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pheonixgrave · 8 months

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Safety

I saw a post the other day about Astarion watching Tav get railed by Halsin and this is what happened, I am so sorry :D

Warnings: Blood drinking, big Halsin, threesome, virgin tav is really into pain, service dom Halsin, sub Astarion, sub Tav, Astarion's poor relationship with sex, aftercare, oral, very large Halsin, set near end of act III

“Are you sure about this?” Tav sat on the edge of a private bed in Sharess’ Caress with Astarion sitting in a rather comfortable looking armchair facing her. He was lounging with a glass of wine in his hand. Just as she was clad only in a periwinkle satin robe that clung to her body.

“I wouldn’t have suggested it if I wasn’t, darling. Are you sure about this?” He could tell she was nervous. They had rented this room for one reason only. Privacy. While they had the rooms at the Elfsong, Astarion didn’t want the rest of their party listening in.

“I want to, I’m just nervous. I’ve never done anything like this before.” She chuckled, he knew. Of course he knew, why did she have to say it? Her nerves were starting to get the better of her. She tried breathing through it but her heart would not stop racing.

He smiled at her before rising to his feet. He walked over to her and cupped her face in his hands, “Nothing is going to happen if you don’t want it to. And you do have me here, I won’t let anything go further than what you want.”

“I trust you,” she placed a soft kiss against his lips before smiling. “But I can’t promise this will go smoothly.”

“My love, nothing goes smoothly when you’re involved.” He kissed her again, “maybe I could help you relax just a little before he gets here.”

“What do you mean?” His hands started to wander down her arms, slowly reaching the tie that kept her robe together.

Normally, someone of her station would have something longer, a little more regal. But this was not a regal situation. “Perhaps I can make you just a tad more comfortable.” With deft hands, he untied her robe. Gods, her freckled skin always made him catch his breath. But backlit by the sun setting outside, she looked like a goddess reborn. A perfect halo around her newly scarred body.

She only nodded, still embarrassed by the intimacy of it all. Her words may have been caught in her throat but her body obeyed. She spread her legs for him to fit between them. She leaned back on her elbows as he ever so gently pushed her back. “Astarion?”

“Shh, darling, let me.” He dropped to his knees. Holding her thighs open, he licked a long stripe against her cunt. She gasped but tangled her fingers in his hair. He only wanted to bring her to that edge and maybe prep her just a little. He made lazy circles around her clit while she writhed on the bed. It was his favorite dance with her.

But before he would get too wrapped up in the taste of her, the doors swung open. To say Halsin was a presence was an understatement. And as soon as Astarion went to pull away to make room, the druid held him there. “Do not stop on my account.”

Tav immediately went to cover herself and they let her, but Astarion’s tongue continued. This time encouraged by an audience, he buried his face in her cunt. Leaving no inch undiscovered, he couldn’t help but fuck her with his tongue. Tav tried to stay quiet, tried to keep her moans to herself. What she did with Astarion was filthy enough and adding the archdruid seemed so strange to her. She turned her face towards him and watched him slowly start to undress. He was so…large. She would be lying if she said she hadn’t thought about being held by him. It was almost enough to distract her from the Rogue between her legs. Almost.

She felt her orgasm wash over her as he gave her clit a slight nip. "Astarion!" She cried, giving his hair a harsh tug.

He let her ride out her high for a moment before standing before her, her legs still spread and her chest heaving. The golden rays of the sun surrounded her now. Her golden hair fanned out behind her and the flush of her skin was all Astarion wanted to look at. Dazed by her taste and how angelic Tav looked at that moment, he didn't notice Halsin turning him around to face him.

Halsin wasn't one to waste time, not when it came to this. He held Astarion's face and smashed his lips against the smaller elf's. Tav could do nothing but watch the druid ravage him. It took her breath away to watch him pick Astarion up and drop him in the chair yet again. The two made eye contact for a moment. He looked positively wrecked. His face was far more flushed than usual and she could see how hard he was through his trousers. It made her cunt clench.

Then he turned to her. "Astarion was right. You taste as sweet as any wine." If it had been possible, the bard would have even blushed even more. Halsin towered over her. She watched as he slowly unbuckled his breeches, her breath catching in her throat. The initial trepidation had been washed away with Astarion. Or so she had thought.

Halsin was big. Astarion was nothing to scoff at but Halsin was another creature entirely. She swallowed hard, "Is that even going to fit?"

He slowly started stroking himself, "It has before in much smaller."

"Gods," she practically whimpered, tossing her head against the pillows.

"Did you prep her?" His voice was so low and hungry.

"I didn't have enough time, you barged in before I could really commit." Astarion sounded like a different person. He was far more whiny than before. He was feeling just as needy as she was.

"Sit behind her." Astarion moved before she realized it, sitting against the pillows and resting her head resting on his chest. It dawned on her that he liked following his commands. She could feel how hard he was pressed against her back. "Good boy."

A shiver ran down the rogue's back as a light whimper escaped him.

"Now hold her just like that," he stood between her legs with Astarion propping her up. It took her by surprise when Halsin's thick fingers spread her cunt open. "Such a pretty girl," he murmured to himself before slowly slipping just one finger inside her. Tav writhed against the vampire spawn, silently begging for more. She tried to gain a little friction by grinding her hips against his hand. "Hold her, Astarion."

It was a quick command but one he followed without thinking. He wrapped his arms around her middle. She looked up at him with pleading eyes, "Are you alright, love?"

She whimpered but nodded. She simply needed more. "Touch her."

His hands were quick to find her breasts. She arched her back into his touch as Halsin added a second finger and started practically pistoning his fingers in and out of her. "Gods!"

"Good, just let go for me. You will have to cum around my fingers before I give either of you anything else." Halsin watched the two in front of him. Astarion might have needed this more than he had thought. And so did Tav. It was impossible not to find either of them attractive. It had been even more impossible to ignore that attraction. And now that she was laid bare in front of him with him behind her, it was almost too much. He silently prayed to the Oak Father for control.

Tav's moans got louder. Her hands gripped Astarion's shirt as he played with her breasts. She thought the attention Astarion gave her was overwhelming but it was nothing compared to the attention of the two elfs. “Shit,” she gasped as her cunt clenched around Halsin’s fingers.

He removed his fingers from her, not hesitating to suck them clean. “If I did not want to take you now, I would spend hours just tasting you.”

She only whined in response, still coming down from another high. She never imagined herself as a plaything before. But she could scarcely think of little else than the two men using her body. The thought alone was nearly enough to push her over the edge again. She didn’t have much time to dwell on the thought. Halsin used his other hand to direct her face towards him. “Is this what you want?”

She nodded.

“I need more than that.”

“Yes! Just-”she whined, “please!”

Halsin smiled to himself. They had jumped into this with little preparation or conversation and a part of him was worried it might be too much. He was already worried that giving Astarion commands would be too much yet he followed them so sweetly. The two of them were so eager to obey him. He held her thighs apart, taking a moment to watch her cunt twitch in anticipation before dragging himself through her folds. He groaned as he slowly pushed his way inside her.

She cried out at the stretch. Gods, it hurt. Her face twisted from pleasure to pain. Astartion hushed her, gently stroking her cheek. “I know, darling, you have to relax.” She nodded, focusing on her breathing.

Halsin stopped, gently stroking her thighs. “Are you alright?”

“Gods, don’t you dare stop now,” she nearly cried. Between a shady priest and Astarion, she had learned that pain was merely a motivator.

It took patience and care, but eventually he found himself completely buried inside of her. She looked so small like this but so tight and hot. He leaned down to press a kiss against her lips. A kiss she eagerly returned, a hand threading itself through his hair. He broke away panting, leaning towards Astarion next. He could feel his fangs nip at his lips. Not intentionally, just silently begging for more. He braced himself standing at the edge of the bed, holding her thighs apart. “Are you ready?”

Another nod. This time, he didn’t make her talk, just gave a couple shallow thrusts. Those shallow thrusts slowly turned harder and harder until he was practically punching the air from her lungs. Without thinking, he grabbed Astarion’s hand and pulled it towards her clit. Normally, he was slow and teasing with his ministrations. But something about watching someone else fuck her into her own oblivion made him wild. Quick and purposeful circles around her clit combined with Halsin’s rough treatment had her back arching in almost no time at all.

In a daze, Tav grabbed the back of Astarion’s head and brought him down towards her. She wanted to kiss him, to feel him too. Most of all? She wanted him to bite her. Once she broke the kiss, she bared her neck to him in a silent plea. Astarion looked at Halsin through his eyelashes. She wasn’t the only one who looked absolutely wrecked.

The druid’s eyes were transfixed on her cunt swallowing him whole. His chest was heaving as he held her trembling thighs open. “Hells,” he whispered underneath his breath. He glanced up at the rogue, who was equally transfixed on his cock bullying her. “Say what you need, Astarion.” He growled, closer to his own end than he would like.

Astarion stroked her neck with the hand that wasn’t still circling her clit. "She's asking for a bite," he all but whined and pouted.

"By all means," he had never seen something like that. He couldn't pretend that he wasn't curious and if she was asking in the throes of another orgasm? Who was he to deny her?

Astarion adjusted so he could be closer to her neck, she didn't seem to notice. She could only moan and cry out nonsense. And then he bit her neck, right where her scars were forming at the juncture of her neck.

Halsin watched her eyes roll back in her head as she scratched at the vampire’s thighs and created a vice grip on his cock. It was too much even for him, he tried to hold back, to let her ride out this high one more time. But he couldn’t. He pulled out right before he finished, coating her body in his seed as Astarion drank from her. He stood there for a moment, trying to collect his own thoughts. Astarion was running his hands up and down her body, making a mess on her stomach, her neck seemingly forgotten.

He dragged his fingers through Halsin’s seed, using the other hand to pry her mouth open. She sucked in his fingers without question. It was salty and earthy, she gagged at first but tried to lick Astarion’s fingers clean. And she swallowed every drop on his hands. If he wasn’t careful, Halsin would need another chance to bury himself inside her. Now that he’s had her, could he ever truly think of anything else?

Without warning, Astarion left her side, positioning himself at the edge of the bed once more. Only a fool would be able to miss the tent in his trousers. Halsin watched him lick every drop of his seed off her stomach while his hand found her clit once more while Tav looked at Halsin with pleading eyes.

“Good boy,” Halsin’s hands wrapped around his own cock, watching the vampire clean the bard with his tongue. “Do you wish to fuck her too? I would hate for you to be left wanting.”

For once, Astarion had nothing to say. With clumsy hands, he stripped out of his clothes. Tav was far too gone to notice him shaking. But Halsin watched him bury his cock in her cunt and watched her nearly scream. He watched him fuck her with reckless abandon. It didn’t feel like the Astarion he knew. He walked behind him, running his hands down his arms. “She is not going anywhere, sweetling. You are safe,” he whispered into the vampire’s ears.

His grip on Tav tightened while Halsin kissed his neck and rubbed gentle circles on his thighs as she reached He let him work out whatever he was feeling on her already abused cunt. Astarion came with a strangled cry. He collapsed on Tav, tangling his limbs with hers. The two laid there, completely spent and out of breath with tears pricking his eyes. Halsin felt his heart swell looking at the two. He smiled to himself before walking towards the washroom. Casting a spell to warm the water already sitting in the room’s tub.

First, he scooped up Tav in his arms. She nuzzled against his chest and welcomed the warmth of the water. Next he swept Astarion in his arms and sat him next to the bard. It was a quick thing getting the two of them scrubbed down. Eventually, Astarion came back into his right mind and started scrubbing Tav’s hair. Tav, who was still in a dazed state, simply leaned against the much larger elf as the vampire helped scrub her body. For a while after, Halsin simply held the two smaller elfs as they curled against him and simply slept. He hadn’t expected to stay but he was more than happy to.

#astarion #baulders gate 3 #bg3 spoilers #astarion smut #fem!tav #astarion x tav #halsin x tav #astarion x tav x halsin #here we go again #i apologize in advance #not my gif

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eoieopda · 1 year

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can i request something about getting into an argument with bf jungkook ?

Sorry for the wait, love! I couldn’t decide how I wanted to approach this (silly vs serious, etc.) so now I’m just winging it! I hope this is okay??

cw: alcohol mention, couple fighting, repeated use of the word “fuck” and its derivatives, angst w/ fluffy ending.

also- I have no idea what the word count is but it feels excessive for a drabble?? lol sorry 🫠

You weren’t quick to anger. Truly, you weren’t. In fact, you were patient and forgiving - to a fault. When something didn’t go your way, or when someone said something upsetting, you took a deep breath and let it go. You didn’t hold grudges; didn’t dwell. You didn’t keep score. But this one stuck in your teeth, and it hurt.

He knew how important this was to you. He knew exactly how many times before you’d played it cool, let the disappointment go rather than let it fester. You constantly excused him for how busy he was, and you understood that there were just some things he couldn’t show up for. You didn’t hold it over his head that he couldn’t be as present as either of you wanted him to be.

So, when he cleared his schedule and promised you he’d be at your firm’s happy hour - joining you in celebrating your promotion - you were elated. Your associates could finally meet the man you’d been prattling on about for two years. They’d see the real-life version of the person in all your framed photos. And he’d get to know all the people you had to spend most of your waking hours with. But they didn’t; he didn’t.

Seething in your seat, you ruminated on the fact that this was his idea in the first place. He drove you to your office that morning. He wanted you to let loose after hours, and when the night was over, he wanted drive your tipsy ass home. But now, your tipsy ass was crying on a city bus because he couldn’t be bothered to keep his promise.

Your bitterness swept you up like a wave and carried you - from the bus stop, across two blocks, to your apartment - even after the heel of your left pump snapped on a particularly cracked patch of sidewalk. When you hobbled over the threshold into your foyer, it was bone-deep anger that kept you from bursting into tears; and too-high adrenaline that carried you on aching feet.

You tore up the hallway and hung a right into your bedroom. There, sleeping sideways on the bed with his trouser-clad legs dangling off the edge, was Jungkook. His tie - untied, more accurately - looped around his neck, underneath the chin nestled into his shoulder. He’d gotten ready and then - somehow - he never made it out the door.

For reasons you couldn’t articulate, this fact made it all worse. So close.

“Are you kidding?” You snapped, scaring him awake. His bleary eyes tried to focus on you, but you were bent in half, hopping on one foot as you tried to undo the ankle strap of your busted shoe.

His horrified eyes dropped from your mascara-stained face to that of his watch. Immediately, he muttered, “Fuck. Shit! Baby, I’m so s-“

Having successfully released your ankle from the death trap it was held hostage by, you whipped your heel against the ground. You stood on one stocking-covered foot to address the other pump. You cut him off - mid-sentence, at the knees.

“No, I am not your baby tonight. I am the girl who just made partner - who got stood up in front of the people who made her partner - who then had to wobble home alone!”

He was shocked by your tone, and frankly, so were you. He’d never seen you angry because you didn’t get angry. The two of you had never fought before, either. Trivial arguments, sure - but nothing a calm conversation couldn’t fix. Nothing like this.

