesn’t feel what you do. Your head is spinning and Eddie brushes sweaty strands of hair off your forehead, taking his cock through your swollen folds, pressing that spongey head into your clit—both of you crying out. “Y/N, m’ right here. Care to join me?”

And god help you, the way that you look at him. Really allow yourself to see him this way—unabashed—it stirs all those feelings Eddie has bottled down since forever. You press your thumb into his mouth, your other hand sliding down to grip onto him, gliding your hand back and forth, relishing in how his abdomen tenses, muscles flexing, body gravitating towards whatever you’re willing to bestow. He doesn’t let you touch him much longer, taking what your hand isn’t around and guiding it back into your cunt, that scrumptious burn brimming you, making your thighs drop open, back arch, only to tighten your ankles around him, digging your heels into his ass. He suckles your fingertip into his mouth, licking the digit in until it’s down to the knuckle.

Your head presses sideways, cheek on his pillow, inhaling his shaving cream and that spicy scent. He pauses his movements, making you frown in displeasure. He lets go of your spit tainted finger, gripping your chin, a possessive fire overcoming him. His irises remain completely black, putting you deeper into that comatose trance of agonizing sin. “I want you to fucking say it, Y/N.”

You start a beginning questionnaire, Eddie shaking his head and pressing in harder on your chin, fingers splaying across your jaw, rings pinching your chin in the most delightfully painful of ways. “Say you want me, tell me you fucking need me. That you’re not tired of me, and that you’re proud to be the freak’s slut.”

Your hands wind around his back and you sink your nails in as hard as you can, bearing down on him, sucking him in deeper, both of you in a state of no return. His hand tickles down from your face and grips your neck. “Still sick of me, baby?” He situates your gaze, lifting his hips to a raise so that you can see where you’re connected. You’re inconsolable, that fire already blazing your gut, turning every sense into nothingness.

When Eddie starts back up again, he slams himself into you so hard that your vision goes dark and you shred your own bottom lip open, body moving closer to his wall due to the force. He’s licking beneath your jugular, words sensual and filthy, making your entire body spike in a sudden electricity. “Gonna cum in every hole you’ve got, so you remember that they’re mine.”

This time you’re more than ready to give him a warning, body beginning to shake beyond your control, breaths stuttering in your chest. Eddie reaches down between you, calloused thumb flicking your clit. Everything is so fucking wet and the way it sounds in the expanse of Eddie’s small room, it has you opening your mouth, out of control and greedily begging for more.

“Eds, harder. Please? Almost…”

He’s grinning in that special way that weakens you—heart and soul, body and mind. “So much more than a slut.” His thrusts become choppy, his own babbling tone turning into Eddie-speak. “You are way more than you know, Y/N.”

You fondle his pick chain and bring him into your immediate airspace, mouths hovering. He’s nearing his end, cock getting fuller inside you. “Need you to tell me how much you love me.”

You both completely go slack. Eddie stops himself all together, body trembling, head bowing. Your heart rate increases, feeling as if you’ve skipped a staircase thousands of feet in the air and you’re now free falling.

Love… You don’t have to think twice.

Your hands move to cup his face, holding on, your eyes shining with tears at all overloaded emotions and senses. “I love you so fucking much, Eddie.”

At your admission, those beautiful eyes—dark with remains of passion—they fill, and he gives you his all, driving his cock into you in calculated presses, trying like hell to get you to cum first. When he speaks, his voice cracks apart. “Let me know that you’re right here with me, Y/N.”

“I’ve always been here, Eddie.” Is what you manage, thumping your hand against his wrist and helping him bring his fingers back to your clit.

He doesn’t let you look away, noses smashed together, sticky foreheads pressing, hair curtaining the apples of pink, sex stained cheeks. Your eyes widen as that knot begins to tighten in your stomach, unraveling so violently that Eddie has to grip your quivering thigh in one hand, the other keeping steady on your clit. You dig into his back, other hand tugging on his hair, and Eddie is giving a throaty seduction. “That’s it, be my good girl and cum again for me.”

And you’re coming apart at your very core, every cell exploding and rebuilding, gluing yourself to Eddie to seize the ache that scrambles your insides and leaves you breathless. He’s cursing, keeping his finger on your clit to help you coast over the high, immediately following you with the lowest, sweetest, whimpering moan that you’ve ever heard. Both of your eyes still drinking in the other’s pleasure, tears spilling over your lash line as Eddie’s hips cease and he holds, his cock swelling and that soft, creamy warmth coating your sore walls in spurts. He collapses onto your chest and you hold him there in a vice hug, his hand still trapped between your exhausted bodies. He gently eases it out, groaning around the wetness that he’s all too eager to sample until the layer of shine is off his fingers.

Holy shit and fuck me…

Your legs fall to the side, unable to stay upright any longer, Eddie keeping a hovering hand to soothe your shaking. He kisses your neck with a plush mouth, his chain dangling between your breasts. You’re petting his hair—which is so soaked it’s as if he’s been in the rain or come from the shower—off his forehead, wincing as he slides out and keeps himself by your side. You gasp and he joins, fascinated by your cum and his own seed pouring from your cunt. He raises up a little. “Mhm. Let me see?”

He props your thigh, sliding his fingers back and forth, zoned in on his bedsheets being ruined from the literal puddle of your shared cum that runs from you. Seconds pass and he grins widely, plopping onto his back, his fingertips caressing your shoulder, down to your arm. It’s a comfortable quiet, even with the intense meaning of the words that were spoken, until Eddie starts with a, “So..?”

And you cut him off, trying to get your uncomfortably hot body closer. “So I love you. And I have never stopped needing you, or wanting you, Eddie. I just hope all this wasn’t because we were fighting and you got scared I would leave, and —“

He doesn’t let you finish this time, that chocolate-ly brown ring swinging back around his pupil in a brisk develop, showcasing the moisture in his eyes. “I was scared because I love you so damn much that I would charge headfirst into Mordor, or some alternate dimension without any weapon or any shield, just for you. You gotta know that, Y/N.”

His softness, that glittering fragility, it makes you seal your mouth to his, kissing him full of your feelings. He cups the nape of your neck, drawing in closer, thumb coaxing a shiver from you as it passes over a certain spot behind your ear. On a wet break away, you’re nodding your head. “Guess we spent all week fighting when we should’ve been fucking and talking about our feelings.”

Eddie smirks, then is serious. “Be that as it may, I’m sorry I’ve been shit at showing you I appreciate all that you do for the guys and me. And for forgetting that you are your own person too. S’ not like I meant to, I swear. I just get so fucking caught up and I shouldn’t take for granted anything that has to do with you or with us.”

“Have I ever told you that you’re my best-friend, Eddie Munson?”

While it’s still true, you’re wondering when the words leave your lips. Eddie just fucked you so hard you probably won’t be able to sit down for a week or walk upright for hours, so friendship isn’t exactly the most appropriate term anymore, is it?

Eddie taps his fingertips to your temple, drawing your dazed expression, clinging to the cosmic connection once more. “M’ yours, Y/N.”

“Oh yeah, Munson?” You’re so high that you could fly out of here right now and make rounds around the whole globe. Your chest is aching with a tempo that promises new hope and ease.

Eddie is giddy too, that wide set smile, cheesing. “Just gotta get you a new shirt.”

The memory of your old club attire being one with the forest floor seems like so long ago. Eddie knuckle grazes your cheek, apologetic. You shush him. “I ruined yours, so we’re even.”

There’s a mischievous glint in his eyes and he’s tackling you beneath him, pinning your hands in a lace above your head. “Nah, we are just getting started on bein’ even, baby.”

~*~

Tagging: @littledemondani @prettyboyeddiemunson @gothbitchshit @thisishellfire @ethereal27cereal @likedovesinthewnd

-I really need to form a bigger tag list! I’m sorry :/-

Lemme know if you want on my general tag list, please! :)

#kristenwrites #eddie munson #my work #my writing #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x reader #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #stranger things 4 #stranger things #stranger things 4 fanfiction #stranger things 4 fic #stranger things smut

[seramilla]

Give me more of vaggie being carmilla miscarriage kid

Charlie, ever-diligent girlfriend and pillar of strength and love that she is, stands outside Vaggie's hospital room for what seems like hours. She wants to give her girlfriend as much time as she needs to process the news that Carmilla is undoubtedly telling her right now. That includes pacing up and down the hallway. Fighting the urge to peek inside, or disturb this moment that the two women undoubtedly need to face on their own.

There is the sound of shouting, and crying, and understandable frustration from within. The truth had been a surprise to everyone, particularly herself and Lucifer. She can't imagine what's going through Carmilla's mind, or Vaggie's for that matter. She wants to fix it, but there's realistically nothing she can do. Vaggie had told her once that she can't fix everything, and she should accept it. It fucking sucks, but she knows she needs to let her girlfriend do this on her own. With her...mother. That still sounds so weird to say.

After a while, however, it's been at least half an hour since she's heard any sound from inside. The walls of Belphegor's hospital are sturdy; they're built well, but not soundproof. She starts to get concerned that maybe something has happened. The little window over Vaggie's door is covered, and the door is shut tight. Eventually, her curiosity gets the better of her, though. She trusts her girlfriend, but she also has the right to worry about her well-being, all the same.

Just a peek. She'll open the door, confirm everyone is still alive in there, and close it again. They'll be none the wiser. The latch turns slowly in her hand. She doesn't turn it enough for it to click; only for the bolt to release, so she can push it slightly open. Once there's a sliver of light shining through, she peers inside, angling her head in different directions until she gets a view of Vaggie's hospital bed through the slat.

Both women are lying on the bed. Carmilla kind of halfway on, because she's too tall to fit on it completely -- not if she's going to leave Vaggie any room, that is. The smaller woman in question is facing her, cradled up closely against her side, nose buried into the taller woman's chest. She can't see her girlfriend's face entirely at this angle, but she can hear her soft breathing. It's gentle, and light, and familiar; not distressed like it'd been before. She's asleep.

Thank fuck for that, Charlie thinks, as she smiles at the scene in front of her. Carmilla is still awake, and lifts her head slightly to acknowledge Charlie's presence. She nods at Charlie, who smiles and nods back. Charlie closes the latch quietly, finally relieved for some confirmation that they're both okay in there.

Obviously they still need some time, and Vaggie still needs to recover, and come to terms with all that's happened. Her dad, Zestial, and Bel left for the cafeteria a while ago, so she decides to follow them. Hopefully when they return, Vaggie will be awake. Charlie can't wait for her turn to comfort her girlfriend herself. Thank goodness that Carmilla can do so now, in a special way that she cannot. Her chance will come. She just needs to be patient.

#hazbin hotel #carmilla carmine #vaggie #charlie morningstar #lucifer morningstar #belphegor hazbin hotel #ask #fan theories #vaggie carmilla related au #zestial hazbin hotel #chaggie

[namjoon-koya]

Hello how are you? can i ask you for an imagine or headcanons please with Aizawa and Hawks if you don't mind where his girlfriend Y/N who is a pro hero (top 10 and with a strong quirk) got in the way during the fight with Stain and the students of UA and was found injured

Aizawa and Hawks finding you injured.

Warning: mentions of panic attacks in Aizawa’s hcs.

Hawks and you were patrolling different areas that night, usually the both of you would share coms so you two could continue to speak with each other. It wasn’t supposed to be different, it was supposed to be the two of you talking about what to do once you guys got back home. He thought to himself as he raced to go find you, the last thing he heard was a muffling sound before you completely cut off.

That’s when he got an alert, for pro-heroes to stay on high alert for a villain killing pro-heroes. Hawks felt a lump in his throat as he rushed to find you, and once he did he almost wanted to cry. Thankfully you were surrounded by other pro-heroes, but he could see the slashes on your arms and few faint ones on your cheek.

He landed quickly a few pro-heroes tried to stop him, but he pushed them aside. Not caring if a few even glared at him for that, he noticed Endeavor was next to you his large hand gently holding onto your wrist almost like if he was trying to find a pulse, he felt his heart sink fuck please no. “She’ll be okay.” Endeavor spoke up “we need to get her to the hospital.” Once endeavor got up away from you, he noticed hawks “you shouldn’t underestimate her, without her the u.a students would’ve gotten hurt.”

Relief settled into him when he realized that you were just exhausted, but still he didn’t like seeing you like this. Endeavor was able to fill hawks in with a few details about the battle, stating Stain’s quirk is able to make people paralyzed temporarily. He stayed with you at the hospital, even if his agency told him he needed to do a task for them he ignored their texts and calls.

Shit do they not understand that YOU got attacked? Hell he’s not leaving your side until you wake up, and once you did Hawks would gently hold onto your hand. Squeezing it a few times and would relax when you would squeeze his back, it was a reassurance to him.

Stain is going to get FUCKED UP, not only for harming his students, but for also harming you. He’s lucky Aizawa wasn’t there to deliver a blow to his face like he did with dabi, Aizawa has always been the type to never show much of his emotions. The only time he did is when he was around you, you could literally kiss the scar on his face and he’d automatically melt into you.

So it was definitely a scary event to the person who had to break the news to Aizawa of you being near the area, in which stain was attacking pro-heroes. Aizawa didn’t hesitate to quickly jump into action and go find you, if you got angry at him then he could handle it. He’d rather not sit there and grade papers knowing you’re somewhere not safe, or probably getting attacked by stain.

Yet once he did find you, his stomach sank. He could see the blood oozing from your arms as you had your back against a brick wall, a few pro-heroes surrounded you as some of them tried to stop the bleeding. Aizawa felt like he failed you, he wasn’t fast enough if he was here sooner he wouldn’t have to see the scene in front of him unfolding. He pushed by and kneeled beside you, he hand gently brushing against your forehead. You only shifted, but didn’t open your eyes.

He felt like he’s going to have a panic attack, how long did it take the ambulance to come?! Once they did arrive and took you to the hospital he didn’t leave your side once, even while he had to be grading school work he waited in the lobby. Until the nurses told him where your room number was, he stayed at your bedside. Only leaving to get coffee from the cafeteria and occasionally food, he didn’t want to leave your side for too long in case you woke up.