He raised his hands, silently begging you not to shoot, “I’m sorry! I’m so fucking sorry, okay? I am. I fucked up - and I know I fucked up - but I was up all night working so I could take the night off. I guess I was more tired than -“

“Then go back to sleep, Jungkook,” the look in your eyes was nuclear but your voice was eerily soft. You could’ve leveled Gyeonggi in its entirety when you tacked on, “On the couch.”

Without another word, he shot to his feet. Lips pursed and eyes wild, he stalked off out of the bedroom. You shucked off your blazer and threw yourself onto the bed - mattress still warm from the weight of his body. Face first in a pillow, your eyes screwed shut. You swallowed the frustrated scream you wanted so badly to let loose.

After several moments of tense silence, there was an elongated, muffled scraping sound, and then a tremendous clatter in the doorway. Your head snapped to determine the source of the noise.

With gritted teeth, there was Jungkook - pushing the chaise from your living room into your bedroom as if it weighed nothing at all. And he didn’t stop pushing until that stupid little sofa was crammed up against his side of the bed.

That bastard.

If you weren’t so mad at him, you might’ve conceded that this was impressive. Typical. Lovely, even - how insistent he was on sleeping next to you that he found a loophole in the most Jungkook way imaginable.

Ignoring your shocked expression, he slumped down onto the cushions, onto his back, and knotted his arms over his chest. Simultaneously, you rolled over; unintentionally mirroring his posture. Both glowering up at the ceiling, jaws clenched.

He sounded so angry when he said it, you almost missed what he said.

“I’m so fucking proud of you.”

You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye to find him doing the same. Expressions still set in stone, body language communicating one word - impasse. You said nothing; you didn’t know where to start.

“You deserve to be celebrated, and you sure as fuck don’t deserve any of what you got instead.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes.

“And I swear to god, I will spend the rest of my life showing up for you.”

You swallowed hard, wanting nothing more than the end of this ugly evening. Weapons down, white flags up. His face softened when yours did.

“Baby,” you started slowly, watching a spark of hope ignite in the dark of his eyes.

Just as cautiously, he replied, “Yes?”

“Put the couch back,” you sniffed. After a pregnant pause, you finally finished, “And then come to bed.”

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mvrtaiswriting · 11 months

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Hey! Someone suggested your blog for one piece and I decided to check it out!

I’d also like to make a request

How would the monster trio(+katakuri if you wanna write for him) be with a s/o who always looks at them as if asking them for permission to beat some one up (you can add anyone else if you want) f!reader or gn! Reader whichever one

Headcanons pls<3

Have a great day!

Monster trio + Ace, Law and Usopp with a s/o who looks at them before fighting someone.

hullo, thanks for requesting this! i unfortunately dont write for katakuri but i added law and ace to the mix, i hope it's fine! enjoy this lil headcanons, i loved writing these!! also, using this as a chance to restate that requests are open!

warning: none. gn! reader.

feel free to reblog, like, and leave a comment. i would very much appreciate it. if you enjoy my works, click here to read more or buy me a coffee.

Luffy: All it takes is a glare. It doesn't take long for Luffy to recognise the sparkle in your eyes. He feels it too; the tension building in your muscles, the adrenaline rising up in your veins making your heart beat ten times faster than usual. Lowering his straw-hat to cover his eyes, Luffy simply chuckles in response. He knows your potential and he is curious of the limits your able to reach and break. He takes this as a good opportunity to train and test your powers; nevertheless, he is watching your back and ready to step in.

Sanji: Sanji smirks and lights up a cigarette, making himself comfortable and untying his tie. He knows well that whoever crosses your path is in real danger - and he brags about it whenever he has the occasion to. He is overly proud of you; plus, winning a fight would always guarantee a special treatment from him. Preparing your favourite meal, smothering you in kisses, an endless ramble of praises. He enjoys the fight, making sure you don't get hurt as he meticulously observe your combat moves.

Zoro: Zoro tries to make you back off. Despite his love and respect for you, he would rather let you stay away from the battlefield. He is aware of your combat abilities, he just thinks it would be easier if you'd let his swords deal with it. Nevertheless, it's easy to convince him if you buy him an extra bottle of booze. After all, despite his protective instincts, he enjoys a partner who can fight and protect themselves. Seeing you go feral and win a fight always tickles his senses.. so you might be in for a good, particularly nasty training session afterwards.

additional characters:

Law: Law definitely doesn't approve your conflictual nature. Although he is a little trouble maker himself, he prefers approaching things, and fights, in a more methodical way - having a precise strategy, and more importantly, a reason. Getting caught up in a worthless fight would mean catching the marine's attention, and that would be dangerous. When he sees you joining the battlefield regardless, he sighs and stands back. But if you manage to get hurt.. be ready to hear him grumble under his breath about irresponsible you were as he medicates you.

Ace: You and Ace would meet looks, the same impulsive idea running through the synapses of your brain. He nods in response, a clever smirk drawing on his lips as he transforms the ramble in a challenge.

"First one to land a punch wins."

Usopp: Tries to discourage you from it. He knows you would be perfectly able to win the fight - but he also knows he would struggle to help you. Your fearless nature worries Usopp, and sometimes it makes him wonder how the two of you get so along. Dangerous situation fuel you, whilst he prefers running from them. Usopp would never give you the permission to battle someone if the situation permits a safe escape - a long, frustrated sighs is the only slightly positive answer you could receive. And when you jump head first in the battle, he whines and snorts, ready to snipe the enemy if the situation escalates.

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munson-blurbs · 1 year

Text

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries

1 | 2 | 3

Summary: A series of mishaps has you and Eddie (and Grandma and Harris) in the same place at the same time, leading Eddie to let his guard down a bit. That is, until a secret is spilled.

Warnings: angst, Eddie is really mean to Reader, injuries (nothing bloody or gory), mostly set in a hospital, mentions of Eddie's dad, mentions of CPS, Reader's grandma has Alzheimer's, slowburn, strangers to enemies to lovers, angst, Eddie is 30, Reader is 28, no use of y/n

WC: 6k

Chapter 3/20

Scruffy!Eddie edit credit to @eddiemunsons-missingnipple Divider credit to @saradika

“Har-Bear?” Eddie calls out from the bedroom, pinning his nametag to his shirt. “You tie your sneakers yet?” His son had insisted that he didn’t need help with the laces, that he could do it on his own, but he’d be late for work if he waited any longer.

“Not…yet!” the tiny voice yells back, and Eddie can sense the frustration in his voice. “I think they’re broken.”

“Broken, huh?” Eddie laughs to himself as he walks out to the living room, where Harris is sitting in front of the door. Sure enough, his shoelaces remain untied, and tears roll down his cheeks. “C’mere, bud. It’s okay. I can tie ‘em for you this time.”

Harris shakes his head, brown curls bouncing on his scalp. He mumbles something unintelligible, and when Eddie bends down to help him, he pushes his hands away.

“Harris, enough!” Eddie hisses through gritted teeth, taking the laces and tying them quickly. “You know that you have school and Daddy has work.”

“B-b-but I’m the only one!” Harris wails, kicking his shoes off defiantly. Eddie picks them up with one hand and scoops up his son in the other, tipping towards the couch and hooking his pinky around Harris’s little backpack. He doesn’t have any time to waste; shoes will have to be put on at school.

Maybe Ms. Sweetheart will have better luck with him, Eddie thinks wryly, wrangling a screaming Harris down the stairwell.

“The only one what?” Eddie asks once the crying starts to subside.

“I’m the only–sniff–one at school who–hic–can’t tie my shoes!”

Eddie wrinkles his nose as he places a shoe-less Harris in his carseat. “I’m sure there are other kids who are still learning how to tie their shoes.”

“Nuh-uh,” Harris protests, straining against the seatbelt. “All the other kids tie their own shoes, but Ms. Sweetheart or Mr. Will have to tie mine.”

Eddie’s heart sinks as he thinks of his son being the outcast as the freak, the rest of his friends flying past him as he gets left behind. “Tell ya what,” he says finally, mustering up a smile, “I’ll teach you, and you’ll be able to tie them in no time.”

His offer placates Harris, who spends the rest of the time singing along to the radio. Eddie wishes it could always be like this; happy and carefree, just driving and listening to his favorite metal station with his mini-me. Maybe one day it’ll happen, but the fleeting sense of hope disappears as quickly as it comes. His time with Harris might be limited if he doesn’t get his shit together.

The job was a start; he was lucky that the hours coincided with school drop-off and pick-up so he didn’t have to reach out to Wayne. He’d been working at Rock Records for about a week, and while it was a far cry from the stardom he’d once dreamed of, it was paying the bills and still allowed him to spend his time around music. And when his manager–a twenty-year-old named Ash who used her phone line to talk to friends rather than answer store calls–heard that he plays guitar, she’d all but insisted that he give lessons. If he could get Wayne to watch Harris a few days after school, that would be even more money in his pocket.

But, first, he actually has to start talking to his uncle again.

He pulls into the preschool parking lot, killing the engine and hopping out to help Harris from his carseat. When he opens Harris’s door, he immediately deflates.

“Harris, where is your jacket?” Eddie asks, heaving an exasperated sigh.

The little boy just shrugs. “I dunno. At home?” It’s not his fault; the chilly early October air just began settling in, and he’s not accustomed to including his jacket into his morning routine. A look of realization creases his brows, another tantrum on the horizon. “Now I won’t be able to go out for recess!”

“Hey, hey,” Eddie says reassuringly, shrugging off his own denim, patch-riddled jacket, “you can take mine.” It’s comically oversized on Harris’s tiny body, but the smile on his face is enough to distract Eddie from the chill settling on his own arms.

“Daddy, now I’m just like you!” Harris sticks out his tongue and makes the ‘rock-and-roll’ symbol with his pointer and pinky fingers, scrunching his big brown eyes shut.

Eddie laughs, taking his son’s hand as they cross the parking lot. The way he copies him is adorable, but there’s a sinking feeling in his stomach when he pictures Harris actually following in his footsteps.

As soon as he enters the school, Harris lets go of his father’s hand and bounds into the classroom, the jacket dragging on the ground like a regal cloak. “Ms. Sweetheart, look at my jacket!” he proudly announces, twirling around on one leg. “It’s my daddy’s!”

You smile, crossing your arms over your chest as you shake your head teasingly. “Harris, is daddy wearing your jacket?”

“Nooooo,” he says, jutting out his chin and giggling. “It’s too small, silly!”

Eddie shuffles in behind him; after a month of drop-offs, he’s realized that he’s never going to win the battle of getting Harris to walk beside him in the hallway. “Don’t forget your backpack, little dude,” he reminds him, handing him his bag and motioning towards the row of cubbies.

Nodding, Harris hangs it up on the hook, along with Eddie’s jacket. He starts to run towards the toy area, stopping when he hears you call out, “Harris…”

“Huh? Oh, right.” He flashes that innocent smile, slowing his pace to a walk.

You shake your head knowingly, grabbing the clipboard with the sign-in sheet from your desk. Wordlessly, you give it to Eddie, who takes it with a sigh. This is how it goes most mornings: he drops off Harris, scribbles his signature, and stalks off without so much as a “good morning.” It’s not ideal, but it’s better than the barrage of insults and snide comments that he seemed to prefer to greet you with.

He drops the clipboard on top of the cubbies with a clatter, turning to the door, but the sound of a child shrieking stops him in his tracks before he can leave.

“Harris, no!”

Eddie’s stomach turns at the way the little girl angrily shouts his son’s name. Harris is frozen in place, holding a weird contraption that Eddie doesn’t recognize. The boy’s lower lip trembles, and all Eddie wants to do is pick him up and yell at the other kid for making him cry, but you get to the scene first.

“Abby, Harris, what happened?” you ask, crouching down to their eye-level. There’s no accusations, just a soothing tone to de-escalate the situation.

“He took my Bop-It!” Abby pouts, stamping her foot in frustration. “He stole it from me!”

Eddie feels his fists clench involuntarily at the word stole. Harris would never steal. He was a good kid, and having the Munson name didn’t automatically make him a thief. He tries to send a telepathic message to Harris, willing him to stand up for himself, but it doesn’t work.

You eye the toy in Harris’s hand–the Bop-It in question, you assume–and meet his shy gaze. “Did you take Abby’s toy?” Again, your voice is free of judgment, and Eddie allows himself to relax ever-so slightly when you don’t automatically take the girl’s side.

“I just wanted to see it real quick!” Harris mumbles, shoulders slumping. “I was gonna give it back.”

“What should you do when someone has something that you want to see?” you prompt him gently, feeling Eddie’s eyes scrutinizing you, analyzing your every move you make to see how you’re treating his son.

“I don’t know,” he answers honestly, eyes wide and misty.

“You have to ask them and then wait for them to say yes,” you say, and he nods as you swivel to face Abby Carver. “Abby, if someone forgets to ask to see your toy, you can remind them nicely. With an inside voice.”

“But he didn’t even say sorry for stealing!” she whines.

“It was an accident,” Harris rebuts, scrunching up his nose, “an’ I didn’t steal it!”

Breathing out a soft sigh, you turn back to him to end the argument before it can really start. Hell hath no fury like a preschooler scorned. “Saying ‘sorry’ is important, even when we accidentally make someone feel sad or mad,” you tell him.

“‘M sorry, Abby,” he says, handing her back the Bop-It. You can’t help but notice the way that he tucks his free hand into the pocket of his jeans, just like Eddie does when he’s anxious.

“It’s okay, Harris,” Abby says flatly, eager to flounce off to her friends and show them her toy, as Harris quietly joins some of the other boys to play with building blocks.

You press on your knees and stand up, finally allowing yourself to glance over at Eddie. He gives a tiny nod of acknowledgment; so subtle that you would’ve missed it if you’d blinked. You’re not exactly sure what it means–thanks or good job or simply I’ll be back for pick-up–but he’s out the door before you can think about it further.

You really should have seen it coming. Should’ve listened to the proverbial alarm bells ringing when you’d heard the shower running. But you were exhausted from a long day at work; the Bop-It situation having kicked off a series of arguments between various groups of kids. At one point, you and Will had given up on storytime and basically played referee, just trying to keep the peace between tiny feuding humans.

You’re scraping the last bits of unfinished mashed potatoes into the garbage when you hear the crash. There’s a clatter of bottles and the pop pop pop of the shower curtain ripping off of its rings. Your blood runs cold and you nearly drop the plate you’re holding, palms suddenly slick with sweat.

“Grandma?” Your voice catches in your throat, a hoarse whisper, and you clear it and try again as you fly towards the bathroom. “Grandma?!”

There’s no answer; between the steady pounding of the shower and her own declining hearing, you expected just as much. You push open the door that she thankfully left unlocked to find her laying in the tub, tears mixing with the stream of water. She cradles her left wrist in her right hand, mumbling inaudibly to herself between heaving sobs.

“Grandma, what happened?” you ask, leaning over to finagle the knob to the “OFF” position.

She looks up as if she’s just realized you’re standing there, too disoriented and focused on the pain to take in any of her surroundings. “I fell.”

You reach for the powder blue towel hanging on the back of the bathroom door and pluck it off of its hook. “Here,” you say, draping it over her shoulders, “let me cover you and I’ll help you up.” It seems absurd to worry about modesty, given the urgency of the situation, but you can tell based on her sheepish demeanor that the small part of her that still feels shame is pinging in her brain. You tuck your hands under her arms, lifting with your knees and hoisting her to her feet. “Grab the bar,” you instruct her, nodding your head towards the silver safety bar lining the shower wall.

“Can I dry you off?” She gives a small nod, letting go to hold her swelling wrist. “Keep holding onto the bar. I don’t want you to slip and fall again.”

“But it hurts,” she whimpers, and you know this will be a losing battle. Even if she does agree to grab onto it again, she’ll almost certainly forget, and you'll have to start the whole process over. Instead, you carefully run the towel over her, watching as the cloth soaks up droplets and trying not to think about how backwards this all seems. There was a time where she was the one drying you off, lifting you out of your little bath seat in the kitchen sink and cooing at her beloved baby granddaughter, hope and joy filling her eyes. A time where life seemed limitless, and maybe she’d started to slow down, but she’d sworn that she’d always remember this moment. She couldn’t even imagine forgetting you.

Grabbing the pile of clothes from their spot on the tiled floor, you find her shirt and offer it to her. “I can help you put it on,” you tell her, toeing the line of preventing another fall and respecting her dignity.

Grandma’s lips curl into a frown and she shakes her head. “Those are dirty,” she protests.

You squeeze your eyes shut, willing yourself to grasp onto the last bit of patience you have left. The words, You didn’t even go anywhere today rests on the tip of your tongue, but you swallow them down, force a smile, and say, “Okay. Let’s get you to your bed so you can sit down, and we’ll pick out new ones.”

She reluctantly agrees to this, and you slowly walk her to the bedroom and grab the first of everything you can find. A fuschia t-shirt and green sweatpants might not be her best look, but you’re not trying to style her for a runway show. After sliding her fluffy pink slippers over her feet, you help her up and guide her to the door, where she stops in her tracks.

“Can’t wear these outside,” she says simply, pointing to the slippers.

“It’s okay,” you reassure her, grabbing your keys from the small table tucked in the corner. “You can wear them outside this time.”

She doesn’t budge. “No, I need my other ones.” Her gaze lands on the pair of white Reeboks resting on the shoe rack. She starts to lean over to take them, but she’s still unsteady on her feet, and you wrap your arm around her torso before she can wobble.

“Just…just sit,” you mutter, feeling anger rise in your chest like a thundercloud. It wasn’t her fault that she was being stubborn, but it didn’t quell the burning frustration. You toss her rejected footwear to the side, silently reminding yourself to pick it up later, and shimmy her feet into the sneakers. You tie the laces into a double knot, pulling nice and tight, determined to keep it from unraveling.

Eddie’s day at work wasn’t much better than yours. After dropping Harris off at school, his first customer had been a middle-aged woman who claimed that a record had been scratched when she’d bought it a few weeks ago, insisting that Eddie had sold it to her that way. Which could have been the case, except he’d only started the job earlier that week.

All he wants now is a nice cold beer, but he has to wait until Harris goes to sleep. Years of watching his own father guzzle down Johnnie Walker until he fell into a drunken stupor led him to promise never to drink in front of his son.

“Bedtime, buddy!” he announces. He doesn’t even have to pretend to be excited; the second Harris dozes off, he’s going to crack open that Coors Light and watch the most mind-numbing show on TV.

Harris throws his head back in exasperation. “But Daaaaadyyyy, I’m not even tired!” His whine pierces Eddie’s eardrum, making him grimace.

“It’s 7:30, and it’s a school night,” he tells him, keeping his voice as steady as possible. “But tomorrow is Friday, so you can stay up a little later then.” He walks over to the tiny dresser pushed up against the wall, pulling out the bottom drawer and taking out a pair of dinosaur-print pajamas. “C’mon, let’s go. Pajamas, pee, and brush those teeth.”

“I’m…not…tired!” Harris screams at the top of his lungs. His cheeks flush beet-red, and spit gathers at the corners of his mouth.

Eddie clenches his fist around the pajamas, feeling his fingernails dig into the soft cotton. He inhales for three, then exhales for three, feeling the oxygen flow through his lungs. “Harris,” he manages through gritted teeth, “I’m going to count to five. And when I’m done, I want you doing your bedtime routine, or you’ll go to bed early tomorrow.” He takes one more deep breath, getting to two before Harris angrily snatches the pajamas from his grip and stomps off to the bathroom.

The boy only brushes his teeth for a grand total of ten seconds, but Eddie doesn’t have the stamina to argue about oral hygiene tonight. Tucking Harris into bed, he leans in to kiss him on the forehead, but he’s met with the back of his head.

Logically, he knows that there will come a time where Harris won’t want a kiss good night, won’t need his dad to help him into bed. Eddie just hadn’t planned on it being tonight.

“I hate you.” Harris’s voice is muffled from his lips being smushed into the pillow, but Eddie received the message loud and clear. It reverberates in his brain like an echo in a tunnel: I hate you I hate you I hate you.

Eddie backs out of the room slowly, flicking off the light and closing the door. He forgoes the shitty TV and sits in silence as he sips on his beer, letting the bitterness seep into his tongue before he swallows.

The venom in Harris’s voice was unmistakable. Eddie knew all too well how it felt to hate a parent. That raw anger swelled within him each time his father got them thrown out of another apartment, or conveniently forgot to pick up groceries (but always managed to remember his booze and drugs), or put his hands on Eddie.

My son hates me, Eddie thinks, taking a last swig of his drink and absentmindedly wiping the foam from his lips. I’m a shit dad, and my son hates me.

He’s too wrapped up in his own thoughts, leaving the sound of squeaking bed springs unnoticed until a loud thud followed immediately by the sound of Harris’s distraught wail snaps him to attention.

“Daddy!” Harris cries out, and Eddie’s sprinting to the bedroom before he can even finish the second syllable.

“What happened?” His voice is louder than he intends from the adrenaline coursing through his veins, and it only makes Harris cry harder. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m not mad,” he says, softening his tone as he flicks on the light. His eyes widen when he sees the way his son’s arm is twisted.

“I couldn’t—sniffle—sleep, s-so I—sniffle—t-tried to j-jump my awake out,” Harris explains through hiccuping sobs. “An’ I h-hurted—sniffle—my arm.”

“C’mere, sshh, ‘s okay.” Eddie reassures him as he scoops him up, carefully avoiding his injury. “We gotta get you to the hospital so the doctors can fix it.”

Harris’s lower lip trembles again. “Are th-they gonna g-give me a sh-shot?”

“Nah, they’ll just have to do an x-ray,” he says, grimacing when he thinks of how much it’ll cost, even after Medicaid kicks in. “But those don’t hurt.”

Harris gives a tiny nod, still ambivalent as he nestles his head into the crook of his father’s neck. His curls tickle Eddie, who presses a kiss to the boy’s forehead and murmurs, “Daddy’s here, okay? I got you.” He feels Harris’s uninjured hand grab onto him a bit tighter as he brings him to the car.

“Can we go home now?”

You breathe out an exasperated sigh, leaning back in the chair and bouncing your leg anxiously. Hawkins General Hospital wasn’t crowded, and you and Grandma were taken to a room fairly quickly, but it still isn’t fast enough for an elderly woman who has no idea why she’s here.

“We have to wait a little longer for the doctor to see us,” you explain for the fourth time in as many minutes. “They have to make sure you don’t have a concussion.” Your answer seems to placate her, at least until she asks again within the next sixty seconds, as she hums her acknowledgment.

There’a a soft knock on the door, and a perky blonde nurse pokes her head in the room as soon as you give her permission to enter. “Hi, I’m Chrissy; I’ll be your nurse,” she says, looking at your grandmother. “What brings you in to see us tonight?”

“I’m just here with her,” Grandma shrugs, pointing to you.

“She slipped and fell in the shower,” you explain patiently. “I know she hurt her wrist, but I’m not sure if she hit her head, and she has Alzheimer’s…” You glance at her uneasily. “She doesn’t even remember falling.”

Chrissy nods understandingly, offering a sympathetic smile as she makes a note on her chart. “I can take you in for an x-ray of your wrist, and then we’ll run some tests to rule out a head injury as best as we can, okay, Mrs…” Her gaze shifts back to the chart before she brings her attention back to you. “Do you teach at Hawkins Preschool, by any chance?”

“Guilty as charged,” you give the best semblance of a laugh you can muster.

“I recognized your last name,” she says as she helps Grandma off of the examination table. “My daughter is in your class. Abigail Carver? She absolutely adores you.”

The compliment buzzes in your chest as your smile becomes more genuine. “Well, thank you. That means a lot. And she’s a great kid, too.” Except when she’s screeching at her friends, you think, but you keep that tidbit to yourself.

“I work nights, so my husband handles the school stuff,” Chrissy explains. “But I’m glad we finally got to meet, even if it’s under these circumstances.”

She hooks her arm through Grandma’s, who promptly shakes her off. “Let go of me!” the older woman snarls, shuffling back towards you. She may not know exactly who you are, but there’s at least a level of familiarity that brings her some comfort.

“I’ll walk with you,” you offer, and Chrissy agrees gratefully as the three of you gradually make your way down the starch-white hallway.

Unbeknownst to you, in a room just across the hall, Harris Munson is showing his dad how he can hop up and down on one leg without losing his balance.

Jesus H. Christ; does this kid ever run out of energy? Eddie silently wonders, but he plasters a smile on his face. “That’s really cool, Har-Bear. Just, uh, sit down before you hurt yourself even more.”

Harris is about to pout when a nurse enters the room. She’s probably in her mid-fifties, Eddie surmises, with brown hair that’s streaked gray and pulled back in a low bun.

“Harris Munson?” she asks shortly, and Eddie points to the little jumping bean standing next to him. “Come with me to the x-ray room.” She doesn’t offer her name, but Eddie catches a glimpse of the badge on her scrubs pocket that reads “Anna.”

Anna has Harris place his arm on the table, gingerly moving it to take x-rays from different angles. Standing in the doorway, Eddie winces at the tiny yelps his son lets out with each minimal adjustment. “You’re hurting him,” he manages through a bone-dry throat.

“If there is a break or sprain, we need to ensure that we find it,” she explains impatiently, retreating back to the room where she snaps a few more images before bringing them back to the room.

“Dad?”

“Mhm?”

“I’m sleepy now.” Harris punctuates his statement with a yawn, laying back on the examination table and dozing off just moments later.

Eddie takes his jacket–the same one that Harris wore at school that day–and places it over the boy’s sleeping body in a makeshift blanket. By the time the radiologist comes in to deliver the results, Eddie’s struggling to keep his own eyes open.

“How’re we doing in here?” she says, watching as Harris stirs, stretches his little legs, and promptly falls asleep again. “Is it past someone’s bedtime?”

“His and mine,” Eddie grumbles, wiping the sleep from his eyes and sitting up straighter. There’s a pinch in his lower back from slouching in the uncomfortable chair, and he grimaces as he tries to massage the sore spot.

“Well, you’ll be out of here soon. It looks like Harris did break his wrist, so we’ll need to get a cast on it, but we can discharge him as soon as it’s done.”

“Brilliant.” Eddie presses on his knees as he stands up to gently shake his son awake. “Hey, bud. It’s time to wake up so you can get a super cool cast.”

“Mmph,” Harris grunts, throwing his good arm over his eyes dramatically.

Eddie just laughs, not catching the concerned look on the doctor’s face as she flips through Harris’s chart. “C’mon, I’ll carry you, but you gotta help me out here.” Harris begrudgingly complies, wrapping his legs around Eddie’s waist and holding onto him as tightly as he can.

“It’ll only take about fifteen minutes,” the doctor explains, rubbing Harris’s back for good measure. “You can drop him off in this room, Mr. Munson. One of our nurses needs to speak with you.”

He doesn’t like the look on her face; the one that simultaneously gives away nothing and too much. Her lips press together in a thin smile, one that’s obviously forced, as an orthopedic technician guides Eddie into the next room.

The unfriendly nurse from earlier, Anna, is waiting for him outside the door.

“Mr. Munson, could I speak to you privately?” Eddie nods wordlessly, traipsing behind her back to the room where Harris had just been sleeping.

“Mr. Munson,” Anna begins, and Eddie swears he’ll punch a hole through the hospital’s wall if she keeps speaking in that condescending tone, “as you know, ensuring the safety and wellbeing of our patients, particularly our pediatric ones, is our top priority here at Hawkins General.” She pauses, as though he’s supposed to have some response to that, but he remains silent. “Given the nature of your son’s injury, coupled with the report that a nurse smelled alcohol on your breath when you entered our facility, we have to report this incident to Child Protective Services.”

Eddie’s eyes nearly bulge out of his head; his fists clench involuntarily, and he has to remind himself to steady his breathing. In for three, out for three. “There–there must be some mistake,” he stammers. “I had one beer after Harris went to bed–well, he was supposed to be in bed–and I was well under the legal limit when I brought him here.”

Anna cocks her head, and rage surges through Eddie’s bloodstream at her subtle gesture of disbelief. He didn’t even drink when his son was awake, let alone drive drunk. And the thought of him hurting Harris, whether under the influence of alcohol or not, was enough to turn his stomach. For fuck’s sake, he felt guilty if he accidentally stepped on the kid’s toes.

“Be that as it may,” the nurse continues, and Eddie swears she’s trying to suppress an eyeroll, “I also see that there was a previous report from 1992–”

“When he was born?” Eddie sputters. “That–that had nothing to do with me. His mom…”

Anna glances back down at Harris’s chart and frowns. “It looks like both you and Harris’s mother were listed in that report.” She looks up at Eddie again. “This is out of our hands now. CPS will take over from here and determine the next steps to take.” With that, she walks away, leaving Eddie leaning against the door with tears in his eyes.

All he can think about are the custody papers Wayne gave him. The way he’d angrily torn them up, taking them as a threat, rather than an offer to help. The way he’d blamed Wayne for his life going to shit.

I hate you, Harris had said earlier that evening.

Maybe Wayne was right. Maybe Harris was better off without his dad around to fuck up everything in his path.

You’re waiting at the front desk for Grandma’s discharge papers when you hear an excited voice call out your name; rather, his nickname for you.

“Ms. Sweetheart!”

You turn around to see Harris Munson running towards you, sporting a bright orange cast on his wrist. “What happened to you?” you ask with a smile–a genuine one, this time. That little boy always manages to cheer you up.

“I was trying to jump my awake out and I breaked my wrist,” he says. “So then my daddy taked me here and I got this cast. See?” He holds out his arm two inches from your eyes, as though the neon color wasn’t already a dead giveaway.