When you did wake up, Aizawa would press so many kisses against your face even while you complained about his stubble scratching your face. He was just happy to have you back.

#mha requests #bnha requests #bnha reader insert #mha reader insert #mha headcanons #bnha headcanons #hawks headcanons #aizawa headcanons #aizawa x you #aizawa x reader #aizawa x y/n #aizawa fluff #hawks x you #hawks x y/n #hawks x reader #hawks fluff #hawks angst #aizawa angst #mha fluff #bnha fluff #mha angst #bnha angst

[tv-girllover07]

Something metal🥁

Kevin schlieb x fem!reader

Movie: metal lords

Part 8

Green italic= Kevin narrating

Blue italic= there thoughts

Scene skip ⏭️

I know Hunter’s going to be mad it’s all I thought about as I drive to his house, I felt bad for leaving Y/n after we just spent the last hour and a half together but she said it was okay and she understood an that we can talk later.

Walking downstairs into Hunter’s basement I hear him playing his solo, I spoke loudly over the music out of breathe “I know, I know” Hunter stops playing “We said 6:15. It is now 8:00.” Hunter said clearly pissed “Well, something came up” I said a little cheekily and smiled “What? What came up?” I look at him breathing heavily, I didn’t really want to tell him that Y/n and I slept together cause I knew that if I didn’t he would be even more pissed “Nothing” I told him “I thought it was something. You said it was something” he started o question me, I look at him

“Well, I was wrong. It was nothing” “I can imagine something being more important than a band practice. Actually, I can’t. But I definitely can’t see how nothing could be more important, Kevin.” Y/n is, I pick up my drum sticks and I think he getting sceptical so I hesitate “Well, nothing is more important. Or nothing isn’t more important. What I mean--“ “I don’t need Abbott and Costello from you, okay? I need a drummer. A real drummer. Metal is commitment, Kevin. It’s dedication, sacrifice, mortification of the flesh and all that shit. It’s serious. And if you’re not gonna be, if you’ll be all “girls with cello, showing up whatever I feel like it,” then this isn’t gonna work. And we won’t win the Battle of the Bands, and then you’re gonna be a loser for the rest of your life.” I stare blankly at him after what he just said I clench my jaw, I stares back at me before turning around and continues playing his guitar, I give him a sarcastic smile and grab my stuff and head up the stairs.

Scene skip ⏭️

I’m in the practice room at the school the next day with Y/n as has her headphones working on practicing her cello. As I have my headphones in playing counting one, two, three, four over and over again, I start playing aggressively think about what happened last night with Hunter. I don’t see Clay walk in

“Hey. Hey! Hey!” I stopped playing as I finally hear Clay shouting after playing aggressively I start panting “Oh. Hey” moving my hair out of my face “Hi.” Y/n stops playing, looking up as well, then looking at me too then Clay wondering what he was doing here “Where did you guys learn how to play?” He asked the both of us “Uh…I don’t know” “Since I was little” Y/n and I said at the same time then we chuckle

“My friend gave me these songs, and I practiced them. I not, you know, a real drummer or anything.” I said still out of breath, Clay and Y/n both turn their heads at me “Are you fucking high? That was intense.” he said with enthusiasm “Yeah, Kev that was awesome” Y/n said in the same tone “Yeah?” I asked

“Have you two got a minute?” Clay looked back and forth between the two of us Y/n and I look at each other then we nod our heads going into the cafeteria, Y/n and I sharing the headphones listening to Shape Of You, tapping my fingers against my leg to the beat of the song with the rest of Clay’s band standing around us. We take out the headphones, look at Clay and his friends “Are they all like this? Just pretty much the same beat all the way through?” I asked

“Yeah” “Pretty much” they agreed “Please Kevin, Y/n, I promised my sister, and she’s so psyched to have us play. But Ray’s not getting out of rehab for another month, and weee tired of playing with a waste drummer.” “Yeah, man” “Fuck that dummy” Clay’s friends added “We would like to, but it’s like I said, I’m in this band with Hunter, and Battle of the Bands is really important to him. And Y/n kinda does her does own thing” I stated

“Lots of guys are in two bands” one of the guys said “Eric Clapton was in, like, 60 bands.” The other one said “And I heard you two play, man. You could learn our songs in ten minutes” Y/n and I smile slightly “Don’t even worry about the Battle of the Bands for now, just my sisters wedding.” I sighed “Let us think about it.” And nod my head “I feel you. But the weddings this weekend, so don’t think too long.”

Scene skip ⏭️

Y/n’s POV

Kevin and I want back to my house, Kevin told me about last night with Hunter. Kevin walks around my room looking at all my little knickknacks before we sit on my bed, I take Kevin’s glasses off starting a starring contest after a couple of minutes of starring in Kevin hazel eyes I smile and tilt my head Kevin’s eyes start to water and he blinks, “Fuck” he whispered “You blinked” I laugh at him

“I blunk” “You blunk” I said with my accent we start laughing “Three out of five?” I asked him still looking him in the eyes “I’m pretty sure you’re better at staring than me” Kevin’s puts his glasses back on “Mm-hmm” i hummed and pecked his cheek, I see Kevin looking behind me and I turn to look as well, I see him looking at my meds on my nightstand “Those your meds?” He asked lowly

“Mm-hmm. My happy pills.” I flick them over not wanting to see them anymore they clatter to the ground and chuckle “Don’t you need more?” He asked me seriously “Mm-mm” i shake my head no and a idea comes to mind, I lay down on my bed

“Lay on top of me” he looks at me, rises his eyebrows before chuckling, I adjust my legs so he can lay in between them, I have my arm close to my chest. He lays on top of me face to face, careful not to crush me, he leans in trying to kiss me but I squeak “Not yet.” He nods his head ever so slightly I hold his hand close to mine “Let’s just, um, lie like this. I like it. Makes me feel…smooshed” I play with the collar of his shirt “On the field when I saw you…“

“Yeah.” I whispered “Did it feel…good to throw stuff and yell at people?” I look up at the ceiling embarrassed then back at him “No. Feels good to not want to throw stuff and yell at people” I look at him, he looks at my lips then my eyes “Your my happy pill” I look into his eyes. I kiss him and he smiles and then I wrap my legs around his waist and arms around his neck pulling him in a big bear hug resting his head in my chest and then he pulls his head up and starts kissing all over my face.

#jaeden martell x reader #kevin schlieb #kevin schlieb smut #kevin schlieb x reader #smut #jaeden martell #jaeden martell smut #metal lords

[le-panda-chocovore]

"Say" Karma asks with his eternal strawberry milk in hand "are you a cat person or a dog person ?"

Gakushuu doesn't even bother to look at him. It's been month now that Akabane daily hangs around him, starts absurd conversation just for the love of it, and jumps on every single occasion to compete with him. Gakushuu is kinda used to it now, but he has yet developed a skill to fully ignore the boy.

"I'm a cat person myself, you know. I think cats suit you too."

Gakushuu doesn't answer, even if he knows that he eventually will have to. Akabane never gives up with his weird questions. He's only putting things off.

"Well I guess dogs are more convenient to you, since you love giving orders and everything. I mean, you're a leader, you want loyalty, dogs are great with that."

Gakushuu sighs. He's only trying to eat his bento in peace, but peace is a complicated things to reach when Akabane Karma is in your life.

"Are you going to write an essay about wether dogs or cats are more suits to me ?"

"Well I would if you don't answer, I have to make my own conclusion. So, dogs or cats ?"

".... Neither."

Karma rolls his eyes and puts his drink down on Asano's desk. Because of course he was sitting in front of him, he specifically came to disturb Gakushuu during the lunch break. It began a month after the start of the school year. At first it was one day every two weeks, then one per week, then three, then every day. The whole class was also used to it now, the weird rivalry-friendship-flirtous relation they have. Gakushuu still finds that annoying.

"You can't say that ! If you have to choose between a dog or a cat, what would you take ?"

"I don't know. Does it matter? I don't have a preference."

"Of course it matters !! How can you say something so stupid ?! It means everything ! It kinda define your personality but go off I guess !"

As usual, Akabane is dramatic. Gakushuu sighs again. Why such a fuss about a simple question ?

"I have never had a pet." He doesn't even know why he tries to explain himself. Isn't he allowed to just not have a preference? "I don't know what they're like."

"What ? How could you nev- Oh. Yeah. I guess your dad isn't the type to offer you a cat for Christmas."

"No, he really isn't." But the mental image makes him smile. Internally, of course. Can't be seen showing emotions when Akabane's looking.

"Well you don't need to actually have a pet to know which one you prefer. Imagine, a few years in the future, you live in your own apartment and you have a good job and enough money. You can do whatever you want, even adopt a pet. What would you choose then ?"

Asano thinks about it, he even stops eating to visualize the picture. What would he choose, if he can have anything ?

"I don't know."

"Asano."

"What ? I really don't ! Why should I like one better than the other ?"

Abakane seemed genuinely exasperated, he couldn't believe what he heard. How can a person not have a preference! It's a crime ! He should put the strawberry blonde under arrest, but he isn't a cop, and Gakushuu would probably be out in a matter of hours. He's way too perfect to stay in jail.

"Look at that" Karma shows him his phone, "and tell me that does nothing to you !"

It's a picture of a black and white cat stretching. Gakushuu looks unimpressed, which only increases Akabane's outrage. The red-haired boy keeps scrolling his phone to shows pictures and video of cats and kittens, trying to get a reaction from Asano. But the only thing Gakushuu does, beside frowning, is commenting a simple "okay I guess."

"YOU HEARTLESS BASTARD, THE FUCK YOU MEAN 'OKAY I GUESS' ????"

"Don't yell and don't swear."

He realized then that the whole class -more precisely the remaining students who don't eat at the cafeteria- were listening, and now looking at them. Hell he hates when Akabane makes a scene like this.

"Those are the most beautiful and cute and perfect creatures that have ever existed, and you DARE to say that they're only okay ???? What kind of psychopath are you !?"

"It's a pet Akabane. Besides, between us, you're the psycho one."

"A pet- A PET HE SAID. CATS ARE FUCKING GODS AN-"

"Oh my god, shut up, will you ? I didn't said I don't like cats, I just... I don't know."

It's Karma's turn to sigh. The boy is looking at him as if he was an alien inable to communicate with a human language. Gakushuu stares back. He isn't the weird one, he convinces himself, there's no problem in not liking pets.

"So dogs it is then ?"

"Well, uh... Not really. I don't particularly like dogs either."

That's when Ren joined the conversation. He hands his own phone which shows the Instagram page of one of his friend. A girl and her dog running in the snow. It was a pretty cute picture.

"Here, what do you think about it ?" Ren asks with a fake innocentsmile. He is clearly up to something and Asano doesn't like that. He feels like they're making an alliance against him. Akabane lean toward them to see the picture and Asano's reaction.

"Hm" said Gakushuu after looking at the screen for 5 long seconds. Ren laughed, Gakushuu frowns, and Karma protests.

"The FUCK you mean-"

"Stop swearing I said. You're insufferable."

"And you're fucking weird. How can you not react ? Do you have a heart ?"

Asano shrugs. He takes his bento and starts eating again, ignoring the look everyone is giving to him. Honestly, he's kinda satisfied to see the annoying human nuisance sighs. Karma seems desperate and the fact that the roles are reversed is extremely funny to him.

"You cannot not love pets." Karma groans.

"Well, obviously I can."

Ren gets closer with his chair and puts his own food on Asano's desk.

"You're neither a cat or a dog person but there must be a pet you like." He assumes with a thoughtful face.

"What are you doing ?" Gakushuu stares with murderous eyes. His childhood friend laughed it off nervously.

"I'm just curious ! I never got to know your favourite animal, that's all."

"Maybe I don't have one."

"That's sad" points out Akabane. "Or maybe you love hamster but you're ashamed of it."

This time Gakushuu sighs again. He sighs often when Akabane is around, and that means everyday since the beginning of the year.

"Well a little mouse maybe ?"

"No" Asano deadpans.

"Ew" Sakakibara comments.

"They're cute tho," Karma protests. "Wait I'm showing you a picture."

"My sister has an hamster." claims Koyama while handing his own phone.

Asano looks at it but doesn't say anything, fully aware that everyone was waiting for him to react. It's not that he dislikes being when people stares at him, they always do, but he isn't the kind of person who talk about themself. His father always reminds him to give private information carefully because we never know what people might do with that. And, well, he's father is not the best role model, but it's the only one he has.

However, the main problem right know is that Asano really doesn't know what pet he likes. Cats and hamsters and dogs may indeed be cute if you take the definition of the word, he can see that, but he doesn't feel any particular affection toward them by looking at those pictures.

"Well ?" asks Karma, staring at him curiously as if he's trying to read his soul -and he probably is.

"What ?" Asano really has nothing to say, and it shows. "Well, it's alive."

"Gods can you hear yourself ? You're the worst human alive." Karma takes back his strawberry milk and starts drinking obnoxiously.

"We should try mice then" Akira proposes. "You said you'd show a picture Akabane."

The cat lover looks up to him but before he could answer, another students appeared next to Asano's desk. Apparently, their classmates, who listened to the entire conversation since the beginning, took the Virtuosos' intervention as an autorization to join the debate as well. The most brave of them, a blonde girl with round glasses, gives her phone to Asano to show him a picture of three little mice.

"Th-their names are Iku, Aki and Uka" she mumbles.

"Oh. Well... Okay ?"

Akabane slams his drink against the desk.

"That fucking 'okay' again, is that the only word you know ?"

"I don't know what you're expecting from me !!" Gakushuu finally snaps.

"A fucking human reaction ! Is that too much to ask ?? When I look at cats, I'm like 'awwwwwww so cute I want to adopt them and cuddle them and feed them' but YOU don't give a shit about those little fluffy angels and I don't know how you can be so heartless !! Do you ever feel anything ? Are you a robot ?"

"I do feel things, thanks" Asano grunts. "I'm just not a pet person."

"All pets are differents, there's plenty races of cats and dogs. Maybe you could like one." Sakakibara fully ignores the deathly glare Asano has and keeps going. "Like a golden retriever and a bulldog are nothing alike."