“That is the coolest cast I’ve ever seen,” you tell him. “I broke my leg once, and I just got a boring white one.” You pout your lips exaggeratedly, making Harris laugh. “I bet all the kids in school will wanna sign it tomorrow.”

Harris breaks out into a giant grin. “They can sign it?”

“Sure can!”

He thinks for a moment and asks, “Will you sign my cast, Ms. Sweetheart?” He looks up at you with those soft brown eyes, and you feel yourself start to melt.

Before you can answer him, your Grandma speaks up. “I’m leaving,” she declares, already trying to take off the sling that the nurse gave her for her sprained wrist.

“I just need to sign you out, Grandma,” you explain. “And remember, you need to keep the sling on so your wrist can heal.”

“Fuck you, bitch,” she hisses. “I hate you.”

Your face heats up, embarrassed at her outburst and at the fact that it happened in front of a student and his parent. “I’m sorry,” you mumble, though you’re unsure if you’re apologizing more to Eddie or to Harris. “She has Alzheimer’s…she doesn’t know…”

You expect Eddie to laugh at your misfortune, but when your eyes flicker to his face, you only see sympathy.

“‘S okay,” he says softly, putting a ringed hand on Harris’s shoulder. “I feel like swearing, too, after the night we’ve had.”

You offer a weak smile, still processing the unfamiliar kindness that he’s showing. “Thanks,” you manage, just as the receptionist hands you the discharge paperwork. “I’ll see you both at school tomorrow?”

“And you can sign my cast!” Harris exclaims, flashing a toothy grin. “Promise?”

“Promise.” You ruffle his hair, leading Grandma out to the car before she can conjure up another slew of swear words.

Eddie wakes up the next morning still exhausted. He rolls over, catching a glimpse of Harris still sleeping soundly in his racecar bed. He’s tempted to let him sleep in a bit, maybe take the day off from school, but he knows how badly he wants Ms. Sweetheart to sign his cast.

Ms. Sweetheart.

He’d been thinking about you all night. The way your calm, confident demeanor had faltered when your grandma cursed at you and said she hated you. The way you caved in a bit, as though her words had punctured you.

You hadn’t reacted like that when Eddie called you a bitch; you’d simply carried on as though the words meant nothing to you.

Because they did mean nothing to you. Because he meant nothing to you. He was just another drop in the douchebag bucket, and once you’d gotten over the initial sting of rejection, you’d moved on. And so had he.

Right?

He tries to shake these thoughts from his mind as he gets Harris ready for school, but it’s nearly impossible when all the kid can talk about is how he saw Ms. Sweetheart at the hospital and how she’s going to sign his cast today.

“She’s the bestest teacher I’ve ever had,” Harris tells Eddie, shoving a spoonful of Cheerios into his mouth.

“She’s the only teacher you’ve ever had, buddy,” Eddie reminds him, but Harris remains unfazed.

Sure enough, you’re waiting outside the classroom door, black Sharpie in hand. Harris’s eyes light up when he spots you.

“Ms. Sweetheart! You remembered!”

“Of course I remembered,” you say, uncapping the marker and crouching down to his level. Both Eddie and Harris watch intently as you write your signature, complete with a little heart.

Ms. Sweetheart ♡

“Go ahead and unpack,” you tell Harris. “Once you finish your morning routine, we can have your friends sign it, too.”

“Okay!” He starts to run, but crawls to a stop. “Gotta use my walking feet in the classroom.”

You give him a thumbs-up, turning back to hand Eddie the sign-in sheet.

“I’ll be damned,” he chuckles, shaking his head incredulously. “I’ve been trying to get that kid to slow down since he learned how to run. Swear to God, he skipped right over the ‘walking’ stage and went straight to sprinting.”

You laugh at his remark, taking the clipboard back from him. “Try the walking feet trick. I’ll let you borrow it, free of charge.”

“Much appreciated.” He starts to leave, but stops before he can fully turn his back to you. “How’s your grandma, by the way?”

His kind gesture catches you off-guard, but you recover quickly. “Already giving me a hard time about the sling, but that’s the home health aid’s problem until I get back.”

Eddie steps forward, awkwardly resting his hand on your upper arm for just a second. He’s not exactly sure what he’s doing, or why, but it felt like the right move. “Well, uh, good luck. With the whole ‘sling’ fiasco.”

“I’ll need it.”

He smiles, and you easily return it. It’s an olive branch, one that you eagerly reach out and take. It’s not much, but it’s more than he’s ever given you.

Eddie’s walking back down the hallway, feeling as though a weight has been lifted off of his overburdened shoulders, when he hears it:

“...reported to CPS. Apparently, this isn’t the first time it’s happened.”

No. No. There’s no way that they could be talking about him.

He rounds the corner towards the school lobby to see Carol Perkins talking to Steve Harrington, her hushed whisper not soft enough to prevent other people from hearing.

“What?” Steve asks.

“Yup,” Carol nods. “Something about when he was born? Like, how bad of a parent do you have to be to get reported to CPS as soon as your kid is born?”

Eddie feels the bile rise in his throat. His suspicions are further confirmed when she adds, “And get this–he was drinking when he brought Harris to the hospital. That’s why I’ll never let Frankie play at his house.”

There’s no way he can just walk past them and act like he hadn’t heard anything, so he decides to wait until they finish their conversation. They made him sound like some sort of neglectful alcoholic who disregards his son’s safety. They made him sound like his dad.

As Steve and Carol say their goodbyes, Eddie takes one last glance back towards the classroom. You’re cheerfully greeting an adoring student, ruffling her hair like you did to Harris at the hospital last night.

Eddie sucks in a quick breath. You were there last night. You were also in the orthopedic wing, as evidenced by your grandma’s injury. You had been humiliated in front of him for the second time; the first was when Eddie hadn’t called you after the one-night stand. And now you wanted revenge.

No wonder you were so friendly this morning. This whole time, you were just waiting for him to slip up. Waiting for him to have his moment of weakness. Now he knows better than to trust you. He won’t make that mistake again.

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simpjaes · 26 days

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i'm sorry this is just my intrusive thoughts speaking but what do you think about enha and shibari

hyung line + shibari [japanese rope bondage] there are images regarding what type of shibari position the members would want to use on you. [fem and male poses used but use ur imagination]

☆ jay:

likes when you sit nice and pretty for him. fixed posture, tits on display. though this is more of a position for him to look at rather than fuck you in, he has a lot of fun with it. probably learned how to do it because he saw you scroll a bit too quickly past the images of shibari on your phone. he likes the way your skin chubs and bulges out past the ropes at times because he does intentionally tie them too tight, and always loves to get head this way. or moreso, he likes to face fuck you and occasionally get his cock up against the ropes between your tits just to watch you stick your tongue out trying to reach the pre-cum dribbling out of him.

★ jake:

oh man, he loves using it on you and also loves when you use it on him. for this ask, im gonna include both. so, for you, this is what jake likes to see:

why? because he likes when your knees buckle and shake when he fucks your thighs. he likes pulling your head back by the hair just to see your back arch painfully with those cracked whines in your throat. looooves holding onto your hips and hitting it from the back. now for you to do it to him, he likes it to be more intimate and playful. tie him up like this and watch him beg:

jake will cry for you to free his hands, yanking and pulling the robes because he wants to touch so bad. he wants to hold your head as you slide his cock down his throat, wants to hold you while you bounce on him, but no. all he can do is feel what you do to him, giving it to him so good that he generally ends up crying because he can't hold you through it.

☆ sunghoon:

anything to look at your body in full with pretty bright ropes hugging it. he'd use shibari not to fuck you in but just to look at you like you're the prettiest doll he could ever own. for hours he'd have you stand for him while he does meaningless tasks. cleaning the house with you standing so pretty in the corner, working from home, cooking dinner, only to eventually carry you and place you in the bedroom, waiting for you to start crying when he spreads out on the bed and starts palming himself, dirty talking you with harsh and mocking words of "want me to untie you? wanna sit right on it, don't you?" and "just stand there and look pretty babe, it's what you're best at." until his cum is wasted, spurting out all over his chest and abs.

★ heeseung:

will always want you bound in a way where even eye contact is difficult to maintain. but he will force you to keep trying to look at him anyway. probably already knew how to tie the knots before he met you solely because it's something he's interested in. loves the act of being able to do anything he wants to you, loves being able to fuck any part of you, fucking adores the after math after untying you, with the rope burn and the pretty indents on your skin that they leave behind.

#enhypen smut #heeseung smut #sunghoon smut #sim jaeyun smut #park jongseong smut #enhypen hard hours #ask #hardthots

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harufluff · 5 months

Text

'not like you don't want one!!' nishimura riki

warnings - minor cursing, falling lol

genre - fluff, nishimura riki x fem!reader, established relationship au

wc - 0.7k

'oh my gosh-' 'what...' you had stopped in your tracks as a park ice skating rink came into view. you had walked from your hotel down to a little burger place that an employee where you were staying recommended.

you had known the weather was going to be chilly, so you dressed in simple grey sweatpants, a long sleeved t-shirt with one of your boyfriends sweaters to stay warm. riki wore a typical riki outfit, consisting of mostly black and oversized clothing.

but while walking to the restaurant, the bright string lights illuminating the rink had taken your attention away from the food. you pointed your hand towards the group of people skating around in a circle.

riki chuckled at your cute gesture. 'do you wanna go ice skating after we eat?' he asks, looking down at you. 'can we go now...?' 'no?? im so fucking hungry right now, are you crazy?'

you tried fighting him, but hungry riki was not an easy opponent. the two of you ended up eating at the restaurant and then you dragging him out of the door to make your way to the ice skating rink.

'c'mon!! lets go skate, ki!' he just giggled and let you take his hand to lead him to the check in stand. you payed for the tickets and a locker where you put your bags and shoes inside, then you made your way to the benches to tie your skates up.

'do you know how to tie ice skates?' you had nodded at first, but you had ended up getting confused with the way the laces went through the hook thingys.

riki helped you lace them up when he was done with his, being the kind hearted boyfriend he is. 'all set. why don't you try standing up-.' you stood up with a slight wobble, but you ended up getting the hang of picking your feet up further in order to not fall of your face.

your ankle leaned slightly and you grabbed onto your boyfriends jacket to stable yourself. 'ah- careful...jeez were not even on the ice yet-' you chuckled quietly and continued to hold on to him as you made your way to the entrance of the rink.

at first it was still wobbly, but as you continued to gain speed, it got slightly easier! riki made sure to keep an eye on you while you stuck your tongue out in deep focus.

as the time went on and continued to grab onto your boyfriend, but he grew fond of it. the two of you stayed on the ice for a few more minutes until the person in front of you kicked up a large piece of ice from the rink, causing you to freak out a bit and trip over your own feet.

'b-babe-!' you once again, grabbed your boyfriends arm and dragged him down with you. he, being the good boyfriend he is, made sure his back was hitting the ground rather than yours.

a quiet scream came out of your mouth as your head hit riki's chest. he gestured you to get up so there was no more traffic jams in the ice rink.

'are you ok?' he asked, gently cupping your cheeks to make sure nothing was broken. you simply giggled at his worriedness and grabbed his hand to lead him on in another circle.

riki always thought you looked best from the back. he always pointed out the members how happy you look while going somewhere with him when he zoned out.

truthfully, you did the same with your friends. you fell the the ice for the nth time and riki made you get off the ice before you would break your leg.

'c'mon lets go back to the hotel...' he said, sitting you down on the small bench while crouching down to untie your skates. 'but its so boring there-' 'i wouldn't call sleep boring, babe.'

'yea maybe for you...you dont get kicked constantly.' you retort back at him. he giggled at your response, which made you smile in reaction. 'at least i dont get woken up at 1 am for a hug.' 'HEY ITS NOT LIKE YOU DONT WANT ONE-' your sentence is cut off by your boyfriends lips against yours. he pulls away, quite to early for your liking.

you feel his warm breath against your mouth. 'you're right...i do want them.' a chuckle escapes your smile. 'c'mon let's go back now, ok?'

'ok, but be prepared to get the biggest hug of your life!'

©harufluff 2023

a/n - happy birthday ki!! ilysm youve made my life so happy, so i really hope you're doing ok. you seem sad lately so im hoping you will feel better soon. i love youuu!! (ik hes not seeing it lol not bug me about it again this year)

#kflixnet #k labels #hyfenet #nishimura niki #niki imagines #niki x reader #enhypen niki #niki fluff #niki #ni ki enhypen #enhypen #enhypen fluff #enhypen riki #niki enha #enha #enha imagines #enha scenarios #enha niki #riki enhypen

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joshlmbrt · 4 months

Text

Beautiful Boy. truck driver!dad! e. munson x mom!reader.

w; this one is long - i apologize, r is intended as a female but i try to be nondescript as best as i could ( i use the pronouns she/her BUT you can always change if you’d like <3 ), i don’t know much about soccer so pls ignore how i absolutely demolish it, mentions of cheating - not eddie, jason is mean - as always - but this time it’s uncalled for, chance is non-verbal, little injury, eddie absolutely loses it in front of parents and kids - but it’s needed honestly, eddie’s self-deprecating thoughts, fluff ending

thank you @reidsbtch & @officerrrfriendly for beta reading !!! i love u both.

an; thought about this little idea and i love the idea of truck driver!eddie so im continuing the alt au! i hope you guys love him just as much as i do 🧸 (if u seen the post ab me taking a small break - no u didn’t … jk, after this i won’t post for a while </3 just wanted to post this.)

Eddie hated being around people.

Not just people. But people he knew and went to school with - the ones that called him a freak.

Although, Eddie had found you and he was the first one out of anyone - when he finally put his mind to it and graduated - to get married.

So, everyone who made fun of him, suck it!

“Hun, can you get his duffel bag out, please?” You slip out of the car, opening the back door. Sometimes he missed his van - the one you despised and desperately told him to trade in for this mini van - but then he realizes how much it actually came in handy.

You hold Chance’s hand when he hops out of the car, kneeling down and tying his shoes. Whenever Eddie would tie them, he would immediately walk away and find you, wordlessly holding his foot out - Eddie never got them tight enough. They would always untie in the middle of the game.

“You’re gonna do so good, baby! I just know it.” You switch to tie the other shoe. Eddie circles around the car after locking it, placing a hand on Chance’s head.

“Absolutely. He’s a Munson.” He smirks down at the boy. It took a little time for Eddie to realize that being a part of the Munson Bloodline wasn’t all bad like people had made him believe.

Sometimes they would lose - but in the long run, they somehow always win in the end.

His win - you and Chance.

There’s a whistle that had been directed towards the small group of you, Chance, and himself. It caused Eddie to look up quickly. It wasn’t the type of whistle to catch someone’s attention that you had been friends with for a while - no - it was a whistle little boys did when they seen a woman they thought was pretty.

“Oh, my bad.” The smirk was familiar and made Eddie’s blood run hot.

Jason Carver.

Divorced three times and had two kids (They both are the same age - you can be sure what had happened there and why they both are the same age) . He's married again, but she’s at the car getting the chairs out and small cooler with capri-sun’s for the little tots and beer for Jason.

It wasn’t allowed, but it was Jason Carver, and sometimes someone’s privilege was so blindingly noticeable.

You peek up at Eddie, watching as his jaw clenches. “Eds,” You say. “Eddie,” He finally looks down at you. You shake your head. “He’s not worth it. Don’t waste your breath.”

He can distinctly hear Julia - his new wife who was most likely about to hit him with divorce papers - complain as she shoves the chairs into his arms. His eyes peek up, watching as they both walk away. He only nods, looking back down at you.

“Breathe, Eds.”

And suddenly, he could breathe again. There was a shudder to the first breath he took - but it felt nice. Rather than holding it in anger until he passed out.

You give him a small smile before fixing Chance’s green shirt. You press a quick kiss to his forehead, standing and holding a hand out for him. He immediately slips his hand into yours, following you towards the field.

Eddie glances around, scratching at his neck when he passes a group of people who peaked in high school - better known as the basketball and football team.

There were a couple of them that were fine - not as rude. And he was sure that the whispers he heard wasn’t about him in particular, but there’s some side of him that feels as if the hushed conversation was about him - or worse, his little mini me.

Chance had been quiet. He doesn’t know why or if it will ever change - a part of him hopes it does because he wants to hear his tiny voice. But if it never changed, Eddie would still love him either way.

And if anyone - including a kid - said anything about it, he’s not afraid to go to jail after knocking out some teeth and lose his job over it.

He drops the duffel bag, kneeling down in front of Chance. “Remember what I told you?” He tilts his head. “This is supposed to be fun, just remember that.”

Chance smiles and nods. He looked grown - the tooth that he had lost making a slow comeback.

“Now, go get them, Champ.” He stands, clapping as he runs to meet the rest of his team.

You peek over at him, smiling softly with a fluttering heart and pink cheeks. He peeks over at you, pushing his sleeves up to his elbows and crossing his arms over his chest, lifting a brow at you.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?” He chuckles a bit nervously. He still gets a bit nervous when you stare at him like you’re falling in love all over again - which you are, even more than before.

Of course, Eddie’s had relationships - even situationships - and even if they didn’t last that long, he always felt confident in the relationship, never boyish and giggly to where he could swing his feet like a school girl.

But with you, he feels shy, excited, nervous, and loved.

You shrug, slipping your arms around his, resting your chin on his bicep. “I just think you’re so handsome.”

He flushes and suddenly feels hot in the cool air. “Even with this scuff.”

“Especially with the scuff,” You grin. “And I thought I wouldn’t like your haircut, but I do.”

“I’m glad,” He nods, leaning over and pressing one, two, three pecks against your forehead. “It was just getting in the way when I would roll the windows down to smoke,” His scruff tickles against your forehead. “Especially when I would forget or loose the rubber band.”

You nod a bit and lift up, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “I’m going to go get the mini cooler out of the car.”

“I can do that.”

“No, I got it. Stay here and make sure no one gets our spot.”

He smirks. “Yeah, because you’ll end up feeling bad for someone and move.”

You roll your eyes and pat his bottom before walking off. He smiles and turns back, watching as they Hawkins and the other team - Defenders - give high-fives before the game starts.

“So, Munson,” He feels someone brush up against his side, his nails dig into his skin that was covered by his black sweatshirt. “How’s the married life?”

“You mean the same married life I’ve been in for 5 years now?” Eddie rocks on his heels. He doesn’t know if that would help, but he’s hoping it does so he doesn’t cause a scene in front of all the kids and parents who already judge him enough even if he’s not that same, hyperactive person anymore.

“It’s wonderful. How about your third wife? Or… is it the fourth?” He wonders out loud. Jason chuckles, blue eyes turning to stare daggers into the side of his face. “Or do you already have the fourth one picked out?”

“You’re such a-”

“Hi, Mr. Carver,” You cut the conversation short. You didn’t like Jason at all, but it’s better to kill him with kindness than to egg him on with words. “Seems like James and Aj are getting the hang of soccer.”

He watches as you bend at the waist, Eddie moving slightly to cover where ever his eyes might land, pinky circling into the belt loop of your jeans.

Jason rolls his eyes at that, clearing his throat. “Yeah. Learned from the best,” He nods. “What about Chance? Since… Eddie’s gone most of the time.”

“Dustin, Lucas, or Steve comes and practices with him. Jonathan does sometimes as well, and Robin,” You shrug. “He has a bunch of people who help him.”

“I bet it gets lonely sometimes.” Eddie’s ears ring when he hears the words and the whistle blow.

“What?”

“You know… When Eddie’s gone. How many days is he gone?”

You lift a brow, eyes staying on Chance’s jersey. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business.” You step closer when you feel Eddie’s finger tug on the belt loop of your jeans.

“Well… I could keep you company sometime, you know,” He tilts his head. “It’s not okay for Chance to have a father that disappears a couple of days and then pops back up for a day.” There’s a pause. You both were going to ignore him.

Jason is the type of guy who wouldn’t back out of an argument until there’s a physical altercation between him and whoever falls into his trap. Eddie knows this because it’s happened before.

Jason wouldn’t stop pestering him - and the next day after seeing his father on the news for a physical altercation, breaking-an-entering, DUI, and Drug Holding, it only made it worse.

“Looks like you might actually have something to look forward too - seeing your Daddy behind bars when you get locked up with him.”

He can’t remember when his fist went flying and when it broke Jason’s nose, but after that, Jason would say something’s and Eddie would retaliate with words.

Jason would back down because he remembered the pain that the rings had caused and the cracking noise he had heard.

But now, he didn’t seem to remember what that felt like - and maybe he needed to be reminded.

“Maybe that’s why he’s a bit slow.” Especially now when he said those words. Jason Carver officially sealed his fate.

“What did you just say?” Eddie turns to him.

“Oh, I didn’t mean that in a bad way,” Jason shrugs. But he did. “Just… you know, he doesn’t talk. He’s not that smart with his-”

“You don't want to finish that sentence, Carver,” Eddie grits out. There’s a hot flash that keeps going down his whole body, the feeling of breaking that nose again, ruining the nose job he had to have because of his rings. “You remember what happened before. I’d hate to ruin the nose job you had to have in 10th grade. Then you’d have to spend another thousand just to get it busted again.”

Jason’s brows shoot up, a small teasing smirk on his face. He notices some parents’ eyes looking at them. Eddie’s voice had raised a smidge and he didn’t even notice.

“Is that a threat, Munson?”

“Try promise, Carver,” His eyes narrow at him. “You peaked in high school and can’t let it go. You even work there.”

Jason’s jaw clenches at that. “I didn’t-”

“You did,” Eddie cuts him off. There’s a small smirk that tugs at the corner of his lips knowing he’s got under his skin now. “You just don’t want to admit it. And it’s honestly sad. So, what you’re going to do right now is turn around, walk away from my wife, and stop talking about my son. Because it won’t be pretty if you don’t.”

“Eddie.” Your hand grips his arm. He looks at you and shakes his head before looking at Jason.

Jason clicks his tongue, darting his eyes out at the field as he nods a bit. You look between the two. “Alright… I’ll let you win this one,” He hums, hands on his hips. “Because at least my kid isn’t a freak.”

Eddie flinches at the word, fist clenching at the usage and who it was shot at. He wouldn’t have minded if it was meant towards himself, but his kid? One who couldn’t even defend himself?

His hands land on his chest, pushing him away. Jason stumbles on his Nike’s. “Carver, I mean it. Walk away before you say something you’ll regret. I’m so close to beating you into the ground.”

Jason stares at him and he believes him. Eddie’s staring at him with eyes that were dark, his hands balled into fists at his side - so tight that his knuckles were white.

Jason’s eyes glances over at you. And just because he needs to get in the last words so his ego isn’t hurt and knocked down a couple of steps, “Call me if you ever get lonely, babygirl.” His lips pucker and smack together before he gives Eddie one last grin, turning around.

Eddie almost swings at the back of his head to knock him off guard, his arm raising. You grab his arm, pulling it down quickly. “Not worth it,” You say, hand resting between his shoulder blades. “He’s not worth going to jail, Eds.”

Eddie watches as he makes his way towards Julia, plopping down into his fold out chair. He grabs the can, taking a gulp and wiping at the corner of his mouth where some had slipped. His blue eyes turn and meet Eddie’s, a small smile that curls at his lips.

“Just one punch?”

“No,” You turn him towards you. “He’s just trying to get a raise out of you and it’s working - don’t let him win this time like he always does.”

Eddie glances around, eyes meeting with some of the parents that quickly look away. His eyes then connect with yours and suddenly he feels his inside soften and his face slowly release its tension, the lines disappearing from his face.

“I’m sorry.” He whispers.

You shake your head, giving him a small smile. “Don’t apologize. It’s not your fault.”

He opens his mouth but is cut off by the whistle, eyes cutting over to the field. He sees number 8 sitting on the ground, his heart dropping.

His mind was wondering else where and his son is hurt.

He’s walking out onto the field before his mind even registers what his feet are doing and kneeling down. Chance had tears rolling down his cheeks, his small hands covering his knee.

“Hey, Champ,” His heart breaks at the sight of his watery eyes when they quickly dart up at him before looking back down at his hands. He flinches when he feels your hand on his back, rubbing up and down. “Can mommy and I take a look?” He whispers.

He feels a bit claustrophobic when he feels the two coaches looming over his shoulders along with the small kids staring at him.

Chance nods slightly, removing his hands from his knee. Eddie’s hand reaches out and holds his leg, looking at the scratches. “Looks like you just need a quick wipe and bandaid.”

Chance sniffs and slowly stands, bending his leg.

“You wanna wait til we get home? I accidentally forgot the first aid at home.” The little boy nods, sniffling again.

Eddie reaches up and wipes away his tears softly. “You’re so brave. I’m proud of you.”

This causes Chance to smile, cheeks lifting a bit. Eddie gives him a swift peck to the top of his head before standing. “Go get ‘em.” Chance nods quickly.

Eddie grabs your hand, walking off the field and standing on the sidelines again. You lean your head on his shoulder.

“Eds?” He hums a bit. “I love you.”

He smiles a bit, nodding. “I love you.”

⭒

Eddie plops down on the bed, rubbing at his face. Chance’s knee was taken care of, a fresh shower, some nuggets, then he was out like a light when his little head hit the pillow.

Eddie feels like he could pass out when his own head hits the pillow, but there’s a feeling that keeps tugging at his chest.

He doesn’t know if it’s anger, sadness, or confusion.

anger because he couldn’t put Jason Carver into place like he absolutely wanted to. Anger because he missed half of Chance’s game because of him.

Sadness because Chance has to deal with people already laughing at him - it’s much worse when a grown up does it.

Confusion because he doesn’t know what he did in wrong his life to deserve what people say about him and his family.

Eddie always felt like he was nice enough - not judging others and including them in a conversation when he felt as if they weren’t being heard or he noticed the look on their face when they felt left out of the conversation.

And there’s a constant nagging in his mind that he always hears in his subconscious.

You’re not cut out to be a father - you’re going to go downhill soon.

And the worse part about it, he actually believes he’s going to go down hill. His father once was a nice man, caring. Then Wayne said when his mom got sick, he turned bitter and mean.

And the worse part about that was she got sick when she was pregnant with Eddie. So that bitterness was because of Eddie.

Edward Munson - the person who caused people to feel bitter when he showed his face. The person who only seemed to give people bad luck when he showed up.

Sarah, his mother who was a soft person with kind words, should’ve saved herself. Not him. She should be here. Then maybe his dad would’ve been okay.

Everyone would’ve been okay.

“Babe?” He blinks, glancing at you. He didn’t realize that you had finished getting ready for bed and had snuggled under the covers. He hums slightly. You frown, lifting your hand and wiping at the tears that he didn’t realize had fallen.

“What’s wrong? What’s going on in your mind?” Your thumb traces over his cheekbone. You pay attention to the scar he has nearing his eye. He shakes his head a bit, lip quivering.

He’s afraid that if he talks, it will cause him to sob, then if he sobs, he’ll wake up Chance. He’s already had a rough day today and he needed his sleep.

You frown and move closer to him, pressing a kiss next to his eye, they flutter closer. “Whatever you’re thinking, it isn’t true,” You whisper. “I know you and I know that you’re very hard on yourself - and you shouldn’t be. You know why?”

He turns his head to stare at you, shaking his head a bit.

Your hand splays out against his cheek. “Because you, Eddie, are the absolute best person I know with the biggest heart. And I’m so proud of how far you’ve come and achieved.”

He smiles, although it’s a bit shaky. “What did I do to deserve you?”

You shrug, nudging your nose against his softly. “Just being the absolute best version of you.”

🎸 eddie tags; @lavendermunson, @hazydespair, @whisperingwillowxox

thank you for reading! comments, reblogs, requests, likes, & feedback is always welcomed, encouraged, & deeply appreciated. 🧸

#cherry writes ✿#dad!eddie munson x mom!reader #dad!eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson imagine #joseph quinn x reader

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alicerosejensen · 6 months

Text

Together forever pt.3

Warning: Yandere!leon; kidnapping, forced cohabitation, stalkering, fem/reader, age difference, pet names.

A/N: I wrote this earlier, but I will repeat it again so that there are no complaints: I do not approve of this in real life. What is written here is simply fiction, if you have any psychological trauma associated with this or do not like such content then DO NOT READ!

Part 1

Part 2

He really didn’t want to resort to force, but you simply left him no choice...

Flashback to weeks earlier, when you weren't yet under his protection, Leon was analyzing everything about his sweet angel. Well, ultimately, carrying your once again unconscious body back to bed, of course, the last thing he wanted was for you to get injured, but you never know what stupid thoughts could come to your mind after waking up again, so putting you into bed, he pulled out the handcuffs and chained your hand to the headboard of the bed. Not very comfortable but you can sleep.

Don't get him wrong, he doesn't want to keep you on a leash like a dog at all, but Leon has noticed for a long time that you are in constant danger. Back in that dusty archive, when you reached for another folder, the laces on your worn sneakers were untied. Darling, you don't know how to tie your shoelaces at all! He immediately thought that you could have fallen and broken your neck or any other bone, you could even have died by your own negligence! It's good that Agent Kennedy was around, right?