After those words, in a matter of three minutes, the whole class gather around the poor student representative to show every pictures of their pets. There are plenty of cats and dogs from all races and age and Asano quickly lose control of the situation (not like he ever had it in the first place). He doesn't know where to look at, he's fully surrounded and is forced to stop eating again.

Despite that, he still doesn't really react to what he sees, and Akabane is know completly convinced that his rival is a future serial killer. Asano tries to reach his bestfriend for help, but Sakakibara is too busy trying to not laugh to hard to do anything. Betrayed by his right hand man, Asano turns toward the other Virtuosis, but they're no help either.

And that is the moment when the teacher comes back to class, only to see his students all gathered around Gakushuu's desk with their phones out.

Gakushuu is of course the first one to notice, and immediately stands up to greet him and to tell everyone to go back to their place. They groan but obey. Except, of course, Akabane.

"What happened here ?" Asks the teacher out of curiosity.

"Asano said he never had a pet before so we're trying to guess what he could like."

Gakushuu glares at Karma, who shrugs with a smile.

"He said he's neither a cat or dog person" Karma continues, "but he must be something."

Asano expected the teacher to dismiss the boy for starting irrelevant conversation, and to remind the class to stay serious about the work and everything. He certainly didn't expected him to hum with an amused smile and to answer "I knew someone once who had a bird pet. Do you like feathers Asano-kun ?"

He really doesn't expect that. What was he even supposed to answer ? And why was the teacher joining the circus ?

"I... Don't think so ? Birds are louds." Gakushuu explains finally, but he doesn't seem really sure about that. Karma notices and grins when he gets up to go back to his own desk.

"I guess they are." The teacher opens his binder to the lesson he prepared. "Well, you guys should talk about this outside of class hours. Let's continue where we stopped..."

Gakushuu is clearly relieved to go back to a serious subject appropriate for school. Little does he know that Akabane has no intention to stop this debate.

#just an idea i had the other day #i may publish it on ao3 if i have time to write the rest of it #the idea is that Akabane and everyone spend the rest of the year trying to guess Asano's favourite pet #and Asano isn't even aware he has one (but he does) #i am very inspired for karushuu right now #Karma is having fun in 1-A #Asano is tired of him #the Virtuosis find that funny #cats or dogs ? #personnaly i am also neither but my excuse is that i am afraid of pets #ansatsu kyoushitsu #assclass #assassination classroom #asano gakushuu #akabane karma #karushuu #high school #karma akabane #gakushu asano #pets #mini fic #my writing #spilled ink #fanfiction

[distant-velleity]

Throwing Him a Bone

Summary: Main Story Book 1 - the very first scene where Ace comes to Ramshackle, but with my Yuusona. Word count: 1.4k+ A/N: Okay. Um. Once again not my finest work but it's super fun to write silly stuff like this. Yu normally puts up a nice, shy facade but Ace has managed to speedrun ticking him off, and it really shows haha. They'll get used to each other eventually. There's a slight reference to this scene but it's really not that important. Enjoy lol <3

~

In theory, Yu should’ve flopped onto his bed and been out like a light. After a long day of meeting students, getting dragged into trouble, and narrowly avoiding the consequences of mages’ actions, he should have slept like a rock until the next morning. A slightly worn mattress and thin blankets that would definitely be the death of him in the winter should have been enough to keep him sound asleep.

Instead, he finds himself waking up at an unknown time in the dead of night, his uneasy awakening triggered by a series of distressed knocks on the door. 

Yu doesn’t move. Stranger danger, and all that.

The knocks pause for a moment, waiting for a response, and then continue with more anger to them this time. They’re accompanied by shouts—“Hello? Is anyone in there? Dude, you gotta let me in!”

Even though he recognizes the voice, Yu still hesitates. Ramshackle is so structurally unsound that he can almost imagine the entire dormitory shaking; it’s probably in his best interest to go downstairs and nip the problem in the bud. At the same time, he was trying to get some beauty sleep after a long day of incidents caused by a certain someone.

A System notification opens up before him—

[ MAIN MISSION — “Sheltered Beneath the Rosebushes” 

OBJECTIVE: ACE needs to talk with you. Hear him out and make your choice. ]

Fuck. 

As the rapid knocking starts up again, Yu curses under his breath and hauls himself off the bed. He pads down the stairs barefoot, hoping to get this over with quickly. 

“I hope he at least makes this worth my time,” he mutters, and then opens the door to see Ace with what looks like a giant collar around his neck. “...What the fuck?”

Ace grimaces, shifting his weight awkwardly from one foot to the other. “Hey, can you let me in already? I’ve been out here for a while, you know…!”

Yu crosses his arms. “I thought you had a dorm of your own.”

“That’s why I’m here! Look—listen…” Ace places a hand against the doorframe, gesturing angrily with his other one. “I absolutely can’t go back to Heartslabyul House. It’s insane there! You gotta let me join your dorm!”

“I’m not even a student, how are you gonna—” Yu blinks. “Come again?”

“I’ll explain once I’m inside, okay?”

Seriously, Yu doesn’t know how to feel about this guy. First he pulls up with a slick, nice-guy attitude—then gets them all stuck on cafeteria cleaning duty—and then pushes Deuce’s buttons even further at the dwarves’ mine… and now this? 

You’d think he’d learn already…

Yu steps aside reluctantly. “Not gonna lie, you’re really testing my patience here…”

“Uh, yeah. Sorry about that,” replies Ace as he enters, not sounding very sorry. Still, he rubs his wrist as if he can still feel Yu holding it in a death grip. 

The door is closed, and Ace slumps onto the couch openly like he owns the place. Yu gives him the side-eye and sits on the armchair across from him, feeling weirdly like an underpaid therapist.

“So.” Ace, slouching and resting his arms on his knees, lets out a long-suffering sigh. “I got this collar thing from my housewarden. It’s his signature spell or something, and it stops me from using magic.”

“Okay,” Yu says, because a world where Ace can’t use magic seems like a wonderfully peaceful one. And he’s not really sure what to do with the sudden exposition.

Ace shakes his head. “Not okay! Dude, I got this for eating a tart. A tart!”

“You… ate a tart.” Yu opens his mouth, closes it because that does sound a little unfair at first, and then reconsiders. “Elaborate?”

“See, I was a little hungry…”

--

Ace tiptoed down the stairs to the kitchen, holding his stomach and glancing around to make sure the coast was clear. He was, in basic terms, fucking starving after the chaotic first day he’d had, and desperately needed a snack after missing dinner entirely. 

“Nailed it,” he whispered as he snuck into the kitchen, making a beeline for the fridge. “Okay, fridge. Whaddya got here…”

As soon as he opened the fridge door, his eyes widened like saucers. Three whole tarts, decorated with artistic precision, sat right in front of him. The fruit toppings shone like jewels, buried amongst snowy mountains of whipped cream.

“Whoa…” Ace couldn’t stop his jaw from dropping. “There’s so many…! No one would notice if I snagged a slice, right? Haha. ‘Course not.”

And so, with that one-track thought process, he stuffed a whole piece into his mouth. 

It was—to put it simply—delicious. He didn’t consider himself a food connoisseur of any kind, but the combination of fruit, cream, and crust was simply divine.

“My Seven,” he muttered, “I think I’m in pastry paradise right now…”

He was too busy falling in love with the tart to notice the presence behind him, brimming with anger.

“Of course they’re good,” remarked a lofty and refined but firm voice. “Trey made them. His tarts are always exceptional.”

“Yeah, no kidding! These are crazy good—I’m talking ‘so good he could sell them at’—” Ace realized, suddenly, what it meant for him that he wasn’t alone. Slowly snapping out of his reverie, he turned around. “H…Housewarden?!”

Cold grey eyes burned holes into his soul. “You dare touch something of mine… If nothing else, you certainly have an abundance of audacity.” Although he was still in sleepwear, he pulled out his magic pen, and it extended into his signature heart-topped scepter immediately. “But the Queen of Hearts’ rule 89 leaves no room for exceptions: ‘Never eat a tart without the Queen’s permission.’ The theft of tarts is a serious crime, do you understand?”

Ace knew what was going to happen immediately, stomach sinking with dread. “Wait, wait—c’mon, Housewarden, hear me out—”

“ 『Off With Your Head』 !” 

“BWAAAAAH!!!”

--

“—and now we’re here,” grumbles Ace. He looks up and winces at Yu’s unimpressed expression.

“You literally told me earlier this afternoon that the Queen of Hearts places a heavy emphasis on rules,” Yu recalls, “and then—not even a day later—you go ahead and break the simplest one?”

“It was one slice, Yu. One slice! I lost my magic over a slice of tart! From three whole tarts that he couldn’t have eaten by himself!”

Yu frowns. “I think the main takeaway is that you’re both awful. Did you even apologize?”

Ace pauses, and then deflates. “No, but… c’mon, I was expecting you to be more sympathetic. I’m a victim of injustice!”

“Um. Right. I think the situation will blow over if you just… apologize. Not right now, obviously, but tomorrow.” When he gets a look, he rolls his eyes. “I’ve yet to hear you give anyone a proper apology. At least be the bigger person and make things right.”

“Alright, alright. Fine, I should probably apologize,” Ace concedes. “But you’re coming with me, got it? Since it was your idea.”

“I can’t believe you need a chaperone,” mutters Yu. “Okay, whatever.”

“Anyway, back to my original point, can I crash here for the night?”

Yu stares at him like he’s grown a second head.

“Pretty please, with a cherry on top?” Ace clasps his hands together. “There’s no way I can go back to my dorm tonight wearing the collar of shame. You wouldn’t let me sleep outside in the cold, would you?”

Unfortunately, that’s true. Yu would feel bad, even if he did it out of spite; and he’s far too familiar with the embarrassing feeling of having to crawl back ‘home’ after being punished. “Crewel cleaned up the lounge and my bedroom, but didn’t put as much effort in the other sleepable areas,” he points out. “Your options are kinda limited.”

Ace pulls out the puppy-dog eyes. “Won’t you just let me stay with you? I’m real slim, Yu—I won’t take up a whole lotta space. Pleeease?”

“Wh—” Yu cannot express the visceral disgust that shoots through him. “Dude, we just met. Keep it in your pants.” 

“Huh—?”

“The couch,” Yu says plainly, standing up. “You’re sleeping on the couch. And you’d better stay there—no funny business, or I’m gonna beat you up now that you can’t threaten me with magic.”

Ace huffs. “Geez, you’re so harsh on me… Guess I gotta pick the lesser of two evils, though. Sofa it is.” He starts shrugging off his blazer. “G’night.”

“Uh-huh. See you in the morning.”

With that over with, Yu trudges back up the stairs—hoping that he’ll actually get some sleep this time around, and hoping that the morning will bring significantly less trouble to his doorstep.

#kai's writing #twisted wonderland #twst oc #ace trappola #yuusona #i love when. dumbasses #yu does not know what's coming for him #'significantly less trouble' yeah so about that.

[queer-cosette]

tell us about your favourite line from the fic you can't share in the guild!!

[Mia please know that I am spiritually giving you the BIGGEST hug right now 🩷🩷🩷]

Honestly, it might be the fact that she swoons at the obscure 19th century French poetry of all things that makes him realize that yeah, another girl in another town is infatuated with him, but, shit, this time he is infatuated right back.

Okay so there's a lot of stuff in The Fic that I really love so far, mostly because I love thinking about what if JD and Veronica had got the chance to just be two kids falling in love instead of accidentally committing murder, but this bit is possibly one of my favourites thus far. JD is so cool in the cafeteria scene, I love imagining that under the surface he's actually going oh my god I need to impress her so bad and freaking out slightly because he's never had a crush before (2023 is gonna be the year of demisexual JD and no one can change my mind).

ANYWAY he's such a fucking DORK and he disguises that behind a trenchcoat and motorcycle boots and an 'I don't care' attitude and then he meets Veronica and it turns out she's as bad as he is, and is actually in fact WORSE at hiding the fact that she's secretly a nerd, and he pretty much immediately starts simping for her as a result. There's a very cute bit later on where they discuss Les Mis and it's. yeah.

Veronica looks delighted. “I love that book! It’s, um, kind of embarrassing now, but back in Freshman year I would sometimes sit in my garden and pretend I was Cosette, waiting for my Marius to leave pages of handwritten poetry for me.” JD laughs at that, because it’s adorable, and fits so well with everything he knows about her, nerdy daydreamer that she’s turned out to be. “Sorry to disappoint you; I don’t think I’m much of a Marius.”

(I know that is more than just one line I've shared but. fuck me it might be the cutest thing I've ever written.) I was sitting there like. Would either of them have read Les Mis? Is that in character? and well. yeah. They're both canonically fans of Charles Baudelaire, and Veronica is literally introduced as being a nerdy overachiever who is hanging all her hopes on getting into an Ivy League school. And speaking from experience, that book doubles as a pretty effective weapon, and I think JD would like that.

Honestly there's so much cute stuff in this fic, but unfortunately (for Discussing Reasons) there is also a lot of VERY saucy stuff in with the cute bits, so there's a lot that I can't share in the Guild and also a lot that I'm too shy to outright share on here without the buffer of an AO3 link 😅

Thank youuuuuuuuu🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷

#coco speaks #coco writes #miabrown007 #beloved mutuals #jdonica #jdronica #coco writes smut #mia beloved thank you so so so much 🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷 #heathers fic #heathers the musical fic

[silvfyre-writings]

Aizawa Cares Pt. 2 (MHA Fanfic)

I'm on a role with writing this apparently. Be prepared to deal with just this for a bit.

----------

Kaminari had learnt very quickly upon entering UA that him getting accepted onto the hero course was an absolute fluke. He didn’t know how he’d done it, but he’d somehow managed to pass the written portion of the entrance exam, and he’d managed to score enough points on the practical to get his foot in the door. But now? Now he was lucky to pass the quizzes that the teachers set for his class. And don’t even remind him about the midterms. Or the finals. It made him shudder every time to even think about his scores then. Kaminari knew that he was the bottom of the class, and while his classmates might like to remind him of it, it didn’t mean that he liked to be reminded of his stupidity. He tried not to let his friend’s words get to him, after all, they were only teasing and they teased everybody, not just him, but it was hard not to let every comment cut deep. At least Bakugo calling him ‘Dunce-face’ was just the explosive teens way of showing that they were friends.