Looking at how you sleep and your eyelids twitch in your sleep, Leon threw the blanket back over you. He knows that your sleep is restless, in fact, he almost knows about nightmares, but you didn't need to be afraid anymore. Nevertheless, Leon was well aware that a sudden change of situation and getting used to the new rules that he created to protect you would be stressful for some time. However, it was still better than wandering through dark unsafe alleys alone on the way home, drinking drinks in cheap bars with your friends who didn't even bother to call you a taxi. Leon doesn't know who to thank for the fact that you're still alive and haven't been raped by some asshole who would break your whole life. Despite the fact that the DSO pays its people well, this rather applies to agents and various informants who risk their lives, but small archivists like you do not interest them at all. Therefore, his angel could not afford a nice apartment in a decent neighborhood without bastards and drug dealers who would gladly get you hooked on some trash. The door of your apartment was indecently easy to open Leon would have done it without a lock pick without any problems, but he didn't want to scare you, however…

It is now his house completely at your disposal. The refrigerator is filled with high-quality products and not cheap instant noodles whose packages were lying in your trash. Money was really tight, wasn't it? A mug with a touch of tea or coffee that for some reason you didn't want to wash well, an unmade bed with your smell that he liked to inhale so much. The moment he plopped down on your bed, the desire to hold you in his arms just took root in him.

He wanted your scent to sink deep into him, to penetrate into every cell of his body. He just needed to possess you. That's why Leon couldn't wait, especially since you never let him become anything closer than just a colleague with whom you chatted during lunch. At some point, knowing where you live, he even came up with the idea that you were really offended, but there was nothing about it from your correspondence or medical records. Like you just liked being alone.

He was watching you to keep you safe. He walked you home ready to become a savior at any moment, it's not the first time he's saved a lady in trouble, despite the fact that you weren't actually that lady. Not according to Leon. Sometimes he came to your apartment and leafed through your books that he didn't like, but he didn't judge. He was taught to be quiet and inconspicuous, so it was extremely difficult to understand about someone else's presence. The only thing that really started to bother you is that things sometimes rearrange themselves and the old traces of coffee on your favorite mug magically disappeared. Robberies were not uncommon in this troubled area, but the only valuable things in your apartment were a laptop and a game console. Actually, it was important for Leon to know about all your preferences!

Now it was all in the past. You're safe here with him, away from all the shit that can hurt you. And in fact, you no longer need to worry about bills and how to live until the next paycheck. Leon doesn't consider himself a psycho when he lies down next to you, inhaling the scent of your body, pulling you to him, kissing your temple. After all, if you want, he will become the hero of those stupid books for you.

"I will definitely take care of you," he whispers, making you shudder in your sleep after hearing this insinuating voice that leaves no chance of salvation.

💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙

Your resistance is really annoying. You are still sitting handcuffed to the bed and there are already bloody marks on your wrist from the skin erased into blood after a steady twitching of your hand.

"I just need to dress you up," Leon says in a calm voice, while his patience still allows him to hold in his hands cute clothes for his angel.

Skirt, tights, and a warm sweater. Of course it's warm at home, but he wants to be sure that you have everything you need. That's just you kicking, yelling at him and crying incessantly ignoring the pain in your wrist.

"Baby, don't make me use force. Enough of this moaning!"

"Let me go!" you shout on the verge of pulling the hated handcuffs even without looking at him. Over the past two days, hysteria has been covering you with your head constantly not allowing you to think clearly.

Leon sighs. In any case, he doesn't want to stuff you with drugs anymore, and then what he was trained as an agent comes into play. He needs to break the will of the enemy or rather his beloved. He didn't want to take emergency measures, but you just forced him. He comes up to you squatting down and takes your face by the chin, forcing you to look into his cold eyes. The prepared clothes fly to a chair that is too far from the bed to reach it, but it doesn't matter anymore.

"To be honest, I didn't think that you would calmly react to the move," you were outraged when you heard his words

"Moving in with you?!" you cry out. Tears are spurting from eyes. "Since when is kidnapping suddenly called moving?! I'm not a stray animal for you to just pick me up and stab me in the neck with various rubbish!"

"I could have been slower, but you just left me no choice. Seriously, I could no longer watch you live in that anthill and spend 10 hours in a dusty room earning yourself asthma. Although considering your problems with shoelaces, I would bet that you would have killed yourself earlier by falling off a stepladder or would have been crushed by one of those huge boxes with folders."

“what?.." a guess flashes through your head.

Of course, he could probably somehow get a dossier on you and find out the address of your residence, but… rearranged things, a mug… Did he break into your apartment? You've heard that Leon was one of the best. Patrick even once mentioned that the president himself constantly praised Leon and his services to the country could not be called insignificant. There are many successfully completed missions behind him, but you have never really cared about it. At least until you yourself become one of these successful missions.

"Your poor stomach won't thank you for stuffing it with these disgusting noodles and chocolate. You need to eat right, honey," his words make you angry "You need a proper daily routine, good sleep, fresh air and balanced nutrition. I can provide you with all this, but you only need to be my good girl."

Leon's hands grab you by the face and his forehead presses against yours when he closes his eyes, stroking your cheeks wet with tears with his thumb, then briefly and gently kissing your lips, which is why you try to turn away from him.

"Heal your head!" another shout and insult. "As an agent, you're probably supposed to have some fancy psychiatrist or psychologist!"

"It's true," he easily agrees, biting his lip and getting back on his feet. It still didn't work out in a good way to solve the issue "One way or another, you will obey me. I just wanted us to come to this without unnecessary conflict and tantrums, but if you like it more, then fine. Sit alone for a couple of days without food and water. And I'll come back later and you'll tell me about your decision."

"Wait!" You called out to him almost at the door when he had already turned the handle. Leon turned in anticipation of your words and probably there was still a glimmer of hope in him that you would accept his love right now without radical decisions. "You can't keep me here! My family and at work will be looking for me. No one will believe that I just disappeared!"

Leon only grinned briefly.

"Oh, sweetheart. People disappear every day and believe me, many don't care about them, and as for your family, they could take better care of you, but if they didn't, then this care falls on my shoulders"

The hope that it was just a way of intimidation for further submission glowed deep in your chest. No matter how much the soul did not want it, the brain still suggested that Leon was never the one for whom he could be mistaken. The sound of his footsteps quickly subsided and occasionally you could catch some rustling and knocking on the ground floor. Didn't want to know what Kennedy was doing there, but fear kept throwing up ideas about some sadistic torture room and the fact that he wanted you to forcibly become his girlfriend made you suspect of possible sexual abuse after which it would be impossible to become the same.

And yet the wounded deer jumps higher, fights more desperately. You tried to somehow take off your handcuffs, and to be honest with yourself, your hand was really hurting mercilessly that you wanted to howl. It will be quite difficult without an analgesic. The search for some kind of paper clip, an accidentally lying nail under the bed or something with which you could unlock the lock was not successful. However, you didn't have the hacking skill either, and the handcuffs definitely weren't from some sex shop. Steel bites into the skin until it bleeds, and it would be worth listening to Leon though in this: no need to make sudden movements. Moreover, there are already enough bloodstains on the bed linen, but you were so absorbed in despair that the brain simply ignored part of the pain, but very soon it will be very hard.

Add to that the fact that Leon decided to starve you.

At first, everything was even tolerable. The stomach began to cramp from hunger only in the evening add to this the fact that you are being kept locked up handcuffed to the bed makes your body exhausted. You cried for several hours, but Leon's mercy did not descend to you. It really wasn't a prank and he kidnapped you for his own purposes, which you didn't want to know anything about.

"Leon?.." is quieter than you wanted, you called him again.

It all seemed like a nightmare. Time dragged on so slowly that it was unbearable and scary from the unknown. You were hoping that Leon had made a mistake somewhere and the police would find you very soon, the main thing at this moment is to stay alive and not dead because you definitely won't be able to win by force against a government agent who has undergone professional training and completed many successful missions. When your nerves calmed down a little, you started thinking about how to deceive him. It may not be possible to escape, but send an SMS or make a call to the rescue service. You've heard these stories when a girl called under some pretext and was rescued, but will Leon trust you with the phone?

Later you heard footsteps. Probably Leon was listening to the sounds that you could make, but you were silent, looking at the door with the eyes of a frightened doe. However, nothing happened.

He's probably gone.

The throat was dry. You tightly squeezed your eyes shut trying to calm your breathing and come up with a plan of action. If hunger helped at first, then as time went on, the thought of food and water constantly stirred your thoughts.

there was one maddening silence around. Your wrist began to itch and throb painfully, the blood clotted, but at the slightest movement it began to bleed. It got dark outside again and it started to get cold. You carefully crawled under the blanket, covering your frozen feet with it, trying not to think about the desired water, especially since you had of blood loss. How long can you live without water? 3 days? 4 maybe 5 days?

"Please?" you whispered softly, starting to cry again and giving in to panic. "Leon?"

You needed painkillers. It was a bad idea to actively pull with your hand, but people often do what is not necessary when they panic and you had enough reasons to worry, but in the end there was no point in protesting. Not when you are on someone else's territory under the power of a physically strong person. And yet, most of you wanted to scream and scream, beat him and fight, and not invent plans to escape and naively rely on his mercy, which probably does not exist.

"Leon!" you called again louder in a plaintive voice, licking your dry lips. "Please… at least give me some water."

Drugs and stress perfectly lead to dehydration. Especially the first one considering that you were sick earlier. But Leon was still deaf to the pleas, it was generally quiet downstairs. Maybe he was already asleep?

By nightfall, the condition only worsened. You wrist was swollen and even the slightest movement caused hellish pain, throat was dry and your stomach hurt wildly that it began to seem that he began to digest himself. Maybe agents can safely endure such trials with dignity, but again, you have never been interested in this. You didn't even have the strength to cry.

Actually, it didn't take him two days because his heart was just bursting with pity for you.

Leon looked at you with such a puppy-dog look when you were sitting on the bed with your head bowed and trembling. Well, one day would be enough for his princess, and he sincerely hoped that this punishment would be more than enough.

Click.

You shuddered from another flash of pain and when you opened your eyes, you shuddered with fright when you came face to face with him again.

However, the handcuffs were removed.

"poor girl, I really didn't want anything," he threw the handcuffs on the bedside table, "But sometimes we have to do things that we don't like, right? if you hadn't screamed, things wouldn't be so bad right now and your arm wouldn't be swollen."

He stretched out his arms to lift you up, but noticed another resistance when your tired body moved away from him, which made Leon look at you with a threatening look again.

"Do you want to sit like this for another day?"

You nodded your head negatively and out of fear allowed him to lift you up to lower you to the first floor.

"Give me some water, please…" by God, this was the only thought in head

"Be patient angel" Leon's lips touched your temple when he put you on the sofa.

The glass of water handed to you turned out to be so desirable that it seemed you were a traveler lost in the desert who found an oasis. And yet Leon didn't limit you to one glass, allowing you to drink as much as you need, BUT in small sips. Given the thirst, you ignored his words and eventually choked, starting to cough while covering your face with your hand. Of course he didn't like it.

"Sure it's my fault, but you have to listen to me!" An irritated male voice made you shrink and look at him with those cute eyes that Leon loves and hates so much because you are afraid of him.

He put the first aid kit next to the table and took your wrist carefully, first examining the deep abrasion. You screamed loudly when Leon treated her with a disinfectant solution and then wrapped her in a bandage. having previously smeared some ointment, but it did not hurt less from this. And then he kissed you on the forehead like a brave child for whom it was a feat to endure such a thing.

"What do you want from me anyway?" you asked, afraid of the answer anyway, because your presence here did not bode well. "I didn't do anything wrong to you"

"I didn't say you did anything to me. I just want to take care and keep the one I love safe. In this case, it's you."

"Me?"

"Exactly," he smiled, sitting closer, "I wanted everything to be like everyone else, but you didn't give me a chance. Good for Patrick, too. And yet, to see how you walk everywhere where there is a potential danger… I just couldn't, Princess. I just couldn't take it anymore. But now I promise that I will take care of you and I know you better than you know yourself! Just leave all the tantrums of the fight. No more bumps or bites. I'm serious!"

Yes, there was a good mark of your teeth on his hand.

Although you didn't smile and were actually horrified by the human diversity, one thing was clear for sure even through fear - he wasn't going to kill you or…rape. The latter is not accurate, but the soul hoped for it.

"Just let's do it in order." You reluctantly nodded knowing that you have no choice "First we will put you in order, I will make you a bath and you wash, then you will eat and we will have a good rest and in the morning I will tell you about the rules with a fresh head. I will give you everything you want: books, clothes, cosmetics, whatever you want, but in return, no resistance, okay?!" Leon's hand stroked your tangled hair and at the same time pulled you closer to him against your will, but even despite a little resistance, he pressed you to his chest. "I won't be in a hurry. We will go slowly, there is no need to be afraid for me, the main thing is your safety, and there will be time for the rest"

And hear the joyful beating of his heart, you hoped only that you would have enough time to find help or escape, but for now… you may have to be not an obedient but a cunning girl, otherwise the consequences can be fatal.

For now, you need to wait for the moment and find its weaknesses.

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juunobox · 4 months

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──★ ˙ ̟ helping nikolai put on his corset (nikolai gogol x gn! reader)

summary: he seems to struggle with tying a ribbon for the corset he's wearing and asks your help for it, he may or may not be actually struggling, though... warnings: mildly suggestive i suppose...? note: pretty short. i've been hit with writer's block due to being very busy irl as well i think, so this is just a sort of warm up >.>

Nikolai's frustrated groan echoed from the other side of the room, clearly exaggerated. He had been at it for a while—what exactly was he doing? Trying to properly wear a corset, the tied-up kind. For reasons known only to him, he decided to don a corset one day, injecting a change into his usual attire.

There was no special occasion; he simply had decided to spice up his usual outfit- which is an idea you're never opposed to. Of course, how could you? The idea of something tight accentuating the jester's toned physique was a sight you wouldn't want to miss.

Amid his effort to tie the corset properly, his exaggerated complaints reached a crescendo. "Ugh! This is so hard, [y/n]!" Nikolai complained, louder and needier than ever. His frustration appeared more like a theatrical performance than a genuine struggle. You suspected he could easily manage tying the corset ribbon, even at the back, thanks to the freedom of movement his ability provided.

So, it's beyond clear that he just wanted to playfully poke fun at you.

"Doveeeee!" he whined again, drawing out the syllable. This time, it finally prompted you to stand up from your seat and enter the bedroom where he was "struggling" with the corset.

"What is it, Kolya?" you asked with a small sigh, yet amused.

"I can't tie it right. Help me," he replied, a mischievous grin on his face whilst tugging at the ribbon as if beckoning you to come closer.

"But you're almost done," you remarked, your eyes drawn to his waist now accentuated by the black and white corset. You find it challenging to avert your gaze, lingering a moment longer than you'd care to confess. The corset accentuates his figure perfectly, with its well-fitted monochrome stripes hugging his torso. Your heart flutters with excitement at the way it snugly embraces him. The temptation to feel it beneath your fingertips almost overpowers you. You resist, reminding yourself, "All ribbons are tied... what else do you need?"

He giggled. "Hehehe! Yes, that's why now I need you to help me with this last bit. I can't tie a pretty ribbon," Nikolai voiced, directing your hands to firmly clasp his waist. An eyebrow arched in curiosity as he led your hands to his sides rather than the untied ribbon. When you attempted to withdraw your hands, Nikolai's grip only strengthened, ensuring not a single finger left his vicinity. You raised your chin to meet Nikolai's heterochromatic eyes, a slightly puzzled expression on your face as you encountered his smug grin.