So why was he in the men’s restroom, sitting on one of the toilets and crying after the boy had done exactly that?

He knew why of course. He wasn’t that stupid. Clenched in one of his fists was his latest test, the big red score at the top of the paper indicating that he’d once again, failed. And spectacularly at that. Kaminari’s classmates had immediately compared test scores of course, most of them cheering at how well they’d done. It’d brought a smile to his face to see Kirishima and Ashido so excited over passing the test. Bakugo and Yaoyorozu’s tutoring had done the two a lot of good. Unlike him. He’d accepted tutoring from Bakugo this time, hoping that his friend’s method of tutoring would work. And it hadn’t.

“Oh Kami…” Ashido’s face had fallen when she’d caught sight of his test score.

“It’s fine!” Kaminari had covered his test score, plastering a strained smile on his face. “There’s always next time!”

“Oi.” Bakugo had stormed up to him. “You passed that mock test I gave you Dunce-face, so what the fuck happened?”

Kaminari had tried to laugh it off. “I guess I just got distracted, that’s all. Sorry you wasted your time, Bakugo.”

Bakugo had stared at him intensely before clicking his tongue and storming off without saying a word.

“Kaminari? Are you okay?” Kirishima’s voice called out, drawing Kaminari back into the present. Quickly, he rubbed his arm across his face to try and scrub away the evidence that he’d been crying, although he was sure that his eyes were red and puffy anyways.

“I’m fine!” Kaminari shoved is test into one of his bags pockets before leaving the toilet stall, silently begging Kirishima to not say anything. “Did I miss the bell or something?”

He felt his friends gaze linger on him before the redheaded boy slung an arm around Kaminari’s shoulder, leading him from the bathroom. “Nah, you just disappeared real quick so I wanted to make sure everything was fine. Besides, one of the business course students picked a fight with Bakugo.”

“Oh my god.” Kaminari could only imagine how well that had gone down. “Evacuation?”

“Evacuation.” Kirishima confirmed with a nod. Silence passed between the two before they both burst into laughter. It wasn’t uncommon for the cafeteria to be evacuated at least once a week after someone’s quirk went off, something that Kaminari knew drove the teachers insane. Especially since most of the time it was Bakugo exploding some poor student that had wronged him in some way that set off the fire system. “You should’ve seen Aizawa-sensei’s face when he walked in!”

Kaminari shuddered as he imagined the look of fury that would no doubt have been on his homeroom teachers face upon walking into such a scene. Aizawa-sensei was terrifying when he wanted to be and Kaminari had no doubt the man could reduce villains to tears with just a glare if he tried. Who needed to erase people’s quirk when you could just stare at them until they submitted?

“Kirishima! Kaminari!” Ashido waved at them from her desk where Jirou and Sero were already sitting, eating what remained of their lunches.

Kaminari smiled and waved back, dragging another desk to make more room for he and his friends to spread out over. “So you guys escaped the chaos?”

“Yep!” Ashido laughed. “We fled the moment Bakugo went after that poor student. The rest of our class? Not so lucky.”

The group of friends jolted as the classroom door slammed open. And as if Ashido’s words had summoned them, the rest of Kaminari’s classmates trudged into the room, all of them looking irritated and miserable at the same time, water dripping from their uniforms. Kaminari’s heart panged in sympathy, having been caught by the cafeteria’s extremely sensitive fire system more than once himself.

“You guys, okay?” Kaminari found himself asking. There probably wasn’t much he could really do to help his soaked classmates, but it seemed like the right thing to do.

“We’re alright, no thanks to Bakugo.” Sato grumbled. “Yaoyorozu’s making us some towels so we can dry off. Thanks for checking on us though.”

Kaminari smiled. Making sure that his classmates were happy was the one thing he was good at doing after all. He took pride in every smile that he managed to bring to someone’s face, no matter the reason they were feeling down. Hell, if he couldn’t make them smile, then he’d just sit with them in silent company, something that his less chatty classmates appreciated. There was something about helping his friends that made him happy.

It’s hopeless. I’m never going to become a hero at this rate. Kaminari curled in on himself at his desk, biting back tears. No way would be start crying in class. No way. But the longer he stared at the test that Ectoplasm-sensei had handed back, the more he could feel the tears building in his eyes. He scrubbed a hand across his face before any of them could drip down his face.

“Kaminari.”

He looked up into his teacher’s face, watching the stern expression soften slightly. “Yes, Sensei?”

“Are you alright? You usually score better than this.” His teacher asked, concern laced throughout his voice.

Kaminari dropped his eyes to stare at his desk. “I’ll try harder next time, Sensei.” He heard his teacher hum quietly to himself before moving on to the person behind him. Kaminari bit back a sob. There was no helping him at this point, he was just too stupid to do this. He had tried so hard to study for this test. He had studied every night, going over each problem until he could finally do it, and yet when it had come to actually doing the test, he’d been unable to remember how to solve most of the problems. And it frustrated him because he knew how to solve them, but he just couldn’t remember how to when it mattered the most.

The moment that the bell rang to signify the end of the day, Kaminari was out of his seat and out the door, ignoring the calls of his friends as he fled the stifling classroom. Stupid, so fucking stupid. Can’t even pass a simple math test. Can’t even go through one heroics class without becoming an idiot either. Kaminari thought angrily as he stormed towards the dorms, the tears he’d been fighting back finally escaping, sobs tearing themselves from his chest. His whole day had just been terrible, nothing going right one bit. He could tell that his teachers were getting tired with every mistake he made during their classes, and frustrated with his declining grades. Not that he understood why they were getting made about his grades. He was already the bottom of the class after all.

Once he’d made it to the dorms, Kaminari opened the door and rushed to his room, slamming the door behind him and throwing his bag into the corner to be dealt with later. He collapsed onto his bed, and screamed into his pillow before he just broke down into sobs, shoulders shaking with each one. He was interrupted by a knock on his door. Just how long had he been crying for?

“Kami?” It was Ashido’s voice. Kaminari pushed himself up and tucked himself into the corner where his bed met the wall. “Kami, are you okay?”

“I’m fine!” Kaminari called back, wincing at how his voice croaked. “I’d… I’d just like to be alone for now, Mina.”

“Okay… text us if you need anything?”

“Will do.” Kaminari listened as the footsteps faded away. He appreciated his friend coming to check on him, and normally, he would’ve let her in and accepted the warm hug she no doubt would’ve given him. But there was only so much pity he could take from his friends when it came to his test scores, and right now, he’d just much rather break down in the privacy of his own room right now than have them trying to comfort him.

~~~

“He seemed rather distressed after I handed back his test today. His grades in my class have always been low, but this is the worst score Kaminari’s gotten since the start of the year. I fear that there may be something else going on with the boy.” Aizawa listened as Ectoplasm explained his concerns. In his hand was a copy of Kaminari’s most recent test that Ectoplasm had given, the failing grade glaring at him from the top of the page.

“Hmm…” Aizawa responded, flicking through the pages and thinking hard about how to approach this issue with his student. Ectoplasm wasn’t the first of 1-A’s teachers to come to him with concern about Kaminari’s grades. He placed the test down on his desk where copies of Kaminari’s tests from his other classes also lay. It was clear that the boy was struggling, but he’d never been afraid to ask for help in understanding the material before. So what had changed?

“Do you think it’s test anxiety, Eraser?” Ectoplasm asked, taking a seat at the desk beside Aizawa’s own. “He always looks like he’s about to have a breakdown whenever a test comes around in my class.”

“Could be.” Aizawa sighed. “Although it could just be mathematics that he struggles with. Mic has said that Kaminari has no issues in his class, although his grades are still poor.” Leaning back in his chair, he glanced over at Ectoplasm. “Leave it with me and I’ll talk to him when I go and do the dorm check. Thank you for bringing it to my attention.”

Ectoplasm gave a short nod before he stood and left the room, leaving Aizawa alone to continue to shift through Kaminari’s test results, trying to understand what had caused the sudden decline in his grades. It’s been a few months since the training camp and Hound Dog said that he hadn’t noticed anything concerning in their session… and he passed the license exam… so what’s going on with you, Kaminari?

Aizawa let out a deep sigh before he stood from his desk. Sitting here and thinking wasn’t going to help him solve this problem, so he began to make the five-minute trek to 1-A’s dorm. His colleague had said Kaminari was distressed, so he’d go make sure the boy was okay. He was sure that his student would have his closest friends by his side, as they were the kind of kids that would stick by a friend in distress no matter what. So when he entered the dorm and saw Ashido and the rest of Kaminari’s friends on the couch, a seed of worry began to bloom within him.

“Ashido.” He called, waiting for the girl to acknowledge him before he continued. “Where’s Kaminari?”

Immediately, Ashido’s face crumpled and tears pricked the corners of her eyes. “Oh, Sensei! Can you help him? He seemed so upset after we got our tests back from Ectoplasm-sensei today, but he stormed off before we could speak to him. And when we got back, he was already in his room, and he said he wanted to be alone!”

“I’m going to speak with him, yes.” Aizawa dodged the question of whether he was going to help Kaminari, since he didn’t even know if he’d be able to in the first place. “But first, has something happened to Kaminari recently?”

The small group of friends turned to look at each other before they turned back to him. “No, I don’t think so.” Kirishima frowned. “We did get to visit home a few weeks ago though? But Kami never said anything happened.”

Aizawa nodded and made his way up towards the third floor where Kaminari resided. Some of his students greeted him as he passed them, no doubt on their way down to make themselves dinner. There was a part of him that couldn’t believe that these teenagers were capable of cooking, considering how little self-preservation they seemed to have, and the other part was proud that they could look after themselves somewhat. Of course that didn’t mean the dorms escaped from having kitchen disasters every now and then. These were teenagers after all. Teenagers with a multitude of different quirks spread amongst them.

“Kaminari.” Aizawa knocked on his student’s door. “May I come in?”

“Sensei! Uh, sure, I guess.” Came Kaminari’s voice through the door. Aizawa carefully turned the handle and let himself into the room, taking note of the tear tracks running down Kaminari’s cheeks and the bloodshot eyes that came from crying. He caught himself before he stared for too long. His student was already embarrassed enough from the look of it. Instead, Aizawa walked over to Kaminari’s desk, pulled out the chair and sat facing his student’s bed, resting his head on a hand.

“Is there something going on?”

Kaminari looked stunned, suddenly finding his sheets more interesting. “N-No. Nothing’s going on.”

“So why are all your teachers coming to me about the sudden decline in your grades?” Silence followed his question. “If it’s test anxiety then you need to tell us. We can help find another way for you to take your tests. If it’s something personal, then tell me. I might be able to help, and if I can’t, I’ll at least listen to you. But we can’t help you if you won’t talk to us, Kaminari.”

Aizawa waited patiently while a thoughtful expression crossed Kaminari’s face. He knew that some of his students needed a moment to think before they spoke, so he was more than happy to give them that moment if it meant they’d talk to him. He would always listen to and believe his students, no matter what the situation was. His co-workers could mock him for all eternity, but the joke was on them because his method worked. His students talked to him when they had something going on. Most of the time at least.

“Sensei…” Kaminari finally spoke. “Am I stupid?”

“No.” Aizawa said without a hint of hesitation. To his shock, Kaminari teared up.

“So why do I keep failing?” A sob broke from Kaminari’s chest, the boy pulling his knees to his chest and shoving his face into them. “Why can’t I just—why can’t I do anything right? I’m just the idiot of the class that can’t do anything right! I study so, so much, but the moment it comes to a test, I can’t remember. I try so hard at training just to have to sit out because I can’t control my quirk properly! And everyone makes fun of how stupid I am, so I must be stupid.”

“Enough.” Aizawa said. It hurt to hear his student being so harsh on himself, and he wouldn’t let it continue. “You aren’t stupid, Kaminari.”

“Then what am I?”

“You’re you. You’re the one that brightens the classroom with his presence. You’re the one who knows how to cheer up his classmates when they’re having a tough day. And right now, you’re struggling.” Aizawa said with a gentle tone, getting up from the chair to sit on the edge of Kaminari’s bed. He reached out and placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “And it’s okay to be struggling.”

It appeared that that was the correct thing to say, for Kaminari’s gaze finally lifted to meet Aizawa’s own. And seconds later, he had a student clutching at his shirt, Kaminari burying his face into Aizawa’s chest, shoulders shaking. Aizawa wrapped an arm around the boy’s shoulders, and just held him.

“My parents weren’t pleased with my grades when we were allowed to visit home.” Kaminari said once he’d finally calmed down. He showed no signs of moving, not that Aizawa was going to move either. He just sat there and listened to his student talk. “They’ve never called me stupid to my face, but I can tell they’re disappointed in me every time they see my grades. And it’s—it’s different ya know? Cause I know that Jirou and Mina are just teasing. I know that Bakugo calling me ‘Dunce-face’ is just what he does. But—but it hurts when your own parents give up on you…”

Aizawa brought his other arm around to wrap Kaminari into a proper hug. “Is that what started this?” He feels Kaminari nod against his chest. “Thank you for telling me.”

“You said…” Kaminari began before trailing off.

“What is it?”

“You said—you said that you could help me?”

“I did.” Aizawa confirmed.

“How?”

“We can start by doing some tutoring after school. We’ll try different methods to find what works for you. And we can also give your tests to you in a different way to the rest of your classmates. It might take some time to find what works, but we’d be poor teachers if we just gave up on you, Kaminari.” Aizawa squeezed his student’s shoulders in reassurance before pulling away from the boy, looking at the tear-stained face in sympathy.

“So I’m not stupid?” Kaminari croaked.

“No, you’re not stupid. You just learn differently.” Aizawa gave one of his rare smiles, the worry inside him dissipating as Kaminari gave him one in return. “Come see me after school, problem child, and we’ll sort out a new study schedule for you.”

“Okay.” Kaminari paused for a moment. “Thank you, Aizawa-sensei.”

Aizawa stood and ruffled Kaminari’s hair. “It’s nothing. Now I believe you have some friends down in the common room who’ve been itching to check on you. Might be worth letting them know.”

“I will, Sensei.”

“Good.” Aizawa reached over and squeezed Kaminari’s shoulder once more before quietly leaving the room. He wanted to get back to the teacher dorms so that he could plot of a way to murder Kaminari’s parents and get away with it. And also design a new study plan to help the boy improve his grades. But mostly plot murder.

#mha #mha fanfic #kaminari denki #fanfiction #writing #dadzawa #aizawa shota

[zaine-m]

July 14th - Okay so I'm finally done the first season, season 2 has worse overall quality but more of my favourite characters so I think it'll be nice. Zombies 3 is coming out tonight so I'll probably watch that and I make make some posts about my thoughts on it idk. I think they have disney's second non-binary character which is really cool

Previous -- next

Season 1 Episode 10: "Act 2" thoughts:

The way that Ashlyn is immediately suspicious of EJ

Carlos just trying his best as Chad

Are they just getting Big Red to do every miscellaneous job

Are Jenn and Mike gonna talk about the mental breakdown Ricky just had on stage

Why do none of the scenes have background characters, like why are they the only ones sitting in the cafeteria

Nini, stop with the prolonged stares at the audience

Also Gina great job with the acting

Gina bring a supportive queen

Why does Nini say that like there's someone in the audience who could change your life every other musical

I love how Gina giving Nini a compliment she doesn't deserve just kinda turned into an opening night tradition for them

The way Gina holds her makes me think she doesn't get a lot of hugs

Ricky, why did you like she would pick up in the middle of a musical, she's the lead of

Why are they having side conversations while they're the only 2 on stage

Nini remember "the show must go on" Don't stop for anything

Was she supposed to leave then, they look surprised

Okay I just watched that scene of HSM and that was really not what was supposed to happen

I love how you can tell that Ashlyn whose always been EJ's baby cousin has been waiting for the opportunity to talk to him like that

I was like 'aww Lynn checking on her son' but then she was just like "people are counting on you, you made a commitment". Like, ask your son how he's doing

Also there are understudies for a reason and if Miss Jenn also cast an understudy as a main character, that's on her

Honestly Lynne, fuck off

"You were hugging, I saw it" someone give Ricky a hug

"Not all couples are meant to be together"

The way that he specifically said Seb, I guess he had the next song but like we never see the 2 of them talk

Yeah his family is so amazing and supportive but imagine if you went to go see your kids musical and someone in front of you was holding up a huge ass sign

Okay so Ricky did try to tell her I guess she just wasn't looking at her phone

Gina going to help Ricky, damn, she's being really supportive tonight

Mmm, Gina being able to see behind Ricky's facade and getting him to do something that'll still make him happy. This girl does too much for a guy who doesn't care about her

It is just a musical thing where there aren't background characters. They have background dancers, they can't get them to also stand around on stage?

Come on, don't be so easily distracted while your on stage

Nini, EJ's trying his best, why are being so hard to work with

Okay so if both Kourtney and Gina are doing the curtain call wouldn't there be an extra body?

Ricky's character development, he can do the dance now, my baby

Gina and Carlos hugging

Nini, why do you think she would choose you after you stared at the audience after like every scene and you took long pauses staring off at the distance of tried to have side conversations while on stage

Why did it cut to Big Red's parents in the middle of

Ahh, Redlyn

Also EJ just scoffing at the idea that he wrote it

Nini, you never even applied to the school, now you're upset they didn't like you when you did a horrible job

no she knows what's missing, Someone who can't follow instructions and is extremely unprofessional

Ricky being upset that it's over and they won't always be in the same space together

Ahh, Ricky's monologue about loving Nini!

"Fine. That's fine. It's all fine"

At this point his obsession with him is kinda unhealthy

Why is that such a long and passionate kiss, like there was definitely tongue, right?

Oh, he did get her a gift too

Carlos inviting people to Ashlyn's again

Ashlyn telling Gina to live with her in like their first conversation, they're such U-haul lesbians

Okay, why did they leave on this big cliff hanger to have it never be brought up again. Like do they really have no idea where they're going with this show

"It's clear you have things to say" she couldn't even say she wanted to be at your school

Oh no, she has too many good things and has to choose between them, why are supposed to like her?

I'm sorry I just can't empathize with a character whose main issue is too many people liking her

Aww, Ashlyn being amazed by Big Red's dance that he was probably too embarrassed to do in front of anyone else

#hsmtmts watch through #hsmtmts season 1 #hsmtmts

[allaboutthedongs]

Cheater | Four | 18+

☆ Pairing: Idol!Jaehyun x Female reader (x Mark)

☆ Genre: smut, slight angst

☆ Word count: 3.4 K

☆ Warnings: Infidelity, toxic relationship, cursing, dirty talk, dom!jaehyun, unprotected sex, oral (m receiving), slight degradation, exhibitionist kink?, mentions of an accident, hospital, cuts, bruises, etc. Just filth, pwp as always.

☆ Prompt of the series: What should’ve been just a simple visit to your boyfriend, turned into a night of filthy pleasure with his friend when you both notice that you were alone at the dorm.

☆ A/n: Really hope you like this chapter and keep supporting this story. Like and/or reblog if you like it. Reposting cuz tags were not working again.

Previous ☆ Next

↳ index here

“Mark had an accident while filming something with his Dream members” Jaehyun rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, Jaemin just sent me a voicenote letting me know.”

“I can’t believe that even from a distance, in the end Mark managed to ruin our perfect weekend.” he huffed in annoyance.

You could understand Jaehyun’s annoyance and frustration, you also didn’t want to think about Mark while you were with him, but you couldn’t help but feel really worried about Mark. Maybe this was a sign of life trying to tell you that your place was with him, not with Jaehyun.

Jaehyun noticed your change in mood and tried to calm you down a bit by telling you that it was probably nothing serious and that Mark would be fine, but he couldn’t ignore the uneasiness forming in his stomach when he wanted to kiss you one more time and you didn’t kiss him back. Jealousy, jealousy again because of Mark.

The flight to Seoul seemed to take forever, and you kept thinking about Mark. Despite what you and Jaehyun were doing, you still cared a lot about him, you had to admit he was a great guy after all. As soon as the plane landed, you both headed to the hospital to see him.

Taeyong and Doyoung were in the waiting room, the dreamies were in the cafeteria trying to calm down a bit.

“Oh, you’re finally here! Why did you take so long?” Taeyong said as soon as he saw you appear.

“How’s Mark? What happened?” you asked in desperation,

Doyoung turned to look at you both in surprise “Why did you two arrive together?”

“We just met here, at the hospital entrance” Jaehyun replied pissed

“Why does it matter, Doyoung?! I just need to know how Mark is,” you said annoyed.

Taeyong watched the scene without understanding why everyone was starting to get upset, “Okay, let’s all calm down!”

“I’m calmed, but it’s Doyoung who’s asking a stupid question at a time like this!” although you claimed to be calm, between being worried about Mark and Doyoung trying to prove a point, it was pretty obvious you were about to lose control.

“Why are you getting so pissed off over a simple question, Y/N?” Doyoung seemed determined to push all your buttons.

“Just shut the fuck up, Doyoung!” Jaehyun shouted,

“Mark was filming a scene where he was supposed to fly, but something happened and his harness came loose causing him to fall from several meters in the air.”

You gasped imagining the moment

“Fortunately it’s not as bad as it sounds, but he was unconscious and has several fractures, he’s in surgery right now.”

“Oh, my goodness! Poor Mark.”

“Have they notified his family yet?” asked Jaehyun.

“No, the company wants to wait until Mark is out of surgery to give notice to his family, so as not to worry them too much since they can’t be here.”

“Yes, it’s better to tell them when the worst is over and Mark is completely out of danger,” you agreed with him, “Can I wait here with you, guys?”

“Sure, Y/N! I don’t see why not, you are his girlfriend, after all,” said Doyoung with an almost imperceptible hint of irony, taking a seat next to you. “Hey, Y/N. Can I ask you something?” he whispered to you.

“I’d really rather you didn’t,” you answered pinching your nose bridge.

“Well… I’m gonna ask you anyway.” he shrugged a bit.