"This..." you began, cheeks warming up as Nikolai leaned closer to your ear. "This is not where the ribbon is, Kolya," you stated, only eliciting an even more pronounced grin from Nikolai. His gloved hands secured your arms firmly, orchestrating their movements up and down his sides, a gentle caress accompanying each guided motion. Now, the earlier desire to feel his accentuated curves on your fingertips had become a reality. You revel in the growing excitement of this exchange, especially with him orchestrating every motion of your hands across his body like a puppet master. It's as if he possesses an innate knowledge of the precise areas on his body that you yearn to caress and explore...

"I'm aware, my prettiest dove. Very much so," he cooed, taking on a slightly deeper, yet still playful tone. "I've just been missing your touch," Nikolai deftly guided your hand to lightly squeeze his side waist, causing your eyes to widen at the unexpected gesture. At your flustered reaction, he only grinned and whispered, "And this is also something you've been wanting to do, right?"

An awkward silence momentarily enveloped both of you. "You beat me to it, Kolya," you admitted, confessing to the desires you'd harbored. Yes, being close to him like this was something you longed for.

He lingered in that close proximity a little longer before a faint giggle rolled off his lips. Finally releasing your hands, he twirled away with a toothy smile. "Well, too bad, you have to earn it! That was just a little taste of what you can get~ Hahaha!" The jester's continued to move afterwards, becoming a challenge for you to try and tie the ribbon securely.

"Come on, Nikolai, let's ensure this ribbon is tied properly!" you said, attempting to maintain composure despite the smile on your lips. Unfazed by your words, Nikolai continued- making you chuckle at his antics, well aware that his aim was to coax you into more physical contact. After a minute or so, the silver-haired clown finally relented, giving you the chance to actually adjust the corset ribbon while Nikolai held himself still, his gaze fixed on you with a wide smile.

"Okay, perfect now!" You finally announced with a hint of triumph as the ribbon was finally tied, acknowledging that his antics had made it a bit challenging for you. He straightened himself up dramatically, offering a mock princely bow. "Thank you. As expected of my dear assistant," he said, causing both of you to burst into giggles. Before you could move away, you suddenly feel his hand gripping your waist.

"Now hold on tight! We're going somewhere for the night. Can't let your effort in helping me put on this pretty corset go to waste!" Meeting his gaze upon hearing the sudden invitation, you asked, "Where are we off to, Kolya?" Nikolai flashed a mischievous grin. "That will be tonight's quiz! Hehehe—where am I taking you? Well, only one way to find out! Hold on tight, promise you it'll be a night to remember~" He holds you close to him, and in the blink of an eye, covered you both with his overcoat.

#nikolai gogol bsd #bsd x gender neutral reader #nikolai bsd x reader #nikolai gogol x reader #nikolai x you #bsd x reader #nikolai x y/n #nikolai gogol x you #nikolai x reader #bsd nikolai #nikolai gogol #bsd x gn reader #cw suggestive

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carothehotmess · 2 years

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I think one of the main reasons that the brothel/almost sex scene with Rhaenyra and Daemon is not only so visually stunning but is also so damn hot is because of the framing.

Rhaenyra is the focus. Of every shot of the two of them. In all the shots where she is circling around Daemon, taking in the scenes of pleasure around her, barely half of them have his face in it. And when they do, its mostly the bottom half of his face, and she is still the center focus of the shot. Her face has the light, while his is more in shadow. Even when they move to the wall, though the angle changes to show from the side, she is still centered. We see her face reacting, while his is buried in her hair. Her emotions, her pleasure really, is shown, not his. We only really finally get to see Daemon’s face, his reactions, his feelings, in full once she starts being the clear pursuer, and he starts pulling back.

And its not just the scenes of their faces. Every shot that focuses on their hands, their actions, is still highlighting Rhaenyra, not him. We focus on her hand, gripping his neck. We see his hand, his thumb pressed on her bottom lip, but her face is in the light, her reaction is the focus. We see his hand hold the side of her face, but the focus isn’t on his hand, its on their mouths, their kiss. We see him untie the laces on her shirt, but only briefly- his hand is shown grabbing the tie and pulling, but the angle is still on her- her face, her excitement. We see him gather and start to pull down her bottoms, but the shot is brief and doesn’t really focus on that movement until her hands join in, and she starts pushing down her own pants, showing how eager she is.

Its just so beautifully done because the focus is entirely on her. It shows that she is an equal participant. That everything that is happening- the kisses, the gripping, the feeling, the pleasure, the want- it is not something that is happening to her, but instead something that she is actively engaging in. And I just never really thought about how much of what we see in film and television when it comes to sex (or sexual context) is almost always shown as being something done to a woman, rather than something she is doing.

So anyways, this scene is incredible for SO many reasons and god bless the showrunners for having a female director for this episode because it definitely paid off.

#house of the dragon #game of thrones #a song of ice and fire #hotd #got #asoiaf #rhaenyra targaryen #daemon targaryen #rhaenyra x daemon #daemyra #hbo max #hotd spoilers

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mellowmin · 1 year

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Walk him like a dog sis

Disclaimer: this is only MY PERSONAL OPINION and my own takes on these characters, please do not interact if you don't like or agree with this 💜

Inspired by the tiktok sound and some of the videos I saw on there 🤭

Content warnings: toxic relationship dynamics on some of these, very girlboss-ish hc's, ooc in the last one (just a what if scenario), mentions of mommy kink, masochistic traits & praise kink. Also last group has a very prominent "men are disposable" mindset/subtext, not to be taken literally or seriously at all.

Fem reader implied all throughout.

MDNI

𑁍 Trained puppies:

Will happily follow you around, grabbing onto you by your sleeve, the back of your shirt or your belt loop.

Wide eyes look at you like you hung the moon and the stars, will not hesitate to jump from their seat to get you anything you need, though they will at times use the puppy eyes to their advantage and it's very hard to say no to them.

Mommy issues? Maybe? Mommy kink at the very least lol, also praise kink. Baby them!! They love that shit and will eat up any attention from you.

When you're at a party, you'll pull them to you by their tie and they'll absolutely melt while letting you guide them to the dance floor like you have them on a leash.

The type to send you pictures of any cute or pretty thing they find because any sort of beauty makes them think of you.

Super needy, they'll wait in bed fighting off the sleep until you finish your skincare routine because they can't sleep well without you :(. Textbook definition of puppy love, they have eyes only for you and will hate to be separated from you for ANY amount of time. - Hinata Shoyo, Goshiki Tsutomu, Yamaguchi Tadashi, Azumane Asahi, Bokuto Kotarou, Nishinoya Yuu, Midoriya Izuku, Kirishima Eijirou, Kaminari Denki, Togata Mirio.

𑁍 Guard dogs:

They spoil you like crazy, princess treatment is real when you're with them.

The type to kneel in front of you and untie your shoes while looking up at you like you're doing them a favor for letting them. When I say these men WORSHIP YOU I mean it.

Super protective, they know and live by the sidewalk rule; and lord have mercy on the poor soul if they think someone is bothering you. WILL NOT TOLERATE anyone talking shit about you in any way. Also "dress however you want, I can fight".

As soon as they get the slightest suspicion that your feet hurt you are up on their arms. Don't even think about carrying anything heavier than your phone. Consider them your personal handbag. Will spoon feed you if you allow them too, gently dabbing your face with a napkin after every other bite.

They refuse to let you pay for anything, as soon as the cashier asks 'cash or credit?' They're rushing to get their wallet out. They sometimes will give you their credit card and ORDER you to buy anything you want.

WOULD absolutely carry you on their shoulders the whole day if they could, but they need to work to earn the money to keep giving you the life you deserve :')

You know those kinda cringe videos that go "my hands look like this so that hers can look like this"?? Yeah that's them lol - Iwaizumi Hajime, Kuroo Tetsurou, Miya Atsumu, Ushijima Wakatoshi, Sawamura Daichi, Ukai Keishin, Tanaka Ryuunosuke, Bakugo Katsuki, Todoroki Shouto, Iida Tenya, also Kirishima lol.

𑁍 Bratty Lap dogs:

Stink eyes to anyone that tries to approach either of you. They're not interested in anyone else and they'd rather die than stand by and let someone steal your attention from them.

Their favorite activity is to cuddle you and snack and they WILL voice their displeasure if your little sessions are interrupted. Will stay hours with their head buried in your neck if you let them. Will leave hickeys on you if you're not careful enough!! They'll do it in places that you won't easily see but others will see clearly too.

They're super needy and sometimes have a hard time understanding your need for personal space like wym we can't go to the bathroom together 🤨. On that note, you never have to ask them to come with you anywhere, as soon as you grab your keys they're putting their shoes on. They never give you that "u can come if u want" bullshit, they let you know that if you're not going, they aren't going.

Talk shit about anyone that you don't like to them, they act like they don't care but they love the gossip and will say things to keep you talking. They trust your gut and your criteria for liking or not liking people; if you tell them you don't like someone you don't even have to give them a reason, they'll drop that person in a second.

They will tease you and clown you anytime they have the chance, but it's like they forget they're the biggest simp ever lol. Try to give them the silent treatment, they won't last longer than 6 hours.

Will check your friends if they seem disloyal. As soon as they get sent a 'hiiii :)" from one of your friends, they're warning you about them. They will encourage you to cut off toxic people from your life, whether it's friends or family but they'll never force you to stop talking to someone on their account.

They will support you in ANYTHING, they're your ride or die and they will defend you until they die no matter what you do. "Oh, (y/n) killed someone? Well I'm sure that person did something to deserve it." They will make a fool of themselves to protect your honor lol.

- Sakusa Kiyoomi, Oikawa Tooru, Miya Osamu, Suna Rintarou, Tendou Satori, Tsukishima Kei, Sugawara Koushi, Kozume Kenma, Kageyama Tobio, Shinsou Hitoshi, Monona Neito, Sero Hanta, Aizawa Shouta, Takami Keigo.

BONUS:

𑁍 Domesticated Hound dogs:

Heavily toxic relationship dynamics, unrealistic representation of a fuckboy, kinda mean reader.

Former fuckboy turned into a begging mess by the bad bitch he shouldn't have messed with.

He tried to play it cocky from the start and play you like all the girls before you, but you knew his game and played him like a fiddle.

When several girls messaged you to warn you about your new boytoy -the man paying for your groceries every week in hopes that you'll give him two hours of your weekend- you knew that you were given a chance by the heavens to do some good karmic work, for every girl whose heart he played with, you'll make him your bitch. Every time you leave him on read is a win for the girls.

At first, he thought you were just playing hard to get and considered you a 'fun challenge' but soon enough he's only answering your texts, all other girl's numbers are forgotten and he finds that hooking up with random girls only makes him think about you more. He found himself becoming more vulnerable when talking to you, actually sharing parts of him in an honest way instead of doing it in order to get sympathy points from you.

This man used to be a professional at ghosting and you got him answering your texts in 0.5 SECONDS. In the beginning he was all like "im not looking for anything serious tho lol" and you were like "yeah I could tell, not like you'd be good for anything serious lol" LMAO HES LEFT STARING AT HIS PHONE FOR 7 MINUTES STRAIGHT AFTER THAT.

Like YES BE MEAN TO HIM. He's gotta be a masochist; every time he gets a mean response (or no response at all) he becomes more desperate for having you praise him and coddle him like all the other girls used to do in order to keep him to themselves.

Lmfao meeting you was a humbling experience, you got him getting into his car at 2 am to see you for 15 minutes as long as he pays for your next nail appointment. You are true poetic justice coming into his life to ruin his bad boy persona.

At some point he tries to get cocky again and acts like he's back to his old ways, but you drop him so fast and so coldly that he gets whiplash. You show this man that you won't hesitate to dump the trash if he doesn't make something good of himself. You teach him really fast that you won't deal with his nonsense, and you WILL find him a replacement if he displeases you. The withdrawal he gets from you giving him radio silence is insane.

In the end though, you end up whipping him into a decent man and dare I say a good boyfriend who by this point is absolutely addicted to you. - Oikawa Tooru, Suna Rintarou, Miya Atsumu, Togata Mirio, Monoma Neito, Shinsou Hitoshi, Sero Hanta, Takami Keigo.

Comment or add in tags if you want me to add any characters! I probably missed a lot lol.

Comments and reblogs are appreciated!

mellowmin - do not repost

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 9 months

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Blessed Are The Meek 6

Summary: you are trapped in an awkward circumstance with a widowed commander. (Handmaid AU)

Warning: this series will contain violence, dystopian aspects, rape and noncon, blood, coercion, sterility, and other dark elements. Please read these warnings and beware.

Character: Tommy Shelby

Note: thank you for following along. I’m sure yall didn’t expect to write Tommy again but here we are. Also feedback and comments if you dont mind. Maybe a reblog. 💕💕💕💕

You sleep little better than your time on the bench. The curtain pale with the rising sun and you shimmy to the edge of the bed, sitting up as a tilt of dizziness slants in your skull. You rub your forehead and suppress as yawn. You grasp the footboard of the bed and push yourself to your feet.

“Where are you going?” The Commander’s gritty voice shakes you.

You stop and turn to his silhouette on the bed. You press your hands flat to your apron, “I was going to put on a kettle for your breakfast tea–”

“I did not ask for it.”

“Yes, Commander.”

He rolls onto his back and sighs, “you presume a lot. About me.”

“Sir, I only serve my duty. As the martha in your household–”

“You pretend at wifely duties.”

“Never, Commander, I do not–”

“You argue like a wife,” he snaps and sits up, the dim blue-gray hue of the dawn limning his features. “It is ungodly and insolent.”

You don’t reply. You bow your head. You have let yourself say too much. You are as he says. A dog waiting for an order.

“You stink. I will not smell you all day, so go and wash or I will drag you from the axel.”

You curl your shoulders in defeat, “yes, Commander.”

You turn and stride towards the door. He clears his throat.

“Where are you going? Take a bath.”

You stop and wince. You planned on your usual hand bath from the sink, wiping yourself down with a wet rag until you felt relatively presentable. You turn and peek at the bathroom door. You retreat and enter, placing your hand on the knob.

“Open,” he girds, “for your own safety.”

You flip the light switch and proceed. You go just beyond the view of the doorway and face the bowl of the toilet. You remove your veil, setting it on the end of the counter. Then you sit and unroll your stockings. You pile those atop the veil and stand to untie your apron.

You lift your smock over your head and do your best to fold it before putting it with the rest. You go to the tub in only your shift and bend to turn on the water. You longed for the very pastime but now, you would rather drown in a river. This is not a favour.

You push yourself straight, hips reverberating with agony. You hear the soft pad of a foot and turn to face the Commander. He watches you from the doorway. He wears a pair of grey sleeping pants but nothing else. He breaks the threshold as you remain flush against the edge of the tub.

He takes the heap of your clothing as you watch him in confusion. He spins on his heel, strutting away without explanation. You shudder and look down at your thin linen shift. A rotten feeling knots in your stomach.