“Why did it take you so many hours to get here if your apartment and your work are so close to the hospital?”

“I was working and my boss didn’t let me come right away,”

“Oh, I get you.” he stared at you and Jaehyun “You know what’s really interesting? That you’re both slightly tanned, but Seoul has been cloudy and rainy all week.”

“You know what, Doyoung?” Jaehyun leaned to whisper at his ear, not wanting Taeyong to hear him. “Fuck off,”

Hours passed and finally, a doctor came out to give you all news about Mark.

“He is out of surgery and is stable. We predict we’ll discharge him in a week. Seeing how well he feels, maybe even earlier. He is resting now, but you can see him.”

You gulped hard and closed your eyes for a moment when you stopped at the door of the private suite. Taking a deep breath you opened the door and came in. You looked in his direction and you let out the air from your lungs.

He had his right hand bandaged, his left leg up, a lot of bruises and cuts, you could see stitches on his forehead. You thanked the universe he was sleeping so he couldn’t see you crying.

Once again the guilt was killing you inside. You felt guilty about hadn’t come sooner, about being a terrible girlfriend, that you were fucking his friend while he was hurt and suffering. He truly didn’t deserve any of that.

That night when you arrived at your apartment, you couldn’t help but cry yourself to sleep. For the first time, you allowed yourself to feel guilt and really sink into that feeling. You were so confused and disgusted about the person you had become.

The next morning, you picked up your phone determined to change the course of your life.

“I’m sorry, but I think we should stop seeing each other Jae, at least for a while. I have a lot of things to think about and my mind is spinning, plus the guilt is killing me inside. Maybe this was all a mistake from the beginning, we shouldn’t have gotten carried away with desire and now, we are mistaking this with love when it’s probably just lust. Please don’t look for me, I really need to clear my mind and I think you should do it too. When I feel ready, I’ll call you.” and turned off your phone as soon as you sent Jaehyun the message.

A week later Mark was discharged from the hospital and you decided to pick him up and take him to his dorm along with his manager and Jungwoo.

“Are you two gonna be alone today?” you asked trying to hide your curiosity as to know whether Jaehyun was there or not when you entered the apartment pushing Mark’s wheelchair.

“There’s Jaehyun too, but I don’t know what’s wrong with him. He’s been in a really bad mood lately and keeps locking himself in our room,” Jungwoo said shrugging. “He barely comes out if he hasn’t a schedule,”

“Well, we all have bad moments, I hope he gets over it soon,” you told them in an attempt to downplay the issue and change the subject.

You spent the whole afternoon in the room with Mark and Jungwoo, until you noticed that it was getting dark outside and you had to leave.

“Thank you so much for coming to check on me, my love.” Mark reached up cupping your cheek with his free hand to give you a chaste kiss on the lips.

“You have nothing to thank me for, Mark. I love you and worry a lot about you, but now I feel more at ease knowing you’re accompanied at home and feeling a bit better,” you smiled at him getting up from the edge of his bed to grab your purse.

“Yeah, don’t worry about him Y/N, I’ll spend the night here in his room, taking care of my baby Markie,” Jungwoo said pinching his friend’s cheeks, making him laugh.

“I know Woo, there’s no one better than you to take care of him. Thanks, you’re the best!” You gave your friend a warm hug.

“Do you want me to walk you to the front door, Y/N?” Jungwoo offered.

“Thanks, but that’s not necessary, Mark already gave me a set of keys. You’d better stay with him.”

“Okay, see ya!”

“I love you,” Mark shouted from his bed.

“I love you too,” you replied awkwardly and closed his door feeling your stomach lurch at the lie you had just told. You sighed and made your way to the front door carefully not to trip as it was already after dusk and all the lights were down, but when you were about to open the front door, you felt a hand gripping your arm tightly.

“I love you too,” a mocking voice whispered behind you. “What a liar,”

Oh, no… the person you’d tried to avoid for days was right there.

“What were you doing in Mark’s room?” Jaehyun asked, turning you aggressively towards him.

“What the f-” you whined as he dragged you to his bedroom and locked the door.

“I asked you something,” tightening his grip on your forearm.

“Keep your voice down, someone might hear us!” you whisper-shouted to him, and he just went over his speaker to turn up the volume so your voices could be muffled by the loud volume of the music.

“I came to check on him! We were just hanging out with Jungwoo. He wanted to show me the new song he’d been working on!” you replied with annoyance.

“And was it really necessary for you to come hang out with him all afternoon?!”

“What did you expected me to do, Jaehyun? Let me remind you that Mark is still my boyfriend,”

“Yes, yes I know and that’s precisely my problem!”

“Hey, it wouldn’t be that easy to break up with him and even worse now that he’s hurt. Imagine the damage I would do to him right now!”

“And don’t you think about how much you are hurting me?” You remained silent not knowing what to answer, and he imprisoned you against the door.

“You come in here pretending to be the perfect, loving concerned girlfriend when just a week ago you had my cock drilling into you to the pit of your stomach as you moaned and screamed my name, begging me to fuck you harder!”

“Shut up, Jaehyun,” you said through gritted teeth.

“We spent together the most amazing weekend of my life, I confessed you all my feelings, I openly declared my love for you, I made love to you for hours like I’ve never made love to anyone before, and what have I received in return?” he snorted heavily, “A fucking text message telling me that we just shouldn’t see each other anymore! Y/N, I really thought that we were finally on the same page.”

“I told you to shut the fuck up!” tears began pooling in your eyes.

“No, and let me tell you something, Y/N. I don’t know what fucked up game you’re playing, but I’ve had enough! This was the last time you played with my feelings,” he was so mad, you could clearly see a pulsing vein on his forehead and his ears getting bright red.

“I’m not playing! Listen, I’m just… so fucking confused, I truly don’t know what to do.”

“Okay, I’m gonna help you clear your mind, then.”

“Yeah, how?” you snorted rolling your eyes.

“I’m gonna fuck you dumb until my name and the pleasure of my cock filling you up are the only things in your mind,” Jaehyun gripped your chin between his thumb and forefinger, pulling your face closer until he could slam his lips upon yours. You whimpered at the rough contact, but your whimper quickly turned to a moan as soon as he brought your bodies together by grabbing your butt harshly.

“Wait! Jae…” you gasped for air, “Mark and Jungwoo are right in the next room! We, we can’t d-” you said stuttering a bit.

“I don’t give a shit, anymore.” and he kissed you harder than before shutting you up as you were about to say something.

The two of you moved further into Jaehyun’s bedroom, hands exploring each other’s bodies as if was the first time. Pulling you backwards until the back of your legs collided with the edge of his bed, causing you to kinda topple on it, he hovered over you not breaking the kiss at all. You slid your hand down his body to unbutton his jeans, eager to feel him.

“Actually, I’m not sure if you deserve to get my dick right now,” he said pulling out from you, his signature teasing face: tongue in cheek and rolling his eyes, paired with a small scoff.

“Don’t tease me, or-” you warned him, propping up on your elbows before he cut you off.

“Or what?” pouting, he leaned closer to you, pulling your face up to look at him with a thumb on your chin. You could feel his warm breath on your face.

You cupped his cheeks to kiss him harshly and desperately, making you both moan into each other’s mouths. He immediately wanted to take advantage and dom you as he slipped his tongue into your mouth, which you sucked earning a deep growl from him.

“Uh-uh.” he stepped back a little “That’s not how it works this time, baby. You’ll have to work for it.“

"You’re such a cocky motherfucker,” he was getting on your nerves already.

“Yeah, and you love it, don’t you?” he scoffed pulling down his jeans along with his underwear, letting them pool on his ankles. Once his dick was free, he stroked himself looking at you, his eyes darkening. You just nodded at his question.

Regardless of the lust in his eyes, making eye contact with him wasn’t not only felt incredibly intimate for you but there was something mesmerizing and comforting in the way Jaehyun always looked at you, even on those passionate and lustful moments that made your heart melt.

“Get on your knees,” he commanded.

Only a few seconds passed before you leaned forward, a long string of obscenities spilling from his mouth as you parted your lips to run your tongue along the underside of his cock to the tip and hollowed your cheeks to suck more of him. Your eyes never leaving Jaehyun’s to gauge his reaction. He was loving it, of course. You could tell so, by the way he reached forward to lace his fingers in your hair and he curled his hand into a tight fist, a deliciously sharp pain spreading across your scalp.

You bobbed your head, relishing in the feeling of his cock filling your mouth, and your eyes fell shut as you took his length deeper and deeper with each stroke. The tip easily reached the back of your throat each time you went down. You gagged and coughed, knowing how much he loved that.

“Good girl, that’s my girl,” he whispered while slowly guiding you even further down his length. Jaehyun’s reactions were ungodly satisfying as he threw his head back toward the ceiling and instantly tightens his grip on your hair. Your clit was already throbbing even if he hadn’t touched you yet and you felt the urge to rub it, so you did.

“Fuck, fuck. Okay, stop or I’m gonna cum.” He chuckled playfully pulling you off from his dick as a string of saliva drew from the disconnect.

Pulling you by your hair, tilted your head upwards at him and he leaned down to kiss you. Open mouths, moans, tongues lapping and fighting for dominance, spit mixing. One of the hottest kisses you had ever experienced, and you both were loving it.

While you were still kissing desperately, Jaehyun grabbed the hem of your dress tugging it upwards to take it off, and stripped you naked.

“Lay on your side, princess,”

And you did as you were told, facing his door meanwhile, he finally finished getting rid of the rest of his clothes.

You could hardly contain the excitement you felt bubbling in your stomach and at other places as well, you were finally going to have Jaehyun inside you after that amazing weekend and having thought he would never fuck ever you again.

Jaehyun laid down behind you, a hand on your hip to pressing your ass against his incredibly hard dick. “I’m gonna remind you who you belong to” He menaced giving your ass a hard slap before reaching around your body to rub circles on your wet, swollen clit.

You whimpered and covered your mouth instantly knowing you’d be a moaning mess in his hands as his fingers worked magic on you, but must’ve been quiet because you’re not alone this time.

Every squirm had you bumping your ass up into his cock craving to finally have him fill you up, but just when his tip was about to enter your already soaking hole, a knock on the door had you both halting your movements.

“Jae, we’re gonna order fried chicken. Would you like some?” Jungwoo’s upbeat voice at the other side of the door, but Jaehyun decided to ignore him.

When Jungwoo didn’t get a response, a jiggle on the doorknob had you panicking, wanting to get up and hide somewhere. “Why is the door locked?” he asked and you felt a little bit relieved knowing he couldn’t open the door easily.

“No, I don’t want. Leave me alone!” Jaehyun, being the unbothered king he is, just tightened his grip on your hips and then, lifted your leg in the air and entered you fully without warning, making you yelp.

The stretch made you shudder with pleasure, and you just relaxed into him adjusting to his large size. You failed at bitting back another moan as Jaehyun buried his face in your neck leaving wet kisses.

“Wait, are you watching porn?” Jungwoo asked giggling amused. Your whimpers were still slightly audible despite the loud music, but not enough to realize it was actually you.

Jaehyun laughed at his gullibility, “Yes, I am. Now, go away!” He began to move his hips inside you, long thrusts that shook your body each time he entered.

Jungwoo scoffed on the other side, “Okay. Have fun, naughty boy!” and then, his shadow disappeared from under the door.

“Fuck, is this making you even wetter?” Jaehyun asked amused, feeling you clenching hard around his cock. You just nodded in response trying not to make any noise.

“Imagine if I hadn’t locked the door and Jungwoo or Mark saw my cock filling you up to the brim. Would you like that?” his hips pounding harder into you, rougher and faster than before. You could feel everything of him, every inch, every pulsing vein on his dick…

“What would Mark think if he knew that his cute girlfriend is such a slut for his friend? That you are always so eager to spread your beautiful legs for me, willing to take me so well, milking my cock and letting me fill you with my cum, just the way you like,” he said, drilling angrily into you so hard that you felt his cock at the pit of your stomach with every thrust.

“What if he knew that I own your body?”

Jaehyun was looking down at your eyes rolling to the back of your head and the tight grip you had on the sheets. His dirty words pushing you to the edge.

“I… Fuck! I’m, gon– cum.” The words scrambled in your scattered, empty brain.

“Don’t hold back, princess. Be as loud as you want, let them find out what’s going on between us, and let’s end this farce once and for all.” he started rubbing circles on your clit once again and you squeezed him so well that he felt his own release approaching. “Cum on my dick, baby girl. I want to feel you losing control.”

Feeling your legs shaking from the pleasure, your orgasm crashed over you while you were holding onto his sheets for your life and grabbed a pillow in a desperate attempt to muffle your whimpers. Jaehyun kept fucking you through your high, slamming your hips down to match his, so fast and rough that it almost had you crying out of the intensity.

With a last growl and a full deep thrust, you felt his dick pumping and filling you up with his hot cum.

“I’m sorry for calling you a slut,”

“Don’t worry, it was so fucking hot,” you told grinning at him and he couldn’t help but kiss you tenderly.

He pulled out and turned you around to face him. “Stay the night here with me. Tomorrow morning I’ll help you to sneak out,” you just nodded, way too worn out to speak, let alone getting up, dressing, and driving to your apartment. He kissed your temple and sat you both up.

“Wait a minute, I’ll be right back with some water and something to clean us up. Get yourself comfortable on my bed.” and he left his room just in his briefs, leaving you feeling lightest than ever as if you had a clear conscience, unaware of the chaos that was about to come to change all your lives forever.

Previous ☆ Next

☆ Taglist: @lilacboba @queenrachelpink @kaja2016 @happyladybee @bekah931215 @ahtisa02 @jaeymark @yincotton

#nct #nct smut #nct 127 #nct 127 smut #nct 127 x reader #nct 127 angst #nct 127 fluff #nct 127 scenarios #nct 127 timestamps #nct imagines #jaehyun #jaehyun smut #jaehyun scenarios #nct fic #jaehyun gifs #jaehyun drabbles #jaehyun fluff #jaehyun imagines #jaehyun moodboard #jeong jaehyun #jaehyun x reader #jung jaehyun #nct jaehyun #nct angst #nct drabbles #nct fanfic #nct hard hours #nct gifs #nct mark #nct scenarios

[bountycancelled]

LIAR! I 2. what the actual FUCK?!

as yn and the gang drew closer to the school, she couldn't help the sinking feeling in her stomach as she consistently wiped her sweaty palms on her skirt.

"stop that, you're only making yourself more nervous." ryujin said pointedly, placing a hand on her knee to stop her leg from shaking.

"I still don't even get why you're worried yn, nothings gonna happen today. the first day of school is always uneventful." niki said, laying his head on her shoulder. yn frankly didn't know why she was so worried either, but even with niki and ryujin's comfort, she couldn't shake the feeling that this was going to be a drama-filled year at hybe high.

when they entered the school, they said their goodbyes to niki as he went to the second floor and they made their way to the third. "how were we late, you literally live like two seconds away from school?" yeji asked as they jogged to their register class.

"well, for one, you took fifteen years to pick out an outfit from yns closet because you didn't like the one that you brought." jake said, chuckling slightly. yeji jumped up put jake in a headlock, ruffling up his hair.

"okay, as much as I would love to see yeji beat your ass, we need to get to class before the teacher thinks were all bunking." ryujin said as she opened the door to their register and quickly took the four empty seats at the back.

IN CLASS

TIMESKIP TO LUNCH BECAUSE CLASS IS BORING :)

when yn entered the cafeteria (a little late due to the fact her english teacher had made her stay in class to discuss a speech that she was being forced to do for the grade 8 orientation) it seemed as though everyone's attention was on beomgyu and chaeyoung, in the middle of the cafeteria in what could only be described as a completely one-sided fight.

this fight mainly consisted of chaeyoung screaming some sort of alien language and beomgyu looking like he was on the verge of passing out, throwing up and crying all at once.

"you said that you'd love me forever you piece of shit!" chaeyoung screamed in beomgyu's face, lip quivering in sadness.

"that was true but...I'm in love with someone else now and I can't just shut my feelings for them down just because you're back." beomgyu argues and faces of shock are plastered on his friends faces, making it seem as though they were hearing about this for the first time.

chaeyoung's face went from red and on the verge of tears to ice cold in a matter of seconds, jealousy clouding her mind. yn felt bad for the poor soul that beomgyu was in love with. "oh? and who is this new person you're in love with, hmm beom?"

beomgyu cringed slightly at the nickname but quickly realised the hole that he had dug himself in. he looked around the cafeteria frantically, looking for someone he could pose as his secret lover.

he locked eyes with yn, furrowing her brows in confusion at the scene unfolding in front of her as she stood near the entrance.

beomgyu could've said a million different things. 'I'm just not interested in you' 'I've gotten over you' 'I'm actually a figment of your imagination and this is all some weird dream you're having' but instead he said a sentence that shocked even himself.

"it's yn, we've been secretly dating for months now."

...silence. the cafeteria was so silent in fact that the sound of heads turning to face yn could be heard clearly. she stood in front of the door, eyes wide and jaw slack with what she had just heard.

"what in the actual FUCK?!" niki's words created a domino affect and voices from beomgyu and yns friend group could be heard expressing shock, dissapointment, excitement and confusion all at once.

what the actual fuck indeed.

PREVIOUS | MASTERLIST | NEXT

TAGLIST: @msxflower @junniesavidreader @emobeomgyu @pr0dbeomgyu @nycol-ie @fiantomartell

a/n: this was shitty but I'm too lazy to rewrite it, also sorry for taking so long to update but I get random bursts of inspiration which is why my updates are so infrequent and why I don't have a schedule because I know I wouldn't be able to follow it. please bear with me and I hope you enjoyed this♡

#beomgyu #txt smau #beomgyu fanfic #beomgyu fic #beomgyu imagines #highschool au #txt beomgyu #enhypen #enhypen jake #enhypen niki #itzy yeji #itzy ryujin #txt kai #txt soobin #txt yeonjun #txt fluff #txt imagines #social media au #high school au #non idol au #skater au #fake dating

[shugojima]

OIKAWA X IWAIZUMI X YN 🍋

𝖣𝖺𝖽𝖽𝗒 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗄✔︎

𝖲𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 d𝖾𝗀𝗋𝖺𝖽𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇✔︎

𝖣𝗈𝗎𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝗉𝖾𝗇𝖾𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇✔︎

𝖨𝗐𝖺 & 𝖳𝗋𝖺𝗌𝗁𝗒𝗄𝖺𝗐𝖺 𝖻𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝖽𝗂𝗈𝗍𝗌✔︎

Enjoy ♡︎

---

You and your best friend were standing in the hallway of your school, Aoba Johsai, talking a little about things girls talk about.

Boys.

Little did you know the object of interest stood right behind the corner patiently waiting for Iwaizumi to finally come out of the classroom.

"Don't fucking lie to me, Y/n! I know you like him. You got those heart eyes!"

She mocked you and as soon as Oikawa heard her saying your name, his ears went dog mode.

"I.. might like him a little... I mean he's cute but I don't stand a change anyway so why bothering."

Meanwhile Iwaizumi came walking towards him and Oikawa quickly covered his mouth, leaving him angry.

"Be quiet, Iwa chan. I'm observing."

His friend snapped his hand off his mouth "What shit are you up to now, huh?"

"SHHHHH!"

Your best friend slapped your head and went "Y/n fuck! Why don't you just try?! Worst thing that could happen is when his arrogant ass tells you to fuck off. But as far as I know, Oikawa doesn't miss out on any pussy offer."

She chuckled and put her hand on my shoulder.

"Oh lord.... now I get it. This shit again."

Iwaizumi sighs making his way to the cafeteria. "Iwa chan! Save me some Onigiri okay??!" Shit. That was too loud.

You jumped and looked around for him as soon as you heard his voice.

And the moment you saw the tall, beautiful setter walking towards you, you heart was beating out of your chest.

"Go get him, tiger." F/N said winking at you when Oikawa came to stand infront of you, that big, beautiful smile on his face.

"O-Oikawa?" you stuttered making him laugh. He leaned in on you, his face now only 2 inches from yours.

"You know... your friend might be right. I sure am a greedy man when it comes to cuties like you."

You could feel his breath on your lips as he was speaking and your face turned bright red.

His thumb tracing your lower lip he smirked down at you waiting for your response.

And oh how he loved seeing you all emberassed because of him.

You wanted to escape his gaze but then again you don't.

Unable to say anything he took it in his own hands.

"You wanna fuck me, is that right?" He whispers in your ear before nibbing on your lobe a little.

Your eyes widened at his straight forwardness but you gathered all your confidence and nodded.

"That's what I thought. It's always the same with you girls. Not that I mind."

He grabbed your wrist dragging you into the now empty classroom and shut the door closed before he sat you on a table.

"You... we can't.. do it here..." You said when he came closer, putting his hands on your bare thighs.

"And why is that? I don't see anyone else around. We'll be fine."

Leaning in on you he gave you a intense kiss, his tongue finding it's way into your mouth and the feeling of his soft, sweet lips made you moan a little.

How many times you've imagined this exact moment.

Smirking at him succesfully driving you crazy, his fingers moved over your wet panties, one of his fingers putting pressure on your sweet spot.

"Nghhh"

"Try to keep quiet, love or I might have to teach you some discipline."

He went down on you, pulling your panties down with him as his face disappeared under your short skirt.

His tongue greedely licking off your sweet juices as he started to suck on your clit.

Your moans filled the classroom when your hand grabbed his brown locks, pushing his mouth closer to you as the door shut open.

"TRASHYKAWA WHER-"

Iwaizumi's eyes widened at the sight of you two and you jumped off the table quickly covering your face.

"I brought some Oninigi with me but I see you're already enjoying your meal."

He said as he walked in and slowly closed the door, his eyes on you.

"Sharing is caring, Kawa."

"Ughh fine... but her mouth is mine."

Trying to realize what was about to happen you stood there, shaking and emberassed before Iwaizumi walked up to you, grabbing a fist of your hair, tilting your head back.

"So you're another little volleyball slut huh? Guess it's your lucky day then."

Your eyes rolling back he slid a finger in between your lips making you whine.

"Did that idiot make you so wet? Is he so good at eating desperate pussy?"

"I HEAR YOU BIZATCH!" Oikawa cried about his friends insult.

"Shut it, Kawa. Daddy's turn now."

Iwaizumi threw you over the table, you holding on to the edge when you heard him unbuckling his belt.

"You don't fuck in school. That's just inappropriate, you know?"

Looping his belt he lifted your skirt and hit you hard as you whined and teared up a little.

"You just don't do that. What if someone walked in on you? Oh wait... that'd be me."

Hitting you harder again your grip tightened on the table when you turned your head left and saw Oikawa sitting on a nearby table, watching the scene with a smile, licking his lips.

"Meany, Iwa chan...."

"Shut it or you're next."

Eyes half closed you tried to keep as quiet as possible when Iwaizumi dropped the belt making you sigh in releave.

He just chuckled "Don't think I'm done here, baby. Daddy's just getting started."

He quickly got rid of his pants and pressed his hard cock against your ass making you grind on him in need for any kind of friction.

"Oh look at you, babygirl. So fucking desperate for my cock aren't you?"

"Y-yes... I am, Daddy."

"Fuck. Say that again." He wrapped his hand around your throat leaning in on you and whispered "Again."

"I- I need your cock, Daddy... I need it so bad."

-Iwaizumi feral mode activated-

"Fucking right and Daddy's gonna make you cream all over it." He growled as he spread your slick lips and pushed himself all in.

HOLY SHIT.

You screamed in pain and pleasure when the grip around your throat tightened the other hand on your hips, moving you in sync with his hard thrusts.

"You like that, baby? My fat cock inside your little fuckhole? Stretching you out real good?"

Oikawa was getting a little impatient watching him fuck you.

He walked up to you on the other side of the desk where you hold on dear life

"I did all the hard work, getting her to do this in the first place so why the fuck do I sit watching??"

That wasn't a question tho.

He impatiently unzipped his pants and pulled out his throbbing hard cock, wasting no time to bring it to your lips.

"If it's to hard for you to concentrate on sucking me good because of Iwa chan, I might just facefuck you myself. You don't want that do you?"

You shook your head no "Thought so. Now show me if you're worth my time."

One hand letting go of the table you grabbed his length and started stroking before you spit on his tip and licked circles around it.

Oikawa letting out a slight moan and Iwa put your right leg on the table so he could go even deeper.

Iwa's cock now hitting the right spot as you threw your head back in pleasure, moans escaping your mouth when Oikawa grabbed your head and forced himself all down your throat.

"I said concentrate." he said with a strict tone.

You choked hard on it since it was rediculously huge. Even bigger than Iwaizumis, who was still fucking you up from behind.

Him hitting that one spot over and over again you moaned onto Oikawas cock and it made him go crazy.

You imagined that hearing him moan because of you would sound great but the sounds that left his pretty mouth were nothing short than heavenly. Music to your ears.

Iwaizumi felt your walls clench around him. He went harder and faster and started rubbing your clit.

"Be a good girl and cream all over Daddy's cock, will you?"

"Y-ye.... NGHHH FUCK!!"

You obeyed and rode out your high on his thick cock. Soon after you did he pulled out and spilled his hot cum all over your ass, some of it dripping down your pussy.

Oikawa was on the edge. Your heavy screams on his cock fueld his fire.

"Iwa chan. Come here, take her head for me. I wanna enjoy in peace."

He jumped on the table, hovering over you, knees on your sides as he grabbed your head and pushed it down on his friends cock, rolling his eyes.

"Lazykawa..."

"Shut it Iwa chan! Nghhh... go faster."

It hurt but having one man fucking your head onto another mans cock turned you on way too much to care about something so unrelevant.

Tears streaming down your face and drool leaking out of your mouth he came down your sore throat and moaned your name.

Pulling out the both of them zipped up their pants and grabbed their stuff.

Oikawa leaning in on you he gave you a quick kiss on your cheek, all wet from the tears you shed seconds ago.

"Best whore I had so far."

Mumbling to yourself as they walked out leaving you behind all fucked up you said

"But Oikawa... I don't wanna be your best whore. I wanna be your only whore.

#oikawa tōru #oikawa smut #oikawa toru x reader #haikyuu #iwaizumi smut #iwaizumi hajime #iwaoi #iwaoi x reader

[monaisdark]

i like how u write Shigaraki 😳❤ can u do maybe some bully reader with a sprinkle of virgin!shiggy hehe 🥰 reader can be dom or sub its up to you!! ❤

AH i’ve been meaning to check my inbox but ommmg this motivates me so much, thank you ! <3 I decided to do some dom reader - hope its ok!

➨ paring — Virgin! Tomura Shigaraki x Fem! Bully! Reader 

➨ warnings —  Sub! Shigaraki, Dom! Reader, slight mommy kink, slight masturbation, humiliation, degradation, cum denial, begging

PART 2

Shigaraki slumped into the ground, his back against the now wet wall. It hasn’t even been 3rd period yet and you already completely ruined his day. You and your group of followers threw water at him, something about him smelling bad. His papers and books were thrown out of his bag, soggy and falling apart from the water poured on them and his favorite hoodie now uncomfortably wet. 

Shigaraki would already be late to class by now so he didn’t bother to scurry off like your friends did when they heard the late bell for class. You walked a bit behind them, turning your head back at him a few times before completely disappearing down the hall. 

Shigaraki wasn’t sure what he did for you to hate him so much. It was almost like you were out to get him since day one. And of course, you being so popular, it made him the school outcast, well, even more of an outcast.

He tried everything — ignoring you, doing everything you asked him, even trying to fight back. The last try left him with a sprained wrist and bruised cheek. So in the end, everything left him either humiliated, damaged, or hurt. 

He finally stood up as he heard footsteps from a hall monitor coming down the hall he was in, grabbing his backpack that contained the remaining contents of his school stuff before running off into a nearby bathroom to hide. Luckily, nobody was there to see how disheveled he looked.

Shigaraki took off his hoodie, thankfully the hoodie was thick and caught most of the water, leaving his long sleeved undershirt a bit damp but nothing he couldn’t handle for the rest of the day. He set everything wet under the hand drier, letting the hot air dry them a bit. 

As he dried his face, something at on the floor caught Shigaraki’s eye. It was a small piece of paper that was also damp. He picked it up confused, did it fall out of his hoodie pocket? 

‘’Shigaraki, meet me in room 204 after school today. Be there.’’  He could read out from the smudged, running ink. Shigaraki looked at it confused, yeah it was definitely for him but why? How did this even get into his pocket? He’s usually always alone, he didn’t hang out or spend his school days with anyone.

“Hey! Get to class!” The voice of the hall monitor outside of the bathroom almost made him yelp. He stuffed the note into his back pocket, grabbing all his stuff that was thankfully a bit more dry before leaving.

You eyed Shigaraki from across the cafeteria, a small smirk tugged your lips as you saw him pull out the tiny piece of paper for the 12th time that lunch. A wave of satisfaction overcame you every time you saw his eyebrows furrowed at the paper. 

You tried to make the note as vague as possible, you could tell from the confused look on his face that he didn’t have a clue on who sent it. Just how you wanted it.

You turned your thoughts back to your friends, mixing your laughter with theirs. You had no idea what they were laughing at. These people are assholes, why do you hang out with them again? A small boy whimpered on the floor, his food spilled all over his body. Oh, that's why. Like hell you’d be on the receiving end of their bullying.

It’s not like you felt bad. School was a hierarchy, these poor people were just at the bottom. When you first got here, you quickly rose to be at the top. Not like you expected to be anything less. You held yourself to a high standard, of course you’d be at the top.

So it made you sick seeing how some of these people held themselves, especially Shigaraki. He looked and smelled like he only showers every other day, he alternated between 2 hoodies each week, did he even bother to wash them?

He barely talked to anyone, usually playing some videogame on his phone. Does he not care about himself? Well maybe that was why you targeted him, you just wanted him to be better. Nothing else.

Then you noticed how much of a pervert he was. If a girl was ever near him, his eyes would automatically shoot to their chests before awkwardly shifting away from them. In P.E, you found it funny how he’d try to hide his boners after seeing all the girls in their shorts. How gross, he’s a horny little virgin.

You almost felt bad, maybe if he smelt better, maybe if he wore better clothes, maybe if he just tried to take care of himself. It was no surprise that he wasn’t getting chicks. But then again, he didn’t look too confident in anything. Yet alone girls.

That’s when you had came up with a plan. You’d sleep with him. Don’t get it wrong, you had dignity. If it was anyone else, you’d probably make fun of them even more, maybe even expose their perverted behavior.

But Shigaraki looked so helpless, if he kept up with this he’d never get better. Maybe he’d become desperate enough to start touching girls on the train to school, how disgusting.

You were doing everyone a favor. This is just charity work.

“Hey.” Shigaraki jumped, what? He was even more confused then before, you? Why would you send him a letter to meet him alone after school? He stayed quiet, he backed into a desk as he heard the click of the door. Locked, shit, you locked the door. You probably were gonna beat him up, usually you’d have other people pick on him, was today finally the day you’d take more action?

“Stop sweating, I’m not here to do anything bad.” You walked in front of him, Shigaraki would be lying if he said he wasn’t terrified. “Um — why.. why did you want to meet me?” Shigaraki’s voice cracked and you almost laughed, has he ever even been alone in the same room as girl?

You decided to be blunt, there was no sugar coating what was about to happen. “You’re a virgin right, Shigaraki?” You brought your hands to the buttons of your shirt, slowly unbuttoning your top.

Shigaraki immediately felt himself starting to get hard at the sight of your bra. “What—” You rolled your eyes, doesn’t he get it? How dense can he be? “Just answer me.” 

Shigaraki felt so humiliated, this was honestly worse then all the bullying he experienced from you. He has to admit to his bully that he’s a virgin, or better yet, that he’s never even gotten close touching a woman.

He couldn’t lie, I mean look at him! The most action he’s gotten was those JOI videos he’d watch late at night. “Yeah..” He whispered enough for you to hear, just incase anyone else was hiding in the room. “..Why?” 

A smirk spread across your face, just like you thought. His red face was honestly so enjoyable to see, almost just as enjoyable as seeing him try to hide how hard he was.

“I know you’re hard, Shigaraki.” Your hands moved to his crotch, palming him. “Ah, ah! Wait! I’m—“  Holy shit, did he cum? Just from a bit of palming?