🌫️

Commander Shelby returns as you hide behind the bath curtain. Silence but his footfalls and the soft rustle of clothing. You emerge when you are certain he is gone and scrubbed to your hide. Your shift has disappeared too, but a new one lays with a neat stack of gray fabric.

You unfurl it and pull it over your head. Then the black stockings roll easily up your legs, a gray smock and matching cap. You dress in your sentence. The Colonies where the soot and pollution will blend in with that shade of charcoal. You won’t face this shaking.

You steady yourself and come out into the bedroom. The Commander loops his tie as he stands before the oval mirror hung on the wall. He glares at his own reflection as you cross to the door.

“You look older. That colour does nothing for you.”

“Commander,” you bow your head.

He scoffs. You would rather he just send you off to your fate. You can go rot with the other unwomen. This was only ever purgatory.

“Tea.”

You flinch at the word, not processing it at first. You reply with your habitual, ‘yes, Commander’ and flit off to your task.

You boil the kettle and prepare some toast and jam with it. The Commander appears to gruffly take the plate past your elbow as you steep a bag in the steaming mug. You put it before him as he chews mechanically. You stand by the wall and await the next step.

“Funny, isn’t it?” He says as he blows across the top of the mug.

“Commander?”

“Not much changed for you, did it?”

You push your shoulders up and swallow.

“I don’t know what you mean, Commander.”

“A maid before, a maid now,” he states, “I suppose the lord truly does know our purpose.”

You seal your lips. He’s mocking you. He knows who you are. Who you were. It only surprises you that he would bother to figure it out.

“‘All hard work brings a profit, but mere talk leads only to poverty,’” you recite the passage. “I believe I remember that clearly.”

He sips loudly and sniffs, “something like that.”

#tommy shelby #dark tommy shelby #dark!tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #drabble #blessed are the meek #au #series #handmaid au #peaky blinders

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corrodedbisexual · 8 months

Text

bound, beautiful, beloved

Steddie | E | ~7.8k | AO3 link

Written for @steves-strapcollection's birthday! 🥰 I hope you have a wonderful day dear friend and co-member of the sacred cult of Good Boy Eddie. 😂 Happy birthday!!! 🎉🫶

Featuring: Porn with Feelings, Fluff and Smut, Dom/sub Play, Shibari, Vibrators, Lace Panties, Prostate Massage, Overstimulation, Dirty Talk, Praise Kink, Nipple Play, Body Worship, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, Dry Humping, Mirror Sex, Rimming, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Laughter During Sex, Making Out, Aftercare, Post-Coital Cuddling, Light Angst, Romance, Self-Esteem Issues, Trauma, Insecurity, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Non-Sexual Bondage, Tenderness, Banter, Dorks in Love, Dancing, Massage, Established Relationship, Top/Switch/Soft dom Steve Harrington, Bottom/Switch/Sub Eddie Munson, Eddie Munson is Steve Harrington's good boy, POV Steve Harrington

Steve's boyfriend looks like the ultimate wet dream. There’s never a time he doesn’t find Eddie the most beautiful and sexy person in the entire world, but this view, right here… this definitely takes the icing on the cake. Steve can still hardly believe they got to this point. It took two weeks to bring this particular fantasy to life. But really, they have been working up to this kind of moment for much, much longer. *** A story of Steve and Eddie growing into their intimate relationship, full of playfulness, amazing orgasms, developing trust and confidence, and above all else, unconditional love.

Snippet below!

Steve licks his thumb and exaggeratedly loudly flips another page of a sports magazine in his hands. One he definitely hasn’t managed to comprehend a single word of, while all his senses are attuned to the sounds coming from the foot of the bed.

The constant buzzing noise. The harsh breathing. The occasional whimper, or sheets rustling, or the springs inside the mattress creaking slightly.

Unable to help himself, Steve once again glances over the edge of the page at the absolute erotic masterpiece that is his boyfriend. He’s not sure why he even decided on this absurd game of mock disinterest. He’d rather be watching the sight in front of him the entire time, not pretend to be reading the magazine he can’t give a single fuck about right now.

Eddie’s sitting back on his heels, his shins bound to his thighs with a gorgeous diamond patterned leg tie. Another piece of Steve’s handiwork is a harness woven across his hips, snug underneath his balls and framing his crotch in a way that makes Steve’s mouth water every time he looks. Besides the bright red ropes, the only clothing on Eddie is a matching red pair of lace panties. Eddie’s cock is straining desperately against the delicate fabric, a dark wet spot already visible below the tip.

Eddie meets his eyes briefly, his pupils blown, lips parted, face and chest flushed. Then, he drops his head and groans, trying to grind his hips back into the source of his sweet torture, to no avail. Everything Steve’s done was to ensure he would neither be able to escape it, nor attempt any extra stimulation.

Of course, potentially he could. His hands were left untied, but untied doesn’t mean free. They are bound by Steve’s firm command, right after he finished all of his rope work, gently tugging on Eddie’s wrists and guiding them down to the mattress. “Hands against the bed, baby. Keep them there. You can be a good boy and do that for me, can’t you?”

And so, Eddie’s hands stay in place, squeezing and clawing at the sheets to either side of his bound thighs.

Steve glances at his watch. It’s only been ten minutes, yet Eddie already looks like a fucking wreck. Steve can see how hard his arms are shaking, how he’s likely desperate to touch himself through the soft lace that must feel like absolute torment on his leaking dick. Creating pressure but no friction. Steve’s tried them on once, so he knows what it’s like when you’re hard, to feel every swirl of that beautiful pattern against hypersensitive skin.

Other than being pretty (so, so pretty stretched over Eddie’s equally pretty cock, hard and thick, with a prominent contour of veins now standing out against the lace), the panties serve a very practical purpose. Steve couldn’t quite figure out how to keep the magic wand in place where he wanted it with only ropes, and this solution was just genius. The handle is tucked into part of the hip harness underneath Eddie’s ass, whereas the head of the device is firmly held by the elastic of the panties, pressed snug against his taint, sending steady vibrations to his balls and prostate. Lowest speed setting. Not enough to push him to the brink, just enough to slowly drive him mad with the relentless teasing.

“Ah, I see you’re… not enjoying your magazine… much..?” Eddie catches him looking and grins, way too cocky for the situation he’s currently in. As if on cue, his dick twitches again in his panties, and he groans, sucking in his stomach and uselessly rolling his hips again, as if trying to grind on thin air. “Oh fuck. Jesus. How much longer?..”

“What, you’ve had your fun already, baby?” Steve teases and clicks his tongue. “I did suggest fifteen minutes. It’s you who insisted on twenty, remember?”

“Uhhhh,” Eddie croaks, wriggling his hips again and slapping one palm several times against the mattress. “Ohhhh, holy ssshit. I regret everything.”

“No, you don’t.” Steve smirks.

“No, I don’t,” Eddie admits with a miserable chuckle and dramatically flops down on his face, ass in the air, letting out a long, frustrated growl muffled by the mattress, before pushing himself back to his heels.

Steve abandons the stupid premise of reading his magazine and just sits back, enjoying the view. He squeezes himself through his boxers; obviously, he’s not unaffected. His boyfriend looks like the ultimate fucking wet dream. There’s never a time Steve doesn’t find him the most beautiful and sexy person in the entire world, but this view, right here… this definitely takes the icing on the cake.

Steve can still hardly believe they got to this point, when Eddie would take the initiative and present his own fantasy for Steve to fulfill. No more shyness about it, just unconcealed arousal and eager submissiveness when they first started talking about this kind of scene, both equally horny by the time they finished merely discussing the details. Steve spent days figuring out the right kind of weave for this; then, he’d just have Eddie kneel on the bed, getting used to the position, checking every few minutes if his boyfriend was comfortable, gradually increasing the time he spent bound every night up to an hour; beyond that, Eddie’s muscles were starting to cramp up.

It took two weeks to bring this particular fantasy to life. But really, they have been working up to this kind of moment for much, much longer.

Read the rest on AO3

#steddie #steddie fic #steddie smut #fanfic #misha-bawlins fanfic #good boy eddie my beloved

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mintmatcha · 1 year

Text

cw: implied spoilers, time skip bakugo

The crisp romanticism of winter has long faded, leaving behind only grimy, half-melted snow marked by bits of gravel and garbage pulled up by the plow trucks weeks ago. The wet, thick chill that hangs in the air is only worsened by the fact the sun is already setting this early in the afternoon, basking the city in an underwhelming, watery pink.

It’s the perfect day to forget, you decide. If summer has dog days, this is a cat day of winter: designed for sleeping, isolating, and letting the world pass by. You wouldn't even be out of bed if Mina hadn't invited you to this stupid dinner.

Running into Bakugo on the way was just a coincidence. You found each other on the train, each of you coming from your respective works, and decided to would be rude to not walk to rest of the way together. Luckily, you knew Bakugo well enough that it wasn't immediately awkward; he was a bit abrasive, sure, but in a sort of charming way that you couldn't quite ignore. The small talk was polite enough, filled with niceties and questions about life.

Denki has warned you not to bring up work around Bakugo in fear of you being the victim of his wrath, but today he seems okay discussing it.

“Never thought I’d be teaching,” he fiddles with his scarf, pulling it up higher to hide the darker scarring that runs down his neck and across his entire right side, “But my old teacher was retiring and I couldn’t swing the prohero thing anymore, so I figured- fuck, why not?”

You think there’s more to the story, but you don’t push. “Do you enjoy it?”

“Oh, fuck no. Every day is making sure these dumb ass kids don’t kill themselves by accident,” Bakugo barks out a laugh at himself, “I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

His affection is hard to read. It’s course, unrefined, hidden in thinly veiled insults.

"Oi, your shoe’s untied."

Bakugo jerks his chin towards you, his eyes lowered accusationally towards your feet. You pause mid-stride and look down. Sure enough, he's right: the laces to your boots have come undone, dragging in the snow behind you, more grey than white now.

"Dammit,” you sigh, kicking that foot forward. Water droplets flick off the end and splatter down the sidewalk ahead of you, disappearing into the heavily trampled snow. “These boots are cute, but they suck.” You scoop down to your knee, but are caught just as your pants hit the cool, wet ground.

“Oi!” A hand, thick before the mittens but almost comically massive now, is clamped around your shoulder, “It’s wet, dummy. Get up.”

Bakugo practically drags you back up before dipping down himself, ripping his mitten off of his free hand with his teeth. It hangs there, dangling comically as he rather aggressively wipes off the soiled knee of your jeans.

“ ‘onna ruin your fuckin’ pants.” The fabric damps his annoyed grumbles.

When he’s seemingly deemed the spot clean, Bakugo pulls away to inspect it, then falls to one knee rather ungracefully, sliding in the slush beneath his rubber soles. Wind kisses cheeks and the frigid tip of his nose both glow red as he looks at you from down there, eyebrows pinched together just like always.

"Here." Bakugo pats his thigh expectantly, waiting for a moment before doing it again. When he huffs, a little cloud of breath rises in front of him. "Come on."

You take a moment to realize what he wants. "What? I don’t wanna get you dirty.”

"I don't care, come on." He tugs you by the laces, guiding your foot into his leg. There's immediately a dark, wet mark across the denim, but Bakugo doesn't seem to notice; he's too busy tugging off his other mitten, tossing both of them to the side.

Bakugo clicks his tongue against his teeth as he hooks a finger under the bottom most rung of your laces and tugs, tightening the toe box of your shoe with one shift movement. A couple walks by, whispering to each other as the step over and around the blonde, and their gaze makes your cheeks burn.

"These boots don’t suck- you don’t tie them right." The digits are stiff and pink from the cold, moving clumsily as he tightens section by section, working his way to the top. There's a peace on his face as he works, a relaxation you don't usually get to see. On the top of his head there's a couple whispers of grey hiding in the blonde. "You gotta-"

With the extra length he's created, Bakugo loops the length around your ankle and ties a quick knot. "Like that."

He pats your calf. "Other foot."

"You don't have to-"

His eyes flicker up, watching you through light brown lashes. The scar over his right eye has long clouded the color and the sight, changing the dark red of his iris into a muddled pink. Mina's shown you pictures of him in high school, back when his features were symmetrical and he was considered classically attractive, but you think you might prefer him now. He's uniquely pretty, with features you have to explore for a moment to fully learn.

Clearly unamused by the denial, Bakugo pats your calf again. With a heavy sigh, you step off of him and bring your other foot up.

Undoing your own knot and redoing his process isn't short work. Bakugo takes his time, breathing on his fingers to warm them up in between rows. It's surprisingly intimate, the way he lingers over you, each touch almost too personal to be solely platonic. He’s stalling, you realize, trying to hold on to this nothing moment on an awful winter day for just a moment longer.

You've never seen him in this light before.

When he's finally done, he sits back on his own heel and lets his arms fall away from you. The world feels like it's shifted one degree to the left.

"You didn't have to do that," you say softly as he gathers his mittens. The yarn has acted as a sponge, soaking up their weight with water. Bakugo curls his lip at this. "I can tie my own shoes."

"Yeah, well," he stands, jamming his hands in his pockets and looking away in a surprisingly coquette move. He speaks softly for once, probably with as much kindness as he can muster. "Someone had to show you the right way to do it."

You both stand there, Bakugo in his ruined pants, you with boots tied almost too tightly, in silence, almost as if you're both waiting for the other to do something.

You almost continue on your way and ignore the flutter in your chest, the strange simplicity that brought you just a bit closer to a friend of a friend-

but then you catch how his gaze flickers to your lips for a fraction of a second-- fleeting, longing.

"Let's go," Bakugo says, stepping forward, "I'm freezing my tits off and Denki's gonna eat all the appetizers before we even-"

You catch him by the sleeve. "Hey."

"What?"

You catch him by surprise as he turns, pressing on to your toes to push your lips into the corner of his mouth. His lips are slick with lip balm-- cherry flavored and sweet beyond belief-- and incredibly warm.

The contact is gone before you can even process whether you enjoyed it or not, his shocked exhale tickling your cheeks.

"What the fuck was that?" he whispers, bewildered. His bangs fall in front of his eyes as he touches were you just were.

"Just a thank you,” you whisper back, suddenly realizing how crazy you must seem. Maybe you had misread the situation. “I shouldn’t have-”

The world moves around you.

You aren’t sure who leans in first, but his lips are pressed against you now, the icy tip of his nose buried on your cheek. The sharp nip of winter is forgotten, replaced by his canines catching your lower lip as his hands find the curve of your jaw. He pulls you in and you swear you can feel the spark between you-

and then you realize you literally do. Bakugo’s quirk sputters slightly on his lips, nothing more than a tingle and a zap, but it lingers even as he pulls away.

"Well, if you really wanna thank me..." The icy touch of his hand finding yours makes you jump. "Keep my hands warm 'til we get there."

He squeezes tight. "Maybe on the way back too, since my gloves are ruined ‘cause of you."

You roll your eyes as you squeeze back.

“Yeah, okay.”

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