Your hands retracted from the damp fabric, “God, how pathetic can you be?” Shigaraki lowered his head, you didn’t want to know. You’re the first girl to ever touch him, he didn’t want to come that fast!

“I’m sorry! Please.. I’m still hard!” Now he’s begging? He was ready for you to laugh at him and leave him a gross mess. He would understand.

“Take it out.” Shigaraki could cry right there, you were serious! He didn’t know what made you want to do this now but he didn’t care. All that matter’s was you wanted to fuck him.

His mind flooded to what you guys could do, would you rub his now exposed dick? Would you take it in your mouth? Better yet, what could he do to you? He’ll learn quickly, he just wants to touch your boobs!

Suddenly, he was on the floor. He couldn’t even process what was going on before you straddled him. We’re skipping straight to it? This wasn’t necessarily what he saw in those porn videos but that’s okay. His hands moved to your chest, he saw this in the porn videos too! But your hand slapped his away, “Don’t touch me. You still stink.” 

He frowned but it was quickly gone as he felt you lower yourself on him. Shit, shit, shit, he’s inside you! Inside a pussy! You already started moving and Shigaraki already lost it. This was better than what he could ever imagine! 

You smirked at the scene, its barely been a minute and he’s out of it. His eyes were rolled back and he was moaning louder than you! You had to admit though, you were a bit surprised he even got past 30 seconds of being inside of you. 

“Mhmm— m...mommy!” Now you could laugh, “Mommy? Really Shigaraki?” Tears were forming on the corner of his eyes, you weren’t sure if it was from your words or the pleasure but you preferred if it was from both.

“I’m sorry! It’s just— ah!” You angled yourself to hit deeper, “No, no, Shigaraki. Go ahead. I should’ve known you’d be into something like that.” His moans filled the room, you were lucky this hallway was always empty after school was done.

You felt him begin to twitch, already knowing he’s about to cum. Eyes narrowed down at his messy face, he’s trying to cum inside you without you knowing? 

You stopped moving and brought him up so he wasn’t laying down anymore, “Y’know, for a virgin I’m a bit impressed.” Shigaraki whimpered when he felt you get off of him, the feeling of your warm cunt no longer around him.

“Wait! Please, please— I wasn’t done!” He whined watching you put your panties back on and button your shirt back up, “You were about to. You think I want your battery acid cum touching me?” 

Snickering as he heard his desperate whimpers begging you to finish him off, an overwhelming feeling of power filled you. A fake annoyed sigh caught his attention, “Take a shower tomorrow. Also wear a different top for god’s sake. If you do— “You brought yourself to his level on the floor, “I might let you touch me.” 

Shigaraki nodded furiously, “Yes! I promise! I will, I will!” You turned and unlocked to the door to leave, catching one more look at his messy state. A sigh was let out of you as you closed the door, the sounds of him moaning ‘mommy’s pussy’ as he finished himself off, made you giggle. How sad.

You rolled your eyes, clicking heels down the hallway. You might’ve just created a new problem for yourself. 

#shigaraki x reader #tomura shiragaki #bnha x reader #dom reader #sub shigaraki #mommy #tw humiliation #tw degradation

[nightcolorz]

Random Gotham Rogues Headcanons

(In honor of all the wonderful people who wanted more after my last post, yes I see y’all)

*Jonathan has a huge sweet tooth, the poor bastard didn’t try sugar until he was like 12 and eats candy like it’s his last meal.

*He’ll forget he needs food to live for way too long and eat a gallon of ice cream or some shit that’ll give any sensible man heart palpitations and just be like “😐👍”.

*Selina tells the newer rogues she was raised by cats to freak them out, Jervis still believes her. (Tbf, Selina does walk around with a cat tail on hissing at people and purring on their laps, I don’t blame him).

*Edward has a tiktok account that he made to fule his own ego, he’s a fragile little shit, literally all of his hate comments have video responses (as you can imagine, Edward gets A LOT of hate comments).

*One time a teenager called Edward “submissive and breedable” and he was too baffled to make a clap back.

*The Rogues have a surprising amount of stans. Ivy’s fan base consists mostly of lowly simps, Joker gets stopped on the street daily by greasy redditors and zealous scene kids.

*No one likes Joker, he thinks it’s because he’s “Batman’s favorite” (it’s not).

*For a while Joker has been insistent that he fucked Bruce Wayne once at one of his many parties, no one believes him except for Harvey (begrudgingly).

*He says it’s “Perfectly in character for Bruce” as much as he may hate it.

*Selina denies everything.

*Oswald and Jonathan share solidarity as “the weird bird people”. At first Oswald was a little put off that Jonathan only held knowledge of crows but soon got over that when he realized that now he had an excuse to infodump on someone who might actually be interested.

*Every time Jonathan visits Oswald’s aviary to pick up Nightmare and Craw Oswald jumps at the opportunity to talk about his numerous birds in excess, Jonathan’s a surprisingly good listener.

*Despite Edward and Joker’s long term rivalry Edward has remained relatively civil when faced with Joker’s constant egging on. That is until one iconic day in Arkham Asylum when Edward beat the absolute, ever loving shit out of Joker in the cafeteria. To this day no one knows what exactly got him to snap, not even Joker.

*Harley keeps a scrapbook about all her misadventures + friendships as a rogue, she has a habit of taking pictures of the others at the most inappropriate times (during a heist, while being beaten to a crisp by Batman, ex).

*One time Harley asked Batman to pose for a picture to put in her scrapbook, he obliged to everyone’s surprise.

*Edward is wholly insistent that he doesn’t belong in Arkham, and is convinced he’s completely sane. He’s weirdly obsessed with the fact that Oswald is sane “as well” and will make unprompted snide remarks like: “Blackgate sounds terrific, unfortunately I’ve been misplaced among MORONS, it’s a shame that the system is too incompetent to properly judge my un-categorizable psyche.”

*Oswald usually responds with a simple “🙂👍” or “ok” to avoid conflict, disagreeing with Edward could be catastrophic.

*Art therapy is an occupational hazard for all the Arkham staff. (Seriously, who thought giving super villains an outlet to express themselves was a good idea).

*Edward can’t draw so he spends his time harshly criticizing the other rogues art, that’s caused more than a few fights. The one time Edward’s ever actually done art in art therapy was when he drew a green triangle and explained in complex detail how he colored it to perfection.

*Jonathan is no longer allowed to share his art with the group before having it reviewed by a staff member after emotionally scarring a few patients. He’s one of the few rogues who presents his art every time, just to see the disturbed looks on the others faces when he explains whatever twisted art piece he came up with this time.

*Jervis is probably the most dedicated artist of the bunch, he‘s not allowed to make himself any hats (for obvious reasons) but he’s still a very skilled seamstress and has a very interesting art style (Jervis tries not to draw anything explicitly linked to Alice in Wonderland in fear of getting repercussions, as rogues often do when they engage with their ‘personas’).

*Harvey isn’t very technically skilled in drawing, but Harv usually spices their art up enough to make it interesting. Their drawings are always two themed, as expected. One time Edward criticized a painting of theirs for being “too unrealistic” and Harv had to manually restrain himself from kicking Edward in the teeth.

*Victor can’t draw either, but he writes pretty good poetry. His writing is excessively melodramatic and flowery, and his themes even more so. Half of the presentation period is spent listening to Victor muse about the meaning of life or some shit, his poems are VERY long.

*Waylon and Ivy are the obligatory pretentious painters, both have a fondness for flowers (for very separate reasons). The two will often compare their paintings and wax poetics about the beauty of nature or some bullshit before never speaking again. That’s one of the positives of Art therapy, it brings rogues together who would otherwise not grant each other a passing glance.

*Group therapy is just as (if not more) atrocious than Art therapy.

*The only one who ever talks is Joker (and sometimes Harley, but way less).

*Joker is the embodiment of an irl troll, he does a much better job at getting responses from the other rogues in therapy than the therapists ever could (usually hostile responses but still).

*Occasionally a new and bright eyed therapist will try and coax childhood memories out of the rogues, it never ends well (usually with the rogue or the therapist in hysterics).

*The majority of the Arkham staff are either terribly unqualified or terrible period.

*Music Meister lived with Edward for a short while after escaping Arkham together but he was promptly kicked out because he wouldn’t stop singing.

*Selina and Ivy had a huge argument once because Selina’s cats nibbled on Ivy’s plants.

Okay this post is all ready super long so I’m gonna end it here, as I said last time I can always make more if you guys like these (I’m not running out of headcanons anytime soon!)

#gotham rogues #batman rogues gallery #rogues gallery #dc rogues #batman villains #batman rogues #headcannons #Gotham rogues headcanons #jonathan crane #edward nygma #jervis tetch #harvey dent #waylon jones #victor fries #selina kyle #bruce wayne #pamala isley #harleen quinzel #joker #oswald cobblepot

[solarwriting]

good 4 u

e.j. caswell (formerly) x fem!reader

summary: after a bad break up, y/n writes a song and plays it with her band at a party her ex is also at.

warnings: swearing, underage drinking, unedited and written at one a.m.

note: i don’t know what this is but the song is so good and i watched the first ep of season two and this was born?? if you want a pronoun change let me know!

posted may 17, 2021

it seemed as soon as he broke up with nini e.j. found a new girl to entertain him. y/n l/n, she wasn’t a part of the musical. it wasn’t her lack of talent so much as it was a lack of interest, she figured focusing on her own music and starting a band would make her seem more serious.

she was pinning a band tryouts flier to the bulletin board in the cafeteria, unaware of the eyes on her. almost the entire cast of the musical was staring at her. nini sighed, “guys, stop. she’s gonna notice us staring.”

“do you think she knows what happened with you guys.” carlos asked, turning back to face her, leaning in to hear her answer.

“no. i don’t know. i shouldn’t care, it’s just- whatever.” she groaned, pushing her food around with her fork.

“convincing.” seb commented.

“i know he’s my cousin but honestly e.j.’s a bit of a whore.” ashlyn muttered causing the table to laugh.

kourtney leaned into nini’s shoulder, “let’s give y/n the benefit of the doubt and say she has no idea?”

“i mean how could she? she’s not part of the musical, she focused on her band.” ashlyn explained.

“wait, she has a band?” carlos asked.

“she’s starting one, she plays guitar and drums but she wanted a drummer another guitar and singer. i think that’s what she was putting on the board.” ashlyn shrugged, everyone looked at her confused, “what? we used to hang out.”

“wait, really?” nini wondered.

“yeah, she’s actually really nice. and really talented, girl can really shred. you guys would really getting along, you know if you forget about my stupid cousin.”

nini laughed along with the group, her eyes fell back to y/n who was now sitting with e.j. and his friends. maybe they could be friends.

it turns out e.j. is really bad with girlfriends because it only took a few weeks for them to break up, no one could really figure out why though just that y/n left school wednesday crying and didn’t come back until the following monday.

a few days later y/n caught her on her way to rehearsals for the musical, “hey, nini. can i ask you something?”

“yeah, sure.” nini was hesitant but thought on what ashlyn said.

“so you write songs right?” nini nodded and y/n continued, “so i’m writing this song for my band and i was wondering if you could give me some pointers. i know you probably won’t want to because of e.j. actually forget i asked, it was stupid.”

y/n turned to walk away before nini stopped her, “y/n wait. i can help you, come on.”

“where are we going?”

“i have to go to rehearsal and since they’re not doing any gabriella scenes we can work on it in the auditorium.” she motioned for the girl to follow her.

“hi, miss jenn. this is y/n, is it okay if we sit over there while you’re going over the scenes i’m not in?”

“of course. nice to meet you y/n.” miss jenn smiled.

they sat a few rows back, behind miss jenn and y/n pulled out a notebook, “it’s really rough right now. and it’s kind of embarrassing but you can look at it.”

nini was quiet as she read over the lyrics she had written down. “is the about?”

“yes.” y/n said quickly, “sorry if that’s weird.”

“no it’s okay, i actually really like it.”

“i was just really angry when he ended it- and did you know he’s already seeing someone else?”

“really? it hasn’t even been a week!”

“i know! she’s a cheerleader i guess.”

“and here i thought his type was musicans.”

“right? from what i’ve heard they’ve been off and on since his sophomore year and they started hooking up again while he was still seeing me.”

“i guess ashyln was right about her whore statement.”

y/n laughed and they continued to work on the song together. by the end of rehearsal everyone was talking about how two of e.j.’s exes had created a bond, at one point e.j. himself noticed the pair and looked like he was going to be sick. the girls finished the song and were getting ready to leave.

“hey, would you actually like to join my band, i need another singer and your voice is killer. we’re playing a party tomorrow night.”

“i would love to, will this song be on this set?” she asked.

“of course, imagine e.j.’s face when he sees two of his exes singing about him.” y/n laughed.

the two girls left and later that evening nini met the rest of the band (y/n managed to find a drummer and bassist a week ago) and practiced their new song as well as a couple of covers for the party.

the next evening, which was a friday, the band found themselves at the party. y/n couldn’t remember the name of whose house they were at though, a friend of a friend who offered her band to play.

y/n passed around shots of tequila to her bandmates “for the nerves” she had put it before downing hers with a groan. the rest followed suit before they made their way in to the basement, where the main part of the party was and where their instruments were set up. y/n pulled her guitar off the stand and plugged it in, she grabbed the microphone and adjusted it.

“hi, i’m y/n and first song i want to sing is an original written by myself and the amazing nini.” y/n motioned to nini who stood next to her, “this song is for anyone whose ever gone through a breakup where their ex got off better than they did, this is good 4 u, enjoy!”

y/n nodded to the bassist who began playing and nini started in with the first verse with y/n doing back up vocals,

“well good for you, i guess you moved on really easily

you found a new girl and it only took a couple weeks

remember when you said that you wanted to give me the world”

y/n leaned into the mic and continued with the next line, 

“and good for you, i guess that you've been working on yourself

i guess that therapist i found for you, she really helped

now you can be a better man for your brand new girl”

the drummers began playing and y/n began strumming her guitar and nini leaned into their shared mic as they both sang the chorus,

“well good for you

you look happy and healthy, not me

if you ever cared to ask

good for you”

y/n and nini smiled at each other as they continued,

“you're doing great out there without me, baby

god, i wish that i could do that

i’ve lost my mind

i’ve spent the night

crying on the floor of my bathroom

but you're so unaffected, i really don't get it

but I guess good for you”

y/n took the next verse and nini did the back up vocals. y/n joined nini to sing,

“baby what the fuck is up with that?

nini continued the next verse on her own with y/n joining in on the chorus again. y/n sang the bridge on her own before they both sang the chorus. they both found e.j. in the crowd as they sang. the girls smiled at one another before locking eyes with the boy to finish out their song,

“well, good for you, i guess you moved on really easily”

the crowd of excited, drunk teenagers cheered as the song ended. “i hope you all liked that!” y/n announced, out of breath. she looked at nini who was smiling just as widely as she was. she pulled the girl into a hug (being mindful if the guitar hanging around her). they bowed and nini grabbed the mic, “we will be taking a short break but we will be back!”

the band shared a group hug before breaking apart to find a drink or friends. carlos, ashlyn, and kortney quickly found nini who was with y/n looking for water. “that was amazing!” carlos squealed, pulling nini in for a hug followed by the two girls.

“y/n, that was incredible!” ashlyn gushed, hugging her as well, “i’ve missed hanging out with you so much!”

“i have too!” y/n exclaimed.

“hate to interrupt but can we please go find some water?” nini shouted over the music someone put on. y/n nodded and threw her arm over nini’s shoulder before they began their search.

#hsmtmts imagines #nini hsmtmts #ashlyn hsmtmts #hsmtmts imagine #hsm #hsm the series #high school musical the musical the series #high school musical #hsmtmts #hsm the musical #nini salazar roberts x reader #nini salazar roberts #ricky bowen #gina porter #ej caswell #ashlyn caswell #big red #kourtney hsmtmts #carlos hsmtmts #seb hsmtmts #x reader #oliva rodrigo #good 4 u #sour